Part 71 (2/2)
”Ludwig!” she called: ”Hear me!”
He had gone--he was right--did she deserve anything better? No--no! She stood in the middle of the room a moment as if dazed. Her heart throbbed almost to bursting. ”Has it gone so far! I have left the man from whose lips I drew the last breath of life to starve and languish.
I allowed the heart on which I have so often rested to pine within dark, gloomy walls, bleed and break in silent suffering. Murderess, did you hear it? He is lost, through your sin! Oh, G.o.d, where is the crime which I have not committed--where is there a more miserable creature? I have murdered the most innocent, misunderstood the n.o.blest, repulsed the most faithful, abused the most sacred, and for what?” She sank prostrate. The measure was full--was running over.--The angel with the cup of wormwood had overtaken her, as Freyer had prophesied and was holding to her lips the bitter chalice of her own guilt, which she must drain, drop by drop. But now this guilt had matured, grown to its full size, and stood before her, grinning at her with the jeer of madness.
”Wings--oh, G.o.d, lend me wings! While I am doubting and despairing here--it may be too late--the terrible thing may have happened--he may have died, unreconciled, with the awful reproach in his heart! Wings, wings, oh G.o.d!” She started up and flew to the bell with the speed of thought. ”Send for the head-groom at once!” Then she hurried into the chamber, where the maid was arranging her garments for the night. ”Pack as quickly as possible whatever I shall need for a journey of two or three days--or weeks--I don't know myself.”
”Evening or street costumes?” asked the maid, startled by her mistress'
appearance. ”Street dresses!”
Meantime the head-groom had come. She hastened into the boudoir: ”Have relays of horses saddled and sent forward at once--it is after ten o'clock--there is no train to Weilheim--but I must reach Oberammergau to-night! Martin is to drive, send on four relays--I will give you four hours start--the men must be off within ten minutes--I will go at two o'clock--I shall arrive there at seven.”
”Your Excellency, that is scarcely possible”--the man ventured to say.
”I did not ask whether it was possible--I told you that it _must_ be done, if it kills all my horses. Quick, rouse the whole stable--every one must help. I shall wait at the window until I see the men ride away.”
The man bowed silently, he knew that opposition was futile, but he muttered under his breath: ”To ruin six of her best horses in one night--just for the sake of that man in Ammergau, she ought to be put under guardians.h.i.+p.”
The courtyard was instantly astir, men were shouting and running to and fro. The stable-doors were thrown open, lanterns flashed hither and thither, the trampling and neighing of horses were heard, the noise and haste seemed as if the wild huntsman was setting off on his terrible ride through the starless night.
The countess stood, watch in hand, at the lighted window, and the figure of their mistress above spurred every one to the utmost haste.
In a few minutes the horses for the relays were saddled and the grooms rode out of the courtyard.
”The victoria with the pair of blacks must be ready at two,” the head-groom said to old Martin. ”You must keep a sharp look-out--I don't see how you will manage--those fiery creatures in that light carriage.”
The countess heard it at the window, but she paid no heed. If only she could fly there with the light carriage, the fiery horses, as her heart desired. Forward--was her only thought.
”Must I go, too?” asked the maid, pale with fright.
”No, I shall need no one.” The countess now shut the windows and went to her writing-desk, for there was much to be done within the few short hours. Her father's funeral--sending the announcements--all these things must now be entrusted to others and a representative must be found among the relatives to fill her own place. She a.s.signed as a pretext the necessity of taking a short journey for a day or two, adding that she did not yet know whether she could return in time for the funeral of the prince. Her pen fairly flew over the paper, and she finally wrote a brief note to the duke, in which she told him nothing except her father's death. The four hours slipped rapidly away, and as the clock struck two the victoria drove to the door.
The countess was already standing there. The lamps at the entrance shone brightly, but even brighter was old Martin's face, as he curbed the spirited animals with a firm hand.
”To Ammergau, Martin!” said the countess significantly, as she entered the equipage.
”Hi! But I'll drive now!” cried the old man, joyously, not suspecting the sorrowful state of affairs, and off dashed the steeds as though spurred by their mistress' fears--while guilt and remorse accompanied her with the heavy flight of destiny.
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.
ON THE WAY TO THE CROSS.
It was Sunday. Again the throngs surged around the Pa.s.sion Theatre, more devout, more numerous than ever.
Slowly, as if his feet could scarcely support him, a tall figure, strangely like one who no longer belongs to the number of the living, tottered through the crowd to the door of the dressing-room, while all reverently made way for him, yet every one perceived that it must be the Christus! Whoever met his eye shuddered as if the incarnation of woe had pa.s.sed, as if he had seen the face of the G.o.d of sorrow.
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