CHAPTER XIV.In the evening the Ferber family were sitting in the shade of the lindens at the spring. Frau Ferber and Miss Mertens were busied in making a rug which was to lie upon the floor under the piano in winter time.Frau Ferber had lost for awhile that dignified composure that so well became her still beautiful face. She could not forget the afternoon's occurrence; for, although she saw her child before her safe and sound, she had been very much agitated by Miss Mertens' account. She looked frequently at Elizabeth, fearing, as she remarked her slightest change of colour, that some illness would ensue from the excitement that she had passed through. The father's views were different. "That's my brave daughter!" he said with sparkling eyes, "determine coolly and execute quickly,—thus I would have you do."To Frau Ferber, her husband had always seemed the ideal of what a man should be. Even now, after so many years of married life, she followed blindly where he led; and in her estimation his opinions admitted of no question. But to-day, as she listened to his paternal praises, a sigh escaped her as she remarked that a mother loved her children infinitely more than a father possibly could."Certainly not more, only differently," was Ferber's quiet rejoinder. "It is because I love them that I educate them to be full-grown, responsible beings, capable of thinking and acting courageously and independently, that they may never belong to the miserable class whom want of all force of character condemns to constant suffering."Elizabeth had also brought her work-basket into the garden, but little Ernst looked greatly disappointed as he saw her take out her sewing."Very well, then, Elsie," he said petulantly. "Herr von Walde may ask me a dozen times if I love you,—I shall not say yes again. You never play with me any more; and, I suppose, you think you are as big a girl as Miss Mertens! But you needn't think that,—you won't be for a long while yet."They all laughed at this odd confounding of age with size. But Elizabeth rose immediately to amuse the little boy, tucked up her long dress, and drew lots which should chase and which run from the other; and then they were both off like a flash, up and down the rampart, hither and thither through the garden.In the mean time there was a ring at the gate in the wall. Herr Ferber opened it, and Dr. Fels, Reinhard, and the forester appeared upon the threshold. Elizabeth was just running along the principal walk, and did not immediately see the visitors."Well, I must say," laughed Dr. Fels, standing still, "this is a wonderful transformation. In the afternoon Valkyria, and in the evening a butterfly!"But the forester advanced, threw his arm around his niece, and then held her off at arm's length, that he might scan her delicate figure. "My fine darling!" he cried with sparkling eyes, "she looks as fragile and delicate as though she were made of ivory, and yet she has the force of a man in her heart and hands; 'tis an immense pity you are not a boy. I would clap you into a green hunting-coat in spite of all that your father could say."In the mean while Dr. Fels also drew near, and held out his hand to Elizabeth. "Herr von Walde rode to town to-night," he said, "and requested me to come hither. He is very anxious to know that your fright and terror have produced no evil consequences.""None whatever," she replied, blushing deeply. "As you see," she added, laughing, "I am perfectly well able to perform my sisterly duties, and Ernst has just assured me that I am very hard to catch.""Well, I will carry Herr von Walde this message, word for word," said the doctor with an arch smile. "Let him decide whether it is a comforting one, or the contrary."Ferber now invited the gentlemen to join the circle beneath the lindens. The doctor lighted a cigar and seemed most content. They discussed Linke's attempt very fully. After his dismissal from Lindhof, many of the underhand dealings by which he had taken advantage of his master's absence, had come to light. Although Herr von Walde had taken no steps to bring the offender to justice, the knowledge of his dishonesty spread abroad, and was the means of preventing the superintendent from procuring another situation. Undoubtedly this had filled the measure of his desire for revenge, and had excited him to to-day's deed. Every means had been tried for the apprehension of the assassin; the forester with his men had searched the forest, but their exertions had been followed by no result. Reinhard said that every one at Castle Lindhof had been forbidden to mention the matter to Fräulein von Walde, lest the fright should injure her. And the baroness, Hollfeld, and the old waiting-maid were to know nothing of it."Herr von Walde has also requested," he continued, "that the matter should be kept as secret as possible in L——, for he knows that half the town is invited for to-morrow's fête.""That is, everything that creeps or flies upon a golden, silver, or coloured field," interrupted the doctor sarcastically; "every coat of arms that can be found, and all the court-councillors, and officials. Oh, the selection has been made upon the strictest principles of court etiquette, I assure you. So I have enjoined it upon my wife to conduct herself with becoming humility, like a crow among soaring falcons. To our surprise the baroness,—for she manages the whole affair,—has sent us an invitation.""Apropos, my dear doctor!" cried Reinhard laughing, "they told me in L—— to-day that the old Princess Catharine wished to install you as her physician, but you declined the honour,—is that true? All L—— is actually standing on its head with surprise.""Ah, that is nothing new; the dear little town passes half its time in that posture, and the consequence is that the light of intelligence shines upon the tough soles of its feet. But you have heard correctly. I was sufficiently bold to decline that honour.""But why?""First, because I have no time to be coddling the hysterical whims of her aristocratic head every day; and then my sacred respect for court etiquette is too great.""Yes, yes," cried the forester, laughing, "that is the reason why I always cross myself three times when I leave the royal castle behind me. The prince and princess,—our good princess especially troubles no one,—they shut their eyes when mere matters of ceremony are not according to stiff, prescribed rules; but that court mob, that lisps and crawls and wags its tail about them,—heaven help us! it absolutely shrieks murder if a man walks boldly and uprightly, and goes into fits at the sound of a voice that comes clear and full from the chest just as God meant it should."It had grown very dark. The family and Miss Mertens accompanied the visitors to the gate in the wall; and, as they all stepped forth upon the open sward, they heard sweet sounds floating up from the valley through the forest, which lay steeped in the silence of night, and where the birds had ceased to flit among the boughs, and even the breeze had fallen asleep in the tree-tops in the midst of the strange tales from distant lands that it whispered to them every evening. The band from the town was serenading Herr von Walde.CHAPTER XV.The next morning at five o'clock the inmates of Gnadeck were awakened by a discharge of artillery. "Aha!" said Ferber to his wife, "the celebration is beginning." But Elizabeth was startled from a fearful dream, in which the misfortune which she had yesterday averted seemed actually to take place. She had just seen Herr von Walde fall dying to the ground, when the cannon in the valley awoke her. It was some time before she could collect herself. For one moment she suffered fearfully. It seemed as if heaven and earth were vanishing from her as that noble figure fell; and even now, when she saw the golden light of morning falling upon the familiar objects in her room and not upon the blood-stained sward, her agitated nerves still quivered; she had never, not even the day before, when she had so fearlessly risked her life for his, felt so deeply that his death would be hers also.Again and again the cannon thundered up from the valley. The window-panes shook slightly, and the little canary fluttered in terror from side to side in his cage. At each report Elizabeth shuddered; and when her anxious mother, who could not quite allay her fears for the result of the previous day's occurrence, although her child had seemed unharmed and well, came to her bedside to ask how she had slept, the girl threw her arms around her neck and burst into an uncontrollable fit of tears."Good heavens, my child!" cried Frau Ferber, much frightened, "you are ill. I knew that you would suffer from yesterday's shock, and there is that terrible shooting going on in the valley."Elizabeth had some trouble in convincing her mother that she felt perfectly well, and that she could not be induced to lie in bed, but was resolved to take her breakfast with the family. And to put a stop to all further remonstrance, she immediately arose, bathed and dressed, and assisted her mother in preparing the simple breakfast.The sound of the cannon suddenly ceased, and before long all traces of tears vanished from Elizabeth's eyes. The world looked brighter to her; for, although a life of renunciation lay before her, he still lived; this thought had, in consequence of her fearful dream, a soothing effect upon her restless heart. Even if he went away to distant lands, and she was forced to live years without seeing him, a time must come when he would return. And she could still love and think of him, for he belonged to no one else.Later in the day she went with her family and Miss Mertens to the Lodge, where they had been invited to dine. There was a dark cloud upon the forester's brow as he came to meet them. Elizabeth soon discovered that he was troubled about Bertha."I cannot and will not bear it any longer!" he cried angrily. "Must I turn spy in my old age, and constantly be upon the watch to prevent a wayward, foolish child, who has no possible claim upon me, from making a perpetual fool of herself?""But remember, uncle, she is unhappy," said Elizabeth, somewhat alarmed."Unhappy?—she is a deceitful fool!—I am no ogre, and when I thought her really unhappy, that is, when she lost both her parents, I did all that I could to protect and guide her. But that is not what is the matter with her, for scarcely two months after her loss she went singing about and chattering like a magpie, so that I was really grieved to see such heartlessness and frivolity. What is she unhappy about, eh? But I don't want to know her state secret if she has no confidence in me;—let it alone. For all I care she may wear that die-away look upon her face for the next year; but to pretend to be dumb, to run about in the forest at night like a maniac, and perhaps one of these fine days burn down my house about my ears, it is more than I can bear, and I must have a word or two to say about the matter.""Did you not heed the warning that I gave you?" asked Ferber."Certainly I did; I put her into another room; she sleeps now just above me, so that I can hear her lightest step. At night both the house doors are not only bolted, as they have always been at night, but locked too, and I take the key into my room. And oh! the cunning of women,—but that's an old story. At any rate my precautions ensured us some rest. But last night I could not get to sleep; the affair with Linke was running through my brain, and I heard steps above me, cautious steps, soft as a cat's. Aha! I thought, she is at her nightly promenades again, and I rose, but when I went up-stairs the nest was already empty. On a table at the open window a light was burning, and as I opened the door the curtain flew into the flame. Zounds! if I had not been quick as a flash we should have had a blaze that would have been well fed by those old balconies. And how did she get out? Through the kitchen window. I would rather take care of a swarm of ants than of such a sly, deceitful creature.""I am convinced that some love affair is at the bottom of the girl's conduct," said Frau Ferber."Yes, you told me so once before, sister-in-law," replied the forester with irritation, "and if you would be kind enough to tell me with whom, I should be infinitely obliged to you. Look around us and see if there is any one here to turn a girl's brain. My assistants,—they are not half good enough for her; she never would have a word to say to them; it cannot be the rogue Linke, with his crooked legs and carroty wig, and there is no one else here.""You have forgotten one," said Frau Ferber significantly, with a glance towards Elizabeth, who had lingered behind to cut a whip for Ernst."Well?" asked the forester."Herr von Hollfeld."The forester remained silent for awhile. "Hm!" he muttered at last, "I should never in the world have thought of him. No, no," he continued quickly, "I do not believe it, for in the first place the girl cannot possibly be such a fool as to believe that he would make her my lady von Odenberg, and——""Perhaps she hoped that he would, and finds herself mistaken," interrupted Frau Ferber."She is vain and arrogant enough for it, but he,—he cares nothing for women,—he is a cold, heartless egotist," said the forester."An egotist, I grant you," said Frau Ferber, "and that explains Bertha's conduct and manner.""That would be a fine affair," cried the forester angrily, "to think that I should have been hoodwinked like any old fool in a comedy! I will sift the matter now to the bottom, and woe to the girl if she has really dared to bring disgrace upon herself and me!"The dinner was a very quiet one. The forester was out of sorts, and would have extorted a confession from Bertha upon the spot had not Frau Ferber prayed him to wait for a few days. After coffee the guests left the Lodge; the forester threw his rifle across his shoulder, and plunged into the forest, which, as he said, always soothed and brought him to reason.Elizabeth dressed herself for the concert, that is, she put on a simple, white muslin dress, whose only decoration was a bouquet of fresh wild flowers. Her mother tied around her neck a little locket attached to a very narrow black velvet ribbon, and this was her toilet, which would certainly have seemed most embarrassingly simple to most young girls going for the first time among a large assemblage of brilliantly-dressed people; but Elizabeth, if she thought of it at all, congratulated herself upon the delicate neatness of her muslin, and would rather not have worn her mother's little ornament on this occasion, as she considered that she was to appear only as a musician and not as one of the guests, and that her fingers were all that she need be anxious about. She was rather annoyed that the arms above these same fingers were bare, and that her dress was low-necked. She had hitherto never worn a dress that did not cover her neck to her chin, and could not see why the fashionable world had decided that women should bedecolletéin large assemblies. She thought as little of the exquisite form and dazzling whiteness of her shoulders and arms as of the beauty and grace of her head, which, with its heavy braids of golden hair, was set so exquisitely upon her finely-moulded neck. Her mother herself had arranged her hair to-day, and it clustered in short shining curls above her forehead, contrasting wondrously with the delicately pencilled but decided arch of the dark eyebrows. And Frau Ferber could not but agree with Miss Mertens, who, as she watched Elizabeth disappear upon the forest path, declared with enthusiasm that she was supernaturally lovely. The mother had just acknowledged to herself that her child's beauty had unfolded in a most striking degree.When Elizabeth entered the vestibule of Castle Lindhof she encountered Dr. Fels, who, with his wife upon his arm, was just turning down one of the corridors. She hastened towards him, and accosted him gaily, for her heart had been beating anxiously as she approached the castle, at the thought that she should be obliged to enter entirely alone the spacious saloon, where the greater part of the company were doubtless already assembled. The doctor received her most cordially, and presented her to his wife, in an undertone, as "yesterday's heroine." Both gladly took her under their protection. The large folding-doors were flung open, and Elizabeth was grateful for the lucky star that had allowed her to take shelter behind the tall, commanding figure of the doctor's wife, for