CHAPTER VIII.
"Must I really pay the driver twenty silver groschen for my small self and my small box?" asked Meta, bursting into Elsa's room.
"Good gracious, Meta!"
"First answer my question!"
"I do not know."
"Fräulein Elsa does not know either, August!" cried Meta into the passage; "so pay him what he asks. And now, you dear, darling, best of creatures, tell me if I am welcome!" Meta threw her arms round Elsa's neck, laughing and crying both at once. "You see, here I am at last, without any letter, after announcing my arrival fifty times. I could not bear it any longer. As often as papa said, 'You can have the horses tomorrow,' it never came to anything; for when to-morrow arrived the horses were always wanted for somebody or something else. So when he said it again this morning, as we were having our coffee, I said, 'No! not to-morrow, but to-day, immediately, on the spot, tout de suite!'--packed my box--that is why it is so small, my clothes had not come home from the wash--you must help me out--and here I am. And as for the cabman, that was only because my papa said: 'Take care you are not cheated!' and my mamma said: 'Cheated! nonsense! if only she has her wits about her!' And so on the way I vowed most solemnly to be desperately wise and not to disgrace you, and so I began at once with the cabman, you see." And Meta danced about the room and clasped Elsa round the neck again, and exclaimed: "This is the happiest night of my life, and if you send me away again early tomorrow morning it will still have been the happiest night!"
"And I hope that this evening will be followed by many happy ones for both of us. Oh! you do not know, dear Meta, how glad I am to see you!" cried Elsa, taking Meta in her arms and heartily returning her kiss.
"Now that I know that," said Meta, "I do not in the least want to know about anything else; that is to say I should like it dreadfully, but it is a point of honour with me now to be wise and discreet, you know; and you do not know that side of my character yet--neither do I myself. We must make acquaintance with me together, that will be awfully amusing. Good gracious! what nonsense I am talking just from sheer happiness!" Meta's presence was for the house in the Springbrunnenstrasse like a sunbeam penetrating a chink in the shutters of a dark room. It is not broad daylight, there are heavy shadows enough still; any one who happens to pass a looking-glass starts at the dim reflection of his own sad face; and people move carefully so as not to stumble, and speak with bated breath for fear of what may yet be hidden in the darkness. But still they move and speak; there is no longer the former silent darkness with all its terrors. Hardly a week had gone by, then, before the bright, talkative little girl had become the favourite of one and all. The General, who had almost entirely shut himself up in his own room lately, now spent a few hours every evening, as he used to do, with the rest of the family, unless, as had happened several times already, they were going out. He allowed himself to be instructed by Meta in agricultural matters, in which she declared herself to be an authority even with her papa--and that was saying a great deal--and permitted her to question him as to "what a battle really was like?" "Did Moltke sometimes yawn when it lasted too long?" and "Might a lieutenant wear varnished boots in battle?"
"It makes me shudder when I hear it all, Elsa; your friend is quite an enfant terrible," said Sidonie; but was calmed and consoled at once when Meta expressed the greatest interest in her "Court Etiquette," and declared that it was a very different sort of thing from Strummin etiquette. One found oneself always in the best society with highnesses and serene highnesses; and if one did sometimes come down to the backstairs, in her eyes a page of the backstairs was a person highly to be respected.
