IN THE LION'S DEN.
Beate looked enterprising enough in the Spanish mantilla, which she had
thrown as a hood over her head; her little eyes sparkled; she resembled
a tiger cat, going out in search of prey.
She rang at the door of a large house, and before the sleepy porter
opened it, she tried whether the dagger would spring easily and quickly
out of its sheath.
She knew the way; it led through a spacious hall, and through a second
door standing open, past a back building of stables and sheds, which
looked as if some manor house had gone astray in the town.
Then she arrived at a small gate, and through the railing perceived a
two-storied garden house, of which the shutters were closed; only
through the door, draped with curtains on the ground floor, gleamed a
red light, whose lost reflection fell upon the silver of the frosty
snow, with which the nearest yew trees were covered.
The gate was locked. Beate had to ring again.
Then the snow crackled, and a gnome-like creature crept up to the gate;
almost buried beneath the weight of snow which the clouds and trees had
shed upon her, she stared at the stranger with glaring eyes; she looked
like an Esquimaux woman, at whose hut some stranger's hand knocks.
It was Kaetchen! After that meeting with Blanden she had stayed up in
her chamber; had tossed about upon her straw couch as if in feverish
delirium, until the grey morn rose above the roofs, then she had fallen
fast asleep. But mother Hecht knew no consideration for lazy
maid-servants, who neglected their duties--and when Kaetchen, on the
following morning, appeared in the kitchen with hollow eyes and pallid
face, she was immediately driven out of the house.
The Italian, who had known her at the sea-side, and had long had an eye
upon her, had also often spoken to her in the witch's kitchen, heard of
it; according to his views she combined two qualities which were of
equal value for his purposes; want of understanding, sullen
indifference to all that lay beyond her horizon, and a marvellously
developed instinct for everything in which she was interested. That
which was repulsive, even idiotic in her nature, was peculiarly
acceptable to him; she passed unnoticed, no one cared about her. Thus
she could do excellent service as a spy, and at night she was always to
be found at her post as porteress and sentinel where forbidden
pleasures were pursued.
"Open the gate," said Beate. Kaetchen examined her from head to foot,
and shrugged her shoulders.
"_Aprite dunque_," repeated Beate angrily, although the porteress, who
seemed to belong to the polar regions, did not bear the least
resemblance to an Italian.
Kaetchen asked her name. Beate gave her a card, upon which were written
the words Beate Romani.
The little porteress sprang along the garden walk, in doing which it
pleased her to sweep the bushes in the nearest beds, so that their
boughs rattled, and threw out clouds of snow.
Beate became impatient, she had to wait a long time; she shook the bars
of the railing like a wild beast in a cage.
At last Kaethe returned and opened the garden gate. Beate followed her
into the villa, they passed through a garden lighted with red lamps, up
a flight of steps, covered with a lovely carpet. Beate had to wait in
an ante-room; deathlike silence reigned in both the adjoining chambers
disturbed by no cry, by no chink of money, as she had expected.
She looked at a picture on the wall; it represented a little church
upon an island in a lake; on all sides, high, bare hills, which glowed
in the radiant colouring of an Italian evening sky. She knew that
church, and gazed at the picture with a shrug of her shoulders; it
awoke a reminiscence, which at that moment was very unwelcome. And what
mockery--the house of God in the antechamber of a gambling hell!
"I have not time now, Beate," said Baluzzi curtly, as he entered
through a side door, "but I will make you a proposal! I have visitors
with me, whom I am amusing with various games, now we are at roulette!
Be my guest--_che ne dite?_"
"What shall I do there? Lose my good name?"
"_Puo darsi!_ That is not an article which I keep in stock, but neither
do those seek it who come to me. However, we are silent. If the means
are wanting, I am at your service."
"I do not play!"
"Remember Monaco, you were a fisher of gold, the money clung to your
rod."
"I am not prepared for it to-day."
"Here you have money, you shall play for me! But come, come, I have not
time to talk."
Beate was not at all disinclined to take a peep into the secrets of the
gaming hell; perhaps she might succeed in discovering something that
could be useful to her friend; she allowed herself to be persuaded,
laid cloak and hood aside, while Baluzzi said to her--
"You are doing me a slight favour, Beate! I need the fair sex in my
parties, my graces gain wrinkles! But you are quite a pretty child,
such a little snake with red, fiery eyes, you are a _diavolessa_. I
know you; _tanto meglio_!"
Meanwhile they had traversed two empty rooms, and entered a brilliantly
lighted saloon, the windows of which were made doubly safe by shutters
and curtains.
A loud buzz of conversation met the new comers, the game having been
interrupted. Baluzzi seemed happy to have captured an Italian woman,
and, with some pride, introduced Beate to those present as his
countrywoman.
