Problematic Characters Part 31

"But, Hortense----"

"Hush, Oldenburg is watching us all the time."

"Cloten," said the Baron.

"What, baron?"

"Will you go with me to Italy next fall? You know in that matter?"

"Should like it furiously, baron; but, you know, a thousand reasons against it; first, hunting season; secondly, races; thirdly, I hate travelling; fourthly, I do not understand a word of Italian."

"Well, that is the least of all. What one has to know is only, _Si_, _signore_, _anima mia dolce_, and all other things you learn by examining boatmen."

Cloten blushed to the root of his hair, for, as Oldenburg said these words he felt Hortense's foot on his own, and heard her whisper in a voice half drowned by tears:

"There, you see, Arthur; did I not tell you?"

Melitta also, who had become quite silent ever since she found herself sitting opposite Oldenburg, seemed to be particularly struck by this remark. She suddenly cast down her long lashes, as if she wished to conceal what was going on in her heart.

"I appeal to you to bear me witness," said Oldenburg to her. "Has your Italian been of much use to you?"

"On the contrary," said Melitta, and her dark eyes flashed brightly.

"It only made me listen to many a false, untruthful word, which would otherwise have remained unintelligible."

"Yes, yes, the Italians are great liars," laughed Oldenburg.

"Let us rather say, there is much lying done in Italy," replied Melitta.

"Defeated again," murmured the baron. "That woman is still as beautiful as an angel and as wise as a serpent. Yes, she is more beautiful than ever. Her eyes are larger and more brilliant; her shoulders are rounder; her voice is softer and sweeter--and all that for the sake of the handsome fellow by her side! Hm!--Doctor, will you do me the honor to take a gla.s.s of champagne with me? I thought I saw a cloud on your forehead. Let us drive it away! You know: _Dulce est desipere in loco._"

"What kind of a horrible lingo is that again, baron?" asked Cloten.

"Low-Bramaputric, _mon cher_. Your health, doctor!" The more the meal approached its end, and the quicker the servants filled the ever-empty champagne gla.s.ses, the noisier and coa.r.s.er became the conversation, so that it drowned even the voice of Count Grieben, which had heretofore been heard as distinctly as the screeching of a parrot in a menagerie.

The thin varnish of outer culture, which const.i.tuted the whole so-called refinement of this privileged cla.s.s, began to give way under the influence of streams of wine which were incessantly poured over it.

The sight was a frightful one; naked, wretched nature lay open. The young men told the young ladies their adventures in hunting, at the races, their heroic deeds while they were in the army, or they were pleased to converse in a manner which they meant to be airy and witty, but which was heavy and coa.r.s.e in the eyes of every well-bred woman.

Unfortunately, however, the young ladies seemed to be but too well accustomed to this kind of conversation to feel any unpleasant effect.

On the contrary, they allowed themselves to be forced to drink one gla.s.s of champagne after another; they were dying with laughter at the odd notions of some of the young men, and especially of young Count Grieben, a very tall, very thin, and very blond youth, whose appearance reminded one irresistibly of a giraffe. Oldenburg seemed himself to worship Bacchus more zealously than usual, or at least to take special pleasure in increasing the Baccha.n.a.lian tumult around him; he drank and talked incessantly, and urged others continually to drink. He did this especially with Cloten, who, at the beginning, frightened by Hortense's reproaches, had kept very quiet and looked embarra.s.sed, but who had no sooner emptied a bottle than he forgot all the precaution which his lady-love had impressed upon him as absolutely necessary, and now replied to her reproachful looks with fiery glances, and to her whispered: "But, Arthur, have a care what you are doing," with an almost audible: "But, child, what do you mean; n.o.body sees us." The young n.o.bleman carried his imprudence so far that he once, when picking up Hortense's napkin, kissed her hand, and at another time exchanged her gla.s.s for his; in short, he took every means to let the world know what they had heretofore but vaguely suspected.

"I am going immediately after this is over," said Melitta to Oswald, who had for the last quarter of an hour spoken almost exclusively to Emily von Breesen, his left-hand neighbor.

"I wish you had never come, or left me at home," said the young man, bitterly.

"Scold me?" said Melitta, and her lips trembled with pain. "Ah, Oswald, I wish you could come with me, and forever!"

"Perhaps Baron Oldenburg will permit us," replied Oswald, who had noticed how the baron's gray eyes continually watched Melitta and himself, while he seemed to devote himself altogether to little Miss Klaus.

Melitta said nothing, but the tear which suddenly glittered in her long eyelashes, and which she quickly wiped away with a quiet gesture, was answer enough.

"Pardon me, Melitta," whispered Oswald, "but I am very unhappy."

"I am not less so--perhaps more so--and that is exactly why I wish you at least were happy, and I could make you so."

"You can do it by a word."

"What is that, Oswald?"

"Tell me that you love me."

"Oswald, love does not ask so; that is jealousy."

"Is there any love without jealousy?"

"Yes, true love, that feareth nothing and believeth all things."

