This forest loneliness had, however, something fascinating in it. It was touched by the first slight breath of autumn; that touch which has not yet brought withering and death, but has only steeped the landscape in richer coloring. Here and there brilliant red and gold flashed through the bushes, but the forest itself still rested fresh and aromatic in its green dusk.
Beneath the crowns of the century-old trees bending gracefully toward each other, deep, cool shadows glided, and in the openings golden sunshine lay glistening on the flowers which bloomed here in the light. Occasionally in the distance the bright mirror of a small pond glittered, resting lonely, as if lost in the midst of the deep forest.
Through the profound quiet all around could be heard the low rustling of the mighty trees and the humming and singing of thousands of insects that seemed to float upon the rays of the sun: all of those mysterious voices which are heard only in solitude--the sweet, dreamy language of the forest. It lured and coaxed irresistibly with its green depths, which stretched endlessly, always further and further, as if it wished to keep forever within its charm the two now walking through it.
But suddenly quite an unexpected obstacle appeared before them. Dashing and roaring from the thickly grown heights, a broad forest brook made a way for itself with merry haste through bushes and rocks.
Rojanow paused in his walk and took in the situation with a quick glance, but as nowhere could a ford or bridge be discovered, he turned to his companion.
"I fear we are in trouble; the brook seems to put an end to our path. It is usually easy to cross on the moss-covered stones at the bottom, with some care, but yesterday's rain has covered them completely."
The young lady was looking anxiously for some crossing place. "Would it not be possible further down?" she asked, pointing down the stream.
"No, for the water is deeper and more rapid there. We must cross here at this place. Of course, you cannot go through the water. You will permit me, Fraulein, to carry you over?"
The offer was made with perfect courtesy and reserve, but Rojanow's eyes flashed triumphantly. Chance was avenging him now on the unapproachable one, who would not suffer his assistance even in the disengaging of her veil from a thorn bush. She had now to entrust herself unconditionally to his help, there was no choice but to allow herself to be carried in his arms to the other bank.
He drew near as if the permission sought had been granted, but she recoiled.
"I thank you, Herr Rojanow."
Hartmut smiled with an irony which he took no pains to conceal. He was master of the situation now and intended to remain so.
"Do you desire to turn back?" he asked. "More than an hour would be lost, whereas if we cross here the other side will be reached in a few moments. You can trust yourself to my arms without fear--the crossing will be quite without danger."
"I think so, too," was the calm reply, "and therefore I shall try it alone."
"Alone? That is impossible, Fraulein!"
"Impossible to walk through a forest brook? I do not consider that a particularly heroic deed."
"But the water is deeper than you think. You will get a thorough wetting, and besides--it is really impossible."
"I am not effeminate in the least and do not catch cold easily. Be so kind as to go first. I will follow."
That was plain enough, and sounded so commanding that remonstrance was not possible. Hartmut bowed a silent assent and waded through the water, which could do no damage to his high hunting boots.
It was indeed, rather deep and violent, so that he had to be careful in getting a firm foothold upon the stones. A slight smile played around his lips as he stood on the other bank and awaited his companion, who had refused his protection so haughtily. Let her try coming alone; the water would frighten her; she would not be able to battle with it, and would be compelled to call him to help her in spite of her reluctance.
She had followed him without hesitation. With her delicate, thin boots offering no resistance whatever, she already stood in the water, which was cold, but she seemed scarcely to feel it. Catching up her dress with both hands, she advanced carefully and slowly, but quite surely, to the middle of the brook.
But here in the midst of the dashing, foaming flood, it required the firm step of a man to hold its own. The slender, soft foot of the lady searched in vain for a hold upon the slippery stones. The high heels of the dainty boots were as much of a detriment as the dress, the hem of which was caught by the waves.
The courageous pedestrian apparently lost the confidence hitherto displayed. She slipped several times and finally stood still. A questioning glance flew over to the bank where Rojanow stood, firmly decided not to lift his hand to help her until she asked for it.
She may have read this resolution in his eyes, and it seemed to give her back instantly her failing strength. She stood immovable a moment, but the determined expression in her features was in full play. Suddenly she slipped from the flooded stones into water a foot deep, where she now, indeed, gained terra firma directly on the bottom of the brook, and could walk unmolested to the other bank. She grasped a branch of a tree, instead of Hartmut's offered hand, and by its aid swung herself to dry land.