she was at first rather overcome at sight of the large, richly-decorated apartment, over whose highly-polished floor glided the costly dresses of the ladies and the polished boots of the gentlemen. In the centre of the saloon stood the Baroness Lessen, arrayed in magnificent dark-blue moire-antique, and receiving the guests. She returned the salutations of the doctor and his wife very politely, but very coolly, and replied to the doctor's question, "Where is Herr von Walde?" by pointing to a knot of men standing near a window, whence issued a murmur like the Babylonish confusion of tongues.While Fels and his wife walked towards the spot, Elizabeth gladly and gratefully obeyed a gesture from Helene, who, sitting at another window, hurriedly and agitatedly informed her that she had suddenly had an attack of what is called "stage fright;" that she was in overwhelming terror at playing before so many people, and would rather creep into a mouse-hole. And then she begged Elizabeth, instead of the four-handed composition with which the concert was to open, to play a sonata of Beethoven's, a wish with which Elizabeth immediately complied. Her embarrassment vanished. She stepped up to the table where the music was lying, and selected the sonata which she was to play. Meanwhile, carriage after carriage rolled into the court-yard. The folding-doors opened and closed incessantly upon such quantities of tulle and velvet and lace, which were crowded into the saloon, that Elizabeth smiled pityingly at the thought of her simple white muslin, so soon to loose its unwrinkled smoothness in such a crush of crinoline.She could very easily decide, from the manner of the baroness, upon the social rank of the guests. One gracious wave of the feather-crowned head of the great lady answered every social requirement whenever she received untitled guests, and these untitled guests did their part well in acknowledging and respecting this aristocratic reserve. All, in obedience to a gesture from the baroness, first made their way towards the window where stood Herr von Walde,—who, however, remained entirely invisible to Elizabeth,—and then scattered into single groups, either awaiting the opening of the concert, or engaged in conversation among themselves.Suddenly the doors flew open again, and a corpulent old lady hobbled in upon the arm of an equally aged gentleman, whose coat glittered with orders,—and with them came Fräulein von Quittelsdorf. The baroness hastened toward these guests, and Fräulein von Walde also arose with difficulty, and, taking Hollfeld's arm, went to meet the aged pair, while all the ladies standing around her followed like the tail of a comet. The crowd of men at the window divided suddenly as by magic, and Herr von Walde's lofty figure appeared."We must come to you, if we wish to see you, naughty man!" cried the old lady, shaking her forefinger at him, as she hobbled towards him. "You see, in spite of my poor feet, and although you have neglected me shamefully, I am here to-day to offer you my congratulations."He bowed, and said a few words to her, to which she replied by laughingly tapping him upon the shoulder with her fan. Then he conducted her to an arm-chair, where she seated herself with much majesty."The Countess of Falkenberg, chief lady in waiting at the court of L——," was the reply of the doctor's wife when Elizabeth asked who the old lady was. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf looked exquisitely beautiful to-day in her white crape dress, with a wreath of scarlet euphorbia in her dark hair, as she busied herself about the noble lady, while she did not forget to cast a roguish glance now and then at Fräulein von Walde.The arrival of the guests from the court was the signal for the beginning of the concert. Elizabeth could almost hear her own heart beat. She was standing behind the doctor's wife, and was hidden from all the eyes which would in one moment be directed towards her, following every one of her movements. Suddenly she was overcome with timidity, and she repented bitterly having consented to play first alone. She trembled when Fräulein von Walde motioned to her to begin, but there was no time to withdraw. She took a long breath, and walked slowly, with downcast eyes, to the piano, where she courtesied timidly.At first there was a breathless silence; then a whisper ran from mouth to mouth, which was instantly hushed when the young girl struck the keys. Elizabeth's fear and embarrassment all vanished at the sound of the first chords. She was no longer alone. He with whom she had so often wandered along meadow paths in brilliant sunshine, and past gloomy abysses in storm and rain, was with her,—the one who had so often aroused within her joyous presentiments, and who had expressed in immortal harmonies all the loftiest and most sacred aspirations of her nature,—who was as dear and familiar to her as her mother's face, although her gaze fell dazzled by the fiery glories which wreathed his majestic head. The flower-crowned heads ranged against the walls, the lorgnettes and spectacles which, glittering in the sunlight, shot their lightning directly upon the lonely performer in the midst of the saloon, all vanished. She was alone with the great master, following with rapture every manifestation of his creative spirit.An actual storm of applause startled her when she had finished. She courtesied, and then almost flew to her protectress, Frau Fels, who, speechless with emotion, held out both hands to her. The concert did not last very long. Four young gentlemen from L—— sang a delightful quartette, and then there was a performance by a famous violin player. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf sang two songs in a charming voice, but without any ear, so that at every high note the guests either moved involuntarily and nervously upon their chairs, or cast their eyes down in confusion. And then came one of the well-practised duets. Fräulein von Walde had recovered her composure, and played excellently well with Elizabeth.When the concert was over, Elizabeth went towards the door of an anteroom, where she had left her shawl. She was closely followed by an elderly gentleman, who had been sitting opposite her, and had regarded her attentively. At his request, Frau Fels presented him to the young girl as the Military Inspector-general Busch. He said many flattering things about Elizabeth's performance, and added that he was much pleased to become acquainted with the heroic preserver of the life of the lord of the castle; he had accepted to-day's invitation with all the greater pleasure, since within the last few hours he had been deprived of all hope of claiming her assistance in the investigation of the murderous attempt.He laughed heartily at Elizabeth's sudden alarm."No, no, I pray you not to look so horror-stricken, Fräulein," he said at last. "As I have just told you, we shall have no occasion to subject you to a cross-examination. Linke has himself put a stop to our proceedings by a single blow. His dead body was taken from the lake in the park this afternoon," he added, in a low tone. "They informed me of it at the inn, where I alighted. I proceeded, accompanied by the Waldheim physician, who happened to be at the inn, to the scene of the suicide, and convinced myself that that hand will never again be raised against the life of another. The condition of the body shows that Linke must have sought death immediately after the failure of his murderous purpose."Elizabeth shuddered. "Does Herr von Walde know of his fearful end?" she asked in a trembling voice."No; I have had no opportunity to speak with him alone.""None of the company present appear to have any suspicion of yesterday's occurrence," said Frau Fels."Fortunately they have not, thanks to our foresight and reserve," replied the inspector-general, ironically. "As it is, poor Herr von Walde has been quite overwhelmed with congratulations upon being born into the world. What would his friends have done to him had they known how fortunately his life has been preserved?"The butler, Lorenz, at this moment approached Elizabeth and held out to her a little silver waiter, upon which lay several folded slips of paper. She looked up in questioning surprise, and he said respectfully:"Will you have the kindness to take one of the papers?"Elizabeth hesitated."This is probably part of our entertainment," said Frau Fels. "Take it quickly, that the butler may not be detained."Almost mechanically she took up one of the slips of paper, but started in alarm as the Baroness Lessen suddenly appeared at the door, and looked searchingly around the room."Come, Lorenz," she said hastily, stepping towards the servant, "what are you doing here?""I have just handed Fräulein Ferber the salver, gracious lady," replied the old man.The baroness gave him an angry look, and then measured Elizabeth from head to foot. "How, Fräulein Ferber," she said sharply, "are you still here? I thought you were at home long ago, resting upon your laurels."Without waiting for a reply, she turned to leave the room; but just upon the threshold she looked back at the old butler with a frown and shrugged her shoulders."What can you be thinking of, Lorenz? You grow very thoughtless. This infirmity has grown upon you of late."With these words, she bustled out, and the old man quietly followed. He replied not one word to her harsh reproof,—only contracted his bushy, gray eyebrows, so that his honest eyes almost disappeared.The others remained looking at each other in astonishment, when the doctor entered. He made a profound, comical obeisance to his wife, and said solemnly:"In consideration of the fact that Fräulein von Quittelsdorf has just had the clemency to unite us again as closely as by the priestly blessing fifteen years ago, I am content still further to endure the conjugal yoke, and particularly on this day to enjoy by your side, and, cherished by your tender care, O true and faithful spouse, all the delights prepared for us!""My dear husband, what do you mean?" cried his wife, laughing."Pardon me,—I mean nothing at all. Ah, I see you have not heard Fräulein von Quittelsdorf's directions. What a pity! I am then compelled to inform you that every married couple here present, whether now upon a war footing or otherwise, must repair, within the next quarter of an hour, to the convent tower in the forest, where a rural festival will be held. There it will be your duty to provide me with as much to eat and drink as my soul may desire, and in every way to attend upon my wishes, after the pattern of the famous Penelope. But that the unmarried men who are present in large numbers may have no reason to complain,—that their mouths also may be filled,—a sort of lottery has been ingeniously devised. Every unmarried lady is provided with a slip of paper, upon which stands written the name of some unmarried man, and it is left to Cupid and Fate either to unite or to separate faithful hearts."At these words Elizabeth was seized with actual terror. She had never thought of other entertainments following upon the concert; but now she clearly understood why the baroness, on the previous day, had so distinctly alluded to her return home after the conclusion of the music. Her cheeks glowed with shame, for she had exposed herself to the charge of being very assuming by taking from the butler's salver the little slip of paper, which now burned like fire in her hand. Always quick to decide, she went into the saloon where the opening of the mysterious papers was going on amid the laughter of the ladies and their assigned partners."What a senseless idea this, of Fräulein von Quittelsdorf's," a young sprig of nobility was just exclaiming peevishly to his neighbour as Elizabeth passed them. "Here I have that stout, pious Fräulein Lehr upon my hands.Fi donc!"Elizabeth had not long to look for the baroness. She was standing apart, near a window, in lively, but, as it seemed, not entirely agreeable conversation with Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, the chief lady in waiting, and Helene. The countess seemed to be remonstrating with Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, who did nothing but shrug her pretty shoulders helplessly from time to time. Intense vexation was expressed in the baroness' countenance,—there was no need of the round, red spot on either cheek to show that she was angry. Not far from the group Herr von Walde was leaning with folded arms against a pillar. He seemed to be only half listening to the words of the be-ribboned old courtier who was standing beside him,—his eyes were fixed upon the gesticulating ladies.Elizabeth hurriedly approached the baroness. It did not escape her that, at sight of her, Fräulein von Quittelsdorf gently nudged the countess, whereupon the latter turned and regarded her with a malevolent air. She saw that she was the subject of their discussion, and she quickened her pace, that she might avert from herself as soon as possible any unworthy suspicion."Most gracious lady," she said, with a slight courtesy, "in consequence of a misunderstanding, I have become possessed of this slip of paper, and have just learned that it entails upon me duties which I cannot possibly undertake, for my parents are expecting me at home."She handed the little slip to the baroness, who took it immediately, while a ray of actual sunshine broke over her features."I think you are in error, Fräulein Ferber," Herr von Walde suddenly interposed, in a clear, melodious voice. "It is incumbent upon you to excuse yourself to the gentleman whose name the paper contains; it rests with him whether he will release you or not." He scanned, with a peculiar smile, the company, who were dividing into couples and making ready for departure; even the old gentleman beside him approached the countess, and offered her his arm. Herr von Walde continued, as he slowly approached: "As master of the house, I cannot permit any want of consideration of one of my guests, wherefore I must beg you, Fräulein Ferber, to open the paper."Elizabeth obeyed, and then handed him the open slip, with a crimson blush. He glanced at it."Ah!" he cried, "I have, as I see, defended my own rights. You must admit that I am fully justified in either accepting or refusing to accept your excuses. I prefer the latter course, and must entreat you strictly to comply with the injunctions laid upon you by that paper."The baroness approached him, and laid her hand upon his arm. It looked as if she were almost struggling to suppress her tears."Forgive me, dear Rudolph," she said, "it is really not my fault.""I do not know to what fault you allude, Amalie," he replied, with icy coldness; "but you certainly choose the right time in which to ask forgiveness,—-just at this moment I could easily forgive an injury."He took his hat which a servant handed to him, and made the signal for departure."But my parents!" stammered Elizabeth."Are they ill, or about to leave Gnadeck immediately?" he asked, standing still."Neither.""Well, pray then let me see to it that they receive intelligence of the cause of your delay."He called a servant, and despatched a message to Gnadeck.While the saloon was gradually emptied, the group of ladies which had been joined by the aged cavalier and Hollfeld, who looked much chagrined, remained standing near the window."It serves you quite right, Cornelie," said the countess. "You have set the crown upon your folly to-day. What a silly idea this lottery is! How often have I endeavoured to put a stop to your nonsense, to which, unfortunately, our gracious princess lends only too willing an ear? How should the butler know any better, when you gave him no instructions? You consider yourself to belong naturally to the court, and yet do not know that that sort of person has not an idea of his own. I should not for an instant grudge you this lesson, if only poor von Walde were not the victim of your frivolity. There he goes with that little white goose upon his arm; he who, with his haughty, aristocratic self-consciousness, has many a time been regardless of the wishes of some high-born lady, who would have been charmed to take his arm. What must he suffer to be tied for several hours to that little piano-player, the daughter of a—forester's clerk?""Why does he sacrifice himself so very readily?" rejoined Fräulein von Quittelsdorf. "It was quite unnecessary for him to meddle at all in the matter. The girl had made up her mind to go, when suddenly he steps forth like a