Brightly dawned the day, but the morning sun disappeared early beneath the glowing clouds, with which the whole sky was soon overcast.
A cold, feeble rain pattered down; a few wedding guests ventured into the park, but the chilly disagreeable weather soon drove them back. Blanden was busied with arrangements in the Castle; this time his master of the kitchen and cellar had not been granted leave of absence; he had to show the wonders of the Castle to Olga, his stately mistress. Dr. Kuhl was only allowed to devote himself to the nymphs of the lake. Cäcilie looked strictly after him, lest he wished to lay his homage at the feet of the Castle fairies. There were the most charming little town girls present, whom such a Don Juan by profession could wind up like a watch, so that their hearts ticked in a race with the throbs of his. Iduna, the late head scholar, was there, a fresh child of Nature with developed appreciation of manly beauty. Her first love had been an unhappy one, but with that elixir within her, she saw a Doctor Sperner in every man. She had cast an eye upon Kuhl, and was little gratified that Salomon became her cicerone, exhibiting all the apartments of the Castle full of historical associations.
"In this dining-hall, my Fräulein, certainly no one ever danced before, but you must not think that everything was conducted in a very holy manner. Yes, at the time of Winrich of Kniprode, these gentlemen had to be called to order. There were Grand Masters at the Marienburg, whose glance extended to the remotest corners of the land. But later ensued a period of decay. They certainly still sometimes fought bravely, it was their trade, and it was immaterial to them whether they held a prayer-book or a sword in their hands--they understood their letters very well, and scratched whole alphabets into their enemies' faces. I assume that this Castle has also often been besieged by the Poles--from the Dantziger there the knights no doubt have triumphantly repelled the attack of the others; courage upon the whole, my Fräulein, is a very ordinary virtue practised partly at the word of command, partly under compulsion. I do not think much of it. All the world is brave, even the oxen in the meadows, which stand before their enemies and rush at one another with their horns."
"But I should think," said Iduna, before whose mind stood Theodor Körner's picture in all its glory, "it is one of the noblest virtues, the fruit of glorious enthusiasm," and she added a few passages, which she had retained in her memory from her most successful theme upon the Lieutenant of Hussars.
"Enthusiasm is all very fine," said Salomon, "but who has time for it before a battle! Men must clean their weapons, count their cartridges, eat a morsel of commissariat bread. I speak of to-day, because the Knights of the Order did not know that nutritious food, and when once the troops start, they must listen exactly to the commander's order, march, halt, load, fire! Enthusiasm--it is only to be found amongst warlike poets. In battle people are as excited as in a boxing match; they hit out on all sides, they know it is a matter of life or death, they may lose their collars, they see nothing, think nothing, only try to save their own skins. There is nothing more stupid than a soldier in a battle."
"You describe it so vividly," said Iduna, "that one might believe you had been present yourself."
"Not at a battle, but often at a fight. Besides, where is there any battle now? We live in everlasting peace. No, no my Fräulein! I have merely cast a few glances into the human mind, and if one will discover the truth, one must always assume the contrary of that which poetry asserts. Poetry is merely a beautiful falsehood. But, as I said, the brethren of the Order might be brave even at the time of their decay, but they led a merry life; I wager that they drank as bravely in this dining-hall, as at any drinking party of Lithuanians or Masurens, and that the gaily painted Madonna, with her radiant colours in the window panes, was not the only representative of womanhood, but that also many a high born knight's young lady--"
"No, never, Herr Salomon," said Iduna, promptly.
The youth was about to spare the maiden's blushes by passing suddenly to the event of the day, when the other ladies and girls declared that it was time to dress, and Iduna was not sorry to leave the highly educated student, who shed the radiance of enlightened human understanding into every corner, in which any illusion still lingered fondly. He knew that few, like himself, stood upon the height of nineteenth century reason.
Beate would not be debarred from dressing her friend for the ceremony. She looked beautiful in her veil and white satin robe, but was ghastly pale. Beate advised her to have recourse to artificial aid, but Giulia very decidedly rejected every reminiscence of her past.
There she appeared, really like a marble bride; on beholding her, Kuhl remembered how he had once called her so, when Blanden told him of his adventures on the Lago Maggiore. At first sight her beauty gave an impression of pride and coldness, but any one looking more closely recognised the softening influence of internal suffering which overshadowed her features.
They were a handsome pair; there was no dissentient voice in the unenvious assembly. Blanden had quite recovered from his duel, he looked noble and grand, the dreaminess in his features possessed a charm of its own, such gentleness, such benignity lay in it, and when he opened his eyes widely they told of superior intellectual spirit.
All the ladies appeared in brilliant toilets; both the brides elect, Cäcilie and Olga, with Beate, were the bridesmaids. The unheard of event that Dr. Kuhl had donned a frockcoat, betokened that Cäcilie had already made progress in taming the rebel. As for him, he contemplated himself in the pier-glasses, shrugging his shoulders and saying to Wegen he felt like a bear at a fair, whom the bear-leader had dressed up in a red jacket; however, he must perform his antics and dance to the drum. And so saying, he stretched about and strained his Herculean arms in the unwontedly fine material.
The procession was arranged and moved through the dining-hall into the festively decorated and flower bedecked chapel. There, behind the altar, upon which Giulia had once placed an enchanted souvenir, stood the minister. She thought of the two Italian island churches, of the one in which she had stood before the altar as to-day; in the other where she had confessed to a forbidden love, and before the sacred word and sacred act she was overcome with a full consciousness of her sinful temerity.
As in a vision, her whole life passed before her, she did not listen to the words of the Bible. The "Yes" in the church of San Giulio rang in her ears--the echo of the chapel seemed to strengthen it--at first it sounded like the crash of scorn, and still louder, more grave, more solemn, the thunder of the judgment day--her knees tottered. Everything was bathed in dreamy light--she was herself, and yet was not--she was there and here.
Did not the lake of Orta roar outside?
No, it was the storm which had risen, sweeping through the tops of the pines, and stirring up the waves of the northern water mirror.
Fancy often erects a bridge of dreams from one summit of life to another, and deep below in oblivion lie all its other paths.
Giulia was absorbed in a vision, in a self-delusion; the pictures of the past and present became mixed up, but the confusion was agonising; her hand trembled in Blanden's.
