Chapter VI (2)

"A cold shudder runs through me, when I think how that word of presage came to be so terribly realised; but at that moment there was nothing to warn me. I only felt the ardent desire to give as romantic a turn as possible to this, to my mind, much too prosaic love affair. Unfortunately there was not much to be done at present. So at least I assumed a knowing air, and sought in my memory for some of the phrases with which worthy sibyls and father confessors are wont to feed the soul of unhappy lovers.

"And he, this big child, drank in the foolish words of comfort like one dying of thirst.

"'But will she have patience?' he asked, and showed signs of becoming disheartened again.

"'She will! Depend upon it,' I cried, eagerly; 'as she has waited so long, she will wait for another year or two. You will see how gladly she will submit.'

"'And what if even later nothing should come of it?' he objected, 'if I should have disappointed her hopes, have played the fool with her heart? No, I will not speak; they may drag my tongue out of my mouth, but I will not speak!'

"'If you did not intend to speak, why then did you come?' asked I. Heaven knows how this two-edged idea got into my foolish young girl's head. I felt darkly that I was committing a cruelty when I put it into words, but now it was too late. I saw how his face grew pale, I felt how his breath swelled up hot and heavy and poured itself forth upon me in a sigh.

"'I am an honest man, Olga,' he muttered between his teeth; 'you must not torture me. But as you have asked, you shall have an answer. I came because I could bear life without her no longer, because by a sight of her I wanted to gather up strength and comfort for sad days to come, and because--because in my heart of hearts I still cherished the faint hope that things might be different here, that it might be possible for her to come with me.'

"'And is it not possible?'

"'No! Do not ask why; let it suffice you that I say no.'

"Then suddenly he bent down towards me, took hold of both my hands, and said, from the very depths of his soul: 'See, Olga, more has come of our good fellowship than we both could suspect an hour ago. Will you now stand by me faithfully, and help me as much as lies in your power?'

"'I will,' said I, and felt very solemn the while.

"'I know you are no longer a child,' he went on; 'you are a sensible and brave girl and do not swerve from anything you undertake. Will you keep watch over her, so that she does not lose heart, even if I now go away again in silence. Will you?'

"'I will!' I repeated.

"'And will you sometimes write to me, to tell me how she is? Whether she is well, and of good courage? Will you?'

"'I will!' I said, for the third time.

"'Then come, give me a kiss, and let us be good friends, now and always.' And he kissed me on my mouth....

"Five minutes later we were on our horses and riding hurriedly towards the home farm; for it already was beginning to grow dark.

"'You stayed away a long time,' said Martha, who was standing in her white apron on the verandah, and smiled at us from afar. When I saw her, I felt as if I could never find enough tenderness to pour out upon my sister. I hastened towards her and kissed her passionately, but at the same moment I regretted it, for it appeared to me as if I were thereby wiping his kiss from my lips.

"Embarrassed, I desisted, and slunk away. At supper I constantly hung upon his eyes, for I thought he must make known our secret understanding by some sign. But he did not think of any such thing. Only when we shook hands after the meal he pressed mine in quite a peculiar way, as he had never done before. I was as pleased as if I had received some valuable present.

"On that evening I could hardly await the time when I might go to bed and put out the light; then I was often wont to stare for an hour at a time into the darkness, dreaming to myself. It was in my power to keep awake as long as I wished, and to go to sleep as soon as I thought it time. I had only to bury my head in the pillows and I was off. To-day I stretched myself in my bed with a sense of well-being such as I had never before in my life experienced. I felt as if every wish of my life had been fulfilled. My cheeks burnt, and on my lips there still distinctly remained the slight tingling sensation of that kiss--the first kiss with which a man,--papa of course did not count--had kissed me.

"And if, strictly speaking, it had been meant for some one else, what did that matter to me? I was still so young I could not yet lay claim to anything of the kind for my own self.

