CHAPTER VI.
Signora Biancona appeared to have touched the right chord. The bare possibility of such an idea broke down Ella's opposition. "I will hear you," replied she, quickly, "but where?"
"In the little verandah at the right of the gallery. We shall be alone there; I will go first, you need only follow me."
With an almost imperceptible motion, Ella bowed her head. The few words had been exchanged so rapidly and softly, that no one had overheard a syllable, no one even noticed the close vicinity of the two ladies, who, at that moment, were only surrounded by strangers; therefore, none remarked it when Signora Biancona immediately afterwards disappeared from the room, and Ella a few minutes later followed her example.
The gallery, adorned with statues and paintings, next to the reception-room was almost empty. Only few guests had sought the cooler apartment, at the end of which a glass door led into a half-open verandah, which by day probably offered an extensive view over the surrounding gardens, but tonight had been included in the entertaining rooms, as it also had been decorated with flowering and foliage plants, and if not so brilliantly lighted as the saloons, yet was sufficiently so; at any rate it was quite empty, and the half-hidden room, lying somewhat apart, which was unknown to most of the guests, offered the possibility of an undisturbed conversation.
Beatrice was already there when Ella's lace dress rustled through the doorway, but the young wife remained very close to it, without advancing even a single step beyond. With just the same unbending, proud bearing which she had shown at the first meeting in the locanda. did she now await the commencement of this half-compulsory interview. The Italian's eyes hung with a truly devouring expression on the white figure which stood opposite to her, flooded with the light of the lamps, and whose beauty moved her to the bitterest hatred.
"Signora Eleonore Almbach!" began she at last, "I regret having to explain to you that your incognito is already betrayed. For the present only to me, but I do not believe that it can be long maintained."
"And upon whom would it fall?" asked Ella quietly. "I did not spare myself when I assumed this incognito.
"Whom then? Perhaps Rinaldo?"
"I do not know Signor Rinaldo."
The words sounded so icily positive, that it was impossible to entertain any doubt as to what she meant to express, and Beatrice was silenced for a moment by them. It was quite beyond her to understand the pride which could not even forgive a Rinaldo for a breach of faith once made.
"Indeed, I was not prepared for this denial," replied she. "If Rinaldo--"
"You wished to speak to me," interrupted Ella, "and I promised to listen to you. That the decision has cost me something, I need hardly explain to you; at least I did not expect to hear this name from you, nor do I wish it. Let our conversation be as short as possible. What have you to say to me?"
"Above all, I have to beg you to employ a different tone in our interview," said Beatrice, with irritation. "You are speaking to Beatrice Biancona, whose name is surely known to you in other ways than merely through our personal connection with one another, and who may indeed endure hatred and enmity on the part of an opponent, but not the contempt you are pleased to express."
Ella remained perfectly unmoved at this demand. She stepped a little aside, under cover of the tall foliage plants, so that she might not be seen from the gallery, and then turned again to the speaker.
"I did not seek this interview. It was you, Signora, who to some extent forced me to it, therefore you must allow me to preserve the tone which I deem to be suitable towards you; none other is at my disposal."
A glance of wild, deadly hatred shot out of Beatrice's eyes, but she felt that if she now gave way to her passion, it would rob her of all power, and prepare her antagonist a new triumph. She therefore crossed her arms, and replied with annihilating scorn--
"You make me do severe penance, Signora Almbach, for having been the conqueror in a struggle whose prize was your husband's love."
"You are mistaken," responded Ella, coldly. "I never struggle for any man's love. I leave that to women who first gain such a prize with difficulty, and then must ever tremble lest they lose it."
The last words seemed to have touched a sore spot. Beatrice paled.
"Certainly you had a right to claim him on the strength of the bridal altar," said she, still retaining the former contemptuous tone. "Only, alas, even this talisman does not protect one from the misfortune of being forsaken."
Now it was she who aimed mercilessly for a wound which she herself had made, but the arrow glanced harmlessly back. Ella drew herself up erect and proud--
"Certainly not from the pain of such a fate, but at any rate from its shame. For the forsaken wife there remain the interest, the sympathy of the whole world; for the forsaken lover--only contempt."
"Only that?" said Beatrice grimly. "You mistake, Signora; one other thing remains for her--revenge!"
