"My poor dear friend! To think we must part again; it is really too hard. But don't be discouraged! Gretchen will get well, and everything will come out right at last."
Ottilie Wollnow said these words in the antechamber of her house in Sundin, to Gotthold, with whom she had just left the room where Cecilia and old Borlaf were watching Gretchen's feverish slumber.
"Everything," repeated Ottilie, as she saw that the look of deep sorrow on Gotthold's expressive face remained unchanged.
"You do not really think so yourself," he replied, gratefully pressing Ottilie's hand; "if the child dies, Cecilia, I fear, will never get over it, no matter how much, how entirely, that scoundrel is to blame; at any rate it will be another of those sad, torturing memories, which, according to her own confession to you, separate her from me forever."
Herr Wollnow came out of an adjoining room, ready for walking. Ottilie accompanied the two friends to the door. "I wish I could go with you," said she.
"And it would not be a bad thing," said Wollnow as the two friends walked through the dusky streets, in which to-day there was an unusual stir and bustle; "women have what in such cases removes mountains--the sovereign passion which we men, luckily for ourselves, have reasoned away, though without obtaining in exchange the sovereign calmness with which that strange old man met Brandow this morning. I would not speak of it in the ladies' presence. Brandow, with the acuteness for which even his enemies must give him credit, had made up his mind from the first moment that Cecilia must sooner or later come here, even if she did not do so at once. He therefore instantly turned round and drove here as fast as the horses could go; he must have met you just outside of Prora. Since that time he has lurked around my house and your lodgings; I admire the firmness with which he has maintained his usual calm manner, and his boldness in telling everybody that his wife had gone away to make a little visit, and the farce Cousin Borlaf had played with the farm-hands--searching the bog and forest--was a piece of roguery for which he would call the spiteful old man, with whom he had long been on bad terms, to a strict account. He must have had a hell of anxiety and dread in his heart, for his enemies--and he has not a few, foremost among whom are Redebas and the Plüggens--took an eager interest in circulating the worst reports, and the members of the committee on the races were on the point of formally demanding an explanation from Brandow, when yesterday evening he said at the club that his wife had arrived here half an hour before, and was staying with us: the Selliens had also requested the pleasure of her company, but the Assessor's health was not yet entirely restored, so he had given us the preference. In order to give his statement the proper weight, or--urged on by I know not what devil of impudence--as soon as he heard of Cecilia's arrival yesterday evening--I suppose through Alma Sellien, who unluckily was with my wife at the time--he rang the door-bell, and sent in his card to Ottilie. She would undoubtedly have been glad to receive him and give full vent to her feelings; but the old gentleman entered the room, and with the stately politeness which we of the last two generations have forgotten, begged her to leave him alone with Brandow a moment. It was, in fact, not more than a minute before the old gentleman rejoined the ladies with a mien as calm as ever; while the other rushed down the staircase, and Cecilia, who had no suspicion of his presence, was startled by the violence with which somebody banged the door. Here we are at the 'Golden Lion.' Let me go in alone. If we should not find him this evening, he ought not to know that you have returned."
Wollnow entered the wide hall, through whose open door a bright light streamed into the somewhat dusky street. There were a great many guests in the large hotel on account of the races, which had commenced to-day, and were to be continued to-morrow, so that Wollnow was obliged to ask several times before he could get a positive answer; and Gotthold was kept waiting longer than he expected. As, in walking up and down, he had for the second time proceeded some little distance from the house, a female figure suddenly emerged from a dark side-street, passed him, and instantly turned back with a murmured "Carl," raising her black veil at the same moment. In spite of the dim light, Gotthold recognized Alma Sellien.
"You are mistaken," said he.
Alma had also recognized him; she had felt so sure of her ground that terror almost robbed her of all presence of mind; but it was only for a moment. "It is fortunate it was no one else," she said, drawing a long breath, and then, as Gotthold made no reply, added: "I have begged him again and again to tell you; you must learn it sooner or later, and to you the news can give only pleasure; but he never would."
"And for good reasons."
"What reasons? Pray, pray tell me all."
"In another place and at another time; neither hour nor scene is suitable."
Wollnow came out of the hotel. "Another time, then," whispered Alma, as she drew down her veil and glided back into the dark street from which she had just emerged.
"Who was that?" asked Wollnow.
"This man will drag half the world into the mire with him," cried Gotthold.
"Where we should have sought him long ago, if we wanted to find him," replied Wollnow. "It was Frau Sellien, wasn't it? You betray no secret, it was one only to us; here the sparrows chatter it on the housetops. The man is making it easier for us than we expected; but it is a wonderful piece of luck that you caught Hinrich Scheel. If only the fellow's old clannish feeling doesn't break out again at the last moment."
"I do not think it will; for it is precisely because Brandow has so brutally wounded this feeling, so basely broken the faith due from the chief to his follower--that has excited and angered the rough but in his way honest man, to the highest degree. No, on the contrary, what I fear is that our treatment of Brandow will not satisfy him, and he will try to revenge himself in his own fashion."
"And is he so far wrong?" replied Wollnow earnestly, "are we not robbing the gallows of its victim? And even if we excuse ourselves by saying that there are crimes worse than highway robbery and murder, which do not come under the head of any law, cannot Hinrich Scheel quote the same thing himself, and demand that the breach of faith committed against him, and for whose condemnation he can certainly apply to no regular judge, shall not remain unpunished? But forgive my illogical obstinacy, my dear friend. I perceive that the future of more than one innocent person depends upon the secrecy with which we go to work. So let a Vehmgericht or a judgment from Heaven take the place of a public trial. Here we are at the club-house. I am sorry to leave you, but I feel with you that you must fight your way through this without seconds."
