Felix Lanzberg's Expiation Part 21

When, the day after the lawn-tennis party, Erwin remorsefully sought the cause of her changed manner in his own behavior, and after he had tried to drive away her displeasure by a thousand loving attentions, put his arm around her and whispered to her softly: "Elsa, confess why you were so angry with me yesterday--only because I stayed away so long?" Frightened that he had so nearly touched upon her secret, she displayed the most arrogant indifference.

"You surely do not think that I am vexed if you amuse yourself with Linda a little?" she replied, with an irritating smile. "I am glad that you have found a little amus.e.m.e.nt, my poor Erwin," she continued.

He looked at her in some surprise. "Yes, but then I do not understand----" he murmured. "What is the real matter with you?--does anything worry you?---tell me--two can bear it more easily."

"No, no, I have nothing to tell," she replied, hastily. "Nothing at all--I am tired, not very well."

"Yes, that you decidedly are not," he admitted, and anxiously scrutinized her thin cheeks and the dark shadows under her eyes. "We must consult a physician."

"We consulted him four weeks ago," she answered, "and he advised me to drink Louisen-Quelle, and I drink Louisen-Quelle." She folded her hands resignedly over her breast, with an expression as if to say how little faith she had in Louisen-Quelle, and how indifferent her health was to her.

"Perhaps a trip to the sea-sh.o.r.e would do you good," proposed Erwin.

"Could you go away now?" she asked, apparently calmly, but with her heart full of distrust.

"Now? Hardly! But you could take Miss Sidney and Litzi with you, or, as far as I am concerned, both children."

"With the necessary servants that would cost a good deal," replies Elsa, discouragingly.

"Well, we are not quite such beggars that we need think of that when it is a question of your health," he cries, almost angry. "We have saved long enough and can now spend something. Decide upon Cowes; perhaps I can join you there later."

For a while she gazes silently and gloomily before her, then a slight shudder runs over her.

"Elsa! You seriously alarm me!" cries Erwin: "something must be done!"

"Yes, certainly; I will go to Cowes," she decides, as if it was a decision to let herself be bound upon the wheel, then she turns her head to look at an approaching carriage. "Oh, Linda," she cries, and her voice betrays absolutely nothing, not even antipathy to her sister-in-law, and Erwin begs, "Be a little good to her--for Felix's sake. She needs women friends and has none but you."

These nave words may give the impression that Erwin is very obtuse.

But he certainly was not, only his knowledge of human nature was always bounded by a great good-will, his keen sight blinded by good-nature.

He possessed a true pa.s.sion for making every one who came near him happy, and also the impractical habit of never thinking evil of his fellow-men, except when he absolutely could not otherwise.

Therefore he saw to-day in Linda's visit nothing but a praiseworthy wish of coming nearer to Elsa.

Linda wore a very simple gown, which was very becoming to her; she had brought a work-basket, and sewed almost the whole time of her visit upon a little collar for Gery which had a very exemplary appearance.

She made the most modest and tender attempts to be friends with Elsa, and without the slightest touch of familiarity, took a tone of comradeship towards Erwin which pleased him greatly--perhaps so much the more as a charming, childlike smile accompanied this tone, and the merriest little stories.

When evening had already become night, and Felix had still not appeared, as Linda seemed to have expected, to fetch her, and she confessed that she was afraid to return alone with her groom only, in the low pony carriage, Erwin good-naturedly escorted her on horseback to Traunberg.

This was really unwelcome to him, but Elsa suspected the contrary, and as he had not the common habit of afterwards complaining of his obligingness, she remained of the same opinion. She herself had behaved perfectly charmingly to Linda. No one could have suspected that jealousy could smile so! No one--but Linda.

And how she triumphed! how flattered vanity quivered in her every fibre, and how the drive home with Erwin amused her!

She drove herself, and really she did not overdrive the ponies.

Around them was the sultry, gloomy charm of the summer night.

Long-drawn sighs and sweetly monotonous murmurs pa.s.sed through the trees, the short gra.s.s trembled as if caressed by invisible hands. From time to time a glow-worm shot through the gray air like a falling star.

"How beautiful!" said Linda to herself.

"Yes, charming!" Erwin admitted, and secretly looked at his watch.

In spite of the fact that he galloped home at a very sharp pace, it was midnight before he arrived there, which confirmed Elsa's strange idea.

Almost every evening after tea Erwin was accustomed to read aloud to his wife, and this had originated in their honeymoon, when Erwin, very young, very much in love, still shyly coquetted with his little talents.

He read well, and liked to read, and Elsa had until now always looked forward to the confidential chat, the happy fact of being alone together, which was a part of the reading hour, and both did not know which they really preferred: the wild, stormy winter evenings, in which Elsa sat as near the fireplace as possible, and contrary to his sensible prohibition, held one foot at a time over the glowing coals, until he stopped reading, and crouching on a stool, took the little feet from their light house slippers, and rubbed them warm between his hands; or the mild, fragrant summer evenings, when Elsa, gazing through the window at the sky, often interrupted the bitter earnestness of St.