"Is that intended for a threat to me?" asked Ella. "Whoever challenges your revenge, may seek to protect herself against it; I am free from it."
"Of course, you came from the north where passion is not known, as we understand the word," cried the Italian. "With you prejudices, duties, the world's opinion, stand for ever and ever in the front--a woman's love only comes in the second rank."
"Certainly in the second rank." Ella's tone was now one of unconcealed scorn. "In the first stands woman's honour; we are accustomed to place it unconditionally and everywhere in front--a prejudice certainly from which Signora Biancona has long since emancipated herself."
Ella did not know the rival whom she irritated, otherwise she would not perhaps have ventured to let the pride of the deeply injured wife speak in so crushing a manner; the effect was an appalling one.
It was as if all at once a demon sprang up in the Italian, as if her whole being really shot forth "death and destruction," so flashed her dark eyes; a half smothered cry of fury broke from her lips, and forgetting everything around her, she took one or two steps forward.
Ella shrank back at this more than threatening movement--
"What does that mean, Signora?" said she firmly. "Violence perhaps? You forget where we are. I see that I was wrong to accede to this interview, it is high time to end it."
Beatrice appeared to recover her senses to some extent; at least she stood still, although the unnatural expression of her eyes had not faded; convulsively her hand crushed the black lace veil which fell over her shoulders; she did not notice that in doing so one of the red flowers detached itself from her hair, and fell to the ground.
"You shall learn to repent these words--this hour, Signora," hissed she through her clenched teeth. "You do not know revenge? Very well, I know it, and shall know how to show it to you and him."
She swept away and left the young wife alone behind, who could not bring herself to re-enter the drawing-room immediately after this scene, and encounter Erlau's anxious enquiries. Drawing a long breath, she sat down on one of the seats, and rested her head on her hand. This wild hatred and threat of vengeance did shake her, but it showed her the truth also, through all veils. Only the successful rival is hated, only what is lost is avenged, or at least what is given up for lost--the infatuation was at an end.
But whom did these threatening words concern? Reinhold? The wife paled; she herself had offered a firm bold front to the menace; but at this thought a breath as of trembling fear passed through her soul, and as if in half unconscious pain she pressed her hand to her bosom and whispered--
"Oh, my God, that cannot be. She loves him surely."
"Eleonore!" said a voice quite close to her.
Ella started up. She recognised the voice at the first sound, even before she saw the figure, which stood on the other side of the doorway, as though it did not dare to pass. Reinhold seemed to gain courage when he saw no repelling movement, and entered completely.
"What is it?" asked he uneasily, "I find you alone here in this distant room, and just now I saw another come from it and hurry through the gallery. You spoke--"
"To Signora Biancona," added Ella, as he stopped.
"Did she insult you?" cried Reinhold irately. "I know her look, which betokened no good. I almost suspected it when I saw her disappear so suddenly from the drawing-room, and you were to be seen no more. I came too late, as it appears. Did she insult you, Ella?"
His young wife rose, and made a movement as if to leave--
"If she had done so, you understand surely that your protection would be the last which I should claim."
She tried to pass him, and reach the door. Reinhold made no attempt to detain her, but his glance rested upon her with such sad reproach, that she stopped involuntarily.
"Eleonore," said he softly, "one more question before you go--only one. You were at my opera--why deny it? I saw you, as you saw me. What urged you to go?"
Ella lowered her eyes, as if it were a fault of which she was accused, and a treacherous warmth flowed over her brow and cheeks, as she hesitatingly replied--
"I wanted to become acquainted with the composer, Rinaldo, in his works."
"And now that you have become acquainted with him?"
"Do you wish for my judgment upon your new creation? The world says it is a masterwork."
"It was a confession," said he with strong emphasis. "I did not, indeed, imagine that you would hear it, but as it was so--did you understand it?"
His wife was silent.
"I only saw your eyes for one moment," continued he passionately, "but I saw that tears stood in them. Did you understand me, Ella?"
"I comprehended that the author of such tones could not endure the narrow circle of my parent's house," replied Ella firmly, "and that perhaps he chose the best for himself when he broke through it and plunged into a life full of warmth and passion, such as his music paints. You have sacrificed everything to your genius--I bear you testimony that this genius was worthy of the sacrifice."
