Success and How He Won It

by E. Werner

He hurried off. The horses were standing before the door, and the Baron was looking impatiently up at the windows above. The ride was not a particularly agreeable one, for not only the eldest, but the two younger sons, soon felt the effects of their father's ill-humour. Baron Windeg could not endure that any one bearing the name of Berkow should, in his presence, be spoken of in terms of praise; and, as he naturally supposed his daughter to have the same feeling, he considered that an offence had been offered both to her and to himself.

Conrad had to bear many allusions to his "want of tact" and his "want of consideration." He let it all pass very quietly, however; on the other hand, he showed the most lively interest in the ride, or rather in the duration of it. It was so long since he had been in town; the drive on the outskirts was so animated and diverted him so much, that he contrived to spin out the expedition to a considerable length, and it was growing quite dark when the four returned to the city.

In the meantime Eugénie had remained alone. Her door was locked, she could endure no one near her now. The walls of her room and the old family portraits which adorned them, had witnessed many a fit of weeping, many a bitter struggle when the girl's marriage had been under discussion, but none so cruel as the present, for now the battle was with herself, and the enemy was not easy to conquer.

There upon the writing-table lay the paper by which a wife prayed to be judicially parted from her husband; only the signature was wanting. When once that was affixed the divorce would really be gained, for the consent of her husband and the Baron's influential connections assured to the affair a speedy and favourable issue. She had refused to make that all-important stroke of her pen, but it must be made now. What had the one hour availed? It would be all the same whether the inevitable step were taken sooner or later! But just then Conrad had come in with his story, and had torn open afresh the wounds which had not yet ceased to bleed.

And yet her brother had brought her no message, not even a word of greeting. "Remember me to the Baron and to your sister," that was all! Why not rather "to Lady Eugénie," that would have been colder still and more fitting. Eugénie went up to the writing-table, and her eyes wandered over the words of the document. There too all was cold and formal, though the fate of two people was decided by it. But Arthur had willed it so. He it was who had first spoken the word of separation, who first and unhesitatingly agreed to hasten it on; and, when she had gone to him and declared herself ready to stay, he had turned from her and bade her go. The blood rushed to her temple again, and she stretched out her hand to take the pen.

She was woman enough to know that this signature of hers would be a blow to him, although he must be in a great measure prepared for it. She had been able to interpret looks, and had been conscious of unguarded moments in which he had betrayed himself; but, that he had mastered his weakness to the very last moment, that he would not understand when she hinted to him of the possibility of a reconciliation, that he was peremptory to her as she had been to him, that he opposed his pride to hers--these were offences for which he must now suffer, even though the cost to herself should be tenfold greater.

The demon of pride rose up within her again in all its fatal strength. How often had it successfully held the field against all better feelings, not always for her own good or for that of others! But to-day another voice made itself heard as well. "Arthur is fighting like a man against the misfortunes which are awaiting him on all sides, but he will succumb to them at last."

And when he should so succumb, he would be alone, alone in his defeat as he had been in the battle. He had no friend, no confidant, not one. The officials might serve him devotedly, strangers might admire him; but there was no one to cleave to, no one to feel for him, and the wife, whose place was at his side, was at this moment signing the paper by which she prayed for a separation with the briefest possible delay from the husband whom she had already abandoned, and who was now struggling day by day against imminent ruin.

Eugénie let fall the pen and stepped back from the writing-table. After all, what had been Arthur's crime? He had shown himself indifferent to a wife who, as he believed, had married him solely with a view to his wealth. When she had convinced him of his error, she had added contemptuous words such as no man will bear if he has a spark of honour in him. Here, too, his father's sins had been visited on him, and he had abundantly suffered for them during his short married life.

Since that first conversation no further trouble had come to her, except that her husband had held back from her in distant coldness, but he--what had he not endured? Eugénie best knew what the three months had really been, which to those about them had presented only the superficial calm of indifference, and which had held stings sharp enough to irritate a man beyond endurance.