Herr von Schonan's curiosity was to be immediately satisfied, for Willy now appeared. He had heard of the arrival of his mother and was therefore prepared for anything, for that there must be something especial to bring her to Furstenstein so unexpectedly, he knew. But the young lord did not shrink back this time as he did two months ago, when he timidly concealed the rose in his pocket. His bearing betrayed that he was determined to take up the unavoidable contest.
"Here is your mother, Willy," commenced the Chief Forester. "I suppose you are very much surprised to see her here?"
"No, uncle, I am not," was the answer, but the young man made no attempt to approach his mother, for she stood there like a threatening storm cloud, and her voice rumbled like distant thunder as she said: "So you know why I have come?"
"I at least guess it, mamma, even if I cannot understand how you have heard----"
"The papers have told all--there it lies," interrupted Frau von Eschenhagen, pointing to the table, "and, besides, Toni has told us everything--do you hear? everything!"
She pronounced this last word in an annihilating tone. Willy was not moved from his composure, but replied tranquilly:
"Well, I shall not have to tell you, then. I should have spoken to uncle to-day about it."
This was too much. The storm cloud burst now with thunder and lightning; it loaded and discharged with such vehemence over the head of the young lord that really nothing seemed left for him to do but to disappear quickly under the ground, which could not bear a person of his kind any longer.
But he did not disappear; he only bowed his head to the storm, and when it finally subsided--for Frau Regine had necessarily to draw breath some time--he drew himself up and said: "Mamma, please let me talk."
"You want to talk? that is remarkable," declared Schonan, who was not used to such efforts from his daughter's betrothed; but Willibald actually began, hesitatingly and uncertainly at first, but he gradually acquired firmness in speech and bearing.
"I am sorry that I have to offend you, but it could not be helped. I am just as innocent about the duel as Marietta is. She was being followed by an impertinent fellow persistently. I protected her and chastised the offender, who sent me a challenge, which I never could nor would decline. I have to beg Toni's pardon alone for loving Marietta, and I did that immediately upon my arrival. She heard everything and gave me back my pledge. Indeed, we have broken our engagement much more independently than we formed it."
"Oh, ho, is that meant for us?" cried the Forester angrily. "We did not force you--both of you could have said no if you had wished."
"Well, we do that now as a supplement," returned Willibald, so quickly that Schonan looked at him amazed. "Toni came to the same conclusion that custom alone is not sufficient for marriage, and if one has learned to know happiness, one wants to possess it also."
Fran von Eschenhagen, who had not yet quite regained her breath, started at these words as if bitten by a snake. It had never entered her mind that a second engagement would follow the first, now broken. She had never contemplated this most awful of possibilities.
"Possess it," she repeated. "What do you wish to possess? Does that mean perhaps that you want to marry this Marietta--this creature----"
"Mamma, I beg you to speak in a different tone of my future wife," her son interrupted her, so gravely and decidedly that the angry mother stopped indeed. "Toni has given me freedom; therefore there is no wrong in my love for Marietta, and Marietta's reputation is blameless--I am convinced of that. Whoever hurts or offends her has to answer to me, even if it should be my own mother."
"Hear, hear! the boy is coming out," murmured the Chief Forester, with whom the sense of justice overpowered his vexation, but Frau von Eschenhagen was far from listening to justice.
She had thought to crush her son with her appearance, and now he offered her resistance in this never before heard of manner.
His manly behavior tried her most, as she recognized by it how deep and powerful was the feeling which could change him so completely.
"I will spare you the enforcement of it toward your mother," she said with boundless bitterness. "You are of age, and master of Burgsdorf. I cannot prevent you, but if you really bring this Marietta Volkmar there as your wife--then I leave."
This threat did not miss its aim. Willibald started and drew back.
"Mamma, you speak in anger."
"I speak in deepest earnestness. As soon as an actress enters the house where I have lived and worked for thirty years--where I had hoped to lay my head down for its final rest--I shall leave the house forever. She may reign there then. You have the choice between her and your mother."
"But, Regine, do not force it to such a conclusion," Schonan tried to pacify her. "You torture the poor boy with this cruel 'either--or.'"
Regine did not listen to the exhortation. She stood there white to the lips, her eyes immovably fixed upon her son, and she repeated unyieldingly:
"Decide for yourself--this girl or me."
Willibald had also turned pale, and his lips quivered painfully and bitterly as he said in a low tone:
"That's hard, mamma; you know how I love you, and how you hurt me with your going away; but if you really are so cruel as to force me to choose, well then"--he straightened himself with decision--"then I choose my betrothed."
