Spring had fully come. Through storm and cold, through frost and fog, it had victoriously fought its way through, and awakened the earth everywhere to a new and sunny life.
A solitary wanderer was vigorously climbing upward through the green woods. It was still early in the day: the forest still-rested in deep bluish gray shadow, while heavy and moist lay the dew upon the mossy ground. Only the voices of individual birds sounded through the stillness of morning, and the tree-tops rustled and sighed as they bowed before the wind.
Egbert Runeck was on his way to the Whitestone, wanting to keep his word and examine the condition of the cross up there himself. Now he emerged from the woods, coming out upon a small elevated plateau, while just in front of him towered the mighty wall of cliff. Naked and steep it reared its crest above the dark fir-trees that fringed its base. The whole upper part was wildly cleft and riven, here only a few dwarf pines and stunted bushes were rooted in the fissures. From the summit a gigantic cross was visible to a great distance, identifying the mountain for all beholders.
That high, solitary peak played a chief part in the legends of the region round about. Already its name was linked with the world of fairies and elves that once had their mysterious being in these mountain-forests, and still survived in the superstitions of the people. The Whitestone concealed buried treasures, that, slumbering deep within its rock-bound caves, waited for release, and already many a one had paid the penalty of death for meddling with its secrets. Only the almightySpringwürzel[1]opens these locked-up depths.
"He takes from night and darknessTheir treasures, hidden deep,And he those jewels sparklingAnd all that gold may keep."
"He takes from night and darkness
Their treasures, hidden deep,
And he those jewels sparkling
And all that gold may keep."
How strange! Those words kept ringing in the ears of the man who stood on the edge of the mountain-meadow. It was the last stanza of an old popular ballad, that he too had been familiar with in childhood, but had long since forgotten. For him there were no longer hidden treasures, for him the depths were empty and dead, and yet that song kept ringing incessantly in his soul, but rather the voice from which he had last heard it. He hated at the bottom of his heart that beautiful syren who had ensnared by her wiles the friend of his youth, and now was to be mistress of Odensburg, but he could not rid himself of the entrancing sound of that voice, of the demoniacal charm of those eyes, and no labor, no exertion of will-power availed for his deliverance.
He crossed, over the mountain meadow, and, looking up, scrutinized the Whitestone. The weight of the winter's snows and the latest storms of spring might very well have shaken its foundations, and yet it seemed to stand firm and sure. But suddenly Egbert started, his foot seemed rooted to the spot, while his gaze clung spell-bound, to the top of the peak. Something was stirring up yonder; he saw the outlines of a bright form, that were clearly defined--his sharp eye recognized them in spite of the distance.
It had been no mere boast then, no passing whim, the madcap had really undertaken the adventure, and, undertaken it alone, as it seemed! Egbert's brow contracted, yet, for him to retrace his steps was not to be thought of--he, too, had almost certainly been already seen. He grasped his staff, then, and slowly began to climb.
The path that from here upward led to the crag certainly required a steady head and a fearless heart. It was a sort of hunter's track, that wound along close to the steep precipice, and the view of the awful depths below was always left open. At times it would vanish entirely, and then one would be forced to look out a path for himself, until the beaten track after a while again became visible.
The young engineer had lost the imperturbable coolness, with which he usually accomplished such a climb, often he stopped, his foot slipped, and he had consumed much more time than usual when he finally reached the top. There before him stood Cecilia Wildenrod, flooded by the bright light of morning, radiant in beauty and overweening pride.
"See there, Herr Runeck, we meet on the summit of the Whitestone! You have taken your time for the climb--I came faster!"
"I know the danger of the way," answered Egbert, composedly, "and therefore do not challenge it."
"Danger? I did not think of that! You thought I would not dare to follow this path, or, at best give up and go back in five minutes. What say you now?"
She gave him a challenging glance,--now, at last, a word of admiration must come from those stern lips! But there came only the cool counter-question:
"Do they know of your expedition at Odensburg, noble lady?"
"Why, no!" cried the young lady laughing. "Then they would have confined me to the house or at least set a guard over my going out and coming in. I set off this morning betimes, while they were all asleep, slipped away secretly, had the horses hitched up and drove to Crownwood. From there the road can hardly be missed, and, you see I have found it."
"Alone? That was more than incautious! If you had made a false step, if you had fallen, no help was at hand and then----"
"Dear me? Do not you begin to preach at me," interrupted she impatiently. "I shall hear enough of lectures when I get back to Odensburg."
"I have neither the purpose nor the right to preach to you, Fräulein von Wildenrod, that is for Eric to do, if any one."
"And he is the very last from whom I would take it."
"What, not from your future husband?"
