Quicksands Part 14

CHAPTER XI.

GOOD ADVICE.

"Bertha will arrive to-morrow," said Herr von Osternau, looking up from the letter which he had just received by the evening mail.

Egon alone of all the little circle had had no letter, and he had therefore been looking over the paper, which he now dropped in dismay.

Two weeks previously he had taken Herr von Osternau's letter to Breslau, and for a few days afterwards he had thought with a kind of dread of the threatened visit from Fraulein von Ma.s.senburg, but as the invitation remained unanswered, and as there was no mention made by any of the family of Bertha, he had forgotten that the peaceful life at Castle Osternau might be disturbed by the intrusion of a foreign element. His dismay was shared by Frau von Osternau and Lieschen, as was evident from their faces as they looked up from their letters.

"Indeed!" said Frau von Osternau. "I hoped that Bertha would refuse our invitation, since she has left it so long unanswered. Has she written herself?"

"No; Sastrow tells me that she is to leave Berlin early to-morrow morning, and so she will be here towards evening. You can read his letter, or I will read it to you. Albrecht and Herr Pigglewitch heard his first, and this is simply a conclusion of it." And the old Herr began:

"My Dear Fritz,--Forgive me for delaying my thanks for your prompt response to my request. You must have daily expected my reply, but I could not before inform you exactly when Bertha would go to you. Almost immediately after the arrival of your letter Werner von Ma.s.senburg came to me in a state of great perturbation, to tell me that Egon von Ernau had probably not killed himself, but was knocking about in the mountains somewhere. One of his intimate acquaintances had seen him in Breslau two or three days after his disappearance. Werner had himself seen this acquaintance, a certain Baron von Freistetten, and had heard the tidings from his own lips. The Baron a.s.sured him that as he was driving to the railway-station in Breslau he had seen Ernau on the sidewalk, walking very quickly. The Baron was in a hurry to catch his train, and so had not accosted his friend, but he knew him well enough to be sure that it was he. He nodded to him from the carriage, but Ernau was looking at some books in a bookseller's window, and did not perceive him. If he had known that Ernau was reported dead, the Baron would certainly, even at the risk of losing his train, have stopped and identified the missing man; but he had been absent from the capital for some time, and knew nothing of the gossip current there. However, he is ready to take his oath that the man whom he saw was no other than Egon von Ernau.

"Werner fairly shook with agitation as he recounted this wonderful story to my wife, to Bertha, and to me; he had just come from the Councillor Ernau, whom he reported as quite as much agitated as himself by Freistetten's statement. They discussed what was best to do under the circ.u.mstances, and decided that a notice should be sent to the newspapers contradicting the report of the suicide of young Ernau, who had merely left Berlin upon a pleasure-trip. The Councillor was also to engage the police to make search for his son in Breslau. They agreed that if, as they both believed, Egon von Ernau still lived, nothing should be changed in their former arrangements. The Councillor was convinced that his son would not think of relinquishing his claim upon Bertha's hand, especially after the public scandal to which his disappearance had given rise.

"You know Werner Ma.s.senburg, and how sanguine he is; nothing that I could say as to the possibility of a mistake on Baron Freistetten's part had any effect upon him. His hopes were again high, and he thought it quite natural that young Ernau, who had always followed the impulse of the moment, should have chosen this time for a short absence from Berlin. According to the unanimous verdict of his companions, the young man was ready to commit any folly, and to carry out, regardless of the feelings of others, any project that might occur to him.

"Neither I nor my wife was convinced by what he said, but Bertha listened to him with sparkling eyes, and declared that nothing should induce her to leave Berlin until the matter of Egon's absence was fully explained; she would write to you instantly and decline your invitation with thanks. I dissuaded her with difficulty from doing so.

"Again, after her father had left us, I entreated her to pause and consider. If young Ernau still lived, his want of regard for the feelings of others had proved him entirely incapable of making a wife happy. I painted her future linked for life with so eccentric, selfish, and _blase_ a husband; but my words had no effect whatever upon her, she only smiled. Her smile is wonderfully lovely, but it did not then seem lovely to me, it made me shudder.

