Part 9

"Madam,--Will you pardon a perfect stranger who ventures to request a favour which it is usual to grant only to one's friends, or to duly accredited persons--the favour of being your guest for a short time? You are amazed, madam; but why do you own a mansion whose classic style of architecture and whose internal fittings are the marvel of the land? Why does every one who can judge, laud you as unsurpassed in the horticultural art? I travel through Germany chiefly with the object of studying all that is best and most beautiful in these things, in order to try and imitate it upon my estates in Livadia. I shall not, as I said, trouble you long; only a day or two. To-morrow and the day after, if I may, for I can unfortunately not dispose differently of my time. And as regards the inconvenience I must needs cause you, I will try to reduce it to a minimum. A gardener or forester to pilot me about outside, a steward to show me some of the things inside, a little corner by your fireside, a little place at your table, a little chamber to sleep in; that is all! True, already too much, if I reflect; but one should not reflect, if one is the thorough egotist who has the honour of remaining, Madam, your obedient servant,--Princess Alexandra Paulovna ..."

Hildegard looked up from her letter, and said with a smile--

"I cannot make out the surname."

She passed the letter to Bertram, who was sitting on her right.

"Well," said the Baron, on her left, "she would seem to be a Russian, anyhow."

"No doubt of that. Well, my friend?"

"No," replied Bertram, "I cannot make it out."

"Will you allow me?" said the Baron.

Bertram handed the letter back to Hildegard, who passed it on to the Baron.

"Why," he exclaimed, "it is quite plain, Bo--Bo!" He paused.

"Bo, Bo, Bo!" laughed Lydia. "Let me try." But Lydia failed too; the note was passed round the table; Otto and Agatha tried and failed; Erna passed it on to Bertram without casting one glance at it.

"Will you not try?" asked Bertram.

"No."

She uttered this so sharply that Bertram looked up terrified.

"How very unkind," said her mother.

Bertram had the same impression at first, but he knew Erna too well; there was assuredly something else going on in her mind, something which had tried to find expression in the abrupt No. She was very pale, and had pressed her teeth against her under lip, whilst her eyes looked gloomily and fixedly straight in front of her. One might have expected her to burst into a flood of tears the next moment. To turn the attention of the rest from her, and also to overcome his own feelings of uneasiness, he began once more diligently to spell away at the signature, and suddenly exclaimed--

"I have got it, I think--Volinzov--Alexandra Paulovna Volinzov!"

"Let me see, please?" exclaimed Hildegard. "Really, Volinzov; and quite plain too. How blind we have been! Dear me, Herr Baron, what is the matter with you?"

"I beg a thousand pardons," said the Baron from behind his handkerchief, which he held pressed to his face, rising from the table as he spoke, and swiftly withdrawing from the room.

Hildegard looked sadly after his retreating figure.

"Poor fellow!" she said, "I am so sorry. He is in a terrible state of excitement. And now, in addition, this home news--if I only knew what it is all about, but he is discretion personified."

Bertram, still pondering over Erna's strange demeanour, had almost mechanically cast his eye over the whole letter, and only became conscious of this on coming to a passage which he did not remember having heard in Hildegard's translation.

"Here," he said, "is one line, my fair friend, which has escaped you, and which yet strikes me as important. Listen: 'thorough egotist who has the courage to follow her letter at once, and has the honour,' &c."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Hildegard.

"There it stands; see for yourself. You passed from the last line but two on to the last."

"Oh dear! oh dear!" exclaimed the hostess. "She will be wanting to dine of course; and that is not the worst, but all the rooms will be occupied by to-morrow afternoon."

"The officers must do with a little less accommodation," said Otto. "It will be all right."

"No, it will not be all right," said his wife, "if each of them is to have a room of his own; and we cannot put less than two each at the disposal of the two Majors and the Colonel."

"Let me help you in your embarrassment," said Bertram. "You know, I originally intended leaving early to-morrow, let us adhere to the old plan; the more so, because I have just received a letter which necessitates my very speedy return to Berlin."

"That is an excuse," exclaimed his friend.

