Hermann: A Novel

by E. Werner

CHAPTER V.

Seven years had passed by, altering many things, and burying away and blotting out others, and, as often happens in life, so also here the reality had been very, very different from the hopes and expectations of mankind.

Of the artistic fame of Eugen Reinert one heard little or nothing. Certainly his first great work, the portrait of Countess Arnau, which was exhibited publicly, created much stir, and justified the highest hopes for the future. But with this picture, which certainly bore the stamp of originality, and created a name for him in the artistic world, he appeared to have exhausted his best powers. He still painted portraits, though exclusively of those who belonged to aristocratic circles, the entrée of which he had obtained through his wife, and in these his work was always considered as full of genius, but real art critics did not think much of them, and they were little noticed by the public.

Eugen's principal fault, want of energy and perseverance, became more and more perceptible as time went on. He fluctuated continually between different studies of all sorts, tried everything and finished nothing, sketched out the most ambitious plans, but carried none into execution, and wasted his great talent upon the distinguished, but often uninteresting faces of counts and "excellencies," and the albums of aristocratic ladies. Since good fortune had thrown the gifts into his lap, without trouble on his part, which he had once hoped to obtain through his art, his pleasure in it, and even his capabilities, seemed to be exhausted. What reason had he for working still? The riches, which his wife brought him, and the connections he was able to make through these, as well as the splendidly appointed house supported through them, secured all the enjoyments of life to him, as well as an undisputed position in society, and when, in the course of a few years, the title of "Von" was added to his name, "on account of his services to art," the highest degree of earthly fame seemed to have been attained.

Meanwhile the once so promising talent had all but perished, and quietly enough, on the other hand, great gifts were developing where they had been least expected, namely, in Count Hermann, who, on account of his reserved and silent nature, was little known, and still less liked. His genius seemed to have taken a sudden leap forward, astonishing every one. After his return from a long tour, which he had undertaken as a completion of his education, he entered into the service of the State, and went with his Prince's ambassador to Vienna. Scarcely two years elapsed before the young attaché had become the right hand of the ambassador, who was not particularly capable or gifted, he asked his advice and support in any difficult matters, and finally Count Hermann became his representative, and undertook all the business which gave the title to his Excellence. By chance, the way in which this business was conducted was revealed to the Prince; he began to notice the young Count attentively, and presently called upon him to fill a post in the capital, important for a man of his age, and it was not long before Hermann had become as influential and noticeable here. His quick foresight, which saw through every matter so plainly, the never failing energy with which he undertook everything, and the almost incredible activity he manifested, secured for him success after success. He mounted from step to step, and now, at the age of thirty-two, already held one of the highest offices in the country, in the exercise of power, and stood upon the threshold of the post of Minister, which would undoubtedly be open to him at the next change of politics. Of course the ancient title which he bore, together with his riches, and the personal favour of the Prince, had contributed to this extraordinarily rapid career; but in reality they only served to smooth the way, and remove the hindrances, with which a bürgerlicher would first have had to contend with. Hundreds of the same rank and income would have remained at the foot of, or halfway up the ladder, to the topmost rung of which he had now climbed--truly his success was only owing to himself.

On the widowed Präsidentin von Sternfeld's estate, preparations had been made for the reception of different guests. The eldest son, Baron von Sternfeld, had already been there for a week with his wife and two little daughters, Count Arnau had also arrived this morning from the capital, and Herr and Frau von Reinert were expected next day.

In the garden house of the old family mansion, by the open glass doors, which led on to the broad stone terrace, Count Hermann sat with his grandmother. The appearance of the old lady, now more than seventy, still showed the intellectual and physical strength which had always made her the centre point of the family, over which she practised her old authority. The powerful form appeared to bow unwillingly to age; her hair was snow-white, her face full of lines and wrinkles, but it was a face which age could not change much. It had not been able to dim the sharp, clear eye, nor soften the authoritative expression of energy, and if she was somewhat bowed by the weight of years, her head was still carried as erect as ever.

Count Arnau, too, was little altered by the lapse of time; it seemed to leave no trace on these decided, cold features. His glance was, perhaps, still keener, the peculiar lines round his mouth still firmer, and his bearing, in spite of its simplicity, showed more self-assurance; but more conspicuous than ever was now the likeness to the grandmother, whose face, seemed to repeat his, feature by feature, as his character resembled hers.

