Part 37 (1/2)

Johanna, who was taken to table by a young and rather silent lieutenant, looked on in silence. The place on her other side was empty. At last a young man appeared, who, when greeted by Batti with reproaches for his tardiness, excused himself on the plea of urgent work for his newspaper.

Batti signed to him to take the vacant seat beside Johanna, and presented him to her as Dr. Edgar Stein.

”At last, Fraulein!” he said. ”You have been invisible for so long, while our friend Batti has been unwearied in his wondrous tales of you, that I began to regard you as a mythical being 'veiled in lovely legend.'”

Johanna mutely inclined her head. The round, red face of the man, with its bold blue eyes and cynical smile, made a most disagreeable impression upon her.

Helena, who sat opposite, laughed in a constrained manner. ”What has Batti been saying?” she asked. ”We must certainly find out, Johanna.”

”Why, he described the Fraulein half as one of the bold horsewomen,--Wodan's daughters,--half as a Saint Elizabeth,--cheering the sad, healing the sick, and so forth; then half as an aristocratic lady, half as an artiste. And from what I see I believe it all.”

Whereupon Dr. Stein bowed, and laughed as if in derision of his own words.

”Johanna, you ought to be proud!” cried Helena. ”Dr. Stein[1] is usually quite what his name signifies towards women.”

[Footnote 1: Anglice, _stone_.]

”But not towards you, fairest dame!” he replied. ”You never deigned to notice me, poor, pale moon among the stars that circle about your sunlike majesty.”

As he spoke, his glance seemed to ridicule all present. Helena smiled contented; Johanna felt more and more disgusted. And although the young man, strong in his armour of self-conceit, never suspected the sensation he inspired, he could not but perceive that he was far from producing upon Johanna the impression he had intended, and he was not the man to forgive this.

The talk grew louder and freer. Even in her father's house this had sometimes occurred; but Johanna had never felt disturbed by the conversation there, where the refinement of the host had always restrained the mirth and frivolity of his guests within certain limits.

But who was there to do that here? At last she could bear it no longer, and, while a toast was being drunk standing, she contrived to withdraw unperceived; and the next morning she explained that she could not leave Lisbeth so late at night again. The child had discovered the absence of her beloved nurse, had cried bitterly, and had not slept until some time after Johanna's return. Henceforth Batti was obliged to content himself with the daily ride which the physician ordered for the young girl, and which she herself would have been sorry to omit.

She heard nothing further from Donninghausen, although she had entreated Aunt Thekla to write to her. Only a couple of large trunks, containing all her belongings, had arrived. She unpacked them, shaking out every article which they contained, in the hope of finding some sc.r.a.p of writing. In vain! Only a ring which Aunt Thekla had always worn had been added to Johanna's small store of trinkets. Evidently the Freiherr had, as he had warned her, forbidden all communication with her.

All the greater was her surprise, when one day a card was brought her, upon which beneath the name of 'Dr. Urban Wolf' was written in pencil, 'with a message from Donninghausen.'

For an instant she hesitated; but the longing to have some tidings of her grandfather and aunt was victorious. As she could not at the time leave Lisbeth, she placed the screen before the bed of the sleeping child, and requested to have the stranger shown up.

”Pardon me for my intrusion,” he said. ”I ought to have asked an introduction from Batti, but it was necessary that I should speak with you alone.”

Johanna was agreeably impressed. There was something in the stranger's deep, full voice that reminded her of some tones of her father's. There, however, the resemblance ended. Dr. Wolf's figure was short and slender, and his pale, delicate face evidently Jewish.

”Pray be seated,” she said, motioning him to a chair; and her breath came short and quick as she added, ”You bring me tidings of my relatives; do you come from Donninghausen?”

”No, I do not,” he said, without looking up. ”My father, Lobel Wolf, the dealer in curiosities, is commissioned by the Freiherr von Donninghausen to make you a proposition, which I am to lay before you.”

He paused, as if awaiting encouragement to proceed. Johanna, however, gave him none, not knowing what to say, and he went on: ”I fear I must allude to matters which it is painful to you to----With regard to certain jewels, an heirloom in the family; an inheritance from your mother----”

”I make no claim to them!” Johanna interrupted him, and her voice trembled. Was it possible that her grandfather could think her mercenary?

”Permit me to conclude,” the young man continued, and his tone and manner showed how disagreeable he found his task. ”The Freiherr wishes to retain the jewels in the Donninghausen family; but, since they are undeniably yours, he can do so only by obtaining your consent that he should purchase them from you. My father has appraised them; here is his estimate in writing----” And he would have handed Johanna a folded piece of paper. She declined it.

”No, no; this is out of the question!” she exclaimed. ”That the jewels are a family heirloom is quite enough to establish the fact that I can have no possible claim upon them. And if I had, one does not sell family jewels,--not even I, although I have no family!”

She arose and went to the window; the stranger must not perceive her emotion.

Dr. Wolf also arose. ”I have another commission to fulfil. The old Freifraulein Thekla sent for my father, begged him to come himself to Hanover to transact this affair, to give you her affectionate greetings, and then to let her know how you are. What shall I write to him?”