"No excuse, my dear fellow; you may see the letter yourself. But I may as well say what it is about. I have been selected by my political friends for a forthcoming vacancy in the _Reichstag_."

"But you will surely not stand?"

"Indeed, I mean to do so."

"And your Italian trip?"

"Postponed to some future day."

"But your illness?"

"Thanks to your excellent nursing, I never felt better in my life."

"But it's quite out of the question!" cried Otto. "I cannot let you. It would be downright ..."

In thus urging his friend to stay, Otto was simply following the dictates of his own good-natured heart, without any reference to his own special interests; now it suddenly occurred to him that his wife had that very morning called Bertram's presence a positive misfortune, and had accused him of standing--the one obstacle--between herself and the execution of her favourite plan.

So he broke off abruptly, casting a sheepish, embarrassed look at his wife.

Hildegard blushed to the very temples. Now she was obliged to urge him to stay, if everything she had been settling during the last few days in secret with Lydia and the Baron, and at last with her husband too, was not to lie like an open book before Bertram, and unless there was to be a real rupture, which, of course, it was desirable to avoid as long as possible. In order to conceal the true reason of her blush, she seized, as though obeying some uncontrollable impulse, both his hands, and said--

"I am almost speechless with amazement, my friend! Otto is quite right; the thing is impossible, it would be downright--abominable--that is what you were going to say, is it not, dear Otto? You cannot, must not leave us now. In a few days, if it really must be, well and good; but not now. I have--quite apart from our own feelings--revelled in the thought of the pleasant surprise it will be for Herr von Waldor to meet here, upon the threshold of a strange house, an old friend of his own. And if old friendship cannot exercise a spell over you, are you not allured by the prospect of meeting the mysterious Russian, whose name you alone were able to decipher, and who will not care to converse with any one except yourself, once she has heard how beautifully you speak French? But come--Otto, Lydia, Agatha--help me to entreat our friend to stay."

In the general excitement, every one had risen from table, dinner being finished anyhow, and now they were talking on the verandah. The Baron had reappeared too, but was keeping at some little distance; he evidently had not quite recovered from his attack. Those to whom Hildegard had appealed by name hastened to comply with her request, and were all urging Bertram to remain. He never heard them at all; he did not even see them; he had eyes for Erna only.

Erna, as though she had no interest whatever in the matter under discussion, had stepped down from the verandah to one of the flower-plots on the lawn. Suddenly she turned, retraced her steps slowly, ascended the verandah again, and approached him. Her cheeks--so pale but a short time ago--were flushed now; there was a light in those large eyes, and a defiant smile played round her dainty lips. She fastened a beautiful red rose, just about to unfold, in his buttonhole.

"I prayed you the night you came--I pray you again: Stay! stay--for my sake! Come, Agatha!"

She had seized her cousin by the hand, and drawn her away into the garden; Bertram had stepped into the billiard-room, and was knocking the balls about; the others looked at each other, amazed, embarrassed, frightened, scornful. But, greatly though their various feelings desired expression and exchange, and opportune though the occasion might appear, there was no chance in the meantime. For the very next moment the sound of a post-horn was heard coming from the great courtyard, and announced, to Hildegard's terror, that Princess Volinzov had interpreted her own letter literally, and had really followed it without delay.

XIV.

The sunny brightness of the day was suddenly interrupted by a thunderstorm, and the evening closed in dark and stormy. Up from the valley and down from the wooded hills thick grey mists came rolling along, and violent showers of rain ensued. It was chilly and disagreeable; and the "corner by the fireside," referred to in the letter of the Princess, seemed no longer to be a mere phrase, but to embody a very natural wish, and one which Hildegard took care to fulfil, by having fires kindled in all the drawing-rooms. There was quite a party at the mansion this evening. An hour after the arrival of the Princess, the sisters of Agatha had come; then the forest-ranger, the Herr _Oberfoerster_, had turned up, without having brought his ladies, on account of the disagreeable weather, but there had come with him a young gentleman from the Forests and Woods' Department, Herr von Busche, who had been absent for a week, and who, as he laughingly assured them, must try very hard to make up for the many pleasant hours he had lost. He seemed determined to carry this into practice, for he was most indefatigable in suggesting new games and new jests, and kept the four young ladies in constant laughter.

