Kitabı oku: «Vineta, the Phantom City», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ASSESSOR'S WOOING

It was mid-winter. Thick snows enveloped field and forest, icy fetters stayed the rejoicing flow of brook and river, and chill blasts swept over the frozen, desolate earth.

Another storm had broken loose and was raging more fiercely than the warring elements of nature. Over the border the long dreaded insurrection had at length begun. All Poland was in commotion, and many provinces were in open revolt. All was quiet as yet on the Prussian frontier, and bade fair to remain so, although many Polish families lived on this side the border, and many Germans of Polish lineage had gone to swell the ranks of the insurrectionists.

Villica suffered most. Its position rendered it one of the most important advance-posts of the whole province, and for four years it had been the seat of Polish plots and intrigues. Its great extent rendered it impossible to guard the whole estate fully; and although Waldemar had taken a decided stand in favor of his father's country, it was difficult for him to circumvent and thwart the secret plans of his mother, who was resolved to give all the aid and comfort in her power to her own people. The princess kept her word. Believing herself rightfully entitled to Villica, she did not leave it, and from her present influence Waldemar saw what it had meant to give her that sole control of the estates which she had enjoyed so long. He was now bitterly atoning for his former neglect and indifference.

His castle was no longer the theatre of party machinations, but the estate was mostly in the hands of Poles who had been systematically organized by the princess and were working in her interest. The young landlord found himself betrayed and sold on his own soil. He was nominal master, while his mother was the real mistress. Although she did not openly assume control, her subordinates were well trained, and executed her orders rather than Waldemar's. All Villica stood in secret but determined opposition to its master. He was the victim of intrigues and subterfuges; everything was done to evade his commands and thwart his plans, but he could never discover the culprits, or bring them to punishment. None refused obedience to his face, but he knew that disobedience was the watchword all over his estates. If he enforced submission in one place, resistance raised its head in ten other places; if he triumphed one day, new obstacles confronted him on the next. If he should begin to dismiss his subordinates, all must go, for all were alike at fault. Besides, unless open proofs could be brought against his employés, his contracts with them were binding, and even could he have been rid of them, he would find none to supply their places. Any act of violence at the present crisis might prove fatal.

The young landlord was thus forced into a position exceedingly difficult for a nature like his, because it required patient and quiet endurance. His mother had taken this into account in forming her plans; she thought that Waldemar must soon grow weary of the contest in which they were about to engage. He must surely learn that he could do nothing when all Villica sided with her and opposed him, and he would in his impatience and vexation resign the reins he had so violently wrested from her.

Patience had never been a prominent virtue in Waldemar Nordeck's character, but his mother was again deceived in him. He showed that he had inherited her own indomitable will and energy; no obstacles, no opposition could move him, he was forever on the alert, he was resolved to take the control of everything into his own hands. This course of action made him many enemies. He had been hated merely as a German, he was now hated for his own sake. His servants ere long began to fear him, and fear compelled their obedience.

The relations between Waldemar and his mother grew more and more intolerable, but they maintained a show of outward politeness. Neither questioned nor upbraided the other, and so it was possible for them to remain together in the castle without revealing the mutual rancor and bitterness that filled their hearts. Waldemar became more reserved than ever; he met his mother only at meals, and then not every day, for she passed a great deal of time at Radowicz with her niece. Wanda kept her word, she never came to Villica, and Waldemar in like manner avoided Radowicz.

More than three months had passed since the departure of Count Morynski and his nephew. It was generally known that they were both involved in the insurrection, the count being one of its leaders, while Leo held an important command under his uncle. In spite of distance and all other obstacles, each held unbroken intercourse with the princess and Wanda. Both ladies had reliable and accurate information of all that occurred, and messages constantly passed to and fro.

At the hour of noon, on a cold, blustering day, Assessor Hubert and Doctor Fabian were coming from the village where they had chanced to meet. The assessor wore several wrappings, his recent painful experience having taught him to beware of taking cold. The doctor also was well protected from the severe climate which did not seem to agree with him; he was pale, and evidently ill at ease. Hubert, on the contrary, wore a most satisfied expression; the state of affairs along the border brought him often to Villica, and he now designed remaining for several days in the neighborhood. He had quartered himself, as usual, at the superintendent's, and this fact was no doubt one reason for his exuberant spirits.

