"A charming prospect!" said Frau von Osternau when her husband had finished. "If our good-natured uncle Sastrow is so indignant with Bertha von Massenburg, she must have behaved badly. Can you ask me--can you ask Lieschen, Fritz, to make her welcome here for months?"
"You look only on the dark side, Emma. Sastrow says expressly that she can be enchantingly amiable if she chooses."
"Any one who is amiable only when she chooses is not amiable at all," his wife replied. "Indeed, Bertha von Massenburg does not seem to me a fit companion for Lieschen. I am afraid we have been somewhat hasty about this invitation."
"It has been given and accepted, Emma. Bertha is coming to-morrow, and hospitality demands that she be kindly received. Neither you nor Lieschen, I hope, Emma, will forget that."
"Must I play the hypocrite, papa? How can I receive Bertha kindly when I am indignant at her conduct? I think it detestable in her to insist upon marrying that miserable Egon von Ernau when she knows that he does not like her and that he is a worthless man. I cannot tell you, papa, how odious Bertha's greed for wealth seems to me, and you tell me to receive her kindly. I cannot pretend to what I do not feel."
"I do not ask you, dear, to lavish affection upon her or to adopt her as your confidential friend, but to treat her as a relative of the family who has come to live with us for a while. You are no longer a child, Lieschen, and you must learn to fulfil the conventional requirements of society. I never desire you to play the hypocrite, and a courteous silence as to what we are thinking at the moment is not hypocrisy. You must accustom yourself, my dear, not to wear your heart upon your sleeve, and to bridle your tongue."
Lieschen was unaccustomed to so serious an admonition from her father, and she replied, meekly, "I will try, papa," while her mother did not look up from her work, but knitted faster than ever.
All were a little put out of tune by the news of Bertha's arrival, with the exception of the Lieutenant; he expressed the hope that the beautiful Fräulein von Massenburg would put fresh life into the old castle. He took Bertha's part; he could not see how she was to be blamed for wishing to be wealthy for her father's sake. Certainly Lieschen least of all ought to find fault with her frank expression of her sentiments as to wealth. As in royal families, so also in the higher aristocratic circles, marriages were contracted without the sentimental affection talked of in novels; Bertha was only conforming to the laws of good society if she overlooked Egon von Ernau's trifling defects and showed herself ready for a union which would relieve her father from pecuniary embarrassment. Even judging from Herr von Sastrow's prejudiced description, young Ernau was a talented man of unstained honour, and it would be inexcusable folly in Bertha not to overlook any little faults in one so richly endowed.
Although the Lieutenant delivered himself thus with a degree of enthusiasm, no voice was raised in sympathy with him; Frau von Osternau maintained an obstinate silence, seeming to be absorbed in her knitting, Lieschen frankly declared that she could not understand a nature so coldly calculating, and thought it detestable, and all that Herr von Osternau said was that he could not judge Bertha until he had seen her, and that, whatever she might be, no member of his family was justified in showing her anything save kindness; it would be best for the present to drop all discussion of her, and he therefore begged Herr Pigglewitch to go to the piano and soothe their troubled minds.
Egon complied, but he himself was so filled with all kinds of conflicting thoughts and emotions that his heart was not in his music, and he soon arose from the instrument. It was impossible to resume the customary happy evening talk, all were absent and uncomfortable in mind, and the circle broke up at an unusually early hour.
On the following day both Lieschen and her mother were depressed in spirits. They scarcely spoke during dinner, and but for the talk between the master of the house and his inspectors there would have been absolute silence.
When the time came for the afternoon ride Fritzchen was about to rush off to order the horses, but Lieschen detained him.
"Let us take a little walk to-day, Herr Pigglewitch," she said. "My father wishes me to arrange some flowers in Bertha von Massenburg's room, so I cannot be away from home long, and yet I have a great deal to say to you. I do not want to ride to-day, we can talk so much more easily on foot."
"Oh, Lieschen, it is delightful to gallop across the fields, and you always talk all the time to Herr Pigglewitch," Fritz cried out, with a discontented air, but Egon pacified him by promising to ride with him after their walk, and the little fellow ran on before the pair who sauntered slowly out into the fields.
In the narrow path along which they strolled Lieschen walked close by Egon's side. She had said that she had much to say to him, but she seemed unable to begin, and even when Egon asked the name of a distant hamlet she gave a brief, hasty reply, and then walked on with downcast eyes, until her companion, eager to put an end to the uncomfortable silence, asked, directly, "What have you to say to me, Fräulein Lieschen?"
She looked up at him.
"You are right to remind me; it is folly to delay asking your advice, since I have made up my mind to do so. I do not often need advice, my own feeling tells me what I ought to do, and I follow its promptings, but to-day it leaves me in the lurch, I am doubtful whether I feel and judge rightly, wherefore I want to ask your advice, only you must promise me, Herr Pigglewitch, to tell me your opinion frankly, even at the risk of offending me."
"I promise you."
