What the Swallow Sang: A Novel

by Friedrich Spielhagen

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The clearest September morning shone upon the old Hanse city, whose narrow winding streets were remarkably quiet to-day, so quiet that the servant-girls who stood idly at the open doors of the houses could bewail their piteous fate to each other across them undisturbed. Was it not too shameful that the second day--the great day, when everybody, even the little apprentices from the cobblers' benches, had gone to see the show--they were obliged to stay and take care of the houses? And Kopp's carriage had just come back empty for the sixth time, and was now stopping at the apothecary's round the corner; but the young ladies always made such a parade, and were never ready; it was a sin and a shame, when one thought that other honest girls, who certainly wouldn't keep the carriage waiting, were not allowed to set foot outside of the door; but when the cat was away the mice would play.

The merry girls, who had approached nearer and nearer each other, joined hands and began to whirl around on the rough pavement, out of the sunlight into the shadow of the houses, and out of the shadow back into the sunlight, and then with a scream scattered and fled, each into her own door, as the strange gentleman came out of a large, silent house near by.

Gotthold had watched all night beside Gretchen's bed with Cecilia and old Boslaf, and good Stine had gone in and out. Several times they thought the last moment had come; but the little heaving breast, which Cecilia had pressed to her own, rose and fell more easily again, and she laid the sweet little creature back upon the pillows, which were scarcely whiter than her delicate pale face. After midnight the fever became a little less violent, and the Doctor, who came early in the morning, said that the danger, unfortunately, was not yet over, but a few quieter hours might be expected, and he urgently entreated them to use this interval in gaining fresh strength, which they certainly greatly needed.

He had looked at old Boslaf as he spoke, but the old man smiled pleasantly, and said that the Doctor must not be anxious about him; he was used to night-watching, and should soon have plenty of time to sleep. But Cecilia, who was full of tender solicitude for the old man, whom she now always called father, insisted that he should lie down, and sent Gotthold away also. She would keep watch with Ottilie until noon; if Gretchen's condition should change for the worse, he should be notified at once.

And so he now walked through the silent street towards his lodgings, gazed at the girls dancing merrily, the sunlight shining so brightly on the gray old gables, and the flock of white doves wheeling in airy circles under the bright blue sky. How beautiful the world was! How pure and balmy the soft warm air he eagerly inhaled! How lightly he strode along, in spite of the long night of anxious watching! How the blood bounded in his veins! And yet darkness and death might conquer! If the child died--Gotthold paused with a shudder--he had seen, the little dark mound so distinctly. But it was only a trick of his imagination; Gretchen was still alive; she would recover; the delicate little creature had struggled through this terrible night, and he might even be permitted to say that it was he who had saved her life once more. So she must live for him; her pure soft hands must fit the keystone of the building of his happiness. Had he not hitherto succeeded in everything far beyond his expectation! Had not even chance showed him her most gracious aspect! A few days ago, how could he even have ventured to hope that his rival would be so soon and so entirely delivered into his hands, and he should be able to say, "This shall be done, and it shall be done so and so, without any outcry, without the knowledge of any person unconcerned?" This very evening the unfortunate man was to return to Dollan to find the money he had stolen, and the following day restore it to the treasury of the convent, through Wollnow; and this evening also, the vessel which took his accomplice would sail for England, the latter having declared of his own free will that he could no longer stay here, and would rather go at once to America, especially if the gentlemen would provide him with money as generously as they had promised, and he knew they would keep their word. So within twenty-four hours at latest everything would be settled and levelled to a foundation on which another structure might be erected.

A quick, heavy step, which came towards him through the deserted street near his lodgings, made Gotthold look up.

"What is the matter, Jochen?"

"He's gone," said Jochen, panting for breath. "I was just on my way to tell you."

"Since when?"

