Waldfried Part 45

When they at last succeeded in separating the dogs, Pincher was dead, and Martella's lamentations were heart-rending. She indulged in expressions that I would not have expected of her: "It was the only living thing that belonged to me, and that Ernst had left me. Now I am all alone in the wide world!"

When I spoke to her, she hastily said, "Forgive me; I am sometimes very silly."

She could not bear the sight of the dead dog, and begged that he might be buried in the woods.

In the meantime, Rautenkron was explaining to Wolfgang that his ambition to become a forester was based on a false ideal; that dealing in rags was a much prettier occupation. For then one need know nothing of the people who once wore the rags; but that the forest people were all cheats, and, if they could, would convert the trees into as great cheats as they were.

We were still engaged watching the dancers, and it was a great pleasure to see Wolfgang dance with Clotilde, the Major's daughter. Wolfgang arranged an American dance, which was so wild that it evidently originated with the Indians.

The young Alsatian couple also joined in the dance.

Carl had allowed Marie to dance with another one of the village lads, and stood holding the hand of Martella, whom he had led to the dancing floor. She said that she did not wish to dance, and that for tenfold reasons she ought not to, especially as her betrothed was far away. But all persuaded her. Rothfuss--who, having been aroused by the music, had gathered himself up again, and was now seated at the table by the side of Ikwarte--was especially anxious that she should dance.

When Martella began to dance, a great change seemed to come over her.

There was something uncanny in her features and in her eyes.

Nearly all of us left the dancing floor, and Annette requested Martella to go with us.

"Oh, no," she exclaimed, while her eyes rolled and her lips quivered; "I have now begun, and I cannot stop so soon. Good-night, my lady."

She remained, and all were filled with admiration of her light movements and her wonderful _tours de force_.

"Why, you can jump about like a squirrel, and fly like a bird," said Rothfuss.

"So I can," cried Martella. "Do you know how it is when one of the cuckoo's brood leaves its nest in which the simple tomt.i.ts have fed it?

None of you have ever seen it, but I have. I, too, am one of the cuckoo's brood. It flies away it flies away. Play on, fiddlers. Let us have the cuckoo's song. Keep quiet, all of you; I will dance for you."

And then she began to dance, raising herself and bending towards the ground again as if she really had wings; and all were delighted.

When she stopped all cried out, "Again! again!" and the Alsatian exclaimed, "_Da-capo!_"

Ikwarte arose and said, "Miss, do not let them abuse your good-nature; do not let them make a fool of you. There is enough of it."

"This is not your affair," exclaimed Carl, "you Prussian!--you starveling!"

"I have nothing to say to you," answered Ikwarte; "you are not worth answering."

Martella danced again, to the great delight of all.

But while she was dancing, one could see that it took several of the lads to hold Carl.

When the dance was over, Carl rushed up to Ikwarte, and cried:

"You cursed Prussian! why do you think that I am not worthy of being answered?"

"I have no respect for a man who would put himself in the way of being captured."

"Is that it?"

"Carl, take none of the Prussian's impudence," called out Martella. "It is the Prussians' fault that my Ernst had to go forth into misery. Pay him up for it!"

And then followed terrible scuffling and fighting.

Ikwarte seemed, at first, unable to realize that he was actually involved in a fight; but when he saw that matters were in earnest, he seized Carl, and held him as firmly as in a vise. Rothfuss urged them on, for fighting was his delight. They were at last separated, and then Martella threw herself on the ground, tore her hair, and cried out, "It is all my fault! It is my fault! I am ruined!"

Rothfuss succeeded in leading her away. She tried to escape from him and to run out into the woods, saying, "Anything rather than go back home, for I don't deserve to go there."

He succeeded, at last, in inducing her to enter the house of Carl's mother. Accompanied by Annette and Conny, I went there to bring her home, and was startled when I saw what a change had come over the poor child. Nevertheless, her agitation had not disfigured her; she seemed more lovely than ever--almost supernaturally beautiful.