"Thereupon I once more fell into my favourite reverie as to what I should do if I were in Martha's place. Thus I had no need to destroy the fancies which to-day had been proved only idle chimera, but could go on spinning them out to my heart's content, and I did spin them out, waking and sleeping, till early morning.

"Two days later he drove off. A few hours before he took his leave, he had a long conference with Martha in the garden. Without any feeling of jealousy I saw them disappear together, and it afforded me unspeakable pleasure to keep watch at the gate so that no one should surprise them.

"When they appeared again they were both silent, and looked sad and serious.

"No, he had not declared himself; that I saw at the first glance, but he had spoken of the future, and probably interspersed many a little word of modest hope.

"Before he stepped into the carriage, it so happened that he was for a few moments alone with me. Then he took my hand and whispered:

"'You will not betray one single word, will you? I can depend upon it?'

"I nodded eagerly.

"'And you will write to me soon?'

"'Certainly.'

"'Where shall I send the answer?'

"I started. I had not in the remotest degree thought of that. But as the moment pressed, I mentioned at haphazard the name of an old inspector who had always been specially attached to me.

* * * * *

"Time passed. One day followed another in the old way, and yet now how differently, how peculiarly the world had shaped itself for me.

"I no longer had any need to study love from books, and search for it afar off; it had stepped bodily into my existence, its sweet mysteries played around me, and I--oh, joy!---I was joining in the game. I was entangled head over ears in the intrigue that was to lay the basis of my sister's happiness.

"It was like a miracle to see how after each of Robert's visits she revived and gained fresh strength and colour and health. Like an invigorating bath those few days of their intercourse had acted upon her, and more even than they, probably, that miraculous fountain of hope from which she had drunk a long and furtive draught.

"Certainly the sunny cheerfulness of other days did not return to her again, that seemed irretrievably lost in those seven years of weary waiting; no song, no laughter ever issued from her lips, but over her features there lay spread a soft warm glow, as if a light from within her soul irradiated them. Nor did she any longer drag herself about the house with lagging, weary steps, and whoever approached her was sure of a friendly smile.

"And as her happiness must needs find vent in love, she also attached herself more closely to me, and tried to gain an insight into my hidden and lonely thoughts. I loved her the more dearly for it, I all the more often invoked God's blessing upon her, but I did not give her my confidence.

"Before she, of her own accord, opened out her whole heart to me, I could not and would not confess how far I had already gazed into its depths.

"Sometimes I caught myself looking across at her with a motherly feeling--if I may call it so for since I carried on an active correspondence with Robert, I imagined that it was I who held her happiness in my hands.

"My vanity made of me a good genius, clad in white raiment, whose hand bore a palm-branch, and whose smile dispensed blessings. And meanwhile I counted the days till a letter from Robert came, and ran about with glowing cheeks when at length I carried it near my heart.

"These letters had become such a necessity to me that I could hardy imagine how I should ever be able to exist without them. Under pretext of telling him all about Martha, I most cunningly understood how to prattle away the cares that filled his heart--childishly and foolishly (as men like to hear it from us, so that they may feel themselves our superiors), and again at other times seriously and knowingly beyond my years--just as I felt in the mood. He willingly submitted to my chatter in all its different keys, as one submits to the piping of a singing-bird, and more I did not ask. For I was already so grateful that he allowed me--a silly young girl who had still to leave the room when grown-up people had serious questions to discuss--to participate in his great, grave love. All my dignity and self-consciousness were based upon this _role_ of guardian. And thus I grew up with and by this love, of which never a crumb might fall for me beneath the table.

* * * * *

"When the following autumn approached, I noticed that Martha manifested a peculiar restlessness. She ran about her room with excited steps, remained for half the nights at the open window, gesticulated and spoke loudly when she thought herself alone, and was violently startled whenever she found herself caught in the act.

"I faithfully informed Robert of what I saw, and added the question whether he had perhaps held out any hope of his coming at this particular time; for Martha's whole condition seemed to me to be produced through painfully overwrought expectation.