"It really is strange for me to turn to you for advice. When you came to us two weeks ago, I had no confidence in you, you talked so oddly, and ridiculed what I held sacred,--I was almost afraid of you. I thought you could not be a good man. Do you remember I told you so the first day you came?"
"I have forgotten none of your words."
"I was wrong. You have been very different since. When I see you now and hear you talk I can hardly believe you are the same man who talked so frivolously about self-destruction. You looked strangely and your laugh was so bitter that it hurt me, but now you laugh from your heart, and you look so kind and sincere that I cannot help having faith in you. I beg your pardon for what I said. You certainly are a good man, or Fritzchen would not be so fond of you. None but good men win the affection of children."
Egon's heart beat as he listened to her simple words. She was right; fourteen days had made another man of him. Formerly such praise from girlish lips would have excited his ridicule, now it delighted him. "I hope your opinion of to-day may prove as correct as was your former one," he said. "I am trying, at all events, to improve."
Lieschen looked up at him gratefully. "Yes, you shall advise me. To whom should I turn when I am at odds with myself? To my parents? Oh, I know how ready they are to help me, but upon this point they do not agree. To Albrecht? Never. He is not good. I never could trust him. But you wish me well,--I know you do,--and you will be frank with me."
Egon did not speak, but his eyes were more eloquent than words.
"You shall hear how I am at odds with myself," Lieschen went on. "It is about Bertha von Massenburg. My father wishes me to receive her affectionately, to let no word or look betray how indignant I am with her, with her sordid views, her odious conduct. My dear father is so gentle and kind, he cannot bear to think ill of any one. He does not believe in Bertha's low motives. It is easy for him to receive her kindly, but in me it would be hypocrisy. Must I be a hypocrite? Should not truth be our first consideration? Ought I to be false to myself out of conformity with conventional ideas of courtesy? Nothing makes me so indignant as falsehood, and now I am asked to act a falsehood myself. My mother thinks as I do, but she submits. In whatever my father seriously desires she always obeys him. He yields to her in all small matters, but when he has formed an opinion upon any important question my mother always conforms to it. I know that she is as indignant as I am about Bertha von Massenburg, but she never will allow it to be seen; my father's wish is her law, and it has always been mine, but now I am sure he is mistaken. Advise me what to do. What would you do if you were in my place?"
Egon's gaze was bent upon the ground. He did not dare to look into the clear eyes that were questioning his face. 'Nothing makes me so indignant as falsehood,' the girl had just said, and her words yet sounded in his ears. Was not his whole life at Castle Osternau a falsehood? She did not dream of the sentence she had passed upon him. She hated falsehood, and asked advice of him! He commanded his voice with difficulty, and, without lifting his eyes, said, "You wish to know what I should do? I cannot tell you. I do not know. It has always been my misfortune to yield to the impulse of the moment. How can I tell what that impulse might be?"
"Is that all you have to say? You have no advice to give me?"
"What ought I to say? Can I advise you to disobey your father? Should I be tempted to do so I might perhaps sin grievously, not only against Herr von Osternau, good and kind as he is, but against Fräulein von Massenburg. It is easy to pronounce a harsh judgment upon those who have not acted rightly according to our convictions, but what do we really know of their springs of action? How do you know that it has not cost Fräulein von Massenburg a bitter struggle to insist upon her union with Herr von Ernau, whom you call a miserable fellow, judging him no less harshly than you judge her? Do you know him at all except from the description of a man who is not acquainted with him? And if he is, as Herr von Sastrow says, at odds with life, do you know what has made him so? I can imagine a wretched man satiated from earliest childhood with every pleasure that money can procure, with no wish ungratified save that for affection, never having known the love of either father or mother, miserably lonely, surrounded by flatterers and parasites who feign friendship for the sake of his riches, but who care nothing for him in reality. Is it his fault if he has become disgusted with his fellow-men, if he is vain,blasé, dictatorial, destitute of self-control? How do you know that deep in the soul of the man whom you have condemned there do not slumber the sparks of nobler and truer sentiments, beneath the ashes of the ruin wrought by his ill-spent life? It needs but a breath, perhaps, to make this spark a flame, a breath of self-inspection or a breath of affection, and yet you condemn him. If he should judge himself as you judge him, the spark would surely die beneath the ashes, and he would be lost without hope of rescue."
Lieschen stared at the speaker in wonder. "How strangely you speak," she said, "exactly as if you knew Herr von Ernau! And how agitated you have become! you have grown quite pale. Oh, you must know Herr von Ernau, or you would not thus defend him."
"I did not mean to defend him," Egon replied, in some confusion. "He may not deserve any defence. I only wished to point out to you the harshness of your judgment both of him and of Fräulein von Massenburg, and to show you that your knowledge of them is insufficient to allow of your forming such a judgment."
"That means that you advise me not to receive Bertha Massenburg coldly, but to suppress my dislike for her and comply with my father's wishes?"
"I am not worthy to advise you to do anything save to act according to the dictates of your own heart."
