CHAPTER XXII.
[AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE].
Egon awakened as from a long, deep slumber. He opened his eyes, and was conscious of a dull pain in his head, and of a burning, pricking sensation in his forehead; he raised his hand to it, and his fingers encountered a wet linen bandage, while he observed that the place in which he was was entirely strange to him. He had never before seen the blue and white draperies of this room, nor had he any recollection of its rather quaint but comfortable furniture.
How had he come here? and why was his head bandaged? He closed his eyes again and tried to collect himself, finding that, in spite of the pain in his head, he was able to think connectedly. He had certainly arrived shortly before at Station R----. He had asked a porter to get him a conveyance to take him to Plagnitz. The man had been eager to serve him; but had not some one warned him against driving along so rough a road in such a storm? Yes; he remembered this quite well, and that he had laughed at the speaker's warning, and had driven off in the pouring rain, and in a pitchy darkness which was illuminated every moment or two by vivid flashes of lightning. The driver had grumbled and sworn in a mixture of Polish and German, and the vehicle had dragged on at a snail's pace, because its one horse scarcely sufficed to pull it through the mud that came up to the hubs of the wheels.
Egon had shivered in his wraps, which did not avail to protect him from the drenching rain, and then--what happened then? He remembered a jolt, a cry, and nothing more. But yet--yes, there were flitting, vague visions still haunting his memory. Had not he been faintly conscious of a light flashing in his eyes? And he had seen a crowd of dark, dim forms about him, not all quite strange to him. Surely, while he had been powerless to move a limb, he had felt rather than seen the compassionate gaze of two dark blue eyes in an angelic countenance. Was it a dream? Ah! during the last four years that face had often haunted his dreams,--the face of the fairy of Castle Osternau. It was her face, and yet not the same,--even more lovely than ever. Yes, this too was a dream, this touch of her soft, cool hand upon his forehead, and it so absorbed him that he could not rouse himself to a sense of reality; he went on dreaming, and a voice which he had surely heard at Castle Osternau said, at last, "We have been longing for you, doctor."
And another voice, which Egon did not know, replied, "I am very sorry, Herr von Wangen, but I could not possibly be here before. I trust I am not too late."
"I hope not, indeed." Egon recognized this voice perfectly: it was Herr von Wangen's. "The poor man's condition is unaltered. His kind nurse has just informed me that during her watch all night beside him he has never awaked to consciousness, although his breathing has been quite regular. The door on your left, doctor; he is in the blue room."
Egon opened his eyes again as the door of the room was opened and the speakers entered. One of them was Herr von Wangen. Egon recognized him immediately, in spite of the increase of manliness which the past four years had imparted to him. The other was an elderly man, an entire stranger.
This was no dream; here was Herr von Wangen in the flesh. Egon roused himself. He was on a bed, with a wound in his forehead, in a perfectly strange room; but how he came there, or what had happened, he could not divine.
"Aha! our patient is entirely conscious, a very cheering sign," said the doctor, approaching the bed. "No fever! Why, he'll soon be all right. You have distressed yourself very unnecessarily, Herr von Wangen."
He proceeded to examine the wound in the young man's forehead, which he pronounced of no consequence. "The shock of the fall had stunned him,--had produced unconsciousness. You have had a very lucky escape."
"What happened to me?"
"Herr von Wangen will tell you all about it. You really do not need my aid; you're a little weak from loss of blood, and I dare say you still have some headache. Be careful for a few days to take no amount of exercise, and you'll be all right. I must bid you good-by immediately and return to Ostrowko, where they really need me."
"May Herr Pigglewitch get up?" asked Herr von Wangen.
"If he feels like it; he can do as he pleases. Good-by, Herr---- Pigglewitch, I believe?" and a faint smile hovered about the doctor's lips.
"No, my name is Von Ernau," Egon rejoined, simply.
"What the deuce! Herr von Ernau, the long-expected proprietor of Plagnitz?" the doctor exclaimed, evidently much pleased. "Ah, this will delight my old friend Sieveking; and Herr Storting, too, has been very anxious for your arrival. I am doubly glad that you have escaped so well from the Dombrowker Pass. I'll come to-morrow to see how you are getting along, but I cannot stay another minute now,--I have two patients desperately ill at Ostrowko. Good-morning to you, Herr von Ernau, and to you too, Wangen. Don't trouble yourself, I know my way perfectly."