"She really has very considerable talents," said Sidonie, "and a great desire for instruction. I have given her the first part of Malortie's 'High Chamberlain;' you might read it aloud together for half an hour this evening, instead of chattering till two o'clock in the morning. Heaven only knows what you find to talk about!" Even Ottomar, who since his engagement was hardly ever seen at home--"He is not with us," said Carla--appeared again now, if he knew that his father would not be there, and made so merry with the mischievous girl, "that it cuts one to the heart," thought Elsa. The servants even were enchanted with the strange young lady. Ottomar's man protested that she would suit the Lieutenant ten times better; the lady's-maid praised her because one could at any rate quarrel with her, which was quite impossible with Fräulein Elsa; and August said she was A 1. In society, too, Meta made many conquests. Old Baroness Kniebreche thought her tout à fait ridicule, mais délicieuse. The saying went the round, like all that came from that toothless old mouth, and la délicieuse ridicule was welcomed everywhere. Wartenberg was of opinion that the girl "always brought life into the place." Tettritz was always reminded by her of the shepherd's flute in "Tristan;" Schönau said she was an original; and Meta, in return, found everybody and everything charming. She had never thought there were so many charming people; "but you are the best of all, Elsa, and nothing else really signifies!" And indeed while the kindhearted girl seemed to give herself up entirely to the enjoyment of the gay bustle of society, and often indeed to be quite absorbed in it, she really had only one serious interest, and that was to love and please Elsa. She had come because the melancholy tone of Elsa's last letters had startled and distressed her, and she thought she knew better than any one else the cause of this depression. That her brother's engagement, however much against Elsa's wish, should distress her friend so deeply, she could not believe; that the differences between her father and her Aunt Valerie and their consequences could depress and discourage the usually cheerful brave temper, she could not make up her mind to, either. Elsa, however, had put forward no other reasons, and either could not or would not give any others, as the actual connection of the tragical circumstances attending Ottomar's betrothal was happily a secret to her and to Aunt Sidonie, and her own secret was carefully guarded by her modest pride. So carefully, that even now in the confidential talks which to Aunt Sidonie's horror extended so far into the night, when after tea with the family, or on coming home from a party, they retired to their rooms, no word passed her discreet lips, and Meta began to doubt her own acuteness. All the more as the engagement which distressed Elsa so much, really did look much more serious when looked at closely than it had seemed to Meta from the brief, written accounts. Meta had now made acquaintance personally with Ottomar and Carla; Ottomar, although Elsa said he was only a shadow of his old self, had fascinated her, and Carla was the only lady of their whole acquaintance whom she thoroughly disliked. She too began to think that the union of such a dissimilar couple could not possibly bring happiness, that Ottomar indeed was already unhappy. Added to this was the uncomfortable state of affairs which according to Elsa had certainly existed even before the betrothal, between the father and son, but which now, when everything was apparently put straight, had grown much worse, and for which Elsa could discover no reason excepting Ottomar's still doubtful, perhaps desperate, financial condition. Meta had been taken also to see the Baroness Valerie, had learned to sympathise with Elsa in her feeling for the interesting, and evidently most unhappy woman, and here too stood with Elsa on the threshold of a dark and terrible mystery. What were the relations between this woman and the man whom she must have passionately loved, when she sacrificed to him what is most dear to a woman; whom she must love still, as she still made such sacrifices to him, sacrifices which yet seemed to be so difficult to her! Had she not again and again said to Elsa that she could no longer live without Elsa's love, or without her brother's forgiveness? And yet in Giraldi's presence she did not venture to show the smallest sign of love to Elsa, she did not venture to fulfil the condition imposed by the General, if there was to be any questions between him and her of a real reconciliation, of anything more than a mere superficial renewal of social intercourse--did not venture to separate from Giraldi, but seemed rather to stand now as ever under the absolute dominion of that hateful man!