Lieschen shook her head. "You are a very strange person, Herr Pigglewitch," she said, with a smile. "You do not wish to advise me, and yet you have given me advice which I shall follow. You have shown me clearly that I was wrong in condemning Herr von Ernau and Bertha, and that my dear father was right in asking me to receive Bertha kindly. I am glad I came to you for counsel. I shall think of what you said about Herr von Ernau, and I should like to hear more of him from you, for I am sure you know him; but I cannot now, for it is time to return to the castle."
After a long ride with Fritzchen, Egon returned to the castle later than usual. As they rode into the courtyard a dusty carriage was standing before the carriage-house, and old Wenzel informed them that the Fräulein from Berlin had arrived a little while before.
During the ride the talk of his lively young pupil had left Egon small time for reflection, and he really felt a desire to be alone for a time. Much as he usually enjoyed the evenings spent with the family, he preferred to pass this one in his own room, and he suspected also that his kind employers would be quite willing to dispense with his society upon this particular occasion. He therefore commissioned Fritzchen to tell his father that he would not intrude upon the family this evening, but would remain in his own apartments. Scarcely had he reached them, however, before Fritz made his appearance to say that his father had sent him to tell Herr Pigglewitch that he could not possibly intrude, and that he should expect him at the tea-table. After giving his message the boy hurried away, declaring that he must go instantly to his 'lovely new cousin.' She seemed to have quite supplanted his adored tutor, for the while, in the child's affections.
Of course Egon could not but comply with Herr von Osternau's expressed desire. Reluctant as he was to confront Bertha von Massenburg, he knew that he must meet her sooner or later, and he resigned himself with the best grace possible to the inevitable. He dressed quickly and repaired to the tea-room.
Before he reached it he heard the notes of a popularConzertstückplayed with great execution. He paused in the corridor and listened. He knew the thing well enough, he had played it several times himself, but always with distaste, for he did not like this style of music, but he listened attentively, for he knew how much practice it must have required before it could be rendered thus clearly and brilliantly.
He did not listen long, for there could be, he thought, no better moment in which to enter the room unnoticed than just when every one was occupied in listening to the music; he softly opened the door and entered.
His first glance fell upon the performer, whose back was towards him, his second upon a tall mirror opposite that reflected her face and figure. Involuntarily he stood still.
He had heard that Bertha von Massenburg was beautiful, and Herr von Sastrow's letter had confirmed the report, but the image reflected in the mirror amazed him by its wondrous, transporting beauty,--beauty consisting not only in faultless regularity of feature, but much more in the strange loveliness of expression, in the gentle smile of the delicately-chiselled mouth, in the dark, fiery eyes that sparkled beneath long lashes, in the grace which informed every motion of the full yet slender figure. A piano-player is seldom graceful in the exercise of her art, but with Bertha von Massenburg even the rapid movement of hands and fingers as they flew over the keys seemed natural and beautiful; therein lay one charm of her playing, and yet, masterly as it was, it lacked something,--it lacked depth of feeling. Was it really lacking? or was there no opportunity for its revelation in a brilliant drawing-room piece of music, which was calculated to display merely the execution and skill of the performer?
Egon remained standing near the door, after bowing to Herr and Frau von Osternau, and exchanging glances in the mirror with Lieschen, who stood with her back to him, turning over the leaves for her cousin. At last the piece was concluded; the performer arose, and was greeted with enthusiastic applause from the Lieutenant, who advanced from the recess of a window. Herr von Osternau also expressed his admiration of the performance. "Brilliant indeed," he said. "You are an artist, not adilettante. You will have all the more pleasure in making the acquaintance of another artist in our Fritz's tutor, Herr Pigglewitch, whom I beg leave to present to you."
The smile which Egon's assumed name when first heard was sure to provoke hovered upon Bertha's lips as she turned to the tutor, looking at him with evident interest and curiosity. Her glance took in his entire figure, his movements, his bow upon being presented, in short, she observed him so closely as almost to embarrass him, as she said, easily, "My kind uncle pays a very high compliment to my indifferent performance in ranking me with you, Herr Pigglewitch,"--the smile deepened on the charming mouth. "I have heard that you are a true artist, and had I known that you were standing behind me I might have hesitated to continue my performance and subject myself to your criticism."
She had seen Egon in the mirror upon his first entrance, and he knew that this was so, for their glances had met. "I hate falsehood!" Lieschen had said. Why was Bertha untrue? Where was her inducement to be so? Had untruth become to her a second nature, as to so many women of the world of society? Egon suddenly felt himself transported to the old life which he knew so well,--Herr von Osternau's pleasant room changed to a brilliant ball-room, and before him stood one of the ball-room puppets whom he so hated and despised, particularly when they tried to make themselves attractive by flattering him.
Involuntarily he stood more erect. The disdainful smile which Lieschen had so disliked, and which she had not seen of late, appeared on his lips as he replied, "Is it possible that you fear criticism, Fräulein? A mastery of technique is the ideal of our modern art. You are certainly aware that the sternest critic would not withhold his recognition of the brilliancy of your execution, but must pronounce you a virtuoso indeed."
"A virtuoso? My kind uncle called me an artist, and I was proud that he did so."
