The reception-rooms of the Nordheim mansion were brilliantly lighted for the celebration not only of the birthday of the daughter of the house, but also of her betrothal. It was a surprising piece of news for society, which, in spite of all reports and gossip, had never seriously believed in the possibility of an alliance so unheard-of. It was incredible that a man, notoriously one of the wealthiest in the country, should bestow his only child upon a young engineer without rank, of unpretending origin, and possessing nothing save distinguished ability, which, to be sure, was warrant for his future.
That it was scarcely an affair of the heart every one knew; Alice had the reputation of great coldness of nature; she was probably incapable of very deep sentiment. Nevertheless she was a most enviable prize, and the announcement of her betrothal caused many a bitter disappointment in aristocratic circles where the heiress had been coveted. This Nordheim, it was clear, did not understand how to prize the privileges which his wealth bestowed upon him. With it he might have purchased a coronet for his daughter, instead of which he had chosen a son-in-law from among the officials of his railway. There was much indignation expressed, nevertheless every one who was invited came to this entertainment. People were curious to see the lucky man who had distanced all titled competitors, and whom fate had so suddenly placed on life's pinnacle, in that he had been chosen as the future lord of millions.
It was just before the beginning of the entertainment when the president with Elmhorst entered the first of the large reception-rooms. He was apparently in the best of humours and upon excellent terms with his future son-in-law.
"You have your first introduction to the society of the capital this evening, Wolfgang," said he. "In your brief visits you have seen only our family. It is time for you to establish relations here, since it will be your future place of residence. Alice is accustomed to the society life of a great city, and you can have no objection to it."
"Of course not, sir," Wolfgang replied. "I like to be at the centre of life and activity, but hitherto it has been incompatible with the duties of my profession. That it will not be so in the future I see from your example. You conduct from here all your various undertakings."
"This activity, however, is beginning to oppress me," said Nordheim. "I have latterly felt the need of a support, and I depend upon your partially relieving me. For the present you are indispensable in the completion of the railway line; the engineer-in-chief, in his present state of feeble health, is the head of the work only in name."
"Yes, it is in fact entirely in my hands, and if he retires,--I know he is thinking seriously of doing so,--I have your promise, sir, that I shall succeed him?"
"Assuredly, and this time I am not afraid of meeting with any opposition. It is, to be sure, the first time that so young a man has been placed at the head of such an undertaking, but you have shown your ability in the Wolkenstein bridge, and the position can scarcely be refused to my future son-in-law."
"In admitting me to your family, Herr Nordheim, you give me much.--I know it," said Elmhorst, gravely; "in return I can give you only a son."
The president's eyes rested thoughtfully upon the face of the speaker, and with an access of warmth extremely rare in the man of business, he replied, "I had an only son, in whom all my hopes were centred; he died in early childhood, and I have often reflected bitterly that some spendthrift idler would probably scatter abroad what I had taken such pains to accumulate. I think better of you; you will continue and preserve what I have begun, complete what I leave unfinished. I am glad to make you my intellectual as well as my material heir."
"I will not disappoint you," Wolfgang said, pressing the hand extended to him.
Here were two kindred natures, but surely the conversation was a strange one for the evening of a betrothal and while awaiting a promised bride. Both men had spoken of their schemes and undertakings; Alice had not been mentioned. The father had demanded of his future son-in-law much, but there had been no allusion to his daughter's happiness; and the lover, who seemed entirely sensible of the advantages of the family connection in prospect, never mentioned the name of his betrothed. They talked of construction and bridges, of the engineer-in-chief and the railway company, as coolly and in as business-like a fashion as if the matter in question were a partnership to be formed between them; and in fact it was nothing else,--either could easily have foregone the additional relationship. They were interrupted, however: a servant entered to ask for orders from the president with relation to the arrangement of the table, and Nordheim thought best to betake himself to the dining-hall to decide the matter. It was still too early for the arrival of the guests, and the ladies of the house had not yet made their appearance. The servants were all at their posts, and for the moment Wolfgang was left alone in the reception-rooms, which occupied the entire upper story of the mansion.
From the large apartment where he was, with its rich crimson rugs and velvet hangings, and its profusion of gilding, he could look through the entire suite of rooms, the splendour of which was most striking in their present deserted, empty condition. Everywhere there was a lavish wealth of costly objects, everywhere pictures, statues, and other works of art, each one worth a small fortune, and the long suite ended, as in some fairy realm, in a dimly-lit conservatory filled with exotic plants of rare magnificence. In an hour these brilliant, fragrant apartments would be crowded with the most distinguished society of the capital, all ready to accept the hospitality of the railway king.
Wolfgang stood still and looked slowly about him. It was indeed a bewildering sensation, that of knowing himself a son of this house, the future heir of all this magnificence. No one could blame the young man if at the thought he stood proudly erect, while his eyes gleamed exultantly. He had kept the vow made to himself,--he had executed the bold scheme which he had once confided to his friend,--he had dared the flight and had reached the summit. At an age when others are beginning to shape their future he had clutched success in a firm grasp. He was now standing upon the height of which he had dreamed, and the world lay fair indeed at his feet.
The drawing-room door opened; Elmhorst turned and advanced a few steps towards it, then paused suddenly, for instead of his expected betrothed Erna von Thurgau entered. She was much changed since she had been met by the strayed young superintendent among the cliffs of the Wolkenstein. The wayward child who had grown up free and untrammelled among her mountains had not without result passed three years in her uncle's luxurious home, under the training of Frau von Lasberg. The little Alpine rose had been transformed to a young lady, who with perfect grace but also with entire formality returned Wolfgang's salutation. This was a beautiful woman, a gloriously beautiful woman.
