Читать книгу Success and How He Won It - E. Werner - Страница 7

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Evening was drawing on. The festivities on the Berkow estates had been participated in by the bridal pair, and, so far at least, had attained their end. After the happy termination of that perilous incident which had so nearly compromised the whole proceedings, the original programme had been strictly adhered to. The young couple, everywhere in requisition during the afternoon, found themselves at last at home, and left to each other's company. Herr Schäffer had just taken his leave, he was to return to the elder Herr Berkow in the city the following morning; and the servant, who had been busy with the arrangements of the tea-table, now disappeared in his turn.

The lamp on the table shed its clear mild light on the pale blue draperies and costly furniture of the little salon, which, like all the other rooms in the house, had been newly and splendidly decorated for the reception of the new mistress, and formed part of the suite appropriated to her use. The silk curtains, closely drawn, shut from it the outer world; flowers filled the stands and vases, perfuming the air, and on a table before a little sofa stood the silver tea-service ready for use. In spite of all the splendour, it was a perfect little picture of domestic comfort.

So far, at least, as the boudoir itself was concerned; but the newly married couple hardly seemed as yet to appreciate its home-like charm. The bride, still in full dress, stood in the middle of the room musing, and holding in her hand the bouquet which Wilberg, in Martha's stead, had had the happiness of offering her. The scent from the orange-blossoms engrossed her attention so completely, that she had none left for her husband, and he certainly made no very vigorous claim upon it. Scarcely had the door closed behind the footman, when he sank into an armchair with an air of exhaustion.

"It is enough to kill one, this making a show of one's self for ever! Is not it, Eugénie? They have not granted us a minute's respite since yesterday at noon. First the ceremony, then the dinner, then a most fatiguing journey by rail and post, which went on all through the night and forenoon of to-day, then the tragic episode; here again a reception, presentation of officials, dinner.... My father did not remember evidently, when he sketched out the programme, that we possess anything like nerves. I own that mine are completely unstrung!"

His wife turned her head and cast a very contemptuous glance at the man, who, in his first tête-à-tête with her, could talk of his nerves. Eugénie did not appear to have much knowledge of such ailments; not a trace of fatigue was to be seen on her fair face.

"Have you heard whether young Hartmann's wound is dangerous?" asked she by way of answer.

Arthur had exerted himself to make an exceptionally long speech; he seemed surprised that it had obtained so little notice.

"Schäffer says it is nothing," he returned indifferently; "he has spoken to the doctor, I think. By the by, we shall have to make the young fellow some sort of recognition. I shall commission the Director to see about it."

"Ought you not rather to take the matter into your own hands?"

"I? No, pray spare me that! I hear he is not a common miner after all, but the son of the manager, a deputy, or something of the kind. How can I tell whether money, or a present, or what would be the proper thing to give him? The Director will manage it admirably."

He let his head sink into the cushions again. Eugénie answered nothing; she sat down on the sofa and leaned her head on her hand. After the pause of a minute or so, it seemed, however, to occur to Herr Arthur that he owed his young wife some attention, and that he could not possibly remain silent and buried in his arm-chair during the entire hour the tea-drinking would be supposed to last. It cost him an effort, but he made the sacrifice and actually rose to his feet. Going over to his wife, he seated himself by her side, took her hand and even went so far as to attempt passing his arm round her. But it was only an attempt. With a quick movement, Eugénie drew her hand out of his and retreated from him, casting a glance at him like that which, yesterday in church, had so spoiled his father's first embrace. There was the same cold haughty repulse in her look which said better than any words: "I am not to be approached by you, or any like you."

But this high disdainful manner, so imposing to the father, proved less so when employed towards the son, probably because the latter was no longer to be awed by anything. He appeared neither intimidated nor disconcerted at this evident show of repugnance, but merely looked up with some faint surprise.

"Is that disagreeable to you, Eugénie?"

"It is new to me at least. You have hitherto spared me such marks of affection."

The young man was too apathetic to feel all the bitter meaning of these words. He took them as a reproach.

"Hitherto? Well, yes, etiquette was rather severely maintained in your father's house. During the whole two months of our engagement, I had not once the happiness of seeing you alone. The continual presence of your father or your brothers laid a restraint upon us which, now we are together quietly for the first time, may well be laid aside."

Eugénie retreated still farther.

"Well then, now that we are quietly alone together, I declare that such tender demonstrations, made just to satisfy appearances, and in which the heart has no share, are positively distasteful to me. I release you once for all from any such obligations."

The surprise in Arthur's face became a little more marked now; so far, however, he was not really roused.

