CHAPTER XV.
The time at which the old Freiherr expected his family to assemble about him every evening in the garden-room had come. Werner on his way thither encountered his brother, who was awaiting him at the foot of the staircase. In a few indignant words Arno informed him that Fräulein Müller had acquainted him with the manner in which her well-meant warning had been received, and said all that was possible in so short a time to induce his brother to leave Hohenwald as quickly as he could. "In the castle," he added, "there are none who do not look upon your fine-spun schemes as treasonable plotting, and it is unjust that peril should threaten all on your account."
Werner, however, who had now entirely recovered his usual self-control and ease of manner, treated his brother's words with contemptuous indifference, and thus the two men entered the garden-room together, the elder dissembling his jealousy and rage beneath an easy amiability of manner, the younger vexed and indignant at his failure to influence the brother whose ambitious vanity and want of principle were abhorrent to him.
The Finanzrath evidently felt perfectly secure, and exerted himself to prove to Fräulein Müller his sincere regret for his late want of self-control. He begged her for one of her charming songs, and meeting with a curt refusal, acquiesced in it without a word. He was all that a courteous, high-bred cavalier should be; and yet, in spite of his efforts to maintain the conversation, it flagged continually, for each member of the little circle felt a secret oppression, which made it impossible to join in it with any interest.
Arno was unusually taciturn; he possessed none of the versatility that enabled Werner so quickly to forget the serious matters that had lately occupied him. Even Celia seemed to have lost all her wonted sprightliness; she sat buried in thought beside her father's chair,--her stool placed so that he could not see her face, for she could not look him frankly in the eyes to-night, and her heart was too full to allow her to take any part in the conversation. This would soon have become monosyllabic in spite of Werner's exertions had he not casually mentioned a visit that he had paid a few days before to Grünhagen. So favourable an opportunity of turning the conversation upon Kurt did not escape Lucie; she asked Werner, with evident interest, how young Herr von Poseneck liked Grünhagen, and whether he was readily adapting himself to the European mode of life. Werner could not understand why Lucie should take so vivid an interest in Kurt, but he was glad to have found a topic upon which he could command her attention. He expatiated willingly upon Kurt's excellent capacity as a landed proprietor, and upon the admirable understanding that seemed to exist at Grünhagen between uncle and nephew.
The Freiherr listened silently; that the topic was not an agreeable one to him the frown gathering on his brow told plainly.
Arno, too, said not a word, but sat glancing now and then at Lucie with displeasure in his look. What could be Fräulein Müller's aim in this show of interest in Kurt? If it were intended as a punishment for his jealousy, it seemed but a petty revenge.
Celia, however, sat quite still, with sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks; she said nothing, but not a word that was spoken escaped her. Werner suddenly appeared kind and amiable in her eyes as he thus praised Kurt.
For a while the Freiherr endured Lucie's continued inquiries about Grünhagen and Kurt; but at last his patience was exhausted. "You seem to take a remarkable degree of interest in this fellow Poseneck, Fräulein Anna," he said, crossly; "for Heaven's sake leave him to himself in Grünhagen,--the less I hear of him the better I am pleased!"
This was the very outbreak for which Lucie had been hoping. She turned to the Freiherr and, pushing her chair nearer to his, said, "What has poor Herr von Poseneck done to you, Herr Baron, that you should be so angry with him?"
"He has done nothing to me, but I hate the Posenecks one and all," was the harsh reply.
"I am quite sure that you would like Kurt von Poseneck if you knew him, Herr Baron," Lucie rejoined.
"I don't want to know him!" the Freiherr exclaimed, discontentedly.
Nevertheless Lucie continued, boldly, "He is the very man to please you. Honest and true, earnest in character, but with the enthusiasm of youth, a thorough gentleman, but no fop, he has won golden opinions from every one during the short time that has passed since his arrival in Europe."
