Eckardstein had a new master. Count Conrad had lain eight days in the family vault, and his younger brother had taken the reins of authority. That young officer, who had hitherto known no other home than in barracks save that spring, when he had paid only a short visit to his ancestral halls, now suddenly saw himself confronted by quite a new task, and placed in entirely new circumstances. It was certainly fortunate for him, that he had at his side his uncle and former guardian, who was himself a landed proprietor, and now prolonged his stay, in order to support his nephew both with advice and by action.
The gray, foggy weather of the last weeks had been followed by a mild autumnal day. The sunshine lay bright upon the extensive forests that stretched between Odensburg and Eckardstein, belonging, however, for the most part, to the latter domain, for in Odensburg the woods had had to give way constantly to the great industrial establishments, that had continued to spread from year to year. Only a hunting-ground of moderate dimensions and a forester's preserve remained.
Upon one of the woodland paths Count Victor and Herr von Stettin were walking along. They had been inspecting the condition of the forests and had now started on their return to the Castle.
They were about to cross the public road, that here led through the middle of the woods, when, an open carriage rolled rapidly by, in which sat two ladies in deep mourning. The younger turned with an expression of joyful surprise when she perceived the young Count, and upon her speaking a few words to the coachman the carriage stopped.
"Oh, Count Victor, I am very glad to see you again--if the occasion had only not been such a melancholy one!"
Victor stepped up to the carriage-door with a low bow, but looked as if he would rather have paid his respects from a distance. He only touched lightly the little hand that was cordially extended to him, and there was a perceptible reserve in his words as he answered:
"Yes indeed, a very melancholy occasion--but allow me, ladies, to introduce my uncle, Herr von Stettin--Fräulein Maia Dernburg--Fräulein Friedberg."
"Properly, I have only to renew an old acquaintance," said Stettin, smiling, as he likewise drew near. "Years ago when I was on a visit at Eckardstein, I used to see Fräulein Dernburg, but of the child of those days, indeed, a young lady has grown up who may not remember me."
"Only dimly, at least, Herr von Stettin, but so much the more plainly do I remember all the glad hours that I have passed at Eckardstein, with Count Victor and Eric----" The young girl's eyes suddenly filled with tears as she pronounced her brother's name. "Ah, death has invaded our household too! You know, I suppose, Victor, when and how our poor Eric died?"
"I have heard the particulars," said the young Count softly, "and have bitterly felt how much I lost in the friend of my youth. His widow remains at Odensburg, for the present, I learn."
"Oh, certainly, we could not let her leave us! Eric loved Cecilia so dearly! She lives with us."
"And--Baron von Wildenrod?" Victor put this question quite irrelevantly; his eyes at the same time being fastened upon the young girl's countenance with a look of intense anxiety. She blushed deeply.
"Herr von Wildenrod?" she repeated with embarrassment. "He is also at Odensburg."
"And stays there, I presume?"
"I believe so," said Maia with a singular sense of oppression that she could not control, and which seemed altogether irrational. What was there against it, if her youthful playmate should guess to-day, what was no longer to be kept secret? But why did he look at her, in general, so coldly and so reproachfully? What was the matter with him?
Herr von Stettin, who, meanwhile, had been talking with Fräulein Friedberg, now turned again to the others; a few more questions were asked, a few more pieces of information exchanged, then Victor--who seemed strangely impatient to move on--closed the interview with the remark:
"I am afraid, uncle, that we are detaining the ladies too long. May I ask that our compliments be presented to Herr Dernburg?"
"I shall deliver your message to papa--but you will come yourself to Odensburg, will you not?"
"Certainly, if it is possible," declared the young Count in a tone that betrayed the impossibility of such an occurrence. He bowed and retired, the ladies returned his salutation, and the next minute the carriage was rolling away.
"That Maia Dernburg has developed into a charming girl!" said Stettin. "It strikes me that it would be to your advantage to be a little less formal than you were just now. I think you used to be an intimate friend of her brother!"
Victor did not answer, and he cast down his eyes before the searching glance of his uncle, who now paused in his walk.
"I have long since remarked that something was preying on your mind," said he--"something that has altered your whole being. What has gone wrong with you? Be candid, Victor, and maybe your fatherly friend can advise and help you."
"You cannot help me," gloomily declared the young lord, "but I will confess to you--it may lighten the load on my heart.--You know the ground of dissension between Conrad and me. At times Conrad was hard upon me, and finally made his assistance, that I absolutely needed, dependent upon one condition. He planned a union between Maia Dernburg and me, that should henceforth lift me above care, and I--well, I was irritated, embittered, I wanted to be rid of that galling dependence at any price--and I acquiesced. I came here, saw Maia again, and then all was over with calculation and sordid considerations of any kind--for I fell ardently in love with the sweet girl the very first time we met. And then--then I was punished severely enough, for having once calculated."
"You were rejected? Impossible! The young girl awhile ago was as cordial and unconstrained in her manners as possible."