"She had, she declared with calm decision, no anxiety for the future if she could but attain her desire of becoming young Ernau's wife. If the young man did really, as was by no means certain, feel a certain antipathy for her, which had been the cause of his temporary flight, it should be her task to cure him of his dislike. Without vanity, she was conscious of possessing enough beauty to inflame the heart of any man susceptible to a woman's charms, if she so desired to do. Therefore she must stay in Berlin. So brilliant a match must not be resigned without a struggle. Herr von Ernau's reputed eccentricities mattered nothing to her; he was immensely rich, a gentleman, and born and bred in the best society; these advantages outweighed all else. She laid no claim to idyllic bliss in marriage, she was perfectly indifferent as to whether she could love or even esteem her future husband, if he could but satisfy her requirements in the life she wished to lead, and if, above all, he could deliver her father from his pecuniary embarra.s.sments.

"My good wife listened with positive horror to these declarations, and I was indignant. I cannot tell you how unlovely, with all her beauty, Bertha seemed to us; and we have not recovered from the effects of this impression. The girl has taken the greatest pains to please us since then, and has been charming and bewitching, but in vain. I cannot but think, whenever I look at her, of her sordid views of life, and I do not trust her cordiality; it comes from calculation. She wants to stay with us in Berlin, and therefore she flatters and caresses my wife and myself and antic.i.p.ates all our wishes.

"Werner supposed that the notice sent to the papers would put a stop to all scandalous gossip, but such has not been the case. You can have no idea of the annoyance to which we have been subjected; my wife actually talks of retiring from society.

"Under these circ.u.mstances Bertha must not remain with us any longer at present. I explained this to her to-day and told her that she really must leave for Castle Osternau to-morrow morning. Her eyes flashed as I spoke, and she was evidently tempted to make an angry retort, but she possesses immense self-control: she thanked me most amiably for allowing her to stay with us until now in spite of the annoyance she had caused us. She declared herself quite ready to start for Castle Osternau to-morrow, but at the same time begged that she might return to us if Egon von Ernau ever made his reappearance in the capital. This request was preferred so bewitchingly that I could not but accede to it.

"So Bertha will arrive at Castle Osternau towards evening to-morrow. I know, my dear Fritz, how much I ask of your wife and yourself when I beg you to keep her with you for some time, but I cannot help hoping that this visit may turn out well. Bertha can be extremely delightful if she chooses to be so, and I am sure she will so choose in this case.

Farewell. I send a thousand affectionate messages to your wife from her grateful old uncle,

"Sastrow."

"A charming prospect!" said Frau von Osternau when her husband had finished. "If our good-natured uncle Sastrow is so indignant with Bertha von Ma.s.senburg, she must have behaved badly. Can you ask me--can you ask Lieschen, Fritz, to make her welcome here for months?"

"You look only on the dark side, Emma. Sastrow says expressly that she can be enchantingly amiable if she chooses."

"Any one who is amiable only when she chooses is not amiable at all,"

his wife replied. "Indeed, Bertha von Ma.s.senburg does not seem to me a fit companion for Lieschen. I am afraid we have been somewhat hasty about this invitation."

"It has been given and accepted, Emma. Bertha is coming to-morrow, and hospitality demands that she be kindly received. Neither you nor Lieschen, I hope, Emma, will forget that."

"Must I play the hypocrite, papa? How can I receive Bertha kindly when I am indignant at her conduct? I think it detestable in her to insist upon marrying that miserable Egon von Ernau when she knows that he does not like her and that he is a worthless man. I cannot tell you, papa, how odious Bertha's greed for wealth seems to me, and you tell me to receive her kindly. I cannot pretend to what I do not feel."

"I do not ask you, dear, to lavish affection upon her or to adopt her as your confidential friend, but to treat her as a relative of the family who has come to live with us for a while. You are no longer a child, Lieschen, and you must learn to fulfil the conventional requirements of society. I never desire you to play the hypocrite, and a courteous silence as to what we are thinking at the moment is not hypocrisy. You must accustom yourself, my dear, not to wear your heart upon your sleeve, and to bridle your tongue."

