The engagement of the young heir of Odensburg to Baroness Wildenrod had now indeed been announced and had excited great surprise in neighborhood circles, that had always supposed that in this matter, too, Dernburg would act as his son's guardian, and have the first word to say as to this union, and now Eric had made his own choice, far away at the South, without asking either his advice or permission. The beauty of the bride-elect, her good old name and her evidently brilliant fortune and connections, lent to this choice, it is true, the prestige of a thoroughly suitable one. And the father's consent was taken as a thing for granted.
At present, Cecilia had no ground for complaint as to the dreaded solitude of Odensburg, for her betrothal made the usually quiet Manor the scene of a constant round of social festivities. The engaged couple had made the usual visits, and now received return-calls from all the neighbors, by far the larger number of whom were the families of the large landed proprietors of that district. There were numerous invitations, larger and smaller entertainments, of which Cecilia was ever the center of attraction. Here, too, homage was paid to her wherever she appeared, and happily Eric had not the foible of jealousy. So swam Cecilia with full sails, upon the stream of satisfaction; new acquaintances and surroundings, new triumphs that hardly allowed her, for the moment at least, to miss the life to which she was accustomed.
The appearance of Baron von Wildenrod made the most favorable impression on every one. His distinguished appearance and his gifts as a brilliant conversationalist in general, won the favor of every one that he wanted to win, and here he was treated with double honor, as the future relative of the Dernburg family. Already, during the few weeks of his sojourn here, he had attained to a prominent position in these circles, and well knew how to maintain it.
At Radefeld the works had been forwarded with all the forces available. The men, for the most part, had been accommodated in the adjacent village, and the chief engineer had also taken up his quarters there, in order to avoid the loss of time in a daily ride to and from Odensburg. He usually went there only once or twice a week to give in his report to his chief.
Radefeld, indeed, was only a little village in the woods, and a stay there was not comfortable in the least. The two confined rooms in which Egbert lodged at a peasant's house, were meanly furnished, but the young engineer was not a Sybarite. He had taken nothing with him from his ordinary residence but his books, his plans, and drawings, and as for the rest, contented himself with things as he found them.
Runeck was usually to be found early at his place of business. But to-day he had had a visitor from the city. His guest, a man of about fifty years, with sharply-cut features and dark eyes, sat in the old arm-chair, that here had to take the place of a sofa. The two seemed to have had an earnest and interesting conversation.
"As for the rest," said the stranger, "I should like to ask why you so seldom come to town now? You have not been there for weeks, and if one wants to have a talk with you, he has to institute a veritable search after you."
"I have a great deal to do," answered Egbert, who stood at the window, with a rather clouded brow. "You see for yourself how immersed I am in work."
"Work?" mocked the other. "I should think thatourwork was more important than digging and rooting here in the woods. You contrived the plan, so I learn. Will you, perhaps, earn another million for your chief to add to the other millions that he already has?"
"That is not the question, but whether I shall perform a duty that I have undertaken to perform," was the brief reply. "The execution of this plan was properly the upper-engineer's work, and I have to justify the confidence that called me to do it, in his stead."
"To chain you fast here at Radefeld, so that you will not be dangerous at Odensburg! The old man is not stupid, nobody can accuse him of that, he always knows very well what he is about, and you may depend he knows a thing or two about your proclivities already."
"Be done with your insinuations, Landsfeld," interposed Egbert impatiently, "of course Dernburg knows, from my own lips. He called me up for a talk, and I gave him my views without any reserve. I naturally expected my dismissal after that--but instead the superintendence of the Radefeld water-works was entrusted to me."
Landsfeld started and directed a searching glance at the young engineer.
"That is remarkable, to be sure, it does not look like the old man! He must either be perfectly infatuated with you, or he has some object to subserve. He is capable of anything. As for the rest, your candor was very out of place in this case, for now, of course, your movements at Odensburg will no longer be free. You have managed very awkwardly, young man!"
"Was I to deny the truth?" asked Egbert with knitted brow.
"Why not, if it could serve a good purpose?"
"Then look out for some one else who is more practiced in lying! I regard it as cowardice, to deny one's convictions and one's party, and acted accordingly."
"That is to say, you have again followed your own head, and acted in utter defiance of orders. Odensburg is your field of labor, you are to get the fellows there to affiliate with you, instead of which, here you are quietly constructing water-works at Radefeld, at the same time that you are being coddled in the so-called Manor-house, and yet you know perfectly why we sent you here!"
"And you know that I resisted from the very beginning, that finally only a direct order from headquarters forced me into line."
"Alas! I suppose you confided that to your chief, too?" The question came in the sharpest of tones.
"No," answered Runeck coldly; "he attributed my return to an entirely false motive, and I left him in his error. Never again would I have gone voluntarily to Odensburg, and I cannot stay here either, my position is an untenable one, as I foresaw."
"And nevertheless you will be obliged to remain," said Landsfeld dryly. "This Odensburg is like an impregnable fortress, that defies all attacks. The old man has made his people tame, with his schools and infirmaries and funds for the poor, they dread to lose the good berths they have, and, above all, they have an incurable fear of their tyrant--the cowards! However often we applied the lever, nothing was to be done, he has made them thoroughly suspicious of our agitators. You are a child of a workman, have grown up in their midst, and even now have intimate relations with their chief. They will listen to you, and follow you too, if it comes to that."
"And to what end?" asked Runeck moodily. "I have often enough explained to you that a strike at Odensburg would be perfectly futile. Dernburg is not a man to be coerced: I know him--he would rather close his works. He is a man after this sort, that he would rather take any loss upon himself than to yield, and he is rich enough to resist to the uttermost."
"Just for that very reason he must be brought down from his throne of infallibility! He shall see, that there are men who dare to make head against him, puffed up as he is, sitting there on his millions in luxury and idleness, while----"
"That is not true!" burst forth Egbert passionately, "and you know that what you say is a lie! Dernburg works more than you and I. Often enough have I been compelled to admire his immense strength and wonderful powers of endurance, that actually put to the blush the youngest among us. And he seeks recreation only in his family-circle. Once for all, I'll not stand having that man slandered in my presence."
