It was not the first time that Gotthold had heard Carl Brandow scold his workmen in this way; but never had the cause been so frivolous, and the wrong so clearly on his own side. Gotthold had himself heard him, as he rode away that morning, call to Hinrich Scheel that they were to begin the reaping at the upper end of the field by the forest. Was he drunk? Had he seen more than he wished to have known? Did he want to wreak his jealous fury on the innocent workmen? Or was this merely the preamble, and a test to see whether, in the explanation which must take place immediately, he would adopt the tone of an injured, insulted man?

Gotthold did not fear this explanation; his only dread was that it might take place in Cecilia's presence. He wished his loved one to be away, and moreover he felt the necessity of hearing one word from her to a.s.sure him that all this was no confused dream, but reality; that in the kiss which still trembled on his lips she had given herself to him, that he might venture to act, decide for her.

But the fear of provoking an outbreak from Brandow made him timid and awkward; she shrank away, actuated by the same feeling; and he did not succeed in carrying out his intention on the way home. Brandow walked between them; he was obliged to relate his adventure, and Brandow railed at Cousin Boslaf, who was always everywhere, from whom one wasn't safe even when on the water, and who had undoubtedly arranged the whole scene, including the thunder-storm and all its appurtenances, in order to be able to save something again. Under other circ.u.mstances Gotthold would not have allowed such sarcasms, which Brandow accompanied with sneering laughter, to pa.s.s unanswered; but now he must be suffered to say what he chose. Then the latter clapped him on the shoulder, crying: "No offence, Gotthold; but I can't bear the old sneak, and have my own reasons for it. Either a man is master of his house, or he isn't; to have a third party, who is always interfering everywhere, and of course always thinks he knows best, would not do, at least not for me. As we used to say at school, 'One king, one ruler!'

You probably remember the Greek words too; I, poor devil, am glad I happened to keep the German ones."

They reached the house. Gotthold could not shake off Brandow, who detained him before the door in conversation about some agricultural matter, while Cecilia entered. Hinrich Scheel came up and complained of the Statthalter, who had ordered even the carriage-horses to be harnessed to the wagons. Brandow flew into a furious pa.s.sion; Gotthold murmured something about being obliged to change his clothes, and slipped into the house. But he found no one in the sitting-room except pretty Rieke, who was setting the tea-table, and looked roguishly at him out of the corners of her eyes while he glanced over the newspaper which lay on the table before the sofa. The girl went out, but came back immediately, and pretended to be doing something in the closet; she evidently intended to remain in the room. Gotthold now went up to his chamber, and changed his clothes, which had been only partially dried in the beach-house. As he performed the task, his trembling hands almost refused to obey his bidding. Was it the fever of impatience before the final decision, or was it actual sickness, brought on by over-exertion during the storm? "Don't be sick now," he murmured; "now of all times! Now, when you no longer belong to yourself, when you owe your life, your every breath, your every drop of blood to her!"

Brandow's voice echoed from the lower floor in loud, angry tones. Was he talking to Cecilia? Had the rage, perhaps repressed with difficulty till now, burst forth? Was the drama to be played before the servants?

In the twinkling of an eye Gotthold had left his room, crossed the long dark entry, and gone down-stairs. But fortunately his fear had been groundless. Cecilia had sent word that she felt tired, and should not come to supper. Then why couldn't they have set the table in his room on the other side of the hall, where they would be undisturbed and disturb no one? Would Rieke never have any sense? Rieke answered pertly, as she reluctantly obeyed the command, that she wished other people's sense was as good as hers; who was to know what to do when one order was given one minute, and another the next! Brandow told her to be silent. The girl laughed scornfully: Oh! of course it was very convenient to forbid people to open their mouths, but it wouldn't do in the long run, and if she wanted to speak she would speak, and then other people would have to hold their tongues.

"Leave the room," shouted Brandow furiously.

The girl answered with a still more impudent laugh, and then left the apartment, banging the door after her.

"That's what one gets for being too indulgent," cried Brandow, swallowing at a single gulp a gla.s.s of wine which he had poured out with an unsteady hand.

