Part 9

"From that hour an agitation possessed me, such as I had never before in my life experienced. I felt as if fever were burning in my limbs--at nights I ran about my room restlessly, all day long I was on the look-out, and every approaching carriage drove all the blood to my heart.

"I gave wrong answers to every question, and the very maids in the kitchen began to shake their heads doubtfully. A bride who is expecting her bridegroom could not behave more crazily.

"This state of things lasted for four days, and it was lucky for me that each member of the family was so engrossed with himself, else suspicion and cross-examination could not have been spared me.

"This time I did not receive him. When I recognised his figure in the strange, four-horse carriage which, all besplashed with mud, tore through the courtyard gate, I ran up to the attic and hid in the most remote corner.

"My face was aglow, my limbs trembled, and before my eyes fiery-red mists were dancing.

"Downstairs I heard doors banging, heard hurried steps lumber up and down the stairs, heard the servants' voices calling my name--I did not stir.

"And when all had become quiet, I stole cautiously down the back staircase, out into the park, in the wildest wilderness of which I crouched down. A peculiar feeling of bitterness and shame agitated me. I felt as if I must take to flight, only never again to have to face that pair of eyes for whose coming I yet had so longingly waited. And then I pictured to myself what, during these moments, was most probably taking place in the house. Papa was sure to have been somewhat helpless at sight of him, for he certainly still felt the effects of that wicked letter; he was sure also to have resisted a little when he heard him utter his proposal; but then Martha had appeared--how quickly she has found her strength again, poor ailing creature, who but a few moments ago lay tired to death on the sofa, how quickly she will have forgotten everything that the years have brought of sorrow and sadness--and now they will lie in each other's embrace and not remember me.

"And then suddenly a dark feeling of defiance awoke within me. 'Why do you hide away?' cried a voice. 'Have you not done your duty? Is not all this your work?'

"With a sudden jerk I raised myself up, smoothed back my tumbled hair from my forehead, and with firm tread and set lips I walked towards the house. No sound of rejoicing greeted my ears. All was quiet--quiet as the grave. In the dining-room I found mama alone. She had folded her hands and was heaving deep sighs, while great tears rolled down as far as her white double chin.

"'That is the result of her emotion.' thought I to myself, and sat down facing her.

"'Wherever have you been hiding, Olga?' she said, this time drying her eyes quite leisurely. 'You must have a few young fowls killed for supper, and set the good Moselle in a cold place. Cousin Robert has come.'

"'Ah, indeed,' said I, very calmly, 'where may he be?'

"'He is speaking to papa in his study.'

"'And where is Martha?' I asked, smiling.

"She gave me a disapproving look for my precociousness, and then said, 'She is in there, too.'

"'Then I suppose I can go at once and offer my congratulations; I remarked.

"'Saucy girl,' said she.

"But before I could carry out my purpose the door of the adjoining room opened and in walked slowly, as slowly as if he came from a sepulchre, Robert--Cousin Robert, with ashy pale face and great drops of perspiration on his brow. I felt how, at sight of him, all my blood, too, left my face. A presentiment of evil awoke within me.

"'Where is Martha?' I cried, hastening towards him.

"'I do not know.' He spoke as if every word choked him. He did not even shake hands.

"And then papa came too, after him.

"Mama had got up and all three stood there and silently shook hands like at a funeral.

"'Where is Martha?' I cried once more.

"'Go and look after her,' said papa, 'she will want you.'

"I rushed out, up the stairs to her room. It was locked.

"'Martha, open the door! It is I.'

"Nothing stirred.

"I begged, I implored, I promised to make everything right again. I lavished endearing epithets upon her--that, too, was in vain. Nothing was audible except from time to time a deep breath which sounded like a gasp from a half-throttled throat.

"Then rage seized me, that I should be everywhere repulsed.

"'I suppose I am just good enough to prepare the mourning repast.' I said, laughing out loud, ran to the maids and had six young chickens killed and even stood by calmly while the poor little creatures' blood squirted out of their necks.