Then the rings were exchanged, Giulia looked into his luminous eyes, he bent over her with an expression of most ardent love. The shadows disappeared, she felt the full consciousness of the bliss of the present, and in a voice not trembling with anguish of conscience, but with all the warmth of intense devotion, she spoke the word of consent.
When Blanden led her to dinner he asked about the diadem; he had hoped that she would adorn herself with it on that day--when again should so good an opportunity be offered of letting the proud family heritage of the Blandens' shine in all its glory? And when it shone above the flowing bridal veil, the sanction of the family, the blessing of the long row of female ancestors, of that house would at the same time rest upon the brow of her who entered that line: she was received into the sanctuary of the noble women who for centuries had held their sway over this home. Giulia blushed deeply, and with deceitful words pleaded modesty and humility as her excuse, but Blanden felt that he was rebuffed, painfully disappointed that she had scorned to adorn herself with his costly gift; it was like a note of discord in the harmony of the entertainment, and he could not suppress a sensation of anxious misgiving.
The grand wedding dinner passed off very cheerfully. Giulia possessed the lightheadedness of an actress; in glad emotions she forgot everything which at other times might depress her, she imbibed forgetfulness and courage with the sparkling froth of the champagne. Then, when her countenance brightened, a slight colour suffused it as she smiled and joked, and gave herself up to a genial actress' mood, which owes its birth to a rich treasury of recollections; then only her beauty, which until now had but inspired cold admiration, warmed all hearts, and Blanden was deemed fortunate to have won so beautiful a wife.
There was no lack of toasts and verses. Schöner made use of a few ideas which he had once mustered in Neukuhren at Eva's betrothal. A true poet always goes economically to work, because when once he has stamped an idea with the immortal impress of his genius, it must not be lost again, and it would be most blameworthy even to make a feeble copy. Salomon retired to the domain of satire, he compared the new Knights of St. John with those of the old Order, and ridiculed the celibacy of the latter in verses imitative of Heine.
Dr. Kuhl, it is true, proposed no toasts, but he was in a wild mood, which inspired his betrothed with some slight alarm, he spoke of his gallows-wit, and said he had courage to mention the rope, even in the house of a man who had been hanged; he was enjoying himself immensely at the wedding, but this fact did not upset his theories that marriage festivities were a public nuisance; however, as he had at last lost all his characteristics and fallen a victim to his own good nature, and another person's amiability, well, he could not help it; he, too, must let himself be married, but he should only permit two witnesses, selected from the midst of the sovereign people, to be present, who afterwards would disappear in the night of that plebeian universality where all cows are black; his marriage dinner he and Cäcilie should eat alone, or at the utmost invite his Caro who, on that day, should receive a specially good dish of meat and bones. Well, he had somehow got into the good-for-nothing frock-coat, and he only wished that all the seams would burst. The whole life of perishing humanity consisted in most abject concessions; he, too, now moved on that degrading course, and had already fallen far from that height upon which he had formerly stood in proud self-glorification, and he looked upon himself as an apostate, and with his better self, which still occasionally rose from out the slough, he looked upon his present self, planted up to its neck in a bog of social prejudices, with an indescribable feeling of pity and contempt.
"Thank God," said Wegen to Olga, "that you have not fallen into the hands of this wicked hector, who seems to look upon his engagement as an act of suicide. How differently I appreciate you."
Smiling meaningly, Olga pressed her lover's hand, but Kuhl had overheard the last words.
"Dear friend and brother-in-law," said he, "I herewith pronounce you to be the greatest hypocrite at this round table. The theory of common love, for which the century is not yet ripe, permits many variations--and one of these variations you have performed, and all the world performs them with us. Enter upon an engagement to-day, give it up soon, and a week or so later fall in love and engage yourself again, and you are one of the most moral citizens in the world, and no one will assail your good name. But, if only you feel that affection a week sooner, before the old one is given up, then you are a Don Juan. Everything then depends upon time, just as in hiring anything, a week constitutes the whole difference between virtue and vice. Well, if we have not sinned, dear brother-in-lawin spe, at least we have nothing with which to reproach ourselves! I have loved two sisters, but so have you also--your good health, my friend!"
Wegen coloured at this address, which, to him, appeared intensely heartless. Olga laughed, but Cäcilie had long since compressed her lips and prepared herself for an armed reprimand.
The clergyman opposite, an enlightened man, had listened to Kuhl's defiant speech with a smiling countenance. He quietly took part in the conversation.
"The affections of the human heart are very peculiar, and who, indeed, excepting the Lord, who searches heart and mind, can say that he has fathomed that organ? Such affection may be transient or deep, yet it seems to me that it, too, is subject to mutability and change. But this free-booter's love must cease at that point where human society rises unanimously, striving to attain its grandest ends. We will grant dual love to Herr Dr. Kuhl. Let every one manage it as best he can. I know, indeed, that the heart, like the ocean, can have but one ebb and flow, and that this tide is only produced by the mysterious attraction of one orb, not merely in regular course--as is the case with the ocean tide--but also in wild passionate upheavings, as in that of the glowing liquid emotion of the earth, the earthquake, which clever men also ascribe to the influence of the moon's powers of attraction; but although dual love may be a whim of the heart, bigamy is very different."
Although Blanden was talking to her at the moment, Giulia became attentive, and listened eagerly to the words of her other neighbour.
"Bigamy," said the clergyman, "is a mockery of the ordinances which Church and State have laid down for the support of society, and the purity and security of families; hence the severe punishment which has always been decreed to that crime. It may appear too severe to those who are free spirits to such an extent, as also in this case only to perceive the maintenance of immaterial forms, but whosoever tries to shake them tries to shake the bases of society."
Giulia's heart beat more quickly. The cheering influence of the champagne had lost its power, gloomy clouds overspread her brow.
"We have," said the clergyman, "only lately had such a case in our village. A depraved woman, who came from the other side of the Polish frontier, had a legal husband there; here, however, she commenced a fresh love affair, and was married again. The matter came to light, and the woman who had taken the payment of the double marriage expenses very lightly, was sentenced to several years' imprisonment."
Giulia became pale, the champagne glass fell from her hand, and was dashed to pieces on the table.
Blanden was startled. He had not listened to the clergyman's discourse, having been talking very animatedly himself to Giulia, but what he said to her was pleasant, bright and cheerful--what had come to her?
"I was abstracted, and awkward; forgive me!" said she, in an unsteady voice.
