A long silence followed upon the reading of this lengthy epistle. Herr von Osternau waited in vain for some expression of opinion from his wife. "Well, Emma," he asked, at last, "what do you think of this unfortunate story?"
"I pity the poor girl," Frau von Osternau replied. "The punishment of her folly is almost too hard."
"I cannot even see in what her folly has consisted," observed the Lieutenant. "What has she done to deserve such a reproach? She obeyed her father, consented to make a brilliant match, and did it gladly. She could not possibly foresee what would be the consequences of an engagement which seemed so advantageous both for herself and for her father."
"That is just it. She thought of nothing save what she thought advantageous," Lieschen eagerly interposed. "I cannot even pity her. She knew from Uncle Sastrow all about that odious Egon von Ernau,--that he was a man without heart or principle,--and yet she was quite ready to marry him because he was rich. It makes me indignant!"
"Ought she then to have refused to obey her father?" asked the Lieutenant.
"Yes, she ought! No father has a right to ask his child to disgrace herself by such a marriage. I am indignant with Bertha Massenburg. I never could have believed it of her. She was so charming, so good-natured, so kind, I liked her so much when she spent nearly the whole summer with us here at Osternau, about five years ago. I cannot bear to think that she could allow herself to be so dazzled by mere wealth. She deserves her punishment."
"My child, your judgment of her is very severe," her father said, gravely. "Since her mother's death, Bertha's lot has been a sad one. She was homeless, for her father, who spent his time in all kinds of dissipation, was deep in debt, his estates were mortgaged, and he took no interest in his child. She was obliged thankfully to accept shelter with her aunt Massenburg, at Königsberg. There her life must have been absolutely wretched. I know what a hard and loveless woman Gunda Massenburg is. We must not condemn Bertha for gladly consenting at last to anything that her father proposed that could deliver her from such a home. We should rather pity her. It is your duty, Lieschen, to receive her here with all the affection which you gave her in happier times."
"You have decided to invite her here, then?" Frau von Osternau asked, anxiously.
"Yes, Emma. The poor girl ought to find a refuge with us from the gossip and slander which have attacked her good name."
"But, Fritz----"
"Indeed it is our duty, disagreeable as it may seem, so let us say no more about it except in the way of arranging how your uncle's wishes may be most speedily fulfilled. I will write to-night both to him and to Bertha. Herr Pigglewitch is going to Breslau with Herr Storting to-morrow morning early. If he will kindly post my letters there we can have a reply by day after to-morrow night, and shall know when to expect Bertha. You will take charge of the letters, will you not, Herr Candidate?"
At this direct question Egon started as if from a dream. He had listened with intense attention to the letter, but had really heard nothing of what had since been said. It was his fault, all this wretched scandal which so painfully involved all these people, and from the annoyance of which Herr von Osternau and his family were not exempt.
When he left his father's house, as he thought forever, and succeeded in leaving Berlin without being seen or recognized by any one, he had taken genuine satisfaction in his success in vanishing without leaving a trace behind. He had derived a unique enjoyment from imagining the impression which his disappearance would produce among his acquaintances; he had never once fancied that his voluntary departure from the world could cause any real regret to a living being. He knew that his father was incapable of feeling genuine grief; there was no one to be pained by his sudden death. Egon had loved and been loved by no one. And his imagination had not played him false. Herr von Sastrow's letter described the theatric woo of the Councillor: if he had actually felt a degree of sorrow for his son's death he was more than indemnified by the opportunity for playing the part of a bereaved parent. His vanity was flattered by the sensation caused by Egon's disappearance.
The young man could see it all in his mind's eye,--his father's well-acted agony for the death of a son upon whom he had bestowed no affection, and the equally well acted sympathy of his acquaintances. All were aware of the farce at which they were assisting, but it was played because required by the customs of society, and because the actors were well pleased with their parts.
Yes, everything had happened as Egon had thought it would. What he had not thought of was that his death could cast a shade upon another human existence,--upon the reputation of his proposed bride.
He had been most disagreeably affected during the reading of the letter by the enumeration of his various characteristics, for he could not but admit the degree of truth in the written picture. A fleeting blush had passed over his cheek when he heard the terms in which Bertha von Massenburg had summed up his character, 'An unfortunate man who, bred in the lap of luxury, had lost all force of character, all capacity to shape his destiny.' She had bestowed upon him her contemptuous pity!
Lieschen had spoken of cowardice when, during their ride, she had expressed her detestation of suicide. And Bertha von Massenburg had pitied him as a coward!
He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he heard nothing of what was going on about him, and when startled by Herr von Osternau's appeal to him he was obliged to confess that he had not heard his question.
