"Why do you stand at the door? You may come nearer if you like."
"Thank you," whispered Felicitas. She approached an armchair with
quaking knees, and clung to the back for support.
"Speak out," said Johanna. "What has brought you here?"
"Necessity," murmured Felicitas--"the necessity of my soul."
Johanna laughed out loud. "Really, your phrases are as good as ever.
And what can I do for your soul's necessity?"
"Despise and scout me," said Felicitas. "You have the right; but
believe me when I say that I am no longer what I was.... I am not the
same as I was when you cast me off. Then I was cowardly and bad. To-day
I come back to you purified and courageous, and the reason that I stand
before you thus, Johanna, is"--her face lighted with enthusiasm--"is
because he, in the two years of our married life, has made me what I
am. I owe it to him."
Johanna shrugged her shoulders. She thought of the gossip in
everybody's mouth about the flirtations of the fair chatelaine of
Uhlenfelde.
"Your reputation is not above reproach, Felicitas," said she. "Is that
also his doing?"
"What? Johanna?"
"I mean what people say about you?"
"I must ask you, then, first what it is people say about me? No; but I
am too proud to defend myself. That I can make such a boast is his
doing likewise."
And she spread out her arms, while in her mind she replaced Ulrich's
name with Leo's.
Johanna passed her hand over her brow, as if she would clear away some
confusing impression. There was something in the bearing of this
creature indeed which formerly she had not been acquainted with, and it
wrung from her an unwilling sympathy.
"Again I ask, what is it you want with me?"
Felicitas smiled faintly. "Won't you let me sit down? It has cost me
something to come here."
And it was true enough that she was ready to drop. But she waited for
Johanna's gesture of consent before she sank into the chair against
which she had been leaning for so long. Her eyes closed, and she drew a
deep breath. Then she began to talk in a subdued tone.
"It is like being in a dream, Johanna. I can hardly believe that to-day
I shall attain that peace of mind after which I have been groping for
years. Believe me when I say that I haven't once had any real joy in
what is mine. Your image has stood between us.... It has seemed to me
as if I had got everything by stealth...."
"And so you have," Johanna broke in harshly.
"Yes; as if I had robbed some one worthier of the position. You see
that, so long as I live at his side, I carry about with me the thought
that my fate is in your hands. And now I feel that what you resolved to
do would be my salvation. But what have I not had to endure before I
reached this point?" And, as if shuddering at the thought of the past,
she cowered back in the chair.
Johanna had regained her self-possession. How well she knew these
languishing glances, these veiled flute-like tones. Her eyes, sharpened
by hate, saw through all the pretty wiles and artifices as through a
glass case. Her gaze rested unmercifully on the cowering one, and only
waited for her to reveal her hand, then woe to her.
Felicitas suspected all this. The lean sister of charity with the lofty
bosom--Felicitas thought it must be padded with virtue--was more
difficult to deal with than her brother, the dear, overgrown schoolboy.
But even she had her weak spot; even she! And with folded hands and
softly breathed words, Felicitas went on with the history of her
suffering and struggles. It was very much the same as what she had
confided to Leo on the Isle of Friendship, only a little altered
to suit the special case. A blend of self-accusation and
self-justification, of declarations of ardent attachment to her husband
and outbreaks of torturing fear of him; a tossing between consciousness
of unworthiness and the impulse to lose this consciousness in new
unworthy acts--all this poured out in a stream of humility and penitence,
radiated by the magic reflection of a soul hungry for beauty and love.
How much she believed of it herself she scarcely knew. In her easily
impressionable mind, which she could play with as one plays with a
spoilt child, truth changed into lies and lies into truth as the
emergency required. Now she had reached in her story the first meeting
with Leo. She halted, for she had not had time to consider, in the
excitement of the moment, which of the three motives she should make
use of--that suggested by the world, that which made out it had been
done for Ulrich's sake, or that which was really the true one.
"Be large-minded; be noble, and not petty," a voice said within her.
And she told the truth. Of course it was not the truth by a long way,
but only what she took for the truth.
