When the major left the anteroom, Athalie was already there. Timea called from her room to light the major to the door, thinking there would be a servant there as usual; but to-day, as we know, they were engaged in antic.i.p.ating the morrow's feast. Athalie took the candle which stood outside, and lighted the major along the dark pa.s.sage. The happy bridegroom had no eyes for any other woman's face--he saw only Timea, and thought it was the maid-servant who opened the door for him.

He wished to be generous, and pressed a silver thaler into Athalie's hand; then he started as he recognized the voice.

"I kiss your hand, kind sir."

"Is it you, fraulein? A thousand pardons! I did not recognize you in the darkness."

"No consequence, Herr Major."

"Pardon my blindness, and give me back the insulting present, I beg."

Athalie drew back with a mocking bow, hiding the hand which held the thaler behind her. "I will give it you back to-morrow--leave it with me till then; I have fairly earned it."

Herr Katschuka swore at his stupidity. The inexplicable load he felt on his spirits seemed to have redoubled in weight. When he reached the street, he felt it impossible to go home, but went toward the main guard and said to the officer on duty, "My friend, I invite you to my wedding to-morrow; be so good as to let me share your watch to-night--let us go the rounds together."

In the servants' hall there was great fun. As the major had rung for the porter when he left, the mistress was known to be alone, and her maid went up to ask for orders. Timea thought she was the one who had shown the major out, and told her to go to bed--she would undress herself; so the maid went back to the others.

"If only we had a drop of punch now," said the porter, thrusting the door-key into his pocket.

As if by magic, the door opened, and in came Fraulein Athalie, bearing a tray of steaming gla.s.ses, which clinked cheerfully together. "Long live our dear young lady!" cried every one. Athalie set the tray on the table with a smile. Among the gla.s.ses stood a basin full of sugar well rubbed over with orange rind, which made it yellow and aromatic. Frau Sophie liked her tea made in that way, with plenty of rum and orange-sugar.

"Are you not going to join us?" she asked her daughter.

"Thanks; I had my tea with our gracious lady. My head aches, and I shall go to bed." She wished her mother good-night, and told the servants to go to bed in good time, as they must get up early next day. They fell eagerly on the punch, and found it perfectly delicious. Only Frau Sophie did not like it. When she had tasted the first spoonful, she turned up her nose. "This tastes just like the poppy-syrup that bad nurses give the wakeful babies at night." It was so unpleasant to her that she could not take any more, but gave it to the cook's boy, who had never tasted anything so good before. She said she was tired with her day's work, and conjured the household not to oversleep themselves, and to take care no cat got into the larder; then she said good-night, and followed Athalie.

When she entered their bedroom, Athalie was already in bed. The curtains were drawn; she knew Athalie's way of turning her back to the room and putting her head under the clothes. She hastened to get into bed.

But she could not get rid of the taste of that single spoonful of punch, which spoiled her enjoyment of the whole supper. After she had put out the light, she leaned on her elbow and looked toward the figure in the other bed. She looked, till at last her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

Her dreams carried her back to the servants' hall. She seemed to see them all asleep there--the coachman stretched on the long bench, the footman with his head on the table, the groom on the ground, using an overturned chair as a pillow, the cook on the settle, the house-maid on the hearth, and the cook's boy under the table. Before each his empty gla.s.s; she alone had not drunk hers. She dreamed that Athalie, with bare feet and in her night-dress, crept up behind her and said in her ear, "Why don't you drink your punch, dear mamma? Do you want more sugar?"

and filled the gla.s.s with sugar up to the brim. But she noticed the repulsive smell. "I don't want it!" she said in her dream. However, Athalie held the steaming gla.s.s to her mouth. She turned away, and pushed the gla.s.s from her, and with that movement she upset the bottle of water which stood on the table beside her, and all the water poured into the bed. That thoroughly awoke her.

And still she seemed to see Athalie before her with threatening looks.

"Are you awake, Athalie?" she asked, uneasily; no answer. She listened; the sleeper could not be heard to breathe. Sophie got up and went to Athalie's bed; it was empty. She could not trust her eyes in the dim twilight, and felt with her hands: no one there. "Athalie, where are you?" she murmured, anxiously. Receiving no answer, a nameless horror numbed her limbs. She felt blind and dumb; she could not even scream.

She listened, and then fancied she was deaf: neither inside nor out was there the faintest sound. Where could Athalie be?

Athalie was in the secret room--she had been there a long time.

The patience of that woman, to be so long learning the prayer by heart!

At last Timea shut the book and sighed deeply. Then she took the candle and looked to see that all the doors were locked. She looked behind the curtains; her bridegroom's words had implanted fear in her breast, and she looked round carefully to see if any one could get in. Then she went to the dressing-table, took down her plaits, wound her thick hair round and round her head, and put a net over it. She was not free from vanity, this young creature: that her hands and arms might be white, she rubbed them with salve and put on long gloves. Then she undressed, but before she lay down she went behind the bed, opened a closet, and took out a sword-hilt with a broken blade; looking tenderly at it, she pressed it to her breast. Then she put it under her pillow; she always slept with it there. Athalie saw it all. Timea extinguished the light, and Athalie saw no more; she only heard the clock tick, and had the patience to wait.

She guesses when sleep will close Timea's eyes--that is the time. A quarter of an hour seems like an eternity; at last the clock strikes one. The picture of St. George with his dragon (which is by no means dead) moves aside, and Athalie comes out, barefoot, so that no sound is heard. It is quite dark in the room--the shutters are shut and curtains drawn; her groping hand finds Timea's pillow; she feels underneath, and a cold object meets her hand. It is the sword-hilt. What h.e.l.l-fire runs through her veins from the cold steel! she too presses it to her heart.