"Bravo!" cried the Chief Forester, forgetting entirely that he was one of the offended ones. "Willy, I feel like Toni. I begin only now to really like you. I am positively sorry now that you will not be my son-in-law."
Frau von Eschenhagen had not expected such a turn of affairs. She had trusted in her old power, which she now saw fall into fragments, but she was not the woman to give in. She would not have bent her obstinate will even if her life had depended upon it.
"Good! then we have finished with each other," she said curtly, and turned to go without heeding her brother-in-law, who followed her, trying to pacify her; but before they reached the door it was opened and a servant entered with a hasty announcement:
"The steward of Rodeck is outside and begs----"
"I have no time now," stormed the impulsive Schonan. "Tell Stadinger I cannot speak with him at present. I have important family affairs----"
He did not finish, for Stadinger already stood upon the threshold, having followed the servant closely, and said in a peculiarly suppressed tone: "I come about a family affair also, Herr Chief Forester, but it is a sad one. I cannot wait, but must speak to you immediately."
"But what is it?" asked Schonan, mystified. "Has something happened? The Prince is not at Rodeck so far as I know."
"No, mein Herr. His Highness is in town, but Herr Rojanow is there and sends me. He begs you and Herr von Eschenhagen to come to Rodeck immediately, and you, gracious lady"--he glanced at Frau von Eschenhagen, whom he knew from her former visits to Furstenstein--"you would do well to come likewise."
"But why? What has happened?" cried Schonan, now really disturbed.
The old man hesitated; he had apparently been charged to break the news gradually. Finally he said: "His Excellency, Herr von Wallmoden, is at the castle, and the Frau Baroness also."
"My brother!" interrupted Regine with apprehension.
"Yes, gracious lady. His Excellency fell out of the carriage, and now he lies there unconscious, which means to the physician we called in great haste that the matter is dangerous."
"In God's name! we must go at once, Moritz," cried the frightened lady.
Herr von Schonan had already grasped the bell rope and pulled it.
"The carriage as quick as possible!" he cried to the servant. "How did it happen, Stadinger? Tell us what you know."
"The Herr Baron was coming from Ostwalden with the gracious lady, intending to come to Furstenstein," responded Stadinger. "The road, you know, leads through the Rodeck tract not far from the castle. Our Forester, who was with some of his subordinates in the Wald, fired a few shots, and a wounded deer dashed across the road in wild flight just by the carriage. The horses took fright and ran--the driver could not hold them. The two Foresters who saw it ran after them. They heard the Frau Baroness beg her husband: 'Remain seated. Herbert! for God's sake, no, do not jump,' but His Excellency seemed to have lost his head entirely. He tore the door open and jumped. At the wild pace they were going he fell, of course, with full force, and against a tree. The driver succeeded in bringing his horses to a standstill not far at a bend of the road. The Frau Baroness, who was not hurt, hastened to the place of misfortune as quickly as possible, and she found the poor gentleman there seriously injured and unconscious. The Forester's people carried him to Rodeck, which was near by. Herr Rojanow has looked after everything that could be done at the moment, and now he sends me to bring you the news."
It was natural that under the pressure of this heart-rending news the recent bitter family quarrel should cease instantly. In great haste they made ready for departure. Antonie was called and informed, and as soon as the carriage drove up the Chief Forester and his sister-in-law hastened downstairs.
Willibald, who followed with Stadinger, detained him on the steps for a moment and asked in a low tone: "Has the doctor given his opinion? Do you know anything more about it?"
The old man nodded sadly, and answered also in low tones: "I stood near when Herr Rojanow asked him in the ante-room. There is no hope--the poor Excellency will not live through the day."
The little hunting castle of Rodeck, which lay so cold and lonely in the first December snowy days, had seldom seen such excitement as to-day.
It was about noon when the two Foresters, whose firing was the innocent cause of the disaster, brought the injured Ambassador to the house. They had known that the longer march to Furstenstein was impossible, so they turned toward Rodeck, which lay scarcely a quarter of an hour's walk from the place of the accident.
Hartmut Rojanow, who was at the castle, was immediately called, and had made the necessary arrangements with quick decision. The rooms which Prince Adelsberg usually occupied were put at the disposal of the Baroness, and a messenger was despatched on horseback for the nearest physician, who, fortunately, was easy to reach.
When the doctor's statement allowed no hope, Stadinger was sent to Furstenstein to summon the relatives, who soon arrived, but only to find Herr von Wallmoden dying. He did not regain the consciousness which he had lost in that awful fall; he lay there immovable, recognizing no one; and when the day drew to a close all was over.
The Chief Forester, with Willibald, returned to Furstenstein toward night. He had sent a telegram before leaving Furstenstein, to notify the Embassy of the sad accident which had befallen its chief, and now had to follow it with the announcement of his death.