knight without fear or fault, and takes up the burden voluntarily.""At all events the burden is dazzlingly beautiful," said the old cavalier with a conceited smile."What are you thinking of, count?" cried the countess. "That is just like you, who rave about every round-faced peasant girl that you meet. I do not deny that the girl is pretty; but was not poor Rosa von Bergen an actual angel of beauty? Hundreds were languishing at her feet; but von Walde, whom she really preferred, was like a glacier to her. No, he has not the smallest sensibility to feminine beauty and loveliness. I long ago erased his name from my list of eligibles for my young protegées. He has just declared, most distinctly, his reason for sacrificing himself to-day. He is evidently much pleased and delighted with the attentions that we have lavished upon him, and wishes to see every one happy and contented about him,—even the little thing who played the piano. I advise my dearest Lessen for the future not to trust implicitly to the tact and ingenuity of our charming Quittelsdorf."The maid of honour bit her lips, and dragged her lace shawl over her lovely shoulders. The carriage now drew up in which the countess and Helene, accompanied by the baroness and the count, were to be driven to the place of rendezvous."The old cat!" cried Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, after she had assisted the countess into the carriage. "She is furious because she was not asked to assist in the arrangements for to-day. Did not you see, Hollfeld, how very nearly that false front of hers slipped down upon her nose when she was waggling her head in such agitation? I should have laughed for two weeks without intermission if her bald head had suddenly made its appearance underneath that flower garden on top!"She was convulsed with laughter at the idea. Her companion walked, without a word, and with accelerated pace, by her side, as though he heard nothing of her chatter. His whole bearing manifested hurry and disquiet. He seemed most desirous to overtake the rest of the assemblage as quickly as possible. He cast searching glances through the bushes on either side of the way, and, whenever he caught a glimpse of a white dress, stopped for a moment, as though to identify the wearer."Indeed, you are too tiresome, Hollfeld; you weary me to death!" cried the lady peevishly. "To be sure it is your privilege to be as mute as a fish and yet enjoy the reputation of a clever man. Where your wits are now I am sure I cannot imagine. What, in Heaven's name, are you running so fast for? Allow me to entreat you to have some regard for my crape dress, which will be torn to rags by these bushes through which you are hurrying me, with such speed."The convent tower,—the only uninjured remnant of a former nunnery,—was situated in the depths of a grove of oaks and beeches in a part of the forest domain appertaining to the Lindhof estate, which here extended far towards the east.A certain lady of Gnadewitz, a sister of the ancestor of the wheel, had built the nunnery, whither she, with twelve other young maidens, retired to pray for the soul of her brother, cut off so ignominiously in the flower of his days. Year after year the giant boughs of the oaks had tapped at the windows of the cells and leaned above the high wall over the small garden of the convent. They had seen many a fresh young creature pass hurriedly along the dim narrow forest path to ring the bell at the convent portal with feverish impatience, as though unable to wait one instant longer for the promised peace abiding within those walls. They had seen how, behind those irrevocable bolts and bars, the mute lips of the nun grew white,—how convulsively her waxen hands clutched the crucifix, while her agonized looks would seek the ground; for the sight of the clear, blue heavens, arching above the gay children of the outer world, awakened joyous memories within her, and breathed a keen desire for pleasure and life into the soul and heart muffled forever in the folds of the sackcloth of her order.The Reformation, which overthrew the convents like card houses, had stridden through this still forest also, and had passed its mighty hand over the walls of this gloomy pile, which had, in expiation of the misery and crime that had cursed its origin, been the perpetual abode of unhappiness. And even the hollow mockery of existence within its walls had vanished to the four winds. One stone after another had tumbled to the feet of the lofty oaks, whose branches had brushed against it while it formed part of some carved arch or window-frame, and which now strewed leaves upon it till it sank away far more softly bedded than the poor bodies of the nuns, which were, so said the legend, all sleeping together in a subterranean dungeon.The tower was square, clumsy, and ugly. On the flat roof above, that was surrounded by a stone balustrade, the stairs were capped by a very small, square apartment, from which egress upon the roof was obtained through a massive oaken door. Here there was a magnificent prospect and distant view of L——. For the sake of this prospect the tower had been rebuilt and kept in constant repair. Immense iron clamps bound the walls together at the corners, and numberless lines of fresh mortar meandered across its blackened surface, so that the old building looked at a distance like a gigantic piece of agate.But to-day the old pile was decked out like some old fellow dressed for a wooing. Fresh flowers,—that is to say, four gigantic fir trees—were sticking in his hat; and from their tops gay banners were floating, like large birds above the green waves beneath. The old fellow, who, until to-day, had only whispered nightly and daily confidences to his comrades the oaks but had never made an advance towards them from his dignified position, was now clutching them with green wide-spread arms; huge garlands were draped from his topmost walls, and were lost among the boughs of the surrounding forest; while from one side a white sail-cloth was extended and attached to the trunks of two tall hemlocks. Beneath the shade of this tent were several refreshing-looking casks, a whole battery of dusty red-sealed flasks and countless silver-capped bottles in ice-buckets,—all presided over by a very pretty girl in the dress of a vivandiere.Elizabeth had silently and passively left the large hall upon Herr von Walde's arm. In spite of her determination to go home, she had not had the courage to gainsay him, or to tell him of her desire,—he had spoken in a tone of such authority; and, what had influenced her still more, had entered the lists, as it were, for her, and sought to help her out of her embarrassment. Any opposition on her part would have seemed like obstinate defiance of him, and would have served only to increase her painful apprehension of drawing to herself general attention.The silken garments of the ladies rustled along the walls of the corridor behind her. Laughing and chattering, the gay crowd followed Herr von Walde in a long train until it issued from the chief entrance door, and then it scattered hither and thither, taking the various forest paths which led to the convent tower. Those whose elaborate toilets required special care took the broad, well-kept path. Herr von Walde certainly never dreamed that his companion's simple, snowy muslin could be as precious in her eyes as were the rich dresses of the other ladies in theirs, or he certainly would not have selected the narrow, lonely pathway into which he suddenly turned."It is usually very damp here," Elizabeth broke silence timidly,—hitherto no words had passed between them. Her feet trembled as though they would far rather retreat than advance, and yet it is possible that her thoughts were not of her dress nor her thin shoes, but rather of the long, narrow, leafy way before them, through which she must pass alone by his side, and of the voice that would suddenly sound in her ears with that harsh, authoritative tone almost always adopted by him when alone with her."It has not rained for a long time,—see how dry the ground is," he quietly replied, as he walked slowly on and broke off a twig which threatened to brush Elizabeth's cheek. "This path is the shortest, and we can for a quarter of an hour at least escape from the buzz and clatter with which my friends and relatives are celebrating the completion of my thirty-seventh year. But perhaps you are afraid of meeting Linke in this sequestered spot?"A shudder passed through the young girl's frame. She thought upon the criminal's desperate end, but she could not control herself sufficiently to impart her knowledge to Herr von Walde."I do not fear him any longer," she said gravely."He has probably left the country, and if not, he would hardly be so discourteous as to intrude upon the pleasures of people who are seeking to indemnify themselves for the pains they have taken with their formal congratulations. By-the-way, you cannot have failed to observe that every member of the company to-day has honoured me with a few moments of special attention, even the youngest slip of a girl in white muslin has made me her courtesy and uttered her studied desire for my health and happiness. You, perhaps, do not think me old enough yet to need the wishes of others for a prolongation of my life?""I should suppose that such wishes were as appropriate to youth or the prime of life as to advanced age; the one possesses as little as the other a monopoly of existence.""Well, then, why did you not come to me? Yesterday you saved my life, and to-day you care so little about it that you do not even take the trouble to open your lips and say 'God protect it for the future.'""You have just said yourself 'every one of the company.' I did not belong to the company, and therefore could not intrude myself among those who offered their congratulations." She spoke quickly, for there was discontent in his tone, and the arm upon which her hand rested moved impatiently."But you were invited——""To entertain your guests.""Was that modest view of the case the only reason why you did not wish to come with me?""Yes; most certainly my refusal could not have had anything to do with the gentleman who had fallen to my lot, whose name I could not possibly know.""You can hardly persuade me of that; you must have seen at the first glance that all the gentlemen present, with the exception of myself, were already appropriated; you must have known that my sister, without drawing a paper, had requested Hollfeld to accompany her, as she can walk more easily leaning upon his arm than upon any other. Confess——""I knew and saw nothing. I was far too much troubled when I entered the ball-room to return the paper, for the hour at which I was expected to return home had been particularly mentioned to me yesterday. I had no idea that any special festivity was to follow the concert, and in taking the folded slip of paper I committed an indiscretion, for which I cannot forgive myself."He suddenly stood still."I pray you look at me," he said, in a tone of command.She raised her eyes, and although she felt her cheeks glow, she sustained unflinchingly the gaze which at first rested sternly upon her and then became indescribably gentle."No, no," he muttered softly, as if to himself, "it were a crime to suspect deceit here. Yes, double-dyed," he continued in an altered, sarcastic tone; it sounded as though he wished to sneer away some momentary weakness,—"was I not the involuntary auditor of your declaration: 'It needs more courage to tell a lie boldly than to confess a fault?'""That is my conviction, I repeat it.""Ah, what a splendid thing strength of character is! But I should suppose that if one were too upright to soil the lips with deceit, a strict watch should be kept upon the eyes also, lest they lie. I know one moment in your life when you appeared what you were not."Elizabeth, wounded, attempted to withdraw her hand from his arm."Oh, no—you do not escape me so easily!" he cried, retaining it. "You must either deny or acknowledge it. You looked indifferent lately, when I threw away my cousin's tender token, the rose.""Should I have flown after it?""Certainly, if you had been true."Elizabeth knew now why he had entered this lonely path with her,—she was to confess her feelings towards Hollfeld. She was confirmed in her former suspicions,—Herr von Walde was evidently most anxious lest she should prize his cousin's homage too highly and perhaps imagine that he could forget her social position. The moment had come when she could declare her sentiments. By a hasty movement she released her hand from his arm, and stepped a little aside."I grant you," she said, "that if my face that day expressed indifference, it was not in harmony with my thoughts.""I thought so!" he cried, but there was no triumph in the exclamation."I was in fact indignant.""At my interference?""At the unauthorized levity of Herr von Hollfeld.""He startled you greatly; but——""No, he insulted me! How dared he intrude upon me? I abhor him!"She must have been right in her solution of his manner; but she had never dreamed that her declaration would be so highly prized by him. A weight seemed to fall from his heart. A ray of purest joy broke from the eyes which had gazed at her with a mixture of mistrust, contempt, and sarcasm. He drew a deep breath, and half extended his arms. Elizabeth involuntarily looked round to discover what it was that caused his eyes to flash and glow so. She saw nothing, but she felt his hand tremble as he laid hers once more upon his arm. They walked on a few paces without a word. Suddenly he stood still again."Now we are entirely alone," he said, in the gentlest possible tone. "See, only one small eye of heavenly blue looks down upon us,—no prying faces are near to come between us,—I cannot,—I will not be deprived of a birthday greeting from you. Give it to me now, when no one can hear it but myself alone."She was silent and confused."Well, do you not know how it is done?" he asked."Oh, yes," she replied, and an arch smile hovered upon her lips. "I am well practised in such things. My parents, my uncle, Ernst——""All have birthdays," he interrupted her, smiling. "But you cannot wonder that I want a birthday greeting all to myself,—that I desire that it may sound quite different from any that you have hitherto uttered,—for I am neither your father, nor your bluff forester uncle, and certainly I cannot lay claim to the rights of the brother with whom you play. Come, speak!"Still she said nothing. What should she say? Her eyes were cast down, for she could no longer endure that searching glance, that seemed to penetrate her very soul with its troubled expression of entreaty."Then come," he cried abruptly, drawing her forward, after waiting in vain for some moments for one word from her lips. "It was a foolish wish of mine. I know that your tongue, which is always ready to say what is kind and gentle to others, is dumb for me, or only ready with some rebuke."At these words she grew pale, and involuntarily stood still."You will, then?" he asked more gently, "and cannot find the words?" he continued, shaking his head, as she was silent but looked up at him beseechingly. "Well, then, I have a plan. Let me say what I should like to hear from your lips, and you will repeat it after me word for word."Again the smile played around Elizabeth's mouth, and she murmured assent."In the first place, you give your friend your hand," he began, and took her hand in his,—she trembled, but did not withdraw it,—"and then you say, 'You have hitherto been a wretched wanderer upon the face of the earth,—it is high time that the clouds above you should break, and be penetrated by the pure ray of light which has transformed your whole existence. It is my true and earnest wish that this light may never forsake you. Here is my hand, as the pledge of a happiness so inconceivable——"So far she had repeated this strangely-worded greeting after him, but at the last words she hesitated. He seized her other hand also, and urged passionately, "Go on, go on!""Here is my——" she began at last."Oh, Herr von Walde," suddenly cried Cornelie's voice from the thicket, "what a delightful meeting! Now I shall enjoy in company with you the triumph of being received with a flourish of trumpets!"Never in her life had Elizabeth seen such a sudden change take place in a human countenance as now transformed Herr von Walde's features. One strong blue vein stood out upon his pale forehead, his eyes flashed, and he