Kitabı oku: «A Noble Name; or, Dönninghausen», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XIV
AN UNEXPECTED RETURN

Johanna brought the parure to her aunt. "He will not refuse to accept aid from you," she said. Then they sat at table conversing upon indifferent subjects, and the same talk went on in the drawing-room while they were drinking coffee. When at last Magelone sat down at the piano, and Aunt Thekla, wearied with the exertions of the day, dropped asleep in the corner of her sofa, Johanna slipped out into the park.

Her heart was heavy. Otto's words, 'I cannot accept such a sacrifice from you,' had wounded her, in proving to her that she was not as near to him as she had thought. "I wish grandpapa were at home again; he is the only one who really cares for me," she said to herself. And, as she leaned against the wall of the park at the end of the linden avenue and listlessly plucked some monthly roses from the marble vase beside her, she thought that the tears that filled her eyes were shed for her grandfather's absence.

A quick, firm step upon the gravel startled her from her revery. She hastily wiped her eyes, but did not look around until Otto's voice said close beside her, "Forgive me, dear Johanna. I hear, it is true, that you do not like to be interrupted in your evening strolls; nevertheless you must allow me to thank you before I leave here again to-morrow morning."

"Are you going so soon?" she asked in faltering tones.

"Would you like to have me stay?" he replied. "Do not be conventional, Johanna; I want to know your real feeling."

"We should all be glad to keep you here," she said.

He looked at her sadly, and rejoined, in a melancholy tone, "I asked how you felt; I care little about the others. But you, – what fault do you find with me, Johanna? I ought not, indeed, to ask such a question to-day. You all blame me, and you are apparently right in doing so. But before – I mean when you wrote me that letter – we parted more than friends; and then came that cold, stiff note!"

"It was not meant to be so; I meant it should be kind," she replied, without looking up at him.

"So much the worse!" he cried. "You meant to and could not. But I have no right to reproach you when you have just done me so friendly a service."

"Which you did not wish to accept from me," she answered him, reproachfully.

"Johanna, I trust you understand why it was so much harder for me to accept this kind of help from you than from the others?"

"Because you do not know me so well; I am not so near to you," she said.

"You do not, you cannot believe that," he hastily interposed. "To me you seem far nearer to me, and therefore it humiliates me all the more to – "

"Where are you?" Magelone's voice called from a side-path at this moment.

"Here!" called Johanna, who hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry for the interruption.

"Oh, dear! I had so much to say," whispered Otto, as he took Johanna's hand and pressed it to his lips. "One word more while we are alone, – would you like to have me stay here a few days?"

"Most certainly. Did I not tell you so?" Johanna replied, vainly endeavouring to withdraw her hand from his.

"And your letter was not the expression of your displeasure with me?" he went on, still in a whisper, as he leaned towards her; but, before she could answer, Magelone's light gown appeared from among the trees.

"Beg pardon if I intrude," she said, in a tone which was meant to be teasing, but which only succeeded in sounding cross.

"Not at all," Otto replied, divining her jealous emotion. "Come take part in our consultation; we were discussing the question of my either remaining here for a few days or returning directly to my garrison."

Magelone joined them. "Return directly? 'Nonsense!' as grandpapa would say, and as I say too. It is your duty, my noble knight, to stay here and entertain us and coax Aunt Thekla out of her melancholy mood. Not in vain have you called me your sovereign. I command, – you obey. Come now to Aunt Thekla on the veranda; it is intolerably sultry here under the trees."

So saying, she put her hand within Otto's arm and drew him away.

"Are you coming, Johanna?" he said, holding out his hand to her.

"In a moment; I only want to pluck a few roses," she made reply. But she stood motionless for a while, looking after the pair as they vanished in the dim depths of the linden avenue. Yes, she was leading him away, his sovereign, who, as he had confessed on that January evening, had ruled him by coquetry, and who would still so rule him, for the love which he had summoned to his rescue did not appear to have discovered the magic word that could break the spell. Or was it that he himself had not meant to summon it? What would he have said had Magelone not made her appearance? Idle questions upon which it were folly to ponder. Johanna walked towards the castle. Magelone was right; it was intolerably sultry beneath these trees, the air was heavy with the fragrance of the lindens. She wished she could have Elinor saddled and gallop off through the dewy meadows in the valley, or along the edge of the forest, but she dreaded Aunt Thekla's amazement, Magelone's ridicule, and Otto's companionship, so she gave up the idea.

