"May came on in the country in all its glory; the trees blossomed and
the seeds sprouted, and Buetze lay as in a snowy sea. The sun laughed in
the sky, as Susanna walked through the trim garden-paths on Klaus's arm.
Now and then I saw her cross the court, with straw hat and parasol, in a
light summer dress, and go a little way into the fields to meet him. The
people stood still as she passed, the women and girls courtesied, the
men made as deep a bow to her as to the rest of us from the house, and
the children ran up to her in troops, and the sound of their 'Good-day,
gracious Frau,' and Susanna's clear, laughing voice came up to me; her
charms fairly bewitched everybody. Then she would return on her
husband's arm, a great bouquet of field flowers in her hands, he leading
his horse by the bridle and carrying her parasol and shawl; and her
chatter and his deep voice, calling her a thousand pet names, reechoed
from the old walls when they had come into the house.
"If Anna Maria could only have seen them thus, thought I, would she have
been reconciled? Poor, lonely Anna Maria!
"Susanna never inquired for her; her stay here seemed to be entirely
taken up with all manner of little trifles. Occasionally there came a
perfect swarm of guests, and then the sound of laughing and chattering
was heard in the garden-parlor till far into the night, and
Brockelmann, with a very red face, bustled about at the sideboard.
"'I don't feel my feet at all, any more,' the old woman would sometimes
complain; 'I really must have some one else to help me. In old times one
used to know it beforehand when there was to be a great supper; but if
any one came unexpectedly, he took just what there was in the house and
was satisfied. But how should I dare take thinly sliced ham and fresh
eggs and a herring salad to the Frau? I tried it once--how she turned up
her nose and begged her guests to excuse it! And then the master comes
and says: "Good Brockelmann, though it is a little bit late, do get us a
couple of warm dishes, and this and that, and a little fowl, for my wife
does not like a cold supper when there is company; you must have some
asparagus or green peas?" Heavens and earth! And then old Brockelmann is
so stupid, too, as to run her heels off and make the impossible
possible. Oh dear, oh dear, if Anna Maria knew how my storeroom looks,
and my account books!'
"And she put her hands up under her cap and shook her head.
"'You may believe it, Fraeulein Rosamond,' she would sometimes add, 'the
Frau is well enough yet, at least she doesn't concern herself about me;
but the old woman--O Lord! She sticks her nose into everything, and more
than a hundred times she has brought her chocolate out to me again--it
wasn't hot enough, or was burned, or the Lord knows what! As if the old
creature understood anything about it, anyway! Oh, yes, and then, if my
patience is utterly exhausted, the master comes into the kitchen. "Good
Brockelmann," he says, in his friendly way, "do keep peace with Isa,
that my little wife may not be vexed." Well, then I keep still; but I
see how he takes to heart everything that concerns his wife. And then I
think how loud and angrily he has often spoken to Anna Maria in spite of
all his love, and here he even spreads out his hands for the little feet
to walk on!'
"Indeed, she had not said too much. He did lay down his hands for the
little feet, and they walked on them without particularly noticing it.
Klaus had a boundless love for his wife, and she received this love as a
tribute due her. She had no conception of what she possessed in him.
"I do not know if he felt this. Occasionally, when Susanna was asleep,
or making her toilet, or gone to a drive, and he had an hour to spare,
he would sit with me up in my room, and would look so weary and
oppressed. We spoke often, too, of Anna Maria; but when Susanna was
present he did not mention her name, for at that a shadow regularly
passed over her face, and her chattering lips grew silent.
"'My old Anna Maria!' he would say; 'she is still angry with me, and yet
she is such a good, reasonable girl.' The last words were unconsciously
accented. 'How pleasant it would be if she and Susanna could live
together like sisters--the unfortunate stubbornness. Do you suppose,
aunt, she will come when the old cradle down-stairs--?' And his eyes
grew moist at this thought.
"'I do not know, Klaus, but I think so,' said I, 'if Susanna can only
forget--'
"'Ah, aunt, I place my entire hope on the cradle about her, too. Anna
Maria shall be godmother; I will not have it otherwise. Please God, it
may not be far off!'
"And was it then so far off? On a dull, sultry August night, I was
still sitting in my easy-chair by the window, and could see distant
flashes of lightning over the barns; the air was uncomfortable and
stifling, or was it only the imagination of my old, restlessly beating
heart, and my thoughts, which were below with Susanna, anxious and
prayerful?
