At his entrance the little artist started from a chair by the window, where he had apparently been seated a long time, absorbed in deep thought.
"Thank God!" he exclaimed, and his sad, honest face brightened, as he held out both hands to Edwin--"you again walk among the living. It's pleasant that you instantly remember your old friends--though this is not exactly the right atmosphere for a person just recovering from illness--you come to people who, in the midst of the loveliest air of Spring, sit in affliction and the shadow of death. Well--it's as God wills, I keep calm."
With the tear's streaming down his cheeks, he now told Edwin that Leah had grown so ill that she could scarcely get an hour's sleep, and the food she took was hardly enough to nourish an infant a week old. Yet she bore her fate with a divine patience that often made him wonder whence she derived her strength, since she neither prayed nor accepted everything as the will of an all merciful Father who could make even the most incomprehensible and hardest things result in a blessing. "In that she's like her mother, whose only defense and weapons against all sorrow were silence and meditation. Go to her, dear Doctor, I know she'll be delighted to see you. She always esteemed you so highly, and God is my witness that I've often reproached myself for yielding to Frau Valentin and interrupting your lessons. Doctor Marquard says the sickness is connected with the mind--if she could but divert her thoughts, and not brood perpetually over one idea--Ah! me! If philosophy could give her sleep and appetite, preserve my child to me--" He paused and pressed his handkerchief to his eyes.
"If you'll give me leave, dear Herr König," said Edwin, "I'll try what I can do. Philosophy has already banished many evil spirits and infused new blood into whole races. I'll speak to your dear daughter, and hope it is not yet too late."
He turned away to conceal his emotion, and hastily left the studio. When he entered Leah's room, he found her resting on the sofa with a book in her lap, her beautiful dark eyes fixed upon it, each a burning fire in whose glow a waxen image is slowly consuming. In other respects she was not altered, except that her complexion was more transparent and a sorrowful smile seemed frozen on her lips. But as he approached her and with a few cordial words took her hand, a deep blush suffused the delicate face and gave to it the appearance of blooming freshness and health.
"What sorrow you are causing us, dear Leah!" he said drawing a chair toward her couch. "No," he added as she attempted to rise, "you must remain as you are, if you don't want to drive me away. I'm so glad to see you again. Since that terrible day I've only heard of you through others. And yet not entirely through others, through yourself, too. Do you know that I read your journal yesterday for the first time?"
She moved her head as if to beg him not to talk about it, and replied: "You've so many better things to do--if my father had not desired it--"
"No, dear Fräulein," he answered, "I only wished I had not spent my time over things so much more useless, before I took up that volume. And yet, who knows whether I should before have been capable of estimating the full value of the treasure entrusted to me."
She suddenly turned pale. "No," she murmured, "do not talk so, don't treat me like a silly child, to whom you must make pretty speeches, because you perceive my weakness and think you must spare or flatter me; it pains me--I've been used to different things from you."
"I know you're ill and need consideration," he replied in a trembling voice. "And yet, dear Leah, I've come to tell you something which will at any rate excite you, think what you please and answer as you may. Since I've read those pages, it has become evident to me that I've been groping about in the mist like a dreamer and not perceived a real happiness--the happiness of having found a soul, such as is revealed in those pages, never to lose it again!
"They've tried to part us, dear Leah," he continued with increasing agitation, while she lay with closed eyes and hands clasped upon her bosom, without any sign of life. "But it only served to unite our hearts more closely. We've both experienced how necessary we are to each other, how little qualified to cope with life alone. True, you'll doubt whether I've really missed you; nay I did not even realize it myself. I was enchained by a passion which like some diabolical enchantment, made me a stranger even to myself. I know not how much you know or suspect, dear friend. For the first time in my life I learned, a woman's power, and suffered keenly from it. It's over, Leah, the last trace of it has vanished. She's about to become another's wife, and I heard the news without the slightest heart-throb. Oh! Leah, those were terrible days! When I think that the result might have been different, that I might have been forever forced to bow to this power--a power which treated pride and freedom, all that was worthy and precious in life, as a toy, and rendered me almost unfeeling, even in the days of Balder's keenest sufferings--I shudder at myself and the danger I have escaped. But you ought to know, Leah, the weakness of the man who now comes to you and says: 'will you, can you, notwithstanding all that has happened, unite your life to mine? Can you give your soul to one who has already once lost his own, while both he and you, perhaps may never wholly overcome the smart of his servitude?'
"If you were to say no, Leah, I should understand why and be forced to bear the pain. I know that I was dear to you. You would have burned that book rather than have entrusted it to my care, if your heart had not resistlessly drawn you toward me. And yet, Leah, I should not think less of you if after the confession I have just made, your heart should draw back, your pride forbid you to be satisfied with that which I offer with this perfect candor. You've a right to expect and demand that the man to whom you give yourself will repay you for the treasure with such enthusiastic and passionate devotion, that even the thought that any other power could become dangerous to him, would never enter his mind. I, dearest Leah, am, as you see me, a fugitive, whose wounds are scarcely healed after a severe battle. I come to you because I know I can nowhere be safer, nowhere find a more inaccessible refuge than with you. What I feel for you--we've not yet come to Spinoza," he interrupted himself with a quiet smile, "so the phraseology of the schools is not familiar to you. He, the great philosopher, calls the feeling men have for that which he termed God--the absolute something which encompasses, does and wills everything--the exaltation of all emotions which follows when we become absorbed in the nature of this one and all, he calls 'intellectual love.' It's neither a jest nor a blasphemy, but the simple words of truth when I say that with such a love I love you, Leah! That blind, demoniacal passion, which is usually called love, has been washed out of my blood--I trust forever! What now lives in me is the happy consciousness that you're the best, purest, noblest creature that ever appeared on earth, the one being in whom my world is contained, and that the man whom you should love and to whom you consented to belong, would be the happiest of mortals!"
