Under a Charm. Vol. III
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"To me?" repeated the Doctor, sadly. "No, there you are mistaken. I have ever sought and found all my pleasure in study, and I looked upon it as a special favour from Providence when, in the pupil who at one time stood so coldly aloof from me, a true and faithful friend grew up. That which is called earthly happiness–a home, a family–I have never known, and am not likely now to learn. At this moment, when such undreamt-of success has come to me, it would be sheer presumption to covet that also. I can well afford to be satisfied with that which has fallen to my lot."
In spite of his resignation, the words sounded sorrowful enough; but his young listener was apparently not moved to pity. Her lip curled disdainfully.
"You are of a singular nature, Doctor. I should be in despair if I had to take so gloomy a view of life, to renounce all its bright side."
The Doctor smiled sadly. "All, with you it is very different. One who is young and attractive as you are, who has grown up in free and happy circumstances, has a right to expect–to demand all good things from life. May they be granted you in fullest measure! It is my earnest, my heartfelt wish; but, indeed, there can be no doubt of it. Assessor Hubert loves you."
"What has Assessor Hubert to do with my happiness?" flashed out Gretchen. "You alluded to this once before. What do you mean by it?"
Fabian was seized with dire confusion.
"I beg you to forgive me, if I have been indiscreet," he stammered. "I know that the circumstance is not made generally known at present; but the deep, the sincere interest I take in you must be my excuse, if I …"
"If you what?" cried the girl, vehemently. "I do believe you seriously take me to be engaged to that stupid, tiresome Hubert, who talks of nothing the whole day long, but of conspiracies, and of his future grand Counsellorship."
"But, Fräulein," said Fabian, in utmost perplexity, "the Assessor himself told me last autumn that he had good grounds for his hopes, and that he could reckon with all confidence on your consent."
Gretchen sprang up with a bound which sent her chair flying backwards.
"There, it is out at last! But it is your fault, Doctor Fabian, your fault entirely. Don't look at me with that astonished, frightened face. It was you who misguided me into sending the Assessor to Janowo, where he caught his cold. For fear of his falling ill in earnest, I took charge of the patient myself. Ever since that time the fixed idea has rooted itself in his mind that I am in love with him, and when once he gets a fixed idea there is no curing him of it. You can see that by the nonsense he is always talking about plots."
She was almost crying with vexation; but the Doctor's face grew absolutely radiant at sight of this unfeigned indignation.
"You do not love the Assessor?" he asked. "You do not intend to bestow your hand on him?"
"I will bestow a lesson on him such as he never had before, and send him about his business," the young lady replied energetically, and would have launched out into strong and injurious speech against poor Hubert, had she not just then met the Doctor's gaze. At this she turned crimson and was dumb.
A rather long pause ensued. Fabian was evidently striving to fortify himself in some resolution from which his timidity shrank abashed. Several times he tried to speak, but in vain. His eyes, however, told his tale so plainly that Gretchen could be in no doubt as to what was impending. On this occasion it did not occur to her to beat a retreat, or to fly to the piano and perform on it until the strings snapped, as she had been pleased to do when the Assessor had attempted to give vent to his feelings. She sat down again, and waited for what was coming.
After a while the Doctor drew nearer, but shyly still, and with an anxious face.
"Fräulein," he began, "I did indeed believe–that is, I supposed–the Assessor's strong attachment …"
Here he came to a stop, remembering that it was highly unpractical to talk of the Assessor's strong attachment when it was rather of his own that he wished to speak. Gretchen saw that he was getting hopelessly involved–that it would be necessary for her to come to his assistance, if he were to be extricated from the labyrinth. She merely cast one glance at her timorous suitor; but if his eyes had been explicit previously, it was evident that hers were no less eloquent. The Doctor took courage all at once, and went on with astounding courage.