The Freiherr stared at her in amazement; her unexpected praise of Herr von Poseneck did not at all please him, but as she spoke she looked at him with so charming an air of entreaty that he could not be angry with her,--he even smiled as he shook his finger at her, saying, "Aha! Fräulein Anna seems quite infatuated with the young man. I had no idea that she knew him so intimately."
"Oh, yes, I know him very well, although I have really seen him but once; my opinion of him is based upon that of a far more competent judge than I am. Count Styrum, my friend Adèle's lover, is a relation of Herr von Poseneck; his word is the best warrant for the young man's excellence. A man to whom Count Styrum gives his friendship and esteem is certainly deserving of them."
"Make your acknowledgments for the compliment, Arno! Count Styrum is your friend too," the Freiherr said, with a laugh; and he then continued, half in jest and half in earnest, "The friendship of the Count, for whom I have a great regard, is certainly a recommendation for the young man, but fortunately I am entirely indifferent as to whether this Herr von Poseneck deserves your praise or not, for I have nothing to do with any of the Poseneck crew. One thing strikes me, however, and that is, that I must stop abusing them when Fräulein Anna is by. Well, well, we shall not quarrel about them, only, if she persist in singing this young fellow's praises, she will make her old adorer jealous."
Lucie smiled in reply; she had done enough for to-day, and Celia's grateful look thanked her. She arose, and going to the piano unasked, sang one of the old man's favourite songs, which would have won him to forgiveness even had he been angry.
The tones of her voice had just died away when old Franz entered the room with the post-bag, which he said had just been brought to the castle by an extra messenger, and must contain news of importance.
The Freiherr eagerly opened it, and seizing the newspapers, which, with a few letters for the Finanzrath, were all that it contained, searched them for the expected news of importance. This he found in the first one that he opened; it contained the telegram reporting the abdication of the Crown Prince of Hohenzollern. With eyes sparkling with joy the Freiherr read it aloud. "Thank God!" he exclaimed. "I trust we have done with this miserable war. Franz, bring a bottle of champagne in honour of the good news!"
"I must leave you this evening; my duty recalls me to Dresden, as I learn from this letter," Werner said, after having eagerly looked over his letters.
"What! this evening?" the Freiherr asked, and, although the question expressed surprise, there was no regret in his tone.
"I must obey the call of duty," Werner replied. "While Franz orders the carriage I will pack my portmanteau, and I hope I shall be in time to catch the night train."
He shook hands with his father, and then turned to Lucie, who was standing near the window. "I comply with your wish, and leave you; forgive me," he whispered; adding aloud, "Have you any commands for Dresden, Fräulein Müller? No?" as she answered by a gentle shake of the head. "I am sorry, but pray remember that you may always command me as you please. Adieu, Celia; be diligent and good, you little romp. Adieu, Arno; I trust you will forget, as I do, that there have lately been some differences of opinion between us; upon reflection I see that you were right in the last conversation we had together, this letter has convinced me."
He offered Arno his hand, but the latter refused to take it. "I have no confidence in you," he said, in too low a tone to be heard by the others. "I do not know your reason for this sudden departure, but I am sure that it is not regard for the safety of your family."
"Are you then implacable?"
"I refuse to reply to deceit with deceit."
"What is the matter, boys? Do not quarrel when you are taking leave of each other," the old Freiherr interposed; and Werner, with a shrug, let fall the hand he had offered his brother, and, with another general "adieu," left the room.
In his own apartment, he packed a few necessaries in his portmanteau, devoting all the time he had to a careful disposition of his papers. It was not until he was certain that not a scrap of writing was left either in desk or writing-table that he locked his portmanteau and gave it to old Franz, who came to announce that the carriage was waiting.
As he drove off, just in time to catch the night train, those whom he left behind him at Hohenwald by no means experienced the usual relief felt in his absence. They did not believe in the reason assigned by him for his hasty departure, and it aroused in his father's mind suspicions that he was more deeply implicated in rebellious plots than he had hinted. No one of the little circle could throw off the gloom that oppressed all, and the old Freiherr was rolled into his bedroom much earlier than usual.