As he faltered the last words he knelt beside her couch, and taking her hands held them clasped in his, fixing his eyes upon her cool, slender fingers, unable to look her in the face. He remained for a long time absorbed in a blissful stupor; it was such a relief to have told her all, that he felt he scarcely feared her answer, although he was far from being sure of a favorable one.
She still remained silent. At last he grew anxious, looked at her, and instantly started up in alarm, for he could not doubt that she had fainted. He hastily seized a little bottle containing some powerful stimulant which he found on her table, and poured some on his handkerchief to rub her temples and restore the color to her pale lips. "Leah!" he exclaimed, "come to yourself again! Oh! do not punish me so fearfully for my thoughtlessness; oh, how could I, when I found you so ill--"
Her lips moved and she slowly opened her eyes. "Forgive me for alarming you, my beloved!" she murmured. "The happiness was too great--too sudden. But--I'm well again--I live--aye, I will live, now that I know, through you and for you--Edwin, is it possible!"
She raised her arm and timidly put it around his neck. He bent toward her face, now again glowing with blushes. "My wife!" he whispered. "You are mine! mine! mine! And so surely as I hope to be happy through you--" His lips, which met hers, stifled and sealed the vow of eternal love and constancy.
The same day, toward dusk, the little artist was seen hurrying along the street in which Frau Valentin lived. Any one who had seen him in his studio that morning, would scarcely have taken him for the same man. Although the March winds could not seem exactly Springlike to elderly gentlemen, he had stolen lightly out of the house without an overcoat, like a youth whose hot blood keeps him warm. He had paid five groschen for a little bouquet of violets which a poor girl offered him, and fastened it daintily in his button hole; his white hat rested jauntily over his left ear, as always happened during his hours of inspiration, and those, who saw him pass, looking around with a merry joyous face, nodding sometimes to a pretty child or flourishing his cane, might well suppose that wine had played one of characteristic pranks on the little man, and persuaded him that he was once more a youth of twenty, and might yield to the most unbridled gayety as freely as the most hopeful young schoolboy.
But when he saw Frau Valentin's house in the distance, his joyous manner suddenly changed, his step became more moderate, a grave expression shaded his face, and he even paused as if considering whether it would not be better to turn back. Then he seemed to summon up all his manhood, energetically fastened the upper button of his coat, set his hat straight, and with resolute steps walked toward the dwelling of his pious friend.
He found her up stairs in the large room among a party of little girls who came to her twice a week after school, to be taught sewing, and then, strengthened by lessons of wisdom and virtue and a cup of coffee with a huge roll, were dismissed to their homes. The hour had just expired, and the little ones were crowding around their benefactress, who usually had to prevent them from kissing her hand by kindly stroking the round cheeks or giving a friendly pat on the shoulder. In spite of the dim light, she instantly perceived by the voice and expression of her old friend, that some important motive had brought him to her, and hastily led the way into the adjoining room, where her little lamp was already lighted before the picture of the dead professor. Her first question was concerning Leah. "She's very well," replied the artist, as he took the bouquet of violets from his button hole and gallantly offered it to his old love.
"What has happened to you, my dear friend?" asked the lady in surprise. They used the wordihr[8]in addressing each other when alone, as they were too intimate for the formal "you" and yet did not venture to adopt the familiar "thou."
"To me," he answered boldly, as if he were really meaning to conceal something from her. "I don't know what you mean, my dear madame. I'm just the same as usual. But it's suffocatingly hot here. Allow me at least to open the windows--"
"Don't talk nonsense, my dear König," she said quietly. "I can read your good old heart as easily as the coarse print of my hymn book. You've come here to tell a piece of news that pleases you, and yet you've not the pluck to speak out. And that's just what surprises me; for whatever pleases you, my old friend, has always been agreeable and welcome to me. So out with it quick. I must go to the meeting of the lying-in society in half an hour. Is Leah improving? Has any quack of a doctor suddenly inspired you with such good courage?"
"You are the very embodiment of wisdom," replied the artist, who had taken the chair at her work-table and was thoughtfully rummaging in her little basket. "It is certainly a doctor, who has inspired me with courage, but he's no quack, and the affair is altogether--"
He hesitated again and stooped to look for a thimble which he had luckily dropped. "Keep your hands away from my things, for heaven's sake," said the good lady sharply. "You know your meddling makes me as nervous as I should make you if I wanted to paint a part of your pictures. And now, once for all, for I hate all mysteries and enigmas, what doctor are you talking about and what hopes has he given to you?"
"You shall hear, my dear friend, but I know you'll not like the mode of cure, and that's why I want to prepare you a little; for you often put on a look that makes even an old friend fear you. But if you want me to speak out: our Leah's engaged!"
"Engaged! That's certainly a piece of news nobody could be prepared for. My dear old friend, I hope you're not joking with me. You almost look as if you'd come from a drinking bout and had all sorts of fancies and notions in your head."
