"This is the introduction to a sermon, Herr Vicar," said Edwin; "I will not interrupt and prevent you from edifying your congregation. But as I am not a member I shall have the honor of taking leave of the company, and bidding them all good night."
He bowed to the countess and left the hall, before any of the party recovered from their surprise.
CHAPTER IX.
Edwin was scarcely in his room, to which a footman with a very bewildered expression, had lighted him, when his excitement passed away and bitter indignation and wrath took possession of him. He experienced the gnawing discomfort which seizes upon everyone, when, while he does not regret having yielded to a noble impulse, he must curse the circumstances which forced him to disturb a social circle with his righteous anger. He was a guest and had quarrelled with another guest of the house, a house governed by the rules of society, which as far as possible stifle all natural sounds, smother to a malicious whisper the cry of indignation, and give vent to an implacable hatred, not in the presence of ladies, but only in some lonely spot before two male witnesses. He must have appeared like a man without education or courtesy, a moralizing pedant. True, there were no means of justifying himself--even to the most frivolous of these children of the world--for his inability to breathe the same air with this man. But could he use an expedient, which would have compelled him to expose the secret, the honor of his friend? No; he must now submit to the consequences of his action, and no matter how much he reflected upon the affair, he could think of no other course which he could have pursued, without lowering himself in his own eyes. He felt that he could do exactly the same thing again in a similar event. So in the midst of all his annoyance, he experienced the satisfaction of having been faithful to himself, and began to reflect more calmly what course he should now pursue.
He could remain in the castle no longer. Even if he could be sure of not meeting Lorinser again, he thought it his duty to aid the master of the house, in causing the strange scene in which he played a principal part to be forgotten as quickly as possible; this could be most effectually done by the departure of the disturber of the peace, and moreover Edwin wished to avoid any farther discussion of the matter. Let them scoff at him and talk behind his back as they chose, let the enemy who remained behind reap all the advantage from having kept the field--what did he care? The one person, whose opinion he valued, would not misunderstand him; that he knew, that, the last glance with which she followed his retreating figure, had told him.
But had he come to the castle to chastise a worthless scoundrel, and might he now leave feeling that his business had been well performed? Could he leave her who had confessed that she had no friend but him, who in the greatest complication of her fate, grasped his hand in despairing terror? he was helpless to aid her it was true, but she had appealed to him with the certainty that at least she would be compelled no longer to bear her burden unaided by human help or sympathy. If he suddenly failed her again, would it not sunder the last tie that bound her to life? And yet, how could he hope to afford her any real assistance? He scarcely knew how to help himself in the violent conflict of feelings which her presence had aroused. He sat down on the sofa before the little gilt table and buried his face in his hands.
A discreet knock roused him from this profitless reverie. At his "who is there?" the little physician entered, with many apologies for disturbing him at so late an hour. The great interest he felt in his old friend's son had brought him there; he had received through the servants who were greatly alarmed by the unprecedented scene, a confused report of what had occurred, and thought he would not be charged with indiscreet curiosity, if he applied to the right quarter at once. He now, unasked, related that after Edwin had left the hall, Lorinser had made a full confession and thereby completely regained his former position. An old affair with a young girl, in whom Edwin had been likewise deeply interested, was the cause of this mortal hatred. Disappointed love had induced the poor creature, whom in spite of the most sincere affection he could not resolve to marry and be faithless to higher aims, to attempt to commit suicide. Fortunately she was saved; but all the blame for the act had been laid on his shoulders--in, short, it was a regular romance, and he seemed to have related it very well. At least when he closed, the beautiful princess' eyes were full of tears, and Count Gaston cordially shook hands with him. In the opinion of these men of the world, it was of course rather a credit to the pious gentleman that, in spite of his theological wisdom, he too had had his bonnes fortunes and such a romantic adventure into the bargain.
Edwin laughed fiercely.
"My dear friend," continued the little man with a crafty face, which vainly endeavored to wear an expression of friendly sympathy, "I understand your feelings as indeed every one does, even the vicar, who as he has repeatedly declared, cherishes no ill will toward you notwithstanding your violent conduct."
"Indeed? Does the worthy man forgive me? Well, that is ludicrous!"