This quiet reply had the effect of partially allaying the horror that had filled the old man's mind, and with a degree of self-control he recovered the consciousness which had nearly forsaken him. He still regarded Paul with a strange, scrutinizing look, without venturing to meet his eye. But his composure returned by degrees; his glance fell upon Leo, and remembering Hilda's words and Delmar's explanation, he was conscious that he had been guilty of discourtesy and had not yet spoken to his nephew. "Welcome, Leo!" he said, offering him his hand. "Yes, I should know you anywhere, you look so like your father, my Hans. Welcome to Castle Reifenstein. And you, sir, are Leo's friend? Yes, I remember my brother's letter mentioned that Leo was coming to the Tyrol with a friend. You, then, are Leo's friend? Herr Delmar? Herr Delmar? Is that your name?"
"It is; my name is Paul Delmar."
"Paul Delmar; exactly, I knew it; and it is only as Leo's friend that you come here? you have no further intentions?"
"What further intentions could I possibly have?"
"Of course, of course! What further intentions could you have? Forgive me for my strange reception of you: my mind sometimes wanders; you must not take it ill of a feeble old man. I hope, Hilda, that you have the rooms ready for Leo, and Herr Delmar, Leo's friend?"
"Certainly, papa; they were all ready two days ago; but Herr Delmar refuses to stay with us, and says he must return to the Post at Tausens."
"Indeed? I am very sorry."
The 'very sorry' did not sound genuine. The old man's mind was evidently relieved when he heard that Paul had declined to be his guest at the castle. Apparently the coldness of his expression of regret struck him also, for he hastened to atone for it by a request that Paul would reconsider the refusal. But upon receiving Paul's courteous excuse for not complying with this request, he forbore to urge it, and when Delmar expressed his regret in being obliged to return immediately to Tausens, he did not press him to remain, but gave him his hand in token of farewell, and expressed, although with some hesitation, a hope that he would frequently visit his friend Leo at the castle.
Hilda fulfilled her promise; she accompanied Paul through the garden, the castle court-yard, and the large gateway, across the bridge to the foot-path, which, lying to the left of the road, passed down the mountain at some distance from the steep rocky side. She walked beside Delmar in silence; her father's strange conduct had filled her with vague anxiety. She felt that there must be some relation which she did not understand existing between him and Herr Delmar, and she vainly wondered what it could be. She knew that her father was misanthropic and inhospitable, but with regard to Leo and his friend he had not been in the least so until a few moments previously, but had given express orders that everything should be done to make the young men's stay at Castle Reifenstein agreeable to them.
What reason could he have for such terror at sight of a stranger, and for receiving him so disagreeably? She longed to say some word to Delmar in excuse: she was afraid that he was offended; but what could she say? In vain she tried to find words suitable to the occasion, and while she was trying they had crossed the bridge, and she had accompanied the young man as far as was fitting, and not one word had she uttered.
Paul, too, who was not often at a loss for words, had been vainly searching for something to say during their short walk; and thus both went on together in silence until Hilda held out her hand to him by way of farewell, when he asked, "Has the lovely fairy no word for me that I may take as a permission to return?"
Hilda blushed. Why should the words 'lovely fairy' move her strangely at this moment? She had heard them and laughed at them repeatedly in the last hour, but now she could not laugh,--she was confused,--for the tone of Delmar's voice was far more serious than before. She did not reply directly, but asked in her turn, "Oh, Herr Delmar, what will you think of us? I do not know what papa had in his mind, but I am sure he did not mean to offend you. I beg you not to be angry with us!"
"How could I be angry? Your father was under some mistake with regard to me. What puzzles me is how he should have known that my name is Paul. Perhaps Colonel von Heydeck mentioned it in his letter."
"No; he wrote only a few words to say that my cousin Leo had gone to the Tyrol accompanied by a friend, whose name he did not mention, and that in a few days he would arrive at Castle Reifenstein."
"And yet your father knew my first name, Paul, although I only told him of my family name."
"I cannot understand it!" Hilda said, dejectedly.
"A riddle indeed. But time will surely bring its solution, and of one thing I am sure: that I have never given your father any reason to be angry with me."
"Most certainly not; and I entreat you not to be vexed with papa for his unkind reception; the next time you come he will be kinder."
"May I come again? Will you allow me?"
"Assuredly; Cousin Leo will be delighted to see you often at the castle."
"And the lovely fairy?"
"Will never be an evil fairy for you. Adieu, and come soon."
