CHAPTER V
Bright times followed. With part of the sum she had earned, Lilly invested in new materials, and soon more sunsets flared behind woods of dried grass and flowers pasted on glass.
As she lay sleepless, through the hot summer nights, from overwork, she made plans of all the great things she would do when her art had conquered the world. She would have a workshop like Herr Dehnicke's, and employ a dozen women-hands with Frau Laue as forewoman. Then she would advertise for her lost father, and move her poor insane mother to an expensive private asylum.
She would, of course, provide for Walter too. Now that she had worked herself up into imagining herself his fiancée, it would be her duty, and she cheerfully took the responsibility on her shoulders. He must, however, first make some sign, or how was she to know where he was? She felt sure that one day, when he had no one to turn to, he would think of her, and find some way of communicating with her. Then out of her abundance she would send him money without stint, all that her art poured into her lap.
No, not all. She must think first of that great and sacred task which dominated her life with such a gigantic influence. Whether she traced her father or not, his work, his immortal masterpiece, must never be allowed to sink into oblivion. Awaiting its resurrection, the score of "The Song of Songs" still lay slumbering at the bottom of Lilly's locked box, but it slumbered not quite so dreamlessly as in past years. It began to be restive and to exhort, sobbing and humming an accompaniment to the day's work, breaking out in the night and at other times, when one least expected it, into harmonies and melodies.
From over the sunlit, cornflower blue hills it came, as if wafted by an evening breeze, "How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter!" and from the dark interior of the mythical woods echoed snatches of song concerning the lily of the valleys and the rose of Sharon. It almost seemed as if the invisible inhabitants of those illuminated pasteboard cottages were singing, as evidence of the pleasant lives they led; and so one day would all the people of the earth enjoy those treasures of song, of which fate had appointed her guardian.
Everywhere she went, whatever she might be thinking of or doing, hope smiled and beckoned to her from all corners of the world. A new, more exalted and pure, life must be coming. That golden thread, which her poor mad mother had severed with the bread-knife, became again interwoven with an ambition to climb upwards, ever upwards, and with presentiments of some sacred blessing to be prayed and struggled for.
A few months more, and all might be accomplished; and on the top of this recovered happiness came another. Wonder upon wonder--her so-called future bridegroom suddenly gave a sign of life.
It was early in September, at about twelve, that Herr Dehnicke appeared unannounced at her door. As she had not quite finished dressing she was at first unwilling to admit him. But when he explained that his mission was urgent, she received him, in her peignoir, with a thousand apologies. He eyed her with shy admiration, and then drew a folio-shaped, strange-looking piece of paper out of his pocket, which purported to be a cheque drawn on the Lincoln and Ohio Bank for two thousand and odd marks.
"What am I to do with it?" Lilly asked.
"Read the letter, which accompanied it, addressed to me," he replied, unfolding a large sheet.
In the letter "Dear Sir" was informed that Mr. Walter von Prell had paid in five hundred dollars to his account, and wished the sum to be handed over to the "Baroness" Lilly von Mertzbach.
Lilly trembled with excitement. She paced up and down the room in a storm of emotion, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes. She had been planning to help him and now he helped her.
A sudden feeling of suspicion took possession of her. She stood still and looked at the cheque and then at Herr Dehnicke. Both stood silent.
"I must ask you to explain," she said at length.
"What is there to explain, gracious lady?" he answered. "I am only the middleman, or, if you like it better, the agent, in a little private business that concerns you and your betrothed alone."
"But why couldn't he give his address?" she exclaimed.
"It looks almost as if he wanted to remove all traces of himself," remarked Dehnicke.
It was all so romantic and adventurous and unlike Walter ... one didn't know what to think.
But there stood the name: "Baroness Lilly von Mertzbach." Walter was possibly ignorant of her having been obliged to renounce her married name. This pointed to the genuineness of the cheque.
Herr Dehnicke had inclined his head to the left side, as usual, and gazed at her with placid deference. He played the part of the middleman, and that was all.
"After this unexpected turn of events," he said in conclusion, "you will, I earnestly believe, no longer hesitate to return to the manner of life suited to your social status, and which is so requisite to the success of your work."