"Beate Romani--whence did this golden orange drop?" said an elderly
lady, with a complexion yellow as a citron, to her young neighbour, in
a low dress. The latter put her eyeglass more firmly upon her pug nose,
and replied--
"Little and impudent--a soubrette! The captain is talking to her
already; she seems to be pert."
The Polish Captain of Lancers, a Herr von Mierowski, did, indeed, find
pleasure in the wily Italian, whose smile was so charmingly reserved.
At the same time she let her eyes pass over the assembly, and
especially examined the ladies; of these there were four: the mother,
with the yellow tint in her face, and daughter, with the pug nose, also
bore Polish names, consisting of a whole _plica polonica_ of letters.
Then there was another beauty in pink silk. That rose was a Berlin
lady, of remarkable loquacity. Her face did not correspond with her
toilet's language of flowers; she was pale as wax, and the pink ribbons
flowed down from flaxen hair. The fourth lady was an unusually slender
sylph, and Beate guessed correctly and quickly that she must be a late
performer in some ballet, who, after having gradually retreated from
the front row into the very last, had retired with honours from the
field of renown. She was a French-woman, who pretended to have taken
part in the Grand Opera, but who certainly had earned her questionable
laurels in booths, or on similar stages.
The female company answered to that which is termed refuse at an annual
fair--gay glazed ware, full of bubbles and cracks. Beate soon
recognised this, but without being particularly contented with that
result of her observations. She knew only too well that none of these
Circes could have won Baluzzi's affections.
Several patrician sons were to be found amongst the gentlemen, who
rather prided themselves upon trying their luck at the gaming table,
and having discovered a miniature Homburg and Baden-Baden in the city
of pure reason, at which were not wanting the Graces, who rustled their
silks through the state rooms and along the terraces. A Russian prince,
possessor of many serfs, was very impatient at the pause in the game,
and walked angrily up and down, caring as little about the seductive
beauties as if they had been painted in faded colours upon the walls.
The play began afresh; the roulette ball commenced its fatal course;
people betted upon _rouge_ and _noir_ upon _pair_ and _impair_, here
and there also considerable sums were placed upon single numbers, which
Baluzzi swept off with great satisfaction. The little gaming table was
arranged exactly after the pattern of the larger Rhenish banks, and
here, despite the small dimensions, sums could be lost which were not
at all proportionate to those dimensions. The young merchant sons
rejoiced over the losses, as much as over their gains, because they
could thus show that it mattered not at all to them how they sacrificed
vast sums, the loss of which would have reduced others to a state of
nervous agitation.
Most eager was the Pole; he belonged to those persons who have
converted hazard into a system, and who lose themselves in deep
calculations as to the chances of the game; he sat with a little
writing tablet in his hand, and carefully noted the occurrences at the
green board, laughed at by the free thinkers of the gaming table, who
believe in chance only, just as others perceive but a game of hazard in
the great comedy of the world, and ridicule the thinkers who strive to
reduce it into a system. The mother and her flaxen-haired daughter also
played devotedly, although they merely pledged small sums; at each gain
or loss, a red streak suffused the yellow-bronzed complexion of the
mother, and the waxen features of the daughter received a sudden
crimson glow, which vanished again just as quickly.
Despite all absorption in the hieroglyphics of chance, Mierowski had
leisure sufficient to observe Beate's mode of playing, which in its
thoughtless recklessness pierced his heart. Owing to the lively
interest which he felt in the dainty Italian, he could no longer look
calmly on; he rose from the table, and whispered the necessary hints to
her, not omitting to squeeze her hand in token of his friendship.
Beate followed these hints, and lost bravely, an event which seemed to
confuse all rules of the gambling method. He was all the more eagerly
bent upon proving the truth of his calculations by means of his own
success.
The heaps of gold on his right hand increased; the Polish mamma entered
into partnership with him already, and the flaxen-haired daughter was
much inclined to follow her example, but her neighbour and protector,
the son of the Kommerzienrath, in the _Kneiphoef Lang-gasse_, beneath
whose pennon her _louis d'ors_ ventured out to sea, would never have
given his consent; he looked askant at the augmenting treasures of the
Pole. Baluzzi also became uneasy, because Mierowski steadily increased
his stakes.
At last that state of feverish excitement set in which always precedes
any great crisis. The battle only raged between the banker and
Mierowski; all others as it were merely paid the entrance money with
their small stakes, in order to be present at this performance. The
victory suddenly seemed to incline to Baluzzi's side; twice following
he swept in heavy amounts. But the Pole doubled and trebled the stake
in order to break the bank, "_Le jeu est fait_," rang forth; with
beating hearts the little circle awaited the result which the weird,
rolling ball should bring. Beate had become pale as death, she knew
that this ball would once more pierce another's heart.
