THE ANTIQUARIAN
Permission Franz Hanfstaengl Karl Spitzweg
"He tore the letter up and threw the pieces at my feet," related Kleophea in the vicarage in Grunzenow, "and I—I had thought I was his master, I had the strength, I had the will, I had the brains! Because at home I went out unpunished, because no one at home had the power to control me, I thought the world was like my mother's house, to be moved by a laugh, a pout, a shrug of the shoulders. I had to try to move it by tears, and I tried my best, you may believe; but even that did not succeed and I often told myself that such a miserable, stupid, foolish little thing as I was had never yet sat five flights high in the quartier du Marais and looked at her misery in the glass. I learnt much, much, Mrs. Fränzchen Unwirrsch, but when I was in my mother's house I should never have believed that I should forget how to yawn. I was not bored in Paris, I had to make my black mourning dress for my dead father and to defend it against—against my husband. Oh, he had a large circle of acquaintance; many people came to the house and they all hated black. Oh, it was a mad life and if it had not been for my stupid, confused, aching head I think I might have played a very charming part. I think that we weren't any too particular about our honor, we needed money altogether too much to bother about ridiculous prejudices. We entered into correspondence with all sorts of curious persons of high position in Germany and wrote letters for which we were very well paid. I think that, at the request of different governments, we paid attention to the health of some of our countrymen who were not trusted at home. We made ourselves very useful for we were very hungry;—I had to be ashamed for two. We entertained too and played for high stakes and people liked to come to our house very much,—the disgrace threatened to drown us and it was a pity that I did not know how to swim as well as monsieur mon époux.—Leave me alone, Oh, leave me alone!"
The crew of the burnt "Adelaide" had gradually left the village of Grunzenow and gone by land to the nearest port. The injured had recovered and the last to leave was the Provençal who had broken his legs, and who parted from Colonel von Bullau with a thousand blessings. Grips drove him to Freudenstadt where he put him into the stage coach with a well-filled purse. Only the vicarage still kept its guests—for a short time and during that time Henriette Trublet had also a great deal to tell. She had kept her word, she had sought Dr. Théophile Stein and Kleophea and she had found them.
"Voyez," she said, "I vould 'ave go after zem to ze end of ze vorld; but zey vere only go to Paree. Oh, monsieur le curé, Oh, mademoi—madame, ze good God who bring me to you in zat night, he 'as also bring me in my distress to ze pauvre enfant and ze bad man, zat I might do my part for 'er and keep ma parole—voyez vous? And if I should be a tousand year old I vould not forget ze night in vhich you cover me viz your mantle and give me your 'and, and your 'art speak to mine. Viz your money I came to ma patrie and to Paree and zought I 'ave dreamt a dream of zat bad Allemagne,—vraiment un très mauvais songe! Zere were my friends et le Palais royal et les Tuileries et Minette, et Loulou, et les Champs, et Arthur, Albert et les autres and I like a fish in ze water. But I have zought of ze cigale and ze fourmi and of ze Allemagne, of monsieur le curé and mademoiselle l'ange and I 'ave sit still like a mouse and 'ave made ze modes and looked only for ze villian monsieur Théophile and ze poor lady. Zat vas not difficult, to find zem. Zere vere Albert and Celestin, Armand, le Vicomte de la Dératerie, zen mon petit agent de change, I can ask zem in ze street and soon I know vat I vish. O, mon Dieu, voilà la petite in ze black robe and so pale, so pale, and such eyes. My heart bleed; but I 'ave said, courage, and 'ave asked ze concierge and his vife and zen I know vat I must do. Me voilà en robe bleue viz Armand. Mon cher, I say, 'ere I am back from ze vilaine Allemagne. Vive Paris, mon petit cœur, 'ow are you? Vat shall ve do? Comment vont les plaisirs? Théophile is back also, and viz a vife. You know how ve 'ave stood to each ozer, he and I, je m'en vengerai; I am one of you just like before, take me to him! Armand laughs like a enragé and ve shake 'ands. On ze following evening I come like ze Commandeur in ze Festin de Pierre and Armand does not know certainly how my poor 'eart beat on ze stairs. Monsieur Armand! Mademoiselle Henriette Trublet!—Voilà les autres and ze little pale lady en deuil and—Théophile! Ah, monsieur le curé, j'ai fait une scène à cet homme! I 'ave put zis man vell in ze scene."
Fränzchen and Hans looked at Kleophea frightened; but she only nodded, smiled faintly and said:
"It was well done. God bless her for her kind heart. She came at the right time,—but it was really a very funny scene and the people laughed at us very much. I cannot deny, to be sure, that at the beginning I lost my head a little and doubted very much whether I should keep my reason over night; but when I woke from my stupefaction and found myself in Henriette's arms and she called to me that Fränzchen had sent her;—when she called me her poor dear lamb and flew at my husband with her finger nails, I soon knew where I was. Oh, it was merry, so merry. Wasn't it, Henriette?"
Henriette was crying too much to be able to answer the question. She only shook her head and, passionately excited, threw herself down on her knees beside the sick woman's couch to kiss her lips and hands again and again.
Now, Kleophea told in her fashion how from that evening on Théophile had made her life more of a hell than ever, how she had spent her days in idle, unoccupied torment, how, trembling, she had counted the minutes in the night and listened for the step that she feared on the stairs. She told of her secret, timid meetings with Henriette, of senseless plans to free herself from that unendurable, terrible existence, of thoughts of death and hopes of death and finally how the idea of flight had occurred to her, had stuck in her mind and become a resolution. It so happened that at that time a very badly composed and spelt letter came from Mademoiselle Euphrosine Lechargeon, a girl friend of Henriette's, then in St. Petersburg. This friend wrote of the good fortune that the Parisian demoiselles who understood the art of finery had among the "Mongolians" and reported that she, Euphrosine Lechargeon, was the mistress of a magnificent establishment and enfant gâtée of all sorts of ladies and gentlemen ending in -off, -ow, -sky, -eff, -iev, etc., and that Eulalie, Veronique, Valerie and Georgette were also getting on well and that Philippine had made a brilliant match and had married Colonel Timotheus Trichinowitsch Resonovsky.
"Partons pour la Tartarie!" Henriette had cried. "Madame Kleophea has 'er jewels, I 'ave saved zirty-five francs. Allons au bout du monde! Let us save ourselves from zis traitor, filou and vicked juif. It is better to beg among messieurs les Esquimaux zan to breaze ze same air viz zis 'orror. Ve vill go as two sisters, ve vill open a business en compagnie, ve will trow ze polar bears into amazement, ve vill build a château d'Espagne en Russie. Allons, allons vive l'aventure!"