"Extraordinary absence of mind," the Lieutenant observed, but Herr von Osternau said, in his gentle, kindly way, "Herr Pigglewitch has had a most fatiguing day, and it is very natural that he should feel but a slight degree of interest in the family affairs of strangers."
Then, after repeating his request with regard to the letters, and receiving on the instant an assurance from Egon that he would gladly undertake the charge of them, Herr von Osternau added,--
"As you must be tired, Herr Pigglewitch, and need rest, I will not detain you from seeking it. I would ask but one favour of you. We have all been moved by Sastrow's letter, which will give me at least a troubled night. Perhaps you may succeed in diverting our thoughts if you will kindly go once more to the piano and give us some of your delicious music."
An eloquent look from Lieschen seconded her father's request, and Egon willingly complied. He himself had often resorted to music for consolation, but of late this source of comfort had failed him; he had played with enjoyment to-day for the first time for months, and now so soon as his fingers touched the keys the old spell threw its charm over him. He forgot that Herr von Osternau had asked him to play, he forgot that he was among strangers, of whom one, the Lieutenant, was eying him with dislike and suspicion; he played for himself alone. Involuntarily he glided after a brief prelude into one of Schumann's wonderful reveries. He had played the studies of the immortal master so often, he had made them so thoroughly his own, that the notes came now as if from his very soul, and thus affected his hearers, who listened breathless, fairly carried away by the magic of sound.
It was over--with the last tone the spell too was broken. He knew that he was among the Von Osternaus; there upon the lounge sat the Lieutenant sullenly staring at the floor, and beside him was Frau von Osternau, her hands clasped in her lap, lost in dreamy enjoyment. And Lieschen?--there were tears in the girl's eyes! Egon saw no more, he felt his pulses quicken, any word of praise or thanks would have been intolerable to him. Rising from the piano, he would have left the room in silence, but that he suddenly remembered what was due from Gottlieb Pigglewitch to his employer. Little as he had learned of self-control, it must be exercised now. So with a courteous bow he turned to the master of the house and begged to be excused from playing anything more, he was really much fatigued and would ask permission to retire to his room. He then kissed Frau von Osternau's offered hand, bowed low to Lieschen, even bestowed a formal inclination upon the Lieutenant, and retired.
When the door closed behind him he passed his hand over his eyes as if to push away some cloud from his mind. Was he the same Egon von Ernau who had never paid the slightest regard to what others might think of him,--to anything indeed save his own whim of the moment? A strange and sudden change had come over him,--he could not comprehend it.
The heavy clouds which had veiled the horizon in the afternoon had slowly covered all the skies, the night was very dark, the gloom only broken from time to time by dazzling flashes of lightning.
Egon stood at his open window. He felt easier and freer now that he was once more alone, and the spectacle of the beginning of the storm was a relief to him. The old trees waved and creaked in the blast, the rustling of the leaves, the crashing of boughs, and the moaning of the wind were as music in his ears. If only some ray of light could illumine the darkness within him, as the lightning's play lit up the world without!
He had suddenly become aware of the serious importance of existence. Hitherto he had never reflected upon the future, and but seldom upon the past. He had lived in the present, obeying the impulse of the moment, with no thought of the consequences of his actions. He had known no feeling of responsibility, he had lived for himself alone; who in all the world had any claim upon his consideration?
When the insane idea occurred to him of playing the part of Gottlieb Pigglewitch for a little while, it had indeed entered his mind that it might result in some annoyance, but he had thoughtlessly followed the impulse of the moment; he could put a stop to it all whenever he pleased, he still possessed his revolver. He had not been bored, it is true, for a moment since he had changed clothes with Gottlieb Pigglewitch and borrowed his name, but what had he gained? Was he happy? Was life any more attractive to him? No, not in the least. Formerly, when he had thought it worth while to recur to the past, he had done so without regret, without the slightest remorse, he had recalled his past with a kind of weary indifference; today this retrospect begot within him a sensation of shame. His whole past life seemed to him frivolous and insignificant. Bertha von Massenburg had characterized him correctly. It was only by chance that he had not fled from life like a coward. Involuntarily, as the feeling of shame grew stronger, he felt for his revolver in his breast-pocket to toss it from him, and as he drew it forth, a letter likewise was pulled from his pocket and fell upon the floor.
It was the note addressed to the Candidate Gottlieb Pigglewitch, which he had received a few hours before. Egon had forgotten it; he picked it up now and carried it to the table, where a light was burning.