"It is possible," Dr. Kuhl's powerful voice sounded across the table, "that by bigamy people may wish to live in clover, but that does not prevent a man wasting his substance in dual love."
Blanden now noticed the subject under discussion. He became depressed and thoughtful, and did not know why. What could have agitated Giulia so much? Was her heart not quite free?
They rose from the table in good spirits. Evening was already closing in.
On that day, too, Blanden showed his usual care for the amusement of his dependents by going into the great barn at the farm, where the floor had been swept and garnished for a dance.
The village band had already commenced its noisy tum-tum, beer flowed from the mighty barrels which Olkewicz had sent there.
Red lamps illumined the place with a festive light. The couples whirled round in merry dance. A joyous hurrah greeted the master, who immediately led his young wife amongst the groups of glad people. She was obliged to open a dance with Olkewicz, and never in his life did the worthy steward experience greater pride than when footing it with the princess out of the fairy lake, the vision of a former occasion, in a place where he usually commanded the united threshing flails of the village.
But Giulia had to dance with the young people also. There were Poles from beyond the frontiers; one a fine lad, in a laced jacket, knelt down before Giulia, after the dance, and begged her to allow him to take off her shoe, according to Polish custom, so as to drink her health. Resistance was in vain, and the princess of Lago Maggiore had as little cause as Cinderella to conceal her shoe and feet from the world. The lad filled the slipper with brandy, and gave one lusty cheer for the lady of the manor, while vowing himself to her service for evermore. The fiddlers struck up a furious tune, with them the two horns in the village band, and the night-watchman's horn, too-tooed joyously. Great was the gladness of the people, and Giulia moved like a strange fairy indeed amongst the women and girls of the village, mostly lacking any beauty. The master himself went about from one to another, talked to the tenants, shook hands pleasantly with those peasants, who, according to old privileges, farmed their own acres, here and there caught a better-looking maiden under her chin, and said a kindly word to her.
Then, suddenly, from behind a pear tree, as if out of a hiding place, two glaring eyes stared at him; they were Kätchen's.
In his pleasantly excited mood he hardly remembered their last weird meeting.
"What in the world brings you here?" asked he.
She did not answer for some time.
"Have you become dumb again?"
Now Kätchen wriggled out from behind the wooden monster, and stood on the bench beside it. She pointed to Giulia with outstretched arms, and said, "Must I take part in your wedding after all? Marriage on land and sea! Hurrah!"
And, like a mad woman, she jumped down, mingled alone in the confusion of the dancers with wild gnome-like bounds, until a little crooked fellow, who could find no partner, took pity on her and twirled her round in the ring.
Then Kätchen disappeared into the night outside; meanwhile the other ladies and gentlemen had also descended to watch the people's enjoyment. One after another Kuhl selected a conspicuously good-looking or ugly partner and bore her in breathless fury over the threshing floor, so that the fleetest youths were obliged to acknowledge his superiority in the wild dance. The heated fair did not know what happened to them, and marvelled how a townsman, who had never threshed, could have such powerful arms. After this furious round dance Kuhl ascended a tub, imposed silence, and made an impromptu speech to these worthy Masurens, which was frequently interrupted by loud cheers.
The park was illuminated in a dazzlingly brilliant effulgence. Blanden led Giulia on his arm, and the other guests followed along the paths. The flames displayed letters upon the velvet sward; here was read, in quivering, glowing characters, "Lago Maggiore," there the name "Giulia." The Chinese pavilion on the island in the lake, and the bridge leading to it shone in the gayest reflection of lights. In the hot-houses a splendid group of southern plants, laurels, and myrtles, under the feathery shelter of a pine, gleamed in the radiance of coloured lamps, but most beautiful of all was a red fir outside, decked with ribbons and flags, and when the guests came up to it they were magically illuminated with a flaming red light. Giulia squeezed Blanden's hand.
The sky had become clear, and when gorgeous fireworks were let off upon the lake the rockets ascended to the stars, and the bude lights and Catherine wheels crackled above the moonlit waves.
Then the party assembled again in the dining-hall, but the bridal couple retired from the scene. Dancing and cards were still kept up for long. Wegen arranged everything admirably. Kuhl was in an excellent humour, and only by degrees one member after another left the happy circle and sought repose. Silence reigned in the old Castle, only the flag upon the tower fluttered in the night wind that had risen from the lake, and lashed the waves higher and higher; still could be heard glad sounds of the drinkers and dancers from the threshing barn of the farm.
A quiet ray of light fell from Giulia's windows, intercepted by the large fir as it bent its heavy hanging boughs watchfully over them.
All the lights were extinguished in the park. Only between the gaps in the walled-passage between the Dantziger and the Castle a stray one seemed to quiver.
Not out of the deep-blue atmosphere of Italy did the stars look down upon this night; from a paler sky shone a paler light! Not the glorious Lago, with its enchanted isles and boundary Alps, rocked all into sweet dreams--it was a sober tide which here surged upon the strand; a tide, whose waves have nothing to tell, whose monotonous play only reflect the infinite wearisomeness of a lifeless landscape.
And yet--it was she herself, in all her beauty, the princess of those days, and it matters not out of what sea Venus rises, she brings Heaven with her all the same.
But the happiness that once the red fir looked down upon, over which the pine spread its loving fans, was ephemeral, grasped from the moment, forfeited to the moment. How different Blanden felt; was happiness secured in his own home, under the protection of his old household gods? thither he had transplanted the roguish smiling wanderer, where, although deprived of its fluttering wings, it found an abiding place by the family hearth without losing its enchanting smile.
Thus he thought and felt; he did not inhale momentary intoxication from Giulia's lips, but the inauguration of a whole life. She, on the contrary, rejected every thought of the past, of the future. With intentional obliviousness she gave herself up to the present.
What sacrifice had she made, what sacrilege committed to be once more with him, whom alone she loved. She contemplated his noble gentle features with speechless happiness, in his great, widely-opened eyes she read the same passion which animated her, only with fleeting thoughts that swept through her mind as flashes of lightning illumine a weird gloomy spot, dared she think of anything beyond.