He cast a sly glance at Gotthold, who looked him steadily in the face.

What did this scene mean? What could the girl tell, if she chose to speak? Had she claims upon her master which he was obliged to acknowledge? Had a weapon unexpectedly fallen into his hands which might be of use to him in this hour? An ign.o.ble weapon indeed; but perhaps not too much so for a conflict with a man who, while the husband of such a wife, did not disdain the servant.

Yet Gotthold said to himself that he would not begin the quarrel, but, if possible, defer it until he had come to some understanding with Cecilia about the next step to be taken. And it seemed possible; nay, Gotthold soon became doubtful whether Brandow at most had anything more than a vague suspicion, to which he either could not or dared not give expression. Perhaps he wished to increase his courage by drink, for he now drained gla.s.s after gla.s.s, and brought one bottle of old wine after another from his sleeping-room; perhaps he wanted to give vent to his powerless anger, in some degree at least, when he railed at Cousin Boslaf, the old sneak who had perfectly disgusted him with life by his perpetual interference, until he at last forbade him the house; and then spoke once more of his miserable circ.u.mstances, as he called them, for which, however, he was less to blame than some other people.

"True," he exclaimed, "I have spent more on my journeys than tailors and glove-makers do; I have lived in a manner befitting a gentleman, but the princ.i.p.al cause of my disgraceful situation is my marriage. Of course you look incredulous; you would like, as an old ally of the Wenhofs, to contradict me; it would be useless; I know too well how all this has come about. I will say nothing about the n.o.ble Curt--the few college debts I was obliged to pay for him were a mere bagatelle; but the old man, who was by no means so old as not to have a d.a.m.ned good relish for the pleasant things of this world--the old man was not a particularly desirable father-in-law. I even had to pay for the wedding outfit, but--good heavens--at such a time a man would bring the stars from the sky to adorn his beloved; so I wouldn't have minded advancing the money for the few trinkets and other things, if that had been the end of it. But unfortunately that was not the case. I gave my father-in-law ten thousand thalers in cash during the two years he lived, and was obliged to pay at least as much in debts after his death. That's a pretty good bit of money, _mon cher_, when a man has no more than enough for himself; and so my beautiful Dahlitz went to the devil, and I was glad to be able to creep into Dollan for shelter, and some day Dollan will go to the devil too; for a man can't keep the best farm in the world nowadays, unless he has property of his own, and the prudent Brothers of the Convent of St. Jurgen have kept me as short as my father-in-law, who could never get the better of them. But what am I thinking of, to be entertaining such a distinguished gentleman with this rubbish! You can't help me, and if you could, a man doesn't allow himself to be helped by his good friends--he applies to his good enemies."

Brandow laughed loudly, and starting up, paced hastily up and down the room with an agitated air, and at last stopped before the closet containing his weapons, pulled a pistol from its nail, c.o.c.ked it, and turning towards Gotthold, cried:

"Only, unfortunately, the good friends are often the same as the good enemies, so that one can't separate them. Don't you think so!"

"It may happen so," said Gotthold quietly; "but you would do better to hang up the pistol again; your hand is too unsteady for such tricks to-night; some accident might occur."

Gotthold was determined not to enter upon an explanation with the half-intoxicated man this evening, under any circ.u.mstances; and equally determined not to yield to his threats, if this was intended for one, and permit the ransom money to be extorted, which he must pay if he wished to leave the place without any further difficulty.

The expression of calm decision upon the grave countenance of his guest had not escaped Brandow; he let the half-raised weapon fall, laid it aside, came back to the table, threw himself into his chair, and said:

"You are right! Some accident might happen; but no one would care, and, after all, it would only be consistent if I should put a bullet through my brain. You are a lucky fellow. You have been obliged to work from your early youth, and so have learned a great deal; now a great fortune, more than you can use, comes to you without the least trouble.

I have never worked, have learned nothing, and I lose a property without which I am nothing, less than nothing: the jest of all who have known me, a scarecrow to the gay birds I have hitherto equalled or excelled, and who now leave the poor plucked crow to his fate. Death and the devil!"

