She has heard it; she turns to the other side of the boat, she stretches her arms out towards that summit, and then presses them firmly upon her heart; her looks hang as if spell-bound upon the tall oaks, and upon the figure of that friend who stands beneath them.

But Ktchen rows on; no sign from Eva bids her turn the skiff; like a rigid marble statue Eva stands erectly in the boat.

What her eyes speak he cannot see at that distance; perhaps fresh tears are wrung from them; but he can see that she remains motionless, that no desire to turn hastily fills her soul. It is not the obstinacy of the idiot sailor girl that guides the skiff ever farther out into the sea; it is the mute, proud will of the other, who rejects all chance of meeting him.

Can he follow her then, as he once followed her, when he conquered the bride with daring corsair courage?

Is that figure, pale as marble, the same as that of the blooming girl, who, once adorned with the wreath of woodland flowers, greeted him with merry smiles?

Between then and now lies an abyss--that campanula had withered in his hands, old love had become new guilt.

He had no longer the right to follow her; only with his eyes, with his spirit he followed the retreating skiff, until the girls' figures, became smaller and smaller, the boat dwindled shapelessly into a speck, to lose itself entirely in the distant atmosphere in the shadow of the clouds.

It is true that lightning quivered on the horizon, but Blanden felt no anxiety about the breaking of a storm. Half-witted Ktchen understood the skies and the earth, and if she ventured fearlessly farther over the waves, no coming terror, no storm, no hurricane could be expected; then one might be sure that the herd of fiery flashes would remain upon the horizon, and the tempest clouds not flood the heavens.

The boat had, despite his spectacles, long since disappeared from Wegen's short sight, when, by straining every nerve, Blanden's eye still clung firmly to the floating speck in the distance.

"We must have patience until they return," said his friend, lighting himself a cigar, "the girl is thoughtless thus to venture out to sea.

The evenings are too cool for a convalescent. Frau Regierungsrthin keeps a negligent watch over her."

Louder became the breaking of the waves upon the sh.o.r.e, higher rose the sea. Blanden gazed impatiently into the distance. Will the boat not return? He felt as though he must jump into the skiff that lay below on the strand, and row after the girl.

Oppressive sultriness pervaded nature; through a gap in the broad bank of clouds the glow of the parting sun became visible once more. A shower of golden sparks fell into the ocean, for which the waves seemed to struggle, soon again increasing night spread her wings over it.

Blanden felt oppressed, why he knew not his friend chatted all the more briskly.

"We will live right comfortably together in our Masuren wilderness, for I am seriously inclined to make a home, and then you shall visit me every day. It is true I was always afraid on account of the cooking:--next to love that is the princ.i.p.al thing, and I am convinced that a bad dinner would make me angry with my wife for the whole day, even if I loved her as Romeo does his Juliet. Every one has his own ideal at some time, and a sweetheart or wife must be found in the perihelion of that ideal, else the transfiguring halo is wanting around her; but I should prefer to be buried in the vault of the Capulets to having an unpalatable joint or fish in some impracticable sauce set before me by a Juliet. Well, do you see my friend, it is true that even by the most cunning insinuations I have not been able to find out what my Ccilie thinks of the culinary art, and if our natures meet in unanimity upon this important point; as yet also I have seen and tasted no practical proofs of her possession of this gift, and the worst is, I am convinced that Frau von Dornau's cuisine offers no opportunity for the development of artistic talents, and that it does not extend beyond the most simple requirements of the needs of the inner man; because, according to General Montecuculi's views, cooking, like war, needs money, money and ever again money, and Frau von Dornau's pension, according to my unprejudiced calculation, suffices at the outside for potatoes, grey peas, and occasionally fish. On the other hand I am firmly convinced that my Ccilie in the kitchen would always find herself equal to the situation, if her finances permitted her brilliant supplies; to a mind like hers the importance of the culinary art for human life, and especially for mine, cannot remain unknown, and if she does not quite understand the tactics of the roasting-spit, and the strategy of the bill of fare, she has sense enough to select a proper talented kitchen adjutant, and it is quite immaterial whether the field-marshal or his adjutant gain the victory, so long as it be gained. I then crown my wife with the kitchen-laurels, which I do not estimate so lowly as though its leaves were only fitted for the preparation of a boar's head, and in that laurel wreath I entwine the most beautiful myrtle of love, and the olive-branch of domestic peace."

