Quicksands Part 9

Twice when this last point was reached the Lieutenant had been thrown over Soliman's head; the two following times he had mounted the horse, however, he had succeeded in keeping his seat, although gasping and exhausted, since when Soliman had not attempted his tricks when ridden by the Lieutenant. He now tried them again with his new rider, but without any result. Egon sat as quietly firm in the saddle as if he were part of the animal, holding the bridle in a hand of iron, and so compressing the horse's flanks with his knees that, after a few more unsuccessful plunges, the creature stood still, with dilated nostrils and foaming at the bit. His rider, however, showed no signs of physical exertion; he nodded with a smile to the Lieutenant, whose last muttered words he had heard and understood. "You are right, Herr Lieutenant," he said, "Soliman is rather too fiery for a tyro in horsemanship, but only a tyro would ever be unseated by his tricks. He will not try them again; he knows his master now, and will soon know him better. He certainly is a magnificent animal."

He stroked the panting creature's neck caressingly, and then, after giving him a moment's rest, shortened his bridle, and with a degree of ease and skill which seemed to the Lieutenant little short of miraculous in a Candidate, put the horse through all his paces, guiding him in a wide circle around the court-yard. Soliman attempted no further rebellion, and when Egon halted at the side-entrance again he could confidently a.s.sure Lieschen that their ride would have no disturbance from Soliman's tricks.

Lieschen had followed the rider's movements with genuine admiration.

When the horse first tried his 'tricks' she grew ashy pale, but the next instant her anxiety vanished, there was no danger. Her cousin Albrecht was a bold and skilful horseman, the best she had known hitherto, but his glory faded when she compared him with this rider.

How could she ever have thought that proud, graceful man ugly? How easy was his bearing! The control of his spirited steed seemed to cost him no exertion. He could smile whilst all who were watching him were trembling with dread.

Upon his return Lieschen received him with a beaming face, Fritz clapped his hands and shouted, and old Wenzel grinned as he said, "He knows how to ride, Herr Lieutenant. He'll teach Soliman to have done with his capers."

The Lieutenant made no reply. He looked darkly at the daring horseman, whom he could not but admire, but whom he hated all the more bitterly.

He had been outdone, outdone in the very art upon which he most prided himself. He had exulted in being the best rider in the country, and here was this wretched Candidate disputing his honours with him.

Lieschen invited him to join them in their ride to the Oster meadows, but he crossly declined to accept her invitation, and when the detested stranger sprang from the saddle, throwing the bridle to old Wenzel, in order to put Lieschen on her mare, he muttered a curse, turned his horse, and rode out of the court-yard in a direction opposite to that in which lay the Oster meadows. Lieschen, however, rode out into the fields between Egon and Fritz, laughing and talking, and throwing kisses to her father, who was standing at his window. She was gayer and happier than words could tell.

CHAPTER VII.

THE HARVEST-FIELD.

As Egon rode by Lieschen's side along the road leading through the fields to the Oster meadows he was more light of heart than he could remember ever being before. She pointed out to him the various villages and farms in the neighbourhood of the castle, and his eyes, it is true, followed the direction of her extended riding-whip, but his attention was not given to the rather commonplace landscape; his interest was all for his charming companion. How pure and clear was the look in the dark-blue eyes raised so confidingly to his own! Her smile was frank and free, as she made no attempt to conceal her admiration of his courage and strength in subduing Soliman. She told him how delighted she was with his success, and how her heart had seemed fairly to stand still with terror when she saw him in such peril and by her fault.

Her _nave_ frankness, her open avowal of whatever filled her mind, enchanted Egon. He seemed to have entered a new world. The compliments and admiration which he had received from other girls as to his music, his singing, or some other of his accomplishments had always aroused the suspicion in his mind that such words were for the wealthy Egon von Ernau, uttered to flatter his vanity, to entrap him. But as he listened to Lieschen's artless talk he paid homage to the sincerity of this girlish nature, and was refreshed and cheered even by her words of reproof. His sensations were a surprise to himself: he thought he was indifferent alike to praise and blame, but here he was positively exulting in the admiration of a mere child.

