"That would go far to appease me, to be sure," she said; and then, taking Thea's arm, she added, "Come, Thea; when men begin to talk politics they are simply detestable, and I see very well that they are to be the topic here."

"Not at all; we would far rather enjoy your charming society," said Bernhard.

"Oh, yes; and in order to do so plunge into discussions as to where the next election meeting shall be held, and what you mean to say at it, and what some one else will say then, and how many votes you have, and how many your opponent has. It's all excessively interesting, no doubt.

I heard it all last year at the official elections for the lower chamber, and I know that papa and you and all the rest will think of nothing else for weeks to come, and that I shall be bored to death.

Thank heaven, officers cannot vote; my hope is in them for the present."

The gentlemen laughed, and even Thea smiled at Adela's irritation.

Since, however, Herr von Hohenstein was evidently eager for the discussion which his daughter so reprobated, she allowed herself to be drawn away to the next room, where Adela instantly began to describe a dress she intended to wear at a picnic to be given by the officers of hussars in the neighbourhood. Thea listened but vaguely, for her mind was much occupied by Bernhard's election. She could not quite understand or approve his sudden enthusiasm for political life. She felt it her duty as a wife to rejoice in the distinction conferred upon him, and yet she could not control her dislike of this hasty change in her husband's views and plans.

"Alma is to be dressed just as I am," Adela chattered on meanwhile.

"Tell me, Thea, have you noticed that Lothar seems very attentive to Alma?" Thea's attention was aroused.

"Lothar?" she repeated. "How did such an idea enter your head? I have seen nothing of it."

Adela declared that she did not believe there was anything in it, but Thea resolved to watch Lothar more closely and to talk more with him, for hitherto, although he was older than she, she had treated him as a younger brother, who told funny stories very well and ate almond-cakes with a grateful relish, but who could not possibly be suspected of falling honestly and seriously in love. But when her own sister was thus spoken of, it behoved her to be more observant.

Adela, whose moods were as variable as an April day, suddenly fell silent and looked very grave. Then she asked, "Walter is not coming to Eichhof this year, is he?"

"No; Walter is very economical, and, since he will accept nothing from Bernhard, he must find going to Berlin quite expensive."

"He is going to Berlin, then?"

"Yes; he is to continue his studies there. Did you not know that? Oh, I remember you would not listen to his letter the other day when I wanted to read it to you."

Adela blushed crimson, and rejoined, with a laugh, "I wish I could stop saying everything that comes into my head, without stopping to think.

But come, let us see if the gentlemen are still as tiresome as ever."

When they returned to the drawing-room they found Bernhard and his friend still discussing the election. But Adela joined them, and sat still between Bernhard and Thea for the remainder of the evening, as though she dreaded another _tete-a-tete_ with the latter.

Bernhard was extremely animated. He spoke with more energy and fluency than usual, and Thea thought, "Perhaps he is now choosing the career for which he is best fitted, and it is silly and petty of me not to rejoice in it." When he looked towards her inquiringly, she nodded with a smile; but still it seemed to her as though there were another shadow rising between her husband and herself.

CHAPTER XIII.

A PERIOD PUT TO A LONG ROW OF FIGURES.

It was a gray, rainy day. Adela was sitting at the window watching the falling drops and stroking Fidele, who laid his head upon her knee and gaped.

"The world is very tiresome, Fidele," said Adela, and the dog looked at his mistress out of his wise brown eyes, evidently with no disposition to gainsay her verdict.

"There is nothing to be done with papa," the girl continued, still addressing her remarks to Fidele. "Scarcely is the election over when he buries himself in accounts, shuts himself up all day in his room, and if ever I stay with him there he is silent and _distrait_. I wish he had been a candidate and had been elected instead of Bernhard Eichhof; then we should have gone for the winter to Berlin, where I could have consoled myself for Jusak's loss. Poor wretch! he must go, I suppose; and it's all nonsense, for Bernhard did not need his vote; the Catholics had no chance after Herr von Wronsky withdrew his name."

The rain beat against the window-pane. Adela sighed, and then pursued her train of thought: "I wonder if it is true that Frau von Wronsky persuaded her husband to retire? It may have been so, for they say she believes in nothing and has the upper hand of him; but Thea says that's all mere gossip, and that Herr von Wronsky went to see them himself to tell them that he did not wish to oppose Bernhard, and that he would rather retire voluntarily than have any interruption of kindly feeling between them. Who can tell? The Wronskys are going to Berlin this winter, at any rate. Oh, everybody is going to Berlin; if we could only go too!" And then she thought quite naturally of Walter, who was also in Berlin. Her thoughts usually strayed in his direction, although she believed herself firmly convinced that she had reason to be very angry with him, and that she was so in reality.

Suddenly Fidele raised his head, and Adela sprang up. A carriage drove past the window and stopped before the house.

"Thank heaven, some one is good enough to pay us a visit in this storm!" Adela exclaimed, and hurried out of the room to receive the guest. But when she reached the hall she started in surprise. There stood a tall young man, who took off his overcoat and hat and stood revealed--her brother Hugo!

