The Sign Of Flame Part 9

"I have to," interrupted the youth despairingly. "You know father and his iron will. Is there any possibility of anything else?"

"If you return to him, no. But who forces you?"

"Mamma, for G.o.d's sake!" shrieked Hartmut, terrified. But the encircling arms did not release him, and the hot, pa.s.sionate whisper again reached his ear:

"What frightens you so at the thought? You will only go with your mother, who loves you devotedly, and who will henceforth live for you alone. You have told me repeatedly that you hate the vocation which is forced upon you, that you languish with longing for freedom. There is no choice there for you; when you return your father will keep you irrevocably in the fetters. If he knew that you would die of them, he would not let you free."

She had no need to tell that to her son; he knew it better than she did. Only an hour ago he had seen the full inflexibility of his father, his hard "You shall learn to obey and bow your will."

His voice was almost smothered in bitterness as he answered: "Nevertheless, I must return. I have given my word to be back at Burgsdorf in two hours."

"Really," said Zalika, sharply and sarcastically; "I thought so.

Usually you are nothing but a boy, whose every step is prescribed; whose every moment counted out; who ought not even to have his own thoughts; but as soon as the retaining of you is concerned, you are given the independence of a man. Very well; now show that you are not only grown in words, but that you can also act like a man. A forced promise has no value. Tear asunder this invincible chain with which they want to bind you and make yourself free."

"No--no," murmured Hartmut, with a renewed attempt to free himself. But he did not succeed. He only turned his face and looked with fixed eyes out into the night, into the desolate, silent forest darkness and over yonder where the will-o'-the-wisp still carried on its ghostly dance.

Those quivering, tremulous flames appeared now everywhere; seeming to seek and flee from each other, they floated over the ground, disappearing or dissolving in the ocean of fog, only to reappear again and again. There was something ghastly yet fascinating in this spectre-like play; the demoniac charm of the depths which that treacherous mire concealed.

"Come with me, my Hartmut," implored Zalika, now in those sweet, coaxing tones which were so effectively at hers as well as at her son's command. "I have foreseen everything and prepared for it. I knew that a day like this had to come. My carriage awaits me half an hour's distance from here. It will take us to the next station, and before anybody at Burgsdorf thinks you will not return, the train will have carried us into the far country. There are freedom, light and happiness. I will lead you out into the great distant world, and after you know that, you will breathe with relief and shout like a redeemed man. I myself know how one released feels. I too have borne that chain which I riveted myself in foolish error, but I would have broken it in the first year but for you. Oh, it is sweet, this freedom. You will feel it, too."

She knew only too well how to succeed. Freedom, life, light! These words found a thousand-fold echo in the heart of the young man, whose pa.s.sionate thirst for freedom had been so far suppressed. This promised life shone with a magic splendor like a beacon before him. He needed only to stretch forth his hand and it was his.

"My promise," he murmured with a last attempt to gather strength.

"Father will look at me with contempt if----"

"If you have reached a great, proud future?" Zalika interrupted him pa.s.sionately. "Then you can go before him and ask if he dares consider you with contempt. He would keep you upon the ground while you have wings which will carry you high up. He does not understand a nature like yours; he will never learn to understand it. Will you languish and go to ruin for only a word's sake? Go with me, my Hartmut--with me, to whom you are all in all--out into freedom."

She drew him along, slowly but irresistibly. He still resisted, but did not tear himself away; and amidst the prayers and caresses of his mother this resistance slowly gave way--he followed.

A few moments later the pond lay wholly deserted; mother and son had disappeared; the sound of their steps died away. Night and silence brooded alone. Only over yonder in the fog of the marsh fluttered that noiseless spectral life. It floated and vanished, rose and sank again in restless play--the mysterious sign of flame.

PART II.

CHAPTER VIII.

The warm, golden light of a clear September day lay over the green ocean of forest, which stretched as far as the eye could reach. These immense forests had covered this part of Southern Germany for countless years; trees one hundred years old were no rarity among them. The whole bore the character of a mountainous forest, for hills and dales succeeded one another.

While the railroads spun their web all around the country, drawing one place after another within their grasp, this "Wald," as these miles and miles of wooded land were briefly called by the people, lay still and deserted, like a green island, almost untouched by the life and strife around.

Here and there a village rose from the forest green, or an old castle, almost in ruins, gray and dilapidated. There was one exception to it, in a powerful, old, gray edifice which stood upon a height and overlooked the whole vicinity. This was "Furstenstein," once the hunting lodge of the sovereign, but at present the habitation of the Chief of all the foresters.

The castle dated from the beginning of the last century and had been built with all the waste of s.p.a.ce of that epoch when the hunting lodge of the Prince had to accommodate for weeks the whole court suite.