His thoughts had taken another turn; the momentary disgust at the thought of his revolver vanished, he contemplated it with a half-smile, and his thoughts ran thus: "I had very nearly thrown you away forever, old friend. It was only an accident, the appearance of this wretched letter, which prevented me from yielding to the impulse of the moment. Shall I never, then, be master of myself? 'He is a man of no force of character, he has no self-control.' Those were old Sastrow's words, and, by Jove! he is right. Always the sport of the moment! Why should I toss away my revolver? There is no danger in it for me, except by my own will, by my being too great a coward to fight the battle of life. No, old friend, you shall stay by me, not as an aid in my extreme need, but as a warning to me to control myself."
He thrust the weapon again into his breast-pocket, and then turned to the letter in his left hand. It was addressed in a very fine, round hand to the "Candidate Gottlieb Pigglewitch, at Castle Osternau, near Mirbach;" but just after the name Pigglewitch two words, enclosed in brackets, were written, in a handwriting so excessively small as to escape notice at the first glance. Egon held the note near the lamp, and by its light deciphered the words "Fritz Fortune."
Fritz Fortune! It was the name that Egon had invented and given instead of his own to the real Pigglewitch. No one else knew this name, and hence it was clear that the note was for Egon, and from the redoubtable Candidate himself. The young fellow broke the seal, and read:
"Respected Herr Fortune,--Forgive me for once more turning to you in my extreme need; indeed I cannot help it. Wonderful indeed are the ways of the Lord! He sent me aid when with a wanton hand I attempted my own life; you, dear sir, rescued not only my body, but my immortal soul, saving it from mortal sin. And in your inexhaustible generosity you provided me with means not only to repay my uncle, but to emigrate to America and live happy there. Four thousand marks you bestowed upon me. Permit me, however, to remark that you counted out to me one hundred marks too little. I went carefully over the notes as soon as you had left, and they amounted to only three thousand nine hundred marks. I called after you, but you did not hear me; therefore you still owe me one hundred marks.
"But not for this do I now address you. A hundred marks is, to be sure, a large sum for me, but I would not mind it, I should now be in Hamburg or Bremen, ready to start for America by the next steamer, if fate had not subjected me to fresh trials.
"The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. I have been assailed by temptation and have been unable to resist. Wretched man that I am, I have again lost everything,--everything! There is nothing left for me, Herr Fortune, but to appeal once more to your benevolence; and my heart is filled with hope that you will not let me plead in vain.
"You can probably surmise how I have been stripped of everything that you bestowed upon me. My miserable passion for play has again wrought my ruin. I could not withstand temptation. Upon arriving in Berlin, full of the brightest hopes, I encountered near the station the same men who had shortly before won all that I possessed. But why dwell upon these wretched details? In little more than an hour I was again a beggar, with hardly money enough for food for a couple of days. I sought out my former lodgings, where my landlady received me,--I had paid her up to the 15th,--and here, sitting despairing in my lonely room, it has occurred to me to write to you, honoured Herr Fortune.
"You are rich. You have with you now thousands of marks. You cannot refuse to help a miserable man who knows no help save in you. I entreat, I implore you to send me four thousand marks more, and I will say nothing about the hundred marks that you still owe me.
"What shall I do if you refuse to aid me? It is true that I promised you to reveal to no one the fact that you had under my name installed yourself in my situation at Castle Osternau, and that I had handed over to you all my credentials, but with the best will in the world it is impossible for me to keep my promise. I cannot now emigrate to America, I must stay here, and in order to live I must find a situation here; to do this I need my papers. Yes, I must lay claim to the situation promised me at Castle Osternau; only by procuring it can I ever lay by money enough to pay my uncle. This is my only hope, for if I do not pay it he will send me to jail, whereas if I make him remittances he will perhaps wait in order not to lose his money.
"You will see yourself, Herr Fortune, that I shall be forced to break my promise to you, much as it will pain me to cause you any annoyance. I am so grateful to you that the thought of your being arrested and brought to punishment for assuming a false name and presenting false credentials drives me to despair.
"This must not happen. You will give heed to my entreaty, and once more send me the four thousand marks which I, miserable sinner that I am, have lost at play. I swear to you, by all that is sacred, that by the next mail after the receipt of the money I will transmit my uncle's money to him, and will go straight to Hamburg without spending a day more in Berlin. I swear to you that I will not touch a card, that I will not yield to temptation.
"Help me this once, only this once, honoured Herr Fortune, I implore you on my knees, lying in the dust before you!
"Your wretched, desperate, bat eternally grateful and devoted
"Gottlieb Pigglewitch.
"P.S.--My address is 'Candidate Gottlieb Pigglewitch, Berlin, 52 Ensel Street, care of Frau Wiebe.'"