"Who makes such subtile distinctions nowadays? The virtuoso is the only true artist. He alone represents the true modern ideal; he is never led astray by the genius, now so out of fashion, of wearisome classical music."
Her eyes flashed. "You think you can interpret this genius, or you would not pass such a criticism upon modern art," Bertha replied, sharply. "Pray take my place at the piano. He who pronounces such sentences must justify them by his own performance."
Her cheek flushed slightly as she spoke, her dark eyes glowed, she seemed to Egon at the moment enchantingly beautiful. Her tone and her words were not those of a ball-room puppet. Bertha was not of them, then; she could be vexed and angry and could transgress conventional forms, as was proved by her request to him and by its manner.
He obeyed, dominated by her glance. He took her place at the piano, but for a few moments his hands rested idly upon the keys and his eyes were downcast. The glow in those large black eyes recalled to him the memory of old days which he had thought half forgotten, when suddenly the eyes into which he gazed turned, in his vision, from black to dark, melting blue, and were filled with sympathy for the mental struggles through which he was constantly passing. The spell of the moment that had summoned up the past was dissolved; he belonged again to the peaceful present. Involuntarily the hands upon the keys began to give expression to the gladness that arose within him. He played he knew not what, the various melodies awoke and resolved themselves to harmony beneath his touch, he played as if in a dream, uttering in tones all that he would have said to the lovely child to whom he owed a new and delicious content of soul,--exulting words of joy, gentle words of gratitude, tender words of love.
"Bravo! bravo!" The Lieutenant, desirous of showing his impartial love of art by applauding the detested tutor, clapped his hands loudly. His 'bravo!' roused Egon from his dream as the last notes died away.
He arose. His first glance sought Lieschen, who had been standing behind him, and, who involuntarily held out her hand to him, while tears stood in her frank eyes.
Bertha seemed no less affected. "Thank you," she said, and her voice faltered. "I promise you that you never shall hear a drawing-room performance from me again."
"Splendid! wonderful!" exclaimed the Lieutenant. "Herr Pigglewitch, you have surpassed yourself, you never played so delightfully before. It is your work, Fräulein von Massenburg. Of course, Herr Pigglewitch did his best not to disgrace himself before such an artist. You must play us something else, Herr Pigglewitch."
But this Egon was not to be induced to do, and to cut short the Lieutenant's persistence he closed the piano, and just in time, for Frau von Osternau at that moment called them to the tea-table.
Herr von Sastrow had declared that Bertha von Massenburg could be charming if she chose to be, and she certainly chose to be this evening; she captivated every member of the Osternau family, even, at last, Lieschen and Frau von Osternau, in spite of their prejudices. She did not appear to notice that at first Frau von Osternau's manner was but coolly courteous, and that Lieschen scarcely spoke at all, and never addressed her. She talked on innocently and gaily, and was so cordial and amiable that Frau von Osternau could not but abandon her reserve, and Lieschen became herself once more. As for the head of the house, Bertha had charmed him from the very first, while the Lieutenant was quite enraptured by her, although she paid him less attention than she bestowed upon any other of the little circle. She was more gracious even to the tutor than to Cousin Albrecht.
Indeed, the manner in which she included Egon in the conversation was especially pleasing to Herr von Osternau. In every word which she addressed to the young man she showed the estimation in which she held so accomplished a musician. She said not one flattering word to him with regard to the pleasure he had given her, but there was a respectful acknowledgment of his superiority in the way in which she listened to everything that he said when the conversation turned upon modern music.
With infinite tact she avoided dwelling upon her late stay in Berlin when the Lieutenant clumsily alluded to it. She spoke of her uncle von Sastrow with the greatest affection, but speedily contrived to change the subject.
The evening passed delightfully. The head of the house was late in giving the sign for retiring, and did so at last only in view of his wife's admonition that it was time to bid good-night, since he generally paid for so pleasant an evening by some hours of sleeplessness.
"Well, Emma," he said when he and his wife were again alone together, "do you now think that Bertha will be a disturbing element in our little circle? I fancy you are cured of your prejudice against her."
Frau von Osternau did not immediately reply, perhaps she would gladly have been relieved from the necessity of doing so, but when her husband repeated his question she said, "I have not yet made up my mind about Bertha. I confess that so long as I was with her, and listened to her gay, innocent talk, and looked into her dark, sparkling eyes, I was charmed with her; she captivated me as she did you and Albrecht and Herr Pigglewitch, and even Lieschen, who finally treated her as affectionately as she used to do when Bertha visited us years ago. But now that she is no longer present, and that I am not subject to the magic of her eye, I am doubtful about her. Was her amiability from the heart? She seems unaffected, but is she so in reality? I must defer giving you my opinion of Bertha until we have known her longer."
The same doubt that troubled the gentle mistress of the castle tormented Egon, as he paced his room to and fro, pondering upon the evening he had just passed. Frau von Osternau was right in saying that Bertha had captivated him; she seemed to him so wondrously beautiful that even Lieschen's lovely image paled beside her.
