The Spell of Belgium Part 18

"Never."

"Oh, I knew it," cried he, embracing her. "I knew I should recover my daughter! The conviction that you have a.s.sured the happiness of your father will soften the bitterness of your regrets."

She fell upon her knees sobbing, a prey to an indescribable emotion. He placed his hand upon her head, and raising his eyes to heaven said with an inspired air:

"G.o.d, who has promised long and prosperous days in this life, and in the other eternal felicity, to children who love and obey their parents, may he bless thee as I bless thee, and render thee tenfold the joy which I feel at this moment, at thy filial piety."

Raising the weeping Katharina he rang a bell placed upon a table near him. Her servant appeared. Katharina embraced him anew, and left the room, supported by the maid.

V

Frugger waited until he heard her enter her apartment. Then he closed the door. A smile of satisfaction played around the corners of his mouth, and a look of triumph lightened his features. He remained at first motionless and silent. Little by little the air of contentment disappeared and gave place to one of anxiety. His face contracted; he rose and commenced to walk back and forth in the room.

"If she should change her ideas, retract the promise that I have extorted from her; if she should force me to consent to her marriage, or worse still, marry without it, what could I do then?--Oppose her design?---Impossible!--Here," said he, taking from an escritoire a parchment covered with several seals, "here is this abhorred writing signed by the hand of my wife, which exacts that when my daughter attains the age of twenty-five years--or sooner, if she wishes to marry--that I shall give her half of my fortune, and to complete the misfortune, confides to Hochstetter the guardianship of my child! Ah! my wife knew well what she did in making this will! She knew me, and was not ignorant that this gold, these bonds, these treasures, were my life, and that I would give my soul to preserve them, and would willingly sacrifice my eternal salvation rather than be separated from them. Part with them? Malediction! Another to possess and have in his power these riches, fruits of so many days of anxiety and nights filled with anguish--of so many unfortunate speculations!--Another to manage this wealth so laboriously ama.s.sed--to have the right to dispose of my money, to squander it perhaps, for I know these Hochstetters; they live like princes and entertain all the n.o.bles of the land.--Grand Dieu! Not to be able to rejoice daily over the sight of these riches; to part with half. Never! that shall never be! I!--Yes! I will sooner kill the unfortunate child."

In exclaiming thus, the expression of his face was so terrible that it was almost fiendish. The violence of his emotions was so powerful that he was himself startled by their intensity. After a few moments of reflection he became more calm.

"I am wrong to agitate myself thus; she will not marry; she has promised it; and then have I not the testament in my own hands? But Hochstetter knows it; he possesses proofs of its existence. I fear he has a copy of it. Oh! he knows very well what he has done! My daughter, the wife of his son--_le miserable_! To abuse thus my friendship, my confidence; that calls for revenge. But no, I have merited it; it is my fault. She loves the son and respects the father more than she does me. I could cry with rage."

p.r.o.nouncing these words with ferocity he fell back upon his seat, somber and discouraged, and remained plunged in thought.

VI

A half hour later, when he judged that all were wrapped in slumber he rose, took from a secret compartment of his escritoire a little key, lighted a dark lantern, and left the room. After having a.s.sured himself that there was no fear of meeting any one, he advanced softly and descended the staircase. Arriving in the s.p.a.cious corridor, he first went to the street door to a.s.sure himself that it was solidly fastened, returned, opened another door at the end of the corridor, and descended the stairs which led into the cellar. The dwelling of the miser was very large; the cellars extended under the street, forming a species of labyrinth. His father had constructed them upon a vast scale in order that they might serve as storehouses in times of trouble. Frugger went through them with a sure step which proved sufficiently that all the nooks and corners were familiar to him. After having traversed several of these subterranean chambers, he stopped suddenly before one of the last, and listened attentively, to a.s.sure himself that the same silence continued to reign, and that no one would come to interrupt him. As all remained tranquil he advanced towards one of the angles of the vault.

This angle differed in no respect from the others; the walls were as damp and as dark, but hardly had Frugger introduced the little key into an imperceptible opening, which no one but himself could distinguish, when a solid iron door turned upon its hinges, opened, and permitted him to pa.s.s into another vault of which no one would have suspected the existence. After having listened anxiously and persuaded himself that no one watched him, he entered; the ma.s.sive door shut behind him with a loud clang that sounded through the subterranean apartments. A second after the silence of death reigned throughout the dwelling.

[Ill.u.s.tration: INTERIOR OF AN OLD HOUSE, ANTWERP.]