"Another sign of your sharp-sighted wisdom, dear lady!" laughed the artist, rubbing his hands in delight, for he had already told the most difficult part. "I really have emptied half a bottle or perhaps three quarters, as my son-in-law, he who is to be I mean--these people who are in love don't know how to value good wine--"
"Better and better! Have matters already gone so far? A formal betrothal dinner, and Leah's second mother would have heard nothing about the matter, if the wine had not betrayed it. Well, Herr König, I've had to forgive many things in the course of our long acquaintance; but this--this--"
The artist started up from his chair, as if he had been touched by a spring and approached his offended friend, who had seated herself on a sofa and tried to look resolutely away.
"Dear lady," said he, "first hear how it all happened. It was precisely because we all have so much respect for you, that we wanted to reflect a little and discuss the matter among ourselves, before we asked your consent. It came upon me like a thunder clap. And amid all the happiness--you may believe me--the thought of what you would say to it never left my mind a moment. You best know how I submit to your authority, and how willingly I yield to the gentle yoke, though you often treat me worse than my long years of love and loyalty deserve. But this time--no! I could not ask you first. Tell me yourself: if your child had fallen into the river and a man was ready to pull her out, would you first ask what faith he had? Now you see, although I know you don't like the doctor--"
"Doctor Marquard? That marriage-hater and Don Juan? That child of the world in the worst meaning of the word--and our Leah?--"
"God forbid, my dear friend, this time your prophetic soul leaves you in the lurch. But I scarcely know whether the right man will not seem still more frightful to you. You see, I'm perhaps a weak Christian, at any rate weaker than you, and as for the higher branches of theology, you've more in your little finger than I in my whole artist skull. And yet--I too felt a little alarmed when the children came to me and confessed what had never entered my mind, that dear godless fellow of a philosopher--"
"Edwin? Doctor Edwin? Oh! my presentiments!"
"Yes, indeed," said the little artist, "no other than the dismissed teacher, who now wishes to continue the interrupted lessons all his life. Do you think my poor daughter's rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes consoled me at once for the destruction of my hopes in regard to her religious life? But, as I said before, only a monster of a father would have had the heart to say no, when the life of his only child was at stake. Or if that word is too harsh--it would have inquired a martyr of the dark ages, to prefer to see his child pine away and die, rather than live and be happy with an unbeliever. And that her sickness was only concealed love and that she would have wasted away without Edwin, I saw plainly enough at dinner, when simply because he sat beside her and looked tenderly into her face, she suddenly, in spite of her happiness, felt an appetite she has not had for months, and afterwards when he had gone away, lay on the sofa sleeping more soundly than if she had taken all the opiates in the world. Then I slipped away to come to you, my dearest friend. And now say a kind word to me--or if it can't be kind, an angry one, anything is better than to have you sit on the sofa so still and silent, with your handkerchief pressed to your face, so that I can't even see what sort of expression my best friend wears when she hears of my poor child's happiness."
The widow withdrew her handkerchief and revealed eyes streaming with tears, which looked at him with a singular expression of mingled indignation and kindness. "You're an old hypocrite," she said, drying her lashes. "I'm not what you call me, your best friend, or you would not have misunderstood and slandered me to my face, and to those too lovers, as if I sat here with the air of the judge of a supreme spiritual court, to whom it would be dangerous to bring news of such an engagement. Fie! shame on you for a faint-hearted fellow. You're a weak Christian indeed, if you expect to find in your fellow mortal a heart full of bigotry and intolerance, instead of one submissive to God's decree and accepting with gratitude and hope whatever he sends--If I can't help crying, not only from joy and thankfulness that our Leah is saved, but also with anger toward you, you reprobate, make amends for your sin by taking the godless doctor my congratulations this very day, and inviting him to dine here tomorrow; one of a party of four; do you understand? And moreover give me your word of honor, that I'm better than my reputation, and no ossified theologian. Don't you know my dear friend, that God's ways are wonderful? Suppose he intends to draw to himself these two hearts, that neither know nor desire to know him, by this circuitous way: first leading them to each other, and causing them to experience all the joys and sorrows of married life, in order, hand in hand and heart to heart, to guide them back to their heavenly father? There's no more influential home mission than matrimony, for two honest people, of course, and that the doctor, with all his blindness, has an honest soul, we've never doubted. So yes and amen, dear friend, and because it's such a day of joy, all sins must be forgiven. As a token that I bear no malice--come, dear father of the future bride, and let her mother embrace you."
"You're a blessed angel right out of heaven!" exclaimed the artist, making such an enthusiastic use of the permission, that the blushing lady was at last obliged to defend herself by force. "Yes indeed," he continued, when he recovered his breath, "this marriage has really been made in heaven, all the signs prove it. Think, dear Frau Valentin, how wonderful it is, that this very morning I was sitting thinking whether it would not be better to resign my position and salary as court painter to His Russian Highness, rather than continue to live on the money so indolently and dreamily. For I said: who knows whether the prince has not already forgotten me, and that I may not sit year after year, like a fool, waiting for orders which will never come?' But now I see that the dear God has so arranged this, that I need not portion my Leah quite so shabbily. Dear Frau Valentin, I know what you've always said--that that was your affair. But after all a father would also--"
He was just in the mood to tell everything he had planned for the immediate future, when Frau Valentin's maid-servant entered and announced a visitor. The gentleman only wanted to ask a question, and would not give his name. Before her mistress had time to answer, a hasty step was heard in the ante-room, and to the zaunkönig's no small surprise, the gigantic figure of Heinrich Mohr crossed the threshold.