"Just on that very account. I have made up my mind to rule in the establishment."
"That would not be hard to do in this case, Eric is of a gentle, yielding temper. He will never try to resist you."
"Resist?" repeated Cecilia, provoked and amused at the same time. "You seem to consider our marriage as on a war-basis--a flattering compliment to me."
"I beg pardon, if I now inspect the cross," said Egbert, interrupting the Baroness. "I came up here, solely on that account, you know. The thing is to hinder the possibility of an accident, the results of which might be fatal."
Cecilia bit her lip at this rejection of the confidential tone, which she had found good to adopt, and an angry glance was hurled at the man who dared to treat her thus.
Cecilia looked silently on as Runeck proceeded to the cross, which stood on the extreme verge of the precipice upon the side facing the valley, and tested it. He did this thoroughly and scientifically, and probably ten minutes elapsed ere he turned around again.
"Those gentlemen were mistaken," said he quietly. "The cross is standing perfectly firm and secure, and there is no fear of its falling. Perhaps you will have the goodness to report this at Odensburg. I shall not get there until day after to-morrow, and I take it for granted that you have no idea of making a secret of your adventure."
"On the contrary, I am fully purposed to boast freely of it. Do not look so astounded, Herr Runeck. You see this lace veil does not exactly belong to my tourist's equipment: I have brought it with me on purpose to prove that I really have been on the top of the Whitestone. I could have no idea that I should meet you here, and did not therefore calculate upon having your testimony to the feat." And so saying Cecilia loosened the white veil, that was flung loosely around her shoulder and waist, and advanced towards the cross.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Egbert, looking after her in surprise.
"I have already told you,--to leave behind, a token, so that they may believe at Odensburg, that I actually performed the achievement. My veil is to wave from the cross yonder."
"For what? It is rashness, foolhardiness! Come back, please!"
His call sounded commanding, frenzied, but Cecilia paid no heed to it. Standing immediately on the verge of the precipice, she flung her veil around the cross. It was an agonizing spectacle--one single incautious movement, and she would lie crushed at the base.
"Fräulein von Wildenrod, come back! I implore you!" The voice of the young engineer was muffled and full of emotion. He seemed to suffer the agonies of a life-time in that moment.
Cecilia turned around and smiled. "Can you really beg, Herr Runeck? I am coming directly, only one more look into that chasm, which has its fascination for me." And, with her arm slung around the cross, she actually bent over the abruptly precipitous wall of rock, and looked fearlessly down.
Egbert involuntarily took one step forward, his arm quivered, as though he would drag her away by force from her dangerous position. He did not, however, but every drop of blood seemed to have left his face, when she finally left her place and came to him again.
"Do you believe now in my fearlessness?" she asked, tauntingly.
"That rash sport was really not necessary to convince me of it," said he harshly, and yet he drew a sigh of relief, when he once more saw the foolhardy girl on firm ground. "A misstep on that spot and you would have been lost!"
She recklessly shrugged her shoulders. "I never get dizzy, and just wanted for once to feel that deliciously thrilling sensation of standing up there, close over the precipice. One feels something like a demoniacal drawing to the bottom, it is as though one must rush to destruction, whether or no. Have you ever felt anything like it?"
"No," said Egbert coldly. "One must have a great deal of--time, to indulge themselves in such feelings."
"Which you deem objectionable."
"Unhealthy, to say the least. He who needs his life for work, knows how to prize it, and risks it only at the call of duty."
This reproof sounded very rude, and if it had come from the lips of any other person, Cecilia would probably have turned her back upon the "insolent creature," in silent contempt. Here she said nothing, for a minute perhaps, and at the same time scanned the sunburnt countenance of the young man, that had not by any means recovered its color as yet. Then she smiled again. "Thanks for the lesson. We just do not understand one another, Herr Runeck."
"I have told you so already--we belong to two different worlds----"
"And yet we stand so near together on the narrow space furnished by Whitestone's crest," mocked Cecilia. "As for the rest, I have enjoyed this unique pleasure long enough. I must go down now."
"Then permit me to attend you! The descent is far more dangerous than the ascent, and I could not answer to Erie for letting you go alone."
"To Eric? That indeed!" Her lips curled haughtily at the mention of her betrothed; then she cast a look up at the cross, where the loose hanging ends of the veil were fluttering in the morning breeze.
"That old weather-beaten cross has never been dressed up so before! I present it to the guardian spirits of the Whitestone; may be, out of gratitude, they will open their caverns to me and give me a sight of their buried treasures."
With a light laugh she turned to go. Silently Runeck led the way. He was right, the greater danger lay in the descent.