Naturally she was very wet. The water ran from her dress, which she had released from her grasp without consideration, but with perfect unconcern she turned to her escort and said: "Shall we continue on our way? It cannot be very far to Furstenstein."
Hartmut did not return a syllable, but something like hatred sprang up within him for this woman, who would rather slip into the cold flood than trust herself to his arms. The proud, spoiled man whose brilliant traits had heretofore won all hearts, felt so much more keenly the humiliation which was forced upon him here. He almost cursed the whole encounter.
They walked on. From time to time Rojanow threw a glance upon the heavy, wet hem of the dress which trailed on the ground beside him, but otherwise he bestowed his whole attention upon the surroundings, which seemed to get lighter. This forest thickness must end some time!
His supposition was correct. He had been successful in his leadership, for the path taken at random proved the right one. In about ten minutes they stood upon a slight elevation which offered a free outlook. Over yonder, above an ocean of treetops, rose the towers of Furstenstein, while a broad road, which could be plainly seen, wound to the foot of the castle mount.
"There is Furstenstein," said Hartmut, turning for the first time to his companion, "although it will be about half an hour's walk from here."
"That is of no consequence," she interrupted him quickly. "I am very grateful to you for your guidance, but I cannot now miss the road, and I should not like to trouble you further."
"As you wish, gracious Fraulein," Rojanow said, coldly. "If you desire to dismiss your guide here he will not force himself upon you."
The reproach was understood. The young lady herself might feel that a man who had guided her through the forest for hours might well deserve a different dismissal, even if she found it necessary to keep him at a distance.
"I have already detained you too long," she said graciously, "and since you have introduced yourself, Herr Rojanow, let me give you my name also before we part--Adelaide von Wallmoden."
Hartmut started slightly and a burning blush covered his face as he repeated slowly, "Wallmoden!"
"Is the name familiar to you?"
"I believe I have heard it before, but it was in--in North Germany."
"Most probably, for that is my husband's home."
Unmistakable surprise was depicted in Rojanow's face as the supposed young girl announced herself a married woman, but he bowed politely.
"Then I beg your pardon, gracious lady, for the wrong address. I could not anticipate that you were married. In any case, I have not the honor of knowing your husband even by name, for the gentleman who was then known to me was already advanced in years. He belonged to the diplomatic corps, and his name was, if I am not mistaken, Herbert von Wallmoden."
"Quite right; my husband is at present Ambassador at the court of this country. But he will be anxious about my long stay. I must not tarry longer. Once again, my thanks, Herr Rojanow."
She bowed slightly and took the descending road. Hartmut stood motionless, looking after her, but an ashy paleness was on his face.
So--he had hardly set foot upon German soil before there met him a name and connection with old times which was at least painfully disagreeable to him.
Herbert von Wallmoden, brother of Frau von Eschenhagen, guardian of Willibald, and friend of----
Rojanow suddenly broke off in his thoughts, for a sharp, painful stab sank into his breast.
As if to throw something from him he straightened himself, and again the harsh, offensive sarcasm trembled around his lips, over which he had such masterly command.
"Uncle Wallmoden has made a fine career at least," he murmured, "and seems to have had good luck besides. His hair must have been gray a long time, and yet with it he conquers a young, beautiful girl. Of course an ambassador is always a good match, hence the cool, aristocratic manner which does not consider it worth the while to bend to other mortals. Probably the diplomatic school of the husband has educated his chosen one especially for this position. Well, he has succeeded admirably."
His eyes still followed the young wife, who had already reached the foot of the hill, but now a deep furrow appeared in his brow.
"If I should meet Wallmoden here--and it can scarcely be avoided--he will recognize me beyond a doubt. If he then tells her the truth--if she learns what has happened--and looks at me again with that look of contempt----" In wild, out-breaking wrath he stamped his foot upon the ground, then laughed bitterly.
"Pah! what do I care? What does this blond, blue-eyed race, with their indolent, cold blood, know of the longing for freedom--of the storm of passions--of life in general? Let them pass judgment upon me! I do not fear the meeting. I shall know how to hold my own."
