Caesar's Column Part 23

"And I was very busy and almost happy--moving around that room on tiptoe in my slippers while she slept, or talking to her in a bright and chatty way, about everything that I thought would interest her, or bringing her flowers, or feeding her the liquid food which alone she could swallow.

"The doctor came every day. I questioned him closely. He was an intelligent man, and had, I could see, taken quite a liking to his little patient. He told me that the knife had just missed, by a hair's breadth, the carotid artery, but unfortunately it had struck the cervical plexus, that important nerve-plexus, situated in the side of the neck; and had cut the recurrent laryngeal nerve, which arises from the cervical plexus and supplies the muscles of the larynx; and it had thereby caused instant paralysis of those muscles, and aphonia, or loss of voice. I asked him if she would ever be able to sing again. He said it was not certain. If the severed ends of the nerve reunited fully her voice might return with all its former power. He hoped for the best.

"One morning, I was called down stairs by Mrs. Jansen; it was three or four days after the a.s.sault had been made on Christina. There I found the chief of police of that department. He said it had become necessary, in the course of the legal proceedings, that Brederhagan should be identified by Christina as her a.s.sailant. The doctor had reported that there was now no danger of her death; and the family of the little rascal desired to get him out on bail. I told him I would confer with the physician, when he called, as to whether Christina could stand the excitement of such an interview, and I would notify him. He thanked me and took his leave. That day I spoke upon the subject to Dr. Hemnip, and he thought that Christina had so far recovered her strength that she might see the prisoner the day after the next. At the same time he cautioned her not to become nervous or excited, and not to attempt to speak. She was simply to write 'Yes'

on her tablet, in answer to the question asked her by the police. The interview was to be as brief as possible. I communicated with the chief of police, as I had promised, giving him these details, and fixed an hour for him to call."

CHAPTER XXVI.

MAX'S STORY CONTINUED--THE WIDOW AND HER SON

"The next day, about ten in the morning, I went out to procure some medicine for Christina. I was gone but a few minutes, and on my return, as I mounted the stairs, I was surprised to hear a strange voice in the sick-room. I entered and was introduced by Mrs. Jansen to 'Mrs. Brederhagan,' the rich widow, the mother of the little wretch who had a.s.saulted Christina. She was a large, florid woman, extravagantly dressed, with one of those shallow, unsympathetic voices which betoken a small and flippant soul. Her lawyers had told her that Nathan would probably be sent to prison for a term of years; and so she had come to see if she could not beg his victim to spare him. She played her part well. She got down on her knees by the bedside in all her silks and furbelows, and seized Christina's hand and wept; and told of her own desolate state as a widow--drawing, incidentally, a picture of the virtues of her deceased husband, which he himself--good man--would not have recognized in this world or any other. And then she descanted on the kind heart of her poor boy, and how he had been led off by bad company, etc., etc. Christina listened with an intent look to all this story; but she flushed when the widow proceeded to say how deeply her son loved her, Christina, and that it was his love for her that had caused him to commit his desperate act; and she actually said that, although Christina was but a poor singer, with no blood worth speaking of, in comparison with her own ill.u.s.trious long line of n.o.bodies, yet she brought Christina an offer from her son--sanctioned by her own approval--that he would--if she would spare him from imprisonment and his family from disgrace--marry her outright and off-hand; and that she would, as a magnanimous and generous, upper-crust woman, welcome her, despite all her disadvantages and drawbacks, to her bosom as a daughter! All this she told with a great many tears and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, all the time clinging to Christina's hand.

"When she had finished and risen, and readjusted her disarranged flounces, Christina took her tablet and wrote:

"I could not marry your son. As to the rest, I will think it over.

Please do not come again.'

"The widow would have gotten down on her knees and gone at it again; but I took her aside and said to her:

'Do you not see that this poor girl is very weak, and your appeals distress her? Go home and I will communicate with you.'

"And I took her by the arm, and firmly but respectfully led her out of the room, furbelows, gold chains and all. She did not feel at all satisfied with the success of her mission; but I saw her into her carriage and told the driver to take her home. I was indignant. I felt that the whole thing was an attempt to play upon the sympathies of my poor little patient, and that the woman was a hollow, heartless old fraud.

