"Come, Grenwitz," said the baroness, "I have to speak to you about some important matters."
CHAPTER XVIII.
The conversation between the baroness and her husband lasted for some time, but Anna Maria was unlucky today in her diplomatic negotiations. She had not been able to bend her daughter's pride, and she was not able, now, to convert her husband to her views, yielding as he generally was. It is a well-known fact, that very pliant persons are apt to become most obstinate and self-willed on some points. It looks as if these points were impregnable fortresses, places of refuge for the will of such men, to which they retire when they have been beaten and overcome everywhere else, in order to defend their independence here to the uttermost. The baroness had experienced this more than once during her lone dominion over her husband. The latter generally confided blindly in her, and worshipped her with a kind of idolatry; but every now and then a spirit of opposition had risen in him, and frequently in matters where she had least expected resistance. She had always known how to avoid difficulties in such cases, by prudent and timely concessions. She had paid little attention to these occurrences, because they were generally caused by mere trifles. But if she had compared these cases of "stubbornness" of the old gentleman with each other, she would have found that they always showed the plain, honest good sense, and the inexhaustible goodness of the baron, as arrayed against some cunning, selfish measure on the side of his wife. The old gentleman might not be considered very clever, but there was something in him that was more powerful than all his wife's sophisms; a divine spark which, if needs be, could still blaze up in a flame. This spark of divine fire was the power of forgetting himself for the sake of others, and of finding his own happiness in the happiness of others. For there never was a greater truth uttered, than that charity is high above all the knowledge and the highest powers of man, and the greatest of all virtues.
People who look upon charity and love as very superfluous articles of luxury, and who have little opportunity to see their efficacy in themselves, are apt to forget these elements in their calculations. This is what happened to the baroness. It had never occurred to her that the baron might really love his child, and that he then would naturally value her happiness more highly than all worldly advantages. And now an almost incredible thing happened. The old gentleman declared most positively that, if Helen was sure she could not love Felix, the matter was settled once for all times. He did not deny the advantages which such a match could not fail to secure to all the parties interested, nor the pleasure with which he himself would have seen such a union. But he insisted upon due regard being paid to Helen's peace and happiness. And here he took his stand. Anna Maria did not spare words; she even had recourse to tears. She painted Helen's defiance and her improper conduct during the last interview in the darkest colors; she threatened the old man that she would resort to extremities, and leave him to choose between herself and his disobedient child, as she did not mean to be disgraced by seeing her daughter triumph over her in her own house--it was all in vain; the old gentleman maintained his position with the utmost tenacity. He would not admit that Helen was a bad girl; she might have been carried away by passion, but she was not bad at heart; she would soon come and ask her mother's pardon. And even if she should be less good than he believed her, even if she had behaved badly towards her mother, that was yet no reason why she should be forced into a hateful union. All the baroness could obtain was, that Helen, if she still refused, should leave home for a time. The father consented to this, because he thought it best for mother and daughter to part for a time, until the passions should have subsided a little on both sides. He did not object to Helen's going to Grunwald instead of Hamburg, because that would enable him to see her more frequently, and because he looked upon the whole arrangement only as a provisional one, which would, in all probability, not last long. Anna Maria, on the other hand, had to be content with this result, as she had constantly to fear that Helen, driven to bay, might make that unpleasant affair of the letter known to her father. This fear had made her less energetic in the whole conversation than she usually was. Her bad conscience had made a coward of her, and this cowardice had made it easier for the baron to triumph. He kissed his wife on the forehead, as he always did after a scene of more or less painful controversy, thanked her for her readiness to fall in with his views and wishes, and expressed a hope that the peace of the family would ere long be fully restored.
"I should feel wretched, if I had to see those I love best upon earth divided among themselves," the good old man said, with tears in his eyes. "I have prayed to God all these days for light to show me what I ought to do in this matter. I should be sorry to have in any way offended you, dear Anna Maria, for I know how much I owe you; but I have also duties towards my daughter, and I cannot consent that you should make her unhappy, with the best intentions in the world. God knows, I desire nothing but your happiness; and now, my dear Anna Maria, let us go to dinner, for, if I am not mistaken, dinner has been announced twice already."
The baroness was to have no rest to-day.
The melancholy dinner, at which neither Oswald, who would not leave Bruno, nor Helen, who excused herself on the plea of a bad headache, had made their appearance, was over, and the baron had just gone out to have a talk with Helen and to inquire after Bruno. The baroness had remained alone with Felix, and knew she would have to tell him the disagreeable news that their joint plans had been utterly defeated by Helen's obstinate resistance and the baron's stubbornness. How could she make such a confession, she who had boasted so much of her unlimited power over her husband; she who had not only originated the plan, but who had carried on the whole transaction! It was a hard task for the selfish, ambitious woman.
How much she now regretted ever having read that letter! It had told her little more than what she already knew, and how she had compromised herself! She could no longer use her full authority against Helen, for her daughter had a formidable weapon in her hands. Anna Maria knew full well that the baron would never approve of such a breach of faith, especially in his present state of mind. Nor could she be more candid with Felix. She had to tell him that the battle was lost, and had not even the consolation to be able to show him that it was lost only by an unfortunate accident.
The bitter cap had to be drained. Felix could not trust his ears. He, Felix, Baron Grenwitz, had been refused, spurned with contempt, in the one single case in which he had been in earnest! And by whom? By a girl fresh from school! And possibly for the sake of an obscure person, whose sole merit was that he looked almost like a gentleman. Felix behaved as if the world must come to an end now. To lose Helen well, he might have found consolation for that; but to lose, with her, also the prospect of seeing his debts paid, or rather, of seeing his credit considerably improved, that was far worse, and a very serious matter to a man like Felix. Helen's dower, the sums which his uncle had promised to advance in order to enable him to make his exhausted estates once more productive, all to be lost--no! they could not trifle with him in this way! He had done all he could do; he had thrown up his commission (better: he had been forced to leave the army); he had been authorized by the baroness to make his engagement publicly known, and now--his commission, his future wife, his honor--all lost!
"I shall blow out my brains," he cried pathetically.