Gotthold walked up and down the brightly-lighted vestibule; loud voices, laughter, and the clinking of glasses echoed from the dining-room, into which a liveried servant had taken his card; the clerk was sitting in the office busily employed on his books; and the servants in the dressing-room had enough to do to take and deliver up the coats of the gentlemen who were constantly arriving and departing.
The man again appeared; Herr Brandow begged to be excused, but he was very busy just now; would not tomorrow morning be time enough?
"Time enough for what?" asked Gustav Von Plüggen, who had come out of the dining-room directly behind the servant, and greeted Gotthold with his usual noisy gayety, now increased by plentiful potations of wine. "What? Brandow very busy? Stuff and nonsense! Pressing business! He's sitting behind a bottle of Canary, writing one round sum after another in his damned betting-book. They're all determined to be fools, though Redebas and Otto and I have tired ourselves out talking; after what we saw at Dollan, everything is possible. It will turn out just as it did with Harry--Harry at the Derby, five years ago. Ever been in England? Famous country--women, horses, sheep--famous. An old joke of mine that always keeps fresh. What was I saying? do you want to speak to Brandow? But why don't you come in? It will be a pleasure to me to introduce an old schoolmate. Celebrated artist, hey? I heard some devilish good things yesterday at the chairman's from Prince Prora, who made your acquaintance in Rome, and is delighted to hear that you are in Sundin. Even spoke of seeking you out; curious; on the race-course to-morrow. By the way, got a ticket? Stand A? Don't hesitate, I beg; see, half-a-dozen left; gives me great pleasure. Come in!"
The servant had turned the handle of the door long before. The dining-room was crowded with people--members of the club, and their guests, among whom the officers of the garrison were especially numerous. They were sitting at different tables with bottles of champagne before them; a gay, even noisy conversation was going on; no one noticed the new-comers, not even Brandow, who had apparently just risen from the table, and was standing at the end of the apartment, in the midst of a group of people who were all talking to him at once, while he, holding up his betting-book, exclaimed: "One at a time, gentlemen! one at a time! since you are positively determined on being kind enough to make me a Cr[oe]sus. Trutwetter, one hundred and fifty! Please put your name underneath. Here, if you prefer! I have kept a place for Kummerrow's two hundred pistoles, Baron? No! Oh! dear, omen in nomine! who would have thought it? Another! Plüggen! Et tu Brutus? What is it? A gentleman--back again already? I am very busy! Tell the gentleman--"
Brandow suddenly paused; he had just seen Gotthold, who had been standing directly behind him.
"I have time to wait until you have finished your business here."
"It would detain you too long."
"I have plenty of time."
Gotthold withdrew from the circle with a polite but formal bow; Brandow had turned very pale, and stared sullenly at his betting-book, while the lead-pencil trembled in his hand. What was the meaning of the pertinacity with which this man pursued him? Should he rudely dismiss him before the whole company? But that was impossible without a scene, and this evening a scene might be dangerous.
"Now, Brandow! I have no time to wait!" cried a voice.
"Are you reckoning them up already?" asked a second.
"I really must run them over once," replied Brandow, closing the book; "have patience for a few minutes, gentlemen; it seems that there is a communication of some importance to be made to me. I'll be back again in a moment. Now may I ask your wishes?"
"The communication I have to make is indeed of some importance, and might be best heard without witnesses. So it is only in your own interest that I request you to provide some place where we shall not be disturbed."
"Have you considered that I shall probably have more to ask of you than you of me?"
"I think I have considered everything; and that is probably more than you can say."
They were standing somewhat apart from the others, speaking in low tones, and looking steadily into each other's eyes.
"Come, then," said Brandow.
"Who was that?" asked one of the gentlemen, whose autograph graced Brandow's betting-book.
"A famous fellow!" cried Gustav von Plüggen. "Old schoolmate of mine; celebrated artist; talked about him all yesterday evening at the chairman's! Protégé of Prince Prora's! Famous fellow! I'm going to have him paint me. In England every man of rank has himself painted with all his favorite horses and dogs, and all the rest of the family. Ever been in England, Kummerrow? Famous country--women, horses, sheep--everything famous!"
They crossed the hall in silence, and, without exchanging a word, entered one of the rooms reserved for the private use of the members of the club, and which the servant opened for the two gentlemen at a sign from Brandow. A large hanging lamp, directly over a round table covered with green velvet, lighted the apartment tolerably well. Several arm-chairs, also covered with green velvet, stood around the table.
"I suppose we shall be entirely undisturbed here," said Gotthold.
"And I that the farce will not last long; you saw I was very busy."
Brandow, as if in a fit of impatience, had drawn one of the chairs away from the table and thrown himself into it, but it was by no accident that his face was thus in the shadow, while the light streamed full on Gotthold's.
"Very busy," repeated Brandow, drumming on the arm of the chair, "too busy not to be compelled to defer the account I have to settle with you until tomorrow morning. And if you should have the--the face to try to intimidate me, I say: Beware! beware! you do not yet know me; my patience is not inexhaustible, and however willing I might be to avoid a scandal, and for these few days, I freely confess, would fain escape it--if you urge me, and it must be--I am ready--ready at any moment."
Brandow had spoken in a loud, threatening tone; but he had evidently failed in his object. Gotthold's eye rested upon him so calmly--with a glance of contempt, as it seemed to him--that he could not bear the gaze, and suddenly paused with a secret thrill of terror, as Gotthold now quietly opened a letter he had just taken out of his pocket.
"Will you read this letter before you say more?"
Brandow had not the courage to refuse.
"From the noble Wollnow, apparently, to me and about you?"
"Yes, it is from Wollnow, but to me and about you."
"About me! that's strange, and passably long too."