"_Va banque_," rang the Pole's cry of victory; all sprang up in
tumultuous excitement, so that the heaps of gold were scattered in all
directions, and some _louis d'ors_ rolled upon the ground.
With apparent composure Baluzzi said--
"For to-day I acknowledge myself conquered, but the fortune of war
changes."
At the same time he cast a venomous glance at the victorious Pole.
Beate took advantage of the tumult to retire unnoticed, and to await
the Italian in a side room, so that her lengthy stay might not arouse
observation.
Mierowski's glances sought her in vain, as he rushed away with his
treasures; he was possessed with a violent passion for little Beate,
and was in a very liberal humour; he longed for another champagne
orgie, and the Hebe for it had been found, and was lost.
Outside, he enquired of the half-witted porteress, for the little black
lady from Italy.
Kaetchen stared at him with astonished eyes, and several times repeated
the word, "Gone!" with pantomimic gesture. In so doing she was obeying
no injunction of Beate, but only her own instinct.
The whole party broke up noisily; the Polish women lighted their
cigarettes, the pink Berlin lady disappeared in a grey sack-like winter
cloak, which suited her flaxen hair better. The gentlemen eagerly
discussed the last decisive battle, and were so excited and absorbed
that Kaetchen picked up several _louis d'ors_ at the garden gate, as
perquisites.
In the house itself all had suddenly become silent; a tired lacquey
snored upon the bench in the hall; no one remembered to extinguish the
lamps and candles; a current of air blew in through the open doors;
several lights flickered and went out; others burned down and filled
the air with their odour.
Baluzzi hastened, in wild excitement, through the saloons, and at last
found Beate upon a divan in the farthest room in the suite of
apartments. Only one hanging lamp shed a dim light.
Beate sprang up from the sofa and assumed an attitude prepared for
defiance, for the Italian was greatly excited, and she knew that he
would then recklessly indulge his wild nature.
"There you are--you would speak to me--_benissimo_. I too would speak
to you; you are probably afraid of me, little cat? You have an evil
conscience, yes, _per dio_, I might shake you to death, because you are
to blame for the last hesitation."
At these words, he caught Beate with his powerful hand. But she drew
out her dagger.
"Stand back! I expected ill-usage; but I am prepared to protect myself
from it."
The Italian started back at the unexpected sight of the shining steel.
"_Corpo del diavolo_," cried he, "the little witch has provided herself
well, but if I were to struggle with you--"
"Just try it!"
"You are a little brigandess; it pleases me, it is Italian blood! But
you are also an intriguer, a shameless intriguer; she follows your
advice. I know it! Why was I obliged to go to the debtors' prison?
Could you not release me one day sooner? If it were not for the
disturbance, your dagger should not deter me, and even if the little
cat were to spring into my face, I should be able to settle her."
"Let us talk rationally, Baluzzi."
"With the dagger in your hand?"
"There is something like a wild beast about you! Fasten it in a
cage--and the dagger shall return to its sheath."
"Well, I will control myself, although it is difficult for me at this
moment. The misfortunes which persecute me, transport me into ever new
rage. Could the cursed ball not roll differently? _Sono alla
disperazione_."
He had seized a chair, and threw it to the ground with such force that
the back broke.
"Has your rage nearly exhausted itself?" asked Beate.
"It was a relapse--I will be calm. Sit down. What have you to tell me?"
They sat down upon the sofa; Beate watched his every movement with a
keen glance.
"Let us talk quietly! This cannot go on much longer!"
"My business with Russia shall set me up again! '_E una fatalita!_'
This _maledetto polacco_! If only they had massacred him at Ostrolenka,
or beaten him to death with the knout in Siberia. He is a gambler by
profession, and believes to be in possession of the only luck-bringing
theory; but his theory is folly, while the misfortune is that he is
fortunate. It is the second time already that he has broken my
bank--without him I should be the luckiest player! He exercises an evil
eye upon me--I curse him!"
"Leave that alone! The misfortune is the gambling--give it up, Baluzzi!
You will ruin yourself, and us with you."
"She still sings splendidly; while the gold of her voice resounds, gold
will resound in her money box."
"But her voice is deteriorating."
"Bad fellows say so, and I punished one of them lately. Her voice is
still first-rate capital, will bring interest for long yet; there is no
want of it."
"We shall come to want! You are a leech, an outrageous leech! She can
hardly pay for her own dress! And, to-day, bad luck again! No sooner
are your debts paid than a new demand menaces us. You are a bankrupt
every eight days."
"I will give up gambling now; I have no luck. But business is hazard,
too; the Russian frontier Guards are no joke."
"Can you pursue no respectable business?"