With a face darkening as he read, Egon perused this precious epistle, tossing it disdainfully aside when he had finished reading it. "Miserable scoundrel!" he muttered. "What a worthless mass of hypocritical gratitude, servility, stupidity, and dishonesty the creature must be, thus to threaten me indirectly in hopes of getting more money from me! He talks to me of arrest, and thinks that for fear of it I shall send him another four thousand marks that he may be plucked for the third time by sharpers. No, my worthy Pigglewitch, you have reckoned without your host this time; not a mark will you get!"
He paced his room to and fro, deciding that any further thought of the miserable letter and the rogue who had penned it was foolish, and yet he could not banish it from his mind.
Was the threat so very ridiculous? If the true Pigglewitch had the courage to attempt it he might bring the false one into a deal of trouble, as Egon's sober second thought could not but admit.
The bearing of a feigned name was legally a crime, but that was of no consequence in Egon's mind. If he chose early the next morning to go to Berlin instead of to Breslau, who could succeed in finding the Pigglewitch who had vanished from Osternau? Nobody would suppose that Egon von Ernau, suddenly appearing in the capital again after a short pleasure-trip, had for a day or two taken it into his head to play the part of a Candidate Gottlieb Pigglewitch. The real Pigglewitch could not betray him, for he knew him only as Fritz Fortune. The false Pigglewitch simply vanished, leaving not a trace behind.
What would the world say if the Egon von Ernau whom it believed dead should suddenly appear safe and sound in Berlin? Egon laughed as he pictured to himself his reception in the paternal mansion, the faces of the servants, and the amazement of his father thus interrupted in his successful performance of the part of a broken-hearted parent. His poor father! But there would be some consolation for him in the sensation caused by his son's return. He could drive about town in his carriage, and, with a beaming countenance, inform all his friends, 'My son lives, I am the happiest of fathers!' Whether in joy or in woe, he could still be the model parent.
Would it not be best perhaps to cut the Gordian knot of his foolish adventure after this fashion? Yes, it would be his wisest course to leave Castle Osternau on the morrow, never to return. And what of the future? He had never formerly thought of the future, he did so now for the first time.
He would doubtless be received with enthusiasm, would be the topic of the gossip of the capital for weeks, all the silly rumours which had been flying about with regard to him would die away of themselves, Bertha von Massenburg need not leave Berlin, for--here Egon shuddered--the betrothal could take place as agreed upon, the betrothal to which Egon had thoughtlessly consented because it was of no consequence to him what woman was the sharer of his tedious existence. All women seemed alike calculating, frivolous, insignificant. He had given his consent, it could not be withdrawn.
Why did his pulses suddenly quicken? Why did he feel a positive aversion to the girl who was described as so beautiful and amiable? "Never, never," he muttered. He could not act wisely, he could not return to fulfil his father's promise, no, he could not.
He would remain in Castle Osternau and carry out to the end the adventure in which he was embarked, if only to test his force of character, his ability to carve out a new life for himself. Was it for this alone? Did not a lovely vision hover before his mental vision, casting its spells upon him, robbing him of freedom of will and forcing him to remain, when to go would be so prudent, so sensible?
He determined to remain. But he must not expose himself to the danger of being driven forth from Castle Osternau by the real Pigglewitch. For should the latter make good his claim, as he could, to the name now borne by Egon, he would doubtless be expelled from the castle pursued by the Lieutenant's scornful laughter.
And he could not possibly explain the matter to Herr von Osternau. No, the real Pigglewitch must be disarmed. But how? There was but one course,--to grant his request. Egon bit his lip; it irritated him to be influenced by the rogue's threats, but he had no choice. He could secure himself from discovery only by sending the fellow four thousand marks. Should he then be secure? Could he trust the man in the slightest degree? No, never. But it was of little consequence, he could at all events be made harmless for a short time. It was, after all, only a matter of a petty four thousand marks.
He sat down at the writing-table and wrote: "I will help you this time, but it is the last. If you allow yourself to be led astray again by your insane love of play you have nothing further to expect from me. I ought now to leave you to your fate, for your folly in allowing yourself to be made a second time the prey of ordinary sharpers deserves punishment, the more as by your threat of breaking your promise you have forfeited all right to my clemency. You owe the money which I herewith send you to my pity for your inconceivable stupidity, not in the least to your threat as to arrest, etc., which, I would remark by the way, is absolutely futile, since your papers were given me voluntarily by yourself, and the only inconvenience to which you could subject me would be the payment of a fine which would be of no importance to me, and the abridgment of a foolish jest which I was silly ever to attempt. Your broken promise would avail you nothing here, since your letter to me would prevent Herr von Osternau from ever receiving into his house, as tutor, a low, dishonest gambler, who, according to his own confession, should be at present within the walls of a jail.