"The next day, at the appointed hour, the chief of police came, accompanied by the prisoner. The latter had had no liquor for several days and was collapsed enough. All his courage and vanity had oozed out of him. He was a dilapidated wreck. He knew that the penitentiary yawned for him, and he felt his condition as deeply as such a shallow nature could feel anything. I scowled at the wretch in a way which alarmed him for his personal safety, and he trembled and hurried behind the policeman.

"Christina had been given a strengthening drink. The doctor was there with his finger on her pulse; she was raised up on some pillows. Her father and mother were present. When we entered she looked for an instant at the miserable, dejected little creature, and I saw a shudder run through her frame, and then she closed her eyes.

"'Miss Jansen,' said the chief of police, 'be kind enough to say whether or not this is the man who tried to kill you.'

"I handed her the tablet and pencil. She wrote a few words. I handed it to the chief.

"'What does this mean?' he said, in evident astonishment.

"I took the tablet out of his hand, and was thunderstruck to find on it these unexpected words:

"_'This is not the man.'_

"'Then,' said the chief of Police, 'there is nothing more to do than to discharge the prisoner.'

"Her father and mother stepped forward; but she waved them back with her hand; and the chief led the culprit out, too much stunned to yet realize that he was free.

"'What does this mean, Christina?' I asked, in a tone that expressed indignation, if not anger.

"She took her tablet and wrote:

"'What good would it do to send that poor, foolish boy to prison for many years? He was drunk or he would not have hurt me. It will do no good to bring disgrace on a respectable family. This great lesson may reform him and make him a good man.'

"At that moment I made up my mind to make Christina my wife, if she would have me. Such a soul was worth a mountain of rubies. There are only a few of them in each generation, and fortunate beyond expression is the man who can call one of them his own!

"But I was not going to see my poor love, or her family, imposed on by that scheming old widow. I hurried out of the house; I called a hack, and drove to Mrs. Brederhagan's house. I found her and her son in the first paroxysm of joy--locked in each other's arms.

"'Mrs. Brederhagan,' I said, 'your vicious little devil of a son here has escaped punishment so far for his cruel and cowardly a.s.sault upon a poor girl. He has escaped through her unexampled magnanimity and generosity. But do you know what he has done to her? He has silenced her exquisite voice forever. He has ruthlessly destroyed that which a million like him could not create. That poor girl will never sing again. She was the sole support of her family. This imp here has taken the bread out of their mouths--they will starve. You owe it to her to make a deed of gift whereby you will endow her with the amount she was earning when your son's dagger pierced her poor throat and silenced her voice; that is--fifty dollars a week.'

"The widow ruffled up her feathers, and said she did not see why she should give Christina fifty dollars a week. She had declared that her son was not the one who had a.s.saulted her, and he was a free man, and that was the end of their connection with the matter.

"'Ha! ha!' said I, 'and so, that is your position? Now you will send at once for a notary and do as I tell you, or in one hour your son shall be arrested again. _Christina's mother knows him perfectly well, and will identify him_; and Christina herself will not swear in court to the generous falsehood she told to screen you and yours from disgrace. You are a worthy mother of such a son, when you cannot appreciate one of the n.o.blest acts ever performed in this world.'

"The widow grew pale at these threats; and after she and her hopeful son--who was in a great fright--had whispered together, she reluctantly agreed to my terms. A notary was sent for, and the deed drawn and executed, and a check given, at my demand, for the first month's payment.

"'Now,' said I, turning to Master Nathan, 'permit me to say one word to you, young man. If you ever again approach, or speak to, or molest in any way, Miss Christina Carlson, I will,'-and here I drew close to him and put my finger on his breast,--'I will kill you like a dog.'

"With this parting shot I left the happy pair."

CHAPTER XXVII.

