Part 38 (1/2)

Emilie Rantzau, however, hardly thought her own interests in the town would be greatly furthered by closer a.s.sociation with Sukkerstad and his circle; on the other hand, it was just as well to keep on good terms with all sections of local society. She therefore informed the deputation that she would think over the matter, and a.s.sured them meanwhile of her earnest sympathy with the good cause.

The same day she hurried up to Consul Jansen, switched on her eloquent dark eyes, and suggested that the Temperance Movement was one they ought to support, but that the best way of doing so would be to get up a little subscription, and raise enough for an excursion--a steamer trip for the afternoon, with tea and lemonade. ”It would look well, you know, and all that--and get them off our hands for a bit,”

she added meaningly.

No one could refuse her, and in the course of one afternoon she managed to collect eight pounds, which she dispatched to Sukkerstad and Rordam for the purpose indicated. Sukkerstad was so enthusiastic in his appreciation that he determined to convene a meeting of the committee and propose a vote of thanks and an address.

All the members turned up, with the exception of Rordam, who, in his joy at the eight pounds, had given way to a sudden relapse, which rendered him incapable of further temperance work for the time being.

After some discussion, the committee decided to purchase a portrait of Mrs. Rantzau from the photographer, and hang it up in their hall; this was voted preferable to the address.

Mrs. Heidt was beginning to lag behind; it was impossible to keep pace with a woman of such untiring energy and initiative as Mrs.

Rantzau.

Four ladies were gathered one day in her drawing-room, to talk over what was to be done; they could not suffer themselves to be set aside like this. What they wanted was some grand idea, something to vanquish the enemy at a single blow, and show the rest of the town that Emilie Rantzau was not wanted.

It was Mrs. Knap who had the happy thought--the Peace Movement. The cause of universal peace was surely one which n.o.body in Strandvik could refuse to aid.

Mrs. Abrahamsen was more inclined to concentrate on a bazaar and lottery in aid of the proposed crematorium, which inst.i.tution she regarded as most desirable from the humane, the sanitary and various other points of view.

Mrs. Knap protested energetically against the idea; she had recently had an accident with a box of matches, which had gone off suddenly and burnt her hand. She for her part would have nothing more to do with burning--for the present, at any rate.

Finally, after some heated argument, it was agreed that a grand harvest festival should be held, the proceeds to be devoted to the cause of universal peace.

Emilie Rantzau was to be kept out of it altogether; they would not have her help in the arrangements, not a contribution--not so much as a bunch of flowers was to come from her; it was to be a festival ”for ourselves and by ourselves.” The old ladies were already triumphant; this intriguing minx, this person from nowhere, who had tried to force herself into society, should be made to feel their power and her own insignificance. The festival was to be held in the park on Sunday, from five to nine; there would be illuminations, coloured lanterns, fireworks and so on. Singing,--male and female choir,--lecture by a Professor from Christiania, recitation by a famous actor, solos by an amateur and an ”amatrice”--it was a programme so magnificent that the whole town was amazed.

Meantime, Mrs. Rantzau sat quietly at home, in her pink morning-gown, pouring out coffee for Nickelsen. She was very quiet and gentle in manner--there was a curious atmosphere about the situation generally.

There lay the morning papers, white, uncrumpled, untouched. The coffee now seethed gently in little regular gasps, like a school-mistress out on a mountaineering expedition; the sun peeped in through the windows, casting gay gleams over Old Nick's white mop of hair and Emilie's raven locks.

”Why shouldn't I be happy the few years I've still to live? And who is to have my money when I'm gone?” Old Nick sat staring absently before him.

She bent over towards him, handing his cup; he felt her soft, curling tresses close to his cheek, and her hand just touched his own.

”Mrs. Rantzau!” he exclaimed, flus.h.i.+ng as he spoke; his voice was unsteady.

”Why, how serious you are all of a sudden! You quite frightened me,”

she said, with a laugh, looking up at him innocently.

”Mrs. Rantzau,” he began again, ”do you know that poem of Byronson, that--that begins:

”'When blus.h.i.+ng blood, In humble mood Turns to the man whose mind is proved, When timid, shy She seeks....'”

”Lord bless me, old boy, spouting poetry so early in the morning! Did you think it was Const.i.tution Day--or the day after?”

Old Nick looked round anything but amiably at Nachmann's unbeautiful face smiling in the doorway; Mrs. Rantzau left the room without a word.

A long and earnest conference ensued between the two men, after which they went out for a long walk together.

Emilie Rantzau felt now that her position was secure; it was only a question of time before she could appear as Mrs. Nickelsen. And inwardly she vowed vengeance on the women who had systematically excluded her from the Peace Festival; she pondered how best to get even with Mrs. Heidt and the rest.

It took a deal of thinking out, but at last she hit upon a way.