The Breaking of the Storm Volume Iii Part 21

"And for which meanwhile there can be no atonement in your eyes!"

Uncle Ernst moved restlessly, impatiently in his chair.

"What do you mean, General?"

"Only to remind you, that turn ourselves which way we will, we must always judge life from our own point of view, and we can only measure men's actions by the rule which birth, education, intellect and reflection have given to us. Or do you think that the stockjobber, the speculator, the reckless adventurer, would in their hearts, if such men have hearts, condemn your son as the man of honour, the honest manufacturer does, although he is his father? And can you blame an honourable soldier because he condemns and brands the dishonourable conduct of another soldier, although that soldier is his son, or rather because he is his son? Can you suppose that I would deny my son, whom I have loved as well as any father ever loved his son, whom even at this moment I love with a love that rends my heart----"

The General's voice shook, and he drew a long breath, almost a groan, that echoed shudderingly in the silent room.

"Can you suppose that I would deny him the life which you describe, if I did not believe it to be impossible? It may be that the narrow bonds, of which you spoke just now, have so cramped my mental horizon that they have for ever checked the free flight of thought. But these conditions of thought and feeling exist for the whole cla.s.s, and must so exist if it is not to be swept away; and so they exist also for my son. Never, under any circ.u.mstances can he forget that he has cast a stain upon the s.h.i.+eld of his forefathers, that he has himself broken the sword which he received from his commander-in-chief, that he has disgraced his arms, that he could not look one of his old comrades in the face even if they met in a desert, that he must carefully seek the society of obscure men whom he would formerly as carefully have avoided, he who once might stand freely and boldly before his king, whom his king----"

And again the General drew a long, deep breath.

Uncle Ernst's lips were twitching. Here again there rose before him the barrier which pride and arrogance had drawn straight across life's bloom; the barrier which in his stormy youthful days he had thought to conquer by one effort, and which he had afterwards tried through long weary years to carry off stone by stone! And not one stone was missing after all; it stood straight and strong, unapproachable and invincible as ever! And he stood powerless on this side, and on the other side was his child who must be lost now because pride and arrogance would have it so. No, it should never be!

He sprang up.

"Then I must set to work alone."

"What was your plan?"

The General had risen also, but the mere movement seemed difficult to the man who used to be so alert and active.

"Roughly this," answered Uncle Ernst; "not to allow my child to go out unreconciled to me into a life whose varied changes no man can reckon upon, and whose otherwise too hard path I desired as far as possible to smooth by my advice and help. I gathered from the woman of whom I spoke that in the first hurried agitation of his distracted thoughts, even before his father's message arrived, your son had intended to hasten to Warnow, to force an explanation from the traitor in the presence of his aunt the Baroness, who according to this scoundrel's declaration had taken upon herself the material responsibility, so to speak, of these unhappy bills, at least had promised under all circ.u.mstances to make good the deficiency. Herr von Schonau even, after many objections, had agreed to this. When, therefore, the unhappy man wished to kill himself, in spite of the presence of his friend, who felt his own powerlessness and yet could advise my daughter to return home, as flight with her at this moment would make it absolutely impossible for him to intervene further on behalf of his brother-officer, when it became the first consideration for her who wished to save her lover at any cost, even that of the pitying contempt of his best friend, to escape from the influence of this very cautious friends.h.i.+p, no matter whither; then the adroit confidante brought forward again the idea of Warnow, merely, I believe, because the train for Sundin was the first to start. I, for my part, hoped and still hope to overtake them in Sundin, to be able to tell your son that there is no object in the continuation of his journey, as I claim for myself the right of paying the debts of the man who has eloped with my daughter, and who will therefore also marry her. Should they have gone on to Warnow I shall of course follow them there, or anywhere else until I overtake them. At Warnow too I promise myself the a.s.sistance of my nephew. He possesses and deserves my daughter's highest respect, and I am convinced that he would add to the father's blessing the good wishes of a friend who, in turning the pages of the book of honour, does not omit the chapters which treat of humanity."

