Part 36 (1/2)
”No, no, not now. Go--I beg you.”
He stepped back at once.
”You are right, Marietta. Not now; but when I am free, I shall come to you and beg for another 'yes.' Good-bye. G.o.d bless you!”
He was gone in an instant, before Marietta could collect her thoughts; and now the voice of her old kinswoman, who had entered the room a moment before, unperceived by its occupants, recalled her to herself.
”My child, what is this, what does it mean? Have you both forgotten--”
The excited girl did not let her finish; she flung her arms around her neck, and cried out, pa.s.sionately:
”Ah, now I know why I was so angry when he allowed his mother to insult me and did not take my part. It grieved me so to think he was weak and cowardly, for I have loved him from the very first.”
CHAPTER XII.
Extensive preparations for the approaching social season were being made at the house of the Prussian amba.s.sador. Wallmoden had entered upon the duties of his present official position early in the past spring, but his father-in-law's death following immediately after, and the summer coming on, he had as yet done nothing to discharge the social obligations inc.u.mbent upon him as the representative of a great government. The magnificent house which he had taken was furnished with great splendor. His marriage to an heiress made many pleasant things possible to him now, and his great desire was to make his residence one of mark in the southern capital. The following week he was to give his first reception, and in the meantime, numerous visits had to be made.
The amba.s.sador was busily engaged, also, in attending to certain official matters of more than usual importance. With all his other cares he was secretly annoyed at the result of the production of ”Arivana.” If he had had any thought before of openly denouncing Hartmut Rojanow, such denunciation was now almost impossible.
This adventurer had been so praised and so lauded and admired for his poetical genius and talents, that just at present it was a matter of doubt whether any statement which Wallmoden could make would have much effect on the society and the court where the newly risen star was the hero of the hour. Hartmut had risked much against Wallmoden's threats--and won. The one thing which completed the amba.s.sador's discomfiture, and made his position extremely painful, was the coming of Falkenried. It would be impossible to conceal his son's whereabouts and doings from the father, and Wallmoden dare not let him learn them from strangers. When they had met in Berlin, for a brief hour, neither knew of the journey to the South which the Colonel would have to take almost immediately. He was to be the guest of his old friend, for he also knew Adelheid very well; she and her brother had grown up under his eyes.
When Major Falkenried had taken command of a distant garrison ten years before, the little city where he was stationed had been very near the princ.i.p.al Stahlberg factories. The new major's reputation had preceded him; he was said to be a valiant soldier, devoted to the service, who, when not on duty, gave all his time to the study of military tactics and discipline, but who held all mankind, soldiers excepted, in abhorrence.
He had a house and lived among men, but for the rest, he turned his back upon society and every one connected with it.
But the head of the house of Stahlberg took little heed of the gossip or of the major's att.i.tude toward his fellow-men, and approached him without hesitation. The bitter, disappointed man, who shunned all the world, could not fail to admire in the manufacturer much that was akin to his own nature, and while their acquaintance never ripened into friends.h.i.+p, Falkenried understood and appreciated Stahlberg's rugged character, and in the years in which they lived near one another the Stahlberg house was the only one which he ever entered willingly. So he grew to know the children of the house intimately, and kept up his intercourse with the family after his return to Berlin. When Wallmoden married he felt that both he and Adelheid had been hardly treated by the Colonel, when the latter sent some plausible excuse for not attending the wedding. Adelheid knew little or nothing of the Colonel's fateful history. She supposed him to be childless, and had only recently learned from her husband that he had married very young, been divorced from his wife for many years, and was now a widower.
Eight days after the return of the Wallmodens, as Adelheid was sitting at her writing table late one afternoon, Colonel Falkenried was announced. She rose at once, threw down her pen and hastened to greet her old friend.
”How glad I am to see you, dear Colonel. We received your telegram, and Herbert was just about to start to the station to meet you himself, when he received a summons from the duke and had to go at once to the castle, so we could only send the carriage for you.” Her greeting was warm and cordial, such as an old friend of her father might have expected, but Falkenried, while not exactly distant, was certainly not hearty. He took the extended hand, but his manner was cold and earnest, and he said indifferently, as he took the chair offered him: ”Well, we can talk to one another until his return.”
The colonel had changed, changed so greatly as to be past recognition.
Were it not for the tall and erect bearing he would be taken for an old man. The hair of this man in his fifty-second year was snow white, his forehead was deeply ploughed with furrows, and the deep lines in his face told of sorrow beyond all hope of cure. The countenance, which had once been so full of expression, had a staring, uncomfortable look now, and his manner bespoke a reserve and repression which could not be penetrated. Regine's expression, ”The man seems turned to stone,” was only too true.
One could not help forming the impression that the good or ill of his fellow creatures were both matters of supreme indifference to him; he lived only in the fulfillment of the duties of his profession.
”I have disturbed you, Ada,” he said, using the old name which he had always heard in her father's house, as he threw a glance at the half-finished letter on the writing table.
”Oh, there's plenty of time,” his hostess answered carelessly. ”I was only writing to Eugen.”
”Ah, yes; I saw him day before yesterday, and he sent his love to you.”
”I knew he would go to Berlin on purpose to see you. He has not seen you for over two years, and neither have I, except for the moment, as we pa.s.sed through Berlin. We did hope you would come out to Burgsdorf while we were there, and Regine felt sorely vexed that you did not accept her invitation.”
The colonel looked at her gloomily. He knew, too well, the bitter memories a.s.sociated with the place. He had only been there a couple of times since his return to Berlin.
”Regine understands how much my time is occupied,” he answered evasively. ”But to return to your brother, I want to speak to you about something, Ada, and I am not sorry we are alone. What is the matter between Eugen and his brother-in-law? What has happened?”
A shade of embarra.s.sment crossed Adelheid's face at this question, but she answered carelessly: ”Nothing especial, only they don't exactly understand each other.”