[MISCHIEF FOR IDLE HANDS].
Bertha Von Wangen was seated at breakfast on the balcony. She had risen quite early to enjoy the dewy freshness of the morning which had followed the storm of the night before, and Elise and Clara were her companions. The lady of the mansion was not fond of solitude, and, moreover, she was desirous of knowing how her guest had passed the night. For this purpose she had sent her maid to question Fräulein Lieschen in the blue room an hour previously, but Elise was no longer there,--she had resigned her post to a maid so soon as her patient's quiet, regular breathing showed that he was sleeping naturally. Thus, while Elise now poured out the coffee, she replied to Bertha's inquiries as to how the night had been passed; Wangen, meanwhile, pacing the garden-walk below, within hearing, with his cigar. He disappeared, however, when the physician from Ostrowko was announced, and Elise eagerly awaited his return, although from fear of Bertha's spiteful observations she suppressed all show of anxiety in her face or manner.
Nor was Bertha herself so easy and careless as she would fain have appeared while waiting for the verdict of the doctor. As, years before, she had striven at Castle Osternau to manifest none of the interest excited in her mind and heart by the tutor, so now she feigned indifference with regard to his state, and spoke of the obligation of receiving a man of Pigglewitch's condition beneath her roof as a burdensome duty, hoped the "poor creature would soon be able to pursue his journey," and twitted Elise with the eager philanthropy which had led her to transgress the bounds of strict propriety. But here Clara, with her ready championship, interfered, and, embracing her dearest Elise, rather stormily declared that everything that she did was "good, and kind, and perfect."
In fact, the mistress of Hugo von Wangen's heart and home had by no means forgotten the Candidate of former days, or the interest with which he had inspired her. Her life, so different from any which she had imagined and hoped for in her girlish dreams, bored her from morning until night. No children had appeared to bless her loveless marriage, and, perhaps, to open their mother's heart to nobler aspirations and a higher ideal of duty. She was entirely unable, from the intrinsic shallowness of her nature, to appreciate her husband's nobler qualities or his intense chivalric devotion to herself. She was idle and weary, and her empty mind and heart were ready to welcome any unworthy passion that could bring them amusement and occupation. The image of the enigmatical tutor of Castle Osternau arose before her invested with a thousand attractions, and she actually felt envious of Elise who had been able to watch beside him. Yes, the girl was always in her way.
The doctor stayed but a few minutes in the blue room. Bertha distinctly heard his footsteps descending the stairs, and his only, so her husband must have remained with the Candidate. Why had the physician left so soon? Had he come too late then? She was possessed by a feverish anxiety, she longed to run out into the corridor and question him; but no, Elise must not suspect her of eagerness to hear his verdict. She was doomed always to be forced to feign before Elise.
At last, after some minutes, which seemed to her hours, Wangen entered the room; one look at his face was enough to show that he brought no bad news, and she sank back negligently in the arm-chair from which she had half sprung up to meet him.
Hugo advanced with a beaming smile; his first glance was for his wife, but she was evidently so uninterested in what he had to say that he turned to Elise, whose eager eyes showed the depth of her anxiety. He nodded kindly to her:
"Good news, Fräulein Lieschen: your patient is all right. He awoke perfectly conscious, and the doctor says his wound is nothing to signify. He has had a wonderful escape, and is now dressing, in hopes of presenting himself to the ladies in half an hour, with a bandage about his head, to be sure, but scarcely enough of an invalid to make himself interesting on that score."
Elise flushed crimson, and her eyes were suffused for a moment; she said nothing, but her joy and relief were so evident that Clara loudly expressed her sympathy:
"Now all is well once more, darling Elise, and you will not cry, as you were doing this morning when Bertha sent for you."