Part 39 (2/2)

”Great in small things, my dear Baron, great in small things,” she rejoined. ”No one since Schopenhauer has understood how to use the German language as you do. So admirable a style!--precise, transparent, and elegant as finely-cut gla.s.s. And what a wealth of original aphorisms! You are a little sharp here and there, almost cruel,”--she shook her forefinger at him archly,--”but the truth is always cruel.”

”A remarkably clever woman!” thought Baron Karl. Of course he could not refrain from returning such courtesy. ”This summer, in a little trip to the North Cape”--Leskjewitsch was wont always to refer to his travels as little trips; a journey to California he would have liked to call a picnic--”in a little trip to the North Cape, I had the pleasure of meeting your brother, Baroness,” he cleared his throat before uttering the word, but he accomplished it. ”We had known each other politically in the Reichsrath, but in those northern regions our acquaintance quickly ripened into friends.h.i.+p.”

”I have heard all about it already,” said the Baroness: ”it was my brother who called my attention to this pearl.” She pointed to the pamphlet. ”Of course he had no idea of the closer relations which we are to hold with each other; he simply described to me the impression you made upon him. Ah, I must read you one of his letters.”

She opened a drawer in her writing-table, and unfolded a long letter, from which she began to read, then interrupted herself, turned the sheet, and finally found the place for which she was looking:

”Baron Karl Leskjewitsch is an extremely clever individual, brilliantly gifted by nature. His misfortune has been that in forsaking the Conservatives he has failed to win the entire confidence of the Liberals. Now that I know him well, I am ready to use all my influence to support him in his career, and I do not doubt that I shall succeed in securing for him the distinguished position for which he is fitted.

I see in him the future Austrian Minister of Foreign Affairs.”

A few minutes previously Baron Karl had been conscious of some discomfort; every trace of it had now vanished. He was fairly intoxicated. He saw himself a great statesman, and was already pondering upon what to say in his first important conference with the Chancellor of the realm.

”Pray, give my warm regards to Doctor Grnbart when you next write to him,” he began, not without condescension, when suddenly a young lady hurried into the room,--tall, stout, with t.i.tian hair and a dazzling complexion, her chest heaving, her eyes sparkling. In the Baron's present mood she seemed to him beautiful as a young G.o.ddess. ”By Jove!

the boy has made a hit,” he thought to himself. The vague sense of discomfort returned for a moment, but vanished when Paula advanced towards him with outstretched hands. He drew her to him, and imprinted a paternal kiss upon her forehead. Selina and Fainacky now made their appearance. It was quite a domestic scene.

The Baroness rang, and the tea-equipage was brought in for afternoon tea. Olga made her appearance, but Treurenberg was absent; Selina remarked, crossly, that he was again spending the afternoon with the officers at X----. Baron Karl was throned upon roses and inhaling sweet incense, when finally the Baroness, lightly touching his arm, asked before all present,--

”And the 'serious business' you came to consult me about?” He started, and was mute, while the lady went on, archly, ”What if I guess its import? You came in Harry's behalf, did you not?”

Baron Karl bowed his head in a.s.sent.

”To arrange the day, was it not?”

What could the poor man do? Before he had time to reflect, the Baroness said, ”We have considered the matter already; we must be in no hurry,--no hurry. It always is a sore subject for a mother, the appointing a definite time for her separation from her daughter, and every girl, however much in love she may be,”--here the Baroness glanced at her stout Paula, who did her best to a.s.sume an air of maidenly reserve, ”would like to postpone the marriage-day. But men do not like to wait; therefore, all things considered, I have thought of the 19th of October as the day. Tell Harry so from me, and scold him well for not doing his errand himself. His delicacy of sentiment is really exaggerated! An old woman may be pardoned for a little enthusiasm for a future son-in-law, may she not?”

Shortly afterwards Baron Leskjewitsch was driving home along the road by which he had come. The shadows had lengthened; a cold air ascended from the earth. Gradually the Baron's consciousness, drugged by the flattery he had received, awoke, and he felt extremely uncomfortable.

What had he effected? He was going home after a fruitless visit,--no, not fruitless. Harry's affairs were in a worse condition than before.

He had absolutely placed the official seal upon his son's betrothal.

What else could he have done? He could not have made a quarrel. He could not alienate Doctor Grnbart's sister. The welfare of the government might depend upon his friendly alliance with the leader of the democratic party. His fancy spread its wings and took its flight to higher spheres,--he really had no time to trouble himself about his son's petty destiny. His ambition soared high: he saw himself about to reform the monarchy with the aid of Doctor Grnbart, whose importance, however, decreased as his own waxed great.

He drove through the ruinous archway into the courtyard. A light wagon was standing before the house. When he asked whose it was, he was told that it had come from Zirkow to take home the Baroness Zdena. He went to the dining-room, whence came the sound of gay voices and laughter.

They were all at supper, and seemed very merry, so merry that they had not heard him arrive.

Twilight was already darkening the room when the Baron entered by one door at the same moment that Blasius with the lamp made his appearance at the other. The lamplight fell full upon the group about the table, and Baron Karl's eyes encountered those of his son, beaming with delight. Poor fellow! He had not entertained a doubt that everything would turn out well. Zdena, too, looked up; her lips were redder than usual, and there was a particularly tender, touching expression about her mouth, while in her eyes there was a shy delight. There was no denying it, the girl was exquisitely beautiful.

She had guessed Baron Karl's errand to Dobrotschau. She divined----

Pshaw! The Baron felt dizzy for a moment,--but, after all, such things must be borne. Such trifles must not influence the future 'Canning' of Austria.

Blasius set down the lamp. How comfortable and home-like the well-spread table looked, at the head the little army of cream-pitchers and jugs, over which the Countess Zriny was presiding.

”A cup of coffee?” the old canoness asked the newcomer.

”No, no, thanks,” he said. Something in his voice told Harry everything.

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