involuntarily stamped his foot. It really seemed as if he would have liked to hurl back into the thicket the unwelcome intruder, who, holding up her crape skirt, came hurrying through the bushes towards them. He could not command his emotion as quickly as usual; perhaps he did not wish to do so, for he frowned angrily as Hollfeld made his appearance behind the lady. As he came in sight, Herr von Walde drew Elizabeth's hand through his arm with gentle violence, as if he feared lest she should be snatched from him."Why, how you look, Herr von Walde," cried Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, stepping into the middle of the path; "actually as if we were bandits, with designs upon your life; or, at all events, upon your property!"Without replying a word to this attack, he turned to his cousin and asked, "Where is my sister?""She was afraid of the long rough path," the latter replied, "and preferred to drive.""Well, I suppose you will hardly leave Helene to be lifted out of the carriage by the old Count Wildenau; I cannot understand how, as her faithful knight, you could leave the principal path. A few, quick steps will enable you to rejoin her. I will not prevent you from doing so," said Herr von Walde sharply, while a sarcastic smile quivered around the corners of his mouth. He stepped aside with Elizabeth to allow the pair to pass."And pray, if one may ask, why did you leave the principal path yourself?" asked Fräulein von Quittelsdorf flippantly, much more like a pert chamber-maid than a maid of honour."That you can easily learn; simply because I hoped, by coming along this lonely path, to escape the eloquent tongues of certain ladies," replied Herr von Walde drily."Ah, how cross you are! Heaven shield us from such an irritable birthday hero!" cried the lady, shuddering, and retreating a few paces with a comical assumption of terror. "It was a mistake that we did not come to you to-day with funereal faces, and muffled to the eyes in black crape!"She pouted, and, taking Hollfeld's arm, would have dragged him forward; but he, strangely enough, seemed inclined, for the first time in his life, to set his cousin's wishes at defiance. He walked on slowly, and as if weary of existence, peering right and left into the bushes, apparently intensely interested in every stone in the pathway, every squirrel that ran swiftly past. Then he began a conversation with his companion, whose answers absorbed his attention so entirely that he paused and stood still to listen to them.Herr von Walde muttered something between his teeth; Elizabeth could not understand it; but the hostile glance that he cast after his cousin showed how the behaviour of the latter incensed him. He said not another word to her. He turned slowly towards her, and she felt that he continued to regard her steadfastly, but she was unable to lift her eyes to his. Had she done so he must have discovered on the spot how greatly she was moved by the strange words that he had just whispered to her with so much emotion in his voice. One look would have betrayed the conflict within her, and then,—she could not pursue the thought,—he would doubtless have repented the simple wish that he had expressed. Thus deeply agitated, it was natural enough that the young girl's eyelids fell low over her eyes, and that she failed to observe the inaudible sigh that escaped her companion, or mark how all signs of irritation vanished from his features to give place to the shade of melancholy that was so wont to rest upon his brow.A faint and dying trumpet note, which was doubtless the result of the impatience of the musicians who were waiting upon the roof of the tower, betrayed the close vicinity of the scene of festivity. And soon a buzz and noise, as of some neighbouring gypsy encampment, broke upon their ears; the path grew broader, gay throngs were seen fluttering through the bushes, and suddenly a loud flourish of bugles and trumpets sounded over their heads. Elizabeth availed herself of the opportunity to slip her hand from the arm of her conductor and to lose herself in the crowd that gathered around the lord of the feast; while a young girl, habited as a Dryad, and accompanied by four other wood-nymphs, approached, and, in limping hexameters, welcomed him to the forest."Well, von Walde has gotten rid of his Dulcinea at the right moment. I don't see the girl at all, now," the Countess Falkenberg whispered smilingly to Count Wildenau, who was sitting beside her upon a kind of raised dais, beneath the shade of a group of oaks. "He will never forgive the baroness and our flippant Cornelia for so stupidly forcing him into playing the knight, even for a few moments, to such a creature. My child," and she turned to Helene; seated at her right, who was anxiously searching the crowd with troubled eyes, "when those people release him we must take him in here among us, and do everything in our power to make him forget the provoking beginning of the festival."Helene nodded mechanically. Apparently she had only heard half of what the lady had whispered in her ear. Her poor little figure, enveloped in a heavy, light-blue silk, leaned helplessly and wearily back in her huge armchair, and her cheeks were whiter than the lily-wreath that crowned her brow.'Meanwhile Elizabeth had encountered in the throng Dr. Fels and his wife. The latter immediately took the young girl under her care, that they might not be separated again."Only stay until the dancing begins," she replied to Elizabeth's remark that the moment seemed to have arrived when she could slip away unnoticed, and go home. "I do not wonder that you wish to leave as soon as possible," she added, with a smile. "We, too, shall not stay long. I am anxious about my children at home. I made a great sacrifice to my husband's position in coming at all. Herr von Walde, to whom you are assigned for the day by lot, does not dance. So never fear, you will be released."Suddenly the crowd separated. From the top of the tower sounded a grand march, and while the gentlemen sought the shade of the trees, the ladies, according to the rules of the feast, hastened to provide them with refreshments from the tent.Herr von Walde walked slowly across the sward, his hands clasped behind him, talking with the military-inspector Busch, by his side."My dear Herr von Walde, now pray come to us!" the Countess Falkenberg cried out to him, extending her hand with an air almost caressing. "I have kept such a charming place here for you. Come, rest upon your well-earned laurels. 'Tis true, all the young ladies present are disposed of by lot, but here are our fair and lovely wood-nymphs all ready to wreathe your goblet, and furnish you from the tent with all that your heart can desire.""I am deeply touched by your kindness and care for me, gracious lady," the gentleman replied, "but I cannot think that Fräulein Ferber will leave me to appeal to the general sympathy."He spoke loudly, and turned to Elizabeth, who was standing quite near. She had heard every word, and instantly walked quietly towards him, placing herself at his side, as though she were by no means inclined to delegate to others one jot of her duty. As he saw her approach him thus, something of a joyful surprise lit up his countenance. He cast an answering glance at the face that, unembarrassed now by those around, looked smilingly up at him. Strangely enough, he seemed entirely to forget the charming place that the countess had reserved for him, for, after a slight obeisance to her stately ladyship and her court of young ladies, he offered his arm to Elizabeth, and conducted her to the shade of a giant oak, where Doctor Fels had just provided comfortable places for his wife and himself."Now, that is carrying his revenge a little too far," said the great lady, with irritation, turning for sympathy to Count Wildenau and the five disconcerted Dryads. "He really throws scorn upon the entire fête by taking so much notice of that young person. I begin to be really vexed with him. No one is more ready than I to grant that he is entirely right to be angry, but I really think that he should not allow himself to be so carried away by his indignation as to forget those of his guests who have had no share in the absurdities of the baroness or of von Quittelsdorf. I'll wager that that little fool there attributes his attentions to the influence of her beautiful eyes."The small band of amiable Dryads shot annihilating looks at Elizabeth, who was quietly proceeding to the refreshment tent, whence she presently issued with a flask of champagne and four glasses, which she placed upon the table beneath the oak, where Herr von Walde was sitting with the doctor and his wife."Our young ladies to-day are wearing perfect flower gardens upon their heads," said Frau Fels, as the young girl approached the table. "Fräulein Ferber alone is as destitute of ornament as Cinderella. I cannot have it so."She took two roses from the large bouquet which she held in her hand, and stood up to place them in Elizabeth's hair."Stop, I pray you," cried Herr von Walde, detaining her hand, "nothing should adorn that hair but orange blossoms.""But they are only worn by brides," said the doctor's wife naively."I know that well," he replied quietly; and as if he had said the most natural thing in the world, he filled the glasses, and turned to Dr. Fels. "Clink glasses with me, doctor," he said; "I drink to the welfare of the saviour of my life—of Gold Elsie of Castle Gnadeck!"The doctor smiled, and the glasses clinked with a loud ring. At this signal, a group of gentlemen approached, glasses in hand."You come at the right moment, gentlemen," the lord of the feast cried out to them. "Drink with me to the fulfilment of my dearest wish!"A loud "vivat" resounded through the air, and the glasses clinked merrily."Scandalous!" cried the old court lady, and dropped her fork, with its choice morsel, upon her plate; "really, they are conducting themselves over there like students at a carouse! I am positively shocked! What an unseemly noise! Actually the mob in the street is better behaved when they shout 'vivats' to our gracious Prince. Apropos, my love," she continued, turning to Helene, "I observe that your brother seems quite intimate with Doctor Fels.""He esteems him highly as a thoroughly upright man of great scientific attainments," replied Helene."That is all very well,—but he certainly cannot be aware that the man just now is in very bad odour at court. Only imagine, he has had the inconceivable insolence to refuse our beloved Princess Catharine——""Yes; I know that story," said Fräulein von Walde, interrupting the irritated lady; "my brother related the circumstance to me himself a few days ago.""How!—is it possible that the facts are known to him, and that he has so little regard for the sentiments of the court,—which has always distinguished him so highly! Incredible! I assure you, dear child, my conscience pricks me sorely; I shall scarcely be able to lift my eyes in the presence of their Serene Highnesses, when they arrive in L——, at the thought of having been in the society here of that impertinent creature."Helene shrugged her shoulders, and left the lady to her qualms of conscience and a brimming glass of champagne, with which she probably intended to fortify herself in anticipation of the dreaded arrival.In the society of this lady Fräulein von Walde suffered all the galling annoyance that conventionalities inflict;—she was obliged to listen, with an amiable and interested smile, to a thousand wretched trifles, while her heart was tortured with pain; indeed, only just such a person as the Countess Falkenberg, who sought and found her highest earthly happiness in a gracious glance from a Princely eye, a person whose whole intellectual capacity was exercised in standing sentinel before the domain of etiquette and in guarding religiously the hardly-won prestige of her social position,—only such a one could have been blind to the signs of the deepest suffering in the countenance of the younger lady.Hollfeld had not only been so inattentive as to leave Helene, upon her arrival at this spot, to the care of Count Wildenau, he had even, upon his tardy appearance, omitted all explanation or apology for his delay, and had finally seated himself beside her in a sullen and abstracted mood. She thought him strangely altered, and she racked her restless heart and brain with vain surmises. At first her suspicions rested upon Cornelie, who, true to her mercurial temperament, fluttered hither and thither like a will-o'-the-wisp, talking and laughing incessantly. But she was soon reassured upon this point, for she could not catch a single glance of Hollfeld's directed towards the coquettish and graceful court beauty. The anxious inquiries that she made of him were answered in monosyllables. She beckoned to one of the servants who was bearing past a tray of delicacies, and herself placed them before Hollfeld,—but he did not eat a morsel, and only swallowed in quick succession several glasses of fiery wine which he procured for himself at the refreshment tent. This careless conduct, which she now observed for the first time, caused her unspeakable pain. At last she was silent, and closed her eyes as though fatigued; no one noticed the crystal drops trembling on their lashes.Suddenly a shadow was cast upon the universal merriment, which had been all the more unrestrained from the fact that the lord of the feast, usually so grave and serious, had joined in it so cordially,—at least Elizabeth felt convinced that the face of the butler, Lorenz, who now appeared in the distance, boded no good. The old man took the greatest pains to attract his master's attention without being seen by the other guests. At last he succeeded. Herr von Walde arose, and stepped aside with him into the thicket, while the group of gentlemen around him dispersed. He soon returned, with marks of dismay in his countenance."I have just received sad news, which will compel me to leave you immediately," he said, in a low voice, to the doctor. "Herr von Hartwig, in Thalleben, one of my oldest friends, has met with a terrible accident; the injury is fatal; they write me that he cannot live a day longer. He summons me to him that he may entrust his young children to my care. I pray you inform the Baroness Lessen of my departure, and its cause; she will see that the festivities are not interrupted. Let my sister and my guests suppose that I am called away for a few minutes by some trifling matter of business, and will return hither shortly. I shall not be missed after the dancing begins."The doctor went instantly to find the baroness. His wife had strayed away from the spot a few moments before, so Elizabeth was left alone with Herr von Walde. He turned to her quickly:"I thought we should not part from each other to-day without the conclusion of my birthday greeting," he said, while striving to meet her eyes, which shyly avoided his, "but I seem to be one of those unfortunate ones whose unlucky stars snatch from them the prize when it seems almost within their grasp." He endeavoured to give an air of humour to his words, but they only sounded the more bitter. "However, I submit," he continued, in a determined tone; "I must go. It cannot be helped, but my duty may be made easier and sweeter for me by a promise from you. Do you remember the words which you lately repeated after me?""I do not forget so quickly.""Ah, that encourages me greatly! There is a fairy tale which tells of a realm of inexhaustible riches and endless delights, revealed by a single word. Such a word the conclusion of your greeting can be to me. Will you aid me in having it uttered?""How can I help you to the attainment of riches and delights?""That is my affair. I do most earnestly entreat you at this moment to make no further attempt at evasion, for time presses. Let me ask you,—will you endeavour to retain in your memory, during my absence, the beginning of that birthday greeting?""Yes.""And will you be ready, when I return, to hear the conclusion?""Yes.""Good; in the midst of the sorrow and gloom to which I am summoned there will be a glimpse of clear blue sky above me, and for you——may my good angel whisper in your ear the word that will unlock that fairy realm for me. Farewell!"
CHAPTER XIV.
In the evening the Ferber family were sitting in the shade of the lindens at the spring. Frau Ferber and Miss Mertens were busied in making a rug which was to lie upon the floor under the piano in winter time.