"It must have been an-hour or two ago; he said he was tired and would take a little nap, while Clas and I went down to Frau Müller's, who had invited us to breakfast. Well, Herr Gotthold, there we sat quietly; she had a nice pork sausage, and we never thought of any mischief, and meantime the fellow jumped out of a second-story window into the garden, which joins the city wall, and the gate is never locked, and we really are not to blame. Even if one don't exactly like a man, how is one to suppose he has such tricks in his head?"

"An hour, you said?"

Jochen nodded.

"Where is Clas?"

"Gone down to the harbor; it's just possible he may have gone on board the ship to look about him a little."

Gotthold shook his head. "That is extremely improbable, after, as he knows, everything is arranged."

"What shall we do, Herr Gotthold?"

"Run to Herr Wollnow and tell him what has happened, and that I have gone out to the races; and follow me as fast as you can."

Jochen looked amazed. "Yes, to be sure, Herr Gotthold, that's possible; he talked of nothing but the races all last evening."

Gotthold had already taken several steps, when Jochen followed him.

"You're not angry with me and my brother Clas, Herr Gotthold?"

"You good, stupid fellows!"

Jochen looked very much moved, and doubtless wished to say more; but Gotthold pressed his hard, honest hand, and hurried down the street to the gate, beyond which, at no very great distance from the city, was the race-course.

He knew the way only from description; but it could not be missed to-day. The nearer he approached the gate, the more numerous became the people, who were all moving in the same direction; the suburban street through which they were obliged to pass had assumed a holiday garb. The modest little villas, half concealed behind the trees in their garden, were to-day adorned with garlands and tapestry; here and there, under the shade of the boughs, stood an old gentleman, or a gardener, or a nurse with a baby in her arms, looking pityingly or mischievously over the dusty hedges at the throng hurrying by in the summer heat. Often one of the long Holstein wagons, furnished with five or six seats placed one behind the other, rattled by, empty if going towards the city, crowded with people if driving away from it; and it rarely happened that the usual jokes failed to be exchanged between the lucky occupants and the dust-covered foot-passengers.

Gotthold had already passed many of the pedestrians, and was still hurrying anxiously on. To be sure, it was scarcely to be hoped that either he or Jochen would find the man in such a crowd of people, especially as he evidently did not wish to be found; but that the race-course was the place to seek him, he did not doubt for a moment, and as he now hastened on the fugitive's track his heart grew heavier and heavier, the more clearly he perceived the bad results that threatened to ensue. If Hinrich had fled not to return, to become once more the master of his own fate, and Brandow learned it in time, he would retract all he had yielded; the battle must begin anew, and with an enemy who could not again be surprised; if Hinrich was only seeking an opportunity to revenge himself, Brandow's life was not safe a moment from the brutal violence of the man, and even admitting that Brandow was a person who could defend himself--everything which had seemed won was once more doubtful, even the secrecy in which the pitiful fate of the woman he loved had hitherto been veiled from an insolent, curious world.

Gotthold hurried on still faster, hoping he should now soon reach his goal, but he turned out of one street lined with gardens into another--the suburbs seemed to have no end. It was still half an hour's walk to the racecourse, was the reply to his question.

A light open carriage, drawn by two superb horses, overtook and dashed past him; he thought he had seen the face of the elegant young man who occupied the seat behind the driver before. The young man turned towards him, and instantly tapped his coachman eagerly on the shoulder; the carriage stopped; its occupant sprang out and hastily approached Gotthold, waving his hand, and calling: "Do I meet you at last?"

A moment after, Gotthold was seated beside young Prince Prora, the horses dashed onward, and dusty pedestrians, hedges, gardens, villas, and barns flitted by them on either side.

