Quisisana; or, Rest at Last

by Friedrich Spielhagen

It was nearly eleven o'clock when the Baron went to find Otto, to ask for a carriage to take him to town, and to tell him at the same time the drift of the disagreeable news which he had received from home. A younger brother, in the army of course, had contracted debts, and was on the point of being cashiered if those debts--in the contracting of which there would seem to have been some discreditable element or other--were not forthwith paid. His relatives, poor people every one of them, were incapable of helping the young man; as a last refuge they had applied to him, the elder brother, who, though not likely to be himself possessed of the necessary means, might yet probably be able to obtain the money on loan from the wealthy friends with whom he was on such good terms. Could Otto help him in an embarrassment that was weighing more heavily upon him than any one of his own making had ever done? It was not a big sum which he required--a mere miserable three thousand thalers!

Otto was quite distressed. His stock of cash was exhausted by the incessant demands that Hildegard had made upon him during the last few days, and to-morrow he would have to redeem that mortgage of five thousand thalers which he had mentioned to Bertram, without as yet knowing where to lay his hands on the money. The moment, of which Bertram had said that it would very surely come, was at hand, had, in fact, virtually come already; the terrible moment when he must discover his situation to his wife. And yet his wife could parry the first thrust for him. He had in the course of years given her, on different occasions, considerable sums of money as special donations, and all this was invested in excellent securities, though she was for ever spending the interest beforehand. He loathed the idea of claiming back a portion of the money from her, and he had vowed that he would not do so, come what might. But still a man will do for a friend what he would not have the courage to do for himself; and so he told the Baron that, being for the moment unable to oblige him himself, he would ask Hildegard to do so, and he felt sure that she would willingly render this small service to her protégé. The Baron hesitated for a moment, but opined that one could not discuss such things with women; he would find help some other way. He then begged Otto to make his excuses to the ladies--who were not to be found, and promised to return, if not for dinner, at the latest before the beginning of the ball; managed to see Lydia, and so drove off.

Otto would have liked nothing better than to have gone with him. The ground beneath him seemed to be on fire. To-day the all-important debate in Parliament was coming off. If the vote was in his favour, he really might, without being too sanguine, expect his factories to rise so greatly in value as to enable him, after all, to weather the threatening storm. But, with an adverse vote, he knew he was ruined, and he kept repeating this to himself, unless he would take the extreme step of requesting Bertram's assistance. Bertram certainly would not refuse it, but, as assuredly, he could not ask for it, considering the awkward relations now subsisting between his wife and his friend.

After considerable hesitation, Hildegard had the day before yesterday communicated to him her suspicions that no one but Bertram was standing in the way of the alliance upon which she had set her heart. She wisely refrained from mentioning the impure source from which she had drawn her suspicions--though it was not of a suspicion that she spoke to her husband, but of a fact. Poor Otto naturally had to express the utmost horror, though at heart he was anything but dissatisfied. He would certainly have liked Erna to have a younger husband, but he himself loved and admired the friend of his youth sincerely, and if Erna loved him in her own way, why she had always had a taste of her own; he had never comprehended her; she would herself know best how it stood with her heart; and then if Bertram, as friend, would gladly have helped him, as son-in-law he would very surely have done so, and in that case, he too would get over the shrinking which he felt now. But it was not to be. Hildegard would never sanction it, and yet, how strange, just as he was returning to the house after seeing the Baron off, here was Hildegard coming to explain that she had been absolutely mistaken about Bertram, that Bertram was completely innocent, that she had to crave his forgiveness for much, and that she would be truly disconsolate if Bertram were to go away after all, as she concluded from some hints of Konski's. Would Otto please go up to him at once and make sure of his staying? She would do so herself, but she really had not a moment to spare, for, he could judge for himself, the Princess did not leave her alone for a minute.

Otto knew not whether to rejoice or to grieve over the new turn of events. He had, suffered intensely from the tension between his wife and his friend; and that things were right once more and better than ever, was of course very nice and pleasant. But with Hildegard's assurance that Bertram was not thinking of marrying Erna, there vanished the last ray of hope that help in his need would come from that quarter. Moreover, he said to himself that Bertram would never dream of going without speaking once more, for the last time, of his money difficulties and repeating the previous offer; and Otto was afraid of himself, afraid he might be weak enough to close with the offer. So he promised Hildegard that he would at once go to Bertram and try every means in his power to induce him to stay, but he did not go. There really seemed no need for all this hurry. Bertram could not leave without asking for a carriage too. And that had not yet been done. Perhaps it would not be done at all, and in that case, why needlessly bring such terrible excitement on one's self? And again, Herr von Busche was sure not to get on with the decoration of the portals unless he went to help him. Hildegard had been saying all along that the old Gothic structure, being the termination of the via triumphalis, must also be the chief point of splendour. Hildegard should be really pleased.

