Part 31 (1/2)

He shrugged his shoulders, and his mobile features betrayed mingled derision and impatience. ”I had no objection to your remaining on the stage,--but the grapes were sour!” he said. And, rising, he went to the window, where he stood drumming on the pane, while Helena, who had flushed crimson, said, with a forced smile, ”Men are all alike, dear Johanna, as you will learn. Carlo is one of the best of them.”

Johanna made no reply. What a contrast there was between her father's n.o.ble, intellectual personality and this good-humoured boor! But Helena deferred to him, excused his lack of consideration, endured his rude conduct, hung upon his words, and followed his every motion with loving looks. The girl's heart was filled with bitterness and disgust, and involuntarily she clasped Lisbeth closer in her arms, as if she could s.h.i.+eld the little one from such contact.

Helena stroked the child's curls caressingly. ”You cannot think how good Carlo is to Lisbeth!” she went on, in an undertone. ”Because she was continually begging for her Johanna, he did what I have never known him to do before--sent on the baggage-train, and we do not follow it before night by the express----”

Lisbeth sprang up. ”Kind Uncle Carlo!” she cried, running to the window.

He turned round. ”Come!” he said, kindly; and stooping, he stiffly held out to her his open right hand. With a jump Lisbeth stood erect upon it, and, holding by his raised left hand, was carried back thus to the sofa.

The sight gave pain to Johanna. She arose and took the child from its step-father.

”An ungrateful public,--not even one round of applause!” He said, laughing. ”But never mind, you shall have a better some day.” And, turning to Johanna, he added, ”She has made her appearance once, with great applause and self-satisfaction. Hey, little mouse?”

”Oh, it was beautiful!” Lisbeth cried, with sparkling eyes. ”Everything I had on was pink and silver,--even my stockings; and I had silver wings on my shoulders----”

Johanna closed her lips with a kiss. Her father's child in a circus!

Carlo Batti misunderstood her. ”Yes, yes,” he went on, with a conceited smile, ”you may well be proud of your little sister, and of her advantages. Race--artist blood--and Carlo Batti to the fore,--the devil must be in it if something does not come of all that.”

”If it is not too much for her,” Helena interposed. ”Only see, Johanna, how pale the little face is, now that the excitement of seeing you again is over! That is Carlo's fault. He never knows when to stop!”

”Stuff!” he said, laughing. ”The little lady grows too fast,--that's why she is pale and tired sometimes. Say yourself, little mouse, which tires you the most, I or your leather school-books?”

”Oh, the books, the horrid books!” cried the child, taking his outstretched hand, and dancing about him like a little ballet-girl, while he slowly turned round and round.

”So it goes all day long,” Helena complained. ”No need to hope for the quiet ordered by the doctor when those two are together. Moreover, she ought to have country air----” She broke off and looked inquiringly at her step-daughter.

Johanna's face flushed; she felt that it was best to be frank. ”How gladly I would ask you to leave the child with me!” she replied. ”But, kind and generous as my grandfather is, he has not yet forgiven my mother's marriage, and detests anything that can remind him of my father.”

”You see, Helena, it is just as I told you,” Batti interrupted her; adding, with a burst of rude laughter, ”I know it--this aristocratic rubbish, stupid, haughty, narrow-minded----”

”Carlo!” Helena whispered, with a glance towards Johanna.

He was not to be deterred, however. ”What the deuce are you grimacing about?” he asked. ”She”--and he indicated Johanna--”is her father's daughter, and proud of her name, is she not?”

”Indeed I am; but I prize my grandfather too, and love him dearly, dearly!” she replied, and her eyes flashed.

He made a face, then held out to her his brown hairy hand. ”You're the girl for me!” he exclaimed, seizing and almost crus.h.i.+ng her fingers in his grasp. ”Out with whatever is in your heart! A great pity that you're going to marry. A G.o.d-gifted creature like yourself belongs on horseback. And--down with the world!” He swung his arm as if it held a riding-whip, by way of completing his sentence.

”Dear Johanna, you must not take amiss what he says,” Helena began, with a furtive smile.

”Let us alone, we understand each other!” he interrupted her. And turning to Johanna, he continued: ”Let us talk together like friends. If your father, the actor, is unpopular up there,”--pointing with his thumb over his shoulder towards the castle,--”I, the equestrian artist, must be still more so. You need not reply: I know the talk. 'Players, strollers, vagabonds,' that is the verdict pa.s.sed upon us by the aristocracy and the respectable public, the devil fly away with them!”

”Carlo!” cried Helena.

His eyes flashed. ”Am I to take it all quietly when such a stuck-up set turn me out of doors? Me, Carlo Batti, renowned in Paris, in Berlin, in St. Petersburg, as well as in Vienna!” he shouted, angrily. ”Come, we can stay here no longer. I must go to Remmingen to look for some horses.

You will drive there with me.”

”You said we might stay here, Uncle Carlo!” cried the child. ”I want to see the castle where my Johanna lives. Mamma promised me I should.”

Carlo laughed scornfully. ”The castle,--yes, you shall see it, if only the outside,” he said. Taking the child to the window, he continued: ”Do you see that ugly old barn up there? They call that the castle, and it is full of ugly old cats who would eat you up, poor little mouse!”