"You don't know how glad I am," said the Prince, pressing Gotthold's hand again; "but you will when I tell you that I came from Berlin, where I was engaged in a most important consultation with Schinkel about my castle, solely on your account. Count Ingenheim wrote that you had left Rome, and I heard from Prora that you were staying in this neighborhood, so I came to seek, see, talk, persuade, obtain--enfin: you must paint my castle in fresco. I have set my heart upon it, and you, I suppose, have no reason to say no: Schinkel desires it too, so you must consent. He wants you, you and nobody else; I know no one by whom I can be so sure of being understood, he said, and was delighted when I told him that I had had the honor of a personal acquaintance with you for a long time, and had spent the most delightful winter in Rome in your society. Ah! that divine Rome! But you conjurers shall restore it to me on the walls of my northern castle; I want nothing but Roman, or at least Italian, landscapes in the dining-room; all bright and sunny as you can paint so marvellously, grave as you are; and as for the landscapes of my native country, which we intend to have in the hall where the weapons are hung, I won't interfere with you at all. It shall be left entirely to you; and you can revel in melancholy, like the Danish Prince, but first of all you must say yes--will you?"

The eager young man held out his hand, and a shadow crossed his delicate, winning face as Gotthold hesitated to clasp it. How willingly, how joyfully he would have accepted a commission so delightful, so complimentary, and so important; a commission which promised to fulfil all that his artist heart could only desire; but now, to-day--

"You don't wish to undertake it?" said the young Prince, sadly.

"I do wish it, certainly I do," replied Gotthold, pressing the outstretched hand with deep emotion, "but whether I can is the question I am asking myself, and which at this moment I can scarcely answer with a yes. Forgive me if I speak in riddles, Your Highness, but there are hours and times when we do not belong to ourselves, when we are under the spell of a fate whose course we can neither hasten nor retard, and whose decision we must await ere we can feel free to make any resolution ourselves."

"I certainly do not fully understand you," replied the Prince, "but I believe I understand that something, which is certainly no trifle, is weighing upon your mind; that you have either met with or fear some great misfortune, and in that case the question comes so naturally that you will forgive my asking: can any one help you, and can I be the person?"

"I thank you, Your Highness; but I shall probably have to fight my way through it alone."

"Then I will press you no farther; but I am ready to serve you at any time, don't forget that."

Meantime they had emerged from between the houses; before them on the boundless expanse of meadow-land was the race-course, with its tall stands, its little city of booths and tents, its long rows of carriages drawn up side by side, its dark crowd of curious spectators. A party of horsemen dashed past them at a furious gallop; one of them, not without difficulty, checked his foaming racer and came to the carriage door.

"What, Plüggen, are you not with the others?" cried the Prince.

"Paid the forfeit at the last minute, Your Highness, at the last minute--too certain it would turn out to-day as it did at the Derby, four years ago. Once in--ah! Gotthold, bon jour, bon jour! Your friend Brandow's doing a splendid business to-day, an infernally splendid business."

"How far away are they, then? Am I too late?"

"God forbid, your Highness! That is, they must be here in ten minutes. Just up to the last obstacle but one; everybody there--intense excitement. Exactly as it was at the Derby four years ago, when Hurry-Harry by Robin Hood out of Drury Lane--"

"Then we won't detain you, Plüggen. Au revoir until this evening; drive on."

Gustav von Plüggen, with rather a long face, touched his hat, turned his horse, and dashed after his companions.

"So you know this Brandow?" asked the Prince. "It's a pity about that man; he would have had, I think, the material for a splendid general of cavalry; a clear head, a keen eye, never at a loss, and withal brave even to foolhardiness; but amid these tame plebeian surroundings he will make, I fear, nothing better than a mauvais sujet. But it is shameful that they took the piece of bog into the course on purpose to injure him. I hear it was only done to give the other horses a chance, since it is generally believed that a horse of Brownlock's weight cannot cross a swamp."

"He will cross it, Your Highness," said Gotthold, "you can bet a million on it."

"How comes Saul among the prophets?" cried the Prince, laughing. "Since when have you become such a connoisseur in horse-flesh? You must keep beside me, and act as prompter, if I, a notorious dilettante in these noble arts, run any risk of distinguishing myself by my blunders."

