In Bohemia he made the acquaintance of a girl belonging to a noble family, and was subdued by her.
Feodora was tall and majestic, of a warm, sensual nature, but cold-hearted. Persuaded by his sister, he became engaged to her; but felt that he would have to stand alone in life, with her as his spouse.
On the day after his engagement, he suddenly awoke to a horror of what he had done. He was visiting the large estate of her father. He walked through the park, wrestling with the resolve to drown himself in the pond; but he did not do so, because he considered it his duty to keep his plighted word; and besides, the hope arose in his breast that, at some future time, a closer sympathy would be brought about. Her beauty fettered him; in short, the marriage was celebrated, and he lived for thirty-one years married, but lonely. One by one, his hopes had all been shattered. He had persuaded himself that congeniality was not necessary to happiness.
But after awhile he discovered what it was to be united to some one, and at the same time to be alone. The sudden death of the last of the main line of his family placed him at the head of the house. He resigned his position in the army, and devoted himself to agriculture. He had no control over his children--scarcely any influence in fact, but as his sons grew up, they espoused the cause of Germany, and would have nothing to do with the conflict which their mother and her ghostly advisers tried to stir up.
In the campaign of 1866, the Baron suffered unspeakably. He was homeless in his own house. But when the present war began, and he discovered plots that he would never have suspected, the conflict broke out openly. The two sons joined the German army, and did not, or would not, know of what was going on at home. I dare not speak of the bitterness, hate, and despair that filled the soul of this naturally good-hearted man, and appeared in the course of his story. "I had to confess to you some time," said he finally, "and I chose the best time.
"I believe that your wife intuitively knew everything that I have told you."
The deep misery of his life seemed again renewed when he cried, "I do not wish to die before their eyes."
He mentioned Rautenkron, and said that their cases were similar. Their devotion in the present great movement was not a joyful sacrifice, but indifference and contempt for life; they wanted to die.
I was deeply pained, and also gratified, when he took my hand at last, saying that my wife and I had kept him up in the faith that happiness was yet to be found on earth. "And now I must make a further confession. It was a great sacrifice on my part, considering the comfort I enjoyed in your house, and the deep sympathy your wife showed me, to deny myself frequent, yea, daily visits, whenever I felt like a stranger in my house; and as one banished from home, I would ride across the hills, and down into the valley towards you and your wife; but when I had reached the saw-mill, I would turn back. It was better thus. I felt that your wife knew everything. Though I was a man who had sons in the army, I was again tossed hither and thither by youthful feelings; but I overcame them. I think I ought to tell you this too; it relieves me, and cannot oppress you. Of all men who were affected by her sterling qualities, there is no one who worshipped her more profoundly than I did," said the Baron finally, again taking my hand.
We sat there in silence for some time, and I was made happy by the thought that her spirit was hovering over us, bringing us peace. The Baron then arose and said, "Now I have unburdened myself, and am free. I thank you for your share in this relief. And now, no more of this. Now duty calls."