"It is a dreadful state of things of course," said Meta; "but I do not see why you are to wear out your bright young life over it. Dear me! there is something of the kind, after all, in every family. I do not like my sister-in-law at all; my brother is a true Strummin, always jolly and light-hearted, and she is a real wet blanket, who drives the poor man wild with her dry matter-of-factness and perpetual considerations. And as for one's uncles and aunts--there I really may speak. Uncle Malte--at Grausewitz, you know, ten miles from us--we only see once in three years, and then he and papa quarrel dreadfully; Uncle Hans--he was a soldier, went into the Austrian service later, and afterwards into the Brazilian--we have not heard of him these six years; Aunt Gusting--who married a Baron Carlström in Sweden--has grown so fine that she only stayed half a day with us when she came to Strummin last autumn; she wrote afterwards that the combined smell of tobacco-smoke and plum-jam had been too disagreeable to her, and I could tell you a thousand other heart-breaking stories of our family. My papa always says: 'If a man is to be responsible for all his relations, there is an end of all pleasure.'" So spoke Meta to comfort her friend, as she plaited her long red-gold hair, of which she was rather vain now since Signor Giraldi had said, at a large party at Aunt Valerie's, that it was of the true Titian colour; or sat prattling coaxingly by the side of Elsa's bed as she had done on the first evening at Golmberg. Meta often recurred to that evening. "It had been the birthday of their friendship," said Meta; and the sight of Count Golm, whom they met at every party, and who had even lately once or twice joined their family circle at tea-time, kept the dear remembrance always fresh. But though Meta seemed inclined to be always indulging in recollections, she had no idea of doing so in reality, and her supposition that Elsa did not care a bit about the Count had been confirmed every time she saw the two together; but when she spoke of all that had happened at Golmberg, of the evening meal and the morning walk, it was quite natural, quite unavoidable that amongst others a name should be mentioned which Elsa never voluntarily allowed to pass her lips, and which Meta was convinced sounded day and night in Elsa's heart. Just because it never passed her lips. "There must be a reason for that," said Meta to herself; "and also for his never appearing here where he has been invited and, as I hear from Aunt Sidonie, was so kindly and even warmly received; and the reason must be one and the same, and can only be a sorrowful one, and that must be why Elsa is so sad." But any remaining doubt of the justice of this conclusion vanished when one day, quite accidentally--she had not been looking for it, really not, but her clothes had the most obstinate disposition to get mixed up with Elsa's--she felt a hard substance in the pocket of the blue tarletane dress that Elsa had worn the evening before at the Sattelstädts', which she took at first for a purse, and as she did not quite trust the lady's-maid she thought it best to take it out; and when she had taken it out she found to her great surprise that it was a pocket-compass in a pretty little ivory box. And in the inside of the box was engraved in very small, but quite legible, golden letters, a certain name which Elsa seemed quite to have forgotten. Meta had thought that as wisdom and discretion were now a point of honour with her, she could not do better than keep silence as to her discovery; had closed the box again--not without a most indiscreet smile--slipped it back into the pocket, and sat down in the window to write to her mamma, and was so deeply absorbed in her writing that she never looked up once when Elsa, who had only gone to look after her household affairs, returned and walked up and down the room two or three times without saying a word, each time coming a little nearer to the tarletane dress, which was hanging carelessly over the back of a chair; and at last--Meta had again got into trouble with her writing and could not of course look up--took the dress from the chair and hung it up in the wardrobe. And in doing so the case must have fallen out, though Meta heard nothing drop; at any rate, there was nothing now in the pocket, as Meta assured herself when Elsa again went out--not by accident this time. "I must know how matters stand," said Meta, "for her sake!" During the next few days Meta was most palpably false to her rule. Very contrary to her custom, she was silent and absent in society, and, on the other hand, exhibited a most indiscreet curiosity towards the servants concerning the circumstances and customs of the neighbours, particularly of the Schmidts, carrying her indiscretion even so far as to talk of her approaching departure, and that it was high time to pay various visits to friends of her parents whom she had most shamefully neglected until now. She did, in fact, go out several times without Elsa, and on the afternoon of the third day in particular disappeared for several hours, and, though she came back to tea, was so extraordinarily agitated that even Aunt Sidonie observed it, and Elsa began to be seriously uneasy. But she was horrified when, both having retired earlier than usual, Meta flung her arms round her, and with a flood of tears exclaimed, "Elsa, Elsa! you need have no more fear or trouble! I swear it to you by what is to me most sacred--by our friendship--he loves you! I know it from his own lips!" The first effect of these words did not seem to be that wished and hoped for by Meta, for Elsa too burst into tears; but Meta, as she held her friend in her arms, and pressed Elsa's head against her bosom, felt that her tears, however hot and passionate, were not tears of grief; that the dull anguish that had so long oppressed Elsa's poor heart had been removed at last, and that she might be proud and happy to have done this service to her friend, and broken the spell.