Her childish features had become perfectly regular, and although the rich bloom of health still coloured her cheek, her face expressed a degree of cool gravity unknown to the joyous daughter of the Freiherr von Thurgau. Her eyes no longer laughed as of old; there lay hidden in their depths a mystery akin to that of the mountain-lakes of her home, whose colour they had borrowed,--a mystery as powerfully attractive as that of the lakes themselves. She looked singularly lovely as she stood in the full light of the chandelier, dressed in pure mist-like white, her only ornaments single water-lilies scattered here and there among its whiteness. Her hair no longer fell in masses about her shoulders, but fashion permitted its full luxuriance to be appreciated, and pale lily-buds gleamed amid its waves.
"Alice and Frau von Lasberg will be here presently," she said, as she entered. "I thought my uncle was here."
"He has gone for a moment to the dining-hall," Elmhorst replied, after a salutation quite as formal as her own.
For an instant Erna seemed about to follow her uncle, but, apparently recollecting that this might be discourteous towards a future relative, she paused and let her gaze wander through the long suite of rooms.
"I think you see these rooms fully lighted to-night for the first time, Herr Elmhorst? They are very fine, are they not?"
"Very fine; and upon one coming, as I do, from the winter solitude of the mountains, they produce a dazzling impression."
"They dazzled me too when I first came here," the young lady said, indifferently; "but one easily becomes accustomed to such surroundings, as you will find by experience when you take up your residence here. It is settled that you are to be married in a year, is it not?"
"It is,--next spring."
"Rather a long time to wait. Have you really consented to such a period of probation?"
The lover seemed, oddly enough, to be rather averse to this allusion to his marriage. He examined with apparent interest a huge porcelain vase which stood near him, and replied, evidently desirous of changing the subject, "I cannot but consent, since for the present I am master neither of my time nor of my movements. The first thing to be attended to is the completion of the railway, of the construction of which I am superintendent."
"Are you, then, so fettered?" Erna asked, with gentle irony. "I should have thought you would find it easy to liberate yourself?"
"Liberate myself,--from what?"
"From a profession which you must certainly resign in the future."
"Do you consider that as a matter of course, Fräulein von Thurgau?" Wolfgang asked, nettled by her tone. "I cannot see what should induce such a course on my part."
"Why, your future position as the husband of Alice Nordheim."
The young engineer flushed crimson; he glanced angrily at the girl who ventured to remind him that he was marrying money. She was smiling, and her remark sounded like a jest, but her eyes spoke a different language, the language of contempt, which he understood but too well. He was not a man, however, to rest quietly under the scorn which pursues a fortune-hunter; he too smiled, and rejoined, with cool courtesy, "Pardon me, Fräulein von Thurgau, you are mistaken. My profession, my work, are necessities of existence for me. I was not made for an idle, inactive enjoyment of life. This seems incomprehensible to you----"
"Not at all," Erna interposed. "I perfectly understand how a true man must depend solely upon his own exertions."
Wolfgang bit his lip, but he parried this thrust too: "That I may accept as a compliment, for I certainly depended entirely upon my own exertions when I planned the Wolkenstein bridge, and I trust my work will bring me credit, even as 'the husband of Alice Nordheim.' But excuse me; these are matters which cannot interest a lady."
"They interest me," Erna said, bluntly. "My home was destroyed by the Wolkenstein bridge, and your work demanded yet another and far dearer sacrifice of me."
"Which you never can forgive me, I know," Wolfgang went on. "You reproach me for an unhappy accident, although your sense of justice must tell you that I am not to blame, that I do not deserve it."
"I do not blame you, Herr Elmhorst."
"You did in that most wretched hour, and you do it still."
Erna did not reply, but her silence was eloquent enough. Elmhorst appeared to have expected a denial, if only a formal one, for there was an added bitterness in his tone as he continued: "I regret infinitely that I should have been the one chosen to conduct the last business arrangements with Baron Thurgau. They had to be made, and their tragic conclusion lay beyond human foresight. It was not I, Fräulein Thurgau, but iron necessity that required of you the sacrifice of your home; the Wolkenstein bridge is not less guilty than I am."
"I know it," Erna observed, coldly; "but there are cases in which one finds it impossible to be just,--you should see that, Herr Elmhorst. You are now a member of our family, and may rest assured that I shall show you all the consideration due to a relative; for my feelings I cannot be called to account."
Wolfgang looked her full and darkly in the face: "In other words, you detest my work and--myself?"
Erna was silent: she had long outgrown the childish waywardness that had once prompted her to tell the stranger to his face that she could not endure him or his sneers at her mountain-legends. The young lady never dreamed of conduct so unbecoming, and she confronted him now in entire self-possession. But her eyes had not forgotten their language, and at this moment they declared that the girlish nature was quelled only in appearance,--it still slumbered untamed in the depths of her soul. There was a lightning-flash in them which uttered a quick, vehement 'yes' in answer to Wolfgang's last question, although the lips were mute.
It was impossible for Elmhorst to misunderstand it, and yet he gazed into the blue depths of those hostile eyes as if they had the power to hold him spell-bound; only for a few seconds, however, for Erna turned away, saying, lightly, "We certainly are having a very odd conversation, talking of sacrifice, blame, and hatred, and all on the day of your betrothal."
"You are right, Fräulein Thurgau; let us talk of something else," Wolfgang rejoined.
But they did not talk of anything else; on the contrary, an oppressive silence ensued. Erna seated herself and became apparently absorbed in an examination of the pictures on her fan, while her companion walked to the door of the next room as if to admire its magnificence. His face, however, no longer showed the proud satisfaction which had informed it a quarter of an hour before: he looked irritated and ill at ease.