Frau von Eschenhagen had remained at Rodeck with her brother's widow. To-morrow preparations would be made to carry the body to the Residenz, and the two ladies wished to remain at his side until then.
Adelaide, who had proved so courageous during the danger, and who had done her full duty at the bedside of her husband, seemed, now that this duty was over, to give way entirely under the sudden and prostrating blow. She was stunned and dazed by the awful accident.
* * * * *
At the window of his room, which was in an upper story, stood Hartmut, gazing out into the desolate forest, which glittered so ghostly in the dim starlight. Yesterday had brought the first snow, and now everything was stiff in its cold embrace. The large lawn in front of the castle was deeply covered; the trees bent heavily under their white burden, and the broad branches of the firs were bowed to the ground.
Up there in the dark night sky, star after star shone in calm splendor, and far off on the northern horizon dawned a slight rosy light, like the first greeting of the dawn. And yet it was night cold, icy cold, winter night, in which as yet no ray of the coming day could fall.
Hartmut's eyes were riveted upon the mysterious glow. In his heart, too, it was dark, and yet something dawned there, fair and low, like the dawn of the morn. He had not seen Adelaide von Wallmoden since that fatal hour upon the forest height, until he met her to-day at the side of her husband, who had been borne, bleeding and unconscious--dying--into the castle.
This sight forced back every remembrance, and demanded assistance to the extent of his power. He had not entered the death chamber, and had only received the doctor's report; neither had he appeared upon Frau von Eschenhagen's arrival, but later on had spoken with the Chief Forester and Willibald. Now everything was decided. Herbert von Wallmoden was no longer among the living, and his wife was a widow--was free.
A deep breath agitated Hartmut's breast at the thought, and yet nothing joyful was in it, although his feelings had undergone a change since the hour he ventured his highest stake and--lost.
But that hour had proved to him the deep abyss which was open between them even now that the bond of Adelaide's marriage was broken. She had "shuddered" before the man who believed in nothing--to whom nothing was sacred, and he was the same man he had been then.
He had offered an apology without words in the creation of the added portion of Arivana which bore her name, but Ada had floated back to the heights from which she had come with her cry of warning, and mankind, with their glowing hate and love, remained upon earth.
Hartmut Rojanow could not force the hot, wild blood which flowed in his veins into a quiet movement; he could not bow to a life full of strict obedience and duty--neither did he wish to. For what had the genius which won his way everywhere been given him, if it could not lift him over the duties and barriers of every-day life?
And yet he knew that those large, blue eyes pointed inexorably to the hated path--that would never do.
The red glimmer over the forest yonder had turned darker and risen higher. It looked like the reflection of a powerful fire; but that calm, steady light came from no fire. Immovable it stood in the north; mysterious, high, and far removed--an aurora in approaching splendor.
The rolling of a carriage coming near in great haste broke Hartmut from his revery. It was past nine o'clock; who could arrive at such an hour? Perhaps it was the second physician who had been sent for in the afternoon, but who had been away from home; perhaps some one from Ostwalden, where the news may have already been carried.
Now the carriage turned the corner of the lawn; the wheels crunched upon the hard, frozen ground, and the vehicle reached the main entrance of the castle.
Rojanow, who to-day represented the master of the house, left his room and started to meet the new arrival. He had reached the stairs which led down to the entrance hall, and put his foot upon the first step, when he suddenly shuddered and remained rooted to the spot.
Down there a voice spoke which he had not heard for ten long years; it was suppressed, and yet he recognized it at the first moment.
"I come from the Embassy. We received a dispatch this afternoon, and I took the first train to hasten here. How is he? Can I see Herr von Wallmoden?"
Stadinger, who had received the newcomer, replied in such low tones that the import of his words was lost to Hartmut, but the stranger asked hastily: "I do not come too late?"
"Yes, mein Herr. Herr von Wallmoden died this afternoon."
A short pause followed, then the stranger said, huskily but firmly: "Lead me to the widow--announce Colonel von Falkenried."
Stadinger turned to go, followed by a tall figure in a military cloak, of which one could see only the outlines in the dimly-lighted hall.
The two figures had long ago disappeared in the lower rooms, and still Hartmut stood leaning on the baluster, looking downward. Only when Stadinger returned alone did he collect himself and retire to his room.
Here he walked restlessly for a quarter of an hour. It was a hard, silent conflict which he waged. He had never been able to bend his pride; had never humbled himself, but he had to bow low before his deeply offended father--he knew that. But again a burning, absorbing longing overcame him, becoming all-powerful and finally conquering. He drew himself up resolutely.