"_Qu'y a-t-il de plus beau_," said the Princess, talking, as before, now French, now German with equal readiness, "thus to hear, from an adjoining room, the happy laughter of girls, while one is sitting snugly by the fire talking to a friend. The past and the present mingle and separate again, like the red and blue flames among those coals; and sometimes there flashes between them a green one, which we may take for a light giving a glimpse of the future--and indeed it vanishes again very swiftly. How comfortable, how beautiful everything's in your house, _ma chere_. And how can I thank you enough for admitting me to the full enjoyment of your charming home?"

She had seized both Hildegard's hands as she spoke, and seized them so eagerly that the bracelets on her round white arms jingled.

"I have to thank you, Princess ..."

"For goodness' sake, do not call me that any longer. Say Alexandra, will you not?"

"Will you say Hildegard?"

"_Cela va sans dire_--Hildegard--a beautiful name--beautiful like her whose it is! What were we talking about? The future, yes, to be sure. Well, there is a glorious future in store for you in your lovely daughter."

"Do you like Erna?"

"Like her? _Mon Dieu!_ only a mother's modesty can ask this. She is simply divine. Not that I never saw more beautiful girls--you see I am quite frank--but there is something in her whole bearing, the way in which she walks or stands, every movement, every gesture, her expression, her smile, her gravity even, there is a grace and a charm about it all which completely bewitch me, woman though I am. How may men feel? Poor men! Poor broken hearts, I pity you!"

"She has scarcely had the chance yet of breaking hearts," replied Hildegard with a smile; "she has only just left school."

"But even very young ladies, I am told, manage sometimes to do it," said the Princess. "I am afraid I broke one or two myself whilst I was at a boarding-school, and it was a strict one, too! But to be serious, have you already chosen for your fair child?"

"Our girls in Germany are wont to claim the right of choice for themselves," replied Hildegard, casting a stolen glance at Bertram, who, walking up and down the saloon with Otto, happened just at that moment to be inconveniently near.

"A bad German peculiarity," said the Princess. "If a girl who does not know the world, does not know men--except her father, of whom she is afraid, and her brothers, whom she thinks ridiculous--is allowed to choose a husband according to the confused illusions of her silly little head--you may bet a hundred to one that the result will be either a _betise_ or a _malheur_--which, according to the saying of the witty Frenchman, are, however, identical terms."

"That is quite my idea, dear--Alexandra," said Hildegard, bending her head with a courteous smile to her new-found friend; "quite my idea!"

"Clever women understand each other _a demi mot_," replied Alexandra. "But there are exceptions, and your Erna is such an exception. She would never dream of losing her heart to a man simply because he stands six feet, and knows how to brush himself up and to cut a figure, however confused things may look beneath the smoothly-parted hair, however rotten a heart may beat behind the dainty cambric shirt-front."

Hildegard did not dare to stir; she had noticed that during the last few words of the Princess the Baron had been standing within a couple of steps from them, evidently with the intention of joining them. But as neither lady seemed to see him, or wish to see him, he examined a vase which stood upon a marble table near, and turned on his heel again. Hildegard breathed more freely.

"You may be quite assured," said Alexandra, "I spoke in French on purpose when I saw him coming. I had made sure that he speaks it very badly, and understands it even worse, which, by the by, is rather curious in a cavalier who is anxious to obtain a Court appointment."

Hildegard felt very uneasy, although it was of course out of the question that the Princess should have meant the Baron when she spoke of a "man standing six feet."

"You know," she said with some little hesitation, "that the Baron is very intimate at Court?"

"I was at Court last night," replied Alexandra, "to tea. We Russians are in very good odour at your Court, you know; and, moreover, I had made the acquaintance of their Highnesses during their last visit to St. Petersburg. Princess Amelia is specially gracious to me, and she is the one who interests herself in the Baron."