"I beg ten thousand pardons," he exclaimed in his hoarse voice. "Although I've the reputation of being unceremonious, I'm not usually so bold and uncivil as to enter a lady's room without ceremony. But circumstances which will be explained at some future day--the conviction, that there's danger in delay--perhaps several lives may depend upon whether this lady will grant me five minutes conversation--"
He had poured forth these words with such strange agitation, his whole appearance was so singular, that Frau Valentin really did not know whether she ought to grant his request. But the little artist relieved her of all hesitation.
"My dear friend," he exclaimed, "don't have the slightest scruple. My mission here is fulfilled, and I must hurry home to illuminate the Venetian palace; our lagune must flash and sparkle like the Grand Canal at the weddings of the doges, and you're invited too, my dear Herr Mohr. No refusals. You owe it to your friend."
"To whom?"
"Why our doctor, your friend Edwin, my little Leah's betrothed husband. Haven't you heard of it yet?"
"Not a syllable. So he's engaged! I congratulate him. But don't depend upon me for this evening."
The artist started and looked at him in astonishment. This indifferent manner of receiving such wonderful news surprised and vexed him. But his joy was too great to be long clouded. "As you choose," said he, "we won't quarrel about it. Besides the young couple won't miss you, and to sit with an old fellow like me--you're right, it would not be much pleasure. So another time and farewell!"
He seized his hat in the exuberance of his delight waved an adieu to Frau Valentin. While so doing, the pins which had fastened the somewhat rusty piece of crape came out, and the sign of seven years mourning fell on the floor. He was about to pick it up, but changed his mind. "No," said he, "we'll let it lie. If the mother can look down upon her child, she will think it natural if no crape is worn after this day. Farewell, my best friend! I still insist that you're an angel."
As soon as the artist had left the room, Mohr, who had remained gloomily standing at the door, approached the astonished Frau Valentin and said in the tone of a foot-pad, who demands the traveler's purse at the pistol's point: "you know a certain Lorinser, Madame. As I have reason to think this man of honor a scoundrel, who with persistent cunning escapes the punishment he deserves, I take the liberty of asking whether you've heard anything of him since he left Berlin."
"Lorinser!" exclaimed the good lady. "Oh! dear Herr Mohr, say nothing about that unhappy man; he has already caused me sorrow enough. No, no, I don't know where he is, nor do I desire to do so, I will never see him again, and I think I'm tolerably sure he will never approach my threshold as he has every reason to remain away from Berlin."
"In so believing, Madame," Mohr replied with a short fierce laugh, "you have probably misjudged this Protestant Jesuit. True, when a few months ago and again very recently I made inquiries about him at his former lodgings and the police headquarters, I learned that he had gone away. But people like him, who live on such intimate terms with angels and archangels, ascertain before death, how one must manage to move about as a glorified body. One saves rent thereby and passes through every key hole. That this mysterious man should have forever abandoned the great city, where people can take advantage of others so much more comfortably and profitably, always seemed to me improbable. And this very morning, just as I was doing him the honor to think of him, he drove past me in a droschky--to be sure I only saw him through the window, and he has let his beard grow; but I hope to be condemned to go to the same heaven into which this fellow hopes to smuggle himself, if I was mistaken. Pardon my somewhat strong expressions. Since scoundrels like this, our beloved in the Lord, adopt a sweet pastoral style, an honest man must wrap himself in his natural bluntness."
"You've seen him? Lorinser? No, no!"
"I'm sure, Madame, that no other man has those mother of pearl, Lucifer-like eyes in his head. And besides, he seemed to recognize me, for he hastily cowered back into the corner of the droschky, but it was too late. Unfortunately I lost sight of him again. Perhaps, I thought, he's gone to his old customers once more; it's a Christian duty to forgive even such an imp of Satan, seventy times seven times. And after all, I said to myself, he's doubtless always behaved properly to the good Frau Valentin and not let the mask fall. I confess I half expected to find him here, when the servant said you had a visitor, that's why I rushed in so hastily."
Frau Valentin had sunk down upon the sofa and was gazing into vacancy with unconcealed horror. "No," said she, "we've done with each other. I'll take care, that even if he should have the effrontery to knock, my door will not be opened to him again. No man has ever more shamefully misused the holiest words and trampled the purest confidence underfoot. I'll not mention the sums of money, amounting to hundreds of thalers, he has talked out of me for charitable and religious objects, in order as I afterwards learned, to use them for himself and his dissolute life. But that he could do me the injury to corrupt an excellent young girl, to whom I gave employment in my own house--let's say no more about it, my dear sir. It always makes me so angry when I think of it, that I forget all the commands of charity and wish this fiend in the lowest depths of hell."
"Hm!" muttered Mohr between his teeth; "money embezzled--an innocent young girl--very valuable material. Pardon me, Madame," he continued aloud, "if I'm not yet inclined to cut short this interesting conversation. Perhaps you would have the kindness to tell me the name and residence of this unfortunate girl?"
"What interest can you have in it?"
