Regina, or the Sins of the Fathers Part 33

"Go on."

"And so he came soon after ... after the expedition, I mean ... and asked me to do all sorts of things. I was to get money from the _gnadiger Herr_ ... or to turn out his pockets when no one was looking; and to be left in peace, I fetched the bag the French General had given me. And when he saw the moonlight shine on the coin that was in it, he was half mad----"

She paused abruptly.

"Well?"

"Must I say it, _Herr_?"

"Of course you must."

"But he _is_ my father, _Herr_."

"You are to do as I command you."

She drew a deep sigh and went on. "And he caught hold of me by the throat with one hand, and beat me with the other, and hissed in my ear: 'Unless you confess how you came by all that money, I'll squeeze the life out of you----' And when I could hardly breathe, I----"

He laughed harshly to himself. _His_ father and _her_ father--both had resorted to the same chivalrous measures.

Regina thought the laugh was at her expense.

"Ah, _Herr_," she went on with an imploring upward glance, "I was so dreadfully stupid then. Even a fortnight later, when they cross-examined me, they could have strangled me before they would have got anything out of me. But then--I suppose it was because he was my father----"

"Oh yes, I understand. You told tales out of school to your father.

Well, what else?"

"The very same night my conscience p.r.i.c.ked me, and in the morning when I took the _gnadiger Herr_ his coffee--he would always have me take it--I told him all."

"And what did he say?"

"He turned as white as chalk, but said nothing at first. He took down a gun from the wall and pointed it at me; I folded my hands and closed my eyes, and then I heard him utter an oath, and then he put the gun over his shoulder and rushed out. I thought to myself, he's gone to put an end to father! And I watched him run towards the drawbridge with his two bloodhounds, and then I, as quick as lightning, hurried through the park, across the Cats' Bridge to the village, to let father know his life was in danger. Had he been at home I couldn't have saved him. But he was in the Black Eagle, and had blabbed everything the night before, and was now blind drunk. The _gnadiger Herr_ won't fetch him out of the Black Eagle, I thought--and besides it was too late, for Herr Merckel and every one knew, and they all made a great hullabaloo when they saw me, and caught hold of me, and tried to force me to speak; but I bit my tongue till it bled, and kept silent. Then they let me go, and I ran to meet the _gnadiger Herr_, and threw myself at his feet, saying, 'Spare his life, for it will do no good to take it. All the world knows now.'

... He gave me a kick that made me faint, but he left father alone. And then a fortnight after a gendarme came for me, and took me to the Black Eagle. There, in the wine-room, were a.s.sembled five or six gentlemen; the _Herr Landrath_, who was there to-day, among them. And they shut the door behind me, and began to cross-question me. I felt as if I could do nothing but cry, and then I grew calmer, and pretended that father had dreamt it all in one of his drunken fits. But they showed me the bag he had taken from me--and so--_Herr_ ... I was obliged to say ... that the money ... was the ... reward ... that I----" She broke off, and hid her face that was suffused with a dark crimson flush of shame, in her hands.

"Proceed with your story," he commanded, grinding his teeth.

"They didn't believe me, _Herr_, but they saw it was no good trying to get the truth out of me, and asked me no more questions. And then they held a consultation in low voices (but I have good ears, and understood all they were saying), as to whether they should lock me up till I found my tongue, and arrest the _gnadiger Herr_, and so on, and then they came to the conclusion that to blaze it abroad would cause too great a scandal in the district, and be a dishonour to the whole of Prussia, and as there was no direct proof, the affair might be left in the dark. I have forgotten the exact words, but it was something like that."

"And then they let you go?"

"Yes. Herr Merckel said I was to take myself off, or my presence might breed a pestilence in the house."

A silence ensued: then hastily gulping down three more gla.s.ses of the old wine, he said--

"Now, then, for the night of the fire!"

She jumped up from her chair and stared at him, her eyes starting with horror.

"What! I'm to tell you about the fire?"

"All you can recollect."

"All! ... Not all, _Herr_?"

"All."

"_Herr_ ... I can't." The words rattled in her throat like a death-agony.

"You mean you refuse?" He too had risen, and stood looking at her with dilated eyes.

She folded her hands on her breast. "I have always been obedient, _Herr_, to your every wish. I have never been unwilling or grumbled.

I'll go on doing all you order me to do. If you say, 'Go out and be stoned to death,' I'll go. But just this one thing, I beseech you from the bottom of my heart, don't ask me?"

He regarded her in wrathful amazement. So accustomed had he become to her unconditional obedience, that this explosion in her of a spark of resistance was incomprehensible to him. Was his power over her, that he had imagined unlimited, thus suddenly to end? Surely this woman had of her own accord made herself his body-slave? She had sold herself body and soul to his house, and therefore it was unpardonable presumption in her to a.s.sert unexpectedly that she had a will of her own.

The blood mounted hotly to his head, and his eyes flashed. "You shall!--I say you _shall_!"

She retreated and shrank against the wall. From the dark background her eyes shone out at him like a persecuted wild-cat's. "I won't," she muttered.

All the inherited brutality of the feudal master awoke in him. The wine, too, was doing its work. He sprang on her, and caught her by the breast.

The b.u.t.tons of her jacket burst beneath his violent attack, and her bare bosom gleamed forth. He transfixed her with the intensity of his gaze.

"Shall I throttle her, or shall I kiss her?" he asked himself, and fumbled for her throat.

Then in her deadly terror she made a counter-attack. Her hands were fastened in his shoulders like iron rivets. It needed a gathering up of all his strength to withstand their muscular pressure.

A noiseless struggle began. It lasted a minute, and yet seemed to be no nearer its end. Embittered and desperate at first as a wrestle for life and death, it became eventually a sort of game. The combatants apparently had lost sight of what it was they were struggling for. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, sought hers. Her bosom, wet with perspiration, pressed hard against his. Their breathing mingled.

Tightly locked in each other's arms they staggered and swayed to and fro. He pressed her in the back of her knee, but she did not yield, and with renewed vigour tried to draw him down to her. For one second in their delirious grappling they gazed dreamily into each other's eyes.

Then she vibrated from head to foot, and in the midst of the conflict laid her cheek caressingly on the arm that was raised against her. He saw the action, he saw how her eyes hung on his face with melting solicitude--saw the beautiful dishevelled head droop like a broken flower.

"If you are cursed, why should it be for nothing?" And as the thought flashed through him, he bent over her with a sigh, and kissed her on the mouth.

She groaned aloud, clung heavily to him, and buried her teeth, till they met, in his lips. Then, overcome, with suddenly collapsed limbs, she slipped from his arms on to the floor, and lay with the back of her head flat on the bare boards.

He stared down at her half-stunned. She would have looked as if she were dead, had it not been for the heaving bosom, that seemed to fight for air. Blood trickled from his lip, and unconsciously he wiped it away with his tongue.

"What next?" he asked himself.

The longer he gazed at the prostrate form the intenser became his anxiety, till it almost amounted to insanity; anxiety for what must come.

"Away! out of the house! Away before she moves!" an inward voice commanded. He tore down his coat from the wall, crushed a fur cap over his brow, and flew out into the bitter cold night, as if chased by the devil.

But he could not escape--could not run away from _her_; wherever he went she was beside him. A tornado raged in his breast, and lashed the blood to froth in his veins.

He was fleeing from his young manhood's senses, and they were in hot pursuit.

He dashed through the woods at full speed. The frosty air did not cool him, nor the darkness restore his serenity.

Was there no salvation? None?