"To be sure," Hildegard assented eagerly. "Pray, tell me more, it has much interest for me."

"I have not much to tell. I mentioned in the course of general conversation that I intended to pay you a visit to-day. This led to Fraeulein von Aschhof and the Baron being mentioned as your guests. For that curious lady every one seemed to have a smile, nothing more, which, by the by, I can quite understand. About the Baron--well, _chere amie_, since you are interested in the young man, I must be indiscreet enough to tell you of a very confidential conversation I had afterwards in a window recess about him with that dear old man, Count Dirnitz, the Court-Marshal. He told me that the opinions regarding the Baron were at least much divided at Court. The Grand Duke himself, he said, in particular, could not overcome a certain antipathy to him, and that was the reason why his appointment as one of the chamberlains, although duly made out, still awaited the Grand Duke's signature. The Count said that he himself, although he had been an intimate friend of the Baron's father, did not know what to advise. Just then the Grand Duke came up to us; he had heard the last words of Count Dirnitz, and said laughingly: 'That, my good Count, happens pretty often to you; but may I ask what it is about?' And when Dirnitz, who, I suppose, had no option, had told him, he said: 'Well, in this case, I must admit I am perplexed myself; I should so much like to oblige Princess Amelia, and yet ...' Then the Grand Duke suddenly turned to me and said: '_A propos_, Princess Volinzov, as you are going to Rinstedt to-morrow, you might have a good look at our man. I will gladly confide the matter to your unprejudiced decision. If you think him suitable for us, _eh bien_, I'll risk it.' ... What a truly charming ceiling this is! Quite a work of art."

Princess Alexandra was leaning back in her arm-chair examining through her double eye-glass the painted ceiling.

"I see," she said, "a fine imitation of that Guercino in the Villa Ludovisi. It is superb, truly superb!"

Hildegard was in a state of painful excitement. The young Princess had, anyhow, impressed her greatly; now this unexpected, but of course perfectly natural, intimacy at Court, and specially such a mission, possibly the one solitary motive of the whole visit, and upon which the Baron's fate depended. She felt almost dizzy, and it cost her a considerable struggle to be able to say with some calmness--

"I beg your pardon, my dear Alexandra, but you have forgotten the main thing."

"The main thing! What main thing?

"What your unprejudiced opinion of the Baron now is."

"To be sure!"

She looked again at Hildegard. There was an odd smile on her lips now.

"If my opinion were only unprejudiced. But how can that be when the friends of our friends are our own, or ought to be?"

"You shall not escape thus," said Hildegard, whose sinking courage the fair visitor's smile had revived a little.

"I do not mean to escape," replied the Princess; "only I do not quite like to confess a silly trick to you which my memory, which is generally very fair as far as physiognomies are concerned, is playing me in this case. But it is simply impossible to free one's self altogether from the influence which a marked personal likeness exercises; and when I first saw the Baron, there came to me the most disagreeable reminiscence of an episode of the last journey I made with my lamented mother to Italy. However, as I ought at once to state, there is no harm in the matter, for the Baron, whom I asked, says he was not in Monaco that year."

"In Monaco?" cried Hildegard.