"And now let me tell you how I set about it," said she, as she drew Elsa down to the sofa beside her and took her hands in hers. "The whole difficulty, you see, was in speaking to him; for how could I speak to a man who never comes here, whom we never meet anywhere, either in society or in the streets, although we live next door to each other, and whom one cannot visit, even with the best intentions in the world? So I laid myself out to hear what the servants had to say. August gave me the most information; he is some sort of cousin to the old servant over the way, and I heard from him, in addition to what I knew already, that he always spends the morning at work in his room, and the afternoon in the studio of a sculptor called Anders, who is 'modulating' him, according to August. I thought it might be modelling, although for my part I did not know what that was either. Well, perhaps you will remember that on Thursday evening, at your Aunt Valerie's, there was a great discussion about art, and Signor Giraldi repeatedly mentioned Herr Anders, and that he had long intended to visit Herr Anders some day in his studio, and look at his newest production, since, unfortunately, the Satyr and Cupid was already sold. I hardly paid any attention at the time, but now I remembered it all word for word, and my plan was made. I paid a visit yesterday to Aunt Valerie, brought the conversation again round to art, and said how immensely I should like to see a sculptor at work for once, and would Signor Giraldi take me some day to a studio, and if possible to that of Herr Anders, because he lived so near us and my time was getting so short now? Signor Giraldi, I must allow him that, is more courteous than any of the other gentlemen, so he was ready at once; and your aunt agreed to go too, but only, I thought, because Signor Giraldi wished it. And I was right; for when this afternoon, punctually at four o'clock--that was the time settled--you are not angry with me now, are you, that I ran away from you?--I went there. Signor Giraldi received me alone. I must put up with him--your aunt had got a headache; all said with his polite smile that you know so well. But his eyes looked wickedly dark: I thought at once, 'There has been a scene.' I was dreadfully sorry, and the thought of making the expedition alone with Signor Giraldi was not particularly consoling; but you were in question, and I would have gone through the Abruzzi with Rinaldini--keeping my eyes open, you know. However, it was not so bad after all, for just as we were going out, who should appear but your heavenly aunt, with red eyes, alas! and looking very ill, but dressed and ready to go out. Signor Giraldi kissed her hand--Ottomar himself could not have done it so well--and whispered a few words in Italian at which your aunt smiled. I tell you, he can twist her round his little finger. So out we went; and now pay attention, you dear, sweet, darling creature!" Here the two friends embraced each other tearfully, till Meta, in her wisdom, sobbed out: "I am sure I do not know why you are crying, and you do not know either, you see; and if you get so excited and spoil the thread of my story I cannot tell it properly, you see! So now, were you ever in a studio? Of course not. Imagine to yourself a room, like our church at Strummin--you do not know it, by the way; imagine, then, a room as wide and high as you please, and the whole high wide room full--no, it is indescribable, particularly for a young girl. I assure you I did not know sometimes where to turn my eyes; but he--no, you really must be a little sensible now--he helped me safely over everything, and only took me about wherever it was quite, or at least very nearly proper; and then we had--oh, dear! I had arranged everything so nicely while we were at tea, and now I have forgotten it all. I only know that when we came in, quite unexpectedly, you know, he jumped up from his chair as if he had been electrified, and turned quite red with pleasure; and when at last we were able to say a few words quietly together, he said nothing but, 'Fräulein von Strummin! how is it possible! how is it possible!' Dear me, Elsa, it was really quite unnecessary for him to say anything more; I knew all about it now! But of course we did not stop there. I had to tell him how it was possible, and that I had been here for a fortnight with you--and--you must not think, Elsa, that I was foolish or indiscreet--we talked about you, of course, and why he never showed himself now--I was obliged to ask that! And then he said, 'How gladly I would come I need not assure you'--with an emphasis on the you, Elsa, you know--'unfortunately'--now listen, Elsa!--'there are circumstances so powerful that with the best will in the world we cannot set them aside; and I beg you to believe that I suffer more from these circumstances than I can or dare say.' And then he passed his hand across his brow and said, 'I will certainly come once more, however, before I go away.' 'Where?' 'I had a letter yesterday evening from'--you will never guess, Elsa; he had a letter from the dear President, and--only think, Elsa!--he really has got the post of Superintendent of Pilots at Wissow--at Wissow, Elsa! I really did not know what to say for joy, but he read my feelings in my face, and smiled and said, 'We shall be almost neighbours, then, Fräulein von Strummin.' 'And we will be neighbourly,' said I. 'That we will,' said he. 'And if we ever get a visit from Berlin,' said I--'And you honour me with an invitation,' said he--'you will come?' said I. And then he said,--no, then he said nothing, Elsa; but he pressed my hand! There, Elsa, take it back, for it was not meant for me, but for you, you dear, dear sweet thing!" The two friends held each other in a long embrace, and then there ensued a searching investigation of the important question: What could Reinhold have meant by "circumstances!"
