What the Swallow Sang Part 37

"Yes, you! You who made life worthless to her mother," replied Gotthold, turning to Brandow. "Or did you think the blow you dealt the mother would not strike the child, too? That the latter would not drink death from the poisoned cup of life you gave the former? You cannot have thought so, for you had based your whole plan upon this mutual love between the mother and child; you thought the bond that united their souls strong enough to bear your whole shameful web of falsehood and deceit, treachery and violence. I say once more: if it dies, you have killed it. Understand this clearly, man, if you can. It is so horrible that everything else you have done is innocent in comparison; it is so fearful that you must realize it."

Gotthold walked several paces, and then paused before his enemy, who sat cowering in his chair with his head resting on his hands.

"Brandow, they say that years ago, when, struck down by your sword, I lay on the ground before you, you dealt me a second blow. It has always been impossible for me to believe it, even now it is difficult; but however that may be, I cannot give a death-blow to any one lying on the ground, no matter who he is, or what he may have done; but neither can I hold out my hand to a worthless man, even if he extends his imploringly to me. Remember this, Brandow. Perhaps the moment will come sooner than you believe possible."

Gotthold left the room; Brandow still sat in the same att.i.tude into which he had first sunk, staring steadily at the carpet. A dreary smile flitted over his pale face.

"That was a fine sermon," he muttered; "highly edifying! He got that from his father, the parson! And I sit here, and let myself be made out a villain by the miserable babbler, the cursed hypocrite, and don't hurl all he says back into his canting face. Bah!"

He started up and wandered about the room.

"Folly, folly, folly! Her love for this dauber is not a thing of to-day or yesterday; she has always loved him; she has never been able to forgive herself for stooping to wed me, the haughty Princess! I knew it from the first! And was I to pocket the insult quietly, act as if I did not notice it, be satisfied with the crumbs thrown to me? I should have been a fool! n.o.body would have done so in my place, and I've only done what any one else would, what thousands do who have not even my excuse.

Alma would have run away from her silly husband long ago, if I had wanted her, if I had not always dissuaded her. But that would have been just the right grist for their mill; their only regret is that I have not made it easier for them. And I've made it easy enough now. Fool, fool! How I might have made them writhe, how I might make them writhe, if it were not for the accursed money. They put a stone in my path for me to stumble over, and I did them the favor, and now they stand and triumph!"

He strode up and down the room like a caged tiger.

"But it is not always night. A little more, and I should have wept over that sentimental speech, as if it had been the truth, as if she had not taught the child to hate me, as if it had the slightest trace of resemblance to me, and might not just as well have been his, which it probably would, if he had then been the n.o.ble family friend for which he pa.s.ses now. I have let myself be caught in the snare like a stupid boy. It came too suddenly; I was not calm enough; and Hinrich's reappearance was a shameful blow. Who would have thought it, after the fellow had once been so foolish as to draw all the suspicion upon himself, and I had made things so hot for him here! He shall pay for it, if he ever crosses my path again--the scoundrel; he shall pay for it. He and the daubing parson's son, and the old vagabond, and the d.a.m.ned Jew, and she--she--"

He paused before one of the large mirrors which covered the walls of the room between the windows from floor to ceiling.

"So I wasn't good enough for her. Other people think differently in this respect. The fact is, I sold myself too cheap. A fellow like me might have made very different pretensions; nay, can still at any moment, though I look now as Don Juan did last night when the devil was chasing him. But it's only the green gla.s.s and the dim light."

A knock at the door interrupted his gloomy soliloquy. It was a servant, who came to ask whether Herr Brandow was not coming back to the dining-room soon.

"At once," said Brandow.

He cast another glance at the mirror. "I'm rather deplorable-looking still. No matter! Or so much the better. They will think I am anxious about to-morrow, and fall into the snare all the easier, the blockheads! And to-morrow noon I shall have my thirty or forty thousand in my purse, and--all the rest is nonsense."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

The clearest September morning shone upon the old Hanse city, whose narrow winding streets were remarkably quiet to-day, so quiet that the servant-girls who stood idly at the open doors of the houses could bewail their piteous fate to each other across them undisturbed. Was it not too shameful that the second day--the great day, when everybody, even the little apprentices from the cobblers' benches, had gone to see the show--they were obliged to stay and take care of the houses? And Kopp's carriage had just come back empty for the sixth time, and was now stopping at the apothecary's round the corner; but the young ladies always made such a parade, and were never ready; it was a sin and a shame, when one thought that other honest girls, who certainly wouldn't keep the carriage waiting, were not allowed to set foot outside of the door; but when the cat was away the mice would play.

