They were the first words that had escaped her lips.
"I will not fly again!"
"You must! or all has been in vain! The torture, the conflict, the shame--all, all."
"Cecilia," cried Gotthold, fairly beside himself, "I should be unworthy the name of a man, if I left you so again. I want light; I want to know what I am doing, why I am doing it?"
"I dare say no more; you must understand me; I thought you would have done so from the first, or I should not have had the courage; I should be the most miserable creature on earth if you did not understand me even now. But you will, or I could not love you. And now, by your love for me, Gotthold, you must not remain here an instant longer. Farewell, and farewell forever!"
It seemed as if a struggle had taken place between the two in the dimly-lighted room; he had held her and she had clung to him as if forever; then she desperately released herself from his hold, and pushed him from her, as if his presence must bring death and destruction. Then he once more held the dear form in his arms, clasped it to his heart, felt her hot, quivering lips pressed to his, and then stood outside in the garden, with the rain beating into his face, the swaying tree-tops above him rustling and whispering, and the tall hedges beside him hissing and muttering, as if with thousands and thousands of tongues: "Fool, silly fool, simpleton, to let yourself be cheated, once, twice, as often as she--or he chooses--how do I know?"
He burst into a loud laugh, and as he did so there was a burning sensation in his breast which grew hotter and hotter; he would have given much if he could have wept. But that he could not, would not do. After all, nothing was yet decided; nothing was yet lost, although his soul was as dark as the black night that covered the earth around him. No star pierced the rack of dense driving clouds; scarcely the faintest ray of light was visible in the west. And yet--this dull gleam came from the sun, which had set and would rise again to-morrow; it was a pledge that the gloomy night would not last forever. And on his lips still lingered a memory of her breath, the fervor of her kisses. No! no! There could be no eternal separation! This torture could not last forever!
CHAPTER XX.
Pretty Rieke had been detained in the dining-room longer than she liked, the Pastor had performed his office of cup-bearer with an unsteady hand, and moreover thought it necessary to accompany the performance with long-winded, incoherent speeches; but the gentlemen at the gaming-table had drunk the faster, and impatiently demanded more, until at last Rieke, tired of the continual running to and fro which seemed to have no end, resolutely carried the side-board with the bowl upon it to the gaming-table, and thus rendered it possible for the willing Pastor to present the glasses he filled himself. Then, after leaning over Hans Redebas' chair and watching the game a few minutes, she glided hastily out of the room.
She wanted to continue her conversation with Gotthold. The handsome, quiet man had always pleased her, and she had played the rôle of spy, which Brandow had assigned her, less from love for her master than jealousy of her mistress, to whom she grudged the attentions of the stately stranger. The generous present he had bestowed upon her that morning had in some degree touched, and even puzzled her, and the cordiality he had just shown had completely disarmed her. Of course he had only come back for her mistress' sake, but to her fickle heart it was no enigma how one object can be kept in view without losing sight of another. She would even help him, if he was very, very friendly to her; and after all, it was certainly better for her if the stranger finally ran away with her mistress.