Part 9 (1/2)
I heard the sound of a chair pushed violently back; and my father's shadow, vague and menacing, started up with him, and fell across the door.
”What?” he shouted, in a terrible voice. ”Are you taking me at my word? Are you offering me the hangman's office?”
Then, with a sudden change of tone and manner, he added:--
”But--I must have misunderstood you. It is impossible.”
”We have both altogether misunderstood each other, Colonel Bernhard,” said the stranger, stiffly. ”I had supposed you would be willing to serve the State, even at the cost of some violence to your prejudices.”
”Great G.o.d! then you did mean it!” said my father, with a strange horror in his voice.
”I meant--to serve the King. I also hoped to advance the interests of Colonel Bernhard,” replied the other, haughtily.
”My sword is the King's--my blood is the King's, to the last drop,” said my father in great agitation; ”but my honour--my honour is my own!”
”Enough, Colonel Bernhard; enough. We will drop the subject.”
And again I heard the little dry cough, and the snap of the snuff-box.
A long silence followed, my father walking to and fro with a quick, heavy step; the stranger, apparently, still sitting in his place at the table.
”Should you, on reflection, see cause to take a different view of your duty, Colonel Bernhard,” he said at last, ”you have but to say so before....”
”I can never take a different view of it, Herr Count!” interrupted my father, vehemently.
”--before I take my departure in the morning,” continued the other, with studied composure; ”in the meanwhile, be pleased to remember that you are answerable for the person of your prisoner. Either he must not escape, or he must not escape with life.”
My father's shadow bent its head.
”And now, with your permission, I will go to my room.”
My father rang the bell, and when Bertha came, bade her light the Count von Rettel to his chamber.
Hearing them leave the room, I opened the door very softly and hesitatingly, scarce knowing whether to come out or not. I saw my father standing with his back towards me and his face still turned in the direction by which they had gone out. I saw him throw up his clenched hands, and shake them wildly above his head.
”And it was for this!--for this!” he said fiercely. ”A bribe! G.o.d of Heaven! He offered me Konigsberg as a bribe! Oh, that I should have lived to be treated as an a.s.sa.s.sin!”
His voice broke into hoa.r.s.e sobs. He dropped into a chair--he covered his face with his hands.
He had forgotten that I was in the next room, and now I dared not remind him of my presence. His emotion terrified me. It was the first time I had seen a man shed tears; and this alone, let the man be whom he might, would have seemed terrible to me at any time. How much more terrible when those tears were tears of outraged honour, and when the man who shed them was my father!
I trembled from head to foot. I had an instinctive feeling that I ought not to look upon his agony. I shrank back--closed the door--held my breath, and waited.
Presently the sound of sobbing ceased. Then he sighed heavily twice or thrice--got up abruptly--threw a couple of logs on the fire, and left the room. The next moment I heard him unlock the door under the stairs, and go into the cellar. I seized the opportunity to escape, and stole up to my own room as rapidly and noiselessly as my trembling knees would carry me.
I had my supper with Bertha that evening, and the Count ate at my father's table; but I afterwards learned that, though the Governor of Bruhl himself waited ceremoniously upon his guest and served him with his best, he neither broke bread nor drank wine with him.
I saw that unwelcome guest no more. I heard his voice under the window, and the clatter of his horse's hoofs as he rode away in the early morning; but that was long enough before Bertha came to call me.