"There are the Oster meadows!" Fritz called out from the summit of a low hill, which he had gained in advance of his companions.

Egon sighed; they had nearly reached the goal of their ride, and he would gladly have ridden thus through the lovely fields for hours.

"Is not the prospect from here charming?" Lieschen asked, when she with Egon had reached the eminence.

He had to answer her, and that he might do so he looked around him, although he would far rather have continued to gaze into his companion's lovely face. As if awaking from a dream, he saw before him a picturesque landscape,--a green extensive valley, through which wound the Oster, a small river, which, making its way among low, distant hills, was lost in the mighty chain of the Riesengebirge.

The rich meadows that bordered the Oster on either side presented an animated scene. On one hand the mowers were wielding their scythes, on another women, girls, and children were turning the hay with long rakes, while from some of the fields the piled hay-wagons, each drawn by four stout horses, were beginning their slow journey to the barns of Castle Osternau. All who were able to work were busy gathering in the plentiful hay-crop of the year, for there had been warning clouds in the west at sunset for two or three days, although hitherto they had fled before the dawn. They were ma.s.sing now about the descending sun.

The harvesters would occasionally cast an anxious glance towards the west, and then proceed with their labour with renewed zeal.

"Is not the prospect from here charming?" Lieschen had asked, and Egon replied, "Most charming!" giving utterance to his sincere conviction.

At the moment the broad, smiling valley, with the silver river winding through it, seemed to him inexpressibly attractive; but the words had scarcely left his lips before he was aware that they were at variance with all his previous ideas and sentiments. He had never found anything to admire in peaceful, smiling valleys, they had always impressed him as the ideal of tedious, commonplace rusticity; he had turned for enjoyment to the wild grandeur of rocky mountain fastnesses, to the splendour of glacier and torrent. The more savage the aspect of nature the more beautiful it had seemed to him. When he had been caught in a mountain storm, the crashing of the thunder among the giant peaks and the vivid play of the lightning had quickened his pulses. What could make this simple landscape at which he was gazing with Lieschen seem so charming in his eyes? Had he undergone a transformation in the last few hours? Could it be that a warm, sunny ray from heaven had pierced his soul and made it sensitive to the charm of a simple scene from which he would but yesterday have turned in weary disgust? He had a sense of disgrace in the consciousness that he was so hopelessly given over to the influence of the moment. Yes, he was ashamed of thus belying all his former tastes just because----yes, because a pair of sparkling, girlish eyes were beholding with rapture the petty, commonplace scene before them,--yes, it suddenly grew to be commonplace and petty, the charm that had transfigured it was broken, the ray that had penetrated his soul was extinguished.

A horseman came galloping up the hill from the meadow. It was Herr Storting; he waved a greeting to Lieschen as he drew near, but as he drew up his horse beside Egon he exclaimed, in surprise, "Can it be possible, Herr Pigglewitch, that you are riding Soliman?"

"As you see," Egon replied, curtly, his good humour all gone.

"I see, but I do not understand. Why, even the Lieutenant does not venture to take that horse any distance from the castle, he only rides it in the fields just beyond the garden. Pardon my saying so, Fraulein Lieschen, but you have been wrong in exposing Herr Pigglewitch to a danger the extent of which he cannot understand, since he does not know Soliman's tricks and temper."

Before Lieschen could reply, Egon interposed, "Your reproof is administered to the wrong person, Herr Storting. I insisted on riding Soliman precisely because of his tricks and his temper. And now we know each other, Soliman and I, and he is afraid of me, not I of him. You need have no anxiety on my account."

Egon's words by no means satisfied Storting. "You must be a capital rider to have kept your seat upon Soliman until now, but the danger will not be over until the horse is back in his stall. I beg you to return at once, and at all events do not attempt to ride him down into the meadows. The brute shies terribly, when people are about he grows restless, and the least sudden movement, the lifting of a rake, the flutter of one of the women's white kerchiefs, or the merest trifle, will suffice to make him mad with terror. At such times no rider can control him or keep his seat."