"You know now what you have to expect, and I would advise you in your own interest to keep your word and to sail by the first vessel for America. If in your new home you should ever need money to purchase a farm you may again apply to me. I may perhaps be induced to remember that I saved your life against your will. How far this remembrance will serve you in the fulfilment of a reasonable request from you your own conduct must decide.
"I wish no thanks from you for the enclosed four thousand marks. Any communication made from you to me before your arrival in America will destroy all hope of future assistance from
"Fritz Fortune."
The morning after the first night spent by Egon at Castle Osternau dawned so brilliantly that the light of the rising sun shining in at his window awoke him. The storm had raged itself out, and the blue sky was cloudless.
He was quickly dressed and down in the garden, where the delicious air and the dewy flowers filled him with a new delight. Although he had slept but a few hours, he felt more rested and refreshed than when rising in Berlin at noon.
He walked through the garden out into the fields, involuntarily striking into the path leading to the Oster meadows. He had time for a walk, for he was not to be ready for the trip with Herr Storting until seven o'clock, and it was now but a little after five.
He soon reached the eminence whence he had yesterday looked down with Lieschen upon the harvest-fields. The charming view seemed more lovely and peaceful than before, for the busy crowd of harvesters was absent. Labour in the fields had not yet begun. A single horseman was riding through the valley towards the castle. When he saw Egon he waved his hand, and spurred his horse on to where the young man was standing. Egon recognized Herr Storting. "Good-morning, Herr Pigglewitch," Storting called from afar. "I did not expect to meet you in the Oster meadows at five in the morning. Did you wish to be sure that the storm has done us no harm? Aha! you begin to take an interest in our harvest. You may be easy, we have come off very well. The rain was only an honest summer thunder-storm. In some places it has indeed beaten down the grain, but the injury is slight, and I can with a clear conscience fulfil my promise and go to Breslau with you this morning."
Storting was so rejoiced at the safety of his harvest that he entirely forgot his yesterday's displeasure at his companion's conduct, and he walked his horse slowly back to the castle at Egon's side, pointing with pride to the luxuriant fields on each side of them, and speaking with enthusiasm of Herr von Osternau and his agricultural foresight and skill.
His talk was most interesting to Egon, who felt an increased respect and esteem for the man of whom an intelligent inspector in his employ could speak in terms of such admiration.
Arrived in the court-yard the pair separated, Storting to superintend the arrangement of the day's labour, since, as he said, with a half-smile, "The chief superintendent will hardly appear before eight o'clock, his usual time of rising," while Egon repaired to his room. Here he found his breakfast awaiting, and beside his plate a letter addressed to Colonel D. von Sastrow, Berlin. It was the one he had been requested by Herr von Osternau to take charge of on the previous evening, and the sight of it reminded him of his own letter to Pigglewitch, which he had laid away unsealed after he had written it. He took it out and read it over once more. It did not please him, but he could not resist the longing desire that possessed him to remain for a while at Osternau. He shuddered at the thought of resuming the tedious old Berlin life. Any means were justifiable that should enable him to escape that.
With a sigh he enclosed the notes for the promised money, sealed the letter, and addressed it. Then he took from his pocket-book an additional two hundred marks. Thus much, he reflected, Gottlieb must have possessed before falling into the hands of the sharpers, and so much therefore his substitute might surely sacrifice to the exigencies of the occasion. He needed some school-books, and also some linen. That contained in the travelling-bag filled him with disgust.
Punctually at seven he started with Storting for Breslau. The travelling-bag containing Pigglewitch's old suits was carried to the station by a servant, and the travellers arrived duly at their destination, where Egon's first care was to post Herr von Osternau's letter and his own. After this he began his expedition in the town with Storting, the first visit naturally being paid to the tailor. Here it would have gone ill with him but for Storting's assistance. The tailor at first seemed disinclined to grant credit to a stranger, and Candidate Pigglewitch could not possibly pay the two hundred and fifty marks requisite for the furnishing him with two respectable suits of clothes, except by quarterly instalments. Storting, however, came to the rescue. His credit with the tradesman was excellent, and he arranged the matter, while Egon stood by, now and then biting his lip to keep himself from laughing, so ludicrous did the whole situation seem to him. In less than an hour his outfit was complete. The clothes borrowed from Storting and one of his own new suits were packed up to be sent to the railway-station. Egon paid the ready money agreed upon, and the tailor requested him to sign a paper agreeing to pay the rest in quarterly instalments as arranged. The pen was in his hand when he suddenly reflected that he had no right to sign Pigglewitch's name to a due-bill, that to do so was actually a transgression of the law. He hesitated, but when Storting said, "Sign, Herr Pigglewitch, I will write my name as surety below yours," there was nothing for it but to comply. Here was one of the consequences of coming to Castle Osternau under a false name.
