Part 16 (1/2)
The road grows rough; the wheels jolt over the stones; the little carriage sways from side to side. Paula clutches Harry's arm. Her waving hair brushes his cheek; it thrills him. She starts back from him.
”Pardon me,” she murmurs, as if mortified.
”Pardon me, Baroness,” he says. ”I had no idea that the forest-road was so rough; it is the shortest. Did you not come by it to Zirkow?”
”No.”
”You ought to have warned me.”
”I had forgotten it.”
Again the wheels creak; tire ponies snort their dissatisfaction, the little vehicle sways, and Paula trembles.
”I am afraid it will be rougher yet,” says Harry. ”How stupid of me not to have thought of it! There!--the mud is really deep. Who could have supposed it in this drought? We are near the Poacher's ditch: I can perceive the swampy odour in the air.”
”The Poacher's ditch?” Paula repeats, in a low tone. ”Is that the uncanny place where the will-o'-the-wisps dance?”
”Are you afraid?”
”Yes.”
”So brave an Amazon--afraid?”
”Yes, for the first time in my life. I do not know what has come over me,” she whispers.
”A poor compliment for me!” he says, then pauses and looks at her.
She turns away her head as if she were blus.h.i.+ng.
The tall pines crowd closer and closer on either side of the road; the strip of moon-lit sky grows narrower overhead; the damp odour of decaying vegetation poisons the air. The gloom is intense, the moonbeams cannot find their way hither. In particular the road and the lower portion of the tree-trunks are veiled in deep shade. A tiny blue flame flickers up from the ground, dances among the trees,--then another--and another----
”Ah!” Paula screams and clings like a maniac to Harry. He puts his arm round her, and soothes her, half laughing the while. Did his lips actually seek hers? A sudden, lingering kiss bewilders him, like the intoxicating perfume of a flower.
It lasts but a second, and he has released her.
”Forgive me!” he cries, distressed, confused.
Does she really not understand him? At all events she only shakes her head at his words, and murmurs, ”Forgive?--what is there to forgive? It came so unexpectedly. I had no idea that you loved me, Harry.”
His cheeks burn. The forest has vanished, the road is smooth; click-clack--the ponies' hoofs fly through the dust, and behind comes the irregular thud of eight other hoofs along the road. Harry looks round, and sees the groom, whom he had forgotten.
The dim woodland twilight has been left far behind; the moon floods the landscape with silvery splendour. All is silent around; not a leaf stirs; only the faint, dying murmur of the forest is audible for a few moments.
Ten minutes later Harry draws up before the Dobrotschau castle. ”You will come to see mamma to-morrow?” Paula whispers, pressing her lover's hand. But Harry feels as if he could annihilate her, himself, and the whole world.
CHAPTER VII.
AN INVITATION.