"'Palais de Bellevue,
'"Cassel.
"'NEVER!
"'Betty, Burgravine of Wellenshausen.'
"Thunder! 'Tis his wife! It is a whole story à la Kotzebue. Do you hear, Geiger-Hans? 'Tis his wife. 'Never!' she writes to him. Oh, the dove has claws and beak, and she can peck!"
Without betraying any of the exuberant mirth expected of him, Geiger-Hans leaned over and, with neat decision, plucked the letter from the other's hands. And as the Jurist stared, wavering confusedly upon offence: "Go on with your work, friend," said the musician, smiling. "That second warrant has not yet been discovered. The night is waning. It may be well to be fairly on your road to Goettingen before the hue and cry."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE KING'S MAIL
"Ei! Kennt ihr noch das alte Lieb
Das einst so wild die Brust burchglüht,
Ihr Saiten, dumpf und trübe?
Die Engel, die nennen es Himmelsfreud;
Die Teufel, die nennen es Höllenleid;
Die Menschen, die nennen es—Liebe!"
HEINE.
Steven, whose mind had become keenly on the alert at the first mention of Betty's name, turned on his hard couch with a general relaxation of mind and body. The consoling news that it was Betty who occupied Jerome's attention fell on his jealous anguish like balm. His thoughts began to wander, rocked on the tide of the ebbing tempest. He must then have fallen into slumber, for he was suddenly back in the old Burg of Wellenshausen, with Sidonia, his little bride. She was sitting in the high-backed chair, in all her wedding finery, even as he had last seen her. But she was smiling upon him.... "I have your letter. It was all a mistake, a great mistake," she was saying to him. Then, as he sprang forward to take her in his arms, suddenly, with the fantastic horror of dreams, her face changed, became red, distorted, even as the face of the student. Her voice changed, too; grew raucous, broken with insupportable laughter. "You never loved me," it said; "that is now clear to me. You meant well with me, I know; but it is not right—such a union as ours cannot be right, either before God or man. Had I understood before, I should have died rather than consent. But it is not yet too late. Aunt Betty says our marriage is no marriage, and she knows all about your Austrian law. Uncle Ludo has taken advice of lawyers for me; and very soon we may both be free. No—I will not see you. I will never see you again."