"Oho, you speak in that tone, do you?" cried Landsfeld, now irritated in his turn. "You take sides with him against us? It only shows how tame living the life of a lord makes one, if he once gets a taste of it."
"Take heed, else you might learn that I am anything but tame," said Egbert, more quietly, but in a threatening tone. "I repeat it, I'll submit to nothing of the sort, for it has nothing to do with our cause. Either you will omit these personal attacks upon Dernburg or----"
"Or?"
"I'll never more cross your threshold and shall know how to protect mine from things that Iwillnot hear."
Landsfeld shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that he did not care.
"That means, in other words, that you will put me out of doors? Right friendly and brotherly, to be sure, but we will not dispute about that. It is not our way anyhow to pass many compliments. You are coming to our next meeting, are you not?"
"Yes." This word sounded harsh and sullen.
"Well, I am going to depend upon that. An important matter is to be brought up. We expect a few comrades from Berlin, and it is likely you will be taken pretty sharply to task, on account of your inactivity up to this time."
"Until next week then!"
He nodded shortly and went out in front of the house, however, he stood still and sent back a look of hatred, while he murmured in an undertone:
"If we did not need you, absolutely need you! But it is impossible to get along without you at Odensburg. Just wait though, my young man, and we'll see if we cannot curb that haughty spirit of yours!"
Egbert, being left alone, stood in the middle of the room, with fist doubled up and deeply-furrowed brow. It was manifest that a fierce battle was being waged in his soul, but suddenly he straightened himself up and stamped with his foot, as though he would quell by main force the storms that were raging within.
"No, and again no! I have made my choice and will abide by it!"
The Radefeld estate, ordinarily a quiet, lonely valley in the midst of a forest, now again resounded with the noise of laborers who were hard at work. Everywhere there was shoveling, ditching, and blasting; trees and shrubs fell beneath the stroke of the ax; the indefatigable host having already progressed as far as the foot of the Buchberg, the tunneling of which was the enterprise afoot.
Runeck, who had come later than usual, stood upon an eminence and thence directed a tremendous blast. In obedience to his order, all the workmen had retired from the neighborhood of the mine, which now exploded with dull, muffled sounds. The cliff against which the work of destruction was aimed, was split in two, one part still standing erect, while the other fell with a crash; the earth round about trembled when the mighty boulders rolled heavily down.
The group of laborers at the foot of the eminence dispersed: Runeck, too, left his place, to examine closely what had been effected, when an old inspector stepped forward and announced:
"Herr Runeck--the master's family from Odensburg."
Egbert looked up, in expectation of seeing the wagon of Dernburg, who frequently came out to inspect the condition of the works, but suddenly gave such a violent start that the old man looked up in surprise.
Over at the entrance to the ravine Eric Dernburg and Cecilia Wildenrod had halted, on horseback, while the groom had dismounted, and had firmly by the bridle their animals, who seemed to have been made unruly by the noise of the blasting. The young engineer, meanwhile, had quickly recovered from his surprise, and went across to pay his respects to his waiting visitors. Eric cordially stretched out his hand.
"We have kept our word, Egbert, and come upon you without any warning. Will you allow us an insight into your province?"
"I shall be delighted to be of the least service," replied Runeck, while he bowed to the young lady, who now gracefully and lightly swung herself out of the saddle, and in doing so hardly touched the proffered hand of her betrothed.
"We stopped at Radefeld and through the open windows cast a glance in at your lodgings, Herr Runeck," said she. "Dear me, what surroundings! Do you really intend to spend the whole summer there?"
"Why not?" asked Egbert composedly. "We engineers are sometimes here, sometimes there, and have to accept work wherever it is offered."
"But you have your comfortable home at Odensburg, and a carriage is always at your disposal. Why do you not stay there?"
"Because then I would daily lose three hours in going and coming. I have my books and works at Radefeld, and as for the rest I am entirely independent of my surroundings."
"Yes, you are a Spartan by constitution, physically as well as intellectually," said Eric with a sigh. "I wish that I could do like you, but, alas! there is no chance of that. I have gotten too much spoiled at the South and must now do penance."
He drew himself up and shivered; evidently he suffered more from his native climate than he himself was willing to confess. He looked pale and worn, the ride through the woods seeming to have been an exertion to him rather than a pleasure.
So much the more blooming appeared the young lady by his side. For her the brisk, rather long, ride had been only an exhilaration, and she had reined her horse in impatiently enough out of respect to Eric. She had been accustomed to race at full-speed, having been tutored into this by her brother, and she did not understand how any one could be cautious and circumspect in riding like Eric. As for the rest, she was beaming with cheerfulness and high spirits, even Egbert was treated with perfect amiability, not a look, not a word, reminded of that disagreement when they first met.
The laborers reverentially greeted the young master and his promised bride, whom all eyes followed with admiration. Even here Cecilia's beauty celebrated a triumph, only Egbert Runeck seemed perfectly insensible to its charms.
He became their guide through grounds in the act of being laid out, taking pains to show his guests whatever was worth seeing, but he observed towards the Baroness Wildenrod the same cold reserve as before, and turned mostly to Eric; in him, to be sure, he did not have a particularly attentive listener. The young heir showed only a faint, half-forced sympathy in all these things, with which he should properly have felt himself identified.
"It is incredible, the quantity of work that you have all done in these few weeks," said he, finally, with genuine admiration. "That would be something for my brother-in-law, who now buries himself all day in the Odensburg works and has regularly constituted himself my father's assistant. I would never have believed that Oscar had so keen a relish for such things."
Runeck did not answer, but his lip curled contemptuously at these last words. Eric, who did not observe this, continued in the most unembarrassed way:
"One thing more, Egbert, we recently made an excursion into the mountains, and some of our party noticed that the great cross on the Whitestone had sunk. Father wishes the matter to be carefully looked into, so that no accident may happen. Is there any one among your people here, who will undertake the dangerous task?"
"Certainly," assented Runeck. "It would be very perilous, if that heavy cross should one day fall from that high cliff, since the road runs along just below. I shall go up and see about it myself in the course of the next few days."
"Upon the Whitestone?" asked Cecilia, whose attention had been awakened. "How is that? They say it is inaccessible."
"Assuredly it is for ordinary people," mocked Eric. "One's name must be Egbert Runeck to undertake such a walk on our most dangerous cliff. I believe he has been up there already three or four times."