She nodded smiling, and hurried back to the castle much lighter of heart than she had been a few minutes before.
While Hilda was acting as guide to his friend, Leo had remained in the castle garden with his uncle. The strange scene of which he had been a witness had made a disagreeable impression upon him also. While it lasted he had observed his uncle narrowly, the profound horror he had testified at sight of Delmar, a horror increased by hearing his name, and the effort it had cost him to regain his composure. At last the morbid interest with which the old man watched Paul while he was present, and with which he followed his retreating figure until it disappeared behind the wall of the courtyard, vanished. For the first time Herr von Heydeck seemed to breathe freely, although his mind was apparently still occupied with Paul alone; he did not turn to welcome the nephew who had come upon his pressing invitation to visit him from distant Germany; he did not ask after the brother whom he had not seen for thirty years; his first words were of Paul.
"This Herr Paul Delmar is your friend?" he asked Leo, with a keen, suspicious glance.
"My dearest friend from my childhood."
"Ah? from your childhood? You have known him, then, a long while?"
"We were playmates and schoolfellows; we grew up together. He is a few years older than I, but the slight difference in our ages never interfered with our friendship."
Again the old man shot a sharp glance of suspicion at his nephew; but seeing that Leo met his gaze freely and frankly, he shyly averted his eyes. Lost in thought, he walked silently by Leo's side, forgetting that the duties of hospitality demanded that he should conduct his nephew to the castle; he was lost to the present and buried in recollection of a time long past. Tormenting memories which he had long laboured to forget, but which would not be forgotten, arose within him more distinctly and more tormentingly than ever: they filled his mind; his nephew was forgotten.
Leo did not disturb his uncle's revery, and was very glad not to be expected to converse. He watched keenly the varying expression in the features of the old man, who was all unconscious that a scrutinizing eye was endeavouring to read his very soul. He would else have put a force upon himself; his hand would not have been clenched, nor would so gloomy a frown have appeared upon his brow. And certainly he would have controlled the angry twitching of the thin lips that gave so hateful an expression to the wrinkled face.
What was going on in this man's soul? Leo asked himself. He no longer inclined, as he had hitherto, to excuse his uncle's faults, to think more kindly of him than his knowledge of the past would warrant. Although he could not divine the mystery that enveloped the old man's reception of Paul, although he had no conception of what cause his uncle had to hate Delmar, Leo nevertheless felt that he did hate him with a fierce hatred that he strove in vain to conceal. The ugly face was animated by an expression of such savage malice, that Leo could no longer be in doubt as to the character of this his nearest relative. The man had no heart; he could not love: he could only hate,--hate with all his soul!
But no; Leo was wrong! Suddenly there flitted over the sullen, wrinkled face a smile like a ray of sunshine,--a gentle, loving smile that transfigured it. Leo, startled by such a contradiction to his thoughts, looked up to see what had caused such a transformation. The cause was plain: Hilda was coming quickly towards them.
"But, dearest papa," she called out from some distance, "why are you and Leo still in the garden? I could not believe you were here when old Melcher told me. Cousin Leo must be hungry and tired, and you keep him walking in the garden!"
Herr von Heydeck passed his hand across his forehead as if to smooth away the ugly frown, and really he almost succeeded in doing so. He could hardly look kind, but he looked far less sullen and angry, as he said, in a tone meant to be amiable and gay, "Forgive me, Leo; the child reminds me of my duty; I was wrong not to take you into the castle to your room. I am a feeble old man and very forgetful. I have so much sometimes to confuse me, you must not take it amiss if I have sinned against hospitality; my Hilda will atone for my omissions."
And Hilda did so; with graceful cordiality she conducted Leo into the castle and to the rooms that had been prepared for himself and his friend, her charming face lit up by a happy smile as she saw his pleased surprise.
Leo was indeed no less surprised than pleased at sight of the bright, cheerful room they reached after traversing various rooms and a long dark corridor, and of the glorious view, through open windows, of the wooded Schwarzenbach valley and its magnificent background of glaciers.
A careful, feminine hand had evidently been busy here in providing every luxury that could make the expected guest comfortable. Leo was most touched, however, at seeing a new easel set up by one of the windows, and beside it, leaning against the wall, a couple of canvases ready stretched.
"Ah, how kind!" he exclaimed. "A northern room with a glorious view,--an easel and canvases all ready! I am indeed surprised. How could you know of my love of painting, my dear Hilda?"