The next day Hochstetter presented himself at the house. He had come for the last time to ask the hand of Katharina for his son. Knowing his friend for so many years he had discovered, notwithstanding Frugger's efforts to hide it, the inexorable pa.s.sion which tyrannized over him, but he would never have believed that the miser would be dominated by this pa.s.sion to such an extent as to cause the unhappiness of these two children. Seeing that this demon of avarice gained upon him every day he had come to propose the union of Katharina and his son, upon such terms as would be exceedingly gratifying to the old man. He would take his daughter without obliging him to part with the slightest portion of his colossal fortune, not even the heritage left her by her mother. He felt almost certain that his old friend would hasten to consent as soon as he made known his intentions.

But Frugger could not be found. The servants, who for a long time had become accustomed to the prolonged absences of their master, at first were not anxious. They begged Hochstetter to return later in the day, which he did, but still no news of Frugger. As his disappearances had never lasted so long, when the whole day had pa.s.sed, anxiety was at its height. On returning the third time, he insisted upon seeing Katharina.

Their anxiety overcame their respect for the severe orders of their master, and they conducted him to her presence. The young girl was happy to see her old friend; grief had rendered her incapable of taking the necessary measures of searching for her father, which Hochstetter willingly undertook. He performed this task conscientiously, and did all that was possible to be done, sparing neither trouble nor expense to discover the retreat of his friend. He sent couriers to Germany, Holland, Italy, and to all the great commercial cities with which Frugger had had business connections--but in vain. No one had seen the rich German. No one could give any information of him.

Another circ.u.mstance astonished Hochstetter. He knew that the fortune of Frugger was one of the most colossal of this period, and even if he had not known it, his books, kept with the most scrupulous neatness and exact.i.tude, were there to prove that, far from diminishing, it had increased considerably; but then, in making the inventory of what he really possessed, they found only a quarter of what was expected. This circ.u.mstance caused much remark from the Antwerp merchants and the members of his family who came to Antwerp to convince themselves of the truth of such an incredible event. It was rumoured at the Bourse that Frugger the Rich had fled, or committed suicide perhaps, on account of the enormous losses that he had sustained, and that his fortune had diminished in an alarming manner. But Hochstetter knew too well the fortune and the speculations of Frugger to put any faith in these rumours. The only certainty was that he had disappeared and with him the greatest part of his riches, and that Katharina had become an orphan sufficiently rich but much below what she could have one day hoped for.

A little more than a year after the disappearance of Frugger the two lovers were married in the church of St. Andre. Long, very long, the miser's fate remained an inexplicable mystery, and would have perhaps so remained forever, if, as frequently happens, accident had not explained the enigma. After the marriage Carl and Katharina went to live in the sumptuous mansion of her husband, and the house of Frugger was more or less abandoned. Hochstetter had been dead many years when their eldest son was about to be married, and as the house of Frugger formed a part of his dowry they resolved to repair and alter it, and make it worthy of receiving the young couple. One day while the workmen were excavating in the garden they came to announce to Carl that they had found a few feet under the earth a vault of which no one knew the existence. It contained bars of gold and silver, coins of all countries, precious stones, and especially diamonds of incalculable value. On the floor lay a skeleton. From the pieces of clothing that still covered it it was recognized as that of "Frugger the Miser." In searching further they discovered a heavy iron door, communicating with the other cellars, and so artistically concealed in the walls that it was impossible to suspect its existence.

To open it, they were obliged to demolish it completely. A very small key was found on the other side of the door, still remaining in the lock. There was the explanation of his frequent absences and of the final disappearance of the old man. In his eagerness to enjoy the sight of his treasures, he had forgotten to take out the key upon entering his sanctuary; the door had closed upon him and he had remained alone with his gold, and starved in the midst of riches vast enough to have bought a realm.

IV

THE BLACKSMITH OF ANTWERP

They were seated in a rich and shady arbour, over which creeping vines wandered in every variety of curve, suspending large cl.u.s.ters of precious fruits, while the atmosphere was laden with the mellow fragrance of the gorgeous plants which grew in wild, untutored luxuriance about the shady retreat. The fading light of day yet lingered, and gave a rosy hue to the face of the maid who sat therein, as she regarded with mournful tenderness the youth seated at her side.

"Nay, Quentin," said she, "say not so, it is duty which prompts me to say it must not be. Had I not affection for my father, do you believe I would act contrary to my own desires? would I cause you unhappiness?"

"Is this your love?" said the other, with a tone of fretfulness.

"Methinks it cannot be a very ardent flame when it is so easily extinguished by the perverse and obstinate tyranny of a--"

"Stay your words," interrupted the girl, as she laid her delicate hand tenderly on his lips. "You will respect the father if you love the child." The n.o.ble mind of the youth was struck with the reproof, and although opposed to his desires her filial reply expressed such purity and excellence, that he instantly made reparation.

