Part 11 (1/2)
The att.i.tude of these two to each other was in many respects a strange one. The brother and sister were of the most p.r.o.nounced opposites in appearance as well as character, and usually of opinion as well; but the blood relations.h.i.+p gave them, in spite of this difference, a feeling of closest union. This was evident as they sat together now after the long separation.
Although Herbert was somewhat nervous during the conversation, for Regine did not find it necessary to subdue her peculiar manner, causing him embarra.s.sment more than once with her inconsiderate questions and remarks, he had long ago learned to consider that as unavoidable, and surrendered himself to it now with a sigh.
At first they spoke of the coming betrothal of Willibald and Toni, which had Wallmoden's full approval. He thought the match very suitable, and besides, every one in the family had been long acquainted with it.
But now Frau von Eschenhagen began an entirely different subject.
”Well, and how do you feel as a husband, Herbert?” she asked. ”You have certainly taken your time for it, but better late than never, and to speak the truth, you have had extraordinarily good luck in spite of your gray hair.”
The Amba.s.sador did not seem very well pleased at this allusion to his age. He pressed his thin lips together for a moment, and then replied with some sharpness: ”You should really be a little more careful in your expressions, dear Regine. I know my age very well, but the position in life which I brought my wife as a wedding gift should counteract the difference of the years somewhat.”
”Well, I should think the dowry she brought you was not to be slighted,” remarked Regine, quite unconcerned as to the rebuke. ”Have you already presented her at court?”
”Yes, two weeks ago, at the Summer Residenz. Mourning for my father-in-law prevented it before. We shall have open house in the winter as my position requires. I was most pleasantly surprised at Adelaide's manner at court. She moved upon the strange ground with an ease and composure which were truly admirable. I saw there again how happy my choice was in every respect. But I wish to inquire after several things at home. First of all, how is Falkenried?”
”Surely you do not need to ask me that? Are you not in regular correspondence with him?”
”Yes, but his letters grow shorter and more monosyllabic. I wrote him at length about my marriage, but received only a very laconic reply.
But you must see him frequently, since he has been called to the position of Secretary of War. The city is near.”
”You are mistaken there. The Colonel shows himself very rarely at Burgsdorf, and he is becoming more and more reticent and unapproachable.”
”I am sorry to hear that; but he used always to make an exception of you, and I hoped much from your influence since he is back in your vicinity. Have you not tried, then, to renew the old intimacy?”
”I did at first, but finally had to give it up, for I saw that it was painful to him. Nothing can be done there, Herbert. Since that unfortunate catastrophe which both of us lived through with him he has changed into stone. You have seen him several times since then and know the ruin that has worked there.”
Wallmoden's brow clouded and his voice was harsh as he returned: ”Yes, that scoundrel--that Hartmut lies heavy upon his heart, but more than ten years have pa.s.sed since then, and I hoped that Falkenried would return to sociable life in time.”
”I have never had that hope; that blow went to the root of life. I shall never forget that evening at Burgsdorf while I live. How we waited and waited--first with restlessness and anxiety, then with deadly fear. You guessed the truth directly, but I would not permit myself to believe it--and Falkenried! I can see him yet as he stood at the window, looking fixedly out into the night pale as a corpse, with teeth tightly clenched, having for every fear expressed the one reply, 'He will come--he must come. I have his word for it.' And when, in spite of all, Hartmut did not come--when the night wore on and we finally learned upon inquiry at the railroad station that the two had arrived there in a carriage and taken the express train--G.o.d in heaven!
How the man looked when he turned to leave, so mute and stiff! I made you promise not to leave his side, for I believed that he would blow his brains out.”
”You judged him wrongly,” said Wallmoden decisively. ”A man like Falkenried considers it cowardice to lay hands on his life, even if that life has become torture to him. He stands up even to a lost post.
Although what would have happened if they had let him go that time--I do not dare to surmise.”
”Yes, I knew that he had asked for his dismissal, because to serve after his son had become a deserter did not accord with his ideas of honor. It was the step of despair.”
”Yes, truly; and it was fortunate that his chiefs would not dispense with his military genius and force. The chief of the general's staff took the affair in his own hands and brought it before the king. They concluded finally to treat the whole unfortunate occurrence--at least as far as it could concern the father--as the act of a heedless boy, for which a highly deserving officer could not be held accountable.
Falkenried had to take back his request for resignation, was transferred into a far-away garrison, and the affair silenced as much as was possible. It is, indeed, buried and forgotten now after ten years by all the world.”
”It is not forgotten by one,” finished Regine. ”My heart burns sometimes when I think of what Falkenried was once, and what he is now.
The bitter experience of his marriage had made him rather serious and unsocial, but occasionally the full charming amiability of his manner would break through, warm and hearty, from his inmost heart--all that is over. He knows now only the iron severity of duty--all else is dead.
Even the old friendly relations have become painful to him. One has to let him go his own way.”
She broke off with a sigh, which betrayed how near to her heart was the friend of her youth, and laying her hand upon the arm of her brother, she continued: ”Perhaps you are right, Herbert, in that one chooses best and most sensibly in late years. You do not need to fear the fate of Falkenried. Your wife comes from a good race. I knew Stahlberg well.
He had worked up to the heights of life with firmness and ability, and even as a millionaire he remained the upright man of honor he had ever been. Adelaide is the daughter of her father in every respect. You have chosen well and you my heartfelt wishes for your happiness.”
CHAPTER X.