The Sign Of Flame Part 39

"But why must it be bad news?" the old lady spoke consolingly. "Herr von Eschenhagen was still well and bright yesterday afternoon. I inquired about him at your special request. He went to drive with Herr and Frau von Wallmoden. The affair has probably been settled amicably."

"I should have heard of it," said the young girl, in a heartbroken way.

"He promised me, and he would have kept his word, I know. If misfortune has really happened to him--if he has fallen--I believe I could not live!"

The last words were spoken so pa.s.sionately that Fraulein Berger looked at the speaker in dismay.

"Do be reasonable, Marietta," she entreated. "How are you responsible for an impertinent man insulting you, or the betrothed of your friend stepping in to your rescue? You really could not act more despairingly if your own betrothed stood before the pistol."

The cheeks, just now so pale, flushed redly, and Marietta turned to the window with a quick gesture.

"You do not understand, auntie," she said, in a low voice; "you do not know how much love and kindness have been shown me in the house of the Chief Forester--how earnestly Toni begged my forgiveness when she learned how deeply her future mother-in-law had offended me. What will she think of me when she hears that her betrothed has been in a duel for my sake? What will Frau von Eschenhagen say?"

"Well, they will at least be open to the conviction that you are quite innocent in this affair, which, if it ends well, they will not hear of.

I do not recognize or understand you in all this. You used to laugh away every care and anxiety, but this time you exaggerate it in a really incomprehensible manner. You have scarcely eaten or drunk in two days in your excitement; you must not sit at my table to-day as you did yesterday and the day before. I tell you that; and now I will look after the dinner."

The kind old lady arose and left the room to prepare some extra dainty with which to tempt her protegee's fleeting appet.i.te.

She was right; the merry, bright Marietta would not now be recognized.

Beyond a doubt it gave a painful, depressed feeling to be brought before the people of Furstenstein in so bad a light through that occurrence in the park, and even here in town her name, so carefully protected, might suffer if something of it should be heard; but, strange to say, these possibilities remained in the background because of a fear which grew with every hour and was hardly to be borne any longer.

"With my blood, if it must be."

Unconsciously she whispered Willibald's last words, and pressed her hot brow against the window pane. "Oh, my G.o.d, not that!"

Suddenly at the street corner a figure appeared, which attracted attention on account of its unusual size. He came nearer with rapid steps and looked searchingly at the house numbers.

With a suppressed cry of joy, Marietta sprang from the window. She had recognized Herr von Eschenhagen. She did not wait until he pulled the bell, but hastened to open the door. Tears shimmered yet in her eyes, but her voice was jubilant as she cried: "You come at last! G.o.d be praised!"

"Yes, here I am, well and whole," a.s.sured Willibald, whose face lighted up at his reception.

Neither knew how they reached the sitting room. To the young man it seemed as if a small, soft hand had been laid upon his arm and had drawn him along, all unresisting. But when they stood before each other, Marietta noticed that a broad, black bandage was around his right hand.

"Mon Dieu, you are injured!" she cried in fear.

"A slight scratch--not worth mentioning," Willibald said merrily, waving the hand. "I have given the Count a more severe reminder, but it is also only a glance shot in the shoulder, and not in the least dangerous to his precious life. That man could not even shoot right."

"Then you did have the duel? I knew it."

"This morning at 8 o'clock. But you need fear nothing more, mein Fraulein. You see everything has pa.s.sed off well."

The young singer drew a deep breath, as if relieved of a mountain load.

"I thank you, Herr von Eschenhagen. No--no, do not refuse my thanks.

You have endangered your life for my sake. I thank you a thousand times."

"There is no cause, Fraulein; I did it gladly," said Willibald, cordially. "But, since I have stood before the pistol now for your sake, you must permit me to bring you a little token of remembrance.

You will not throw it at my feet again?"

He somewhat awkwardly--because of his left hand--drew out from his pocket a white tissue paper, and, opening it, disclosed a full-blown rose with two buds.

Marietta dropped her eyes in confusion. Mutely she accepted the flowers and fastened one of them at her throat. Then she stretched out her hand to the giver just as mutely.

He fully understood the apology.

"Of course you are accustomed to different floral offerings," he said, apologetically. "I hear a great deal of the homage people pay you."

The young girl smiled, but with a more pathetic than happy expression.

"You have been a witness to what this homage is at times, and it was not the first time it has happened. The gentlemen seem to think they are permitted to venture anything when one is on the stage. Believe me, Herr von Eschenhagen, it is often hard to bear this lot, for which I am envied by so many."

Willibald listened intently to these words.

"Hard to bear? I thought you loved your vocation above everything, and would not leave it at any price."

"Oh, surely I love it; but I had not thought that so much bitterness and hardship were connected with it. My teacher, Professor Marani, says: 'One must rise as on eagle's wings; then all the low and vulgar will remain far below.' He may be right, but one must be an eagle for that, and I am only a '_singvogelchen_,' as my grandfather calls me, which has nothing but its voice and cannot rise so high. The critics often tell me that fire and strength are wanting in my rendering. I feel myself that I have no real dramatic talent. I can only sing, and would rather do that at home in our green forests than here in this golden cage."

The voice of the usually bright, cheery girl sounded full of deeply suppressed emotion. This last occurrence had shown her again very plainly her unprotected position, and now her heart opened to the man who had interfered so bravely for her.

He listened in rapt attention and seemed to read the words from her lips, but at this truly sad report his face beamed as if something very joyful was being related, and now he interrupted vehemently:

"You long to get away from here? You would like to leave the stage?"

Marietta laughed aloud, in spite of her sorrow.

"No, I really do not think of that, for what should I do then? My grandfather saved and economized for years to make my education as a singer possible, and it would be poor grat.i.tude if I should be a burden to him in his old age. He does not know that at times his little _singvogel_ longs for its nest, or that life is made hard for her here.

I am not usually without courage. I persevere and stand strong whenever it must be so. Do not let these, my laments, be heard at Furstenstein.

You are going there?"

A shadow pa.s.sed over the beaming face of young Eschenhagen, and he was the one now to lower his eyes.

"I, indeed, go to Furstenstein this afternoon," he replied, in a strangely suppressed tone.

"Oh, I ask this one thing more. You must tell your betrothed everything--you hear?--everything. We owe it to her. I shall write her to-day about the occurrence, and you will confirm my letter with your words--yes?"

Willibald raised his eyes slowly and looked at the speaker. "You are right, Fraulein. Toni must hear everything the whole truth. I had already decided on that before I came here; but it will be a hard hour for me."

"Oh, surely not," said Marietta, encouragingly. "Toni is good and full of trust. She will believe your word and my word, that we are both innocent in this affair."

"But I am not without guilt--at least toward my bride-elect," declared Willibald, earnestly. "Do not look at me in such affright. You must hear it later, anyway, and it is perhaps better that I tell you myself.

I am going to Furstenstein only to ask Toni"--he stopped short and drew a deep breath--"to give me back my troth."

"For heaven's sake, why?" cried the young girl, horrified at this explanation.

"Why? Because it would be wrong should I offer Toni my hand and stand with her at the altar, with my heart as it is now. Because only now do I see what the princ.i.p.al thing is for betrothal and marriage--because----" He did not finish, but his eyes spoke so plainly that Marietta fully understood the rest.

Her face suddenly colored crimson. She drew back and made a violently repellent gesture.

"Herr von Eschenhagen, be silent; do not speak another word."