"Oh, but I shall hope to see you again. You must come and say good-bye to me. Now I must leave you."
"Good-bye, and again thank you," she said.
She came with me to the door, and down the stairs. Max walked in front, and went on to open the door and see that my carriage was in readiness. For an instant I clasped her hand.
"I shan't see you again," she whispered. "Good-bye."
I left her standing on the lowest step, her head proudly erect and a smile on her lips. It was as she said, I did not see her again; for they went to the country the next day, and when Max came to take a formal leave of me she excused herself on the score of indisposition.
To complete the picture I ought to describe the wrath of those who had formed Hammerfeldt's entourage, the gleeful satisfaction of the opposing party, the articles in the journals, the speculations, guesses, and assertions as to my reasons, temper, intention, and expressions. I should paint also my mother's mingled annoyance and relief, vexation that I favoured the Liberals, and joy that the Countess von Sempach went to Paris; Victoria's absolute bewilderment and ineffectual divings and fishings for anything that might throw light on so mysterious a matter; William Adolphus' intense self-complacency in my following of his advice, accompanied by a patronizing rebuke for my having thought it necessary to "do it so abruptly." All these good people, as they acted their little parts and filled their corners of the stage, had their own ideas of the meaning of the play and their own estimate of the importance of the characters. They all fitted into their places in my conception of it, so that not one was superfluous; all were needed, and all worked in unconsciousness to heighten the irony, to point the comedy, and to frame the tragedy in its most effective, most incongruous setting. For in this real life the stage-manager takes no pains to have all things in harmony nor to lead us through gradual and well-attempered emotions to the climax of exalted feeling, nor to banish from our sight all that jars and clashes with the pathos of the piece. Rather he works by contrasts, by strange juxtapositions, by surprises, careless how many of the audience follow his mind, not heeding dissatisfaction or pleasure, recking nothing whether we applaud or damn his play.
Well, here was I, Augustin, twenty years of age, and determined to reign alone. And my Countess was gone to Paris. Did you look down from heaven, old Hammerfeldt? Victoria thought you did. Well, then, was not the boy's work absurdly, extravagantly, bravely done?
CHAPTER XIV.
PLEASURE TAKES LEAVE TO PROTEST.
During the months that followed the departure of the Sempachs I engaged myself busily in public affairs, in the endeavour to gain better acquaintance with the difficult trade which was mine. I do not throw off impressions lightly, and I was disinclined for gaiety, or for more society than the obligations of my position demanded. My mother approved of my zeal; a convinced partisan, she enjoyed that happy confidence in her own views which makes people certain that everybody can study their opinions only to embrace them. Attention is the sole preliminary to conversion. I will not speak further of this matter here than to say that I was doomed to disappoint Princess Heinrich in this respect. I am glad of it. The world moves, and although it is very difficult for persons so artificially situated as I have been to move with it, yet we can and must move after it, lumbering along in its wake more or less slowly and awkwardly. We hold on this tenure; if we do not perform it—well, we end in country-houses in England.