He tried to feign a yawn as he let the sheets slip through his fingers; but had scarcely cast a glance at them, and read the first lines, when he started up like a madman, and hurling the letter upon the table, exclaimed:
"This is infamous! This demands blood! I will see nothing more, hear nothing more! I will not be the patient victim of a vulgar intrigue. We will speak of this again, sir, we will speak of this again."
He wandered restlessly up and down the room; Gotthold remained quietly in his seat.
"You have a moment to decide whether you will read the letter, or whether I shall show it to Count Zarrentin, before taking farther steps."
Brandow paused in his walk. "So you really mean to have a scandal! I thought so. Well, perhaps it will be worth the trouble, to see how you intend to begin."
He threw himself into his chair again, seized the letter, and began to read it with the air of a man who wished to get rid of a troublesome petitioner. A scornful smile played around his lips. "I was mistaken," he muttered as if talking to himself, "it is simply ridiculous, utterly ridiculous."
But his lips were pale; the smile changed to a grin, and his hands trembled more and more. He had read very rapidly at first; but the farther he proceeded the longer he lingered over every separate sentence, and even word. Many he seemed to weigh and test two or three times, and he made a pretence of reading long after he had evidently reached the end. At last, amid the terrible tumult of his soul, a resolution was formed.
"You were going to give this--letter to our chairman," he said, carefully folding the sheets; "I have no objection, but on one condition."
He withdrew the hand with which he had held out the letter to Gotthold.
"On condition that I may first take a copy of this precious document, to serve as a basis for the charge of scandal I shall bring against the noble writer and delicate-minded receiver of this bungling performance. To a man so extremely just as yourself, a man who does not hesitate, on the most absurd proofs, to charge his friend with the most horrible crimes, this will doubtless be perfectly agreeable."
"Entirely so," replied Gotthold; "you can also keep the original. The letter was merely to make you acquainted with certain things, to which I did not wish to refer verbally, and has performed its work."
"And this interesting conversation is over," said Brandow, rising; "I mean for to-day; to-morrow we shall have more to say to each other; only the tables will be turned. The things of which I shall accuse you are no shameful inventions like the story about the bills, or silly fancies like the horrible murder of Hinrich Scheel, which you will probably cry, with all the terrible details, at the next fair, but facts, positive facts--a pretty commentary on the song of the worthy man, who knows how to make no better use of the hospitality offered him, than--you have done. So farewell until to-morrow!"
Brandow walked towards the door with a wave of the hand intended to be contemptuous; Gotthold stepped before him.
"You will probably have patience a short time longer, when I tell you that your future fate must be decided now and here."
"My fate? Are you mad?"
"Decide for yourself. Hinrich Scheel was found by me yesterday evening in Wiessow, where he had concealed himself, and is now at my lodgings guarded by the brothers Prebrow."
Brandow staggered back as if a bullet had struck him, until his hand clutched the arm of a chair, and in that attitude stood staring at Gotthold with eyes that seemed starting from their sockets.
"Hinrich Scheel!" he stammered.
"Whom you thought had disappeared from the scene forever, though you were careless or niggardly enough not even to pay off your accomplice properly. I am now obliged to have him watched, not to prevent his escape--he has no wish to fly, he will endure any punishment if only the man for whom he did what he did, does not escape; I have him watched simply to prevent his taking this punishment into his own harsh, cruel hands."
Brandow had sunk into the chair. His shameless courage and elastic strength seemed to have utterly deserted him; he looked ten years older; but suddenly he started up again.
"Bah!" he cried, "do you think you can frighten me in that way? If that rascal Hinrich has allowed himself to be caught, so much the worse for him! What harm can he do me? I hope my word will weigh no less than that of a rascally groom, who has evidently been bribed by my enemies. A man who knows himself innocent cares nothing for bribery: or do you really expect to make any one believe that, if even a suspicion could have fallen upon me from any quarter, I would have let the fellow go without securing his silence in some way? That is certainly sheer nonsense: or will you say, he gave him nothing, so that if he were caught no one would ask, From whom and for what did you get this money? Settle it among yourselves, and do as you please--an honest man like me laughs at your threats."
Again he went towards the door, but his step grew slower the nearer he approached it; and ere he reached the threshold, he turned on his heel and came up to Gotthold with a smile on his lips.
"Let us drop the tragic masks, Gotthold, and talk like sensible people; what are your conditions?"
"The first is that you shall confess the deeds of which Wollnow's letter accuses you. You know what I mean."
"Not entirely. Is the confession only for yourself?"
"If you consent to the other conditions, yes."
"Very well; I did what I am said to have done. What more?"
"That which follows as a matter of course. The daughter of an honorable family cannot and shall not be the wife of a criminal. That is, you will give your consent to everything we--I mean Herr Bogislas Wenhof, Wollnow and I--may dictate in regard to the divorce."
"And my daughter?"
"Answer the question yourself."
"I love the child."
"You lie, Brandow; and even were it possible, as it is impossible, you would still have forever forfeited the right to keep her, or even maintain any communication with her. I hope she will forget you are her father."
"Which, however, I shall ever remain, and,mon cher, I'll give you this knowledge, which is doubtless uncommonly pleasing, as a wedding-present; or don't you intend to carry to a fitting end the business you have so beautifully begun?"
"The point in question is your destiny, not mine."
"Which, however, seems to be somewhat nearly connected with me. Or did you want me to believe you were doing all this for the service of God? Pshaw, my dear friend, our acquaintance is not a thing of yesterday, and our paths do not cross here and now for the first time. I have been in your way, and you in mine, on the schoolroom benches, the playground, at the dancing-lessons, and everywhere; I supplanted you in those days, and gave you a punishment to remember all your life. Well, you have done so, and this is the reprisal. I have lost the game--by a single foolish play--no matter! I have lost it; and I am too old a gambler not to understand and feel that it is my fate; but the game is not yet over; we shall meet again, and he who laughs last, laughs best."
