CHAPTER X.
A KNIGHT ERRANT
It was difficult to hunt up Pranken, for he had lost himself when he left Villa Eden. No man ever walked with a firmer and a prouder step, while at the same time he was inwardly crushed, than Pranken. It was something more than external assumption, it was an habitual assurance that sustained him.
Pranken would have taken it hard if Manna had rejected him in order to become a nun. But to reject him on account of preference for another, reject him, – Otto von Pranken! – He was touched to the quick. Otto von Pranken had been refused; and he was very deeply in love. Can Otto von Pranken offer love, and not have it reciprocated? If the girl had taken the veil, and renounced the world, she would have renounced him with the rest, for he was a part of the world; but to be refused in this way, and dismissed on account of another man! – . Otto von Pranken loves, and his suit is not accepted!
"Unprecedented!" He ground his teeth with rage. He never thought of what he had been guilty of in his life: he only felt his dignity insulted, his pride mortified, and his love scorned; for he loved Manna, and wanted to be united to her, and naturally, also, to her money; then he would be all right, and indulge his passion for handsome horses.
What should now become of him? For the first time in his life, Pranken felt a pity for himself: it seemed to him that he was misunderstood, misappreciated virtue, but, more than all, as if nobleness of bearing had been insulted, and fidelity rewarded with ingratitude. How great sacrifices he had made for this family! And now? It appeared to him as if there were a black funeral-procession passing along in his thoughts: you cannot crowd through it, you must wait until it has all gone by.
He rode away as if he had been thrust out of the world. Where shall he turn? To whom shall he complain?
Is Otto von Pranken to complain to a man, to appear in a helpless condition before any one?
He laughed outright as he now called to mind that he had contracted large debts, in anticipation of the millions which would certainly be his. What next?
Involuntarily he turned round once more, and looked back at Villa Eden.
There was only a single line needed, only a brief interview: yes, he had but to ride back, and represent this to Sonnenkamp, in order to come away with hundreds of thousands. But no, it must not be done.
"Fie!" said he to himself, "how could you ever have such a thought as that?"
He rode on, and came to the country-house of Herr von Endlich. There was a young widow here: should he now go in? He knew that his proposal would not be rejected here. No, not yet. But he reined in and dismounted. He asked after the gracious lady, and was told that she was travelling in Italy with her brother.
Sneering contemptuously at himself, he again mounted his horse.
He would tell Bella and Clodwig, – no, not even that. He had not taken them into his counsel: in opposition to the rest of the world, he had connected himself with Sonnenkamp, and was he now to be pitied by Clodwig, and stuffed with wise saws?
He turned his horse, and, riding up along the river, he came to Villa Eden again, and the horse wanted to turn in at the gate; but with whip and spur he urged him on.
He rode to the Priest's, and sent for Fräulein Perini, who came.
First he asked her if she wished to remain any longer in the family.
Fräulein Perini, looking him full in the face, declared that she hoped she had not mistaken him in supposing that he would not abandon every thing to the Huguenots. She asserted that she was the daughter of a man who had fallen in a duel caused by a less provocation.
The Priest here said, —
"My noble young friend! Not that, no, not that: what does it signify, this petty duel in a corner of the wood, and you killing one man even, according to the code of honor? You sons of the nobility must wage, under the banner of the Pope, the great contest with the revolution. Also for your own sake. On that field will be fought the great duel between faith and irreligion, between eternal law and frivolous self-deification, and the victory is yours."
Pranken smiled to himself; but he did not express how odd it seemed to him, when the Priest went on to state, that, before it was known how Sonnenkamp's money had been acquired, they might have applied a part of it to holy ends; but now it could not be done.
Pranken looked at the Priest, and smiled. Did not the Priest know the origin of the money before this?
He had it on his lips to say, "It is very amiable and prudent in you now, when nothing can be got, to act as if you had declined it." But it was not necessary; and why should he imbitter against him the only parties who remained his friends? Yes, he was here still an honored personage, not the solitary, abandoned one, who rode outside there on the road, up and down, not knowing which way to turn. He would now be prudent, he would play with men. He said he had separated from Sonnenkamp, because the latter would not give up to him, and devote a large sum for a pious purpose. He had the right to say this, he thought, for he had desired that it should be done. This was what he would now maintain; Manna's refusal was by this means put out of sight, and his obstinate adherence to Sonnenkamp had in it a sort of religious consecration.
The Priest reminded Pranken that to-day was the time for the church conference, and he was expected to be there.
