The Undying Past Part 86

"Look here, Fritzchen," said the pastor, "this is mocking and jeering at a poor parent whom anxiety has driven out into the night. I call it low of you, Fritzchen. I couldn't have believed you capable of it, knowing what your character used to be. But I'll describe to you the state of things at home, and then, perhaps, you will be stirred to a little human pity. We were sitting at supper, my wife and the children and I, when the boy rushed in, as white as a sheet and his lips running with blood. He fell on the ground and clutched at my knees. 'For G.o.d's sake, tell me what has happened, my son!' said I. And he cried out, 'Father, father, kill me! Kill me--I am disgraced, dishonoured; all decent men will kick and spurn me like a mangy cur in future.' Then I dragged him into my study and said, 'Tell me all, lad.' And so I learnt what had pa.s.sed. Fritzchen, why have you disgraced my own flesh and blood? How have I sinned against you that you should have done this thing?"

"You have sinned against me enough, old man," replied Leo; "but of that, more hereafter. As for your precious son, he has behaved himself like a cad to my sister, and insulted my family and me; so I was forced to punish him. Punishment is just, you know--that is your own principle."

"Why didn't you challenge him," asked the pastor, "according to the custom of our country?"

Leo laughed at him derisively. "Challenge! As if I had the time to waste bullets on every silly youth living on his father's bounty.

Whoever doesn't earn his bread doesn't deserve that a man should take the trouble to load a pistol on his account. A cane serves the purpose best, or a ruler, if it comes handy."

The pastor nodded his head in dumb distress, and Leo continued to fix a hard, revengeful gaze upon him.

"Now then, cheer up, cheer up," he bantered. "You haven't come here to sit with a dry whistle and your mouth shut."

"Fritzchen," began the old man again, "you may be right in everything, and I'll admit that the boy is a rascal; but he is the best I have got at present. My second boy won't be a man for another ten years. And you, whom I have always loved, must needs come and ruin him for life.

Fritzchen! it won't do--it won't do."

"Nonsense!" pished Leo.

"No, Fritzchen. He has generally been able to pull himself together again after a sc.r.a.pe, but now he is completely done for. He must slink about for the rest of his days like a criminal, and when he appears amongst his equals they will give him the cold shoulder because of the stain that rests on him. You see, Fritzchen, that I am an old corps-student myself, and know what it means to be thrashed without the chance of defending yourself. If it had been a burglar or an escaped lunatic who had done it, he might get over it. But you are the Baron von Sellenthin, whom all the world knows, and if you decline to give satisfaction, the world will conclude that you have very good reasons for doing so, and be on your side."

Leo groaned, and thought of the shame that he was about to bring the next night on his own good name and memory.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked; "am I to go and humbly beg his pardon, and promise not to do it again?"

"No, Fritzchen; but when he sends a second bearing his challenge to you, to-morrow, you ought to accept it and arrange the usual formalities."

"And then?"

"The rest, Fritzchen, will be your affair."

"Look out!" cried Leo, in a threatening tone. "You know I never jest.

My bullet never misses the mark at which I choose to aim. I have sent one man into eternity already--remember that."

Then the pastor slowly rose to his feet, and with a solemn movement of his arms, he said--

"I am an old man, and I have not got much to look forward to. He is my first-born, my heart's delight, my hope. But I would a thousand times rather hand him over to you to do with him what you did with that other, than that he should continue to live despised and disgraced."

Leo was shocked for a moment, but the next he felt a wild satisfaction that buoyed him up. Here was an old man coming to him--a murderer and would-be suicide--to beg him take his son's life. And he asked the favour over two foaming gla.s.ses of wine. Truly they were a well-a.s.sorted couple. The devil himself could not have matched them better.

"Your health, old 'un!" he would have shouted again, but the words stuck in his throat.

And the old man, who could scarcely stand on his legs, dragged his corpulent body ponderously round the table, and laid both hands on Leo's shoulders. Speaking down into his ear from over the back of his chair, he said--

"Think, my son, for how many years your training was in my hands. I taught you to fight for honour and right till the last drop of blood.

You were a wild lad, and tyranny would have been dearer to you than justice. But my rod hung over you, and you were obliged to obey, however much you kicked against the p.r.i.c.ks. And for that I claim your grat.i.tude to-day."

"You have my thanks," sneered Leo. "And if you want a testimonial here it is--you were a severe taskmaster."

"No, Fritzchen; that I was not. For I was fond of you, and you were fond of me. Don't you remember that September evening when we went out into the meadows and climbed on to a haystack, and lay looking up at the clouds? Nothing happened, but all of a sudden you crept close to me and, laying your head quietly against my arm, began to sob. I think that you must remember it, for on that evening I became your friend.

Then there was the day we went into the town to see 'William Tell.' In the night you came to me, and, sitting on the edge of the bed, took your solemn oath that you, too, would die for your Fatherland, for liberty."

"Oh, my G.o.d!" groaned Leo, and buried his head in his hands.