"Ah, what does not pass through one's soul in such an hour--trembling
joy and happy fear, and each minute seems to stretch out endlessly. I
listened to the walking down-stairs, to the sound of the opening and
shutting of doors; would some one never come up with the glad news?
"And my thoughts wandered back to the night when Anna Maria was born,
when I sat up here in the same fear and anxiety. Klaus had gone to sleep
in the arm-chair over there. I had not disturbed him, had let him sleep,
till his father came to call him to his mother's death-bed. The boy's
pale, frightened face stood before me so plainly this evening, as he
knelt before the cradle of his little sister.
"Below, in the court-yard, it was still as death; only old Mandelt, the
watchman, was going slowly along, shaking his rattler; and above the
slumbering world glittered the brilliant stars of the August sky as
through a light mist.
"Then I started up; heavy steps were approaching my door, and now
Brockelmann called into my room: 'A boy, Fraeulein Rosamond! Come
down-stairs--such a dear, splendid boy!'
"Never did I hurry down those stairs so quickly as on that night, nor
did Klaus ever take me in his arms so impetuously, so full of thankful
jubilation, as then, when he came toward me to lead me to the cradle of
his child. The strong man was quite overcome, and the first words that
he whispered to me were again: 'How Anna Maria will rejoice!'
"If ever a child was welcomed with joy it was this one. His presence
worked like a deliverance upon us all; even Brockelmann and Isa spoke
pleasantly to each other to-day. Isa's anxiety about her darling had
reached the highest pitch, and she had left her place in the room of the
young mother to the quiet old woman; and Brockelmann--well, she would
not have been the honest old soul that she was not to rejoice with her
master over his son. Whatever grudge against Susanna may have still
lingered in her heart, this day wiped out; with a truly motherly
tenderness she presided at the sick-bed. And did it fare better with me?
I, too, old creature that I was, knelt down between the bed and the
cradle, and kissed the little pale face again and again; in this hour
everything with which she had once troubled us was forgotten.
"And Klaus sat at his writing-desk and wrote to Anna Maria. 'Do you
think she will come?' he asked as he came in again. He had sent a
special messenger to E---- with the letter to his sister. 'Will she
come?'
"'Surely, Klaus!' I replied.
"The messenger was gone three days; then he returned with a letter from
Anna Maria. Heartfelt words it contained, here and there half blotted
out by tears. She would come soon, she wrote, come soon--in a week or
two, perhaps--but would it be right to Susanna?
"I was sitting by the bed of the young wife as Klaus came into the room
with this letter. She was holding the small bundle of lace in her arms.
Isa had had to adorn the young gentleman's toilet to-day with blue
ribbons. Susanna played with him as if he were a doll, and wanted to
know what color would best suit the young prince. She was so merry and
pretty about it, and laughed so heartily when the little thing made a
queer, wry face.
"'Oh, see, just see!' she called to her husband. 'Who does he look like
now? Only look!' Of course we stood in dutiful admiration and looked at
the little creature. But Brockelmann, who was just going through the
room, said: 'Ah, I have seen it from the first moment. He has a real
Hegewitz face; he looks most like his aunt, Anna Maria.'
"Susanna started up as if the greatest injury had been done her. 'It is
not true!' she whispered, and kissed the child. But Klaus had heard it,
nevertheless; he had grown very red, and slowly put the folded letter in
his pocket, and an expression of disappointment passed over his face. He
sat down by Susanna and kissed her hand, but did not mention his
sister's name.
"What Klaus wrote in reply to Anna Maria I never learned; but he said:
'Anna Maria is always right; it was well that she did not come
immediately, as I wished.'
"And three weeks more passed. Susanna already walked up and down on the
gay mosaic pavement of the terrace occasionally, and Isa walked about in
the sunny garden with the blue-veiled child. Then one rainy evening,
about six o'clock, a slender woman's figure walked into my dim room.
"'Anna Maria!' I cried joyfully; 'my dear old child, are you really here
again?'
"She put her arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. 'Yes,
aunt,' she said softly, and I felt her heart beat violently. 'Yes--but
now take care that I may greet Klaus first alone; we have so much to
say to each other!'
"He had entered, meanwhile, before I could answer. 'I saw you coming
through the garden, Anna Maria,' he cried joyfully, holding her two
hands; 'thank God that you are here again!'
"The next instant she fell, weeping, on his neck. They had so much to
say to each other; I would not hear them beg forgiveness of each other,
and went softly out.
"And Susanna? I asked myself. I found the young wife down-stairs in the
salon the sound of her merry laugh came toward me. There were one or two
ladies from the neighborhood there, and Isa had just brought in the
child. There was so much laughing, chattering, and congratulating that I
got no chance at first to inform Susanna that her sister-in-law had
arrived. At last the ladies took their leave, and we two were alone.
