Quisisana, or Rest at Last Part 23
Again she clasped him, more violently even than before, and pressed her hot, quivering lips, to his.
But he did not return her kiss, and a gentle, melancholy smile played about his mouth as he said, putting her gently from him, and stroking her dark hair--
"And never did father love his dearest child better than I love you."
And again she gazed up to him with a strange expression of fear and shame.
"Now go, my child; to-morrow we will talk together. I shall not leave to-morrow. I shall not go until you need me no longer. Good-bye till then. And then your dear eyes are to weep no more."
She clung to him still, but hesitatingly, shyly now; he disengaged himself gently, and repeated--
"Go, my child, go."
She went, slowly, reluctantly, holding her head very low. On the topmost step, in the doorway leading to the tea-room, she paused and turned, as though expecting that he would summon her back.
But he beckoned with eye and hand: "Go!"
She vanished behind the velvet curtain. He was alone!
XXI.
The mirth and fun of the feast were at their height now. The commander-in-chief had ordered that at twelve o'clock all officers should be in their respective quarters, including those who had been told off to the houses of the ranger, the mayor, and the other chief denizens of the village. It was past eleven o'clock already. No time was to be lost, if the guests wished to drain the cup of delight which the hospitable mansion-house proffered in such abundance.
"Vivat Champagne!" exclaimed one of the young officers, taking a gla.s.s of the foaming wine from the salver which a footman offered him.
"And pretty girls!" returned his friend von Koppingen, emptying his goblet at one draught, replacing it on the salver, and turning upon his heel to hurry to the fair Augusta, with whom he was engaged to dance the _Rheinlander_, the music of which the orchestra was just playing.
"And where have you been, Ringberg?" asked another comrade, Herr von Rollintz; "been gambling a little?"
"You know I never play," replied Kurt, who was leaning against the door.
"Nor dance? Well, well, you are always so sensible; I feel half dead already, upon my honour! And yet I have to dance this _Rheinlander_ with the belle of the ball. I am looking for her everywhere; have you seen her, perchance? Ah, there she is!"
Von Rollintz flew right across the room to meet Erna, who was just entering from the tea-room. A minute later the pair whirled past Kurt; von Rollintz, with radiant and glowing face, chattering even during the dance, Erna still and pale, the long dark eyelashes lowered.
Kurt gazed gloomily after them; then he turned away and began pacing the verandah. After a little while he saw, at the end opposite to him, a gentleman ascending the steps, in whom, as soon as the bright light fell upon him, he recognised Bertram. The young man advanced rapidly two or three steps, then paused hesitatingly.
"Why, after all!" he murmured, "everything now would be in vain."
Bertram, who had gone up to one of the windows of the ball-room, was now slowly coming along the verandah. It was painful to Kurt to meet the man to whom, but a minute ago, he had been willing to apply for help. So, happening to be just in front of the card-room, he slipped in.
"He avoids me," said Bertram to himself. "In that case the mountain will indeed have to go to Mahomet!"
As he was about to look for Kurt in the card-room, he saw, on his way past the open doors of the ball room, Lydia in conversation with one of the older officers, a conversation carried on by Lydia with her customary abundance of gesture and the frequent use of her fan. He drew nearer, and, as he had hoped, her ever-roving glance had soon lighted upon him. A slight movement of his eyes was sufficient for the highly experienced lady, who left the Major with a jesting word, and tripped up to Bertram.
"You have something to tell me, dear friend?"
"Can you spare me one minute?"
"One minute? For you?"
She gave a sentimental glance at Bertram and started.
"Merciful Heaven!" she exclaimed, "you are ill. You wish the doctor sent for; but there is one here, nay, there are two,--pray let me...."
"Pray remain here," said Bertram, seizing her by the hand as she was hastening away. "It is true that I feel rather worn out--a consequence of the unrest and noise to which I am not accustomed--but otherwise perfectly well. Let us sit down there!"
He pointed, to a couch near, and sat down; Lydia followed him with trembling knees, shaking all over, feeling her heart rising to her throat. The whole unusual approach of Bertram who was generally so reserved, his pallor, his solemn manner--all this could have but one reason, one meaning--and what was she to reply? Act surprise and terror, of course! But not too long, just a few moments of half fainting, with her head leaning back against the wall and her eyes turned rapturously towards the chandelier.
"My dear friend--for I must appeal to your friendship--to your love...."
"Good Heavens!" murmured Lydia.
"To the love which you doubtless cherish for Erna, and which has, I a.s.sume, misled you to this last extremely equivocal step of yours."
"Good Heavens!" murmured Lydia again, but this time with accents of the greatest terror, as of some one who suddenly feels the ground beneath him giving way.
"I will not reproach you," continued Bertram, "which indeed I have no right to do. I was wrong myself in not taking you into my confidence in reference to Erna, in wrapping myself in secrecy and silence, and thus all but compelling you to act alone and independently in order to help our dear child to what, let us trust, will prove her lasting happiness.
But the remedy which you applied came too soon and was too strong; it has not had the desired effect, at least not in the meantime; indeed, at present things look desperately bad. Do not ask me how I have learned this, I may tell you later on, when perhaps you will tell me, too, how you discovered the secret which both guarded so carefully. All this does not matter just now; but one thing is of the greatest importance, and this I heartily beg you will grant me. We must henceforth act in common, take no one into our confidence of whom we cannot be sure that he aims at the same thing as we do--namely, at Erna's happiness. And I think you will do best if you leave me to judge when this is the case. Are you agreed?"
Poor Lydia was sadly embarra.s.sed. For her terrible disappointment it was some compensation that Bertram himself had evidently no matrimonial intentions with reference to Erna, and that he was offering Lydia his alliance and friendship. How gladly would she have agreed! How gladly said yes to everything, averring that she would blindly obey his behests. But alas, in addition to her first indiscretion which he had so kindly pardoned, she had meanwhile committed another which he would scarcely pardon.
"It is too late, I see," said Bertram, who had not failed to notice the terribly anxious expression of her mobile countenance. "You have already told Hildegard."
"No, no--not Hildegard--worse! far worse!" murmured Lydia, wringing her hands and casting down her eyes. "In my anxiety, my--ye Heavens! I cannot excuse myself on any other ground--in my tender anxiety, for you ... the Baron ... you ..."
"Pray speak distinctly," said Bertram, repressing his anger. "I must know all. The Baron ..."
"He was so angry with you ever since that miserable letter--no, I cannot tell you that; I am too much ashamed of myself--but Erna has already pardoned me, and so will you. We had all lost our heads. He a.s.serted that you alone were to blame for his failure with Erna. And that Otto had not given him the money--a great big sum--three thousand thalers--was your doing too, he said. This morning already, before he drove away, he vowed in my presence that he would inflict a terrible vengeance upon you; and at dinner, when he sat next to me, he talked dreadfully, and drank ever so much champagne--and I knew--I thought I knew--I saw that Erna and Ringberg--Erna had denied him altogether; and the girls--Augusta, you know, and Louise--told me that Ringberg used constantly to meet her at their house ...! Erna was so excited when the regiment came, and ..."
"Go on!" cried Bertram.
"And now the Baron wanted to make you suffer for it. And I really could not tolerate it, seeing that perhaps I had contributed to the Baron's wrath against you."
"And so you told the Baron all?"
Lydia was sitting with rigid, tearful eyes, and started in terror as Bertram quickly rose.
"What would you do?"
"Try if I can repair the mischief a little."
"Let me go, I entreat you! and I will tell the Baron ..."