"The mistake has made me very unhappy. Yesterday I should not have dared to confess it to you, though the trouble has weighed cruelly on my heart. How could I, who was altogether dependent on Waldemar's generosity, dare to approach you with any such words? But this morning has brought about a change. The future which is now offered for my acceptance has in it prosperity enough to enable me, at least, to speak of my feelings without presumption. Fräulein Margaret, you reproached me just now with my too pliant nature, with my tendency to give up weakly, without a struggle. If you knew how renunciation has ever been my lot, you would take back your words. I have gone through life lonely and uncared for. My youth was dreary and joyless. I had to impose upon myself the greatest privations in order to continue my studies, and I gained nothing by them but a weary dependence on other people's caprices, or on their good feeling. Believe me, it is hard, after the most earnest endeavours, with elevated aims and a glowing enthusiasm for science at one's heart, to have to instruct boys day by day in the very rudiments of learning, to descend to the level of their intelligence; and this I had to do long, very long–until Waldemar enabled me to live for study alone, and so opened to me the career which now offers itself. It is true that I meant to make the sacrifice of it. I would have concealed my nomination from him; but at that time I looked on you as the betrothed of another man. Now"–he had taken possession of the girl's hand; shyness and embarrassment were things of the past; now that the floodgates were fairly opened the words came freely enough from his lips–"the future seems to promise me much. Whether it has happiness in store for me as well is for you alone to decide. Say, shall I accept or refuse, Margaret?"
He had now reached the point at which the Assessor had chosen to make his great dramatic pause, preparatory to falling on his knees, but had missed his effect, in consequence of the object of his adoration taking flight at the critical moment. The Doctor did not attempt to kneel; he even skilfully avoided that fatal pause, saying what he had to say without hesitation or difficulty, while Gretchen sat before him with downcast eyes, listening with infinite satisfaction; so that in a very short time the offer was made, accepted, and even ratified by an embrace, all going smoothly as a marriage bell.
Herr Assessor Hubert came downstairs. Having brought to an end his long and minute examination of the coachman, which had left both him and his victim in a state of semi-exhaustion, he determined to seek relaxation from the strain of his official duties by giving free play to the tenderer emotions of his heart. Poor Hubert! He had said that it was his fate always to arrive too late. As yet, however, he little dreamed how thoroughly his words would that day be verified. His departure had been fixed for that afternoon; but, before leaving, he had made up his mind to come to some clear understanding on the subject of his suit. He would not set out on his journey without obtaining a definite and favourable answer. In the glow of this valiant resolve he opened the door of the anteroom so energetically, and with so much noise, that the lovers in the adjoining parlour had time to settle themselves in a perfectly innocent and unsuspicious attitude. Gretchen was discovered sitting quietly at the window, while the Doctor stood near her, close to the piano, which, to the newcomer's great relief, was closed to-day.
Hubert nodded condescendingly to Fabian. There was always something patronising in his manner towards the Doctor, who, in his eyes, was only an old tutor possessed of no importance but such as he borrowed from his connection with Wilicza. To-day, with this business of his love-making on hand, the man was actually in his way, and he gave himself no trouble to hide it.
"I am sorry to disturb you. Practising French, I suppose?"
The tone was so nonchalant, so exactly that which he would have used to a paid teacher, that even the Doctor's good-humour was not proof against it. He had never hitherto found courage to show displeasure at the behaviour Hubert had thought proper to adopt towards him, but to-day it wounded him severely in his new dignity of an accepted lover. He drew himself up, and said with an assured bearing which aroused in Gretchen the liveliest satisfaction–
"No, you are wrong. We were practising a very different science."
The Assessor remarked nothing unusual; he was busy thinking how he could most speedily get rid of this troublesome person.
"Ah, historical, no doubt!" said he, maliciously. "That is your hobby, I think. Unfortunately it is hardly one suited to the taste of young ladies. You will weary Fräulein Margaret, Doctor Fabian."
The Doctor was about to answer, but Gretchen forestalled him. She considered it was high time to put a damper on the Assessor, and set herself to the task with infinite enjoyment.
"You will have to give the Doctor another title soon," said she, with great emphasis. "He is on the point of accepting a professorship at J–, which has been offered him on account of his extraordinary literary and scientific merit."