"Maia knows nothing of my proposing to address her; it did not even come to a declaration. Conrad's plan was reported to her father in the most hateful manner. He took me to task about it, and as I could not and would not deny the truth, he treated my courtship as a speculation of the basest sort, myself as a fortune-hunter. He said the most unfeeling things to me----" Victor clinched his teeth at the bare recollection. "Excuse me from saying any more."
"So that is the way the matter stands?" said Stettin reflectively. "To be sure, what cares this proud industrial prince for a Count Eckardstein! Well, do not look so desperate though, my boy; circumstances are entirely different from what they were six months ago. Providence meanwhile has made you lord of Eckardstein, and you have it in your power, by a renewal of your courtship, to prove to that old hard-head the purity of your motives."
"I cannot get my own consent to do so--never! Maia is lost to me now and forever."
"Do not be so rash, please! A few harsh words can always be borne with from a future father-in-law, especially when he has not been altogether wrong in the matter. If your pride forbids the making of any advance, then let me take the initiatory steps. I shall have a talk with Dernburg."
"Just to have it announced to you, with polite regret, that his daughter is engaged to Baron von Wildenrod?" said Victor bitterly. "We may as well spare ourselves that mortification!"
"What are you thinking of? Wildenrod is in his forties and Fräulein Dernburg----"
"Oh, he has some demoniacal power of enchantment, and knows how to use it. I am convinced that the insinuation which so infuriated Dernburg against me originated with him. I was in his way, he was already basing his calculations upon Maia's fortune. And Maia has not remained indifferent to him; already they are everywhere talking of an engagement, and just now I gained certainty as to the state of her affections. Maia betrayed herself--I have nothing more to hope for."
The desperation of the young man plainly showed how deep was the passion for his young playmate that stirred in his heart.
Stettin had become very serious.
"That would certainly be Wildenrod's master-stroke," said he, with knitted brow. "So, it was not enough for him to share his sister's portion, but he must needs win the Odensburg millions for himself! There is still time for opening Herr Dernburg's eyes--his daughter shall not become the prey of this adventurer."
"An adventurer! Baron von Wildenrod!"
"He became so when fortune and splendor deserted his house. Perhaps fate had as much to do with it as guilt--never mind! He has forfeited the right to connect himself with an honorable family."
"And were you aware of this that time at Nice, and did you keep silence?" asked the young Count with bitter reproach in his tone.
"Was I to turn informer? And for the sake of whom? What right had I to force myself upon the confidence of a strange family? At that time what were these Dernburgs to me? One does not expose to public odium the son of a man at whose house you had been received as a friend for long years, without stringent necessity--and in this case I refrained."
"But you might have warned Eric in some way!"
"No warning would have availed at that period. If Eric had wanted to see--the double part that his future brother-in-law played was known all through Nice: I was not the only knowing one. But he walked blindly into the snare spread for him. But comfort yourself. Now when I know how close to your heart his sister is, no consideration shall hinder his exposure."
"Yes, Maia must be protected from this man, cost what it will!" cried Victor impetuously. "Uncle, I have concealed nothing from you, now; be as candid towards me! Who and what is this Wildenrod?"
"You shall learn," said Stettin gravely. "But we cannot discuss such things here, in the open woods. In ten minutes we shall be in the Castle, where we can talk farther on the subject."
Maia and her companion, meanwhile, had continued their ride. Their destination was the railroad station, whither they went to bring home Frau von Ringstedt, who had repaired to Berlin, to prepare the family residence there for occupation during the winter. Dernburg's re-election had been expected with such certainty, that it had been considered in making their household arrangements. Now, whether they should go at all to Berlin was questionable, and the old lady was returning, for the present, to Odensburg.
"What was the matter with Count Victor to-day?" said Maia thoughtfully. "His manners were entirely different from what they usually are, and he did not seem at all rejoiced to see us again."
"He is still in first mourning for his brother," objected Leonie. "It is to be expected, as a matter of course, that he should be graver and more reserved than formerly."
Maia shook her little head; the explanation did not satisfy her. "No, no--this was something quite different. Victor went away last spring, too, without taking leave! Papa said, it is true, that he had been suddenly called away to attend to some military duty, but then he could have written. And just now when I invited him to come to Odensburg, he looked as if he did not care to do so. What is the meaning of all this?"
"I, too, was struck by the Count's restraint of manner," said Leonie, "and for that very reason you should not have been so cordial in your advances, Maia. You are a grown-up young lady now, and should not permit the same freedoms to the country neighbors as when you were a child."
"Victor is no mere country neighbor!" cried the young girl indignantly. "He was the friend of Eric's youth, and, when a boy, used to be almost as much at Odensburg as at Eckardstein. It is ugly of him to be so cold, all of a sudden, and act so formally, and I shall tell him so, too, when he comes to see us. Oh, I shall read him a good lecture!"
Fräulein Friedberg assumed the air of a monitor, and once more enlarged upon the need of circumspection on the part of a grown girl, but she preached to deaf ears. Maia dreamed on with open eyes: she was still haunted by the gloomy, reproachful glance of the playmate of her youth, and although she was far from fathoming the real ground for his altered behavior, his reserve grieved her. She realized, for the first time, how pleasant his cheerful society had been to her.
