Chapter VI: Part 1861: ). This novel deals with the conditions in Pomerania in (5)

"It is not a lie! By my oath! And still more: He did not even go of his own will to his father; he would not have done it today, he would perchance never have done it, if his father had been content with asking him whether it was true, what the sparrows chatter from the roof and the blackmailers wrote to the unsuspecting father anonymously, that Lieutenant von Werben has a sweetheart beyond the garden-wall or--how do I know!"

"Show me the letters!"

"Here is one of them; the General will be glad to let you have the other, no doubt; I do not think the son will lay claim to it."

Ferdinande read the letter.

She had considered it certain that Antonio alone could have been the betrayer; but this letter was not by Antonio--could not be by him. Then other eyes than the passionate jealous eyes of the Italian had looked into the secret. Her cheeks, still pale, flared with outraged modesty.--"Who wrote the letter?"

"Roller; he has not even disguised his hand to the General."

She gave the letter back to her father quickly, and pressed her forehead as if she wished to remove the traces of emotion. "Oh, the disgrace, the disgrace!" she muttered; "oh, the disgust! the disgust!"

The dismissed inspector had taken up his residence in her family till Ferdinande had noticed that he was audaciously beginning to pay attention to her; she had made use of a pretense of a disagreement, which he had had with her father, first to strain the social relations, then to drop them. And the bold repulsive eyes of the man--"Oh, the disgrace! oh, the disgrace! oh, the disgust!" she muttered continually.

She paced with long strides up and down, then went hurriedly to the writing-desk which stood at one end of the large room, wrote hastily a few lines, and then took the sheet to her father, who had remained standing motionless in the same spot. "Read!"

And he read:

My father wishes to make a sacrifice of his convictions for me, and consents to my union with Lieutenant von Werben. But, for reasons which my pride forbids me to record, I renounce this union once for all, as a moral impossibility, and release Lieutenant von Werben from all responsibility which he may consider he has toward me. This decision, which I have reached with full freedom, is irrevocable; I shall consider any attempt on the part of Lieutenant von Werben to change it as an insult.

Signed, Ferdinande Schmidt.

"Is that correct?"

He nodded. "Shall I send him this?"

"In my name."

She turned away from him and, seizing a modeling stick, went to her work. Her father folded the sheet and went toward the door. Then he stopped. She did not look up, apparently entirely absorbed in her work. His eyes rested upon her with deep pain--"And yet!" he murmured--"Yet!"

He had closed the door behind him and was walking slowly across the court through whose broad empty space the rain-storm howled.

"Empty and desolate!" he murmured.--"All is empty and desolate! That is the end of the story for me and for her!"

"Uncle!"

He started from his sullen brooding; Reinhold was hastily coming from the house toward him, bareheaded, excited.

"Uncle, for Heaven's sake!--The General has just left me--I know all.--What did you decide?"

"What we had to."

"It will be the death of Ferdinande!"

"Better that than a dishonorable life!"

He strode past Reinhold into the house. Reinhold did not dare to follow him; he knew it would be useless.

* * * * *

[Giraldi and Valerie have just returned from Rome and put up at the Hotel Royal in Berlin. Valerie writes her brother, the General, a note, which Else answers. Valerie thinks the friendly answer a trap. Giraldi has another interview with Privy Councilor Schieler, "the wonderworker," about the Warnow estates and about enlisting the interests of Count Golm. The Count snaps eagerly at the bait held out by the company--namely, the sale of the Warnow estates through him to the company. Giraldi plans to have Golm get Else's part of the estate by marrying her. Giraldi discovers that Antonio is the original of the "Shepherd Boy" in the exhibition, and identifies him as the son of himself and Valerie. Justus had discovered Antonio in Italy and brought him home with him to Berlin. Antonio remains with Justus to be near Ferdinande. Jealousy leads Antonio to the discovery of the relation between Ferdinande and Ottomar. Ottomar's betrothal to Carla and Else's relations with Reinhold are touched upon. Giraldi goes out to receive His Excellency, tossing a few sweet phrases to Valerie, enough to show her that she is still in his grip, and that she will never be able to break his spell over her. Else calls and finds her in this frame of mind.

* * * * *

Aunt Sidonie calls to see Valerie and chatters long about the family and the betrothal of Ottomar and Carla. Else has thus been able to reestablish friendly relations between Valerie and her father's family.]

* * * * *

Giraldi had not intended to stay away so long. It was to have been only a formal call, a return of the one he had made on His Excellency yesterday morning--but that loquacious gentleman still had much to say about the things they thought they had settled yesterday--much to add--even when he was standing at the door with one hand on the knob, and the other, which held his hat, passing before his half-blinded eyes, covered by gray spectacles, in an effort to shield them from the light that came in too brightly from the window opposite.

"It seems foolish to try to warn the wisest of men," said he with a cynical smile which, on his strange face, turned into a tragic grimace.

"Especially when the warning comes from the most courageous of men," answered Giraldi.