"No, I will not shrink like a coward now. We are under one roof; the same walls surround us; now it shall be ventured. He is my father and I am his son."
The castle clock struck twelve in slow, hollow strokes. Deathlike stillness lay over the forest outside, and it was as still in the house where a corpse lay. The steward and servants had retired, as had Frau von Eschenhagen. Exhausted nature demanded its due. She had made the long, tedious journey from Burgsdorf without stop, and had lived through the hard, trying day.
Only a few windows were dimly lighted; they belonged to the rooms which had been appointed to Frau von Wallmoden and Colonel Falkenried, which lay near together, separated only by an ante-room.
Falkenried intended to accompany the widow back to the Residenz on the morrow. He had spoken with her and Regine, and had stood for a long time beside the body of his friend, who only yesterday had called to him so confidently, "auf wiedersehen"--who had been so full of his projects and plans for his future and his newly acquired possessions. Now all this had come to an end. Cold and stiff he lay upon his bier, and cold and gloomy Falkenried now stood at the window of his room. Even this awful accident was not able to shake his stony composure, for he had long ago forgotten to consider death a misfortune.Lifewas hard--but not death.
He looked silently out into the winter night and he, too, saw the ghostly glimmer which lighted the darkness out there. Dark-red it now glowed upon the distant horizon, and the whole of the northern sky seemed penetrated by invisible flames.
Redlike, as through a purple veil, twinkled the stars. Now a few distant rays shot up, growing more numerous, and rising always higher to the zenith.
Beneath this flaming sky the snow-covered world lay cold and white. The aurora was shining in the fulness of its splendor!
Falkenried was so lost in the glory of the sight that he did not hear the opening and closing of the door of the ante-room. Carefully the partly closed door of his own room was now opened, but the one entering did not bring himself into view, but remained motionless upon the threshold.
Colonel Falkenried still stood at the window half-averted, but the flickering light of the candles which burned upon the table lighted his face distinctly; the strong, deep lines of the features, and the gloomy, careworn brow beneath the white hair.
Hartmut shivered involuntarily; he had not anticipated such a deep and awful change. The man standing in his prime, looked aged, and who had brought this premature age upon him?
A few moments passed in this deep silence, then a voice vibrated through the room half-audible, beseeching, and full of a tenderness suppressed with difficulty--a single word pregnant with meaning.
"Father!"
Falkenried started as if a spirit voice had reached his ear. Slowly he turned as if really believing he heard a spirit-haunting voice.
Hartmut quickly approached a few steps, then stood still.
"Father, it is I--I come----"
He stopped short, for now he met his father's eyes; those eyes which he had feared so much, and what they now expressed robbed him of the courage to speak further. He bowed his head in silence.
Every drop of blood seemed to have left the face of Colonel Falkenried. He had not known--he had no idea that his son was under the same roof with him; the meeting found him totally unprepared, but it did not tear from him one exclamation, nor sign of anger or weakness. Rigid and mute he stood there and looked upon him who had once been his all. At last he raised his hand and pointed to the door.
"Go!"
"Father, listen to me----"
"Go, I say." The command now sounded threatening.
"No, I shall not go!" cried Hartmut passionately. "I know that reconciliation with you depends upon this hour. I have offended you--how deeply and seriously I feel only now--but I was a boy of seventeen, and it was my mother whom I followed. Think of that, father, and pardon me--grant pardon to your son."
"You are the son of the woman whose name you bear--not mine!" said the Colonel with cutting scorn. "A Falkenried has no son without honor."
Hartmut was about to burst forth at this awful word; the blood rose hot and wild to his brow, but he looked upon that other brow beneath the hair bleached like snow, and with superhuman effort controlled himself.
The two believed themselves alone during this interview in the stillness of the night--surely everything was sleeping in the castle. They had no idea that a witness was there.
Adelaide von Wallmoden had not retired to rest. She knew that she could find no sleep after this day which had so suddenly and disastrously made her a widow. Dressed still in the dark traveling suit which she had worn on the unfortunate drive, she sat in her room, when suddenly Colonel Falkenried's voice reached her ear.
With whom could he be speaking at such an hour? Was he not a total stranger here? And the voice sounded so strangely hollow and threatening.
She arose in alarm and entered the ante-room which separated the two sleeping apartments--for only a moment, she thought--only to see that nothing had happened; then she heard another voice which she knew--heard the word "Father," and like lightning the truth flashed upon her, which the next words confirmed. As if paralyzed, she remained standing there, every word reaching her through the partly closed door.