At the depot, Dr. Hagenbach received the two ladies with disagreeable tidings. He had heard in town of a railroad accident, that was said to have occurred in the forenoon. Since he knew that Frau von Ringstedt was aboard, he had telegraphed at once for the facts, which, fortunately, were comforting. In consequence of the recent violent rains, a land-slide had taken place, the track was blocked up for a considerable distance, and the passengers had been obliged to take another route. The Berlin fast train, then, could only arrive after a good deal of delay: no accident, however, had happened to the train itself.
After this communication, nothing was left for them to do but to wait. There happened to be, however, at the station a large body of troops, which had returned from maneuvering, and was now awaiting transportation; thus all the space was over-crowded, the waiting-room pre-empted by officers, and on all sides there reigned an alarming confusion, that made a long stay for the ladies very unpleasant. The doctor, therefore, advised that they should go over to the "Golden Lamb," secure an apartment, and there await the arrival of the train.
This proposition was adopted, and since Herr Willmann was not at home just now, the guests were received by his spouse, who, upon getting word that the ladies from Odensburg were honoring the "Golden Lamb" with their presence, a thing that had never before happened, came rushing out of the kitchen to acknowledge this honor, in the most humble and grateful manner.
Frau Willmann's attractions must have lain in the domestic virtues, for, most assuredly, they were not in outward appearance. She was considerably older than her husband, with repulsive features and a loud, sharp voice that lent something rasping to her words. And the house-dress in which she received her guests left much to be desired both as regards taste and neatness.
She opened the best of her guest-chambers as speedily as possible, tore open the window to let in fresh air, set to rights chairs and table, while she assured the ladies that she would have brought to them the most excellent of coffee, in the shortest space of time possible. She then vanished quickly, all zeal and desire to serve.
According to the assertion of the railroad officials, they had to wait at least another hour for the Berlin train. Fräulein Maia found it very tiresome; she felt a desire to make a tour of discovery in the "Golden Lamb," and when, besides, from the window she caught sight of a troop of children, who were playing in the yard behind the house, she could sit still no longer. In spite of all the exhortations of her teacher, she slipped out of the room and left her companions to themselves.
An embarrassed silence reigned for a few minutes. The doctor and Fräulein Friedberg had, it is true, long ago come to a sort of tacit understanding that that unfortunate offer of marriage should be considered as unsaid. It was the only possible way to preserve the necessary ease in the almost daily intercourse to which they were forced; and, to be candid, they were neither of them so easy in one another's company as was desirable. Hagenbach could not help giving bent to his mortification at being rejected in various covert ways, and, in spite of herself, Leonie continually found herself acting on the defensive when he was present. But, in spite of these awkward relations, it was a fact that the doctor expended much more care upon his outward appearance than ever before, and made every effort to rein in his harshness of manner as much as possible. In this latter particular he succeeded only to a very moderate extent, but he at least showed a desire to be more gentle.
"Maia is not to be calculated upon!" began Fräulein Friedberg finally, with a sigh. "I am actually in despair at times. What is one to do with a young lady, who is already engaged to be married, and yet cannot appreciate the necessity of conforming to social usages?"
"But there is room for a difference of opinion as to that necessity," remarked the doctor, irritably.
"I beg your pardon, the position is not to be disputed at all," was the very decided answer. "It is the foundation upon which the whole social fabric rests."
"You may well say so--forms!" mocked Hagenbach, with unconcealed irritation, "they are the main things in the world. What avails it if a man be honorable, upright, and true--he must yield to the first goose that comes along, who knows how to make bows and exchange polite speeches--he, of course, has the precedence!"
"I did not say so."
"But thought it! I have not given much attention to forms in the course of my life, have not found it needful either in my practice or the management of my household. I am a bachelor, though--thank God!"
The returned thanks, however, to Heaven, on account of his fortunately preserved bachelor's estate was in so grim a tone that Leonie preferred not to answer. She stepped to the window and looked out. Fortunately one of the maids now appeared with the coffee-cups and a huge cake, sufficient for at least ten persons, bringing the message that, if the ladies and doctor would be patient for a little while longer, Fräulein Willmann would prepare the coffee herself.
Leonie started at the name, and turned around eagerly:
"Who did you say?"
"Fräulein Willmann, lady."
"Such is the name of the hostess of the 'Golden Lamb,'" explained Hagenbach, who now perceived that silence would profit nothing any longer, and that the whole melancholy story would have to be recapitulated. Leonie, indeed, did not say a word, but the mantling color that mounted to her cheeks betrayed her exceeding sensitiveness to anything that reminded her of her former lover. The doctor preferred, therefore, to introduce the subject himself, as soon as the maid had left the room.
"Does the name strike you?" he asked.
"It was once very dear to me, and still is. The coincidence here can only be the result of accident, but I shall try to find out from the hostess----"
"That is not necessary, when you can learn of me just as well. The proprietor of this inn is a cousin of the lamented Engelbert, the converter of heathen, who lies buried in the sands of the desert. He has told me so himself--that is to say, not the buried man, but the living Herr Pancratius Willmann of the 'Golden Lamb.'"