"I had every reason to be satisfied with the shrewdness of my seventeen years, for my observations proved correct.

"Deeply contrite, he wrote to me that he had indeed at parting expressed a hope of being able to return with a cheerful face in the following autumn, but that he had deceived himself, that he was more encumbered by cares and debts than ever before, that he was working like a common labourer, and did not see a ray of hope anywhere.

"'Then at least release her from the torture of waiting,' I wrote back to him, 'and cautiously inform our parents how you are placed.'

"He did so; two days later already, papa, in a bad humour, brought the letter along, which I--on account of my childish want of judgment--was not allowed to read.

"On Martha it operated in a way which terrified and deeply moved me. The excitement of the last weeks there and then disappeared. In its place there showed itself again that despairing listlessness which once before, in the days preceding Robert's coming, had worn her to a shadow; once more she fell away; once more deep blue rings appeared round her eyes; once more an odour of valerian proceeded from her mouth while she often writhed in pain. Added to this was the constant desire to weep, which at the smallest provocation, found vent in a torrent of tears.

"This time papa did not send for a doctor. He could make the diagnosis himself. Even mama suffered with the poor girl, as far as her phlegmatic nature permitted, and it did not permit her to stir from her chimney-corner to tender help to her sickening daughter. As for me, I now for the first time found an opportunity of proving to my family that I was no longer a child, and that even in serious matters, my will claimed consideration. I took the burden of housekeeping upon my shoulders, and though they all smiled and remonstrated, and though Martha declared time after time that she would never suffer me, the younger one, to usurp her place, I had still in a fortnight, so far gained my point that the entire household danced to my pipe.

"That was the only time when Martha and I ever came to hard words; but gradually she necessarily perceived that what I did was only done for her sake, and finally she was the first to feel grateful to me. In several other things too, she learnt to submit to me; but she sought to deceive herself as to my influence by remarking that one must give way to children.

"Through my intercourse with Robert, I now learnt for the first that one may tell lies for love's sake. I concealed from him the sad effects of his letter, yes, I even unblushingly wrote to him that everything was as well as could be. I acted thus, because I reflected that the truth would plunge him into a thousand new cares and anxieties, which must absolutely crush him, as he was powerless to help. But it was very hard for me to keep up my light chatty tone, and often some joke seemed to freeze in my pen.

"And things grew more and more troubled. Papa was despondent because failure of crops had destroyed his best prospects, mama grumbled because no one came to amuse her, and Martha faded away more and more.

"Christmas drew near--such a gloomy one as our happy home had never before witnessed.

"Round the burning Christmas tree which I had this time trimmed and lighted in Martha's stead, we stood and did not know what to say to each other for very heaviness of heart. And because no one else did so, I had to assume a forced smile and attempt to scare the wrinkles from their brows. But I got very little response indeed, and finally we shook hands and said 'good-night,' so that each might retire to his room, for we felt that anyhow we could not get on together.

"When I came to Martha, who sat silently in a corner, gazing vacantly at the dying candles, a painful feeling darted through my breast, as if I were committing some wrong towards her, which I ought to redress. But I did not know what this wrong could be.

"She kissed me on my forehead and said: 'May God ever let you keep your brave heart, my child; I thank you for every joke to which you forced yourself to-day.' I, however, knew not what to reply, for that consciousness of guilt, which I could not grasp, was gnawing at my soul. When I was alone in my room, I thought to myself, 'There, now you will celebrate Christmas.' I took Robert's letters out of the drawer where I kept them carefully hidden, and determined to read at them far into the night.

"The storm rattled my shutters, snow-flakes drifted with a soft rustle against the window-panes, and above, there peacefully gleamed the green-shaded hanging lamp.

"Then, as I comfortably spread out the little heap of letters in front of me, I heard next door, in Martha's room, a dull thud and thereupon an indistinct noise that sounded to me like praying and sobbing.