"And yet," continued His Excellency, "even he is wise--you underestimate his wisdom; even he is courageous--almost to foolhardiness. He gives proof of it every day. People like him, I think, cannot be appreciated _par distance_ at all; at least half of the charm which they have for their associates is in their personality. You have to be close to them, personally--come into contact with them in the same room--see them going to a Court soirée, to understand why the other beasts grovel in the dust before such lions, and, even when they wish to oppose, can do no more than swish their tails. Believe me, honored friend, separation in space is just as unfavorable to the appreciation of such truly historic greatness as is separation in time. You Romans think you can explain by the logic of facts everything that depends solely upon overpowering personality, just as our all-wise historians construe the marvelous deeds of an Alexander or a Cæsar, even to the dotting of an "i," all very coldly, as necessarily following the bare situations in the case, just as though the situations were a machine that turns out its product, whether master or menial set it going."

Giraldi smiled. "Thanks, Your Excellency, in the name of His Holiness; for you probably intended that brilliant little sermon for him anyway. It is a good thing, too, for His Holiness to be shown the other side of the medal once in a while, so that he may not forget fear, which is the foundation of all wisdom, and may remain mindful of the necessity of our advice and support. Only, at this moment, when the shadows of clouds that threaten all around our horizon lie dark on his soul, I would rather not represent the case to him as more troublesome, nor the man in the case more dangerous, than we ourselves see them from our knowledge of them. That is why I diligently used my very last interview to raise his dejected spirits a little. May I give Your Excellency an instance to show how very necessary that was? Very well! His Holiness was speaking in almost the same words of the demoniac power of the arch-enemy of our most Holy Church; he calls him a robber, a Briareus, a murderer, a colossus, that plants his feet on two hemispheres, as the one at Rhodes did on the two arms of the harbor. This, Your Excellency, was my answer to His Holiness--that I could see even now the stone falling from on high, the stone which would crush the feet of the colossus. His eyes gleamed, his lips moved; he repeated the words to himself; soon he will proclaim it _urbi et orbi_, as he does everything with which we stuff him. Our enemies will laugh, but it will reassure the weak hearts among us as it visibly reassured that poor old man."

"I would it were as true as it is reassuring," said His Excellency.

"And isn't it true?" cried Giraldi. "Doesn't the colossus really stand on feet of masonry? What good is all this bloated boasting of the power and the majesty and the cultural mission of the German Empire? The end of the whole story, which he carefully avoids mentioning--or at most has added very obscurely--is ever the strong Prussian kingdom. What good can it do him to change restlessly from one rôle to another, and proclaim today the universal right of suffrage, to thunder against socialism tomorrow, day after tomorrow, in turn, to censure the _bourgeoisie_ as though they were rude schoolboys. He is, and will always be, the _major domus_ of the Hohenzollerns, whether he will or not, in moments of impatience at his most gracious lord's wise hesitation on some point, of anger at the intrigues of the court _camarilla_, or whatever else may stir up his haughty soul. Believe me, Your Excellency, this man, in spite of the liberalism which he wears most diligently for appearances' sake, is an aristocrat from head to foot, and, in spite of his oft-vaunted broad-mindedness, is full of medieval, romantic cobwebs; he can at heart never desire anything, and will never desire anything, but a kingdom by divine right, and, while desiring a kingdom by divine right, he works away at one by the people's right. Or what else is it, when he uproots respect for the clergy in the people--not only for the Catholic clergy!--The interests of all sects have always been common, and the sympathy which a maltreated Catholic clergy awakens in the Protestant will soon enough come to light. But without clerics there will be no God, and no king by divine right--that is to say, he cuts off the branch to which he clings. Now if he were not to take the thing nearly as seriously as he does, if he were to be--which is incredible to me--so narrow-minded and frivolous as to regard it all only in the light of a question of etiquette, a dispute over precedence of the _major domus_ and grandees in the state of his own creation, which he wishes to justify in the eyes of the church, then history would lead him back _ad absurdum_, for it teaches on every page that a priest never accepts this subordination; at the most, he endures it if he must. We are what we always have been, and always shall be. And, Your Excellency, that is his Achilles' heel--not to understand this, to believe that he can intimidate us by threats and frights, and make us into creatures of his will. When he sees that he will not get anywhere that way--and I hope he will not see it very soon--he will try to compromise with us, and compromise again and again, and be driven step by step into the camp of the reactionaries; he will be forced to express more and more openly the contradiction of his purpose--the kingdom by divine right and his methods which he has borrowed from the arsenal of the revolution; and this contradiction into which he is hopelessly driving, and from which the revolution must come--for no people will long endure a self-contradictory régime--is the stone which is already rolling, and will let loose the avalanche and crush the colossus."