But Egon only smiled. "Are you really so unruly, my poor Soliman?" he said, leaning forward and patting the beautiful creature's slender neck. "I could wish you would try your worst, that I might have the opportunity to convince you of a will stronger than your own."

"Foolhardy words," Storting said, sternly. "Again let me beg you to turn back. If you ride down to the meadows you run the risk of having Soliman plunge with you into the Oster. Such a ride would be suicidal."

"Your ugly word does not terrify me," Egon said. "I surely have a right over my own body, my own life. I need take counsel with none, if I choose to end the drama with a bullet in my heart or a wild ride. Come, Soliman, let us measure our strength together, and if you come off conqueror I shall not care; let the waters of the Oster do their worst."

A smart stroke of his riding-whip accompanied his last words. It had a fearful effect upon the fiery animal, who had scarcely yet been brought under his rider's perfect control. Soliman put back his ears and tore down the hill to the Oster meadows.

"My G.o.d! what madness!" Storting exclaimed, horror-struck. The colour faded from his sunburned cheek as he gazed after the rider, who was being carried directly towards the spot where the river was deepest and the current strongest. To the inspector the man's fate was sealed. How could the Candidate have dreamed of riding Soliman? It was a miracle that the fellow still kept his seat.

He not only kept his seat, but on the very brink of the river, when Storting was convinced that his doom was certain, the horse was pulled up on his haunches, his rider had mastered him. Storting could hardly believe his eyes. Was that wonderful rider sitting easily and as if unconscious of danger upon the fiery brute, now stamping the soft meadow soil with impatient hoofs, but held in rein by a hand of iron, the same ridiculous, awkward tutor whom he, Storting, had transformed to the likeness of humanity with a suit of his own clothes?

Lieschen too had been terrified for a moment, when Egon had driven Soliman wild by the stroke of his whip, but she did not share in Storting's forebodings; she had seen Soliman obey Egon's strength and skill, and she had entire confidence in them. Still there was a cloud upon her brow, and the gaze with which she followed the daring rider was scarcely one of approval. When she saw that the horse was stayed at the river's brink, she simply said, "Let us follow," and without another word rode quietly down into the meadows after Fritz, who had started off to overtake his admired tutor.

Egon awaited their approach. The swift gallop, the struggle with the furious horse, which again called into play all his force and skill, had quickly dispelled his sudden ill humour. He called out to Storting, "You see, Herr Storting, there really is no danger in my riding Soliman. The horse is far better than his reputation. He needs only to be kept firmly in rein, and then he obeys every pressure of the knee.

The magnificent creature knows me now, and I will answer for it will not shy or run so long as he feels my hand upon his bridle. You see that your reproof was quite undeserved by Fraulein Lieschen. If the horse is really timid I will engage to cure him of it. Shall we not ride towards those people who are working so busily over there?

Fraulein von Osternau has promised to be my teacher, and to instruct me in some of the elementary principles of agriculture, and I am eager to prove myself a docile, intelligent pupil. Make friends with me again, Herr Storting, you will not remain provoked with me for answering your kindly warning by a furious run of a moment or two?"

He held out his hand as he spoke to the inspector, who could not any longer maintain a show of irritation, although he was not quite satisfied, nor was Lieschen. Storting, however, took pains to conceal the remnant of his displeasure, and succeeded in doing so, but Lieschen made no attempt to hide the fact that she was seriously displeased with Herr Pigglewitch. She took her place again, it is true, beside him, but she answered his questions in monosyllables, and left it to Storting to give him any information with regard to the harvesting. His desire to receive the promised instruction from her was evident as they rode around the meadows, but when he turned to her with an inquiry she only replied, "Herr Storting will explain it to you." She could not be easy and friendly with him, for the last words he had spoken on the hill still resounded in her ears, and they had shocked her profoundly.