Throwing back his head in proud defiance, he turned his back upon the slender female figure yet visible, and walked back into the forest.
At the home of the Chief of all the foresters, the talked-of family fête for which Wallmoden and his young wife had expressly come, had taken place according to programme, and the lord of Burgsdorf and Antonie von Schonan were formally betrothed.
The young couple had long known that they were intended for each other, and were perfectly contented therewith.
Willibald, like a good son, was still of the opinion that the selection of his future wife was solely the business of his mother, and he had quietly waited until she found it convenient to betroth him. Still it was agreeable to him that it was just Cousin Toni he was to marry.
He had known her since their childhood; she suited him admirably, and what was of some importance, she made no demands for the romantic part of the engagement, which, with the best will in the world, he could not have complied with.
Toni exhibited the good taste which Frau Regine credited her with. Willy pleased her very much, and the prospect of becoming mistress of stately Burgsdorf pleased her still better. So all was in perfect accord.
The betrothed couple were at present in the reception room where the piano stood and Antonie was entertaining her betrothed with music at the request of her father. She herself considered music a very tiresome and superfluous affair; but the Chief Forester had insisted that his daughter should demonstrate not only her ability as a housekeeper, but that she had also been educated in the higher arts.
He was walking up and down the terrace with his sister-in-law, with the original intention of listening to the music, but instead of that they were quarreling again, although they had started out with a peaceful conversation about the happiness of the children. This time the quarrel seemed to be of a very violent nature.
"I really do not know what to think of you, Moritz," said Frau von Eschenhagen with a very red face. "You do not seem to have any sense of the impropriety of this acquaintance. When I ask you who this bosom friend of Toni's really is--the one who is expected at Waldhofen--you answer me in the calmest manner possible that she is a singer, and recently engaged at the Court Theatre. An actress! a theatre princess! one of those frivolous creatures----"
"But, Regine, do not get so excited," interrupted von Schonan vexedly. "You act as though the poor thing was already lost body and soul, because she has appeared on the stage."
"So she is," declared Regine; "whoever once enters this Sodom and Gomorrah is not to be saved--they go to their ruin there."
"Very flattering to our Court Theatre," said Schonan drily. "Besides, all of us go there."
"As audience--that is quite different. But I have always been against it. Willy has been allowed to attend the theatre but seldom, and then only in my company; but while I fulfil my maternal duty, conscientiously protecting my son from any touch with those circles, you give his future wife over freely to their poisonous influences. It is worthy of a cry to heaven!"
Her voice had grown very loud, partly through indignation and partly that she might be heard, for the musical performance in the room, whose glass doors stood wide open, was of a rather loud nature.
The young lady had a somewhat hard touch and her performance reminded one of the working of an ax in hard wood. Although her three listeners had strong nerves, a low conversation had become an impossibility.
"Let me explain this matter to you," said the Chief Forester pacifyingly. "I have already told you that this case is an exception. Marietta Volkmar is the granddaughter of our good old physician at Waldhofen. He had the misfortune to lose his son in the prime of life--the young widow followed her husband in the next year, and their child, the little orphan, came to her grandfather. That happened when I was promoted here to Furstenstein, ten years ago. Dr. Volkmar became my house physician; his granddaughter the playmate of my children, and because the school in Waldhofen was very poor, I offered to let the little one participate in the lessons of my children. The friendship dates from then.
"Later on, when Toni was sent to boarding school for two years, and Marietta went to the city for her musical education, this daily intercourse was, of course, broken, but Marietta visits us regularly when she comes to her grandfather during her vacations, and I do not see why I should prohibit it as long as the girl remains good and true."
Frau von Eschenhagen had listened to the explanation without abating her severity in the least, and now she laughed ironically.
"Good and true at the theatre! One knows how things go there, but you seem to take it just as easy as this Dr. Volkmar, who looks so venerable with his white hair, and yet consents to his granddaughter--a young soul entrusted to his care--going on the path to destruction."
Herr von Schonan made an impatient gesture.
"Regine, you are usually such a sensible woman, but you have never wished to be reasonable on this point. The theatre and everything connected with it has always been under a ban to you. The decision has not been an easy one for the doctor. I know that; and if one like me can sit in the warm nest and support one's children, one should not break the staff over other parents who struggle with bitter cares. Volkmar still works night and day with all his seventy years, but the practice brings him but little, for our vicinity is poor, and Marietta will be quite without means after his death."