"'That is how _she_ celebrates Christmas,' I said, involuntarily folding my hands, and again I felt that pang at my heart, as if I were acting deceitfully and heartlessly towards my sister.

"And I brooded over it again till it became clear to me that the letters were to blame.

"'Do I not write and keep silence all for her good?' I asked myself; but my conscience would not be bribed; it answered: 'No.' Like flames of fire my blood shot up into my face, for I recognised with what pleasure my own heart hung upon those letters. 'What would she not give for one of these papers?' I went on thinking, 'She who perhaps no longer believes in his love, who is wrestling with the fear that he only did not come because he meant to tear asunder the ties that bind him to her heart.' 'And you hear her sobbing?' the voice within me continued, 'you leave her in her anguish, and meanwhile comfort yourself with the knowledge that you share a secret with him, with him who belongs to her alone?'

"I clasped my hands before my face; shame so powerfully possessed me, that I was afraid of the light which shone down upon me.

"'Give her the letters!' the voice cried suddenly, and cried so loudly and distinctly that I thought the storm must have shouted the words in my ears.

"Then I fought a hard battle; but each time my good intention wavered, hard pressed by the fear of breaking my word to him, and by the wish to remain still longer in secret correspondence with him, her sobbing and praying reached me more distinctly and confused my senses so, that I felt like fleeing to the ends of the earth in order to hear no more.

"And at length I had made up my mind. I carefully packed the letters together in a neat little heap, tied them round with a silk ribbon, and set about carrying them across to her.

"'That shall be your Christmas present,' said I, for I remembered that this year I had not been able to embroider or crochet anything for her, as had usually been the custom between us. And as he who gives likes to clothe his doings in theatrical garb in order to hide his overflowing heart, I determined first to act a little comedy with her.

"I crept, half-dressed as I was, down into the sitting-room, where our presents were spread under the Christmas tree, groped in the dark for her plate, gathered up what lay beside it, and on the top of all placed the little packet of letters. Thus laden, I came to her door and knocked.

"I heard a sound like some one dragging himself up from the floor, and after a long while--she was probably drying her eyes first--her voice was heard at the door, asking who was there and what was wanted of her.

"'It is I, Martha.' I said, 'I come to bring you--your plate--you left it downstairs.'

"'Take it with you into your room, I will fetch it to-morrow,' she replied, trying hard to suppress the sobs in her voice.

"'But something else has been added,' said I, and my words too were almost choked with tears.

"'Then give it me to-morrow.' she replied, 'I am already undressed.'

"'But it is from me,' said I.

"And because, despite her misery, in the kindness of her heart she did not want to hurt my feelings, she opened the door. I rushed up to her and wept upon her neck, while I kept tight hold of the plate with my left hand.

"'Whatever is the matter with you, child?' she asked, and patted me. 'A little while ago you seemed the only cheerful one, and now----'

"I pulled myself together, led her under the light, and pointed to the plate. At the first glance she recognised the handwriting, grew as white as a sheet, and stared at me like one possessed, out of eyes that were red with weeping.

"'Take them, take them!' said I.

"She stretched out her hand, but it shrank back as at the touch of red-hot iron.

"'See, Martha!' said I, with the desire to revenge myself for her silence, and at the same time to brag a little, 'you had no confidence in me; you considered me too childish, but I saw through everything, and while you were fretting, I was up and doing.' Still she continued to stare at me, without power of comprehension. 'You imagine that he no longer cares about you,' I went on, 'while all the time I have had to give him regular account of your doings and of the state of your health. Every week----'

"She staggered back, seized her head with both her hands, and then suddenly a shudder seemed to pass through her frame. She stepped close up to me, grasped my two hands, and with a peculiarly hoarse voice she said, 'Look me in the face, Olga! Which of you two wrote the first letter?'

"'I,' said I, astonished, for I did not yet know what she was driving at.

"'And you--you betrayed to him the state of my feelings--you--_offered_ me, Olga?'