"I know you better than you think, Leo," Hilda replied, gayly. "I have long known that you were an artist, and I look forward with delight to overlooking your work. I draw a little, and you must give me some lessons; my father has told me all about you. Although he shuns all personal contact with strangers, he is in constant correspondence with the principal naturalists in all the larger European cities. He has long made use of his extensive acquaintance among scientific men in K---- to procure tidings of you and of Uncle Hans. In every letter he sent there he asked about you both, and nothing pleased him so much as to receive good news of his only brother and of his nephew. His friends faithfully replied to him, and thus he has followed your career, even all through the war; and when I came home from school to live here in this lonely castle with him, he told me everything that he knew of his dear relatives. Now you understand how I know that you are not only a brave officer, but an excellent artist."
"I am no longer an officer, and I only wish I were an artist," Leo rejoined.
"You are no longer an officer?" Hilda asked, in surprise. "We had not heard of that."
"Very naturally; I only sent in my resignation a few days ago. My reasons for doing so I will shortly give to yourself and your father. I hope he will find them sufficient."
Hilda gave a little nod of assent. She had no doubt that his reasons for resigning were good, and it never entered her head to imagine that he had been forced into it by any fault of his own. Desirous as she naturally was to know what had induced him to quit a career in which, as her father had informed her, a brilliant future awaited him, her sense of delicacy prevented her from all further question.
Once more she cast a glance around the room to see that nothing was wanting, and then took her leave, begging Leo to establish himself thoroughly in his new home, and assuring him that his luggage would arrive from Tausens in less than an hour, since she would instantly despatch a messenger for it. After which, she added, she would await him in the garden, where the table would be spread in the large summer-house, and whither she begged he would come to partake of some refreshment.
Leo was now left alone to occupy himself with a careful examination of the apartment which was for some time to be his. Everywhere he observed proofs of kindly loving care. By one window stood a writing-table, provided with everything that he could require in that line. A paint-box filled with water-colors and pencils and brushes of all sizes lay open upon it, and two vases of mountain-flowers adorned a shelf in the corner of the room.
In a bookcase he found a fine collection of German authors, and the preponderance of historical works showed that Hilda and his uncle had been aware of his preference for the study of history.
This regard for his peculiar inclinations, this evident desire to make his stay in Castle Reifenstein pleasant to him, awakened in Leo a feeling of remorse. He remembered how unwillingly he had complied with his father's imperious desire that he should visit these relatives who received him with such affection. How charming had been the kindly familiarity of Hilda's manner to him! How evident her desire, by her care for his comfort, that he should feel at home beneath her father's roof!
But this father! Leo had never met a human being who had impressed him so disagreeably at first sight; and yet had not this very uncle given convincing proof of his friendly interest in his nephew? Would Hilda ever have been able so to minister to her cousin's tastes and inclinations if her father had not first taken the trouble to ascertain what those tastes and inclinations were? Leo reflected that, disagreeably impressed though he were by his uncle's conduct, the strange harshness of his first words had borne reference to Paul, and not to his nephew. What cause the old man could have to hate Delmar Leo could not guess, but it was none the less certain that, in the sudden terror caused by Paul's appearance, he had given vent to his hatred in those first few broken words. The coldness of his uncle's reception of himself was due entirely to his hatred of Paul, and Leo had no right to be aggrieved by it,--he had reason to be grateful to the old man for the kindness shown in the provisions made for his comfort.
True to the principle which forbade his yielding undue influence to first impressions, Leo was no sooner convinced that he had no cause for resentment towards his uncle than he exerted himself to conquer all feeling of repulsion for the old man, or rather to transform any such feeling into gratitude for the kindness shown him. Although he could not comply with his wishes in regard to a union between Hilda and himself, he could at least do his part towards establishing friendly relations between his nearest of kin and himself, and pave the way for his father to be reconciled to his only brother.
Filled with this resolve as the result of his short season of reflection, Leo went into the comfortable sleeping-room adjoining his sitting-room to remove from his dress all traces of his dusty walk among the Reifenstein rocks. After which he set out to join his cousin and uncle in the garden, in compliance with Hilda's invitation.
The way thither, however, after he had left his rooms, was not so easy to find. He remembered passing through numerous apartments, decorated partly in mediæval style and partly according to modern ideas, but how many he had seen of these, or in what direction he had come after reaching a large central room into which numerous doors opened, he could not say. He trusted to his luck, however, and from this central apartment, which he easily reached, he entered a small room, which he thought he remembered. The beautiful old wainscoting on the walls had struck his artistic eye, and he now paused to examine it more leisurely. The work must have dated from the end of the fourteenth or the beginning of the fifteenth century, and the carving had evidently been executed by a master's hand. Around the wall, directly under the ceiling, ran a long inscription cut into the wood-work. Leo tried to decipher it, but it baffled him, and he determined to devote himself to the task when he should be less hurried; at present he would not keep his cousin waiting for him.