A long conversation had ensued about the affairs of the capital, and Hermann's post there, together with his views for the future, and thus the talk had gradually ended in a political discussion; now the Count, commencing a new topic, asked--

"So Antonie and Eugen are to arrive to-morrow?"

"Yes--according to your openly expressed wish. I am sacrificing my feelings a great deal, Hermann! You know I shall never pardon Antonie this mésalliance, and if I have prevailed upon myself to invite her, and Herr Reinert, it is only on your account."

"Thank you, dear grandmother; I know what it costs you; but the recognition of the marriage on your side had become with time necessary. And by the way, as the outer form of nobility is no longer wanting, you need fear no hindrance in introducing Herr and Frau von Reinert as relations, in society."

The Präsidentin shrugged her shoulders. "Making him a 'Von' was a necessity, since Antonie had once taken that mad step. She is, and will always be, Gräfin Arnau, in spite of all, and as such cannot be simply bürgerlich Frau Reinert, if she comes back here. But a consideration, which was due to the world to cover the scandal to the family, has no influence upon my judgment. To me Herr Reinert remains, as he always was, bürgerlich."

Hermann gazed moodily into the distance, and his brow clouded somewhat.

"I hoped Eugen would gain an artist's name for himself, which would make this 'nobility' superfluous; unfortunately it has come to nothing."

"What?" The Präsidentin's voice involuntarily became sharper. "Do you mean to say that the fame of an artist can make up for the inherited coronet of a count?"

"Make up for it--no! but it can atone for the want of it in a certain sense, especially with such a romantic nature as Toni's."

The Präsidentin's face showed how little this answer pleased her.

"You always had a weakness for this Reinert," said she, shaking her head deprecatingly.

"He was once very dear to me!"

"Was?"

"Yes. But several things have happened to cause a coldness between us. I had the greatest hopes for his talents and future, but nothing has come of them."

The Präsidentin drew herself up in her arm chair and fixed her eyes upon Hermann.

"I confess to you openly, Hermann, that formerly I was much concerned about this friendship. You were true to the aristocratic traditions of your family in all else; but you always and everywhere made an exception in favour of this Reinert. Toni would not have dared under my eyes to misuse her liberty in this manner. Unfortunately I was absent, but you were near. You ought to have acted in my place, and guarded the honour of the family. Instead of that you favoured the match openly, brought them together in Rome, and even took their part against me. I really had serious fears for your principles at that time."

The Count smiled, his old sarcastic smile, without a trace of cheerfulness.

"Your fears were groundless; you ought to have known me better, grandmother. I am constituted differently, and what I thought suitable in Eugen and Toni's case, I should not have pardoned in myself,--I should not make a mésalliance, you can be sure of that."

"I know it," said the Präsidentin, with calm assurance. "Fortunately you have not a trace of absurd romance about you."

"No!--and besides that--you know I have much reason for keeping my name clear!"

His voice sank at the last words, and his brow clouded heavily, whilst his eyes sought the ground. The Präsidentin, too, became graver, but at the same time there was something like impatience in her manner.

"The old conflict still? Haven't you been able to put away from you that remembrance yet?"

"I envy you for being able to do so. I forget it certainly for a few hours sometimes, but for days and weeks--never!"

The Präsidentin shook her head.

"You torment yourself with self-created fears! We alone know the secret, and can guard it securely enough. The world can and will never know more than a breath of it."

The Count raised his head slowly, his brow dark as night.

"The world! But I know that I am dishonoured! I know the disgrace, the curse which rests upon my name, and upon my riches, and that is the dark spot of my life which I can never, never, blot out. Whatever I may accomplish, whatever I may attain to, this dark memory continually forces itself between. I cannot forget it!"

The grandmother laid her hand authoritatively upon his arm--

"Let that rest, Hermann! I hardly know you, whenever this unhappy circumstance is touched upon. You, so strong, so energetic in everything else, are in this as weak as a child. As a boy, you showed more courage, you kept silence towards your mother, who would have been killed if she had heard it, and only revealed it, where you knew it would be safely guarded. And you were silent years afterwards, as perhaps no other child would have been, and that made my guardianship of you easy. Must the man, then, hesitate, and be ready to throw off the burden of responsibility he has incurred by no fault of his own?"

