Under a Charm. Vol. II

"It is splendid, sir," he was saying in his solemn official tones; "I tell you, Herr Nordeck's present conduct is splendid. We Government men best know how to appreciate it. The President is of opinion that this cursed Wilicza would long ago have set the example of revolt here, if its master had not stood like a wall and a rampart, holding it back. He has the admiration of all L–, the more so that no one ever expected he would one day show himself in these colours."

Dr. Fabian sighed. "I wished he deserved your admiration somewhat less. It is precisely the energy he shows which draws down more hatred on him day by day. I tremble each time Waldemar rides out alone, and there is no persuading him to take even the simplest precautions."

"True," said the Assessor, gravely. "The people here at Wilicza are capable of anything, even of lying in ambush to get a shot at their enemy unawares. I believe the only thing which has protected Herr Nordeck hitherto has been the fact that, in spite of everything, he is the Princess Baratowska's son; but who knows how long, with their national fanaticism, they will respect even such a consideration as that! What a life it must be for you all up at the Castle! No one can make out why the Princess remains. It is well known that she is heart and soul with the Polish cause. There must have been some terrible scenes between her and her son, eh?"

"Excuse me, Herr Assessor, these are family affairs," replied Fabian, evading the question.

"I understand your discretion," said Hubert, who was burning with curiosity to learn something that he could relate on his return to L–, where people busied themselves now more than ever with the owner of Wilicza and his mother; "but you have no idea what terrible stories are going the round of the town. They say that, at that time when Herr Nordeck declared himself so decidedly for us, he had come upon and dispersed a meeting of conspirators, who held their conferences in the underground vaults of his Castle under the presidency of Count Morynski and the young Prince Baratowski. When the Princess would have interfered, her son, they say, placed a pistol at her breast; she flung her curse at him, and then they both …"

"How can people in L– believe such nonsense!" cried the Doctor, indignantly. "I give you my word that no such outrageous scene has ever taken place between Waldemar and his mother–it would be contrary to their natures; no, far from that, they are on very–very polite terms."

"Really?" asked the Assessor, incredulously. He was evidently reluctant to give up the tale of the pistol and the curse–it suited his romantic fancy far better than this tame explanation. "But the conspiracy did exist," he added, "and Herr Nordeck did put the traitors to flight–he alone against two hundred! Ah, if I had only been there! I was over at Janowo, where I unfortunately failed to make any discovery. Fräulein Margaret is generally so clever, I cannot think how she could have been so mistaken–for we know now that the secret stores of arms were hidden at Wilicza, though Herr Nordeck can never be brought to admit it."

The Doctor was silent, and looked greatly embarrassed. The mention of Janowo always flurried him. Fortunately, they had now reached the spot where the road to the Castle branched off. Fabian took leave of his companion, and the latter pursued his way alone to the manor-farm.

Meanwhile an interview was there being held between the steward and his daughter, which at one time threatened to take a stormy turn. Gretchen, at any rate, had assumed a most warlike attitude. She stood before her father with her arms folded, her head with its fair crown of plaits defiantly thrown back, and as she spoke, she even stamped her little foot on the ground, in order to give more emphasis to her words.

"I tell you, papa, I don't like the Assessor, and if he chooses to come languishing about me six months longer, and you speak up for him ever so much, I'll not be forced into saying Yes."

"But, child, nobody wants to force you," said her father, soothingly. "You know that you are quite free to do as you like; but the matter must be spoken of and settled at last, one way or the other. If you persist in saying no, you must not encourage Hubert any further."

"I do not encourage him!" cried Gretchen, almost crying with vexation. "On the contrary, I treat him abominably; but it is all of no use. Ever since that unlucky time when I nursed him for his cold, he has been firmly persuaded that I return his affection. If I were to refuse him to-day, he would smile and reply, 'You are mistaken, Fräulein; you do love me,' and he would be at me again tomorrow."

Frank took his daughter's hand, and drew her nearer to him. "Gretchen, be a good girl, and tell me what it is you object to in the Assessor. He is young, tolerably good-looking, not without means, and he can offer you a social position which has considerable advantages. I admit that he has some absurd little eccentricities; but a sensible wife would soon make something of him. The main point is that he is head over ears in love with you, and you did not look on him with such unfavourable eyes at first. What has set you so against him just of late?"

Gretchen made no answer to this question, it seemed to embarrass her a little; but she soon recovered herself.

"I don't love him," she declared with great decision. "I don't want him, and I won't have him."

In face of this categorical refusal, her father had no resource but to shrug his shoulders and turn away–which he did.

"Well, as you like," he said, a little annoyed. "Then I will tell the Assessor the plain truth before he leaves us. I will wait until he is going away; perhaps you will think better of it by that time."

The young lady looked most disdainful at such inconsistency being ascribed to her. The thought that she had just destroyed all the Assessor's chances of earthly happiness did not appear to disturb her equanimity in the least; she sat down calmly to her work-table, took up a book, and began to read.