He wandered through a long range of rooms. In each he found interesting and extremely valuable relics of mediæval splendour, and many precious works of art, upon each of which he would have gladly bestowed attention had he had the time. One room in especial interested him greatly: it was Herr von Heydeck's study; a large, gloomy apartment, into which the narrow windows admitted so little light that a dim twilight reigned in its remote corners although the sun outside was shining brightly. Its rays could not penetrate the thick octagonal panes of glass, set in leaden frames, which had apparently not been cleaned for years and were hardly transparent any longer. All the walls were covered with wide shelves filled partly with old books, partly with boxes and bundles of papers, and partly with bottles; these bottles, containing all sorts of snakes, lizards, and fish, preserved in spirits, might well have inspired the uninitiated with disgust.
Close by a window, in a deep embrasure of the wall, stood Herr von Heydeck's writing-table. It was half covered with open books, and a microscope placed just against the window and several magnifying-glasses bore witness to the industry of their possessor.
Leo would have greatly enjoyed a thorough examination of the various objects of interest that made this old room the very ideal of the magician's den of an enchanted castle, but he preferred to do so in his uncle's society, and at present what he most desired was to find the way to the court-yard. He opened a door in this room, and discovered a dark, steep winding staircase, which he descended, quite sure that it would lead him into the open air; but when he reached the bottom he found himself in a dim, deserted kitchen, only so far lighted by a window high up in the wall as to enable him to distinguish where he was. Opening an opposite door, he was disappointed to find, not another room or hall of entrance from the court-yard, but a narrow, dim passage, which evidently did not lead out to light and air. Probably this was the way to the round tower of which the postmaster had had so much to tell.
Leo's curiosity was now excited. He could not withstand the temptation to go on and have a look at the haunted tower, especially as he found that the passage was only a few feet long in the thickness of the old wall, and that a door at the other end was secured only by a large bolt. This bolt, although as rusty as such old bolts are sure to be, he managed to slip quite easily, with a noise that sounded ghostly enough in the dim, low passage, and the door opened without any difficulty, but his hopes of finding any interesting mediæval relics here were disappointed. He had entered a huge round room, evidently occupying the entire basement of the tower, which must have served in former times for the dwelling of the warder of the castle, although it had apparently not been inhabited for many years. The room was lighted by the old loop-holes, that had been glazed in modern times, and were high up near the ceiling of the apartment.
Several old pieces of furniture, a dilapidated table, and a child's crib, in which there were still some dirty pieces of bedding, were standing in disorder about the room. The thick coating of dust that lay everywhere upon everything was evidence that for years no one had used the apartment.
Leo made haste to leave so uninteresting a spot; he closed the door behind him, producing, as he bolted it again, the same unearthly creak that had startled the echoes a moment previously, and soon found himself once more in the spacious deserted kitchen. Here he now discovered a second door unbolted, by which he entered a large room with windows opening upon the court-yard. The coarse furniture and arrangement of this room bore evidence to Leo's mind that it was probably the abode of the old servant of whom the postmaster had made mention in his narrative. He would have passed through it to reach the court-yard by the opposite door, when this was suddenly opened from without, and an old man appeared upon the threshold with features inflamed with rage. He shouted out several words in utterly unintelligible German, and then threw himself upon the young man, clutching his throat with both hands with a strength and ferocity which could never have been looked for from his age and appearance. As he did so he uttered a shriek of rage that sounded more like the howl of a wild beast than any sound from human lungs.
For a moment Leo was confused by so unexpected an attack. He recoiled as the man rushed upon him with the evident intention of throttling him; but in the next instant he freed himself from the griping fingers at his throat, and threw off his assailant, exclaiming, "Take care! What do you mean?" words which received no reply save the same unmeaning howl and a second attack on the part of the old man. This time however Leo was prepared, and he repulsed his assailant with such vigour that he staggered backwards and fell on the floor.
Nothing daunted however, the furious creature was on his feet in an instant, and looking wildly about him, found what he sought,--a broad-bladed knife that lay upon the window-ledge. This he seized, and with another cry, rushed once more upon the young man.