"_Serve him right_, and good luck to him!" said His Excellency with a sarcastic smile, and then--after a little pause--"I am only afraid sometimes that we too shall take the _salto mortale_ with him, and----"

"And stand firmer than ever on our feet," interrupted Giraldi quickly. "What have we to fear from the revolution, the people? Nothing, absolutely nothing! If people dance around the golden calf today, they will grovel so much the lower in the dust before Jehovah tomorrow. If today they enthrone the Goddess of Reason, tomorrow they will flee, like a child that has frightened itself, back to the bosom of the Mother Church. And if, as you said, Darwinism is really to be the religion of the future for Germany--very well; then we shall be Darwinians _par excellence_ and proclaim the new doctrine with holy zeal from the rostra of the universities; we know well enough that Nature wraps herself the more closely in her veil the more impatiently the inquisitive pupil pulls at it, and then, when he has looked into the hollow eyes of nothing, and lies crushed on the ground, we come and raise up the poor knave and comfort him with the admonition, 'Go thy way and sin no more'; and he goes his way and sins henceforth no more in the foolish thirst for knowledge, for the burden of ignorance is lighter and her yoke is easier--_quod erat demonstrandum_."

The corners of His Excellency's mouth were drawn apart as far as possible. Even Giraldi was smiling.

"I wish I had you here always," said His Excellency.

"To tell Your Excellency things which you have long worn off on the soles of your shoes with which you mount the rostrum."

"I generally speak from my place."

"And ever at the right place."

"It's often enough nothing but sound, and no one knows that better than I myself. One has to consider how things sound."

"And not for naught. To us across the mountain the little silver bell is the huge bell of the cathedral, whose bronze voice calls the tardy to their duty and spurs on the brave to fiercer fight."

"And that reminds me that I myself am a tardy one this moment, and that a fierce fight awaits me today in the Chamber."

"His Excellency will not forget my little commission," said Giraldi.

"How could I!" exclaimed His Excellency. "I hope, indeed, to have a chance before the day is over to mention the matter. Of course they won't do it without a little _baksheesh_--they don't do anything there for the love of God; fortunately we always have such stuff on hand. The promise to drive the screw one turn less tight in Alsace-Lorraine and not to disturb rudely the childish pleasure of the old Catholic gentlemen in Cologne, and not to beat the drum quite so loudly in the coming discussion about the brave Bishop of Ermeland--every single one of these kindnesses is worth a General, especially if he has such antediluvian, unpractical ideas concerning the state, society and the family."

"And such a thing passes without _éclat_?"

"Absolutely without _éclat_. Oh, my honored friend, you must not consider us any longer the honest barbarians of Tacitus; we really have learned something since that time!--God help you!"

"Will Your Excellency permit me to accompany you to your carriage?"

"Under no circumstances; my body-servant is waiting for me in the hall; have him come in, please."

"Grant, Your Excellency, that now, as ever, I be your humble servant."

Giraldi was about to offer his arm to the half-blinded man, when a new caller was announced.

"Who is it?" asked His Excellency with some anxiety; "you know I must not be seen here by every one."

"It is Privy Councilor Schieler, Your Excellency."

"Oh, he!--By the way, don't trust that old sneak any more than is necessary! He is a box that contains many good wares, but is to be handled with care. Above all things, don't trust him in the matter in question; it is quite unnecessary; his high protector can do nothing about it."

"That is why I took the liberty to turn to Your Excellency."

"One is always too late with his advice to you. Another thing: In this little clan war, as you have to carry it on here with the North German centaurs, you need what is known to be thrice necessary in real war. Are you sufficiently provided with that?"

"I was ever of the opinion that war must sustain war. Besides, I can draw on Brussels at any time for any amount, if it should be necessary."

"Perhaps it will be necessary. In any case, keep the party in hand. There is, in spite of your sanguine hopes for the future, which I, by the way, share fully, a period of lean years ahead of us first. We shall have to lead the life of a church mouse, and church-mouse precaution behooves us now more than ever. You will keep me _au courant_?"

"In my own interest, Your Excellency."

The Privy Councilor had entered; His Excellency extended him his hand. "You come as I am leaving--that's too bad. You know that there is no one with whom I would rather chat than with you. Which way does the wind blow today in Wilhelmstrasse? Did they sleep well? Did they get out of bed with the right foot or the left first? Nerves faint or firm? Is country air in demand or not? Good Heavens! Don't let me die of unsatisfied curiosity!" His Excellency did not wait for the smiling Privy Councilor to answer, but shook hands again with both gentlemen, and, leaning on the arm of his body-servant, who meanwhile had come in, left the room.

"Isn't it wonderful," said the Privy Councilor,--"this prodigious versatility, this marvelous ready wit, this quickness in attack, this security in retreat. A Moltke of guerilla warfare. What an enviable treasure your party has in this man!"

"Our party, my dear sir? Pardon me, I really must first stop and think each time that you don't belong to us. Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you, no. I haven't a moment to spare, and I can only tell you the most essential part in flying haste. First, in the Department of Commerce they are beside themselves over a just reported vote of the great General Staff on the Harbor matter which, as a colleague has informed me--I myself have not been able to get a look at it--is as much as a veto. The finished report is by a certain Captain von Schönau--but the mind behind it--it is an unheard of thing--is there, right in the War Department, and is, of course, none other than our friend the General. That sets us back again I don't know how far or for how long. I am beside myself, and the more so because I am absolutely at a loss in the face of this obstruction. Good Heavens! A man may have influence and could use this influence if he had to, even against an old friend, but he surely would not do that sort of thing except in the last extremity. Now what is your advice?"

