CHAPTER XV.
Julie had long ago finished reading the letter, and still she stood motionless at the window, while Jansen, his head sunk on his breast, sat on the sofa in a state between waking and sleeping.
It was not until the sheets slipped from her hand and fell at his feet that he started from his stupor. But he did not pick them up.
"What does he write?" He asked in a hollow voice.
"Just what you thought he would," she answered. "You will hardly find anything new in the letter, or at all events, anything that can alter things. So you had better read it at some calmer hour, after you have had a good sleep. In spite of all, I feel sure the letter will do you good. It would have been impossible to write of an unworthy subject in a more dignified way, and I, at least, have no worse opinion of our friend since I have heard his sad story. I believe everything will yet go well, and we needn't even lose our friend. He speaks, to be sure, of his self-imposed exile, and has also written a farewell letter to Irene, because he is of too chivalrous a nature to allow himself a happiness of which he thinks he has deprived us."
He raised his head and looked at her with a dazed, inquiring look in his eyes.
"I don't understand a word!" he said.
She bent over him, clasped her arms round his neck, and kissed him on the forehead.
"It isn't at all necessary you should understand me, dear one. Only keep quiet and trust to your best friend. It is true, circumstances treat us ill! but a true love and a little common-sense--oughtn't they to come out triumphant over all the tricks of blind fortune? I am only a woman; but it goes against my pride to submit so tamely and helplessly, when life is at stake. For in our hearts, is not everything pure between us two? And shall we not belong to one another merely because all sorts of impurity and hostility work against us from without? No, my dearest, we will not submit to this. Because we live in an imperfect world, we will do our best to make it more perfect; at least on that plot of earth on which our cot may stand."
Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, but she smiled upon him so tenderly that, for the first time in a long while, a sense of warmth passed over the soul of this broken-hearted man.
"What do you mean, dear?" he asked, looking at her in surprise.
"Be still--not yet!" she whispered, as she brushed back his hair from his forehead and kissed his eyes. "But if you love me, as you say, and as I must believe you do or else I could not live, trust me and do just what I ask. In the first place ride home and take some breakfast, at which little Frances will keep you company. And then lie down and sleep as well and as soundly as you possibly can. But I must wake you up toward evening, for I shall expect to see you at my house punctually at seven o'clock. If you will be very obedient and do all this, you shall learn, as a reward, the plan I have formed to smooth over these wearing troubles, and to make four good people happy. Until then don't try to think what it can be, but rely upon your true love. Will you do this?"
She kissed him long and tenderly, while he stammered some confused words. Then she led him out of the room. He cast a timid look toward the door of his saint factory.
"My child," he said, "I am ashamed of myself. You saw me there! Is it possible you can love a madman?"
"I am not a bit afraid," she smiled. "That wild spirit will never, even in its darkest hour, shatter anything that is sacred to us both."
When she saw the drosky roll away, she breathed more freely, and went slowly into the house. She had given the friends, who waited impatiently for news, a hint to withdraw and not to come in his way. Kohle had gone with Rosenbusch into the latter's studio; Angelica sat before her easel without touching a brush. Now, when Julie entered, she rushed upon her in her violent way. "Well?" she cried. "But what is it? you have been crying!"
"Not for sorrow, dearest! Though there was room for that too. For much that is bitter lies behind us, and how much more beautiful it all might be! But the best is not lost--listen--I must tell you something."
She stooped over and whispered something in her ear. A loud cry of joy burst from the faithful soul. She blushed deeply from joyful surprise, and the next minute she had her arms round Julie's neck, almost suffocating her with kisses and caresses.
"Foolish girl," said Julie, escaping from her at last. "What is the matter? Didn't you always prophesy it would turn out this way in the end? Now do me the favor to be as sensible as it is possible for an artist to be. You must help me; without you--how would it be possible for us to be ready by this evening? I want to tell you at once how I have thought it all out!"
They remained together for another half hour engaged in a most earnest consultation, and then separated, after many tender embraces and assurances of eternal friendship. The two men in the next room had only heard through the wall the cry of joy, and then an unintelligible whispering and murmuring; their impatience had been cruelly racked. When, therefore, the door was heard to open, they too stepped out into the entry with an air of quiet reproach.
"Angelica will tell you all about it!" cried Julie, running quickly down the stairs. "And I depend upon your both giving me the pleasure of a call this evening. Don't be alarmed about Jansen. He is at home now, and well taken care of--"
With this she disappeared from their sight.
"Fräulein Minna Engelken," said Rosenbusch, "will your at length condescend to inform us what this tedious session, with closed doors has to portend?"
"Only as much as it will be proper and necessary for you to know, Herr von Rosebud!" replied the painter, who was so excited and preoccupied that she had put on her hat wrong side before, and had not succeeded much better with the rest of her street toilet. "The two gentlemen are invited to take a cup of tea with Fräulein Julie this evening, and are requested to convey this message to Herr von Schnetz, to Herr Elfinger, and to Papa Schoepf also. You are to appear punctually at a quarter before seven in full uniform, and with all your decorations. For particulars, see small bills. And now I must beg to be excused--I have such a host of commissions--and since the lords of creation cannot possibly be made use of for anything outside of the arts and sciences--I will say au revoir! until to-night, gentlemen!"
She made a coquettish courtesy, hustled the astonished visitors out of her studio without much ceremony, and flew, singing, down the stairs.