"There is a grandeur, an absolute grandeur in Herr Nordeck's character," he said, in his pompous, official tone. "We of the government well know how to appreciate it. This accursed Villica would long since have given the signal for revolt if its master had not stood firm as a rock against insurrection. All L– admires him and respects him."

Doctor Fabian sighed. "I wish he deserved that admiration less; it is counterbalanced by the hatred he has to confront here. Every time he rides out alone I tremble, for he can never be persuaded to use the slightest precaution."

"Your fears are well grounded," replied the assessor, gravely; "Nordeck's employés here in Villica are capable of any crime, even of firing a shot from some ambush. I think that his only protection thus far has lain in the fact that he is the son of the Princess Zulieski, but who knows how much longer this may be a safeguard against that national fanaticism which is now at its height? What a life they must be leading in the castle just now! It is strange that the princess remains there. Terrible scenes occur between the mother and son, I suppose. Tell me all about them."

"I would not like to gossip about family affairs."

"O, I can use discretion," said Hubert, curious to find out something he could relate in L–, where the young landlord and his mother were a frequent topic of conversation. "You have no idea what prodigious stories are being told in the city. It is said that young Nordeck broke up a band of conspirators who had been wont to assemble in the cellars of the castle, with Count Morynski and Prince Leo at their head; that as the princess was about to interfere, her son placed a pistol at her breast, and then she cursed him, and both of them–"

"How absurd!" interrupted the doctor. "I give you my word that not a syllable of all this gossip is true. None of these violent scenes ever took place between Waldemar and his mother. They are not that kind of people; they are very polite to each other."

"Are they really?" asked the assessor, doubtfully. He was very reluctant to give up that story of the pistol, and the maternal curse; it was far more telling and dramatic than Doctor Fabian's unadorned statement. "But conspirators were in the castle," he said, "two hundred of them, and the young landlord put them to flight. O, if I had only been there! Unfortunately I was over at Janowo where I made no discoveries. How could Fräulein Frank, who is usually so shrewd, be deceived in such a matter?"

The doctor was silent. The mention of Janowo embarrassed and confused him. Fortunately for him, they at this moment reached the spot where their ways parted; Fabian bade his companion good day, and the assessor proceeded to the superintendent's house.

Meantime a serious interview had taken place between the superintendent and his daughter. Gretchen had at last assumed a decidedly warlike attitude; she stood before her father with her arms folded, her blonde head thrown back; she even stamped violently to give due emphasis to her words.

"I tell you, papa, I don't like the assessor, and even if he should sigh around me for another six months, and you should encourage him ever so much, I could never be compelled to say yes."

"My child, no one wishes to compel you. You very well know that you can do just as you like, but the matter must be finally settled. If you are determined to persist in your refusal, you must not give Hubert any more encouragement."

"I don't give him the least encouragement," replied Gretchen, almost crying with vexation. "I treat him just as hatefully as I know how, but it is of no use. Ever since I nursed him so faithfully through that cold, he persists in thinking I am in love with him. If I should refuse him to-day, he would smile, and say, 'You don't mean it, Fräulein Frank; you love me, you know you do!' and he would be here again to-morrow."

Herr Frank took his daughter's hand, and drew her close to his side. "Gretchen, now be serious," he said, "and tell me what you really have against the assessor. He is young, rather good-looking, and possessed of some property; he can give you a very good social position. I admit that he has his peculiarities, but a woman of the right sort can make something of him. His highest recommendation is his unbounded love for you. What has changed you so toward him? You did not at first look upon him with such unfavorable eyes."

This question embarrassed Gretchen somewhat. She did not answer it immediately. At length she said,–

"I do not love him; I do not want him; I will not marry him!"

This positive declaration disarmed the father; he answered, with a shrug,–

"Well, do just as you like. I shall tell the assessor the plain truth before he leaves us. I shall, however, wait until the moment of his departure; perhaps your reason may return to you by that time."

"I shall never be of any different opinion," the young girl said, indifferently; then seating herself at her sewing-table, she took up a book and began to read.

The superintendent paced impatiently up and down the room; at length he paused before his daughter.

"What thick volume is that I see constantly in your hands? Is it a grammar, and are you studying French so very diligently?"

"No, papa; grammar is a very tiresome study to me. At present I am studying the 'History of Ancient Germany.'"

"Studying what?" asked the superintendent, scarcely believing his ears.