The steward paced up and down the room, still with a shade of annoyance on his face; at last he stopped before his daughter.

"What is that great thick volume which I see now constantly in your hands? A grammar, I suppose. Are you studying French so zealously?"

"No, papa," replied Gretchen. "Grammars are a great deal too tiresome for me to take one in hand so often. I am studying"–she laid her hand solemnly on the book–"I am at present studying the 'History of Teutonism.'"

"The history of what?" asked the steward, who could not believe his ears.

"'The History of Teutonism,'" repeated his daughter, with infinite self-complacency. "A book of rare merit, of the most profound erudition. Would you like to read it? Here is the first volume."

"Don't bother me with your Teutonism," cried Frank. "I have enough to do with Slavs and Slavism; but how did you get hold of this learned stuff? Through Dr. Fabian, no doubt. This is all quite against the agreement. He promised to give you some practice in French; instead of that he brings you old rubbish out of his library, of which you don't understand a single word."

"I understand it all," said the girl, much offended, "and it is no old rubbish, but quite a new book which Dr. Fabian has written himself. It has made a wonderful sensation in the literary world, and two of our greatest scientific men, Professor Weber and Professor Schwarz, are at daggers drawn about it and about the new celebrity just rising into fame, that is, the Doctor; but you'll see, papa, he will be greater than both of them put together."

"Schwarz?" said the steward, reflectively. "That is our Assessor's famous uncle at the University of J–. Well, Dr. Fabian may think himself lucky if such an authority condescends to take notice of his book."

"Professor Schwarz knows nothing about it," declared Gretchen, to her father's amazement, delivering her verdict with the assurance of an academical judge. "He will get himself into a scrape with his criticism of Dr. Fabian's book, just as the Assessor did with his attempt to arrest Herr Nordeck. Naturally enough–they are uncle and nephew–it is the way of the family!"

The steward began to take a more serious view of the matter in question. He looked at his daughter attentively.

"You are as well versed as any student in these university stories. You appear to enjoy Dr. Fabian's unlimited confidence."

"So I do," assented Gretchen; "but you have no idea what a deal of trouble it cost me to bring him to it. He is so shy and reserved, although he is such a remarkably clever man. I have had to worm it all out of him, word by word. He would not hear of giving me his book at first; but I grew angry, and I should like to see him refuse me anything when I look cross at him!"

"I tell you what, child, the Assessor did a very stupid thing when he brought about these French lessons," broke out Frank. "This quiet, pale Doctor, with his soft voice and timid ways, has fairly bewitched you, and he is the sole cause of the ill-treatment you bestow on poor Hubert. You are not going to be foolish, I hope. The Doctor is nothing but an ex-tutor who lives on with his former pupil, and receives a pension from him. If he writes learned works the while, it may be an amusement for him; but such an occupation brings in no money to speak of, certainly not an assured income. Fortunately, he is too shy, and too sensible, I trust, to build any hopes on your fancy for him; but I consider it better that the French studies should be put a stop to at once. I will try and manage it without giving offence. If you, who have hardly patience to read through a novel, are now studying the 'History of Teutonism,' and growing enthusiastic over it merely because Dr. Fabian is the author, the matter looks to me serious."

His daughter tossed her head impatiently at this paternal reprimand, and was about to put forward an emphatic protest, when the inspector came in with a message. Frank left the room with him, and Fräulein Margaret remained behind in a very ill-humour. Assessor Hubert could have chosen no worse time to make his appearance; but, as usual, his unlucky star brought him in now at the wrong moment. He was, as ever, attention and affability itself; but the object of his wishes proved to be in so ungracious a frame of mind that he could not refrain from noticing it.

"You seem out of humour, Fräulein Margaret," he began after several vain attempts to engage her in conversation. "May one know the reason?"

"It makes me wild to think that it is just the cleverest men who are shy and have no self-confidence," exclaimed Gretchen, whose thoughts were far away.

The Assessor's face brightened at these words. "Cleverest men–shy–no self-confidence." True, he had paused that day when about to fall on his knees before her, and up to the present time had not succeeded in making the declaration which was expected from him. No doubt, the young lady herself was chiefly to blame for the delay; yet she was evidently vexed that he should show so little self-confidence. This must be repaired without loss of time. No hint could have been plainer.

Gretchen had hardly spoken when she saw what she had done with her imprudent words, which Hubert naturally applied to himself. She put her 'History of Teutonism' speedily away in safety from him, for the Doctor had made her promise not to betray him to the nephew of his literary foe, and resolved on repairing her hasty error by behaving as rudely as possible.

"You need not keep looking at me with the eye of a detective, Herr Assessor," said she. "I am not a conspirator, and conspiracies are the only things in the world which interest you."