He dashed his gla.s.s down upon the table so violently that it broke.

"Oh, pshaw! the matter is not worth getting into a pa.s.sion about.

Everything must have an end, and however they may jeer at me, n.o.body can say I have not enjoyed life. I have drunk the best wine, ridden the fastest horses, and kissed the prettiest women. You are a connoisseur too, Gotthold; you have done just the same in your quiet way, of course. Yes, you were always a sly-boots, and I had a cursed respect for your cunning, even in our school-days. Well, no offence; I am not very stupid, and clever people, like you and me, always get along together; it's only dunces who quarrel--dunces, silly boys, as we were then. Do you remember? Tierce, quart, quart, tierce! Ha! ha! ha! That wouldn't suit us now. Touch gla.s.ses, old boy, and drink! Drink to good fellowship!"

And he held out his br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s.

"My gla.s.s is empty," said Gotthold; "and so is the bottle. Let us go to bed; we have drunk more than enough."

He left the room before Brandow, who was staring at him with eyeb.a.l.l.s starting from his head, could reply.

As the door closed behind him, Brandow made a spring like that of a wild beast after its prey, and then paused in the middle of the room, showing his white teeth, and shaking his clenched fists at the door.

"Cursed scoundrel! I'll have your blood, drop by drop; but first I'll have your money!"

His uplifted arms fell; he tottered to the table, and sat there supporting his burning head in his hands, gnawing his lips with his sharp teeth till the blood sprang through the skin, mentally heaping crime upon crime, but none would lead him to his goal. Suddenly he started up and a hoa.r.s.e laugh burst forth. So it should be! She, she herself must ask him, and that was the way to force her to do so!

Vengeance, full vengeance, and no danger, except that the servant might chatter! She had already threatened to do so several times, and to-day had been more impudent than ever; but all must be accomplished to-morrow, and to-night was available for many things.

That night--he did not know how late it was, for he had lain there fully dressed, with throbbing temples, awake, and yet as if in some wild dream, falling from the heights of more than earthly bliss into the depths of helpless anxiety and dread--that very night Gotthold heard above the rustling of the foliage before his window, and the plashing of the rain against the panes, a sound which made him start from his bed, and, holding his breath, listen intently. The noise was like a scream, a woman's scream, and could only have come from the chamber below him, where Cecilia slept alone with her child. He reached the window at a single bound. The wind and rain beat into his face, but above the wind and rain he distinctly heard Brandow's voice, now louder and now lower, as a man speaks who is carried away by pa.s.sion, and then violently forces himself to be calm. At intervals he thought he distinguished her voice; but perhaps it was only his fancy, excited to madness, which filled the pauses in which he did not hear the voice of the man he hated. A conjugal scene in the chamber of the wife, who cannot, must not lock her door; who must hear the wild words of the furious drunken husband, and has nothing to oppose to his fury save her tears!

"And she bears it, must bear it! Must wring her hands helplessly! This is bitterer than death!" 'murmured Gotthold. "Why didn't I speak? All might now have been decided! Is not keeping silence when one ought to speak also a lie, a cruel, horrible lie, and must falsehood be spoken by the good as well as the bad? To-morrow, if to-morrow were only here, if such a night can have a morrow."

He threw himself on his bed, moaning and sobbing, and buried his head in the pillows, then started up again. Was not that a step moving slowly and cautiously over the floor? Was any one coming to him with a murderous weapon? Thank G.o.d!

Gotthold sprang to the door and tore it open. Everything was silent--silent and dark. The stairs from below led directly up the middle of the entry, between the two gables; the cautious step he had heard was not on his side, and had undoubtedly gone towards the other, where, opposite to his room, were two smaller chambers, one of which, on the left, stood empty, and the other was occupied by pretty Rieke; for a faint light, which was quickly extinguished, now gleamed through a crack in the door of the right-hand room, and through the deep stillness came a laugh, instantly hushed, as if a hand had been suddenly placed over the laughing lips.

