The Breaking of the Storm Volume Iii Part 18

She had slipped from her chair on to her knees, her hands crossed upon her breast, her sightless eyes turned to him who had always moved about in the darkness that surrounded her like a demon in his height and stateliness, but fearful also as a demon. Had her feeble voice reached the unattainable height where he was enthroned? or reached it only to unloose the storm, the thunder of his wrath, which she had so often heard rolling and raging above her head? Would he stoop down to her and raise her up, as he had raised so many from the dust, with his strong helpful hands? Then she heard--by his long-drawn breathing--that he was bending over her, and she felt the strong hands raise her and replace her carefully in her chair. She took his powerful hands in her own weak trembling ones, and guided them to her quivering lips.

"No, no, my child! You have spoken the truth, but I am not angry with you--not in the least. And that paper there, did she give you that!"

"I do not know what she has written," said Cilli, taking the paper from her bosom, "You ought not to look at the words; they are wild, perhaps bad words! but how can a poor human creature know at such a moment what she does or says?"

He had hastily run his eye over the lines. "Ferdinanda has eloped--when?"

"About half an hour ago--perhaps more; I do not know exactly."

"Did he carry her off?"

Cilli, from whom Ferdinanda had long had no secrets, mentioned Bertalda's name and residence.

"So even this time it was not himself!" murmured Uncle Ernst with a bitter smile. "Thank you, my dear child, thank you for your honesty. I have always thought highly of you, I see that I did not think nearly highly enough. And now let me call my sister to take you back and see you into bed; I am sure you ought to be there."

"She is sitting at my father's bedside," said Cilli; "she has been there these two hours. I can go very well alone."

"Then I will take you."

"If you are really grateful to me, if I am not to think that I have been here in vain, you have something else to do now; pray let me go alone."

She rose from her chair and folded her hands again upon her bosom.

"Go alone then, if you really wish it."

She moved slowly to the door, there stood still, and turning round raised both hands with an imploring gesture to him, as he gazed sadly and gloomily after her, then felt for the handle. The door opened from the outside. Grollmann, as before, stretched out his arm without crossing the threshold, received Cilli's groping hand in his, and shut the door behind her.

"They are all leagued together against me for good or evil," murmured Uncle Ernst; "Reinhold, Rike, that old man, all, all! And she, good child, who is probably worth more than all of us, she brings me this with her pure innocent hands--this!"

He stared fixedly at the paper which he held in his hand.

"I bid you farewell--for ever! You do not need my love, and yours I have sufficiently experienced! You have crushed my heart and broken my spirit; you have ruthlessly sacrificed my heart, my soul, my love to your pride, as a fanatical priest slaughters the lamb at the altar of his G.o.ds. And that other--his father! Truly when the spirit has been killed, it is an act of mercy to kill the body! Wrap yourself then in your pharisaic virtues, enjoy your arrogant pride! For us, welcome disgrace! welcome shame! welcome death!"

"So be it then--death!"

He tore the paper in half, and tore the pieces again and again, flung the fragments on the floor, put his hands behind his back, and began once more to pace up and down the room as he had been doing when Cilli came in.

As he thus moved, with burning downcast eyes, he set his foot upon one of the fragments which were fluttering about here and there. He tried to put it aside, but only ground it deeper into the soft carpet. "Bah!"

said he.

But yet he turned and took another direction through the room. At that moment an insecurely fastened window was blown open by the storm, and the fragments fluttered round about him like snow-flakes.

"They want to drive me mad," he cried out loud; "but I will not go mad!

Oh Lord, my G.o.d! what have I done that Thou shouldst so persecute me!

What more can we unfortunate men do than act according to our knowledge and conscience! Have not I done so, so long as I can remember? If our knowledge and our wisdom are imperfect, is that our fault? Why dost Thou punish us for that of which we are not guilty? Surely Thou art pledged to help us in time of need! If Thou hast spoken to me by the mouth of this poor blind girl, I will sacrifice my conviction, my understanding, I will be blindly obedient as a child--if Thou hast spoken to me by her!"

