The Lost Manuscript Part 37

"Father is right," cried Laura, springing up; "away with the handkerchief, and my account with the Doctor will be closed for ever."

"That's right," a.s.sented Hummel. "Where is the rag? Away with it."

The handkerchief lay ready on a plate, wrapped up in fine blue paper, and also covered with spring flowers.

"So this is the hemmed and embroidered thing? We will send it over immediately."

He took the plate from the table, and carried it quickly into the factory; from thence the blue packet went, with many compliments, to the G.o.dfather in the house of the enemy.

Mrs. Hahn brought the card of greeting and the present to her son's room.

"Ah, that is a charming attention," remarked the Doctor, closely examining the flowers.

"It is not so customary now-a-days to send presents to the gentlemen too," said the Doctor's mother. "But I always thought it such a pretty custom."

She unfolded the paper inquisitively, and looked up in astonishment. A printed cotton handkerchief lay within, as thick as leather and woven with coa.r.s.e threads. It might be a mask only, and in this hope she unfolded it, but a frightful caricature alone appeared in diabolical colors of red and black.

"That is not a nice joke," said the mother, vexed.

The Doctor looked downcast. "I have sometimes teased Laura Hummel. This probably has reference to some bantering that has pa.s.sed between us. I beg of you, mother, to place the flowers in a gla.s.s."

He took the handkerchief, concealed it in a drawer, and again bent over his writing.

"I should not have expected this of Laura," continued the mother, much disturbed. But as her son did not encourage further complaints, she arranged the flowers for him and left the room, pondering upon the mortification of her child.

The carriage drove up and the Doctor got into it to fetch the G.o.dmother.

"Our doors are so near together," said Hummel, who was standing at the window, "that he will only just have time to creep out from the other side."

After some difficulty in turning, the carriage arrived at the steps of Mr. Hummel. The servant opened the door, but before the Doctor could jump down Susan appeared on the steps and called out:

"Do not take the trouble of entering, the young lady will come immediately."

Laura swept down the steps, all in white as if veiled in a snowcloud; and how pretty she looked! Her cheeks were indeed paler than usual, and her brows were gloomily knit, but the sad expression gave an enchanting dignity to her countenance. She avoided looking at the Doctor, only slightly moving her head at his greeting, and when he offered his hand to a.s.sist her, she pa.s.sed by him and seated herself in her place as if he were not there. He had some difficulty in finding room next to her; she nodded, ignoring him, to Mr. Hummel, who was standing on the steps looking far more cheerful than his child. The horses trotted slowly on; Laura looked neither to the right nor to the left. "It is the first time she officiates as G.o.dmother," thought the Doctor, "that causes this solemn mood; or perhaps she is repentant because of the colored handkerchief!" He looked at her hands; the gloves that he sent were not to be seen. "Have I offended against etiquette?" he thought again, "or were they too large for her little hands?"

"He is silent," she thought, "that is his bad conscience; he is thinking of the cat's claws, and has not a word of thanks for my pocket-handkerchief; I have been sadly mistaken in him." This consideration made her so sorrowful that tears again rose to her eyes; but she pressed her lips tightly together, squeezed the thumb of her right hand, and silently counted from one up to ten, an old recipe she had formerly used for restraining vehement feeling.

"Things cannot go on so," thought the Doctor, "I must speak to her."

"You have not been able to use the gloves that T ventured to send you,"

he began modestly; "I fear I have made a bad selection."

This was too much; Laura turned her head sharply toward the Doctor. For a moment he saw two flashing eyes, and heard the contemptuous words: "I am no cat." Again her lips were compressed, and she clenched her hand convulsively.

Fritz reflected with astonishment whether gloves that wrinkle could ever have been considered a characteristic sign of our domestic animal.

He thought the remark incongruous. "What a pity she is so whimsical!"

After a time he began again: "I fear you will feel the draught; shall I close the window?"

"Not at all," answered Laura, with icy coldness.

"Do you know what the baby is to be called?" continued the doctor.

"He is to be called Fritz," returned Laura; and for the second time a flaming look of anger met his spectacles, then she turned away again.

Ah! in spite of the lightning that flashed from her eyes, the Doctor could not deny but that she was at this moment wonderfully lovely. She also felt obliged to say something now, and began, over her shoulder:--

"I think the name a very common one."

"It is my own name," said the Doctor; "and as I hear it every day, I must agree with you. It is at least a German name," he added, good-humoredly. "It is a pity that they are so much neglected."

"As my name is a foreign one," replied Laura, again over her shoulder, "I have a right to prefer foreign names."

"If she continues like this the whole day," thought Fritz, discouraged, "I shall have a very pleasant time of it, indeed."

"I must sit next him at dinner, and bear the insult," thought she. "Ah!

life is terrible."

They arrived at the house, both glad to find themselves among others.

When they entered the room, they hurried to different parts of it; but, of course, being obliged to greet the young mother, they again had to meet. When Laura turned to her G.o.dmother, the Doctor also approached from the other side, and the good lady called to mind the day when they had come together to her summer residence, and she could not refrain from exclaiming: "That portends something; you have again come together, dear children."

Laura raised her head proudly, and replied: "Only because you have wished it."

They went to church. The little Fritz tossed about in his G.o.dmother's arms, frightened at the baptismal font; but when he was handed over to the tall Fritz, he broke out into an angry cry; and Laura observed with contempt how disconcerted the Doctor was, and what awkward efforts he made, by raising and lowering his arms, and by his looks, to appease the little squaller, till at last the nurse--a very resolute woman--came to his a.s.sistance.