Susanna walked up and down the great room, playing with the child.
"'So stupid,' she scolded, 'that I don't know a single cradle-song! But
I can't bear the silly things they sing here, about goslings and black
and white sheep. But it is all the same, he doesn't understand the
words.' And lightly she began the old refrain:
'Home have I come, and my heart burns with pain.
Ah, that I only could wander again!'
"'Susanna,' said I, quickly, 'Anna Maria has come back, a little while
ago.'
"She stood still, as if rooted to the spot. I could no longer
distinguish her features in the deep twilight, and she spoke not a word.
'Susanna!' I cried, in a low, reproachful tone.
"Just at that moment Brockelmann brought in a light. 'The master is
coming with Fraeulein Anna Maria!' she cried joyfully. 'Oh, Fraeulein,
Anna Maria--how pleased she will be with that little doll!'
"Hand in hand Klaus and Anna Maria entered the room. She had been
weeping hot tears, but now a smile was on her lips, and she went up to
Susanna, who had dropped into the nearest chair.
"'Let everything be forgotten, Susanna,' she begged. 'Let us be
sisters!' She knelt beside her and kissed the slumbering child. 'I shall
love him very much!' And now she raised her tear-stained face to Susanna
and offered her lips, but the young wife slowly turned her head to one
side.
"Anna Maria stood up instantly; a reproachful look met Klaus.
"'Susanna!' said he, going up to his wife and taking the child from her
arms, 'give Anna Maria your hand and be at peace with her!'
"Slowly she extended her right hand, coldly and briefly the two hands
touched, then the young wife went quickly out of the room, and directly
after Isa came to take away the child.
"'Why have I come?' said Anna Maria, bitterly.
"Klaus walked up and down with long strides. 'Forgive her, Anna Maria,'
he begged; 'she is still ill, still weak. I will speak quietly with
her.'
"'No, Klaus,' replied the girl; 'wherefore? I will be no disturber of
the peace. She is your wife, you are happy, and I--I will go away
again.'
"'But this is your father-house! This is _your_ home as well as _mine_!'
he cried, irritated. 'By Heaven, I would never have believed that it was
so hard for two women's hearts to agree!'
"Isa called him to Susanna. He went in; we heard him speak loud and
vehemently, and then heard Susanna crying.
"'I shall go away again to-morrow, aunt,' said Anna Maria, and her pale
face with the red eyes had the old stubborn expression. 'I did not come
to make discord.' How I pitied the girl! I knew well how hard it had
been for her to take the first step toward Susanna, what a struggle it
had cost her proud heart, and yet she had done it for Klaus's sake, and
for----
"Klaus returned, leading Susanna on his arm; he took her hand and placed
it in Anna Maria's.
"'There now, be reconciled," he said, with a sigh. 'Give each other a
kiss; there must be no more allusions to old tales. I forbid it
herewith!'
"They did kiss each other, but their lips touched only lightly. We then
sat down, and Klaus and I started a conversation with difficulty. Anna
Maria talked about her convent, but after had to stop; it seemed all the
time as if she were choking down the tears. Susanna spoke still less,
and only answered when Anna Maria asked about the child, and upon a
direct remark of Klaus. Brockelmann, who summoned us to the table, burst
out with the question whether Anna Maria were to assume the direction of
the housekeeping again.
"'I am not going to remain here,' she replied, smiling sadly.
"'We shall see about that,' said Klaus, quickly. 'First of all, the
child is to be baptized, and then I have so much to talk over with
you--everything has been lying over! No, you can't go away again so
quickly.'
"'When is the christening to be, then?' I asked.
"'Oh, we have not talked about that at all yet, have we, Susanna?' said
he, turning to her.
"'No, but it must be soon,' declared the young wife. 'Isa says it is not
proper to wait more than four weeks.'
"'As you like,' he replied, heartily glad to have the way paved for some
sort of an understanding. He hoped, indeed, that these two would become
reconciled, and that Anna Maria would stay in the father-house.
"Yes, she did stay, but it came about in a different way from what he
thought.
"Anna Maria came in search of me the next morning. To-day I first saw
how she had altered; her face had grown thin, and fine lines were drawn
about her mouth. She was sad and sat still by the window.
"'Have you seen the baby to-day?' I asked cheerfully.
"She shook her head. 'Klaus wanted to take me in with him, but Isa said
Susanna was at her toilet. I only heard him try his voice.'
