Part 46 (1/2)
”Will you do it?” she whispered, handing the perfumed sheet to Johann Leopold. And shading his eyes with his hand so as to s.h.i.+eld his face from observation, he read clearly and calmly,--
”Forgive me, dearest and best of aunts, for coming to you with a request the fulfilment of which is no trifle. But I know your kindness, and I know, too, from life-long experience, that even when you are displeased with me you are always trying to excuse me both in thought and word. Do it now to grandpapa, and love me still. I rely upon you.
”If my confession were only made! Or if I only knew how to begin! The beginning is simply that I was quite as unable to endure life in the Walburg Dorcas-meetings as in the Wildenhayn nursery. I told you, soon after my going to the Walburgs, of my bitter disappointment in the imperial city of Vienna. But since then the philanthropic craze of the mother and the virtuous fanaticism of the daughters have increased to such a degree that they nearly drove me wild. Now please don't look angry, dear Aunt Thekla! Does not even Goethe say,--it's the only thing of his I ever remembered,--
'Rather pursue evil courses than be thus bored'?
”I wrote you of our Charity bazaar. I had a table at it. The children of darkness have the reputation of greater wisdom than the children of light, and I really did a brilliant business.
Not one was left of all the abominations confided to the watchful care of my beautiful eyes. Most of them were bought by a young and elegant man, who appeared morning and afternoon of each of the three days that the fair lasted, and paid furious court to me. Chance--or let us call it Providence--so willed it that we had a common acquaintance, at whose house we met again, and I learned to know his parents. Mamma, short, stout, _decolletee_, and loaded with diamonds; papa, tall, thin, with bony hands, and a genius for money-making. His father slaughtered oxen; he slaughtered estates, then engaged in some of these new-fangled speculations, and is said to have acc.u.mulated several millions. His wife is an innkeeper's daughter. Her paternal mansion is still to be seen in K---- Street. Both were charming to me. Both shared in their son's wishes,--that is, they thirsted for my blue blood, while he coveted my entire self. The poor fellow is really head over ears in love with me, which, in contrast with his usual _blase_ condition, produces a comically pathetic effect. I knew only too well that grandpapa never would give his consent; so at last I carried out a _coup d'etat_ which Pepi--his baptismal name is Felix--devised. It was impossible for us to be married in Vienna with no pomp or parade. It would have been too great a blow to parental vanity. So I took leave of the Walburgs to go to Herstadt, but in fact I arrived in Paris. Felix followed me, and since the day before yesterday I have been the Baroness Erlenbusch of Erlenbusch of Veldes on the Saar.
”Thank heaven! there it is at last on paper, and off my mind!
And now, dear, darling, heavenly aunt, be kind. Please! please!
I fold my hands and bend my knees, and, look! there is a real genuine tear just fallen on the paper; for in spite of the frivolity which, through no fault of mine, I have inherited, I love you all, you odd, proud, honest, serious Donninghausens; and if I do not any longer live among you, I prize my right to a home within your old walls. You then must contrive, _carissima_, to have me come to you some day with Felix. Don't be afraid. He is perfectly presentable: tall, slender, elegant,--with a little more repose he would really look distinguished. Is he so, in fact? _Qui vivra verra!_ At all events, he is very much of a gentleman. A connoisseur in all branches of sport; in horses, in the ballet, and in _ballerine_. He plays, bets, owns magnificent racers, and can dissipate his father's speedily-acquired millions as speedily in a thousand ways. You would remind me of poor Wilfried, and would ask how I can stake my happiness upon the same card again? Dearest aunt, I was famished for pleasure, life, movement, splendour, beauty, love,--for all that I have foregone these many years. Now I am drinking deep of all of them. We shall spend our honeymoon here in Paris, the _paradis des femmes_, and then go back to Vienna. But before that I must hear from you,--one word of love, of forgiveness, of hope, addressed to 'Baroness Magelone of Erlenbusch, _poste restante_, Paris.'