"She ought to have become a governess or companion, then; that is a decent vocation."
"But a miserable vocation. One knows well how the poor things are treated and overworked. If a child of mine, whom I loved, had to decide her lot in life, and it was told me that she had a fortune in her throat and that a splendid future was assured her--well, I should let her go on the stage, depend upon that."
This confession knocked the bottom out of the barrel. Frau Regine stood for a moment quite still in affright; then she said solemnly: "Moritz, I shudder at you."
"I don't care. If it gives you any pleasure to shudder, keep at it; but if Marietta comes to Furstenstein as usual, I shall not repulse her, and I also have nothing against Toni's going to see her in Waldhofen."
Herr von Schonan had also to speak very loud, for his daughter was pounding the keys so that the windows rattled, and the strings of the piano were seriously endangered. The Chief Forester, while in the heat of the controversy, noticed this as little as did his sister-in-law, who now replied with much sharpness:
"Well, then, it is at least a good thing that Toni is to marry soon. Then the friendship with this theatre princess will come to an end, depend upon that. Such guests are not suffered at our respectable Burgsdorf, and Willy will not allow his wife the correspondence which seems now to be going on at a lively rate."
"That means thatyouwill not allow it," shouted von Schonan, mockingly. "Willy has nothing to forbid or allow; he is only the obedient servant of his gracious Frau Mamma. It is unjustifiable how you keep that boy under your thumb when he is of age, betrothed, and soon to be a husband."
Frau von Eschenhagen, offended, straightened herself.
"I believe I am more conscientious with my responsibilities than you are. Do you wish to reproach me for raising my son with filial reverence and love?"
"Oh, well; there is a point where conscientiousness ceases and maltreating commences. You have already made Willy quite silly with your eternal supervision. He did not dare to even propose on his own account; when the matter began to get too long for you, you interfered as usual. 'Why these preliminaries, children? You shall have each other--you wish it, your parents consent, you have my blessing--therefore kiss each other and bring the thing to an end.' That is your standpoint. I, too, had filial reverence and affection, but if my parents had come into my wooing like that they would have heard something very different. But Willy accepted it calmly. I truly believe he was glad that he did not have to make a formal proposal."
The excitement of the twain had again risen to the boiling point, and it was now well that the noise inside had so increased that they could not hear each other further.
Fraulein Antonie had strength at least in her hands, and as she seemed to consider that the most important thing, her performance sounded as if a regiment of soldiers were storming an attack.
It was too much for her father. He suddenly broke off the conversation and entered the room.
"But, Toni, you do not need to break the new piano," he said with vexation. "What piece are you playing?"
Toni sat at the piano, laboring in the sweat of her brow; not far removed sat her betrothed upon a sofa, his head supported by his arm and eyes shaded by his hand, apparently quite entranced with the music.
The young lady turned at her father's question and said in her usual slow voice, "I was playing the March of the Janissaries, papa. I thought it would please Willy, since he, too, has been a soldier."
"So? But he served as a dragoon," muttered Schonan, approaching his future son-in-law, who did not seem to appreciate the delicate attention, for he gave no sign of approval.
"Willy, what do you say to it? Willy, do you not hear? I actually believe he has fallen asleep."
Alas! the supposition proved correct. While the March of the Janissaries thundered over the keys, Willy had softly and sweetly fallen asleep, slumbering so soundly that he did not even now awake. This seemed too much for his mother, who had also approached. She grasped his arm sharply.
"But, Willy, whatever does this mean? Are you not ashamed of yourself?"
The young lord, shaken and scolded on all sides, finally aroused himself and sleepily gazed around. "What--what shall I---- Yes, it was beautiful, dear Toni."
"I believe it," cried the Chief with an angry laugh. "Do not trouble yourself to play any more, my child. Come, we will let your groom-elect have his nap out in peace. He has good nerves; one must confess that."
Saying which he took his daughter's arm and left the room, where the fullest maternal wrath now broke over poor Willibald. Frau von Eschenhagen, already provoked by the preceding conversation, did not spare her son, but justified only too well the reproaches of her brother-in-law. She scolded the engaged and soon-to-be-a-husband young man like a schoolboy.