"One of them, a young cockerel, quite desperately beat its wings and crowed for very terror of death, while it thrust its spurs at the maid's fingers.

"'Even a poor, weak animal like this resists when one tries to kill it,' I thought to myself, 'but my lady sister humbly kisses the hand that wields the knife against her.'

"The death of these innocent beings might almost be called gay in comparison with the meal for which they served. No condemned criminal's last meal could pass more dismally. Every five minutes some one suddenly began to talk, and then talked as if paid for it. The others nodded knowingly, but I could very well see: whoever heard did not know what he heard, whoever talked did not know what he was talking about.

"Martha had not put in an appearance. When we were about to separate, each one to go to his room, Robert seized both my hands and drew me into a corner.

"'My thanks to you, Olga,' he said, while his lips twitched, 'for having so faithfully taken my part. Now we will mark a long pause at the end of our letters.'

"'For heaven's sake, Robert,' I stammered, 'however did this come about?'

"He shrugged his shoulders. 'I suppose I kept her waiting too long,' he then said; 'she has grown tired of me.'

"I was about to cry out: 'That is not true--that is not true! 'but behind us stood my father and informed him that, according to his wish, the conveyance would be ready at daybreak.

"'Then I am not to see you any more?' I cried, alarmed.

"He shook his head. 'We had better bid each other good-bye now,' he said, and squeezed my hand.

"Within me a voice cried that he must not depart thus, that I must speak to him at any price. But I bravely suppressed the words that were nearly choking me. And so we once more shook hands and separated.

"I had several things to do yet in the house, and while I put out some coffee and weighed out flour and bacon for next morning's meal, the words were constantly in my ears: 'You must speak to him.'

"Then, as I went, with my candle in my hand, up to my room, I made a detour past his door, for I hoped I might perhaps meet him on the landing; but that was empty, and his door was closed. Only the sound of his heavy footsteps inside the room was audible throughout the house.

"In Martha's room it was as silent as death. I put my ear to the keyhole; nothing was audible. She might as well have been dead or flown.

"Terror seized me. I knelt down in front of the keyhole, begged and implored, and finally threatened to fetch our parents if she still persisted in giving no sign of life.

"Then at length she vouchsafed me an answer. I heard a voice: 'Spare me, child, just for to-day spare me!' And this voice sounded so strange that I hardly recognised it.

"I went on my way now, but my fear increased lest he might set forth with anger and disappointment in his heart, without a word of explanation, without ever having suspected the greatness of Martha's love.

"A very fever burnt within my brain, and every pulsation of my veins cried out to me: 'You must speak to him--you must speak to him!'

"I half undressed and threw myself on the sofa. The clock struck eleven--it struck half-past eleven. Still his footsteps resounded through the house. But the later it was, the more did it grow impossible for me to carry out my resolve.

"What if a servant should spy upon me--should see me stealing into our guest's room! My heart stood still at the thought.

"The clock struck twelve. I opened the window and looked out upon the world. Everything seemed asleep, even from Robert's and Martha's rooms no light shone forth. Both were burying their sorrow and anguish in the lap of darkness.

"With the night wind that beat against the casement, the words droned in my ears: 'You must--you must!' And like a soft sweet melody it coaxed and cajoled at intervals: 'Thus you will see him again--will feel his hand in yours--will hear his voice--perhaps even his laugh; do you not want to bring him happiness--the happiness of his life?'

"With a sudden impulse I shut the casement, wrapped myself in my dressing-gown, took my slippers in my hand and stole out into the dark corridor.

"Ah, how my heart beat, how my blood coursed through my temples! I staggered--I was obliged to support myself by the walls.

"Now I stood outside his door. Even yet his footsteps shook the boards. But the noise of his heavy tread had ceased. He had evidently divested himself of his boots.

"'You must not knock!' it struck me suddenly, 'that would not escape Martha.'

"My hand grasped the door-handle. I shuddered. I do not know how I opened the door. I felt as if some one else had done it for me.

"Before me the outline of his mighty figure----.

"A low cry from his lips--a bound towards me. Then I felt both my hands clutched--felt a hot wave of breath near my forehead.