Again the drawing-room door opened and Alice and Frau von Lasberg entered, the latter with a certain air of resignation; a darling wish of hers was to be frustrated to-night. She had looked forward to seeing Alice, whom she had trained entirely according to her own ideas, enrolled in the ranks of the aristocracy, and one of the young girl's distinguished suitors, the scion of an ancient noble line, had enjoyed the Baroness's special favour, and now Wolfgang Elmhorst was carrying off the prize! He was indeed the only man without a title whom Frau von Lasberg could have forgiven for so doing,--he had long since succeeded in winning her regard,--but it was nevertheless a painful fact that a man so perfectly well-bred, so agreeable to the strict old lady, possessed not the ghost of a title.
Alice, in a pale-blue satin gown rather overtrimmed with costly lace, and with a long train, did not look particularly well. The heavy folds of the rich material seemed to weigh down her delicate figure, and the diamonds sparkling on her neck and arms--her father's birthday gift to her--did not avail to relieve her want of colour. Such a frame did not suit her; an airy flower-trimmed ball-dress would have been much more becoming.
Wolfgang hastened to meet his betrothed, and carried her hand to his lips. He was full of tender consideration for her, and he was courtesy itself to the Baroness Lasberg, but the cloud did not vanish from his brow until the president returned and the guests began to arrive. Gradually the rooms were filled with a brilliant assemblage. Those present were indeed the foremost in the capital, the aristocracy by birth and by talent, those distinguished both in the world of finance and in the domain of art, the best names in military and diplomatic circles. Splendid uniforms alternated with costly toilets, and the throng glittered and rustled as only such an assemblage can,--an assemblage thoroughly in keeping with the magnificence of the Nordheim establishment.
The centre of attraction was found in the betrothed pair, or rather in the lover, who, an entire stranger to most of those present, was doubly an object of interest. He certainly was an extremely handsome man, this Wolfgang Elmhorst, no one could deny that, and there was no doubt of his capacity and his talent, but these gifts alone hardly entitled him to the hand of a wealthy heiress, who might well look for something more. And then, too, the young man appeared to take his good fortune, which would have fairly intoxicated any one else, quite as a matter of course. Not the slightest embarrassment betrayed that this was the first time he had been thus surrounded. With his betrothed's hand resting on his arm he stood proudly calm beside his future father-in-law, was presented to every one, received and acknowledged with easy grace all congratulations, and played admirably the principal part thus assigned him. He was entirely the son of the house, accepting his position as such as a foregone conclusion, and even at times seeming to dominate the entire assembly.
Among the guests was the Court-Councillor von Ernsthausen, a stiff, formal bureaucrat, who in the absence of his wife had his daughter on his arm. The little Baroness was charming in her pink tulle ball-dress, with a wreath of snow-drops on her black curls, and she was beaming with delight and exultation in having, after a hard combat, succeeded in being present at the entertainment. Her parents had at first refused to allow her to come, because Herr Gersdorf was also invited, and they dreaded the renewal of his attentions. The Herr Papa was armed to the teeth against attack from the hostile force; he kept guard like a sentinel over his daughter, and seemed resolved that she should not leave his side during the entire evening.
But the lover showed no inclination to expose himself to the danger of another repulse; he contented himself with a courteous salutation from a distance, which Baron Ernsthausen returned very stiffly. Molly inclined her head gravely and decorously, as if quite agreed with her paternal escort; of course she had devised the plan of her campaign, and she proceeded to carry it out with an energy that left nothing to be desired.
She embraced and congratulated Alice, which necessitated her leaving her father's arm; then she greeted Frau von Lasberg with the greatest amiability in return for a very cool recognition on that lady's part, and finally she overwhelmed Erna with demonstrations of affection, drawing her aside to the recess of a window. The councillor looked after her with a discontented air, but, as Gersdorf remained quietly at the other end of the room, he was reassured, and apparently conceived that his office of guardian was perfectly discharged by keeping the enemy constantly in sight. He never suspected the cunning schemes that were being contrived and carried out behind his back.
The whispered interview in the window-recess did not last long, and at its close Fräulein von Thurgau vanished from the room, while Molly returned to her father and entered into conversation with various friends. She managed, however, to perceive that Erna returned after a few minutes, and, approaching Herr Gersdorf, addressed him. He looked rather surprised, but bowed in assent, and the little Baroness triumphantly unfurled her fan. The action had begun, and the guardian was checkmated for the rest of the evening.
Meanwhile, the president had missed his niece and was looking about for her rather impatiently, while talking with a gentleman who had just arrived, and who was not one of thehabituésof the house. He was undoubtedly a person of distinction, for Nordheim treated him with a consideration which he accorded to but few individuals. Erna no sooner made her appearance again than her uncle approached her and presented the stranger.
"Herr Ernst Waltenberg, of whom you have heard me speak."
"I was so unfortunate as to miss the ladies when I called yesterday, and so am an entire stranger to Fräulein von Thurgau," said Waltenberg.
"Not quite: I talked much of you at dinner," Nordheim interposed. "A cosmopolitan like yourself, who after the tour of the world comes to us directly from Persia, cannot fail to interest, and I am sure you will find an eager listener to your experiences of travel in my niece. Her taste is decidedly for the strange and unusual."
"Indeed, Fräulein von Thurgau?" asked Waltenberg, gazing in evident admiration at Erna's lovely face.
Nordheim perceived this and smiled, while, without giving his niece a chance to reply, he continued:
"You may rely upon it. But we must first of all try to make you more at home in Europe, where you are positively a stranger. I shall be glad if my house can in any wise contribute to your pleasure; I pray you to believe that you will always be welcome here."
He shook his guest's hand with great cordiality and retired. There was a degree of intention in the way in which he had brought the pair together and then left them to themselves, but Erna did not perceive it. She had been in no wise interested in the presentation of the new-comer,--strangers from beyond the seas were no rarity in her uncle's house,--but her first glance at the guest's unusual type of countenance aroused her attention.