"If you had seen her a while ago you would not have fled from Berlin, and she would have been your wife," he said to himself, and his imagination ran riot in picturing what might then have been his future. To call that exquisite creature his own, to love her and be loved in return, to spend his life beside her,--the thought quickened his pulses and his temples throbbed.
He opened the window. The cool night air refreshed him. As he looked out into the black night of the garden, two strips of light were marked distinctly upon the dark lawn. The one was thrown there by the light in his room. Whence came the other? Involuntarily he wondered, whence? Ah, from Lieschen's window. Was she too gazing out into the dark night? Her image suddenly arose in his soul as clear and distinct as Bertha's, it looked at him reproachfully, the lips parted to say, "I detest nothing so much as falsehood!" He almost heard the words.
Clearer and more brilliant grew Lieschen's fair and lovely image, while Bertha's faded into night and darkness. He turned from the window calmed and cheered.
The spell which Bertha von Massenburg had cast around the inmates of Castle Osternau upon her first appearance within its walls did not fade, but grew stronger, and embraced in its charm every individual of the household, with the exception of Lieschen. Both the inspectors, Herr von Wangen and Herr Storting, and even all the servants succumbed to it. Her sweetness and gaiety were unvarying; she had a word of kindness for all, and knew exactly when to utter it.
She talked with Herr von Osternau of his farming, and displayed a degree of knowledge and judgment in such matters rare indeed in a young girl. Her entire childhood before the sequestration of her father's estates had been spent in the country. She had kept alive all her interest in country pursuits and occupations, and was never weary of introducing a discussion of her uncle's favourite topic. It was a genuine delight to the old man to be able to explain his theories and practice to her, while her large black eyes gazed intelligently into his own; and not less did he enjoy her gay talk of Königsberg and Berlin, and her affectionate, caressing way of leaning her head on his shoulder and stroking the gray hair from his forehead as she called him her dear, dear uncle Fritz.
Nor could Frau von Osternau resist the influence which Bertha exercised upon her also. There was no withstanding the girl's innocent, amiable readiness to assist in any occupation in which her aunt was engaged. She was sure to place the footstool just in the right place for Frau von Osternau's feet, and was always ready to take up dropped stitches in her knitting, or to ring the bell just when the servant was wanted, or to make herself useful and indispensable in the household in a thousand ways. Cultivated and well bred as she was, she disdained no feminine occupation. Indeed, she was a pattern for Lieschen, who had been allowed, her mother thought as she watched Bertha's ways, to run wild altogether too long. And then how perfect was her behaviour towards the gentlemen of the family! She received their homage with genuine pleasure, but never exacted it, and armed herself with a dignified reserve whenever there was the slightest risk of their attentions becoming importunate. This was especially the case with her treatment of the Lieutenant, who paid her decided court, and this often in a way which annoyed Frau von Osternau, although Bertha was never thrown off her guard, but preserved her maidenly dignity intact. On the other hand, she encouraged the shy young inspector, Herr von Wangen, by a charming degree of kindly interest in his labours.
Herr von Wangen was the only son of a wealthy landed proprietor in West Prussia. His father had sent him to Castle Osternau to learn agriculture upon a model estate, and in the hope of conquering his great natural shyness by a stay among strangers. The bashful young fellow, who at table scarcely spoke unless he was spoken to, and who rarely accepted an invitation to join the family at tea, for fear of transgressing some rule of social life, was suddenly metamorphosed by Bertha's arrival. He began to converse at dinner with Bertha, who sat next him, and as she kindly encouraged him he soon took part in the general conversation, and gladly joined the family in the evenings.
Frau von Osternau was grateful to the girl for thus drawing out the young man. She had frequently regretted that the son of one of her husband's oldest friends should spend almost all his leisure time in his own apartment. She observed with great satisfaction the signs in Herr von Wangen of a budding attachment for her charming guest. Bertha grew in favour with her as the good lady began to indulge in such plans for the future as are dearest to the feminine mind. Herr von Wangen was, to be sure, rather young,--only a couple of years older than Bertha,--but he was an excellent match for her, since she had given up all thoughts of Herr von Ernau. It seemed doubtful to Frau von Osternau, however, whether Bertha would smile upon the young fellow's suit; there were signs that her fancy had been suddenly caught by one who, of all the men in the house, paid her the least attention,--Herr Gottlieb Pigglewitch. She must be sure about this, and so she carefully watched them both.
She soon made up her mind that Bertha was greatly interested in the tutor; her tone of voice changed when she addressed him; she never jested with him as she did with Herr Storting and Herr von Wangen, or even with the Lieutenant; she was more reserved with him, although she listened eagerly to everything that he said. When engaged in lively conversation with others she nevertheless heard every word uttered by the Candidate, and she watched him when she thought herself unobserved. She was always present during Lieschen's music-lessons; she had asked permission to be in the room, saying, with a smile, that she could not ask Herr Pigglewitch to give her actual lessons, but that he could do so indirectly if he would allow her to observe his method with Lieschen. And she also joined the afternoon walks and rides which Herr Pigglewitch took with Lieschen and Fritz. She was a bold, fearless horsewoman, and especially enjoyed the rides. She certainly knew how well she looked in her riding-habit, and how the hat upon her black curls' became her.