"Forgive me, dearest," he entreated. "I spoke hastily and unworthily.

But your words have crazed my soul, which builds its happiness on the possession of you. If it may not be that I shall be your husband, oh!

promise me that no other shall."

"I would fain do so," sighed the afflicted girl, "but if my father commands, can I disobey? I have had no mother's care since childhood, but I have scarce felt the loss. My father has thrown off the coldness of a man and been a very woman in his affection for me. Shall I repay his kindness with ingrat.i.tude? Alas! Quentin, if he tells me to love another, I cannot do so; but if he bids me wed, Quentin, you would not censure me?" The expiring rays of the setting sun fell on her features as she earnestly gazed upon her lover.

"Ah!" cried the youth, with a sudden start, as he struck his hand upon his brow, "why that blush, that agitation? Deceive me not, Elzia, you are not supposing a case. This has already happened; I see it all; your father has selected a bridegroom for you."

The maid sank her head upon his bosom, and through her struggling tears she sobbed, "Quentin, thou hast said it."

Desperate was the conflict in the bosom of the youth as he sat like one in a trance, his eyes fixed on hers, which, like the sun breaking through clouds of the pa.s.sing storm, gleamed from under their dripping lashes. Soon he saw the rainbow of hope.

"Who is my rival?" he asked with a voice scarcely audible.

"Van Deg," she answered sorrowfully.

"Do you love him, Elzia?"

"How can you ask?"

"Will you marry him?"

"My father's happiness is dearer to me than my own. Think you I would wantonly sacrifice it?"

"But why van Deg?"

"Because he excels in my father's art."

"Alas!" cried the despairing lover, "why am I not a painter?"

The bed of Quentin was one of thorns that night, as he threw himself upon it and yielded to his agony of thought. How vainly, yet how ardently had he loved, how industriously had he laboured to procure her affection. Just when he had achieved the victory over her confiding heart, all that he struggled for was lost--no, not lost--he could bear the thoughts of her death, he could weep over her grave, he could care for the flowers above it, but to think that the prize must be torn from him to be given to another's embrace, there was madness in it. And then van Deg, that rough, haughty, distant man! how unworthy he to possess a jewel of such value, how unfit to care for such a tender plant, how unsuitable his unsocial spirit for the angel who needed some congenial soul to insure her happiness.

"Will she not droop and die in that cold atmosphere with him?" he asked himself, as at length exhausted nature yielded to weariness and he fell asleep.

The mind, however, yielded not to the fatigue of the body; on the contrary it seemed to have more abundant vitality. Quentin dreamed he was in the street. The bells rang, the people shouted, and gay equipages pa.s.sed by. It was a day of public rejoicing, for Elzia, the daughter of Algini, was to wed van Deg, the nation's favourite, the celebrated painter. People recounted the scenes he had delineated and lauded the artist to the skies. Quentin trembled and the cold perspiration gathered on his forehead as the nuptial cavalcade approached. They halted at the chapel and the groom conducted the bride all pale and trembling up the aisle to the altar. As the father was about giving his daughter away, Quentin rushed up and seized her; she shrieked and fell dead in his embrace. Her relatives and the priest all gazed in horror! Quentin raised his eyes, saw the misery in their countenances, and as his face fell upon the bosom of his lovely burden he expired--and at that moment awoke.

Still the people were before his eyes, fresh in his recollection as if he had beheld the awful scenes by the noonday sun. Impelled by an unaccountable impulse he arose and lighted his lamp, and taking a coal from the extinguished embers in his chimney, he commenced a picture of this scene upon the wall. He drew each face, recoiling in surprise at the perfect resemblance to the individuals. As he finished the outline he beheld in it a faithful transfer of his dream, wanting nothing but colour. A thousand thoughts darted through his brain. He flung himself on his bed, and when he next awoke the rays of the sun had gilded his apartment. His first object was to seek the mural picture, and he trembled lest it had all been a dream, but there it stood as if executed by a magic power.

"If this is the result of an effort with charcoal," cried he, striking his breast in a delirium of joy, "what might I not effect with other means? What might be my reward?"

As daylight sought its slumbers in the bosom of night the lovers met again. "I'm doing wrong," murmured Elzia, "in meeting you, since I am an affianced bride. This night must be our last. It is a sad thing to part with those we love; yet I act as virtue dictates, and we must meet no more, as--"

"Say not that we shall meet no more as lovers; say that we shall meet no more; for, Elzia, could we meet but to love, to upbraid fate which so cruelly divides us?"