She closed her eyes, she did not venture to look at the mirror. If it were to move again; if Baluzzi were to step forth, her bridal coronet in his hand; if Blanden learned the truth, thrust her from him as a deceiver; if a curse were hurled upon her from the bosom that still often breathed uneasily in consequence of the wound which he had received for her sake--it was impossible to complete the thought. She covered her face with her hands. Outside the needles of the fir crackled in the wind, and swept the window. She sank into a light state of semi-somnolence, and she heard the branches crack still more loudly--what a violent storm! It was as though it drove dust and wind into her eyes, and deprived her of breath. With that volition, which does not quite disappear in sleep, she raised herself slowly, and simultaneously Blanden started up.
What had happened? Were they dreaming? But those were no mists and clouds of dreamland, it was smoke and fire that surrounded them. They sprang up and rushed to the window! At the same moment the giant fir outside caught fire. The flames blazed and hissed as they rose, and upon its wide arms the tree bore the fire across to the other side of the Castle roof, away over the apartments in which were the wedded pair.
Giulia's terrified cry for help pierced the night. Blanden remembered the stairs and the secret passage. He pushed the mirror-door aside, but an ocean of flame met his gaze; hence came the fire. He rushed to the other side, drawing Giulia after him by her arm with all his might. The first room, also the second, in which Beate had slept on the previous night, were still free, the flames had passed over them, but farther on again the branches of the fir had shaken down the sparks. The staircase could not be reached, door and wainscot stood in a blaze. "Lost!" cried Giulia, sinking down with a loud cry.
Blanden shouted once more from the window. In mortal fear he listened for any token of life outside.
Where were the watchmen? Doubtlessly at the dance in the barn.
At last--a sound of voices--they came nearer--it was high time! but how escape?
"Ladders, ladders here!" rang a mighty cry without, it filled Blanden's bosom with renewed confidence; it was Kuhl's voice.
The crowd seemed to rush helplessly in noisy confusion through the park. Olkewicz called for the fire engines.
"Where are the ladders?" roared Kuhl.
Blanden's position became more imminent every moment, the flames already darted through the clattering mirror door, caught the curtains, and the canopy of the bed rattled down over the broken posts.
A moment more--and the flames, which sent a stifling vapour in advance, had overtaken the other chambers, wherein Blanden supported the unconscious Giulia in his arms. With a fearful effort, he dragged her to the window to breathe fresh air, for her strength was beginning to fail.
Outside powerless lamentations and cries for help, futile swearing and cursing by the steward.
But no! The ladder of salvation was brought and placed against the window.
In the midst of the sparks which the burning roof showered upon them, beneath a down-pour of bricks and stones that rattled to the ground with the rapidity of fire itself, Dr. Kuhl sprang up the ladder, received Giulia into his strong arms, and bore her down again as easily, firmly, and unfalteringly as if he were walking down a marble staircase.
Blanden, whose hair was already singed, followed their preserver.
A thundering cry of joy greeted him.
All had become animated in the other wing of the Castle, which the guests occupied, and who had hastened down, the ladies in cloaks which they had thrown hastily over their night robes.
The first fire engine arrived, conducted by Wegen on horseback. The fiery red of the sky must have aroused the neighbouring villages, whither eager messengers had been despatched.
With deep emotion, Blanden gazed upon the increasing blaze, which threatened to reduce the old inheritance of his family to ashes; already the forked tongues of the flames lashed the tower, they boded ill for the dining-hall and chapel. All exertions were now directed to save the centre of the Castle, the actual Ordensburg.
Certainly the fire could effect nothing upon those mighty walls, but as the flames swept in wild haste over the roofs, the falling, burning rafters from above might ignite the doors and panels of the beautiful, well-preserved Castle apartments of the oldest portion.
Meanwhile engine after engine arrived, the whole district was alarmed, the Castle tower of Kulmitten shone like a flaming beacon, but still more did love for the noble master speed the help that was hurrying to his home. Some of the engines were stationed on the other side of the Castle, some in the park meadows, executing their work of preservation with unflagging labour.
Blanden was first here then there; Giulia had recovered, she stared senselessly into the flames. Had the flash of a tempest set the Castle on fire she would have been convinced that heaven's judgment had fallen upon her sin; that it would proclaim with burning tongues that which she concealed so anxiously, yet although she did not know the cause of the evil, she held the fire to be in some dark connection with her own fate, and sometimes, with a shudder, the thought passed through her mind that Baluzzi might be its author.
Despite all efforts of the numerous engines, and the helpful interference of the throng, the splendid dining-hall could not be saved. The flames had penetrated beyond the door, and consumed all inflammable-material which the room contained. Still more was Giulia terrified when the image of the Madonna and child fell half shattered from the niche in the main wall; she was the old patron saint of this Castle, did she flee from the sacrilege which had entered? Cautiously and courageously Blanden, Kuhl and Wegen led the party of firemen, but only towards morning did they become masters of the fire. The chapel was saved, and the burning tower, after it had done its duty as beacon, was extinguished.
The new building, the other wing, remained entirely uninjured.
Now, when only timid flames and clouds of smoke arose from the burning place, when the streams of water hissed more faintly over the smoking ruins, and the first rays of dawn gleamed in the east, Blanden and his friends gained time for calm reflection, which the ceaseless zeal of vigorous action had hitherto not permitted.
First the lord of the Castle mustered all its inhabitants, no one was missing; weeping Beate must be comforted, she had lost all her beautiful clothes, which had been left in the bedroom the day before. Blanden promised compensation. But then the eager question arose as to how the fire had originated? It had evidently broken out in that extreme wing, which was connected with the front tower by the subterranean passage, whence the secret stairs led upwards, but that was the very spot whither usually no human being penetrated. Who could have come there on that day? The subterranean passage had fallen in, the secret approach from the lake to the front tower was overgrown. Blanden knew that for many years, yes, all his life time, the medieval romantic nature of that spot had remained undisturbed.
With a throbbing heart, Giulia listened to these discussions. One knew that dark path, and had already traversed it. Verily he had deceived her, concealed his shameful intentions, too soon already completed the work of his promised revenge. It was Baluzzi, but where had he remained? Was he still tarrying in the vicinity? What disclosures menaced her? Not enough that he had laid the Castle, her new home, in dust and ruins, he would now direct the deadly arrow against herself.
She had relied upon his word, upon the word of a maliciousbravo.
In order entirely to extinguish the glowing cinders, the water streams were now all directed upon the spot where the fire had broken out; a few bold men, Kuhl at their head, ventured wherever a sudden flame could still dart out.
Giulia felt a vague dread of the researches, and yet nothing could be found there save dust and ashes.
