Part 26 (2/2)

She had been startled at first by Otto's betrothal, as by a thunder-clap out of a clear sky. The idea that she herself had perhaps brought about this condition of affairs by her command to Otto was intolerable. She soon found that Otto played his part in the farce with astonis.h.i.+ng ease, and then came the suspicion that the farce had been played with herself.

Upon this point she must have certainty, and if her suspicion proved well founded he must be punished.

She waited impatiently for an opportunity to speak alone with Otto, which he, however, seemed to avoid. But one evening she was on the castle steps as Otto galloped into the court-yard. She told him that the others were in the garden, and went with him to look for them.

For a while they walked along together in silence; at last she asked in a low voice, without looking up, ”Have you forgiven me?”

”Forgiven?” he repeated, surprised. ”What do you mean?”

”About the note. What else could I mean?” And her eyes flashed as she asked, ”Do you mean this pretence of forgetfulness for magnanimity?”

Then, falling back into a sad, gentle tone, ”Yes, it is magnanimous. I am guilty of this betrothal, perhaps of the unhappiness of your whole future life.”

”You are mistaken. I am not unhappy,” he replied, and his manner betrayed a slight embarra.s.sment that did not escape Magelone. She paused, laid her hand upon his arm, and looked him full in the face.

”Let me look at you,” she said. ”A happy bridegroom in his own despite.

Oh, if you but knew how queer you are!”

She laughed, the old wayward child-like laugh; but the next moment her eyes were veiled, and, turning from him, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

”Magelone, what is the matter?” Otto cried, trying to pull her hands down from her face; but with a scarce audible ”Let me alone! let me alone!” she turned and fled back towards the house.

Otto was surprised beyond expression. He had wronged her, then, when he thought her incapable of any depth of feeling. The cold calculation of which he had accused her had been forced upon her by circ.u.mstances. Now, in spite of her apparent indifference, her foolish heart had a.s.serted itself. Poor Magelone!

When Otto saw her next in the domestic circle she seemed cool and gay as usual, and she continued to appear so, but him she could no longer deceive.

He knew now what lay concealed beneath this outward seeming; he noted and interpreted every half sigh, every absent smile, every fleeting moment of abstraction, from which she would rouse herself with a start, and the half-angry glance which she bestowed upon him now and then was quite as comprehensible to him as was her evident avoidance of him.

At first he was grateful to her for this last. What could he say to her after that scene in the garden? By and by, however, her reserve began to annoy him. His mocking intercourse with her was necessary to him as a counterpoise to his grandfather's harshness and severity, and also, although he did not acknowledge this to himself, to Johanna's earnestness. For a time it had interested him to pursue his betrothed's line of thought, more especially as he could resign himself to her guidance without any trouble, and, trusting to her, frequently made discoveries in himself which flattered his vanity. But he grew weary of her earnestness. It came to be an effort to him to follow her along the paths she trod so naturally and simply, and he began to sigh for the intellectual and mental repose which he had always sought and found in the society of women.

Where should he find it now? Magelone held herself aloof from him, and Elfrida Klausenburg seemed to have forgotten his existence. In fact, his position in society was entirely changed. He had not noticed this so long as the entertainments given in return for the grand Donninghausen dinner lasted, but when the echo of the toasts drunk in honour of the betrothed pair had died away, he suddenly found himself of slight importance, if not entirely overlooked, and this not only by calculating mothers and daughters, as every betrothed man must expect, but universally. He had not looked for this result of his choice.

And society had still further cause for discontent with him. One day the old Countess Klausenburg begged Otto not to read the newspaper, which he was in the habit of glancing through daily. Of course he perused it with all the more attention, and found in it an announcement that Johanna's step-mother was married to the equestrian artist and circus-manager Carlo Batti. Flushed with excitement, he rode to Donninghausen, where he found Johanna alone on the veranda.

”Have you seen what is in the paper?” he asked, scarcely taking time to greet her. ”I suppose it is another of those shameless lies----”

”No; it is true,” Johanna interrupted him. ”Helena has written to me herself. Her letter came by the same post that brought the paper.”

”Really!” Otto exclaimed. ”Well, you have not much cause for pride in that connection. But then it is no affair of yours,” he added, by way of consolation, seeing her change colour.

She looked up startled. Could he regard so superficially what had cut her to the very quick? ”Oh, Otto!” she said, ”I cannot understand how that woman, whom my father fairly adored, could forget him so quickly.”

Otto shrugged his shoulders impatiently. It vexed him that such sentimental considerations should cause Johanna to overlook the real consequences of this wretched marriage; that is, the necessary lowering of her own position in society. At this instant Magelone made her appearance. ”How you look!” she said, turning from one to the other. ”Is anything the matter? Do you wish to be alone?”

”No, no; stay!” Otto made reply. ”All the world knows about the matter we were discussing----”

”Oh, is it that newspaper story?” Magelone interposed. ”These long faces for that? How can you be so stupid?”

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