Hans could not understand her broken German well, nor her quick French at all, but her gestures and her expression enabled him to comprehend her. He led her back to the bench and she let him keep her hand when he sat down beside her and talked to her gently and soothingly. It was five o'clock, the sun sank behind the trees, a white mist rose from the ponds; it was cold and gray—it was the hour when the beautiful Kleophea Götz left her father's house.
Hans told the French girl as well as he could all that was necessary about his relation to Dr. Stein and then gradually he learnt the sad story of her life and the evil part that Moses Freudenstein of Kröppel Street had played in it.
Henriette Trublet was not made to keep a perfectly straight course through life and in this respect it was probable that Dr. Théophile had altered her fate but little. She carried an adventurous little head on her shoulders and lived only in the present. She had been a dressmaker's apprentice in Paris and there Théophile had met and won her. She had not really loved him but he had pleased her, and his Parisian friends and the way in which he enjoyed life appealed to her. She was the scintillating streamer on a very gay, bright wreath and when, as usually happens, the latter broke and Dr. Théophile had gone back to Germany she soon began to long for him. She had heard all sorts of marvelous tales of poor good Allemagne. The people there were so honest and so musical and so blond;—to be sure, they probably were also a little backward in civilization and somewhat simple; but still they were much better than tall silly Englishmen. And they bought all their hats and caps and their artificial flowers and their champagne in Paris—those good Germans; and any pretty, clever child of Belle France must be able to make her fortune there among them in spite of the fog, ice and snow, in spite of all the wolves and polar bears, Erl kings, nixies and other monsters. One morning Henriette arrived at the Strassburg railway station with a leather trunk and a tremendous number of boxes of all shapes and sizes,—and she found pleasant traveling companions to the Rhine too—allons enfants de la patrie, onward to Homburg, Baden-Baden and so on—où le drapeau, là est la France, ubi bene, ibi patria! And one fine morning Dr. Théophile Stein heard a gentle tapping at his door and a soft giggle outside it; Henriette Trublet had found him again.
So far this was all very well and neither could reproach the other with anything; but from then on under other skies their relation was changed. Poor Henriette, deserted, helpless and not knowing what to do found herself entirely delivered over to Théophile; she became a despised, abused plaything and the light, gay bloom that had covered her frivolous butterfly wings was soon rubbed off and blown away. Dr. Stein had a reputation to sustain now and if he was weak enough not to be able to thrust the poor little Parisian away from him he had sufficient strength to hold her down low enough so that she was obliged to serve and obey him without being in any way able to interfere with his plans and hopes. It was his fault and owing to his intrigues that she was prevented from making use of her skilful hands. Only when she was entirely dependent on him could he exert complete tyranny over her. When he grew tired of her, he believed her much too broken to harm him, and so with no further thought he closed his door to her and left her to her fate. Her child was born in the hospital toward the middle of September and died on the second of October. It was an evil place, this bench beside the stagnant green pool, where, on the fourth of October Candidate Unwirrsch found poor Henriette Trublet sitting.
Traître—va!
Chapter XXIII
Hans Unwirrsch grew hot and cold by turns as Henrietta Trublet told her story. It was his misfortune that even the most ordinary things excited him so and that it was so difficult for him to look upon any such incidents as ridiculous or insignificant. He sat there stupefied until the French girl suddenly jumped up, stamped her foot passionately and cried:
"Oh, he 'as treated me badly, but I vill revenge myself ven I can. I vill interfere, I vill, if it is ze last hour. And I vill go to her—I vill! I vill tell ze beautiful Mademoiselle who he is—le juif! le misérable! He shall not 'ave his vill——"
"Kleophea!" cried Hans. "Good God, yes, yes, to be sure! Oh, tell me, do you know about that? My head swims—I, we, you must go to her, she must know this. No, no, and again, no, she shall not fall into his hands; we must save her, even if it is against her own will."