"I am sure that Your Highness--"

"You want to get rid of me, I understand. Well, I am very well content, now that I have seen and spoken to you. I shall stay three days longer in Sundin, and then remain a week in Prora, where you must be my guest, even in case--with which idea, however, I won't destroy my present good humor--you will not paint a stroke for my castle. Here we are; you will surely come up with me. One can get a better view from above, and you must at least allow me to secure you a good place."

The carriage stopped. The Prince sprang out, and, without waiting for Gotthold's answer, began to ascend the steps of the stand. The latter was obliged to follow his friend, who fully expected him to do so; when once at the top, he could easily find an opportunity of taking leave of him without incivility.

The steps and stand were crowded, but every one was eager to make way for the Prince, who was very popular, that he might reach the first bench, on which several seats had been reserved for him and his attendants. "I think your best course will be to follow me," cried the Prince, laughing, and looking over his shoulder at Gotthold, "you see here as elsewhere: everything is given away!" But Gotthold could not do otherwise than make use of the permission. The narrow space which had been opened between the rows of seats for the Prince had long since closed; nay, those behind were pressing forward to get as near him as possible, and Gotthold soon found himself surrounded by a brilliant assembly of the older and younger ladies of the country aristocracy, in magnificent attire; white-haired old noblemen, civil dignitaries adorned with orders, and distinguished soldiers, all smiling brightly and bowing to the young Prince, who, bowing in every direction, graciously accepted the offered homage.

"Your Highness has come just at the right moment; we shall see the first horse appear from behind yonder hill directly; may I offer Your Highness my glass?" cried old Count Grieben, in his shrill voice.

"Thanks, thanks; I should not like to rob you; you are more nearly interested in the matter than I; I suppose the goal is here in front of the stands, as it has been every year?"

"Yes, Your Highness, there they come!"

The Prince had now taken the glass from the old gentleman; there was a loud whispering and rustling on the stand. "There they come--pray sit down," echoed on all sides, and all eyes, whether furnished with glasses or not, sought the long hill Count Grieben had pointed out to the Prince, and on which in fact three moving specks now became visible, which with great speed, considering the distance, glided down the hill, and had already disappeared in a hollow, when four or five other moving dots appeared in precisely the same spot, likewise glided down the hill, and vanished. But the interest of the public was almost exclusively fixed upon the three foremost dots. From the interval of time between the appearance of the first three specks and the four following--to say nothing of the stragglers--it was now evident that the victor must be one of their number; and although even the best glass could only distinguish that the three moving clots were horsemen racing at the top of their speed, two names were already mentioned with positive certainty; there was a doubt about the third rider; some thought it was Baron Kummerrow on Hengist, while others bet upon Count Zarrentin's Rebecca, ridden by the younger Baron Breesen.

"But the two others, Your Highness--the two others are my Curt and Carl Brandow," shrieked old Count Grieben, crimson with excitement and gesticulating furiously, in a tone so loud that it could be heard over the whole stand.

Count Grieben! Carl Brandow! Like an alarm of fire the names flew from lip to lip along the stand, down the steps, and through the dense throng of men below, who were standing on tiptoe and stretching their necks; Count Grieben! Carl Brandow on Brownlock!

Carl Brandow! A strange emotion thrilled Gotthold's frame. That was the name which, like the spell of some evil magician, had desolated and ruined his life; the name with which so many unpleasant thoughts had been connected from his youth, and which in early and later times, and even during the last few days, had been to him the incarnation of the principle that in every human breast strives and rebels against the God of light. And here the name rang on his ears from every lip. Carl Brandow! Carl Brandow! like a man from whose approach streams happiness and blessing; and beautiful eyes sparkled, and aristocratic hands impatiently fluttered the lace-edged handkerchiefs with which they wished to wave a welcome to the victor. Was the man whom a whole people thus awaited in breathless suspense, perhaps right when he ventured all and anything to gain his shining goal; wealth, and honor, and woman's favor? Could one who took every obstacle so boldly, be expected to turn aside from his path for a pious scruple? Could one who unhesitatingly risked his life when the victory could not be obtained at a lesser price, be blamed if he was not so punctilious about the weal and woe or even the lives of others, as may be expected and demanded from the quiet citizen?

