XXIII.
In the mansion-house which had until now been hushed in slumber, many voices were heard shouting, and the tramp of horses came echoing from the court-yard. A smart, heavy step was heard below in the passage.
"Which door?"
"The second, Colonel. Allow me, Colonel."
But Bertram had already opened the door, and Colonel von Waldor came rushing in.
"Good evening, friend, or rather good morning. A good thing that I met your servant at once--otherwise I might have been hunting for you ever so long--I have only one minute to spare--where is Ringberg? Your servant said he was here."
"He left five minutes ago, when they were sounding the assembly."
"That came unexpectedly, eh?" cried the Colonel. "An hour before the time--I did it on my own responsibility. His Excellency will be furious--wait for the attack, forsooth!--in such an exposed situation--not if I know it!--we shall have to retreat ultimately as it is--so I'll give them some trouble first. But that does not concern you. Here is something that does, a little, and which will greatly please you. Read this!"
Waldor drew a folded paper from between a couple of buttons in his uniform and handed it to Bertram. The telegram was in French, and in the following! words:--
"I sincerely congratulate Madame la Princesse. Lawsuit definitely gained.
Your obedient servant, Odintzov."
"Odintzov," Waldor explained, "is our Petersburg lawyer and business-man, a most trustworthy fellow. What do you say now?"
"That I do congratulate you heartily. How did you get hold of this?"
"See what it is to be in luck! I knew that the lawsuit would soon be decided, though Alexandra refused to believe it. So I gave orders that any telegram arriving, by day or by night, was to be straightway sent here by mounted express. Returning just now from the outposts, close to Rinstedt, I overtook on the high-road a fellow trotting along in front of me. 'Telegram from Rinstedt?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Princess Volinzov?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Give it to me.' The beggar had got rid of the telegram before he knew what was up. I read it by the light of my cigar; hence this stain. May I trouble you for an envelope? Or perhaps you would be so kind as to hand it to the Princess with my respectful compliments? It would give her double pleasure. I can assure you that you are still as fortunate as ever with the sex! Alexandra quite raves about you. Good! Now, you may both put your wise heads together and settle how and when the battle, which is won, is to be utilised for the benefit of our young protégés. I give you two plein pouvoir. I should say, let them dangle a little longer. I could come over with Kurt, never saying a word of this to him. We would have a nice little supper. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have the exquisite pleasure of presenting my future wife to you--the Princess Alexandra Paulovna.' Capital! The amazed look in the eyes of our beautiful hostess is worth doing it for. And then the young ones immediately afterwards--only, of course, you must first pitch into the little girl properly; she seems to have a bit of a will of her own. All right, you'll see to it all between you, no doubt. Good-bye, mon cher! You are looking deucedly fagged. That's the result of being so much indoors. I have been on my legs since four o'clock yesterday morning, and feel as fresh as paint. Is this Kurt's glass? Oh, bother all ceremony! It is not the first that he and I have been using the same glass."
He filled the glass and drained it at one draught.
"Capital wine that! Well, good-bye, and au revoir!"
The Colonel had rushed off again.
"And thus," said Bertram with a smile, "one conquers the world. Perhaps it looks harder than it really is."
He again sat down at the writing-table and took up a fresh sheet of paper.
"Gracious Princess,--Waldor has just left me, after handing me, for transmission to you, the enclosed telegram, on the contents of which I beg to offer my hearty congratulations. I am sorry I must do so in writing, for a few hours hence I shall leave this--secretly--not to return. Business that will brook no delay makes this imperative, and I have not told Waldor of it. He hopes to find me here this evening, that I may be a witness to the amazement which the announcement of your engagement will cause in this friendly circle, as all obstacles to it are now removed. I am sincerely sorry that I cannot afford him that pleasure--for to him it would really be a pleasure.
