Success and How He Won It

by E. Werner

From the windows of the Windeg mansion, situated in one of the principal streets, a young lady was looking down on the hurry and bustle below which had grown almost strange to her in the solitude of her mountain home.

Eugénie had returned to her father's house, and the short interval of her married life seemed effaced and forgotten. In the family circle it was rarely adverted to, and never except when some allusion to the approaching separation had to be made. The sons followed in this their father's example, and he kept silence on the subject at home, hoping thereby to stifle every painful remembrance.

At the same time he busied himself with those preliminary steps necessary before entering on the judicial proceedings of the divorce. Until this stage should be reached, the matter was not to be made public. The servants and those few acquaintances, who were still in town, knew no more than that the young wife had come on a visit to her family, in consequence of some disturbances on her husband's estates.

Eugénie occupied the rooms which had been hers before her marriage. Nothing in them had been altered, and when, as in former days, she stood at her favourite window, which opened on to a balcony, and looked out, all the old well-known objects met her sight; she might never have been away at all.

The last three months could be nothing more to her than an ugly dream, from which she had now awakened to the old freedom of her maidenhood, and to a freedom far more complete than any she had known before, for now there was no spectre of care haunting each step made by herself and those dearest to her. Every new day would no longer bring fresh humiliations and fresh sacrifices, each hour of the family life need no longer be poisoned by the fear of what might happen on the morrow, of possible disgrace, of ruin with all its fearful consequences. The noble old race of the Windegs could now come forward once more with all the prestige of wealth and power, for the Lord of Rabenau was rich enough, when all former losses were covered, to make a splendid provision for himself and all belonging to him.

There was indeed one shadow still on all this new-born sunshine, and it was caused by that plebeian name so detested by the Baron, and, at one time, by Eugénie.

But even this need only be a question of time. The beautiful talented girl had formerly met with many admirers of her own rank, who would sooner or later have become suitors for her hand, in spite of her father's embarrassed circumstances; indeed, any man wedding Eugénie Windeg might well forget that he would be taking home as his bride the daughter of a poor and debt-laden house. Then the elder Berkow had stepped in, had roughly interfered with all these plans and projects, and destined the prize to his own son. He was able to demand that which others must sue for, and he knew how to use his power. But now Eugénie would be free, and her father could afford to give her a brilliant dowry. He knew more than one among his peers who was ready, and not from interested motives alone, to take up again the thread which had been so rudely severed; and so, with the name, the last remembrance of that former marriage would vanish for ever, and, by a union of suitable rank, the young Baroness would be placed in a position equal, if not superior, to that assigned to her by birth. Then the last spot on the Windeg shield would be effaced, and it would shine out once more with undiminished lustre.

But the young wife hardly looked as calm and full of joyous hope as the advent of so much good fortune might have led one to expect. She had now been some weeks in her father's house, and yet the colour had not returned to her cheeks, and her mouth had not learnt to smile again.

Here, surrounded by all the love and care of her own people, she continued pale and silent as she had been by the side of the husband who had been forced upon her, and now, as she looked down on the crowds below, there was not one in all that varying multitude who had power to fix her attention for an instant. She gazed down on them with that far-off dreamy look which sees nothing near at hand, but is intent on some very different object in some far distant place. "In that city of yours one loses everything, even one's love of solitude and the woods." These words hardly seemed applicable here. Eugénie looked as if quite a painful longing for them had taken possession of her.

The Baron was in the habit of coming to his daughter's rooms for half an hour before going for his afternoon ride. He came in now with a graver face than usual and holding a paper in his hand.