Such were the strange thoughts that passed through Gotthold's brain, while his eyes, like those of the assembled thousands, were fixed upon the spot pointed out by the experts near him as the one where the riders must again appear. And there they were already--now recognizable as horsemen, even by the naked eye--and "Count Grieben and Carl Brandow" burst forth anew. For only two emerged at the same time, while the third had already lost so much ground that he appeared full thirty seconds later. Nothing more was to be expected from him. At the speed with which the horses were running a lost second could not be regained, let alone the eternity of thirty! The result now depended upon Brownlock and Bessy, the two horses that had been the object of public attention from the first moment and on which immense sums had been staked up to the last. Would Brownlock win? Would Bessy carry off the prize? No one dared to decide, no one offered or accepted a bet; they scarcely ventured to speak, to stir; suspense had chained every tongue. The scales were still exactly poised, without bending in the least towards either side. If Bessy, as was universally asserted, was the faster animal, Brandow's well-known skill in horsemanship made up for the difference; head to head--the winding course to the stand could be as distinctly followed as the lines on a map--the horses leaped over the last hurdle but three, the last but two, the last but one; side by side the riders took the last obstacle, a wall six feet high, while a cry of admiration buzzed through the surging crowd. Then followed a breathless silence. The race must be decided within the next minute. After the last hurdle was a tract of perfectly level ground about five hundred paces long; then came several hundred acres of bog, marked by little flags affixed to poles. If Brownlock did not get a very considerable lead on the level ground, the race was lost to him; for Bessy--every one knew--could cross a marsh as lightly as a roe, and Brownlock would either stick fast or must take a round-about way, which would cost him his advantage and the victory.

But Brownlock obtained no advantage, not a foot, not an inch; head to head they dashed across half the distance, and now Bessy took the lead, a half, a whole length, two, three, a half-dozen lengths. Those who had bet on Brownlock turned pale, but a hundred times as much was staked on Bessy; the betters exchanged triumphant glances; no one had time to speak; Bessy was already approaching the edge of the bog; her rider was seen to turn in his saddle to note the distance between him and his rival, and now he turned to the left towards the edge of the swamp. "Clever fellow," cried old Count Grieben; "it's wider, Your Highness, it's wider there, but the ground is firmer, and he has plenty of time. Brownlock can't come up with her, hurrah!" cried the enthusiastic old gentleman, waving his hat. "Hurrah, hurrah!" echoed from the fickle crowd, which had just cheered Brownlock; "Bessy wins, Brownlock loses. Hurrah!"

Suddenly a deep silence followed, as if a thunderbolt had fallen before the eyes of all. Brandow reached the spot from which, a few seconds before, Count Grieben, rendered secure of the victory by his opponent's delay, had turned aside; and with a powerful bound Brownlock dashed upon the bog, without turning a hair's breadth from the straight course, flying directly over the deepest but narrowest part, with a speed which seemed to increase every moment, while his rider, as if going over the smoothest meadow-land, used neither whip nor spur, and waved his hand to his rival, as he darted by him with such speed that the water dashed into the air in a bright shower of spray.

And now he had already reached the edge on the side nearest the stand, and came up the broad straight course which led to the goal--no longer at full speed, but in a long stretching gallop, as if to jeer at his opponent, who after reaching the firm ground, despairing of victory, had stopped; it seemed as if he wished to give the crowd an opportunity to offer their homage.

And "Hurrah Brownlock! hurrah Brandow!" they shouted, waving their hats and caps, and the cry increased and swelled to a deafening, thundering roar as the victor now rode past the stands to the goal, in the same long stretching gallop. Everybody stood on tiptoe, the gentlemen cheering, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs--and now all crowded down the broad steps to the level ground, to see the victor and the beautiful horse still nearer, when he, as was customary, returned and again passed before the stands, but this time at a walk.