Suddenly Kuhl's cry was heard by the expectant crowd.
"A corpse!"
The cry, repeated more loudly, passed on to the very last person, all rushed nearer, in eager expectation.
"Baluzzi!" cried Giulia to herself, becoming pale, at that moment only a sensation of horror seized her. A half-charred, half-shattered corpse was carried towards them; the fact of its lying beneath the fallen rubbish of stones had preserved it from being completely burned. The half-consumed rags of garments showed that it was the corpse of a woman--of a girl.
Blanden went closer; suddenly an idea flashed through him, all that could still be recognised as the remains of a human being confirmed his supposition. The incendiary was discovered, it could be none other than half-witted Kätchen.
"It is the idiot girl who danced with deformed Pietrowicz yesterday!"
Pietrowicz came nearer and stared at the remains of his partner.
"A death-dance Pietrowicz! You never anticipated that! But from henceforth do not dream of ghosts!"
Pietrowicz stepped back as if struck, and crossed himself.
"To set fire to places," added Blanden by way of explanation, "is a mania of such half-witted beings."
But he told himself that this girl was not more mentally deranged than all who are animated with a blind, senseless passion; that she since that visit to her attic chamber, since he had rejected her insane offers of love, had brooded upon revenge against him, and had executed it on his wedding day. The mixture of love and hatred, he knew was not only peculiar to those whose minds are disordered, but in all moody, narrow ones it works like an accumulated combustible, which at the first shock explodes, scattering all into ruins.
"I might be superstitious," thought he to himself, "she always brings evil and ruin to that which I love."
"Giulia," then he cried suddenly, "where are you, my sweet wife? You live, then is all well!"
And he clasped her in his arms, while the morning sun rose glowingly red on the horizon above the smoking Castle ruins, the closely thronging crowd, and the corpse of halfwitted Kätchen, the water nymph, who had died in the fire.
The sight of the ruins, constantly before the eyes of the newly-married couple, must have given a bitter flavour to their honeymoon.
And yet, Blanden was happier than he had ever been, in the possession, which he believed to be ensured, of a beloved wife. He gazed upon the Castle ruins, upon the ruins of his past, but in his Giulia's smile he saw the promise of an abiding, beautiful future.
The Ordensburg, the dining-hall, the Madonna's image, all should rise anew in the old form out of the rubbish. To attain this Blanden had sent for architects, who were well-known artists, to Kulmitten, so as to restore the building in accordance with the old foundations. Giulia took warm interest in all these plans, and often looked over Blanden's shoulder at the sketches of elevations over which he pored. Of course no art could compensate for the value of its historical age and associations, with the dining-hall the poetry of the olden days was destroyed, the new creation could but become a clever imitation. Several friends, especially Wegen and Olga, too, sometimes came to visit them, but the intercourse was not very lively, and Blanden wished to live alone with his love, and the object of that love. Often they sailed upon the lake or walked alone in the woods, upon the oak tree dykes, past the ponds filled with tall reeds; in that solitude which reminded her of primeval forests, Giulia forgot the world, the spell of her doom, the secret menaces of fate; and when Blanden's fowling piece brought down the water-fowl, and the broad belt of the fir forest sent back the echoes of the shot, Giulia felt as glad and as free as if she were living with a settler in the back woods, and as though prairie fires blazed between her and human society.
Owing to the fire and its mysterious cause, Kulmitten had fallen into still worse repute amongst the proprietors and their wives in the neighbourhood.
"There, we have it," said Frau Baronin Fuchs, to her husband, "gorgeous fireworks for their wedding! It is lucky that the dead cannot speak; that poor burned child who was drawn out of the flames, and probably set the place on fire, doubtlessly omitted to protest, in time, against the banns, and thus, in her fashion, made up for it on the wedding day. Of course she was a forsaken lover! The one loses her life in water the other in fire! Who knows which elements, those who remain may select, for naturally they have not come to an end yet. There was so much love-making in that community that it would be a school for a whole life-time!"
But not only to her husband, everywhere on the neighbouring estates, wherever her dapple-greys carried the clear-sighted Frau Baronin of firm morals, she uttered, with triumphant eloquence, her unpleasing belief in the just punishment that had befallen this knight of the rueful countenance. Outlaw and excommunication rested once again upon the master of those estates, and many crossed themselves when they spoke of the fire at Kulmitten Castle, of the ruins of the old nest of the Order, as the happy possessors of brand-new knightly castles contemptuously termed it, and of the Signora, who, out of the depths of the theatre, had risen to such a height, and whose family in the Apennines probably drove mules, or were even related to Fra Diavolo and other bandits of noble descent.
One day a young married couple were announced, Dr. Sperner and his wife. The principals of the school from the provincial capital, were making a tour of visits to the parents of their pupils, and hoping thus to obtain new ones. Dr. Sperner's moustache was a sign-board that did its duty. He still possessed the key to the mothers' hearts although it was now discreetly hidden by him in the key-basket of conjugal bliss. Lori had married soon after Blanden, whose conquest she had certainly only contemplated in daring dreams, was irretrievably lost. On that evening, in the theatre, on which the Doctor had distinguished himself by the active part he had taken in punishing the immoralprima donna, he had quite won Lori's heart; the schoolmistress' pride melted like snow in March, nothing remained but the little girl, who gladly gave herself into the strong man's keeping. There was an end of the commanding and dictating Fräulein. Lori stepped down from the lofty pedestal, upon which she had placed herself with such dignity, and acknowledged her master in him, who, shortly before, had declared himself to be her white slave. Now the plantation belonged to them both, and the world maintained that it was Lori who had become the white slave. Sperner possessed all the qualifications for a despot, and it was in vain that she prepared to defend herself against his vigorous energy with the pin-pricks of her wit. Yet she could still occasionally celebrate tiny triumphs with it when the Doctor, in one or the other of the classes, distinguished a few favourites according to his old bad custom. She was implacable towards these successors of Iduna. She took possession of their copy-books after her husband had already corrected them, and let her red pen run riot through their pages until they resembled a corn field overgrown with poppies. Then their domestic peace was seriously imperilled, and the first-class listening at the door, had the satisfaction of witnessing noisy scenes between the conductors of the establishment. How differently Fräulein Sohle had maintained discipline! Yes, even some lovely eyes peeping through the keyhole pretended to have seen how Dr. Sperner's moustache, the terror and glory of the school, played a suffering part in these disputes. At last, however, the Doctor gained his point, Lori was merely, by courtesy, the principal of the school.
