Part 74 (1/2)
”Oh, if you knew--” she paused. ”Hark--he is recovering his consciousness!” She clasped her hands and bent forward to listen--”may G.o.d help us now.”
”How do you feel, Herr Freyer?” asked the doctor.
”Tolerably well, Doctor! Are you weeping, Mary? Did I frighten you?” He beckoned to her and she hastened to his side.
The countess' eyes grew dim as he whispered something to Anastasia.
This was the torture of the d.a.m.ned--Mary might be near him, his first glance, his first words were hers, while she, his wife, stood banished, at a distance! And she had made him suffer this torture for years--without compa.s.sion. ”Oh, G.o.d, Thou art just, and Thy scales weigh exactly!” But the all-wise Father does not only punish--He also shows mercy.
”Where is she?” Anastasia repeated his words in a clear, joyous tone: ”You thought you saw her in the pa.s.sage through which the chorus pa.s.sed. Oh, you must have been mistaken!” she added at a sign from the physician.
”Yes, you are right, how could she be there--it is impossible.”
The countess tried to move forward, but the physician authoritatively stopped her.
The burgomaster gently approached him. ”My dear Freyer--what could I do for you, have you no wish?”
”Nothing except to die! I would willingly have played until the end of the performances--for your sake--but I am content.”
The drawing-master brought in the food which the physician had ordered.
The latter went to him with a gla.s.s of champagne. ”Drink this, Herr Freyer; it will do you good, and then you can eat something.”
But the sick man did not touch the gla.s.s: ”Oh, no, I will take nothing more.”
”Why not? You must eat something, or you will not recover.”
”I cannot”
”Certainly you can.”
”Very well, I _will_ not.”
”Freyer,” cried Ludwig beseechingly, ”don't be obstinate--what fancy have you taken into your head?” And he again vainly offered the strengthening draught.
”Shall I live if I drink it?” asked Freyer.
”Certainly,”
”Then I will not take it.”
”Not even if I entreat you, Freyer?” asked the burgomaster.
”Oh, do not torture me--do not force me to live longer!” pleaded Freyer with a heart-rending expression. ”If you knew what I have suffered--you would not grudge the release which G.o.d now sends me! I have vowed to be faithful to my duty until death--did I not, s.e.xton, on Daisenberger's grave? I have held out as long as I could--now let me die quietly.”
”Oh, my friend!” said the s.e.xton, ”must we lose you?” The strong man was weeping like a child. ”Live for _us_, if not for yourself.”
”No, s.e.xton, if G.o.d calls me, I must not linger--for I have still another duty. I have _lived_ for you--I must _die_ for another.”
”But, Herr Freyer!” said the pastor kindly, ”suppose that this other person should not be benefitted by your death?”