"We shall never get to the bottom of it," said Meta at last; "the circumstances are just the circumstances that you are called Elsa von Werben and he is called Reinhold Schmidt, and that you are a wealthy heiress and might if you pleased marry the richest and most distinguished man, and that he is poor; and wife of the Superintendent of Pilots certainly does not sound so well as baroness or countess. Perhaps he has heard, too--people hear everything in Berlin--that you would lose your inheritance if you followed the dictates of your heart, and so he really is right in talking of 'circumstances,' dreadful circumstances." Elsa agreed with her in it all, but still could not see any reason why he had not come again to see them, and why even her father apparently avoided his name. She would confess now for the first time that three days ago she had been rejoicing exceedingly at the thought of the Sattelstädts' party, because she knew that Reinhold had also been invited, and even there he had sent an excuse--a proof how he avoided every possibility of meeting her even on neutral ground.
"I will get to the bottom of it," said Meta.
"How would it be possible?" Meta laughed; "I never do anything by halves, to-morrow I shall go there again. Will you come with me?"
"Meta!"
"You would not do, either," said Meta; "it must be an old lady, and a lady of some position. We have got one, however; tomorrow morning I shall pay her a visit, and to-morrow afternoon, as I said, we will begin."
"But for goodness' sake, Meta, what are you talking about?" Meta said it ought to have been a surprise; but she could not manage it under three sittings at the best, and she could not keep it secret so long, so that after all it might be better to confess everything at once.
"We were obliged, you see," said Meta, "to break off our conversation at last, and take a little notice of the others, who, meanwhile, had been wandering about the studio and talking Italian together, which Herr Anders speaks beautifully, Signor Giraldi says. There was an Italian there too, such a handsome man, with a paper cap on his raven-black hair. 'They all wear paper caps on account of the marble dust,' said Herr Anders, who certainly is not handsome himself. I never could have believed that an artist, and such a great one as he is said to be, could look so little dignified and be so small. And when you hear him speak, you cannot believe it at all; for the way he chatters, Elsa, is just like me, you know; and he laughs, Elsa, I cannot describe how he laughs, so that one laughs too with all one's heart only to see and hear him laugh. You never saw anything so funny, excepting his little curly poodle, which is just as funny as himself. We were standing then before Reinhold's portrait--round, you know, and raised--in relief they call it, and such a likeness! fit to be kissed, I assure you.' 'For whom is that?' asked I. 'For the future wife of the original,' said Herr Anders; 'she can wear it on a black velvet ribbon round her throat as a locket.' Just think, Elsa, what nonsense! a locket as large as a small carriage-wheel! he always talks like that. 'It is a study for that design,' said Reinhold. So then we looked at the designs--exquisite, I assure you. A battle, that would suit your papa! and 'Ambulance preparations,' with an old gentleman sitting behind a table, and a blind girl coming up with her gifts--I nearly cried when I saw that, and your aunt had tears in her eyes--and other women and girls. 'How delightful to be one of them,' cried I, quite from the bottom of my heart. 'You might have that pleasure at any moment, and give me the greatest possible satisfaction at the same time,' said Justus--that is his Christian name--funny one, is not it? 'How so?' said I. 'Look, here is a splendid place still,' said he--he says splendid, you must know, at every third word--'for a really bright cheerful face, such as I have been wanting for a long time, because the thing was getting too sentimental to please me, only I had no good model for it; do, please, be my model!' Dear me, Elsa, I did not know in the least what that might be, and as I told you before, there were some wonderful things in the studio; but I just looked at your Reinhold, and he said, 'Yes, do it,' with his eyes, like that, you know! and so I said quite boldly, 'Yes, I will do it;' and Signor Giraldi said that a queen might envy me the honour of being immortalised in such a work of art, and so the day after to-morrow I am to be immortalised!" Elsa could have listened all night long; but Meta, who had gone through such an eventful day, and had never quite got over the habit of being tired to death at ten o'clock at latest, could hardly keep her eyes open while she talked, so Elsa put her to bed and kissed the good little thing, who put her arms round her neck and murmured sleepily: "Is it not, Elsa--blue tarletane--compass--one more kiss!" and before Elsa had drawn herself up again was fast asleep.