The Count of Nideck Part 8

"And your old home?"

"It has pa.s.sed into other hands. On the death of both my parents, which occurred within a few years, I was left entirely without resources, save such as I could create for myself, and it became necessary to dispose of the estate in order to get the means which I required to pursue my studies."

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be thus confiding to Odile my intimate affairs, though ordinarily I guarded such matters with jealous care; but I felt, I know not why, that her expression of interest was more a wish to learn the real facts of my condition than merely to evince a civil concern in my interests. Such feelings are intangible; they cannot be explained.

"You are living now in Tubingen?"

"Yes; after six years' study in Germany and France, I have returned to the scenes of earlier times to try what fortune may have in store for me. I feel that I never should be contented anywhere else; and I am better satisfied to remain here with a modest success than in the cities with, maybe, a more considerable one."

"How well I can understand that feeling," replied the Countess musingly.

"Long ago, when we used to visit the court each year, I remember that, in spite of all its gaieties and pleasures, so well calculated to charm young minds, I was always glad when the time came to return to the Castle; and that for a girl of eighteen is unusual, I think."

I was silently musing upon the fair face opposite me, and the charming personality of my n.o.ble hostess, which piqued my curiosity and aroused in me a singular desire to learn more of it. The young Countess conducted the affairs of the table with captivating grace, and the ready Offenloch was ever on the watch for her slightest nod or glance.

Truly, I felt myself under a spell no less potent than the companions of Ulysses of old.

Rousing myself at length from these agreeable reflections, I resumed:

"You too, mademoiselle, are fond of the hunt, I suppose? for the Count's devotion to it is proverbial."

"Yes!" she replied, "when it is not a deer or fox that is being hunted.

Somehow the wild boar claims less of my sympathy, for it is often a question which comes off the better, the man or the beast."

The truth of this remark it was reserved for me to learn at a later day.

"As for me, I have never had any experience in the chase, as the years which I might have spent so were pa.s.sed in foreign cities, but some time I hope to give it a thorough trial."

A pause succeeded, during which Odile prepared the coffee. From time to time I glanced at Marie, whose admiration for my person expressed the evening before seemed in no way to have decreased, judging from the senile simper which invariably appeared on her face when she caught my eye.

"This Castle has an indescribable charm for me," I continued after a little; "it has such a delightfully ancient air, and its old stones seem so full of romance;" and my eyes wandered to the two suits of armor at the further end of the room, which from their shadowy corners nodded at each other, gaunt and sightless, in the uncertain firelight.

"I am fond of it," replied Odile; "indeed, I feel that I could never be happy anywhere else; but at times it is lonely, nevertheless."

Then I began to reflect upon the singular vow which this charming young creature, so eminently lovable in every trait of character and person, had taken, it seemed almost wantonly and in a spirit of perversity; and yet I was satisfied that no such explanation could be sufficient, for I felt instinctively that no small or trivial thought could gain admittance to Odile's mind.

"Perhaps," I thought, "some day the wanderer will come to implant the magic kiss, and she, like others of her sisters, will be obliged to obey the inexorable laws of the little G.o.d."

So I thought. It seemed to me that one might be happy here, could he continue forever, as I was then, in Odile's companions.h.i.+p, amid gay companies and festivals, hunting-parties and the like, which I felt would become immediately inaugurated, were the Count's recovery to become an established fact. Then my thoughts reverted once more to my patient, and, speculating for the fiftieth time on all that Sperver had told me of his master, I was recalled to a less alluring train of reflections, and I became grave as I realized the burden of duty which rested upon me.

An hour pa.s.sed, the breakfast was finished. I rose and took leave of the Countess, who inclined her head with a friendly smile. As I stepped into the hallway, I descried Sperver in the distance.

"The Count has waked, and he wishes to see you," he said, as he reached me.

"He is no worse?" I asked.

"Apparently not; he seems quiet enough."

Still engrossed with the experience of the last hour pa.s.sed in the dining-room, I moved along with Sperver down the corridor.

CHAPTER VI.

THE COUNT UNSHEATHES HIS CLAWS.

I entered the Count's chamber. What was my surprise to perceive in the half-light of the alcove, the master of Nideck raised upon his elbow and studying me with profound attention. I had so little antic.i.p.ated such a reception, that I paused in surprise.

"Come here, doctor," he said in a faint but steady voice, reaching out his hand. "My good Sperver has often spoken to me of you, and I have been anxious to make your acquaintance."

"Let us hope, monsieur," I replied, "that it may be continued under more auspicious circ.u.mstances; a little patience, and all will be well!"

"I fear not," he replied; "I feel that the end is drawing near."

"You are mistaken, monsieur."

"No! Nature grants us, as a last favor, a presentiment of our approaching end."

"How often have I seen such presentiments disproved!" I returned, smiling.

He gazed fixedly at me, as sick people are wont to do when they are in doubt as to their true condition. It is a trying moment for the doctor; upon his expression depends the moral strength of the sufferer; if the sick man detect the suspicion of a doubt, all is lost; dissolution begins, the soul prepares to quit the body, and the malady holds full sway. I pa.s.sed firmly through the ordeal; the Count seemed rea.s.sured; he pressed my hand again, and released it, calmer and more confident.

During the pause which followed, Odile and Marie Lagoutte entered the room. They must have followed close behind us. They seated themselves in the two chairs which occupied the embrasure of the window, and Marie resumed her knitting, while Odile spread open a portfolio on her lap and seemed to be studying it.

Soon the Count's glance wandered from my face to that of his daughter, whom he continued to regard fixedly for a long time in silence.

This somewhat oppressive quiet continued, broken only by the jarring of the cas.e.m.e.nts, the monotone of the wind, and the sound of the snow as it swirled and whispered against the panes.

After a half hour of this, the Count suddenly began to speak:

"If my beloved child Odile would but grant my request, if she would only consent to let me hope that one day she would fulfil the desire of my heart, I believe that alone would accomplish my recovery!" I glanced quickly at Odile; she had closed her book, and her eyes were fastened on the floor. I noticed that she had become deathly pale.

"Yes," continued the sick man, "I should return to life and happiness!

The prospect of seeing myself surrounded by a new branch of our family, of embracing my grandchildren, and of seeing the perpetuation of our house ensured, would suffice to cure me."

I felt moved at the mild and gentle pleading of the sufferer. The young woman made no reply. After a minute or two, the Count, who looked entreatingly at her, pursued:

"Odile, you refuse to make your father happy. My G.o.d! I only ask for hope; I fix no time! I do not seek to control your choice! We will go to court, and choose from a hundred n.o.ble suitors. Who would not be proud to win my daughter's hand? You shall be free to decide for yourself."

He paused. Nothing is more painful to a stranger than these family discussions. There are so many conflicting interests, deep emotions, and sacred feelings involved, that our innate delicacy demands that we hold aloof from such scenes. I was pained, and would gladly have withdrawn, but the circ.u.mstances did not permit of it.

"Father," said Odile, as if to evade further insistence on the sick man's part, "you will recover. Heaven will not take you from us who love you so dearly. If you only knew with what loving fervor I pray for you!"

"That is not answering my question," said the Count drily. "What objection have you to my proposal? Is it not just and natural? Must I be deprived of the consolations accorded the most wretched? Have I made use of force or trickery?"

"No, father!"

"Then why do you refuse me?"