"A cousin of Engelbert's?" repeated Leonie, in surprise. "To judge by the age of his wife, this Herr Pancratius Willmann must be quite far advanced in years?"
"Heaven forbid! he is at least twelve years younger than his better half, not much over forty. He was just a poor starving wretch and she a rich widow. As for the rest, the man is not uncultivated--he has even been a student, as he recently informed me, but then concluded that he would rather clothe himself in the wool of the 'Golden Lamb.'"
Leonie's lips curled contemptuously. "What a conclusion! This ordinary woman----"
"Has money and is a splendid cook," chimed in Hagenbach, who felt a satisfaction in this, that at least the lamented Engelbert's cousin had no part in the halo of ideality that encircled his kinsman. "As for the rest, the marriage of this pair seems to be a very happy one, and they also have a numerous progeny--only look at the six young lambs disporting themselves in the garden down yonder!" He had likewise stepped to the window and pointed down into the small garden, where the offspring of the Willmann family were running about, shrieking and hallooing. They were certainly not marked by any special attractions, but were little well-fed, thick-skulled creatures with yellow locks, seeming to take after their mother in things essential.
Leonie shrugged her shoulders. "I do not understand how a cultivated man can condescend to such a union. To be sure, self-interest regulates the world nowadays. Who asks after the ideal?"
"Not Herr Pancratius Willmann certainly," dryly opined Hagenbach. "He holds with the practical, in complete contrast to his cousin. Herr Engelbert left home in the lurch, in order to baptize the black heathen back in Africa. Now he lies in the sand of the desert--that is the return he got."
Leonie looked daggers at him. "You certainly cannot appreciate such a resolve, Doctor. Engelbert Willmann had an ideal nature, that followed a higher inspiration without any reference to worldly advantages, and one must have somewhat of the same nature in order to understand it."
"No, I do not pretend to understand it," declared Hagenbach with an outburst of vexation. "I am not constituted 'ideal.' I am a plain healer of men's diseases, without higher inspiration, and am myself quite an ordinary man, without any ideal--therefore of no account whatever."
Thus were they fairly launched into another discussion, when the door opened, and Herr Pancratius Willmann appeared upon the threshold, in all the stateliness of his obesity, with broad red countenance. He made a low bow before the physician, a second one before the lady at the window, and then began in his soft, melancholy voice: "I have just heard from my wife that the Odensburg family were here, and could not deny myself the pleasure of expressing my joy and gratitude for the honor that has been done my modest house."
"It is well that you have come, mine host!" said the doctor. "I was just talking about you with Fräulein Friedberg----" He was not allowed to proceed farther, in consequence of the scene that now unfolded before his eyes.
Leonie had started in alarm at the sound of the strange voice, and Herr Willmann showed no less agitation at the sight of the lady at the window. He fairly quaked, his red cheeks turned pale, and, utterly disconcerted, he stared at the lady who now approached him.
"Sir," she began in quavering voice, "you bear a name that is familiar to me, and I learn from the doctor here that a relation does, in fact, exist----"
She paused and seemed to await an answer, but Herr Pancratius only nodded his head in the affirmative; but so low was his bow, that hardly a glimpse of his face was to be gotten.
"I certainly discover some resemblance in your features," continued Leonie, "and your voice, too, has an almost terrifying similarity with that of your deceased cousin, of whom you probably have slight recollection."
Willmann did not answer this time either, but shook his head, in sign of dissent, but without looking up.
"Why, man, have you lost the power of speech?" cried the doctor, vexedly. "What means this dumb show of nodding and shaking your head?"
But Herr Pancratius persisted in his silence; it seemed as though he had a regular dread of hearing the sound of his own voice again. Instead of this, he cast a shy glance at the door, as though he were weighing the possibility of a retreat. Now Hagenbach lost patience.
"What is concealed behind that demeanor?" cried he with aroused suspicion. "Is that whole tale of relationship a falsehood after all? Out with what you have to say, man!"
The craven, pressed upon two sides, evidently saw no way of escape. He cast his eyes up at the ceiling, with exactly the same pious, woe-begone expression that had startled the doctor at first, and sighed:
"Oh, oh, Doctor, Heaven is my witness----"
A loud shriek interrupted him. Leonie had suddenly turned pale as death, and with both hands convulsively clasped the back of the chair standing in front of her.
"Engelbert! Gracious master, it is he himself!"
At this instant Herr Willmann seemed to cherish the fervent wish that the earth would open at his feet and swallow him up. But as no such interposition on the part of Heaven took place, he remained standing in the middle of the room, in the full light of day. Dr. Hagenbach, however, dropped into the nearest chair; he had strong nerves, and yet, somehow, this revelation had a stunning effect upon him.
In spite of this discovery, which must have been an appalling one to her, Leonie recovered her self-command in an astonishing manner. She neither fell in a swoon, nor fell into convulsions; motionless she stood there gazing upon him who had once been her betrothed lover, and made no attempt to deny it.