Lieschen's taciturnity had its effect upon Egon's recovered gayety; he ceased to ask questions, and scarcely bestowed a glance upon the harvesters. He forced himself to listen with an appearance of interest to Herr Storting's explanations, out of regard for the inspector, but the merry songs of the girls raking the hay struck harshly on his ears, he was tired of it all, and he was relieved when at the end of half an hour Lieschen announced that it was time to return home.

Herr Storting could not yet leave the harvest-field, Fritz galloped ahead to the castle, and thus Egon being left alone with Lieschen had an opportunity to ask her the cause of her sudden reserve; was she displeased, and why? he had not, he thought, given her cause to be so.

She looked gravely up at him, and said in surprise,--

"Do you not know why I am displeased? Have you no suspicion of how your wicked words shocked me? Yes, I am displeased. I cannot forgive you for sneering at what is most sacred. I told you so before today. You are not a good man, Herr Pigglewitch. You almost frighten me."

"What have I done or said to provoke such a reproof from you?" Egon asked, in dismay.

"You do not know? So much the worse. You do not even admit that what you said was wicked. Do you not remember what you said here upon the hill, yes, upon this very spot, just before you gave Soliman that stroke with your whip? You said you should not care if Soliman drowned you! yes, you declared that you had a right to take your own life!"

"And was that what displeased you? Have I not the right to end my miserable existence if it becomes too heavy a burden to be borne?"

"No, you have no right to do so, and it is a sin even to think of it!"

Lieschen replied, her beautiful eyes lifted to Egon's in stern reproach. "Your words shocked me deeply. Is there any courage in putting an end by the act of an instant to an intolerable existence? It is cowardice, miserable cowardice, to turn and flee from the battle of life. I have heard pity bestowed upon those wretched men who in despair have taken their own lives; for my part I cannot help despising them, and I cannot understand how a man can find a word to say in defence of such cowardice."

What Lieschen said was neither novel nor clever, and yet her simple words made a deep impression upon Egon. He had lately read a learned essay upon the right of self-destruction, in which every conceivable argument was brought forward to prove that nothing save insanity could excuse the act, but the sapient disquisition had only provoked a smile as he read, while these few simple words of the young girl's staggered him in the views he had hitherto held. Involuntarily the image of the real Pigglewitch arose in his mind, he saw the ridiculous figure kneeling singing upon the green bank, then suddenly start up and leap into the water. He saw the wretched creature standing dripping before him, wringing his hands and entreating to have his miserable life ended for him, he was afraid to do it himself. Did it really require more courage to endure a sad existence than to end it with a pistol-bullet?

Was it cowardice to flee from a blank, weary world? Lieschen felt contempt, not compa.s.sion, for a suicide. She did not know how her words fitted Egon's case. He could not look into her clear eyes, he was forced to cast down his own.

It was Egon's nature to be easily swayed by the impulse of the moment; thus it was with him now, as he said, after a short pause,--

"You judge harshly, very harshly, but perhaps justly. You can have no idea of how nearly your words touch me. I promise to reflect upon what you have said, and now I beg you not to be angry with me any longer. I cannot bear to have you look so gravely and disapprovingly at me. I will try never to shock you again by thoughtless words which may seem to you like a sneer at sacred things, but I beg you to have patience with me. You promised to be my teacher, and a teacher ought not to be impatient."

"Now you are making game of me again."

"No, I declare to you I am not jesting. What I said half in jest to you at dinner I now repeat in earnest. I am conscious to-day for the first time that the experience of my life has made me morbid. Regard me as a sick man, and when some word of mine shocks you, do not be angry, but tell me of it frankly, without reserve. Blame me, take me to task, and I shall be your debtor."

Lieschen looked at him rather dubiously. "I do not know what to think of you, Herr Pigglewitch," she replied, shaking her pretty head thoughtfully. "You change with every moment. When a little while ago you talked so wickedly and urged Soliman towards the river, I was afraid of you, and now you suddenly speak so sadly and gently that I almost have faith in you. But since you only ask that I should tell you what I think, without reserve, I can easily grant your request, I should do so whether or not, because I cannot help it."