"A very Christian, or at least an honest one, honored lady. For when the arch-angel Gabriel--or was it Michael--drove the arch-fiend to the spot where he belonged, the lesson of forgiving seventy times seven times had not yet been invented. Suppose I had a fancy for playing arch-angel? Trust me without fear. I'll wager your poor protégé knows where this wolf in sheep's clothing has his den, and as I've all sorts of things to settle with him--"
"Do what you believe to be your duty. I'll not prevent you; that is, forestall God, who has perhaps chosen you for an instrument to execute his decrees. Here"--and she tore a leaf out of her pocket book--"here's the list of my seamstresses. The name through which a line is drawn is that of the unfortunate girl."
"Like the black tablet in the doge's palace:Marino Falier, decapitatus pro crimine. Permit me to write down the number of the house. There--and now forgive this disagreeable visit, Madame. The messengers of the Council of Ten in Venice were notorious for their obligatory intrusiveness."
She took leave of him with a silent bend of the head; but as he was passing through the ante-room, she called him back to entreat him for God's sake to deal considerately with the poor girl, who had deserved a better fate. "Have no fear," he replied. "We children of the world are all sinners ourselves, and know how poor sinners feel."
Half an hour after, he knocked at the door of a garret in one of the most out of the way streets in Friedrichstadt. A man's voice called "come in!" Seated on a table in the deep recess of a window, to catch the last rays of light, was an odd little figure with his legs crossed under him, sewing busily on a woman's dress. At the mention of Fräulein Johanne's name the busy little man let his work fall, shook his head angrily, and exclaimed in his hoarse falsetto tone:
"Can you read, sir, or not? Pray look at the sign on the door, and see if there's not an inscription on it in large letters: 'Wachtel, Ladies' dressmaker.' The person whom you seek did live here, but is now entirely to set up for four flights of stairs. Of course the fall is first down stairs from the garret to the ground floor; after a time they go still farther down: into the cellar, and then five feet under ground. Besides, it isn't my affair; ladies' tailors are not responsible for the first fall of man. Why! Well of course you know that yourself. Ha! ha!" He laughed and took up his needle again.
"Does the young lady live alone?"
"Yes and no, according to the way you understand it. 'I'm lonely but not alone'--as Schiller says. But try yourself, sir; I believe she's no longer as timid about having evening visitors, as she used to be when she worked for me; I work for her now, but I'm better paid at any rate. This sort, you must know--"
"Does a certain Herr Lorinser happen to be with her, a clerical-looking, pale man, with a black beard?"
"Can't say, sir. It's not my business to keep the register. Mam'selle Johanne will be glad to tell you what you want to know--her present admirer is a clerk, in a banking house, and can't get away till the counting house is closed. So if you want a private conversation--ha! ha!"
Mohr silently nodded a farewell and left the grinning little man. A feeling of repugnance overpowered him, which only increased, when on reaching the entry outside of the first floor rooms he heard a girl's voice singing one of Offenbach's favorite airs.
His ring interrupted the song. Directly after, a slender young girl with singularly large sparkling eyes in her pale little face opened the door. "Is it you, Edward?" she exclaimed. Then perceiving her mistake, said without any special sign of embarrassment: "What do you want, sir?"
Mohr looked at her a moment with an expression of sincere sympathy, which however formed so singular a contrast to his stern face, that the beautiful girl was alarmed and began to consider how to get rid of this mysterious man.
"Don't be anxious, Fräulein," said he suspecting her thoughts, "true, I'm not 'Edward,' but I come with the best intentions. If you would give me two minutes--"
"Please, sir, if it can be settled out here--"
"As you choose. Be kind enough to answer but one question, whether you know the present residence of a certain Herr Lorinser--"
A deep flush suddenly crimsoned her face, her eyes which had hitherto flickered with a strange restless light, now glowed with a sullen angry fire, and her hand trembled on the door. She was evidently obliged to reflect before she could reply.
"Why do you ask this question?" she said in a low, hurried tone. "But come in. Here in the public entry--"
He followed her into the ante-room, and she closed the door behind them, but remained on the threshold and did not invite him to sit down.
"Fräulein," he began, "I have a personal matter to settle with this man. He vanished for some months and has now appeared again, and as no one can help me on the track--for I suppose he has not used his real name again in the city--"
"But why do you come to me? Who told you--?"
"Some one who means well toward you and deeply regrets all that has occurred."
"I know whom you mean: Frau Valentin. Ha! ha!" she exclaimed, with a sudden change of tone, "so it is she! And she means well toward me! Why yes, as she understands it, so she does! When I went to her again and wanted to work--for I thought she would surely receive me, though old acquaintances would have nothing more to do with me--I was met with only a shrug of the shoulders and a stern face; she was very sorry, but she couldn't give her other seamstresses such an example--then a few thalers were pressed into my hand and a recommendation to some house of correction. First I wept--then laughed, as I always laugh now when I hear that these religious people mean well toward us. Go back again and tell her--"
"Pray, Fräulein," he interrupted, "let's keep to the point. That wolf in the sheep's clothing of humility, that vender of souls, who treated you so shamefully--"
"I'll neither see nor hear anything of him!" she exclaimed violently. "I'd rather die, than be compelled to meet this man but for whom I--but pshaw, it's not worth while to get angry about it. I was a simple child, I believed everything I was told, now I no longer believe in anything, neither in heaven nor in hell, only in the little space here on earth, where I'll not allow my peace to be destroyed. Excuse me, sir, for receiving you so uncourteously but I'm not yet dressed and am going to Elysium--a concert and ball--we can't be young but once. If you want to know where the Herr Candidat lives--he no longer calls himself Lorinser, but has taken the name of Moser--there's his card, on which he wrote his address. He said his first visit was to me, that he still loved me and would prove it and provide for me. But as I said before, I'd rather jump out of the window than have anything more to do with the abominable scoundrel. Perhaps"--and she lowered her voice a moment--"perhaps there's some truth in the tales about the other world and the last judgment. But if I'm condemned, then I'll open my mouth and tell what I know; what I was, and what I have become, and through whom. Here, sir, here's the card, and now--"
She opened the door, bowed with an easy grace, and took leave of Mohr, who fluent of speech as he usually was, remained silent from deep compassion for the poor lost girl.