"Leonie, you here?" he stammered in mortal confusion. "I had no idea--I will explain everything----"
"Yes, I too would earnestly beg you to do so!" cried the doctor, who had now recovered breath and sprang up in a rage. "What! for twelve long years, you allowed yourself to be wept as a martyred apostle to the heathen, while all the time you were alive and merry here at the 'Golden Lamb,' flourishing as a happy husband and a six-fold father of a family? That is vile."
"Doctor," interrupted Leonie, still trembling in every limb, but still with perfect composure, "I have to talk with this--this gentleman. Please leave us!"
Hagenbach looked at her rather critically, for he did not exactly trust this composure. Yet he could but perceive that during such an explanation the presence of a third party would be superfluous. He therefore left the room. Little as he was in the habit of playing the eavesdropper, this time he kept his post close to a slit in the door, without any scruple of conscience whatever. The affair that was being settled inside was partly his concern as well.
Herr Engelbert Willmann seemed to be greatly relieved when the witness to this painful scene departed, and now prepared finally for the promised explanation. He began in a penitential tone: "Leonie, hear me!"
Still she kept her place without stirring, and looked as if she would not and could not believe that this coarse, common-looking individual was one and the same with the ideal being upon whom her youthful affections had been set.
"No explanation is needed," said she, with a tranquillity incomprehensible to herself. "I only desire you to answer me a few questions. Are you really the husband of the woman who received us just now; the father of the children playing in the garden down there?"
"Highly rational and practical!" growled the doctor approvingly outside. "No sign of convulsions! Matters are progressing quite well."
Leonie's question seemed utterly to confound Herr Willmann. "Do not condemn me, Leonie!" he implored stammeringly. "The force of circumstances--an unfortunate chain of peculiar----"
"Do not address me in the familiar tone of long ago, Herr Willmann," said Leonie, cutting him short in the midst of his sentence. "How long have you been married?"
Willmann hesitated. He would have gladly given as recent a date as possible to his admission into the order of Benedict; but there were his children making their presence noisily manifest out of doors, his eldest, a boy of ten, being likewise in the game of romps. "Eleven years," he finally said in a low voice.
"And twelve years ago you wrote me that you wanted to go as missionary into the interior of Africa, and from that time your letters ceased. Immediately afterwards you must have returned to Germany--without letting me know?"
"It was done only for thy--for your sake, Leonie," Engelbert assured her, with an attempt to give a tender intonation to his voice. "We were both poor, I had no prospects, years might elapse ere I should be in a situation to offer you my hand. Should I allow you to waste your youth, mourning over me, and perhaps forfeiting a different and a happier fate? Never! And since I knew your magnanimity, knew that you would never have broken your word to me, with a bleeding heart I did what I had to--I restored your freedom to you through my supposed death----"
"Give yourself no trouble. I am not to be deceived again," replied she, contemptuously. "Pray remember, Herr Willmann, that all is at an end between us, and we have nothing more to say. I only ask one thing of you: if accidentally our paths should ever cross again, pass me as a stranger and never show by any sign that we were ever friends."
Engelbert secretly breathed more freely at this declaration, for he had not hoped to be let off so easily, and now prepared to depart in a very dignified manner. "You condemn me--well, I must bear it!" said he softly, and in an aggrieved tone. "Farewell, Leonie, appearances are against me, but for all that you have been my first and only love!"
He cast a wofully sentimental glance upon his former lady-love, and then beat a hasty retreat. But outside fate overtook him in the person of Dr. Hagenbach, who unceremoniously grabbed him by the arm. "Now we shall have a few words together, Herr Engelbert Willmann," said he, dragging the terrified creature regardlessly to the other end of the passage, where one was out of ear-shot of the guest-chamber. "I shall certainly not have much to do with you, but this one thing I must tell you, that you are a rascal!"
Once more he gave the annihilated Willmann another good shaking, then left him standing and returned to the room, where he was confident his medical services would be in requisition.
"I wanted to see how you were," said the doctor, with a certain embarrassment. "I was afraid--yes, my dear young lady, I admit that to-day, for once, you have a right to be nervous.--You need not dread ever being ridiculed. Mind!"
"I am quite well," protested Leonie, without raising her eyes. "I have gone through a very painful experience in having my illusions dispelled. You may easily guess, Doctor, how the story runs--spare me the shame of repeating it in detail."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of!" cried Hagenbach, with warm feeling. "There is no shame in putting firm, inviolable faith in the goodness and nobility of a man's nature. And if one has deceived you, you need not therefore lose faith in everybody. There is many a one among us who deserves to be trusted."
"I know it," replied Leonie, softly, extending her hand to him, "and I shall not waste time crying over a recollection that is not worth having tears shed over it. Let it be buried!"
"Bravo!" cried the doctor, grasping her proffered hand, as though about to shake it. But suddenly he bethought himself, and paused. The "rough diamond" must have really been well on the way towards being polished, for an unheard-of thing happened--Dr. Hagenbach stooped down and imprinted upon that hand an extremely tender kiss.