And the vivacious little man had bowed himself out of the room before Wangen had recovered from his surprise. The name Ernau solved a riddle that had often puzzled him. Egon von Ernau, the wealthy young fellow who had been selected for Bertha's husband, had then passed some weeks at Castle Osternau under the name of Herr Candidate Pigglewitch. At last he comprehended why young Ernau had, as he had been told by Werner von Massenburg, laid claim to Bertha's hand immediately upon his return to Berlin, although, as Werner had further declared, his pretensions met with a decided rebuff from himself, since Bertha's heart was no longer her own. Ah, yes! Herr von Ernau had known Bertha at Castle Osternau, and--how could it be otherwise?--had fallen desperately in love with her. When he returned to Berlin and heard that Bertha belonged to another, when his suit was so resolutely rejected by Werner von Massenburg, as Werner himself had represented, he had left Berlin again in utter despair, and had wandered to and fro on the earth seeking a cure for his wretchedness. Wangen's kindly heart was filled with compassion for the unfortunate man whose hopes in life he himself had thus dashed; but at the same time he could not do away with a certain disagreeable sensation. He remembered having been frequently tormented by jealousy at Castle Osternau, when Bertha bestowed too large a share of her attention upon the Candidate, or had listened in rapt admiration to his singing.
All these thoughts passed like lightning through Wangen's mind while recovering from his astonishment. "Are you then Herr Egon von Ernau?" he said, at last.
"Yes, Herr von Wangen, you find an old acquaintance under this name. I will explain the metamorphosis to you; but first gratify my burning curiosity, and be kind enough to tell me how I came here and what has happened to me. The past night is a blank in my memory."
Egon's questions restored Wangen's equanimity; he seated himself by the bed, and told his guest the whole story of his inspector's arrival with the wounded stranger, and of the accident that had occurred, finally depicting his wife's and his own anxiety, now happily dispelled by Egon's return to life.
He found an eager listener; when he alluded to his wife Egon remembered the vision of the past night. Now he knew whose was the gentle hand that had lain so cool and soft upon his forehead. How strange that he should, in his vague semi-consciousness, have taken Bertha for Lieschen! But it had sometimes happened during the past years that the two had been confounded in his dreams, although Bertha's image had gradually faded from his memory, while Lieschen's lovely face still frequently haunted him. He felt something akin to disappointment on learning that Bertha had been his kind attendant, but he banished the feeling as rank ingratitude; he thanked Wangen warmly for his kindness and hospitality, adding a short explanation of the manner in which he had come to play the part of Candidate Pigglewitch at Castle Osternau.
"I was a spoiled child of luxury," he said. "I had exhausted all the sources of fashionable amusement, and was weary of the existence which I was leading in Berlin, wherefore I left the capital suddenly, and meeting accidentally with the Candidate Pigglewitch, who told me the pitiful story of his life, I conceived the wild idea of finding out by personal experience what the existence of such a man really was. I carried out my insane scheme by buying of the fellow his name, his papers, and his dress, and going as the Candidate to Castle Osternau. You know, Herr von Wangen, all the embarrassments into which this foolish freak led me, and you know that I disappeared, as the Candidate, about the time that Egon von Ernau reappeared in Berlin. I had made up my mind to abandon the idle, aimless life which I had hitherto led, and which had always disgusted me. At Castle Osternau I learned the true value of life, the need of action in the line of some duty for all worthy the name of men, and I became much interested in agriculture. There is no necessity to weary you with an account of the means which I took to perfect myself in a knowledge of the management of a landed estate. I travelled much, and availed myself of every opportunity for improvement in this respect. Finally I have returned to Plagnitz, where I intend establishing myself for the future. This is, in brief, my story, Herr von Wangen. I pray you to tell it to madame your wife, who may, I hope, be induced to pardon the deception practised by the pretended Candidate. And now, with your permission, I will rise and dress,--I see my portmanteau has been brought to my room,--and I shall then have the honour to present myself to Frau von Wangen to thank her for her kindness and hospitality."