”The name is not beautiful, neither is it ancient; but make up your mind to it, and accept it and the new grandson and great-nephew, as I must accept my father- and mother-in-law. Ye saints above! fancy them in my drawing-room! But I shall clinch my teeth and be amiable. Mother-in-law's diamonds will cover many a _faux pas_, and a man who wallows in millions, as does my father-in-law, need my new pathway in life is not without its thorns. Wherefore I fervently entreat you to obtain grandpapa's forgiveness for me, that I may at least flee to you in thought if----but, Magelone! should thoughts such as these be entertained by a young and adored wife? Oh, if I could only show you my wedding-dress, dearest aunt!
'I've glittering diamonds and jewels, I've all that the heart could desire, And mine are the loveliest eyes, too----'
”And if you will only forgive me, all is well, and I am forever your happy MAGELONE.”
During the reading of this letter the Freiherr had been pacing deliberately to and fro, and he continued to do so in silence. Johann Leopold, having read it, said nothing, but gazed thoughtfully into the fire. Aunt Thekla took the letter and read it through again to herself.
Magelone's entreaty for forgiveness touched her heart. The young creature was right; Aunt Thekla could not be angry with her long. The sins of her frivolity were atoned for by her grace. Once more it was the old lady's earnest desire to befriend her spoiled darling; and, summoning up all her courage, she said, at last,--
”Dear brother, I must answer this. What shall I write?”
”Whatever you choose!” he cried, as he pa.s.sed her. Suddenly he turned short round, and came up to the table upon which stood the lamp. His face wore a marble look of anger and determination. ”No, not whatever you choose!” he said, harshly. ”Who knows what concessions you may be induced to make? You will write to the Frau Baroness von Erlenbusch that the members of my family are not in the world solely to enjoy themselves, but to do their confounded duty as far as they can, and to fulfil their responsibilities. Those who prefer mere enjoyment must find it elsewhere. There is no place for them among us.”
”But surely, if Magelone,” Aunt Thekla began again, ”were to come here to ask your forgiveness----”
”She would find the doors closed!” the Freiherr interrupted her.
”Unless, indeed, the Herr Baron Felix von Erlenbusch should fulfil his wife's expectations and run through his swindler-father's money. If she should then return to us alone, and needy, she shall have food and shelter. So long, however, as she makes merry with that clique, her foot shall never cross my threshold. Not a word, sister!” he added, raising his voice. ”Remember Agnes and Johanna! I cannot at the eleventh hour be false to what has been my principle of action during my life.” And after a pause, he said, more gently, ”We must submit, Thekla. Solitude is the sad dowry of age. We no longer understand the young, nor do they understand us.”
But the Freiherr did not find it easy to practise the submission which he enjoined upon his sister. Long as he had been deprived of Otto's and Magelone's presence, he felt really separated from them only when he could no longer hope to see them vindicate, according to his ideas, the honour of the family.
”I am only an old, decayed trunk,” he said, on the morning of New Year's day, when Aunt Thekla offered him her New Year's wishes. ”Not only has winter robbed me of my garniture of leaves, but my stout young branches have fallen off. All is wellnigh over with Donninghausen!”
In this same mood he was sitting at breakfast with his sister and nephew on the morning of the 3d of January, when Dr. Werner was announced.
”What! our Indian doctor? Fellow, you must be mistaken!” he shouted to the servant. But it was Ludwig Werner, who immediately appeared, and was welcomed with as much delight as amazement.
”This is what I call a surprise,” the Freiherr repeated, when Ludwig was at last seated beside him, and had been supplied by Aunt Thekla with coffee. ”And now give an account of yourself. First, whence come you so early in the day?”
”From Lindenbad. I have been spending the holidays with my people, and I came by the early train, because I must go back to Hanover to-day.”
”No, no!” cried the Freiherr. ”Now I have you once more in my clutches, you shall not slip away in such a hurry.”
”Or if you must go to-day,” said Johann Leopold, in his considerate way, ”promise us at least that you will come back again here from Hanover.”