The gentlemen's room at the "Golden Lamb" was almost entirely empty, as was commonly the case in the early afternoon hours. The visitors were not accustomed to come in until towards evening. At present only a single guest was there, namely, Landsfeld, who had come to consult with the host concerning a mass-meeting that was to take place in the course of the next few days. Herr Willmann did not happen to be at home, and Landsfeld, who wanted to have the matter settled, had taken possession of the gentlemen's room, without further ceremony, where he had already been waiting for a quarter of an hour. He had no idea that Herr Willmann had already got home and knew of his being there, but preferred making a servile bow to the Odensburg family ere he gave as respectful a greeting to the leader of the Socialists. Already he began to grow impatient, when finally the door opened. But instead of the party expected Egbert Runeck came in.
The young delegate, who had gone to Berlin for a few days immediately after his election to consult with the leaders of his party, gave a strikingly cold and short salutation to his comrade, who, on his side, acknowledged it only by a slight nod.
"Back already from Berlin?" asked Landsfeld.
"I got here about an hour ago," answered Runeck. "I went straight to your house and heard there that I would be sure to find you at the 'Golden Lamb.'"
"To my house? That is a rare honor! I want to secure the hall for the day after to-morrow, since there turns out to be a necessity for a second mass meeting. As for the rest, we did not expect you back. Are you through with your business already?"
"Yes, for the time being only some preliminaries were to be settled. My permanent presence in Berlin will not be required for four weeks yet, when the sessions of theReichstagbegin, and so it seems to me I am more needed here just now than there."
"You are mistaken," declared Landsfeld. "We need you here no longer, now that your election has been carried. But I thought to myself that you would return as speedily as possible, when you heard that trouble was brewing for your beloved Odensburg. Yes, we have beaten it into the old man's brain at last that he is not infallible. Until now he was so inaccessible that nothing could come nigh him; now that he has to wrestle with us like the rest of his colleagues, it may go hard enough with him!"
"I rather think you have no occasion to triumph," said Egbert gloomily. "Dernburg has responded to your challenge by a wholesale discharge."
"Of course! That was to be expected of the obstinate old man, and we were perfectly prepared for it."
"Or rather, you have planned for it. And what now?"
"Well, it means bend or break. Either the old man withdraws his discharge of the workmen, or all his enterprises come to a standstill."
"Dernburg is not going to bend, that you all know, and to break him you have not the power. But he has it, and will use it unsparingly now that he has been goaded so far. He can hold out if his works lie idle for weeks and months--but not you. The strike is perfectly senseless, and the leaders of our party do not wish it--never have wished it. Now the decision against it has been definitely made."
"Ah, indeed! I know you did your very best to persuade them to come to this decision. Now, didn't you?" asked Landsfeld with a piercing glance. "You are one of the leaders yourself now! The youngest and most masterful of all. You seem to have got the whip-hand of the others already."
Runeck made an unequivocal sign of impatience.
"Have you only personal attacks against me, where the question concerns a party measure? I bring you the positive direction, not to proceed to extremities--conform to it."
"I am sorry, it is too late; the direction should have come earlier," answered Landsfeld coldly. "The offer has been made, and in case of its non-acceptance the strike is announced. The people cannot retract--they will see it so in Berlin also."
"Ah, ah, you show your true colors at last," cried Egbert in embittered tone. "You, who have always had the word discipline in your mouth, have followed your own head entirely!"
"Acted upon my own responsibility, yes! Those narrow-minded cowards, those Odensburgers, must at last be thoroughly aroused from their dream of security. What trouble we have had in getting them to elect you, under what high pressure did we have to work, and all was left in doubt, up to the last minute! Now the dull mass is at last in motion; now it is of moment to urge them forward!"
"And whither? To certain defeat! They have followed you to the polls, and even now they go with you blindly--the intoxication of victory has mounted to their heads! You have not preached to them in vain that they were almighty. But the intoxication will pass away. Just let the people come to their senses for once, and perceive what they lose when they turn their backs upon Odensburg, and what sorrows they thereby entail upon their wives and children--I tell you, you will not be able to hold them together for eight days; they will run back to Dernburg as fast as their legs can carry them. But he will be a different man from what he has been heretofore; he will not and cannot pardon the insult that they have inflicted upon him."
The young engineer had long since lost the cool calmness with which he had opened the interview, and had worked himself up into continually greater excitement. Landsfeld quietly kept his seat and looked at him fixedly: an evil smile played about his lips, as he replied:
"You seem to find this quite in order. On what side do you really stand, may I ask?"
"On the side of reason and of right!" exclaimed Runeck passionately. "That the workmen elected me in opposition to Dernburg was their right, and he would not contest that, either, deeply as it might mortify him. But that they celebrated my victory in his works, that they had processions and rejoiced over his defeat, almost under his windows, that is a bold challenge, and he has given them, in reply, the answer they deserved!"
"Ah, indeed? They deserved it, did they?" repeated Landsfeld, in a tone that should have warned his young comrade; but he paid no heed to it and continued with gathering warmth:
"You had the people stirred up through Fallner, I know this; you goaded them into making that senseless demand, which is equivalent to inflicting incredible humiliation upon their chief. Is it that you so entirely mistake the man with whom you have to deal, or would you have war to the knife? Well, you shall have it! Dernburg has shown himself the protector of the workman long enough, now he will reveal himself as the master, and he does right in this--I would not act differently in his place!"
