Gertrude's Marriage Part 1

Gertrude's Marriage.

by W. Heimburg.

CHAPTER I.

"Really, Frank, if I were in your place I shouldn't know whether to laugh or cry. It has always been the height of my ambition to have a fortune left me, but as with everything in this earthly existence, I should have my preferences.

"Upon my word, Frank, I am sorry for you. Here you are with an inheritance fallen into your lap that you never even dreamed of, a sort of an estate, a few hundred acres and meadows, a little woodland, a garden run wild, a neglected dwelling-house, and for stock four spavined Andalusians, six dried-up old cows, and above all an old aunt who apparently unites the attributes of both horses and cows in her own person. Boy, at least wring your hands or scold or do something of the sort, but don't stand there the very picture of mute despair!"

Judge Weishaupt spoke thus in comic wrath to his friend a.s.sessor Linden, who sat opposite him. Before them on the table stood a bottle of Rhine wine with gla.s.ses, and the eyes of the person thus addressed rested on the empty bottle with a thoughtful expression, as if he could read an answer on the label.

It was a large room in which they were sitting, a sort of garden-hall, furnished very simply and in an old-fashioned style, with two birchen corner-cupboards, which in our grandmother's time served the purpose of the present elegant buffets, and which, instead of costly majolica, displayed painted and gold-rimmed cups behind their gla.s.s doors; with a large sofa, whose black horse-hair covering never for a moment suggested the possibility of soft luxurious repose; with six simply-constructed cane-seated chairs grouped about the large table, and finally, with several dubious family portraits, among which especially to be noted was the pastel portrait of a youthful fair-haired beauty, whose impossibly small mouth wore an embarra.s.sed smile as if to say: "I beg you to believe that I did not really look so silly as this!" And over all this bright orange-colored curtains shed a peculiarly unpleasant light.

The door of the room was open and as if in compensation for all this want of taste, a wonderful prospect spread itself out before the eye.

Lofty wooded mountain tops, covered with rich foliage which the autumn frosts had already turned into brilliant colors, formed the background; close by, the neglected garden, picturesque enough in its wild state, and shimmering through the trees, the red pointed roofs of the village; the whole veiled with the soft haze of an October morning, which the rays of the sun had not yet dispersed. The regular strokes of the flails on the threshing floors of the estate had a pleasant sound in the clear morning air.

The young man's dark eyes strayed away from the wine-bottle; he started up suddenly and went to the door.

"And in spite of all that, Richard, it is a charming spot," he said warmly. "I have always had a great liking for North Germany. I a.s.sure you 'Faust' is twice as interesting here, where the Brocken looks down upon you. Don't croak so like an old raven any more, I beg of you. I shall never forget Frankfort, but neither shall I miss it too much--I hope."

"Heaven forbid!" cried the little man, still playing with the empty wine-gla.s.s. "You don't pretend to say--"

But Linden interrupted him. "I don't pretend anything, but I am going to try to be a good farmer, and I am going to do this, Richard, not only because I must, but because I really like this queer old nest; so say no more, old fellow."

"Well, good luck to you!" replied the other, coming up to his friend and looking almost tenderly into the handsome, manly face.

"I have really nothing to say against this playing at farming if I only know how and where.--You see, Frank, if I were not such a poverty-stricken wretch, I would say to you this minute: 'Here, my boy, is a capital of so much; now go to work and get the moth-eaten old place into some kind of order.' Things cannot go on as they are.

But--well, you know--" he ended, with a sigh.

Frank Linden made no reply, but he whistled softly a lively air, as he always did when he wished to drive away unpleasant thoughts.

"O yes, whistle away," muttered the little man, "it is the only music you are likely to hear, unless it is the creaking of a rusty hinge or the concert of a highly respectable family of mice which have settled in your room--brr--Frank! Just imagine this lonely hole in winter--snow on the mountains, snow on the roads, snow in the garden and white flakes in the air! Good Heavens! What will you do all the long evenings which we used to spend in the Taunus, in the Bockenheimer Stra.s.se, or in the theatre? Who will play euchre with you here? For whom will you make your much-admired poems? I am sure they won't be understood in the village inn. Ah, when I look at you and think of you moping here alone, and with all your cares heavy upon you!"

He sighed.

