Oscar bit his lip and an expression came out upon his features that terrified Maia. As soon, however, as he noticed her questioning look, he gave a short laugh and said mockingly: "I am afraid Eric will make life hard for himself and his wife, with his overstrained tenderness. Fortunately Cecilia is not attuned to such sentimentalities, and will laugh him out of his tendency to 'make mountains out of mole-hills.'"
The waltz just now beginning, interrupted the conversation between the two. A young officer to whom the daughter of the house was engaged for this dance, came up to claim her hand. Maia, who, for the first time danced in a large company, entered heartily into this amusement, but her eyes quickly turned again to the spot where the Baron stood, or rather had stood, for he was no longer there. She sought him in vain; he must have left the room.
Eric had attended his young wife to her chamber, and then repaired to his own apartments, to change his suit. He smiled over the painful solicitude of the doctor, who could never get over treating him as a sick man, no matter how well he felt, as for instance to-day. But with the prescription itself he was well pleased, for not yet had he been allowed a single minute of his wife's society in private. His traveling-suit was quickly donned, and now there was still left a half hour for a sweet, confidential chat, that nobody could disturb.
Full of impatience the young husband hurried out to go and find his wife, but at the foot of the stairs he stood still a moment and gazed through the wide-open portals of the grand reception-hall.
Out of doors lay the landscape in the full splendor of the evening-sun, whose golden light flooded also the flower-bestrewn terrace, and a broad shining beam also crossed the hall. From the works over yonder, where the festivities for the workmen took place, came sounds of music and rejoicing; and from the open windows of the ball-room, where a pause in the dancing had occurred, penetrated the gay talking and laughing of the company.
Eric's heart beat high for joy, and he drew a deep breath of satisfaction. What a lovely day it had been, this his wedding-day! And now life just began for him--now there beckoned to him the wide world, the sunny South; he would be free from oppressive, irksome duties, and there on the shore of the blue Mediterranean, with a sweet wife by his side, dream an enchanting dream of happiness. In the depths of his soul, he was pierced with gratitude to the Giver of all good, who had showered upon him all these blessings.
With quick steps he mounted the stairs and was about to enter the small parlor which separated Cecilia's chamber from that of her brother, when he remarked that it had been bolted from the inside; also nobody opened in response to his light tap. He was impatient, and took another way.
Oscar's chamber had another peculiar entrance, a little tapestry-door, that was seldom or never used. Eric opened it and traversed the apartment of his brother-in-law and the adjoining parlor. His step was not audible upon the soft carpet, and moreover the door to Cecilia's chamber was close. Eric heard Wildenrod's voice from inside and stood still.
The brother, he supposed, had sought the bride in order to see her once more alone and to say farewell. This was natural and the parting--in any case so brief--ought not to be disturbed.
Yet what was that? The Baron's voice sounded stern and threatening, and now a wild, passionate sob was heard. Was it Cecilia's voice? It could not be she who was thus distressed, weeping so despairingly! Eric turned pale, the foreboding of a great sorrow suddenly fell upon him, as though an ice-cold hand had laid its weight upon his chest. He tarried motionless in his place, every word reaching him through the closed door.