Part 20 (1/2)
”Why, of course. We wouldn't have lent him another penny long ago; but for the sake of his wife, who is really a lovely woman; we can't let him go to ruin entirely. Of course he knows that better than any one else, and so she is always obliged to be of the party when any new credit is to be obtained. A week ago to-day, when we were in Pluggenhof, Otto paid his attentions to her at the table in the wildest way--in the presence of his own wife, nee Baroness von Grieben-Keffen--and half an hour after dinner Brandow had his five thousand thalers in his pocket. It was a piece of madness on Otto's part; we had agreed that we would not give more than five thousand together. It would have proved a capital thing for us, but that d.a.m.ned Jew has spoiled it again. The devil knows why he helped him.
And the a.s.sessor told me he had been paid too. Twenty-five thousand thalers at one slap! I don't understand it at all--and that's saying something, for I generally know all his tricks and turns. The Pastor thinks you, and n.o.body else, have given him the money; and in return Brandow will overlook it if you and his wife--there, you needn't fly into a rage. Parson's gossip, that's all. You would take care of yourself--twenty-five thousand--ridiculous! But he has it--that's a fact, as they say in England--ever been in England? I was there--eight years ago when we were arranging about the Sundin races--famous country! horses, women, sheep--famous!-what was I going to say? He has the twenty-five thousand, and Dollan's safe for five years, the a.s.sessor says; and now Brownlock too! d.a.m.n! that is a horse! On my honor, I haven't seen his equal even in England. What action! What a hock! And how he went over everything! Magnificent! But too heavy! too heavy, 'pon honor--he won't cross the piece of marsh-land we have now taken into the race-course. They say Prince Prora declared it wasn't fair! It's all very well for him to talk, he has no interest in the racing! Won't you come in with us? I hear there is to be a little card-party made up.”
”I have never gambled, and--my headache is coming on again.”
”Strange, I've no more idea what a headache is than if I had no head--you artists probably get it from the oil paints; they smell abominably.”
CHAPTER XIX.
The young n.o.bleman followed the others, who had already entered the house and gone into Brandow's room on the right of the hall, where the gaming-table, as Gotthold had noticed through the window, was already prepared.
”Why, Herr Weber, are you going to stay out here?” asked Rieke, who had been standing in the hall, and now approached him.
Her gray eyes rested upon him with a very friendly expression, and the thought pa.s.sed through his mind that it probably depended only upon himself to win the goodwill of this avaricious creature, and even now he might make up for his neglect, nay must do so if he wished to accomplish the object for which he had returned to Dollan. He had given her a very handsome present when he took his departure that morning; perhaps he only needed to go on as he had begun.
”We didn't expect to see you again so soon,” added the girl; ”and you went away so suddenly: you left a great many things behind; a beautiful red silk handkerchief--shall I get it for you?”
She was now standing close beside him, and as if by accident, touched his arm.
”I think it would be very becoming to you,” said Gotthold.
”Do you? I should think you would know a great deal about what was becoming to me. You never had eyes for anybody except--some one else.”
”Where is your mistress to-day? Why doesn't she appear?” asked Gotthold, and then as he fancied he saw a cloud pa.s.s over the girl's face, added: ”I would give a great deal to know.”
”How much?” said the girl, with a roguish laugh.
”Rieke, where are you?” cried Brandow's voice from the dining-room.
”We want some more gla.s.ses. Where is the girl?” and he banged the door angrily behind him.
”He didn't see us,” whispered Rieke. ”I must go in now, but I'll come back again directly.”
She glided away; Gotthold stood still a few moments, undecided whether to make an attempt to see Cecilia on his own account or not. There was no question that the girl could be of use to him if she chose; but would she choose? She seemed really frightened when Brandow called; but he had not relied much upon the fickle favor of the frivolous la.s.s, and perhaps the whole thing was a preconcerted plot between Brandow and the girl in order to make sure of him, entangle him the more firmly in the net. No, it was better, trusting only to his own skill, to take advantage of the opportunity.
And the opportunity was more favorable, than any which might offer again. A second stolen glance through the window into the already lighted room showed him that the party were busily engaged in their game--faro apparently--and Brandow had the bank--so he could not leave now. Rieke was standing at the back of the tolerably large room with a waiter full of gla.s.ses, which the Pastor was filling from a large bowl--so she too was employed for the present. The hall was perfectly still; the table in the dining-room still stood just as the guests had left it--the solitary candle at which they had lighted their cigars flickered in the strong draught, as if ready to go out. This room was also unoccupied; so he succeeded in reaching the dusky garden unseen.
Although the sun had scarcely set, it was almost dark. The clouds, which had dispersed a little during the afternoon, were once more piled in huge dark ma.s.ses, which a high wind blowing in irregular gusts, drove to and fro as if in wild sport. The tops of the old trees swayed hither and thither; and the tall hedges rustled and hissed like a thousand sharp tongues.
So it seemed to Gotthold. Again and again he paused, gasping for breath; he was so entirely unaccustomed to do anything by stealth. And yet it must be; he could not part from her forever in this way.
The end of the house, in the lower part of which was her chamber, and above it the room he had occupied, looked out upon a smaller garden, which was separated from the courtyard by a wall, shut in on the opposite side by a barn, and divided from the larger garden at the back of the house by a very thick, high hedge. It had originally been a fruit and vegetable garden, and a few huge old apple and pear trees still stood in different parts of it; but had afterwards been converted into a play-ground for the children of the house, for whose sake the asparagus and cuc.u.mber beds had been transformed into a gra.s.s plot, and a narrow door cut through the thick wall of the nursery.
Gotthold had repeatedly seen Cecilia, who always retired early in the evening, in this garden with the child, or--at a later hour--alone. His hope was to find her here, or at any rate to make known his presence, of which she had probably not been informed, and--he did not know what would, must happen then; he only said to himself that things could not, should not remain as they were.
The place, so far as it could be seen from the door, was empty, but a light appeared at first one and then another window. Cautiously as he closed the door, he could not prevent its creaking loudly on its rusty hinges; at the same moment a watch-dog with which Gretchen often played sprang towards the intruder with a loud bark, but was silent again as soon as it recognized Gotthold. He accepted the animal's caresses as a good omen, and walked cautiously on towards the light, which now streamed steadily from one window, that of the child's sleeping-room, which adjoined Cecilia's. Gotthold, with a beating heart, approached it and saw her.
She had apparently just put the little girl's playthings away, and then sank into a chair beside the table, supporting her forehead upon her left hand, the image of grief. The rays of the light standing behind her clearly revealed the exquisite shape of the head, the delicate outlines of the slender neck, the soft curves of the shoulders and bust, while the deep shadow seemed to increase the expression of sorrow upon the pure features. Gotthold's heart overflowed with love and pity.