It was a struggle for life. Hitherto Leo had only acted in self-defence; he could no longer spare his assailant. He avoided his savage thrust by stepping aside, and felled him to the floor with a blow on the side of his head. He fell headlong and for a moment lost his hold of the knife; it was but for a moment however: he had not lost consciousness; and again he would have imperilled Leo's life, when, "What is the matter here? Melcher, are you crazy?" was heard in a deep voice, and Herr von Heydeck appeared at the open door. The old man's hand, raised to strike, fell by his side, and the knife dropped from his grasp.
Left at liberty by his furious assailant, Leo could see what manner of man he was. The vacant, animal expression of the old fellow's coarse features placed it beyond all doubt that he had been attacked by a maniac. Leo remembered now that when he heard the name 'Melcher' the Tausens landlord had spoken of this son of old Stoffel's as a 'Troddel,' a name synonymous in the Tyrol with idiot.
Yes, old Melcher was an idiot; the vacant face and the protruding, watery blue eyes were idiotic; the sudden change in the countenance so lately animated by bestial rage, and now smiling a dull, unmeaning smile, was idiotic, and so also was the unintelligible, stammering speech in which he replied to Herr von Heydeck.
Was there any sense in what he said? Leo could not understand a single word, but he saw Herr von Heydeck's face grow dark, and noticed that he glanced anxiously towards the door of the old kitchen and then keenly at his nephew.
It was evident that his anger was roused by the old man's words; he turned hastily to Leo with, "What are you prying about here for? Why should you intrude here?"
"I do not understand you, sir," Leo replied, haughtily. "What possible motive could I have for 'prying'? Accident led me hither. I was seeking some means of egress into the court-yard when this old maniac assaulted me."
"Accident? Melcher tells me he heard the bolt creak."
"He did. I found a door in that deserted kitchen leading to the old tower. Curiosity prompted me to penetrate its depths, as I would have explored any other mediæval dungeon. I had no idea you could be angry about it or I should not have done so."
Herr von Heydeck grew pale as he heard that Leo had penetrated to the room in the tower. He paid no heed to his apology, the only thing that interested him was the fact that Leo had seen this room. "And what did you find there?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"A wretched, uninteresting, deserted peasant-room, which you however must know far better than I do, and I cannot conceive why my harmless curiosity should have so vexed you."
Leo's frank quiet explanation had its effect upon Herr von Heydeck; he saw that he had been hasty with his nephew, and in a much more composed manner "You are right," he said, "a wretched, uninteresting, deserted peasant-room; Melcher used to sleep in that tower-room, but it was too damp, and so it has not been used for years. There is nothing to see there. There is indeed no reason for my being vexed, but I do not like to have people ranging all over the castle, and I cannot see how you came here, since your rooms are in the other wing."
"I lost my way in the labyrinth of rooms as I was looking for the stairs leading to the court-yard, and I found myself in your study, whence I thought to descend into the court-yard by the winding staircase, which however brought me to the old kitchen. Thence I penetrated to the tower-room."
"I see, I see. Any one not familiar with the castle will very likely lose his way, but I advise you to be more careful in future. Melcher will not suffer any man except myself in his quarters. He is an idiot, but old as he is his muscles are iron; and if I had not chanced to come into the courtyard to look after you, you might have had the worst of it. It was fortunate that I came."
"It was indeed, for the old man and for myself, for I should have been sorry to do him an injury, and yet I might have been forced into it. How, sir, can you allow so dangerous a maniac to go at large in the castle?"
"He is not dangerous; he is a harmless idiot. There is no need to mind him, except when he is irritated and falls into a rage. Take no notice of him, and be careful to avoid this part of the castle, and he will not molest you. Look here, Melcher; this gentleman is my nephew; he will not come here again; you must let him alone."
With a vacant smile Melcher nodded to his master, and picked up and laid aside the knife, uttering, as he did so, some unmeaning sounds which were entirely unintelligible to Leo, but which Herr von Heydeck, acquainted with the Tyrolean patois, and used to the old man's indistinct utterance, seemed to understand, for he replied to them, "That's right, Melcher; only lock the door, and I will see you again by and by."
Then turning to Leo his uncle continued: "The old fellow is afraid you will intrude upon him again. Be careful not to do it, for it would throw him into a rage in which he would be quite capable of murder."
"I am not afraid of him," Leo quietly replied; "but I shall certainly not provoke him intentionally."
"Promise me that you will never try to open that door into the tower again," Herr von Heydeck said to his nephew as they passed out into the court-yard.