Furstenstein was only partly visible at a distance, for the forest covered all the castle mount, the gray walls, the steeples and bow windows lifting themselves from among the crown of green firs. The size of the old structure was only apparent when one stood before the entrance portal, for many additions belonging to later times were attached to it. It was to be understood that decay here was carefully kept back, for the numerous rooms of the upper floors were kept in readiness for the commands of the Prince, who came here occasionally in the fall.

The similarly extensive lower floor was given to the chief of the forest department, Herr von Schonan, who had lived here for years, and who knew how to make the loneliness agreeable by keeping a very hospitable house and by frequent sociable visitings in the neighborhood.

He was entertaining guests at present. His sister-in-law, Frau Regine von Eschenhagen, had arrived yesterday, and her son was also expected.

The two daughters of the house of Wallmoden had made very desirable matches, the elder one marrying the lord of the Burgsdorf estates and the younger one Herr von Schonan, who belonged to a wealthy South German family. In spite of the distance separating them, the sisters and their families had remained in intimate a.s.sociation, and even after the death of the younger one, which had occurred several years previously, these family connections were continued.

This friendship, however, had a quality of its own, for Herr von Schonan was always on the war-path with his sister-in-law. As both natures were terse and inconsiderate they came to a tussle at every opportunity, made up regularly, deciding to keep the peace in future, but the promise was broken just as regularly. A new difference of opinion would come up in the next hour, the dispute would be carried on with fullest pa.s.sion, until it again raged with undiminished power.

Just at present a very unusual harmony seemed to prevail between the two, who sat upon the terrace before the entrance room.

The Chief Forester, who in spite of his advanced years, was still a very stately man, with strong, sunburned features and slightly gray but thick hair and beard, was leaning comfortably back in his chair, listening to his sister-in-law, who, as usual, was monopolizing the conversation.

Frau Regine was now near her fiftieth year, but had scarcely changed in the last decade. The years could not make much impression upon her strong physique; a little wrinkle perhaps here and there in the face, a few silver threads mingled with the dark hair; but the gray eyes had lost none of their keen clearness; the voice was as full and steady, the carriage just as energetic as formerly. It was very evident that the lady bore the sceptre in her domain now as before.

"As I said, w.i.l.l.y will be here in a week," she was saying. "He had not quite finished with his harvest work, but it will soon end, and then he will be ready for the betrothal. The affair has long been settled between us, but I decidedly advocated the delay, for a young girl of sixteen or seventeen years has all sorts of childish tricks still in her head, and cannot preside well over an orderly household. But Antonie is now twenty years old and w.i.l.l.y twenty-seven; this suits exactly. You are satisfied, are you not, brother, that we now arrange the betrothal of our children?"

"Quite satisfied," affirmed the Chief Forester; "and we are of the same opinion in all else concerning it. Half of my money will fall to my son after my death, the other half to my daughter, and you can also be at rest about the dower which I have set apart for the wedding."

"Yes, you have not been stingy about it. As to w.i.l.l.y, you know he has had possession of the Burgsdorf estates for three years. The money, according to the will, remains in my hands. After my death it will, of course, fall to him. The young couple will not be in need. Sufficient care has been taken for that; therefore all is decided."

"Yes, decided. We will celebrate the betrothal now and the wedding in the spring."

The thus far clear sky was darkened now by the first cloud. Frau von Eschenhagen shook her head and said dictatorially:

"That will not do, the wedding must occur in the winter, for w.i.l.l.y will not have time to marry in the spring."

"Nonsense! One always has time to marry," declared Schonan, just as dictatorially.

"Not in the country," persisted Frau Regine; "there the motto is, first work and then pleasure. It has always been so with us, and w.i.l.l.y has learned it, too."

"But I emphatically beg that he will make an exception in the case of his young wife, otherwise the deuce may take him!" cried the Chief angrily. "Besides, you know my conditions, Regine. My girl has not seen your son for two years; if he does not please her, she shall have a free choice."

He had attacked his sister-in-law in a most sensitive spot. She straightened herself to her fullest height in her offended motherly pride.

"My dear Moritz, I credit your daughter with some taste at least.

Besides, I believe in the old custom of parents choosing for their children. It was so in our time and we have fared well with it. What do young people know of such important things? But you have always allowed your children their own way too much. One can see there is no mother in the house."

"Is that my fault?" demanded Schonan, angrily. "Should I have given them a stepmother? In fact, I wished to once, but you would not consent to it, Regine."

"No, I had enough of marriage with one trial," was the dry answer, which roused the Forester still more. He shrugged his shoulders sarcastically.

"Why, I shouldn't think that you could possibly complain of the late Eschenhagen. He and all his Burgsdorf danced entirely after your piping. Of course, you would not have gotten the upper hand of me so easily."

"But I should have had it in a month," remarked Frau Regine with perfect composure, "and I should have taken you under my command first of all, Moritz."