The Breaking of the Storm Volume Iii Part 6

"Pay Ottomar's bills to-morrow; close one eye to certain mistakes in the signatures which must be amongst them--how should he have managed otherwise?--shut the other to the fair Ferdinanda, and everything remains as it was."

"Do not joke about it. At the best there will be a fearful scandal."

"Better too early than too late. And besides, if the public hear of the new engagement at the same time that they hear of the breaking off of the other, all will be well again."

Herr von Wallbach looked very thoughtful.

"Since this morning, since that terrible speech," he said, "the Count's position has become much worse. I don't know what will become of him now."

"Pardon me," answered Giraldi; "to my mind the affair looks quite different. The respite is an immense gain for the Count. There are so many chances. The shares may go up again, or the powerful hand which enabled him to pay the first instalment may be held out to him again.

If it is not, why, the trustees must agree to a compromise--say twenty-five per cent. off; that is to say, the Count can pay up seventy-five. And after all he has always got the entailed estates."

"True, true," said Herr von Wallbach; "that would always remain to him."

He pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead.

"Have you seen Werben yet?"

"He will hardly come. He is more agreeably employed. Bertalda has again lent her house to the loving couple, and is dancing away the sorrows of her young widowhood. The polka is over. I will beg for a few more details from the communicative little thing, in case they may be of use to you. I shall see you perhaps to-morrow. For to-day, _Addio_."

Giraldi turned away at the very moment that Baroness Kniebreche came up, and slipped into the ball-room, making as he pa.s.sed a sign to Bertalda, whom he met on the arm of a very smart officer. Bertalda dismissed her partner, and soon overtook Giraldi, who had pa.s.sed into one of the less-crowded side-rooms.

"Well!" he asked, sitting down, and inviting Bertalda by a gesture to take a place by him, "did you get the money, child!"

"Yes, and I am extremely obliged to you. I was really in great need of it. My poor brother----"

"I do not want to know what you did with the money. So long as you oblige me, that is sufficient. The important point is, are they happy at last?"

The girl coloured. "I really did my best," she said hesitatingly.

"She never came?" asked Giraldi vehemently.

"Oh yes! I had told her so much about her brother's ball, and----"

"Your dress--and so forth."

"Yes, that also. But it was not needed. I saw in her eyes that she could not hold out any longer, and was delighted that I had given her such a suitable opportunity. She came, too, half an hour before the time, and found everything very charming, just as it was the first time she was there, in November, and helped me to dress, and--well, one knows what it is when a girl, who is really in love, is waiting for her lover. A ring was heard. 'Who can that be?' said I. 'Perhaps it is Herr von Werben,' said Johanna, who naturally knows all about it. 'What brings him here to-day? Perhaps a bouquet; he is always so attentive,'

said Johanna. She turned white and red in one moment, and trembled from head to foot, then fell upon my neck and sobbed, 'No, no, I have sworn it;' and before I could turn round myself, she was out of the room, without hat or cloak, down the stairs, and into the carriage, which was waiting at the door--br-r-r!--and she was gone. Next time she will not run away, I am certain of that."

"Next time," cried Giraldi, with scarcely restrained fury, "as if I could wait a hundred years. I had so set my hopes on it. Made so much of it to him. How did he take it?"

"He was frantic. I had to spend half an hour in consoling him. There never was anything like it. I really think he will do himself a mischief, if he doesn't get the girl. It is no joke, I can tell you, to deal with them both. If I were not so fond of Werben, and so sorry for poor Ferdinanda, I would not do it for all the money in the world."

"Did not he want to come here with you?"

"He is lying full length on my sofa and would listen to nothing. But I think he will come still. An hour or so of that sort of thing gets tiresome, here it is delightful. There is the quadrille beginning, and here comes my partner; may I----"

"Yes, go; and if you see him, tell him that I expect him to-morrow morning between nine and ten. He will know why."

"I have been looking for you everywhere, Fraulein Bertalda."

The black-haired young dandy carried off his charming, tastefully-dressed partner, who smilingly took his arm, blowing a kiss to Giraldi over her shoulder as she went.

Giraldi remained seated. While the stream of gaiety rolled uninterruptedly around him, he could s.n.a.t.c.h a few minutes to think over his position. It was by no means so prosperous as it had been a few days ago. Since midday he had had to give up all hope of the second instalment upon which he had counted at least in part. He had moreover reckoned with absolute certainty, that to-day the net which he had woven with such untiring perseverance would entangle Ottomar and Ferdinanda. He would have made better use of the interesting facts than Antonio had done about the rendezvous in the park. Ottomar's and Carla's engagement had been the consequence of that--this would have been the cause of the breaking off of that same engagement. Who could now blame Ottomar if, irritated by the girl's absurd prudery, frantic and despairing, he returned to Carla--to Carla, who loved him as much as she was capable of loving any one, and, frivolous as she was, would, for the mere sake of change, turn back from the new love to the old?

