Fickle Fortune Part 15

Three or four dances had gone by, and now came the waltz which Edmund had solicited in his cousin's name. Oswald approached his fair partner, and offered his arm with his accustomed cold politeness.

'You have not danced at all this evening, Herr von Ettersberg,' said Hedwig, a little ironically. 'It seems that an exception is to be made in my honour alone. Is it really true, as I heard a lady a.s.serting just now, that you positively detest dancing?'

'I may say, at least, that I am not fond of it,' he replied.

'Oh, then I am sincerely sorry that you should impose such a penance on yourself on my account. It was Edmund's wish, I imagine, that we should fulfil the demands of etiquette by going through this waltz together?'

The sarcasm failed in its effect, for Oswald remained perfectly cool.

He evaded any direct reply to her rather captious remark, and answered ambiguously:

'I hardly knew whether I was to accept Edmund's promise as sufficient.

I thought it advisable to a.s.sure myself personally of your consent, Fraulein.'

Hedwig bit her lip. Her supposition was confirmed. This most ungallant new relation made no attempt to disguise from her that the arrangement had been a master-stroke of Edmund's diplomacy, but coolly allowed her to divine the fact. It almost seemed as though the young Count might have to pay some penalty for this, for the young lady's lip curled with a defiance of which he had already had some slight experience.

The promise she had given could not, however, be recalled without absolute offence, especially as the dance had already commenced.

'I await your bidding,' said Oswald, pointing to the couples flying past.

Hedwig made no reply, but placed her hand on his arm with an air of resignation, and next moment they, too, were whirling through the room.

That was a strange waltz, danced merely in satisfaction of 'etiquette.' Hedwig had purposed to make it as short and as formal as possible, and yet something like confusion overcame her when her partner placed his arm about her waist. Hitherto they had not even shaken hands, but had restricted themselves to the severest outward forms of politeness, and now suddenly they were so near, so near each other! Up to this time Oswald had hardly noticed the girl's loveliness by a glance. He had, almost purposely, abstained from looking at her, and she had resented this as a sort of affront. But now his eyes were riveted on her face, fascinated, as it seemed, by some spell he could not break, and those eyes spoke quite another language from the sternly-set lips. His breast heaved with a quick tempestuous movement, and the arm which encircled the girl's slender figure trembled perceptibly.

Hedwig felt this. She raised her eyes in surprised inquiry to his face, and there met again that enigmatic expression which had so startled her on a previous occasion when they had been left together alone on the hill-side. She had not understood then the sudden, ardent flash, the kindling gaze--often had she pondered over it, wondering what it could purport--oftener than she cared to confess to herself; now some notion of its meaning dawned upon her. No clear recognition of the truth as yet, only a dim vague foreshadowing, which gradually, very gradually, took form and substance. Vague as was the feeling, it hara.s.sed and agitated her. Though the danger it seemed to imply as yet menaced only from afar, it already exercised a magnetic influence, which slowly, irresistibly drew her on and on towards the fatal orbit.

Mechanically, half as in a dream, the girl followed the windings of the dance. The brightly lighted ballroom, the sparkling music, the gay couples revolving round her--this all grew misty and unreal to her dulled senses, receding, as it were, to an illimitable distance.

It seemed to Hedwig that a great gap separated her from these surroundings, that she was alone with the man who held her in his arms, alone beneath the spell of those eyes, from which she strove to escape, but which held her ever inexorably fast. Suddenly, in the midst of all these surging emotions, indefinite and most unintelligible, a clear, strong ray of light streamed in upon her, a prescience, as it were, of some hitherto unknown, but infinite, amazing bliss.

The dance came to an end. It had hardly lasted ten minutes, and yet had been too long for either of them. Once again their eyes met--resting for a second or more, then Oswald bowed and stepped back.

'I thank you, Fraulein,' he murmured.

Hedwig replied not a syllable. She merely inclined her head in acknowledgment. No time could she have found, indeed, to answer, for Edmund was already at her side, triumphing in the thought that he had successfully carried out his plan, and much disposed to venture some bantering remarks in consequence. But for once his mirth-loving humour had to be restrained; for at the conclusion of the dance the couples dispersed, and many ladies and gentlemen drew near their host. The Count and his betrothed were quickly surrounded; their attention was claimed on all sides, and a lively chatter soon set in about them.

Edmund was in brilliant vein, and soon became the soul and centre of the group. Hedwig smiled too, and made reply when appealed to, but her replies were faint, her smiles strangely forced. The radiant gaiety she had shown throughout the evening had suddenly faded away, died out. But a little while ago she had entered with the heartiest spirit into all the animation and the pleasure, luxuriating in it as in her true element; had moved through the bright and merry throng, brightest, merriest of all; but now it had all grown strange and indifferent to her. The light jests and flattering speeches that buzzed about her ears seemed to her quite meaningless and inane. A veil had fallen upon her soul, as it were, obscuring all the brightness and splendour of the scene. It was only by a great effort that she forced herself to play her part in it.

Oswald had taken advantage of the approach of strangers to beat a retreat unnoticed, and to leave the ballroom. Count Edmund would have been wiser not so pertinaciously to have insisted on having his own way. He little guessed, indeed, that his cousin had refrained from dancing simply and solely to avoid the duty which 'etiquette' marked out for him, and which he could hope to escape in no other manner. And now, after all, it had been forced upon him! Oswald could not but feel that he had in some measure betrayed himself, and it availed little that anger and self-reproach burned hot and fierce within him. That which he had denied to his own thoughts, which nothing would induce him to admit even to himself, had through that unhappy waltz become clear to him as the noonday. He knew now how matters stood with him.

The solitude the young man so longed for was not yet to be accorded him; for in one of the adjacent rooms he came upon Councillor Rustow, who was resting there, seeking to recruit, after his unusual and amazing efforts at urbanity. He had surpa.s.sed himself this evening, and had been almost knightly in his behaviour towards the Countess; but the duty had become irksome to him after awhile, and he now joyfully seized the opportunity which offered of having a little sensible conversation. In an instant he had b.u.t.tonholed Oswald, who was of necessity compelled to stand and surrender.

'You were right, I am sorry to say,' remarked Rustow, in the course of their talk. 'In consequence of what you said to me, I have been looking into the state of affairs here on the Ettersberg estates.

Things are, indeed, in a deplorable condition. I don't see one person employed on the place who is worth his salt. The bailiff is totally inefficient, and my lady, the Countess, has trusted to him entirely for years. Well, I suppose one could not expect her to exercise much supervision, but I shall take my son-in-law to task, I can tell you.

There has been no doing anything with him at present--his head is so full of his marriage and all sorts of nonsense--but there must be an end to this at last. He has to-day become the actual and sole master here. With the possession comes the responsibility, and it is for him now to see that all is set in order.'

'Edmund will not move a finger in the matter,' said Oswald. 'He will promise anything you like, and will seriously intend to do as he promises, but nothing will come of it. You may rely on what I say.'

Rustow started at this strong a.s.sertion, which was made with much decision of manner.

'You mean that Edmund is not equal to the task before him?' he asked anxiously.

'No; his nature is excellent, most amiable, but he lacks energy, and energy is here imperatively needed. You will have to take steps yourself, Councillor, if you wish to save the property.'

'And how is it you have not done so before this? You must have seen on your return how matters were going.'

'I have no right to interfere with other people's concerns.'

'Other people's concerns? Have not you been treated in all respects as the son of the house whose name you bear?'

Oswald was silent. He could not explain to this gentleman the terms on which he stood towards his aunt, or how little she would have brooked any interference on his part; so after a moment he replied evasively:

'Early in the spring I spoke to my cousin about the mismanagement reigning here, told him without any reticence whatever all I had observed, and called upon him to take some active steps. I met with no success. You can summon your paternal authority to your aid; and Edmund will willingly agree to all you advise, if only you dispense him from the obligation of doing anything himself.'

Rustow looked concerned and thoughtful. He did not seem particularly edified by the view of his son-in-law's character which Oswald's words, perhaps unintentionally, afforded him.