"'And have you talked with Klaus about the christening?'
"She nodded. 'On Monday,' she replied, 'and in the day-time. Susanna
wishes a great festivity.'
"'Well, Brockelmann will be in despair!' I cried; 'and Klaus will not be
exactly enchanted. But what is he to do?'
"'What is he to do?' asked Anna Maria, in astonishment. 'He is to
exercise his authority as her husband, and say "No!" Great heavens! has
she entrapped you all together, that you still do what _she_ wishes?'
She had sprung up. 'Everything, everything here dances as she pipes,
even Brockelmann. She has trained you all like poodles; you do
beautifully, if she only raises a finger!'
"'Anna Maria,' I begged, 'do not be so angry right away; she is still
ill, and she----'
"'No, no,' cried the girl, 'it is dreadful here! What has become of
Buetze, our dear old Buetze? Where now are order and regularity?
Everything goes topsy-turvy, and things run over each other in order
that the gracious Frau need not wait. Whether or not the master of the
house gets his dues, or the servants theirs, is of no consequence, if
only madame smiles and is friendly. I wish I had never come back!'
"'Anna Maria,' said I, 'are these your good resolutions?'
"'Oh, have no fear,' she replied, her lips quivering. 'I have repented
bitterly enough letting myself be carried away _once_; I shall not do so
again. But in my father-house I shall not stay; the torment would be
greater than I should be able to bear.'
"She went to the window and looked out. Klaus was just riding in at the
gate; he had probably been in the fields. His eyes sped to the
ground-floor, and he kissed his hand up there. 'Susanna is standing at
the window with the child,' thought I.
"'Klaus looks fatigued,' remarked Anna Maria. 'Is he well all the time?'
"'I think so,' I replied; 'at least, I do not remember his having
complained.'
"'Complained!' she repeated. 'As if Klaus would ever complain!'
"But he did complain; we met him at the breakfast-table down-stairs.
Anna Maria was right; he looked wretchedly. 'I have a fearful headache,'
he said, as she looked at him with a troubled face.
"Susanna did not hear it. 'Klaus,' she begged, coaxingly, 'we will
illuminate the garden day after to-morrow, shall we not? Will you get me
some more colored paper lanterns?'
"'Yes, Susy, willingly,' he replied; 'but I have no messenger. If you
had only spoken of it earlier; Frederick has already gone to the city
for Brockelmann, and I can spare no one from the harvesting, for I must
make use of the little good weather.'
"'But you did know it, Klaus,' she pouted; 'I thought it would look so
charming when evening comes, with the whole garden hung with lanterns.'
"He passed his hand over his aching head. 'Forgive me, my darling, I had
forgotten it; I had so much on my mind. You shall have the lanterns.'
"'Have you written the invitations, Klaus?' the young wife continued.
"'Yes, yes,' he replied, 'I did it all very early; they are already on
the way, and you shall have the lanterns to-morrow.'
"'To-morrow?' she asked, disappointed.
"'If my headache is better I can ride over this afternoon,' he said.
"Anna Maria sat by silently and looked at her plate. Then Isa brought in
the child; Susanna was still eating. 'Oh, do give it to me,' begged Anna
Maria, her eyes shining. She rose and went to the window, and
scrutinized the little face.
"'He resembles our family, Klaus,' she said; 'he has your nose and your
kind eyes.' And she kissed him tenderly.
"Isa had hurried out again. There was a great din in the usually quiet
house; beating and brushing everywhere, and everything seemed to be
turned upside-down. Klaus rose at length. 'Anna Maria,' he asked, going
up to her, 'would you help me to go over some things in my books which
it is necessary to attend to?'
"She looked up joyfully. 'Gladly,' she said, 'but must it be done
to-day? You look so wretchedly.'
"'Yes,' he replied, 'I would like to put the matters in order; the
headache will surely go away.' I took the child from Anna Maria, and the
brother and sister went out.
"Klaus did not come to dinner; he had gone to lie down. When he appeared
at coffee he looked red and heated. Anna Maria looked at him in concern.
'Only don't be ill, Klaus,' she said anxiously.
"He smiled. 'Perhaps the ride to the city will do me good.'
"'For Heaven's sake!' cried Anna Maria and I in one breath. 'You surely
are not going to take that long ride?'
"'Oh, it will do no harm!' And he looked tenderly at Susanna, who lay on
one of the low divans, playing with the bows of her dress. She made no
reply; she did not say: 'If you have a headache, why stay; it is only a
childish wish of mine.' She did not ask: 'Is it really so bad?' She was
simply silent, and Klaus went to order his horse.