The man's eyes flashed glances of deadly hate, as he strode up and down the room with hasty steps. His sharp teeth gnawed his livid lips, and he tugged and tore at the ends of his long fair mustache, as he again paused and said:--
"Only one question more. Shall I also have to provide the dowry?"
"I don't know what you mean by that; I only know we intend to leave you to take your own course as soon as you have paid your debt--outwardly at least--and replaced the sum stolen. You will have a chance to do so to-morrow. It is gambler's money, but that don't concern us."
"And if I don't win?"
"You will work. Dollan has been leased to you for five years more; you can, if you choose--and you will be compelled to choose--pay back in less than half the time the ten thousand thalers I shall advance to you--it is almost the last remnant of my fortune. At any rate the package will be found on Dollan moor to-morrow evening, and day after to-morrow be in the coffers of the convent."
"How well you have provided for yourself!"
"And you too. If we drove you from your home, as you deserve--for you are not worthy to have German laborers call you master--you would go to ruin in the shortest possible time, and that, for your child's sake, I do not desire."
Brandow essayed a scornful laugh, but Gotthold's last words, and the tone in which he uttered them, closed his lips.
"You said just now, Brandow, that you loved your child: it was a lie; if you had done so even a little, for her sake you would at least have kept yourself innocent of crime. You have never loved any one except yourself, and that with a coarse, vain, egotistical love, which had no trace of respect for the sacredness of that which even the roughest men reverence. Yet--although this is my honest opinion--I am a man, and may be mistaken; perhaps it will touch your heart, when you hear that your child is ill, very ill--that we shall possibly only be able to prolong her innocent young life a few days. It is terrible to say it, but I cannot lighten the burden you have laid upon your conscience: if it dies, you have killed it."
"I?" faltered Brandow; "I?"
"Yes, you! You who made life worthless to her mother," replied Gotthold, turning to Brandow. "Or did you think the blow you dealt the mother would not strike the child, too? That the latter would not drink death from the poisoned cup of life you gave the former? You cannot have thought so, for you had based your whole plan upon this mutual love between the mother and child; you thought the bond that united their souls strong enough to bear your whole shameful web of falsehood and deceit, treachery and violence. I say once more: if it dies, you have killed it. Understand this clearly, man, if you can. It is so horrible that everything else you have done is innocent in comparison; it is so fearful that you must realize it."
Gotthold walked several paces, and then paused before his enemy, who sat cowering in his chair with his head resting on his hands.
"Brandow, they say that years ago, when, struck down by your sword, I lay on the ground before you, you dealt me a second blow. It has always been impossible for me to believe it, even now it is difficult; but however that may be, I cannot give a death-blow to any one lying on the ground, no matter who he is, or what he may have done; but neither can I hold out my hand to a worthless man, even if he extends his imploringly to me. Remember this, Brandow. Perhaps the moment will come sooner than you believe possible."
Gotthold left the room; Brandow still sat in the same attitude into which he had first sunk, staring steadily at the carpet. A dreary smile flitted over his pale face.
"That was a fine sermon," he muttered; "highly edifying! He got that from his father, the parson! And I sit here, and let myself be made out a villain by the miserable babbler, the cursed hypocrite, and don't hurl all he says back into his canting face. Bah!"
He started up and wandered about the room.
"Folly, folly, folly! Her love for this dauber is not a thing of to-day or yesterday; she has always loved him; she has never been able to forgive herself for stooping to wed me, the haughty Princess! I knew it from the first! And was I to pocket the insult quietly, act as if I did not notice it, be satisfied with the crumbs thrown to me? I should have been a fool! Nobody would have done so in my place, and I've only done what any one else would, what thousands do who have not even my excuse. Alma would have run away from her silly husband long ago, if I had wanted her, if I had not always dissuaded her. But that would have been just the right grist for their mill; their only regret is that I have not made it easier for them. And I've made it easy enough now. Fool, fool! How I might have made them writhe, how I might make them writhe, if it were not for the accursed money. They put a stone in my path for me to stumble over, and I did them the favor, and now they stand and triumph!"
He strode up and down the room like a caged tiger.
"But it is not always night. A little more, and I should have wept over that sentimental speech, as if it had been the truth, as if she had not taught the child to hate me, as if it had the slightest trace of resemblance to me, and might not just as well have been his, which it probably would, if he had then been the noble family friend for which he passes now. I have let myself be caught in the snare like a stupid boy. It came too suddenly; I was not calm enough; and Hinrich's reappearance was a shameful blow. Who would have thought it, after the fellow had once been so foolish as to draw all the suspicion upon himself, and I had made things so hot for him here! He shall pay for it, if he ever crosses my path again--the scoundrel; he shall pay for it. He and the daubing parson's son, and the old vagabond, and the damned Jew, and she--she--"
He paused before one of the large mirrors which covered the walls of the room between the windows from floor to ceiling.
"So I wasn't good enough for her. Other people think differently in this respect. The fact is, I sold myself too cheap. A fellow like me might have made very different pretensions; nay, can still at any moment, though I look now as Don Juan did last night when the devil was chasing him. But it's only the green glass and the dim light."
A knock at the door interrupted his gloomy soliloquy. It was a servant, who came to ask whether Herr Brandow was not coming back to the dining-room soon.
"At once," said Brandow.
He cast another glance at the mirror. "I'm rather deplorable-looking still. No matter! Or so much the better. They will think I am anxious about to-morrow, and fall into the snare all the easier, the blockheads! And to-morrow noon I shall have my thirty or forty thousand in my purse, and--all the rest is nonsense."