"Alas, my good mamma, the Countess Lassounska, you must know, was a great votary of the green cloth. Well, she could afford to indulge a passion which, among the ladies of the Russian aristocracy, not seldom survives or reappears, when they have had to bury all other passions. And in all others poor mamma had been so very unfortunate; but in this she was singularly lucky. Thus, one night--it was in autumn '72--she died next spring, four weeks after my marriage with the Prince, who had at that time followed us to Monaco, and to whom I had just, being then sixteen years of age, become engaged--good Lord, and he has been dead these two years! How time passes! But what was I going to say? Oh yes; mamma had won an immense sum one night, so much that at last she was barely paying any attention to what she was staking, and when she noticed a friend, she turned round to talk to him, without leaving her chair, until the gentleman himself called her attention to the accumulating gains, and asked if she would not withdraw them. But she said there was no hurry, and went on chattering, to the amazement of her neighbours and the terror of the bank, for they kept and kept losing on the red. At last mamma did turn round again to the table, her own curiosity roused by the divers exclamations of the bystanders; but just at that moment a gentleman, who had been sitting by her side all night, was pocketing the whole huge heap of banknotes and rouleaux of gold. Mamma claimed her property, of course; the gentleman assured her she was mistaken. Mamma knew that this was not the case, but a scene in a gambling-room, don't you know, dear, _c'est une horreur_ for a lady with aristocratic nerves like poor mamma, the friend she had been conversing with wanted to interfere, so did a number of the bystanders, and play had to be suspended. Mamma said that if the gentleman asserted that the money was his, she would waive her claim; rose, took her friend's arm, and left the room. Here the matter ended, and nothing further followed, for the 'gentleman' elected to leave that very night for Nice. There, they say, he speedily got rid of his illgotten gains. At least, when we arrived there four weeks later, they pointed out a gentleman in the play saloon to us who had recently lost fabulous sums. On that occasion I saw him for the first time--I was not generally allowed to enter the gambling-rooms--and for the last time, for he had no sooner caught sight of our party, than he rose from the table and vanished from the room, and I think from Nice; anyhow, he never, appeared again during the rest of our sojourn. Mamma had given strict orders not to take any notice; whatever of the adventurer."

"And this--adventurer, had a distant likeness to the Baron?"

"A distant likeness? No, dear, a most distinct one. That's the misfortune!"

Alexandra was leaning back again in the arm-chair and toying with her rings. Hildegard was staring gloomily in front of her. The execution of her long-cherished, plan, the fulfilment of her eager desire, was now threatened by an obstacle which seemed much worse than any previous one; and she was already almost reduced to despair by the others that she had to struggle against.

"A misfortune, indeed!" she said; "a great misfortune for our friend, who, will now have to suffer so bitterly for an accident he is guiltless of."

"How suffer, dear?"

"Were you not saying yourself a short while ago that this wretched likeness was making it impossible for you to arrive at an unprejudiced opinion about the Baron? Well, it matters everything to him, of course, that your opinion should not only not be prejudiced but favourable. And--to confess the truth--to me, to us, it matters much, very much."

Alexandra drew herself up, the old odd smile was hovering about her lips again.

"Does it really matter so much to you?" she said. "Do I understand you correctly?"

"Let us assume that you do," replied Hildegard, trying as she spoke to imitate Alexandra's smile.

"Then I can only answer: _Je n'en vois pas la necessite._"

"Of what?"

"That this particular man should marry Erna. Where is the necessity? If she were in love with him, the matter would have to be discussed at least. Now it is not worth while. A girl like your Erna--proud, self-willed, large-hearted--will never be in love with this Baron, never! It is impossible, it is contrary to nature--I mean contrary to the nature of a gifted heart, for there are gifted hearts, just as there are gifted heads. One can, nay, one must, have absolute confidence in both, even supposing that, from very excess of feelings or thoughts, they seem not to have confidence in themselves. One must let them have their way, they cannot err long."

"But they can err for all that," replied Hildegard bitterly. "Would you not call it an error, would you think it to be in accord with the nature of that gifted heart you speak of, if the girl in question were to take a special interest in--out with it, were to love--a man who, according to years, might be her father, a man of fifty?"

The question seemed to come upon Princess Alexandra as a great surprise. She had almost risen from her chair, and was staring fixedly at Hildegard with a burning blush on her cheek. But the very next moment mien and colour had resumed their former state, and nestling even more snugly in the recesses of the deep arm-chair, she said slowly--

"This question it is impossible to answer with an unconditional Yes or No. So much would depend upon the individual. Let us speak of the girl first. You are of coarse referring to ..."

"To Erna."

The eyes of the Princess were all but closed now; something seemed to flash from beneath the long eyelids.

"Of course," she replied very slowly. "And ... he?"

Hildegard bent her eyes in the direction of the opposite side of the drawing-room, where Bertram was conversing with the forest-ranger.