Ernst Waltenberg was no longer young,--he had passed forty, and although not very tall his frame was muscular and well-knit, showing traces, however, of a life of exposure and exertion. His face, tanned dark brown by his sojourn for years in tropical countries, was not handsome, but full of expression and of those lines graven not by years, but by experience of life. His broad brow was crowned by close black curls, and his steel-gray eyes beneath their black brows could evidently flash on occasion. There was something strangely foreign about him that set him quite apart from the brilliant but mostly uninteresting personages that crowded Nordheim's rooms. His voice too had a peculiar intonation,--it was deep, but sounded slightly foreign, possibly from years of speaking other tongues than his own. Evidently he was perfectly versed in the forms of society; the manner in which he took his seat beside Fräulein von Thurgau was entirely that of a man of the world.
"You have but lately come from Persia?" Erna asked, referring to what her uncle had said.
"Yes, I was there last; for ten years I have not seen Europe before."
"And yet you are a German? Probably your profession kept you away thus long?"
"My profession?" Waltenberg repeated, with a fleeting smile. "No; I merely yielded to my inclination. I am not of those steadfast natures which become rooted in house and home. I was always longing to be out in the world, and I gratified my desire absolutely in this respect."
"And in all these ten years have you never been homesick?"
"To tell the truth, no! One gradually becomes weaned from one's home, and at last feels like a stranger there. I am here now only to arrange various business affairs and personal matters, and do not propose to stay long. I have no family to keep me here; I am quite alone."
"But your country should have a claim upon you," Erna interposed.
"Perhaps so; but I am modest enough to imagine that it does not need me. There are so many better men than I here."
"And do you not need your country?"
The remark was rather an odd one from a young lady, and Waltenberg looked surprised, especially when the glance that met his own emphasized the reproach in the girl's words.
"You are indignant at my admission, Fräulein Thurgau, but nevertheless I must plead guilty," he said, gravely. "Believe me, a life such as mine has been for years, free of all fetters, surrounded by a nature lavish in beauty and luxuriance, while our own is meagre enough, has the effect of a magic draught. Those who have once tasted it can never again forego it. Were I really obliged to return to this world of unrealities, this formal existence in what we call society, beneath these gray wintry skies, I think I----but this is rank heresy in the eyes of one who is an admired centre of this same society."
"And yet she can perhaps understand you," Erna said, with a sudden access of bitterness. "I grew up among the mountains, in the magnificent solitude of the highlands, far from the world and its ways, and it is hard, very hard, to forego the sunny, golden liberty of my childhood!"
"Even here?" Waltenberg asked, with a glance about him at the brilliant rooms, now crowded with guests.
"Most of all here."
The answer was low, scarcely audible, and the look that accompanied it was strangely sad and weary, but the next moment the young girl seemed to repent the half-involuntary confession; she smiled and said, jestingly,--
"You are right, this is heresy, and my uncle would disapprove; he evidently hopes to make you really at home among us. Let me make you acquainted with the gentleman now approaching us; he is one of our celebrities and will surely interest you."
Her intention of breaking off a conversation that had become unusually grave was evident, and Waltenberg bowed silently, but with an expression of annoyance. He was presented to the 'celebrity,' with whom he conversed but for a few moments, however, before seeking out Herr Gersdorf, whom he had long known; they had been college-friends.
"Well, Ernst, are you beginning to be at home among us?" the lawyer asked. "You seemed much interested in your talk with Fräulein Thurgau. A handsome girl, is she not?"
"Yes, and really worth the trouble of talking to," Ernst replied, retiring somewhat from the throng with his friend, who laughed, as he said in an undertone,--
"Extremely complimentary to all the other ladies. I suppose it is not worth the trouble to talk with them?"
"No, it is not," Waltenberg coolly replied, in a still lower tone. "I really cannot bring myself to take part in their vapid talk through an entire evening. It is particularly tiresome around the betrothed couple,--a perfect chorus of utterly senseless remarks. Moreover, the lady looks very insignificant, and is very uninteresting."
Gersdorf shrugged his shoulders: "Nevertheless her name is Alice Nordheim, and that was quite enough for her lover. There is many a one here who would gladly stand in his shoes, but he had the wit to gain her father's favour, and so won the prize."
"Marrying for money, then? A fortune-hunter?"
"If you choose to call him so,--yes; but very talented, very energetic,--sure to succeed. He already rules the various officials of his railway as absolutely as his future father-in-law does the directors, and when you see hischef-d'[oe]uvre, the Wolkenstein bridge, you will admit that his talent is of no common order."
"No matter for that, I detest fortune-hunting from my very soul. One might forgive it in a poor devil with no other chance to rise in the world, but this Elmhorst seems to have force of character, and yet sells himself and his liberty for money. Contemptible!"
"My dear Ernst, you are evidently just from the wilds," Gersdorf rejoined. "Such things are very usual in our much-lauded 'society,' and among very respectable people. Of course money is no consideration to you, with your hundreds of thousands. Are you never going to cease wandering to and fro on the earth and try sitting beside your own hearthstone?"
"No, Albert, I never was made for that. Liberty is my bride, and I shall be faithful to her."
"I said the same thing," the lawyer rejoined, with a laugh; "but time brings one experience of this same bride's rather chilly nature, and if in addition one meets with the misfortune of falling in love, liberty loses all attraction and the whilom bachelor is glad enough to turn into an honest married man. I am just about to undergo this transformation."
"I condole with you."
"No need; it suits me extremely well. But you know all the story of my love and woe; what do you think of the future Frau Gersdorf?"
"I think her so charming that she excuses in a measure your desertion of your colours. She is lovely, with that rosy, laughing little face."