The clock struck seven as he left the dwelling, and night had closed in. The house whose number was written on the card, stood at the eastern end of the city, and he felt somewhat exhausted by the many excitements of the day. Yet he could not make up his mind to defer his visit until the morrow, and therefore threw himself into a droschky, and drove through the dark streets absorbed in thought.
At last he paused before a neat two story dwelling, and by the light of a lantern read the name of the owner under the night-bell, and above the word "Rentier." In reply to his ring, a maid-servant appeared, and positively refused to admit him. Her master and mistress were just at prayers with the gentleman who rented the upper room, and she was not allowed to announce any one.
"And you must not announce me either, my pet," Mohr calmly replied, pressing a thaler into her hand. "I want to surprise them. I'm a very intimate friend of the Herr Candidat, and he'll be wonderfully delighted when he sees me enter so unexpectedly. When I've once found him, I'll let him continue his prayer without interruption."
The girl did not mark the tone of savage sarcasm, in which these words were uttered, but took it all for coin as good as the thaler she held in her hand. She lighted the generous visitor up to the second story and with a smile of secret understanding pointed to the door, through which a strange dull buzzing sound was heard.
Mohr distinctly recognized the voice of the man whom he had pursued for months with unquenchable hate. The blood rushed to his head, and he needed several minutes delay to regain even the appearance of calmness. "Go, my good child," said he. "I need no farther help to find my way."
After she had gone, he listened a few moments longer. Lorinser seemed to be reading aloud from some book of devotion, and at intervals came long drawn regular tones, like a person snoring. Mohr softly grasped the handle of the door and opened it so noiselessly, that he stood in the room for some time before those present perceived him. Lorinser sat on a wide sofa, the lower half of his face was shaded by a heavy black beard which made him almost unrecognizable, and his closely cropped hair was covered with a three cornered black velvet cap, which worn as it was far back upon the head exposed the high polished brow. Nestling beside him in very unequivocal proximity, sat a pretty young woman who seemed to be looking at the book also and eagerly following the words, while she held his hand firmly clasped in hers. An elderly man with a simple narrow-minded face was leaning back in a large arm-chair, and accompanied the reading with his peaceful snores. Mohr needed but one glance to understand the condition of affairs.
"Don't let me disturb you," he said suddenly in the most courteous tone. "I merely wish to say a few words in private to Herr Candidat Moser."
Lorinser started up, the young wife uttered a cry and let fall his hand, the sleeper rubbed his eyes in astonishment. For a moment it seemed as if all three had been petrified by the sudden appearance of the stranger. Mohr did not grudge himself the mischievous pleasure afforded by the scene, but quietly approached a step nearer and bowed to the mistress of the house.
"Whom do you want here, sir?" asked Lorinser, who had hastily regained: his composure. "I've not the honor of your acquaintance."
"So Peter said," replied Mohr dryly. "But you, I hope, will remember me before the cock crows. Permit me to take a seat. Will you have the kindness to introduce me to the company, or shall I do it myself?"
"This insolence goes too far," muttered Lorinser, who had grown deadly pale. "Do you presume, sir, to force your way into a stranger's house and disturb the devotions of the family without apology?"
"I do, my worthy sir. The night will be long enough to continue that which, to my great regret, I've interrupted. I desire only a quarter of an hour of your precious time--and will not disturb you longer."
The young wife had turned away to conceal her embarrassment, and now glided out of the room. Her husband prepared to follow her.
"Stay," exclaimed Lorinser, still clinging to the mask of indignation. "You must bear witness, my dear friend--"
"As you choose, my good fellow," said Mohr with icy composure. "It will be a favor to me if the gentleman will make a record of our treaty. To begin: in the first place--I've just come from Fräulein Johanne--"
He looked Lorinser steadily in the eye, and the effect produced by this name was fully equal to his expectations. A short pause ensued, then Lorinser whispered something in the ear of his host, and the latter with a submissive bend of the head, left the room.
They were scarcely alone, when Mohr drew his box of Latakia out of his pocket and began to make a cigarette. "You'll permit me to smoke I hope," he said affably to his silent companion. "The air here is abominably bad, the breath of heaven and hell mixed; I am afraid of the contagion and should like to disenfect myself."
Lorinser's eyes were fixed upon the floor. Not a muscle of his rigid face betrayed the feelings that were aroused by this visit. But when Mohr had lighted his cigarette, he said with a slight cough: "I must beg you to be brief, I don't like this odor."