"You make this hour hard for me," said Hartmut with painfully sustained composure. "Be it so--I have not expected it otherwise. Wallmoden has told you everything. I might have known it, but then he could not keep from you what I have sought and won. I bring to you the laurel of the poet, father--the first laurel which has come to me. Learn to know my work; let it speak to you, then you will feel that its creator could not live and breathe in the constraint of a vocation which kills every poetical emotion; then you will forget the unfortunate error of the boy."
Here again it was Hartmut Rojanow who spoke thus with his overweening self-consciousness and pride, which did not leave him even in this hour; the poet of Arivana, for whom there existed no duties--no barriers; but he encountered a rock here, upon which he shattered.
"The boy's error!" repeated Falkenried, just as harshly as before. "Yes, they called it so to make it possible for me to remain in the army. I name it differently, and so does every one of my comrades. You were to have been an ensign. In a few weeks it would have been desertion of the standard by law also. I have never considered it anything else. You had been raised in the strict discipline of honor of our caste, and knew what you did, for you were no longer a boy.He who flees secretly from the military service which he owes his fatherland is a deserter; he who breaks a vow--a given word--is without honor. You did both!But of course you and your kind pass over such things easily."
Hartmut clenched his teeth; his whole body trembled at these merciless words, and his voice sounded hollow, choked, as he answered:
"Enough, father. I cannot bear it. I wished to bow before you--wished to submit--but you yourself drive me from you. This is the same cruel sternness with which you drove my mother from you. I know it from her own lips. Whatever her later life was, and however through it my own has developed--this severity alone has been the cause of it."
The Colonel folded his arms, and an expression of unspeakable disdain quivered around his mouth.
"From her own lips you know? Possibly. No woman has sunk so deeply but she would try to veil such a truth from her son. I did not wish to pollute your ears at that time with this truth, for you were innocent and pure. Now you will probably understand me when I tell you that the separation was a demand of honor. The man who stained my honor fell by my bullet, and she who betrayed me--I pushed from me."
Hartmut became white as death at this disclosure. He had never thought that. He had fully believed that only the harshness which lay in his father's character had caused the separation. The remembrance of his mother fell lower and lower; he had loved her just as ardently as she had loved him, even when he felt at times that she was his ruin.
"I wished to protect you from the poisonous breath of this presence and influence," continued Falkenried. "Fool that I was! You were lost to me even without the coming of your mother. You bear her features; it is her blood that courses through your veins, and it would have demanded its dominion sooner or later. You would have become anyway what you are now--a homeless adventurer, who does not recognize his fatherland and his honor."
"This is too much!" burst forth Hartmut wildly. "I shall not permit myself to be so abused, even by you. I see now that no reconciliation between us is possible. I go, but the world will judge differently from you. It has already crowned my first work, and I shall force from it the appreciation which my own father keeps from me."
The Colonel looked at his son--something awful was in the glance; then he said icily and slowly, emphasizing each word: "Then take care also that the world does not learn that the 'crowned poet' did a spy's service two years ago at Paris."
Hartmut shrank as if hit by a bullet.
"I? In Paris? Are you out of your senses?"
Falkenried shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
"Acting besides? Do not trouble yourself--I know all. Wallmoden proved to me what rôle Zalika Rojanow and her son played at Paris. I know the origin of the means by which they continued the life they were accustomed to when their wealth was lost. They were very much sought after by the commissioners, for they were exceedingly apt, and they who bought their services received them."
Hartmut stood as if lifeless. So this was the awful solution of the problem which Wallmoden had given him that night in his hint. He had not understood its meaning then, but sought the solution in another direction. This was it, then, which his mother kept from him--from which she had diverted him with caresses and coaxings whenever he put a suspicious question. She had sunk to the last, most disgraceful lot--and her son was branded with her.
The silence which now ensued was awful; it lasted for minutes, and when Hartmut finally spoke again his voice had lost its sound--the words came brokenly, almost inaudibly, from his lips:
"And you believe--that I--that I knew about this?"
"Yes," said the Colonel, coldly and firmly.
"Father, you cannot--must not do that. The punishment would be too terrible. You must believe me when I tell you that I had no idea of this disgrace--that I believed a part of our wealth had been saved--that--you will believe me, father?"
"No." Falkenried remained rigid and unbending as before.
Beside himself with anguish, Hartmut fell upon his knees.
"Father, before everything that is sacred to you in heaven or in earth--oh, do not look at me so terribly. You drive me frantic with that look! Father, I give you my word of honor----"
An awful, wild laugh from his father interrupted him.
"Your word of honor as at that time at Burgsdorf. Get up--abandon acting; you do not deceive me by it. You went from me with a breaking of your word--you return with a lie. Go your own way--I go mine. Only one thing I request of you--command you. Do not dare to use the name of Falkenried by the side of the branded one of Rojanow. Never let the world know who you are. When that happens my blood will be upon you, for then--I end with life!"