The merry girls, who had approached nearer and nearer each other, joined hands and began to whirl around on the rough pavement, out of the sunlight into the shadow of the houses, and out of the shadow back into the sunlight, and then with a scream scattered and fled, each into her own door, as the strange gentleman came out of a large, silent house near by.

Gotthold had watched all night beside Gretchen's bed with Cecilia and old Boslaf, and good Stine had gone in and out. Several times they thought the last moment had come; but the little heaving breast, which Cecilia had pressed to her own, rose and fell more easily again, and she laid the sweet little creature back upon the pillows, which were scarcely whiter than her delicate pale face. After midnight the fever became a little less violent, and the Doctor, who came early in the morning, said that the danger, unfortunately, was not yet over, but a few quieter hours might be expected, and he urgently entreated them to use this interval in gaining fresh strength, which they certainly greatly needed.

He had looked at old Boslaf as he spoke, but the old man smiled pleasantly, and said that the Doctor must not be anxious about him; he was used to night-watching, and should soon have plenty of time to sleep. But Cecilia, who was full of tender solicitude for the old man, whom she now always called father, insisted that he should lie down, and sent Gotthold away also. She would keep watch with Ottilie until noon; if Gretchen's condition should change for the worse, he should be notified at once.

And so he now walked through the silent street towards his lodgings, gazed at the girls dancing merrily, the sunlight s.h.i.+ning so brightly on the gray old gables, and the flock of white doves wheeling in airy circles under the bright blue sky. How beautiful the world was! How pure and balmy the soft warm air he eagerly inhaled! How lightly he strode along, in spite of the long night of anxious watching! How the blood bounded in his veins! And yet darkness and death might conquer!

If the child died--Gotthold paused with a shudder--he had seen, the little dark mound so distinctly. But it was only a trick of his imagination; Gretchen was still alive; she would recover; the delicate little creature had struggled through this terrible night, and he might even be permitted to say that it was he who had saved her life once more. So she must live for him; her pure soft hands must fit the keystone of the building of his happiness. Had he not hitherto succeeded in everything far beyond his expectation! Had not even chance showed him her most gracious aspect! A few days ago, how could he even have ventured to hope that his rival would be so soon and so entirely delivered into his hands, and he should be able to say, "This shall be done, and it shall be done so and so, without any outcry, without the knowledge of any person unconcerned?" This very evening the unfortunate man was to return to Dollan to find the money he had stolen, and the following day restore it to the treasury of the convent, through Wollnow; and this evening also, the vessel which took his accomplice would sail for England, the latter having declared of his own free will that he could no longer stay here, and would rather go at once to America, especially if the gentlemen would provide him with money as generously as they had promised, and he knew they would keep their word. So within twenty-four hours at latest everything would be settled and levelled to a foundation on which another structure might be erected.

A quick, heavy step, which came towards him through the deserted street near his lodgings, made Gotthold look up.

"What is the matter, Jochen?"

"He's gone," said Jochen, panting for breath. "I was just on my way to tell you."

"Since when?"

"It must have been an-hour or two ago; he said he was tired and would take a little nap, while Clas and I went down to Frau Muller's, who had invited us to breakfast. Well, Herr Gotthold, there we sat quietly; she had a nice pork sausage, and we never thought of any mischief, and meantime the fellow jumped out of a second-story window into the garden, which joins the city wall, and the gate is never locked, and we really are not to blame. Even if one don't exactly like a man, how is one to suppose he has such tricks in his head?"

"An hour, you said?"

Jochen nodded.

"Where is Clas?"

"Gone down to the harbor; it's just possible he may have gone on board the s.h.i.+p to look about him a little."

Gotthold shook his head. "That is extremely improbable, after, as he knows, everything is arranged."

"What shall we do, Herr Gotthold?"

"Run to Herr Wollnow and tell him what has happened, and that I have gone out to the races; and follow me as fast as you can."

Jochen looked amazed. "Yes, to be sure, Herr Gotthold, that's possible; he talked of nothing but the races all last evening."

Gotthold had already taken several steps, when Jochen followed him.

"You're not angry with me and my brother Clas, Herr Gotthold?"

"You good, stupid fellows!"

Jochen looked very much moved, and doubtless wished to say more; but Gotthold pressed his hard, honest hand, and hurried down the street to the gate, beyond which, at no very great distance from the city, was the race-course.