"Fräulein," replied the Assessor, with dignity, and also with a touch of wounded feeling, for he was conscious that his glance had not been keen as that of a detective, but languishing rather as a lover's, "you reproach me with my zeal in the discharge of my duties, while I myself am inclined to make a merit of that very quality. On us officials rests the whole responsibility for the order and security of the State. To us thousands owe it that they can lay down their heads in peace; without us …"

"Oh, if our safety depended upon you, we should all have been murdered long ago here at Wilicza," interrupted the girl. "It is lucky we have Herr Nordeck to look after us. He is better able to keep order than the whole police department of L–."

"Herr Nordeck appears to enjoy an extraordinary amount of admiration everywhere now," remarked Hubert, in a tone of pique. "You share in it too?"

"Oh, certainly, I share in it," assented Gretchen. "I am extremely sorry to tell you that my admiration is given to Herr Nordeck, and to no other."

She cast a look of most pointed meaning at the Assessor, but he only smiled.

"Ah, that other would never lay claim to so cold and distant a sentiment as admiration," he protested. "He hopes to awaken far different emotions in a kindred soul."

Gretchen saw that rudeness availed her nothing. Hubert was steering steadily, perseveringly, straight ahead towards a declaration. The girl, however, had no wish to listen to him; it was disagreeable to her to have to say No, so she struck in with the first question which came into her mind.

"You have not told me anything of your famous uncle in J– for a long time. What is he about now?"

The Assessor, who saw in this question a proof of her interest in his family affairs, entered promptly into the subject.

"My poor uncle has had much vexation and worry of late," he replied. "There exists at the University a party of opposition–what truly great man has not his enemies?–at the head of which stands Professor Weber. This gentleman lays himself out to gain popularity, and the students entertain a blind predilection for him. Every one vaunts his amiable character, and my uncle, who disdains such artifices and cares nothing for public opinion, meets with enmity and ill-will on every side. Just now the opposition party, for no other purpose than to spite him, are crying up some obscure person who has just published his first work; they have even the audacity to declare that this novice's book is superior to Schwarz's writings on Teutonism."

"Impossible!" said Gretchen. "Superior to my uncle's writings," repeated the Assessor, with generous indignation. "I do not know the author's name, nor the circumstances of the case–my uncle is not fond of going into details in his letters–but the matter has vexed him to such a degree, and his dispute with Professor Weber has assumed such proportions, that he has thought fit to tender his resignation. It is, of course, nothing but a menace; they would never let him go–the University would suffer far too great a loss by his withdrawal–but he considers it necessary to put some pressure on the personages in question."

"I wish it Would take effect," said Gretchen, with such a wrathful expression that Hubert drew back a step in his surprise, only to advance two the next minute, however.

"It makes me very happy to see you take such an interest in my uncle's welfare. He, too, is already most kindly disposed towards you. I have often mentioned in my letters the family at whose house I find so hospitable a welcome, and he would be delighted to hear that I was to be connected …"

He had got so far on the road again, when the girl jumped up in desperation, ran to the open piano, and began to play; but she undervalued her suitor's persistency. Next moment he was at her side, listening to her.

"Ah, the 'Longings of the Heart' waltzes, my favourite piece. Yes, music is the language which best renders the feelings of the soul; is it not so, Fräulein Margaret?"

Fräulein Margaret thought that to-day everything had conspired together against her. This was, as it happened, the only piece she knew by heart, and she dared not get up and run to fetch her notes, for the Assessor's looks plainly said that he was only waiting for a pause in her performance to give vent to the feelings of his soul in words. So the 'Longings of the Heart' waltzes raged over the piano to the time of a galop. The noise was fearful, and a string broke; but no matter, such a din must drown any love declaration.

"Ought this to be fortissimo, do you think?" Hubert ventured to remark. "I always fancied the piece should be played in a soft, melting piano."

"I play it fortissimo," declared Gretchen, and banged on the notes so violently that the second string broke.

The Assessor was growing rather nervous. "You will spoil this beautiful instrument," said he, making himself heard with difficulty.

"What are pianos in the world for?" cried Gretchen; and, seeing that the musical uproar was disagreeable to the Assessor, she raised it to an almost incredible pitch, and deliberately sacrificed a third string. At last her strategy succeeded. Hubert saw that he would not be allowed to speak to-day, and beat a retreat, a little annoyed, but with unshaken confidence. The young lady had nursed him with such touching care when he was ill with his cold, and to-day she had spoken of him as a remarkably clever man, and had reproached him with lacking self-confidence. True, her waywardness defied all calculation; but she loved him nevertheless.

When he had gone, Gretchen stood up and shut the piano. "Three strings broken!" said she, dolefully, but yet with a certain satisfaction; "never mind, I have managed once more to keep him from making his offer. Now papa may settle the rest." With that she sat down at her work-table once more, brought out her book, and plunged anew into the 'History of Teutonism!'