Pranken took leave.
Fräulein Perini returned to the Villa, wearing a proud smile. Odd people, these Germans! She would at any rate stay until she had got enough for herself; she did not want to leave empty-handed.
Pranken rode off. He passed the villa which had belonged to the Cabinetsrath. Ah! they were prudent, they had secured their part of the booty before the decision. Why were you so simple, so considerate, and so trustful?
He put up his horse at the station, and rode in the cars to the city where the Bishop lived. He was expected there; but how was he to present himself to the company? He came, luckily, just as the meeting had broken up. He was received with marked consideration at the palace of the Bishop; and he was glad to feel that there was still honor for him in the world: and here he came to a hurried resolve.
Here, also, Bella's messenger overtook him.
He set out, and reached Wolfsgarten. The first person he met was the Banker, who told him, with great emotion, that Clodwig was very ill. Pranken looked haughtily at the man; but he had good breeding enough to address him civilly.
He came to Bella. After she had told him of Clodwig's illness, she lauded Pranken as the only true freeman in remaining true to Sonnenkamp.
Pranken pressed his lips together, but made no reply. It was not the time now to make known what had happened, and the conclusion he had formed. And, when Bella asked him why he seemed so disturbed, he could give no answer.
"Why were you not at the trial? Have you come from Villa Eden? How are they there?" asked Bella.
"I don't know," Pranken finally replied.
Yes, how are they at Villa Eden!
CHAPTER XI.
SMOKE AND DESOLATION AT THE VILLA
Sonnenkamp sat alone. He seemed to hear in his solitude a crackling, a low, almost inaudible gnawing, like a tongue of flame lapping the beams and joists, devouring more and more, and increasing as it devoured its prey. Such a low crackling, and such a lapping, he believed that he heard in his solitude.
He was mistaken, and yet he was well aware that there was a spark kindled, and it was burning noiselessly; it ran along the floor of the room, it reached the walls; the chairs, the closets, the books, are all on fire; the painted faces on the canvas are grotesquely distorted, and blaze up; and the flames spread on and on, creeping through all the apartments, enveloping at last the roof and the whole house, and flaring up into the sky.
Suppose that one should burn it all up, and every thing in it? No, there is another, a better means of deliverance, an energetic deed, a splendid, grand – here came a knock. It must be Bella coming to explain why she was not there when he returned from the trial to the seed-room. He opened the door quickly, and Weidmann, not Bella, entered.
"Have you any thing to ask me in private?" asked Sonnenkamp angrily.
"I have only a favor to beg of you."
"A favor? you?"
"Yes. Give me your son" —
"My son?" cried Sonnenkamp in astonishment.
"Will you be so good as to let me finish my sentence. Let your son come into my family for days, weeks, months, as long as you please; only let it be long enough for him to get a new hold in a different sphere. He needs an energetic and free activity. When your son passed a short time with me before this thing happened, I perceived with satisfaction that he had very little personal vanity with all his beauty. He takes pleasure in looking at others rather than at himself. This would be of help; and I would like to aid him still further. As your son will not become a soldier, perhaps it will be well for him to be instructed in husbandry."
"Is this a plan which you have agreed upon with Herr Dournay?"
"Yes, it is his wish; and it seems to me a very good plan."
"Indeed?" said Sonnenkamp. "Perhaps Roland has already been informed of this wish, and of how well it suits?"
"I cannot blame you for this bitter feeling, I can very well understand it; for it is no trifling matter to be placed in a situation where others undertake to dispose of us and ours."
"I thank you, I thank you very kindly.'"
"If you decline, then no one knows any thing about it, except Herr Dournay and myself."
"Have I said that I was going to decline? You will yet receive one proof how much confidence I place in you: I have made you one of my executors."
"I am much older than you." Sonnenkamp made no reply to this remark, and Weidmann continued, —
"What conclusion have you come to about my request concerning your son?"
"If he will go with you, he has my consent. Allow me one question. Is this the expiation you would exact of me, or a part of it?"
Weidmann said it was not.
The carriage in which the Professorin, Roland, and Manna returned, now entered the court-yard. Weidmann welcomed the Professorin very cordially, having known her a long time ago. He saw now for the first time, as a matron, the once blooming beauty. The three brought from Mattenheim a fresh strength for all that lay before them.
As they were sitting together in the green cottage, a messenger on horseback came from Clodwig to summon Eric to his side.