He knew the way only from description; but it could not be missed to-day. The nearer he approached the gate, the more numerous became the people, who were all moving in the same direction; the suburban street through which they were obliged to pa.s.s had a.s.sumed a holiday garb. The modest little villas, half concealed behind the trees in their garden, were to-day adorned with garlands and tapestry; here and there, under the shade of the boughs, stood an old gentleman, or a gardener, or a nurse with a baby in her arms, looking pityingly or mischievously over the dusty hedges at the throng hurrying by in the summer heat. Often one of the long Holstein wagons, furnished with five or six seats placed one behind the other, rattled by, empty if going towards the city, crowded with people if driving away from it; and it rarely happened that the usual jokes failed to be exchanged between the lucky occupants and the dust-covered foot-pa.s.sengers.

Gotthold had already pa.s.sed many of the pedestrians, and was still hurrying anxiously on. To be sure, it was scarcely to be hoped that either he or Jochen would find the man in such a crowd of people, especially as he evidently did not wish to be found; but that the race-course was the place to seek him, he did not doubt for a moment, and as he now hastened on the fugitive's track his heart grew heavier and heavier, the more clearly he perceived the bad results that threatened to ensue. If Hinrich had fled not to return, to become once more the master of his own fate, and Brandow learned it in time, he would retract all he had yielded; the battle must begin anew, and with an enemy who could not again be surprised; if Hinrich was only seeking an opportunity to revenge himself, Brandow's life was not safe a moment from the brutal violence of the man, and even admitting that Brandow was a person who could defend himself--everything which had seemed won was once more doubtful, even the secrecy in which the pitiful fate of the woman he loved had hitherto been veiled from an insolent, curious world.

Gotthold hurried on still faster, hoping he should now soon reach his goal, but he turned out of one street lined with gardens into another--the suburbs seemed to have no end. It was still half an hour's walk to the racecourse, was the reply to his question.

A light open carriage, drawn by two superb horses, overtook and dashed past him; he thought he had seen the face of the elegant young man who occupied the seat behind the driver before. The young man turned towards him, and instantly tapped his coachman eagerly on the shoulder; the carriage stopped; its occupant sprang out and hastily approached Gotthold, waving his hand, and calling: "Do I meet you at last?"

A moment after, Gotthold was seated beside young Prince Prora, the horses dashed onward, and dusty pedestrians, hedges, gardens, villas, and barns flitted by them on either side.

"You don't know how glad I am," said the Prince, pressing Gotthold's hand again; "but you will when I tell you that I came from Berlin, where I was engaged in a most important consultation with Sc.h.i.n.kel about my castle, solely on your account. Count Ingenheim wrote that you had left Rome, and I heard from Prora that you were staying in this neighborhood, so I came to seek, see, talk, persuade, obtain--enfin: you must paint my castle in fresco. I have set my heart upon it, and you, I suppose, have no reason to say no: Sc.h.i.n.kel desires it too, so you must consent. He wants you, you and n.o.body else; I know no one by whom I can be so sure of being understood, he said, and was delighted when I told him that I had had the honor of a personal acquaintance with you for a long time, and had spent the most delightful winter in Rome in your society. Ah! that divine Rome! But you conjurers shall restore it to me on the walls of my northern castle; I want nothing but Roman, or at least Italian, landscapes in the dining-room; all bright and sunny as you can paint so marvellously, grave as you are; and as for the landscapes of my native country, which we intend to have in the hall where the weapons are hung, I won't interfere with you at all. It shall be left entirely to you; and you can revel in melancholy, like the Danish Prince, but first of all you must say yes--will you?"

The eager young man held out his hand, and a shadow crossed his delicate, winning face as Gotthold hesitated to clasp it. How willingly, how joyfully he would have accepted a commission so delightful, so complimentary, and so important; a commission which promised to fulfil all that his artist heart could only desire; but now, to-day--

"You don't wish to undertake it?" said the young Prince, sadly.

"I do wish it, certainly I do," replied Gotthold, pressing the outstretched hand with deep emotion, "but whether I can is the question I am asking myself, and which at this moment I can scarcely answer with a yes. Forgive me if I speak in riddles, Your Highness, but there are hours and times when we do not belong to ourselves, when we are under the spell of a fate whose course we can neither hasten nor r.e.t.a.r.d, and whose decision we must await ere we can feel free to make any resolution ourselves."

"I certainly do not fully understand you," replied the Prince, "but I believe I understand that something, which is certainly no trifle, is weighing upon your mind; that you have either met with or fear some great misfortune, and in that case the question comes so naturally that you will forgive my asking: can any one help you, and can I be the person?"