Hermann: A Novel

by E. Werner

CHAPTER IV.

Evening had come, but the sultriness of the day still remained, in the west a great thunder cloud hung threateningly, and the harvest people hurried homewards. Without any suspicion of the coming storm, since the wood hid the lowering clouds as yet, Gertrud Walter walked slowly along the footpath which led to the Schloss. She looked still graver and more thoughtful than in the morning, for Eugen's whole being seemed so strangely altered and disturbed. He had not been able to hide his visible disquiet and agitation, had seemed unwilling to answer her questions, and had hurried away, after barely a quarter of an hour's conversation with her, under the pretext that his presence was necessary at the Schloss. Gertrud was certainly embarrassed at this behaviour, but had not the slightest suspicion of anything seriously wrong, she had perfect faith in her fiancé's explanation, that an unpleasant circumstance had occurred, which had greatly annoyed him, and she waited impatiently for the night's meeting, in which he had promised to explain all. She wished to have some share in his unhappiness, wished to advise, comfort, help, so much as she could--she little imagined what explanation awaited her.

It was the hour agreed upon; she had come to meet him, and now stood waiting, having already accomplished her half of the way. She did not dare to go further, for the Schloss could already be seen through an opening in the wood, where, as Eugen said, some commission kept him, with the completion of which he was now occupied. The young girl sat down upon the trunk of a tree, and let her folded hands fall into her lap. At this moment she looked childish enough, and in spite of the shade of care, her face bore the aspect of full confidence, as she gazed out into the distance. But this expression suddenly changed; she had been looking towards the Schloss, which one could see to the left through the tall fir trees, and with the sight of it some dark remembrance seemed to come back to her. A shade passed over the youthful features, and her lips pressed themselves together, her clasped hands loosened, she passed her hand several times hastily over her forehead, as if she would smooth away some tormenting thought, and then looked anxiously towards the spot where she expected Eugen to appear.

Steps were now really heard in the distance. Gertrud sprang up, but it was the voices of two persons she heard. The young girl stood undecided whether to hurry forwards or wait, then a clear sharp voice reached her, and she no longer hesitated. But she turned pale; meet Eugen in this company? No, indeed. The next minute she was safely hidden behind a bush, which effectually shielded her from notice.

"I have been trying to get a minute alone with you all the afternoon," said Eugen's voice, "but you seemed to avoid it purposely, and Antonie would not let me leave her side for an instant. You must really listen now, Hermann, I need your advice, your assistance."

"What for?"

Meanwhile both the young men had reached the entrance of the wood, and the Count stopped close by the bush where Gertrud was hidden.

"What for?" repeated he.

Eugen looked at him, somewhat surprised at the cool tone.

"You ask me? Why, you know, Gertrud is here, and surely can imagine my painful, dreadful situation."

"Tell me first of all, how does your future bride happen to be here?"

"Through the most unlucky chance in the world! Her guardian is on the way to visit some relations in A, and is taking her with him. They had to pass this village, and Gertrud, who knew I was here, persuaded her uncle to stay a day, to give me, as she imagined, a pleasant surprise! I thought I should have, sunk into the earth when I heard she was here to-day!"

"Indeed?" The peculiar coldness of the Count's tone formed a sharp contrast to Eugen's passionate voice.

"A very painful chance, certainly! And what do you intend to do?"

The young man passed his hand over his brow--

"I don't know!" said he, in a constrained voice. "I was obliged to make an excuse for appearing so disturbed to-day, and got away as quickly as I could, so as to escape questions; but she expects me to-night, and will persecute me with questions and entreaties. Do advise me, Hermann, what am I to do?"

The Count sat down upon the trunk of a tree, with his back to the before-named bush; he did not for a moment alter his cold, repellant manner.

"Something which will be anything but easy, but nevertheless must happen--tell her the truth."

"Impossible! I cannot!"

"Eugen!"

"I cannot!" repeated Eugen passionately. "To any one else I could, but demean myself in her eyes by such a confession, I cannot!"

"You seem to fear those eyes very much. But if you dare not confess it, what then?"

Eugen cast down his eyes.

"I thought," said he, hesitating after a pause, "I thought I would not tell her anything at present. She is going away again this evening, and next week I shall leave for Italy with you. From then I thought of gradually loosening the tie--"

"Gradually loosening the tie--well, I'm waiting to hear the next."

The young painter seemed to be becoming more and more uncomfortable under his friend's steadfast glance.

"I do not wish to wound Gertrud by allowing her to know of my relations with Antonie," said he hastily. "She may think that reasons of another kind, losses or unfortunate circumstances, oblige me to break off the connection. I have already hinted at something of the sort. It will be easier to explain by letter, and from a distance--you can understand that I wish to spare her as much as possible."