"You seem to be in rather a peculiar humour to-day. Appearances! Heart! Really, Eugénie, I should not have expected to find such romantic illusions in you of all people."

An expression of deep bitterness passed over her features.

"I took leave of all illusions in life when I promised you my hand. You and your father were bent on uniting your name with that of Windeg, which is old and noble. You thought, by doing so, you would obtain those honours and that society from which you had hitherto been shut out. Well, you have gained your end. For the future, I must sign myself Eugénie Berkow!"

She laid a most contemptuous stress on the last word. Arthur had risen; he seemed to understand at last that this was something more than a bride's caprice, called forth, possibly, by his negligence during the journey.

"You certainly do not seem to like the name much. Until to-day, I had no idea that, in taking it, you had yielded to constraint from your family, but I begin to think"----

"No one has constrained me!" interrupted Eugénie. "No one has even persuaded me. What I did, I did voluntarily, with full consciousness of what I was undertaking. It was hard enough for them at home that I should be sacrificed for their sakes."

Arthur shrugged his shoulders; it was plain from the expression of his face that the conversation was beginning to weary him.

"I really do not understand how you can speak in such a tragic tone about a simple family arrangement. If my father, in making it, had other objects in view, I suppose the Baron's motives were not of a very romantic nature either, only he, probably, had still more cogent reasons for approving of a marriage by which he certainly was not the loser."

Eugénie started up, her eyes flashed, and a hasty movement of her arm threw the fragrant bouquet to the ground.

"And you dare to say that to me? After what occurred before your suit was accepted? I thought, at least, you would blush for it, if indeed you are still capable of blushing."

The young man's languid, half-closed eyes opened suddenly, large and full; there came a gleam into them, like a sudden spark shooting up from beneath dead ashes, but his voice retained its quiet matter-of-fact tone.

"First of all, I must beg of you to be a little clearer. I feel myself quite unable to make out these enigmatic speeches."

Eugénie crossed her arms with a rapid movement; her bosom heaved tumultuously.

"You know, as well as I do, that we were on the brink of ruin. Whose the fault may have been, I cannot and will not decide. It is easy to throw stones at one who is struggling with adversity. When a man has inherited estates overburdened with debt, when he has to maintain the repute of an old name, to keep up a position in society, and to assure his children's future, he cannot amass money as you do in your industrial world. You have always had gold to throw away, your every wish has been forestalled, every whim gratified. I have tasted all the misery of an existence, which, wearing of necessity the outward mask of splendour, was every day, every hour, drawing nearer inevitable ruin. Perhaps we might yet have escaped, if we had not fallen precisely into Berkow's nets. He fairly forced his help on us at first, forced it upon us until he had got everything into his hands, until we, pursued, entrapped, despairing, literally knew not which way to turn. Then he came and claimed my hand for his son as the sole price of deliverance. Rather than offer me up, my father would have braved the worst, but I would not see him sacrificed, his whole career destroyed, I would not have my brother's future blighted, our name dishonoured, so I gave my consent. Not one of my family knew what it cost me!--but, if I sold myself, I can answer for it to God, and to my conscience. You, who lent yourself to be the tool of your father's base designs, have no right to reproach me; my motives were at least nobler than yours!"

She paused, overcome by her emotion. Her husband still stood motionless before her; there was the same slight pallor on his face as had been visible at noon, when the danger was just overpast, but his eyes were veiled once more.

"I regret that you did not make these disclosures to me before our marriage," said he, slowly.

"Why?"

"Because you would not then have incurred the humiliation of signing yourself Eugénie Berkow."

The young wife was silent.

"I had not the slightest suspicion of these--these manipulations on my father's part," continued Arthur, "for my habit is in no way to interfere with his business concerns. He said to me one day, that if I chose to sue for the hand of Baron Windeg's daughter, my proposal would be accepted. I agreed to the plan, and I was formally presented to you, our betrothal following a few days later. That is my share of the business."

Eugénie turned away.

"I would rather have had a plain avowal of your complicity than this fable," she said coldly.

Again the man's eyes opened wide, and again that strange light gleamed in them, ready to kindle into flame, but ever anew quenched by the ashes.

"It seems I stand so high in my wife's estimation, that my words do not even find credence with her?" said he, this time with a decided touch of bitterness.

Eugénie's fair face expressed the most sovereign contempt, as she turned it towards her husband, and she answered slightingly:

"You really must excuse me, Arthur, for not meeting you in a spirit of perfect confidence. Until the day you entered our house for the first time on an errand I understood but too well--until then, I had known you only through the city gossip, and it"----

"Drew no flattering portrait of me? That I can well believe. Will you not have the goodness to tell me what people were pleased to say of me in town?"