The last words sounded intensely bitter; they seemed to have touched the same chord in Reinhold.
"You do not know how cruel you are," said he in a like tone, "or rather you know it only too well, and make me suffer tenfold for every pang I once caused you. What indeed is it to you, if I rise or succumb in a life which the world deems unequalled happiness, which I often, so often already, would have given away for a single hour of rest and peace! What is it to you, if your husband, the father of your child, be devoured with wild longing for reconciliation with a past which he could never quite tear out of his heart, if at last he despairs of everything and of himself! He has merited his fate; therefore the rod was broken over him, and the elevated, virtuous pride of his wife denies him every word of reconciliation, denies him even the sight of his child--"
"For Heaven's sake, Reinhold, control yourself," interrupted Ella anxiously. "We are not alone here--if a stranger heard us!"
He laughed bitterly--
"Well, then he would hear the great crime, that the husband has for once dared to speak to his wife. And if all the world learn it, I care no longer upon whom the discovery, whom the condemnation falls. Ella you must remain," interrupted he beside himself, as he saw she wished to depart. "For once I must ease my breast of what I have carried about with me for months, and as you are at other times so inaccessible to me, you must listen to me now and here. You must I say."
He seized her arm, so as to detain her by force; but at the same moment Marchese Tortoni appeared at the door, and stepped almost furiously between them.
Reinhold let his wife's arm go, and drew back. Cesario's appearance showed him that the latter must have been present at least during the last scene; with dark brow and a grave look the Marchese placed himself at once by Ella's side.
"May I offer you my arm, Signora?" said he, very positively. "Your uncle is uneasy at your absence. You will allow me to accompany you to him."
Reinhold had already mastered his astonishment, but not his excitement. The interruption at such a moment irritated him to excess, and the sight of Cesario at his wife's side robbed him completely of his self-control.
"I request that you will withdraw, Cesario," said he violently and dictatorially, with that superiority which he had always employed towards his young friend and admirer, but he forgot that he no longer held the foremost place with the latter. The Marchese's eyes flashed with indignation, as he replied--
"The tone of your request is as singular, Rinaldo, as the request itself; you will therefore understand if I do not accede to it. I certainly did not understand the German words which you exchanged with Signora Erlau, but yet I saw that she was to be compelled to stay when she wished to go. I fear she requires protection--pray command me, Signora!"
"You will protect her from me?" cried Reinhold, becoming excited. "I forbid you to approach this lady!"
"You appear to forget that it is not Signora Biancona in this case," said the Marchese, cuttingly. "You may have a right there to forbid or allow, but here--"
"I have it here more than any other."
"You lie."
"Cesario! You will answer for this to me," cried Reinhold angrily.
"As you please," replied the Marchese, equally violently.
Ella had up to this time tried in vain to interrupt the sentences which were exchanged rapidly between the wildly excited men; they did not listen to her, but the last words, whose meaning she understood only too well, showed her the whole extent of the danger of this unhappy meeting. With quick decision she stepped between them, and said with a determination which commanded attention even at this moment--
"Marchese Tortoni, do not proceed any farther! It is a misunderstanding."
Cesario turned at once to her. "Pardon, Signora! We forgot your presence;" said he more calmly. "But you overlook the fact that in Signor Rinaldo's words there lies an insult to you, which I am not inclined to tolerate. I cannot and shall not retract my words, unless you were to convince me that he is right."
Ella struggled with herself in agonising indecision. Reinhold stood silent and gloomy; she saw that he would not speak now, that with this silence he wished to compel her, either to deny or acknowledge him as her husband; but to deny him, meant in this case to call forth the worst consequences. The insult had taken place, and with the two men's characters, a fatal meeting was inevitable. If it were not withdrawn, no choice remained to the wife.
"Signor Rinaldo goes too far when he still claims rights which he once possessed," replied she at last. "But no insult lay in his words, he spoke--of his wife!"
Reinhold breathed more freely--at last she confessed it before Cesario. The latter stood as if struck by lightning. Often as he had sought for a solution of the enigma, he had never expected one such as this.
"Of his wife!" repeated he almost stupified.
"We have been separated for years," said Ella voicelessly.