"Yes, my little Molly is an embodiment of sunshine," Albert said, heartily, his glance seeking out the young girl. "The barometer at her home points to 'stormy' at present; but although the court-councillor and his entire family, with the famous granduncle,--who, by the bye, is the worst of all,--should take the field against me, I am resolved to come off victorious."
"Herr Waltenberg, may I request you to escort my niece to supper?" said the president as he passed the young men.
"With pleasure," Waltenberg assented, hurrying away, with such sincere satisfaction expressed in his face, that Gersdorf could not help looking after him with a mocking smile.
"I doubt whether I shall long be the only one of us two to desert his colours," he said to himself as his friend joined Fräulein von Thurgau, looking like anything rather than a misogynist.
The doors of the supper-room were opened and the assemblage began to enter it by couples. Baron Ernsthausen offered his arm to the Baroness Lasberg, having been assigned her as his neighbour at table, and having learned from her with much satisfaction that Lieutenant von Alven was to be his daughter's escort, and that Herr Gersdorf's place was at the opposite end of the table. The distinguished couple slowly advanced followed by a crowd of others, but, strangely enough, Lieutenant von Alven offered his arm to another young girl, and Herr Gersdorf approached the Baroness Ernsthausen.
"What does this mean, Molly?" he asked, in a low tone. "Am I to take you to supper, as Fräulein von Thurgau tells me? Did you prevail on Frau von Lasberg----?"
"Oh, she is a firm ally of my father and mother," Molly whispered, taking his arm. "Only fancy, she had the entire length of the table between us! Mamma is at home with a headache, but she enjoined it upon papa not to let me out of his sight, and Frau von Lasberg was to be guard number two. But they have no idea with whom they have to deal; I have outwitted them all."
"What is it that you have done?" Gersdorf asked, rather uneasily.
"Changed the table-cards!" Molly declared, exultantly, "or rather persuaded Erna to change them. She did not want to at first, but when I asked her whether she could answer it to her conscience to plunge us both into fathomless despair, she really could not, and so she consented."
The phrases which the little Baroness used to beguile the guardian angels of her love came trippingly from her tongue; her lover, however, did not seem greatly edified by her stroke of policy; he shook his head, and said, reproachfully, "But, my dear Molly, it cannot possibly be concealed, and when your father sees us----"
"He'll be furious!" Molly completed the sentence very placidly. "But you know, Albert, he always is that, and a little more or a little less really makes no difference. And now do not look so frightfully grave. I believe you would actually like to scold me for my brilliant idea."
"I ought to," said Albert, smiling in spite of himself; "but who could find fault with you, you wayward little sprite?"
In the buzz of conversation the lovers' whispered tones were unheard as they entered the supper-room, where the councillor was already seated beside his companion. The pleasures of the table were dear to his heart, and the prospect of a good supper attuned his soul to benevolence. But suddenly his face grew rigid as if from a sight of the Gorgon, although it was only upon perceiving the extremely happy face of his little daughter as she appeared upon Herr Gersdorf's arm.
"Madame, for heaven's sake, look there!" he whispered. "You told me that Lieutenant von Alven----"
"Was to take Molly to supper; and in accordance with your express wish Herr Gersdorf----"
Frau von Lasberg stopped in the middle of her sentence and also became petrified as she perceived the couple just taking their seats near the other end of the table.
"Beside him!" The councillor darted an annihilating glance down the long table, past thirty seated guests, at the lawyer.
"I cannot understand this; I arranged the places at table myself."
"Perhaps some mistake of the servants----"
"No, it is a plot of the Baroness's," Frau von Lasberg interposed, indignantly. "But pray let us have no scene. When supper is over----"
"I shall take Molly directly home!" Ernsthausen concluded the sentence, opening his napkin with an energy that boded no good to his disobedient daughter.
The supper began and followed its course with all the splendour to be expected from an entertainment in the Nordheim mansion. The tables were almost overloaded with heavy silver and glittering glass, among which bloomed the rarest flowers. There was an endless variety of food, with the finest kinds of wine. The usual toasts to the betrothed couple were offered, the usual speeches made, and over it all brooded the weariness inseparable from such displays of princely wealth.
Nevertheless certain of the younger folk enjoyed themselves excessively; notably Baroness Molly, who, quite unaffected by her approaching doom, laughed and talked with her neighbour at table, while Gersdorf would have been no lover had he not forgotten all else and quaffed full draughts of the unexpected happiness of this interview.
Not less eager, if graver and of more significance, was the conversation carried on at the upper end of the table between Fräulein von Thurgau, who as the nearest relative of the family had her place opposite the betrothed couple, and Ernst Waltenberg, who was a distinguished guest. Hitherto he had seemed to take but little interest in the assemblage and had been rather silent, but now he made it plain that where it pleased him to charm by his conversation he was fully able to do so.
He did indeed tell of distant lands and peoples, but he described them so vividly that his hearer seemed to see them. As he spoke of the charm of the southern seas, the splendour of the tropical landscape, Erna, listening with sparkling eyes, seemed carried away. Now and then Wolfgang, beside Alice on the opposite side of the table, scanned the pair with an oddly searching glance; his conversation with his betrothed did not seem to be of a particularly lively nature, master of the art though he were.
At last supper was over, and all returned to the reception-rooms. The universal mood seemed less constrained, laughter and talk were louder, and so general was the mingling of various groups that it was difficult to single out any particular individual, as Baron Ernsthausen found to his vexation, for his young daughter had disappeared for the time.
Ernst Waltenberg had conducted Erna to the conservatory, and was seated beside her, deep in the conversation begun at supper, when the betrothed couple entered. Wolfgang started as he perceived the pair, he bowed coldly to Waltenberg, who sprang up to offer his place to Fräulein Nordheim, and said, "Alice complains of weariness and thinks it will be quieter here. We are not intruding?"
"Upon whom?" Erna asked, quietly.