Hermann did not answer, but looked moodily into the distance.

"If only we could find a trace of the wife and child! Your enquiries were fruitless, but I renewed them with redoubled zeal, every possible means of discovery are at my command now, but in vain. It really seems as if they had disappeared from the face of the earth."

"They must have left the country."

"And perhaps perished miserably, whilst I--"

He sprang up suddenly, went to the door, and pressed his forehead against the glass panes; the usually calm man was fearfully agitated. The Präsidentin was silent, she had seen him before in this mood; however great her influence over her grandson might be, this was a point on which she did not dare to argue further with him, over which her power did not extend, she knew that he must now be let alone, unless she wished to make matters worse.

A minute's silence followed, at last Hermann turned round. His features were calm and cold as usual, but a dark cloud was still on his brow.

"Pardon me, grandmother, that I have tormented you, too, with this subject."

"You are right, it is better to let it rest? What were we talking of before?"

He sat down again by her side, and she at once seized the opportunity of introducing another subject.

"I have wished to ask you a question some time, Hermann. Have you not yet thought that it will soon be necessary for you, as head of our family, and only male representative of the house of Arnau, to form an alliance with some daughter of the nobility?"

The Count leaned his head on his hands.

"Certainly I have thought of it," replied he indifferently, "especially now that I see the necessity of forming an establishment in the capital, and of moving frequently in society there."

"Have you made a choice?"

"No. You are aware that ladies have not much attraction for me, and from my standpoint I consider a marriage of convenience the best. I shall have very little time to devote to my wife, and seek in her chiefly a representative of my house."

The grandmother bowed her head assentingly.

"And what qualities do you lay claim to in choice of a wife?"

"Much, and little, just as one takes it. Above all things, she must be of ancient and noble family; wealthy, for I have found that poor ladies, who are thrown suddenly into the arms of fortune, are apt to give way to all sorts of extravagances, and not too beautiful, for I have no desire to have to watch over my wife continually--the rest is of small importance."

The young Count set forth these qualifications for his future marriage with as perfect indifference, as if he were speaking of the purchase of an estate, but his way of looking at the matter seemed to meet with the Präsidentin's full approval.

"I quite agree with you," replied she, "and I am very glad that you look at the affair so clearly. What do you want, my dear?" interrupted she at this moment, turning towards the door.

"The children wished to say good-bye to the Frau Präsidentin before going for their walk."

Count Hermann got up from his chair at the sound of this voice, and looked at the lady with an expression of boundless astonishment as she entered, leading two little girls of six and eight by the hand. It was Gertrud, once betrothed to Reinert. The Präsidentin observed his surprise.

"Ah, so! Mademoiselle Walter--the Herr Count Arnau."

She bent down to her two grandchildren and gave them her cheek to kiss.

Hermann's bow was returned with the most measured formality and coldness, and not the slightest change in Gertrud's face betrayed her recognition. She took the children's hands, and at once prepared to leave the garden house.

"Do not make the walk too long to-day, mademoiselle, it is too hot for the children."

"I will see that they do not go too far, we will not go beyond the park to-day."

A second bow, as formal as the first, and she crossed the terrace with the children, and went down towards the park. The Präsidentin turned once more to her grandson.

"I think we were saying--but why don't you sit down, Hermann?"

He still remained standing, his hand on the arm chair, and his eyes fixed upon the avenue, where the three had disappeared; mechanically following the invitation, he sat down once more.

"Well, I thing we were speaking of your future wife. I imagine the choice lies open to you; Count Hermann Arnau will hardly receive a refusal, however ambitious he may be."

"Who is this Mademoiselle Walter?" asked Hermann, instead of answering, without turning his eyes from the window.

The grandmother looked at him with some astonishment, the question seemed to her to have very little place in this important conversation.

"She is the new governess for Eurt's daughters," replied the Präsidentin coldly. "She is said to be pretty well educated and useful, and the children are wonderfully fond of her considering the short time she has been with them. I have a certain antipathy against her, for I fear that she carries something like haughtiness underneath her unfailing calm politeness, which is, of course, insufferable in a person of her dependent position."

Hermann was silent, he knew by experience, that here, too, the Präsidentin's penetration had not deceived her.

"But to come back to our subject--"

The Count got up suddenly.