"Fill a paper bag with _quattrini_, every day another farthing, and lie
down to sleep happily when one paper bag is full, and a fresh one can
be twisted up--that is not my style! I do business on a large scale, I
would live grandly, I must, therefore, risk much! All or nothing--_va
banque_! What else can I do with your little honorariums? You have no
right to interfere with me; you deceive me, and you especially, little
Satan; you rouse her against me, and spin tissues of lies, and persuade
her to plead poverty. But I will sweep away the spider's web you have
woven, malicious spider that you are, and trample you under foot."
The Italian assumed a menacing aspect; Beate kept her hand upon the
dagger.
"Afraid again? Those little watchful eyes, how well they become you,
but I tell you I want money, much money, and she must give it me once
more! Could she not save during that couple of years when I lost all
traces of her, because I was stationed far away in the interior of
Russia, and could not escape from vile ill-luck? Why did she not save?
Why does she live like a princess? Probably she is collecting a dowry
for you; you are, doubtlessly, a pretty little betrothed; some unhappy
being has gone into your net, beguiled by that pretty visage! There is
still time to warn him!"
"Calumny, vile calumny!"
"But I shall hold her fast! Do she not fulfil her duties, I shall
appear again, and lay my hand upon her before all the world."
"It is on this point that I would speak to you, Baluzzi. There is only
one means by which she can still provide for you, even if her talent
has failed her."
"And that means?"
"You must set her free."
"How your eyes sparkle, little viper," cried Baluzzi, springing up.
"That is a fine plan, probably conceived in this charming little head.
Do not give yourselves any trouble, things will remain as they were."
"Your own interest--"
"Is thus best ensured. Will always be. I have certainty."
"There are sufficient grounds for you, according to the laws of this
country, if you only will--"
"Grounds abundant as flowers in May, as mushrooms after rain; but I
stand by the decree of the Church. I am not a subject of this country,
and will not become one."
"But if we had reasons, proofs--"
"Aha, I repeat it, it is in vain--we stand under the laws of Italy and
of the Church, and what will you prove? That which was done was done
with her consent, according to her own desire, yet at first in
opposition to mine; and who tells you that I do not love her, love her
fervently, that I will always remain far from her? If she cease to be
the queen of the stage, then she will belong to me once again. No more
beautiful angel of damnation ever dwelled with Lucifer in the depths of
hell! Ha! how my bonds will rise; she shall preside at the green board,
it will be like a gaming hell in heaven! For me, at least, because she
shall be my slave, whom I love and chastise at the same time."
"The dreams of a madman."
"If they are only beautiful, those dreams, enchantingly beautiful, then
it is a foretaste, and the day will come on which this madness will
seek and find its victim."
"Baluzzi, be reasonable," said Beate, insinuatingly, as she drew the
Italian down beside her, "you are not so foolish as you pretend to be;
you consented formerly, because you saw that it was for your mutual
good. Be reasonable now, too!"
"How the little cat can caress with its velvet paws."
"There is something in the air that can do you good also!"
"I curse that something and him, for I hate him also."
"Jealousy still, senseless jealousy--_sareble vero!_ She does not love
you; you cannot force her to do so! Is she the only woman in the world?
You give yourself freedom again. Take a large profit with you, and then
trouble yourself no more about her! We others may not be so beautiful,
to be sure, yet we are not made of marble either, but of flesh and
blood, and, if our eyes have not such depth, they flash all the more
merrily."
Beate looked at the gambler with seductive glances. He put his arms
round her supple form, which only resisted feebly, pressed a kiss upon
her lips, but then wrenched himself away, pushed her from him, and
cried, as he sprang up--
"_Corpo di bacco_, I know you, _diavola_! That is a worn-out game, and
I know, too, how the cards are shuffled! You are not indisposed to be
the victim of friendship. Aha, that is the cause of this sudden,
pretended, fervent love. But where are the witnesses--the dumb walls,
the lamps burning down? And, if there were witnesses, they would only
be of use so far as separate maintenance is concerned, with which the
Signora is not supplied. You have miscalculated, my child! To-day is
buried from the world, and to-morrow I shall not know you again."
Beate stood drawn up erectly, the open dagger in her hand.
"You misunderstand me, Signor Baluzzi! Our business is at an end!"
At that moment Kaetchen's head appeared in the half-open doorway.
"You called me, Signor?"
"Listener," cried Baluzzi, enraged, "this eavesdropping in my own
house! Do not let me catch you a second time. Open the garden gate for
the Signora; wait below with the key!"
Kaetchen disappeared.
"I require money; I do not yet know how much. I will first learn the
result of my business. You are a cunning mediatrix, little Beate, but
neither your paws nor your claws have power over me; but if anything be
in the air warn her not to venture upon too much, else she may have a
narrow escape."
Below Kaetchen was whistling upon the key of the gate. She soon
conducted Beate, who had drawn the hood over her head, through the
garden walks.
The wild cat left the lion's den.