This explanation restored the Marchese's steadiness. He immediately guessed the cause of the separation; did he not know Beatrice Biancona? The one name made all clear to him, and left no doubt as to whose side the fault lay on now. The Captain was right in his conjecture; the discovery, instead of frightening Cesario away, rather made him break forth in passionate partizanship for the beloved and injured wife.
"Well then, Signora," said he quickly, "it only rests with you, whether you will recognise a claim, which Rinaldo founds upon a past, which exists no longer, and which he himself surely destroyed. You alone have to decide whether I may still approach you, if in future I may dedicate a feeling to you, which I confess openly is now more than the cold admiration of a stranger, and which one day you must accept or refuse."
He spoke with all the ardour of a long suppressed emotion, but also with the noble, immovable confidence of a man, to whom the beloved one is elevated above all doubt, and the language was sufficiently plain; it pressed urgently for a decision, from which the wife shrank back tremblingly.
"Yes, indeed Eleonore, you must decide," said Reinhold, now taking up the word. His voice all at once sounded unnaturally calm, but the glance which hung openly on his wife with an expression as if in the next moment the fiat of life or death should fall from her lips, showed better how it was with him. For one second's duration both their eyes met, and Ella could have been no woman had she not now seen that the most perfect, annihilating revenge lay in her hand. One single "Yes" from her lips would avenge all that she had suffered. Slowly she turned to Cesario.
"Marchese Tortoni--I beg you to desist--I still consider myself bound."
A short portentous pause followed the words. Ella saw what a struggle between pain and pride of the man, who would not show how deeply he had been struck, went forward in the young Italian's beautiful features; she saw him bow to her, without speaking a word, and turn to go; but courage failed her to cast a glance to the other side.
"Cesario!" cried Reinhold, going a step towards him as if in rising repentance. "We are friends."
"We were so," replied the Marchese, coldly. "You surely comprehend, Rinaldo, that this hour separates us. My accusation against you I must certainly retract! your wife's explanation exonerates you from it--farewell, Signora."
He left the husband and wife alone. Neither spoke during the next few minutes. Ella bent low over one of the perfumed flowers, and a few tears fell upon the broad shining leaves. Then her name was borne to her ear by a trembling breath--she seemed not to hear it.
"Eleonore!" repeated Reinhold.
She raised her eyes to him. Intense pain still rested on her face, but her voice sounded under perfect control again.
"What have I said then? That I shall never make use of the freedom which your step gave me? That was certain from the first; without this the experience of my marriage protects me from any second one. I have my child, and in it the object and happiness of my life. I require no other love."
"You, certainly not," said Reinhold, with quivering lip, "and my doom is indifferent to you--you have always loved your child only, and never me. For his sake you could break through all the prejudices of your bringing up and become another woman; you could not do it for your husband."
"Did he then ever give me such love as I found in my child?" asked Ella, in a very low voice. "Let it be, Reinhold! You know who stands between us, and will ever stand."
"Beatrice? I will not accuse her, although she was more to blame for my departure then than you perhaps believe. Yet, I was always master of my will--why did I yield to the fascination? But if I have now recognised its deception, and tear myself away--"
"Will you forsake her, as you forsook me?" interrupted his wife, in reproachful condemnation. "Do you think that that could reconcile us? I have lost all belief in you, Reinhold, and it will not be restored to me, even if you sacrifice a second person now. I have no cause for sparing or considering this Biancona, but she loves you; she offered up all for you, and you yourself gave her an undisputed right of possession for years. If even you would now destroy the fetters you forged for yourself she would still part us for ever. It is too late; I cannot trust you any more."
Immeasurable sadness rang in the last words, but at the same time unbending firmness. In the next moment Ella had left the room. Reinhold was alone.
It was on the day following this entertainment, already towards evening, when Captain Almbach entered Reinhold's drawing-room.
"Is my brother still not visible?" asked he of the servant who met him.
The latter shrugged his shoulders, and pointed across to the locked door of the study.
"You know, Signor, that we dare not disturb him. Signor Rinaldo has locked himself in."
"Since this morning!" murmured Captain Almbach; "that begins, indeed, to be alarming. I must absolutely find out what has happened."
He went to the study door, and knocked in such a manner that it could not be unheard.
"Reinhold, open the door! It is I."
No answer came from within.