"Spare her? Then why will you torment the girl for weeks, perhaps months, with uncertainty as to her future, and anxiety about you? You intend to spare her by giving her the poison by drops, and, after you have attracted to yourself all the womanly anxiety and tenderness she is capable of, you will give her the boundless humiliation of hearing that her fiancé, whom she imagines in the depths of need and despair, is the chosen spouse of the rich Countess Arnau, is about to make one of the most brilliant matches in the country. Rather an odd way of sparing her!"

Eugen looked at him in great astonishment.

"Why, Hermann, what has taken you today? You have quite altered your views!"

"My views have nothing to do with it, the question is, whether you were in earnest in what you said."

The young man was silent.

"You really mean it, then?" continued the Count, adding energetically. "Well, I must say I should not have expected it of you!"

"I cannot understand," began Eugen, irritated at his friend's scornful tone, "how you can judge my intentions so severely. Was it not you who urged me against this match from the first, and continually drove me to break it off, and almost forced me to make a declaration to Antonie? I, at least, have suffered in the conflict, but you are one of those ice-natures who stride on, indifferent to the joy or sorrow of others, not troubling whether hearts are broken or not. You know you have openly confessed to these unscrupulous principles, how is it, then, that you have changed all at once, and argue just the opposite, and condemn me because I follow your example?"

Hermann was silent a moment--did his conscience convict him? There was truth enough in what he said, and this was proved, since, for once, Count Arnau was in want of an answer, but in a moment he replied with perfect calmness--

"You are mistaken! I was averse to this match, and am still, because I see no good for your future in it. That you must break off this match I still think, but our opinions differ as to the way in which it is to be done. I am regardless, unscrupulous, when an important end to be gained is at stake, there you are right, and I suppose in this case, I should actually have broken the girl's heart; but to invent excuses in order to hide what she must discover eventually, pretend I was the victim of a cruel fate, and thus knit a tissue of falsehoods of all kinds about the matter--that Eugen, I would not do, for to tell you the truth, I think such a proceeding pretty cowardly."

"Hermann!" burst out Eugen.

"Don't be absurdly sensitive," said the Count, authoritatively, "it is out of place here. I have told you my opinion frankly, now do what you like. By-the-by, I think the storm is coming on, I must go back to the Castle. I suppose you are on the way to the village, adieu!"

Eugen did not answer, he turned away and walked off angrily without any word of greeting. Hermann shrugged his shoulders, he knew his friend's temper, and also knew it would not last long. Such scenes were not of unfrequent occurrence between them. Reinert, after such a one, usually played the part of an injured person, but ended generally by leaning to his friend's superior wisdom.

Meanwhile the sky had grown darker and darker, the wind rose and whistled in the tops of the trees. Graf Arnau glanced at the clouds, and turned towards the Schloss. Just then the wind, with a sudden gust, blew aside the neighbouring bushes, and something glimmered amongst them like a woman's dress. Struck with a sudden presentiment, Hermann stopped and peered sharply through the bushes, nothing could be made out distinctly, but he strode a few steps forward, and the next moment stood before Gertrud Walter.

The girl had sunk on her knees, her head against the root of a great tree, her face hidden in both hands. By no sound had she betrayed herself, but she had broken down at the sudden news, which had come upon her unexpectedly like a flash of lightning. Hermann only needed to stand there an instant, in order to understand and feel how fearfully humiliating his presence would be to her at this moment. For an instant he looked down at her silently, then turned and walked away as quietly and quickly as he had come.

But after walking a few steps, he stopped and looked back. She lay as still and motionless as a statue--perhaps she had fainted--perhaps--the Count had not decided within himself what common humanity and compassion demanded in this case, before he again stood at her side.

"Fräulein!"

No answer, nor the slightest movement.

Hermann bent down and lifted her up. She received his help silently, and whilst she mechanically raised her head, her eyes gazed unconsciously at his face.

"You are not well! May I offer you my assistance as far as the village?"

He ought not to have spoken, for with the tone of his voice came back at once strength and consciousness, and with it hostility against him. There it was once more, that terrified shrinking, which she had shown in the morning, the same strange hostile look returned to her eyes, it seemed, as if in the one feeling of detestation against him, even the remembrance of the last quarter of an hour was forgotten.