Lieschen was unaccustomed to so serious an admonition from her father, and she replied, meekly, "I will try, papa," while her mother did not look up from her work, but knitted faster than ever.

All were a little put out of tune by the news of Bertha's arrival, with the exception of the Lieutenant; he expressed the hope that the beautiful Fraulein von Ma.s.senburg would put fresh life into the old castle. He took Bertha's part; he could not see how she was to be blamed for wishing to be wealthy for her father's sake. Certainly Lieschen least of all ought to find fault with her frank expression of her sentiments as to wealth. As in royal families, so also in the higher aristocratic circles, marriages were contracted without the sentimental affection talked of in novels; Bertha was only conforming to the laws of good society if she overlooked Egon von Ernau's trifling defects and showed herself ready for a union which would relieve her father from pecuniary embarra.s.sment. Even judging from Herr von Sastrow's prejudiced description, young Ernau was a talented man of unstained honour, and it would be inexcusable folly in Bertha not to overlook any little faults in one so richly endowed.

Although the Lieutenant delivered himself thus with a degree of enthusiasm, no voice was raised in sympathy with him; Frau von Osternau maintained an obstinate silence, seeming to be absorbed in her knitting, Lieschen frankly declared that she could not understand a nature so coldly calculating, and thought it detestable, and all that Herr von Osternau said was that he could not judge Bertha until he had seen her, and that, whatever she might be, no member of his family was justified in showing her anything save kindness; it would be best for the present to drop all discussion of her, and he therefore begged Herr Pigglewitch to go to the piano and soothe their troubled minds.

Egon complied, but he himself was so filled with all kinds of conflicting thoughts and emotions that his heart was not in his music, and he soon arose from the instrument. It was impossible to resume the customary happy evening talk, all were absent and uncomfortable in mind, and the circle broke up at an unusually early hour.

On the following day both Lieschen and her mother were depressed in spirits. They scarcely spoke during dinner, and but for the talk between the master of the house and his inspectors there would have been absolute silence.

When the time came for the afternoon ride Fritzchen was about to rush off to order the horses, but Lieschen detained him.

"Let us take a little walk to-day, Herr Pigglewitch," she said. "My father wishes me to arrange some flowers in Bertha von Ma.s.senburg's room, so I cannot be away from home long, and yet I have a great deal to say to you. I do not want to ride to-day, we can talk so much more easily on foot."

"Oh, Lieschen, it is delightful to gallop across the fields, and you always talk all the time to Herr Pigglewitch," Fritz cried out, with a discontented air, but Egon pacified him by promising to ride with him after their walk, and the little fellow ran on before the pair who sauntered slowly out into the fields.

In the narrow path along which they strolled Lieschen walked close by Egon's side. She had said that she had much to say to him, but she seemed unable to begin, and even when Egon asked the name of a distant hamlet she gave a brief, hasty reply, and then walked on with downcast eyes, until her companion, eager to put an end to the uncomfortable silence, asked, directly, "What have you to say to me, Fraulein Lieschen?"

She looked up at him.

"You are right to remind me; it is folly to delay asking your advice, since I have made up my mind to do so. I do not often need advice, my own feeling tells me what I ought to do, and I follow its promptings, but to-day it leaves me in the lurch, I am doubtful whether I feel and judge rightly, wherefore I want to ask your advice, only you must promise me, Herr Pigglewitch, to tell me your opinion frankly, even at the risk of offending me."

"I promise you."

"It really is strange for me to turn to you for advice. When you came to us two weeks ago, I had no confidence in you, you talked so oddly, and ridiculed what I held sacred,--I was almost afraid of you. I thought you could not be a good man. Do you remember I told you so the first day you came?"

"I have forgotten none of your words."