"The History of Ancient Germany," repeated Gretchen, emphatically. "It is an excellent work, full of the profoundest learning. Would you like to read it? Here is the first volume."

"Don't bother me with your Ancient Germany!" exclaimed the superintendent. "I have all I can do with ancient Slavonia. How do you come by such learned rubbish? Doctor Fabian must have lent you the book; but that is not according to agreement: he promised to teach you French, and instead of doing so, he brings you musty old books out of his library, not a word of which you understand."

"I understand every word," retorted the young girl, angrily. "And this is not a musty old book; it is an entirely new work, and Doctor Fabian himself wrote it. It is creating a great sensation in the literary world, and two of our greatest scholars, Professors Weber and Schwarz, are having a controversy about the book and its author. You will very soon see that he has become a greater man than either of them."

"Schwarz?" said the superintendent, thoughtfully. "That must be our assessor's celebrated uncle at the university of J–. Doctor Fabian may consider himself fortunate if his books attract even the hostile attention of so renowned a man."

"Professor Schwarz knows nothing at all," declared Gretchen, with the infallibility of an academic judge. "He will disgrace himself as much by his criticism of Fabian's book, as the assessor did by his attempted arrest of our young landlord. You might know they were uncle and nephew–for they are both fools!"

A new light appeared to dawn upon the superintendent; he gazed searchingly at his daughter. "You seem perfectly well informed in these university matters," he said; "you must enjoy the unlimited confidence of Doctor Fabian."

"And so I do," replied Gretchen, proudly; "but it has cost me great effort to win his confidence. In spite of his great talents, Doctor Fabian is the most modest and reticent of men. I had to question him a great deal before I found all this out, and it was a long time before he would lend me his book; but I became angry at last, and sulked and pouted, so that he did not dare refuse me any longer."

"My daughter," said the superintendent, gravely, "I fear the assessor made a stupid blunder in advising you to take French lessons of this learned doctor. That quiet, pale-faced tutor, with his soft voice and timid manners, has really bewitched you, and is the sole cause of the shameful treatment poor Hubert receives at your hands. Are you sure you are not acting foolishly? Doctor Fabian is nothing but an ex-tutor, who lives with his old pupil and draws a pension from him. He may write learned works for recreation, but they will bring him little money; they will certainly insure him no certain income. It is fortunate that he is too timid and too sensible to base any hopes upon your predilection for him; I think it best, however, for the French lessons to end, and I shall arrange this in a way that will wound no one's feelings. When you, who scarce have patience to read a novel, study the 'History of Ancient Germany,' and grow enthusiastic over such dry stuff merely because the doctor wrote it, I can but have my suspicions."

Gretchen was highly displeased at her father's words, and was about to utter a vehement protest, when the superintendent was called from the room. Assessor Hubert could not have come at a more inopportune moment, but the evil star which had always controlled this young man's wooing, now guided him into the presence of his beloved. He was, as usual, all politeness and attention, but Gretchen's ill-humor was so marked that he could not refrain from alluding to it.

"You appear out of sorts, Fräulein Margaret," he began, after several ineffectual attempts to enter into conversation. "May I inquire the cause?"

"I am vexed that the most talented people should be the most timid, and show so little self-confidence."

The assessor's face lighted up at these words. 'Talented people--timidity--no self-confidence!' Ah, yes! One day he had drawn back when in the very act of kneeling, and to this day he had not ventured upon a formal proposal. In truth, the young lady herself was to blame for it all, but still she was vexed because he had so little self-confidence. He must redeem himself without delay; no hint could be plainer or more direct.

Gretchen saw at once the effect of her thoughtless words which Hubert had naturally applied to himself. She made haste to conceal her "History of Ancient Germany," as Doctor Fabian had charged her not to mention it to the nephew of his literary rival. As the assessor's glance rested upon her, she said, sharply, "You need not follow me around with a detective's eye, sir; I am engaged in no conspiracy, and I don't want to be watched so narrowly."

"My dear young lady," replied the assessor, in a dignified and yet an injured tone,–for he was conscious of having given only tender glances to the mistress of his heart,–"you reproach me unjustly; I gave you no such glance, and you are inclined to deride my zeal in the performance of official duty, when you should consider it my greatest merit. The security and welfare of the nation rest upon us public servants; thousands have to thank us that they can lie down in peace at night; without us–"

"If you had been our only safeguard, we here in Villica might have been murdered long ago," interrupted Gretchen; "Herr Nordeck is a more powerful protection than the whole police force of L–."

