Part 22 (2/2)
”You will not remain here longer?”
”No!” she said in a tone sharp and cutting as a knife which is thrust into one's own heart. ”Come in, please.”
Ludwig obeyed the command and she wrote with the bearing of a queen signing a death-warrant:
”Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim, Munich.
”Will come at five to-morrow. Dinner can be given.
”Madeleine.”
”Here, if you will be so kind,” she said, handing the sheet to Ludwig.
The latter gazed earnestly at her, as though he wanted to say: ”If only you don't repent it.” But he asked the question in the modest wording: ”Shall I send it _at once_?”
”Yes, if you please!” she answered, and her whole manner expressed a coldness which startled Ludwig.
”Can genuine warmth of heart freeze so quickly?” he asked himself.
Madeleine von Wildenau felt the mute reproach and disappointment in Ludwig's manner. She felt, too, that he was right, and called him back as he reached the door. ”Give it to me,” she said, taking the telegram, ”I will consider the matter.” Then meeting the eyes of the n.o.ble man, which now brightened again for her sake, she added earnestly, holding out her hand, ”You understand me better than I do myself.”
”I thank you for those words--they make me very proud, Countess!” said Ludwig with a radiant glance, placing the telegram on the table. ”I will go now that I may not disturb you while you are considering what course to pursue.”
He left the room. Twilight was gathering. The countess sat by the table holding the telegram clenched in her little hand.
”The people of Ammergau unconsciously exercise a moral constraint which is irresistible. There is a power of truth in them which prevents even self-deception in their presence!” she murmured half defiantly, half admiringly. What was to be done now? To remain longer here and countermand the dinner meant a positive breach with society. But who was there _here_ to thank her for such a sacrifice? Who cared for the Countess Wildenau? She was one of the thousands who came and went, taking with them a lofty memory, without leaving any remembrance in the mind of any one. Why should she hold them accountable if she gave to this impression a significance which was neither intended nor suspected. We must not force upon men sacrifices which they do not desire!
She rested her arm on the table and sat irresolute. Now--now in this mood, to return to the prosaic, superficial round, after imagining yesterday that she stood face to face with deity? _Could_ she do it?
Was not the mute reproach in Ludwig's glance true? She thoughtfully rested her beautiful face on her hand.
She had not noticed a knock at the door, a carriage was driving by whose rattle drowned every sound. For the same reason the person outside, supposing that he had not heard the ”come in!” softy opened the door. At the noise the countess raised her head--Freyer stood before her.
”You have come, you _did_ come!” she exclaimed, starting up and seizing his hand that the sweet, blissful dream might not vanish once more.
”Excuse me if I disturb you,” he said in a low, timid tone. ”I--I should not have come--but I could not bear to stay at home, I was so excited to-day. When evening came, some impulse drove me here--I was--I had--”
”You had a desire to talk to some one who could understand you, and this urged you to me, did it not?”
”Yes, Countess! But I should not have ventured to come in, had not--”
”Well?”
”Ludwig met me and said that you were going away--”
”Ah--and did you regret it?”
”I wished at least to bid you farewell and thank you for all your kindness to my unhappy cousin Josepha!” he said evasively. ”I neglected to do so yesterday, I was so embarra.s.sed.”
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