"Heavens, Hugo! where do you come from?" she called out to him.

"Apparently from Berlin," he replied. "Where is my father? He is at home?"

"Yes; but how is it that----"

"Be good enough to spare me all questions for the present," Hugo rejoined, impatiently. "I have important matters to discuss with my father, and I must return to Berlin to-morrow. Is my father in his room?" And without awaiting a reply, he hurried past her and went into his father's study.

Adela involuntarily followed him thither as far as the door; then she suddenly paused, and turned away angrily.

"What can be the matter? More debts, I suppose," she said. "But----"

The next moment she opened the door.

"What do you want here?" the Freiherr fairly shouted, so that she retreated in dismay.

"Curious, as women always are," Hugo said, with a shrug.

Adela shut the door behind her and ran along the pa.s.sage to her room, where she threw herself into an arm-chair and burst into a pa.s.sion of angry tears. Fidele nestled close beside her, and she stroked his head.

"You love me, Fidele, do you not?" she said, wiping away her tears.

"Ah, you dumb brutes are far better than human beings!" The girl threw a shawl over her head, and, followed by the dog, ran out to the stables. "Here, at least, I know that I am welcome," she said, going from one horse to another; and finally seating herself on a bundle of straw, she propped her head on her hand, gazing in most melancholy fashion at her favourites.

"Fraulein! Fraulein Adela!" a voice near her called suddenly, and as she sprang up from her straw seat a servant entered the stable.

"Good heavens, Anton, how you look!" the girl cried, startled by the old servant's pale face. "What is the matter? What has happened?"

"Ah, Fraulein Adela, do not be frightened, but the Herr Baron has had a fainting-fit or something. I don't know----"

Adela heard not another word. Fast as her feet could carry her she ran towards the house, and was in her father's room the next moment. The Freiherr lay upon the lounge, his eyes wide open and fixed, while the housekeeper and one of the younger servants were rubbing his forehead and his hands with hartshorn. Adela took the hartshorn-bottle from the old housekeeper's trembling hand, and bent over her father. "Dear, dear papa!" she whispered. His eyes had a look of recognition in them,--a spasm pa.s.sed over his face, but not a word issued from his pale lips.

"Good G.o.d! how did this happen?" Adela, trembling like an aspen leaf, asked of old Anton, who entered the room.

"I do not know," he whispered. "The Herr Lieutenant arrived suddenly, and they were talking very loud together, and as I was carrying the Herr Lieutenant's portmanteau past the door the Herr Baron said, 'I cannot!' and the Herr Lieutenant cried, 'It must be done!' And then, when I had pa.s.sed by, I suddenly heard a heavy fall, and the Herr Lieutenant called me."

"My poor, poor father!" Adela whispered, bending over him again. She thought she understood it all now, and glanced furtively at her brother, who, having despatched a mounted messenger for the doctor, now entered the room and approached his father. The Freiherr cast upon him a glance of such utter agony, and his agitation so evidently increased at sight of his son, that Adela said, "Go out of his sight, Hugo; it is best that he should not see you."

This time she encountered no angry reply, but Hugo quietly obeyed her, and retreated to the recess of the window, where he threw himself into an arm-chair and sat motionless for the next fifteen minutes, his head buried in his hands, as if his spirit were far away and his body only present beside the couch whereon his father lay--through his fault.

At last the doctor arrived, and explained that the Herr Baron was suffering from a stroke that had paralyzed his tongue and his right arm. Adela and old Anton never stirred from beside him, while Hugo wandered restlessly about the house, now looking through his father's papers and locking up those still scattered about, now taking down the weapons that hung upon the wall to examine them, and often opening the Freiherr's case of pistols and pa.s.sing his fingers over the smooth steel barrels.

After midnight the Freiherr fell asleep, and Adela's eyes, too, closed, and her head fell back against the high arm-chair in which she sat.

Hugo was in the next room, but no sound betrayed his presence there. He was sitting at the table, upon which stood the open case of pistols, and his head was buried in his hands. Fiery b.a.l.l.s that turned into long rows of figures seemed to dance before his eyes. Longer and longer grew these rows; there seemed to be no end to them.

"And he can pay nothing more; he is bankrupt," Hugo muttered, clenching his fist convulsively. "There will be no more Hohensteins at Rollin."

He had so often despised his home, and now he suddenly became conscious of how closely the name of the estate was connected with that of the family who had owned it for two hundred years. And again the long rows of figures danced before his eyes. Could no period be put to them?

Yes, one--in the shape of a small round ball. He shuddered and shrank back,--his hand had touched the cold barrel of a pistol. He opened his eyes for an instant, but closed them again, and--another period that might be put to the endless row of figures hovered before him. It was round, too, in form, but instead of a ball it was a ring. He sprang up, pushed away the case of pistols, and, going to the writing-table, took a sheet of paper, and began to write. Suddenly he noticed that the paper was edged with black. He threw it aside and took another sheet.