"I regret it the more, because I must prepare a worse disappointment for him. For I consider it, in the interest of our protégés, to be desirable--necessary, if you wish--that you, My Lady, should also leave to-morrow; without waiting for Waldor's evening visit. The communication which you were resolved to make to our fair young friend Erna, before Waldor had given you plein pouvoir (which he now begs to do through me), will only have the right calming effect if you strike the proper note on Erna's heart, and then let it ring out full and clear. In life, as on the stage, a good ending has to be provided for. This is missed if one lingers on the stage, when once the decisive word has been spoken.
"And what about the communication itself?
"I should deem it presumptuous on my part, were I to venture to advise Claudine's clever friend on this point. She knows that one is compelled to say the whole truth only in a court of law. In life it is sufficient, nay, it is often requisite in the interest of humanity, to say nothing but the truth, to be sure, but, of the truth, only what is needful and useful--to use the words which Lessing puts into the mouth of his wise Jew Nathan.
"And, now, let me add to my requests, a word of deep and sincere gratitude that you deemed me worthy to make the acquaintance of Claudine and of yourself. Your friend is perhaps more interesting and intellectual--at least you said so--but your heart is a thousand times more noble.
"I have always paid due respect to intellectual capacity; but before a noble heart I gladly and reverently bend my knee."
Silence had for a long time been reigning again in the mansion-house. The combat, too, though it had commenced in the immediate vicinity, was now being continued a long way off, and one only heard something like the rumbling of a distant thunder-storm. The candles on Bertram's writing-table had all but burned down to the sockets; he turned his wearied eyes towards the window, through which the dull grey morning light was coming. Konski came into the room.
"What time is it?"
"Just five, sir."
"So late? Well, I am ready. Did you get hold of a carriage?"
"It is waiting at the bridge below."
"Did you get if from the mayor?"
"Yes, Herr Doctor. At first he was making no end of excuses; for they all want to drive to the manœ vres, every man of them; and Herr von Busche has ordered a trap, too, for the afternoon. He'll have to be content with a common cart and a sack. Never mind that, though!"
"Why should you look so miserable about that?"
"It isn't about that at all, Herr Doctor."
"Well?"
"It is because I do not like to let the Herr Doctor drive away like this. Can you not take me with you?"
"Impossible! You see yourself that you have a couple of hours' work before you yet. These sealed packets are to go into the small portmanteau which you keep by you. These letters you will deliver, when the ladies have risen. This money is for the servants. Do not forget any one, and do not be stingy, Konski! And remember me kindly to your Aurora. And now my cloak, please, and so good-bye, Konski."
"Am I not at least to see the Herr Doctor to the carriage?"
"No."
"Herr Doctor, do not be angry; I really mean so well by you, and Aurora does too. We have been speaking of nothing else. And she swears that the Herr Doctor, if he wished it, could have Miss Erna for the asking."
"Then tell your Aurora that the Herr Doctor does not wish it, and that the Herr Doctor has better things to do than to spoon and fool about, like you and her."
He had held out his hand to the faithful servant, and now he was gone. A minute later, Konski, standing mournfully by the window, saw the dark figure striding swiftly past the lawn, and vanish behind the terrace-wall. He closed the window with a sigh.
Bertram lessened his pace, as soon as he knew himself unobserved. Slowly he descended the steps to the second terrace. Here was the leafy grove which, on the left, led to the platform beneath the plantain-tree. He glanced timidly that way. His foot had already touched the next step, he wanted to get down,--to get away,--but something like a magic spell drew him to the spot.
There, in this chair, she had sat; he was facing her; and the golden sunbeams had flitted through the dense foliage, and the birds had been holding a gleeful festival in the branches, and from the gardens below fairest fragrance of flowers had been wafted up, and his heart had been full of light and joy, and of all the blissfulness of spring. And now! and now!
"Thou sacred dawn of early morn, forgive me! You quiet trees and bushes, tell it not! I have borne what man can bear; more, I cannot."
And pressing his hand to his face, he wept.