From time to time, at especially critical places, he exhorted her to be cautious, with a few words, or by a movement of the arm offered his assistance, which, however, was not accepted. His beautiful companion walked along over the giddy, steep path, as carelessly as over the smoothest of roads. Her light foot carried her over the rubble-stones, where Egbert's heavier tread found no good hold, and where there was climbing or leaping to do, with the help of her staff, she would swing herself from rock to rock. There was a bewitching grace in every moment of her slender white form, although, at the same time, that bold rash sport with danger that sets foresight at defiance.
They had already accomplished the greatest part of the way, already the bright green of the little mountain meadow was smiling a welcome, when Cecilia heedlessly again set her foot upon a loose rubble-stone, but this time it gave way, and rolled into the chasm; she lost her balance, tottered, stumbled--now the horrible instant of her fall, a loud shriek of dismay, then it grew dark before her eyes.
But the next second she was seized and held. Flinging his stout staff from him, Egbert had turned around as quick as lightning, and propping himself with gigantic strength against the cliff, he caught up the girl's trembling form and convulsively held her tight in his arms.
Cecilia had hardly lost her consciousness for more than a minute, almost immediately it was restored to her, and her large, dark eyes were shyly lifted up to her deliverer's face, that was bent over her. She saw that it was deadly pale, saw the expression of unspeakable agony upon his usually cold features, and felt the wild, stormy beating of the heart against which her head rested!Shewas the one who had been in peril, but uponhiscountenance was stamped the agony of death!
Thus they tarried awhile, motionless, when Runeck slowly let his arm drop. "Rest upon my shoulder," said he softly. "Right firmly--look not to the right nor left, only upon the path in front of you--I am holding you."
He picked up his staff and then put his right arm about her, so as best to give her support. Cecilia passively obeyed; that horrible danger, the nature of which she now, for the first time, realized, had broken her spirit of opposition; she still trembled in every limb and her head swam. Thus they slowly continued the descent. That light, delicate figure could hardly have been felt as a burden by so strong a man, and yet his breath came quickly and heavily, and a dark flush glowed upon his cheek.
Finally, the solid ground was reached, and they stood in the meadow. All the way down they had exchanged not a single word, but now Cecilia straightened herself up. She was still pale, but she tried to smile as she offered her hand to the man who had saved her life.
"Herr Runeck--I thank you."
There was a strange ring in those words, something that told of a genuinely warm heart and overflowing gratitude, but Egbert only touched lightly the proffered hand, and immediately let it drop again.
"I deserve no thanks, lady. I would have done the same service to any other whom I had seen in such peril. When you have recovered somewhat from your fright, I shall conduct you to Crownwood, where you said you had left your carriage and horses. Even that is tolerably far."
Cecilia looked at him in surprise, almost in dismay. Was that the same man, who had awhile ago bent over her in such tender solicitude, whose whole being had quivered in wild, feverish excitement as he had borne rather than led her down the mountain? There stood he before her, with stolid features, speaking with the same old calm composure, as though the memory of those last fifteen minutes had already been expunged from his memory. But they had been, nevertheless--a pair of dark eyes had looked into depths hitherto strongly locked up and knew not what it concealed.
"Do you take me to be so cowardly, that I tremble for hours over a danger surmounted?" asked Cecilia softly. "I am only tired from the difficulties of the walk and my feet pain me; I must rest for a quarter of an hour."
She let herself down under a tall fir-tree, the moss-covered roots of which offered a natural resting-place. She was indeed exhausted and over-fatigued, it was easy to see, but her companion had not a word of commiseration to spare her. He seemed to have but one wish, and that was to give up his office as guide as quickly as possible.
The mountain-meadow, with its sunny green, shone bright in contrast with the dark forests. Behind it loomed up the Whitestone, while in front an extensive view of the mountains was afforded. The landscape had nothing of the bright smiling beauty of the south, nor the overpowering grandeur of the Alps, but there rested upon it a peculiar charm, dreamy and melancholy as its legendary world.
Deep down lay the valleys, wrapt in bluish shadows, while the heights round about were flooded by bright sunshine, and over the valleys and hills spread an infinite expanse of green forest, out of which, only here and there, a bare wall of rock emerged, or a brook plunged wildly downward, splashing and foaming as it went. Mysteriously, as though from a far distance, came the soughing of the wind through the trees, swelling ever stronger and stronger, and then sinking again, dying away like a long-drawn sigh.
And yet other sounds were borne upon the breeze from the depths below. It was a Sunday morning and the churches of all the little villages scattered through the woods were calling to the service of God. Everywhere bells were ringing, one here sounded clear and full, another there low and sweet, mingling, as it died away, with the rustling of the trees.