"At the first moment the mad idea may have darted through his brain, that Martha had in such impetuous manner bethought herself of her old love--in the next he had already recognised me.

"'For Heaven's sake, child,' he cried, 'whatever has possessed you? What brings you to me? Has no one possibly seen you, say--has no one seen you?'

"I shook my head. He still evidently thinks you very stupid, I thought to myself, and drew a deep breath, for I felt the terrors of my venture were disappearing from my soul.

"He set me free and hastened to make a light. I groped my way to the sofa, and dropped down in a corner.

"The light of the candle flared up--it dazzled me. I turned towards the wall and covered my face. A feeling of weakness, a longing to cling to something, had come over me. I was so glad to be with him, that I forgot all else.

"'Olga, my dear, good child,' he urged, 'speak out, tell me what you want of me?'

"I looked up at him. I saw his swarthy, serious face, in which the day's trouble had graven deep furrows, and became lost in its contemplation.

"'What do you want? Do you bring me news of Martha?'

"'Yes, of course, Martha!' I pulled myself together. Away with this sentimental self-abandon! In my limbs I once more felt the firm strength of which I was so proud. 'Listen, Robert,' said I, 'you will not set out at daybreak already.'

'Why should I not do so?' said he, setting his lips.

"'Because I do not wish it!'

"'All due respect to your wishes, my dear child!' replied he, with a bitter laugh, 'but they alter nothing in my resolve.'

"'So you want to lose Martha for ever?'

"Now I felt myself once more so strong and joyous in my _role_ of guardian, that I would have taken up fight with the whole world to bring these two together. Foolish, unsuspecting creature that I was!

"'Have I not already lost her?' he replied, and stared into vacancy.

"'What did she say to you to-day?'

"'Why should I repeat it? She spoke very wisely and very staidly, as one can only speak if one has ceased to love a person.'

"'And you really believe that?' I asked.

"'Must I not believe it? And after all, what does it signify? Even if she had retained a remnant of her affection for me, she did well to get rid of it thoroughly on this occasion; it is better thus, for her as well as for me. I have nothing to offer her; no happiness, no joy, not even some little paltry pleasure, nothing but work, and trouble, and anxiety--from year's end to year's end. And added to that, a mother-in-law who is hostile to her, who would make her feel it keenly, that she had come with empty hands.'

"I felt how my blood rushed to my face. I was ashamed, but not for Martha or myself--for I was of course just as poor as she; no, for him, that he should have to speak thus of his own mother.

"'And now say yourself, my girl,' he went on, 'is she not wiser, with such prospects before her, to remain in the shelter of her warm nest, and to send me about my business, as I could never give her anything but unhappiness?'

"He dishevelled his hair and ran about the room the while like a hunted animal.

"'Robert,' said I, 'you are deceiving yourself.'

"He stopped, looked at me and laughed out loud: 'What is it you want of me? Am I perhaps to demand a written confirmation of her refusal, before I betake myself off?'

"'Robert,' I continued, without allowing myself to be put out, 'tell me candidly whether you love her?'

"'Child,' he replied, 'should I be here if I did not love her?'

"With his huge arms outspread he stood before me. I felt as if I must be crushed between them if they closed around me--everything danced before my eyes--I squeezed myself further into my corner. And then there came into my thoughts what I had pictured to myself now and for years before; how I would love him if I were Martha, and how I should want him to love me in return.

"'See, Robert.' I said, 'taking me altogether, I am a foolish creature. But as regards love, I do know about that, not only through the poets; I have felt it in myself for a long time.'

"'Do you love some one then?' he asked.

"I blushed and shook my head.

"'How else can you feel it within you?' he went on.