She raised her large eyes and looked him steadily in the face.

"People said that Arthur Berkow only made so princely a display, only threw away thousands upon thousands, in order to buy the favour of the young nobility and the right to associate with them, hoping that his own humble birth would thus be forgotten. People said that in the wild, dissipated doings of a certain set, he was the wildest, the most dissipated of all. As to some of the other reports, it would ill become me as a woman to pronounce upon them."

Arthur's hand still rested on the back of the armchair on which he was leaning; during the last few seconds it had buried itself involuntarily deeper and deeper in the silken cushions.

"And you naturally do not think it worth while to attempt to reclaim this lost sinner, on whom sentence has been passed without appeal?"

"No."

She spoke this 'No' in a freezing tone. The young man's face twitched a little as he drew himself up quickly.

"You are more than sincere! Never mind, it is an advantage to know exactly on what footing we are to be together, for together we must remain for a time, at all events. The step we took yesterday cannot be recalled immediately, without exposing us both to ridicule. If you provoked this scene with a view to showing me, that though my presumption had won your hand, yet I must learn to hold myself at a respectful distance from the Baroness Windeg--and I fear this was your sole object--you have gained your end, but"----here Arthur relapsed into his old languid manner, "but I beg of you, let this be the first and last conversation of the kind between us. I detest everything which resembles a scene; my nerves really will not bear them, and it is always possible to regulate one's life without any such useless excitement. And now I think I shall best meet your wishes by leaving you alone. Allow me to wish you good evening."

He took up from the sideboard a silver candelabra, in which lights were burning, and left the room. Outside the threshold he stopped a moment and turned to look back. The gleam in his eyes was no longer faint, it blazed up for one second clear and bright; then all grew dull and lifeless once more, but the candles flared unsteadily as he crossed the anteroom, possibly from the current of air, or was it because the hand which carried them shook a little?

Eugénie remained alone. She drew a deep breath of relief as the portière fell behind her husband. As though needing some fresh air after so painful a scene, she drew the curtains back, half opened the window, and, stepping on to the balcony, looked out at the balmy spring evening. The stars shone faintly through the thin transparent clouds which veiled the heavens, and the landscape without looked indistinct and shadowy, for the deep twilight had already fallen, clothing it on all sides with its dusky garment The flowers on the terrace below filled the air with their fragrance, and the low splash of the fountains came refreshingly to the ear. Peace and rest were everywhere--everywhere but in the heart of the young wife, who, to-day, for the first time, had crossed the threshold of her new home.

It was over at last, the dumb torturing struggle of the last two months, through which she had been supported by the pain and by the ardour of the fight itself. For heroic natures there is something grand in the idea of giving up one's whole future for others, of buying their salvation with the happiness of one's own life, of sacrificing one's self in their stead to an inexorable destiny. But now when the sacrifice was made, when deliverance had been secured, when there was nothing left to fight for, and nothing to overcome, now all the romantic glamour, which filial love had hitherto woven round Eugénie's resolve, faded away, and she began to feel deeply the cold desolation of the life before her.

The breezy, balmy air of the spring evening seemed to stir in its depths all the long-repressed anguish of this young soul, which had demanded its share of love and happiness from life, and which had been so cruelly robbed of its lawful due. She was young and beautiful, more beautiful than most, she was of a noble old race; and the proud daughter of the Windegs had ever adorned the hero of her youthful dreams with all the brilliant chivalry of her forefathers. That he should be her equal in name and rank was a thing never questioned .... and now? Had the husband, who had been forced upon her, possessed that energy and strength of character which she prized above everything in a man, she might, perhaps, have forgiven him his plebeian birth; but this weakling, whom she had despised before she had known him----Had the insults, which she, with fullest intent, had heaped upon him, and which would have stung any other man to fury, even roused him from his apathetic indifference? Had this apathy of his been shaken even for one moment by the open expression of her contempt? Another, a stranger, must throw himself before the maddened animals this morning, at the risk of being trampled to death by them.

Before Eugénie's mental vision rose the face of her deliverer with its defiant blue eyes and bleeding forehead. Her husband did not even know whether this man's wound were dangerous, whether it might not prove mortal, yet both he and she must have perished but for that energetic, lightning-like deed.

She sank back into a seat and hid her face in her hands. All that she had suffered and fought against for months pressed in on her now with tenfold power, and found utterance in the one despairing cry, "My God! my God! how shall I bear this life?"