Cecilia had taken off her hat and leaned against the trunk of the tree. Egbert stood a few steps apart, but his eyes hung upon her, as though riveted there by some wizard's spell. It availed nothing for him to forcibly resist; again they returned to feast themselves upon her captivating beauty, that graceful form clad in a simple white woolen gown, or that shining hair, which to-day was only lightly brushed back, and, held by a silver pin, fell loose on her neck. Her appearance was quite different from what Egbert had ever seen it before--so much lovelier--so much more dangerous!
For minutes had the silence lasted, when Cecilia looked up and asked in a low voice:
"And you are not going to scold me at all?"
"I? Why should I?"
"Why, you have good right to be angry with me, since, through my folly, your life, too, was exposed to imminent peril. I missed, by a hair's-breadth, dragging you down with me into that abyss--I am ashamed of myself."
This was uttered pleadingly, almost timidly--the tone was a strange one from that mouth. A dark flush appeared upon Egbert's brow, but his voice was as cold and distant as ever.
"You were not aware of the danger, but will not be so rash again."
"Will you not accept of my apology, but treat it as you did my thanks?" asked Cecilia reproachfully. "You have saved my life at the risk of your own--but at this moment you actually look as if you bitterly repent of it."
"I?" exclaimed Egbert vehemently.
"Yes, you! You stand there with an air that seems to say, you must defend yourself against an enemy in deadly fray. Against whom, pray? Only I am here!"
Again there was that roaring and rushing in the woods. It drew on above the hills like the waving of invisible giant-wings, and fuller and stronger sounded the church-bells from below. The whole air was instinct with sound, it seemed to soar on the sunbeams, and to swim and to shape themselves into a marvelous song, that at first sounded only in single detached chords, and then gradually changed to a melody that seemed mysterious but infinitely sweet, and both to shout and to lament.
True, those two up yonder, on that solitary, sunlit mountain-meadow, belonged to two different worlds,--it is true that a deep chasm parted them in all their thoughts and feelings. But the vain, spoiled child of fashionable society, who hitherto had only lived in a whirl of gayety, in an eternal chase after pleasure, to whom, heretofore, solitude had been synonymous with unbearableennui--she now listened to that sweet, strange dream, like one lost in reverie. And the man, too, to whom hard work had never allowed time for meditation and dreams, in vain resisted the magical influence. He was wont to stand firm on the soil of reality, in the broad daylight, and to look into life with cool and penetrating vision--into a life full of toil and strife, full of hard, irreconcilable contrasts. He was made for this. What to him were the fantastic dreams of the world of the imagination? And yet now they held him fast within their toils, and through the midst of it all, with captivating sweetness, echoed a human voice:
"Against whom are you defending yourself? Only I am here."
Egbert drew his hand across his forehead, as though he would arouse himself forcibly from this dreamy state.
"I beg your pardon, Baroness Wildenrod," said he. "I was thinking of unpleasantnesses that I had had with my men at Radefeld. One like me, who has his work forever on his mind, is but poor company, as you see."
"Have I asked to be entertained by you?" asked Cecilia, with slight reproof in her accent. "Eric is right, you are as hard as your native rocks, rugged and inaccessible as the Whitestone itself. If one believes, that at last the magical word has been found, if the deep opens for one brief instant, the very next it closes, and a sealed surface of cold stone confronts the seeker."
Runeck made no reply. He had not idly dreaded this interview: he knew that he had betrayed himself in that moment of deadly peril and agony untold!
And his adversary, who had now learned to know her power, was inexorable and wanted to enjoy her triumph at any price. It had cost her trouble enough to impose her chains upon this brave, proud man,--chains which all others were so glad and willing to wear; now he was conquered, and she wanted to see him, too, at her feet.
"Eric bitterly laments that he sees so little of you now," she began again. "If you come to Odensburg--and youmustcome sometimes--you confine yourself exclusively to his father's work-room and decline every invitation to join the family circle. Your engagements at Radefeld furnish you with the pretext for this mode of procedure, but I know better what keeps you away.--It is my presence and my brother's."
"Mein Fräulein----"
"Do not attempt to deny it. From the very first minute, I have been conscious of the mute hostility that you bear to us, and have often enough asked myself why--I have never found an answer to my question."
"Then ask Herr von Wildenrod, he will give you that answer."
The tone of his voice should have warned Cecilia, it sounded hollow and threatening, but she paid no heed to it.
"Something happened to make you dislike one another that time you first met, did it not? I have suspected it! But since then years have elapsed. Oscar has long forgotten the affair, as you have heard from himself. Will you alone be so implacable? And may I not know what happened then--will you not tell me, too?"
