The Alpine Fay: A Romance

by E. Werner

Almost three years had passed since the terrible avalanche wrought such ruin, and glorious sunshine made glad the hearts of the mountaineers on the day preceding Midsummer-eve,--the day of the festival celebrating throughout the Wolkenstein district the opening of the new mountain-railway. All the villages on the line of travel, now promoted to the dignity of railway-stations, were gaily decked with green wreaths and fluttering flags, and crowds of mountaineers in their Sunday costumes had come from far and near among the mountains to behold with curiosity and wonder the arrival of the first train. The iron road, at last completed, was to bring prosperity to their secluded valleys.

At first, when the terrible catastrophe still struck terror to the minds of all who heard of it, there had been a doubt as to whether the upper stretch of the railway, that passing through the Wolkenstein district, could ever be completed. Consultations with the company had gone on for months, until finally the energy and persistence of the engineer-in-chief had been victorious: the work had been taken up once more, and it was now happily concluded.

Station Oberstein, situated near the village itself, at the end of the Wolkenstein bridge, was especially conspicuous in its decorations. The train, bringing the engineer-in-chief and his wife, with the directors of the road, and a number of invited guests, was to make a stop here, and a particularly grand reception had been devised. The crowds from the country around were greater here than elsewhere, and cannon were to be fired from a neighbouring height.

In the midst of the gay multitude Veit Gronau's tall figure was conspicuous. He looked more tanned and weather-beaten than ever, but otherwise was unchanged. Ernst Waltenberg had provided generously in his will for his former secretary; he was free to live as he chose, but the old love of a wandering life had driven him forth into the world again, and after nearly three years' of absence he had returned for another glimpse of his European home.

"And so Dr. Reinsfeld is to give a grand dinner in his villa to the directors," he said to himself, as he stood on the railway-platform looking out for the train. "I am really curious to see how my good Benno conducts himself as a millionaire. Probably he is quite uncomfortable; but he will have to get used to it, for Gersdorf wrote to me that a million had been rescued out of the wreck of Nordheim's colossal fortune."

"There it comes!" The shout interrupted his reflections; the crowd pressed forward eagerly and stretched their necks to see the first train, which came gliding from the depths upon the narrow iron road. It vanished for a few moments in the tunnel below Oberstein, and then, appearing once more, rolled smoothly onward, the smoke from the gaily-decorated locomotive floating backward like a pennon. Anon it thundered over the bridge, and was greeted at the Oberstein station by a burst of music, by loud shouts of welcome, and by the cannon-shots from the height, wakening the echoes from all the mountains around.

The train was emptied at the station, but almost half an hour elapsed before the party could drive to the villa, for first of all the glory of the road, the Wolkenstein bridge, had to be inspected. The bold, gigantic structure had arisen from ruin; as proudly as before it spanned the chasm from rock to rock. Below it in the giddy depths rushed the stream with all its old impetuosity, and above it the Wolkenstein reared its mighty crest aloft, wearing to-day a light crown of clouds. But upon the declivity, where before had stood the enclosed forest, there was now a broad, solid wall of masonry, a sure protection against any repetition of the former disaster.

The engineer-in-chief, with his young wife on his arm, acted as guide to the inspecting party. Of course he was the hero of the day, and was overwhelmed on all sides by congratulations and expressions of admiration. He received them gravely, seeming but little elated by them.

Erna, on the other hand, was beaming with happiness and gratified pride; her eyes sparkled as she listened to all that was said to her husband, and she had a kindly word and a friendly greeting for all who pressed forward to welcome her.

The pair were obliged to do the honours of the new road without the aid of Dr. Reinsfeld, who, as husband of the late president's heiress, was a very important personage on this occasion, but quite averse to performing his duties as such. He no longer wore the antique coat and saffron-coloured gloves in which he had made acquaintance with the invalid Alice; his attire was faultless, but nevertheless it was easy to see that his task for the day was held by him to be very difficult of performance. He confined himself to bowing and shaking hands, keeping as much as possible in the background, when suddenly a familiar voice accosted him: "Does Dr. Reinsfeld do me the honour to remember me?"