"I am practiced in mountain-climbing," said Egbert composedly. "When a boy I used to be familiar with every cliff and mountain of my native district, and that is knowledge which is not unlearned. As for the rest, the Whitestone is not inaccessible, it only demands a steady head, clear eye and the necessary fearlessness, then the way is to be forced."
"Dear me, do not say that!" cried Eric laughing, but yet with a certain unrest. He really feared lest Cecilia might be seized with one of those madcap fancies by which she had recently so frightened him. "She was wild to go to the top of the Whitestone."
Runeck seemed to think this project something unheard of, he looked doubtingly and in surprise upon the young lady, who replied in a haughty tone:
"Why, yes! I should like just for once to stand on such a dizzy height, immediately above that abrupt precipice. It must be a thrillingly sweet sensation! Eric was horrified at the bare idea."
"Cecilia, you torture me with such jests!"
"How do you know that it is a jest? And suppose I act upon it in earnest--would you go with me?"
"I?" The young man looked as if he thought they expected him to jump down from the cliff in question. About the lips of his betrothed played a half-compassionate, half-contemptuous smile; almost imperceptibly she elevated her shoulders.
"Compose yourself, pray! I shall not demand such a proof of love--I would go alone."
"Let me implore you, Cecile, not to think of such a thing!" exclaimed Eric, now alarmed in good earnest, but Egbert interrupted him with quiet decision.
"You need not disturb yourself on that score. That is no path for the dainty feet of a lady to tread. Baroness Wildenrod will hardly make the attempt, and, if she should do so, she would give it up again in five minutes."
"Cecilia tossed her head, and her eyes flashed as she asked in a peculiar tone:
"Are you so certain of that, Herr Runeck?"
"Yes, noble lady, for I know the Whitestone."
"But you do not know me!"
"May be so."
Cecilia started, the answer seemed to surprise her, but her glance strayed to her betrothed, and she laughed scornfully.
"Do not look so miserable, Eric! All this is only bantering! I am not thinking of the Whitestone and its break-neck cliffs.--How do you manage, really, Herr Runeck, when you blow up these colossal masses of rock?"
Eric breathed more freely after the conversation had taken this new turn. He was already accustomed to being put on the rack by various whims and wild ideas suggested by his promised bride, that had no substantial basis, however, and were never to be taken seriously. Being restored to his composure now, he turned to the old inspector, who stood close by, expecting, evidently, to be noticed.
Old Mertens had served the father of the present chief, and now they had given him to perform the light and lucrative duties of an upper-inspector of the Radefeld works. Eric, who had known him from childhood, spoke kindly to him, making particular inquiries after his family, and afterwards greeted with the same kindliness the other workmen within speaking distance. Any stranger seeing him stand thus among the people, with stooping gait, delicate, worn features and almost timid manner, would never in the world have suspected him of being the future lord of Odensburg. There was nothing of the master at all about him.
Perhaps Baroness Wildenrod had imbibed this same impression, for her delicately-arched eyebrows contracted as though from displeasure, and then her glance turned slowly to the young engineer, who stood in front of her. Hitherto she had only seen him in company-suit, to-day he wore a gray woolen jacket and high-top boots, such as wind and weather asked for, but he gained wonderfully by this simple garb. It matched so admirably with the bold manliness of his appearance; here on his own territory his individuality was most strikingly manifest. The first glance showed that here it was his to command, and that he was fully equal to the trust reposed in him; the diminutive form of the friend of his youth shrank into nothingness at his side.
He gave the explanation desired, fully and in detail, illustrating what he said by showing the mine already laid to that part of the cliff which still stood erect, yet in doing this, he turned his whole attention to the rocks and had hardly a look to bestow upon his fair listener, who now said smilingly:
"We saw the blasting from over yonder, and the explosion was extremely effective. You were enthroned yonder on the height like the mountain-sprite in his own person--all the others like ministering gnomes at your feet--a wave of your hand, and with the sound of muffled thunder the cliffs were split and sank in ruins--a genuine glimpse of fairyland!"
"Why, do you know anything of the tales and legends of our mountains?" asked Egbert coolly. "I really would not have supposed it."
"Only Maia is to be thanked for it. She has introduced me into the legends of her native hills, and I verily believe the little thing believes them to be solidly true. Maia sometimes is still a real child."
These last words sounded very scornful. The slender young lady who stood there, leaning against the wall of rock, in a stylish riding-habit of silver-gray, with hat and plumes to match, could not, by any means, be accused of being a child. Even here she was the lady of fashion and distinction, who was making it her pastime just to see for once how the sons of labor lived and delved. And yet she was ensnaringly beautiful, despite her pride and self-consciousness; radiant and certain of conquest she stood before the man who alone seemed to have neither eye nor ear for charms that had never elsewhere played her false. Perhaps it was this very insensibility which attracted the spoiled girl, who now continued in taunting tone:
"When I beheld that telling picture of which you formed the center, I could not help thinking of the old saying about the caper-spurge. That is the mysterious magic wand of the mountains, to which every bolt yields and every cavern opens. And then the buried treasures of the earth shine and beckon to the chosen one, who is to bring them to the light.
'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.'
What think you--has not Maia had an apt scholar?"
She looked at him smilingly as she repeated the verse of that old song which told of the all-powerful enchanting rod, but the young engineer's manner did not soften, in spite of all her blandness. His face, embrowned by exposure to sun and wind, was a shade paler, perhaps, than usual, but his voice sounded cool and self-controlled, as he answered:
"Our time no longer has need of an enchanter's wand. It has found another sort of one for splitting rocks and opening the earth--You see it, do you not?"
"Yes, indeed. I see bald destruction, rubbish and splintered quartz--but the treasures stay buried below."
"It is empty and dead below--there are no longer any buried treasures."
The answer had a harsh and joyless sound, and the tone in which it was spoken did not soften its asperity.
"Perhaps it is only because the magical word has been lost, without which the wand remains powerless," answered Cecilia lightly, without observing, apparently, his forbidding manner. "Do you not think so, Herr Runeck?"
"I think, Baroness Wildenrod, that the world of fairies and magicians has long been left behind us. We no longer comprehend it, and no longerwantto comprehend it."