"This surpasses everything conceivable," she concluded in highest indignation. "Your father was not very much at courting, but if he, after two days' betrothal, had fallen asleep while I was entertaining him with my music, I should have aroused him very unceremoniously. Now, do you go immediately to your fiancée and beg her pardon. She is quite right to feel offended."
With which she grasped him by the shoulder and pushed him very emphatically toward the door.
Willy accepted it all very humbly and remorsefully, for he was indeed shocked at his untimely slumber; but he could not help it--he had been so sleepy and the music was so wearying.
Quite crushed, he entered the next room, where Toni stood, rather offended, at the window.
"Dear Toni, do not think hard of me," he began hesitatingly; "it was so hot and your playing had something so pacifying."
Toni turned. That this march, with her playing of it, should be pacifying was new to her; but when she saw the crushed mien of her betrothed, who stood like a prisoner before her, her good nature conquered, and she held out her hand.
"No, I am not angry with you, Willy," she said cordially. "I do not care either for the stupid music. We will do something more sensible when we are at Burgsdorf."
"Yes, that we will," exclaimed Willy, joyfully pressing the offered hand. He had not yet aspired to even a kiss upon the hand. "You are so good, Toni."
When Frau von Eschenhagen entered soon afterward, she found the couple in perfect harmony, engaged in a highly interesting conversation about dairy affairs, which were somewhat different in the two localities of Burgsdorf and Furstenstein. This was a subject over which Willy did not fall asleep, and his mother congratulated herself secretly upon this splendid daughter-in-law, who showed no inconvenient sensitiveness.
The young man found opportunity almost directly to prove himself grateful for the indulgence of his betrothed. Toni complained that a package which she had ordered and which was needed for the supper table had not yet come. It had arrived safely at the post office, but, it seemed, with a wrong address, and had not been delivered to the messenger, who in the meantime had been dispatched elsewhere. No other servant was at liberty to go, and the time of need for it was drawing near. Willibald hastened to offer his services, which were joyfully accepted by his fiancée.
Waldhofen was the most important village of the vicinity, but still only a small place. It was about half an hour's distance from Furstenstein and formed a kind of centre for all the scattered villages and hamlets of the Wald.
It looked very desolate and forlorn during the afternoon hours, when nobody was on the streets; so thought Herr von Eschenhagen as he walked across the market place, where the post office was situated.
He finished the errand which had brought him to Waldhofen, and found a man to carry the parcel to the castle. Then, since the streets of the quiet little place offered no diversion, he turned into a lane which led to the high road behind the gardens of the houses.
The path was rather boggy; yesterday's rain had made it quite without a foothold in places. Yet Willibald was farmer enough not to care about such things, but marched on unconcernedly.
He was in an exceedingly happy mood. It was surely a pleasant thing to be betrothed, and he did not doubt in the least that he would lead a very happy life in the future with his good Toni.
At this moment a carriage came toward him, making its way laboriously through the boggy soil, and apparently bringing travellers, for a large trunk was strapped on behind, and the inside seemed to contain various travelling appurtenances.
Willibald could not help wondering why they used this lane, which, in its present condition, was very tiresome; indeed the driver seemed dissatisfied. He turned in his seat to consult with the traveller, who so far had not been visible.
"It really does not go any further, Fraulein. I told you so before. We cannot get through here, the wheels stick in the mud. We are in a fix now."
"But it is not far now," said a fresh voice from the inside; "only a few hundred paces. Just try it again."
"What is not possible is not possible," returned the driver with philosophical composure. "We cannot get through that mire before us; we must turn back."
"But I do not wish to drive through town." The voice had a spice of defiance in it now. "If it is not possible to drive on, I shall dismount."
The driver stopped, the door was opened, and a light, slender figure sprang from the carriage with such sure aim as to reach a higher spot across the mire. There she remained and glanced around searchingly: but as the lane made a bend nearby, only a little of it could be overlooked. The young lady seemed to observe this with dissatisfaction. Then her glance fell upon Herr von Eschenhagen, who, approaching from the other direction, now reached the bend.