"The purity of our cause is not to be clouded by intermingling with such repugnant personalities," replied Giraldi.--"If you think that you must spare an old friend, then there is, as you know, an old feud between the General and myself, and everything which I personally might do against him, or cause to be done, would properly seem to every one to be an act of common revenge--which may God Almighty forbid! If he will, he can have some incident occur which will disarm our enemy, and which doesn't need to be an accident because people call it so."

"You mean if he should die?" questioned the Privy Councilor with a shifty look.

"I don't mean anything definite at all, and certainly not his death. As far as I am concerned he may live long."

"That is a very noble sentiment, a very Christian sentiment," replied the Privy Councilor, rubbing his long nose.--"And it is my heart's wish, of course; and yet his opposition is and always will be a stumbling block. I wish that were our only obstacle! But Count Golm tells me now--I have just come from him--he will give himself the honor immediately after me--I have just hurried on ahead of him because I have another little bit of information about him to give you, which I'll tell you in a moment--Count Golm tells me that his efforts with the President in Sundin--he had come over in his semi-official capacity as president of the board of directors _in spe_--that they had been fruitless, quite fruitless; that he had been convinced, and unalterably, much as he would like to do it for the Count, for a thousand reasons--regard for a fellow countryman, and personal friendship, and so on. Golm, who, between you and me, is crafty enough and by no means a fool, finally hinted at the great sacrifices which we had decided to make--but all in vain. In fact, Golm says that he rather made matters worse than better by that."

"As ever when one does things by halves," said Giraldi.

"By halves, my dear sir! How do you mean that? What did they offer him?"

"Fifty thousand thalers as compensation, and the first position as director of the new road, with six thousand a year fixed salary, besides customary office rent, traveling expenses, and so forth."

"Well then, that, I suppose, is just half of what the man demanded himself!"

"He didn't demand anything."

"One doesn't demand such things; one has them offered him. Authorize the Count to propose twice as much, and I'll wager the deal is closed."

"We can't go as far as that," replied the Privy Councilor, scratching his close-cropped hair.--"We haven't the means to permit that; and the rest of us, too--and then, for the present, Count Golm is satisfied with fifty thousand; we could not offer the President twice as much without insulting Golm. He is already not so very kindly disposed toward us, and that is the point that I should like to settle with you before he gets here. Is it really impossible for you to--I mean for us: the Board of Trustees of Warnow--to sell directly to us: I mean the corporation?"

"Over the Count's head?" cried Giraldi.--"Goodness, Privy Councilor, I think that you are bound by the most definite promises, so far as the Count is concerned, in this respect!"

"Of course, of course, unfortunately. But then even Lübbener--our financier, and at the same time----"

"The Count's banker--I know----"

"You know everything!--Even Lübbener thinks that one could get a little assistance from a man who, like the Count, falls from one dilemma into another, and is always inclined or compelled to sell his birthright for a mess of pottage. Only we do not wish or intend to act contrary to your plans, and if you insist upon it----"

"I insist upon nothing, Sir," replied Giraldi; "I simply follow the wishes of my mistress, which, on this point, are identical with those of von Wallbach."

"Good Lord," exclaimed the Privy Councilor impatiently, "I quite understand that, to keep up appearances, one would rather sell to an equal in rank than to a committee, even though the man concerned be a member of this very committee; but you ought not to forget, too, that we should have to pay direct to you just as much, or about as much, as we shall hereafter have to pay the Count."

"The Count will not get off so cheaply as you say, either----"

"He will sell to us so much the higher," said the Privy Councilor. "Matters will only be worse for us thereby."

"And yet I must, to my great regret, hereby refuse my support," replied Giraldi decidedly.

The Privy Councilor made a very wry face. "It will be best," he said grumblingly, "if he can't find the money--not even the hundred thousand, to say nothing of the million, or whatever sum we may agree upon in family council as the price of the estates. For he has to yield to us; I do not know any one else in the world who would advance him so much, at once or in instalments. I can say in advance, of course, without being Merlin the Wise, that he will not get the money from us cheaply, and so it will be evened up again at the end.--But now, my honored patron, I must give place to the Count, and take leave of you. My regards to Madame, whom I have not had the pleasure, unfortunately, of meeting, but for whom I have felt the profoundest respect and have gallantly shattered many a lance, after the manner of a knight. Not in vain, for this family visit--I met Miss Sidonie down in the hall; Miss Else had already gone on ahead--is a concession which I, without immodesty, may consider the fruits of my persuasive art. _Apropos_, my dear old friend Sidonie--she wanted to know yesterday what had really been the deciding element in the matter of the engagement, which had broken Ottomar's stubborn resistance."

"Well?" asked Giraldi with unfeigned curiosity.

"I do not know," said the Privy Councilor, laying his finger on his long nose--"that is to say, my dear friend knows nothing, or she would have told me. From what the servant says--that was all she could tell me--an interview took place the night before between father and son. I have every reason to think the subject was by no means a romantic one--on the contrary, one as prosaic as it is inexhaustible, that of Ottomar's debts.--Farewell, my dear, honored patron; you will keep me informed, will you not?"

"Be assured of that!"