"Then my love is not true love. To be sure, we, who are not n.o.ble, cannot lay claim to anything that is true, I suppose; our mothers and sisters wear gla.s.s instead of diamonds; we ourselves have no true honor, no true love, that is clear." ... If Oswald could have looked into Melitta's heart as he was uttering these mad words, if he had but cast a glance at her face, he would have died for shame. Melitta did not answer; she did not cry; she only looked fixedly before her, as if she could not comprehend the fearful thing, that the hand which she had stooped to kiss had slapped her face, that the foot which she had knelt to wash with ointment had repelled her cruelly ... How she had looked forward to this evening; how happy she had fancied she would be in the midst of the crowd, alone with the beloved one, listening to his words, stealthily pressing his hand, and while beautiful women are slyly coquetting with him on all sides, to read in his eyes: I love only you, Melitta! And beyond this evening she had looked into a rosy future--a land of hope--not in clear outlines, but full of peace and love and sunshine ... And then her past had come up like a gray venomous mist, and had covered the promised land with its thick veil ... and now the face of the beloved one looked to her, through the foul mist, as if it were disfigured by hatred, and his voice sounded strange to her ears.

Was that his face? Was that his voice which now said: "Baroness, they are rising from table: may I offer you my arm?"

As they pa.s.sed down the stairs Melitta said nothing; Oswald also was silent. When they had reached the reception-room he bowed deep; and when he raised his head, he looked for an instant into her face. He saw that pain made her lips tremble; he saw a touching complaint dim her eyes, but his heart was locked, and he turned to a group of young girls and men who seemed to be disposed to continue the reckless table-talk yet for a while. Melitta followed him with her looks for a moment, saw how pretty Emily von Breesen turned to him eagerly, and how he met her with a merry jest, how she replied as merrily and tapped his arm with her fan. That was all she saw; when she came to herself again she found herself seated in a corner of her carriage. The bright light of the lamps fell upon the trees and hedges as they danced by the windows, but Melitta saw it all through a dim veil of mist, for her heart and her eyes were full of tears.

Part Second.

CHAPTER I.

With Melitta the good genius seemed to have left the company, and given it up to the agency of demons. The violins sounded louder and louder, the glances of the men became bolder, their words freer, and the motions of the dancers more pa.s.sionate and more energetic. And still champagne was flowing in streams. New candles had been put into chandeliers and candelabras throughout the house; It looked as if there was to be no end to the enjoyment. The elderly people had returned to their card-tables, and from a smaller room adjoining, to which five or six gentlemen had retired some time ago, the rolling of gold-pieces could be heard, and the hoa.r.s.e cry: "_Faites votre Jeu, messieurs!_"

Oswald had at the beginning of the second ball, as they called it, looked all around for Baron and Baroness Grenwitz, for he had not noticed, and was told only now, that they had both left the house before the company went to table, and that the carriage would be sent back for him. He had thought to find Melitta, who had not reappeared in the ball-room, in one of the other apartments. A servant, who pa.s.sed him with a waiter full of wine-gla.s.ses, answered his question if he had seen Frau von Berkow: "The lady has just left. Lemonade or champagne?"

Oswald took a gla.s.s of wine and drained it at once. "Gone away without farewell! Excellent!" He went back to the ball-room and the darkness increased in his soul. Now he was no longer angry with himself for having insulted her whom he loved, and for having let her go with that feeling in her heart, but he was angry with her, that she had left without giving him an opportunity to ask her pardon. He felt as a soul may feel that has gone to h.e.l.l for its sins, because it disdained to receive the priest's absolution, and which now rages against itself and against the priest. Mad thoughts floated in his excited brain--he would have been delighted if one of these young n.o.blemen had taken offence at his haughtiness and insulted him mortally. He actually tried to provoke a collision; he scoffed and scorned in the most reckless manner; but either the half-drunk young men did not comprehend him, or they had sense enough left to remember that a duel with a man whose ball never misses was not an agreeable amus.e.m.e.nt. He tried to persuade himself that among the other young ladies more than one was as beautiful and lovely as Melitta--that it was folly to grieve for one, where there were so many ready to give him comfort. Why should he not fall in love with Emily von Breesen? Why not? She was a lady who in a day might unfold into a magnificent rose. Why should he not watch the transition and enjoy the first balmy fragrance as the full-blown flower opened to new-born love? And was she not tall and lithe like a deer? And were her rosy lips not half opened as if for a kiss? And did she not look up to him with her dark-gray, half-shy, half-bold eyes, full of curiosity, and yet so full also of intelligence, as he bent over the back of her chair and chatted with her?

"You must call on us, Mr. Stein! I shall invite Lisbeth, and then we can ride out together."

"You can leave Miss Lisbeth at home. I prefer duos to trios, decidedly."

"Is that really so? But my cousin is very pretty. Don't you think so?"

"Miss Lisbeth is a charming creature, who has but one defect--that you are her cousin, and who makes but one mistake--to stand too frequently by your side."

"Come, come! I shall tell her."

"You would expose me to her hatred, and then you would owe me a compensation."

"And can I afford you any compensation?"