Weidmann now renewed the proposal for Roland to go with him to Mattenheim. Roland was advised by them all to go. Declaring that he needed no inducement, he readily assented, and drove away with Weidmann, Prince Valerian, and Knopf. He was protected and sheltered by such a number of good men.
Mattenheim was situated on the other bank of the Rhine; and, while the carriage was being ferried across, Roland stood at the stern of the boat, and gazed in silence for a long time at the parental home. Tears came into his eyes; but he restrained them.
A tornado swept through the park, eddying around the house; and the fires just kindled in it were extinguished. The many fire-places were of no avail, the whole house was full of smoke; and a whirling gust of wind seemed to tear all the inmates of Villa Eden away from each other. Roland was gone, Pranken was seen there no more, Manna lived with the Professorin in the green cottage, and Eric had ridden away. Only Sonnenkamp and Frau Ceres were there. Fräulein Perini came, and informed Sonnenkamp that his wife desired to speak with him instantly: she was in a state wholly beyond her control.
Sonnenkamp hurried to Frau Ceres' apartment; but she was not there. The maid said that as soon as Fräulein Perini had left the room, she had hurried through the house into the park. They went after her immediately, calling her by name. They found her, at last, sitting on the river bank, in the midst of the storm, splendidly dressed, with a coronet on her head, thick rows of pearls on her bare neck, heavy bracelets on her arms, and a girdle of glittering emeralds around her waist. She looked at Sonnenkamp with a strange smile, and then said, —
"You have given me rich and beautiful ornaments."
She seemed to grow taller: she threw back her black hair.
"Look, here is the dagger! I wanted to kill myself with it; but I hurl it away from me."
The hilt of precious stones and pearls sparkled through the air, plunged into the water, and sank.
"What are you doing? What does this mean?"
"Come back with me!" she cried, "or, look, I will throw myself into the river, and take with me these ornaments, the half of your riches."
"You are a deluded child," said Sonnenkamp contemptuously. "You think, do you, that these are genuine stones? I have never given into your keeping, you simple child, any but imitation jewels: the genuine ones, in a like setting and case, I have fast enough in my own possession, in the burglar-proof safe."
"So! You are shrewd," replied Frau Ceres.
"And you, my wild child, you are not crazy."
"No, I am not, if I'm not made so. I shall remain with you, and never leave you for a single instant. Oh! I know you – Oh! I know you, you will forsake me."
Sonnenkamp shuddered.
What does this mean? How does it come to pass that this simple-minded creature has called out his slumbering thoughts, and brought them up from the depths of his soul? He addressed the kindest words to Frau Ceres, and, bringing her back to the house, kissed her. She became quieter; but the determination was fixed in him to become free. There was only one thing to be won, and then away into the wide, wide world! But first of all, he must go to the capital, and shoot down Professor Crutius. He struggled and wrestled with the thought, and at last he was obliged to give it up. But the other thing must be. In confirmation of this hidden impression of his soul, there came a messenger from Eric, with the tidings that he could not leave Wolfsgarten, for Count Clodwig was at the point of death.
CHAPTER XII.
A TRYING INTERVIEW
Eric rode to Wolfsgarten. He met on the way the Major and Fräulein Milch, who were walking close together under one large umbrella.
Eric told them that Clodwig was dangerously sick, and the Major said, —
"Don't let him have any other nurse. Fräulein Milch will come and take care of him. Herr Captain, one ought to be sick for once, so as to have Fräulein Milch nurse him."
Fräulein Milch declared herself ready to come to Clodwig, if she were called upon.
Eric rode on, and now sought to put in a right point of view all that he had experienced, so that he might gain the strength necessary to bear up under coming events. How much had happened to him and to others since he rode out from Wolfsgarten to Villa Eden? Every thing passed through his soul, and he breathed deep in silent satisfaction as he thought what would have been his condition now, if he had not exerted all his strength to bring himself into right relations with Bella. How different would it be, were he riding now with a soul torn by conflicting feelings, unable to help wishing for Clodwig's death in order that he might get possession of Bella, and obliged to stand like the most abject hypocrite by the bedside of the dying one. No poet yet has ventured to depict the mental state of two people who expect to base their happiness on the news of another's death; and these, no criminals but cultivated, and intelligent.
Eric looked upon himself as one rescued from destruction. Never was a man possessed by more pious emotions than Eric was now, as, stopping, he said to himself, —
"I thank thee, thou Eternal and Ineffable Spirit; for it is not I who have, through my education and inherited tendencies, become what I am. I am now pure; I will not be unworthy of it, but keep myself pure and innocent."
