The Sign Of Flame Part 29

Hartmut had turned deathly pale at the hint of the muddy origin of his mother's means, and the numb terror with which he looked at the speaker betrayed that he indeed knew nothing about it. But at this last question he regained his composure.

His flashing eyes met those of his opponent, and a wild decision sounded in his voice as he replied: "Yes, Herr von Wallmoden, I remain."

The Amba.s.sador did not seem to have expected this defiance; he probably thought to have accomplished the matter more easily, but he retained his composure.

"Really? Well, you are accustomed to playing a high hand, and you seem to wish here also--but hush! Some one is coming. Reconsider the matter, perhaps you will change your mind."

He quickly entered the adjoining room, in which the Chief Forester now appeared.

"Where have you hidden yourself, Herbert?" he asked, when he beheld the Amba.s.sador. "I have looked everywhere for you."

"I wished to find my wife."

"She is already in the dining room, like everybody else, and where you are being missed. Come, it is high time that we get something to eat."

Herr von Schonan took possession of his brother-in-law in his ever jovial manner and went off with him.

Hartmut stood still in his place. He struggled for breath; the excitement threatened to choke him. Shame, hatred, anger, all floated wildly through his heart. That hint of Wallmoden's had hurt him terribly, although he but half understood it. It tore asunder the veil with which he had half unconsciously, half intentionally shrouded the truth. He had, indeed, believed that a remnant of their wealth, rescued from the wreck, had given him and his mother their income. But it was not the first time that he had shut his eyes to what he did not wish to see.

He had enjoyed life in deep draughts without calling himself to account for it when the hand of his mother had so suddenly torn him from the enforced paternal education into unlimited freedom; when he exchanged the routine of the strictest duties for a life full of intoxicating enjoyments. He had then been too young to judge, and later on--it was then too late; habit and example had woven too unyielding a net around him. Now, for the first time, it was being shown him clearly and unmistakably what the life was that he had led so long--the life of an adventurer; and as an adventurer he had been pointed out the exit from society.

But hotter than the shame of that burned the affront which had been given him, and hatred for the man who had forced this indisputable truth upon him. The unfortunate inheritance from his mother, the hot, wild blood which had once been fatal to the boy, welled up like a stream of fire, and every other thought went down in a sensation, wild and limitless, of thirst for revenge.

His handsome features were distorted beyond recognition when he finally left the room, with tightly closed teeth. He knew and felt but one thing--that he must have revenge--revenge at any price!

CHAPTER XXV.

It was very late when the fete came to an end. After the withdrawal of the ducal couple, a general move for departure took place. Carriage after carriage rolled down the Schlossberg; the bright lights were extinguished, and Furstenstein began to shroud itself in darkness and silence.

In the apartments devoted to the Amba.s.sador and his wife, however, the lights still burned.

Adelaide stood at the window in her rich robe of the fete and looked out into the night like one lost in thought, but it was with a peculiar, weary gesture that she leaned her head against the window panes.

Wallmoden sat at the writing table, glancing through some letters and dispatches which had arrived in the last hour. They seemed to contain important news, for he did not lay them aside with other papers to receive attention to-morrow morning, but grasped a pen and hastily wrote a few lines, then arose and quickly approached his wife.

"This comes unexpectedly," he said. "I shall have to go to Berlin."

Adelaide turned in surprise. "So suddenly?"

"Yes; I thought to accomplish this very serious affair by letter, but the Minister expressly desires a personal interview. Therefore I shall take leave of the Duke to-morrow morning for a period of about a week, and depart immediately."

The young bride's features could not be distinguished in the semi-darkness, but her breast heaved with a deep sigh, which betrayed a perhaps unconscious relief.

"At what hour do we leave?" she asked quickly; "I should like to notify my maid."

"We? This is entirely a business trip, and, naturally, I go alone."

"But I could accompany you."

"What for? You understand that it means an absence of only a week or two."

"No matter. I--I should like to see Berlin again."

"What a whim!" said Wallmoden, shrugging his shoulders. "I shall be so occupied this time that I could not accompany you anywhere."