"'Susanna,' begged Anna Maria, very red, 'I think he really has a
violent headache; do not let him go.' She spoke in real anxiety. Susanna
stared at her coolly. 'He is his own master,' she replied, 'he can do as
he pleases.'
"'Yes; but you know that only your wish--if he should be ill you would
reproach yourself.'
"Susanna laughed. 'Klaus ill? How funny! Because he has a little
headache?' And she went humming into the next room. Then we heard her
call out of the window: 'Good-by, Klaus, good-by!'
"'She means no harm,' I said, taking Anna Maria's trembling hands.
"'It is heartless!' she said, and went down into the garden.
"Klaus did not return until nearly dark.
"'Your package will come soon,' he said to Susanna. 'Stuermer has it in
the carriage; I met him in the city; he had just arrived with the
Lueneburg post.'
"'Stuermer?' she asked, in an animated tone. 'Did you invite him to the
christening, Klaus?'
"'No; indeed, I forgot it,' he replied.
"She flung her arms about his neck. 'Oh, do write to him yet,' she
coaxed. 'Yes, please, please! Mercy,' she cried then, 'you are quite
wet!'
"'Well, it has been raining hard for two hours,' he replied. 'But don't
be offended if I do not write to-night, for I feel miserably; to-morrow
will do? I would like to lie down.' He kissed her forehead and went into
his sleeping-room. I saw how he shivered, as if he had a chill. 'Thank
God that Anna Maria did not hear,' I thought; but I went to tell her
that Klaus was not feeling well, while Susanna sprang up to hasten to
her writing-desk, and with a happy smile took up a pen.
"Anna Maria was in her room. I told her that Klaus was lying down on his
bed. She sat quite still. 'Poor Klaus,' she whispered.
"'Stuermer is back again, too, my child,' I added. She made no answer to
that. We sat silent together in the dark room.
"After a while Brockelmann's voice was heard at the door. 'Fraeulein,
perhaps it would be better if you were just to look after the master.
The gracious Frau'--she spoke lower--'probably knows no better; she sits
there chattering to him, and he doesn't seem at all well to me.'
"'Anna Maria had sprung up impetuously. Then she slowly sat down again.
'Dear aunt, go,' she begged.
"'Willingly,' I replied; 'I only thought you should be the one to go to
him.'
"'I?' she asked, in a tone that cut me to the heart. 'I? No; it is
better that I should not go; I could not keep calm.'
"I found Klaus's sleeping-room brightly lighted, Susanna sitting by the
bed, her tongue going like a mill-clapper. Over the nearest chair hung a
pale blue silk gown, richly adorned with lace; the candelabra were
burning on the toilet table, and the lamp stood on the little table
beside the bed, throwing its dazzling light right into Klaus's red eyes.
He held a cloth pressed to his fore head and was groaning softly.
"From out-of-doors came the sound of beating carpets and furniture, and
in the hall opposite they were at work with wax and brushes, none too
quietly.
"'Then I may send off the note, Klaus?' Susanna was saying. 'Can
Frederick ride over now, or shall the coachman take it? Do you think
Stuermer is at home by this time? Klaus, do answer, dear Klaus!'
"He made a motion of assent with his hand, and turned his head away.
"'If you are so tiresome, I sha'n't try on the dress again,' she pouted.
"'But, dear child,' I whispered, 'do you not see that your husband is
ill?' I took away the lamp, and laid my hand on his white forehead.
"'Ah, only a little quiet,' he moaned.
"'Come Susanna.' I begged the young wife, gently; 'go over to your
room; I think Klaus is in a high fever, and he must have quiet."
"Susanna looked at me incredulously. 'But it will be better to-morrow?'
she asked quickly. 'You will be well again to-morrow, won't you, Klaus?'
"He nodded. 'Yes, yes, my darling; don't worry.'
"'Well, then, I will go away quickly, so that you can sleep. Good-night,
Klaus!' she said, taking the silk dress on her arm. And she hastily bent
over him and kissed his forehead. Then she disappeared, but her silvery
voice floated over here once again: 'Isa, Isa, here; Christian is to go
to Dambitz directly, to Herr von Stuermer; he must wait for an answer.'
"Suddenly Klaus gave a deep groan. 'My poor boy.' I lamented over him;
'are you feeling very badly?'
"'I think I am going to be very ill,' he whispered. 'I can't control my
thoughts, everything turns round and round. Anna Maria, bring me Anna
Maria.'