"'It came as an inspiration from Heaven,' I replied, lowering my gaze to the ground, 'but I know I would not love like you two. I would not be downcast, I would not steal away as you are doing and say: "It is better so!" I would compel her with the ardour of my soul; I would conquer her with the strength of my arms; I would clasp her to my breast and carry her away with me, no matter whither! Out into the night, into the desert, if no sun would shine upon us, no house give us shelter. I would starve with her at the roadside, rather than give fair words to the world--the world that sought to separate me from her. Thus, Robert, I would act if I were you; and if I were she, I would laughingly throw myself upon your breast, and would say to you: "Come, I will go a-begging for you if you have no bread, my lap shall be your resting-place if you have no bed, your wounds I will heal with my tears--I will suffer a thousand deaths for your sake, and thank God that it is vouchsafed to me to do so." You see, Robert, that is how I imagine love, and not pasted together out of fear of mothers-in-law and unpaid interests.'

"I had talked myself into a passion. I felt how my cheeks were a-glow, and then suddenly shame overwhelmed me at the thought that I had thus laid bare to him my innermost being. I pressed my hands to my face, and struggled with my tears.

"When I dared to look up again, he was standing before me with glistening eyes and staring at me.

"'Child,' he said, 'where in all the world did you get that from? Why it sounded like the Song of Songs.'

"I set my teeth and was silent. I did not know myself how it had come to me.

"He then seated himself at my side and seized both my hands.

"'Olga.' he went on, 'what you just said was not exactly practical, but it was beautiful and true, and has stirred up the very depths of my soul. It seemed to me as if I were listening to a voice from some other world, and I am almost ashamed of having been faint-hearted and cowardly. But even if I braced myself up and thought as you do: what good would it all be, seeing that she no longer cares for me?'

"'She not care for you?' I cried, 'she will die of it, if you leave her, Robert!'

"'Olga!'

"I saw how a joyful doubt illumined his countenance, and I felt as if a strange hand were gripping at my throat; but I would not let myself be deterred from my purpose, and gathering together all my defiance, I continued: 'I know, Robert, that you will despise me when you have heard what I am about to tell you; but I must do it, so that you may understand that you _cannot_ depart. I have played a false game towards you, Robert, I have betrayed your confidence.'

"And with bated breath, gasping forth the words, I told him what I had done with his letters.

"I had not nearly finished when I suddenly felt myself seized in his arms and clasped to his breast.

"'Olga, and this is true?' he cried, quite beside himself with joy, 'can you swear to me that it is the truth?'

"I nodded affirmatively, for the tremor that ran deliciously through my veins had robbed me of speech.

"'God bless you for this, you wise, brave girl,' he cried, and pressed me so firmly to his breast that I could hardly draw my breath. I let my head drop upon his shoulder and closed my eyes. And then I started as I felt his lips upon mine. It seemed to me as if a flame had touched me. And again and again he kissed me, quite senseless with gratitude and happiness.

"I kept thinking: 'Oh, that this moment might never end!' And tremor upon tremor shook my frame; quite limp I hung in his arms. Only once the idea darted through my mind: 'May you return his kisses?' But I did not dare to do so.

"How long he held me thus I do not know, I only felt my head suddenly fall heavily against the sofa-ledge. Then the pain awakened me as from a deep, deep dream.

"I lay there motionless and gasped for breath. He noticed it and cried in alarm, 'You are growing quite pale, child; have you hurt yourself?'

"I nodded, and remarked that it was nothing, and would soon pass over. Ah! I knew too well that it would not pass over, that it would be graven in flaming letters upon my heart and upon my senses, that on many a long, cold, winter's night I should I find warmth in the glow of this moment, in this glow which was only the reflection of love for another.

"I knew all that, and felt as if I must succumb beneath the weight of this consciousness, but I braced myself up, for I had sufficiently learnt to keep myself under control.

"'Robert,' said I, 'I want to give you a piece of advice, and then let me go, for I am tired!'

"'Speak, speak!' he cried, 'I will blindly do whatever you wish.'

"Then, as I looked at him, it made me sigh with mingled pain and bliss, for the thought kept coming to me: 'He has held you in his arms.' I should have liked best of all to sink back once more with closed eyes into the sofa-corner, and simulate fainting a little longer, but I pulled myself together and said: 'I am pretty certain that Martha will not close her eyes to-night, but be on the watch to see you go. She will want to look after you; and as her room lies towards the garden she will either go into yours or the one adjoining. When you get downstairs wait a little while, and then do as if you had forgotten something, and then--and then----' I could not go on, for all too mighty within me was the sobbing and rejoicing: 'He has held you in his arms.'