A loud, bitter laugh from Landsfeld brought Egbert to a stop, for he had uttered those last words inconsiderately, stung into revolt.
"Bravo! Oh, that is an inestimable confession! There at last you show your true face! It was the old man of Odensburg to the life--you are a worthy pupil of your master's school. What think you if I report the sentiment just heard from you in Berlin?"
Runeck could hardly fail to be aware that he had allowed himself to go too far, but he only straightened himself up more defiantly.
"What care I? Do you suppose that I allow myself to be such a slave, that I dare not express my opinions freely, when we are among ourselves?"
"Among ourselves! Do you actually do us the honor to account yourself one of us? It is true you are our delegate! I have warned and counseled enough, for I knew long ago how far we would probably get with you. They would not listen to me, would secure that genial power to our party, and therefore the election must be pushed with all the means at our command. It was the hardest to manage of any in the electorial campaign--and for whom? The eyes of the others will soon be opened too."
"If you want to help them in this, then do so!" said Egbert harshly and proudly. But now Landsfeld jumped up and planted himself close in front of him.
"Perhaps you would be quite agreed to this. You are regularly planning, I believe, to lead up to a breach. Give yourself no trouble, young man: we will not do you that favor, we will not release you. If you choose to turn traitor and runagate, then let the whole disgrace of it fall upon you!"
A bitter expression curled Runeck's lips at these scornful words.
"Traitor! This, then, is what I get for giving myself up to you, body and soul, for sacrificing to you a future grander and more brilliant than falls to the lot of one in a thousand."
"And now you are on the stool of repentance, naturally?" remarked Landsfeld slyly.
"The sacrifice--no! But association with you--yes, I have long ago repented of that."
"You are candid, anyhow," mocked Landsfeld, "and recklessly show us what a rod we have pickled for ourselves in your election. Yet there is no help for that now, and, for the present, you will be obliged to do your duty in theReichstag. Fortunately your earlier speeches are in the mouths of every one. You could slap yourself in the face; you would now whistle to quite another tune, if you could. And once more, young man,"--he suddenly dropped the mocking tone and his voice became low and threatening,--"make no attempt to meddle in Odensburg affairs, which I have now taken in hand myself. I shall know how to answer for my conduct to the party--only see to it that you cope with your own responsibility. It is not going to be spared you, depend upon that!" So saying, he turned his back upon his comrade, and left the room without any greeting.
Egbert was left alone; silently and moodily he brooded, with downcast eyes. He could not hinder the continual recurrence to his mind of the last words that Dernburg had spoken to him ere dismissing him: "You might have been lord of Odensburg. See whether your associates will thank you for the immense sacrifice that you have made to them!" He had just received a token of their gratitude.
Then the door was softly opened, only half-way, however, and a lovely young girl's head appeared in the aperture. Timidly and with curiosity she peeped in. It was Maia, who, in the course of her tour of discovery in the "Golden Lamb," had finally reached the gentlemen's room. She had hardly cast in a glance, however, before an exclamation of joyful surprise escaped her lips.
"Egbert!"
He started from his reverie, looked at her for a moment in stolid amazement, and then sprang to his feet. "Maia--you here?"
Maia quickly glided into the room, drawing the door to behind her. Fräulein Friedberg and Dr. Hagenbach should know nothing of this meeting, else they would not allow her to have anything to say to Egbert--he was tabooed now at Odensburg!
Runeck, too, seemed suddenly to remember their altered relations; slowly he let the hand drop that he had stretched forth in greeting, and drew back a step.
"May we exchange greetings as we used to do?" asked he softly.
A shadow crossed Maia's face, just an instant before so radiant, but she unhesitatingly drew nearer and offered her hand to the friend of her childhood. "Alas, Egbert, that it had to come so far! If you only knew how it looks now at our house."
"I do know!" was his short and gloomy answer.
"Our Odensburg is no longer to be recognized," lamented the young girl. "Formerly, if we went through the works or had anything to say to the workmen, how joyfully we would be greeted by all; and if, moreover, papa showed himself, then all eyes were fastened upon him, and every one was proud of being spoken to by him. Now"--a subdued sob was perceptible in her voice--"now papa has forbidden Cecilia and me to leave the circuit of the park, since we are not secure against insults outside. He himself goes every day to the works, but I see on the faces of our officers that they regard it as a risk, that they fear he is in danger among his own workmen. But what more than all eats into his heart, is what happened on election-day--he did not deserve it at their hands."
She did not suspect the effect of those words upon the man, who stood half-turned away from her. Not a sound crossed his lips, but his countenance expressed tortures that were with difficulty concealed. Maia saw this and laid her hand on his arm, with the old cordiality.
"I know it," said she soothingly. "But I am the only one at Odensburg who still cleaves to you, and I hardly dare to show it. Papa is dreadfully provoked and bitter against you, and Os--I mean Baron von Wildenrod--confirms him in this. So my begging does no good whatever, and now, besides, Cecilia----"
"She too?" interrupted Runeck, turning suddenly around. "Does she condemn me too?"