"Please, mein Herr, is the lane passable?" she called. He did not answer directly, being petrified with admiration of her daring and graceful jump. Why, she flew through the air like a feather and yet stood firm and safe upon her feet where she landed.
"Do you not hear?" repeated the Fraulein impatiently; "I asked if the lane is passable."
"Yes, I have walked over it," said Willibald, somewhat confused by the dictatorial questioning.
"I see that, but I have no boots like yours and cannot wade through the mire. Is it possible to pass along the hedges? Great heavens! at least answer me."
"I--I believe so. It is somewhat dry over yonder."
"Well, I shall try, then. Turn back, driver, and deliver my baggage at the post office. I will send for it. Wait, I will take that satchel with me. Hand it across."
"But the satchel is too heavy for you, Fraulein," remonstrated the driver, "and I cannot leave the horses alone."
"Well, then, this gentleman will carry it for me. It is not far to our garden. Please, mein Herr, take the satchel, the small one upon the back seat with the black leather lining. But do make haste."
The little foot stamped the ground impatiently, for the young lord stood there with open mouth. He could not comprehend how a total stranger could dispose of him so nonchalantly, nor how so young a girl could command in such a way.
At the last very ungracious words, however, he made haste to approach and take the designated satchel, which seemed the proper thing to be done.
"So," she said shortly. "You, driver, stop at the post office, and now forward into the bogs of Waldhofen!"
She picked up her gray travelling dress and walked close to the hedge, where the road was somewhat higher and dryer.
Willibald, of whom no notice was taken, trotted behind her with the satchel. He had never seen anything so graceful as this slender figure, which did not reach to his shoulder, and he occupied himself in observing this figure, because he had nothing else to do.
The young girl had something exceedingly charming and graceful in her motions, as well as her whole appearance; but the small head, with the dark hair curling from under her hat, was carried with undeniable spirit. The face was rather irregular in outline, but lovely with its dark, roguish eyes, while the small, rosy mouth, around which lay a line of refractory defiance, and the two dimples in the chin, made it perfectly charming. The gray travelling dress, in spite of its plainness, was very tasteful and met the requirements of fashion. The young traveller apparently did not belong to the home-made villagers of Waldhofen.
The road around the corner proved indeed somewhat dryer, but one had to keep to the little, raised path near the hedge and to jump at times over damp places. Conversation was, therefore, not possible, and Willy, in truth, never thought of commencing it. He carried the satchel patiently, accepting just as patiently the fact that his companion did not concern herself in the least about him, until, after ten minutes' walk, they stood at the low gate of a garden.
The young girl bent over the pickets and pushed an inside bolt; then she turned.
"Many thanks, mein Herr. Please give me my satchel now."
In spite of its small dimensions, the bag was rather heavy, much too heavy for the little hands outstretched for it. Willibald was seized with a sudden attack of chivalry--not a usual fault with him--and declared that he would carry it to the house, which was accepted with a gracious nod.
They passed through a small, but carefully kept, garden to an old, plain house, and entered through the back door into a cool, dusky hall, where their arrival was immediately perceived. An old servant rushed out of the kitchen.
"Fraulein! Fraulein Marietta! Have you come already to-day? Ach, what joy----"
She got no further, for Marietta flew to her and pressed her little hand upon her mouth.
"Be still, Babette! Speak quietly; I want to surprise him. Is he at home?"
"Yes, the Herr Doctor is in his study. Do you wish to go there, Fraulein?"
"No; I will steal into the sitting room and sing his favorite song. Careful now, Babette; so that he does not hear us."
Like a fairy she slipped lightly and noiselessly to the other side of the house and opened a door. Babette followed her, not noticing, in the joy and surprise of her Fraulein's return, that some one else stood in the dark hall. The door was left wide open, a chair was carefully moved, and directly a low prelude began in trembling notes, probably from a venerable old piano; but it sounded like the music of a harp, and then a voice arose, clear and sweet and joyous as a lark.
It did not last many minutes, for a door opposite was hastily opened, and a white-haired old man appeared.
"Marietta, my Marietta! is it really you?"
"Grandpapa!" was cried back, joyfully. The song broke off and Marietta threw herself upon her grandfather's neck.
"You naughty child, how you have frightened me!" he scolded, tenderly. "I did not expect you until the day after to-morrow, and intended to meet you at the station. Now I hear your voice, and do not dare to believe my ears."
