Erlach Court Part 41

A short pause ensues.

"She is innocent; of course she is innocent," an inward voice exclaims exultantly, and Rohritz is overwhelmed with remorse for having doubted her for an instant. He would fain fall down at her feet and kiss the hem of her dress.

"Be comforted: your bracelet is found," he whispers, softly. "Here it is!"

She s.n.a.t.c.hes it from him. "Ah, where did you find it?" she asks, eagerly, her eyes lighting up in spite of her distress.

"I did not find it. Monsieur de Hauterive found it on the first landing of the staircase at Number ----, Rue d'Anjou," he says, speaking with difficulty.

"Ah, I might have known! I must have lost it when I went to see my poor aunt Correze, and when I dropped my bundles on the stairs!" She is not in the least embarra.s.sed. She evidently does not even know that Zino's lodgings are in the Rue d'Anjou.

"Your aunt Correze?" asks Rohritz.

"Do you not know about my aunt Correze?" she stammers.

"Yes, I know who she is."

"She was very unhappy in her first marriage," Stella goes on, now in extreme confusion, "very unhappy, and--and--she did not do as she ought; but she married Correze four years ago,--Correze, who abused her, and who is now giving concerts in America. She recognized me in the street from a photograph of me which papa sent her from Venice. She was so sweet to me, and yet so sad and shy, and she had her little daughter with her, a beautiful child, very like her, only with black hair. Papa once begged me to be kind to her if I ever met her, for his sake. What could I do? I could not ask her to come to us, for mamma will not hear her mentioned, and has for years burned all her letters unanswered. Once or twice I arranged a meeting with her in the Louvre; then she was taken ill, and could not go out, and wanted to see me. I went to see her without letting mamma know. It was not right, but--papa begged me to be kind to her----" Her large, dark eyes look at him helpless and imploring.

"Poor child! your kind heart was sorely tried," he murmurs, very gently.

"I am so glad to be able to tell some one all about it," she confesses: she has quite forgotten her terrible, disgraceful trial, in the child-like sensation of delightful security with which Rohritz always inspires her. The tears still shine upon her cheeks, but her eyes are dry. She tries to fasten the bracelet on her wrist; Rohritz kneels down beside her to help her; suddenly he possesses himself of the bracelet.

"Stella," he whispers, softly and very tenderly, "there is no denying that you are very careless with your happiness. Let me keep it for you: it will be safer with me than with you."

She looks at him, without comprehending; she is only aware of a sudden overwhelming delight,--why, she hardly knows.

"Stella, my darling, my treasure, could you consent to marry me?--could you learn to enjoy life at my side?"

"Learn to enjoy?" she repeats, with a smile that is instantly so deeply graven in his heart that he remembers it all his life afterwards.

"Learn to enjoy?" She puts out her hands towards him; but just as he is about to clasp her to his heart she withdraws them, trembling, and turns pale. "Would you marry a girl at whom all Paris will point a scornful finger to-morrow?" she sobs.

"Point a scornful finger at my betrothed?" he cries, indignantly. "Have no fear, Stella; I know the world better than you do: that finger will be pointed at the worthless woman whose wounded vanity invented the monstrous slander. There is still some _esprit de corps_ among the angels. Those in heaven do not permit evil to be wrought against their earthly sisters. One kiss, Stella, my star, my sunshine, my own darling."

For an instant she hesitates, then shyly touches his temple with her soft warm lips.

"One upon your gray hair," she murmurs.

They suddenly hear an approaching footstep. Rohritz starts to his feet, but it is only his brother, who says, as he advances towards them,--

"Where the deuce are you hiding, Edgar? My wife is frantic with impatience."

"Therese must be merciful," Edgar replies, with a smile. "When for once one finds the flower of happiness in his pathway, one cannot say, 'I have no time to pluck you; my sister-in-law is waiting for me.'"

"Aha!" Edmund exclaims, with a low bow. "Hm! Therese will be vexed because I was right, and not she; but I rejoice with all my heart, not because I was right, but because I could wish you no better fortune in this world."