With a loud cry Hartmut sprang to his feet and approached his father, but Falkenried repelled him by a commanding gesture.
"Do you think that I still love life? I have borne it because I had to--perhaps I considered it my duty; but there is one point where this duty ends; you know it now--act accordingly."
He turned his back upon his son and walked to the window. Hartmut did not speak another word. Mutely he turned to go.
The ante-room was not lighted, yet it was filled with the glow of the blazing skies outside, and in this glow stood a woman--deathly pale--with eyes fixed with an indescribable expression upon the one approaching.
He glanced up and a single look showed him that she knew all. This was the last. He had received his mortal humiliation before the woman he loved--had been thrown into the dust before her!
Hartmut did not know how he left the castle, how he reached the open air. He only felt that he should stifle in those walls--that he was driven forth with fury and power. He found himself at last under a fir tree, which bowed its snow-covered limbs over him. It was night in the forest--cold, icy winter night, but up there in the sky the mysterious light shone on and on with purple power, with quivering rays, which united at the zenith into a crown.
It was summer again. July had commenced, and in the hot, sun-parched days the forest mountains beckoned irresistibly with their cool shadows, and the green, airy splendor of their dales and heights.
Ostwalden, the estate which Herbert von Wallmoden had purchased immediately before his death, and had not been permitted to live in for even one summer, had since then rested in solitude. But a few days ago the young widow had arrived there in company with her sister-in-law, Frau von Eschenhagen.
Adelaide had left the South German Residenz shortly after the death of her husband and returned home with her brother, who had hastened to her side at the news of her husband's death. Her short married life had lasted but eight months, and now the wife, not yet twenty years old, wore the widow's veil.
Regine had been easily persuaded to accompany her sister-in-law. The once absolute mistress of Burgsdorf had stood to her "either--or," and as Willibald proved just as obstinate, she had made her threat true, and had moved to town even during the first period of mourning for her brother.
But Frau von Eschenhagen deceived herself if she thought to gain her end by this last move. She had hoped that her son would not let it come to a real separation, but it was in vain that she let him feel the full bitterness of the separation. The young master had had full opportunity to prove that his newly awakened independence and love were not mere momentary feelings.
He tried everything to make his mother reconsider, but when he did not succeed, he showed a like stubbornness, and mother and son had not seen each other for months.
However, his engagement with Marietta had not been made public as yet. He believed he owed his former fiancée and her father too much respect to allow a second betrothal to follow too soon upon the heels of the first. Besides, Marietta was bound by contract to the theatre for fully six months, and as her betrothal was to remain a secret for the present, she could not obtain an earlier release. Only now had the young girl returned to her grandfather at Waldhofen, where Willibald was also expected.
Of course Frau von Eschenhagen knew nothing about this or she would hardly have accepted the invitation which brought her into the neighborhood.
The day had been so warm and sunny that only late afternoon brought cooler air, but the road to Ostwalden was mostly shady, as it lay through the forests of Rodeck.
Two horsemen were now on this road; one in gray hunting jacket and hat--the Chief Forester, von Schonan; the other a slender, youthful form clad in a distinguished looking summer suit--Prince Adelsberg. They had met by chance and learned that both were bound for the same, destination.
"I should not have dreamed of meeting you here, Your Highness," said Schonan. "It was said that you would not visit Rodeck at all this summer, and Stadinger, with whom I spoke the day before yesterday, did not know a syllable of your near arrival."
"No; and he cried Ach! and Weh! when I fell upon the house so unexpectedly," replied Egon. "It would not have needed much to make him show me from my own door, because I followed my dispatch instantly, and nothing was prepared for me. But the heat at Ostend was well-nigh unbearable. I could not stand the glowing sands of the beach any longer, and was overcome by an irrepressible longing for my cool, quiet forest nook. God be thanked that I have gotten away from the heat and fuss of a watering place!"
His Highness was pleased not to tell the truth in this case. He had hastened here from the beach of the North Sea to enjoy a certain "neighborhood" of which he happened to hear. Stadinger had mentioned in a report, in which he asked for permission to make some changes at Rodeck, that these same arrangements had already been made at Ostwalden, where Frau von Wallmoden dwelt at present.
To his surprise, instead of the expected permission, his young master arrived in person after three days. The Prince had not known anything better after this news than to throw over all his summer plans.
The Chief Forester did not seem to believe the pretext, for he remarked somewhat sarcastically: "It surprises me, indeed then, that our Court stays at Ostend so long. The Duke and Duchess are there; also Princess Sophie, with a niece--a relative of her late husband, I hear."