"What–what?" cried the Assessor, startled, but with an expression of extreme incredulity. He could not believe in this sudden transformation of the neglected Fabian into a University Professor.
The latter's good humour had regained the upper hand already, and the thought of the double mortification which he must of necessity inflict on the nephew of his rival and the unsuccessful suitor of his betrothed, revived anew all his conscientious scruples.
"Herr Hubert," he began, supposing that gentleman to be already acquainted with the recent events at the University– which was far from being the case–"it is very painful to me to think that your uncle should misjudge me, as would, unfortunately, appear to be the case. No one can more sincerely appreciate and recognise his worth than I do. Be assured that I had not the smallest share in the controversy which my 'History of Teutonism' provoked. Professor Schwarz seems to think that I stirred up the dispute from interested motives, and purposely envenomed it."
A light, a terrible light, began to dawn on the Assessor. He did not know the name of that obscure individual whom the opposite party had glorified, by attempting to place his work on a level with, nay above, Schwarz's writings; but he knew that the book in question was a 'History of Teutonism,' and Fabian's words left no room for doubt that the author of that book, the intriguer, the criminal aggressor, who had disturbed the peace of the family celebrity, now stood before him in person. He would have given vent to his astonishment, to his indignation in words; but Gretchen, who already felt it incumbent on her to represent the future Professor's wife, interfered again.
"Yes, Professor Schwarz might be led to fancy so, particularly as Dr. Fabian is nominated to succeed him in his chair at the University of J–. You know, of course, that your uncle has sent in his resignation?"
The Assessor fairly gasped for breath. Fabian cast a supplicating look at his betrothed, but Gretchen was merciless. She could not forget that Hubert had boasted but a few months ago of her favour and certain acceptance of him. She was determined to give him a lesson; so she played her last trump, and, taking the Doctor by the hand, with solemn formality proceeded thus–
"At the same time, Herr Assessor, allow me the pleasure of introducing to you, in the future Professor Fabian, the successor of your celebrated uncle, my affianced husband."
"I think the Assessor has turned crazy," said Frank, addressing the Inspector with a look of real uneasiness, as they stood together outside in the courtyard. "He has just rushed out of the house, like a lunatic, nearly running over me, and without a word of excuse or apology shouting for his carriage. He has been so excited all the morning. I hope this conspiracy business won't turn his head. Just go after him, will you, and see what he is about, and if he is likely to do any mischief."
The Inspector shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to the carriage, which at that moment was seen rolling away at full speed. "It is too late, Herr Frank. He is off yonder."
Frank shook his head gravely, and went into the house, where he received an explanation of the Assessor's stormy exit, which calmed his apprehensions on the score of that gentleman's sanity. The Castle coachman, who was also standing before the house, folded his hands, and said with a deep sigh of relief, "He is gone, thank God; now he can't examine me any more!"
CHAPTER XIII
At Castle Wilicza there reigned a dull sultry atmosphere, pregnant with storms, which made itself felt even in the servants' quarters. Since Herr Nordeck's return from the border-station on the previous evening in the company of Countess Morynska, the barometer had stood at stormy point in the upper regions of the great house–of this there was but too good evidence. The young Countess had had an interview with her aunt on the evening of her arrival, but since then had not left her room. The Princess herself was but rarely visible; but when she appeared, her countenance was such that the domestics thought fit to keep as much as possible out of her way. They knew that frowning brow and those tightly set lips augured nothing good. Even Waldemar did not show his accustomed cold composure, the unruffled calm which he was wont to oppose to the outer world at the very time when the fiercest emotions were raging within him. There was something gloomy and irritable in his manner. Perhaps the repulse he had twice met with from Wanda during the day might be the cause of this. He had not succeeded in getting sight of her since the moment when he had laid her, half fainting from agitation and loss of blood, in his mother's arms. She refused to see him, and yet he knew that she was not seriously ill. The Doctor had assured him over and over again that the Countess's wound was not dangerous, and that she would be able to leave for Rakowicz on the following day, though he had felt it his duty to oppose her wish of returning home at once.