The clearest September morning shone upon the old Hanse city, whose narrow winding streets were remarkably quiet to-day, so quiet that the servant-girls who stood idly at the open doors of the houses could bewail their piteous fate to each other across them undisturbed. Was it not too shameful that the second day--the great day, when everybody, even the little apprentices from the cobblers' benches, had gone to see the show--they were obliged to stay and take care of the houses? And Kopp's carriage had just come back empty for the sixth time, and was now stopping at the apothecary's round the corner; but the young ladies always made such a parade, and were never ready; it was a sin and a shame, when one thought that other honest girls, who certainly wouldn't keep the carriage waiting, were not allowed to set foot outside of the door; but when the cat was away the mice would play.
The merry girls, who had approached nearer and nearer each other, joined hands and began to whirl around on the rough pavement, out of the sunlight into the shadow of the houses, and out of the shadow back into the sunlight, and then with a scream scattered and fled, each into her own door, as the strange gentleman came out of a large, silent house near by.
Gotthold had watched all night beside Gretchen's bed with Cecilia and old Boslaf, and good Stine had gone in and out. Several times they thought the last moment had come; but the little heaving breast, which Cecilia had pressed to her own, rose and fell more easily again, and she laid the sweet little creature back upon the pillows, which were scarcely whiter than her delicate pale face. After midnight the fever became a little less violent, and the Doctor, who came early in the morning, said that the danger, unfortunately, was not yet over, but a few quieter hours might be expected, and he urgently entreated them to use this interval in gaining fresh strength, which they certainly greatly needed.
He had looked at old Boslaf as he spoke, but the old man smiled pleasantly, and said that the Doctor must not be anxious about him; he was used to night-watching, and should soon have plenty of time to sleep. But Cecilia, who was full of tender solicitude for the old man, whom she now always called father, insisted that he should lie down, and sent Gotthold away also. She would keep watch with Ottilie until noon; if Gretchen's condition should change for the worse, he should be notified at once.
And so he now walked through the silent street towards his lodgings, gazed at the girls dancing merrily, the sunlight shining so brightly on the gray old gables, and the flock of white doves wheeling in airy circles under the bright blue sky. How beautiful the world was! How pure and balmy the soft warm air he eagerly inhaled! How lightly he strode along, in spite of the long night of anxious watching! How the blood bounded in his veins! And yet darkness and death might conquer! If the child died--Gotthold paused with a shudder--he had seen, the little dark mound so distinctly. But it was only a trick of his imagination; Gretchen was still alive; she would recover; the delicate little creature had struggled through this terrible night, and he might even be permitted to say that it was he who had saved her life once more. So she must live for him; her pure soft hands must fit the keystone of the building of his happiness. Had he not hitherto succeeded in everything far beyond his expectation! Had not even chance showed him her most gracious aspect! A few days ago, how could he even have ventured to hope that his rival would be so soon and so entirely delivered into his hands, and he should be able to say, "This shall be done, and it shall be done so and so, without any outcry, without the knowledge of any person unconcerned?" This very evening the unfortunate man was to return to Dollan to find the money he had stolen, and the following day restore it to the treasury of the convent, through Wollnow; and this evening also, the vessel which took his accomplice would sail for England, the latter having declared of his own free will that he could no longer stay here, and would rather go at once to America, especially if the gentlemen would provide him with money as generously as they had promised, and he knew they would keep their word. So within twenty-four hours at latest everything would be settled and levelled to a foundation on which another structure might be erected.
A quick, heavy step, which came towards him through the deserted street near his lodgings, made Gotthold look up.
"What is the matter, Jochen?"
"He's gone," said Jochen, panting for breath. "I was just on my way to tell you."
"Since when?"
"It must have been an-hour or two ago; he said he was tired and would take a little nap, while Clas and I went down to Frau Müller's, who had invited us to breakfast. Well, Herr Gotthold, there we sat quietly; she had a nice pork sausage, and we never thought of any mischief, and meantime the fellow jumped out of a second-story window into the garden, which joins the city wall, and the gate is never locked, and we really are not to blame. Even if one don't exactly like a man, how is one to suppose he has such tricks in his head?"
"An hour, you said?"
Jochen nodded.
"Where is Clas?"
"Gone down to the harbor; it's just possible he may have gone on board the ship to look about him a little."
Gotthold shook his head. "That is extremely improbable, after, as he knows, everything is arranged."
"What shall we do, Herr Gotthold?"
"Run to Herr Wollnow and tell him what has happened, and that I have gone out to the races; and follow me as fast as you can."
Jochen looked amazed. "Yes, to be sure, Herr Gotthold, that's possible; he talked of nothing but the races all last evening."
Gotthold had already taken several steps, when Jochen followed him.
"You're not angry with me and my brother Clas, Herr Gotthold?"
"You good, stupid fellows!"
Jochen looked very much moved, and doubtless wished to say more; but Gotthold pressed his hard, honest hand, and hurried down the street to the gate, beyond which, at no very great distance from the city, was the race-course.
He knew the way only from description; but it could not be missed to-day. The nearer he approached the gate, the more numerous became the people, who were all moving in the same direction; the suburban street through which they were obliged to pass had assumed a holiday garb. The modest little villas, half concealed behind the trees in their garden, were to-day adorned with garlands and tapestry; here and there, under the shade of the boughs, stood an old gentleman, or a gardener, or a nurse with a baby in her arms, looking pityingly or mischievously over the dusty hedges at the throng hurrying by in the summer heat. Often one of the long Holstein wagons, furnished with five or six seats placed one behind the other, rattled by, empty if going towards the city, crowded with people if driving away from it; and it rarely happened that the usual jokes failed to be exchanged between the lucky occupants and the dust-covered foot-passengers.