And it was a significant fact, Frau von Osternau thought, that Bertha was never to be induced either to play on the piano or to sing when the Candidate was present, while in his absence she was always amiably ready to do so. She evidently feared his criticism. When he played she listened in rapt attention.
All these observations confirmed Frau von Osternau in her suspicion that Bertha was in danger of falling in love with the tutor, but she was led to doubt this again by certain observations and remarks of the young girl's, which gave her much food for reflection,--remarks similar to those which had so shocked her uncle Sastrow, and which were exceedingly singular in the mouth of a lovely young girl, since they betokened a perfectly materialistic conception of life and its duties.
Bertha was wont in conversation to play the part of a listener; she was usually reserved in the expression of her own views, and it was only when very much interested that she took a lively part in any discussion, but then she was apt to become eager and to express herself with reckless frankness. Thus at times she advanced opinions which shocked Frau von Osternau no less than they had Herr von Sastrow.
One evening, when the conversation turned upon a distant relative of Herr von Osternau, a beautiful young girl of an ancient noble family, who had just become the wife of a poor young bourgeois councillor, with whom she had long been carrying on a compromising love-affair, a sharp war of words had arisen between Herr von Osternau and the Lieutenant, the former expressing his great satisfaction in the marriage as the only atonement for the past, while Albrecht severely denounced themésalliancewith a poor man from the people. Bertha agreed eagerly with the Lieutenant, declaring that a daughter of an ancient and noble race might be pardoned for yielding, in a moment of weakness, to an impulse of the heart, in bestowing her love upon a man her inferior in rank, but that she acted unpardonably in degrading herself and her family by a marriage with this inferior, especially if he were poor. There was only one thing which could justify such amésalliance, and that was immense wealth on the part of the inferior in rank,--wealth that could reinstate in splendour an impoverished family of noble descent. The present Frau Councillor had been both unprincipled and foolish: unprincipled in forgetting what was due to her noble descent, and foolish in forgetting what was due to herself. The highest aim of existence was enjoyment, and it was unpardonable folly to resign all the delights which wealth could procure for the sake of indulging in a brief dream of love from which one must soon awake to bitter repentance and misery.
Frau von Osternau listened in dismay; her favourable opinion of Bertha was shaken by her avowal of such sentiments, but the unpleasant impression faded when Bertha immediately afterwards showed herself so sweet-tempered and charming that it was impossible to resist her. Frau von Osternau could not but think that in her interest the young girl had been led to say more than she meant; it was a pity, but excusable; she was sure that Bertha herself would never conform her actions to the opinion which she had asserted, and the girl's evident interest in Herr Pigglewitch seemed to her suspicious.
The good lady could not decide as to the sentiments entertained by the tutor for her guest, indeed the young man was more of a puzzle to her than ever. Immediately after his arrival at the castle he had become quite a different creature, had been transformed from an awkward, uncouth Candidate into a courteous, well-bred gentleman, a restlessness of manner peculiar to him had entirely vanished, and now since Bertha's arrival he had undergone another metamorphosis.
His eyes again showed the same restless gleam that animated them when he was agitated, the scornful smile, so long absent from his lips, again often hovered there, accompanying some sneering remark, and there was a want of repose about him which made itself especially apparent when he improvised upon the piano. Frau von Osternau often seemed to hear the cry of a wounded heart in the strange, wild melodies that echoed beneath his fingers, and anon she would be carried away by the din and strife of a chaos of tones which harassed and troubled her, and from which there was no escape save by a crashing dissonance. His playing was always admirable, but it no longer brought refreshment to the mind, it was bewildering, confusing. Lieschen was profoundly aware of this; her eyes did not fill with tears as she listened, but her cheek paled and her downcast glance would avoid that of the player when he had finished. When he noticed this he would turn away with a shiver, and pass his hand across his eyes as if to brush away some cloud, then, seating himself again at the instrument, he would evoke from it such touching sounds as quickly reconciled Frau von Osternau to the artist.
His conduct towards Bertha grew to be as contradictory as his music. When he gazed at her his eyes would glow darkly, but when they were turned upon Lieschen their fire faded, a happy expression took its place, too often to be banished again by the mere sound of Bertha's voice. He seldom appealed directly to her in conversation; he even avoided alltête-à-têteswith her, but what he said to others was constantly addressed indirectly to her. And this was frequently the case, as Lieschen told her mother, during their rides. The Herr Candidate addressed Fritzchen or herself, but what he said was meant for Bertha.
In short, Pigglewitch had become entirely changed since Bertha's arrival; he was the same only in one respect,--his duties were most scrupulously fulfilled. Over Fritzchen he exercised the same affectionate superintendence, beneath which his little pupil made extraordinary progress, and he acted with the same conscientiousness in his instruction of Lieschen. During the music-lessons he had neither eyes nor words for the lovely Fräulein von Massenburg, he seemed to live only for his pupil, and Lieschen showed her gratitude by giving him her undivided attention.