"Herr Nordeck seems just now to be the object of universal admiration," remarked the assessor in an irritated tone; "I see that you, too, are infatuated with him."

"Yes, very much so; with him and no other!" exclaimed Gretchen, throwing a mischievous glance at the assessor; but he only smiled.

"No momentary infatuation would content me," he said. "I hope for quite another feeling in the one soul which is akin to mine."

Gretchen saw that she had gained nothing by this harsh treatment of her admirer. Hubert was evidently on the point of making a direct proposal, but the young girl was determined not to hear it. She did not want to refuse him; she preferred delegating that unpleasant duty to her father. She therefore asked the first question that occurred to her.

"You have not for a long time told me anything about your renowned uncle, Professor Schwarz. What is he doing now?"

The assessor saw from this question that his future wife felt a deep interest in his relatives, and it gave him intense satisfaction.

"My poor uncle has suffered great vexation of late," he replied. "A rival party has sprung up against him at the university (what great man does not suffer from the envy and jealousy of others?) Professor Weber stands at its head. This gentleman literally hankers after popularity; the students are blindly infatuated with him, everybody speaks of his amiability, and my uncle, who disdains such artifices and never caters to public opinion, encounters ill-will on every side. The rival party have brought forward an obscure individual solely to annoy him, and are trying to compare his book on Ancient Germany with my uncle's works."

"Is it possible?" observed Gretchen.

"Yes, with my uncle's works!" repeated the assessor, indignantly. "I know neither the name nor the antecedents of this insignificant rival; my uncle does not enter into details in his letters, but the affair has so enraged him, and his controversy with Professor Weber has reached such a height, that he thinks of tendering his resignation. Of course, this is a mere threat, the resignation would not be accepted; the university would meet with an irreparable loss if he should leave it, but he thinks it necessary to intimidate his opponents."

"I hope they are duly intimidated," said Gretchen in such an indignant tone that the assessor started back; but the next moment he approached nearer, and said,–

"It affords me great pleasure to see you take so deep an interest in the welfare of my uncle. He is already interested in you; I have often written to him of the house and the family where I have found such a friendly welcome, and it would delight him to hear that I had formed a–"

Again he was on the way to a proposal. Gretchen sprang up despairingly, rushed to the open piano, and began to play. She under-estimated the perseverance of her suitor, for the next moment he stood at her side, listening attentively.

"Ah, the Longing Waltz! My favorite piece! Yes, yes; music, far better than words, expresses the longings of the heart–is that not so, dear Margaret?"

Gretchen saw that everything conspired against her to-day. This happened to be the only piece she could play without notes, and she could not venture to rise and fetch her music, for the assessor's manner plainly indicated that he was only awaiting a pause in the playing to give utterance to the emotions of his heart. She therefore rattled off the Longing Waltz with all her might, and to the time of a military march. The discord was horrible, a string snapped, but the tumult was loud enough to thwart any attempt at a declaration of love.

"Is fortissimo proper in a sentimental piece like this?" interposed the assessor at the top of his voice. "I think it should be played in pianissimo."

"I prefer to play it in fortissimo," retorted Gretchen, thumping still more forcibly at the keys. A second string broke.

The assessor grew nervous. "You will ruin this splendid instrument," he said, in his loudest key.

"There are plenty of piano-tuners in the world," cried Gretchen; "I want to help one of them;" and seeing the assessor's discomfiture, she banged at the keys with all her might, and coolly sacrificed a third string. This proved effectual. Hubert saw that speech would be impossible to him to-day, and he beat a retreat, vexed at the girl's coquetry, but still with unshaken confidence in himself and in the final success of his suit. This wilful young lady had nursed him so tenderly when threatened with that lung-fever, and only an hour ago she had called him talented, and reproached him for his lack of self-confidence! Her obstinacy was indeed incomprehensible, but she loved him in spite of all.

When he was gone, Margaret rose and closed the piano. "Three strings are broken," she said, regretfully, and yet with an air of great satisfaction; "but I have kept him from proposing, and papa can arrange matters so that he never will." She then seated herself at her work-table, took from one of its drawers the "History of Ancient Germany," and was soon absorbed in its contents.