Part 37 (1/2)
”Yes, and now we have to go to the Court besides,” said Hartmut in a weary voice. The prospect seemed to have no charm for him.
”We must, indeed. The ill.u.s.trious ladies and gentlemen wish also to bring their homage to the poet--my most gracious aunt at their head.
You know she is a kind of _bel-esprit_, and believes to have found a kindred soul in you. Thank G.o.d, she does not order me to her side so continually, and perhaps through this she will forget those unfortunate schemes for my marriage. But you seem to be very unappreciative of the ducal favors which rained upon you yesterday. What is the matter? You hardly answer. Are you not well?”
”I am tired. I wish I could escape all this noise and flee to the quiet of Rodeck.”
”Rodeck! Ah, it must be charming there at present, with the November fogs, and the wet, leafless forests! Brrr! a real spook's haunt!”
”Nevertheless, I have a real longing for that gloomy solitude, and I shall go there soon for a few days. I hope you have no objections?”
”I have very many objections to it,” exclaimed Egon, indignantly. ”What notion is this, I beg of you? Now, when the whole town lifts the poet of Arivana upon the s.h.i.+eld, will you withdraw your honored presence and escape all the triumphs and attentions to bury yourself alive in a haunted little forest nook, which is only bearable in suns.h.i.+ne!
Everybody will find it incomprehensible.”
”I don't care. I need solitude now. I go to Rodeck.”
Egon shook his head. Although he was accustomed to seeing his friend act in this domineering, inconsiderate manner whenever the notion seized him, and had himself spoiled him in this respect with all his might, the present idea seemed too preposterous.
”I believe my most gracious aunt is right,” he said half reproachfully, half jestingly. ”She remarked yesterday at the theatre, 'Our young poet has caprices like all of his cla.s.s.' I think so, too. What is the matter now, really, Hartmut? Yesterday and to-day you beamed with triumph, and now I have left you hardly an hour, when I find you in a regular attack of melancholy. Have the papers annoyed you? Perhaps it is some malicious, envious critic?”
He pointed to the writing table, where the evening papers lay.
”No, no,” returned Rojanow quickly. But he turned his head so that his face was in shadow. ”The papers contain only general remarks so far, and they are all flattering. You know that I am subject to such moods, which often overcome me without cause.”
”Yes, I know that, but now that good luck overwhelms you on all sides, those moods should absent themselves. But you really look haggard--that comes from the excitement through which both of us have pa.s.sed during these last few weeks.”
He bent over his friend with concern, and Hartmut, in rising regret for his brusque manner, stretched out his hand.
”Forgive me, Egon. You must have patience with me--it will pa.s.s off.”
”I hope so, for I want to do proud with my poet to-night. But I will go now, so that you can rest. Do not let anybody disturb you. We have still three hours before we have to go.”
The Prince left the room. He had not seen the bitter expression trembling around Hartmut's mouth when he spoke of his overwhelming good fortune, and yet he had spoken the truth. Fame was happiness--perhaps the highest in life--and to-day had confirmed the triumph of yesterday, until suddenly, an hour ago, a sharp discord had fallen into the flattering tune.
The young poet had scanned the papers which he found upon his table on his return. They did not contain explicit remarks about Arivana, but recognized unanimously the great success and powerful impression of the work, and promised detailed criticism the next day.
Suddenly, in turning to the last page, Hartmut came upon a name, at the sight of which intense, anxious surprise overwhelmed him.
The next moment, however, he recognized that he was not the one concerned in the article. It stated that the last journey of the Prussian Amba.s.sador to Berlin seemed to have been of greater importance than was at first supposed. In an audience with the Duke immediately after his return, Herr von Wallmoden had apparently brought some very important things to light; and now, a high-standing Prussian officer, who was the bearer of important messages to His Highness, was expected.
It doubtless concerned military matters, and Colonel Hartmut von Falkenried would arrive in a few days.
Hartmut dropped the paper as if it had suddenly become red-hot iron.
His father would come to this place and would certainly hear everything from Wallmoden--_must_ hear everything. The chance of meeting was then very probable.
”When you shall have gained a great, proud future, approach him again and ask if he still dares to despise you.”
Zalika had whispered it to her son when he struggled against flight--against the breaking of his word of honor. Now the beginning of his future was made. The name Rojanow already bore the laurel of the poet, and with that the whole past was erased. It should be--it must be! This conviction flashed in the glance which Hartmut had thrown so triumphantly up to the Amba.s.sador's box yesterday.