The young girl laughed merrily as a child. She was more than happy and content.
"Yes, the surprise has been a complete success, grandpapa. I drove into the lane and actually stuck in the bog. I came in the back door. What do you want, Babette?"
"Fraulein, the man who brought the bag is still there," said the old servant, who had but just observed the stranger. "Shall I pay him for you?"
The young lord still stood there with the satchel in his hand. But now Dr. Volkmar turned and exclaimed in great embarrassment: "Gracious heavens! Herr von Eschenhagen!"
"Do you know the gentleman?" Marietta asked without much surprise, for her grandfather was accustomed to meet all of Waldhofen in his office of physician.
"Certainly. Babette, take the valise from the gentleman. I beg your pardon, mein Herr. I did not know that you were already acquainted with my granddaughter."
"No, we are not acquainted in the least," declared the girl. "Will you not present the gentleman to me, grandpapa?"
"Certainly, my child. Herr Willibald von Eschenhagen of Burgsdorf----"
"Toni's betrothed!" interrupted Marietta, gaily. "Oh, how funny that we should meet in the middle of a bog! If I had only known, Herr von Eschenhagen, I would not have treated you so badly. I let you follow me like a regular porter. But why did you not say something?"
Willibald did not say anything now, but looked mutely at the little hand which was cordially extended to him. Feeling that he had to either say or do something, he grasped the rosy little hand in his giant fist and squeezed and shook it heartily.
"Oh!" cried the young lady, retreating horrified; "you have an awful handshake, Herr von Eschenhagen. I believe you have broken my fingers."
Willibald turned red with confusion and stammered an excuse. Fortunately, Dr. Volkmar now invited him to enter, which invitation he accepted silently, and Marietta narrated in a very laughable way her meeting with him. She treated her friend's betrothed like an old acquaintance, for she had long known of their engagement. She asked him about Toni, about the Chief Forester and all the household, her small, red mouth rattling on like a mill wheel.
Still the young lord was almost mute. The clear voice which sounded, even in talking, like the twittering of birds, utterly confused him.
He had only met the doctor yesterday, when the latter had called at Furstenstein. There had been some casual mention of a certain Marietta--a friend of Toni's--but he did not know anything further, for his fiancée was not very communicative.
"And this naughty child allows you to stand in the hall without ceremony, while she seats herself at the piano to notify me of her arrival," said Volkmar, shaking his head. "That was very naughty, Marietta."
The young girl laughed and shook her curly head.
"Oh, Herr von Eschenhagen will not be offended at that, and therefore he may listen while I sing you your favorite song again. You scarcely heard a note of it before. Shall I begin now?"
Without waiting for an answer, she ran to the piano, and again that silvery, clear voice arose, entrancing the ear with its charm. She sang an old, simple carol, but it sounded as soft and sweet and coaxing as if spring and sunshine had suddenly entered the desolate rooms of the old house. It spread sunshine over the face of the old, white-haired man, where many a line of care and anxiety was visible. He listened with a smile, half sad, half happy, to the song which may have reminded him of his youth. But he was not the only attentive listener.
The young lord of Burgsdorf, who two hours previously had fallen asleep amidst the thunders of "The Janissaries' March"--who, in perfect accord with his betrothed, had considered silly music a tiresome thing--now listened to those soft, floating sounds as intently as if they brought him a revelation.
He sat there, bent over, his eyes fixed immovably upon the young girl, who apparently put all her soul into the song, moving her head to and fro with an infinitely graceful motion.
When the song ended he breathed deeply and passed his hand across his brow.
"My little singing bird," said Dr. Volkmar, tenderly bending over his granddaughter and kissing her brow.
"Well, grandpapa, my voice has not exactly deteriorated in the last few months, has it?" she asked, teasingly, "but it does not seem to please Herr von Eschenhagen. He does not say a word about it."
She glanced with a childish pout over at Willibald, who now also arose and approached the piano. A slight flush suffused his face, and his usually quiet eyes flashed as he said in a low tone: "Oh, it was beautiful, very beautiful!"