Gotthold had already passed many of the pedestrians, and was still hurrying anxiously on. To be sure, it was scarcely to be hoped that either he or Jochen would find the man in such a crowd of people, especially as he evidently did not wish to be found; but that the race-course was the place to seek him, he did not doubt for a moment, and as he now hastened on the fugitive's track his heart grew heavier and heavier, the more clearly he perceived the bad results that threatened to ensue. If Hinrich had fled not to return, to become once more the master of his own fate, and Brandow learned it in time, he would retract all he had yielded; the battle must begin anew, and with an enemy who could not again be surprised; if Hinrich was only seeking an opportunity to revenge himself, Brandow's life was not safe a moment from the brutal violence of the man, and even admitting that Brandow was a person who could defend himself--everything which had seemed won was once more doubtful, even the secrecy in which the pitiful fate of the woman he loved had hitherto been veiled from an insolent, curious world.
Gotthold hurried on still faster, hoping he should now soon reach his goal, but he turned out of one street lined with gardens into another--the suburbs seemed to have no end. It was still half an hour's walk to the racecourse, was the reply to his question.
A light open carriage, drawn by two superb horses, overtook and dashed past him; he thought he had seen the face of the elegant young man who occupied the seat behind the driver before. The young man turned towards him, and instantly tapped his coachman eagerly on the shoulder; the carriage stopped; its occupant sprang out and hastily approached Gotthold, waving his hand, and calling: "Do I meet you at last?"
A moment after, Gotthold was seated beside young Prince Prora, the horses dashed onward, and dusty pedestrians, hedges, gardens, villas, and barns flitted by them on either side.
"You don't know how glad I am," said the Prince, pressing Gotthold's hand again; "but you will when I tell you that I came from Berlin, where I was engaged in a most important consultation with Schinkel about my castle, solely on your account. Count Ingenheim wrote that you had left Rome, and I heard from Prora that you were staying in this neighborhood, so I came to seek, see, talk, persuade, obtain--enfin: you must paint my castle in fresco. I have set my heart upon it, and you, I suppose, have no reason to say no: Schinkel desires it too, so you must consent. He wants you, you and nobody else; I know no one by whom I can be so sure of being understood, he said, and was delighted when I told him that I had had the honor of a personal acquaintance with you for a long time, and had spent the most delightful winter in Rome in your society. Ah! that divine Rome! But you conjurers shall restore it to me on the walls of my northern castle; I want nothing but Roman, or at least Italian, landscapes in the dining-room; all bright and sunny as you can paint so marvellously, grave as you are; and as for the landscapes of my native country, which we intend to have in the hall where the weapons are hung, I won't interfere with you at all. It shall be left entirely to you; and you can revel in melancholy, like the Danish Prince, but first of all you must say yes--will you?"
The eager young man held out his hand, and a shadow crossed his delicate, winning face as Gotthold hesitated to clasp it. How willingly, how joyfully he would have accepted a commission so delightful, so complimentary, and so important; a commission which promised to fulfil all that his artist heart could only desire; but now, to-day--
"You don't wish to undertake it?" said the young Prince, sadly.
"I do wish it, certainly I do," replied Gotthold, pressing the outstretched hand with deep emotion, "but whether I can is the question I am asking myself, and which at this moment I can scarcely answer with a yes. Forgive me if I speak in riddles, Your Highness, but there are hours and times when we do not belong to ourselves, when we are under the spell of a fate whose course we can neither hasten nor retard, and whose decision we must await ere we can feel free to make any resolution ourselves."
"I certainly do not fully understand you," replied the Prince, "but I believe I understand that something, which is certainly no trifle, is weighing upon your mind; that you have either met with or fear some great misfortune, and in that case the question comes so naturally that you will forgive my asking: can any one help you, and can I be the person?"
"I thank you, Your Highness; but I shall probably have to fight my way through it alone."
"Then I will press you no farther; but I am ready to serve you at any time, don't forget that."
Meantime they had emerged from between the houses; before them on the boundless expanse of meadow-land was the race-course, with its tall stands, its little city of booths and tents, its long rows of carriages drawn up side by side, its dark crowd of curious spectators. A party of horsemen dashed past them at a furious gallop; one of them, not without difficulty, checked his foaming racer and came to the carriage door.
"What, Plüggen, are you not with the others?" cried the Prince.
"Paid the forfeit at the last minute, Your Highness, at the last minute--too certain it would turn out to-day as it did at the Derby, four years ago. Once in--ah! Gotthold,bon jour, bon jour!Your friend Brandow's doing a splendid business to-day, an infernally splendid business."
"How far away are they, then? Am I too late?"
"God forbid, your Highness! That is, they must be here in ten minutes. Just up to the last obstacle but one; everybody there--intense excitement. Exactly as it was at the Derby four years ago, when Hurry-Harry by Robin Hood out of Drury Lane--"
"Then we won't detain you, Plüggen.Au revoiruntil this evening; drive on."
Gustav von Plüggen, with rather a long face, touched his hat, turned his horse, and dashed after his companions.
"So you know this Brandow?" asked the Prince. "It's a pity about that man; he would have had, I think, the material for a splendid general of cavalry; a clear head, a keen eye, never at a loss, and withal brave even to foolhardiness; but amid these tame plebeian surroundings he will make, I fear, nothing better than amauvais sujet. But it is shameful that they took the piece of bog into the course on purpose to injure him. I hear it was only done to give the other horses a chance, since it is generally believed that a horse of Brownlock's weight cannot cross a swamp."
"He will cross it, Your Highness," said Gotthold, "you can bet a million on it."
"How comes Saul among the prophets?" cried the Prince, laughing. "Since when have you become such a connoisseur in horse-flesh? You must keep beside me, and act as prompter, if I, a notorious dilettante in these noble arts, run any risk of distinguishing myself by my blunders."