There was something almost menacing in these apparently insignificant words. Cecilia bit her lips, and through the sunny brightness of her smile there gleamed a flash of hostility from her eyes, but then she laughed gayly.
"How grim that sounds! The poor gnomes and dwarfs have a determined enemy, I perceive. Only hear, Eric, how your friend denounces the whole legendary world."
"Yes, it is not worth while to approach Egbert with such things," said Eric, who just now came up. "He has no opinion of poetry, either, that one cannot make by line and plummets, nor needs to draw plans for--therefore he regards it as a highly superfluous thing. I have not yet forgiven him for the way in which he took the news of my engagement--actually, with formal commiseration! And when I indignantly hurled at him the reproach that he knew nothing about love, nor cared to know it either--would you believe that I got for answer a frigid 'No.'"
Cecilia fixed her large, dark eyes upon the young engineer, and again that demoniacal spark flashed in them as she said smilingly:
"And were you really in earnest, Herr Runeck?"
Some seconds elapsed ere he answered. He seemed yet paler than awhile ago, but his eye met that look fully and darkly, while he coldly replied:
"Yes, Baroness Wildenrod."
"There, you hear it for yourself," cried Eric, half-laughing, half vexed. "He is as hard as these rocks."
The young lady tapped lightly with her riding-whip against the pile of rocks that lay heaped up in front of her.
"Maybe. But rocks, too, can be brought to yield, we see. Take heed, Herr Runeck, you have mocked and defied those mysterious powers----they will have their revenge!"
The words should have sounded playful, and yet there was a perceptible breath of defiance in them. Egbert answered not a word, while Eric looked in amazement from one to the other.
"Of what were you talking?" asked he.
"We were speaking of the caper-spurge, which cleaves rocks asunder, and unlocks the hidden treasures of earth.--But I think we had better go now, if you approve."
Eric assented, and then turned to Runeck.
"There is to be more blasting, I perceive; wait, though, before you apply the match, until we get beyond the region of the ravine. Our horses were made very unmanageable by it awhile ago, the groom could hardly hold them."
Again that wicked and contemptuous smile played about Cecilia's lips, for she had been quick to note awhile ago, that Eric had nervously started at the dull sounds of the explosion and had summoned the groom to his side. Her horse, too, had become very restive, but she had held it firmly in with the bit. Meanwhile she suppressed any remark and only said, while Egbert guided her and Eric to the place where the horses stood:
"Accept our thanks for your friendly guidance and explanation. You will be glad to be rid of such disturbing guests."
Runeck bowed low and formally.
"Oh, do not speak of it, I pray. Eric is here as proprietor on his own estate, there can be no talk of disturbance."
"And yet it would seem so. You were fairly shocked, when you caught sight of us in the entrance to the ravine."
"I? Have you such sharp eyes, noble lady?"
"Oh, yes, Eric often teases me about my 'falcon-glance.'"
"In this case, however, your sight deceived you. I was only anxious, when I caught sight of you so near--horses are so easily frightened by blasting."
The riding-whip struck impatiently against the folds of her silver-gray habit. Did that rock resist everything?
Meanwhile they had reached the spot where their horses were tied. Cecilia and Eric mounted. The former nodded slightly an adieu, then applied her switch sharply to her beautiful roan, The fiery animal reared, and immediately set off at a gallop, so that the other could hardly follow him.
They were still visible for about five minutes, on the forest-road that led to Radefeld. Like some apparition flew the slender girlish figure on the back of her racing steed, with her habit fluttering and the plumes in her hat streaming behind. Once more she was seen at the bend, then the forest closed behind her.
Egbert was still standing motionless in his place, looking with fixed and burning eyes upon that road through the woods. His lips were firmly compressed, and on his features rested a singular expression, as though of stifled pain or wrath: finally, he straightened himself up and turned to go.
Then he perceived something at his feet, soft and white, as though some blossom had blown there.
The foot of the young man seemed suddenly to be rooted to the ground, then he slowly stooped and picked it up.
It was a fine lace handkerchief, delicately perfumed, that appealed to Egbert's senses in a bewitchingly flattering manner. Involuntarily his fingers clutched the airy fabric tighter and tighter.
"Herr Runeck!" said a voice behind him.
Runeck started and turned around. It was old Mertens.
"The men would like to know if they are to go on with the blasting, it is all ready."
"Certainly, I am coming directly.--Mertens, you are going to Odensburg this evening, I suppose?"
"Yes, Herr Engineer, I want to spend Sunday with my children."
"Well, then, take----"
Runeck stopped, and the old man looked at him in amazement. It was exactly as if the engineer was with difficulty, struggling for breath. And yet it lasted only a second, when he continued with a peculiarly gruff voice,
"Take this handkerchief with you, and hand it in at the Manor-house. Baroness Wildenrod has lost it."
Mertens took the handkerchief held out to him, and stuck it in his pocket, while Egbert went back to the workmen, who were only waiting for his appearance. He gave the signal, and the magic wand of the new times did its duty. The startling explosion took place, and the cliff still uninjured, that had stood there so proud and lofty, was split in twain. It trembled, tottered, and then fell in ruins at Runeck's feet dragging trees and shrubs to destruction with it.
"As I tell you, Miss Friedberg, the nerves are a mere habit, and one of the worst of ones at that. Since the ladies have discovered nerves, we doctors have been the most tormented people in the world. It may be a right useful invention so far as husbands are concerned, but a hardened bachelor like myself has not the least respect for it."
With these words Dr. Hagenbach closed a rather long harangue which he had been giving in Miss Friedberg's chamber. Leonie, who looked pale and worn, had called him in professionally, and in reply to his questions had only repeated again and again that she was "through and through nervous."
"I believe. Doctor, you are the only physician who denies the existence of nerves," she said. "I should think science----"
"What science calls 'nerves' has my deepest respect"--she was interrupted by Hagenbach. "But what ladies give out to be such, in their stead, does not exist. Why do you not have yourself treated by the city health-officer, who makes a profound bow to each nerve of his patients, or by one of my young colleagues here in Odensburg, who also advocates the thing, although with a certain timidity. If you give yourself into my hands, there is no favor shown, that you know."