"As brief as possible, my dear fellow," answered Mohr phlegmatically. "You'll give me credit for having troubled myself about you only for very serious motives, not merely from a desire to continue an acquaintance which is utterly uninteresting to me. The class of human beings to which you belong is, thank God, by no means numerous, but sufficiently well known for it to be a mere waste of time to study it. Goethe has described it admirably in Faust; you remember the passage where he speaks of a certain abortion. Even the manner of playing you represent, is not new. Zacharias Werner and others are your predecessors, so you've not even the merit of originality, but are simply a second-hand scoundrel."
"I only wish to observe," began Lorinser without losing his composure, "that we will suppose you to have poured forth all your invectives and come to the point at once. I'm accustomed to insults, and console myself by thinking, that far more holy men, nay our Saviour himself--"
"Beautiful!" interrupted Mohr. "But one good turn deserves another. I'll avoid every incivility except those which the mere business in hand may entail, and you'll promise me not to again desecrate in my presence a name so venerated as that of the founder of the Christian religion by uttering it with your lips. I confess my weakness; it makes me fairly sick, when I hear that a--how shall I express it--a poor sinner--that's not insulting--is playing a blasphemous farce in the name of that sublime sufferer and champion of humanity. So we're agreed? Very well. And now we'll proceed at once to business. Do you know this?" He put his hand into his breast pocket; Lorinser involuntarily shrank back.
"Calm yourself," said Mohr with a scornful laugh. "I've no pistol in my pocket, to aim at your breast and force you to a full confession. I despise such melodramatic means, which moreover would undoubtedly fail if directed toward such a holy man, to whom a martyr's crown would be a fitting reward. What I've brought here, is only a little book, a neat pocket edition of Thomas á Kempis. Your name is written on the first page, I mean your real name, before you believed in a second baptism and exchanged the somewhat foul old Adam of your 'Lorinser' for a speck and span 'Moser.' Do you recognize the little book?"
He held it out, and when the other had assented to the question with a silent bend of the head, laid it on the table. "Thank you," he continued; "you'll make this business easier for both of us, if you'll drop all unavailing and useless lies. I found this little book in a room in Dorotheenstrasse, from which on the day of your nocturnal visit, a lady in whom I'm interested, disappeared. I was fortunate enough to find her two nights after, and, as you're perhaps unaware, with dripping garments and in a very silent mood. We worked for five hours to obtain the smallest word. When she at last decided to open her eyes and lips, of course there was no mention of you. But the little Thomas à Kempis, probably in revenge for having been taken in paths where there can be no question of the 'Imitation of Christ,' committed the indiscretion of gossiping; the old maid-servant, who unlocked the room for you in the evening and saw you creep out again at a much later hour--you probably supposed you'd be seen only by God, who is already accustomed to close his eyes to your doings--this worthy person, I say, in reply to my questions, told me all and then suffered her mouth to be sealed forever. So there are only four persons who know this secret of that night. Three of them have good reasons to keep silence; but the fourth might in some devilish mood, against which we must be on our guard, or for some 'benevolent' or profligate object, tell the tale. To prevent this, my dear fellow, you'll say to that fourth person, that I am determined in such a case to stop his mouth forever, by shooting him down like a mad dog or finding some other way to silence him. You've understood me? A syllable, a wink, a shrug of the shoulders, which would impugn that lady's honor, and you'll receive a passport into the better world." He was silent, as if he expected some explicit answer. Lorinser had leaned his head back and was gazing at the ceiling. He coughed several times and passed his long, pliant fingers through his beard.
"And is this all that has brought you to me?" he asked after a pause. "I hope you admire the patience, with which I listen to your disconnected fancies; but I beg you not to abuse it." Mohr looked at him with icy contempt.
"You are a precious rascal," said he. "Under other circumstances I should wonder at the iron mask Mother Nature has put in the place where other men wear their faces. But, as I said before, the atmosphere here is so unpleasant that I'll limit myself to the most necessary words. So in brief: do you know the present abode of the lady who is the subject of our conversation?"
"No."
"Have you determined never to inquire for her?"
"Why should I, since I no longer have any relations with this lady?"
"No longer have any relations? You express yourself admirably. But are you also disposed to bind yourself, if by accident you ever meet her again, to leave the place and the city at once and avoid her for all future time?"
"A singular obligation. You expect me to subject myself to all the inconveniences--"
"I regret that I'm compelled to still further increase these obligations. You must also forever renounce the pleasure of seeing me with a solemn oath--although the peculiar relation in which you stand toward your God, considerably weakens the value such vows usually have between men of honor. However, I've means to compel you to keep your promise."
"I should be glad to learn what they are."
"With pleasure, honored sir. Unfortunately, I'm unable to give you without ceremony the chastisement you deserve, as we crush a venomous reptile under foot. It would expose me to all sorts of unpleasantnesses, and as I still have duties toward my fellow men, I must avoid as long as possible the extreme measures which would bring me in conflict with the criminal courts. However, although vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,' I feel a repugnance to seeing a good for nothing fellow, like you, roaming about at large, and as the arm of civil justice is either too short or too clumsy to seize such clever criminals, I've resolved to set in motion against you a noiseless and silentvehm-gericht. Whenever I meet you in the future, I shall brand you without mercy--in what manner will depend upon the inspiration of the moment. But out of the world in which I live you must go!" he exclaimed, suddenly raising his voice almost to a shout, as he rose and threw his cigarette away. "Do you clearly understand me? I will not tolerate your presence, will persecute you until you no longer poison the air I breathe; perhaps the simplest way therefore, would be for you to decide without much hesitation to emigrate to America, and join the Mormons, a vocation for which you've all sorts of valuable qualifications, in case you don't prefer Cayenne, a region in which home missions still have a fine field."