The Privy Councilor had gone; Giraldi kept his dark eyes fixed on the door, a smile of profoundest contempt played about his lips. "_Buffone!_" he muttered.

* * * * *

[Wallbachs and Ottomar call on Valerie. Giraldi asks François about the interview between Valerie, Sidonie and Else. Count Golm is announced, and speaks with Giraldi in the outer room about the advance of the loan, and the impossible conditions which Lübbener, the banker, has made him, and mentions his visit to Philip. Giraldi confuses Philip with Reinhold, to the disgust of Golm, who informs Giraldi that Philip is a promoter of the Sundin-Berlin railroad; that he is to build the road, and is, besides, a graceful, companionable, immensely rich man. Giraldi offers Golm half a million as advance loan for a four per cent. mortgage, under promise of secrecy, telling him it is the hand of a friend, not of a usurer, that is extended to him. The Count then goes into the other room to meet the ladies.

Carla is eager to make the acquaintance of Giraldi, but Ottomar conceives a dislike for the Count, and is alarmed at the power of Giraldi; but Giraldi wins his confidence by flatteries and assurances of friendship. During the conversation Valerie compares the studied manner of Carla with the naturalness and ease of Else, and is convinced that Carla is not suited to Ottomar. The company departs, and a scene follows between Giraldi and Valerie.

The General speaks frankly with Reinhold about Ferdinande and wishes that her father would relent as he has, but Uncle Ernst is still obdurate. Justus and Reinhold converse about Uncle Ernst, and Justus asks Reinhold to sit as model for one of his reliefs. The conversation turns upon love, which Justus declares is a strange drop in the artist's blood; Reinhold begs Justus not to express his opinions of love in Cilli's hearing.

Cilli's father speculates in the railroad stocks on the sly. Cilli is to be modeled by Justus, and tells Reinhold how her friends look, although she cannot see them. She asks Reinhold if he loves Else, and when he confesses he does, Cilli tells him that she was afraid at first that he was in love with Ferdinande. Reinhold tells Cilli that he thinks Else unattainable; Cilli replies that love is always a miracle, and that Reinhold must be himself if he would win Else. Reinhold goes away greatly encouraged, and finds in his room a letter from the President telling him that his appointment as Pilot Commander has been ratified, and that he shall appear at the ministry at his earliest convenience.

Mieting comes unannounced to visit Else, and makes conquest of the entire circle of Else's friends; even the stern old General and Baroness Kniebreche are captivated by her spritely, impulsive personality; but Mieting is not pleased with Carla as Ottomar's prospective bride. Mieting refers to the evening at Golmberg, and tries to find out Else's relations to Reinhold. She finally discovers the compass in one of Else's gowns, and finds, in conversation with Else, that she and Reinhold are in love. Justus models Mieting, who describes the meaning of artistic terms to Else in her own naïve way. She tells Else that Justus has made a model of Reinhold, which Else is to wear in the form of a medallion as big as a cart-wheel.]

* * * * *

Mieting followed her hero without allowing herself to be deterred by anything, even Aunt Rikchen's spectacles.--"And that is not a matter for jest," said Mieting, as she related that evening the experiences of the session; "I would rather face the lorgnette of Baroness Kniebreche. For behind that is nothing but a pair of dimmed eyes, for which I feel anything but fear; but when Aunt Rikchen lets her spectacles slip down to the point of her nose, she only begins to see clearly, so that one might become anxious and uneasy if one had not a good conscience--and you know, Else, something unusual must have happened between you and the Schmidts, has it not? It is, to be sure, still mysterious, for the good lady mixes up everything, like cabbage and turnips; but she had nothing good to say of the Werbens, like my Papa about the Griebens, who continually dig away his line, he says; and you have dug away something from the Schmidts, and that, you will find, is the reason why Reinhold has become distant. We shall not learn it from him, but Aunt Rikchen can't keep anything secret, and we are already the best of friends. I am a good girl, she says, and can't help being so; and the dove that brought the olive branch to the earth did not know what it had in its beak, and I saw that Reinhold, who was in the studio, winked at her, and Mr. Anders also made a really wry face and looked at Reinhold--the three know something; that much is clear, and I mean to find it out, depend upon it!"

But Mieting did not find it out, and could not, for Aunt Rikchen herself did not know the real situation and the others did not let her into the secret. Mieting's communications contributed by no means to Else's pacification, even though Else had at least had the pleasure during the first few days of hearing about Reinhold through Mieting--how he had come into the studio and kept them company for a while, and how he had looked; but even this source of consolation flowed less freely and appeared gradually to dry up entirely. One day he had been there scarcely five minutes; another day he had only gone through the studio; a third, Mieting had not seen him at all; on the fourth she did not know whether she had seen him or not. Else supposed she knew what to think of this apparent indifference--that Mieting had learned something which she did not wish to tell her, or had convinced herself otherwise of the hopelessness of her love, and that the detailed account which she gave of her other experiences and observations, in the studio, were only to serve to conceal her embarrassment.