"Upon yourself and Herr Waltenberg. You were in such earnest conversation, and we should be very sorry----"
Instead of replying, Erna took her cousin's hand and drew her down beside her: "You are right, Alice, you need rest. It is a hard task even for those stronger than you to be the centre of such an entertainment."
"I only wanted to withdraw for a few moments," said Alice, who really did look fatigued. "But we seem to have disturbed you; Herr Waltenberg was in the midst of a most interesting description, which he broke off when we entered."
"I was telling of my last visit to India," Waltenberg explained, "and I took the opportunity to make a request of Baroness Thurgau, which I should like to make of you also, Fräulein Nordheim. In the course of my ten years of absence from Europe I have collected a quantity of foreign curiosities. They were all sent home, and form a veritable museum which I am just having arranged by an experienced hand. May I entreat the ladies to honour me with a visit,--with yourself, of course, Herr Elmhorst? I think I can show you much that will interest you."
"I fear my engagements will not allow me to accept your kind invitation," Elmhorst replied, with rather cool courtesy. "I must leave town in a couple of days."
"So shortly after your betrothal?"
"I must. In the present condition of our work I cannot allow myself a longer leave of absence."
"Do you agree to this, Fräulein Nordheim?" Waltenberg appealed to Alice. "I should think under present circumstances you would have the first claim."
"Duty has the first claim upon me, Herr Waltenberg,--in my opinion, at least."
"Must you take it so seriously,--even now?"
"Wolfgang's eyes flashed. He understood this 'even now?' and understood also the look which he encountered; he had seen the same expression on another face a few hours ago. He bit his lip; for the second time he was reminded that he was considered in society only as 'Alice Nordheim's future husband,'--one who could with her fortune in prospect purchase immunity from duties which he had undertaken to fulfil.
"To fulfil a duty is with me a point of honour," he replied, coldly.
"Yes, we Germans are fanatics for duty," Waltenberg said, negligently. "I have lost somewhat of this national characteristic in foreign countries. Oh, Fräulein von Thurgau, not that disapproving look, I entreat. My unfortunate frankness will ruin me in your estimation, but remember I come from quite another world, and am absolutely uncivilized according to European ideas."
"You certainly seem so with respect to some of your views," Erna said, lightly, but withal with a shade of severity.
He smiled, and, leaning over the back of her chair, said, in a lower tone, "Yes, I need to be harmonized with mankind, and with our worthy Germans. Perhaps some one will have pity upon me and undertake the task. Do you think it would be worth the trouble?"
"Can you really endure this close, stifling temperature, Alice?" Wolfgang asked, with ill-concealed impatience. "I fear it is worse for you than the heat of the rooms."
"But there is such a crowd of people there. Pray let us stay here, Wolfgang."
He bit his lip, but naturally yielded to a wish of his betrothed's so distinctly expressed.
"The air here is tropical," said Waltenberg.
"It is indeed. Oppressive, and debilitating for any one accustomed to breathe freely."
The words sounded almost rude, but he to whom they were addressed took no heed; he was still gazing at Erna as he went on: "These palms and orchids require it. Look, Fräulein von Thurgau, they enchant the eye even here in captivity. In the tropics, where they climb and twine in liberty, they are wonderful indeed."
"Yes, that world must be beautiful," Erna said, softly, while her eyes wandered dreamily over the foreign splendour of the blossoms gleaming among the green on every side and filling the conservatory with their sweet but enervating fragrance.
"Was your stay in the East a long one, Herr Waltenberg?" Alice asked, in her cool, uninterested way.
"I passed some years there, but I am at home all over the world, and can even boast having penetrated far into Africa."
Wolfgang's attention was roused by these last words: "Probably as a member of some scientific expedition?" he observed.
"No, that would have had no charm for me. I detest nothing so much as constraint, and it is impossible in such expeditions to preserve one's personal freedom. One is bound by the rules of the expedition, by the wishes of one's companions, by all sorts of things, and I am wont to follow my own will only."
"Ah, indeed?" A half-contemptuous smile played about Wolfgang's lips. "I beg pardon; I really thought you had gone to Africa as a scientific pioneer."
"Good heavens, how in earnest you are about everything, Herr Elmhorst!" Waltenberg said, with a scarcely perceptible sneer. "Must life perforce be labour? I never coveted fame as an explorer; I have enjoyed the freedom and beauty of the world, and have renewed my youth and strength in quaffing long draughts of such enjoyment. To put it to positive use would destroy its romance for me."
Elmhorst shrugged his shoulders, and remarked, with apparent indifference, in which there was nevertheless a spice of insolence, "Certainly a most convenient way of arranging one's existence. And yet hardly to my taste, and quite impossible for most people. So to live one should be born to great wealth."
"No, not of necessity," Waltenberg retorted, in the same tone. "Some lucky chance may endow one with wealth."
Wolfgang looked annoyed, and he was evidently about to make a sharp reply, when Erna, perceiving this, hastened to give the conversation another turn.
"I fear my uncle must resign all hope of making you at home among us," said she. "You are so entirely under the spell of your tropical world, that everything here will seem petty and meagre to you. I hardly think that even our mountains could move you to admiration, but there you will find me a determined antagonist."
Waltenberg turned towards her,--perhaps he saw in her face, or was conscious himself, that he had gone too far. "You do me injustice, Fräulein Thurgau," he replied. "I have never forgotten the Alpine world of my native country,--its lofty summits, its deep-blue lakes, and the lovely creations of its legends by which it is peopled,--creatures"--his voice sounded veiled--"compounded as it were of air and Alpine snow, with the white fairy-like flowers of its waters crowning their fair hair."
The compliment was too bold, but the manner in which it was uttered took from it all presumption, as the speaker's eyes rested in admiration upon the beautiful girl before him in her white, misty ball-dress.