"Reinhold, twice to-day have I demanded admittance to you in vain. If you do not open the door now, I shall think some misfortune has happened, and burst it open in a minute."
The threat seemed to have some effect. Steps were heard inside the room; the bolt was pushed back, and Reinhold, standing before his brother who entered quickly, said impatiently--
"Why this disturbance? Can I never be alone?"
"Never!" said Hugo, reproachfully. "Since this morning you have been inaccessible to everybody--even to me; and your face shows that you are more fitted to bear anything than being alone. That unfortunate soirée last night; Heaven knows what befel you all! Ella suddenly disappeared from the room, and I am convinced you spoke together. Marchese Tortoni, who also became invisible, returned with a countenance as if he had received his verdict of death, and left the party the next moment. I find you in the gallery in a state of excitement beyond description, and Donna Beatrice looked like the last judgment day, as she entered her carriage. I bet that she alone has caused all the mischief. What is the matter between you?"
Reinhold folded his arms, and looked gloomily at the ground. "Nothing more now--we are separated from henceforward."
Captain Almbach stepped back in intense surprise. "What does it mean? You accompanied her."
"Yes, she knew how to manage that, and so at last it came to a decision between us."
"You have broken with her?" asked Hugo.
"I--no," replied Reinhold, with a bitter expression; "it was told me plainly enough that I might sacrifice no 'second.' It was Beatrice who brought the rupture violently about. Why must she force me to an interview so immediately after it had become clear to me what I had lost for her sake? She called me to account for my thoughts and feelings, and I told her the truth which she demanded--mercilessly perhaps, but if I was cruel, she challenged me to it ten times over."
"I can imagine it, from what I know of Biancona," said Hugo, in an under tone.
"From what you know of her?" repeated his brother. "Do not believe it! Did I not only really learn to know her last evening? It was a scene; I tell you, Hugo, even you, with all your energy, would not have been equal to her. One must have something of a fiend in one's nature to resist such a woman. That hour put its seal upon our separation."
The words were full of gloomy moodiness, but betrayed no relief, no removal of any weight. Captain Almbach shook his head.
"I fear the story will certainly not end there. This Beatrice is not a woman to waste away in helpless tears. Be upon your guard, Reinhold!"
"She threatened me with all her vengeance," said Reinhold darkly, "and so far as I know her, she will keep to it. Let her then! I do not tremble before what I called up myself--with happiness I had parted already."
"And if this separation continued irretrievable, do you not believe in the possibility of a reconciliation with Ella?" asked Hugo, gravely.
"No, Hugo, that is over. I know that she cannot forget. Not one voice in her heart speaks for me now, if it even ever spoke. The cleft between us is too wide, too deep; no bridge leads across it now. I have given up the last hope."
The brothers' conversation was interrupted at this moment by Jonas, who entered hastily.
Reinhold looked up, annoyed that his brother's servant should venture to enter his study so unceremoniously, and Hugo had a rebuke ready on his lips, when a glance at the sailor's face arrested it.
"What is it, Jonas?" asked he uneasily. "Is it anything important?"
"Herr Captain!"--the sailor's voice had quite lost its usual quiet tone, it trembled audibly----"I have just come from Herr Erlau's house--you know that I often go there now--the old gentleman is beside himself; all the servants are running about--Annunziata cries her eyes out, although she really is not to blame for it, and young Frau Erlau just now----"
"What has happened?" cried Reinhold, with the dread of presentiment. "Some misfortune?"
"The child is gone," said Jonas, desperately; "since this forenoon. If they do not find it again, I believe the mother will lose her life."
"Who? Little Reinhold?" enquired Hugo, while his brother stared at the messenger of evil, without power over a single word. "How could it happen? Was no one there to look after him?"
"He was playing in the garden as usual," related Jonas, "and Annunziata with him; she went into the house for a quarter of an hour, as she often does. When she returned, the garden door was open, the child gone, and not a trace of him to be found. They have roused all the neighbourhood, searched all the environs, but no ponds nor pits, where the little one could come to grief, are anywhere near, and if he had run away, he is big enough, after all, to find his way back again. No one can understand the mystery."
The brothers' looks met. In both their eyes stood the same terrible thought. The next moment, Reinhold, pale as a corpse, and trembling with excitement in all his limbs, seized his hat from the table.