With the approach of sunset the duties of the day became more insupportable. At the christening feast all Laura's most gloomy antic.i.p.ations were fulfilled, for she was seated beside the Doctor; and, for both, it was a most disagreeable meal, indeed. The Doctor once more ventured to make some advances, hoping to break through her incomprehensible mood, but he might as well have attempted to thaw the ice of a glacier with a lucifer match, for Laura had now become an adept in the expression of social contempt. She conversed exclusively with the father of the child, who sat at her other side, and encouraged by his cheerful gossip she recovered her wonted elasticity of spirit; while Fritz became more silent, and noticeably neglected a pleasing young woman, his left-hand neighbor. But things grew still worse. When the proper time approached, the other G.o.dfather, a city councillor, a man of the world and a good speaker, came behind the Doctor's chair, and declared that he could not undertake to bring the christening toast as he was suffering with a headache, which drove away all his thoughts, and that the Doctor must speak in his stead. The possibility of this had never occurred to the Doctor, and it was so unpleasant to him in his present mood that he quietly, but firmly, refused his consent to the proposal. Laura again listened with deep contempt to the discussion between the two gentlemen about an oratorical exercise which was not even to be put in writing. The master of the house also observed it, and a feeling of awkward expectation threw a gloom over the society, which is not calculated to encourage unwilling after-dinner speakers, but rather to depress them, and scatter their thoughts. Just, however, as the Doctor was on the point of performing his duty, Laura, after giving him another cold look, rose and clinked her gla.s.s. She was greeted with a loud bravo; and she then said, to the astonishment of herself, and delight of all present: "As the gentlemen sponsors are so little inclined to do their duty, I crave your pardon for undertaking what they ought to have done." Thereupon, she bravely proposed and led the toast; it was a bold undertaking, but it was successful, and she was overwhelmed with applause. On the other hand, sarcastic speeches were made against the Doctor by the gentlemen present. Nevertheless, he extricated himself tolerably, the situation being so desperate that it restored to him his powers; nay, he had the impudence to declare that he delayed intentionally, in order to procure for the society the pleasure which all must have experienced in listening to the eloquence of his neighbor. He then made an amusing speech on every possible subject; and all laughed, but they did not know what he was aiming at, till he adroitly turned it upon the G.o.dfathers and G.o.dmothers and in particular proposed the health of his charming neighbor who sat beside him. This answered well enough for the other guests, but to Laura it was insufferable mockery and hypocrisy; and when she had to clink gla.s.ses with him, she looked so indignantly at him, that he quickly drew back from her.

He now began to show his indifference after his fashion; he talked loudly to his neighbor, and drank many gla.s.ses of wine. Laura drew her chair away from him; fearing that he might drink too much, he became an object of annoyance to her, and she gradually relapsed into silence.

But the Doctor took no heed of this; again he clinked his gla.s.s, and made another speech, which was so comical that it produced the happiest effect on the company. But Laura sat as stiff as a stone image, only casting an occasional stolen glance towards him. After that the Doctor left her side; his chair stood vacant, but, figuratively speaking, the cotton pocket-handkerchief and the small fur gloves still lay upon it, and it seemed quite uneasy under its invisible burden. The Doctor, meanwhile, went about the table, stopping here and there to pay his respects; and wherever he stopped there was laughing and clinking of gla.s.ses. When he had finished his round, he approached the host and hostess; and Laura heard them thank him for the merry evening, and praise the gaiety of his spirits.

He then returned to his place; and now he had the impudence to turn to Laura, and, with an expression in which she clearly perceived a sneer, he held out his hand to her under the table, saying, "Let us make peace, naughty G.o.dmother; give me your hand." Laura's whole heart revolted, and she exclaimed, "You shall have my hand immediately." She put her hand quickly into her pocket, put on one of the cat's-skin gloves, and scratched him with it on the back of his hand. "There, take what you deserve."

The Doctor felt a sharp pain; he raised his hand, and he perceived it was tattooed with red streaks. Laura threw her glove into his lap, and added: "If I were a man, I would make you feel in another way the insult you have offered me."

The Doctor looked about him; his left-hand neighbor had risen; and on the other side, the master of the house, bending over the table, formed a convenient wall between them and the outer world. He looked in astonishment at the challenge in his lap; it was all incomprehensible to him; he was conscious but of one thing, that Laura, in spite of her pa.s.sion, was enchantingly beautiful.

He too put his hand into his pocket, and said: "Happily, I am in a position to bind your present of this morning about the wounds." He pulled out the red and black handkerchief, and began to wind it round his wounded hand; in doing which, it could not fail being seen that the hand had a most uncanny murderous appearance. When Laura saw the b.l.o.o.d.y scratches, she was shocked, but she bravely concealed her repentance, saying coldly, "At least it would be better for your hand if you would take my handkerchief as a bandage, instead of that stiff clumsy thing."

"It is your handkerchief," replied the Doctor, sorrowfully.

"This is worst of all," cried Laura, with quivering voice. "You have behaved towards me to-day in a manner that is highly humiliating to me, and I ask you what have I done to deserve such treatment?"

"What have I done to deserve such reproaches?" asked the Doctor, in return. "This morning you sent me this with your compliments.

"I?" cried Laura; "you sent me these cat's paws. But I did not send that handkerchief. My handkerchief had none of the beauty of this colored print--it was only white."

"I may say the same of my gloves; they were not blessed with claws--they were plain kid."

Laura turned to him, anxiously gazing into his face. "Is that true?"