She draws the edge of the blade through her lips and feels how sharp it is. But it is too dark to see the sleeper--one can not even hear her gentle breathing; the blow must be well aimed, and Athalie bends her head to listen.

The sleeper moves, and sighs aloud in her dream, "Oh, my G.o.d!" Then Athalie strikes in the direction of the sigh. But the blow was not mortal: Timea had covered her head with her right arm, and the sword only hit that, though the sharp steel cut through the glove and wounded her hand. She started up and rose on her knees in the bed; then a second blow caught her head, but the thick hair blunted it, and the sword only cut the forehead down to the eyebrow.

Now Timea seized the blade with her left hand. "Murderer!" she screamed, sprung out of bed, and while the sharp edge cut the inside of her left hand, she caught the enemy with her wounded right hand by the hair. She felt it was a woman's, and now knew who was before her.

There are critical moments in which the mind traverses a chain of thought with lightning speed: this is Athalie; her mother is next door; they want to murder her out of revenge and jealousy; it would be vain to call for help, it is a struggle for life. Timea screamed no more, but collected all her strength in order, with her wounded hand, to draw down her enemy's head and get the murderous weapon from her.

Timea was strong, and a murderer never puts forth his full strength.

They struggled silently in the darkness, the carpet deadening their footfalls. Suddenly a cry sounded from the next room. "Murder!" screamed the voice of Frau Sophie: at the sound Athalie's strength gave way.

Her victim's blood streamed over her face. In the next room was heard the sound of falling gla.s.s; through the broken window Frau Sophie's screeching voice was heard resounding down the quiet street, "Murder, murder!"

Athalie let go the sword in terror, and put up both hands to loosen Timea's fingers from her hair: now she is the one attacked and she the one alarmed. When she got her hair free, she pushed Timea away, flew to the opening of the hiding-place, and drew the picture gently over the entrance.

Timea tottered forward a few steps with the sword in her hand, and then fell swooning on the carpet.

At Frau Sophie's cry, double-quick march was heard in the street--the patrol was coming--the major was the first to reach the house. Frau Sophie knew him and called out, "Quick, quick! they are killing Timea!"

The major tore at the bell, thundered at the door, but no one came; the soldiers tried to burst it in, but it was too strong and would not give way. "Wake the servants," shouted the major. Frau Sophie ran, with the courage born of great fear, through the dark rooms and pa.s.sages, knocking up against doors and furniture, till she came to the servants'

rooms. Her dream had come true. The whole household lay asleep: a burned-down candle flickered on the table, and threw uncanny shadows on the grotesque group.

"There are murderers in the house!" screamed Frau Sophie, in a voice quivering with terror; the only answer was a heavy snore. She shook some of the sleepers, called them by name, but they only sunk back without waking up. Blows could be heard on the house door. The porter too was asleep, but the key was in his pocket; Frau Sophie got it out with great difficulty, and ran through the dark pa.s.sages, down the dark stairs, and along the dark hall to open the door, while the fearful thought went with her--how if she were to meet the murderer? and an even more frightful doubt pursued her--suppose she should recognize that murderer?

At last she got to the door, found the key-hole, and opened it. A bright light burst in--there was the military patrol and the town-watchmen with their lanterns. The captain of the guard had come, and the nearest army-surgeon, all only half dressed in the first clothes they could find, with a pistol or a naked sword in their hand.

Herr Katschuka rushed up the steps straight to the door which led to Timea's room--it was locked on the inside: he put his shoulder against it and burst the lock.

Timea lay before him on the ground, covered with blood, and unconscious.

The major raised her and carried her to the bed. The surgeon examined the wounds, and said none of them was dangerous, the lady had only fainted. As soon as his anxiety for his beloved one was relieved, the thirst for vengeance awoke in the major--"Where is the murderer?"

"Singular," said the officer; "all the doors were locked inside--how could any one get in, and how could he get out?" Nowhere was there a suspicious mark; even the instrument of murder, the broken sword, a treasure kept by Timea herself, and generally put away in a velvet box, lay blood-stained on the ground. The official physician now arrived: "Let us examine the servants." They all lay sound asleep, and the doctor found that none of them was shamming: they were all drugged. Who could have done it?

Her mother gazed at him in silence and could not answer. She did not know. The captain opened the door of Athalie's room, and they all went in, Frau Sophie following half fainting; she knew the bed must be empty.

Athalie was in bed and asleep. Her white night-dress was b.u.t.toned up to her neck, her hair fastened into an embroidered cap, her lovely hands lay on the quilt. Face and hands were clean, and she slept.

Frau Sophie leaned stupefied against the wall when she saw Athalie. "She too has been drugged," said the doctor.

The army-surgeon came up and felt her pulse: it was calm. No muscle moved on her face, no quiver betrayed her consciousness.

She could deceive every one by her marvelous self-control; all but one--the man whose beloved she had tried to murder.

"Is she really asleep?" asked the major.

"Feel her hand," said the doctor; "it is quite cool and calm."

Athalie felt the major take hold of her hand. "But just look, doctor,"

said he; "if you look closely you will see under the nails of this beautiful hand--fresh blood!"

At these words Athalie's fingers suddenly clinched, and the major felt as if eagle's claws were running into his hand. She laughed aloud and threw off the bedclothes. Completely dressed, she sprung up, looked the astonished men proudly up and down, cast a triumphant glance at the major, and threw a contemptuous look at her mother.

The poor woman could not bear it, and sunk fainting to the ground.

CHAPTER XI.

THE LAST STAB.