The Children of the World Part 31

"If it were she, perhaps she has thus relieved her heart of some heavy burden." They listened intently, but all below remained as still as death. Mohr gradually grew calm and continued to renew for Balder the applications of ice.

But the old maid-servant, who had come up the steep stairs with her little lamp for the last time, to ask if anything was wanted, was just pa.s.sing Christiane's door when the terrible cry of mortal agony and wild despair fell on her ear. The kind hearted woman also thought that some sudden pain had attacked the young lady, but did not hesitate an instant to open the door with the pa.s.s key she always carried, and hastily enter the room.

When the light of her little lamp streamed far before her into the dark ante-chamber, the old woman remained standing on the threshold as if petrified, unable to take a single step forward or backward. She saw Fraulein Christiane standing motionless with bare feet, beside the wall at the head of the bed, the coverlid closely wrapped around her, her unbound hair streaming over her shoulders, her right arm with the fingers of the hand extended, stretched out before her, her eyes, dilated so that the whites glittered in the light, fixed in a rigid stare on the dark figure of a man, who also stood motionless in the middle of the room. Not a syllable was uttered. A stifled cry, like a rattling in the throat, came from Christiane, and from the spot where the man stood a sound very like the grinding of teeth. The man then turned, noiselessly and with apparent calmness, and seemed to be looking for something on the floor; then waving one hand toward the wall, and concealing his face with the other, he kept his back toward the little lamp, and glided bare headed past the old woman out into the dark entry.

At the same moment the white figure beside the bed sank down, and as the old servant rushed forward, the light fell upon a face deadly pale and distorted by the wildest convulsions of human agony.

CHAPTER VII.

Day had scarcely dawned, when the door of the tun was softly opened and Heinrich Mohr's herculean figure appeared on the threshold; he took leave of Edwin with a silent pressure of the hand. When, late in the evening, he had come to the house to see whether Christiane had returned in safety, he was soothed by the light in her window, and went up stairs to pay Balder a visit and calm his excited nerves by a game of chess. When he heard what had occurred and saw the poor young fellow's condition, he could not be dissuaded from watching with him through the night. Franzelius had rushed off for the doctor as soon as Edwin returned. He found Marquard's doors locked, his master would probably not come home that night, the servant said with a significant smile. Another doctor, the best that could be procured, was then summoned and prescribed the necessary remedies. After this the night pa.s.sed quietly without incident. The friends, both equally moved by this vicissitude of fate, scarcely exchanged a word during the long hours, but sat side by side on the bench by the turning lathe, each with a book which neither read, listening to the irregular breathing of the invalid. Toward morning, the slumber produced by opium seemed to pa.s.s into a healthy, natural sleep, and Edwin now insisted that Mohr should go home and make up part of the rest he had lost, begging him first to leave at Toinette's lodgings a note, which contained the following lines:

"_Do not expect me to-day. Whilst I was eagerly imbibing full draughts from the cup of life, death knocked at our door. We still hope to defend our citadel against him, but until we are entirely sure of doing so, I shall not leave my post at Balder's side. Whether or not I can forget you in any fate that may befall me, you well know. I shall send you messages from time to time. If you want any books, please inform me._

"_The envy of the_ '_so-called G.o.ds_' _has this time produced a master piece._

"Edwin."

When Mohr pa.s.sed Christiane's door, he was on the point of ringing her bell, but it occurred to him that it was not yet six o'clock. But he came back again during the forenoon. He had scarcely been able to sleep an hour; a strange anxiety urged him to return to the house in Dorotheenstra.s.se, which contained all that was dear to him. As he vainly pulled Christiane's bell for the third time, the maid-servant came up the stair's bringing Edwin's dinner; (Reginchen would not appear.) The woman was evidently confused when Mohr hastily asked where the young lady had gone and when she would return. Fraulein Christiane had gone out early in the morning, she answered sulkily, she couldn't say where. She didn't trouble herself about the lodgers.