He pressed his hands against his throbbing temples; everything grew dim before his eyes; he staggered to the open window, offering to the storm which raged against him his burning forehead and his breast, from which he had torn open his shirt.

And through the raging storm he heard a voice crying: "Help! help!"

Did he only hear without, the echo of the cry within him?

But there--in the courtyard--was not that Grollmann rushing with uplifted hands from the open door of Justus's studio towards the house?

while "Help! help!" sounded clearly in his ear!

"That poor girl! Is it Cilli?" he cried.

But Grollmann did not hear him, and ran into the house; Uncle Ernst hastened out of his room.

"Lean well upon my arm, Fraulein," said Grollmann, as he took charge of Cilli at the door. He would have given anything to know what she had been talking about so long with his master, but she was so fearfully pale, and her breathing was so quick and hurried, that he had not the heart to ask her any questions, even if the answer could have been given in one word. As they reached the top step she was obliged to stop, however; but she pressed his hand almost imperceptibly, it was all she could do, and smiled at him.

"That is as good as an answer," thought the old man, and aloud he said:

"Now, don't you speak another word, Fraulein Cilli; but if you would like me to carry you, just nod. I am an old fellow, and you might be my granddaughter."

She smiled again, and shook her head; but he did almost carry her down the stairs and across the corner of the courtyard, into the narrow pa.s.sage between the garden and the neighbouring house, till they came to the little back door leading into Herr Anders' studio.

"Here," said Cilli.

"Only a few steps more," said Grollmann.

"I have already taken leave of my father," said Cilli.

The old man did not know what she meant, and thought the poor child's mind was wandering at last; but still he had not the courage to make any further objection as she pointed, with an imploring gesture, to the little door, as though wanting him to open it. He did so, and, extending her hand to him, she said:

"You may leave me now, and may G.o.d bless you!"

"And you, Fraulein!" said Grollmann.

But he hardly knew what he said, as, unable to tear himself from the doorway, he followed with his eyes the slender figure as, sometimes raising her arms for a moment, like a bird about to take wing, thought Grollmann, she moved amongst all the casts and models and the thousand and one things which crowded the studio, as if she really could see, thought Grollmann.

Near one of the two high windows, in the place where Herr Anders himself generally worked, stood a white marble bust upon a small pedestal. It was a portrait of Herr Anders' betrothed, and Grollmann, who had lived so long among artists that he was something of a connoisseur himself, had been delighted with the portrait, as it grew more and more like every day--really a speaking likeness, Grollmann had said.

She went up to the bust, and remained standing there, Grollmann at first thought because she could go no farther, and must rest herself there, for she was leaning against it as if she could not stand alone.

Then she raised her hands and stroked the face--her hands were as white as the marble--and nodded to it just as if she were talking to the bust, and kissed it as if it had been a living creature, and sat down upon the stool which stood near, and on which Herr Anders used to stand when he could not reach up to his figures, and leant her head upon the pedestal, and did not move again.

"Poor child," said Grollmann, "she will fall asleep there and catch her death of cold; it is quite cold now, and there will be no more fire made up till the gentlemen come back at two o'clock. I must take her upstairs."

So he came into the studio, and went up to her very gently--not that that was necessary, for he was quite determined to wake her if she had fallen asleep, but the nearer he came the more gently he moved.

And now he was standing by her.

"Poor thing," he thought to himself, "she really is asleep already, with half-shut eyes, and how sweetly she is smiling! It really would be a pity to wake her. If I had a cloak or--there is a rug lying there!"

Grollmann moved a step forward, and struck against a board, which made a sudden noise. The old man turned round much annoyed--he had certainly awoke her. But her eyes were still half shut, and she was smiling as before.

"It is very odd," thought Grollmann, and stooped nearer to the sleeper, and then raised himself, trembling in every limb, and ran as fast as his old legs would carry him out of the studio into the house after Aunt Rikchen, whom he had just seen going in, crying in wild terror, "Fraulein Rikchen, Fraulein Rikchen! help, help!" while yet he was saying to himself that no help could avail now.