CHAPTER XIV.
Waldhofen was the most important village of the vicinity, but still only a small place. It was about half an hour's distance from Furstenstein and formed a kind of centre for all the scattered villages and hamlets of the Wald.
It looked very desolate and forlorn during the afternoon hours, when nobody was on the streets; so thought Herr von Eschenhagen as he walked across the market place, where the post office was situated.
He finished the errand which had brought him to Waldhofen, and found a man to carry the parcel to the castle. Then, since the streets of the quiet little place offered no diversion, he turned into a lane which led to the high road behind the gardens of the houses.
The path was rather boggy; yesterday's rain had made it quite without a foothold in places. Yet Willibald was farmer enough not to care about such things, but marched on unconcernedly.
He was in an exceedingly happy mood. It was surely a pleasant thing to be betrothed, and he did not doubt in the least that he would lead a very happy life in the future with his good Toni.
At this moment a carriage came toward him, making its way laboriously through the boggy soil, and apparently bringing travellers, for a large trunk was strapped on behind, and the inside seemed to contain various travelling appurtenances.
Willibald could not help wondering why they used this lane, which, in its present condition, was very tiresome; indeed the driver seemed dissatisfied. He turned in his seat to consult with the traveller, who so far had not been visible.
"It really does not go any further, Fraulein. I told you so before. We cannot get through here, the wheels stick in the mud. We are in a fix now."
"But it is not far now," said a fresh voice from the inside; "only a few hundred paces. Just try it again."
"What is not possible is not possible," returned the driver with philosophical composure. "We cannot get through that mire before us; we must turn back."
"But I do not wish to drive through town." The voice had a spice of defiance in it now. "If it is not possible to drive on, I shall dismount."
The driver stopped, the door was opened, and a light, slender figure sprang from the carriage with such sure aim as to reach a higher spot across the mire. There she remained and glanced around searchingly: but as the lane made a bend nearby, only a little of it could be overlooked. The young lady seemed to observe this with dissatisfaction. Then her glance fell upon Herr von Eschenhagen, who, approaching from the other direction, now reached the bend.
"Please, mein Herr, is the lane passable?" she called. He did not answer directly, being petrified with admiration of her daring and graceful jump. Why, she flew through the air like a feather and yet stood firm and safe upon her feet where she landed.
"Do you not hear?" repeated the Fraulein impatiently; "I asked if the lane is passable."
"Yes, I have walked over it," said Willibald, somewhat confused by the dictatorial questioning.
"I see that, but I have no boots like yours and cannot wade through the mire. Is it possible to pass along the hedges? Great heavens! at least answer me."
"I--I believe so. It is somewhat dry over yonder."
"Well, I shall try, then. Turn back, driver, and deliver my baggage at the post office. I will send for it. Wait, I will take that satchel with me. Hand it across."
"But the satchel is too heavy for you, Fraulein," remonstrated the driver, "and I cannot leave the horses alone."
"Well, then, this gentleman will carry it for me. It is not far to our garden. Please, mein Herr, take the satchel, the small one upon the back seat with the black leather lining. But do make haste."
The little foot stamped the ground impatiently, for the young lord stood there with open mouth. He could not comprehend how a total stranger could dispose of him so nonchalantly, nor how so young a girl could command in such a way.
At the last very ungracious words, however, he made haste to approach and take the designated satchel, which seemed the proper thing to be done.
"So," she said shortly. "You, driver, stop at the post office, and now forward into the bogs of Waldhofen!"
She picked up her gray travelling dress and walked close to the hedge, where the road was somewhat higher and dryer.
Willibald, of whom no notice was taken, trotted behind her with the satchel. He had never seen anything so graceful as this slender figure, which did not reach to his shoulder, and he occupied himself in observing this figure, because he had nothing else to do.
The young girl had something exceedingly charming and graceful in her motions, as well as her whole appearance; but the small head, with the dark hair curling from under her hat, was carried with undeniable spirit. The face was rather irregular in outline, but lovely with its dark, roguish eyes, while the small, rosy mouth, around which lay a line of refractory defiance, and the two dimples in the chin, made it perfectly charming. The gray travelling dress, in spite of its plainness, was very tasteful and met the requirements of fashion. The young traveller apparently did not belong to the home-made villagers of Waldhofen.
The road around the corner proved indeed somewhat dryer, but one had to keep to the little, raised path near the hedge and to jump at times over damp places. Conversation was, therefore, not possible, and Willy, in truth, never thought of commencing it. He carried the satchel patiently, accepting just as patiently the fact that his companion did not concern herself in the least about him, until, after ten minutes' walk, they stood at the low gate of a garden.
The young girl bent over the pickets and pushed an inside bolt; then she turned.
"Many thanks, mein Herr. Please give me my satchel now."
In spite of its small dimensions, the bag was rather heavy, much too heavy for the little hands outstretched for it. Willibald was seized with a sudden attack of chivalry--not a usual fault with him--and declared that he would carry it to the house, which was accepted with a gracious nod.
