The First Violin Part 67

"What for a lark! as they say in your country."

"You are quite mistaken. I never heard such an expression. But what is such a lark?"

"We have no hats; we want something to eat; we must have tickets to get back to Elberthal, and I have just two thalers in my pocket--oh! and a two-pfennige piece. I left my little all behind me."

"Hurrah! At last you will be compelled to take back that three thalers ten."

We both laughed at this _jeu d'esprit_ as if it had been something exquisitely witty; and I forgot my disheveled condition in watching the sun rise over the broad river, in feeling our noiseless progression over it, and, above all, in the divine sense of oneness and harmony with him at my side--a feeling which I can hardly describe, utterly without the pa.s.sionate fitfulness of the orthodox lover's rapture, but as if for a long time I had been waiting for some quality to make me complete, and had quietly waked to find it there, and the world understandable--life's riddle read.

Eugen's caresses were few, his words of endearment quiet; but I knew what they stood for; a love rooted in feelings deeper than those of sense, holier than mere earthly love--feelings which had taken root in adversity, had grown in darkness and "made a sunshine in a shady place"--feelings which in him had their full and n.o.ble growth and beauty of development, but which it seems to be the aim of the fashionable education of this period as much as possible to do away with--the feeling of chivalry, delicacy, reticence, manliness, modesty.

As we drew nearer the town, he said to me:

"In a few hours we shall have to part, May, for a time. While we are here alone, and you are uninfluenced, let me ask you something. This love of yours for me--what will it carry you through?"

"Anything, now that I am sure of yours for me."

"In short, you are firmly decided to be my wife some time?"

"When you tell me you are ready for me," said I, putting my hand in his.

"And if I find it best to leave my Fatherland, and begin life quite anew?"

"Thy G.o.d is my G.o.d, and thy people are my people, Eugen."

"One other thing. How do you know that you can marry? Your friends--"

"I am twenty years old. In a year I can do as I like," said I, composedly. "Surely we can stand firm and faithful for a year?"

He smiled, and it was a new smile--sweet, hopeful, if not merry.

With this silent expression of determination and trust we settled the matter.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

"What's failure or success to me?

I have subdued my life to the one purpose."

Eugen sent a telegram from Emmerich to Frau Mittendorf to rea.s.sure her as to my safety. At four in the afternoon we left that town, refreshed and rehatted, to reach Elberthal at six.

I told Eugen that we were going away the next day to stay a short time at a place called Lahnburg.

He started and looked at me.

"Lahnburg!--I--when you are there--_nein, das ist_--You are going to Lahnburg?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"You will know why I ask if you go to Schloss Rothenfels."

"Why?"

"I say no more, dear May. I will leave you to form your own conclusions.

I have seen that this fair head could think wisely and well under trying circ.u.mstances enough. I am rather glad that you are going to Lahnburg."

"The question is--will you still be at Elberthal when I return?"

"I can not say. We had better exchange addresses. I am at Frau Schmidt's again--my old quarters. I do not know when or how we shall meet again. I must see Friedhelm, and you--when you tell your friends, you will probably be separated at once and completely from me."

"Well, a year is not much out of our lives. How old are you, Eugen?"

"Thirty-two. And you?"

"Twenty and two months; then you are twelve years older than I. You were a school-boy when I was born. What were you like?"

"A regular little brute, I should suppose, as they all are."

"When we are married," said I, "perhaps I may go on with my singing, and earn some more money by it. My voice will be worth something to me then."

"I thought you had given up art."

"Perhaps I shall see Adelaide," I added; "or, rather, I will see her." I looked at him rather inquiringly. To my relief he said:

"Have you not seen her since her marriage?"

"No; have you?"

"She was my angel nurse when I was lying in hospital at ----. Did you not know that she has the Iron Cross? And no one ever won it more n.o.bly."

"Adelaide--your nurse--the Iron Cross?" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Then you have seen her?"

"Seen her shadow to bless it."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"With her husband at ----. She told me that you were in England, and she gave me this."

He handed me a yellow, much-worn folded paper, which, on opening, I discovered to be my own letter to Adelaide, written during the war, and which had received so curt an answer.

"I begged very hard for it," said he, "and only got it with difficulty, but I represented that she might get more of them, whereas I--"

He stopped, for two reasons. I was weeping as I returned it to him, and the train rolled into the Elberthal station.

On my way to Dr. Mittendorf's, I made up my mind what to do. I should not speak to Stella, nor to any one else of what had happened, but I should write very soon to my parents and tell them the truth. I hoped they would not refuse their consent, but I feared they would. I should certainly not attempt to disobey them while their authority legally bound me, but as soon as I was my own mistress, I should act upon my own judgment. I felt no fear of anything; the one fear of my life--the loss of Eugen--had been removed, and all others dwindled to nothing. My happiness, I am and was well aware, was quite set upon things below; if I lost Eugen I lost everything, for I, like him, and like all those who have been and are dearest to both of us, was a Child of the World.