Gabrielle shut herself in her own room. As yet, the decisive word had not been spoken, but her choice was already made. The hours she had just lived through had broken down the bridge connecting her with the past--there could be no going back now. If George himself had appeared before her to assert and to maintain his rights, it would have availed nothing; it was too late--he had lost her. Where the young lover, despite his earnestness and enthusiasm, had failed, the elder man, with his tardily-aroused, but even on that account more glowing passion, triumphantly succeeded. Arno Raven had drawn the girl's whole soul to himself; there was no room in her heart now for another. Raven alone held sway over Gabrielle's thoughts and feelings, and reigned supreme in her dreams when, long after midnight, she sank into a brief uneasy slumber. George's image never once rose before her. Even during her sleep her brain was busy with the events of the last few hours, which passed in a strange fantastic medley confusedly before her.
One single figure occupied the foreground. Interwoven with the thought of him came the memory of that drive through the darkening twilight of the autumn evening. She saw it all: the varied landscape with its misty outlines; overhead a sky charged with storm-cloud; and yonder on the western horizon the flaming, fiery sunset.
CHAPTER XIII.
"It is perfectly unprecedented! Such a thing was never heard of! I cannot believe my own eyes! This undermines all government, saps the foundations of all authority, shakes the very pillars of the State. It is horrible--horrible!"
Thus, in a burst of noble pathos, did the Councillor unburthen himself of his pent-up indignation, addressing the Superintendent of Police, who was just coming down the stairs from an interview with the Governor.
"Do you mean the disturbances in the town?" asked the latter, with a slight and rather scornful smile. "Yes, it was rather noisy down there last night, certainly."
"Who is thinking of the town?" cried the Councillor. "Those disturbances go for nothing. It is the mere rioting of a mob, which can be subjugated, which will be subjugated, by military aid, if necessary. But when revolutionary ideas invade official circles--when men, whose business it is to represent and to support the Government, attack it in such a way as this, there is an end to all order. Who would have thought it of Assessor Winterfeld! A young man who has been looked on as a model to the whole Civil Service! I, indeed, have always had my suspicions of him. His questionable loyalty, his bias in favour of the Opposition, his treasonable connections, have long inspired uneasiness in my mind; and on several occasions I have expressed as much to his Excellency, but he would not listen. He had a predilection for the Assessor. Quite lately even, by getting him transferred to the capital, he opened to this favoured subaltern the most brilliant prospects; and now the traitor rewards him by the blackest ingratitude."
"Ah, you are alluding to Winterfeld's pamphlet!" said the Superintendent. "Have you had the book in your hands already? Why, it can only have reached R---- this morning."
"I got it accidentally, from a colleague who had just received it. A most abominable composition! It is open rebellion, sir--open rebellion! There are things in it addressed to his Excellency--things ... Well, I don't know how such a work came to be printed and circulated. Have you taken no steps to suppress it?"
"I have no orders and no motive for doing so," declared the Superintendent, whose coolness formed a strange contrast to Moser's indignant excitement. "The pamphlet was brought out in the capital, and there was not time, I suppose, to prevent its circulation. Besides, such unpalatable publications are no longer suppressed in a summary manner, as was the custom formerly. Times have changed. As to this brochure, I am quite of your opinion. I doubt if a more virulent attack has ever been made on a statesman holding office under the Crown."