His enjoyment of the occasion was disturbed, but only for a moment; when they had left the shop he felt it his duty to make a special acknowledgment to the inspector for his great kindness in so readily becoming surety for an entire stranger. Storting interrupted him with a laugh.
"You must thank Fräulein Lieschen, if you wish to thank anybody--our gracious little lady. 'Pray make Herr Pigglewitch look like a human being,' she said to me yesterday. Not very flattering to you, but for me a command to be obeyed under all circumstances. I tell you frankly that but for this I should have had some hesitation in going surety for you, for your conduct yesterday provoked me. To-day, however, you are a different person, and I am quite sure that I run no risk in signing your promise to pay."
"Fräulein Lieschen's word is your law, then?"
"Yes, so I told you yesterday, and so I tell you again to-day." Storting laughed as he spoke, but the seriousness in his eyes contradicted the laughter of his lips. "Fräulein Lieschen rules at Castle Osternau. Just as you controlled Soliman yesterday, Fräulein Lieschen will control you before two days are gone by. Yesterday you tried to withstand the magic of her glance, to-morrow you will obey her implicitly, as I do, as every one in the castle does."
He turned as he finished the sentence into the old-clothes shop, where Pigglewitch's cast-off habiliments were to be disposed of. If Egon had enjoyed the novelty of the transaction with the tailor, here he was infinitely more entertained. Storting defended his interests bravely. The Jew dealer declared that he should be ruined by the purchase at any price of such antiquated garments, but finally with many lamentations agreed to give twenty-four marks for the two suits. Storting was content; the porter who had carried the bag was paid and dismissed; Egon pocketed his gains with a smile, and took the empty bag under his arm.
The chief business in Breslau was completed, and Egon found that he had still half an hour before the departure of the train for Osternau. This time he employed in the purchase of linen and school-books, and arrived with Storting at the station just in time to pack away his various bundles in the railway-carriage and to take his seat beside his companion before the train started.
The events of this little expedition to Breslau were very unimportant, and yet they exercised an important influence upon Egon's mode of thought, his views of life. For the first time some idea occurred to him of the value of money. The tailor's hesitation to trust him for the insignificant sum of two hundred and fifty marks, the petty haggling for an infinitely less sum in the old-clothes shop, were a lesson to him. And in his purchase of linen and books the impossibility of his buying, as he had been wont to do, everything that he desired, or even everything that he thought necessary, set him thinking in earnest.
He had smiled at the gravity with which Storting, at the tailor's, reckoned up the cost of the clothes, at the eagerness with which he had contested a few marks with the Jew dealer, while his zeal was all in behalf of another, and the same man who was so anxious to save expense for the poor Candidate Pigglewitch did not hesitate to pledge himself to pay a hundred and fifty marks in case the tutor should be unable to do so. And this when the sum in question was of great importance to him, for, as he had frankly told Egon, he was without means except his salary as inspector, out of which he contributed to the support of a sister who was preparing for the governess examinations in Berlin.
Under these circumstances the kindness shown to Egon by Storting was genuine indeed, and placed the recipient under an obligation which instead of annoying him gave him pleasure. Hitherto Egon had been disposed to regard any favour shown him as due to his wealth and position. Storting's disinterestedness therefore made the greatest impression upon him, and weakened the morbid suspicion with which he had come to look upon all friendly advances made to him.
The elation that he felt upon returning from Breslau to Castle Osternau was not damped by the fulfilment of his duties there. His little pupil's boyish eagerness to learn, his affectionate enthusiasm for his dear Herr Pigglewitch, warmed Egon's heart, while the hours spent in giving Lieschen her music-lessons were the most delightful he had ever passed in his life.