In the course of the next few days the political horizon again darkened; all Germany keenly felt the insult offered to the King of Prussia by the French Emperor, and was ready to resent it.
"Disgraceful!" Arno exclaimed, after reading the account of it aloud in the newspapers, "This is enough to make every German forget all petty jealousies and prejudices. We should be one nation in the struggle that France thus forces upon us. I am quite sure, father, that you will gladly see me leave you to take my part in the war that now seems inevitable for the fatherland."
"Go, and God speed you, my son! Only cowards and traitors can hesitate now!"
The Freiherr spoke with profound emotion, regarding with paternal pride the while the son in whom he delighted. Celia threw her arms around her brother's neck and kissed him tenderly. "You are my own darling Arno!" she exclaimed; "the best and truest fellow in the world!"
And Lucie? She bestowed upon Arno a smile that fairly intoxicated him and impelled him to offer her his hand, in which for one fleeting instant she placed her own.
The small circle at Castle Hohenwald presented a picture in miniature of the sentiments of the entire country at this time, and every day's developments served but to increase the patriotic enthusiasm everywhere. No sooner did the cry resound from Paris, "On to Berlin!" than it was decided that as soon as war was formally declared Arno should apply for re-admission to the army, and with a view to so doing he set about arranging affairs on the estate so that his absence might cause his invalid father as little annoyance as possible. Those cares kept him from home almost every day,--it was only in the evenings that he could make one in the family circle; but these evenings, when his father's welcome was so affectionate, Celia's so enthusiastic, and Lucie's so fall of gentleness and sympathy, more than indemnified him for the hard labour of the day. Only one drawback marred the pleasure they gave him, and this was the manner in which he was constantly reminded by Lucie herself of his last tête-à-tête with her. What reason could she have for perpetually dragging in Kurt von Poseneck as a subject for conversation, when she could not but perceive that it was distasteful both to the old Freiherr and to himself? This the Freiherr frankly declared many times, but considerate as Lucie usually was of his wishes, on this point she paid no regard to them. With persistent obstinacy she made use of every available opportunity to refer to Kurt, to extol his admirable qualities, to describe his adventures in America, in short, to depict him as a young man of distinguished qualities both of mind and of heart.
Of course Arno never dreamed that Celia had supplied Fräulein Müller with her accurate knowledge of Herr von Poseneck's life, and it seemed to him excessively strange that she should be so well informed concerning a man whom, according to her own declaration, she had seen but twice. This contradiction struck the Freiherr also, and he expressed his surprise at it, but Lucie only smiled and replied, "Oh, I have a private source of information which I know just how far to trust. I do not mean to describe Herr von Poseneck as an actual angel in beard and moustache, but he certainly is a charming fellow, whom you, Herr Baron, would especially like if you only knew him, as I sincerely wish you did."
Celia grew crimson at this reply, but, fortunately, no one save Lucie noticed this. The old Freiherr shook his head and declared that he felt "no desire to know any Poseneck," but, nevertheless, it was plain to be seen that Lucie by her persistency had aroused in him a species of interest, and finally one evening, when she had been recounting some of Kurt's war adventures in America, he remarked that that Poseneck must be a brave fellow since he had attained the rank of major so soon.
Arno was not so easily cured of his prejudice against Kurt, Lucie's constant reference to whom was utterly inexplicable, and at times roused within him the bitterest jealousy. He was worried and anxious, too, with regard to Werner, from whom nothing was heard after his departure. Whether the Finanzrath were really in Dresden neither his father nor his brother knew, and when Arno at times saw accounts in the newspapers of the arrest of persons suspected of being agents of the French government here and there in Germany, he could not but fear lest a like fate might overtake Werner, and he knew that such a disgrace would crush his father to the earth.