Gotthold shut the door; he wished to see and hear no more.

CHAPTER XV.

A gray dreary morning followed the dark rainy night. Endless ma.s.ses of vapor, now and then piled into thick clouds, rolled in from the sea,--ma.s.ses so deep that they almost covered the lofty tops of the poplars, which now bent before the rude wind over the drenched straw roofs of the barns, and then rebounded defiantly, shaking their branches indignantly.

Gotthold stood at the window of the sitting room, gazing gloomily at the dreary scene. He had slept an hour towards morning, almost against his will; but anxiety for what might be coming weighed upon his soul more heavily than physical exhaustion upon his body. Terrible as the night had been, stars of hope ever and anon had sparkled cheeringly through the darkness; now it seemed as if this dreary day had only dawned to say: This solitary, hideous drifting is life, reality; what have I to do with your dreams? As he came down the staircase, he had seen almost with an emotion of horror that preparations for the reception of guests were being made in the large hall looking out upon the garden, which was generally unused; the clattering of pots and pans, and the loud voices of maid-servants came from the kitchen at the end of the long hall; and a groom was just pushing from the stable the carriage which was to bring the guests from Prora. Everything was going on as usual, as if to-day would be like yesterday, and to-morrow like to day; as if nothing could happen which would make the old world young again as it was on the first day that dawned on Paradise. And yet, and yet, it surely was no dream; it had certainly happened. It could not blow away like formless mist! It must a.s.sume some shape, emerge from the chaos, perhaps be worked out by a hot conflict; it was all the same! Only it could not be lost!

But this dreary inactive waiting was terrible! She must know that he had been standing here half an hour already, waiting for her, for one word from her lips, even one look, to say to him: I am yours, as you are mine; trust me as I trust you. Why did she not come? The moment was more favorable than any which might occur again all day. Brandow had just crossed the courtyard to the stables, as he did every morning; the breakfast was on the table; they had always spent half an hour together at this time undisturbed--and to-day, to-day she must needs leave him alone!

A boundless impatience took possession of him; he paced up and down the room, glancing every moment towards the door through which that other had come and gone last night, and which was closed upon him, listening with straining ears that he might distinguish some sound, but heard nothing except the sleepy buzzing of a fly; even the house clock in the tall old-fashioned wooden case did not tick to-day; the hands had stopped during the night.

He pressed his hands to his beating temples; it seemed as if he should go mad if this torture did not cease, and then a thought occurred to him more terrible than all the rest. Was she afraid of him? Did shame withhold her from appearing before the eyes of him against whose heart her own had throbbed yesterday, whose kiss she had received and answered? No, no, a thousand times no! Whatever kept her from him, it was not that, not that! It was a crime against her proud nature even to think it! She might die, but not live to be dishonorable. Perhaps she was ill, very ill, helpless, alone--ah! that was Gretchen's voice: "Mamma, I want to go with you; I want to go with you to Uncle Gotthold.

I want to bid Uncle Gotthold 'good morning!'" and then low soothing tones, then the door opened and she entered.

Gotthold rushed toward her, but only a few steps. She had raised both hands with a gesture of the most imploring entreaty, and the most imploring entreaty looked forth from the large tearful eyes, and pure pale face. So she approached, so she stood before him, and then almost inaudible words fell from her quivering lips.

"Will you forgive me, Gotthold!"

He could not answer; gesture, expression, words--all told him that his haunting fear had become reality; that in one way or another all was lost.

A fierce anguish overpowered him, and then anger arose in his heart; he laughed aloud!

"So this is all the courage you have!"

Her arms fell, her lips closed, her features quivered convulsively, and her whole frame trembled.

"No, Gotthold, not all. But I thank you for being angry; or it might have been impossible for me to perform my task. No, don't look at me so; don't look at me so. Laugh as you laughed just now! What can a man do but laugh, when a woman by whom he believes himself beloved comes and says--"

"You need not," cried Gotthold; "you need not; a man does not comprehend such things, but he feels them without words."