She shook her head, biting her Ups.
Thereupon he became authoritative, more so than she would have given such an exceedingly modest person credit for.
"You really must make the change," he urged her. "You must do it for his sake. I am, as it were, responsible. When he returns with the intention of marrying you, he must not find that you have become déclassée in his absence. As I say, I am responsible."
She begged to be allowed time to think it over.
Henceforth the thought of her distant lover ruled her destiny. What had before been a play of the imagination became almost stern reality. Not that she accepted the story unconditionally of his being at the back of the mysteriously sent cheque. On the contrary, she could not silence a voice that suggested someone might have tricked her, but she could not trust herself to make further inquiries, or to draw conclusions. She dreaded to think what would become of her if she lost the one friend on whom she could at present rely, and in order to dispel all doubts from her mind she worked more industriously than ever--nearly ever week a fresh batch of sunsets was ready to be taken away. In the mean time Herr Kellermann had given her new ideas: a Gothic cathedral perched on perpendicular rocks, a castle with ever so many illuminated windows, and, greatest achievement of all, the moon shining on a calm grey sea, its silver beams represented by pressed fern-fronds.
On the first Sunday in October, Herr Dehnicke called to take Lilly for a walk. He had done it twice before, and Lilly had been charmed to go. Had he offered to take her into the country she would have liked it still better.
The autumn sunlight lay peacefully on the ragged foliage of the stunted town trees, which had been half bare of leaf for a long time. Groups of people sauntered about aimlessly. They looked depressed and bored, for winter was already laying its nipping fingers on men's spirits.
Their walk took them through various crowded streets, and Lilly experienced the pleasant feeling of having someone to protect and look after her in the throng.
Herr Dehnicke, after a long brooding silence, began at last with the question:
"Have you come to any decision about your future abode, dear lady?"
Lilly did not answer. She was firmly resolved to make no change, and yet it was heavenly to be pressed on the point. It made you feel that you were again of some importance in the world.
"If I had the privilege of selecting for you," he said in his unpretentious, formal way, "I believe I could find you a nook which would be to your taste."
"I don't suppose you could," she replied, half in joke. "We are sure not to have exactly the same tastes."
"I am not so presumptuous as to say that we should. But, nevertheless, I have lately seen a small flat which, unless I am very much mistaken, you would be delighted with. It belongs to a customer, a lady, who is travelling."
"Oh, that's a pity! I should like to have seen it, if only to know what you think my tastes are."
He was lost in thought for a few minutes; then he said, "It can be managed. The maid-servant will not be at home to-day as it is Sunday; but the porter's wife, who keeps the key, knows me, and if you like----"
Lilly demurred a little to intruding into a stranger's flat, but Herr Dehnicke overruled her scruples, hailed a cab, and they drove to a westerly quarter of the town, where the houses looked more imposing and the people more distinguished, and where stately chestnuts shading velvety green turf flanked the blue waters of a canal.
"Oh, happy people to live here!" she exclaimed, and then the carriage drew up at the corner of the Königin-Augusta-Ufer.
Dehnicke jumped out and said a few words at the window of the lodge. A key was handed out, and they ascended the carved oak staircase, which was covered with a thick cherry-coloured carpet. How different from the stone flights of steps which led up to Frau Laue's, and were painful to the feet! He paused on the second floor, pulled the bell as a matter of politeness--for it might happen that the maidservant was at home after all--and then, when no one came, put the key in the door and turned it.
Lilly tried to read the name that was engraved on an oval porcelain door-plate, but in the dusk that prevailed on the landing she could not distinguish it.
They entered a very dark little hall smelling of fresh paint, and passed into a carpeted room, on the walls of which were cupboards with glass doors curtained with green silk. The rest of the furniture consisted merely of two armchairs, a few small gilt chairs, and a round, brightly polished dining-table.
"This has been used as a dining-room," said Herr Dehnicke; "but it would do very well for your private studio and showroom."
Lilly agreed, though she would rather have contradicted him.
Opening out of the dining-room on the right was a bedroom, with Rose du Barri chintz hangings, a pink enamelled suite, and a canopied bed with a billowy silk eider-down quilt, and curtains fastened with an old-gold seven-pointed coronet.