"Brockelmann was just outside in the hall. 'Call the Fraeulein,' I bade
her, 'and make them be quiet outside.' Anna Maria came, and went up to
the bed. He seized her hand.
"'My old lass,' he said feebly, 'I fear I shall give you a great deal to
do.'
"'Do you feel so ill?' she asked anxiously, and bent down to him. He
groaned and pointed to his head. 'Don't worry Susanna,' he begged.
"Anna Maria did not answer, but she had grown very pale. Then she set
about procuring him some relief. Cold compresses were soon lying on his
forehead, a cool lemonade stood on the table by the bed, and outside the
tired horses were once more taken from the stable, to go for the doctor.
It had become quiet in the house, quiet in the next room also. Susanna
lay in her boudoir, reading; she did not know that the doctor had been
sent for, she did not hear how her husband's talking gradually passed
into delirious ravings, or know how his sister sat by the bed, her fair
head pressed against the back, and her eyes fixed on him in unspeakable
anxiety.
"When the doctor came, Susanna was sleeping sweetly and soundly; and
with noiseless steps Isa carried about the awakened child, that it might
not disturb the mother.
"Klaus was ill, very ill. The dreadful fever had attacked him so
quickly, so insidiously, and had prostrated him with such force, that a
paralyzing fear came over the spirits of us all.
"The servants went about the house whispering, no door was heard to
shut, and the bailiff had straw laid down in the court, so that no sound
might penetrate the curtained sick-room.
"Susanna would not believe at all that Klaus was seriously ill. She had
come merrily into the room, the child in her arms, and had found the
doctor at the bedside, and looked in Anna Maria's red eyes. She resisted
the truth with all her might. 'But he must not be ill,' she cried, 'just
now. Oh, doctor, it is too bad!' But when the confirmation in the
wandering looks of the invalid was not to be rejected, she flew to her
sofa and wept pitifully. It was not possible to reach her with a word of
consolation; she sobbed as I had seen her do but once, and Isa knew not
which she ought to quiet first, the screaming child or the weeping
mother. But Susanna did not for a moment attempt to make her hands
useful at the sick-bed.
"The doctor came again toward evening. The fever was raging with
increased power; Klaus talked about his child, called for Susanna, and
even in his delirium everything centred in his wife. Sometimes he seized
Anna Maria's hand and pressed it to his lips, with a half-intelligible
pet name for Susanna; he called her his darling, his wife. And Anna
Maria stroked his forehead, and tear after tear rolled down her cheeks.
"'Shall I have her called?' I asked the doctor. The old man shrugged his
shoulders. 'Well, since she has not come of her own accord, she spares
me a great deal of trouble,' said he; 'I should have had to carry her
out. She is still weak, and----'
"I went away to look up Susanna. Isa informed me that she was in the
salon.
"'Is she still crying?' I asked.
"The old woman shook her head. 'Baron Stuermer is in there.' I heard
Susanna's voice through the portieres. I heard her even laugh. My first
impulse was to hurry in, but it suddenly became impossible to me. I only
looked at the child, and went away, weary and weakened from watching and
anxiety, up to my room.
"A basket of garlands was standing in the corridor, and beside it the
package of the unfortunate lanterns. The baptism was to have been
to-morrow, but the coachman was already on his way to inform the
numerous guests that it was given up, as the master was ill. My God in
heaven, let not the worst come, be pitiful! What would become of
Susanna, of his child--ah! and of Anna Maria?
"Then I sat down in my arm-chair and listened to the pattering of the
rain, and the wind blowing against the windows; after a little while
there came a knock at my door, and Edwin Stuermer entered. He was quite
changed from what he used to be; indeed, the news of Klaus's illness
might well make him so. Conversation would not flow. I could not help
thinking of how I had last seen him, when he took leave of Susanna and
me; how she had wept, and how he had written to me afterward. 'There
have been great changes here!' said I, in a low tone.
"He did not answer immediately. 'How does Anna Maria get on with--with
her sister-in-law?' he asked.
"'Anna Maria?' I was embarrassed. Should I tell him that those two had
not learned to understand each other yet?
"'She is here very little,' I said at last; 'she has been living in the
convent since Klaus's marriage.'
"He started. 'Still the old quarrel?' he murmured. 'Anna Maria never
liked her; I noticed it from the beginning. She is a strange character.
There are moments when one might believe she has a heart; but it is ever
deception, ever delusion!'
"'Edwin,' I cried bitterly, 'you think you have a right to affirm that;
you are mistaken! Perhaps she has more heart than all of us.'
"'It may be,' he remarked coldly, 'but she never shows it.'
"He too, he too! My poor Anna Maria! If I could have taken him down to
the sick-room, if I could have shown him how she knelt beside her
brother's bed and buried her weeping face in the pillows, if I could say
to him: 'See, that is the secret of all her actions; she has too much
heart, too much generosity. She has done everything for the sake of her
only brother, who once lost a happiness on her account.' If I only might
show him this----
"Slowly the tears ran from my eyes.
"'I did not mean to grieve you, Aunt Rosamond,' said he, tenderly. 'I
am in a hateful mood, and ought not to have come over. The empty house
has put me out of humor; an old bachelor ought to have no house at
all--everywhere great empty rooms, everywhere solitude. One wants to
talk to one's self to keep from being afraid. I knew it well, and for
that reason put off my return from day to day.' He gave a shrug. 'I
shall go away again; that will be the best thing.'
"I now first looked at him attentively. He had altered, he had grown
years older. I did not know how to answer, he had spoken so strangely.
After a while he rose. 'I wish for improvement with all my heart. Do not
worry; God cannot wish that he should go now, right from the most
complete happiness.'
"God cannot wish it! So we mortals say when we think it impossible that
some one should leave us on whose life a piece of our own life depends.
God does not wish it--and already the shadow of death is falling deeper
and deeper over the beloved face. Such times lie in the past like heavy,
black, obscure shadows; that they were fearful we still know, but _how_
we felt we are not able to feel again in its full terror.
"Days had passed. Anna Maria had long ceased to weep; she had no tears,
for breathless fear. Without a word she performed her sad duties, and
listened benumbed to the wandering talk of the invalid--Susanna and the
child, and ever again Susanna.
"Then came a day on which the physicians said, 'No hope.' In the morning
Klaus had recovered his senses, and Anna Maria came out of the sick-room
with such a happy, hopeful look that my heart really rose. She beckoned
to me, and I took her place at the sick-bed for a moment.
"He reached out for my hand. 'How is Susanna?' he said softly.
"'Well, dear Klaus; do you wish to see her? Shall she come in?'
"'No, no!' he whispered, 'not come; it may be contagious--but Anna
Maria?'
"'She will be here again directly, Klaus,' said I. And, as if she had
been called, she came in at the door, and, kneeling by his bed, laid her
cheek caressingly on his hand.
"'Anna Maria,' he complained, 'my thoughts are already beginning
again--my child, my poor little child----'
"She started up. 'Klaus, do not speak so, dear Klaus!'
"'It is so strange,' he whispered on; 'I don't see Susanna distinctly
any longer, but I hear her laughing, always laughing. I shut my ears,
and yet I hear her laugh.'
"Anna Maria gave me a sad look. 'I will stay with your child, Klaus,'
said she. He pressed her hand. His eyes were already glowing feverishly,
and all at once he started up, the sound of a silvery laugh came in.
Susanna was actually laughing, perhaps with her child--I know not. The
next moment the door opened a little way. 'How is Klaus to-day?' she
asked.
"Anna Maria did not answer; her eyes were looking at Klaus; he had
already fallen back, and his fingers began to play, unnaturally, over
the silk quilt.
"I hastened to Susanna. 'He is not very well, my child,' I whispered to
her; 'the fever is returning.' Her face grew grave, and she quietly
closed the door. 'Always the same thing!' I heard her say, disappointed.
"Stuermer came toward evening, almost at the same time with the two
physicians. Susanna was sitting in her blue boudoir, reading. With a
sigh of relief she laid her book on the table when Stuermer was
announced. He entered quickly. 'Well,' said he, sympathetically, and
breathing fast, 'I hear he is not so well again to-day?'
"Susanna gave him her hand. 'So-so, baron,' she replied; 'they are not
very wise about the case. The physicians themselves do not know what
they ought to say, and Anna Maria is so fearfully anxious, and Aunt
Rosamond no less so. They think he is going to die right away. People do
not die so easily, do they?' she asked confidently. 'I know from myself;
I have been delirious, I----'
"She got no further, for our old family physician suddenly came into the
room. I knew what he meant as soon as I looked at him--Klaus was worse.
"Susanna gave him her hand, and went to the bell to order wine, she
said. Isa came with the child and presented it to the old gentleman.
'How is my husband?' asked Susanna. 'He is better, is he not, than Aunt
Rosa's and Anna Maria's funeral faces predict?'
"He did not answer, but looked at her, almost benumbed. At last he said
slowly: 'All is in God's hands. He can still help when we mortals see no
longer any way before us.'