Her voice sounded yet softer and sweeter than before; her large, dark eyes were lifted imploringly to the man, who clearly felt how the net was being drawn closer and closer about him, how will and power were succumbing to the flattering sounds of that voice, as clearly he also suspected that the beautiful soulless creature there by his side was only playing a contemptible game with him and feeling nothing but the triumph of vanity. Then he rallied his forces with a last desperate resolve to burst his chains.
"Do you speak as commissioned by Herr von Wildenrod, Baroness?" he asked, with such terrible bitterness, that the young lady started and looked at him in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that for the Baron much depends upon his learning what I really know, and his sister may well seem to him the tool well fitted for the purpose."
Cecilia rose to her feet, shocked and excited. Although these words were perfectly unintelligible to her, so much she did understand, that the matter involved here was something very different from the expected conquest. This was not the language of a man upon whose lips hovered a declaration of love. Something like hatred and contempt flashed upon her from his eyes.
"I do not understand you, Herr Runeck," said she, with rising warmth, "but I have a feeling that you insult me and my brother. Now, Iwillknow, what happened that time between you two, and you are to tell it me!"
"Should that really be necessary?" asked he, cuttingly. "Herr von Wildenrod will have sufficiently instructed you. Well, then, tell him I know more of his past, than might be pleasant to him!"
Cecilia turned pale; her eyes, too, flashed threateningly, the same lurid light burning in them as in the glance of her brother when he was provoked.
"What does that mean?" cried she, trembling from excitement. "To whom do your words refer? Beware, lest Oscar call you to account!"
Her warning came too late, producing not the slightest effect upon Egbert, whose nervous system had been subjected to great strain, through the silent, torturing conflict, which he had been waging for months. He was intensely excited. Had he been the calm and collected man of earlier days, he would not have spoken, at least not at this hour and this place; he would have spared in Cecilia, the woman. But now there fermented within him only that wild desire after revenge upon her who had stolen his soul from him, who, syren-like, had chained to herself all his thoughts and feelings, and whom he believed that he hated, wanted to hate, because he despised her. If he should now inflict a deadly insult upon her, if he should open a gulf between them that no bridge could span--no word nor look cross--that would bring deliverance, break the spell, then an end would be put to it!
"Baron von Wildenrod is to call me to account, is he?" cried he, with bitter scorn. "The thing might shape itself differently. I have hitherto been silent, had to be silent, for my own conviction, however firm it might stand, would go for nothing against Eric's passion and his father's sense of justice. They will demand proofs, and I have them not at present. But I shall know how to find them, and then my forbearance ceases."
"Are you out of your senses?" interposed Cecilia, but he continued with increasing vehemence.
"Eric may possibly bleed to death from the wound that I must inflict upon him, but this is a blow that must strike him sooner or later. Better that it should happen now, when there is still room for retreat, when he is not yet chained to a woman who will risk his love and happiness as awhile ago she did her own life, making sport of them as she has hitherto done of all who came near to her. You are your brother's sister, Baroness Wildenrod, and have doubtless been taught by him how cards are shuffled. He and you already feel yourselves to be the owners of Odensburg; do not triumph too soon! You do not yet bear the name of Dernburg, and ere it comes to that, I shall stake everything upon guarding that name and Odensburg from becoming the prey of two--adventurers!"
The horrible word was out, and Cecilia shrank as though she had been struck. Pale as a ghost, incapable of speech, she stared at the man, whom she had fancied to be enthralled by her charms, and who now suddenly stood unmasked as a pitiless foe. She did not perceive the fierce pain, almost amounting to delirium, that raged in his soul and carried him away beyond all the bounds of discretion, knew not that every one of those words, that he hurled so crushingly at her, bit himself with tenfold force; she only felt the deadly insult that he had inflicted upon her. Not until he ceased to speak, did she recover from that paralyzing shock.
"Ah, that is too much--too much! You heap up one slander, one insult upon the other. I do not know at what your insinuations point, but I do know that they are all lies, shameful lies, that you will have to render an account for!"
Here was such a glowing outburst of indignation, such stormy revolt against unmerited contumely, that it removed any doubt as to the truth of her words. Egbert, too, seemed to feel this, for in his dark, threatening eyes flashed something like a gleam of hope.
With an impulsive movement, he drew one step nearer.
"You do not understand me? Actually not? You are not your brother's confidante? Answer me!"
"No--no!" gasped Cecilia, still quivering from rage, but, against her will, constrained by the torturing suspense conveyed in that question.
Egbert looked at her, his glance seemed to penetrate her inmost soul, as though he would therein read the truth, then his chest heaved with a deep, deep sigh. "No," said he, dispiritedly, "You know nothing!"
