Danira Part 16

They now flowed in a fiery stream from his lips and kindled a responsive flame in Danira's soul. Her strength could no longer hold out against this language of pa.s.sion, and when Gerald approached her a second time, she did not shrink from him, though the hand he clasped trembled in his.

"Perhaps I may bring you death!" she said softly, but with deep sorrow.

"It is my destiny to cause misfortune everywhere. Had I left Cattaro even a few weeks earlier, we should never have seen each other and you would have been happy by Edith's side. I know she merely entrenched herself behind caprices and obstinacy; her heart belongs to the man who was destined to be her husband. It is the first true, deep feeling of her life, the awakening from the dream of childhood. She is now experiencing her first bitter grief--through me. And yet she is the only creature I have ever loved."

She tried to withdraw her hand, but in vain. He would not release it, and only bent toward her, so close that his breath fanned her cheek.

"The only creature? Danira, shall not even this hour bring us truth?

Who knows how short may be the span of life allotted to me? I do not believe Obrevic's fierceness and thirst for vengeance will be stayed by this spot, and am prepared to fall a victim to his fury. But I must once more hear my name from your lips as you uttered it just now. You must not refuse that request. If, even now, in the presence of death, they sternly withhold the confession of love, be it so, I will not ask it--but you must call me what my mother calls me--you must say this once: 'Gerald.'"

His voice trembled with pa.s.sionate entreaty. It seemed vain, for Danira remained silent and motionless a few seconds longer. At last she slowly turned her face to his, and gazing deep into his eyes, said:

"Gerald!"

It was only one word, yet it contained all--the confession so ardently desired, the most absolute devotion, the cry of happiness, and with an exclamation of rapturous joy Gerald clasped the woman he loved to his breast.

The storm raged above them, and mortal peril waved dark wings over their heads; but amid the tempest and the shadow of death a happiness was unfolded which swallowed up every memory of the past, every thought of the future. Gerald and Danira no longer heeded life or death, and had a b.l.o.o.d.y end confronted them at that moment they would have faced it with radiant joy in their hearts.

"I thank you!" said Gerald, fervently, but without releasing the girl from his embrace. "Now, come what may, I am prepared."

The words recalled Danira to the reality of their situation; she started.

"You are right, we must meet what is coming; I must go."

"Go! At the moment we have found each other? And am I to let you face a peril I cannot share?"

Danira gently but firmly released herself from his arms.

"You are in danger, Gerald, not I, for I know every path of my 'mountain home,' and shall avoid Marco, who has now had time to reach the village. Have no fear, your safety is at stake, I will be cautious.

Yet, before I go, promise me not to leave the Vila spring; let no stratagem, no threat lure you away. Here alone can you and your companion find safety and deliverance, one step beyond that rock gateway and you will be lost."

The young officer gazed anxiously and irresolutely at the speaker.

True, he told himself that she would be safe; even if she met his pursuers no one would suspect whence she came or where she was going, and a pretext was easily found. If she remained with him she must share his fate and perhaps be the first victim of her tribe's revenge, yet it was unspeakably difficult for him to part from the happiness he had scarcely won.

"I will not leave the spring," he answered. "Do you think I want to die now? I never so loved life as at this moment when my Danira is its prize, and I am ready to fight for it--I shall be fighting for my happiness and future."

His glance again sought hers, which no longer shunned it, but the large dark eyes rested on his features with a strange expression--a look at once gentle, yet gloomy and fraught with pain; it had not a ray of the happiness so brightly evident in his words.

"The price[1] of your life!" she repeated. "Yes, Gerald, I will be that with my whole heart, and now--farewell!"

"Farewell! G.o.d grant that you may reach the fort safely; once there my comrades will know how to protect my preserver from the vengeance of her people."

He spoke unsuspiciously and tenderly, but he must have unwittingly stirred those dark depths in the girl's nature, which were mysterious even to him. Danira started as though an insult had been hurled in her face; the old fierceness seemed about to break forth again, but it was only a moment ere the emotion was suppressed.

"I need their protection as little as I fear the vengeance directed against myself alone! Farewell, Gerald; once more--farewell!"