Wanting to get rid, finally, of his thoughts and speculations, he spoke to the messenger, an old confidential servant of the Wolfsgarten family. The messenger related how Clodwig had come home from Villa Eden in company with the Banker, and how they had thought he would have died at that time.
The servant turned round, and, pointing with his whip to Villa Eden, said, "There's no queerer state of things anywhere than in this world." In the midst of his deep distress, Eric could not help laughing aloud at this odd remark.
"Is any one of the relatives at Wolfsgarten?"
"No: the Jew is the only one there. But he is a friend of our master."
Eric regretted that he had entered into conversation with the servant, for he could not restrain him from talking about what he thought would be done, if the gracious master should die.
At the last hill, Eric dismounted, and walked over the wooded height. It was all still. The hornbeam tree, which first leaves out, was now the first to let fall its yellow leaves: there was a rustling and a low crackling in the wood, and only the hawk screeched above on the height.
Eric came in front of the manor-house, and entered the courtyard. He went to Bella, who looked pale and as if suffering severely. He entered just at the moment that Bella was asking her brother of the news at Villa Eden.
Eric was startled to meet Pranken here. Both had to use the strongest self-control in order to stand up under the interview.
Bella thanked Eric for being the first one to come to her.
"He is now asleep," said she: "he talks constantly of you. Be composed: you will hardly know him; give in to him in every thing, he is very excitable."
Bella's voice was hoarse; and, covering her eyes with a white handkerchief, she asked, —
"Were you present when your father died?"
Eric said that he was.
Bella went to inform Clodwig of Eric's arrival. Pranken and Eric were by themselves. For a long time neither spoke: at last, Pranken began, —
"I never thought that I should speak again to Herr Dournay; but we are now at a sick-bed, and for the sake of the invalid" —
"I thank you."
"I beg you to give me no thanks, and to speak to me just as little as possible, – just enough to excite no remark and nothing more."
He turned round and was about to go.
"Just one word," Eric requested. "We shall soon see an eye closed in death that has always beamed with gentle and noble feeling; let all bitterness toward me disappear, or, for a time, be suspended. Let us not, at such an hour as this, stand in hostility to each other."
"You can talk well: I know that."
"And I want to say what it is well for you to listen to. It troubles me that I appear to you ungrateful; but now, in this mysterious presence which awaits us all, I repeat" —
Bella returned and said, —
"He is still asleep. O Herr Dournay! Clodwig loves you more than he loves any other person in the world."
She gave Eric her hand, and it was cold as ice. The three were speechless for some time, until Eric asked, —
"Is there no hope?"
"No. The Doctor says that he has probably only a few hours to live. Do you hear any thing? The Doctor has promised to come, – to return immediately. Oh, if I could only induce Clodwig to call in another physician! Do urge him to do it: I have no confidence in Doctor Richard."
Eric made no reply.
"Ah, my God!" lamented Bella, "how forsaken we are in our need. You will remain with us, will you not? You will not abandon us?"
Eric promised to remain.
It had a strange sound, a reminiscence out of the past, with its forms of courtesy, as Bella now asked pardon for not having inquired after Eric's mother, Frau Ceres, and Manna; and, with a peculiar jerking out of the words, she asked, —
"How is Herr Sonnenkamp?"
A servant came, and announced that the Herr Count had waked up, and had asked immediately, if Herr Captain Dournay had not yet come.
"Go to him," said Bella, laying her hand upon Eric's shoulder. "Go to him, I beg you; but let it come as if from you, and not from me, that another physician should be called in."
Eric went; and, as soon as he had gone, "Bella said hurriedly to Pranken, —
"Otto, get rid of the Jew as politely as you can. What does he want here?"
Pranken went to the Banker.
Bella was alone, and could not control her feeling of unrest. She had already arranged in thought the announcement of the decease, and had even written the words, —
"To relatives and friends I make the painful announcement, that my beloved husband, Count von Wolfsgarten of Wolfsgarten, formerly ambassador of his royal Highness at Rome, Knight of the first rank, has died after a short illness, at the age of sixty-five. I beg their silent sympathy.
"BELLA COUNTESS VON WOLFSGARTEN (née, Von Pranken)."
A demon continually whispered to her this announcement: she saw it before her eyes with a black border, even while Clodwig was still living. Why is this? What suggests these words, and brings them so clearly before her eyes? She could not get away from them. She took up the sheet of paper, tore it up, and threw the pieces out of the window into the rain.