"And this too is a kiss."
Johanna seized her hand. "Now you can return to your place which you
have occupied as undisputed mistress till to-day," said she. "You also
shall have your way, and may count me your friend from henceforth; and
now, let us go over to them. Ulrich must know that we are reconciled."
"And Leo too," thought Felicitas, smoothing out the folds of her dress
which were crumpled from kneeling.
As she walked into the open air by Johanna's side and saw the sun
shining, in spite of all that had happened, greenish-gold through the
leaves, she took comfort for the first time. The new position of
affairs seemed already more familiar.
"The oath may do good," she said to herself. "It will, at least keep me
from doing silly things."
Frau von Sellenthin and Ulrich Kletzingk sat together on the terrace,
keeping up a somewhat constrained conversation, because both were
awaiting, full of impatience, Lizzie's return. A mounted messenger had
been sent out to the fields to summon Leo home. Elly, irradiating
placid rosy innocence, stitched at her embroidery, which was spread out
on her knees; while Hertha, with idle fingers, was on the _qui vive_
for coming events. Even the presence of Ulrich, to whom she had felt
drawn long ago in the bonds of a glowing friendship, could not
dissipate the panic which the mysterious meeting between the two women
had awakened in her. She was the first to become aware of their
approach. Walking close to each other, they loomed against the
background of the park--the one in her black, flapping weeds resembling
a gliding shadow, and the other like a white summer cloudlet.
Now grandmamma saw them coming.
"Thank God!" she murmured, rolling up her crochet, and giving Ulrich a
sign to look round.
"Thank God," he repeated, as he kissed the old lady's hand. "Now at
last we are at peace."
Every one had got up and looked towards the two women as they ascended
the steps of the terrace.
"Well, I don't think it seems altogether like peace," thought Hertha,
observing the expression of bitter chagrin which made her mother's
features appear more severe and sour than ever before. Her eyes were
searching Ulrich's face. "She looks at him as if she would like to
swallow him," thought Hertha.
And then she came under the spell of Felicitas's charms, which held her
close captive.
"Oh, how very beautiful she is!" she said to herself with a sigh. "How
I should love to be like her."
Greetings were exchanged, and half-murmured, significant words spoken;
but Hertha heard nothing, being completely fascinated by the fair
stranger whose smile was so melancholy, and who knew how to bow her
head with such gentle grace.
She had a dim sensation as if hearing music--low, dreamy, strange
music, which grew stronger directly the beautiful woman made a
movement, and died softly when she sat motionless and silent.
When she kissed her husband, Hertha envied him; and when she greeted
Elly in a friendly manner, Hertha felt herself alone and deserted. But
then the fair creature turned to her and gave her an astonished yet
exquisite smile. Hertha glowed to the roots of her hair.
"This is, then, Countess Hertha, of whom I have often heard?" asked
Frau Felicitas.
"Whom has she heard of me from?" wondered Hertha, without daring to
lift her eyes.
And now she beheld a rounded, snow-white hand stretched invitingly out
to her. She would like to have rushed at it, to have kissed it; but in
her awkwardness she could only lay three fingers in it uncertainly, and
then quickly withdraw them.
"You are like a fairy princess, Countess Hertha," she heard the
stranger's sweet, soft voice breathe close to her--"so tall and so
proud. We must be friends."
"Oh!" exclaimed Hertha, glowing with gratitude for so much kindness,
and what was more, the beautiful woman threw her arms round her and
kissed her on the lips. Then something happened which she could not
have explained. At the moment the stranger's lips touched hers, she was
seized anew with the same uncanny feeling which her stepmother's
exclamation had awakened in her a few hours earlier. As if turned to
stone, she allowed herself to be kissed, and gasped, for the deadening
perfume which this embrace exhaled streamed over her and almost took
her breath away.
Then she heard grandmamma say, "She is still shy ... she hasn't seen
much society yet." Dear, dear grandmamma, and she nearly crushed the
old, protecting hand, that so kindly guided her stumbling destiny. Now
every one sat down on the terrace, and tea was served. It was long past
the vesper hour. Hertha sat in a dream, and eat and drank absently as
if she hadn't broken her fast for days.
Her attention was first caught again by overhearing bits of the
conversation which passed between her stepmother and the Baron
Kletzingk.
There was nothing remarkable about the conversation itself, for it
turned on the pedagogic principles which governed Ulrich's education of
the village children. Only the tone in which it was conducted was
extraordinary.
There was something like suppressed scorn in her stepmother's
indifferent words, one moment she seemed as if she would like to cry,
the next she would collapse into brooding reflection, and her eyes
would be fixed on his face, full of stony pain. He, on his side, talked
to her as if she were an invalid who was to be humoured. He did not
contradict her, but modified at once anything that seemed to displease
her ... and when she threw in a derogatory or incredulous remark with
her nervously trembling lips, he pretended that he heartily shared her
opinion, saying that her reasons were important enough to make him
change his mind. But after such a concession he got hardly more than a
shrug of her shoulders for answer.
"What can he have done to her that she hates him so," thought Hertha;
and then her attention wandered again to Felicitas, at whom she stared
admiringly.
In the middle of the flagging conversation a firm footstep was heard in
the breakfast-room, accompanied by the pattering of the St. Bernard's
feet. Whoever was speaking broke off before finishing his or her
sentence.
Every one sat upright and glanced expectantly at the door. Hertha felt
her heart beating quickly. For an instant her eyes met those of the
beautiful woman, and it seemed to her that the pale face had grown a
shade paler.
The door was flung back, and Leo burst on to the terrace. Suddenly he
paused and drew back. His hand fidgeted with the ends of his beard, his
eyes fastened on Felicitas with a searching, threatening gaze.
"He doesn't like her," was Hertha's inward comment.
Ulrich went up to him quickly, and seized his hand. "What you see here,
old man, means reconciliation. Now we are all going to enjoy ourselves
together at last."
"You two?" asked Leo, indicating with his finger the two women.
"Yes, certainly, we are reconciled," responded Johanna, with her
bitterest smile. He was going to say more, when Ulrich admonished him.
"Think of the children," he said.
"It is to be hoped now that you will not disdain to shake hands with
me, sister," Leo said.
"I have come here expressly with that purpose," answered Johanna,
rising.
Their hands touched, and they looked into each other's eyes. To him her
hand said, "I hold you in its hollow," and her glance, "Be careful."
Then he turned to greet Felicitas with a fleeting smile.
"I wonder why he doesn't like her?" Hertha asked herself, rather
puzzled at everything.