"Yes, I do know it!" she answered with some feeling. "And now may I ask for your prescriptions."
"Which, of course, you have no mind to follow. But never mind that, I'll use strict vigilance. In the first place, then, the air in your room will not do, it is much too damp and heavy. Above all things, let us open the window."
"I beg pardon," opposed Leonie with warmth. "A keen north wind is blowing, which is more than I can stand."
"Wonderful air!" said Hagenbach, as, without paying any heed to her objection, he proceeded to the window and threw open both casements. "Were you out of doors yesterday?"
"No, we had a terrible rain-storm."
"Where were your umbrella and waterproof, I allowthemunquestionably. Follow your pupil's example--down yonder in the park Miss Maia sails along quite merrily in the face of the storm, and that tiny thing, Puck, sails along with her, although he is almost blown away."
"Maia is young, a happy child, that knows nothing but laughter and sunshine," said Leonie with a sigh. "She knows nothing yet of sorrow and tears, of all the hard and bitter that is imposed upon us by fate."
As she spoke, her eye involuntarily sought the desk, above which a large photograph took the main place on the wall. Some sweet yet painful memory must have been linked to that picture, for it was decorated by a mourning veil of black crape, and below it was a bowl full of sweet violets, that seemed like a sacrificial offering.
That glance did not escape the doctor's sharp eyes. As though accidentally he stepped up to the desk and began to inspect the likenesses to be found there, while he dryly remarked:
"Every man has his troubles, but they are far better borne with good-humor than with wailing and mourning. Ah! there is the picture of the little lady--very like! And her brother by her side--remarkable, that he does not resemble his father in the least. Whom does that photograph represent?" He pointed to the picture draped in mourning.
This unexpected question seemed to embarrass Leonie, she blushed faintly and answered with a somewhat unsteady voice:
"A--a relation."
"Your brother, perhaps?"
"No, a cousin--quite a distant relation."
"Ah, indeed?" drawled Hagenbach.
The remote relation seemed to interest him, he examined very narrowly the features of the very pale and lank young man, with sleek hair and eyes romantically upturned, and then continued in an indifferent tone:
"That face has a familiar look to me. I must have seen it before somewhere."
"You are in error as to that." Leonie's voice quivered perceptibly. "It has been long since he was counted among the living. He has lain in his grave for years: the hot deserts of Africa."
"Heaven rest his soul!" said the doctor with provoking equanimity. "But what took him to Africa and into the desert? Did he go as an explorer perhaps?"
"No, he died a martyr to a holy cause. He had attached himself to a mission to the heathen, and succumbed to the climate."
"I can only say he might have done a cleverer thing!"
Leonie, who had just carried her handkerchief to her eyes, overcome with emotion, stopped, utterly shocked at his lack of feeling:
"Doctor!"
"Yes, I cannot help thinking so. Miss Friedberg. I deem it very superfluous, in the first place, to be going away off to Africa to convert the black heathen, while so many white heathens, are roving around here in Germany, who know nothing of Christianity, although they are baptized. If your cousin had preached the Word of God, as a well-installed pastor to his own people----"
"He was not a minister, but a teacher," the angry lady managed to put in.
"Never mind; then, emphatically, he should have taught the dear school-boys the fear of God and flogged them into it, too, if needful. Classes have little enough of that nowadays."
Leonie's face betrayed the indignation she felt at this mode of expression, but reply was spared her, however, for at this moment came a timid knock at the door, and immediately afterwards Dagobert entered, but was hardly allowed to pay his respects to the lady; his uncle calling out to him, in his threatening voice, just as soon as he laid eyes on him:
"No English lesson to-day. Miss Friedberg has just declared that she is 'nervous through and through,' and nerves and grammar do not agree."
The young man must have valued this instruction highly, for he was quite shocked at this announcement. But Leonie said most positively:
"I beg pardon, stay, dear Dagobert! Our English studies are not to suffer from my bad feelings, we shall have our accustomed lesson. I'll go for our books." So saying, she got up and went into the next room.
The doctor, with a vexed look, followed her with his eyes. "I never did have such a contrary patient! Always the embodiment of contradiction! Hark ye, Dagobert, you are tolerably well-informed--what sort of a man is the one hanging yonder?"
"Hanging? Whore?" asked the horror-stricken Dagobert, while, shuddering, he looked across at the trees in the park.
"Why, you need not be thinking directly of a rope," said his uncle. "I mean that picture over the desk, with the crazy decoration of crape and violets."
"It is a relative of Miss Friedberg, a cousin----"
"Yes, indeed, quite a remote one! She has told me that, too, but I know she must have been engaged to him. Tiresome enough he looks to have been. Do you know his name, perhaps?"
"Miss Friedberg told it to me once--Engelbert."
"So the man was named Engelbert, too!" cried the excited doctor. "The name is just as sentimental as that unbearable face. Engelbert and Leonie--they match splendidly together! How the two would have sat and cooed together like a pair of turtle-doves!"
"He is dead, poor man!" remarked Dagobert.
"Was not of much account in life," growled Hagenbach, "and does not seem to have had specially good nourishment either, before he hied him to the desert. What a wretched woe-begone face it is! I must away now, give my compliments to Miss Friedberg. Much satisfaction may you get out of your 'nervous' English hour."
So saying the doctor picked up hat and cane and left. Ill-humoredly he descended the stairs, that sentimental "man of the desert" seemed to have thoroughly spoiled his temper. Suddenly he stood still.
"I have seen that face somewhere else, I stick to that, but strange--it looked entirely different!"
With this oracular remark he shook his head with a puzzled look and left the house.
The weather out of doors did not indeed look very inviting, being one of those cold, stormy spring-days, such as occur so frequently in the mountains. It is true the landscape no longer wore the bleak, wintry aspect that it had done a few weeks before, the trees having already decked themselves in fresh green, while the first flowers were blossoming in the meadows and fields, but this blooming and growing went forward only slowly, because sunshine was lacking.
Dark masses of cloud chased each other over the face of the sky, the rustling tree-tops bent before the wind, but this did not trouble the young girl, who, with light step, hurried forward on a narrow path through the woods.