Although this couple's last kindly relation to Giulia had consisted in the homage which they paid to her talent in the theatre by hissing and whistling, it did not, in the least, prevent them paying a friendly visit to Herr and Frau von Blanden. Times change, and besides, in those days, they were a portion of the public, the most irresponsible creature that the world contains, because the individual disappears within it like a wave in the ocean, which none can make permanently stationary?
Lori was most agreeable; she could not sufficiently regret that Frau von Blanden had said farewell to the stage. Since her retirement there had been a total lack of all real interest, and nothing was heard but commonplace ballad-singing for salaries and wages, without any of the divine spark.
Sperner, too, kissed the lady's hand with the very lips which had given the signal whistle in the pit, and looked up at her with such true-hearted eyes that she could not but believe in his genuineness. He was one of those honest men whose frank manner, whose warm impulsive speeches inspire confidence at once, one of those men, with open hearts and open shirt collars, whose genuineness, as Kuhl said, is nothing but studied hypocrisy, while behind the mask of their honesty lurks the vilest deception.
Blanden led his guests round the Castle and into the apartments of the old stronghold, which Lori surveyed with peculiar ill-nature. They ascended the tower, which had been temporarily restored. Yet the view over the wide woods to the limits of the estate, fading into the sky on the horizon, awoke a disagreeable emotion in Frau Sperner. She thought of her home, of the gravel walk, of the narrow cells in which she housed those entrusted to her care--how small, how miserable compared with such a magnificent possession; she thought of Dr. Sperner, who brought nothing to the union but his moustache, a box of clothes, another of books, and an undeniable talent as a dictatorial teacher in the school and conjugal lord, and a heavy shadow overclouded her life. Blanden stood transfigured before her like a being of a higher order. Giulia had remained behind in the chapel with the Doctor. Lori looked at Blanden with an expression, in which lay the pain of deceived affection, combined with one of sad resignation. But Blanden said, smilingly--
"You will surely call me to your assistance against the bold tutor, who took so much upon himself! Verily he has set a crown upon his boldness now, robbed you of heart and name, trodden Fräulein Baute's door plate in the dust, and upon the long suffering metal written the name of the wild man who was so dreadful. Can I help you, my Fräulein? Shall I call him out? I am ready as ever for knightly duty!"
"Laugh away, a knight may be needed at all times, and a man who is a savage does not at once become tame in marriage. Herr von Blanden, we may call ourselves teachers, but nevertheless we always remain pupils in life."
It was well that Giulia and Sperner appeared, or Lori would have fallen into Blanden's arms upon the Castle leads, if he had shown the least inclination to bear so precious a burden.
At any rate Frau Sperner had the satisfaction of driving back to the town in Herr von Blanden's elegant carriage. Reclining in the soft cushions, drawn by the four high stepping horses, she could indulge in dreams of being the mistress and owner of this team! How contemptible the Doctor appeared at that moment; he possessed no carriages and horses, castles and villages, forests and meadows, and yet assumed a mien as if his frown were dreaded in a circumference of thirty square miles. And he was really living upon borrowed capital. That was all the grandeur!
With a sigh she leaned back in the cushions and closed her eyes, and in a half dream of delight she saw herself as Frau von Blanden with Sperner seated in his proper place, upon the box in a splendid livery, thrashing the horses and stroking his moustache.
A few days after this visit, Blanden had to cross the frontier to see a landowner in Russian Poland about agricultural matters and the new buildings, for which he hoped to find desirable materials. Giulia bade him a fond farewell, as though she had a presentiment that it would be farewell for a long, long time. The road from Kulmitten first led along a beautifully situated road on the estate, then between little lakes on either side; farther on, at several places, the traveller might easily imagine himself to be in Arabia Petræa, for the highway went past hills which had been strewn with a shower of stones. Here not a tree grew, not a shrub, it was a limitless waste. The horses, too, had difficulty in making their way through the stonydébris, for Blanden had already to diverge from the main road, because his friend's estate was only accessible along by-ways. It was a toilsome drive, twilight overtook them before the frontier was reached. Meanwhile the landscape had again assumed a different character; the hills were covered with woods, and in the hollows between them small lakes which terminated in swamps. The carriage wheels often ran so closely to their edge that only the light of the carriage lamps and the driver's caution preserved them from some mishap. Some of these morasses were so deep that it would be fatal to sink into them. Suddenly the carriage dropped below into a copse dividing two lakes or swamps; a string of carts which had been driven up one behind another, and would not move on, blocked the road. The coachman became impatient, but he was bidden to wait; Blanden sprang out of the carriage and climbed up a little eminence close to the road, however, it was too dusk to be able to overlook the whole train. He saw a few dark figures moving about amongst the carts, and some of them were armed with guns.
At last the cry "Forward!" resounded. The line of carts was set in motion, it was possible to proceed. Blanden had to act as rear-guard.
Thus they went on for some time alternating from wooded hills to swampy vallies, then they stopped again, a post with the Russian colours showed that the frontier was reached. That "halt!" was not given in the loud voice of the "forward," but in a whispered tone. Blanden became impatient, he knew already that he had fallen amidst a caravan of smugglers, which could only seek to cross the frontier on by-roads, in the dead of the night. Then suddenly the soundless silence was disturbed by noisy cries; shots and din of conflict followed, the horses in Blanden's carriage reared, the coachman could hardly keep them in hand. More shots. Cossacks on fleet horses dashed upon the foot-wide margin that separated the carts from a swamp on the right hand from a steep wooded hill on the left. They overpowered the drivers of the carts, bound them safely, and mounted the waggons themselves. A Cossack also seated himself beside Blanden's coachman, obliging him to deviate from his course and follow to the frontier station.
As they drove past the scene of conflict he saw that it had cost the lives of several victims; a wounded Cossack was lifted up and placed in one of the carts, two officials from the frontier searched a wildly overgrown bank running out into the swamp, evidently they expected to find a wounded smuggler there. As the road became wider, and passed through a plain of meadows, one cart was left behind to bring on a few more prisoners, and several Cossacks galloped back to catch some runaway smugglers. Clearly the attack on the column of carts had been unexpected and sudden, and doubtlessly its leader had formerly often succeeded in crossing the frontier unperceived by these remote roads.