The young officer again clasped her in his arms. He did not hear the pain of parting in the words, only the deep, devoted love, still so new to him from Danira. But she scarcely allowed him a moment for his leave-taking, but tore herself away, as if she feared to prolong it.

He saw her bend over the spring, while her lips moved as though she were commending her lover to its protection. Then she hastily climbed the cliff, and vanished through the dark rock gateway.

At the top of the height Danira paused. Only one moment's rest after this mute, torturing conflict! She alone knew what this parting meant.

Gerald did not suspect that it was an eternal farewell, or he never would have permitted her to quit his side.

In spite of all, he did not know Danira Hersovac. She had, it is true, become a stranger to her people, out of harmony with all their customs and opinions, while her own thoughts and feelings were in the camp of the foe from whom she had once so defiantly fled, but the mighty, viewless tie of blood still a.s.serted its power, and called what she was in the act of doing by the terrible name, treason.

She was going to summon the foreign troops to Gerald's aid, and if Marco held out--and hold out he would--blood would be shed for the sake of one who should not, must not die, though his rescue should cost the highest price.

From the moment Danira knew that this rescue was solely in her hands she no longer had a choice. Save him she must! It was a necessity to which she helplessly bowed, but to live on with the memory of what had happened and be happy by her lover's side--the thought did not enter the girl's mind.

The dead chief's daughter might commit the treason, but she could also expiate it. When Gerald was once rescued and in safety, she would go back to her brother and Marco, the head of the tribe, and confess what she had done. The traitress would meet death, she knew--so much the better. Then the perpetual discord between her birth and her education would be forever ended.

She cast one more glance into the ravine, where the water of the Vila spring was s.h.i.+mmering in the moonlight. Mysteriously born of the rocky soil, it appeared but once, gazed but once at the light to vanish again in subterranean chasms, yet its short course was a blessing to every one who approached it. Here, too, it had bestowed a brief, momentary happiness, which had only glittered once and must now end in separation and death; yet it outweighed a whole existence.

The invisible hosts were still contending in the air, their jeering, threatening voices still blended in the fierce chant of destruction and ruin. Danira was familiar with the legends of her home, and understood the menace of the tempest. She raised her head haughtily as if in answer.

"Vain! I will not let myself be stopped! If I commit the treason, I have p.r.o.nounced my own doom, and Marco will pitilessly execute it. G.o.d himself would need to descend from heaven to secure my pardon. You shall be saved, Gerald; I will be what I promised--the price of your life!"

She hurried onward through the storm-swept, moonlit waste of rocks--to the rescue.

VII.

The two men were now alone in the ravine, but the young officer's gaze still rested on the spot where Danira had vanished. He did not notice that George had climbed down from his bowlder and approached him, until the worthy fellow made his presence known by a heavy sigh which attracted his attention, and he asked:

"What ails you?"

George made the regulation military salute.

"Herr Lieutenant, I wanted to respectfully report--I couldn't hear anything up there, but I saw the whole affair."

"Indeed? Well, that alters nothing, though I did not particularly desire your presence. To be sure, I had entirely forgotten you."

"I believe so!" said George, sighing a second time, and even more piteously. "You had forgotten everything. If all Krivoscia had come up and made an end of us I don't think you would have even noticed it. But I at least kept watch and prayed constantly for the salvation of your soul, but it did no good."

"That was very kind of you!" replied Gerald, who was completely possessed by the arrogance of happiness which raised him far above all anxiety or thought of peril. "I certainly had no time for that, since, as you saw, I was pledging my troth."

"Herr Gerald!" In his despair George forgot respect and used the old familiar name. "Herr Gerald--by all the saints--this is awful!"

"To betroth one's self in the presence of mortal danger? It is certainly unusual, but the time and place cannot always be chosen."

This had not been George's meaning. He thought the fact terrible in itself, and with a face better suited to funereal condolence than congratulation he said:

"I've long known it! I said day before yesterday to Father Leonhard: 'Take heed, your reverence, some misfortune will happen! And if it does all Tyrol will be turned topsy-turvy and Castle Steinach to boot----'"

"Let them! then."

"'And the blow will kill his mother,'" George continued, pursuing the current of his mournful prophecies.