Part 35 (1/2)
Sophie began now in good earnest to be troubled about Bemperlein's excited condition. But what was her terror when Bemperlein suddenly jumped up, let the cus.h.i.+on in his arm fall on the ground, knelt down on it with both knees, seized one of her hands in his own, and bowing low before her, groaned in most piteous tones: ”Oh! Miss Sophie, Miss Sophie!”
”For Heaven's sake, Bemperly,” exclaimed the young lady, ”get up! If anybody saw you--saw us!”
”Let me kneel,” murmured Mr. Bemperlein. ”I must tell you; and I cannot tell you if you look at me with your big eyes, or if you were to laugh----”
Sophie at first did not know whether she should laugh or cry at this unexpected declaration of love. For Bemperlein's sake she could have cried; but for her own person, she could hardly help laughing aloud.
”Bemperly,” she said, ”Bemperly, compose yourself; think of what you are saying, of what you are doing.”
”I know,” murmured Bemperlein. ”I have told myself so a hundred and a thousand times. At my age--”
”Leaving that aside,” said Sophie, in whom the inclination to laugh gradually became too strong, ”how can you, Franz's best friend, and--at least I have looked upon you in that light until now--my best friend----”
”I shall remain your friend; I shall remain Franz's friend,” cried Bemperlein with great animation. ”Love and friends.h.i.+p shall both find room in my heart; they shall become only the purer, the deeper, the holier, the one through the other.”
”But, Bemperly, how do you reconcile it with such a lofty Platonic love to lie on your knees like a Don Carlos? If Franz should at this moment come in at the door----”
”And if he came,” cried Bemperlein, jumping up, ”'_il n'y a que le premier pas qui coute._' I feel, now that I have spoken--that I have spoken to you--the courage to tell it to all the world. Franz will approve of my choice when he knows her as I know her.”
”As you know _me_?”
”And you also will approve of it,” cried Bemperlein, utterly unmindful of her interruption, and waving the cus.h.i.+on like a flag in the air; ”you will be a friend and a sister to the poor girl; you will do it for my sake, because I love you and esteem you so very much; you will do it for her sake, for you may believe me, Miss Sophie, she deserves it.”
”But whom do you mean, Bemperly?”
”I thought you knew long since,” said Bemperlein, suddenly, half frightened; and then he added in a very low voice: ”Marguerite Martin, the governess at Grenwitz!”
Fortunately, Bemperlein's excitement was too great to allow him to observe the confusion created by this announcement in Sophie's mind.
The knot was cut most unexpectedly. She had been so near committing a great folly by suspecting her friend of another great folly! And yet she was not quite free from a little disappointment that she was not the exclusive idol of Bemperlein! Such a feeling could of course only pa.s.s for an instant through Sophie's heart as a light breeze curls the mirror-like surface of a deep lake only in pa.s.sing, and before Bemperlein had quite recovered his equanimity she was again wholly the sympathizing, prudent friend for whom Bemperlein had been longing in the anguish of his heart.
As to the fact that Bemperlein, quiet, old-maidish Bemperlein, had been seized with a pa.s.sion--that did not surprise her so much. Her main apprehension was, that the modest, unsuspecting man, who in spite of his thirty years was utterly inexperienced, might have fallen into the net of a coquette; and this fear was all the more serious as she had heard the brown eyes of Marguerite spoken of more than once in connection with events which seemed to confirm her suspicion. Her first question was, therefore,
”Do you really know Mademoiselle Marguerite, Bemperlein? I mean, do you know that she is a good girl; that she has a good heart; in one word, that she is worthy of my good Bemperlein?”
”She worthy of me?” cried Bemperlein, most enthusiastically.
”You mean to say, that I am worthy of her?”
”I wanted to say exactly what I said. I, your best friend--for that privilege I am not willing to give up yet--I have the right and the duty to be strict, and to examine before I say: Yes and Amen.”
”Oh, Miss Sophie, I a.s.sure you my Marguerite is an angel.”
”Your Marguerite? Why, look at the lion-hearted Bemperlein? Has it come to that already? But, jesting apart, Bemperly! what do you know of the angelic character of your Marguerite? I mean of that angelic nature which is perceptible to other mortals also? Come, sit down here by me quietly, before the fire, and tell me the whole thing from the beginning. Here, take your cus.h.i.+on again, but please leave the poker where it is!”
In spite of the trifling words, Sophie's voice sounded so faithful and good, and her large blue eyes looked so full of sympathy and kindness, that Bemperlein was not in the least afraid now to let the dear girl look into the holiest of his heart, and to tell her everything, which he did not even dare to think of but with trembling!
”You remember, Miss Sophie,” he began, ”that I told you and Franz recently how I went to the Grenwitz House in order to find out what the baroness, who had sent for me, wanted of me. I told you also that I found Mademoiselle Marguerite in the ante-room, and the remarkable scene which there took place; but I did not tell you, and I have not let anybody see yet, the deep impression which that scene had made on me. A man who has grown up in great poverty, as I have, and who has had to struggle hard with cares and troubles, learns to understand thoroughly what it means to be helpless and forsaken. You will understand, therefore, what I mean, when I say that such a man, when he sees others suffer, feels and thinks very differently from those who have never been in such a position. That was the reason why I could not get rid of the sight of the poor, forsaken girl in tears. I saw her continually before me as she was standing near the door which led to the rooms of the baroness sobbing and pressing her little hands upon her eyes, while the bright tears were slipping through the slender fingers. I heard continually the words: '_Oh, je suis si malheureuse_,'
and I worried myself to find out why the poor girl should be so unhappy; for I could have sworn that there must have been another cause than the mere sense of dependence, or the pain of having been once more unjustly scolded.
”This troubled me so much that I could not sleep all night long, and the next day it seemed to me an eternity before the time came when I was to wait on the baroness. At last it struck two o'clock. I went to the house and was admitted at once. The baroness was alone in her room.
She was uncommonly gracious, inquired after Frau von Berkow, asked how I liked Grunwald, if I had much to do, and at last came out with her request. She could not make up her mind, she said, to send Malte to college, for reasons which she mentioned, but which were so foolish that I will not repeat them here; but she was as little inclined to try another tutor after the sad experiences which she had made. The lady, therefore, decided to have him taught at home by private tutors, who must, of course, be tried men of well-known principles, and--now we came to the point--would I whom she esteemed most highly, aid her in her work, and give her son, daily, one or two lessons in ancient languages! Now you may imagine, Miss Sophie, that I would have refused under other circ.u.mstances without hesitation; because, setting every other consideration aside, I could employ my time much better than by sacrificing it for the sake of a stupid boy, whom I never could bear; but I considered that this might give me an opportunity to meet poor Marguerite more frequently, and as this was my most ardent wish, the offer of the baroness seemed to me a sign from on high, and I accepted it at once.”