"Certainly; your wish is quite sufficient."
"Thank you. Then you will have nothing to fear from old Melcher. You have had but a sorry reception in Castle Reifenstein, Leo, but I trust you will forget it and yet feel yourself at home here. Now let us go directly to Hilda, in the garden."
Leo followed his uncle through the court-yard to the shady summer-house, where Hilda was awaiting them at the head of a delicately-spread table. She reproached her cousin laughingly for spending so long a time over his toilette,--her father had grown so impatient that he had gone in search of him.
Leo's excuses gave his uncle a pretext for inquiring more closely into the manner in which he had gone astray, and while Hilda poured out his coffee, Leo described minutely the way he had taken upon leaving his room. It appeared that instead of taking the door opening upon the staircase from the large centre apartment he had left it by one leading to the wing in which Herr von Heydeck had his study. This simple explanation entirely banished the mistrust which had been evident in his uncle's manner. The old man saw clearly that it had been with no desire to pry, but from accident, that Leo had penetrated into the hidden recesses of the castle. The frown on his brow disappeared, and he became genial and cordial.
Hilda listened eagerly to her cousin's account of his error; and when he told of reaching the deserted tower-room by the narrow passage from the old kitchen, she was greatly amazed. She had never even heard of such a room; she had been no farther than into Melcher's kitchen, and had not gone even there since her return from school, for she could perfectly remember, as a child, making the old servant very angry by going once alone into his kitchen and looking about her. Why he should be so jealous of the solitude of his kitchen, and why he should make such a mystery of the tower-room, Hilda could not divine.
Herr von Heydeck showed uneasiness at the continuation of the discussion with regard to Melcher and his tower-room, and he several times tried to change the subject of conversation; but Hilda's curiosity was excited, and she would recur to it. She was no less surprised by Melcher's outburst of insane fury than by the existence of the tower-room. She had always known the old servant as a good-humoured, harmless old fellow, ready to fulfil her every wish, and she asked so many questions about the attack he had made upon Leo, that her father, after fruitless efforts to change the subject, at last lost patience.
"Do not tease Leo with any more questions, my dear," he said. "The disagreeable scene is over; do not let us discuss it further."
"But I cannot imagine, papa, why Melcher, who never does harm to any one, should attack Leo with such fury just because he found him in his room."
"Why should we try to imagine the motives that rule the actions of an idiot?"
"But, papa, you know very well that Melcher is no idiot. He knows perfectly what to do and what not to do, and he certainly would not guard this tower-chamber, of which I never heard before, so jealously if he had not some reason for it."
"Perhaps he hoards his savings there, and is afraid of being robbed; perhaps he keeps some articles of special value to him hidden there. Who can tell what fancies he may have in his feeble brain? If he is not entirely idiotic, he is certainly not a responsible person: he has not the usual amount of intellect. It would be impossible to conceive of the workings of his small amount of mind. But indeed we have wasted too much time upon him. I do not want to hear another word about him. We have far other things to talk of with our Leo than of old Melcher, and his deserted tower-chamber with which we certainly have nothing to do."
Hilda could not gainsay so determined an expression of her father's will; she questioned Leo no further upon the forbidden topic, but listened attentively to the conversation which her father skilfully led to the subject which interested him most at the moment. Leo had to give an account of his life in K----, of his father the old colonel, and of his friends.
It was a matter of course that Delmar's name occurred frequently in his discourse.
This was what Herr von Heydeck wanted. For good reasons he was very anxious for exact intelligence concerning Paul's past life, intelligence which he could procure nowhere so easily as from Paul's most intimate friend, and to learn all possible particulars with regard to Delmar he had given the conversation its present turn.
The old man now had his features under perfect control; his face betrayed no emotion beyond a justifiable curiosity as he said, "Your friend interests me; he is very like a man, now dead, with whom I had relations at a most eventful period of my life. The memory of that time always agitates me, and therefore the sudden appearance of the young man was such a shock that I lost my self-control and transgressed the duties of hospitality. I should like to know whether the resemblance that so struck me is accidental, or whether your friend is really distantly connected with my old acquaintance."
"Delmar has no relatives; he is alone in the world."
"But he certainly must once have had relatives. Where was he born and educated? What are his circumstances? You would oblige me very much if you would tell me all you know of him, for, as I said, I am greatly interested in him."