MAX'S STORY CONTINUED--THE BLACKSMITH SHOP

"I need not describe the joy there was in the Jansen family when I brought home Mrs. Brederhagan's deed of gift and the money. Christina did not yet know that her voice was destroyed, and hence was disposed to refuse what she called 'the good lady's great generosity.' But we reminded her that the widow was rich, and that her son had inflicted great and painful wounds upon her, which had caused her weeks of weary sickness, to say nothing of the doctor's bills and the other expenses they had been subjected to; and so, at last, she consented and agreed that, for the present at least, she would receive the widow's money, but only until she could resume her place on the boards of the theater. But the deed of gift drove the brooding shadows out of the heart and eyes of poor Mrs. Jansen.

"I need not tell you all the details of Christina's recovery. Day by day she grew stronger. She began to speak in whispers, and gradually she recovered her power of speech, although the voice at first sounded husky. She was soon able to move about the house, for youth and youthful spirits are great medicines. One day she placed her hand on mine and thanked me for all my great kindness to her; and said, in her arch way, that I was a good, kindhearted friend, and it was a pity I had any weaknesses; and that I must not forget my promise to her about the next New Year's day. But she feared that I had neglected my business to look after her.

"At length she learned from the doctor that she could never sing again; that her throat was paralyzed. It was a bitter grief to her, and she wept quietly for some hours. And then she comforted herself with the reflection that the provision made for her by Mrs.

Brederhagan had placed herself and her family beyond the reach of poverty. But for this I think she would have broken her heart.

"I had been cogitating for some days upon a new idea. It seemed to me that these plain, good people would be much happier in the country than in the city; and, besides, their income would go farther. They had country blood in their veins, and it takes several generations to get the scent of the flowers out of the instincts of a family; they have subtle promptings in them to walk in the gra.s.s and behold the grazing kine. And a city, after all, is only fit for temporary purposes--to see the play and the shops and the mob--and wear one's life out in nothingnesses. As one of the poets says:

"'Thus is it in the world-hive; most where men Lie deep in cities as in drifts--death drifts-- Nosing each other like a flock of sheep; Not knowing and not caring whence nor whither They come or go, so that they fool together."

"And then I thought, too, that Mr. Jansen was unhappy in idleness. He was a great, strong man, and accustomed all his life to hard work, and his muscles cried out for exercise.

"So I started out and made little excursions in all directions. At last I found the very place I had been looking for. It was about twelve miles beyond the built-up portions of the suburbs, in a high and airy neighborhood, and contained about ten acres of land. There was a little grove, a field, a garden, and an old-fashioned, roomy house. The house needed some repairs, it is true; but beyond the grove two roads crossed each other, and at the angle would be an admirable place for a blacksmith shop. I purchased the whole thing very cheaply. Then I set carpenters to work to repair the house and build a blacksmith shop. The former I equipped with furniture, and the latter with anvil, bellows and other tools, and a supply of coal and iron.

"When everything was ready I told Christina another of my white lies.

I said to her that Mrs. Brederhagan, learning that her voice was ruined forever by her son's dagger, had felt impelled, by her conscience and sense of right, to make her a present of a little place in the country, and had deputed me to look after the matter for her, and that I had bought the very place that I thought would suit them.

"And so we all started out to view the premises. It would be hard to say who was most delighted, Christina or her mother or her father; but I am inclined to think the latter took more pure happiness in his well-equipped little shop, with the big sign, 'CARL JANSEN, BLACKSMITH,' and the picture of a man shoeing a horse, than Christina did in the flowerbed, or her mother in the comfortable household arrangements.

"Soon after the whole family moved out. I was right. A race that has lived for several generations in the country is an exotic in a city."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

MAX'S STORY CONCLUDED--THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

"I used to run out every other day, and I was as welcome as if I had been really a member of the family. The day before yesterday I found the whole household in a state of joyous excitement. Christina had been enjoined to put the baby to sleep; and while rocking it in its cradle she had, all unconsciously, begun to sing a little nursery song. Suddenly she sprang to her feet, and, running to her mother, cried out:

"'Oh, mother! I can sing! Listen.'

"She found, however, that the voice was still quite weak, and that if she tried to touch any of the higher notes there was a pain in her throat.