Maia knew, to be sure, that her father did not approve of her taking such long walks unattended, but in the beginning she had confined her stroll to the park-limits, then Puck darted across the meadows and she after him, and then he went into the woods only a little distance, but it was so beautiful there under the murmuring pines, it enticed her on and on into the green solitude. What delight, to be, for once, so entirely alone, running races with the barking Puck, as if for a wager! Absorbed in this pleasure, Maia forgot entirely about the way back, until rather rudely reminded of it.
The dark clouds, which had been already threatening the whole day long, seemed finally to determine to fulfill their promise, for it began to rain, at first softly, then harder and harder, until there poured such torrents from the sky as accompany a regular thunder-storm.
Maia had taken refuge beneath a huge fir-tree, but found protection there only for the moment. It did not last long, on account of the dripping and trickling from every limb; she stood as though under the eaves of a roof, and the heavens grew ever darker. It was no quickly passing shower, so there was nothing for it but to run as fast as possible to the little lodge, only a quarter of a mile away, that offered a secure shelter. No sooner thought than done! The young girl rushed along over stick and stone, on the wet mossy soil, between dripping trees, finally, across a clearing in the forest, where wind and rain assailed her with full force, until, at last, breathless and thoroughly drenched, she found herself, with her four-footed companion, in a dry spot where they could bid defiance to the storm.
This lodge belonged to the forestry equipment at Odensburg, but was almost a half league from it, in the midst of the woods. In winter-time, when deep snow had fallen, they fed the hungry game here and also stored food for their cattle.
It was a small building constructed of boards and the trunks of trees joined together, with a water-tight roof and two low windows, now in the spring empty and unused, but a welcome place of refuge for the two fugitives.
Maia shook herself, so that the drops splashed in all directions. The rain had not hurt her waterproof at all, although it poured out of its folds, but her pretty hat, which she now took from her head, was so much the worse treated. The dainty thing, with its feathers and lace, was now nothing but a shapeless mass, and Puck did not look much better. His white coat was dripping, and its usually long silky hairs were hanging down in wet strands, giving him such a comically disconsolate look, that his young mistress laughed aloud.
"Only look, Puck! what a thing we have made of it!" said she in mock despair. "Why were we not sensible enough to stay in the park! How we do look, and how papa will scold! But you are to blame, you were the first to run off to the woods. Thank God, that at least we have a dry spot to sit in, else both of us would have been washed down to Radefeld, and Egbert would have had to fish us out."
She hurled the utterly spoiled hat upon the low bench that lined the wall on one side, seated herself and looked through the little window out upon the tempest. The rain was still coming down in torrents, and the wind howled around the lodge as though it would like to demolish it. Return home at present was not to be thought of. Mala yielded to the inevitable, drew the hood of her waterproof over her head, and watched Puck, who had stuck his nose through the small opening made by the door being left slightly ajar, and discontentedly followed with his eyes the falling drops.
Just then there appeared on the verge of the forest a person, who stood still for a moment and cast a searching glance around, but then started at a running pace over the clearing, straightway to the forest lodge. Now it was reached by the stranger, who was evidently likewise a fugitive from the storm, with a bold leap he cleared the little lake that had already been formed in front of the door, and kicked this open so violently, the inquisitive Puck was driven back by the shock. But then, with a loud bark, he rushed upon the intruder, who thus presumed to contest the sole possession of the house with himself and his mistress.
"Not so fierce, you little yelper!" cried the stranger, laughing. "Are you the lord and master in this enchanted cottage, or is it that little gray dryad cowering over yonder on that bench?"
He had stooped down to grasp the little animal, that quickly eluded him and took refuge in the corner, whence was now heard a suppressed laugh and a thin little voice saying:
"The dryad thanks you for your good opinion."
The stranger pricked up his ears; the answer showed him that it was no child of a collier or peasant, as he had at first supposed, who was crouched up there in the half-darkness of the ill-lit room. He gave a sharper look, but the low-drawn hood allowed nothing farther to be seen than a rosy little mouth, a pretty nose, and a pair of large brown eyes, that now, in their turn, were surveying the intruder with curiosity and astonishment.
He was a young man of about four-and-twenty years, with a handsome, open countenance, brown wavy hair, and bright laughing eyes. The weather had treated him ill, for he was without any waterproof: the gray traveling suit that he wore was dripping wet, and when he pulled off his hat, and waved it in salutation, the water fell from the brim in little rivulets on the floor.
"Let me implore you," said he "to grant most graciously to a lost traveler who has been caught in the rain, opportunity for a little rest. I am really an ordinary mortal, and no water-sprite, as my outward appearance would certainly lead you to suppose. May I come closer?"
"Just stay where you are at the door!" sounded from out of the corner. "Water-sprites and the little people of the wood cannot bear one another you know, I suppose, from the fairy-tales."
"Is that so? Well, then, nothing is left for me, but to come forward with all my human attributes, such as, name, rank, family, and other earthly props. So: Count Eckardstein, lieutenant of infantry, brother of the hereditary lord of Eckardstein, to which place I am now on my way. At Radefeld I sent my carriage on ahead, in order to take that beautiful walk through the Odensburg forests, when lo! these pitiless clouds resolved to empty themselves on my devoted head. Thence come my watery habiliments, laying me open to so vile a suspicion, but it is the only fairy-like thing about me--may I regard myself as sufficiently introduced?"
"I believe so. His native place, then, may be congratulated upon seeing Count Victor again, after an absence of six years?"
The young Count started, and, despite the prohibition, impulsively drew a few steps nearer. "Do you know me?"
"Dryads are all-knowing."
"But they do not remain invisible after they have once lowered themselves to converse with mortals. Am I actually, then, not to be permitted to see what is hidden under that gray wrap?" As he uttered these last words, he made a new attempt to get a near look at the face of that mysterious being, but in vain, for, a rosy little hand that suddenly became visible, drew the hood down so low that nothing but the tip of a nose could be discerned, and again sounded that low, mocking laugh, that rippled like the twittering of larks.
"Guess, Count!"
"Impossible, how can I? I know nobody at Eckardstein or rather at Odensburg, for we are still on Odensburg land."
He paused, as if waiting for an answer, but he only heard repeated that:
"Guess!"