Should Leo comply with this direct request? He called to mind the expression of intense hatred and of horror with which his uncle had regarded Paul. The quiet manner in which the old man now questioned him with regard to his friend's past did not impose upon him; he divined that the information he asked for had a deeper interest for his uncle than that excited by a chance resemblance, and yet he saw no reasons for concealing what he knew about Paul. Therefore he made up his mind to accede to his uncle's desire. He told all that he knew of his friend, and as he did so he involuntarily warmed with his topic; his love for Paul, and the esteem in which he held him, lent glowing colours to the picture that he drew. He observed with pleasure that not only did his uncle listen to him with interest, but that Hilda's eyes sparkled as she leaned forward in eager attention.
Leo had known Delmar from childhood; they had gone to the same school, and as they were near neighbours at home, they had grown to be inseparable playfellows, and afterwards loyal friends.
Paul's father had not been a wealthy man in the old schooldays. He had come to K---- with his only son to invest a small capital in some business. He lived only for this business, which he established and conducted with great success. He was so engrossed by it that he had not much time or attention to bestow upon little Paul, whose mother had died a few hours after the birth of her child.
Thus the boy, who was full of talent, grew up in his father's house over which an old housekeeper presided, left entirely to himself, and his heart would have been fairly starved had he not found in Leo a faithful friend upon whom he could lavish the tenderest affection.
During his school-life, however, a great change took place in his circumstances. His father embarked in daring speculations, and they were successful. Herr Delmar grew rich; the small business he had founded became the greatest banking establishment in K----. The merchant's time was more than ever absorbed by the cares of business in his unceasing efforts to accumulate wealth; he saw his son only at meal-times.
When Paul passed through his college examinations he devoted himself to the study of history and philosophy. He had pursued these with ardour for about a year, when his course of life suddenly changed. The young student had noticed for some time that his father's manner had been absent, and his air grave and even depressed; the reason of this was explained to him in a conversation he held with the head book-keeper of the banking-house. It appeared that Herr Delmar, with unequalled daring, had, in the hope of doubling his wealth, embarked in a giant speculation, involving not only his every penny, but also all the credit that he possessed. If it was unsuccessful complete ruin was unavoidable, and at present affairs looked gloomy. The money market was uncertain; the credit of the house was shaken. Herr Delmar was anxiously awaiting what the future might bring forth.
One day, as the banker was sitting, silent as usual, opposite his son at the dinner-table, letters were brought to him so unfavourable in their contents that he broke the silence to say to his son, with a glance of irritation, "If you had turned your attention to business instead of studying philosophy and such stuff, you might now have been of some service to me!" He made no further remark, but arose from table, leaving his untouched dinner, and shut himself up in his office.
The next morning when the office opened, Paul was standing behind a desk,--he had applied himself to his father's business, and he then received from Herr Delmar the first look and smile of affection that he could remember in his life.
The young man was endowed with so keen an intellect, so excellent a memory, and such power of ready comprehension, that he soon mastered the difficulties of a commercial career. Under the skilful tuition of the head book-keeper he soon became an admirable business man, and when, a few weeks later, his father, oppressed with care, was stricken down by illness, he was perfectly capable of conducting his affairs, with the assistance of the faithful book-keeper.
This time of trial developed all the strength and intellectual vigour of Paul's character. Under his prudent but brilliant direction the great banking-house passed successfully through the dangerous crisis. As bold, but not as venturous, as his father, he avoided all too daring speculations: he established the business upon a firm basis; and when Herr Delmar, though only half convalescent, was driven by anxiety to leave his bed for his office, he found, to his astonishment, that all peril was past. The great banking-house had emerged from the crisis with greater wealth and firmer credit than ever.
But Herr Delmar had left his bed too soon. A relapse was the consequence: recovery was impossible; although too feeble to take any part in the conduct of his affairs, he lived on confined to his couch for three years longer. At the end of this time, in the midst of a night of intense suffering, he felt that his last hour was at hand. He had Paul awakened and summoned to his bedside. He was in entire possession of his faculties; his long illness had been powerless to weaken his vigorous intellect and the conviction that he was dying never for a moment disturbed the repose of his mind.
He smiled affectionately at Paul when he entered the room, and replied to his inquiries by a cordial pressure of the hand. "I sent for you," he said, in a failing voice, "because I know I shall not live until morning. I want to thank you for the filial affection you have always shown me. To you I owe all that I possess; through you I have been enabled to establish my house; your unselfish devotion preserved my wealth for me when my previous good fortune threatened to leave me. Your care and prudence have tripled my property during these years of sickness when I have been unable to attend to business, and it is no more than just and right that you should be the only heir to the fortune you have so contributed to make. There is no one in the world with any just claim upon my estate. While I was poor my distant relatives took no notice of me, and since I have grown rich I have treated them in the same manner. You alone therefore, my dear Paul, will inherit my property, and with my lawyer's help, I have made a will to confirm you in the possession of your inheritance if any unjustifiable claims should be made upon my estate.
"I see that you do not comprehend why a will should be necessary when, as my only son, you are legally my only heir. I could explain this to you, but I beg you not to require me to do so. You have always honoured and loved me as a father should be honoured and loved by a son. I thank you for it from my very soul, and my last wish is that you should retain the same affection for my memory."
Paul would indeed have liked some explanation of his father's strange words, but he did not venture to ask for them, and a few more words of gratitude for this forbearance were the last uttered by the dying man. He soon after fell asleep with a smile upon his pale lips, and did not wake again.
The day after his father's death Paul received a visit from one of the best-known lawyers in K----, who came to read to him the will which he had drawn up a year before at Herr Delmar's desire. To Paul's disappointment it contained no explanation of his father's last words, but on the contrary surprised all who were present at the opening. In the introduction to the will Herr Delmar stated that Paul had always performed all the duties of a son with the greatest self-forgetfulness; that the maintenance and increase of his business were owing to the young man's skill and devotion; and that therefore, and not because he was his son, the testator declared him his sole heir. At the close of the will Herr Delmar expressly mentioned that he left behind him no relatives legally entitled to any portion of his estate or who could have the slightest claim upon Paul.
The singular wording of the testament caused considerable talk in legal circles in K----, and the lawyer who had drawn it up was of course applied to by many people, and indeed by Paul himself, for an explanation, but he assured every one that he knew nothing; he had strictly followed Herr Delmar's instructions in drawing up the will, the wording of which was the testator's own.
Why Herr Delmar should have taken such pains to secure his property to a son who was legally his heir remained a mystery, since no one appeared to put forward any claim to the young man's inheritance.
Thus Paul entered into undisputed possession of his father's immense wealth. There was no longer any reason for his continuing to carry on a business, in which he had never had the least interest, merely to accumulate money. To the surprise of every one on 'Change, he disposed of the entire business to a stock company at a very reasonable price, and invested his capital in safe government securities, in bonds, mortgages, and real estate. This done, he devoted all his energies to scientific research.
He lived in K---- the life of a man of wealth. He filled his magnificent villa with the finest paintings and statuary, and spent enormous sums upon his library. The greater part of his income, however, was expended in satisfying what he called his egotism,--his love of self,--which prompted him to purchase whenever he could the pleasure of assisting the poor in the quietest manner possible.
"And as an egotist to whom no sacrifice seems great in the interest of a friend,--whose aid is always ready whenever aid is necessary,--Paul Delmar lives in K----, where every one who knows him loves and respects him. I am proud that he honours me with his friendship." Thus Leo concluded his account of his friend.
Herr von Heydeck had listened to every word, and when his nephew had finished he nodded in approval; his face wore a very different expression from that which had animated it while he was questioning Leo with regard to Paul. He even smiled quite gayly. "Your friend seems to be an admirable fellow," he said. "I am very glad, doubly so, for I think I have some reason for special interest in him. I will tell you about it hereafter. Very rich you say he is,--a millionaire, eh?"
"I do not know the amount of his wealth; he never speaks of it, and seems to value it but little. In K---- he is said to be worth four million thalers at least. He is the wealthiest man there."
"Four millions!" exclaimed Herr von Heydeck. "That is enormous! I had no idea of it! Four millions! Then he certainly does not need any more. He would not care for a few hundred thousand guilders, and therefore will not----"
Herr von Heydeck suddenly paused and cast a timid glance at Leo, who looked inquiringly at him expecting the end of his remark. The old man did not finish it, but arose and, half turning away, said without meeting Leo's eyes, "But what nonsense I am talking! What is this Paul Delmar to me? He is your friend, and as such shall be a welcome guest at the castle; but don't ask me to interest myself about him. I am an old man, often ill, and unaccustomed to social intercourse. My head aches if I converse for any length of time, and then I grow very confused. That is why I receive no visitors. My head aches to-day. You must forgive me if I retire to my room. To-morrow we will talk more together; to-day I must leave you to Hilda. Good-evening."
He waited for no reply, but nodded to Leo without looking at him, and left the summer-house. Passing quickly through the garden, he was soon lost to sight among the shrubbery.