Part 39 (1/2)
”But why must it be bad news?” the old lady spoke consolingly. ”Herr von Eschenhagen was still well and bright yesterday afternoon. I inquired about him at your special request. He went to drive with Herr and Frau von Wallmoden. The affair has probably been settled amicably.”
”I should have heard of it,” said the young girl, in a heartbroken way.
”He promised me, and he would have kept his word, I know. If misfortune has really happened to him--if he has fallen--I believe I could not live!”
The last words were spoken so pa.s.sionately that Fraulein Berger looked at the speaker in dismay.
”Do be reasonable, Marietta,” she entreated. ”How are you responsible for an impertinent man insulting you, or the betrothed of your friend stepping in to your rescue? You really could not act more despairingly if your own betrothed stood before the pistol.”
The cheeks, just now so pale, flushed redly, and Marietta turned to the window with a quick gesture.
”You do not understand, auntie,” she said, in a low voice; ”you do not know how much love and kindness have been shown me in the house of the Chief Forester--how earnestly Toni begged my forgiveness when she learned how deeply her future mother-in-law had offended me. What will she think of me when she hears that her betrothed has been in a duel for my sake? What will Frau von Eschenhagen say?”
”Well, they will at least be open to the conviction that you are quite innocent in this affair, which, if it ends well, they will not hear of.
I do not recognize or understand you in all this. You used to laugh away every care and anxiety, but this time you exaggerate it in a really incomprehensible manner. You have scarcely eaten or drunk in two days in your excitement; you must not sit at my table to-day as you did yesterday and the day before. I tell you that; and now I will look after the dinner.”
The kind old lady arose and left the room to prepare some extra dainty with which to tempt her protegee's fleeting appet.i.te.
She was right; the merry, bright Marietta would not now be recognized.
Beyond a doubt it gave a painful, depressed feeling to be brought before the people of Furstenstein in so bad a light through that occurrence in the park, and even here in town her name, so carefully protected, might suffer if something of it should be heard; but, strange to say, these possibilities remained in the background because of a fear which grew with every hour and was hardly to be borne any longer.
”With my blood, if it must be.”
Unconsciously she whispered Willibald's last words, and pressed her hot brow against the window pane. ”Oh, my G.o.d, not that!”
Suddenly at the street corner a figure appeared, which attracted attention on account of its unusual size. He came nearer with rapid steps and looked searchingly at the house numbers.
With a suppressed cry of joy, Marietta sprang from the window. She had recognized Herr von Eschenhagen. She did not wait until he pulled the bell, but hastened to open the door. Tears s.h.i.+mmered yet in her eyes, but her voice was jubilant as she cried: ”You come at last! G.o.d be praised!”
”Yes, here I am, well and whole,” a.s.sured Willibald, whose face lighted up at his reception.
Neither knew how they reached the sitting room. To the young man it seemed as if a small, soft hand had been laid upon his arm and had drawn him along, all unresisting. But when they stood before each other, Marietta noticed that a broad, black bandage was around his right hand.
”Mon Dieu, you are injured!” she cried in fear.
”A slight scratch--not worth mentioning,” Willibald said merrily, waving the hand. ”I have given the Count a more severe reminder, but it is also only a glance shot in the shoulder, and not in the least dangerous to his precious life. That man could not even shoot right.”
”Then you did have the duel? I knew it.”
”This morning at 8 o'clock. But you need fear nothing more, mein Fraulein. You see everything has pa.s.sed off well.”
The young singer drew a deep breath, as if relieved of a mountain load.
”I thank you, Herr von Eschenhagen. No--no, do not refuse my thanks.
You have endangered your life for my sake. I thank you a thousand times.”
”There is no cause, Fraulein; I did it gladly,” said Willibald, cordially. ”But, since I have stood before the pistol now for your sake, you must permit me to bring you a little token of remembrance.
You will not throw it at my feet again?”
He somewhat awkwardly--because of his left hand--drew out from his pocket a white tissue paper, and, opening it, disclosed a full-blown rose with two buds.