The elevating sentiment, described by the poets of all ages and all climes as the truest and most ennobling of which human nature is capable, could not possibly be an incentive to unworthy conduct; and it was equally hard to imagine how Herr von Hollfeld could inspire that sentiment. Here she judged from the one-sided, personal point of view from which we are prone to pass sentence on others; but whether from the instinct of her true womanly nature, or whether she really possessed the clear insight that sees in the lines of the face the clear indications of the soul within and traces them to their source, we cannot say,—certainly, in this case, her judgment of a man with whom she had had scarcely any intercourse was entirely correct.
Herr von Hollfeld was certainly not calculated to personate the ideal of a refined feminine nature. He neither possessed intelligence nor wit, was inordinately vain, and by no means content with the interest excited by his fine person. He was fully aware that most women will forgive defects of person sooner than defects of mind; and therefore he adopted the mask of silence and reserve, behind which the world is so ready to see great intelligence, originality, and strength of character. There was no man living who could boast of being upon intimate terms with Herr von Hollfeld; he was cunning enough to elude every attempt to test the quality of his mind, and avoided all earnest conversation with men, while women, as soon as they perceived the rough shell of his repellant behaviour, were only too ready to cry, "the sweeter the kernel." Herr von Hollfeld understood his part,—he was moved by secret desires and hopes, which were strengthened by the difficulty attending their attainment. Animated by no lofty aspirations, he was the slave of avarice and sensuality. To make his position a brilliant one from a worldly point of view, he disdained no petty intrigue, and his office as chamberlain at the court of L—— opened the way to many such. He deceived and lied, and was all the more dangerous on account of the frank honest seeming behind which men never suspected the low schemer, or women the vulgar sensualist.
Elizabeth was glad when she saw her uncle turn the corner and approach the house. With a sigh of relief she took her place in the carriage at his side. She took off her hat, and bathed her hot forehead in the fresh, delicious evening breeze that swept gently by. The last rays of the sun were just gilding the trembling leaves of the poplars by the roadside, and there was a rosy light upon the fields of blooming grain; but the forest that enclosed in its bosom Elizabeth's home lay dark and gloomy beyond, as if it had already forgotten the sunny life which had penetrated its inmost recesses so short a time before.
The forester glanced several times at the silent young girl at his side. Suddenly he transferred both reins and whip to one hand, took hold of Elizabeth's chin, and turned her face up to him.
"Come, let me see, Elsie!" he said. "What! why, zounds! you have got two wrinkles there in your forehead as deep as old Sabina's furrows. What has happened? Come, out with it! Something has vexed you, hey?"
"No, uncle, I am not vexed, but pained that you were so right in your estimate of Fräulein von Walde," replied Elizabeth, while a deep blush of emotion covered her face.
"Pained because I was right, or because Fräulein von Walde has acted unworthily?"
"Well, because what you prophesied was evil, and——"
"And therefore it follows that you should be angry with me. He is always the criminal who tells the truth in such a matter. And pray, which of the utterances of my worldly wisdom has been justified by time?"
She told him of Helene's conduct, and of what the ladies had said. The forester smiled meaningly.