There followed a long, trying pause. The ringing of bells in the valley had gradually ceased, only a single one softly sounding from a great distance. So much the loader roared the wind, wailing as though it bore bad tidings on its mighty wings.
"Then I have to beg your pardon," began Egbert again, his voice having a singularly veiled sound. "I do not take back my accusation against the Baron. Repeat to him word for word what I said, looking him in the eye, as you do so--perhaps you will then no longer rail against me as a liar."
In spite of the subdued tone there was such terrible positiveness in these words, that Cecilia quaked. For the first time, a dread fear, a secret anguish, took possession of her. This Runeck looked as if he were ready to maintain the truth of his words in the face of the whole world. Only suppose that he had not spoken falsely--suppose--she cast the thought far from her, but nevertheless she turned faint and dizzy.
"Leave me!" said she, with quivering lips. "Go!"
Egbert's eye rested moodily upon her countenance, then he bowed his head.
"You cannot forgive the affront I gave you. I understand that. But, believe me, this has also been a trying hour for me--the most trying of my life!"
He went, and when Cecilia looked up, he had already disappeared among the trees, and she stood alone. High up on the cross of the Whitestone her veil was waving and fluttering, about her murmured the woods, and the last church-bell died softly away in the distance.
On the terrace of the Odensburg manor-house Eberhardt Dernburg and Oscar von Wildenrod were walking up and down, engaged in conversation. They had become absorbed in a political discussion, that was conducted with much animation on the part of the older gentleman, while the younger, contrary to his custom, appeared to be silent and abstracted. From time to time his glance would be directed to the large grassplot where Maia was playing croquet with Count Victor von Eckardstein.
"There will be a hot contest at this session of the Reichstag, as is plainly to be foreseen," Dernburg was just saying. "It is to be called together immediately after the elections and I must just make up my mind, to sacrifice the greatest part of the winter to my duties as a member."
"Do you calculate then, positively, upon being re-elected?" asked Wildenrod.
"Of course I do!" Dernburg looked at him in surprise. "I have been representing my electoral district for the past twenty years, and the Odensburg votes alone suffice to ensure my election."
"I was just going to ask you about that. Are you perfectly sure of those votes too? Much has altered in the last three years."
"Not with me," said Dernburg quietly. "My workmen and I have known each other for tens of years. I know that insurrectionary influences have been at work--insinuations and the like. Trying with all my might I have not been able to protect Odensburg from these, and perhaps here and there these whisperings may have found individuals who would listen; but the mass of my men stand fast by me."
"Let us hope so!" A slight doubt was perceptible in the voice of the Baron, who, in spite of his short stay, showed himself perfectlyau faitwith the situation of affairs. "The socialists in the region round about have been uncommonly active, preaching, agitating, and stirring up things generally, and in many an electoral district, the candidate who was perfectly sure of an overwhelming majority, awoke to unpleasant surprises."
"But here I stand--and I believe myself fully equal to cope with those gentlemen," said Dernburg with the quiet conviction of a man who feels that he occupies a position that is unassailable. Wildenrod was about to answer, when a joyous laugh rang forth from the play-ground, and thither his glance was forthwith directed.
They presented an attractive picture, those two slender young people with their graceful movements, their cheeks glowing from warmth and excitement. Each thought to get the better of the other, triumphing when the opposing side failed to hit the mark, and between whiles chasing and teasing one another with unrestrained glee, like a couple of children.
Dernburg's eye had followed the direction taken by his companion's glance, and his grave features were lit up by a fleeting smile.
"Those frolicksome children! One might certainly excuse my little Maia, with her sixteen years, for allowing her spirits to run away with her a little too much, but the Lieutenant seems to forget entirely that he is no longer a boy."
"I am afraid, that Count Eckardstein will never have the earnestness that becomes a man," said Wildenrod coolly. "He has an amiable but a very superficial nature."
"There you do him injustice! Victor is a scatterbrain--alas--and has many a time caused his parents anxiety by various mad pranks--some of which Odensburg could tell of--but he always kept his heart in the right place. He is no genius, but open and honorable and intelligent enough to make a splendid officer some day."
"So much the better," remarked the Baron. "For the Count and--for Maia."
Dernburg turned around and looked at him in amazement. "What do you mean by that?"
"For Maia!"
"An explanation would hardly seem to be needed. Count Eckardstein shows his wishes and designs plainly enough, and I am convinced that it did not cost him the least struggle to fall in with his brother's scheme."
"What scheme?" A fold appeared between Dernburg's brows as he put this question.