To this complacent communication, which might at the same time claim the merit of being a soliloquy, speaking the deepest thoughts of his mind, Blanden only listened with abstracted understanding; his glance rested inadvertently upon the misty horizon.

A steamboat pa.s.sed by; its column of smoke disappeared in a heavy, lowering cloud; here and there a white sail became visible that lost itself out at sea, and at last only appeared like a streak of chalk upon a black wall.

Flashes of lightning chased one another like eagles at play, and growling on the horizon announced the awaking of the storm that tossed itself hither and thither in its dense, dark cradle of clouds.

Blanden's anxiety waxed stronger; his confidence in the idiot girl's instinct diminished. Could not the weather-wise determination of that child of Nature fail for once?

There, see! The black speck appeared again on the horizon, and, with the greatest exertion of his ocular powers, Blanden could perceive that it gradually increased and approached the sh.o.r.e.

"G.o.d be thanked! Idiot Ktchen has done her duty," said Blanden. "But now, too, it is certain that we shall not have to wait long for the storm."

And with a lightened heart he added, cheerfully--

"Dear friend, I rejoice that the carpenter's work of your domestic happiness stands so firmly already that you can have a housewarming; I wish Fate may deal more kindly with you than it has with me, and that the lightning may not strike the timbers before the masonry of the house is firm and you can make your entry into it. Good luck to you! I dread my meeting with Eva, and I fear--" Blanden suddenly stopped in the middle of his speech; he stood up, stepped to the railing, and gazed out fixedly.

"What is the matter with you, my friend?"

"It may be caused by the light, or my eye be dazzled from having previously looked too long at the evening sun."

"Why?" asked Wegen, wiping his gla.s.ses hastily, so as to a.s.sist his friend as much as possible.

"It seems to me--I cannot distinguish properly--let us wait until the boat is nearer."

Blanden did not dare to give utterance to his fears; the words would not pa.s.s his lips.

"The boat is drawing nearer," said Wegen quietly. "I even recognise it now, although I am convinced that my gla.s.ses in future must be one number lower; too often they leave me in the lurch."

After a pause of terrified expectation, Blanden cried suddenly--

"No, no--I am not mistaken--and yet--it is impossible; I only see _one_ girl now in the boat. Can idiot Ktchen be making another swimming excursion and Eva be holding the oars?"

"You are right--I only see one living creature in the boat; perhaps Eva has become unwell from the swell of the waves and laid herself down in the bottom of the skiff; the best remedy for sea sickness--I always lie upon deck like a mummy."

"But the boat is not deep; I must in that case see her dress," replied Blanden.

Again an anxious pause ensued; then with a loud cry he shouted out Eva's name and rushed down the mountain path to the landing-place.

Wegen followed, shrugging his shoulders.

Soon both friends stood below on the strand.

The boat approached, with regular strokes of the oars; more quickly rolled the thunder across the western sky.

Blanden's pulses throbbed feverishly.

"Where is Eva?" cried he to the idiot boat-woman across the mighty roar of the surf.

No reply. Ktchen was occupied in bringing the boat safely to the sh.o.r.e. She sprang into the water, drew her skiff nearer, and bound it firmly to the post.

"Where is Eva?" repeated Blanden, now in a supreme state of excitement, while he grasped the girl and held her firmly.

"There," said the idiot girl, with imperturbable composure, and pointed to the sea.

"Dead then, dead!"

Ktchen nodded her head; Blanden sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

Then she flung herself down before him, clung to his knees, kissed his hands.

Like a flash of lightning, a fearful thought pa.s.sed through Blanden's mind.

"Murderess!" cried he, "you have murdered her; you have hurled her into the sea!"

Ktchen was mute. No change was apparent in her features. It seemed as though she looked up at him with a triumphant smile.

"Misery of miseries!" cried Blanden, wringing his hands; "the victim of an idiot's pa.s.sion! Yes, Wegen, this creature, this half-human being, this female Caliban loves me; she has pursued me with her pa.s.sion even into the Forester's house; I found her several times beneath my windows; she cherished a moody, dull hatred for Eva! Heavens! Why did I not warn her! It is horrible--the girl has killed her!"

Wegen seized the girl with all the energy of a _gens d'arme_.

"She must be arrested--she must give information."