The young singer may have been accustomed to other compliments, but she felt the deep, honest admiration in the laconic words, and knew very well the impression the song had made. She smiled, therefore, as she replied: "Yes, the song is beautiful. I have always had a regular triumph when I sang it as an addition to my rôle."
"To your rôle!" replied Willibald, not understanding the expression.
"Yes, in the play from which I have just returned. Oh, it has been a splendid success, grandpapa. The manager would gladly have prolonged it, but I had already given the greater part of my vacation to it, and I wished to be with you at least a few weeks."
The young lord listened with increasing astonishment.
Play! vacation! manager! What could all that mean? The doctor saw his surprise.
"Herr von Eschenhagen does not know your vocation, my child," he said, quietly. "My granddaughter has been educated for the opera."
"How dryly you say that, grandpapa!" cried Marietta, springing up. Straightening herself to the fullest height of her dainty figure, she added, with mock solemnity: "For five months a member of the highly respected Ducal Court Theatre, a person of official honors and renown!"
Member of the Court Theatre! Willibald almost shuddered at those awful words. The obedient son of his mother shared her disdain of "actresses." Involuntarily he receded a step and glared horrified at the young lady who had imparted such awful news to him. She laughed merrily at this motion.
"You are not compelled to show so exceeding much respect and awe, Herr von Eschenhagen. I will allow you to remain near the piano. Has not Toni told you that I am on the stage?"
"Toni--no!" Willibald burst out, having lost his composure completely. "But she is waiting for me. I must return to Furstenstein. I have tarried here already too long."
"You are very polite," laughed the girl, gayly. "That is not very flattering to us, but since you are engaged you must naturally return to your fiancée."
"Yes, and to my mamma," said Willibald, who had a dark feeling that something awful threatened him, before which his mother appeared as a saving angel. "I beg your pardon, but I have stayed here already too long----"
He stopped, for he remembered that he had already said that once, and searched for other words, but could not find any, and, unhappily, repeated the phrase for the third time.
Marietta almost choked with laughter, but Dr. Volkmar declared politely that they did not wish to detain him any longer, and begged him to take his regards to the Chief Forester and Fraulein von Schonan.
The young lord scarcely heard. He looked for his hat, made a bow, stammered a few words of adieu and ran off as if his head was burning. He had but one thought--that he must leave as quickly as possible; that gay, teasing laugh made him crazy.
When Volkmar, who had escorted Willibald to the door, returned, his granddaughter was wiping the tears from her eyes, quite overcome with laughter.
"I believe something is wrong with Toni's betrothed here," she cried, putting a delicate ringer to her forehead. "At first he ran behind me, mutely carrying the bag like a fish wife; then he seemed to thaw at my singing, and now he is seized with an attack of something and runs away to Furstenstein to his 'mamma,' so quickly that I could not even send a greeting to his betrothed."
The doctor smiled a little plaintively. He had observed closely and guessed whence came this sudden change of manner in his guest.
"The young man has probably not had much intercourse with ladies," he said, evasively; "and he seems to stand somewhat in awe of his mother, but he appears to please his fiancée very well, and that is surely the most important thing."
"Yes, he is handsome," said Marietta, somewhat thoughtfully; "even very handsome. But I believe, grandpapa, he is also very stupid."
In the meantime Willibald had run like a storm to the next corner, where he came to a standstill and tried to collect his thoughts, which were in great confusion. It was a long time before he succeeded, but he looked back once more to the doctor's house before he walked on.
What would his mother say to it? She who had placed the whole world of actresses under a ban; and she was right. Willy plainly felt that something bewitching belonged to the tribe; one had to beware of them.
But what if this Marietta Volkmar should take a notion to visit her friend at Furstenstein? The young lord ought to have been horrified at the thought, and was convinced that he was horrified; but with all that the strange flash returned to his eyes. He suddenly saw in the reception room, at the piano where Toni had been a little while ago, a small, delicate figure, whose dark, curly head moved to and fro like a bird, and the thunder of the march changed into the soft, rippling notes of the old carol, while between all again sounded the gay, silvery laugh which also was music.
And all this loveliness must be ruined and lost because it belonged to the stage! Frau von Eschenhagen had often expressed such an opinion, and Willibald was too good a son not to consider her an oracle. But he heaved a deep sigh, and murmured: "Oh, what a pity; what a great pity!"