"O father!" she cried. "Indeed, I have no longer the right to use those words. I knew it; I felt a presentiment of it all, and I wanted to go away. Why didn't you let me go? I don't belong here, and now less than ever. The worst that could have happened to me has happened. I have relapsed into savage folly. And yet she who is up there said, 'Do not lose faith in yourself and in your goodness, and you can accomplish everything.' The worst punishment is mine, for I have lost faith in myself. I may become crazed again any moment; I no longer believe in myself."

When Conny and Annette spoke to her in their kind way, she exclaimed, "Every kind word of yours gives me new pain. Scold me, beat me, kick me--I deserve such treatment, and shall find it less painful than kind words that I do not deserve. I was so happy in thinking that I had accomplished all, but it is not so. Now I see how much love and respect you all had for me; and when Ernst returns I shall tell him everything.

He may scold me heartily, for I have deserved it."

We conducted her to the house, where we found Ikwarte, whose appearance seemed the very opposite of what it usually was. He seemed as if crushed, and continually said, "Colonel, I admit that it was highly improper on my part, especially as it happened in a strange land."

Ludwig took it all in good part, and laughingly remarked that North and South Germany had again been scuffling with each other. Then he apologized for Ikwarte, by saying that he could not stand wine; that, except when taking communion, he had not tasted a drop of wine up to his twentieth year.

Ikwarte stood by, nodding his a.s.sent and pulling his red mustache.

After that, he went off with Rothfuss.

In the meanwhile, Martella sat crouching on the floor in a corner of the room.

Ludwig softly said to me, "Now is the time to let Martella tell us who and whence she is."

I thought that as the child was overmuch agitated, it might be better to wait until the next day; but he insisted that this was the proper time.

CHAPTER XIII.

Ludwig went up to Martella and said, "Martella, there is a woman in America who knows you."

Martella jumped to her feet and, brus.h.i.+ng her hair from her face with both hands, asked, "How do you know that?"

"I will tell you how, when you have told your history. Will you do so?"

"I will. It is well and proper that I should. But no one shall be present but you and father. Forgive me, kind ladies," she said, addressing Conny and Annette in an unwonted tone. "I can only tell this to father and to brother."

She drank a few drops of water, and then, seating herself behind the table that was next to the wall, began:

"I can only remember as far back as my sixth year. I have no distinct recollection of anything that happened before that time. We lived in a city on the Rhine,--I believe it is called Mayence. There are two sorts of soldiers there--Prussians and Austrians. The Austrians have white coats, like the cousin who once visited us with Baron Arven. Under the small golden mirror in my mother's room on the opposite wall, there was quite a large gla.s.s that reached from the ceiling to the floor there was a portrait of a handsome officer, whom I believe I have already seen. My mother always addressed him as 'Prince,' and he laughed when she did so. His eyes were of a light blue; I cannot recall any of his other features. My mother would often say to me, while she pointed to the picture, 'Martella, do not forget, this is your father. He has great love for me, and for you too.' It was a long while before I knew how my mother gained her living. She would sleep until near mid-day, and would often stand on her toes, or walk on them around the room.

Then she would suddenly let herself fall to the ground, spring up again and take long steps. Then she would place herself before the mirror, and bow and kiss her hands to herself. Once she looked so lovely, with a thin gauze-like robe about her body, and various kinds of gauze over that. She looked just like a beautiful bird, and almost like the peac.o.c.k down in the garden. And I was prettily dressed also. I had wings on my shoulders, and they had two mirrors for me, so that I might see how I looked in front, and in the back. And I had golden shoes on, and had to learn how to spread out my hands and then bring them together quite slowly. With a girdle around my waist--it was golden, and studded with diamonds--I floated in the air, and could hear the people screaming with delight and clapping their hands; but I could not see where I was, or how many people were there. We rode home in a carriage--I can recollect that, but cannot remember what happened for some time afterward. One day, my mother showed me a man who wore a green dressing-gown and had curled hair; then she said to me: 'My child, this is your father now--you must say "father" to him.'

"He spoke to me, but I could not understand what he said; and mother said, 'The child is worth ten thousand florins, and can earn a great deal of money.'