"Yes, a niece." Egon turned suddenly and looked at the speaker. "Herr Chief Forester, you, too, want to deliver congratulations to me--I see it in your face--but if you do that I shall challenge you instantly here in the midst of the forest."
"Well, Your Highness, I do not intend to bring a duel upon myself," laughed Schonan, "but the newspapers already speak quite openly of an approaching or already consummated engagement, which suits the wishes of the princely ladies."
"My most gracious aunts wish many things," said Egon coolly. "Their most obedient nephew, though, is often of a different opinion, alas; and it has been the case this time also. I went to Ostend upon the invitation of the Duke, which I could not refuse, but the air did not agree with me at all, and I cannot risk my health so recklessly. I felt the first symptoms of sunstroke, which would certainly have taken me off, so I decided, then, in good time----"
"To take yourself off," finished Schonan. "This is like Your Highness, but now you can count upon a three-fold displeasure."
"Possibly. I shall bear it in solitude and self-banishment. I intend, besides"--here the young Prince drew a very solemn face--"to give all my attention this summer to my estates--especially Rodeck. A change in the building shall be made there--Stadinger has already written me about it, but I considered a personal surveillance necessary."
"On account of the chimneys?" asked Schonan dryly. "Stadinger thought that as the chimneys smoked last winter, he would like to have new ones built."
"What does Stadinger know about it?" cried Egon, vexed that his old "Waldgeist" had again gotten ahead of him with his most uncomfortable love for truth. "I have very grand plans for beautifying---- Ah, here we are!"
He started his horse into a quicker gait and the Chief Forester followed his example, for Ostwalden indeed lay before them.
The extensive changes with which the late Wallmoden had intended to convert Ostwalden into a splendid show place had not been made; but the old ivy-covered castle, with its two side turrets, and the shady, although somewhat neglected park, possessed a picturesque charm. It was understood that the present mistress intended neither changes nor a sale of the property, for to the heiress of the Stahlberg wealth a villa more or less was of no consequence.
Upon their arrival the gentlemen learned that Frau von Wallmoden was in the park; but Frau von Eschenhagen was in her room. The Prince allowed himself to be announced to the lady of the house, while the Chief Forester first looked up his sister-in-law, whom he had not seen since the previous winter. He went to her apartments and entered without more ado.
"Here I am," he announced in his usual unceremonious manner. "I don't need to be announced to my Frau sister, even if she seems to hold me at arm's length. Why did you not come along, Regine, when Adelaide drove to Furstenstein the day before yesterday? Of course, I do not believe the excuse which she brought me in your name, and have now come two hours' riding on horseback to ask for an explanation."
Regine offered him her hand. She had not changed outwardly in these six or seven months. She still bore the same strong, self-reliant appearance and decided way, but her former serenity and cheerfulness, which, in spite of her brusquerie, were so winning, had disappeared from her manner. If she never acknowledged it under any circumstances, it was plainly to be seen that she suffered because her only son grew strange to her--the son to whom once his mother's love and will had been all things.
"I have nothing against you, Moritz," she replied. "I know that you have retained the old friendship for me in spite of all that has been done to you and your daughter; but you ought to understand how embarrassing it is to me to visit Furstenstein again."
"On account of the dissolved engagement? You ought to be consoled about it at last. You were present and saw and heard how easily Toni took matters. She was decidedly better pleased with her rôle of 'guardian angel' than with that of fiancée; and she has tried several times to change your mind by her letters, just as I have; but we both have been unsuccessful."
"No; I know how to value your rare magnanimity."
"Rare magnanimity!" repeated Schonan, laughing. "Well, yes, it might not happen often that the former fiancée and prospective father-in-law put in a good word for the recreant betrothed, so that he and his sweetheart may gain the maternal blessing. But for once we are thus superior in our frankness; and besides, both of us came to the conclusion that Willy, in fact, has only now become a sensible person, and this has been accomplished solely and alone by--yes, I cannot help it, Regine--by the little Marietta."
Frau von Eschenhagen frowned at this remark. She did not consider it best to answer it, but asked in a tone that plainly betrayed her wish to change the subject: "Has Toni returned? I learned through Adelaide that she had been at the Residenz, but was daily expected home."
The Chief Forester, who had accepted a seat in the meantime, leaned back comfortably in his chair.
"Yes, she returned yesterday, but with a second shadow, for she brought some one along, who she insists must and shall be her future husband, and he insists upon it likewise with such emphasis, that really nothing is left for me to do but to say Yes--Amen!"
"What! Toni engaged again?" asked Frau von Eschenhagen in surprise.