'Edmund is still so young,' he said at length, half apologetically; 'and he has. .h.i.therto resided little on the estate. With possession, pride and pleasure in his home will come to him, and interest in its welfare will spring up. In the first place, however, the senseless doings in the forests must be put a stop to.' Hereupon the Councillor began to develop his plans and ideas with regard to the new system to be pursued, and soon grew so absorbed by his subject that he failed to remark how completely he had the conversation to himself. Only when Oswald's answers, from being brief, became monosyllabic, when his a.s.sent to the propositions advanced came fainter and fainter, was Rustow's attention aroused.

'Does anything ail you, Herr von Ettersberg?' he asked. 'You are looking so pale.'

Oswald forced a smile, and pa.s.sed his hand across his brow.

'Nothing of any importance. Merely a headache, which has been tormenting me all day. If I could have chosen, I should not have appeared at all this evening.'

'In that case you were wrong to dance,' said Rustow. 'It was sure to increase an ailment of that sort.'

The young man's lips quivered. 'You are right; I should not have danced. But it will not happen again.'

His voice was so low and agitated that Rustow grew really anxious, and advised him to go out upon the terrace--he would get rid of his headache sooner in the open air. Oswald hastily seized the proffered pretext and went. The Councillor looked after him with a shake of the head, a little regretful that the pleasant chat was over already.

Young Ettersberg's 'genius' had not displayed itself so obviously as usual on this occasion.

So the ball spent its course, noisy and brilliant as a ball should be, fully sustaining the castle's ancient renown for successful hospitality. No doubt, the Countess was a past mistress in the art of entertaining and in the ordering and arrangement of such festivities.

The night was far advanced when the carriages containing the last departing guests rolled from the door, and the members of the family separated almost immediately. Edmund went down to see the Councillor and Fraulein Lina off on their return-journey to Brunneck, and Hedwig, who was to remain a few days longer with the Countess at Ettersberg, said good-night at once and retired to her own room.'

The splendid apartments, lately the scene of so much animation, were now empty and deserted, though still radiant with light and bright with festive ornament. The Countess alone remained in them. She stood before her husband's picture, absorbed, as it were, in thought. This portrait had been a present to her on her marriage, and now filled a prominent position in the great drawing-room. The face which looked forth from that richly-gilt frame was mild and kindly in its expression, but it was the face of an old man, and she who now stood gazing upon it could yet lay claim to beauty. This proud and almost royal woman, robed in rich satin, with diamonds of purest water gleaming on neck and arms, would have been no fitting consort for an old man even now, and five-and-twenty years had pa.s.sed since this pair had been affianced. The story, perhaps the sorrow, of a life lay in that strange disparity between the lady and the picture.

A sense of this seemed to impress itself on the Countess in the present hour. The look she fixed on the portrait before her grew more absorbed, more gloomy, and when at length she turned from it and surveyed the glittering vista of rooms, a very bitter expression played about her lips.

The splendid surroundings testified so amply to the high position attained by the Countess Ettersberg, a position in which she for years had reigned alone and supreme. Perhaps some of the bitterness was due to the thought that this sole supremacy was over now, that a new, a younger mistress was to be introduced to the home; perhaps it was awakened by other, sadder reminiscences. There were moments when this haughty and self-confident woman, despite the brilliant _role_ which, had been hers through life, could not forgive her Fate, or forget that she had been--offered up.

Edmund's voice, addressing her on his return, roused the Countess from her reverie.

'The worthy Councillor desires his compliments once more,' he said gaily. 'You have made a conquest there, mother. He became perfectly chivalrous in his homage to you, and was so extraordinarily good-tempered throughout the evening, that I really hardly recognised him.'

'It is less difficult to get on with him than I had expected,' replied the Countess. 'He is rather rough and unpolished, certainly, but his is a frank and vigorous nature, which one must just take with all its peculiarities. Your future wife enjoyed one long triumph this evening, Edmund. I must admit that her appearance acts as the best advocate for your choice.'

Edmund smiled.

'Yes, Hedwig looked charming. In the whole a.s.sembly there was but one lady who could compare with her--and that lady was my mother.'

His eyes rested with a look of affectionate admiration on the beautiful face before him, saying plainly that his words were spoken in no spirit of mere flattery. The Countess smiled in her turn. She knew full well that she could yet outrival younger women, that even her much-admired daughter-in-law would not place her in the shade. But the transient satisfaction soon yielded to a deeper emotion, as she held out her hand to her son and asked: