What the Swallow Sang Part 10

"To be sure it is I," said Carl Brandow, as he came forward with a smile intended to be friendly, but which was as cold as the hand he held out to Gotthold, and in which the latter hesitatingly placed the tips of his fingers.

"How did you find me here?" asked Gotthold.

"I am an old hunter," replied Brandow, showing his white teeth.

"Nothing escapes me so easily, especially on my own ground. But I will not boast. The matter was really simple enough. I knew several weeks ago that you were coming, and this afternoon I heard, when with Pluggen, of Pluggenhof, Otto Pluggen, we used to call him Straw Pluggen, you know, to distinguish him from his younger brother, Gustav, Hay Pluggen, who has inherited Gransewitz--I was saying: I heard from our new Pastor that you had been in Rammin yesterday evening, and had driven on to Prora. Of course Pluggen, at my request, instantly sent his carriage to bring you to Pluggenhof; you were no longer there, but had set out on foot with Jochen Prebrow for Dollan. Well, of course I did not remain in Pluggenhof a moment longer, although we had just sat down to the table to receive you with full gla.s.ses. I drove my horses half to death, and nearly killed my poor wife with fright, in order at least to meet you on the way, in case you had been cruel enough not to wait for our return. We arrived and asked for you before we got out of the carriage: no one had been there. My wife and I looked at each other in horror. 'There is somebody sitting on the giant's grave,' said my factotum, Hinrich Scheel, who now came up to the carriage; 'I saw him there this noon.' 'It's not impossible,' said my wife, that 'he has learned on the way that we were not at home, and, industrious as usual, is making use of the time. It was always one of his favorite spots.' I said nothing, but ran up to the gable-room with my spy-gla.s.s, and saw what Hinrich, in spite of his squint eyes, had seen without any gla.s.s; ran down again, jumped on a horse, and--find here what I sought. That painting is wonderfully beautiful, really splendid; but now pack up your traps, if you please! Another day is coming, and this is enough, and too much for the present. From noon until now is certainly long enough, even for an artist. How delighted my wife will be!"

Carl Brandow had already thrown Gotthold's travelling bag over his shoulder, and now seized the box which the latter had been arranging.

"One moment," said Gotthold.

"You can safely trust me with your treasures."

"That is not the point."

"What is it then?"

Gotthold hesitated; but there was no time for deliberation.

"It is this," said he; "I cannot accept your invitation, kindly as it is expressed and honestly as, I wish to believe, it is meant."

"For Heaven's sake, why not?"

"Because in so doing I should wrong myself, and, in a certain sense, you also. Myself: because I could not stay in Dollan, in your house, without being at every step, at every moment, a prey to the most painful memories; and who would not willingly spare himself such a trial, if he could avoid it? You: because--it must be said, Brandow! I have always considered you my enemy, and my sentiments towards you have been no friendly ones, even up to this very day, this very hour. Who would invite a man who is not well disposed towards him to his house!"

"Is it possible?" cried Brandow. "Then that straw head of a Pluggen and the Parson may have been right when they said: 'He won't come!' 'He will come,' said I, 'if only to prove that he is still the generous fellow he always was!' No, Gotthold, you must not give me the lie, if only on account of those silly fellows, and people like them, who would then have another fine opportunity to make merry over Carl Brandow, who always aims very high and then comes out at the little end of the horn.

Well, unhappily there is something in it: I am no longer what I was once, but a poor devil who must learn to be modest; but this time I won't be, just this time. And now your hand, old enemy! there, that's right! I knew you better than you knew yourself."

They began to descend the hill, Brandow, who insisted upon carrying Gotthold's luggage, still talking eagerly in his hasty, often incoherent manner, Gotthold silent and vainly trying to shake off the bewilderment that clouded his brain and oppressed his heart; he had tried to be frank, perfectly frank; but he had not been so: he had not said the last thing because he could not, because he must appear like a fool, a c.o.xcomb, if he did, and like a rude unmannerly boor if he did not, and simply answered: I will not. But would not even that have been better than for them to meet again?

Gotthold stood still, and threw back his coat and vest; he felt as if he were stifling.

"It's terribly sultry here in the wood," said Carl Brandow. "It would have been much nearer if we had gone down the other side, and then crossed the fields; but we were obliged to make this circuit to get my horse. There stands the rascal, stamping his shoes off in his impatience. Now then, en avant!"

Brandow threw the bridle over his arm and Gotthold took a portion of his luggage, so they walked quickly through the woods by a cross path, which soon brought them out into the fields. At a short distance, only separated from them by a few meadows and a broad field of rye, stood the manor-house, already partly in the shadow which the hill on the left-hand side of the moor cast far into the valley, while the tops of the taller trees in the garden and the crests of the huge poplars, which enclosed the grounds on the three other sides, still glowed in the light of the setting sun. The little window of the gable-room glittered and flashed back his rays. Gotthold could scarcely turn his eyes away; he fancied every moment that it must open and Cecilia appear and wave her white hand towards him with a gesture of warning: no nearer, for G.o.d's sake, no nearer! And then it seemed to him as if he were once more back in the old days, when he used to come out with Curt to spend a precious Sat.u.r.day afternoon and delightful Sunday, and in their impatience to reach their goal they ran the last part of the way at full speed. At every step his agitation increased; he scarcely heard what his companion was saying to him.

But Carl Brandow was only talking in order to conceal from his guest the anxiety that oppressed him. Would it not have been better to have told her of his design, even at the risk of her opposition, or, still worse, of affording her pleasure? Ought he not at least to have taken advantage of the last opportunity, and prepared her for the visit by Hinrich Scheel, instead of expressly commanding him to be silent? Or would the clever fellow once more, as he had often done, follow his own counsel and guide an ill-managed affair into the right course? And yet, what could happen if he suddenly appeared before her with him? Would she give him the lie in the presence of her guest, say she had known nothing about his visit, and her husband had told an untruth? It was certainly possible; but woe be unto her if she did so.

"Here we are," said Carl Brandow, as they reached the old linden before the door. "Welcome to Dollan! Welcome!"

He had spoken in a very loud tone, standing in the open doorway, and now shouted, raising his clear voice to its highest pitch, "Hinrich, Fritz!--where are they all?"

But there was no movement within the house, and no one appeared in the courtyard.

"It is always just so on Sundays," said Brandow, "Everybody runs wild, especially if the master is away from home. Rike! Hinrich! Fritz!"

A half-grown lad, in a dirty red waistcoat and top boots, now came running across the courtyard, and at the same moment a young girl appeared from the house. Brandow received both with angry words. The girl answered pertly: she had been with the mistress, who could not quiet the child; it was still crying about its arm; and the boy muttered as he took the horse's bridle: he had been obliged to help Hinrich about Brownlock; he was threatened with the colic.

"Deuce take it!" cried Brandow; "that d.a.m.ned Hinrich, this is what I get by letting him have his own way! I must leave you alone a moment, or will you come with me?"

Brandow did not wait for Gotthold's reply, but hurried across the courtyard with long strides. He must know what was the matter with Brownlock. And then: Cecilia had enough to do in the nursery; she would not come out at present.

"What is the matter with the child?" asked Gotthold.

"She fell down just as the mistress got home, and has probably broken her arm," said the girl, who had been gazing curiously at the stranger with her merry gray eyes, and now hurried back into the house.

CHAPTER X.

Gotthold followed her through the entry and into the sitting-room on the left, and would gladly have entered the adjoining chamber, from which, as the girl opened and closed the door, the wailing of a child and a woman's voice consoling it were distinctly audible. It was her voice,--somewhat deeper and more gentle, it seemed to him, than in the old days, but he had only distinguished a few tones above the moaning of the child.

"Poor thing," he murmured, "poor child, if I could only help it."

His hand was extended towards the handle of the door, but instantly fell again. If the girl had told her he was there, she would probably come out for a moment; at any rate Carl must soon return.

He stationed himself at the open window and looked across the empty courtyard towards the building Brandow had entered. How could he stay so long! He again turned back into the room, which was already beginning to grow dark, and his eyes wandered mechanically over the furniture and pictures, many of which he thought he recognized, while his ear was strained to catch the sounds from the next room. But everything there had now become quiet, and in the stillness the old Black Forest clock ticked so loudly--he had not noticed it before--the evening breeze whispered in the linden before the window, and then once more he heard nothing except the blood beating in his temples.

Had any misfortune happened? Was the child--he must have some certainty.

But just as he took a step forward, the door opened and Cecilia entered. The girl had told her nothing about the stranger; she came to get a piece of linen from her work-basket, which stood in one of the windows. The shadows fell heavily over Gotthold, and she did not see him--her eyes were turned towards the window--until she had almost reached him, when she suddenly paused, extending both hands in terror towards the dark figure. The light of the setting sun streamed full upon her pallid face, from which the large dark eyes stared with a strange gla.s.sy look.

"It is I, Cecilia!"

"Gotthold!"

He did not know that he held out his arms; the next moment he would not have been able to say whether she had really rested upon his breast.

When he was again conscious of what was pa.s.sing around him, he was standing beside her at the child's little bed.

"The girl was playing with Gretchen just before we came home--she fell with her arm under her; I thought she had only bruised it; but it has grown worse and worse, she cannot move it, and cries at the slightest touch; I think she has broken it here above the wrist."

Gotthold had bent over the child, who gazed at him in surprise, but without the least alarm. He thought he was looking into Cecilia's eyes.

"Are you the new doctor?" asked the little girl.

"No, Gretchen, I am not a doctor, but if you love your mamma you will let me take hold of your arm."

"It hurts so," said Gretchen.

"I won't be long."

Gotthold took the little arm and moved it at the shoulder and elbow--the child made no resistance; then he pa.s.sed his hand carefully down the lower arm to the joint and bent the wrist a little. The child uttered a low cry. Gotthold laid the arm gently back on the coverlet and stood erect.

"I think I can a.s.sure you that the arm is not broken; it is nothing more than a severe sprain. I should like to put on a bandage, which will relieve Gretchen's pain, because it will prevent her from moving the joint. That will be sufficient until the doctor comes. May I?"

He had spoken in a low tone, but the child heard.

"Let him do it, mamma," she said; "I like the new doctor a great deal better than the old one."