It was, accordingly, with only divided interest that Else listened to these accounts--how Mieting rose daily in the favor of Aunt Rikchen, who was really a fine old lady and had her heart in the right place, even if her spectacles did always sit crooked on the point of her nose; and how the kind old woman had something specially touching for her, for she too would look like that in fifty years. But a pretty young blind girl, who came every day, had touched her still more deeply, because Mr. Anders wanted to model them side by side on the same relief; when she spoke, it was just as if a lark sang high, high up in the blue air on a Sunday morning, when all is quiet in the fields; and Justus said that Nature had never but once brought forth a contrast like her and Cilli, and if he succeeded in reproducing that, people would be permitted to speak to him only with their hats in their hands.--There was another, next to Justus' studio, which aroused her curiosity, because the occupant never showed herself, and she could form no idea of a lady who kneaded clay, or hammered around on marble--least of all of a marvelously beautiful, elegant lady, such as Justus says Miss Schmidt is.--"For you know, Else, a sculptor differs in appearance from a baker only in that he has clay instead of dough in his fingers, and is powdered with marble-dust instead of flour, so that one can hardly consider such a queer human child as a decent gentleman, much less as an artist, and the only one who always looks so clean and neat, in spite of his working jacket, and is more wonderfully handsome than any one I have ever seen in my life--that one is not an artist, Justus says, for he cannot do anything but point and carve--but you, poor child, possibly do not know at all what pointing means? Pointing, you know, is that which one does with a bill-stork or a stork-bill----"

And now followed a very long and confused explanation, from which Else understood nothing but Mieting's wish to talk of anything but what was engrossing her heart.--"The work will be finished," said Else to herself, "and the entire success of the beautiful plan will consist in my not being able to consider Reinhold's reserve as accidental."

But the work seemed not likely to be finished.--Such a face he had never seen, said Justus; one might just as well model clouds in springtime, which changed their form every moment.--And, again, when the relief was done--"you can't believe how horrible I look, Else, like a Chinese girl!"--Justus had set himself to finish his "Ready to Help," and--"then I cannot leave the poor fellow in the lurch, who tortures himself so; for you know, Else, it is not simply a question of the head, but of the whole figure--the posture, gestures--of new motives, you know--but I think you, poor child, do not know at all what a motive is. Motive is when one does not know what to do, and suddenly sees something, in which, in reality, there is nothing to see--let us say, a cat or a washtub----"

It was the longest, and also the last, explanation which Mieting drew from the abundance of her newly acquired wisdom for her friend. During the next few days Else had more to do about the house than usual, and another matter urgently claimed her attention. After two months of negotiation the final conference was held at her father's house to consider the future management of the Warnow estates, in which, with the three votes of von Wallbach, Privy Councilor Schieler, and Giraldi, against the vote of the General, who had his dissenting view with his reasons recorded in the minutes, it was decided that the whole complex should be sold as soon as possible, and Count Golm be accepted as purchaser, in case the conditions of the sale arranged by the family council were agreed upon.

He came from the council pale and exhausted as Else had never before seen him. "They carried it through, Else," he said. "The Warnow estates, which have been in the possession of the family for two hundred years, will be sacrificed and bartered.--Your Aunt Valerie may answer for it if she can. For she, and she alone, is to blame for letting an old respected family ignominiously perish. If she had been a good and true wife to my friend--what is the use of lamenting about things that are passed! It is foolish even in my eyes, not to say in the eyes of those to whom the present is everything. And I must admit they acted quite in the spirit of our time--wisely, reasonably, in the interest of all of you. You will all be at least twice as rich as you are, if the sale turns out as favorably as the Privy Councilor prophesies. It is very unlike a father, Else, but I hope he may triumph too soon. The Count, whom he mentions as purchaser, can only pay the silly price--for the actual total value of the estates is scarcely half a million, much less a whole million--in case he is sure they will take the enormous burden from his shoulders immediately--that is, if the scandalous project, the perilous folly of which for the State I so clearly demonstrated with the aid of the General Staff and Captain Schmidt, should go through. If it did go through, if the concession were made, still it would be a violation of the little bit of authority to which I lay claim, and I should regard it as if I had been passed over in the recent advancements. I should ask for my discharge at once. The decision is pending. For Golm it is a vital question; he will either be ruined or a Croesus; and I shall be an Excellency or a poor pensioner--quite in the spirit of the times, which plays _va banque_ everywhere. Well, as God wills it! I can only gain, not lose, for the highest and best; my clear conscience, the consciousness of having stood by the old flag, of having acted as a Werben must act, nothing and no one can take from me."

So Else's father spoke to her, in a state of agitation which appeared in every word, in the vibrant tone of his deep voice, although he sought to compose himself. It was the first time he had thus taken her into his personal confidence, and made her the witness of a strife which he formerly would have fought out himself in his proud silent soul. Was it chance, or was it intended? Had the vessel, already too full, only run over? Or did her father have an intimation--did he know her secret? Did he wish to say to her: "Such a decision will perhaps confront you; I wish, I hope, that you, too, will remain true to the flag which is sacred to me--that you will be a Werben?"