The next morning early Otto took the jewels to town to procure a loan of Löbel Wolf, but returned in high displeasure by the next train. The old broker and curiosity-dealer would not loan money on the jewels unless with the permission of the Freiherr or his sister. When the young man had asked him angrily whether his own name were not enough to give as security, Löbel Wolf had declared that he wanted no security, he was but acting in accordance with his rule as a business-man. All that he would consent to do was to give Otto a written acknowledgment to be signed by Fräulein Thekla. At first the old lady looked grave, and made objections, since the jewels were not hers but Johanna's, but when the latter entreated her not to complicate matters by refusing to sign the paper, she complied, and Otto went back to town by the noon train.

There was no further difficulty. Otto received the necessary sum with his ticket of deposit, and returned to Dönninghausen, in spite of a tremendous thunder-storm, light of heart, and in entire unconsciousness that a far more terrible tempest was gathering above his head.

Löbel Wolf, so soon as the young man left him, betook himself to the examination of the parure. In his little office behind his shop, stuffed from floor to ceiling with all sorts of curiosities, he sat at his desk, and held the jewels beneath the light of the gas-jet perpetually burning there. They were clumsily set, but he was enough of a connoisseur to see plainly what they would be if set by an artist, and the wish was aroused in the soul of the old man, whose hobby was precious stones, to become the possessor of these.

But would the Freiherr sell them? The Dönninghausens were among the richest of the neighbouring nobility. Löbel Wolf wagged his gray head: a period of embarrassment might come for even the wealthiest, and it seemed more and more probable to Löbel Wolf that it had come for the Dönninghausens. One of the Freiherr's grandsons was making an expensive tour, another was marrying more rank than money, and the third was involved in debt and dissipation. Resolving to propose to the Freiherr the purchase of the parure so soon as he should return from Vienna, Löbel Wolf locked up the seductive stones in his safe.

But the spell of their sparkle, under which he had fallen, left him no rest, and even before Otto had reached Dönninghausen Löbel Wolf had decided to write to the Freiherr in Vienna.

For Otto, life and the world had taken on a new aspect since he had received the money which was to be his salvation. Aunt Thekla, when she handed him the jewels, had obtained from him a promise that he would confess the whole affair to his grandfather as soon as he possibly could.

"It will be an evil hour for us," she said, "but it would be worse still if my brother should discover the absence of the jewels before we had made our confession. If your plan of procuring the money from the bailiff had been practicable, you would have had to speak with your grandfather without delay."

Otto had assented, and had promised to await at Dönninghausen his grandfather's return, but as he rode back he changed his mind. He reflected that it would be cruel to trouble his grandfather with anything so disagreeable immediately upon his return home, and that it would be far easier for the old Herr, as well as for all concerned, if Aunt Thekla or Johanna would select some favourable moment for the confession and tell him all, and that it would be very desirable for the chief culprit to avoid the first outbreak of displeasure. He therefore determined to take his departure at an early date; it would not be impossible to convince Aunt Thekla of the advisability of this. Thus everything was arranged delightfully, and he could enjoy himself to the full during the rest of his stay at Dönninghausen.

The thunder-shower changed to a steady rain, which made walks or rides in the open air impossible for a time.

"'Tis a pity; we were just going to have such a pleasant day in the woods, instead of which we must drive to Klausenburg," Magelone said, the first morning. "For Otto's sake," she added in an undertone; and Aunt Thekla, who would rather have stayed at home, consented to go, since 'the poor boy must have some amusement.'

The one visit brought on others. At Klausenburg they received an invitation to Remmingen; at Remmingen a breakfast was arranged at Grünroda; on the fourth day there was the celebration of the Countess Elfrida's birthday at Klausenburg, and on the fifth all were to assemble at Dönninghausen for a dance.

"To celebrate Waldemar's marriage. I assure you grandpapa would be delighted," said Magelone, when Aunt Thekla looked rather dubious, and again the old lady gave way.