Blanden was supremely annoyed at this compulsory divergence; almost an hour elapsed before they reached the station, near which was an inn. He knew the inspector of the frontier personally, and also had papers with him fully proving his identity, and setting the matter beyond doubt that he was in nowise connected with the band of smugglers.
The Cossack upon the box, who had escorted him safely, took leave, and for his unwelcome trouble received atrink-geldthat he accepted with eloquent gestures. It was too late at night to drive to his friend's estate, they had turned off in an exactly opposite direction. Blanden had the horses taken out, and resigned himself to the fate of spending the rest of the night in that miserable inn.
Gradually the carts arrived with the Cossacks. Blanden had preceded them. The waggons contained jewellery, silks, and linen; he learned that a bold speculator, who accompanied the train himself, hoped to do a great stroke of business with it. He had not yet been caught. Blanden overheard all this in the inn parlour, when he walked impatiently up and down, waiting for the wretched meal which he had ordered.
Outside there was incessant running to and fro; shouting, ordering, rolling of cartwheels, and stamping of horses, echoed through the night. A company of infantry had been summoned from the neighbouring town, because they had to deal with the most dangerous traders of the East Prussian forests, who thoroughly understood the little frontier struggles, and amongst whom were several reckless axe-bearers and dreaded shots.
It was late when one more conveyance arrived, from out of which a groaning man was lifted; he had been found upon the bank in the swamps, where he had sought to conceal himself in the wild profusion of overgrowth.
"He will not live much longer," said the host, returning, after having gleaned the information outside, "but, besides the room which I have given up to you, there is not an empty spot in the house."
"I will gladly resign it," replied Blanden. "I shall not be able to sleep any more; put the unhappy man in my room."
Accompanied by two Cossacks, the wounded man was carried into the parlour where the landlord told him he could be accommodated in the upper room, which this gentleman had relinquished to him. Out of a cloak which concealed the rest of his face two great glowing eyes fixed themselves upon Blanden. A sudden quiver passed through the wounded man. He was carried out and up the stairs.
"Who is the man?" asked Blanden.
"So far as I can hear," said the host, "he is a dealer, who, in transporting his goods--whether from greediness and anxiety, whether from delight in such adventures--does not leave the matter to competent professional smugglers, but assumes the management himself. Certainly, this time it is a great expedition, which might have entirely provided a princely ball at Warsaw with jewels and silk. He has fared ill to-day! He defended himself and fired a revolver, but was mortally wounded."
The servant of the house then entered and begged Blanden to go to the wounded man, who urgently requested it.
"The poor man will not part from life without thanking me," said Blanden.
He went up the stairs and entered a room meagrely lighted with a feeble oil lamp. Against the wall stood a wretched bedstead, upon which lay a straw mattress. At the head of the bed sat a Cossack, his lance in his hand.
"Make room, good fellow," said the wounded man's voice, "let the gentleman come to me! You can stand on guard as well as sit. I am no longer dangerous."
He had spoken Russian. The Cossack drew back while Blanden went up to the bed, but his sensation of pity suddenly gave place to one of astonishment, when, in the man doomed to die, he recognised the amber merchant.
"Signor Baluzzi!" cried he shocked, for he suddenly recollected that this man stood in some mysterious relation to Giulia.
"I shall soon be dead," said Baluzzi, while spasmodic gasps interrupted the words brought out with such difficulty. "Corpo di bacco!I should not have believed that it would come so soon, but I feel it is to be, and the frontier official, who was a surgeon formerly, says so too. People follow many trades here."
"I am sorry for you, Baluzzi! How could you enter upon so insane an undertaking?"
"Insane?L'assicuro di no!I have often had the most splendid success, but misfortune must befall all in time; you, too, Herr von Blanden, and I am glad, because I have the right to hate you."
The Italian's dim eyes gleamed, he clenched his hand convulsively, and then let it fall again upon the pillow.
"What do these insinuations mean?--speak! If you have a secret to confide to me do not hesitate, for it might easily become too late."
"A secret of a strange kind," said Baluzzi, as he tossed about and groaned. "Haha, now it will come upon her, too. This bullet speeds beyond the frontier--and into her heart! I foretold it to her when she gave me up in her unworthy pride. I was too weak. I let myself be dazzled by the gold that she promised and gave me! But now it is all over, death is approaching, it needs no bribe. Now I will speak! That was the agreement. I shall hold firmly to it!"
"You speak in riddles," said Blanden.
"As she will no longer rest in my arms, neither shall she in yours," said the Italian. "I shall assert my rights. I shall preserve them with my last breath, long as I may have denied them. That is worthy of a brave man. She is mine, and belongs to this death-bed."
"Of whom do you speak?" cried Blanden, more astonished.
"Of Giulia, your--mistress!"
"Hah, you scoundrel," cried Blanden, "I shall be forgetting that a dying man is before me, that these words are the unnecessary attacks of an expiring intellect."
"You are mistaken," said Baluzzi, but pain compelled him to stop for a time and to speak more softly. "I speak the truth."
"Fool--united to me at the altar!"
"Null and invalid, null and invalid!"
"Is there anything you wish, Baluzzi? I will gladly carry it out, but to listen longer to your wandering speech is impossible."
"Wandering speech! Haha--am I a madman? Do I tear off the bandage which the wretched surgeon, the old frontier official, put on? Do I grope in the air half unconsciously? No, my mind is clear, clear as yours, clearer, perhaps, at this moment. I can understand that the world begins to go round with you when I repeat that 'Giulia can only be your mistress, because she is--my wife!'"
"Your wife, madman!"
Blanden shouted in a torrent of anger, then he shuddered. Various dark impressions, for which hitherto he could not account, swept suddenly over him, the possibility of what was incredible lay before him like a deep fearful abyss.
"She has deceived you,carissimo!"
"Oh, then--then I should envy you the merciful bullet which struck you, envy you your approaching death," cried Blanden, beside himself, "but it cannot be, Giulia could not thus deceive me."
"She wanted to belong to you for ever, and she did not mind a crime."
"She must have dreaded the disclosure every moment."
"There you have an ardent daughter of our country! She would be happy at any price."
"You should have come forward long since, have opposed it."
"I did not do it. I was accustomed to turn away from her, to be silent. It was more advantageous for me! She paid well for my silence, but that she should treat me with contempt ate silently into my vitals, and I vowed to be avenged upon the overbearing woman as soon as the hour should have struck."