"'What puts such an idea into your head?' said I. 'He himself confessed everything to me when he was here. Oh, he knew me better than you.' I added, for I could not let this small trump slip by. 'He was not ashamed to confide in me.'

"'Thank God!' she murmured with a deep sigh, and folded her hands.

"'But now come, Martha,' said I, leading her to the table, 'now we will celebrate Christmas.'

"And then we read the letters together, one after the other, and from one and all his heart, faithful and true as gold, shone forth through the simple, awkward words, and spread a warm glow, so that our heavily oppressed souls grew lighter and more cheerful, that we laughed and cried with cheek pressed to cheek, and almost squeezed our hands off in the mutual attempt to make each other feel the pressure which his warm red fist was wont to give.

"And then suddenly--it was at one place where he specially impressed upon me to be sure and take great care of her and watch over her and protect her for his sake--her happiness overwhelmed her, and--I blush to write it down--she fell on her knees before me and pressed her lips to my hand.

"But, though I was much startled, I no longer felt anything of that pricking and gnawing which a little while before, under the Christmas tree, had so sorely beset my bosom. I knew that my guilt was blotted out, and with a free light heart I vowed to myself now indeed to watch like a guardian angel over my sister, who was so much more feeble and in want of direction than I, the foolish and immature child. And she felt this herself, for unresistingly she, who had hitherto treated me as a child, submitted to my guidance.

"At last I had attained the desire of my heart. I had a human being whom I could pet and spoil as much as I pleased; and, now that every barrier between us had fallen, I lavished upon my sister all the tenderness which had for so long been stored up unused within me.

"Father and mother were not a little surprised at the newly-awakened cordiality of our relations to each other, that just latterly had left much to be desired, and Martha herself could hardly grow accustomed to the change. She contemplated me every day in new astonishment, and often said, 'How could I suspect that there was so much love within you?'

"If she could only have known what a sacrifice it cost me to divulge my secret, she would have put a still higher value upon my love.

"Yes, I had rightly guessed how it would be: from the moment when Martha had held the letters in her hand, the happiness of my secret understanding with Robert was at an end for me. Like a stranger he now appeared to me, and when I sat down to write to him I felt like a mere machine that has to copy other people's thoughts. Often I even passed on a letter unread to Martha as soon as I received it from the inspector's hands. Sometimes it worried me that I had abused his confidence to such an extent, for he suspected nothing of her knowledge; but when I looked at her, saw her newly-awakening smile and the quiet, dreamy happiness that shone forth from her eyes, I consoled my conscience with the thought that I could not possibly have committed any wrong. So far I had only become his betrayer; soon I was to betray Martha too.

"Winter and spring passed by swiftly, and the time came for storing the sheaves in the barns.

"As soon as the harvest was over he intended to come; but before then, he wrote, there was many a hardship to be surmounted.

* * * * *

"One day papa appeared in the kitchen, where we were, with an apparently indifferent air, snuffled about for a while among the pots and pans, and meanwhile kept on slashing at the long leggings of his water-boots with his riding-whip.

"'Why you have become a Paul Pry to-day, papa?' said I.

"He gave a short laugh and remarked, 'Yes, I have become a Paul Pry.' And when he had for some time longer been running backwards and forwards without speaking, he suddenly stopped in front of Martha and said--

"'If you should just have time, my child, you might come into the room for a moment. Mama and I have something to say to you.'

"'Ah, I see,' said I, 'that is the reason for this long preliminary. May I come too?'

"'No.' he replied. 'You remain in the kitchen.'

"Martha gave me a long look, took off her apron, and went with him to the sitting-room.

"For a while all remained quiet in there. Round about me the steam was hissing, the pots were broiling, and one of the maids was making a great clatter cleaning knives; but all this noise was suddenly penetrated by a short, piercing cry which could only proceed from Martha's lips.

"Trembling I listened, and at the same moment papa came rushing into the kitchen, calling for 'Water!' I hurried past him, and found my sister lying fainting on the ground with her head in mama's lap.