And five minutes later Otto was waging furious war with Herr Von Busche, who wanted the flag of the country to float from the left-hand balcony, whilst Hildegard had given express orders that it should float from the right-hand one.

Hildegard had meanwhile hurried to rejoin the Princess; she had not exaggerated,--Alexandra really would scarce leave her for a moment. She was bent upon knowing how, on such an occasion, things were managed in a German household. She could not, she said, form any idea of it, because in Russia all these things were left to the steward and other officials, and the hostess, like her guests, was simply among the spectators. It would be such a pleasure to her to be allowed to peep behind the scenes for once; if Hildegard was really fond of her, if ever so little, she should not deny her the treat. Hildegard did not find it too difficult to overcome the first shyness which she felt at such an odd request being made. The arrangements about her kitchens, pantries, and store-rooms were as splendid and in as grand a style as in any princely palace, quite in keeping with the colossal preparations for the entertainment; she could modestly accept the many exclamations of amazement and admiration which the young Princess indulged in lavishly, as a fit and proper tribute. But mere idle admiration did not satisfy Alexandra; she insisted upon lending a helping hand, and pushing back her rich lace sleeves from her fair white arms, she seized a big wooden spoon, and, to the delight of all the servants employed about the kitchen, she set to work stirring up a pudding. With all this exuberance of good-humour she was so charmingly amiable, so utterly free from all affectation, and the wildest nonsense she indulged in suited her so quaintly and funnily, that Hildegard was positively enchanted, and called upon Lydia in passing, to study in the appearance and demeanour of the Princess the mighty difference which existed between a really gifted woman and one who merely affected to be clever, and who thereby only provoked the scornful laughter of really clever people.

These cruel words were the first she had addressed to Lydia since last night.

It was impossible for the Baron to fall so suddenly into dire disgrace without involving Lydia in his fall; nay, in Hildegard's eyes she was, if possible, the guiltier of the two. Had she not been incessantly singing the Baron's praises, giving the most glowing testimony to him, been scarcely able to paint the great position he enjoyed at Court in sufficiently bright colours; and all this, of course, solely to beguile her unsuspecting hostess and to deceive her in reference to her own intentions as to Bertram. Serve her right, the story-teller, if she was completely foiled in her intentions! And now, as though the measure of her iniquity had not been already abundantly full, she must actually bring these terrible charges against poor innocent Bertram; must needs, to confirm and apparently substantiate these charges, commit a theft, and make her--a mother--an accomplice, forcing that miserable letter upon her, which, as it turned out now, had been nothing more than the harmless enough effusion of a somewhat overstrained imagination that the child had indulged in--well, well, the time would come when she could show the intriguing old maid this long list of offences; meanwhile, silent contempt should be her well-deserved, only far too lenient, chastisement.

Now, it is true she had broken through her contemptuous silence, but poor Lydia knew her friend quite well enough to be aware of the evil plight into which she had fallen. And had she been still able to have any doubt on the subject, the reproaches with which the Baron had overwhelmed her would certainly have enlightened her. Last night, even, he had ventilated his bad humour by all sorts of bitter and scornful utterances; but to-day, when he had sought Lydia in the garden after his conversation with Otto, and before he hurried off to town, his wrath knew no bounds. This, then, he sneered, was his boasted firm position in the house! A casual adventuress could come and deprive him in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, of the good graces of the mother--in those of her daughter he had long since ceased to believe anyhow--rob him of the father's friendship, and expose him to a treatment no commercial traveller would put up with! And he would not put up with it, not he; Lydia might be sure--quite sure of that! He would prove it to the miserable toady and sycophant who changed her friends as readily as her gloves; to the poor henpecked husband, the miser who could not even spare a few dirty thousands to a friend in need of help; he would prove to them that a Lotter-Vippach was not to be insulted with impunity. And, above all, that conceited amorous old pedant should suffer for it, for he, of course, had set the whole train going against him! If Lydia,--if the others, could not or would not see, he kept his eyes open, and was not to be taken in; he knew what was what, and ... but they should see. And to-night, to the sorrow and annoyance of his so-called friends, who would wish him far enough, he would make a point of turning up in good time. Would Fräulein Lydia be gracious enough to reserve the first Lancers for her obedient servant?