He was not particularly surprised; only it was disagreeable to be thus compelled to wait before he could see her again. But as he intended to stay in the tun for the day and night, he hoped at any rate to hear when she returned.

On going up stairs he found Marquard, who tried to put the best possible face on matters.

"There's no immediate danger," he said in a low tone, while Balder was sleeping, "if he will only keep quiet and not play any more tricks.

What the devil induced him, instead of taking a little ride in the sunshine, to venture alone into the city and wander about the foggy streets till he was warm and tired."

That he had done this, Balder had written with a trembling hand on a sc.r.a.p of paper, for which he asked Edwin as soon as he awoke, as if by his written testimony to remove all suspicion of any other cause.

Franzelius, who came up a moment to inquire about his health, and scarcely dared to look the invalid in the face, had kept silence. And indeed he knew nothing definite; he left after insisting that he must be permitted to watch the following night. There was no longer any mention of his fixed idea that he was pursued.

Here was a fresh instance of the power a pure and n.o.ble soul can exert over coa.r.s.er natures. There was not a loud word heard in the house; everybody moved about on tiptoe; a Sabbath-like stillness pervaded the workshop beneath, only interrupted by the smothered grumbling of the head journeyman, if the apprentice who was sent up stairs in his stocking feet every two hours to inquire about Balder, remained too long. Even the old gentleman in the second story had been to the tun in person to express his sympathy for Edwin, and Madame Feyertag, the only person who succeeded in seeing the patient, came down with tearful eyes and declared that he looked like a young Saviour, and it was heart rending to see such a picture of a man suffer so terribly.

Reginchen, as has already been mentioned, did not appear. The maid-servant said she was ill. Such a thing was hard to imagine, but no one had much thought for anything except whether Balder would ever rise from his bed again.

We must, however, except Heinrich Mohr, who in the deathlike stillness of the house listened for nothing more anxiously than the sound of Christiane's door. But there was no movement or sound beneath, though hour after hour elapsed and she had never before remained absent without informing the pupils who came to take lessons at the house, and who were dismissed to-day by the old servant, with a shrug of the shoulders. The uncertainty became harder and harder to bear. He had never pa.s.sed hours so full of torture as these in the quiet sick room, beside the friend to whom he could not even speak of his fears, for Edwin's sole anxiety was for his brother.

Evening had already come, when Mohr with a beating heart suddenly heard a carriage drive up the street and directly after rapid steps cross the courtyard. Now the first flight of stairs creaked, a woman's light footsteps could be heard upon them; they paused at the first landing but Christiane's room was not the goal, for with light cautious steps the late visitor mounted higher, reached the door of the tun, and tapped lightly on it.

Edwin who was sitting beside the lamp, dozing a little after his sleepless night, instantly started up. "Come in!" he called softly, forgetting that no one was allowed to enter the sick room. The door opened, and Toinette's slender figure, wrapped in a silk cloak, glided noiselessly in. Her first glance lighted upon the bed where Balder was quietly sleeping, then she laid her finger on her lips and nodded to the two friends, who had started from their chairs and were gazing at her in astonishment.

"Toinette--you here!--you've come yourself!" exclaimed Edwin.

"Hush!" she answered. "He's asleep, I'm going away again directly. But I couldn't rest, I was determined to see how bad matters were. You wrote me such a short note, that I haven't got over my fright yet. Tell me, is he out of danger?"

"We hope so. But won't you sit down?"

"No, no," she answered, now for the first time glancing around the dimly lighted room, with an involuntary sigh which betrayed to Edwin how poor and uninviting the famous "tun" appeared to her. "I shall disturb you!" she added in a whisper. "Only let me look at him once more. Thank you," she added to Mohr, who had moved the lamp nearer the sleeper. For a few moments all three were silent.

"He's very handsome!" she said softly. "What a gentle face! So that is your brother! Do you know I should have known it instantly, though you don't look at all alike. What pretty slender hands, one would never think they had learned a trade; but he's moving, as if in pain; take the lamp away, we mustn't wake him."