After the daily game of billiards, in which, much to the Lieutenant's chagrin, Egon maintained his supremacy, Frau von Osternau accompanied her daughter and the tutor to the sitting-room, where the lesson on the piano was given. Egon began his instruction with an interest which the discovery of his pupil's talent for music heightened to enthusiasm, and the girl's progress was such that Frau von Osternau was charmed, and in the delight which these lessons gave her forgot that she had at first been present at them from a sense of duty. Indeed, her anxiety lest Lieschen's interest in her teacher might transcend the limits of that which a pupil should feel for a master seemed entirely groundless. The girl admired the musician, as did Frau von Osternau. She listened to every word of his, and did her best to obtain his approval. When he praised her her lovely face beamed with smiles, but it was to the teacher as such that she paid her tribute of respectful attention. The lesson once concluded, Lieschen was again the merry, artless, audacious child. She teased Herr Pigglewitch as she was wont to tease Cousin Albrecht, Herr Storting, and Herr von Wangen, the third inspector. She expressed without reserve her admiration for his skill at billiards and as a horseman, and then, when displeased by some reckless speech of his, she scolded him as unreservedly. She was as frankly familiar with him as with the others, and her conduct in this respect was at times a proof to her mother that her fears for her daughter had been unfounded. She willingly allowed the daily rides, during which the pair, of course, were never alone, Fritz always forming one of the party.
It was a delight indeed to Egon to make these expeditions through field and forest with the sister and brother. Lieschen assumed all the gravity of age as she held forth to the Herr Candidate upon the mysteries of agriculture, now and then praising the progress made by her pupil, and she was no less charming when she laughed at him for his ignorance. Herr Storting was right when he prophesied that Egon would, like all the other inmates of the castle, shortly yield Fräulein Lieschen a willing obedience. Egon smiled at his own folly, but none the less did he succumb to her charm, even putting a bridle upon his tongue when habit would have led him to utter some sneering remark. One word of admonition from Lieschen was enough to put him upon his guard.
The life he led at Castle Osternau, in utter contradiction as it was to everything that he had known hitherto, threw a strange spell around him, made him calm and content, filled him with a satisfaction which forbade for the time all idea of change.
At the noonday meal he no longer listened mutely to the agricultural discourse of the lord of the castle. His awakened interest found utterance in inquiry and discussion which afforded Herr von Osternau genuine pleasure. Frau von Osternau also would give the young man a kindly nod as she marked his growing interest in such topics. The Lieutenant alone was discontent; he never let slip an opportunity for a covert sneer at the Candidate. Egon paid no attention to his insulting words, but they called forth at times a sharp reproof from Herr von Osternau, which but served to embitter Albrecht still further against its cause.
And the evenings around the tea-table, from which Egon would rise to take his seat at the piano, were perhaps the most enjoyed of all this pleasant existence. What matter was it to the young fellow if the Lieutenant hated him? He felt that every other member of the family regarded him with kindness, that Fritz positively worshipped him, that Frau von Osternau had confidence in him, that her husband treated him as his equal in rank, as a friend of the family. And Lieschen? She was as frank and merry as upon their first meeting. She even teased him now and then about his old coat, in which she still insisted he looked like a scarecrow, but at intervals, in the midst of her girlish merriment, her eyes would meet his own with a look which, he could hardly have told why, filled him with intense, unreasoning joy.
"Bertha will arrive to-morrow," said Herr von Osternau, looking up from the letter which he had just received by the evening mail.
Egon alone of all the little circle had had no letter, and he had therefore been looking over the paper, which he now dropped in dismay. Two weeks previously he had taken Herr von Osternau's letter to Breslau, and for a few days afterwards he had thought with a kind of dread of the threatened visit from Fräulein von Massenburg, but as the invitation remained unanswered, and as there was no mention made by any of the family of Bertha, he had forgotten that the peaceful life at Castle Osternau might be disturbed by the intrusion of a foreign element. His dismay was shared by Frau von Osternau and Lieschen, as was evident from their faces as they looked up from their letters.
"Indeed!" said Frau von Osternau. "I hoped that Bertha would refuse our invitation, since she has left it so long unanswered. Has she written herself?"
"No; Sastrow tells me that she is to leave Berlin early to-morrow morning, and so she will be here towards evening. You can read his letter, or I will read it to you. Albrecht and Herr Pigglewitch heard his first, and this is simply a conclusion of it." And the old Herr began:
"My Dear Fritz,--Forgive me for delaying my thanks for your prompt response to my request. You must have daily expected my reply, but I could not before inform you exactly when Bertha would go to you. Almost immediately after the arrival of your letter Werner von Massenburg came to me in a state of great perturbation, to tell me that Egon von Ernau had probably not killed himself, but was knocking about in the mountains somewhere. One of his intimate acquaintances had seen him in Breslau two or three days after his disappearance. Werner had himself seen this acquaintance, a certain Baron von Freistetten, and had heard the tidings from his own lips. The Baron assured him that as he was driving to the railway-station in Breslau he had seen Ernau on the sidewalk, walking very quickly. The Baron was in a hurry to catch his train, and so had not accosted his friend, but he knew him well enough to be sure that it was he. He nodded to him from the carriage, but Ernau was looking at some books in a bookseller's window, and did not perceive him. If he had known that Ernau was reported dead, the Baron would certainly, even at the risk of losing his train, have stopped and identified the missing man; but he had been absent from the capital for some time, and knew nothing of the gossip current there. However, he is ready to take his oath that the man whom he saw was no other than Egon von Ernau.