"Susanna sprang up out of the chair in which she had just taken her
seat, the color all gone from her face. Her horrified eyes were fixed on
the old man's face as if they would decipher if those words were truth.
And when she saw his unaltered, sad expression, she began to totter, and
would have fallen to the floor if Edwin Stuermer had not caught her.
"'Is it really so bad?' he asked the doctor, reluctantly, as he carried
the young wife to the couch.
"'The end has come,' he replied, looking after Susanna.
"She had lost consciousness only for a moment. She awoke with a loud
cry, and now all the passion that dwelt in the delicate woman broke
forth in its full force. She screamed, she fell at the doctor's feet; he
should not let Klaus die, she could not live without him! She wrung her
hands and began to sob, but not a tear flowed from her great eyes. She
sprang up and threw herself upon the cradle of the child, whose
frightened crying mingled with a terrible sound with her sorrowful
laments: 'I will not live if Klaus dies, I will not!'
"'Calm yourself, gracious Frau,' bade the doctor, much shaken; 'think of
the child, take care of yourself.'
"'I made him ill,' screamed the young wife. 'I sent him to the city in
the rain, in spite of his feeling poorly then; I am guilty of my
husband's death!' The lace on her morning dress tore under her
convulsively trembling hands; she ran up and down the room, accusing
God and demanding death. Silently Isa took the cradle with the child and
carried it into another room. Meanwhile Dr. Reuter had poured a few
drops of a sedative into a spoon and begged the young wife to take it.
"She pushed the medicine out of his hand. 'I will not!' she cried,
sobbing. 'If you knew anything you would have saved Klaus! Oh, if I had
only taken care of him! But you did not let me go to his bed once, and
now he is dying!'
"'Susanna, control yourself,' said I, severely, as the doctor shrugged
his shoulders. 'Is this proper behavior in the hour in which a human
life is making its last hard struggle? Surely there should be peace,' I
added, weeping.
"She grew silent, not at my words, but at the entrance of Anna Maria.
"'Come, Susanna,' said she, in a lifeless tone, 'let us go to Klaus.
Before the last parting, the doctor has told me, there sometimes returns
a clear moment. His last look will seek you, Susanna, he has loved you
so much.'
"The young wife let herself be led away without resistance, but her face
had grown deathly pale. When they reached the door, she tore her hands
impetuously away from Anna Maria's. 'I cannot!' she cried, shuddering,
and turning her terrified eyes toward us; 'I cannot see him die, I
cannot!'
"Anna Maria looked sadly at the young creature, who was now on her knees
before her, beginning afresh her despairing lamentations. Then she
silently turned away and went back to Klaus. We carried the young wife
to the sofa, and Dr. Reuter busied himself with Isa about her.
"I started to go into the death-chamber, and Edwin Stuermer followed me.
In going out he cast a peculiar look at Susanna. In the next room,
through which we had to pass, stood the cradle; alone and unwatched
slumbered the poor little fellow in it, without a suspicion that the
black wings of death were hovering so near to his young existence. 'No
hope!' They are fearful words.
"Stuermer came with me into the chamber of death. I did not wonder at it;
it seemed to me as if it must be so, as if he, the best and oldest
friend of the family, had a right to come to the dying bed of our Klaus.
Anna Maria was on her knees beside the bed, her hands folded; she was
waiting for that last look.
"Then the house grew still, the servants stole about on tip-toe, and
outside, before the front door, stood the day-laborers and the men, with
their wives, looking timidly and with red eyes up to the windows. Edwin
Stuermer sat opposite me, deep in shadow, behind the curtains of the bed;
he leaned his head on his hand, and looked at Anna Maria and at the pale
face there on the pillow. I could not distinguish his features, but I
heard his deep and heavy breathing. I do not know if Klaus looked at
Anna Maria again, I could not see the two from my place. But I heard him
whisper once more: 'My child--Susanna' and 'Anna Maria, my old lass!'
with an expression of warm tenderness.
"It was deathly still in the room; no sound but the swift, low ticking
of the clock. I started up all at once at this stillness. When I came up
to the bed Anna Maria was still on her knees and holding her brother's
hand, her fair head buried in the pillow.
"Seized by a terrible foreboding, I went up to her. She started up. 'My
only brother!' she sobbed out. To my heart penetrated this shrill,
broken cry: 'My only brother!'
"Then I heard the door open softly, and saw Stuermer go out; he held his
hand over his eyes, though it was so dark round about us, so fearfully
dark."