"'What have you been doing to Martha?' I cried, throwing myself on my knees beside her.

"No one answered me. Mama, as helpless as a child, was wringing her hands, and papa was chewing his moustache, to suppress his tears, as it seemed. Then, as I bent down over the poor creature, I saw a blue-speckled sheet of paper lying beside her on the floor, which I immediately, and unobserved by any one, appropriated.

"Thereupon I quickly did what was most pressing: I recalled my sister to consciousness, and led her, while she gazed about with vacant eyes, up to her room.

"There I laid her upon her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, and from time to time wanted to drink. Her spirit did not yet seem to have awakened again at all.

"I meanwhile secretly drew the letter from my pocket, and read what I here record verbally; for I have carefully preserved this monument of motherly and sisterly affection:--

"'My beloved Brother! Dearest Sister-in-Law!--A circumstance of a very painful nature compels me to write to you to-day. You are, I am sure, fully convinced how much I love you, and how much my heart longs to be in the closest possible relation to you and your children. All through my life I have only shown you kindness and affection, and received the same from you. Relying on this affection I to-day address a request to you, which is prompted by the anxiety of a mother's heart. To-day my son Robert came to us and declared that he intended asking you for your daughter Martha's hand; begging us at the same time to give our consent, with which, as a good son and also as a prudent man he cannot dispense, as unfortunately he still depends, to a great extent, on our assistance.

"'If I might have followed the bent of my heart, I would have fallen upon his neck with tears of joy; but, unhappily, I had to keep a clear head for my son and my husband--who are both children--and was forced to tell him that on no account could anything come of this.

"'My dear brother, I do not wish to reproach you in any way for not having been able to keep your affairs straight in the course of years--far be it from me to mix myself up in matters that do not concern me; but as these matters now stand, your estate is encumbered with debts, and, with the exception of--as I would fain believe--an ample 'trousseau,' your daughters would not have a farthing of dowry to expect. On the other hand, my son Robert's estate is also heavily embarrassed through the payments which he had to make to us and his sisters and brothers--as well as by the mortgages which we still hold upon it, and by the interests of which we and my other children have to live--so that marriage with a poor girl would simply mean ruin to him.

"'I do not take into account that your daughter Martha must--according to your letters--be a weakly and delicate creature, and therefore appears to me utterly unfit to take cheerfully upon herself the cares of this large household and to render my son Robert happy; the idea that she would come into his house with empty hands is in itself decisive for me, and suffices to convince me that she herself must become unhappy and make him so.

"'If your daughter Martha truly loves my son Robert, it will not prove hard for her to renounce all thoughts of a marriage with him in the interests of his welfare, provided, of course, he should still have the courage to propose to her in spite of his parents' opposition--although I do not expect such filial disobedience from him, and absolutely cannot imagine such a thing. I am convinced, my dear relations, that your brotherly and sisterly affection will prompt you to join with me in refusing your consent, now and for ever, to such a pernicious and unnatural union,

"'Yours, with sincere love,

"'Johanna Hellinger.

"'P.S.--How have your crops turned out? Winter rye with us is good, but the potatoes show much disease.'

* * * * *

"Rage at this mean and hypocritical piece of writing so possessed me, that loudly laughing, I crumpled the sheet of paper beneath my feet.

"My laughter probably hurt Martha, for it was her moaning which at length brought me back to my senses. There she lay now, helplessly smitten down, as if shattered by the blow which should have steeled her strength for enhanced resistance. And as I gazed down upon her, tortured by the consciousness of being condemned to look on idly, there once again broke forth from my soul that sigh of former times: 'Oh, that you were--she!' But what new meaning it concealed! What then had been folly and childishness, had now developed into seriousness of purpose, ready self-sacrifice, and consciousness of strength.

"I determined to act as long as ever there was time yet. First of all, I would go to my parents, tell them what I had done, and that for a long time already I had been initiated into everything--and finally demand of them to assign to me at length that position in the family council which, in spite of my youth, was due to me.