"Werner fairly shook with agitation as he recounted this wonderful story to my wife, to Bertha, and to me; he had just come from the Councillor Ernau, whom he reported as quite as much agitated as himself by Freistetten's statement. They discussed what was best to do under the circumstances, and decided that a notice should be sent to the newspapers contradicting the report of the suicide of young Ernau, who had merely left Berlin upon a pleasure-trip. The Councillor was also to engage the police to make search for his son in Breslau. They agreed that if, as they both believed, Egon von Ernau still lived, nothing should be changed in their former arrangements. The Councillor was convinced that his son would not think of relinquishing his claim upon Bertha's hand, especially after the public scandal to which his disappearance had given rise.
"You know Werner Massenburg, and how sanguine he is; nothing that I could say as to the possibility of a mistake on Baron Freistetten's part had any effect upon him. His hopes were again high, and he thought it quite natural that young Ernau, who had always followed the impulse of the moment, should have chosen this time for a short absence from Berlin. According to the unanimous verdict of his companions, the young man was ready to commit any folly, and to carry out, regardless of the feelings of others, any project that might occur to him.
"Neither I nor my wife was convinced by what he said, but Bertha listened to him with sparkling eyes, and declared that nothing should induce her to leave Berlin until the matter of Egon's absence was fully explained; she would write to you instantly and decline your invitation with thanks. I dissuaded her with difficulty from doing so.
"Again, after her father had left us, I entreated her to pause and consider. If young Ernau still lived, his want of regard for the feelings of others had proved him entirely incapable of making a wife happy. I painted her future linked for life with so eccentric, selfish, andblaséa husband; but my words had no effect whatever upon her, she only smiled. Her smile is wonderfully lovely, but it did not then seem lovely to me, it made me shudder.
"She had, she declared with calm decision, no anxiety for the future if she could but attain her desire of becoming young Ernau's wife. If the young man did really, as was by no means certain, feel a certain antipathy for her, which had been the cause of his temporary flight, it should be her task to cure him of his dislike. Without vanity, she was conscious of possessing enough beauty to inflame the heart of any man susceptible to a woman's charms, if she so desired to do. Therefore she must stay in Berlin. So brilliant a match must not be resigned without a struggle. Herr von Ernau's reputed eccentricities mattered nothing to her; he was immensely rich, a gentleman, and born and bred in the best society; these advantages outweighed all else. She laid no claim to idyllic bliss in marriage, she was perfectly indifferent as to whether she could love or even esteem her future husband, if he could but satisfy her requirements in the life she wished to lead, and if, above all, he could deliver her father from his pecuniary embarrassments.
"My good wife listened with positive horror to these declarations, and I was indignant. I cannot tell you how unlovely, with all her beauty, Bertha seemed to us; and we have not recovered from the effects of this impression. The girl has taken the greatest pains to please us since then, and has been charming and bewitching, but in vain. I cannot but think, whenever I look at her, of her sordid views of life, and I do not trust her cordiality; it comes from calculation. She wants to stay with us in Berlin, and therefore she flatters and caresses my wife and myself and anticipates all our wishes.
"Werner supposed that the notice sent to the papers would put a stop to all scandalous gossip, but such has not been the case. You can have no idea of the annoyance to which we have been subjected; my wife actually talks of retiring from society.
"Under these circumstances Bertha must not remain with us any longer at present. I explained this to her to-day and told her that she really must leave for Castle Osternau to-morrow morning. Her eyes flashed as I spoke, and she was evidently tempted to make an angry retort, but she possesses immense self-control: she thanked me most amiably for allowing her to stay with us until now in spite of the annoyance she had caused us. She declared herself quite ready to start for Castle Osternau to-morrow, but at the same time begged that she might return to us if Egon von Ernau ever made his reappearance in the capital. This request was preferred so bewitchingly that I could not but accede to it.
"So Bertha will arrive at Castle Osternau towards evening to-morrow. I know, my dear Fritz, how much I ask of your wife and yourself when I beg you to keep her with you for some time, but I cannot help hoping that this visit may turn out well. Bertha can be extremely delightful if she chooses to be so, and I am sure she will so choose in this case. Farewell. I send a thousand affectionate messages to your wife from her grateful old uncle,
"Sastrow."