Part 74 (1/2)
Do you love that man? Must I lose my last child then?”
”Be calm, mamma. I shall not leave you in our misfortune. There is the letter to the princess. One moment, mother.”
She sat down and wrote in great haste a few lines.
”Well, that is done! I am free once more! Come, mamma; I will show you that I have still strength and courage enough for life. Come!”
And she drew the baroness, who willingly yielded herself up to her daughter's superior energy, with her out of the room.
A minute later the two ladies had left Waldenberg House, and half an hour afterwards the train carried them away from the city.
CHAPTER XVI.
As Oswald hurried down the street, scarcely knowing what he was doing, he felt suddenly some one seize him by the arm. It was Mr. Timm.
After his encounter with Mr. Schmenckel Mr. Timm had been compelled to abandon his post of observation near the princess's house in order to go into the courtyard of one of the adjoining houses, and there wash off the blood which the director's weighty fist had drawn from mouth and nose. Timm was as angry as he had ever been in his life. It was the rage of the hunter when he sees a wild beast tearing his cunningly-woven nets and escaping from his most ingenious trap. This b.o.o.by of a Schmenckel, with his stupid honesty! How he had worked at the man to dazzle him with golden prospects; and now! It was enough to turn a man's brain! The glorious fortune all lost! And why? For nothing but a fit of honesty! And if Oswald, too, should be such a fool! These blockheads can never be left alone for a moment! And just now the bleeding will not stop! What enormous strength that fellow has!
Thus it came that the martyr of stupid honesty saw neither Mr.
Schmenckel nor the prince leave the house, nor Oswald go in, and he was now also but just in time to overtake the latter as he was rather running than walking down the street.
”Hallo! sir!”
”What is it?”
”Well, I ask _you_ that!”
”Is that you?”
”Who else? How did it go? Did the old one give in promptly?” And he was about to slip his arm familiarly in Oswald's arm; but Oswald stepped back.
”Don't touch me!” he said, ”or I will beat your brains out!”
”Oh ho!” said Timm, giving way; ”is he crazy too?”
”Wretch!” cried Oswald. ”You wretch! who make vulgarity your profession, and speculate on vice. Let me never find you again in my way, or you will repent it!”
He left Timm, who had first turned ashy pale and then broken out into loud laughter, and hurried away. He did not mind where his feet carried him! He went as in a dream, and what he saw and heard appeared to him only like dreamy images: curious, terrified faces of women and children in doors and windows; dense crowds of men, who seemed to tell each other fearful things with wild gestures and loud exclamations; running and shouting, yelling and whistling on all sides, and between the mournful ring of alarm-bells from all the steeples. Then, as Oswald left the aristocratic portion of the town further and further behind him, a new sound mingled with the others: a very peculiar rattling noise, and a low thundering, which made the very houses tremble.
But all this did not rouse him from his waking dream. The sorrow for his ruined happiness had made him blind and deaf to the sorrow of a whole ill-treated nation. Suddenly a ghastly spectacle startled him.
From one of the side streets a young man came running out, who cried: ”Treason! treason! They are firing at us!” The young man's blouse was torn and covered with blood; his face was pale, his hair dishevelled; he staggered like a drunken man, and suddenly he fell down right before Oswald. Oswald raised him up, and in an instant a crowd of men and women were around them. ”He is dying!” cried the men. ”A curse upon the executioners!” The women shrieked. One cried out: ”Take him; don't you see the gentleman can hardly stand himself!” A man took the dying youth from Oswald's arms. Suddenly Oswald felt some one touch him. He turned around and saw Berger. Oswald's soul had during the last hours been so overwhelmed with strange, exceptional events and sensations that he was prepared even for the most extraordinary occurrences. And if there was a man in this world whom he wished to see just then it was his friend and teacher, the companion of his fate. Oswald did not ask him how? and whence? He threw himself into Berger's arms.
”Glad you are here,” said the other, hurriedly; ”come! let the dead bury the dead. We must work and be doing as long as it is day!”
They hastened off together.
With every step they came nearer to the crater of the revolution which had broken out a few hours before. In this part of the city barricades were going up, built by a thousand brave and skilful hands, and manned by death-defying men and boys, mostly belonging to the lower cla.s.ses of the people. These improvised fortresses did not inspire much hope of being able to resist long, for they consisted mostly of one, or at best of several, heavy wagons, torn-off planks, and other similar objects, hastily piled up together, while the arms of the small garrison were generally only rusty old swords, pikes, guns without locks, and similar instruments.
Berger stopped here and there giving advice, encouraging others, and calling with his deep, sonorous voice ”To arms! to the barricades!” But whenever Oswald offered to lay hand on the work himself he kept him from it.