Frau Ferber had lost for awhile that dignified composure that so well became her still beautiful face. She could not forget the afternoon's occurrence; for, although she saw her child before her safe and sound, she had been very much agitated by Miss Mertens' account. She looked frequently at Elizabeth, fearing, as she remarked her slightest change of colour, that some illness would ensue from the excitement that she had passed through. The father's views were different. "That's my brave daughter!" he said with sparkling eyes, "determine coolly and execute quickly,—thus I would have you do."
To Frau Ferber, her husband had always seemed the ideal of what a man should be. Even now, after so many years of married life, she followed blindly where he led; and in her estimation his opinions admitted of no question. But to-day, as she listened to his paternal praises, a sigh escaped her as she remarked that a mother loved her children infinitely more than a father possibly could.
"Certainly not more, only differently," was Ferber's quiet rejoinder. "It is because I love them that I educate them to be full-grown, responsible beings, capable of thinking and acting courageously and independently, that they may never belong to the miserable class whom want of all force of character condemns to constant suffering."
Elizabeth had also brought her work-basket into the garden, but little Ernst looked greatly disappointed as he saw her take out her sewing.
"Very well, then, Elsie," he said petulantly. "Herr von Walde may ask me a dozen times if I love you,—I shall not say yes again. You never play with me any more; and, I suppose, you think you are as big a girl as Miss Mertens! But you needn't think that,—you won't be for a long while yet."
They all laughed at this odd confounding of age with size. But Elizabeth rose immediately to amuse the little boy, tucked up her long dress, and drew lots which should chase and which run from the other; and then they were both off like a flash, up and down the rampart, hither and thither through the garden.
In the mean time there was a ring at the gate in the wall. Herr Ferber opened it, and Dr. Fels, Reinhard, and the forester appeared upon the threshold. Elizabeth was just running along the principal walk, and did not immediately see the visitors.
"Well, I must say," laughed Dr. Fels, standing still, "this is a wonderful transformation. In the afternoon Valkyria, and in the evening a butterfly!"
But the forester advanced, threw his arm around his niece, and then held her off at arm's length, that he might scan her delicate figure. "My fine darling!" he cried with sparkling eyes, "she looks as fragile and delicate as though she were made of ivory, and yet she has the force of a man in her heart and hands; 'tis an immense pity you are not a boy. I would clap you into a green hunting-coat in spite of all that your father could say."
In the mean while Dr. Fels also drew near, and held out his hand to Elizabeth. "Herr von Walde rode to town to-night," he said, "and requested me to come hither. He is very anxious to know that your fright and terror have produced no evil consequences."
"None whatever," she replied, blushing deeply. "As you see," she added, laughing, "I am perfectly well able to perform my sisterly duties, and Ernst has just assured me that I am very hard to catch."
"Well, I will carry Herr von Walde this message, word for word," said the doctor with an arch smile. "Let him decide whether it is a comforting one, or the contrary."
Ferber now invited the gentlemen to join the circle beneath the lindens. The doctor lighted a cigar and seemed most content. They discussed Linke's attempt very fully. After his dismissal from Lindhof, many of the underhand dealings by which he had taken advantage of his master's absence, had come to light. Although Herr von Walde had taken no steps to bring the offender to justice, the knowledge of his dishonesty spread abroad, and was the means of preventing the superintendent from procuring another situation. Undoubtedly this had filled the measure of his desire for revenge, and had excited him to to-day's deed. Every means had been tried for the apprehension of the assassin; the forester with his men had searched the forest, but their exertions had been followed by no result. Reinhard said that every one at Castle Lindhof had been forbidden to mention the matter to Fräulein von Walde, lest the fright should injure her. And the baroness, Hollfeld, and the old waiting-maid were to know nothing of it.
"Herr von Walde has also requested," he continued, "that the matter should be kept as secret as possible in L——, for he knows that half the town is invited for to-morrow's fête."
"That is, everything that creeps or flies upon a golden, silver, or coloured field," interrupted the doctor sarcastically; "every coat of arms that can be found, and all the court-councillors, and officials. Oh, the selection has been made upon the strictest principles of court etiquette, I assure you. So I have enjoined it upon my wife to conduct herself with becoming humility, like a crow among soaring falcons. To our surprise the baroness,—for she manages the whole affair,—has sent us an invitation."
"Apropos, my dear doctor!" cried Reinhard laughing, "they told me in L—— to-day that the old Princess Catharine wished to install you as her physician, but you declined the honour,—is that true? All L—— is actually standing on its head with surprise."
"Ah, that is nothing new; the dear little town passes half its time in that posture, and the consequence is that the light of intelligence shines upon the tough soles of its feet. But you have heard correctly. I was sufficiently bold to decline that honour."
"But why?"
"First, because I have no time to be coddling the hysterical whims of her aristocratic head every day; and then my sacred respect for court etiquette is too great."
"Yes, yes," cried the forester, laughing, "that is the reason why I always cross myself three times when I leave the royal castle behind me. The prince and princess,—our good princess especially troubles no one,—they shut their eyes when mere matters of ceremony are not according to stiff, prescribed rules; but that court mob, that lisps and crawls and wags its tail about them,—heaven help us! it absolutely shrieks murder if a man walks boldly and uprightly, and goes into fits at the sound of a voice that comes clear and full from the chest just as God meant it should."
It had grown very dark. The family and Miss Mertens accompanied the visitors to the gate in the wall; and, as they all stepped forth upon the open sward, they heard sweet sounds floating up from the valley through the forest, which lay steeped in the silence of night, and where the birds had ceased to flit among the boughs, and even the breeze had fallen asleep in the tree-tops in the midst of the strange tales from distant lands that it whispered to them every evening. The band from the town was serenading Herr von Walde.
CHAPTER XV.
The next morning at five o'clock the inmates of Gnadeck were awakened by a discharge of artillery. "Aha!" said Ferber to his wife, "the celebration is beginning." But Elizabeth was startled from a fearful dream, in which the misfortune which she had yesterday averted seemed actually to take place. She had just seen Herr von Walde fall dying to the ground, when the cannon in the valley awoke her. It was some time before she could collect herself. For one moment she suffered fearfully. It seemed as if heaven and earth were vanishing from her as that noble figure fell; and even now, when she saw the golden light of morning falling upon the familiar objects in her room and not upon the blood-stained sward, her agitated nerves still quivered; she had never, not even the day before, when she had so fearlessly risked her life for his, felt so deeply that his death would be hers also.
Again and again the cannon thundered up from the valley. The window-panes shook slightly, and the little canary fluttered in terror from side to side in his cage. At each report Elizabeth shuddered; and when her anxious mother, who could not quite allay her fears for the result of the previous day's occurrence, although her child had seemed unharmed and well, came to her bedside to ask how she had slept, the girl threw her arms around her neck and burst into an uncontrollable fit of tears.
"Good heavens, my child!" cried Frau Ferber, much frightened, "you are ill. I knew that you would suffer from yesterday's shock, and there is that terrible shooting going on in the valley."
Elizabeth had some trouble in convincing her mother that she felt perfectly well, and that she could not be induced to lie in bed, but was resolved to take her breakfast with the family. And to put a stop to all further remonstrance, she immediately arose, bathed and dressed, and assisted her mother in preparing the simple breakfast.
The sound of the cannon suddenly ceased, and before long all traces of tears vanished from Elizabeth's eyes. The world looked brighter to her; for, although a life of renunciation lay before her, he still lived; this thought had, in consequence of her fearful dream, a soothing effect upon her restless heart. Even if he went away to distant lands, and she was forced to live years without seeing him, a time must come when he would return. And she could still love and think of him, for he belonged to no one else.
Later in the day she went with her family and Miss Mertens to the Lodge, where they had been invited to dine. There was a dark cloud upon the forester's brow as he came to meet them. Elizabeth soon discovered that he was troubled about Bertha.
"I cannot and will not bear it any longer!" he cried angrily. "Must I turn spy in my old age, and constantly be upon the watch to prevent a wayward, foolish child, who has no possible claim upon me, from making a perpetual fool of herself?"
"But remember, uncle, she is unhappy," said Elizabeth, somewhat alarmed.
"Unhappy?—she is a deceitful fool!—I am no ogre, and when I thought her really unhappy, that is, when she lost both her parents, I did all that I could to protect and guide her. But that is not what is the matter with her, for scarcely two months after her loss she went singing about and chattering like a magpie, so that I was really grieved to see such heartlessness and frivolity. What is she unhappy about, eh? But I don't want to know her state secret if she has no confidence in me;—let it alone. For all I care she may wear that die-away look upon her face for the next year; but to pretend to be dumb, to run about in the forest at night like a maniac, and perhaps one of these fine days burn down my house about my ears, it is more than I can bear, and I must have a word or two to say about the matter."
"Did you not heed the warning that I gave you?" asked Ferber.
"Certainly I did; I put her into another room; she sleeps now just above me, so that I can hear her lightest step. At night both the house doors are not only bolted, as they have always been at night, but locked too, and I take the key into my room. And oh! the cunning of women,—but that's an old story. At any rate my precautions ensured us some rest. But last night I could not get to sleep; the affair with Linke was running through my brain, and I heard steps above me, cautious steps, soft as a cat's. Aha! I thought, she is at her nightly promenades again, and I rose, but when I went up-stairs the nest was already empty. On a table at the open window a light was burning, and as I opened the door the curtain flew into the flame. Zounds! if I had not been quick as a flash we should have had a blaze that would have been well fed by those old balconies. And how did she get out? Through the kitchen window. I would rather take care of a swarm of ants than of such a sly, deceitful creature."
"I am convinced that some love affair is at the bottom of the girl's conduct," said Frau Ferber.
"Yes, you told me so once before, sister-in-law," replied the forester with irritation, "and if you would be kind enough to tell me with whom, I should be infinitely obliged to you. Look around us and see if there is any one here to turn a girl's brain. My assistants,—they are not half good enough for her; she never would have a word to say to them; it cannot be the rogue Linke, with his crooked legs and carroty wig, and there is no one else here."
"You have forgotten one," said Frau Ferber significantly, with a glance towards Elizabeth, who had lingered behind to cut a whip for Ernst.
"Well?" asked the forester.
"Herr von Hollfeld."
The forester remained silent for awhile. "Hm!" he muttered at last, "I should never in the world have thought of him. No, no," he continued quickly, "I do not believe it, for in the first place the girl cannot possibly be such a fool as to believe that he would make her my lady von Odenberg, and——"
"Perhaps she hoped that he would, and finds herself mistaken," interrupted Frau Ferber.
"She is vain and arrogant enough for it, but he,—he cares nothing for women,—he is a cold, heartless egotist," said the forester.
"An egotist, I grant you," said Frau Ferber, "and that explains Bertha's conduct and manner."
"That would be a fine affair," cried the forester angrily, "to think that I should have been hoodwinked like any old fool in a comedy! I will sift the matter now to the bottom, and woe to the girl if she has really dared to bring disgrace upon herself and me!"
The dinner was a very quiet one. The forester was out of sorts, and would have extorted a confession from Bertha upon the spot had not Frau Ferber prayed him to wait for a few days. After coffee the guests left the Lodge; the forester threw his rifle across his shoulder, and plunged into the forest, which, as he said, always soothed and brought him to reason.
Elizabeth dressed herself for the concert, that is, she put on a simple, white muslin dress, whose only decoration was a bouquet of fresh wild flowers. Her mother tied around her neck a little locket attached to a very narrow black velvet ribbon, and this was her toilet, which would certainly have seemed most embarrassingly simple to most young girls going for the first time among a large assemblage of brilliantly-dressed people; but Elizabeth, if she thought of it at all, congratulated herself upon the delicate neatness of her muslin, and would rather not have worn her mother's little ornament on this occasion, as she considered that she was to appear only as a musician and not as one of the guests, and that her fingers were all that she need be anxious about. She was rather annoyed that the arms above these same fingers were bare, and that her dress was low-necked. She had hitherto never worn a dress that did not cover her neck to her chin, and could not see why the fashionable world had decided that women should bedecolletéin large assemblies. She thought as little of the exquisite form and dazzling whiteness of her shoulders and arms as of the beauty and grace of her head, which, with its heavy braids of golden hair, was set so exquisitely upon her finely-moulded neck. Her mother herself had arranged her hair to-day, and it clustered in short shining curls above her forehead, contrasting wondrously with the delicately pencilled but decided arch of the dark eyebrows. And Frau Ferber could not but agree with Miss Mertens, who, as she watched Elizabeth disappear upon the forest path, declared with enthusiasm that she was supernaturally lovely. The mother had just acknowledged to herself that her child's beauty had unfolded in a most striking degree.
When Elizabeth entered the vestibule of Castle Lindhof she encountered Dr. Fels, who, with his wife upon his arm, was just turning down one of the corridors. She hastened towards him, and accosted him gaily, for her heart had been beating anxiously as she approached the castle, at the thought that she should be obliged to enter entirely alone the spacious saloon, where the greater part of the company were doubtless already assembled. The doctor received her most cordially, and presented her to his wife, in an undertone, as "yesterday's heroine." Both gladly took her under their protection. The large folding-doors were flung open, and Elizabeth was grateful for the lucky star that had allowed her to take shelter behind the tall, commanding figure of the doctor's wife, for she was at first rather overcome at sight of the large, richly-decorated apartment, over whose highly-polished floor glided the costly dresses of the ladies and the polished boots of the gentlemen. In the centre of the saloon stood the Baroness Lessen, arrayed in magnificent dark-blue moire-antique, and receiving the guests. She returned the salutations of the doctor and his wife very politely, but very coolly, and replied to the doctor's question, "Where is Herr von Walde?" by pointing to a knot of men standing near a window, whence issued a murmur like the Babylonish confusion of tongues.