"Pardon me, grandmother, if I beg you to let it rest for to-day. My night journey has rather tired me out, I really feel the want of some rest. Allow me, now that I have seen you, to go to my room for a time."

So saying, he kissed the hand extended to him, and left the room. The Präsidentin leaned back in her arm chair, and once more thought over all the plans and hopes connected with her grandson's future alliance, this grandson who had always been the dearest to her, and who had fulfilled all her expectations so brilliantly. But it would have astonished her somewhat, had she seen how Count Hermann, in spite of his petition to be allowed to rest, had not yet thought of going to his room, but went off at once from another side to the park, and in spite of the midday-heat, wandered about in it on all sides.

Under the shade of a great plane tree, in the centre of a large grass plot, sat Gertrud with her two little charges, telling them a fairy tale. The eldest of the two children had nestled closely against her governess, and looked up into her face with the most breathless attention, as if she feared to lose a single word; the younger knelt on the grass, her two little arms upon Gertrud's lap, listening as breathlessly as her sister. It was a charming group; surely that was not the cold, grave gouvernante, who had bowed so formally, and answered so shortly. The expression of her face was now as warm and glowing as the golden sunlight itself, which played upon her countenance through the leafy screen above her, and there was something unusually gentle and lovely in her tone and attitude, as, in low tones, with head bent down to the children, she told them of elves and fairies, something which it had never been permitted for either the Präsidentin nor the Baronin von Sternfeld to see.

But Count Hermann saw it as he stood unobserved behind a clump of bushes, and watched her closely. Yes, these features had indeed fulfilled what they had promised seven years ago.

The delicate, pale, and childish form had blossomed into almost perfect beauty, and at sight of the tall, beautiful figure, the pure classic profile and rich masses of pale gold hair, Hermann could not refrain from thinking that his aunt must have been wanting in her usual sense and tact in receiving into her house a lady before whose attractions both she and every other lady must seem plain.

But he was not allowed to remain long unobserved, for one of the children noticed him suddenly, and pointed in the direction where he stood. Gertrud rose at once, and freed herself from the children's encircling arms.

An iciness seemed to creep over her countenance, under which all the warmth and life which had streamed from it a moment before, seemed suddenly to wither; cold, grave, and perfectly immoveable, she awaited the Count's approach.

He now stood opposite, and looked straight towards her. Those were the same mysterious dark blue eyes which he remembered so well, and the same shade still lay in them, but it had become only heavier and deeper. But these eyes flashed somewhat under his searching glance; was it the old (to him incomprehensible) hatred, or was it some other feeling?

Hermann, who usually saw through all matters so clearly, did not know how to interpret it; he only felt that it was hostile to him, and that the strange girl was still the same.

"I do not know, mein Fräulein," began he, "whether you will allow me to renew a former acquaintanceship. I can scarcely hope so after the way in which you returned my greeting."

"You would oblige me, Herr Graf, if you would forget this acquaintanceship."

But Hermann was not prepared for such a repulse as this, she involuntarily irritated him, and just as he had hitherto hesitated as to whether he should approach her, so now he felt inclined to continue the conversation in spite of all.

"As you wish; but before we begin to ignore one another, allow me to inform you of something which you are surely not aware of, and which might be painful for you to experience were you unprepared for it."

"I know to what you refer!"

"You know, and--?" Hermann's eyes completed the question, which his lips could not ask--"and you remain here?"

Gertrud's countenance became a shade paler, but she remained unmoveable.

"You forget, Herr Graf, that I am in a dependent position here. I have already requested the Frau Baronin to allow me some weeks' absence, but she thinks that the children need my superintendence, and refused my request. I must therefore stay."

"If you will accept of my mediation," said Hermann, quickly, "I will go at once to my aunt, and secure you the fulfilment of your wish."

"No, thank you, Herr Graf; I wish for your interference least of all."

That was speaking plainly enough. Hermann bit his lips and drew back.

"It seems to me, mein Fräulein, that you have a decided aversion to my person. You insulted me once before, just as intentionally. I regret that my approach, should give you cause for it. Be assured that in future it shall not happen again."

Gertrud's lips quivered, but she made no answer. The Count bowed hastily, and disappeared.