At the mention of the first letter to Leo, Johanna gave a sigh of
satisfaction. Then she froze again into her stony aspect, but watched
her enemy with ravenous eyes. Felicitas had nearly finished.
"It seems as if it would all be in vain," she concluded, "what I have
tried to do for Ulrich's happiness, if I don't succeed in bringing
about a reconciliation between our families; that is to say, between
you and me."
Johanna laughed shrilly.
"Ulrich must come in and out here," Felicitas said eagerly, "as he used
to in old times, without any fears about injuring the honour of his
wife. Now, Johanna, you know why I came. This is the 'dangerous game' I
am playing. I feel and see that I have lost it, for you only answer me
with scoffing laughter. If you laugh again, I shall know there is no
further hope."
And then suddenly she fell on her knees, and, seizing Johanna's skirts,
cried, sobbing--
"No, don't laugh; don't laugh! Forgive me! Don't let me be ruined. Be
my refuge and rock of strength. I am devoured by a longing for
absolution.... You are pure.... A saint. Will you show me the right
way--guide and help me to repent? Pray for me, and teach me to pray.
Let me come to you when my guilt is driving me to distraction and
despair. Let me kneel and weep ... like this ... at your feet."
She made an attempt to embrace Johanna's knees, but she who had been
looking down on her with hard compressed lips, quickly drew herself
away, and, picking up the train of her dress, stepped by her.
"Listen to my answer," she said. "You have laid your scheme very
skilfully, that must be admitted; but you are in error if you imagine I
don't see through you. You and I understand each other, Felicitas;
there can be no fencing between us. I take very little interest in you
now. I say of you what the Apostle Paul said of the heathen--'What are
they to me that I should judge them?' What are you to me that I should
condemn or forgive you? You must make your own reckoning with what you
call life. But if you think that I shall quietly stand by and look on
while you draw my brother into your toils for a second time, and ruin
him body and soul----"
"Oh, Jesus!" cried Felicitas. However much she might have planned and
rehearsed this interview, that bitter cry from the depths of her
tormented soul had not been in the programme.
Even Johanna seemed for a moment impressed by it; then she quickly took
up again the thread she had dropped.
"Naturally, you deny it. You are an adept at playing the innocent. To
be quite open with you, I myself have been instrumental in my brother's
approaching you, as a means of putting an end to your insane conduct;
for your husband's house must be cleansed at any price. But it was not
your place to make the first advance. For you to do it was shameless,
if not something worse. The foundation of your soul is overgrown by
rubbish and weeds. But they shall be dug up."
A gleam of secret terror flitted over the unhappy penitent's
tear-stained countenance. She rose slowly and threw herself into the
armchair.
"This is the reward one gets for speaking the truth," she thought. "I
might just as well have used the Ulrich pretext, and the rest would
have been simple." Was she now to throw up the game as lost? No, not
yet. She felt that the highest trump of all was up her sleeve. But she
wasn't quite sure how to play it. So, like one who was at the last gasp
and resigned, she said--
"Very well, send for him. I am ready."
Johanna fixed her eyes on her piercingly, as if she expected a new
trick. Then she caught hold of the bell-rope, but let it fall again.
"You still think that I am in joke?" she asked; while Felicitas,
apparently calm, followed every movement of her hands with a pained
smile.
"I think that you are bent on ruining me," she replied; "and that is
enough."
"Why should I wish to do that?"
"Because you hate me, Johanna."
Johanna came nearer to her, and in a voice which seemed nearly to choke
her, she hissed in her ear--
"I will be honest. Yes, I hate you, I never hated my husband as much as
I hate you. But that is not here or there. It has nothing to do with
the matter in hand. As far as I am concerned, you might lead as
pleasure-loving and sinful a life as you pleased. I shouldn't care. But
you have laid hands on those who are dear to me. I could tear my own
eyes out over it. Why should I spare you?"
"This is the right moment," thought Felicitas. And pressing her hand to
her beating heart, she said, with the same martyr-like air--
"If that is the reason, Johanna, you and I are quits after all."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you see that to-day you yourself are laying hands on some one
dear to you?"