They passed through a small, but carefully kept, garden to an old, plain house, and entered through the back door into a cool, dusky hall, where their arrival was immediately perceived. An old servant rushed out of the kitchen.
"Fraulein! Fraulein Marietta! Have you come already to-day? Ach, what joy----"
She got no further, for Marietta flew to her and pressed her little hand upon her mouth.
"Be still, Babette! Speak quietly; I want to surprise him. Is he at home?"
"Yes, the Herr Doctor is in his study. Do you wish to go there, Fraulein?"
"No; I will steal into the sitting room and sing his favorite song. Careful now, Babette; so that he does not hear us."
Like a fairy she slipped lightly and noiselessly to the other side of the house and opened a door. Babette followed her, not noticing, in the joy and surprise of her Fraulein's return, that some one else stood in the dark hall. The door was left wide open, a chair was carefully moved, and directly a low prelude began in trembling notes, probably from a venerable old piano; but it sounded like the music of a harp, and then a voice arose, clear and sweet and joyous as a lark.
It did not last many minutes, for a door opposite was hastily opened, and a white-haired old man appeared.
"Marietta, my Marietta! is it really you?"
"Grandpapa!" was cried back, joyfully. The song broke off and Marietta threw herself upon her grandfather's neck.
"You naughty child, how you have frightened me!" he scolded, tenderly. "I did not expect you until the day after to-morrow, and intended to meet you at the station. Now I hear your voice, and do not dare to believe my ears."
The young girl laughed merrily as a child. She was more than happy and content.
"Yes, the surprise has been a complete success, grandpapa. I drove into the lane and actually stuck in the bog. I came in the back door. What do you want, Babette?"
"Fraulein, the man who brought the bag is still there," said the old servant, who had but just observed the stranger. "Shall I pay him for you?"
The young lord still stood there with the satchel in his hand. But now Dr. Volkmar turned and exclaimed in great embarrassment: "Gracious heavens! Herr von Eschenhagen!"
"Do you know the gentleman?" Marietta asked without much surprise, for her grandfather was accustomed to meet all of Waldhofen in his office of physician.
"Certainly. Babette, take the valise from the gentleman. I beg your pardon, mein Herr. I did not know that you were already acquainted with my granddaughter."
"No, we are not acquainted in the least," declared the girl. "Will you not present the gentleman to me, grandpapa?"
"Certainly, my child. Herr Willibald von Eschenhagen of Burgsdorf----"
"Toni's betrothed!" interrupted Marietta, gaily. "Oh, how funny that we should meet in the middle of a bog! If I had only known, Herr von Eschenhagen, I would not have treated you so badly. I let you follow me like a regular porter. But why did you not say something?"
Willibald did not say anything now, but looked mutely at the little hand which was cordially extended to him. Feeling that he had to either say or do something, he grasped the rosy little hand in his giant fist and squeezed and shook it heartily.
"Oh!" cried the young lady, retreating horrified; "you have an awful handshake, Herr von Eschenhagen. I believe you have broken my fingers."
Willibald turned red with confusion and stammered an excuse. Fortunately, Dr. Volkmar now invited him to enter, which invitation he accepted silently, and Marietta narrated in a very laughable way her meeting with him. She treated her friend's betrothed like an old acquaintance, for she had long known of their engagement. She asked him about Toni, about the Chief Forester and all the household, her small, red mouth rattling on like a mill wheel.
Still the young lord was almost mute. The clear voice which sounded, even in talking, like the twittering of birds, utterly confused him.
He had only met the doctor yesterday, when the latter had called at Furstenstein. There had been some casual mention of a certain Marietta--a friend of Toni's--but he did not know anything further, for his fiancée was not very communicative.
"And this naughty child allows you to stand in the hall without ceremony, while she seats herself at the piano to notify me of her arrival," said Volkmar, shaking his head. "That was very naughty, Marietta."
The young girl laughed and shook her curly head.
"Oh, Herr von Eschenhagen will not be offended at that, and therefore he may listen while I sing you your favorite song again. You scarcely heard a note of it before. Shall I begin now?"
Without waiting for an answer, she ran to the piano, and again that silvery, clear voice arose, entrancing the ear with its charm. She sang an old, simple carol, but it sounded as soft and sweet and coaxing as if spring and sunshine had suddenly entered the desolate rooms of the old house. It spread sunshine over the face of the old, white-haired man, where many a line of care and anxiety was visible. He listened with a smile, half sad, half happy, to the song which may have reminded him of his youth. But he was not the only attentive listener.
The young lord of Burgsdorf, who two hours previously had fallen asleep amidst the thunders of "The Janissaries' March"--who, in perfect accord with his betrothed, had considered silly music a tiresome thing--now listened to those soft, floating sounds as intently as if they brought him a revelation.
He sat there, bent over, his eyes fixed immovably upon the young girl, who apparently put all her soul into the song, moving her head to and fro with an infinitely graceful motion.