The young landowner had not indeed much time to devote to such matters; demands on his attention flowed in from all quarters. The ranger's corpse was brought over to Wilicza, and then it was that news of the foresters' flight was had. It was necessary that the station should at once be placed under other care, and that measures should be taken to insure the safety of Inspector Fellner, who had been sent over _ad interim_. Waldemar was forced to order and direct everything himself. Then came Assessor Hubert, tormenting him with his interrogatories, his protocols, and his advice, until he lost patience, and resorted to his mother's approved expedient for shaking off importunate persons. Hardly, however, was he quit of the Assessor and his fancied discoveries, when fresh claims were made upon his time and thoughts. News had been carried to L– of the state of affairs in the insurgents' camp, and it was known that there would, in all probability; be fighting close to the frontier within the next few days. Orders had been issued in consequence by the military authorities. The forces stationed along the border were to be considerably strengthened, so as to guard the territory on this side from possible violation or disturbance.
A strong detachment of troops passed through Wilicza; and whilst the men halted down in the village, the officers, who were personally acquainted with Nordeck, rode up to the Castle. The Princess was invisible, of course. She had always been invisible to her son's guests since the latter had openly declared himself against her and hers; so Waldemar was obliged to receive the new-comers himself–whether he were, or were not, at that moment disposed to see strangers, no one thought of inquiring. It behoved him to show them a quiet, impassible brow, in order that they should gain no further information on the subject of the family tragedy than that of which they were already possessed. They knew the rôle which their host's brother and uncle were playing in the insurrection, the position in which the son stood towards his mother. This was all food for daily gossip in L–, and Waldemar was keenly alive to the solicitous care they showed to avoid in his presence all allusion to these matters, abstaining even from any mention of the revolt, except as connected with the latest military movements on the German side. At last, late in the afternoon, the detachment set out on its way again, so as to reach its destination on the frontier before dark. Finally Dr. Fabian, the happy lover and future Professor, appeared with his double news, for which he claimed his old pupil's interest and sympathy, obliging the latter to take part in another's joy at the moment when he saw his own happiness hopelessly shattered and wrecked. It required, indeed, a nature of finely tempered steel, such as Nordeck's, to face all this with a stoical appearance of calm composure.
Early on the second day after the event at the border-station, the Princess sat alone in her drawing-room. Her face told plainly that there had been little rest for her that night. The grey, misty morning light without was too faint to penetrate into that lofty, dim apartment, the greater part of which was still wrapped in shadow; only the fire on the hearth sent its restless, flickering gleams on the carpet around, and on the figure of the Princess sitting close by, lost in gloomy thought.
Resting her head on her hand, she meditated long and sadly. The accounts which had reached her of the late occurrences still agitated and engrossed her mind. This woman, whose constant rule it was to take her stand on the domain of facts, and adroitly to shape her plans in accordance with them, found herself for once unable to meet the difficulties before her. So all had been in vain! The unsparing rigour with which she had torn the veil from her niece's mind, in order to arm the girl against a growing passion; the absolute separation lasting through long months; the late interview at Rakowicz–all had been in vain! The sight of Waldemar in peril had sufficed in one single instant to scatter all other considerations to the wind. Soon after her arrival, Wanda had told her aunt all that had happened. The young Countess was too proud, too completely under the bias of national prejudices, not to seek at once to clear herself from any suspicion of what the Princess called 'treason.' She declared to this stern judge that she had sent no warning, had betrayed no trust; that only at the last moment, when all secrets connected with the station were beyond concealment, had she stepped forward and interfered. How she had acted, what she had done to save Waldemar, she was equally unable to conceal; the wound on her arm was there to bear evidence against her.
The entrance of her son roused the Princess from all the tormenting thoughts which were racking her brain. She knew whence he came. Pawlick had informed her that this morning, for the third time, Herr Nordeck had attempted to gain admittance to the Countess Morynska, and that on this occasion he had obtained what he sought. Waldemar approached slowly, until he stood opposite his mother.
"You come from Wanda?" said she.