"Well, this is unheard of. Neither my grandmother nor Toni would have put on such airs, and neither of them would have dared to say that to me. 'I wish your interference least.' She condescends, as it were, to dismiss me in disgrace, and I--"

The calm, immovable Graf Arnau actually forgot himself so far that he stamped with his foot.

What vexed him most, though he would not confess it to himself, was, that the manner in which Gertrud had dismissed him resembled his own, on such occasions, to a hair. That was just the calm, cold, and repellant tone which he allowed himself towards some one who did not know how to keep at a distance. Certainly it was the first time it had been used towards him, and who had dared to do this? A "Mademoiselle Walter"--the governess of his little cousins!

Yes, the grandmother was right; there was an unbearable haughtiness hidden under the calm exterior of this girl, and he felt it so much the more deeply, as, in his present position and importance, he was courted and spoiled on all sides by compliance with his wishes, especially from women. Hitherto he had looked down pretty scornfully on all the efforts he had seen to please him, and now, all at once, he was met with open opposition, with open intention to displease, and even wound him.

Count Hermann had already once sought in vain for a reason for this strange hostility, and could find a clue for it now as little as then. Gertrud's whole demeanour was, and remained, mysterious to him, as well as her presence here. Why did she not rather go without permission, and lose her appointment, than expose herself to such a humiliation as a meeting with Eugen? Was she too proud to fly before her former lover? Or did she still love him, and could not resist the temptation of seeing him once more?

The last thought seemed to surprise the Count very much, for he stopped and knitted his brow--

"Well, I shall see to-morrow! They cannot fail to meet. I will see if this unfathomable, sevenfold secret will be revealed at last!"

It was the afternoon of the next day. Herr and Frau von Reinert had arrived somewhat earlier than they were expected, and were received by Hermann, who would not allow his grandmother's midday rest to be disturbed.

Directly after the first greetings were over, Antonie had retired to her room to lay aside her travelling dress, and her husband was now with Count Arnau in a small ante-room, close to the Gartensaal.

The friends had not seen each other for five years, in fact, since Eugen's marriage, and these five years had not left so little trace upon him as upon Hermann.

He would still always pass for a handsome and interesting man; but his expression, as well as his voice, were much altered. Weariness, languor, satiation, were all written there only too plainly. The features, once glowing with life, were weak and vigourless; the eyes, formerly so enthusiastic, languid; the whole being of the man scarcely three-and-thirty, had a touch of half-bitter, half-painful, deep, inward discontent. And this was betrayed in his tone, as, after the first indifferent questions and enquiries, he said--

"In spite of your laconic letters, I have heard enough of you from a distance. You have become a celebrity, and if report be true, will shortly take a high office in State affairs!"

"Is that the report? Well, no one ever expected or took it for granted that I should become a celebrity!"

Eugen understood the reproach.

"But it was expected of me, you mean? Yes, I did promise you, in those days, to begin a greater work. I have made plans and sketches enough; but--our life is so disturbing, so full of changes--hitherto I have always wanted leisure and quiet to carry them out."

"And the necessary desire to work."

"Well, if you like, the desire too. The dreams of one's youth, with which one surrounds everything, come to an end at last. In reality, there is not much in art, or in happiness, or, indeed, in life altogether!"

He leaned back in his chair with an expression of the greatest weariness.

Hermann gave no answer; but Eugen felt what lay in the grave, searching glance with which he regarded him.

"You think my observation strange?"

"From your lips, yes. Any one, to whom life has brought nothing but disappointments, may speak so; you, who enjoy all its gifts, have no right to."

"And when I find that these wonderful gifts, this dream of happiness, are all illusions, is not my disappointment as great?"

Hermann got up and took a turn through the room--

"I hoped that, at least, your marriage with Antonie would be a happy one," said he, after a pause.

Eugen was silent.

"Then you are not happy?"

Reinert made an impatient movement.

"I do not know. She often torments me terribly with her varying moods, her jealousy, and then--I have to hear often enough, whom I have to thank for all, what she has sacrificed for my sake."

An expression of inexpressible scorn curled Hermann's lips.

"Ah! so it has got as far as that! She throws that in your face, and you endure it?"

"Have I a weapon against it?"

"It lay with you to make yourself independent. I imagined that just your wife's rank and riches would be a spur to urge you to rise to an equal height through your own powers."

Eugen heaved a sigh of resignation.