The patience of the pa.s.sionate spirit was exhausted; in the last words might be traced even suppressed wrath. He b.u.t.toned his overcoat and took up his hat, which stood on the table by the General's little box, as the man who had before offered his services to the General entered the room from the platform with the stationmaster. The stationmaster went up to Uncle Ernst to inform him that the train was ready, while the other handed a telegram to the General.

"I happened to be in the office," said he, "when it arrived, through Stettin, having been handed in early this morning at Prora. I think the contents are of importance."

The General took the paper, which in the hurry had not even been folded:

"Come by the next train. Frightful storm. Must perhaps go to Reinhold.

Aunt alone then with that wretch. Come for my sake, Ottomar's, and aunt's, who throws herself upon your mercy. Everything is at stake.--Elsa."

Uncle Ernst came forward.

"I must wish you good-bye, General."

"I will come with you."

Uncle Ernst looked in astonishment at the General, who folded the telegram, while August, who with old Grollmann, whom he had met outside, had been looking after the two gentlemen's things, and had now returned, seized the little box to carry it after his master to the carriage in which he had taken his seat with Uncle Ernst. The two servants were in the next carriage, which with the engine made up the whole train.

"They seem to be of one mind so far," said Grollmann.

"Whatever is wanting still will be made up before we get to Sundin,"

said August.

"If only the storm does not blow us off the rails first," said Grollmann.

"It really is A 1," said August.

CHAPTER VI.

n.o.body had had any sleep at Castle Warnow excepting Frau von Wallbach.

And even she had been repeatedly awakened or nearly so by strange noises of rolling and rattling, just as if she were at home in the Behrenstra.s.se and a dozen big parties were breaking up at the same moment, and an alarm of fire sounding between whiles. What could it have been? The maid who brought her chocolate to her bedside told her that it was the storm, which had been raging fearfully since her lady went to bed last night.

"How odd!" said Frau von Wallbach. "But why have you come in so early?

I do not want to start before eleven."

"It is ten o'clock now, ma'am; it will be no lighter to-day."

"Of course not, if you do not open the shutters."

"They have not been shut, ma'am; we did not dare to do it even last night. One shutter has already been torn off by the wind, as I saw from the ground-floor window."

"How odd!" said Frau von Wallbach. "You have packed my things, I suppose?"

"Oh, certainly, ma'am; but we shall not be able to travel to-day. Herr Damberg has sent over to say that he is very sorry, but it can't be done; there is no knowing what may happen, and he must keep all his horses at the farm."

"Why, what could happen?"

"I don't know, ma'am, but they do say that it may be something very bad. If you would only get up, ma'am, and see for yourself. One would think the world was coming to an end. Every one is running about with pale faces, and I am dreadfully frightened, ma'am."

"It is very foolish of you. Is Fraulein von Wallbach up yet?"

"Yes, ma'am, she has already inquired after you twice."

"You may tell her that I can see her now. And then take my compliments to the Baroness, and ask her if she will be so kind as to lend me her horses to drive to Prora; I will come and see her myself as soon as I am dressed."

Carla came in just as Louisa was slipping on her dressing-gown. She was already dressed for the day, and Frau von Wallbach thought her looking very pale, with deep circles under her eyes. Carla a.s.sured her that this was only the dreadful light, and besides, she had not slept quite so well as usual; but this was certainly less the result of the storm than of the communication that the Count had made to her when he rode by yesterday evening; he had only remained five minutes, just long enough to tell her this delightful story in a few hasty words.

"What story?" asked Louisa, sipping her chocolate.

"The same story," said Carla, "which my sweet pet would not believe yesterday, but which she cannot help believing, now that the last interesting chapter has been partly played out in presence of Count Golm."

And Carla gave her, with all the additions and embellishments she considered necessary for her purpose, an account of the events at Wissow Head yesterday evening.

Frau von Wallbach meanwhile finished her second cup, which she usually took on the sofa, and leaned back.

"Well, what do you say?" asked Carla.

"What should I say," answered Frau von Wallbach, "since you prepared me for it yesterday? And I do not see either why you should pretend to be so very much astonished to-day. What does it signify after all to you or Golm? I should have thought you had both very good reason to be satisfied that things have turned out so. He could only marry one after all. It seems now that you will be the one."

"But what will Edward say?" cried Carla.