"I need no help--I am well--quite well--"

She walked a few steps, but tottered, and was obliged to lean against a tree to keep herself from falling. The wind shook the branches and sent a shower of leaves down upon her; the first flash of lightning quivered through the air, and a distant growl of thunder followed it. Hermann, who had again turned away, once more returned to the young girl, and said, with a decision, through which some bitterness sounded--

"I am sorry to be troublesome to you by my presence, but you are not well, mein Fräulein. You are alone, and a stranger here, and the village is half an hour's distance from this spot. You will therefore accept my assistance, and the assurance that I will not be troublesome to you a moment longer than is actually necessary."

Quietly, as if a refusal were unheard of, he took her arm, like that of a child, to lead her, but this had a truly alarming effect upon Gertrud. As if stung by a snake, she could not have started more fearfully, nor shrunk back with greater horror. With almost a cry she tore her hand out of his, and Hermann seemed suddenly to behold a changed being before him. Nothing more of the "child" was to be seen; her figure, as she stood before him, drawn up to her full height, had something commanding and powerful about it. So mysterious was this commanding glance, that any one else would have quailed before it, as with a tone and expression which perfectly electrified the Count, she cried, threateningly--

"Do not touch me, Count Arnau. I will not accept of your assistance!"

She turned away, took the road to the village and disappeared behind the bushes. Hermann stood motionless, looking after her, but the next minute anger had overcome his silent astonishment.

Never had the young Count been treated so, never so insulted, and here--when, for the first time in his life he had approached any one with warm sympathy, had for the first time diverged from his indifferent character! How could this girl dare to behave so to him? And wherefore?

He laughed aloud bitterly.

"H'm, well now, I can understand that Eugen would not care to demean himself in her eyes! He is not the man to have much influence upon a nature which can act in this way, just after it has experienced such humiliation. She would have withered him with that look!"

The thunder, becoming ever louder, and the frequent flashes of lightning, put an end to the Count's observations, and warned him to make the best of his way back to the Castle, which he had scarcely reached before heavy drops began to fall.

An hour later--the storm was over, but the rain still fell in torrents. In the Castle the last preparations were being completed for the great ball, which was to take place that night. Eugen came back from the village, pale, excited, and wet through, and at once hastened to Hermann's room. They had some conversation, and the servants, hurrying backwards and forwards, heard their voices raised loudly in dispute, and also noticed that Herr Reinert came out of the Count's room with a remarkably grave and displeased air, so that they imagined some scene, not of the pleasantest nature, had taken place between them.

The two avoided each other as much as possible the whole evening, but their quarrel went no farther, at least, outwardly. The carriages of the guests now rolled in from all sides, and so soon as night descended the whole row of windows in the Castle streamed with light.

The centre point and crown of the brilliant company, was, of course, the beautiful Countess Arnau. She appeared this evening more charming and bewitching than ever before, and Eugen hardly left her side for an instant. To-day, for the first time, he ventured publicly to offer her his homage, which Antonie accepted in such a manner as left scarcely room for a doubt as to the impending relations between them.

All eyes followed the pair, everywhere one heard whispered observations and questions, as to whether it were possible that the proud, much courted Countess Arnau could really seriously think of marrying a young, unknown painter, who, quelle horreur! instead of offering her the coronet of a Count, could only give her a bürgerlich name. What unpardonable extravagance! What a scandal for the family!

An old baroness, who was possessed of more curiosity, and more indignation at such improprieties, than all the others, determined to find out the truth at any price, and therefore to turn to the surest source of information, namely, Count Hermann.

It was some time before she found him. The Count did not care for dancing much at any time, and did not, as usual, take part in it to-night. The clang of a post horn sounded below on the country road, mixing itself strangely with the noisy dance music.

"My dear Count, what in the world are you doing here in this secluded room, at the open window? All the guests have missed you already!"

Hermann turned round, with a face on which vexation at the interruption was written plainly enough.

"It is oppressive in the ball-room," replied he, very coldly and repellantly. "I found it necessary to get a few minutes' fresh air."

"You are right, it is terribly warm there, and the air after the storm is so refreshing! But you are missing too much here--your cousin waltzes so charmingly with your friend, the young artist--àpropos, my dear Count, is it true then--this report, that the Gräfin returns the passion of this Herr Reinert, which he takes no pains to conceal? Does she actually intend to honour him with her hand?"

Hermann shut down the window hastily.

"I regret, my gnädigste Baronin, that I cannot give you any information upon the subject. I am as little instructed by my cousin as to her intentions as you can be. And, by the way, I think it is becoming too cool for you here, allow me to conduct you back to the saal."

So saying, he offered his arm with cool politeness, and led her back to the ball-room. The waltz was not yet finished as they entered; Gräfin Antonie floated past them in the full light of the wax tapers, moving in time to the lively music, with Eugen as her partner--and in the distance died away the last note of the post horn!