While Fels and his wife walked towards the spot, Elizabeth gladly and gratefully obeyed a gesture from Helene, who, sitting at another window, hurriedly and agitatedly informed her that she had suddenly had an attack of what is called "stage fright;" that she was in overwhelming terror at playing before so many people, and would rather creep into a mouse-hole. And then she begged Elizabeth, instead of the four-handed composition with which the concert was to open, to play a sonata of Beethoven's, a wish with which Elizabeth immediately complied. Her embarrassment vanished. She stepped up to the table where the music was lying, and selected the sonata which she was to play. Meanwhile, carriage after carriage rolled into the court-yard. The folding-doors opened and closed incessantly upon such quantities of tulle and velvet and lace, which were crowded into the saloon, that Elizabeth smiled pityingly at the thought of her simple white muslin, so soon to loose its unwrinkled smoothness in such a crush of crinoline.
She could very easily decide, from the manner of the baroness, upon the social rank of the guests. One gracious wave of the feather-crowned head of the great lady answered every social requirement whenever she received untitled guests, and these untitled guests did their part well in acknowledging and respecting this aristocratic reserve. All, in obedience to a gesture from the baroness, first made their way towards the window where stood Herr von Walde,—who, however, remained entirely invisible to Elizabeth,—and then scattered into single groups, either awaiting the opening of the concert, or engaged in conversation among themselves.
Suddenly the doors flew open again, and a corpulent old lady hobbled in upon the arm of an equally aged gentleman, whose coat glittered with orders,—and with them came Fräulein von Quittelsdorf. The baroness hastened toward these guests, and Fräulein von Walde also arose with difficulty, and, taking Hollfeld's arm, went to meet the aged pair, while all the ladies standing around her followed like the tail of a comet. The crowd of men at the window divided suddenly as by magic, and Herr von Walde's lofty figure appeared.
"We must come to you, if we wish to see you, naughty man!" cried the old lady, shaking her forefinger at him, as she hobbled towards him. "You see, in spite of my poor feet, and although you have neglected me shamefully, I am here to-day to offer you my congratulations."
He bowed, and said a few words to her, to which she replied by laughingly tapping him upon the shoulder with her fan. Then he conducted her to an arm-chair, where she seated herself with much majesty.
"The Countess of Falkenberg, chief lady in waiting at the court of L——," was the reply of the doctor's wife when Elizabeth asked who the old lady was. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf looked exquisitely beautiful to-day in her white crape dress, with a wreath of scarlet euphorbia in her dark hair, as she busied herself about the noble lady, while she did not forget to cast a roguish glance now and then at Fräulein von Walde.
The arrival of the guests from the court was the signal for the beginning of the concert. Elizabeth could almost hear her own heart beat. She was standing behind the doctor's wife, and was hidden from all the eyes which would in one moment be directed towards her, following every one of her movements. Suddenly she was overcome with timidity, and she repented bitterly having consented to play first alone. She trembled when Fräulein von Walde motioned to her to begin, but there was no time to withdraw. She took a long breath, and walked slowly, with downcast eyes, to the piano, where she courtesied timidly.
At first there was a breathless silence; then a whisper ran from mouth to mouth, which was instantly hushed when the young girl struck the keys. Elizabeth's fear and embarrassment all vanished at the sound of the first chords. She was no longer alone. He with whom she had so often wandered along meadow paths in brilliant sunshine, and past gloomy abysses in storm and rain, was with her,—the one who had so often aroused within her joyous presentiments, and who had expressed in immortal harmonies all the loftiest and most sacred aspirations of her nature,—who was as dear and familiar to her as her mother's face, although her gaze fell dazzled by the fiery glories which wreathed his majestic head. The flower-crowned heads ranged against the walls, the lorgnettes and spectacles which, glittering in the sunlight, shot their lightning directly upon the lonely performer in the midst of the saloon, all vanished. She was alone with the great master, following with rapture every manifestation of his creative spirit.
An actual storm of applause startled her when she had finished. She courtesied, and then almost flew to her protectress, Frau Fels, who, speechless with emotion, held out both hands to her. The concert did not last very long. Four young gentlemen from L—— sang a delightful quartette, and then there was a performance by a famous violin player. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf sang two songs in a charming voice, but without any ear, so that at every high note the guests either moved involuntarily and nervously upon their chairs, or cast their eyes down in confusion. And then came one of the well-practised duets. Fräulein von Walde had recovered her composure, and played excellently well with Elizabeth.
When the concert was over, Elizabeth went towards the door of an anteroom, where she had left her shawl. She was closely followed by an elderly gentleman, who had been sitting opposite her, and had regarded her attentively. At his request, Frau Fels presented him to the young girl as the Military Inspector-general Busch. He said many flattering things about Elizabeth's performance, and added that he was much pleased to become acquainted with the heroic preserver of the life of the lord of the castle; he had accepted to-day's invitation with all the greater pleasure, since within the last few hours he had been deprived of all hope of claiming her assistance in the investigation of the murderous attempt.
He laughed heartily at Elizabeth's sudden alarm.
"No, no, I pray you not to look so horror-stricken, Fräulein," he said at last. "As I have just told you, we shall have no occasion to subject you to a cross-examination. Linke has himself put a stop to our proceedings by a single blow. His dead body was taken from the lake in the park this afternoon," he added, in a low tone. "They informed me of it at the inn, where I alighted. I proceeded, accompanied by the Waldheim physician, who happened to be at the inn, to the scene of the suicide, and convinced myself that that hand will never again be raised against the life of another. The condition of the body shows that Linke must have sought death immediately after the failure of his murderous purpose."
Elizabeth shuddered. "Does Herr von Walde know of his fearful end?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"No; I have had no opportunity to speak with him alone."
"None of the company present appear to have any suspicion of yesterday's occurrence," said Frau Fels.
"Fortunately they have not, thanks to our foresight and reserve," replied the inspector-general, ironically. "As it is, poor Herr von Walde has been quite overwhelmed with congratulations upon being born into the world. What would his friends have done to him had they known how fortunately his life has been preserved?"
The butler, Lorenz, at this moment approached Elizabeth and held out to her a little silver waiter, upon which lay several folded slips of paper. She looked up in questioning surprise, and he said respectfully:
"Will you have the kindness to take one of the papers?"
Elizabeth hesitated.
"This is probably part of our entertainment," said Frau Fels. "Take it quickly, that the butler may not be detained."
Almost mechanically she took up one of the slips of paper, but started in alarm as the Baroness Lessen suddenly appeared at the door, and looked searchingly around the room.
"Come, Lorenz," she said hastily, stepping towards the servant, "what are you doing here?"
"I have just handed Fräulein Ferber the salver, gracious lady," replied the old man.
The baroness gave him an angry look, and then measured Elizabeth from head to foot. "How, Fräulein Ferber," she said sharply, "are you still here? I thought you were at home long ago, resting upon your laurels."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned to leave the room; but just upon the threshold she looked back at the old butler with a frown and shrugged her shoulders.
"What can you be thinking of, Lorenz? You grow very thoughtless. This infirmity has grown upon you of late."
With these words, she bustled out, and the old man quietly followed. He replied not one word to her harsh reproof,—only contracted his bushy, gray eyebrows, so that his honest eyes almost disappeared.
The others remained looking at each other in astonishment, when the doctor entered. He made a profound, comical obeisance to his wife, and said solemnly:
"In consideration of the fact that Fräulein von Quittelsdorf has just had the clemency to unite us again as closely as by the priestly blessing fifteen years ago, I am content still further to endure the conjugal yoke, and particularly on this day to enjoy by your side, and, cherished by your tender care, O true and faithful spouse, all the delights prepared for us!"
"My dear husband, what do you mean?" cried his wife, laughing.
"Pardon me,—I mean nothing at all. Ah, I see you have not heard Fräulein von Quittelsdorf's directions. What a pity! I am then compelled to inform you that every married couple here present, whether now upon a war footing or otherwise, must repair, within the next quarter of an hour, to the convent tower in the forest, where a rural festival will be held. There it will be your duty to provide me with as much to eat and drink as my soul may desire, and in every way to attend upon my wishes, after the pattern of the famous Penelope. But that the unmarried men who are present in large numbers may have no reason to complain,—that their mouths also may be filled,—a sort of lottery has been ingeniously devised. Every unmarried lady is provided with a slip of paper, upon which stands written the name of some unmarried man, and it is left to Cupid and Fate either to unite or to separate faithful hearts."
At these words Elizabeth was seized with actual terror. She had never thought of other entertainments following upon the concert; but now she clearly understood why the baroness, on the previous day, had so distinctly alluded to her return home after the conclusion of the music. Her cheeks glowed with shame, for she had exposed herself to the charge of being very assuming by taking from the butler's salver the little slip of paper, which now burned like fire in her hand. Always quick to decide, she went into the saloon where the opening of the mysterious papers was going on amid the laughter of the ladies and their assigned partners.
"What a senseless idea this, of Fräulein von Quittelsdorf's," a young sprig of nobility was just exclaiming peevishly to his neighbour as Elizabeth passed them. "Here I have that stout, pious Fräulein Lehr upon my hands.Fi donc!"
Elizabeth had not long to look for the baroness. She was standing apart, near a window, in lively, but, as it seemed, not entirely agreeable conversation with Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, the chief lady in waiting, and Helene. The countess seemed to be remonstrating with Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, who did nothing but shrug her pretty shoulders helplessly from time to time. Intense vexation was expressed in the baroness' countenance,—there was no need of the round, red spot on either cheek to show that she was angry. Not far from the group Herr von Walde was leaning with folded arms against a pillar. He seemed to be only half listening to the words of the be-ribboned old courtier who was standing beside him,—his eyes were fixed upon the gesticulating ladies.
Elizabeth hurriedly approached the baroness. It did not escape her that, at sight of her, Fräulein von Quittelsdorf gently nudged the countess, whereupon the latter turned and regarded her with a malevolent air. She saw that she was the subject of their discussion, and she quickened her pace, that she might avert from herself as soon as possible any unworthy suspicion.
"Most gracious lady," she said, with a slight courtesy, "in consequence of a misunderstanding, I have become possessed of this slip of paper, and have just learned that it entails upon me duties which I cannot possibly undertake, for my parents are expecting me at home."
She handed the little slip to the baroness, who took it immediately, while a ray of actual sunshine broke over her features.
"I think you are in error, Fräulein Ferber," Herr von Walde suddenly interposed, in a clear, melodious voice. "It is incumbent upon you to excuse yourself to the gentleman whose name the paper contains; it rests with him whether he will release you or not." He scanned, with a peculiar smile, the company, who were dividing into couples and making ready for departure; even the old gentleman beside him approached the countess, and offered her his arm. Herr von Walde continued, as he slowly approached: "As master of the house, I cannot permit any want of consideration of one of my guests, wherefore I must beg you, Fräulein Ferber, to open the paper."
Elizabeth obeyed, and then handed him the open slip, with a crimson blush. He glanced at it.
"Ah!" he cried, "I have, as I see, defended my own rights. You must admit that I am fully justified in either accepting or refusing to accept your excuses. I prefer the latter course, and must entreat you strictly to comply with the injunctions laid upon you by that paper."
The baroness approached him, and laid her hand upon his arm. It looked as if she were almost struggling to suppress her tears.
"Forgive me, dear Rudolph," she said, "it is really not my fault."
"I do not know to what fault you allude, Amalie," he replied, with icy coldness; "but you certainly choose the right time in which to ask forgiveness,—-just at this moment I could easily forgive an injury."
He took his hat which a servant handed to him, and made the signal for departure.
"But my parents!" stammered Elizabeth.
"Are they ill, or about to leave Gnadeck immediately?" he asked, standing still.
"Neither."
"Well, pray then let me see to it that they receive intelligence of the cause of your delay."
He called a servant, and despatched a message to Gnadeck.
While the saloon was gradually emptied, the group of ladies which had been joined by the aged cavalier and Hollfeld, who looked much chagrined, remained standing near the window.
"It serves you quite right, Cornelie," said the countess. "You have set the crown upon your folly to-day. What a silly idea this lottery is! How often have I endeavoured to put a stop to your nonsense, to which, unfortunately, our gracious princess lends only too willing an ear? How should the butler know any better, when you gave him no instructions? You consider yourself to belong naturally to the court, and yet do not know that that sort of person has not an idea of his own. I should not for an instant grudge you this lesson, if only poor von Walde were not the victim of your frivolity. There he goes with that little white goose upon his arm; he who, with his haughty, aristocratic self-consciousness, has many a time been regardless of the wishes of some high-born lady, who would have been charmed to take his arm. What must he suffer to be tied for several hours to that little piano-player, the daughter of a—forester's clerk?"
"Why does he sacrifice himself so very readily?" rejoined Fräulein von Quittelsdorf. "It was quite unnecessary for him to meddle at all in the matter. The girl had made up her mind to go, when suddenly he steps forth like a knight without fear or fault, and takes up the burden voluntarily."
"At all events the burden is dazzlingly beautiful," said the old cavalier with a conceited smile.