Simon, or the graceful bitterness of Voltaire, and with childish joy signalled a shooting star, and as Erwin laughingly asked her whether she had availed herself of the opportunity to wish something very beautiful, softly, with lips close to his ear, whispered, "Oh, yes, that it may always be so."

Usually he read serious books aloud, but sometimes he brought the old Musset which had accompanied him on his wedding journey, and then they vied with each other in gay recollections of their honeymoon, and laughed when they came to verses the meaning of which had been dark to her, and had made her ask the most remarkable questions. They contradicted each other animatedly as to who had the most faithful memory for every foolish, tender jest, and Elsa, whose remembrance exceeded his, faintly whispered softly, "Do you see I have not let a single joy be lost out of my life. I have laid-them all away for my old days."

The day after Linda's visit, Elsa made no move to leave the drawing-room when Erwin asked her softly, "How about our Mahon?" (they were just then reading this knightly pedant's English history), but replied discouragingly, "I am going to retire early this evening," and engaged Miss Sidney in a conversation upon English philanthropy.

Erwin smoked a cigarette, glanced over a paper, finally, looking out of the window, remarked that it was a beautiful moonlight night and he was going shooting, kissed Elsa's forehead, bowed to Miss Sidney, and was about to leave the room when from Elsa's lips came anxiously:

"But----!"

"Do you want anything?"

"Are you going to take any one with you?"

"Why?" asked he, and raised his eyebrows; then suddenly laughing aloud he added, "Would you perhaps like to accompany me, mouse? The night is mild, I will find you an easy path; we need not go far."

She hesitated, only for a moment she hesitated. She had formerly often gone with him; he had bought her a small rifle, and with anxious carefulness taught her to shoot, and as long as her health was good enough they had often hunted gayly together like good comrades. Why must just now Mimi Dey and the grouse hunt in the Tyrol come to her mind?

"Thank you, I dare not venture out in the dew;" thus politely, but without a trace of warmth she refused his good-natured offer, and he shrugged his shoulders slightly and vanished.

English philanthropy suddenly lost all interest for Elsa. She took leave of Miss Sidney quite absently, and went to her room which, since baby's existence, she had shared with the delicate little creature. She pa.s.sed two tormenting hours; she was tortured by the most nonsensical fancies; she thought only of poachers and a.s.sa.s.sins; she did not close her eyes until she heard Erwin's step creep thoughtfully, softly past her door, but at least she had not been like Mimi Dey.

Sempaly and Pistasch had accepted the invitation to dine in Steinbach on the Sunday for which Linda was invited. Elsa had been able to secure no ladies. Never had Linda been more beautiful than on this Sunday. She wore a dazzling toilet; "from Worth," she replied, in explanation to some polite remark which Elsa had made upon her dress. "From Worth, but I had to change it entirely. I cannot bear Worth any longer; he is too American. And how do you like my gown, Erwin?" she turned to him.

"Linda, you surely are not trying to make me think that you care anything about the taste of such a rusty hayseed as I am!" cried he, laughingly.

"Ah, you know very well that you are the only one, yes, the only one on G.o.d's earth from whom I will accept fault-finding," answered Linda, and putting her arm around Elsa's neck, she whispered in the latter's ear, "Your husband has bewitched me, Elsa. If I did not wish you the best of everything, I really could envy you him."

Oh, the serpent! She feels very well that Elsa shivers in her arms, and she is happy.

During the dinner Elsa suffered fearful torments. Monosyllabic she sat between Scirocco, who, more quiet and melancholy than usual, did not help her to talk, and Pistasch who, gazing at Linda, forgot to talk.

Linda, on the contrary, chatted unweariedly, entertained the whole table with her odd little stories, and knew how to absorb Erwin so deeply by her artfully nave flatteries and carefully veiled coquetries that he, the most polite man in the world, scarcely found time to address a few pleasant phrases to the Englishwoman who, for the sake of symmetry, sat at his left.

After dinner Linda sang. Erwin accompanied her, and Pistasch lost his tongue with enthusiasm, except for the three words, "Superb!

magnificent! delicious!" which he burst forth with again and again, gasping for breath.

Elsa, who took no interest in French chansonnettes, and Sempaly, who did not care to hear them rendered by respectable women, or those who at least should be so, stood together in a window recess half chatting, half silent, like people who know and understand each other well. But suddenly Scirocco was silent, his glance wandered to Felix, who sat in the darkest corner of the drawing-room, and in order to give himself countenance, stroked Erwin's great hunting-dog. A little rattle of gla.s.ses had attracted Sempaly's notice. He went up to Felix, and after he had spoken a few words to him returned with him to Elsa. Elsa was frightened at sight of her brother. His cheeks were flushed to his forehead, the features swollen, the eyes shining as in one who has a severe fever.

When everything had become quiet again in Steinbach, and Elsa was alone with Erwin in the drawing-room, she went to the table from which Sempaly had brought Felix away, and discovered there the _corpus delicti_ in the shape of a half-emptied flask of Chartreuse.

"Ah!" cried she shuddering, and turned to Erwin. "Do you know the latest?--Felix drinks!"