The Freiherr had written only once, on the day after his arrival in Vienna. The journey had been made very comfortably, he was very well, and expressed himself pleased with Waldemar's betrothed as well as with the entire Walburg family. The time of his return was undecided. The young couple were to leave for St. Petersburg immediately after the marriage, but he might pass a few days with his new connections, and would announce the day of his return in his next.

Until this letter arrived, then, Otto decided to remain in Dönninghausen, and Magelone to amuse herself as much as possible. So upon the evening of the 18th of June the castle windows shone brilliantly through the rain, a merry party assembled in the rooms, which were decked with flowers, and the dancing soon began to the sound of the piano played by the village school-master. Magelone, in airy, floating white, with white roses in her gold-gleaming curls, was, as Otto never wearied of whispering to her, the queen of the evening; and even Aunt Thekla, who had felt strangely depressed all day long, was aroused from her melancholy as she watched the pretty creature, with her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, flying through the ball-room.

Otto, too, was, or seemed to be, the gayest of the gay this evening. Aunt Thekla could not tell whether to blame or to admire him. Once as he passed Johanna, who, being still in mourning, did not dance, he said, "I would rather have one quiet hour with you than all this bustle;" but was this more than a cousinly expression? and which was his true self, – the laughing, careless creature which he seemed usually, or the grave, quiet man who talked so seriously to her when they were alone together? He was just passing now with the Countess Elfrida. He must have been especially charming, for she tapped him upon the arm with her fan, after her own hail-fellow-well-met style, and laughed so loudly that the hall re-echoed.

The sight was distasteful to Johanna; she withdrew to the nearest window-recess, leaned her burning forehead against the pane, and looked out into the dripping rain. A carriage drove into the court-yard; had not the guests all arrived yet? She recognized the Thalrode hack, and when the servant, wrapped in a water-proof, who was sitting beside the driver, looked up, she thought she recognized him, and her heart seemed to stand still.

"It is not possible," she thought. At that instant Leo rushed out of the house, barking loudly, leaped down the steps, and had nearly thrown himself under the wheels of the coach. The door was opened, and Johanna saw that she had not been mistaken. The Freiherr, assisted by Christian, got out of it.

How she contrived to leave the ball-room she could not tell. She first collected her wits when she heard her grandfather's voice on the stairs, and she hurried to meet him.

"Here is Johanna," he said, coldly. At his departure he had embraced her; now he only held out his hand, which she kissed, not knowing what to say.

"I come at an inconvenient time. You have a party, – a dance, I hear. Go, go; don't let me interrupt it," he growled. "Stop!" he added, as she was retreating timidly; "I do not wish you to proclaim my arrival with that ghastly face. It shall not be said that the return of the master of the house scared away the guests from Dönninghausen. You may tell my sister that I am here, but no one else, and I will not see even Thekla until the fiddling is over; then I wish to speak to you all. All, – do you hear? – to Monsieur Otto especially." With these words he passed on, accompanied by Leo, who went on barking, whining, and wagging his tail in a rapture of welcome.

Johanna stood dismayed. From the tone in which the Freiherr spoke, she saw only too clearly that he knew all. The many sounds from the ball-room pained her, and when she returned to it she seemed to be surrounded by the confused images of a dream. She withdrew more persistently than before into corners and window-recesses, and avoided Aunt Thekla. In spite of the commission she had received, she could not make up her mind to mention to her her brother's return. She feared lest the old lady should be unable to conceal her agitation.

Nevertheless, the intelligence was not long suppressed. Perhaps some one of the guests had seen the Freiherr arrive, or one of the servants in spite of his prohibition had mentioned it. Groups were shortly seen whispering together here and there, Countess Klausenburg gave the signal for departure unusually early, and half an hour afterward the last carriage drove out of the court-yard.

When Magelone and Otto, who had been taking leave of the guests, came up the stairs chatting gayly, they were confronted by Aunt Thekla and Johanna.

"Do you not know," the old lady asked, "that your grandfather is here?"

"The deuce he is! Then I'm off!" cried Otto.

"It would be just like you!" the Freiherr called out in tones of thunder from the threshold of the drawing-room door, where his tall figure appeared at this moment. "Falsehood and cowardice belong together. But come in; I wish to speak with you all." With these words he stood aside and let them pass him into the drawing-room, which he then entered, closing the door after him.