These lesson-hours had come to be the happiest time of the day for the young girl, who had so lately been little more than a careless, happy child. Since Bertha's coming to the castle there had been a change in the daughter of the house, which filled her mother with anxiety. The girl no longer ran races with Fritzchen when lessons were over, her merry laughter no longer came floating up every day from the lawn, the charming romp, who had deserved and received many a loving reproof from her father, had vanished, and in her stead there was a serious, gentle, sensible maiden, almost too serious, her mother thought, remembering her former playfulness. It did not please Frau von Osternau that Lieschen had suddenly lost all pleasure in her childish games, that she would sit for a long while at times over her embroidery, not always working, sometimes in a profound revery, with hands clasped in her lap. Of what could she be thinking? Her mother would have given much to know; such knowledge might have relieved her of a great dread,--a dread never quite laid to rest in her mind,--lest Lieschen should cherish a warmer affection for her music-teacher than her parents could approve,--an affection now shown, perhaps, by an awakening jealousy of Bertha von Massenburg.
This really seemed the only explanation of the change wrought in the young girl. This might be the reason why Lieschen withstood the charm which Bertha exercised upon all the other members of the household. She alone treated Bertha with a scrupulously courteous reserve, which was not to be overcome by any effort on the part of the guest to win her affection.
"What is your objection to Bertha Massenburg?" Frau von Osternau asked her daughter one morning when they were alone together, Bertha having accompanied her uncle in his walk in the fields. "You treat her with a coldness and reserve that she really does not deserve at your hands. She will surely be offended by your manner some day."
"I think I show her all the courtesy that is her due," Lieschen replied, gravely, looking up from her work. "She has never heard an unkind word from me."
"That is not what I mean. It only seems to me that you might be more cordial and frank to so amiable a girl."
"I cannot feign what I do not feel."
"I do not understand you, Lieschen. Bertha treats you with special sweetness. She is fond of you, and shows that she is so by not being hurt by your coldness."
"I do not believe in the sincerity of her sweetness and cordiality. Now and then when she forgets herself in the heat of conversation she betrays her real thoughts and feelings, and a curtain suddenly seems lifted from before her inner self. Do you not remember how she spoke a while ago of Valerie Laupe?"
Frau von Osternau looked at her daughter in surprise, and, more for something to say than from a desire to defend Bertha, replied, "We ought not to weigh every hasty word with such nicety. One often says more in the heat of argument than reason would justify; you do so sometimes, as every one does. What, for example, should we think of Herr Pigglewitch, if all his words were so harshly criticised?"
Lieschen's cheek flushed slightly, but she looked up at her mother and replied, without embarrassment, "They are both puzzles to me. In a certain way they are alike,--the true self of each seems hidden behind a veil; but when this veil is slightly lifted in his case I seem to see a poor, harassed heart, a spirit longing for the noble and the true. In Bertha's case the veil covers an abyss of selfishness, avarice, and love of pleasure."
"Good heavens, child! what puts such thoughts, such words into your head?" Frau von Osternau exclaimed in dismay.
"I cannot tell, mother. I have been thinking a great deal about these two people, and I have come to this conclusion."
Her mother did not continue the conversation, but at night, when she was alone with her husband, she repeated to him word for word what Lieschen had said. "If that extraordinary man had only never come inside our doors,"--it was thus she concluded her tale. "He, and not Bertha, is to blame for the sad transformation which our child has undergone. For my sake, Fritz, dismiss him. Pay him his salary for an entire year; only let him leave the house."
Herr von Osternau shook his head. "Do you think Lieschen conceals anything from you?" he asked.
"No, assuredly not."
"Did she ever complain that he had spoken to her otherwise than as a teacher should speak to a pupil, or have you ever observed that he has in his lessons or in social intercourse with us transgressed any law of good breeding?"
"I cannot say that he has, but----"
"Has he ever neglected the duties which he undertook to perform when he entered our house? Is he not a conscientious and affectionate tutor for Fritzchen? Has he ever done anything for which he could justly be reproved?"
"No. I do not ask you to dismiss him abruptly. If you would pay him his salary for an entire year----"
"Do you suppose that a man of honour could be compensated by a year's salary for being turned from our door? I think there was a great deal of truth in what Lieschen said of him, and I should never forgive myself for wounding him by injustice. He certainly is not a happy man. So long as he does his duty we must do ours. Good-night, Emma."
The Lieutenant had returned from Berlin, whither he had gone upon business for Herr von Osternau. He had driven over from the station without waiting for the sorting of the mail, because he was in haste to tell his cousin of the results of his mission, so he said at least to excuse himself for not bringing with him the post-bag, but the excuse was a very lame one, since he had but little to tell and his news could easily have waited for an hour.
Apparently the Herr Lieutenant had found waiting at the lonely station too tedious; he was in a mood on this particular evening to find such waiting very irksome, for he was possessed by a spirit of unrest that did not leave him even after he had reached the castle. Scarcely had he taken his place at the tea-table, and communicated to Herr von Osternau certain insignificant details relating to his visit to Berlin, when he arose quickly and hurried to the window, declaring that it was so warm that his head ached. After cooling his forehead against the panes he returned again to his place, only to arise in a few moments and pace the room hastily to and fro as he detailed some vapid anecdotes which he had heard in Berlin.