"Confound it, Hermann, you take it for granted that I have an iron nature like yours, which never needs rest nor refreshment, which pushes forward unceasingly and takes everything by storm. I have a different constitution."

"I know that!" said Hermann, with calm bitterness, "and believe me, Eugen, I have repented often enough, that I had any part in causing your life to take the direction it has. You ought to be free from the cares and limitations of ordinary life, ought to find the road to your future an open one, and it was with that view that I favoured your marriage. You are right, it was a fatal error to judge you by myself. You are one of those natures which need continual spurring forward; when the necessity for work was removed, the food for your talent was gone; had I left you to yourself, and you had had to work to live, it had been better!"

"You speak," said Eugen, pettishly, "as if I had done nothing since I saw you last, and yet my portraits are valued and admired--"

"Because you are the husband of Gräfin Antonie. Since that great picture of Antonie, in which you seem to have exhausted your genius, no work of yours has risen above mediocrity."

Eugen bit his lips.

"I must say you are very--sincere."

"And you have forgotten how to hear the truth. I cannot refrain from telling it you frankly."

Reinert drew himself up angrily, his vanity would not bear a reproach, the justice of which he nevertheless felt; he was on the point of answering hastily, but Hermann turned away suddenly from him, and looked with strained attention towards the door, which opened at this instant. A triumphant smile quivered round his lips, he had not led Eugen into this ante-room for nothing. He well knew who must pass through it, to fetch the children to their lessons, the former being generally with their mother at this hour--this first meeting must and should be watched.

Eugen, too, had turned his head, but he all at once sprang up and became deathly pale, stretching out his arms as if against a spectre, and with a cry of fright, exclaimed--

"Gertrud!"

It was, indeed, Gertrud who stood upon the threshold. She knew what awaited her to-day, but she was unprepared for a meeting at this moment, and here. She, too, turned pale, and made a movement as if to fly, but her eyes met Hermann's, which rested upon her face as if he would read her inmost soul. The girl's foot seemed suddenly rooted to the spot; she drew herself up, and returned the glance proudly and coldly. And there was something in her look which was nobler than defiance, and mightier than hate; he saw how a deep red flush rose into her countenance, whilst she met his steadfast glance, but her eyes did not sink. They stood thus for some seconds, then the Count suddenly turned away, Gertrud closed the door behind her, and with firm steps passed by the two gentlemen, disappearing into the neighbouring apartment.

Hermann clenched his hand angrily.

"Unbending! I knew it! This girl cannot be humiliated; did she not almost compel my eyes to quail before her?"

Eugen, who had stood during the whole scene as if rooted to the spot, now seemed to come to his senses.

"Hermann, what does this mean? Was that my--was that Gertrud Walter? Did you know--Um Gotteswillen, speak--speak!"

The Count leaned against the window with folded arms, his face at this moment showed that repellant expression peculiar to him in moments of deep irritation, but there lay an almost alarming brusqueness in his tone as he answered--

"Mademoiselle Walter is at present here as governess in my uncle Sternfeld's house, and has come with them. I can understand that the meeting must be painful to you both, but you see that she possesses sufficient tact to ignore you completely, and as for you, it will be easy to avoid her, as she devotes, herself exclusively to the children, and appears seldom or never in society."

Eugen hardly seemed to hear the last, words, his eyes still remained as if magnetically fixed upon the door which had closed upon her.

"Gertrud here!" repeated he still, "and I must see here, must see her again thus! O, she is no longer the child I left behind! How beautiful, how wonderfully beautiful she has become!"

With a hasty movement Count Hermann drew himself up from his careless position.

"I think it is time to join Antonie, she must have finished her toilette by this time, and if so, I will take you at once to my grandmother. Come!"

"No, no," cried Eugen, violently, "not now! After this meeting, and in this fearful agitation, I cannot endure the stiff formality of such an introduction. I cannot now!"

"My dear Eugen," the Count's voice was once more perfectly calm, but there was a cutting sarcasm in the sound of it, "this stiff formality concerns the recognition of your marriage from your wife's side, and you will show this family the consideration which is due from you. Have the goodness to control your emotions, and follow me. My grandmother, the Präsidentin von Sternfeld, is not accustomed to wait."

And with the commanding authority, which he had once practised over the young artist, he now took Herr von Reinert's arm, and drew his unwilling companion away with him.