Bach one of these replies, which Baluzzi gave in a low expiring voice, was a deathblow for Blanden. Not only could he not refute them, but they bore the impress of truth.
The dark recollection of the Lago Maggiore, of Giulia's agonised bursts of anguish, of the force of circumstances which she lamented, of Baluzzi's appearance on the shore of the lake, and at the gate of the villa, all returned overwhelmingly upon him. He had many times asked casual questions which she had always answered crossly and evasively, and only in order to avoid marring the peace of their honeymoon had he refrained from an enquiry which might easily be misinterpreted. With the keen sharpness of a knife this thought quivered through his brain, and a dread feeling of pain rent his heart, and yet with every excuse which his anxious reason could discover, he tried to stem the coming evil.
"Your wife, you say, your wife, but where were you married?"
"In the church of San Giulio, on the island, in the lake of Orta."
"I will assume that you are speaking the truth, assume it without believing it. But then she was your wife years ago. She is divorced."
"Our Church knows no divorce," murmured Baluzzi softly to himself.
"Your laws--"
"Do not recognise it either!"
"Well, then, she has been divorced in some other country where it is permitted."
"I have always remained a subject of Italy, and even here--I had grounds enough for a divorce--remember the villa at Stresa--but I would not."
Baluzzi made a sign of denial. He groaned, and pressed his hand upon his heart. He could not speak any more.
"Horrible," cried Blanden; then he began to perceive what Giulia's heart must have gone through in its passionate love for him--the unbounded deception became comprehensible. He could not but acknowledge to himself that he should never have made his, this vagrant's wife, even if she had been divorced. Giulia had told herself the same, and therefore concealed the past from him.
But that he should realise the possibility, could realise it, seemed to him like inexpiable injustice to Giulia.
The man, sick unto death, was a prey to wild delirium, but even through madness there runs one connecting thread, on which it hangs its pictures, and is often more sharp-sighted, more rational than sound sense.
A pause ensued. The Cossack, who was weary, began to whistle a song which is sung on the shores of the Don by the girls of his race. Baluzzi had somewhat recovered.
"You still doubt? Pray call in the officer of the frontier."
Under the impression that the Italian felt weak, and needed some surgical assistance, Blanden hastened down the stairs and returned with the chief guardian of the frontier. The latter felt Baluzzi's pulse, and shook his head.
"One favour! Show this gentleman what you found sewn up in my coat."
Annoyed, but unwilling to refuse a dying man's entreaty, the officer, with an enquiring glance at Blanden, went into his office, and returned, bringing another Cossack with him as watchman.
Out of a rough wooden box close at hand at the time, he took a sparkling diamond coronet. Even the Cossacks drew nearer with covetous glances.
Only one stone was wanting in the ornament. Blanden started back as if stung by an adder.
"My, her diamonds! Our family jewels! Robber!
"I a robber? Did she wear these diamonds on her wedding day? Did she complain that she had lost them? It is a gift that she gave to me--one of the many with which she bought my silence. I came to her on the evening before her wedding. Kätchen showed me the road through the tower and the subterranean passage, and cleared the way--poor child, it was there, too, that she died the following day in the fireworks, which she let off in honour of the bridal couple. These diamonds are my honestly gained property."
Now Blanden said no more. Groping about blindly he sought an explanation, but all excuses were denied to him. Desperate, he buried his face in his hands, and stamped as if in an impotent rage with his fate.
"He is dying," said the official, pointing at Baluzzi, whose features suddenly became overshadowed.
But he raised himself once more with a powerful effort, and cried in a shrieking half-failing voice--
"Thrust her from you, the adulteress. Where am I? The brand upon her brow, the chains of the galley rattle about me--"
"And if it were so," cried Blanden, "the proofs are wanting. The secret goes with you to the grave. I alone have the right to punish her."
"You are wrong," said Baluzzi, gathering up his strength once more. "Revenge I have vowed to her, I keep my oath, the proofs are not here, not at hand, but they are in safe keeping. The accusation I carried for long, carefully sealed up in my breast pocket. Beate burned the page in the registry in San Giulio, but a legal copy at the See in Milan proves the marriage. And this accusation is my legacy, the lightning that strikes the worthless woman, even before I die."
"This accusation--" cried Blanden, almost breathlessly.
"Bears the address of the nearest court in the district, shows all proofs, and is in the hands of Wild Robert, who fled with me on to the bank in the swamps. The ball hit me--it missed him. He promised me, even if it cost his life, to take the papers there. He knows the way through the morass, and if he had to hew down bush and tree with an axe to make a bridge for himself, the bailiffs have not caught him. Triumph! Chains and fetters for her--she has despised me, I, too, may despise her--thus I die--gladly!" And with these words, which were already interrupted by the rattle of approaching death, he bowed his head and passed away.
As if out of his mind Blanden rushed into the night, ran along lonely roads, sprang over ditches and fences, hurried up and down--he felt as though he must fly from himself.
His Giulia had deceived him, she was a criminal, his marriage invalid--the myrmidons of the law were already knocking at the door of his Castle! He repeated all this to himself mechanically, hopelessly, as though he were conning a lesson. It was impossible that all this could concern himself.
After two hours of rapid flight through the night, which just began to yield to the dawn in the east, he returned to the inn, asked for ink and paper, and wrote to Giulia--
"Baluzzi is dead, he fell in a smuggler's fight, and dying confessed to me that you are his wife, and never were divorced from him! Shortly before his death he sent in an accusation against you. It cannot all be true, confirm the untruth with a few lines; they will find me with the proprietor of Opaczno."
He obtained a messenger and despatched him to Kulmitten with his letter.
It would have been impossible for him to return now, look into Giulia's eyes, hear from her own lips that she was the wife of that wretch.
He gave some orders and money for Baluzzi's burial, and then drove to Opaczno.
Fixedly he gazed at the morning, he saw none of the objects past which he drove, for him a heavy shadow lay upon all earthly things.
She whom he had so proudly loved, seemed like a spectre to him, a bride of Corinth, a vampire, which had sucked his blood, his life.
And yet--in the midst of his wrath at the deception, he was seized with fear, with pity for her, an inexpressible feeling of pain, that gnawed at his heart.
He felt as if the mild god of Hindoostan, the old King's son, laid a hand upon his brow like a healing doctor, and whispered to him, "Have pity upon all creation!"