Aunt Thekla collected herself by a mighty effort. "Dear Johann!" she stammered, "I am delighted to see you here again."

"Delighted? You look so," he growled in reply. "But never mind: the present is no time for sentiment. Sit down and listen to what I have to say."

The ladies obeyed. Otto stood leaning against the chimney-piece. The Freiherr paced the room heavily to and fro. After a pause he said, —

"First, Thekla, let me say that it seems to me rather unbecoming to give entertainments in my house while I am away. No discussion, I entreat!" he added, waving his hand forbiddingly. "I know it was not your idea. Magelone, silly child that she is, probably arranged the nonsense. But we old people are here to be a check upon the young ones. Instead of which you aid and abet – not Magelone alone – " He broke off, as was his custom when he dreaded his own violence, then took a letter from his pocket with a trembling hand and threw it into his sister's lap. "There, read that," he said, with difficulty commanding his voice. "Löbel Wolf offers to buy the jewels you have pawned. It has come to this with the Dönninghausens; you have brought it to this! And you, Johanna," – his tone grew louder and sharper, – "you have proved to me that you do not possess a spark of filial piety. Family jewels like your grandmother's bridal parure are not to be thrown away for the sake of such a scoundrel."

Otto started forward. "Sir," he cried, "pray control yourself. I am an officer – "

"You have been an officer," the Freiherr corrected him. "To-morrow morning you will hand in your resignation. The man who forfeits his word as you have done can no longer wear the king's uniform; or do you dare deny that you have been gambling again?"

Otto had grown pale. He seemed to wish to speak, but only breathed heavily and hung his head.

Aunt Thekla felt impelled to interfere. "Dear Johann, I entreat you – " she began in a trembling voice.

The Freiherr interrupted her. "Hush, Thekla; you understand nothing about it," he said, harshly.

But she was not to be intimidated. "What will become of the poor boy?" she asked, softly.

"You are right, – the poor boy!" the Freiherr exclaimed, with a scornful laugh. "It is strange that such fellows can always wheedle you women. But make yourself easy, the 'poor boy' will be treated better than he deserves. He is my grandson, unfortunately; is a Dönninghausen, – I cannot turn him out into the streets. I will at least give him one more trial. He shall return to agriculture, – I ought to have insisted upon it after the war. If he does well, I will, perhaps, give him one of my estates to farm; if not – " The Freiherr made a backward wave of his hand as a finish to his sentence, and then went on pacing to and fro, while no one ventured to speak.

The minutes passed: the ticking of the tall clock had a weird sound in the stillness; at last the Freiherr stood still. "Let the disgraceful affair be disposed of as decently as possible," he said. "It must be announced that Otto leaves the army of his own free choice. To-morrow morning at eight the fine fellow must come to my room for further orders. As for the jewels, of course they must be redeemed and restored to Johanna, but they must be given to me to keep for her until you have all acquired some sense."

After these words the old Herr strode angrily from the room. Aunt Thekla, whose bedroom was just underneath her brother's, heard him pacing to and fro in it until dawn.

CHAPTER XV
A BIRTHDAY FÊTE

Otto obeyed his grandfather's commands, handed in his resignation, and was shortly established as a volunteer assistant in the administration of Count Klausenburg's model estates, a step which naturally gave rise to the most contradictory reports. According to some, Otto had run in debt again, and the Freiherr had now 'taken him in hand;' others stated from a trustworthy source that the young man had broken away from all his associations on account of an unfortunate love-affair; others, again, had heard that quarrels with his comrades had caused him to leave his regiment. His fellow-officers were convinced that he never would 'stick to agriculture,' but would soon return to the army; and the youthful fair bewailed his resignation, declaring that he was not half so handsome in civilian's dress.

Elfrida Klausenburg, the shining light of the family, put by all these reports and explanations with a meaning smile. The dress of an heir was even more becoming than a uniform, she declared, and it seemed to her only just and fitting that in view of Johann Leopold's continued ill health the Freiherr should contemplate the possibility of another grandson's proving his heir, and that he should wish to educate this grandson in a way to enable him to administer such extensive estates with judgment and skill.