His restlessness was so evident that Herr von Osternau looked at him with some anxiety. "Are you not well, Albrecht?" he asked, kindly. "You look pale and your eyes are feverishly bright. Would you not rather go to your room?"
"No, no; nothing is the matter with me," the Lieutenant replied, hastily. "I am only a little upset by my Berlin visit; it always is so when I leave the quiet and repose of the country for the whirlpool of city life and sit far into the night with my old friends."
After this he forced himself to suppress all sign of the unrest which possessed him, but he could scarcely bear his part well in the conversation around the tea-table. After staring for a while absently before him, he would suddenly make some remark which showed that he had paid no attention to what was going on, and even Bertha, to whose slightest observation he was wont to pay great heed, could not to-night succeed in fixing his attention.
He was usually vexed when Pigglewitch was entreated to play, but to-night he hailed with joy Frau von Osternau's request for some music from the Candidate. He seemed to be glad to be relieved from the necessity of taking part in the general conversation. As soon as Egon had struck the first chord he left his place at the tea-table, and, exchanging a rapid glance with Bertha, retired to the recess of a window. Contrary to her habit, Bertha rose immediately afterwards and joined the Lieutenant in his retreat, where they were soon deeply engaged in a whispered conversation. They might easily have continued this unnoticed, for Herr and Frau von Osternau were absorbed in the music, if Herr von Wangen had not followed with his eyes Bertha's every movement. It did not escape him that the girl's cheeks were suddenly suffused by a burning blush at the Lieutenant's first whispered words, and that she instantly listened with the greatest eagerness to all that he said.
Herr von Wangen heard not one note of Egon's music, his entire attention was bestowed upon the pair whispering together in the recess; what would he not have given to overhear what they were saying? Several times during the month which Bertha had already passed at Castle Osternau Herr von Wangen had been tormented by the suspicion that there was a greater degree of intimacy existing between the Lieutenant and the beautiful guest than either cared to have observed; he had surprised one or two meaning glances exchanged by them, but Bertha had always succeeded in allaying these suspicions by the easy indifference with which she received the Lieutenant's homage. He had hovered between fear and hope, the hope inspired by every gentle word addressed to him by Bertha, the fear aroused by every look exchanged between Bertha and the Lieutenant; to-night fear was in the ascendant, his jealousy was aroused, he felt desperately wretched, but in another moment he was lifted to heights of supreme delight, for Bertha looked across the room at him, and there was such enchantment in her glance as he had never seen there before. She spoke a few hasty words to Albrecht and then returned to her place at table, excusing herself in a low whisper to her neighbour for leaving him to learn from the Lieutenant how her father was. Herr von Wangen was enraptured, his jealousy of a moment before vanished, he was ashamed to have felt it. Never had Bertha been to him so gentle, so kind, so engaging as on this evening after her conversation with the Lieutenant. Herr von Wangen was so intoxicated with delight that he did not notice the depression of spirits of all the other members of the circle, Bertha alone excepted.
This melancholy mood had been induced by the contents of the post-bag, which had brought a letter for Herr von Osternau and one for Pigglewitch. The latter had indeed thrust his unread into his breast-pocket, but the mere fact that it was addressed in a hand unknown to him worried and annoyed him. Herr von Osternau, on the other hand, read his letter not only once, but several times; it must have contained some very depressing intelligence, for Herr von Osternau grew graver at each perusal, now and then casting a peculiarly searching glance at the tutor, and then continuing his reading with a shake of the head. The contents of the letter must have occupied his mind during the entire evening; he took scarcely any part in the conversation, and when Egon bade him good-night he did not respond with his usual cordiality.
Just as Egon was leaving the room Herr von Osternau recalled him: "Excuse me for a moment, Herr Pigglewitch, I have a few words to say to you."
Egon turned round and awaited his employer's pleasure, divided between anxiety and curiosity with regard to what had induced Herr von Osternau to adopt so unusual a tone in addressing him.
The old man paced the room silently to and fro for a while until the rest of the family had retired and left him alone with the tutor. Then, turning to Egon, he said, gravely,--
"I have received a very surprising letter that concerns you nearly, Herr Pigglewitch, and I do not deny that its contents have affected my good opinion of you. I do not wish to discuss them with you at present, such a conversation would probably agitate me, and rob me of my night's rest, which is very important for me, and then, too, I might under the immediate influence of the letter treat you with injustice. I must give you time to defend yourself; therefore I beg you to come to me to-morrow morning at nine o'clock, and we will quietly talk the matter over. Here is the letter, take it to your room and read it. You can return it to me to-morrow. No more for the present. Good-night, Herr Pigglewitch."
Egon was dismissed. He took the ominous epistle and repaired to his room, where, his curiosity on the stretch, he lit his lamp and read as follows: