L'Arrabiata and Other Tales Part 9

"'Go out into the world, my son, and let the bitter blasts from the so-called summits of society blow over your brains a while, and cool down the effervescence of that strange fanciful heart of yours, and blow away the last of your romantic prejudices. You will soon come and thank me for not having consented to give you a young stepmother, and perhaps a batch of younger brothers. Your fortune would never be sufficient to enable you to move with ease in the society to which you belong, if you had to divide it with a young stepmother, and possibly with other children, far less if you gave it up to them, and had to live on your mother's portion only. On the other hand, a woman I had made a countess of, I should not choose to leave a beggar. Now, have I spoken plainly? and do we understand each other?'

"'We do;' slowly repeated Count Ernest, with a faltering voice; and after a moment of meditation, he went up to the table, where among other things there was an inkstand, and taking out a sheet of paper from his father's portfolio, he wrote a line or two, standing where he was. He had hardly finished, when the elder count came up. 'What on earth are you about? what is this new fancy of yours?' he cried; 'I do believe you are getting up a comedy. I hope you do not mean--'

"'My dear father,' said Count Ernest, placing the written paper before him: 'let me entreat you to do nothing hasty; see here, what I have written; and if you really would make me happy before I go, and do me the greatest favor, please put your seal and signature here, as a ratification of mine. I have sometimes thought I must seem stranger to you than any stranger; our ways of thinking are so different. At the age when sons grow up to be their father's friends, I have been pained to find how little I have been yours. You have given me this moment a strong proof of your affection. But if you repent of it, if you would annul it, and prove to me that I am still as far from understanding you, or doing anything to make you happy, as my poor mother always was,--then, I say,--destroy that paper.'

"Count Henry took it, and I saw his hand tremble, as he held it up to read it. 'Ernest,' he said; 'this is simply impossible; there never can be any question of your giving up this property, to have it settled on a stepmother and her heirs; it can't be done.'"

"The paper fell upon the table, and the two stood side by side for a minute without speaking, and that sunny room was still as death."

"All at once we heard a quick step coming through the ante-chamber, and Pierre came, out of breath, to say:"

"'Monsieur le Comte! Is M. le Comte aware that Mamsell Gabrielle is missing, and that the ranger's a.s.sistant met her before day-break, walking on the road to X, and that Mamsell Flor Las been missed as well, and looked for all over the house without being found?'

"'The caleche to the door, this instant!' cried my master, s.n.a.t.c.hing at his hat, that lay on a chair. 'Stay,' he called after the man who was already on the threshold; 'my horse--have it saddled and brought round--allons!'

"'I will accompany you, Sir, if I may,' said Count Ernest; 'as it is, I am all ready for the road.' And he would have hurried away after the servant, but his father held him back, looked in his face without saying a word, and then suddenly folding him in his arms, they stood for a moment heart to heart. After that I saw no more; my eyes were running over, and everything was swimming before me. By the time I had got them dry again--and that was not easy--the room was empty, and only the paper on the table was there to tell me that it had not been all a dream."

"How I felt as I got down the winding staircase, you may fancy, Sir;--when I had found the door again, groping about with my trembling hands, and stepped out of the dark into the broad daylight again, I felt as if it were a quite new world I was coming to. I heard the horses' hoofs on the pavement of the court, and I saw from the window father and son galloping over the bridge together, while the light carriage that was going to fetch our Gabrielle, was driving gaily after them in the morning sunshine."

"Yes, Sir, and it was a pretty sight to see: that poor thing that had stolen out of the house by the back-gate, before daybreak, and all alone, coming back joyfully by the light of noonday, driving over the great drawbridge, and her master on his grand horse, riding proudly by her side, and him leaping from his saddle, to open the carriage-door, and give her his arm to lead her up the steps!

"And there was a still finer sight to be seen eight days after, when there was a fine wedding at the castle. They were married in the great saloon, and the dinner was downstairs in the hall; and there sat Count Henry at the master's table, with his beautiful young wife, and her brother; and all of us dined at the other table, with flowers and wreaths all over, and the band from X. playing in the gallery. They danced till long past twelve o'clock, and the young countess danced with every one, from the steward to the a.s.sistant ranger, and it was talked of all over the country, ever so long after. But to me, sir, the best of all was wanting, and I cannot say that I felt really happy for a single moment. For my dear Count Ernest had not returned with them that morning, and I had not even been able to take leave of him!--And all the time the band was playing, I could not keep from thinking of him, at sea, on his way to Sweden, in that cold night, hearing nothing but the salt waves beating against the ship, and the rough winds blowing.

"When the wedding gaieties were over, everything in the castle went on as it had done before, only that we spoke of our gracious countess, instead of Mamsell Gabrielle, and that the new-married pair rode out every day, and that often when my master played, his young wife sang.

"We had no visits, for those my master and mistress paid among the families of the neighbourhood, were not returned; at which our master only laughed, and indeed, it seemed as if nothing ever could succeed in spoiling his temper again. If anything occurred among the servants, or in the stables, which we would have been afraid to tell him formerly, we had only to speak to the countess, who always knew how to make things smooth, and to charm away his angry mood.

"Only once, I heard her beg and beseech in vain. It was soon after New Year's Day, the snow was very deep, and we lay buried among the woods, as if we had been walled up. An invitation came from the grand duke to a ball at court. It was a ball where all the grand folks of the whole country came together. Last winter our master had gone there too, though he was not in very high favor in that quarter. A court-lackey on horseback had brought the invitation, my master and mistress were at table, and I still see the count, as he pushed away his plate and rose, and walked about the room.

"'What an insult,'--he cried,--while his wife seemed anxious to quiet him. 'They have not included my wife in this invitation;--and yet we shall both do them the honor of going.' And in spite of all that the countess could say or pray, he made the man come in, and ordered him to take back his answer, that the count had accepted the invitation, both for himself and his countess.

"After that he seemed in particularly good spirits, and never minded the countess's pet.i.tions, but kissed her forehead, and said: 'Don't you be frightened, child. It is the first time, I ever returned an insult with a favor; I choose to show them that you are their superior, and you must not spoil my sport.'

"And so it really came to my dressing my Gabrielle,--I mean my gracious mistress,--for a ball. She wore a beautiful white satin dress, with a wreath of scarlet and gold in her hair, and she looked like a queen."

"'Comme une reine;' said Monsieur Pierre, who rode before the sledge with a lantern; and sweet she did look, as she nodded to me out of her veils and furs, to say good-bye, and my master, who drove himself, was just cracking his whip to start."

"I was quite in love with her myself, and sat up all that long night awake by the fire, ready to receive her when she came home. I will not weary you, sir, by repeating all I was thinking of the while. It made me go to sleep myself, and I only waked towards morning at the noise of the sledge bells. When I came running down, the count was already leading his countess up to her room. Neither of them seemed tired at all; they looked as bright and happy as if something particular had occurred to please them. When he said good night, he took her tenderly in his arms,--before me, sir, and all the servants,--held her there for a minute, as if he had forgotten the whole world besides. I saw how much moved she was, and I followed her into her room to help her to undress. As soon as we were alone, she fell upon my neck in tears, and as she always had treated me as a mother, she told me all that had taken place. They had created a great sensation, when they came in, later than the rest. The d.u.c.h.ess, who was a very haughty woman, had not said a word, when the count led her up and presented her as his wife.

But the young duke had been excessively courteous, and had opened the ball with her, and had distinguished her more than all the other ladies. She had felt completely at her ease, and I could easily see that she had been the reigning beauty."

"But to her great alarm, she had come upon that rude English lord, standing at one of the card-tables, and only on seeing her husband so indifferent and calm, had she been able to recover her self-possession.

After one of the dances, the count had led her into another room to take some refreshment; and there he had introduced some gentlemen to her. Meanwhile the Englishman had come in with some ladies, un.o.bserved; and he had raised his eye-gla.s.s with a fixed stare at her, and had said quite out loud: 'For a chamber-maid, she is not without tournure.'

There had been a dead silence; the count had changed color, and soon after he had said, in a tone of the greatest indifference: 'Look there, Gabrielle, don't you see a striking likeness between that gentleman who has just come in, and that illbred person who was once so rude to you, and was served with a taste of my horsewhip and my pistols as the consequence? I rather think the horse-whip would have been enough; people who know him are apt to think him hardly worth the powder and shot.'"

"You can fancy, sir, how my poor countess felt when he said this.

However, she heard no more just then, for the duke came in to the refreshment-room after his partner, and was politeness itself, and all attention. I fancy more than one of these highborn ladies, must have gone green and yellow with envy and jealousy. When the fete was over, and my master and mistress took their leave, the English lord had followed them in a very insulting manner, and when they came to the staircase had whispered a word or two in the count's ear; who had then stood still, and had answered quite loud enough to be heard by all the footmen, and some of the court-gentlemen who were standing about:

"'This time you will have to look for another player at that game, my lord--I have found a prize since then, which I have no intention of staking on one card: even if I were certain that the cards were not false, as, they did say in the London clubs, some people are in the habit of using. In case you should require any further satisfaction, my horsewhip is still, as it was then, very much at your service.'"

"And with that he had gone, and left the fellow standing. On their way home, he had said to Gabrielle: 'I trust this is the last remnant of my past life that will ever rise up to throw a shadow on my present happiness. You alone are all my present and all my future, in this world.' And he had said more of the like loving, heart-felt things that kept her warmer in the cold and snow of that winter night than all her furs."

"From that time they lived alone, and were all and all to each other, refusing every invitation that came from court--only now and then, they took little journeys; though it was easy to see that they were always happiest at home, among our solitary woods. The countess never changed to me, and used always to tell me everything. The only thing we never spoke of, was what had pa.s.sed between us on that awful morning, when she had wanted to go away--I never heard whether she confessed the real reason to her husband. I rather think it likely that she did, for now the count had a peculiar look of tenderness, whenever he mentioned his absent son; even when he got a letter from Stockholm. When that happened he would send for me upstairs, and talk to me of my darling, and give me the love he never forgot to send me. Once or twice a year he wrote to me himself; familiarly and kindly, as ever, but never a word of what was most important to me--not a word of what he felt or thought."

"When he had been about two years away, he wrote to announce his intended marriage with a highborn young lady in Sweden, and to ask for his father's consent. To me he wrote, that he hoped I should not withhold my blessing, as his bride was exactly such as I would have chosen for him myself. And afterwards he sent me her picture;--an angel's face; all gentleness and goodness. Before I had seen it, I used sometimes to torment myself with thinking that he had only made up his mind to marry, in order to set his father's mind at rest. But I knew, those great clear, innocent eyes of hers, must have found their way to his heart."

"Then came accounts of the wedding, and of their beautiful wedding-tour among the mountains. You will hardly believe it, sir, but even then the young countess found time and thoughts to spare for poor old Flor. She wrote to thank me, for having taken such care of her Ernest all his life, she said. But there was no word of their coming back to Germany, especially after the pair of twins was born--which event was an occasion of great rejoicing here in this castle. The count used to talk of going to Sweden, and taking me along with them; and you will believe that my head was turned by the thoughts of such a journey, and such a meeting."

"But it is not for us to number our days--many an old cripple, or useless pensioner, has to stand sentinel a weary while, watching for the call, and waiting to be relieved. And other lives, on which a whole world of happiness hangs, are taken--we do not know how or why."

"One day Count Henry was carried home for dead. He had been thrown from his horse, and had received some internal injury, which no doctor was able to discover. He came to himself again, but only with a faint light of consciousness or memory. He knew the countess and me, but no one else--Pierre he would not suffer in the room at all. He took him for a rat, and cried incessantly; 'Take it away!--catch it!--set a trap for it!--it has gnawed away my wedding-garment. See what a hole it has bitten in it!'"

"And then he would call upon his son so movingly, it was impossible to hear him without tears. The countess had written immediately to Count Ernest, to tell him the state in which his father was; I only feared he might come too late."

"Do not ask me, Sir, to describe those days, and the nights we had to live through, nor the heart-rending sight it was to see that young wife, who never uttered one word of complaint, but rather was a support to us all. On the twelfth day, the young count came. We had hardly expected him so soon, and we were almost startled when he entered the sick room."

"As soon as he heard the door open, my master waked up from the lethargy in which he had been lying, and sat up, and in a voice which I shall hear all my life, he cried: 'Ernest, my son!' and burst into a pa.s.sion of tears, and wept as though his spirit were pa.s.sing away through his eyes. After that he became surprisingly cheerful and sensible, and lay quietly, holding his son's hand in his. He talked again without rambling; so for one moment we hoped the worst was over, and the turn taken towards getting better. But ten minutes after, his eyes grew dim again; he gave one look at his countess, and said: 'Ernest will take care of you.' He was going to say something to his son as well, when he fell back and was gone."

"You must excuse me, Sir, for telling you all this so particularly, but you must let me say a few words more, to tell you how it ended. Alas!

the end came soon enough! The very day after the funeral Count Ernest went away again, after having done all that could be done, by seals and doc.u.ments, to make the countess complete mistress of the whole. For they had found no will. Count Henry knew well enough that he had only to say; 'Ernest will provide for you,' to close his eyes in peace."

"'If there is anything I can do for you, I beg you to command me in every way;' my dear Count Ernest had said to his stepmother before he went. 'If you should ever find this solitude too much for you, I hope you will remember that my wife is waiting to receive you with open arms.'"

"She looked at him affectionately, and held out her hand, which he respectfully took and kissed."

"'You are well cared for;' he said in a low voice; 'I leave you with my own faithful Flor--I only beg you will bring her with you, when you come to Sweden.'"

"Of course this was more than I could hear with dry eyes. So I threw my ap.r.o.n over my face, and ran away--but in the pa.s.sage he held me fast, and kissed me quite vehemently, and I felt how his heart was beating, and the hot tears from his eyes came dripping on my grey hairs."

"'My boy, my Ernest, my dearest master!' I said;--'G.o.d bless you for having come! as He has already blessed you for your truth and tenderness. He did not take your father until you had heard from his dying lips, that he well knew what a son he was leaving. Go, and G.o.d be with you! Give old Flor's love to your countess, and to the darling children; tell them that Flor has no other wish on earth, but that the whole world might know Count Ernest's heart as she knows it, and then the whole world would be ready to lay their hands beneath your feet, as she is.'"

"He broke away from me, and ordered his horses to meet him at the top of the walk that leads up the forest--He walked on before, and I heard people say that he had wandered about the forest, taking leave of the spots he loved, and now looked upon for the last time. So even at that time he must have resolved never to return. He could not be happy again in his old home."

"And so I knew that I had taken leave of him for ever. I would have fretted still more about it, only I was so taken up with my mistress.

She pined away; white and quiet, and without a murmur. It was just as if strong hands were dragging her down into her husband's grave. Even dead, that proud man ruled her. When I wrote the sad tidings to Count Ernest--it is hardly a year ago--he answered me immediately; he said I was to go to them, at all events; and the young countess wrote and begged me, as hard as one can beg. My Ernest had given up his post, and settled where they are living still, on a very fine estate among the hills, close by the sea, where I suppose it must be beautiful."

"'I would come myself to fetch you,' he wrote; 'only I am too conscientious in my duties as a husband and a husbandman, to go from home in harvest-time.'"

"He did not like to give his real reason. But all this melted me, and I got my bits of things together, and gave over my keys to the new steward. The countess's brother had a pride of his own, and never would have anything to do with her inheritance; and so, one fine morning, I really was quite ready to go, and drove away. But when I got to that road in the hollow, to the place where one can see these chimney tops just peeping above the woods, my heart failed me all at once, and I jumped out of the carriage, and ran home as if the fiends had hunted me. And when I got back into our court, I felt as if I had been a hundred years away."

"Ah! Sir, it is no good transplanting a rotten tree!--it should be left standing where it grew, waiting for the axe. Heaven knows, I would gladly give the few years I have to live to see my Ernest's children only once; to take them in my arms, and hug those darling babes; but I know I could never be dragged so far. They would have to bury me in the sea, and my ghost would walk the wild salt waves, and never rest in peace."

"How different here, where our own pleasant woods are shading the graves where my master and mistress are lying side by side. The birds singing among the branches, and the deer grazing peacefully round the two grave-stones that bear their names."

"When old Flor's weary eyes are closed, and there is no one alive to tend them, they will soon be overgrown with moss and brushwood; and in the woods where these two hid their happiness from the world, their rest is hidden--and there, please G.o.d, shall mine be."