Wildenrod slightly shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, it seems that the young Count is something of a spendthrift. You admit yourself that he has always been that, and is dependent entirely upon his brother, to whom fell the family estate. That a wild young officer should incur debts is natural enough, but in this case the measure to be tolerated must have been transgressed, at least that was the view Count Conrad took of it. It is said that violent scenes were enacted between the brothers, and really one cannot blame the elder for planning an heroic remedy for his younger brother."
These words were well calculated: each one struck home, as was manifest, although Dernburg asked with apparent composure:
"And, pray, what might that remedy be?"
"A rich marriage! It is said that the young Count has come back, by the desire or command of his brother, to resume the relations with Odensburg, that had been long since dropped, in order to gain an end that is easily guessed. Do you wonder that I am so accurately informed with regard to this matter? An accident! When we were recently invited to Eckardstein, I overheard a conversation between two gentlemen, who, indeed, had no idea that I was in the next room, else they would not have spoken so freely on private matters. They seem to regard the alliance as already an accomplished fact."
Dernburg's brow grew darker and darker during the progress of this speech, but his voice had its wonted resonance, when he replied:
"Ere such a thing could be 'fact' I would have the last word to say, for Maia is hardly anything more than a child yet--certainly much too young for any talk about her marriage.--Why, Eric, here you are, but with such a despairing look upon your face! Has Cecilia not deigned to make her appearance yet?"
Eric, who had just now joined them, did indeed look anxious and excited. "No, indeed, not yet!" answered he in a worried tone. "I have been over to the stables to inquire, but nobody knows where she can have driven to. She had the pony-carriage gotten up very early this morning while all the rest of us were asleep, and took nobody with her but Bertram. I really do not understand it."
"It will turn out to be some caprice on her part," remarked Oscar. "Cecile is simply incalculable in her whims; you will have to get used to them, dear brother-in-law."
"I think Eric would do better to cure his future wife of this want of consideration," said Dernburg with some asperity. "It would not conduce to the happiness of a marriage."
Poor Eric did not look as if he had either the will or the inclination to break his betrothed of any habit. Wildenrod, however, quickly and soothingly suggested:
"Most likely some playful jest is at the bottom of it. I'll lay a wager that Cecile intends giving us a surprise by this mysterious expedition."
The game on the grass-plot, meanwhile, had gone on its way, now seeming to break up in a quarrel, which, however, was carried on by both sides good-humoredly, and finally ended in a reconciliation and a peal of laughter. Dernburg looked over at the pair anew, but no smile played upon his features now, and he called impatiently: "I should think, Maia, it was time to stop. Come to me, my child!"
Maia obeyed. Coming promptly, still heated as she was from the game, and Victor Eckardstein followed close behind her.
"I have a request to proffer to you in my brother's name, Herr Dernburg," said he in his open, cordial manner. "Conrad celebrates his birthday on Wednesday--there will be only a very limited number of guests, there, but the Odensburg family cannot be left out. May we count upon the pleasure of your company?"
This request was made in a tone which showed that the acceptance of the invitation was taken quite for granted. The answer, however, was very cool.
"I am sorry, Count Eckardstein, but we are expecting company ourselves from town on Wednesday, and shall have to perform the duty of hosts ourselves."
"Company? who, papa?" asked Maia in surprise, and with some curiosity. "I have not heard a word of it."
"Then you hear it now. At all events we regret that we cannot accept the invitation."
This declaration was made so positively, that any further discussion was precluded. Victor was silent, but the strangely cool tone struck him as well as the formal manner in which he was addressed, as Dernburg had always been in the habit of calling him by his first name. The young man's glance was involuntarily directed towards Wildenrod, as though he suspected he had been exerting some malign influence over his friend.
Such thoughts, however, are not apt to disturb young people for any length of time. Maia, with her merry talk, soon had the ball of conversation flying again, although Eric responded only in monosyllables and was as absent-minded as possible. He allowed himself, however, to be drawn by the other two into the conservatory, where two new orchids had just come into bloom.
On the terrace, silence reigned for a few minutes, then the Baron said in a muffled voice: "I should be sorry, if my report of the young count had injured him in your eyes, but circumstanced as we now are, I felt it to be my duty to speak."
Dernburg nodded approvingly. "Certainly, I thank you for it. As for the rest, I am not accustomed to condemn anybody upon the strength of mere gossip, but I shall find means to come at the truth in regard to the matter."
"Do so," said Wildenrod, with quiet assurance. "But as to Maia's too great youth, girls in our society often marry at that age, and if a man really engages her affections----"
"Engages in the pursuit of a rich heiress, forsooth, in order to settle up his affairs," remarked Dernburg with a bitterness which showed that the report had had its effect, nevertheless. "I shall guard my child against such a fate as that."
