"_Hotel Deutches Haus_.

"_Come home at once. Your house is in danger_.

"_Johanna_."

x.x.xVIII

Felicitas returned from her last interview with Leo, glowing and intoxicated with the idea of death. What a harmonious ending it would be to die in the arms of her lover, breathing her last breath on his lips.

She recalled a picture that she had once seen in Konigsberg, afterwards famous all over the continent It was called "Tired of Life," and represented a man and a woman who had bound themselves together with ropes, and were about to hurl themselves from some steps in the foreground into the sea. She had felt an envious tremour then, and now all at once the old foolish dream was to be fulfilled at Leo's side.

She had nothing to bind her to life; in every way it would be best to quit it. Ulrich became more and more of an invalid, and less and less disposed to make things bearable for her. The society of the neighbourhood afforded her no consolation; the women hated her, the men persecuted her with their love; and one was as unsatisfying and dull as the other. The future promised her nothing. She saw herself slowly fading away, bored to extinction by discussion about the crops and new scientific theories of drainage, of farm and dairy management. To die now would be a thousand times preferable.

"If only I had my little Paul," she thought, "there would at least be something to live for," and the momentary re-awakening of the maternal instinct within her filled her eyes with hot tears.

But in the midst of her tender compa.s.sion for herself and her dead child, the thought seized her like an icy hand, that in a few days, she, like him, would be lying in the dark damp earth. Was it possible?

could it be?

In a year--or better still in ten years' time, after this love had burned itself out, it would be all very well. But now, when a new ready-made happiness lay before them, and would have to be left untasted, unenjoyed? Would it not be folly?

Once more she thought of the picture "Tired of life," and derived a little solace from it.

The man had not been in the least like Leo. As far as she could remember, he had worn a velvet coat like an artist, or something of the kind. Oh yes, artists, with their wide views and great minds, were the men who understood the hearts of women, and how to drag them into eternity. She wasn't sure about the velvet coat after all. But the woman's white satin dress she remembered distinctly; it had fitted like gleaming armour over the bust. That wasn't the fashion now, but what did fashions matter when one was going to die? The only thing that mattered was to look beautiful in death. And she began to consider what she should put on. Among her peignoirs and _sautes de lit_, she possessed one of softest _crepe de chine_ which fell in straight Greek folds, and was drawn in above the waist by a golden girdle. She had ordered it from Paris before her second marriage, and had been keeping it for some special occasion. This occasion would certainly have arrived now if Leo had not got hold of the stupid idea that they must creep out into the night-mists to put an end to themselves.

In any case, she would not forego the pleasure of trying on the artistic garment. She locked the doors, put shades of pink gauze on the toilette-table candles, and undressed. As she stood before the gla.s.s, her figure in the graceful Greek draperies illumined seductively by the subdued purple light, she was ravished by the sight of her own beauty.

He must see her like this. Just for one second, and all thought of dying would be abandoned. How glad she was that she had extracted that promise from him at the last, to come and fetch her. When she met him thus attired, what else could he do but s.n.a.t.c.h her in his arms, and instead of dying with her in the gruesome manner that he had proposed, he would tread again at her side the primrose path of pa.s.sion, which Rhaden's jealousy had so hatefully interrupted.

Yes, so she would win him back to her altogether, her big, adoring boy.

But the night that she pa.s.sed before this contemplated enjoyment was anything but peaceful. She recalled his face when he had said, "This time it will be no joke. We shall not drink toothache drops." And even granted that she could bring him to reason, there was always the vision of Johanna hovering in the background, eager to shatter their new-found bliss.

Was there no way out of it? She pondered and pondered till her head ached, staring into the darkness with wide, anxious eyes. The plan that she hit on at last did not differ eventually by a hair's breadth from the one which Leo had rejected as unworthy. She would write to Ulrich to-morrow and impress on him how Johanna's brain was becoming more unhinged every day. She would give striking examples of it, pity and defend the unfortunate creature, hint at a pending catastrophe, and so prepare his mind for having to deal with the delusions of a mad woman, if she should really make a betrayal of her secret.

That would do beautifully; and content at last, she quietly fell asleep.

The whole of the next day she was in a more or less happy mood. A kind of bridal excitement quickened the blood in her veins. It was true that every now and then a sickening memory of Leo's death-threats overcame her. But she was too confident of the victorious power of her beauty, which of old had held his senses captive, to entertain any serious fears.