"But I rejected this idea again. As soon as I participated in the deliberations of my family, it became my duty not to act contrary to whatever they thought good, and only if I apparently took no heed of anything, could I be working for the salvation of my poor sister according to my own plans and my own judgment.

"I very soon saw how matters lay. Each one had read in the letter what most appealed to his nature.

"Papa, quite possessed by a poor man's pride, would, after this, have thought it a disgrace to let his child enter a family where she would be looked at disparagingly. Mama, for her part, had been touched by the interspersed professions of affection, and thought that her sister-in-law's confidence ought not to be abused.

"And my sister?

"That same night, as I kept watch at her bedside, I felt her place her hot hand upon mine and draw me gently towards her with her feeble arm.

"'I have something to say to you, Olga,' she whispered, still looking up at the ceiling with her sad eyes.

"'Had we not better leave it till to-morrow?' I suggested.

"'No,' she said, 'else meanwhile that will happen which must not happen. Henceforth all is over between him and me.'

"'You little know him,' said I.

"'But I know myself,' said she. 'I break it off.'

"'Martha!' I cried, horrified.

"'I know very well,' she said, 'that I shall die of it, but what does that matter? I am of very little account. It is better so, than that I should make him unhappy.'

"'You are talking in a fever, Martha,' I cried, 'for I do not think you silly enough to let yourself be baited by the trash of that old hag.'

"'I feel only too well that she speaks the truth,' said she. A cold shudder passed through me when I heard her pronounce these despairing and hopeless words as calmly and composedly as if they were a formula of the multiplication table. 'Do not gainsay me.' she continued; 'not only since to-day do I know this--I have always felt something of the kind, and ought by rights not to have been startled to-day; but it certainly does upset one, when one so unexpectedly sees in writing before one's eyes the death sentence which hitherto one has scarcely dared to suggest to one's own conscience.'

"As eloquently as I possibly could, I remonstrated with her. I consigned our aunt to the blackest depths of hell, and proved to a nicety that she (Martha) alone was born to become the good angel in Robert's house. But it was no good, her faith in herself would not be revived; the blow had fallen upon her too heavily. And finally she expected it of me to write no further letter to him, and to break off our intercourse once and for all. I was alarmed to the depths of my soul, no less for my own than for her sake. I refused, too, with all the energy of which I was capable; but she persisted in her determination, and as she even threatened to betray our correspondence to our parents, I was at length forced to comply, whether I would or no.

* * * * *

"Troubled days were in store. Martha slunk about the house like a ghost. Papa rode like wild through the woods, stayed away at meal-times, and had not a good word for any of us. Mama, our good, fat mama, sat knitting in her corner, and from time to time wiped the tears out of her eyes, while she looked round anxiously, lest any one should notice it. Yes, it was a sad time!

"Two urgent letters from Robert had arrived. He wrote that he was in great trouble, and I was to send him tidings forthwith. I told Martha nothing of them, but I kept my promise.

"A week had passed by, when I noticed that our parents were discussing what answer they would send to aunt. In order to exclude any suspicion of sneaking into a marriage, papa had the intention of binding himself by a final promise, and mama said 'yes,' as she said yes to everything that did not concern jellies and sweets.

"The same day Martha declared that she felt unfit to leave her bed--that she had no pain, but that her limbs would not carry her.

"Thus I saw misfortune gathering more and more darkly. I dared not hesitate any longer.

"'Come! Redeem your promise before it is too late.' These words I wrote to him. And to be quite sure, I myself ran down into the town, and handed the letter to the postillion who was just preparing to start for Prussia.

"At the moment when the envelope left my hands, I felt a pang at my heart as if I had thereby surrendered by soul to strange powers.

"Three times I was on the point of returning to ask my letter back, but when I did so in good earnest the postillion was already far away.

"When I climbed up the slope leading to the manor house I hid myself in the bushes and wept bitterly.

"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.'