Part 17 (1/2)
”No; I will steal into the sitting room and sing his favorite song.
Careful now, Babette; so that he does not hear us.”
Like a fairy she slipped lightly and noiselessly to the other side of the house and opened a door. Babette followed her, not noticing, in the joy and surprise of her Fraulein's return, that some one else stood in the dark hall. The door was left wide open, a chair was carefully moved, and directly a low prelude began in trembling notes, probably from a venerable old piano; but it sounded like the music of a harp, and then a voice arose, clear and sweet and joyous as a lark.
It did not last many minutes, for a door opposite was hastily opened, and a white-haired old man appeared.
”Marietta, my Marietta! is it really you?”
”Grandpapa!” was cried back, joyfully. The song broke off and Marietta threw herself upon her grandfather's neck.
”You naughty child, how you have frightened me!” he scolded, tenderly.
”I did not expect you until the day after to-morrow, and intended to meet you at the station. Now I hear your voice, and do not dare to believe my ears.”
The young girl laughed merrily as a child. She was more than happy and content.
”Yes, the surprise has been a complete success, grandpapa. I drove into the lane and actually stuck in the bog. I came in the back door. What do you want, Babette?”
”Fraulein, the man who brought the bag is still there,” said the old servant, who had but just observed the stranger. ”Shall I pay him for you?”
The young lord still stood there with the satchel in his hand. But now Dr. Volkmar turned and exclaimed in great embarra.s.sment: ”Gracious heavens! Herr von Eschenhagen!”
”Do you know the gentleman?” Marietta asked without much surprise, for her grandfather was accustomed to meet all of Waldhofen in his office of physician.
”Certainly. Babette, take the valise from the gentleman. I beg your pardon, mein Herr. I did not know that you were already acquainted with my granddaughter.”
”No, we are not acquainted in the least,” declared the girl. ”Will you not present the gentleman to me, grandpapa?”
”Certainly, my child. Herr Willibald von Eschenhagen of Burgsdorf----”
”Toni's betrothed!” interrupted Marietta, gaily. ”Oh, how funny that we should meet in the middle of a bog! If I had only known, Herr von Eschenhagen, I would not have treated you so badly. I let you follow me like a regular porter. But why did you not say something?”
Willibald did not say anything now, but looked mutely at the little hand which was cordially extended to him. Feeling that he had to either say or do something, he grasped the rosy little hand in his giant fist and squeezed and shook it heartily.
”Oh!” cried the young lady, retreating horrified; ”you have an awful handshake, Herr von Eschenhagen. I believe you have broken my fingers.”
Willibald turned red with confusion and stammered an excuse.
Fortunately, Dr. Volkmar now invited him to enter, which invitation he accepted silently, and Marietta narrated in a very laughable way her meeting with him. She treated her friend's betrothed like an old acquaintance, for she had long known of their engagement. She asked him about Toni, about the Chief Forester and all the household, her small, red mouth rattling on like a mill wheel.
Still the young lord was almost mute. The clear voice which sounded, even in talking, like the twittering of birds, utterly confused him.
He had only met the doctor yesterday, when the latter had called at Furstenstein. There had been some casual mention of a certain Marietta--a friend of Toni's--but he did not know anything further, for his fiancee was not very communicative.
”And this naughty child allows you to stand in the hall without ceremony, while she seats herself at the piano to notify me of her arrival,” said Volkmar, shaking his head. ”That was very naughty, Marietta.”
The young girl laughed and shook her curly head.
”Oh, Herr von Eschenhagen will not be offended at that, and therefore he may listen while I sing you your favorite song again. You scarcely heard a note of it before. Shall I begin now?”
Without waiting for an answer, she ran to the piano, and again that silvery, clear voice arose, entrancing the ear with its charm. She sang an old, simple carol, but it sounded as soft and sweet and coaxing as if spring and suns.h.i.+ne had suddenly entered the desolate rooms of the old house. It spread suns.h.i.+ne over the face of the old, white-haired man, where many a line of care and anxiety was visible. He listened with a smile, half sad, half happy, to the song which may have reminded him of his youth. But he was not the only attentive listener.