That was in the forenoon; Mieting had accepted an invitation for dinner, by way of exception, from a friend of her mother, after she had had her sitting. She would not return before evening. For the first time Else did not miss her friend; she was glad to be alone, silent, busy with her own thoughts. They were not cheerful--these thoughts; but she felt it her duty to work them out to the last particular, to become clear in her own mind, if it were possible. She thought that it would be possible, and felt, in consequence, a silent satisfaction, which, to be sure, as she said to herself, would be the sole compensation for all that she had secretly given up.

And in this spirit of resignation she received with calm composure the news which Mieting brought to her when she came home, and which would have filled her with sadness under other circumstances--Mieting had to go away; she had found a letter from her Mama at the house of the lady from whom she came, in which her Mama so bitterly complained of her long absence that she could not do otherwise than leave at once--that is, early in the morning. How she felt about it she would not and could not say.

It was a strange state of mind in any case; while she seemed one moment about to burst into tears, the next she broke into laughter which she tried in vain to suppress, until the laughter turned to tears again. And so she went on the rest of the evening. The next morning the feeling had reached such a height that Else was seriously concerned about the strange girl, and urged her to put off the journey until she should be quieted to some extent. But Mieting remained firm; she had decided, and Else would agree with her if she knew all, and she should know all--but by letter; she couldn't tell her verbally without laughing herself to death, and she mustn't die just now for reasons which she again could not give without laughing herself to death.

And so she went on until she got into the carriage in which August was to take her to the station. She had declined all other company most positively--"for reasons, Else, you know, which--well! You will read it all in the letter, you know, which--Good-by, dear, sweet, my only Else!"

With that Mieting drove off.

In the evening August, not without some formality, handed Else a letter which Miss Mieting had given him at the last moment before her departure with the express direction that he should deliver it promptly at the stroke of nine in the evening, twelve hours later. It was a letter in Mieting's most confused hand, from which Else deciphered the following with some difficulty:

Six o'clock in the afternoon.

Dear Else!

Don't believe a word of all that I told you when I came home.--Oh, that won't help you any! You first read this letter--I am writing it right here at Madame von Randow's in order to lose no time--August is to give it to you when I am gone--thus, not a bit of it is true; my mother hadn't written at all; I lied; I have been lying to you and deceiving you most monstrously for a week, for I have not been going there during that time on your account, and that would have been the most injudicious procedure, as I am convinced that your Reinhold has long since noticed how matters stand with us and has kept out of the way even before we had an idea of it, and you may believe, Else, that two such men, when they are such good friends, stand by each other in such matters in a way that we girls couldn't improve upon. And for dear, blind Cilli we thought we needed to have no further concern, because she always smiled so cheerfully when we teased each other, and then, too, she couldn't see, and the eyes play such an important part in a matter of that kind, you know! Indeed, it began with the eyes, for up to that time all went well. But when he came to them he said: "At this point I shall have to determine what the color of your eyes really is; and I was puzzling my brain about that all those days." I declared they were yellow; Aunt Rikchen thought they were green; he himself thought they were brown--and Cilli, who was to decide the matter, said she was convinced that they were blue; she was so cheerful, and cheerful people must have blue eyes. So we jested to and fro and each day he began again with my eyes and, because one can't speak of eyes very well without looking into them, I looked into his eyes while he looked into mine, and I don't know whether you have ever had the same experience, Else--when one has done that a few days, one begins to see more clearly what is going on back of the eyes--very curious things. I tell you that a shudder goes over one; one doesn't know sometimes whether to laugh at the one who is looking, and give him a snip on the nose, or to take to crying and fall on his neck.

So I had felt a few times, and this noon again--only a little worse than before. The assistants were off at dinner, and Aunt Rikchen had gone to look after the house; only he and I and Cilli were there, and Justus wanted to work on, if we were willing, to finish the work. But he didn't work industriously, as was his custom, and I noticed that, and didn't sit as quietly as usual, and we--that is, he and I--played all sorts of pranks with Lesto, who had to pretend that he was dead, and bark at me as if he were mad, and I pretended to want to hit his master, and other nonsense, till suddenly we heard the door which leads into the garden close and--Heavens! Else! how shall I describe it to you--Cilli had gone away without our noticing it; we must thus have been a bit boisterous, and for that reason became quiet now, still as mice, so that one could have heard a pin drop, if one had dropped, and I was so embarrassed, Else, so embarrassed, you know! And still more embarrassed when all of a sudden he kneeled close before me--I had seated myself, because my knees were shaking--and then looked me again in the eyes, and I looked at him, you know I had to, Else!--and asked, but very gently, what that meant. That means, he said--but also very gently--that you must once for all declare yourself. I'll give you a snip on the nose if you don't get up, said I, but still more softly--I'll get up--but so close to my ear that I could not strike his nose, but had to fall in all seriousness upon his neck, whereat Lesto, who thought the life of his master was at stake, began to bark dreadfully, and I, to pacify Lesto and to get Justus up from his knees, said yes to everything he wished, that I loved him, that I'd be his wife, and whatever else one says at such a dreadful moment.