"I am not sure," said Maia, frightened at the strange look which Egbert cast upon her. "But Cecilia will never listen when I talk about you, and fairly takes to flight. Ah, Egbert, if any one else stood in opposition to my father, I believe he would stand it better. That it should be you is what he cannot bear."
"Neither can I!" answered Egbert gloomily. "Tell your father so, Maia, if you choose."
The young girl mournfully shook her head. "I cannot--your name is no more to be mentioned in his presence. If it happens, by any chance, it makes him furiously angry. And he did love you so! Dear me, why do people have to hate one another so desperately, just because they belong to two different political parties? I really do not understand it."
Maia's sweet girlish voice sounded soft and pleading, but nevertheless each of her words pierced Egbert's soul, like a glowing reproach. He could stand it no longer.
"Let that be, Maia," said he, controlling his emotion by a great effort. "He must accept it as a stroke of destiny, that we all find it hard to bear. And you, poor child! have we drawn you into the net, too, and destroyed the sunny cheerfulness of your spirits?"
The face of the young girl suddenly flushed up, her head drooped, and softly, almost shyly, she answered:
"No, no--I am often enough ashamed that, in spite of all this, I am so excessively happy; and yet I cannot help it. Do not look at me in such surprise, Egbert. Strangers, to be sure, are not to know it yet, because we are still wearing mourning for our poor Eric, but I can tell you already that I--well, that I am a betrothed bride."
Egbert started back in astonishment. Hitherto he had always considered Maia in the light of a child. It had not occurred to him that love could have already come to her. Now the unexpected news called a fleeting smile to his gloomy countenance, and full of cordiality he stretched out his hands to his youthful playmate. "Does our little Maia actually have to do with such things?" asked he with an attempt at playfulness.
"But I am not so little any more," protested Maia, with a charming pout, while she stood on tip-toe and looked him roguishly in the eye. "See, I already reach up to your shoulders, and his too."
"His? Why, I have not even asked after the name of your intended. What is it?"
"Oscar," whispered Maia softly.
"What did you say?" said Egbert in shocked surprise.
"Oscar von Wildenrod! You know him, yes--dear me, Egbert, what is the matter?"
Runeck had turned pale, and his right hand clinched involuntarily with a look that was full of commiseration. He fixed his eyes upon the young girl, who returned his gaze with a troubled anxious air.
"Baron von Wildenrod is your betrothed?" repeated he at last. "And has your father consented?"
"Certainly. He was opposed to it in the beginning, on account of the great difference of age, but Oscar besieged him so long, and I, too, begged and besought him so hard to let us be happy, that at last he gave his consent."
Egbert was thunderstruck, and gazed upon the lovely young creature who so heedlessly spoke of her happiness, where misery in reality impended. For the second time fate had imposed upon him the task of inflicting a deadly blow upon a being who was dear to him, and crushing her supposed happiness with a ruthless hand. This had been spared Eric in his dying hour; he could be silent when he learned to know Cecilia as she really was; here he had no choice and could not keep silence.
"And you do not rejoice with me?" asked Maia, in a mortified and reproachful tone, as he still said nothing. "Oh, I remember you had something against Oscar, and he has a great deal against you. I have known this a long while, although neither of you will own it. But you can surely congratulate me, any way.--I am indescribably happy."
Runeck ground his teeth together. He could not wish her joy, even as a mere matter of ceremony, which under these circumstances would have been the bitterest mockery, and yet he felt that he dared not now and in this place keep his secret. Fortunately accident came to his assistance, for out in the passage became audible the voice of Dr. Hagenbach.
"Have you seen Fräulein Dernburg anywhere? We must hurry to the station,--the train will be here in ten minutes."
"I must!" whispered Maia, pricking up her ears. "Farewell, Egbert. I shall always hold you dear, whatever happens. And you cannot forget, either, that Odensburg was so long your home."
Once more the brown eyes were uplifted to him in fervent deprecation, and then the young girl glided quickly away. Runeck breathed a sigh of relief that he had no longer to withstand the battery of those happy, unsuspecting eyes, but, at the same time, great waves of rebellion came rolling over his tortured soul.
This, then, had been Wildenrod's aim. He had set his covetous eye upon Odensburg, and would never rest until the booty was his, and Maia's hand was to lay it within his grasp. And Cecilia knew this, and did not interfere. Indeed, he was her brother, whom she loved in spite of everything--it was only to save him that she had become Eric's wife. And she did not know the truth. Oh, why had he concealed it from her that time? But now her feelings were no longer to be considered, either--the thing was to rescue Maia: now, to be silent any longer were a crime.
"No, I shall not forget that Odensburg was, for so long a time, my home," murmured Egbert, drawing himself up resolutely, "if I do have to prove it in a different way from what you expect, my poor little Maia. Shall I write to Dernburg? Impossible. I am wholly out of favor with him--he believes the worst of me; he would deem the letter a wretched calumny, and Wildenrod would win his game nevertheless. There is no help for it, I must fight the battle face to face, and not give up either, until it is decided, until Maia is released from this bond. Be it so, then--I am going to Odensburg."