"Yes, but this time she managed it all by herself; I did not have an inkling of it. You will remember that she took it into her head at that time that she, too, wanted to be loved in a surpassing manner, and enjoy the usual romance of it. Herr Lieutenant von Waldorf seems to have attended to that. He has, as she told me with highest satisfaction, sunk on his knees before her, and declared he could not and would not live without her, while she gave him a similar touching assurance, and so forth. Yes, Regine, it will not do any longer to lead the children by the apron strings when they become of age. They imagine that marriage is solely their affair, and really they are not so far wrong about it."
The last remark sounded very suggestive, but Regine overlooked it completely. She repeated thoughtfully:
"Waldorf? the name is quite strange to me. Where did Toni get acquainted with the young officer?"
"He is my son's friend and he brought him home with him at his last visit. In consequence of that an acquaintance with his mother was begun, which ripened until she invited Toni to visit her some weeks, and there and then the falling in love and engagement took place. I have nothing to say against it. Waldorf is handsome, jolly, and in love up to his ears. He does seem to be a little volatile, but he will settle down when he gets a sensible wife. The model boys are not after my taste; they are the very worst when they do get wild, as we have seen in your Willy. Waldorf will get his discharge in the fall, for my daughter is not suited for a lieutenant's wife. I will buy an estate for the young couple, and the wedding will occur at Christmas."
"I am so glad for Toni's sake," said Frau von Eschenhagen, cordially. "You take a burden from my heart by this news."
"I am glad, too," nodded the Chief Forester, "but now you ought to follow my example and take a burden from the hearts of a certain other couple. Be reasonable, Regine, and give in! The little Marietta has remained true, although she was on the stage. Everybody praises her blameless conduct. You do not need to be ashamed of your daughter-in-law."
Regine arose suddenly and pushed her chair back.
"I beg you once for all, Moritz, to spare me such requests. I shall stand firm at my word. Willibald knows the condition under which alone I will return to Burgsdorf. If he does not fulfil it--the separation remains."
"He knows better," said Schonan dryly, "than to give up his bride-elect and marriage solely because she does not suit his Frau mamma. Such conditions are never fulfilled."
"You express yourself very amiably indeed," returned Frau von Eschenhagen angrily. "Of course, what do you know of the love and anxiety of a mother, or of the gratitude her children owe her? All of you are ungrateful, inconsiderate, selfish----"
"Oho! I beg you, in the name of my sex, to refrain from such vituperations," interrupted the Chief Forester hotly; but suddenly he reconsidered and said: "We have not seen each other for seven months, Regine; we really ought not to quarrel the first day again--we can do that later on. Let us therefore leave your refractory son alone for the present, and speak of ourselves. How do you like it in town? You do not exactly look so very well satisfied."
"I am exceptionally satisfied," declared Regine with great decision. "What I need only is work. I am not used to idleness."
"Then create work for yourself. It rests solely with you to again step to the head of a large household."
"Are you commencing again----"
"I did not mean Burgsdorf this time," said Schonan, playing with his riding whip. "I only meant--you sit all alone in town, and I shall sit all alone at Furstenstein when Toni marries--that is very tiresome! How would it be--well, I have already explained it to you once before, but you did not want me then. Perhaps you have bethought yourself better now. How would it be if we should make the third couple at this double wedding?"
Frau von Eschenhagen looked gloomily to the floor and shook her head.
"No, Moritz. I feel less like marrying now than ever."
"Already a 'No' again!" shouted the Chief Forester wrathfully. "Is this a second refusal you give me? At first you did not want me because your son and your beloved Burgsdorf had grown too near your heart, and now when you see that both get along very well without you, you do not want me because you do not 'feel like it.' Feeling does not belong to marrying, anyhow only some sense is wanted; but if one is unreasonableness and obstinacy personified----"
"You woo me in a very flattering manner, indeed," interrupted Regine, now wrathful also. "It would be an exceedingly peaceful marriage if you act like this as a suitor."
"It would not be peaceful, but neither would it be tiresome," declared Schonan. "I believe we could both stand it. Once more, Regine, do you want me or do you not want me?"
"No; I do not care to 'stand' a married life."
"Then let it alone!" cried the Chief Forester furiously, jumping up and snatching his hat. "If it gives you so much pleasure to say 'No' forever, then say it. But Willy will marry in spite of you, and he is right; and now I shall be the best man at the wedding just to spite you."
With which he rushed off, quite beside himself at this second jilting, and Frau von Eschenhagen remained behind in a similar frame of mind. They had really quarrelled again at the firstWiedersehen, and even the second refusal could not be left out of this friendly habit.