"It will not be easy to do, for a suitor must come forward who is free and independent, besides being rich enough himself to be exalted above the suspicion of interested motives. All others will have their eye upon your millions."
These words were thrown off with a certain premeditation, but Dernburg did not observe this.
"Not all!" said he, with emphasis. "I know one who's poor and possesses nothing but his brains--they count for much, though, and guarantee him a future. The path to wealth and independence was pointed out to him, all that he had to do was to stretch forth his hand, but in order to do this he had to sacrifice principle, and he did not go that way."
Oscar started, an uncomfortable suspicion being aroused in his mind. "Of whom are you speaking?"
"Of Egbert Runeck! Are you so much surprised. I have long since perceived that Eric would never be able, alone, to superintend at Odensburg, as must, some day, be his place to do--a man of my stamp is needed for that, and such an one is Egbert, who has not been brought up in my school for naught. But in Berlin, they caught him so fast in their Socialistic toils, that I almost despair of ever getting him loose."
"Have you really tried that, in spite of knowing--?"
"In spite of knowing everything--yes, I did, because I am convinced that some day his eyes will be opened--if it is only not too late for both of us."
Wildenrod's lips were tightly compressed, as though he wanted to force back an angry rejoinder, at last he said slowly: "Herr Dernburg, for the first time, I do not understand you."
"Maybe so, but you can always trust to this, that I shall not be the one to throw a firebrand into my Odensburg, with my own hand. If Egbert continues obstinate in his present convictions, then all is over between me and him. But he will not do so. Free course in life is what he needs, he will struggle and strive upward at any price: but also build up, create and finally be ruler over that which he has created. Such natures bend not lastingly under the yoke of a party that claims blind obedience, allowing no scope to individuality, no mighty preponderance of the single mind. I am only afraid that he will come to his senses after he has thrust his happiness far from him. I offered it to him--but he sacrificed it to his mad fancies!"
The Baron must already stand very high in his future connection's good graces, for him to speak to him thus of things that he had not even broached to his son; but Oscar did not seem to be pleasantly affected by this proof of confidence. A threatening cloud was upon his brow, and a yet more threatening fire flashed from his eyes, as he said with a voice almost stifled by passion: "You overestimate your favorite greatly. But, never mind--you seem to hint at something--" he broke off.
"What then, Herr von Wildenrod?"
"I would do better not to express it, since it involves a sheer impossibility."
"Why so?" asked Dernburg irritably.
"Because Egbert is the son of a common laborer? His parents are dead, but even if they were living----"
"I am above such prejudices."
Wildenrod was silent, he did not look at the speaker but away over at the works. There was a disagreeable look upon his face.
"You are of a different opinion on that point, I see," began Dernburg again. "In you stir the feelings of the aristocrat, to whom such a thing appears unheard of. I think differently. I let Eric choose upon his own responsibility, but I shall have to stand sponsor for my daughter's happiness. My little Maia,"--the voice of the man usually so stern had a strangely tender intonation,--"she was given to me late, but she is the sunshine of my life. How often have the merry tones of her clear young voice and the light of her bright eyes lifted me out of despondency. She is not to be the prey of the fortune-hunter. She shall be beloved and happy--and so far I know only one person into whose hands I could commit her future without solicitude, for I am convinced that he loves her. He is not calculating, he has proved that to me!"
A peculiar pallor lay upon the Baron's face. Was it anger or shame that palpitated in his soul at those last words? At all events he was spared any answer, for at this moment a servant entered with the announcement that the director was in the work-room and wanted to speak with the master.
"On Sunday? It must be about something very important!" said Dernburg, as he turned to go. "But one thing more, Herr von Wildenrod--do not let what we just talked about go any farther than ourselves. Consider it as confidential."
He went into the house, leaving Oscar alone. Now he knew that he was unobserved, and his brow resembled a threatening thunder-cloud, as he leaned with folded arms on the parapet of the terrace. Here was a danger that he had not apprehended, and with which he had never calculated upon having to cope, but in contrast with which the looming up of Count Eckardstein, that had just now appeared to him so menacing, faded away to a mere shadow. Dernburg evidently had settled it in his own mind that an attachment existed between his daughter and that Runeck, the simpleton, who had sacrificed the high prize offered him to a mere chimera,--that so-called conviction. About Wildenrod's lips now played a scornful smile of conscious superiority. He knew better to whom Maia's love was given, he felt himself equal to the conquest of this new adversary also. And there must be no more delay and no more pausing to reflect, the thing was to act! Oscar drew himself up with a determined air, it was not the first time in his life, that he had playedva banque, and here the stake was happiness and a future that promised him everything.