"What are you thinking of, count?" cried the countess. "That is just like you, who rave about every round-faced peasant girl that you meet. I do not deny that the girl is pretty; but was not poor Rosa von Bergen an actual angel of beauty? Hundreds were languishing at her feet; but von Walde, whom she really preferred, was like a glacier to her. No, he has not the smallest sensibility to feminine beauty and loveliness. I long ago erased his name from my list of eligibles for my young protegées. He has just declared, most distinctly, his reason for sacrificing himself to-day. He is evidently much pleased and delighted with the attentions that we have lavished upon him, and wishes to see every one happy and contented about him,—even the little thing who played the piano. I advise my dearest Lessen for the future not to trust implicitly to the tact and ingenuity of our charming Quittelsdorf."
The maid of honour bit her lips, and dragged her lace shawl over her lovely shoulders. The carriage now drew up in which the countess and Helene, accompanied by the baroness and the count, were to be driven to the place of rendezvous.
"The old cat!" cried Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, after she had assisted the countess into the carriage. "She is furious because she was not asked to assist in the arrangements for to-day. Did not you see, Hollfeld, how very nearly that false front of hers slipped down upon her nose when she was waggling her head in such agitation? I should have laughed for two weeks without intermission if her bald head had suddenly made its appearance underneath that flower garden on top!"
She was convulsed with laughter at the idea. Her companion walked, without a word, and with accelerated pace, by her side, as though he heard nothing of her chatter. His whole bearing manifested hurry and disquiet. He seemed most desirous to overtake the rest of the assemblage as quickly as possible. He cast searching glances through the bushes on either side of the way, and, whenever he caught a glimpse of a white dress, stopped for a moment, as though to identify the wearer.
"Indeed, you are too tiresome, Hollfeld; you weary me to death!" cried the lady peevishly. "To be sure it is your privilege to be as mute as a fish and yet enjoy the reputation of a clever man. Where your wits are now I am sure I cannot imagine. What, in Heaven's name, are you running so fast for? Allow me to entreat you to have some regard for my crape dress, which will be torn to rags by these bushes through which you are hurrying me, with such speed."
The convent tower,—the only uninjured remnant of a former nunnery,—was situated in the depths of a grove of oaks and beeches in a part of the forest domain appertaining to the Lindhof estate, which here extended far towards the east.
A certain lady of Gnadewitz, a sister of the ancestor of the wheel, had built the nunnery, whither she, with twelve other young maidens, retired to pray for the soul of her brother, cut off so ignominiously in the flower of his days. Year after year the giant boughs of the oaks had tapped at the windows of the cells and leaned above the high wall over the small garden of the convent. They had seen many a fresh young creature pass hurriedly along the dim narrow forest path to ring the bell at the convent portal with feverish impatience, as though unable to wait one instant longer for the promised peace abiding within those walls. They had seen how, behind those irrevocable bolts and bars, the mute lips of the nun grew white,—how convulsively her waxen hands clutched the crucifix, while her agonized looks would seek the ground; for the sight of the clear, blue heavens, arching above the gay children of the outer world, awakened joyous memories within her, and breathed a keen desire for pleasure and life into the soul and heart muffled forever in the folds of the sackcloth of her order.
The Reformation, which overthrew the convents like card houses, had stridden through this still forest also, and had passed its mighty hand over the walls of this gloomy pile, which had, in expiation of the misery and crime that had cursed its origin, been the perpetual abode of unhappiness. And even the hollow mockery of existence within its walls had vanished to the four winds. One stone after another had tumbled to the feet of the lofty oaks, whose branches had brushed against it while it formed part of some carved arch or window-frame, and which now strewed leaves upon it till it sank away far more softly bedded than the poor bodies of the nuns, which were, so said the legend, all sleeping together in a subterranean dungeon.
The tower was square, clumsy, and ugly. On the flat roof above, that was surrounded by a stone balustrade, the stairs were capped by a very small, square apartment, from which egress upon the roof was obtained through a massive oaken door. Here there was a magnificent prospect and distant view of L——. For the sake of this prospect the tower had been rebuilt and kept in constant repair. Immense iron clamps bound the walls together at the corners, and numberless lines of fresh mortar meandered across its blackened surface, so that the old building looked at a distance like a gigantic piece of agate.
But to-day the old pile was decked out like some old fellow dressed for a wooing. Fresh flowers,—that is to say, four gigantic fir trees—were sticking in his hat; and from their tops gay banners were floating, like large birds above the green waves beneath. The old fellow, who, until to-day, had only whispered nightly and daily confidences to his comrades the oaks but had never made an advance towards them from his dignified position, was now clutching them with green wide-spread arms; huge garlands were draped from his topmost walls, and were lost among the boughs of the surrounding forest; while from one side a white sail-cloth was extended and attached to the trunks of two tall hemlocks. Beneath the shade of this tent were several refreshing-looking casks, a whole battery of dusty red-sealed flasks and countless silver-capped bottles in ice-buckets,—all presided over by a very pretty girl in the dress of a vivandiere.
Elizabeth had silently and passively left the large hall upon Herr von Walde's arm. In spite of her determination to go home, she had not had the courage to gainsay him, or to tell him of her desire,—he had spoken in a tone of such authority; and, what had influenced her still more, had entered the lists, as it were, for her, and sought to help her out of her embarrassment. Any opposition on her part would have seemed like obstinate defiance of him, and would have served only to increase her painful apprehension of drawing to herself general attention.
The silken garments of the ladies rustled along the walls of the corridor behind her. Laughing and chattering, the gay crowd followed Herr von Walde in a long train until it issued from the chief entrance door, and then it scattered hither and thither, taking the various forest paths which led to the convent tower. Those whose elaborate toilets required special care took the broad, well-kept path. Herr von Walde certainly never dreamed that his companion's simple, snowy muslin could be as precious in her eyes as were the rich dresses of the other ladies in theirs, or he certainly would not have selected the narrow, lonely pathway into which he suddenly turned.
"It is usually very damp here," Elizabeth broke silence timidly,—hitherto no words had passed between them. Her feet trembled as though they would far rather retreat than advance, and yet it is possible that her thoughts were not of her dress nor her thin shoes, but rather of the long, narrow, leafy way before them, through which she must pass alone by his side, and of the voice that would suddenly sound in her ears with that harsh, authoritative tone almost always adopted by him when alone with her.
"It has not rained for a long time,—see how dry the ground is," he quietly replied, as he walked slowly on and broke off a twig which threatened to brush Elizabeth's cheek. "This path is the shortest, and we can for a quarter of an hour at least escape from the buzz and clatter with which my friends and relatives are celebrating the completion of my thirty-seventh year. But perhaps you are afraid of meeting Linke in this sequestered spot?"
A shudder passed through the young girl's frame. She thought upon the criminal's desperate end, but she could not control herself sufficiently to impart her knowledge to Herr von Walde.
"I do not fear him any longer," she said gravely.
"He has probably left the country, and if not, he would hardly be so discourteous as to intrude upon the pleasures of people who are seeking to indemnify themselves for the pains they have taken with their formal congratulations. By-the-way, you cannot have failed to observe that every member of the company to-day has honoured me with a few moments of special attention, even the youngest slip of a girl in white muslin has made me her courtesy and uttered her studied desire for my health and happiness. You, perhaps, do not think me old enough yet to need the wishes of others for a prolongation of my life?"
"I should suppose that such wishes were as appropriate to youth or the prime of life as to advanced age; the one possesses as little as the other a monopoly of existence."
"Well, then, why did you not come to me? Yesterday you saved my life, and to-day you care so little about it that you do not even take the trouble to open your lips and say 'God protect it for the future.'"
"You have just said yourself 'every one of the company.' I did not belong to the company, and therefore could not intrude myself among those who offered their congratulations." She spoke quickly, for there was discontent in his tone, and the arm upon which her hand rested moved impatiently.
"But you were invited——"
"To entertain your guests."
"Was that modest view of the case the only reason why you did not wish to come with me?"
"Yes; most certainly my refusal could not have had anything to do with the gentleman who had fallen to my lot, whose name I could not possibly know."
"You can hardly persuade me of that; you must have seen at the first glance that all the gentlemen present, with the exception of myself, were already appropriated; you must have known that my sister, without drawing a paper, had requested Hollfeld to accompany her, as she can walk more easily leaning upon his arm than upon any other. Confess——"
"I knew and saw nothing. I was far too much troubled when I entered the ball-room to return the paper, for the hour at which I was expected to return home had been particularly mentioned to me yesterday. I had no idea that any special festivity was to follow the concert, and in taking the folded slip of paper I committed an indiscretion, for which I cannot forgive myself."
He suddenly stood still.
"I pray you look at me," he said, in a tone of command.
She raised her eyes, and although she felt her cheeks glow, she sustained unflinchingly the gaze which at first rested sternly upon her and then became indescribably gentle.
"No, no," he muttered softly, as if to himself, "it were a crime to suspect deceit here. Yes, double-dyed," he continued in an altered, sarcastic tone; it sounded as though he wished to sneer away some momentary weakness,—"was I not the involuntary auditor of your declaration: 'It needs more courage to tell a lie boldly than to confess a fault?'"
"That is my conviction, I repeat it."
"Ah, what a splendid thing strength of character is! But I should suppose that if one were too upright to soil the lips with deceit, a strict watch should be kept upon the eyes also, lest they lie. I know one moment in your life when you appeared what you were not."
Elizabeth, wounded, attempted to withdraw her hand from his arm.
"Oh, no—you do not escape me so easily!" he cried, retaining it. "You must either deny or acknowledge it. You looked indifferent lately, when I threw away my cousin's tender token, the rose."
"Should I have flown after it?"
"Certainly, if you had been true."
Elizabeth knew now why he had entered this lonely path with her,—she was to confess her feelings towards Hollfeld. She was confirmed in her former suspicions,—Herr von Walde was evidently most anxious lest she should prize his cousin's homage too highly and perhaps imagine that he could forget her social position. The moment had come when she could declare her sentiments. By a hasty movement she released her hand from his arm, and stepped a little aside.
"I grant you," she said, "that if my face that day expressed indifference, it was not in harmony with my thoughts."
"I thought so!" he cried, but there was no triumph in the exclamation.
"I was in fact indignant."
"At my interference?"
"At the unauthorized levity of Herr von Hollfeld."
"He startled you greatly; but——"
"No, he insulted me! How dared he intrude upon me? I abhor him!"
She must have been right in her solution of his manner; but she had never dreamed that her declaration would be so highly prized by him. A weight seemed to fall from his heart. A ray of purest joy broke from the eyes which had gazed at her with a mixture of mistrust, contempt, and sarcasm. He drew a deep breath, and half extended his arms. Elizabeth involuntarily looked round to discover what it was that caused his eyes to flash and glow so. She saw nothing, but she felt his hand tremble as he laid hers once more upon his arm. They walked on a few paces without a word. Suddenly he stood still again.
"Now we are entirely alone," he said, in the gentlest possible tone. "See, only one small eye of heavenly blue looks down upon us,—no prying faces are near to come between us,—I cannot,—I will not be deprived of a birthday greeting from you. Give it to me now, when no one can hear it but myself alone."
She was silent and confused.
"Well, do you not know how it is done?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," she replied, and an arch smile hovered upon her lips. "I am well practised in such things. My parents, my uncle, Ernst——"
"All have birthdays," he interrupted her, smiling. "But you cannot wonder that I want a birthday greeting all to myself,—that I desire that it may sound quite different from any that you have hitherto uttered,—for I am neither your father, nor your bluff forester uncle, and certainly I cannot lay claim to the rights of the brother with whom you play. Come, speak!"
Still she said nothing. What should she say? Her eyes were cast down, for she could no longer endure that searching glance, that seemed to penetrate her very soul with its troubled expression of entreaty.
"Then come," he cried abruptly, drawing her forward, after waiting in vain for some moments for one word from her lips. "It was a foolish wish of mine. I know that your tongue, which is always ready to say what is kind and gentle to others, is dumb for me, or only ready with some rebuke."
At these words she grew pale, and involuntarily stood still.
"You will, then?" he asked more gently, "and cannot find the words?" he continued, shaking his head, as she was silent but looked up at him beseechingly. "Well, then, I have a plan. Let me say what I should like to hear from your lips, and you will repeat it after me word for word."
Again the smile played around Elizabeth's mouth, and she murmured assent.
"In the first place, you give your friend your hand," he began, and took her hand in his,—she trembled, but did not withdraw it,—"and then you say, 'You have hitherto been a wretched wanderer upon the face of the earth,—it is high time that the clouds above you should break, and be penetrated by the pure ray of light which has transformed your whole existence. It is my true and earnest wish that this light may never forsake you. Here is my hand, as the pledge of a happiness so inconceivable——"
So far she had repeated this strangely-worded greeting after him, but at the last words she hesitated. He seized her other hand also, and urged passionately, "Go on, go on!"
"Here is my——" she began at last.
"Oh, Herr von Walde," suddenly cried Cornelie's voice from the thicket, "what a delightful meeting! Now I shall enjoy in company with you the triumph of being received with a flourish of trumpets!"
Never in her life had Elizabeth seen such a sudden change take place in a human countenance as now transformed Herr von Walde's features. One strong blue vein stood out upon his pale forehead, his eyes flashed, and he involuntarily stamped his foot. It really seemed as if he would have liked to hurl back into the thicket the unwelcome intruder, who, holding up her crape skirt, came hurrying through the bushes towards them. He could not command his emotion as quickly as usual; perhaps he did not wish to do so, for he frowned angrily as Hollfeld made his appearance behind the lady. As he came in sight, Herr von Walde drew Elizabeth's hand through his arm with gentle violence, as if he feared lest she should be snatched from him.