Count Victor perceived that he would not carry his point in this way, but the clear laugh and voice betrayed to him the fact that it must be a very young girl, who played "hide-and-seek" with him in this way. There was a gleam of haughtiness in his eye, as, with a deep bow and apparent earnestness he said:
"Indeed, I believe I do recognize now the voice and also the figure--I have the honor of standing in the presence of the Honorable Miss Corona Von Schmettwitz?"
This expedient served his purpose; quick as a wink the dryad suddenly darted forth from her dark corner, the hood flew back, and while her fair hair, released from confinement, flowed in rich light waves over the gray mantle, there appeared also Maia's shapely head and sweet innocent face, that, at this moment, indeed, was crimsoned by anger.
Corona von Schmettwitz, indeed! That forty-year-old canoness, with high shoulders and grating voice! She to look so, indeed! She to talk that way! She cast a withering look upon the Count.
He could have had no idea that the gray mantle concealed anything so lovely, for, motionless, he gazed in blank astonishment upon the young girl, whose bright appearance shone like a sunbeam in that gloomy environment. At the first instant, he evidently did not recognize her, but then a remembrance dawned upon him, and, almost shouting for joy, he exclaimed:
"Little Maia!--I beg your pardon, Fräulein Dernburg, that was but a memento of the days of our childhood!"
Maia laughed merrily. "Yes, then I wore short-clothes and long, long plaits, by which you always used to hold me fast. But now I am angry, Count, very angry--you took me for Corona von Schmettwitz."
"A stratagem of war, for which you must pardon the soldier. By no other means could I have learned the truth. Or, do you seriously believe that I could mistake you for that lady, whom even as a boy I used to stand in such dread of, that I regularly ran away, when she was seen coming to Eckardstein?--How, still angry with your brother's former playfellow? He has often enough been yours as well."
"Yes, indeed, you did often condescend to play with 'little Maia,'" pouted she, while she threw back her hair, that was not yet perfectly dry. "The name is the only thing that you have retained."
"Yes, but I did retain something else," said the young Count slowly, while his eye was riveted upon that lovely little face. "Else I should not have immediately recognized you, when the gray mantle fell. At any rate, I should have gone to Odensburg within the next few days. Eric is at home, as I hear?"
"Yes, and he is engaged to be married! I suppose you have hardly heard of that yet?"
"Yes, I got an announcement of his betrothal, and must present to him my congratulations. I have, in general, so much to ask and hear, having become almost an entire stranger at home, and now we just have time--"
"We have no time at all," cried Maia, with a glance at the still half-open door. "Only see how it has cleared, and the rain has ceased. I believe the storm is over."
Count Victor stepped to the door and examined the clouds, but with an air that betrayed great disappointment. He had complained awhile ago of the pitiless shower-bath to which he had been exposed, but now he seemed to find the clearing up of the weather a greater infliction by far.
"Yes, the rain has stopped, to be sure, but it will soon begin again," said he hopefully. "At all events, we must wait until the next shower is over."
"Just to be shut up here for good by the rain?" remarked Maia. "No, I mean to take advantage of the lull and run to Odensburg as fast as I can. Come, Puck, let's run!"
"Then I'll run with you," laughed the Count. "So, Puck is the name of the little white creature that wanted to deny me the hospitality of the lodge. Come here, yelper, and let us make acquaintance."
Puck had scrutinized the stranger in the beginning with very critical mien, and, evidently, had not yet made up his mind whether to treat him as friend or foe, but now decided favorably. When the young man invited him to approach, he trustfully came nearer, and allowed himself to be stroked.
Thus the three set out sociably together on the way back. The rain had certainly ceased, but the wind raged in full force while they crossed the clearing, and after they had gained the shelter of the forest, the swaying tree-tops performed a little after-piece that well represented a driving rain, while such a dripping and drizzling came from every branch! And the somewhat low-lying foot-path had been converted into a running brooklet, so that Maia and her escort had to make their way sideways over moss and the roots of trees. The forest-stream itself was very much swollen, and had inundated the shore on both sides of the high bridge. They had to attempt a passage, leaping from rock to rock. In doing this Puck lost his balance, slid into the water, and howled piteously because he could not swim in the vortex. Maia, who already stood upon the bank, uttered also a shriek of anguish at sight of her pet's distress, and Count Eckardstein jumped with both feet into the water, seized the floundering creature, and brought it to his mistress, who bestowed a grateful look upon the gallant rescuer. Finally, in the middle of the woods, a wild apple-tree was discovered in full bloom, which drew from the young girl a shout of rapture and gave the Count an opportunity to display his skill as an athlete. But, alas! he was left hanging to a bough from which he had broken a branch, and came to the ground again, with a gaping slit in his sleeve.
It was a course full of adventure. The two young wanderers cheerfully breasted the storm, laughed brightly when a gust of wind tore through the trees, and sprinkled them freshly and heavily with rain, ever good-humoredly they jumped and climbed over stones and stumps and prostrate trunks of trees, always the better pleased the more impassable proved the woods. There was an endless laughing and talking, questioning and answering. All the old memories of childhood and youth came trooping back as lively as ever. Gray mist was hovering closely over the fir-trees, and dark clouds chased each other across the sky, but over these two children of men arched the clear sunshine of youth and happiness. What cared they for wind and weather!
At last the Odensburg park was reached, that almost immediately adjoined the wooded mountain. Maia was just going up to the little wicket-gate, through which she had gone out of bounds a few hours ago, when it was suddenly opened and Oscar von Wildenrod excitedly confronted her.
"But, Maia, how could you go out alone in such weather--?" He suddenly broke off, and with marked surprise looked up and down her escort, of whom he had just caught sight.
Maia, who had again drawn her hood over her head and hung her ruined hat on her arm, laughed defiantly. "You thought, did you, that Puck and I would have been drowned in that water-spout. No, here we both are, safe and sound, and have even found company on the way. I believe you gentlemen are not acquainted. Count Victor von Eckardstein--Baron von Wildenrod, a connection of my brother Eric."
Wildenrod responded with a certain reserve to the friendly greeting of the stranger, who said laughingly:
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Baron, although you find me in this soaked condition. I am accustomed to be drier, I assure you, but really I was not prepared for an introduction to-day. I only meant to escort Fräulein Dernburg to the park-gate and then take my leave."