Johanna shrank back a little, her eyes opened wide with a fixed
expression, as if she beheld in front of her this approaching evil. And
Felicitas continued--
"Don't you see that it will hurt _him_? Aren't you afraid that it may
kill him? But you are strong, and you are so great, Johanna, that you
would rather he died than remained the possession of one unworthy of
him. All I say is, that you ought to have done sooner what you intend
to do to-day. It should have been done before habit had made him used
to the new conditions. I speak of 'habit' because I daren't mention
love in your presence."
Johanna spread her trembling hands on the table, and Felicitas
continued in a still humbler and more resigned tone.
"Perhaps my imagination paints things too black. Perhaps he may recover
from the blow which is to be dealt him ... for it lies with you,
Johanna, to repair this day's work and to help him to forget it."
Johanna started up. Her eyes pierced the face of her opponent
anxiously.
"What are you trying to convey to me?" she stammered.
Felicitas went on, with her plaintive smile. "I only know this,
Johanna, that I--I shall not recover from it. Whether he shoots me,
whether I throw myself into the river, I don't care. Perhaps neither
will happen. He is so kind and noble ... and I--I am so afraid of
death. Maybe I shall perish in shame and misery somewhere, for I am
rudderless, Johanna. I count for nothing. In any case, I shall be
cleared out of the way; from henceforth I shall be as good as dead; as
you said, Johanna, there can be no fencing between us, least of all
to-day. Why, then, conceal anything?" She opened her arms, "We love
him, both of us, I as much as you ... this is the ground of our hate."
Johanna cried aloud. She made a motion with her fingers as if she would
spring on the defenceless woman, then collapsed on to the sofa and
buried her face in the cushions.
Felicitas licked her lips with the point of her little red tongue,
which was a habit she had. She was quite sure now that the bell-rope
would be left untouched. She came closer to the prostrate form, and was
going to lay her hand on her shoulder, when she recollected herself and
cautiously withdrew a few steps.
"The only thing we have to consider," she began anew, "is his
happiness. If you are certain, Johanna, that you can secure it better
than I can, I will yield to you willingly. And even if I did not wish,
I am bound to do so because I am in your power. But I am weary of all
this anxiety and unrest, and I do it of my own free will. And now, you
see, there is really no reason why we should hate each other any more.
It might be possible that together we may hit on a way which will spare
him the worst pain, for don't forget that when he loses me he loses his
friend at the same time, whom he values more highly than anything on
earth."
Johanna raised herself and cast her wildly rolling eyes up at the
crucifix which, with its white arms, shone out of the twilight.
"Oh, my Saviour," she moaned, "how could I want to do it? How couldst
Thou permit that I should want to do it?"
"Don't distress yourself," Felicitas went on, and now she really did
lay her hand on the heaving shoulder. "Nothing has actually happened
yet, and therefore I will make another proposal to you. To-morrow I
will leave his house and write to him from Muensterberg. 'Forgive me. I
see that I can't make you happy. You have made a mistake. I set you
free. Choose the woman who is worthy of you."
At this Johanna turned round abruptly, clung to her, and seemed as if
she would have drawn her head down to hers and kissed her. But the
moment she felt the cool, soft arms of the woman she had so long hated
touch her throat, she tore herself away shuddering and rushed to the
window, to put as much distance as possible between her and the fair,
smiling sinner; from this coign of vantage she began speaking.
"I have allowed myself to be cajoled by you, Felicitas. I am now as
defenceless as yourself. You say that I love--aye, I love him. Triumph
over me, then, for you have him, and I can do nothing but pray for him.
But what do you know of how I love him? I might as well say to you I
don't love him, and in your sense it wouldn't be a lie. My love is
spiritual, and partakes of worship. I want nothing further from him. To
worship him is the same to me as belonging to him. I love him as I love
the risen Lord, the saint who will one day kneel with me before God's
throne. But what do you understand of love like this? You all jeer at
me. No, but you don't despise me. You have a slight inkling into what I
feel, and you envy me. But, nevertheless, you have no idea of what it
is--of what it is at night to see the Gates of Heaven open, and the
glory of God flame down, and the white wounds of the Saviour begin to
bleed. Such a miracle has happened here more than once."