Stella's betrothal to Edgar is now a week old. Therese was vexed at first at her own want of penetration, but it was an irritation soon soothed. She is absorbed in providing the most exquisite trousseau that money and taste combined can procure in Paris.

Zino, too, was vexed, first that Stella should have been subjected to annoyance on his account, and in the second place because his temporary lameness prevented his challenging de Hauterive. "It was tragic enough not to be able to dance the cotillon with our star, but not to be able to fight for the star is intolerable."

Thus Capito declares in a long congratulatory epistle to Edgar, adding, in a postscript, "The ladies in whose honour certain pictures were turned, as you lately observed, with their faces to the wall, were the Lipinskis, mother and daughter. I am betrothed to Natalie."

The Princess Oblonsky has left Paris for Naples; the Fuhrwesen accompanied her. Monsieur de Hauterive is said to have followed her.

Stasy is left behind in Paris, where she meditates sadly upon the ingrat.i.tude of human nature. She is no longer an ardent admirer of the Oblonsky.

And the lovers?

The scene is the little drawing-room with the blue furniture and bright carpet at the "Three Negroes." The Baroness is sitting at her writing-table, scribbling away with all her wonted energy at something or other which is never to be finished; the floor around her is strewn with torn and crumpled sheets of paper.

From without come the sound of heavy and light wheels, the echo of heavy and light footsteps. But through all the noise of the streets is heard a dreamy, monotonous murmur, the slow drip of melting snow. A thaw has set in, and the water is dripping from the roofs. Sometimes the Baroness pauses in her writing and listens. There is something strangely disturbing to her in the simple sound: she does not clearly catch what the water-drops tell her; she no longer understands their speech.

Beside the fire sit Edgar and Stella. His left arm is in a sling. In the duel with small-swords which took place a couple of days after the Fanes' ball he received a slight wound. Therefore there is an admixture of grateful pity in Stella's tenderness for him. They are sitting, hand clasped in hand, devising schemes and building airy castles for the future,--the long, fair future.

"One question more, my darling," Rohritz whispers to his beautiful betrothed, who still conducts herself rather shyly towards him. "How do you mean to arrange your life?"

"How do I mean--have I any decision to make?"

"Indeed you have, dearest," he says, smiling. "My part in life is to see you happy."

"How good and dear you are to me!" Stella murmurs. "How could you torment me so long,--so long?"

"Do you suppose I was happy the while, dear love?" he whispers. Her reproach touches him more nearly than she thinks. How could he hesitate so long, is the question he now puts to himself. What has he to offer her, he with his weary, doubting heart, in exchange for her pure, fresh, untouched wealth of feeling? "But to return to my question," he begins afresh. "Will you live eight months in society and four months in the country?--or just the other way?"

"Just the other way, if I may."

"Jack Leskjewitsch wrote me at the close of his note of congratulation--the most cordial of any which I have had yet--that his wife wishes to sell Erlach Court, and thus deprive him of all temptation to retire for a second time to that Capua from a military life. Shall I buy Erlach Court for you, Stella,--for you?--for your special property?"

"It would be delightful," she murmurs.

"Let us be married, then, here in Paris at the emba.s.sy, and meanwhile have everything in readiness for us at Erlach Court. We can then make a tour through southern France to our home for our wedding journey."

But Stella shakes her head: "No, our wedding journey must be to Zalow, to visit papa's grave. You see, when he gave me the four-leaved clover that you have round your neck now he said, 'And if ever Heaven sends you some great joy, say to yourself that your poor father prayed the dear G.o.d that it might fall to your share!' So I must go to him first to thank him: do you not see?"

Edgar nods. Then, looking at the girl almost mournfully, he says,--

"Is the joy really so great, my darling?"

She makes no reply in words, but gently, almost timidly, she puts her rounded arm about him and leans her head on his breast.

Meanwhile, the Baroness looks round. 'Tis strange how the monotonous melody of the falling water-drops interferes with her work. A kind of wondering melancholy possesses her at sight of the lovers: she turns away her head and lays her pen aside.

"The world was all before them where to choose their place of rest, and Providence their guide," she murmurs to herself. "'Tis strange how well the words suit the beginning of every young marriage. And yet they are the last words of 'Paradise Lost.'"