Part 73 (2/2)
He placed the doc.u.ments and papers which Timm had brought him a few hours before upon Helen's escritoire, and bowed to take leave.
”One moment, sir!” said Helen, rising likewise. ”Do you imagine my mother will accept such a gift? Who has given you the right to think so little of us?”
”I think, Miss Helen, your pride misleads you in this instance. There is evidently no one whom this whole matter concerns except myself, and I desire to be relieved of an unpleasant suspicion. It was hardly necessary to remind me that a few hundred thousand dollars, more or less, mattered little to the mother of the owner of Grenwitz, and to the betrothed of Prince Waldenberg.”
”Circ.u.mstances ought not to affect our duties,” replied the young girl, rising to her full height and curving her lips contemptuously; ”and you need not believe that I am so indifferent to your claims because, I am proud of our wealth and our rank. We are at this very moment on the point of leaving for Grenwitz, where my brother is lying dangerously ill; and there, on my escritoire, lies the beginning of a letter in which the princess will be told that I shall never be her son's wife.”
Helen's dark eyes were s.h.i.+ning brightly; the hot blood gave greater depth to the red on her cheeks. Oswald had never seen her so beautiful, so marvellously beautiful. And this at the moment when he had already in his heart bid farewell to life, which had no longer any charms for him. Just now this glorious beauty, this highest beau-ideal of his wildest dreams, must present herself to him, not at an inapproachable distance, but within reach attainable to his bold desires--to his firm will, perhaps! Why did she tell him that she would never marry the prince? And why did she tell it in such a defiant tone, if she did not mean to humble him--the weak, hesitating, fickle man--by the strength of her will, by the promptness with which she abandoned all this splendor, merely in order to remain true to herself?
These thoughts pa.s.sed swiftly through Oswald's mind, which worked all the faster as he had been so long sleepless and feverish. He knew that she would never have told him all this if she had not loved him at some time or other; if she did not perhaps still love him; and yet he knew with absolute certainty that they were separated from each other irretrievably by all that had happened. There was therefore no bitterness, but deep sadness in his voice, as he fixed his eyes immoveably upon the heavenly beauty before him and said, slowly:
”Let us not sadden one another still more by violent, bitter words! Who knows whether we shall ever speak to each other again? I feel like a dying man, and what I am going to say I do not say for myself, but from an earnest desire to state the truth. Helen, I have loved you from the hour when I saw you first in the park at Grenwitz! I have never forgotten that moment. I know that you also would have loved me if I had but been true to myself; you might have become my own. But when I forsook myself you also forsook me, and now there is an abyss between us over which there is no bridge. And what seemed to be about to bring us together--the discovery of this morning--only parts us forever. I feel it clearly. You will never be disposed to accept a gift, as you call it; and I would rather burn my right hand than stretch it out after the inheritance of a man who made my mother the most wretched of women. There is no peace possible between us, even if everything else were as it ought to be. And now, Helen, before we part--probably forever--one more request; give me your hand across that gulf which parts us, as a token that I am forgiven!”
Helen laid her hand in Oswald's.
Thus they stood and looked deep into each other's eyes; and as they so looked they saw all the golden summer mornings in the past at Grenwitz under the whispering trees, and all the purple-glowing evenings in the green beech woods near the sea-sh.o.r.e--and then they saw nothing more, for a close veil of tears hid the enchanting images.
”Farewell, Helen!”
”Farewell, Oswald!”
”Forever!”
”Forever!”
Oswald did not take the beloved one in his arms; a feeling of holy reverence kept him back. He felt that the time for repentance which was granted to him was too short, and swearing new vows which he felt no strength to keep was not making amends for so many broken ones.
He let the hand go which he had held in his own, and--the next moment Helen was alone.
She was still standing so, her eyes fixed on the door through which Oswald had disappeared, when the baroness came back to the room.
”It is high time, Helen,” she said; ”the carriage is waiting. Are you ready?”
”Yes.”
”What papers are those on the escritoire?”
”Did he not take them again?”
”Who?”
”Oswald.”
”Has he been here? What did he want?”
”He came to say good-by. Take those papers, mother. He brought them to you.”
”Helen, you look pale; and you have been crying! What does that mean?
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