And now, just think, Else!--When we had spent five minutes in pacifying Lesto, and were about to leave--for I said I had sworn to be sensible, and to be a credit to you, and not to remain a second with such a dangerous man in such a lonesome spot, with all the horrible marble figures--and we went to the rear arm in arm--suddenly, Cilli came toward us from among the marble figures, as white as marble herself, but with a heavenly smile on her face, and said that we must not be angry, that the door had shut and she could not get it open, and she had heard everything--she heard so easily--and it sounded so loud in the studio. Oh, Else! I was so ashamed that I could have sunk into the floor, for I'm sure we didn't stop with words, but the heavenly creature blushed as if she had been able to see, took me by the hand, and said I should not be ashamed--one need not be ashamed--of an honorable, true love, and I didn't know at all how happy I was, and how proud I should be, but I would gradually find it out, and should be thankful for my proud joy, and love Justus very much, for an artist needs love very much more than other people. Then she took Justus' hand and said, "And you, Justus, you will love her as much as the sunshine without which you cannot live!" And, as she said that, the sunbeam fell from the high window of the studio directly upon the sweet girl, and she looked transfigured--so supernaturally beautiful, with her poor blind eyes turned upward, that at last I couldn't keep from weeping, and had great difficulty in composing myself. And she said, "You mustn't stay here in this disturbed condition; you must go home at once and tell your mother about it, and no one else before her; for the fact that I know it is an accident, for which you are not to blame." And I promised her everything that she asked of me, and I now realize that the angel was perfectly right, for I am entirely out of my senses with joy, and can't talk anything but nonsense for very joy, and that I don't dare to do, because I have sworn to be sensible, and to do credit to you. Tomorrow morning I leave--tomorrow evening at eight o'clock I shall be home, at half-past eight I shall have told my mama, and at nine o'clock August will give you this letter, for after Mama you come next, of course. That I told Cilli outright, and she agreed to it, and her last word was: Ask God that your friend may be as happy as you are now. That I will do, Else, depend upon it, and depend in every other respect, too, upon your friend, who loves you above all else.

Your sensible Miete.

P. S. In "all," "he" is of course excepted! I'm dreadfully sorry, but it can't be helped, you know!

* * * * *

"The dear, foolish child!" exclaimed Else with a deep sigh, when she had finished the letter--"I grant it with all my heart." And as she thus sat and thought about it--how wonderfully it had all come about, and how happy the two would be in their love--her eyes became more set, her breathing more difficult, and then she pressed her hands to her eyes, bowed her head upon Mieting's letter, and wept bitterly.

* * * * *

[It is the day of the sale of the Warnow estates to Count Golm, Giraldi is busy with letters, business papers, political matters from Paris and London, and church affairs from Cologne and Brussels. The papers are in English, French, Italian and German, and he makes his comments on each document in the language in which it is written. Among the letters is one from a priest in Tivoli, referring to his child. Bertalde is announced, and says she is tired of having Ottomar in her arms yearning for Ferdinande. She tells Ferdinande of Ottomar's love. Giraldi assures her of his good will toward Ottomar, to whom he has given a hundred thalers. She caresses and kisses Giraldi for it. Antonio is announced, Bertalde is led out by François, but in the confusion Antonio recognizes the girl as the lady in black, whom he had seen in Ferdinande's studio. Antonio gives Giraldi a letter from Justus' desk, which Giraldi notes and returns, asking him to show him other such letters. Giraldi impresses Antonio with his marvelous power to accomplish what he wishes.]

* * * * *

"You shall see, Carla, he won't come today, either," said Madame von Wallbach, trying to get a more comfortable position in her armchair.

"_Je le plains! Je le blâme, mais_----"

Carla, who sat on the right, shrugged her shoulders, and made a _pianissimo_ gesture with her right hand.

"Miss von Strummin has left, too, without making us a farewell call."

"The silly little thing!" said Carla, making the return motion with her hand.

"And Else has not even been here to excuse this rudeness."

"So much the worse for her," said Carla.

"I wash my hands in innocence," said Madame von Wallbach, rising slowly and going into the reception room, which one of the dinner guests had entered.

Carla was also just about to rise, but remained seated when she heard that it was a lady, and one, too, of little importance. She dropped her hands into her lap and looked down thoughtfully.

"He's not half so clever; sometimes he doesn't understand at all what I say.--I even believe he's _un peu bête_; but he--worships me. Why should I renounce all my admirers for the sake of a betrothed who does not trouble himself about me? Of late he has scared them all away."

The door into the vestibule opened behind her; only more intimate friends entered this room, her room, when there were small parties; the one who entered must be either Ottomar or the Count. She had not heard anything, but, as the steps approached over the rug, she passed her fingers dreamily over the piano: "The Grail is already sending for the tardy one----"

"My dear Miss Carla!"

"O dear Count!" said Carla, glancing up and extending her left hand half over her shoulder to the Count, while her right played "My Dear Swan." "Don't you want to say good-day to Luise? She is with Madame von Arnfeld in the reception room."

The Count had drawn the hand extended to him so carelessly to his lips.--"And then?" asked he.

"You may come back here--I have something to tell you."

The Count came back in half a minute.

"Bring up your chair--not so near--so--and don't be disturbed by my drumming.--Do you know, dear Count, that you are a dangerous man?"

"But, my dear lady!" exclaimed the Count, twirling the ends of his mustache.