When the song ended he breathed deeply and passed his hand across his brow.
"My little singing bird," said Dr. Volkmar, tenderly bending over his granddaughter and kissing her brow.
"Well, grandpapa, my voice has not exactly deteriorated in the last few months, has it?" she asked, teasingly, "but it does not seem to please Herr von Eschenhagen. He does not say a word about it."
She glanced with a childish pout over at Willibald, who now also arose and approached the piano. A slight flush suffused his face, and his usually quiet eyes flashed as he said in a low tone: "Oh, it was beautiful, very beautiful!"
The young singer may have been accustomed to other compliments, but she felt the deep, honest admiration in the laconic words, and knew very well the impression the song had made. She smiled, therefore, as she replied: "Yes, the song is beautiful. I have always had a regular triumph when I sang it as an addition to my rôle."
"To your rôle!" replied Willibald, not understanding the expression.
"Yes, in the play from which I have just returned. Oh, it has been a splendid success, grandpapa. The manager would gladly have prolonged it, but I had already given the greater part of my vacation to it, and I wished to be with you at least a few weeks."
The young lord listened with increasing astonishment.
Play! vacation! manager! What could all that mean? The doctor saw his surprise.
"Herr von Eschenhagen does not know your vocation, my child," he said, quietly. "My granddaughter has been educated for the opera."
"How dryly you say that, grandpapa!" cried Marietta, springing up. Straightening herself to the fullest height of her dainty figure, she added, with mock solemnity: "For five months a member of the highly respected Ducal Court Theatre, a person of official honors and renown!"
Member of the Court Theatre! Willibald almost shuddered at those awful words. The obedient son of his mother shared her disdain of "actresses." Involuntarily he receded a step and glared horrified at the young lady who had imparted such awful news to him. She laughed merrily at this motion.
"You are not compelled to show so exceeding much respect and awe, Herr von Eschenhagen. I will allow you to remain near the piano. Has not Toni told you that I am on the stage?"
"Toni--no!" Willibald burst out, having lost his composure completely. "But she is waiting for me. I must return to Furstenstein. I have tarried here already too long."
"You are very polite," laughed the girl, gayly. "That is not very flattering to us, but since you are engaged you must naturally return to your fiancée."
"Yes, and to my mamma," said Willibald, who had a dark feeling that something awful threatened him, before which his mother appeared as a saving angel. "I beg your pardon, but I have stayed here already too long----"
He stopped, for he remembered that he had already said that once, and searched for other words, but could not find any, and, unhappily, repeated the phrase for the third time.
Marietta almost choked with laughter, but Dr. Volkmar declared politely that they did not wish to detain him any longer, and begged him to take his regards to the Chief Forester and Fraulein von Schonan.
The young lord scarcely heard. He looked for his hat, made a bow, stammered a few words of adieu and ran off as if his head was burning. He had but one thought--that he must leave as quickly as possible; that gay, teasing laugh made him crazy.
When Volkmar, who had escorted Willibald to the door, returned, his granddaughter was wiping the tears from her eyes, quite overcome with laughter.
"I believe something is wrong with Toni's betrothed here," she cried, putting a delicate ringer to her forehead. "At first he ran behind me, mutely carrying the bag like a fish wife; then he seemed to thaw at my singing, and now he is seized with an attack of something and runs away to Furstenstein to his 'mamma,' so quickly that I could not even send a greeting to his betrothed."
The doctor smiled a little plaintively. He had observed closely and guessed whence came this sudden change of manner in his guest.
"The young man has probably not had much intercourse with ladies," he said, evasively; "and he seems to stand somewhat in awe of his mother, but he appears to please his fiancée very well, and that is surely the most important thing."
"Yes, he is handsome," said Marietta, somewhat thoughtfully; "even very handsome. But I believe, grandpapa, he is also very stupid."
In the meantime Willibald had run like a storm to the next corner, where he came to a standstill and tried to collect his thoughts, which were in great confusion. It was a long time before he succeeded, but he looked back once more to the doctor's house before he walked on.
What would his mother say to it? She who had placed the whole world of actresses under a ban; and she was right. Willy plainly felt that something bewitching belonged to the tribe; one had to beware of them.
But what if this Marietta Volkmar should take a notion to visit her friend at Furstenstein? The young lord ought to have been horrified at the thought, and was convinced that he was horrified; but with all that the strange flash returned to his eyes. He suddenly saw in the reception room, at the piano where Toni had been a little while ago, a small, delicate figure, whose dark, curly head moved to and fro like a bird, and the thunder of the march changed into the soft, rippling notes of the old carol, while between all again sounded the gay, silvery laugh which also was music.
And all this loveliness must be ruined and lost because it belonged to the stage! Frau von Eschenhagen had often expressed such an opinion, and Willibald was too good a son not to consider her an oracle. But he heaved a deep sigh, and murmured: "Oh, what a pity; what a great pity!"