While the town was thus being prepared for the avalanche of ruin which must ensue, certain changes were taking place in the house of mourning. On the first day crowds of friends had hastened to offer their sympathy, and, although every one stepped softly and spoke in whispers, there had ensued in consequence a certain noise and bustle. The second day on the contrary was marked by a profound and gloomy silence, which reigned below- and above-stairs,—all the more oppressive since in most of the rooms the shutters were closed behind the broken panes of glass, causing a vague, uncertain twilight. The Frau President did not yet dream that a second shock was to follow the terrible event in the ruin; all her thoughts were occupied with speculations as to the amount of the immense fortune left by the unfortunate man, and the heir to whom it would fall. With all the egotism of old age her mind had already ceased to dwell upon the dead man himself. The selfishness that animated alike the grandmother and her eldest granddaughter had never been so evident as in this time of trial.
Immediately after her interview with the doctor, Flora had briefly informed the Frau President that her engagement was broken off, without assigning any reason for the fact, and the old lady had shown no curiosity upon the subject, merely rousing herself from her self-absorption for a moment to listen, and then shrugging her shoulders by way of reply. This change in her granddaughter's prospects appeared to her of but small consequence compared with the tragedy which threatened to plunge an aristocratic, high-born woman from a position of princely luxury into all the horrors of straitened circumstances. Flora then withdrew to her own room, and under the pretence of a violent headache denied herself to visitors, spending her time in packing and arranging her effects.
In the servants' hall the day which had been so long looked forward to as the wedding-day was marked by a confusion and subversion of all custom and order, such as only sudden preparations for departure can produce. The reports current in the town had fallen among the crowd of domestics and hangers-on like a bomb-shell, all the more terrifying since some among them on the morning after the disaster had hazarded a suspicion that "matters might not be quite straight." They hourly expected the officers of the law to make their appearance; each one looked out for himself or herself; the long tables set for the ball were stripped of everything eatable, and the bowls of punch were drained to the dregs.
From these regions the first intimation came to the Frau President Urach that her rule in Villa Baumgarten was considered by others as at an end; whereas formerly her first touch upon her bell had been answered instantly, she was now obliged to ring repeatedly—yes, even to call—before her orders were sullenly obeyed. She could hear too how her lap-dog, once caressed by the servants as their mistress's pet, yelped under many a kick slyly administered, while eyes that had been wont to be cast down respectfully in her presence now stared her boldly in the face.
The inmates on the third floor of the villa knew nothing of this changed demeanour on the part of the servants. Henriette had always been kind and considerate; the men and maids had regarded the poor invalid as doomed to death; they had been used to walk on tiptoe in her presence, and to speak in whispers; and in this respect they now redoubled their efforts, since "the Herr Hofrath" had told them that her state at present was critical.
Yes, she lay in her bedroom, scarcely to be recognized except for her marvellously beautiful blue eyes, resigning at last willingly and without a pang her frail weary frame to the dark power that had dogged her footsteps for so many years. She was perfectly conscious that she was dying, and had put away from her with loathing all the gaudy colours with which she had always seemed to hope to borrow a show of youth and health. As if in a snow-drift, she reclined among spotless linen, shaded by soft muslin curtains. She was to be spared the pain of being turned away from her home to seek, according to Flora's arrangement, a refuge in the castle mill. She would be gone before the law in the name of hundreds of anxious creditors laid its hand upon the remains of the fabulous wealth which had been dispersed upon the winds; she was to depart before hearing her brother-in-law's memory branded with disgrace and crime,—his terrible end had loosened her last weak hold upon earth. And her ardent desire was fulfilled: her beloved physician watched over her to her latest breath; he promised that he would remain with her and not go to L—— until she was "much better." Once more she was as happy as she had been in the house by the river; Doctor Bruck watched over her, and Kitty was his aid.—the two people whom she loved most in the world.
Kitty recovered very quickly, leaving her bed on the afternoon of the second day. She wore a narrow bandage about her brow, and the heavy braids of hair, too massive to be worn around her head for the present, hung down her back; but this was all the change that could remind one that the terrible explosion had hurled her to the ground and overwhelmed her with the waters of the fosse, where she must have perished if loving eyes had not sought and loving hands rescued her. Her bearing was as energetic and assured as ever, whatever tempests might assail her soul. In addition to her profound sorrow for her dying sister and Römer's tragic fate, the certainty forced itself upon her mind that her guardian was not without blame in what had occurred; Doctor Bruck, to whom she had hinted her fears, had said not one word to contradict them. He was as quiet and taciturn as ever. This might well be the result of Henriette's condition, but there was a peculiar solemnity in his reserve, which seemed also to have infected the dean's widow.
The old lady on the afternoon of the first day had issued from the room adjoining Henriette's, where she had had an interview with the doctor, her eyes full of tears, but evidently agitated by pleased surprise. She had then taken her leave to superintend the removal of various articles of furniture from her home to the doctor's town-house, where she was to take up her abode with her friend until the repairs in the house by the river should be concluded. She came to the villa from time to time to see Henriette for a few moments, always avoiding any meeting with Flora.
The beautiful woman had only come up-stairs once to see Henriette, just at the time when Doctor Bruck had obeyed an urgent request for his presence from the prince. It was strange that she should pass through the room where Kitty lay without even a glance towards the wounded girl, who lifted her head to address her. She left Henriette's bedside and went down to her own apartments without again entering the adjoining room, and Nanni reported that Fräulein Flora was preparing shortly to leave the house.
Once or twice during the day the Frau President ascended the stairs, a cloud of black crape around her gray head, her countenance troubled, and utterly bereft of that proud composure the maintenance of which in times of trial she had always asserted to be the distinguishing characteristic of a well-balanced mind. She could do nothing but weep and wring her hands convulsively at the terrible change that one moment had made in the villa and its inmates. The exhausted invalid always breathed more freely when the door closed upon the melancholy figure shrouded in black.