"Won't you not at least sit down a moment?" pleaded Edwin, who could hardly restrain his feelings. "I can't offer you a sofa though. Neither philosophy nor the turning lathe has progressed so far as that."

"No, I can't stay. I kept the droschky waiting at the door because I only wanted to inquire in person. What a terrible attack! But at least he does not suffer. What does the doctor say?"

At this moment the invalid moved his head, raised it a little from the pillow, and slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was fixed upon Toinette, whom he seemed to notice with quiet curiosity, but without surprise.

Whether he took her for some dream-vision, or whether he was really awake, they could not tell. "How sweet those violets smell!" he murmured. "Is it Spring already?" A faint smile lighted up his face and then died away. Slowly, as if closed by some stranger's hand, his eyelids drooped, and with a heavy sigh he sank back upon the pillows.

"He thinks he has seen a vision, and will dream on about it," whispered Edwin. "I wonder if he will remember you to-morrow."

"Don't tell him I was here," Toinette replied quickly, drawing her hood over her head. "Goodnight. I'm glad I've seen him, I really could not have slept without it." Mohr silently bowed. Meantime Edwin had lighted a small lamp and was prepared to accompany her down stairs.

"I'm making you a great deal of trouble," she said as she slowly descended the rickety steps, "but one might easily break one's neck here. And then, I've something to tell you, a request to make, but you mustn't be angry with me."

"What can I do for you?"

"It's not for me, it's for your brother. Things must not go on so, he ought to have a change, he can't spend the winter in that oppressive atmosphere. I'm angry with myself for having managed so badly, lived so recklessly. A fortnight ago I should have been twice as rich. But you'll certainly treat me like an old friend and take what I have, that he may go to some warmer climate, if not to Cairo or Madeira." He stood still on the stairs. The hand which held the light trembled.

"And you, Toinette? What is to become of you?"

"That's a matter of no consequence. Surely you know that 'My Highness'

must end sooner or later, and I shall not have been utterly useless at last."

"Toinette! What are you saying! You're jesting, and I--in all seriousness, do you suppose I would accept your offer?"

"You would be very unwise if you did not. Do you call yourself a philosopher and still cling to such foolish prejudices? What can one human being give another that deserves less thanks than miserable money? I thought you despised it as much as I. But I see you're no wiser than other men, who don't hesitate a moment to take everything from a girl, love and life and honor, but who when the point in question concerns a few paltry pieces of money, become stiff-necked from an incomprehensible pride. Go! I see you don't love your brother even as well as I do."

In her indignation she ran down the stairs and crossed the courtyard so rapidly, that in following her his candle was blown out.

As he helped her into the carriage, he whispered: "We'll discuss this matter another time. But whatever I do or leave undone, I thank you, Toinette, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for having been so sisterly, so kind, so--"

"Hush," she said. "Go back to your ugly tun again. I'm not at all satisfied with you, and am not to be conciliated by fine words so easily. Reflect until to-morrow. I shall see you again toward evening."

"No, dearest," he answered hastily, "you must not do that. Beautiful and worthy of you as it was to cast aside all scruples to-day, you must not again expose yourself to gossip without cause. Did you see good Madame Feyertag's face as we pa.s.sed the shop door? I can't bear to have people form such an opinion of you, and besides--suppose he should see you when in the full possession of his senses and fall in love with you? One fever is enough isn't it?"

"You're a fool," she answered laughing, but instantly becoming grave again; "but if you'll write every day and give a full, very full account of him, I'll stay at home. But reflect upon what I said to you.

Good night."

The droschky drove away, and Edwin looked after it till the dim lamps vanished around the corner. For the first time in all these weeks it did not seem to him impossible, but rather it seemed a blissful certainty, that the ice between them would be broken and a spring time arrive, which would make amends for all his tortures. At this moment everything, even Balder's fate, receded into the background. Bare headed and without a cloak, he stood for a long time in the gloomy street, as if intoxicated by contending emotions, and did not feel the first flakes of a November snow storm fluttering down upon him.

CHAPTER VIII.