Countess Elfrida repeated this so often and so decidedly, old Count Klausenburg smiled so diplomatically when he declared that he knew really nothing of Otto's circumstances and prospects, and Otto was so continually at Dönninghausen, that all reports to his disadvantage gradually died away, and he came to be looked upon more and more as the future heir. It did no good for him to contradict this view of the matter whenever it was brought to his knowledge. The Dönninghausens had always been rather reserved with regard to their family arrangements, and out of consideration for Johann Leopold they were of course especially inclined to secrecy in the present case. That Otto never ceased to pay this consideration to his cousin, even in intercourse with his most intimate friends, spoke well for his delicacy, his prudence, and his trustworthiness. It was remarkable how many excellent qualities, hitherto concealed in him, now came to light.

Otto knew that the many attentions which he received were paid, for the most part, to the future heir; but he was rather vain than proud, and vanity delights in the homage paid to appearances. So he allowed himself to be borne along in contemptuous ease upon the current of universal favour without asking whither, and helped Elfrida Klausenburg to build castles in the air, the rule of which she was resolved, in spite of all rivals, to share with him.

The most dangerous of these rivals seemed to her to be Magelone. "It is disgraceful the way she flirts with Otto Dönninghausen," the young lady said to her sisters; "but I hope he is too clever to allow himself to be caught. Any one can see that it is the heir she is after."

Amelie, whose years forbade her joining in this contest, replied with some asperity, "The same thing might just as well be said of others who until now never seemed to think much of the young man." And Helena, who had for some time played the part of a man-hater, declared, sharply, that for her part she thought it doubtful whether Magelone were flirting with Otto or he with her. Elfrida replied to her sisters' remarks only by an indifferent shrug. She was sure that Otto had fallen a victim to her flaxen hair and blue eyes, and knew from his own lips that he only rode over to Dönninghausen to please his grandfather.

It was true that these visits formed part of the programme laid down by the Freiherr, but if Otto had not found them agreeable he would soon have devised a way to curtail them. His intercourse with his family had proved pleasant beyond his anticipations. His grandfather, immediately after meals, – during which, it is true, he paid less attention to Otto than formerly, – retired to his study, where Johanna read aloud to him; and then Aunt Thekla would try, by redoubled kindness, to indemnify the 'poor boy' for the old Herr's coldness, and Magelone was so enchanted to have the monotony of her days relieved by her cousin's visits, that her coquetry wore at times the disguise of sincere affection. Even the diminution of his intercourse with Johanna, caused by the Freiherr's claims upon her time, was rather a relief than a disappointment to the young man, for, although she never had referred to the help she had been so ready to give him, he could not but feel a sense of obligation and embarrassment when with her. Nevertheless, at times she exercised the old influence upon him, and then if he could speak with her alone, which was rarely the case, he would complain that they saw so little of each other, accusing her of intentionally avoiding him, and assuring her that only the prospect of her society had induced him to comply with his grandfather's arrangements.

"You influence me for the best; you arouse and bring to the surface all that there is in me worth anything. With you I am cleverer, stronger, better than at any other time," he said, and he was really sincere so long as he could gaze into her eyes. But when she had left him he seemed to breathe more freely, and Magelone's graceful folly appeared to him more graceful than ever.

Thus the last half of August was reached, and his birthday drew near. The morning before, Aunt Thekla had summoned up all her courage and reminded her brother of it. "As to-morrow is Saturday, he will come to dinner as usual," she added, "and I wanted to ask you, dear Johann, if you would not like to have a few friends invited. No party, only from eight to ten people, perhaps – "

"What for?" the Freiherr burst out, and she lowered her eyes before his, which flashed angrily. "Not, I hope, to celebrate that fellow's birthday. He will be thirty years old, and he conducts himself like a boy of twenty."

Aunt Thekla took courage again. "Dear Johann, there is more joy over one sinner that repenteth – "

"Repenteth?" the Freiherr again interrupted her. "There's no question of that here. Monsieur accommodates himself to circumstances for the present, but he is ready for a fresh escapade at any moment. No, Thekla, there's no occasion for slaughtering the fatted calf. If you wish to bake the boy a cake, I've no objection; I'll put the customary bit of money underneath it and wish him joy decently; but no further festivities, I beg."