A pause ensued. The two mortal enemies looked each other steadily in the face.
"And if," said Lorinser at last, "instead of taking advantage of all these benevolent counsels, I prefer to inform the police to-morrow morning, that a madman broke into my house with threats and attempts at intimidation, and request protection against this violence? Certain private affairs, over which you seem to have excellent reasons for drawing a veil, would probably not withhold me from procuring myself peace at any price."
"Atanyprice? That might perhaps be somewhat costly for you. Or would you like, in answer to this notice, a complaint to be entered by an honored patroness--on account of the embezzlement of money entrusted to you for the poor?"
"Embezzlement!" exclaimed Lorinser, starting up. For the first time during the whole conversation the iron mask fell, and his real face appeared, disfigured by the most violent distortions.
"Embezzlement?" he repeated. "What ridiculous words you use; they serve to show how far you are from understanding a nature like mine! Or no: you're probably well aware whom you have before you, one of the elect, who pass through life enwrapped by the atmosphere of the supernatural, and do not think themselves compelled to keep always in the straight roads made for sober children of the world. What is money to us? A wretched, despicable necessity, as worthless as the other conditions of this poor clay! He who never rises from the dust, may allow himself to be a slave, watch pennies and reckon shillings. But should he who offers the poor treasures with full hands, those treasures which neither morth nor rust corrupt, opens heaven to them, and raises them out of all anxiety and trouble into the fulness of eternal life, scruple to receive from them what the lowest and basest human beings can give each other, coined metal or stamped paper, and haggle over his daily bread by mouthfuls with those who must forever remain his debtors? Would you come to such a man with accusations about careless bookkeeping, which to be sure to the petty souls in this world of trade seems to be the only sin againsttheirholy spirit?"
"Bravo!" replied Mohr dryly. "You've memorized your part well and delivered your little speech bravely. But it can't produce an effect on every audience. These magnificent views of the work and money, which you share with all interpreters of dreams, alchymists, and false profits, from Mohammed down to our own times; this artless pilfering of enthusiastic innocence, which in its blindness so eagerly seizes the most glittering baits, may suit those who cling to you and find their interest in being preyed upon by you.Volenti non fit injuria--you've probably learned so muchJus. But the good Frau Valentin, who is not in love with you, does not stand on the same theological soil, or desire to purchase any religious enlightenment for hard cash, looks at the matter from the standpoint of common plebeian honesty. I think you've some idea of what people call honesty and good faith. The excellent soul, in her narrow mindedness, holds fast to these and thinks that he to whom she has given money for her poor, is a miserable cheat, when he uses these funds to defray his own expenses and pays for oysters and Rhine wine to the honor of God."
"You're a devil!" muttered Lorinser grinding his teeth.
"I never considered myself an angel," replied Mohr, still in the calmest possible tone. "But at least I hope to be no stupid devil. You've seen," he continued, as he again opened his tobacco box, "I'm tolerably skillful in the art of rolling cigarettes. If the one now in process of being made, is completed before you've given your consent to my very reasonable compromise, I shall go straight from this sacred place to the profane dwelling of a magistrate with whom I'm very well acquainted. You don't smoke yourself? A pity! It's often very useful to aid one in keeping cool. Blücher smoked in every battle."
A suppressed snort of fury came from the dark end of the apartment, whither the other had retired. Suddenly he rushed to the door and flung it wide open. "Leave this room!" he shouted in so loud a tone, that any listeners outside could not fail to hear it. "That we never meet again shall be my care."
"Thank you," replied Mohr, putting on his hat. "The cigarette is just finished. I knew we should come to an understanding.Intelligenti panca.You're too polite; you need not so courteously open the door for me. I know the rule of all ghosts and spirits, that they must go out the same way they came in. There! And now success to you devoutness."
Without vouchsafing another glance to his conquered foe, he walked passed him with the calmest possible expression of countenance, while Lorinser, trembling from head to foot with passion, stood beside the door with clenched lists and slammed it violently behind his enemy. When Mohr was going down stairs, he fancied he heard a low groan of fury, such as might be uttered by a wild beast that has fallen into a pit. An expression of bitter loathing passed over his stern face, and his underlip curled with scorn. When he again stood in the cold dark street, he paused, drew a long breath, extended his muscular arms as if to throw off an unendurable burden, and for a moment closed his eyes.
"Where shall I go now?" escaped his lips. "Wither turn to regain what is lost? No, not lost forever! If I'm forced to search the earth to its remotest confines I shall find her, I must, Iwillfind her. Poor, poor woman! I will give you peace, so far as is possible for men to know peace against devils!"
He walked on a few steps, absorbed in deep thought, then paused suddenly and passed his hand across his brow. "Good Heavens! I had nearly forgotten it while occupied with all this baseness; Edwin and Leah receive their friends to-night! I'll go there. I must see some good people, to restore my faith in humanity."
And whistling the adagio from the symphony in C. minor--his invariable remedy when he wanted to drive a bitter taste from his tongue--he turned toward the zaunkönig's little house.