"Yes."
The Princess looked up in his face, which at this moment was clearly lighted up by a blaze of the fitful fire. There were lines of pain in it–of pain, bitter but repressed.
"So you forced an entrance in spite of her repeated denial? But what, indeed, could _you_ fail to accomplish! Well, the interview must have convinced you that it was no prohibition of mine which closed Wanda's door, as you so positively assumed. It was her own wish not to see you, a wish you have lightly enough regarded."
"After what Wanda risked on my behalf the day before yesterday, I had at least the right to see and speak to her. It was necessary for me to speak to her. Oh, do not be afraid!" he went on with rising bitterness, as the Princess was about to interrupt him. "Your niece has fully justified your expectations, and has done all that lay in her power to rob me of hope. She believes, no doubt, that she is prompted by her own will alone, while, in reality, she is blindly submitting to be led by yours. Those were your words, your views, which I have just had expounded to me by her mouth. If left to herself, I should perhaps have succeeded, have gained my end by persistent effort, as I succeeded in getting speech of her; but I lost sight of the fact that for the last forty-eight hours she has been exclusively under your influence. You have represented that promise which you persuaded her into giving my brother, which you forced from her when little more than a child, as an irrevocable vow, to break which were mortal sin. You have so baited her with your national prejudices …"
"Waldemar!" exclaimed his mother, indignantly.
"With the prejudice," he repeated, emphatically, "that it would be treason to her family and to her people, if she were to consent to listen to me, because it happens that I am a German, and that circumstances have forced me into an attitude of hostility towards your party. Well, you have attained your object. She would rather die now than lift a hand to free herself, or give me leave to do it for her; and for this I have to thank you, and you alone."
"I certainly reminded Wanda of her duty," replied the Princess, coldly. "My words were, however, hardly needed. Reflection had brought her to her senses, and I trust this may now be the case with you. Ever since the day on which you openly declared yourself my enemy, I have known that your old boyish fancy was not extinct, but that it had, on the contrary, developed into a passion with you. In what measure this passion was returned, I only learned yesterday. It would be useless to reproach you with what has happened. No recrimination can undo it now, but you must feel that you owe it both to yourself and to Leo to consent to an absolute separation. Wanda sees this and agrees to it. You must submit also."
"Must I?" asked Waldemar. "You know, mother, that submission is not my forte, especially where all the happiness of my life is at stake."
The Princess looked up with an expression of surprise and alarm. "What do you mean? Would you wish to rob your brother of his betrothed, after robbing him of her love?"
"That Leo never possessed. Wanda did not know her own heart when she yielded to his affection for her, to her father's wish and yours, and to the family plans. It is I who possess her love, and now that I have this certainty, I shall know how to defend my own."
"You take a high tone, Waldemar," said the Princess, almost scornfully. "Have you reflected as to what answer your brother will be likely to make to such a claim on your part?"
"If my betrothed declared to me that she had given her love to another, I would set her free, absolutely, unconditionally, no matter what I might suffer through it," replied the young man, steadily. "Leo, if I know him, is not the man to do this. He will be beside himself with rage, will distract Wanda with his jealousy, and will inflict on us a series of violent scenes."
"Are you the one to prescribe moderation, you who have done him the deadliest injury?" returned his mother. "True, Leo is far away, fighting in his people's sacred cause, hourly risking his life, and little dreaming the while that his brother, behind his back …"
She stopped, for Waldemar's hand was laid firmly on hers. "Mother," he said, in a voice which acted as a warning to the Princess–she knew that with him this low constrained tone always preceded an outbreak–"no more of this. You do not believe in these imputations yourself. You know better than any one how Wanda and I have struggled against this passion–know what a moment it was which unsealed our lips. Behind Leo's back! In my room lies the letter which I was writing to him before I went to Wanda. My interview with her need make no change in it. He must be told that the word 'love' has been spoken between us. We could neither of us endure to conceal it from him. I intended to give you the letter. You alone have positive information as to where Leo is now to be found, and you can provide for its reaching him in safety."