"Alice, are you rested?" Wolfgang asked, aloud. "We really ought not to remain away from the other room so long. Let us go back."
His words sounded almost like a command. Alice arose, put her hand within his arm, and they left the conservatory together.
"Herr Elmhorst seems to have a decided predilection for command," Waltenberg said, ironically, looking after them. "His tone was decidedly that of the future lord and master, and upon the very day of his betrothal. Fräulein Nordheim's choice seems surprising to me in more than one sense."
"Alice's is a very gentle, docile nature," Erna observed.
"So much the worse. Her lover seems to have no conception that it is this connection alone that raises him to a position to which he could not personally lay any claim."
The young girl had risen and approached a group of plants, whose heavy crimson blossoms hung amid dark green leaves. After a moment's pause she rejoined, "I do not think Wolfgang Elmhorst a man to allow himself to be 'raised.'"
"Why, then, should her---- Pardon me, I ought not to say one word in disapproval of your future relative."
Erna did not reply, and he seemed to take her silence as a permission to proceed, for he continued, very gravely: "Do you think inclination plays any part in his suit?"
"No."
The word was uttered with a certain harshness, as the girl's face leaned half hidden among the crimson flowers.
"Nor do I, and my opinion of Herr Elmhorst is based upon that conviction. Pray, Fräulein Thurgau, do not inhale the fragrance of those blossoms so closely; I know the plant,--its odour is delicious but mischievous, and will give you headache. Be careful."
"You are right," she said, with a deep breath, passing her hand across her forehead and standing erect. "It is, besides, time that we returned to the other rooms. May I trouble you, Herr Waltenberg?"
He seemed hardly to agree with this, but nevertheless instantly offered his arm and conducted her to the ball-room, which was still full.
The court-councillor was sitting in a corner nursing his wrath with Fran von Lasberg, who seemed inclined to fan the flame. She had ascertained by questioning the servants that the cards on the table had really been changed, and her indignation was extreme. She harangued the unfortunate father of such a daughter in low but expressive tones, and concluded her discourse with the annihilating declaration, "In short, the conduct of Herr Gersdorf seems to me outrageous!"
"Yes, it is outrageous!" Ernsthausen murmured in a fury. "And, moreover, I have been looking for Molly for half an hour to take her home, and I cannot find her. She is a terrible child!"
"Under no circumstances should I have allowed her to attend this entertainment," the old lady began again. "When the Frau Baroness opened her heart to me about the affair, I urged it upon her to have recourse to vigorous measures."
"And so we have," Ernsthausen declared; "but it is of no use. My wife is ill with all this worry and vexation, and her indisposition may, probably will, last for days. I am occupied with my official duties. Who is to stand guard over the girl meanwhile and frustrate all her insane schemes?"
"Send Molly to the country to her granduncle," was Frau von Lasberg's advice. "There no personal intercourse with Gersdorf will be possible, and if I know the old Baron he will find a means of preventing any exchange of letters."
The councillor looked as if a ray of light had suddenly invaded the darkness of his soul; he adopted the suggestion with enthusiasm.
"That is an idea!" he cried. "You are right, madame, perfectly right! Molly shall go to my uncle immediately,--the day after to-morrow. He was beside himself at learning of the affair, and will certainly be the best of guardians. I will write to him early to-morrow morning."
He was so possessed with this thought that he hastily arose, and made a fresh attempt to find his daughter, but it was a difficult undertaking. He might as well have given chase to a butterfly, for Molly possessed a wonderful talent for disappearing just as her father was about to confront her. Ernst Waltenberg, who had been taken into council by the lovers twice, acted as a lightning-conductor on this occasion, in view of the approaching storm, which he diverted by his conversation. Meanwhile, the little Baroness would disappear among a crowd of her friends, to come to light again in an entirely different place. She seemed to regard the company as an assemblage of guardian-angels, to be used according to her good pleasure, and even the minister, her father's illustrious chief, who was present, was obliged to serve her purpose, for she finally took refuge with His Excellency, and complained in the most moving terms that her father was insisting upon driving home, when she wanted to stay so much. The old gentleman instantly espoused the cause of the charming child, and when the councillor appeared with a stern "Molly, the carriage is waiting," he kindly interposed with, "Let it wait, my dear councillor. Youth claims its rights, and I promised the Baroness to intercede for her. You will stay, will you not?"
Ernsthausen was inwardly raging, while his outward man bowed in polite assent, in recognition of which his chief engaged him in conversation, and did not release him until a quarter of an hour had passed. Then, however, the Baron was determined; he invaded the hostile camp, where his daughter was seated in great content between Waltenberg and Gersdorf. The latter approached him with extreme courtesy.
"Herr Councillor, will you kindly appoint an hour when I can call upon you, either to-morrow or the day after?"
Ernsthausen gave him an annihilating glance: "I regret extremely, Herr Gersdorf, that pressing business----"
"Quite right, it is that about which I wish to consult with you," Gersdorf interposed. "The matter concerns the railway company, whose legal representative I am, as you know, and His Excellency the minister has referred me to you. Permit me, however, to visit you at your home instead of at your office, since I have a private matter also to discuss with you."
The Baron was unfortunately in no uncertainty as to what this private matter was, but since he could not refuse to receive the lawyer in his legal capacity, he stood erect with much dignity and answered, coolly, "The day after to-morrow, at five in the afternoon, I shall be at your service."
"I shall be punctual," said Gersdorf, bowing as he took leave of Molly, who thought best at last to comply with the paternal command and to allow herself to be taken home. On the staircase, however, she declared, resolutely, "Papa, the day after to-morrow I will not be locked up again. I mean to be there when my lover presents himself."