"I was wrong. You have been very different since. When I see you now and hear you talk I can hardly believe you are the same man who talked so frivolously about self-destruction. You looked strangely and your laugh was so bitter that it hurt me, but now you laugh from your heart, and you look so kind and sincere that I cannot help having faith in you. I beg your pardon for what I said. You certainly are a good man, or Fritzchen would not be so fond of you. None but good men win the affection of children."

Egon's heart beat as he listened to her simple words. She was right; fourteen days had made another man of him. Formerly such praise from girlish lips would have excited his ridicule, now it delighted him. "I hope your opinion of to-day may prove as correct as was your former one," he said. "I am trying, at all events, to improve."

Lieschen looked up at him gratefully. "Yes, you shall advise me. To whom should I turn when I am at odds with myself? To my parents? Oh, I know how ready they are to help me, but upon this point they do not agree. To Albrecht? Never. He is not good. I never could trust him. But you wish me well,--I know you do,--and you will be frank with me."

Egon did not speak, but his eyes were more eloquent than words.

"You shall hear how I am at odds with myself," Lieschen went on. "It is about Bertha von Ma.s.senburg. My father wishes me to receive her affectionately, to let no word or look betray how indignant I am with her, with her sordid views, her odious conduct. My dear father is so gentle and kind, he cannot bear to think ill of any one. He does not believe in Bertha's low motives. It is easy for him to receive her kindly, but in me it would be hypocrisy. Must I be a hypocrite? Should not truth be our first consideration? Ought I to be false to myself out of conformity with conventional ideas of courtesy? Nothing makes me so indignant as falsehood, and now I am asked to act a falsehood myself.

My mother thinks as I do, but she submits. In whatever my father seriously desires she always obeys him. He yields to her in all small matters, but when he has formed an opinion upon any important question my mother always conforms to it. I know that she is as indignant as I am about Bertha von Ma.s.senburg, but she never will allow it to be seen; my father's wish is her law, and it has always been mine, but now I am sure he is mistaken. Advise me what to do. What would you do if you were in my place?"

Egon's gaze was bent upon the ground. He did not dare to look into the clear eyes that were questioning his face. 'Nothing makes me so indignant as falsehood,' the girl had just said, and her words yet sounded in his ears. Was not his whole life at Castle Osternau a falsehood? She did not dream of the sentence she had pa.s.sed upon him.

She hated falsehood, and asked advice of him! He commanded his voice with difficulty, and, without lifting his eyes, said, "You wish to know what I should do? I cannot tell you. I do not know. It has always been my misfortune to yield to the impulse of the moment. How can I tell what that impulse might be?"

"Is that all you have to say? You have no advice to give me?"

"What ought I to say? Can I advise you to disobey your father? Should I be tempted to do so I might perhaps sin grievously, not only against Herr von Osternau, good and kind as he is, but against Fraulein von Ma.s.senburg. It is easy to p.r.o.nounce a harsh judgment upon those who have not acted rightly according to our convictions, but what do we really know of their springs of action? How do you know that it has not cost Fraulein von Ma.s.senburg a bitter struggle to insist upon her union with Herr von Ernau, whom you call a miserable fellow, judging him no less harshly than you judge her? Do you know him at all except from the description of a man who is not acquainted with him? And if he is, as Herr von Sastrow says, at odds with life, do you know what has made him so? I can imagine a wretched man satiated from earliest childhood with every pleasure that money can procure, with no wish ungratified save that for affection, never having known the love of either father or mother, miserably lonely, surrounded by flatterers and parasites who feign friendship for the sake of his riches, but who care nothing for him in reality. Is it his fault if he has become disgusted with his fellow-men, if he is vain, _blase_, dictatorial, dest.i.tute of self-control? How do you know that deep in the soul of the man whom you have condemned there do not slumber the sparks of n.o.bler and truer sentiments, beneath the ashes of the ruin wrought by his ill-spent life? It needs but a breath, perhaps, to make this spark a flame, a breath of self-inspection or a breath of affection, and yet you condemn him. If he should judge himself as you judge him, the spark would surely die beneath the ashes, and he would be lost without hope of rescue."