"No privileges are recognized here, strength conquers," said the Prince, who as well as Gotthold was pushed down the steps by the swaying crowd; "the strength of enthusiasm, which is powerful even in the weak. Just see how heroically that delicate lady struggles through the throng--Is it Frau Brandow? I should like to offer her my arm."

The lady's blue veil brushed against Gotthold's face, and he recognized Alma Sellien. She did not see him, though she stood directly beside him. The delicate, wan face was strangely beautified by the proud smile that hovered on the lips; a joyous light sparkled in the blue eyes, usually so dull and heavy; heeding nothing around her, she looked and waited for the coming of the man she loved, whose uncovered head was just visible above the surging crowd. And now a pair of bay shoulders appeared, vanished, and appeared again, then the beautiful head of a horse, and then the whole figure of the red-coated rider. Those standing in the foremost row, recognizing the Prince, made way, and he, with several other ladies and gentlemen, among them Alma Sellien, were pressed forward, while the ranks closed before Gotthold, who willingly drew back. Brandow, who, hat in hand, was bowing to the right and left, and talking to a few friends that surrounded him, had come very near them, when he saw the Prince, with Alma Sellien leaning on his arm. An amazed smile flitted over his face; he hastily turned Brownlock till he faced the pair, and bowed low over the racer's slender neck. The noble animal stood snorting, champing its bit, and pawing impatiently. Suddenly it sprang aside in wild alarm, and then, as its rider tried to force it back to the spot, reared. "Back!" shouted the Prince to the crowd, who, pressing forward from every direction, had collected in a dense mass. But those farther away, whom no immediate danger threatened, remained motionless. "Back, back!" cried the Prince again; the ladies screamed. "Jump down, Brandow!" exclaimed the gentlemen. But Brandow seemed to have forgotten his universally admired horsemanship. Some said afterwards that he had been stunned from the first moment by the violence with which, as the horse threw back its head in rearing, it struck him on the forehead. As he vainly struggled with the animal in an inconceivably preposterous manner, his eyes were fixed intently upon a man in the crowd, who in some way--all were pressing upon each other in wild confusion--had reached the foremost rank, and now, with upraised arms, sprang directly before, nay under the rearing horse; it was supposed he wanted to pull the furious animal down by the bridle.

"Let me pass, for God's sake!" cried Gotthold.

He had recognized Hinrich Scheel, although he had only seen the square head, covered with gray curling hair, from which the cap had been knocked in pressing through the crowd; not the brutal face with the squinting green eyes, under whose fiendish power the frightened animal reared higher and higher, pawing the air with its steel-shod hoofs as if it would fain destroy its tormentor. And now one of the hoofs struck the head of the mysterious man, who fell as if a bullet had pierced his brain; but at the same moment the horse, again rearing, fell backwards, burying his rider under him. The crowd parted with shrieks of horror.

"A doctor, a doctor, is there no doctor here?"

There was none, but no physician could have been of any avail. The man who had tried to seize the horse's bridle, and in whom others also now recognized Brandow's former trainer, Hinrich Scheel, for whose arrest a warrant had been issued, lay dead on his back with crushed skull and horribly distorted face, from which the dim eyes glared frightfully; his master still lived, but Gotthold, who was supporting him in his arms, saw that his end was fast approaching. A deathlike pallor rested on the delicate, clear-cut features, and the white teeth gleamed with a strange, frightful expression from between livid lips. A shudder convulsed the whole body, and the head fell on Gotthold's breast.

"Here comes a doctor," cried several voices.

"He will find nothing to do," murmured Gotthold; "help me to carry him away."

As they raised the body, a lady in a blue veil, who had been standing near with her hands clenched convulsively, shrieked aloud, and sank fainting on the ground. No particular notice was taken of it. Several ladies had fainted.