The young wife had approached the table and now stood in the full light of the lamp. She was much paler than usual, and her voice had a suppressed sound as she returned: "Well, then, I shall go home. I should really not like to remain here alone at Furstenstein without you."

"Alone?" The Amba.s.sador looked at her in astonishment. "You will be with our relatives, whose guests we are. How long have you been so desirous of protection? It is a thing I have not observed in you so far. I do not understand you, Adelaide. What is this strange caprice of wishing to accompany me at all hazards?"

"Accept it as a caprice, then, but let me go with you, Herbert; I beg of you."

She laid her hand entreatingly upon his arm, and her eyes were directed with almost an expression of fear upon her husband's face, whose thin lips parted in a sarcastic smile. It was that superior smile, which could be so insulting at times.

"Ah, so? Now I understand. That scene with the Princess has been disagreeable to you. You fear renewed annoyances, which will probably not fail to come. You must lose this sensitiveness, my child. On the contrary, you ought to be aware of the fact that this encounter alone puts you to the necessity of remaining here. Every word, every look is interpreted at Court, and a sudden departure on your part would give rise to all sorts of speculations. You have to hold your own now, if you do not wish to make your connections with the Court forever difficult."

The young wife's hand slipped slowly from his arm, and her look sank to the floor at this cool rejoinder to her almost beseeching entreaty--the first she had uttered in her short marriage.

"Hold my own," she repeated, in a low voice. "I do that, but I hoped you would remain at my side."

"That is not possible just now, as you see; besides, you understand in a masterly manner how to defend yourself. You have shown that to me as well as to the whole Court to-day, but I am sure the hint I gave you will be considered, and that you will be more cautious with your answers in the future. At any rate, you will remain at Furstenstein until I return for you."

Adelaide was silent. She saw that nothing was to be gained here.

Wallmoden stepped back to the writing table and looked at the doc.u.ment just received; then he grasped the sheet on which he had written the answer and folded it.

"One thing more, Adelaide," he said, carelessly; "the young Prince Adelsberg was constantly at your side to-night. He pays homage to you in rather a conspicuous manner."

"Do you wish me to decline these attentions?" she asked, indifferently.

"No; I only ask you to draw the necessary limit, so that no idle talk may ensue. I do not intend to cut short your social victories. We do not live in burgher circ.u.mstances, and it would be ridiculous in my position to play the jealous husband who views every attention paid his wife with suspicion. I leave this entirely to your own tact, in which I have unlimited confidence."

All of this sounded so tranquil, so sensible, so boundlessly indifferent, Herr von Wallmoden might, indeed, be exonerated from any thought of jealousy. The openly offered admiration of the young, charming Prince caused him no anxiety; he quietly left his wife to her "tact."

"I shall attend to this dispatch myself," he continued; "as we have a telegraph station in the castle since the Duke's arrival. You should ring for your mail, my child; you look somewhat fatigued and probably feel so. Good night."

He left the room, but Adelaide did not follow the advice. She had drawn near the window again, and a half bitter, half pained expression trembled on her lips. She had never felt so painfully as at this moment that she was nothing more to her husband than a shining jewel which one exhibits, a wife whom one treats with perfect politeness and attention because she brought in her hand a princely fortune, and to whom a request could be denied with equal politeness; a request which might have been so easily granted.

Night rested over the forest; the sky was cloudy and dark, with here and there a solitary star glimmering through the flying clouds. A pale face looked up to the gloomy sky; not with the cold, proud composure the world was accustomed to see, but with an expression of beseeching entreaty.

The young wife pressed both hands to her bosom, as if the pain and unrest were there. She had wished to flee from the dark power whose approach she had felt, and which was drawing the circles nearer and closer around her. She had wished to flee to her husband's protection. In vain! He would go away and leave her alone, and another remained--another, who, with dark, glowing eyes and thrilling voice, wielded such a mysterious, irresistible power. "Ada," the name with its sweet, foreign sound, floated near her like a spirit's breath. It was her name which the legend of the Arivana bore!