"You see, Fritzchen," went on the old man, "I may have been at that time a good-for-nothing, and as fond of a gla.s.s as I am to-day; but your young soul I guided aright, you must allow. And have you forgotten how I encouraged your friendship with Ulrich? How my only wish was to play third in the covenant when Johanna could not officiate? And then again, my son, there was the time when your heart first beat in response to another. Have you forgotten that too? The eldest daughter of the forester at Knutzendorf, who used to bring the weekly paper every Sat.u.r.day to the castle? She was eleven and you were thirteen. I believe she didn't know that two and two make four. But she grew into a devilish clever girl later; but never mind that. Do you remember confiding in me the secret that you had run after her in the road and kissed her, and that she had let herself be kissed quite calmly, and it made you so happy, Fritzchen, so confoundedly happy?"

With an exclamation of anguish Leo raised his elbows and shook off the old man's heavy touch.

That had been the beginning of it; his introduction to love, and now it had come to an end.

He sprang to his feet

"What do you want with me, man," he cried, "that you torture me thus?"

The pastor bowed his ma.s.sive head almost humbly.

"I only want to remind you that you owe me a debt of grat.i.tude," he said, "and I wish you to make it good to my son. Here I stand--may G.o.d pardon me--here I stand and entreat you to fight with him, and if you can't help yourself, shoot him dead."

There was a silence.

The old clock in the corner chimed half-past eleven.

"This time to-morrow," thought Leo, "I shall be walking to my death."

And with this reflection he thrust from him the old memories which had begun to weave a coil of softening sentiment about his soul. He would have liked to pour out the whole gamut of emotions surging within him, in curses on the head of this old man who had come to fight a desperate battle on behalf of his despicable little son's honour.

He placed himself in front of him with his legs apart and his hands in his pockets and laughed.

"Look at me," he shouted.

"I _am_ looking at you," replied the pastor.

"How jolly mild you are to-day, old fellow. You bleat like a lamb instead of roaring like a lion. Now tell me, what do you see in my face?"

"Mockery and scorn," was the answer, "scorn of me and the Lord above us. That is all I see."

"Well, then, you don't see half. If you had the faintest conception of who it is stands before you here, you would hurry off as fast as your fat legs would permit. You come and talk to me about affairs of honour--to me, and I am little more already than a living corpse! You want me to singe a hole in your son's body, so that in a fortnight's time he'll be all right again, and able to swagger with renewed c.o.c.ksureness--for that is what you are driving at with all these sugary entreaties; but no, my old friend, I am not to be got over with any such artifice--murder is in my heart. A cloud of blood hangs before my eyes. You, too, seem to be swimming in it, and the lamp and everything is red and dull from undiluted blood. Now you know what I am. And I will tell you what more I am going to be. A perjurer, a cowardly hound, sneaking out of the world in his thwarted l.u.s.t and desperation. I have desecrated the hearth of my dearest friend with my unlawful pa.s.sions, and I am going now to sprinkle it with blood rather than play the basest part of all towards him. Yes, I shall heap scandal on scandal, so that you will be ashamed, old man, that you ever knew me. And the fine wines that you have drunk under my roof will taste as bitter as gall in your remembrance. So tipple some more of it. Here goes! Your health; to your health, old priest!"

And he drank, drank the whole bottle empty, and dashed it into a corner.

The pastor stood like a man turned to stone. He tried to speak, but speech forsook him.

"You think me a fool, I dare say, to blurt out all this," Leo continued, "but I'll tell you why I do it. Simply because I can't resist the tempting opportunity of holding a reckoning with you. For who is to blame for the whole business? Why you--you, first of all, and then Johanna. Between you, you have hounded me into this slough, where I must sink. You began it. In the autumn I spoke my mind to you, but then I was an angel of G.o.d compared with what I am to-day, and did not foresee the end. Repent--I was to repent, repent, repent! Didn't I raise my hands in self-defence and implore you to leave me alone, leave me to live my life in my own way! But you had no mercy, neither you, nor Johanna, nor _she_ who now is driven to the same extremity as I am.

Women in this world delight to send us to the devil. But now it is your turn, my friend. You had no mercy on me then, so now I will show you none. Let your charming boy heal his injured skin as best he can, let him lay dock leaves on the wounds or ammonia, which he likes; and let him heal his outraged honour with texts from the Bible. As for you, see that you clear out of here as soon as possible. I have done with you, and you with me. Christian!" He opened the door. "Christian, help the Herr Pastor on with his coat. Good night" So saying, he threw himself full length on the sofa and drummed on the leather with his heels, taking no further notice of the pastor's proceedings.

The latter staggered out, hardly knowing what he did.

The cold night air brought him to his senses. He paused under the courtyard gateway and considered. Then, instead of taking the road home to Wengern, he skirted the park palings in the deep snow and went to the dower-house. There he thundered with the knocker till he brought a maid-servant, half asleep, to the door, and asked to speak to old Frau Grafin instantly.

The next morning at eight o'clock a telegram was despatched from the post-office at Munsterberg by Pastor Brenckenberg.

"_To Baron Kletzingk, Konigsberg_,