And had not his conversation with Herr von Wallbach just now shown him that there were at any rate waverings in that quarter as to whether matters should be allowed to come to extremities? Herr von Wallbach had from the first declared that he did unfortunately share Giraldi's "suspicion" that there had been some ugly circ.u.mstances connected with Ottomar's continual drawing of bills of exchange, but that he would never directly interfere upon that point himself. If this suspicion should be justified--possibly at the next final settlement of the trustee business--he should of course be obliged to take notice of it; all the more in proportion to the extent to which the report might already have spread, but still he should only do so to express his sorrow and his conviction that such ugly rumours must disappear as absolutely as they had arisen mysteriously. On the other hand, if any positive proof appeared of the relations that Giraldi maintained still existed between Ottomar and Ferdinanda, he--Wallbach--was quite determined to make the proper use of it on his sister's account, to whom such a rivalry must, in the long run, be disagreeable. But this positive proof was still not procurable. There remained the affair of the bills of exchange! And if Ottomar came to grief to-morrow? and his proud father took the burden upon himself to avert the fearful disgrace which would recoil upon the whole family? He indeed knew the truth; but could he in that case speak? Would he not have to look on silently, while the father and son settled the matter amicably between them?

Twenty thousand thalers indeed would not be so easily procured; but in such a case impossibilities might be overcome, and the General would be sure to have good and powerful friends. At the worst, if Baroness Kniebreche and the others who had been let into the secret should have too completely broken the sacred seal of confidence, there might be two or three duels, which would just suit Ottomar, who had laughingly a.s.serted the other day that he should soon have made up his dozen!

A duel between him and Herr von Wallbach indeed! That would be decisive.

Only Herr von Wallbach, whose nerves were always a little unsteady, was thinking of anything but a duel. How to provoke Ottomar against him?

There would be difficulty about that. It would be necessary to speak more plainly, to mix himself up more directly in the business than before, and it had been his well-weighed decision not to let the mask fall, until----

The Italian's face grew still darker as he sat there brooding and meditating, his head lightly resting on his gloved right hand, his crush-hat on his knees, while from time to time joyous couples hastened past him to the ball-room, where they were still being summoned to the quadrille, which was more difficult to arrange now on account of the number of dancers.

If Valerie to-morrow, as he still hoped, agreed to everything, as she had always. .h.i.therto done, the mine could then, before it was fired, be so deeply laid that not one stone upon another should remain of the edifice of the Werbens' prosperity; the very bones even of the hated race should be scattered here and there through the air.

But if she opposed him? If, after seven and twenty years of dumb submission, she should rebel? and not now, and for once only, but for ever, should refuse him obedience? If she should appear as the mistress and superior? Well, she would do so at her peril! He was prepared for it too. The time for temporising, waiting, diplomatising, would be over at once; there would only be a very plain, very clearly-expressed question: Yes, or no? But she would never have the courage. And she was welcome to hate him, if only she feared and obeyed him.

A slight noise near him made him look up, and he started as he met the fiery black eyes of his young countryman.

"Eccolo!" cried Giraldi, stretching out his hand with his most bewitching smile; "how did you get here, my boy!"

"There was a lack of dancing-men," answered Antonio, pressing the offered hand to his heart; "the maestro was desired to bring a few young artists with him, and was good enough to think of me."

"And why are you not dancing?"

"I have not the happiness of being acquainted with so many beautiful young ladies as Eccellenza."

Giraldi smiled, whilst he turned over in his own mind whether Antonio could have recognised in Bertalda the veiled lady who came to see Ferdinanda. It was extremely improbable, but he must give some explanation of his intimate conversation with the pretty girl.

"Do you envy me my happiness, Antonio?" he asked.

"I do not grudge Eccellenza his happiness. Who can deserve it better?"

answered Antonio, with fawning humility.

"And since you are modest, you will be happier than all the gold in the world can make me. You are young and handsome, and--you love; and that your love may be crowned with success, you have but to leave it to me and Brother Ambrosio. We are both busy on your behalf. Have a little patience only, and your probation will be ended, and you will have everything your heart can wish for--yes, more than you have dreamed of in your wildest dreams; but, above all, revenge--the most brilliant, triumphant, heart-stirring revenge--upon your enemy! I swear it to you by the Sacred Heart and the Holy Virgin!" The two Italians crossed themselves. "And now, my boy, I will talk to you in a few days. For to-day forget the cares of love, and pluck the rose of pleasure, without wounding yourself with the thorns."