She leaned back dreamily in a chair by the window and stared across the stream in the direction of Halewitz, counting the hours. Old Minna, who the day before had been told of Leo's coming midnight visit, and had received her instructions, ventured, as she hobbled through the room, to a.s.sist her mistress in this employment. "Now it is only eight hours, gracious little lady," and then, "Only seven and a half now." And so the time grew shorter.

At dusk a powdering of snow began to fall, renewing the purity of the far-stretching grey plains, and quickly obliterating the roads. Laughing blissfully, she began to beat with her fingers on the window-panes and to sing a song of the knight who came through floods and tempests, and by dangerous paths to greet his lady love.

Then she thought of her dead boy, and shed a few tears. "Ah, my little son," she murmured, clasping her hands, "you may be glad that you have found eternal peace so early."

And this made her joyous again, and so she pa.s.sed a highly agreeable afternoon giving herself up to pleasant dreams, and she was no further troubled by suspense.

At five o'clock the lamps were brought in, and towards eight supper was served. Half an hour later a housemaid rushed in greatly excited, and announced that the gnadiger Herr had driven into the courtyard.

"Which gnadiger Herr?" Felicitas asked.

So calm and self-possessed was her mood that she didn't in the least grasp what had happened. The maid repeated her information, and her first emotion was one of resentment at her husband's coming home. She would have liked to beg him to turn round and go away again.

Only gradually did she become alive to the danger which hung over her.

Half-stunned, she remained sitting at the supper tablet and rolled up her serviette.

"Johanna has played me this trick," she thought, for she hated her old friend so intensely that she attributed to her any evil that befell her, as a matter of course.

But the next moment she was convinced of the groundlessness of her suspicion. In was quite impossible that Johanna could know anything of what she had planned for to-day. Her meeting with Ulrich seemed to confirm this. Although for a moment the first searching look that he fixed on her was full of uneasiness, he soon became rea.s.sured at finding her sitting over the remains of her supper in solitude.

The alarming telegram had so far had effect that it had brought him back to Uhlenfelde unannounced post haste in a hired sleigh, but if he did not, in answer to Lizzie's questions, give the reason of his sudden return, it was simply to spare his wife unnecessary anxiety rather than because he mistrusted her.

He knew Johanna of old. She had always looked on the blackest side of things, and her well-meant warning might concern some question of estate management.

He resolved to drive over to Halewitz early the next morning, and to be content to-day only to subject house, yard, and staff to a more stringent examination than was usual on the day of his coming home.

He felt limp and low-spirited, and his wife's persistent chatter pained him. As soon as he could, he rose from the table to start on his round with the bailiffs.

Scarcely had he vanished through the door, than old Minna ran in, wringing her hands.

"Ah, gracious little mistress, gracious one," she whispered, "we must send word to Halewitz at once, otherwise something dreadful may happen."

Felicitas reflected.

If Leo heard of Ulrich's return, it was not improbable that he might change his tactics, and, to avoid a meeting with him, go back to his original intention of flight. Then she would be left behind to mourn for him to the end of her days. On the other hand, if he were allowed to come and all due precaution taken, there would not be a shadow of risk. At Fichtkampen Minna had often brought him to her in ten times more difficult circ.u.mstances.

And, besides, when she considered the matter more closely, she saw an unspeakable advantage in Ulrich's presence. Should dear old Leo refuse to be weaned altogether from his suicidal resolve, she would only have to tell him who had come home that day and was sleeping in the room through the dressing-room, to bring him to a tractable and peaceable frame of mind.

This decided her.

"Stay where you are, Minna," she said. "You know all the secrets of the house, and if you manage to smuggle him in all right I will give you another silk dress."

Towards ten o'clock Ulrich came back from his walk. He reported himself dead tired, and said that he would retire to his room.

"And mind you go to bed at once," Felicitas said.

He nodded a.s.sent, and kissed her on forehead and hand, according to his habit when saying good night.

"How hot your cheeks are," he remarked.

"I am so glad that you are here," she answered, and she did not lie.

"This time it will be no joke. We shall not drink toothache drops."

Again those words of Leo's occurred to her unpleasantly. She lighted her husband upstairs, closed the shutters in his room, and looked at the thermometer to see that he was neither too warm nor too cold for the night. Then, saying good night once more, she left him and went down again to give Minna some last hints.