"I will tell you something, Frank, joking aside," he continued. "You must marry. And I advise you in this matter not to lay so much stress on your ideal; pa.s.s over for once the sylph-like forms, liquid eyes and sweet faces in favor of another advantage which nothing will supply the place of, in our prosaic age. Don't bring me a poor girl, Frank, though she were a very pearl of women. In your position it would be perfect folly, a sin against yourself and all who come after you. It won't make the least difference if your fine verses don't exactly fit her. You wouldn't always be making poetry, even to the loveliest woman. O yes, laugh away!"

He brushed the ashes from his cigar. "In Frankfort--if you had only chosen--you might have done something. But you were quite dazzled by that little Thea's lovely eyes. How often I have raged about it! When a man has pa.s.sed his twenty-fifth year he really ought to be more sensible."

Frank Linden was obstinately silent, and the little man knew at once that he had as he used to say, "put his foot in it."

"Come, Frank, don't be cross," he continued, "perhaps there are rich girls to be had here too."

"O to be sure, sir, to be sure," sounded behind him, "rich girls and pretty girls; our old city has always been celebrated for them."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Both gentlemen turned toward the speaker."]

Both gentlemen turned toward the speaker; the judge only to turn away at once with an angry shrug, Frank Linden to greet him politely.

"I have brought the papers you wanted," continued the new-comer, a little man over fifty with an incredibly small pointed face over which a sweet smile played, a sanctimonious man in every motion and gesture.

"I am much obliged, Mr. Wolff," said Frank Linden, taking the papers.

"If there is anything else I can do for you--Miss Rosalie will testify that I was always ready to help your late uncle."

"I am a perfect stranger here," replied the young squire, "it may be that I shall require your help."

"I shall feel highly honored, Mr. Linden--Yes, and as I said before, if you should want to make acquaintances in the city there are the Tubmans, the Schenks, the Meiers and the h.e.l.lbours and above all the Baumhagens--all rich and pleasant families, Mr. Linden. You will be received with open arms, there's always a dearth of young men in our little city. The gentlemen of the cavalry--you know, I suppose--only want to amuse themselves--shall be only too glad in case you--"

The judge interrupted him with a loud clearing of his throat.

"Frank," he said, dryly, "what tower is that up there on the hill? You were studying the map yesterday!"

"St. Hubert's Tower," replied the young man, going towards him.

"Belongs to the Baron von Lobersberg," interposed Wolff.

"That doesn't interest me in the least," muttered the judge, gazing at the tower through his closed hand for want of a gla.s.s.

"I have the honor to bid you good-morning," said Wolff, "must go over to Lobersberg."

The judge nodded curtly; Linden accompanied the agent to the door and then came slowly back.

"Now please explain to me," burst out his friend, "where you picked up that fellow--that rat, I should say, who pushes himself into your society so impudently."

Frank Linden's dark eyes turned in astonishment to the angry countenance of the judge.

"Why, Richard, he was my uncle's right-hand man, his factotum, and lastly, he has something to say about my affairs, for unhappily, he holds a large mortgage on Niendorf."

"That does not justify him in the impertinent manner which he displays towards you," replied his friend.

"O my dear little Judge," said the young man in excuse, "he looks on me as a newcomer, an ignoramus in the sacred profession of farming. You--"

"And I consider him a shady character! And some day, my dear boy, you will say to me, 'Richard, G.o.d knows you were right about that man--the fellow is a rascal.'"

"Do you know," cried Frank Linden, between jest and earnest, "I wish I had left you quietly in your lodging in the Goethe-Platz. You will spoil everything here for me with your gloomy views. Come, we will take a turn through the garden; then, unfortunately, it will be time for you to go to the station, if you wish to catch the Express."

He took the arm of his grumbling friend and drew him with him along the winding path, on which already the withered leaves were lying.

"I am sure the fellow has a matrimonial agency somewhere," muttered the judge, grimly.

As they turned the corner of the neglected shrubbery, they saw an old woman slowly pacing up and down the edge of the little pond.

"For Heaven's sake!" began the little man again, "just look at that figure, that cap with the monstrous black bow, that astonishing dress with the waist up under the arms, and what a picturesque fashion of wearing a black shawl--and, goodness! she has got a red umbrella. My son, she probably uses it to ride out on the first of May--brr--and that is your only companion!"

It was indeed a remarkable figure, the old woman wandering up and down with as much dignity as if one of the faded pastel pictures in the garden hall had suddenly come to life.