"I am sure that Your Highness--"
"You want to get rid of me, I understand. Well, I am very well content, now that I have seen and spoken to you. I shall stay three days longer in Sundin, and then remain a week in Prora, where you must be my guest, even in case--with which idea, however, I won't destroy my present good humor--you will not paint a stroke for my castle. Here we are; you will surely come up with me. One can get a better view from above, and you must at least allow me to secure you a good place."
The carriage stopped. The Prince sprang out, and, without waiting for Gotthold's answer, began to ascend the steps of the stand. The latter was obliged to follow his friend, who fully expected him to do so; when once at the top, he could easily find an opportunity of taking leave of him without incivility.
The steps and stand were crowded, but every one was eager to make way for the Prince, who was very popular, that he might reach the first bench, on which several seats had been reserved for him and his attendants. "I think your best course will be to follow me," cried the Prince, laughing, and looking over his shoulder at Gotthold, "you see here as elsewhere: everything is given away!" But Gotthold could not do otherwise than make use of the permission. The narrow space which had been opened between the rows of seats for the Prince had long since closed; nay, those behind were pressing forward to get as near him as possible, and Gotthold soon found himself surrounded by a brilliant assembly of the older and younger ladies of the country aristocracy, in magnificent attire; white-haired old noblemen, civil dignitaries adorned with orders, and distinguished soldiers, all smiling brightly and bowing to the young Prince, who, bowing in every direction, graciously accepted the offered homage.
"Your Highness has come just at the right moment; we shall see the first horse appear from behind yonder hill directly; may I offer Your Highness my glass?" cried old Count Grieben, in his shrill voice.
"Thanks, thanks; I should not like to rob you; you are more nearly interested in the matter than I; I suppose the goal is here in front of the stands, as it has been every year?"
"Yes, Your Highness, there they come!"
The Prince had now taken the glass from the old gentleman; there was a loud whispering and rustling on the stand. "There they come--pray sit down," echoed on all sides, and all eyes, whether furnished with glasses or not, sought the long hill Count Grieben had pointed out to the Prince, and on which in fact three moving specks now became visible, which with great speed, considering the distance, glided down the hill, and had already disappeared in a hollow, when four or five other moving dots appeared in precisely the same spot, likewise glided down the hill, and vanished. But the interest of the public was almost exclusively fixed upon the three foremost dots. From the interval of time between the appearance of the first three specks and the four following--to say nothing of the stragglers--it was now evident that the victor must be one of their number; and although even the best glass could only distinguish that the three moving clots were horsemen racing at the top of their speed, two names were already mentioned with positive certainty; there was a doubt about the third rider; some thought it was Baron Kummerrow on Hengist, while others bet upon Count Zarrentin's Rebecca, ridden by the younger Baron Breesen.
"But the two others, Your Highness--the two others are my Curt and Carl Brandow," shrieked old Count Grieben, crimson with excitement and gesticulating furiously, in a tone so loud that it could be heard over the whole stand.
Count Grieben! Carl Brandow! Like an alarm of fire the names flew from lip to lip along the stand, down the steps, and through the dense throng of men below, who were standing on tiptoe and stretching their necks; Count Grieben! Carl Brandow on Brownlock!
Carl Brandow! A strange emotion thrilled Gotthold's frame. That was the name which, like the spell of some evil magician, had desolated and ruined his life; the name with which so many unpleasant thoughts had been connected from his youth, and which in early and later times, and even during the last few days, had been to him the incarnation of the principle that in every human breast strives and rebels against the God of light. And here the name rang on his ears from every lip. Carl Brandow! Carl Brandow! like a man from whose approach streams happiness and blessing; and beautiful eyes sparkled, and aristocratic hands impatiently fluttered the lace-edged handkerchiefs with which they wished to wave a welcome to the victor. Was the man whom a whole people thus awaited in breathless suspense, perhaps right when he ventured all and anything to gain his shining goal; wealth, and honor, and woman's favor? Could one who took every obstacle so boldly, be expected to turn aside from his path for a pious scruple? Could one who unhesitatingly risked his life when the victory could not be obtained at a lesser price, be blamed if he was not so punctilious about the weal and woe or even the lives of others, as may be expected and demanded from the quiet citizen?
Such were the strange thoughts that passed through Gotthold's brain, while his eyes, like those of the assembled thousands, were fixed upon the spot pointed out by the experts near him as the one where the riders must again appear. And there they were already--now recognizable as horsemen, even by the naked eye--and "Count Grieben and Carl Brandow" burst forth anew. For only two emerged at the same time, while the third had already lost so much ground that he appeared full thirty seconds later. Nothing more was to be expected from him. At the speed with which the horses were running a lost second could not be regained, let alone the eternity of thirty! The result now depended upon Brownlock and Bessy, the two horses that had been the object of public attention from the first moment and on which immense sums had been staked up to the last. Would Brownlock win? Would Bessy carry off the prize? No one dared to decide, no one offered or accepted a bet; they scarcely ventured to speak, to stir; suspense had chained every tongue. The scales were still exactly poised, without bending in the least towards either side. If Bessy, as was universally asserted, was the faster animal, Brandow's well-known skill in horsemanship made up for the difference; head to head--the winding course to the stand could be as distinctly followed as the lines on a map--the horses leaped over the last hurdle but three, the last but two, the last but one; side by side the riders took the last obstacle, a wall six feet high, while a cry of admiration buzzed through the surging crowd. Then followed a breathless silence. The race must be decided within the next minute. After the last hurdle was a tract of perfectly level ground about five hundred paces long; then came several hundred acres of bog, marked by little flags affixed to poles. If Brownlock did not get a very considerable lead on the level ground, the race was lost to him; for Bessy--every one knew--could cross a marsh as lightly as a roe, and Brownlock would either stick fast or must take a round-about way, which would cost him his advantage and the victory.