"I feared that I should no longer be able to master my excitement--without a word of farewell I turned to take to flight precipitately. When I opened the door--Martha stood before me. She stood there, barefooted, half-dressed, as pale as death, and trembling. She was unable to stir; her strength probably failed her.

"And at the same moment I heard behind me a glad cry, saw him rush past me and clasp her tottering form in his arms.

"'Thank God, now I have you!' That was the last I heard; then I fled to my room as if pursued by furies, locked and bolted everything, and wept, wept bitterly.

* * * * *

"Over the days that now followed, with their crushing blows of fate, with their lingering sorrow, I will pass with rapid stride. In them I became matured: I became a woman.

"Eight months after that night papa was carried home on a waggon-rack. He had fallen from his horse and sustained grave internal injuries. Three days later he died. In the misery that now beset the household, I was the only one who kept a clear head. Martha broke down feebly, and mama--oh, our poor dear mama! She had been sitting for so many years comfortably and placidly in the chimney-corner, knitting stockings and chewing fruit-jujubes the while, that she would not and could not realise that it must be different now. She spoke not a single word, she hardly shed a tear, but internally the sore spread, and even had the brain fever, which attacked her four weeks later, spared her, her sorrow would still have broken her heart.

"There, now, those two lay in the churchyard, and we two orphans were left helpless in our desolate home, and waited for the time when we should be driven forth. I, for my part, knew which way my path lay, and knew that the future would have nothing to offer me but the hard bread of service; I did not despair and did not quarrel with my fate. I knew that I possessed sufficient strength and pride to hold my own even among strangers, but it was for Martha--who now less than ever could dispense with love and consolation--that I trembled.

"Her marriage still lay in the far distance; Robert must not let her wait much longer or she might easily waste away in her misery and one morning silently die out like a little lamp in which the oil is consumed.

"I was not deceived in him. To the funerals he had not been able to come; but his words of consolation had been there at all times, and had helped Martha over the most trying hours. For me, too, there was sometimes a crumb of comfort, and I eagerly seized upon it like one starving.

"One day he himself arrived. 'Now I have come to fetch you home,' he cried out to Martha. She sank upon his breast and there wept her fill. The happy creature! I meanwhile crept away into the darkest arbour, and wondered whether my heart would ever find a home prepared for it, where it might take refuge in hours of trouble or hours of happiness! I very well felt that these were idle dreams, for the only place in the world--in short, a feeling of defiance awoke within me, of bitterness so great, so galling to my whole nature, that I harshly and gloomily fled my dear ones' embrace, and grew cold and reserved in solitary sadness.

"I was to go with them, was to share the remnant of happiness that still remained for them, and to make a permanent home for myself at my brother-in-law's hearth; but coldly and obstinately I repudiated his offer.

"In vain both of them strove to solve the riddle of my behaviour, and Martha, who fretted because none of her happiness was to fall to my share, often came at nights to my bedside and wept upon my neck. Then I felt ashamed of my hard disposition, spoke to her caressingly as to a child, and did not allow her to leave me till a smile of hope broke through her trouble.

"For a week Robert worked hard in every direction to dispose of our belongings and find purchasers for them. Very little remained over for us; but then we did not require anything.

"Then, quite quietly, the wedding took place. I and the old head-inspector were the witnesses, and instead of a wedding breakfast we went out to the churchyard and bade farewell to the newly-made graves, whose yellow sand the ivy was beginning to cover scantily with thin trails.

"During the last weeks I had been looking out for a suitable situation. I had received several offers; I had only to choose. And when Robert, with grave and solemn looks, placed himself in front of me and solicitously asked, 'What is to become of you now, child?' with a calm smile I disclosed to him my plans for the future, so that he clapped his hands in admiration and cried 'Upon my word I envy you; you understand how to make your way.'