And she contemplated the crucifix hanging over the praying-stool with
great hungry eyes.
Felicitas cringed. She had begun to be afraid. It seemed to be true
what people said, that Johanna's fanaticism had driven her out of her
mind. When the latter saw her shiver, she broke into a laugh.
"You are frightened," she said. "I can well believe it.... No lies, no
mask have any avail with the naked, bleeding One.... Come, give me your
hand."
The imperious command met with no resistance. Felicitas, half-fearful,
half-curious, drew nearer and felt her hand seized by one as if in
fever.
"Why do you tremble?" asked Johanna. "You ought to be glad, for now I
am in your power, as much as you are in mine. You are afraid to meet
the eyes of the Crucified, but look well. Do you know who has eyes like
those?"
"No," said Felicitas.
"And you pretend to love him! Oh, you dissembler! Now, listen, either
your mind is pure and clear as gold, like the blood that flows from
those wounds, and I have been deceived in you; or it is an abysmal sink
of iniquity beyond my capacity to measure in this life."
"The truth is about halfway between the two," thought Felicitas.
"But we will leave that. If you desire that our enmity shall be over
from this hour, you will not refuse to take the oath I require of you."
"It won't be so awful," thought Felicitas, and with downcast eyes she
replied--
"I am not afraid of any oath."
"Then kneel down."
"Why, where?" asked Felicitas, nervously.
"Here, on my stool."
"Very well, even that I will do," said Felicitas, and knelt as she was
bidden, carefully drawing aside her festive skirts as she did so.
"Place your hands on the Saviour's feet."
Felicitas dared not refuse. When the tips of her fingers came in
contact with the cold marble, she cowered and shivered. She felt as if
an icy stream ran over her from those white feet, which threatened to
freeze the blood in her veins, but she held out bravely. And then in a
low, slightly tremulous voice, she repeated the words Johanna dictated
to her, like a confirmation candidate kneeling in white muslin at the
altar, stammering forth her confession of faith.
"I swear to Thee, merciful Lord, I confess and protest in Thy name,
that I am filled with penitence for my sin, and shall be penitent till
my life's end."
"If nothing further occurs," she thought meanwhile.
"I will cherish no other thought, no other wish than to repent what has
happened. Ulrich's happiness and honour shall be my expiation, and my
only object in life till he dies."
"Amen," added Felicitas, with a sigh of relief, and was going to get up
hastily, but Johanna held her down on the stool.
"We haven't done yet," she said, and laughed between her clenched
teeth.
Felicitas thought, "I don't care," and prepared herself to repeat
further what was poured into her ear in broken whispers mingled with
hot gasping waves of breath.
"If my heart is not pure, if I take this oath, as a blind. ..."
Felicitas hesitated a little to test herself.... No it was no blind.
She really meant what she was promising.
"If in future I set my desires on vain pleasure, or nourish sinful
wishes, so shalt Thou punish me through the dearest I possess. Thou
shalt shame me in the sight of all men."
"Thou shalt shame me in the sight of all men," repeated Felicitas, and
looked timidly round her.
"The child Thou hast given me shall die," was whispered in her ear.
A cold shiver ran along her spine, and then she repeated even this.
"And I shall be his murderess."
Felicitas was silent and trembled.
"Well ... why do you hesitate?"
"Johanna, it is so awful, what you want me to say."
"It is, but only thus can I be sure of you. Say it or not. You have
your choice."
"And ... I ... shall ... be ... his ... murderess."
"Right, now say Amen."
"Amen."
Then she sank with her forehead on the edge of the desk. She glanced at
her fingers, which had relaxed their grasp on the feet of the
Crucified, as if she expected there must be traces on them of the blood
which Johanna saw streaming from the wounds. It seemed to her as if she
had sworn away her life, as if with those last words the sun had gone
down, never to rise again.
Then she slowly raised herself. The next moment, she felt Johanna's
arms round her, and the feverish lips, struggling against repulsion
pressed to her own.