"Is your customer nobly born?" asked Lilly, feeling vaguely envious.
"I wasn't aware of it," he answered; "but it's possible she may be."
Lilly sighed a little, recalling her own ivory toilette treasures and her coronet-embroidered underwear lying in Frau Laue's fusty drawers; how beautifully they would fit in here! She inhaled with rapture the delicate lilac fragrance that pervaded the whole room like an aristocratic spring, and, shuddering, she compared it with that plebeian smell which, no matter how indefatigably she aired the Dresden treasures, invaded them with deadly persistency.
"Happy woman!" said Lilly in a low voice.
She rather wondered that the occupant of the flat had left no trace of herself behind--no ribbon, peignoir, or trinket.
"She must have locked up everything, or taken it all away with her," suggested Dehnicke.
Next they went back to the studio, and, passing through its other door, came into a little corner drawing-room, which was completely flooded with rosy sunshine.
Lilly clapped her hands in unbounded delight. There was a soft old-rose carpet with a vine pattern; a charming little crystal chandelier, the prisms of which set rainbow colours playing on the dark polished mahogany furniture; and bronze statuettes representing such subjects as a nymph bathing, a reaper folding his hands in prayer at the sound of the Angelus, and so on. Then there were a few choice paintings on the walls, an escritoire, a little bookcase, and there was even a piano.
"Oh!" sighed Lilly, "a piano!" And she shut her eyes in sheer melancholy bliss at the thought of it.
There were live things, too. In front of one of the three windows was an aquarium, full of sunlight and goldfish, with a palm overhead; and from another window chirruped a tame bullfinch.
Lilly thought of her pale-blue silk domain. In comparison with that, what a plain, confined little nest this was; yet how inexpressibly attractive and cosy when contrasted with the revolting place in which she was dwelling.
"It's a positive paradise!" she said ecstatically, though half crying.
"Here is another room," said Herr Dehnicke, opening a door that Lilly had not noticed. "It can be entered separately from the hall, and was probably intended by the lady for a guest-chamber; but if you settled here, it would come in handy as a workroom for your assistants."
Lilly peeped in. The room was more simply arranged than the others, but with considerable care. Greenish-grey upholstered chairs were set round a wide table, and in one corner was a comfortable-looking brass bedstead.
"The bed, of course, could be taken away," Herr Dehnicke explained.
It really was marvellous how exactly suited everything was to her requirements.
They returned to the drawing-room, and Lilly noticed what had before escaped her attention, and that was an almost life-size portrait in an ornate frame hanging above the sofa, as if every other object in the room was there to pay it homage. The features and figure were, however, hidden by a covering of mauve stuff, which made it impossible to recognise them.
"What does that mean?" Lilly asked.
Dehnicke shrugged his shoulders and pointed to a photograph on the escritoire veiled in the same mysterious fashion.
Lilly, full of curiosity, took hold of a corner of the drapery which screened the big picture from her view, and raised it a little.
"I wonder if I dare?" she asked timidly, as if she were about to commit a crime.
"Certainly, if you care to," he replied; and it seemed as if he were breathing more heavily than usual.
She tugged, tugged energetically; the drapery fell upon her ... and there in front of her eyes stood Walter von Prell, boldly sketched in pastel, wearing the uniform of his old regiment. Walter--her friend and fiancé!
Her knees shook. Icy-cold fingers crept through her hair. She refused to understand--to believe. Then she felt that Dehnicke took her hand and led her into the outer hall. He struck a match, and Lilly could now read on the plate the name she had before failed to decipher,
"Lilly Czepanek.
Pressed Flower Studio."
She gave a shrill cry, rushed back into the little drawing-room, and, burying her face in a corner of the sofa, gave vent to her long-restrained emotions in a burst of hot, blissful tears.
When she looked up again, she saw him standing beside her, unassuming and correct in his bearing, his expression sober and grave.
She was ashamed that she felt so happy, and held out her hand to him in shy gratitude.
"May I venture to hope that in my capacity as Walter's deputy I have succeeded in pleasing you?" he asked.
After that there was no further question of refusing.