It was impossible to transgress these orders; and although Aunt Thekla took care that the cake and its customary wreath were provided, and even increased the Freiherr's 'bit of money' to the extent that her resources would permit, and although Magelone and Johanna presented their gifts duly, Otto felt the depression which weighed upon the family generally, and it did not need the Freiherr's homily, in which he was reminded that now he was thirty years of age and must put away boyish follies, to put him thoroughly out of humour.

The crosser he felt, however, the more he resolved not to show it. In defiance of the old Herr, who, he said to himself, was always doing his best to crush out all independent thought and action, he persisted, undeterred by Aunt Thekla's warning glances, in provoking conversation at the dinner-table, and, failing in this attempt, he proposed as soon as the meal was over, in direct opposition to the custom of the family, to take coffee under the three oaks in the forest, – a spot dedicated by all the gentry in the country round to parties of pleasure in the open air.

The Freiherr, who had just reached the door of the dining-hall, paused. "Well, child, you are not going to absent yourself from the party?" he said, looking over his shoulder at Johanna, who was following him. "I will do without you to-day."

She cast one longing glance towards the group at the window, and then looked into her grandfather's gloomy face. "Thank you," she made reply, stepping up to his side; "I would rather stay at home with you."

The next moment the door closed behind them. Otto bit his lip impatiently, Magelone laughed derisively. "Oh, this Johanna!" she exclaimed, irritated by Otto's evident vexation, "how clever she is! She has added in a twinkling another ray to the saintly halo around her brow."

"But, my child," Aunt Thekla interposed, reproachfully, "you cannot mean – Johanna is really so good, – so simple, – so modest."

"There is just where she shows her art, my dear aunt, in preventing almost every one from observing the pains she takes to make herself of importance," Magelone rejoined. "A simple creature like myself would have said, 'Thanks, my dear Otto; it is rather too warm for your scheme.' But she sacrifices herself for grandpapa, – stays in a cool room entirely for his sake."

"You are unjust," Otto said, with unusual emphasis.

"And you are partial," Magelone declared. "But wait; your eyes will be opened. At present it would be pleasant to close them," she added, changing her tone, "in this intolerable heat." And, fluttering her fan diligently, she followed Aunt Thekla into the drawing-room, where the old lady took her accustomed seat in the corner of the sofa for a short nap, and her niece seated herself near her in a rocking-chair, and from beneath her drooping eyelids watched Otto, who had withdrawn to the centre window in an ill humour and was turning over the leaves of a periodical.

Magelone's fan fluttered faster. How strange that Otto should not avail himself of this rare opportunity for an undisturbed tête-à-tête! Had he been really provoked by her attack upon Johanna? If this were the case, he must be duly punished. A minute or two passed in impatient expectation, and then, when Aunt Thekla's regular breathing betrayed her unconsciousness, Magelone called, in an undertone, "Otto!" He looked up, and she signed with her fan towards an ottoman near her.

He obeyed, drew the ottoman close beside her, put both hands upon the arm of the rocking-chair, and looked into Magelone's mocking, glimmering eyes.

"Well?" she asked, after a short pause.

"Well?" he repeated. "I thought you had something to say to me."

"Yes, all sorts of things," she replied, and leaned back her head without ceasing to look at him. "First of all, I want to know why you are so cross on your birthday?"

"Cross?" he repeated, bitterly. "Have I not cause to be seriously out of humour? Thirty years old, and what am I? – what do I possess? Not even a prospect! But it is no easy matter to put one's self in another's place. You settle the affair by calling a man cross when he is sad, then shrug your shoulders and let him go. Ill humour deserves neither sympathy nor consolation."

Magelone's laugh sounded forced: the serious turn the conversation was taking was not at all to her mind. "Oh, we are positive monsters," she said, mockingly. "Nevertheless, it is not worth while to call black white. Honour bright, fair sir; did not your ill humour come on first when Johanna refused to go to the woods with us?"

And as she spoke the elfish eyes gleamed strangely into his own. Scorn, anger, jealousy, flickered and danced in their depths. He could not resist the spell they wove around him to-day, and, adopting Magelone's tone, he replied, "Honour bright, fair lady; I was greatly depressed when I came here, and have been so for a long time."