"Why, how you look, Herr von Walde," cried Fräulein von Quittelsdorf, stepping into the middle of the path; "actually as if we were bandits, with designs upon your life; or, at all events, upon your property!"
Without replying a word to this attack, he turned to his cousin and asked, "Where is my sister?"
"She was afraid of the long rough path," the latter replied, "and preferred to drive."
"Well, I suppose you will hardly leave Helene to be lifted out of the carriage by the old Count Wildenau; I cannot understand how, as her faithful knight, you could leave the principal path. A few, quick steps will enable you to rejoin her. I will not prevent you from doing so," said Herr von Walde sharply, while a sarcastic smile quivered around the corners of his mouth. He stepped aside with Elizabeth to allow the pair to pass.
"And pray, if one may ask, why did you leave the principal path yourself?" asked Fräulein von Quittelsdorf flippantly, much more like a pert chamber-maid than a maid of honour.
"That you can easily learn; simply because I hoped, by coming along this lonely path, to escape the eloquent tongues of certain ladies," replied Herr von Walde drily.
"Ah, how cross you are! Heaven shield us from such an irritable birthday hero!" cried the lady, shuddering, and retreating a few paces with a comical assumption of terror. "It was a mistake that we did not come to you to-day with funereal faces, and muffled to the eyes in black crape!"
She pouted, and, taking Hollfeld's arm, would have dragged him forward; but he, strangely enough, seemed inclined, for the first time in his life, to set his cousin's wishes at defiance. He walked on slowly, and as if weary of existence, peering right and left into the bushes, apparently intensely interested in every stone in the pathway, every squirrel that ran swiftly past. Then he began a conversation with his companion, whose answers absorbed his attention so entirely that he paused and stood still to listen to them.
Herr von Walde muttered something between his teeth; Elizabeth could not understand it; but the hostile glance that he cast after his cousin showed how the behaviour of the latter incensed him. He said not another word to her. He turned slowly towards her, and she felt that he continued to regard her steadfastly, but she was unable to lift her eyes to his. Had she done so he must have discovered on the spot how greatly she was moved by the strange words that he had just whispered to her with so much emotion in his voice. One look would have betrayed the conflict within her, and then,—she could not pursue the thought,—he would doubtless have repented the simple wish that he had expressed. Thus deeply agitated, it was natural enough that the young girl's eyelids fell low over her eyes, and that she failed to observe the inaudible sigh that escaped her companion, or mark how all signs of irritation vanished from his features to give place to the shade of melancholy that was so wont to rest upon his brow.
A faint and dying trumpet note, which was doubtless the result of the impatience of the musicians who were waiting upon the roof of the tower, betrayed the close vicinity of the scene of festivity. And soon a buzz and noise, as of some neighbouring gypsy encampment, broke upon their ears; the path grew broader, gay throngs were seen fluttering through the bushes, and suddenly a loud flourish of bugles and trumpets sounded over their heads. Elizabeth availed herself of the opportunity to slip her hand from the arm of her conductor and to lose herself in the crowd that gathered around the lord of the feast; while a young girl, habited as a Dryad, and accompanied by four other wood-nymphs, approached, and, in limping hexameters, welcomed him to the forest.
"Well, von Walde has gotten rid of his Dulcinea at the right moment. I don't see the girl at all, now," the Countess Falkenberg whispered smilingly to Count Wildenau, who was sitting beside her upon a kind of raised dais, beneath the shade of a group of oaks. "He will never forgive the baroness and our flippant Cornelia for so stupidly forcing him into playing the knight, even for a few moments, to such a creature. My child," and she turned to Helene; seated at her right, who was anxiously searching the crowd with troubled eyes, "when those people release him we must take him in here among us, and do everything in our power to make him forget the provoking beginning of the festival."
Helene nodded mechanically. Apparently she had only heard half of what the lady had whispered in her ear. Her poor little figure, enveloped in a heavy, light-blue silk, leaned helplessly and wearily back in her huge armchair, and her cheeks were whiter than the lily-wreath that crowned her brow.'
Meanwhile Elizabeth had encountered in the throng Dr. Fels and his wife. The latter immediately took the young girl under her care, that they might not be separated again.
"Only stay until the dancing begins," she replied to Elizabeth's remark that the moment seemed to have arrived when she could slip away unnoticed, and go home. "I do not wonder that you wish to leave as soon as possible," she added, with a smile. "We, too, shall not stay long. I am anxious about my children at home. I made a great sacrifice to my husband's position in coming at all. Herr von Walde, to whom you are assigned for the day by lot, does not dance. So never fear, you will be released."
Suddenly the crowd separated. From the top of the tower sounded a grand march, and while the gentlemen sought the shade of the trees, the ladies, according to the rules of the feast, hastened to provide them with refreshments from the tent.
Herr von Walde walked slowly across the sward, his hands clasped behind him, talking with the military-inspector Busch, by his side.
"My dear Herr von Walde, now pray come to us!" the Countess Falkenberg cried out to him, extending her hand with an air almost caressing. "I have kept such a charming place here for you. Come, rest upon your well-earned laurels. 'Tis true, all the young ladies present are disposed of by lot, but here are our fair and lovely wood-nymphs all ready to wreathe your goblet, and furnish you from the tent with all that your heart can desire."
"I am deeply touched by your kindness and care for me, gracious lady," the gentleman replied, "but I cannot think that Fräulein Ferber will leave me to appeal to the general sympathy."
He spoke loudly, and turned to Elizabeth, who was standing quite near. She had heard every word, and instantly walked quietly towards him, placing herself at his side, as though she were by no means inclined to delegate to others one jot of her duty. As he saw her approach him thus, something of a joyful surprise lit up his countenance. He cast an answering glance at the face that, unembarrassed now by those around, looked smilingly up at him. Strangely enough, he seemed entirely to forget the charming place that the countess had reserved for him, for, after a slight obeisance to her stately ladyship and her court of young ladies, he offered his arm to Elizabeth, and conducted her to the shade of a giant oak, where Doctor Fels had just provided comfortable places for his wife and himself.
"Now, that is carrying his revenge a little too far," said the great lady, with irritation, turning for sympathy to Count Wildenau and the five disconcerted Dryads. "He really throws scorn upon the entire fête by taking so much notice of that young person. I begin to be really vexed with him. No one is more ready than I to grant that he is entirely right to be angry, but I really think that he should not allow himself to be so carried away by his indignation as to forget those of his guests who have had no share in the absurdities of the baroness or of von Quittelsdorf. I'll wager that that little fool there attributes his attentions to the influence of her beautiful eyes."
The small band of amiable Dryads shot annihilating looks at Elizabeth, who was quietly proceeding to the refreshment tent, whence she presently issued with a flask of champagne and four glasses, which she placed upon the table beneath the oak, where Herr von Walde was sitting with the doctor and his wife.
"Our young ladies to-day are wearing perfect flower gardens upon their heads," said Frau Fels, as the young girl approached the table. "Fräulein Ferber alone is as destitute of ornament as Cinderella. I cannot have it so."
She took two roses from the large bouquet which she held in her hand, and stood up to place them in Elizabeth's hair.
"Stop, I pray you," cried Herr von Walde, detaining her hand, "nothing should adorn that hair but orange blossoms."
"But they are only worn by brides," said the doctor's wife naively.
"I know that well," he replied quietly; and as if he had said the most natural thing in the world, he filled the glasses, and turned to Dr. Fels. "Clink glasses with me, doctor," he said; "I drink to the welfare of the saviour of my life—of Gold Elsie of Castle Gnadeck!"
The doctor smiled, and the glasses clinked with a loud ring. At this signal, a group of gentlemen approached, glasses in hand.
"You come at the right moment, gentlemen," the lord of the feast cried out to them. "Drink with me to the fulfilment of my dearest wish!"
A loud "vivat" resounded through the air, and the glasses clinked merrily.
"Scandalous!" cried the old court lady, and dropped her fork, with its choice morsel, upon her plate; "really, they are conducting themselves over there like students at a carouse! I am positively shocked! What an unseemly noise! Actually the mob in the street is better behaved when they shout 'vivats' to our gracious Prince. Apropos, my love," she continued, turning to Helene, "I observe that your brother seems quite intimate with Doctor Fels."
"He esteems him highly as a thoroughly upright man of great scientific attainments," replied Helene.
"That is all very well,—but he certainly cannot be aware that the man just now is in very bad odour at court. Only imagine, he has had the inconceivable insolence to refuse our beloved Princess Catharine——"
"Yes; I know that story," said Fräulein von Walde, interrupting the irritated lady; "my brother related the circumstance to me himself a few days ago."
"How!—is it possible that the facts are known to him, and that he has so little regard for the sentiments of the court,—which has always distinguished him so highly! Incredible! I assure you, dear child, my conscience pricks me sorely; I shall scarcely be able to lift my eyes in the presence of their Serene Highnesses, when they arrive in L——, at the thought of having been in the society here of that impertinent creature."
Helene shrugged her shoulders, and left the lady to her qualms of conscience and a brimming glass of champagne, with which she probably intended to fortify herself in anticipation of the dreaded arrival.
In the society of this lady Fräulein von Walde suffered all the galling annoyance that conventionalities inflict;—she was obliged to listen, with an amiable and interested smile, to a thousand wretched trifles, while her heart was tortured with pain; indeed, only just such a person as the Countess Falkenberg, who sought and found her highest earthly happiness in a gracious glance from a Princely eye, a person whose whole intellectual capacity was exercised in standing sentinel before the domain of etiquette and in guarding religiously the hardly-won prestige of her social position,—only such a one could have been blind to the signs of the deepest suffering in the countenance of the younger lady.
Hollfeld had not only been so inattentive as to leave Helene, upon her arrival at this spot, to the care of Count Wildenau, he had even, upon his tardy appearance, omitted all explanation or apology for his delay, and had finally seated himself beside her in a sullen and abstracted mood. She thought him strangely altered, and she racked her restless heart and brain with vain surmises. At first her suspicions rested upon Cornelie, who, true to her mercurial temperament, fluttered hither and thither like a will-o'-the-wisp, talking and laughing incessantly. But she was soon reassured upon this point, for she could not catch a single glance of Hollfeld's directed towards the coquettish and graceful court beauty. The anxious inquiries that she made of him were answered in monosyllables. She beckoned to one of the servants who was bearing past a tray of delicacies, and herself placed them before Hollfeld,—but he did not eat a morsel, and only swallowed in quick succession several glasses of fiery wine which he procured for himself at the refreshment tent. This careless conduct, which she now observed for the first time, caused her unspeakable pain. At last she was silent, and closed her eyes as though fatigued; no one noticed the crystal drops trembling on their lashes.
Suddenly a shadow was cast upon the universal merriment, which had been all the more unrestrained from the fact that the lord of the feast, usually so grave and serious, had joined in it so cordially,—at least Elizabeth felt convinced that the face of the butler, Lorenz, who now appeared in the distance, boded no good. The old man took the greatest pains to attract his master's attention without being seen by the other guests. At last he succeeded. Herr von Walde arose, and stepped aside with him into the thicket, while the group of gentlemen around him dispersed. He soon returned, with marks of dismay in his countenance.
"I have just received sad news, which will compel me to leave you immediately," he said, in a low voice, to the doctor. "Herr von Hartwig, in Thalleben, one of my oldest friends, has met with a terrible accident; the injury is fatal; they write me that he cannot live a day longer. He summons me to him that he may entrust his young children to my care. I pray you inform the Baroness Lessen of my departure, and its cause; she will see that the festivities are not interrupted. Let my sister and my guests suppose that I am called away for a few minutes by some trifling matter of business, and will return hither shortly. I shall not be missed after the dancing begins."
The doctor went instantly to find the baroness. His wife had strayed away from the spot a few moments before, so Elizabeth was left alone with Herr von Walde. He turned to her quickly:
"I thought we should not part from each other to-day without the conclusion of my birthday greeting," he said, while striving to meet her eyes, which shyly avoided his, "but I seem to be one of those unfortunate ones whose unlucky stars snatch from them the prize when it seems almost within their grasp." He endeavoured to give an air of humour to his words, but they only sounded the more bitter. "However, I submit," he continued, in a determined tone; "I must go. It cannot be helped, but my duty may be made easier and sweeter for me by a promise from you. Do you remember the words which you lately repeated after me?"
"I do not forget so quickly."
"Ah, that encourages me greatly! There is a fairy tale which tells of a realm of inexhaustible riches and endless delights, revealed by a single word. Such a word the conclusion of your greeting can be to me. Will you aid me in having it uttered?"
"How can I help you to the attainment of riches and delights?"
"That is my affair. I do most earnestly entreat you at this moment to make no further attempt at evasion, for time presses. Let me ask you,—will you endeavour to retain in your memory, during my absence, the beginning of that birthday greeting?"
"Yes."
"And will you be ready, when I return, to hear the conclusion?"
"Yes."
"Good; in the midst of the sorrow and gloom to which I am summoned there will be a glimpse of clear blue sky above me, and for you——may my good angel whisper in your ear the word that will unlock that fairy realm for me. Farewell!"