He pointed towards the ball-room, again pressed Antonio's hand, and went.

The young man looked after him with a gloomy brow, as he slowly walked away. He had never for a moment doubted that the charming young girl whom he had seen talking so earnestly and familiarly to the signor, was the same whom he had met that evening in the dusk--that is to say, the same who had at one time repeatedly visited Ferdinanda; he knew her height and figure so well. She might be his mistress--well, but then what had she to do with Ferdinanda? Why had he not told him the real state of the case? Why did he not tell him the lady's name today? Why had he pa.s.sed as quickly as possible to another subject--or rather had only repeated the same fine speeches with which he had so often flattered his confiding companion, although to this day not one of his promises had come true? And were these to suffice him? Was he to prolong his miserable life for this--he whom the clever signor had long ceased to trust? The signor had better beware of a person named Antonio Michele, who, when the signor had sworn by the Sacred Heart and the Holy Virgin, had also taken an oath which stood in the closest connection with that of the signor. There was the signor's lady. He would not approach her directly--Antonio Michele was not such a fool--but he would try and find out her name, which could not be very difficult; and, above all, he would not lose sight of her.

Meanwhile Giraldi had wandered farther through the over-crowded rooms, looking round him from time to time to see if he could discover Ottomar, uncertain whether he wished to do so, or whether he should wait for him, whether it would not be better to go away now and leave things to take their course. The train for Sundin started at one o'clock. It was now twelve; he had still half an hour. Half an hour!

Half a minute would have been enough generally for him to decide the most weighty matters. But a man grew stupid from dealing with fools.

And now that boy also must get in his way!

The sudden and quite unexpected meeting with Antonio had troubled Giraldi greatly. He had not thought about the young man for a long time; he had almost forgotten him, as he did all those whom he did not require immediately, or might not require again, for the furtherance of his plans. He required Antonio no longer. For the net which he was weaving for Ottomar and Ferdinanda, Bertalda was a much more accommodating and convenient tool. About Reinhold and Elsa he had long known all that he wished to know; and over the ardour with which at first he had followed up the idea of making out the handsome young man to be the son who should restore the already shaken relations between him and Valerie, he had himself smiled since. If Brother Ambrosio, indeed, had entered willingly into the affair--if by his hints to Valerie he had awakened her longing, if not hope, for the lost son! But the experiment had entirely failed; it had even rather had the contrary result, and had shown him more clearly than ever that her heart was more and more, perhaps was entirely, turned against him. And even if, perhaps under other circ.u.mstances, he returned to his plan, there was no use thinking any more of Antonio, against whom Valerie's suspicions had once been roused. She would not now believe in the strongest proof, to say nothing of a more or less well-invented fiction. And it was for this, for this hollow mockery, that he had inspired that pa.s.sionate spirit with brilliant hopes and ambitious dreams, which must soon prove themselves an empty nothing, in which the young man himself perhaps no longer believed. There was sometimes a wild glare in the black eyes that had suggested to him that the young man would sooner or later go mad--perhaps was already so; and at the moment in which he swore to him that he should be revenged upon his mortal enemy, a smile had pa.s.sed like a flash across his usually firm-set lips, which only admitted of one interpretation. If he ever learnt that the man who had promised to help him to gain the woman he loved had driven her into the arms of his rival, would it not be well while it was yet time to give the murderous weapon another direction--the right direction--to the heart of their mutual enemy? To say to Antonio, "I must confess to you, my son, that what you have above all things feared is true--the woman you love is now in his arms. I could not prevent it. Kill me! Or, if you would avenge yourself and me, keep your dagger ready--I know you always carry it with you. In a few minutes he will be here, still intoxicated with his happiness. Strike him! strike him down!"

Giraldi had stood leaning against the door-post, lost in his bloodthirsty fancies as in a dream, looking with fixed eyes upon the throng, without seeing anything. Suddenly he started. There in front of him, only separated by the width of the room, was Ottomar. He was talking to one or two other officers, and still had his back to him. He could still get away through the door against which he was leaning into the next room, and out of the house. That would be best. After all his arrangements were made, the manager might give up the stage to his puppets. What need was there of a dagger in this domestic drama? A few dishonoured bills, a good deal of gossip, truth cunningly mixed with falsehood and cleverly insinuated in society, and the wished-for result could not be long in coming, even if one or other of the wires failed in its effect. "To be too busy is some danger," as Hamlet says over the body of Polonius.