"Will you not stop long enough to see Papa and Eric?" asked Maia.
"No, no, Fräulein Dernburg, I should not like to appear before the Dernburg family in such attire as this. But I am coming very soon--if I may!"
As he spoke these last words, his eyes sought those of the young girl, who coquettishly said: "Are you afraid that I shall forbid it you?"
"Who knows? Water-sprites and dryads do not agree, I had to hear a while ago from your own mouth. Nevertheless, I shall venture it. Meanwhile, I beg of you to accept this token of peace from me. You know how hardly it has been obtained." With a slight bow he handed her the blossom-laden bough, that he still carried in his hand.
Wildenrod listened silently, but he gazed fixedly upon the pair. The tone of familiarity seemed to surprise him in the highest degree, and upon the Count's now taking his leave, he only bowed his head with cool civility, spoke a few words just as coolly, and then quickly followed Maia into the park, letting the wicket gate slam to behind them.
"You seem to be very well acquainted with that gentleman," he remarked, while they struck into the path leading to the house.
"Oh, certainly," answered his companion, without the least embarrassment. "Count Victor used to be a playmate of Eric's, when they were boys, and he used often enough to let me join in their sports. I was very glad to meet him again after the lapse of six years."
"Ah, indeed!" said the Baron slowly. He turned around, and with a peculiar glance scanned the form of the Count, who was just disappearing between the trees, while Maia innocently chatted on:
"If I can only slip into my own room unobserved--Papa will be angry if he sees me."
"Yes, indeed, he will scold," said Wildenrod with emphasis, "and I should like to do the same. I had gone into the park to look for you when that storm burst forth, and I heard from the gardener that you had already been for an hour somewhere in the woods. How imprudent! Did you not think how uneasy the people at home would be about you?--that I would be distressing myself?"
The reproachful tone of this question called a bright blush to the young girl's face. "Oh, that was altogether uncalled for. Here in Odensburg every workman and child knows me."
"Never mind, you should never again venture forth so far without attendance. You promise me this, do you not, Maia? And as a pledge that you will keep your word, I ask this of you."
As though in sport, he caught at the blooming branch, but Maia looked at him, half-shocked and half-indignant.
"My branch? No, why?"
"Because I ask you for it."
The request sounded like a demand, and this must have awakened Maia's pride. With a decided gesture of repulse, she drew back a step.
"No, Herr von Wildenrod. I'll not give up my blossoms."
A flash of angry surprise shot from the Baron's eyes: he had not believed the child capable of such decided opposition tohiswill, and it was precisely this that goaded him into having his way, at any price.
"Do you attach so great value to it?" he asked, with bitter scorn. "The Count seemed to do so too. Perhaps this 'pledge of peace' has some secret significance for you both?"
"A jest, nothing more! Victor is an old playmate----"
"And I am a stranger to you! Is that what you would say, Maia? I understand."
At these words, spoken with intense bitterness, the brown eyes were lifted to his in a shocked and pleading manner. "Oh, no, Herr Von Wildenrod, I did not mean that--Oh, certainly not."
"No? And yet you speak of 'Victor' and immediately grant him a renewal of the former familiar relations. I have been, and still am, nothing to you but 'Herr Von Wildenrod.' How often have I begged you to call me by my first name, just for once. I have never yet heard it from your lips."
Maia gave no reply, there she stood motionless, with glowing cheeks and downcast eyes; but still she felt the fervent glance that rested upon her.
"Is it so hard for you to give me a name, that the future family connection has nevertheless the right to claim? Is it really so hard? Well, I will be content to forego my claim when others are present, but now, that we are alone, I must and shall hear it ... Maia!"
The delay of another second, and then it came, softly and tremblingly, from her lips: "Oscar!"
A gleam of transporting joy lighted up the man's dark features, and he made an impetuous movement, as though he would draw to his heart the young girl who stood before him, shy and trembling. But he controlled himself; only he seized and clasped firmly her quivering little hand.
"At last! And now that other, the second request."
"Herr Von Wildenrod----"
"The branch, Maia, which another gave to you, and which I, therefore,willnot leave in your hands. Please give it to me?"
Maia resisted no longer. Powerless beneath the ban of those eyes and that voice, she held out to him the blooming bough.
"Thanks!" said Oscar softly. It was only a single word, but it had the sound of tenderness with difficulty restrained.
Now Miss Friedberg was seen at the open window of the house, which the two were now approaching, and, with clasped hands, she expressed her horror at seeing her pupil in such a plight.
"Maia, for heaven's sake tell me, have you actually been abroad in this weather? How you do look! Be quick, take off that wet mantle--you will catch your death of cold!"
"Yes, I should give her the same advice," said Oscar, smiling. "Quick, quick, go in the house!"
The girl slipped off with a passing nod. Wildenrod slowly followed her, but stood still in the garden-hall, and his brow darkened again as he looked at the blossom-laden bough in his hand. For the first time he realized that the success of his wooing might be imperiled by delay, and yet he knew that he durst not speak as yet. He did not yet stand firm enough in the favor of Dernburg, who could hardly be brought to give up his darling to a man so much older than herself, without further inducement, nor was he as yet sure even of Maia. An unwise word here, spoken prematurely, might spoil everything. And just at this crisis had to start up most provokingly this Count Eckardstein, who had lost not a minute's time in laying claim to his old footing of the familiar friend of childish days!
For a few moments Wildenrod stood lost in dark forebodings, then he drew himself up with a jerk, and in his eyes again flamed proud, triumphant self-confidence. Good--Maia was not to be won without a struggle--he was not the one to shun it. How pusillanimous, to doubt gaining the victory over that young coxcomb with his smooth face! Let him beware of crossing his path!
At the window of her own room stood Maia, who had not yet laid off her wet mantle, nor was even conscious that she still wore it. She gazed up at the cloud-beleaguered sky, with a strange dreamy look upon her face, and a slight, happy smile played about her lips.
Forgotten was the meeting in the forest-lodge, banished the form of her old playmate--she only saw one thing--those deep, dark eyes, the look that had woven such a spell upon her spirit, she only heard that subdued voice, thrilling with restrained passion. It was a sweet, disturbing dream,--a feeling, of which she did not herself know whether it portended woe or bliss.