Unfortunately the warning came too late. Irene had just stepped up to the place where they were standing. When she caught sight of the ghastly trace, she uttered a low cry, staggered back, and leaned for a moment upon Rosenbusch, who officiously sprang to her assistance. This scene caused the others to hasten up; and after the first shock was over, they exhausted themselves in speculations upon this mysterious occurrence. Who could possibly believe in hemorrhage in a young man of such conspicuous strength and powerful figure? And as for a fight--where were they to look for an adversary?
The friends were still standing around the ghastly spot, shocked and not knowing what to do, when one of the hostlers, belonging to the hotel, came running up and told them he had also discovered traces of blood on the landing-bridge, and this knife lying near them, on the bank. It was not an ordinary peasant's knife with the blade fastened firmly in the handle, but a slim dagger of Damascus steel, and the handle bore a distinct impression of a bloody hand; no one except Irene knew to whom it had belonged.
In the mean while the carriage had driven up, and they lifted Irene in. Though still suffering terribly, she struggled hard to maintain her composure. The mother and daughter and the two young men crowded into the other places as well as they could. Another short leave-taking, whose brevity was perfectly explained by the gloomy mood they were all in, and the aristocratic part of the company rolled away.
A few minutes later the boat pushed off from the shore, rowed by Rosenbusch and Elfinger. The night was still and clear, and the cool wind blew, soft and damp, upon the girls' hot cheeks. But they sat nestled close to one another, and gazed in silence at the sparkling water; nor did either of the friends utter a word. Aunt Babette alone made a slight attempt at conversation, by saying how amiable these aristocratic persons were upon nearer acquaintance, and what a pity it was they could not have returned home together; for she had been telling the young count so much about Rosenbusch's flute-playing.
As no one made any answer to all this, she, too, grew silent, folded her hands in her lap, and appeared sunk in pious meditation.
CHAPTER IX.
It was close upon midnight when Irene's uncle returned, in his open wagon, from a trip to the Ammersee. The old lion-hunter was in glorious spirits; he had made several bull's-eyes at the shooting-match; had made love to the ladies; and had found a willing ear for his most fabulous African hunting-tales even among the men. Even his famous story of how he had aimed a double-barreled English rifle at a lioness, and had fired two shots so rapidly one after the other, that the ball from the right barrel shot out the animal's right eye, and that from the other the left--even this narrative, about whose truthfulness some doubts had occasionally been expressed, was apparently swallowed in all faith. The champagne had done all the rest; so that the happy man started out of the sweetest dreams when his carriage drew up before the wicket-gate of the Starnberg villa.
He was surprised to see that the balcony-room was still lighted up. It was not in the least like Irene to allow an affectionate anxiety for her night-owl of an uncle to keep her awake, and all signs of light were extinguished in the neighboring houses. Then it occurred to him that perhaps Schnetz had decided to stay out overnight, and to sit up until his return. He was glad of this, for it would afford him an opportunity to give an account of his triumphs to a connoisseur in such matters; and he was therefore disagreeably disappointed when, upon his entering the little salon up-stairs where the light was burning, his young niece alone advanced to meet him.
Her face looked so strangely agitated, her manner was so excited, that his champagne spirits departed on the instant, and he asked, in great alarm, what had happened, and what had become of friend Schnetz? and why Irene, who was evidently unwell, had not gone to bed?
Speaking rapidly and with difficulty, she gave him an account of what had passed. Not until she had finished the story did the name of him who had played the chief rôle in this bloody catastrophe pass her lips.