Hermann: A Novel

by E. Werner

CHAPTER VI.

The fourteen days which had been fixed for the stay of the guests were drawing to a close. They had been entirely devoted to all the pleasures and amusements of country life. The Präsidentin, who, on account of her advanced age, usually made a duty of rest and retirement, could not this time entirely withdraw from all the visits and invitations which chiefly concerned her grandson. Count Arnau had, indeed, become a celebrity, and visitors came from the whole neighbourhood round to see and admire the "lion;" the report, too, that he intended, at no very distant period, to make the choice of a fitting partner for his exalted station, made him still more the centre-point of attention on all sides, in reality, because each was anxious to form a match, brilliant in every respect, for some daughter, sister, or relation. The Count took all in his cool, reserved, and sarcastic manner, without being in the slightest degree impressed.

The duties which he owed to society he undertook with that resignation accorded to a painful but unavoidable necessity, for in this unceasing round of visits and amusements he found the safest weapon against the fermenting discontent, which, in spite of the so-called reconciliation, still reigned in the bosom of the family. Certainly the Präsidentin, in spite of her aristocratic prejudices, was perfectly well-bred, and never failed in the politeness and consideration which she owed towards the guests she had herself invited, but she, nevertheless, managed to make her granddaughter and Herr von Reinert feel that they were only tolerated, and that they owed only this toleration itself to Hermann's influence. Naturally, this knowledge did not contribute to the comfort of the visit. Antonie was sensitive and petulant upon every opportunity, Eugen continually bitter and irritable, and often it was only Hermann's interference or mediation which hindered the threatening breach.

This visit and meeting of relations would, indeed, have been, probably, most unpleasant, had not the frequent presence of strangers laid a wholesome restraint upon all.

It was the last day but one of the guests' stay, towards evening.

The Präsidentin had asked for the children to be sent to her, and Gertrud seized one of the few free hours which her appointment left open to her, to go into the park alone. During the last fortnight she had endeavoured to avoid Herr von Reinert as much as possible, or, at least, never to meet him, except when in charge of her two pupils, but to-night she felt secure; she knew that several farewell calls had to be made in the neighbourhood, and, in the enjoyment of this security, gave herself up freely to the pleasure of an often-desired walk alone.

A book in her hand, she went slowly to her favourite place under the great plane tree.

The park seemed at this time perfectly deserted. The evening sun lay golden upon the bushes and grass plots; in the distance glimmered the white plumage of the swans, sailing lazily up and down on the pond; no sound broke the deep stillness.

Gertrud sat down, leaning her head on her hand. So they had come to an end at last, these much-feared fourteen days of intercourse, and, on the whole, had passed away better than she had hoped. No one had in any possible manner made any hindrance to her manifest desire for retirement. The Präsidentin had a somewhat out-spoken antipathy against "Mademoiselle Walter," and Antonie, though she had not the slightest suspicion of any former relations with her husband, by no means loved the presence of this gouvernante, who had the impertinence to be so beautiful, that even she, aristocratic lady as she was, felt herself put in the shade so soon as Gertrud even appeared. After the stormy surprise of the first moment, Eugen seemed to have come back to his senses, perhaps he also feared his wife's jealousy; in any case, he seemed to understand better how to control himself than in the first sudden meeting, and when they saw one another, which happened usually only at table, and in the presence of others, his demeanour was as distant as hers could be.

And Count Arnau? He had kept his word, and given Gertrud no cause to offend him again. There was an iron consistency in the way with which he seemed to ignore her completely after their last conversation; not a word, not a recognition did she now receive from him, not the slightest, most unimportant attention, accorded even to persons in such a dependent position. The governess appeared no longer to exist for him, and when he was obliged to acknowledge her presence by a cold, forced bow, he did so with manifest reluctance. Certainly this was what she from the first had hoped and striven for, now she had obtained her desire, and all the rest of her difficulties were coming to an end. The day after to-morrow Baron Sternfeld, with his wife and children, would return to his estate; the rest would return to the capital, the party would be broken up--it was to be hoped never to meet again, as far as some were concerned.