But Brownlock obtained no advantage, not a foot, not an inch; head to head they dashed across half the distance, and now Bessy took the lead, a half, a whole length, two, three, a half-dozen lengths. Those who had bet on Brownlock turned pale, but a hundred times as much was staked on Bessy; the betters exchanged triumphant glances; no one had time to speak; Bessy was already approaching the edge of the bog; her rider was seen to turn in his saddle to note the distance between him and his rival, and now he turned to the left towards the edge of the swamp. "Clever fellow," cried old Count Grieben; "it's wider, Your Highness, it's wider there, but the ground is firmer, and he has plenty of time. Brownlock can't come up with her, hurrah!" cried the enthusiastic old gentleman, waving his hat. "Hurrah, hurrah!" echoed from the fickle crowd, which had just cheered Brownlock; "Bessy wins, Brownlock loses. Hurrah!"
Suddenly a deep silence followed, as if a thunderbolt had fallen before the eyes of all. Brandow reached the spot from which, a few seconds before, Count Grieben, rendered secure of the victory by his opponent's delay, had turned aside; and with a powerful bound Brownlock dashed upon the bog, without turning a hair's breadth from the straight course, flying directly over the deepest but narrowest part, with a speed which seemed to increase every moment, while his rider, as if going over the smoothest meadow-land, used neither whip nor spur, and waved his hand to his rival, as he darted by him with such speed that the water dashed into the air in a bright shower of spray.
And now he had already reached the edge on the side nearest the stand, and came up the broad straight course which led to the goal--no longer at full speed, but in a long stretching gallop, as if to jeer at his opponent, who after reaching the firm ground, despairing of victory, had stopped; it seemed as if he wished to give the crowd an opportunity to offer their homage.
And "Hurrah Brownlock! hurrah Brandow!" they shouted, waving their hats and caps, and the cry increased and swelled to a deafening, thundering roar as the victor now rode past the stands to the goal, in the same long stretching gallop. Everybody stood on tiptoe, the gentlemen cheering, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs--and now all crowded down the broad steps to the level ground, to see the victor and the beautiful horse still nearer, when he, as was customary, returned and again passed before the stands, but this time at a walk.
"No privileges are recognized here, strength conquers," said the Prince, who as well as Gotthold was pushed down the steps by the swaying crowd; "the strength of enthusiasm, which is powerful even in the weak. Just see how heroically that delicate lady struggles through the throng--Is it Frau Brandow? I should like to offer her my arm."
The lady's blue veil brushed against Gotthold's face, and he recognized Alma Sellien. She did not see him, though she stood directly beside him. The delicate, wan face was strangely beautified by the proud smile that hovered on the lips; a joyous light sparkled in the blue eyes, usually so dull and heavy; heeding nothing around her, she looked and waited for the coming of the man she loved, whose uncovered head was just visible above the surging crowd. And now a pair of bay shoulders appeared, vanished, and appeared again, then the beautiful head of a horse, and then the whole figure of the red-coated rider. Those standing in the foremost row, recognizing the Prince, made way, and he, with several other ladies and gentlemen, among them Alma Sellien, were pressed forward, while the ranks closed before Gotthold, who willingly drew back. Brandow, who, hat in hand, was bowing to the right and left, and talking to a few friends that surrounded him, had come very near them, when he saw the Prince, with Alma Sellien leaning on his arm. An amazed smile flitted over his face; he hastily turned Brownlock till he faced the pair, and bowed low over the racer's slender neck. The noble animal stood snorting, champing its bit, and pawing impatiently. Suddenly it sprang aside in wild alarm, and then, as its rider tried to force it back to the spot, reared. "Back!" shouted the Prince to the crowd, who, pressing forward from every direction, had collected in a dense mass. But those farther away, whom no immediate danger threatened, remained motionless. "Back, back!" cried the Prince again; the ladies screamed. "Jump down, Brandow!" exclaimed the gentlemen. But Brandow seemed to have forgotten his universally admired horsemanship. Some said afterwards that he had been stunned from the first moment by the violence with which, as the horse threw back its head in rearing, it struck him on the forehead. As he vainly struggled with the animal in an inconceivably preposterous manner, his eyes were fixed intently upon a man in the crowd, who in some way--all were pressing upon each other in wild confusion--had reached the foremost rank, and now, with upraised arms, sprang directly before, nay under the rearing horse; it was supposed he wanted to pull the furious animal down by the bridle.
"Let me pass, for God's sake!" cried Gotthold.
He had recognized Hinrich Scheel, although he had only seen the square head, covered with gray curling hair, from which the cap had been knocked in pressing through the crowd; not the brutal face with the squinting green eyes, under whose fiendish power the frightened animal reared higher and higher, pawing the air with its steel-shod hoofs as if it would fain destroy its tormentor. And now one of the hoofs struck the head of the mysterious man, who fell as if a bullet had pierced his brain; but at the same moment the horse, again rearing, fell backwards, burying his rider under him. The crowd parted with shrieks of horror.
"A doctor, a doctor, is there no doctor here?"
There was none, but no physician could have been of any avail. The man who had tried to seize the horse's bridle, and in whom others also now recognized Brandow's former trainer, Hinrich Scheel, for whose arrest a warrant had been issued, lay dead on his back with crushed skull and horribly distorted face, from which the dim eyes glared frightfully; his master still lived, but Gotthold, who was supporting him in his arms, saw that his end was fast approaching. A deathlike pallor rested on the delicate, clear-cut features, and the white teeth gleamed with a strange, frightful expression from between livid lips. A shudder convulsed the whole body, and the head fell on Gotthold's breast.
"Here comes a doctor," cried several voices.
"He will find nothing to do," murmured Gotthold; "help me to carry him away."
As they raised the body, a lady in a blue veil, who had been standing near with her hands clenched convulsively, shrieked aloud, and sank fainting on the ground. No particular notice was taken of it. Several ladies had fainted.