"The day after to-morrow you will be in the country," Ernsthausen asserted, with emphasis. "You will depart by the early train; I shall myself see you safely to the railway-carriage, and when you arrive your grand uncle will receive you, and will keep you with him for the present."
Molly's curly head emerged from her white hood in speechless horror. But only for a moment was she silent; then she assumed a warlike attitude: "I will not go, papa. I will not stay with my granduncle; I will run away and come back to town on foot."
"You will hardly do that," said the councillor. "I should think you knew the old gentleman and his principles better. After his death you will be a most distinguished match,--remember that!"
"I wish my granduncle would go to Monaco and gamble away all his money," Molly retorted, sobbing angrily, "or that he would adopt some orphan and leave her every penny he possesses!"
"Good heavens, child, you are mad, absolutely mad!" Ernsthausen exclaimed in desperation, but the little Baroness went on excitedly:
"Then I should be no match at all, and could marry Albert. I mean to pray fervently that my granduncle may commit some such folly, in spite of his seventy years!"
Still sobbing, she sprang into the carriage and buried her face in the cushions. Her father followed her, muttering, "A terrible child!"
The brilliant rooms gradually became more empty and more quiet. One after another the guests took their leave, until finally the president, having bidden farewell to the last, was left alone with Wolfgang in the spacious reception-room.
"Waltenberg bus invited us to inspect his collection of curios," he said. "I shall hardly have time to go, but you----"
"I shall have still less," Elmhorst interposed. "The three days at my disposal are already fully occupied."
"I know, I know, but nevertheless you must escort Alice; she and Erna have accepted Waltenberg's invitation, and I wish them to go."
Wolfgang was surprised; he looked keenly at his future father-in-law for an instant, and then asked, hastily, "Who and what is this Waltenberg, sir? You treat him with extraordinary consideration, and yet he appeared in your house to-night for the first time. Have you known him long?"
"Certainly. His father took part in several of my schemes. A capital, prudent man of business, who would have amassed millions had he lived longer. Unfortunately, the son has inherited none of his practical ability. He prefers to travel all over the earth and to consort with all kinds of savage nations. Well, his property permits him to pursue such follies, and it has just been nearly doubled. His aunt, his father's only unmarried sister, died a few months ago, leaving him her heir. He came home, indeed, only to arrange his affairs, and is already talking of going away again. An incomprehensible man!"
The tone in which Nordheim spoke of the man for whom he had shown such consideration betrayed his entire want of sympathy with him personally, and Elmhorst seemed to be of the same mind, for he instantly observed,--
"I think him insufferable! At table he talked exclusively of his travels, and precisely as if he were delivering a lecture. All you heard was of 'blue depths of water,' 'waving palms,' and 'dreamy lotus-blossoms.' It was intolerable! Fräulein von Thurgau, however, seemed quite carried away by it. I must confess, sir, I thought all this poetic Oriental talk far too confidential for a first interview."
The words were meant to be ironical, but they hardly concealed the speaker's irritation. The president, however, did not observe it, but replied, quietly, "In this case I have no objection to such confidences; quite the contrary."
"That means--you have intentionally brought them together."
"Certainly," Nordheim replied, in some surprise at the eager haste with which the question was put. "Erna is nineteen; it is time to think seriously of her settlement in life, and as her relative and guardian it is my duty to provide for it. The girl is greatly admired in society, but no one has as yet presented himself as her suitor. She has no money."
"No, she has no money," Wolfgang repeated as if mechanically, and his look sought the adjoining room, where the ladies still lingered. Alice was sitting on the sofa, and Erna stood before her, her slender white figure framed in by the door-way.
"I cannot blame the men," the president continued. "Erna's only inheritance is the couple of thousand marks paid for Wolkenstein Court; and although I shall of course furnish my niece with a trousseau, that would be nothing for a man whose demands upon life are at all great. Waltenberg has no need of money,--he is wealthy himself, and of excellent family; in short, a brilliant match. I planned it immediately upon his return, and I think it will succeed."
He explained everything in a cool, business-like fashion, as if the matter under discussion were some new speculation. In fact, the 'settlement' of his niece was for him an affair of business, as had been his daughter's betrothal. In the one case money was necessary in exchange for a bride, in the other intelligence and ability, and Nordheim could express himself with perfect freedom to his future son-in-law, who occupied the same point of view and had acted upon principles similar to his own. But just now the young man's face was strangely pale, and there was an odd expression in the eyes fixed upon the picture framed in by the arched door-way and brilliantly illuminated in the candle-light.
"And you think Fräulein von Thurgau is agreed?" he asked, slowly, at last, without averting his gaze.
"She will not be such a fool as to reject such good fortune. The girl is, to be sure, possessed by unaccountable fancies, obstinate as her father, and on certain points not to be controlled. We scarcely harmonize in our views, any one can see that, but this time I think we shall agree. Such a man as Waltenberg with his eccentricities is precisely after Erna's taste. I think her quite capable of accompanying him in his wanderings, if he cannot make up his mind to relinquish them."
"And why not?" Wolfgang said, harshly. "It is so uncommonly romantic and interesting, life in foreign lands with no occupation and no country. With no duties to exercise any controlling influence, life can be dreamed away beneath the palms in inactive enjoyment. To me such an existence, however, seems pitiable; it would be impossible for me."
"You are really indignant," said Nordheim, amazed at this sudden outburst. "You forget that Waltenberg has always been wealthy. You and I must work to attain eminence; no such necessity exists for him,--he has always occupied the height towards which we must climb. Such men are rarely fit for serious exertion."
He turned to a passing servant and gave him an order. But Wolfgang stood motionless and gloomy, his gaze still fixed upon the white figure 'compounded as it were of air and Alpine snow, with the white fairylike flower of its waters crowning its fair hair,' and inaudibly but with intense bitterness he muttered, "Yes, he is rich, and so he has a right to be happy."