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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Felix Lanzberg's Expiation, by Ossip Schubin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Felix Lanzberg's Expiation
+
+Author: Ossip Schubin
+
+Translator: Élise L. Lathrop
+
+Release Date: March 13, 2011 [EBook #35571]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FELIX LANZBERG'S EXPIATION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://books.google.com/books?id=ZQoZAAAAYAAJ
+
+   2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
+
+   3. Lacunae in English version were compared to the German edition
+      (Ehre). Corrections to English version are shown in bold.
+
+      Page 72, 3rd para., end of last sentence: wird ZUR GEWIßHEIT.
+          Linda's Mutter hat ihn betrogen? Linda WEIß nichts!
+
+          BECOMES CERTAIN that Linda's mother has deceived him; Linda
+          KNOWS nothing!
+
+      Page 72, 4th para, first sentence: Da fordert der PRIESTER sein
+          "Ja!"
+
+          Then the PRIEST demands his "Yes!"
+
+      Page 73, para. 1: --reine FARBENPATZEN.--Sind von einer
+          Schlamperei diese Franzosen!--Daß sich wirklich NOCH JEMAND
+          von ihnen prellen läßt!" So schließt Papa HARFINK, der
+          Kunstkritiker.
+
+          --regular DAUBS OF COLORS. These Frenchmen are tricky.
+          REALLY, PEOPLE are cheated by them. Thus concludes Papa
+          HARFINK, the art critic.
+
+      Page 244, para. 2: Sie aß ohne Ziererei und ohne Gier, nippte nur
+          an dem Champagner, lächelte gutwillig über DIE frechsten
+          Scherze, ob SIE SELBE VERSTAND ODER auch nicht verstand, mit
+          der Resignation eines Geschöpfes, DAS ES GEWOHNT IST, sich
+          auf diese Weise sein Brot zu verdienen.
+
+          She ate without affectation and without greediness--only
+          sipped the champagne, smiled good-naturedly at THE boldest
+          jokes, whether she understood THEM OR not, with the
+          resignation of a being WHO WAS ACCUSTOMED to earn her bread
+          in this manner.
+
+      Page 244, para. 3: DIE ALTE MANUELA schnarchte längst. Einige der
+          OFFIZIERE waren melancholisch geworden, ...
+
+          THE OLD MANUELA had long been snoring. Some the OFFICERS had
+          grown melancholy, ...
+
+      Page 245, para. 4: Er pflegte sie, wie ein Bräutigam die
+          ROSENKNOSPE, die ihm seine liebe Braut geschenkt hat--ja, so
+          PFLEGTE FELIX die welke gelbe Blume, die DER COULISSENSTAUB
+          beschmutzt--auf die EIN AKROBAT GETRETEN HABEN MOCHTE!
+
+          He cherished it like a lover the ROSE-BUD which his dear one
+          had given him; yes, thus WOULD FELIX cherish the faded yellow
+          flower which THE DUST [IN THE WINGS] OF the stage had
+          soiled--upon which AN ACROBAT MIGHT HAVE trodden.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Elsa springs up--she listens breathlessly.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            FELIX LANZBERG'S
+
+                               EXPIATION
+
+
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                             OSSIP SCHUBIN
+
+
+
+
+                             TRANSLATED BY
+
+                            ÉLISE L. LATHROP
+
+
+
+
+                              ILLUSTRATED
+
+
+
+
+                                NEW YORK
+                          WORTHINGTON COMPANY
+                              747 BROADWAY
+                                  1892
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          Copyright, 1892, by
+                          WORTHINGTON COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      Press of J. J. Little & Co.
+                         Astor Place, New York
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      FELIX LANZBERG'S EXPIATION.
+
+
+
+
+                                   I.
+
+
+"My dear Falk, do not tear past me so unheedingly, I beg you! Do you,
+then, not recognize me?"
+
+Thus a stout old lady cries in a deep rough voice to a gentleman whose
+arm she has energetically grasped with both hands.
+
+The gentleman--his carriage betokens a retired officer; his wrinkles
+betray him to be a contemporary of the lady--starts back.
+
+"Oh! it is you, Baroness!" cries he, and half recalls that forty years
+or so ago he was an admirer of hers, and remembers very distinctly that
+last winter he had quarrelled with her at whist on account of a revoke.
+
+"I am indescribably pleased," he adds, with well-bred resignation, and
+at the same time glances after a passing blonde chignon whose
+coquettish curls float to and fro as if they said "catch me!"
+
+"Ah, ah! age does not protect you from folly!" laughs the old woman.
+"She interests you, the person with the yellow hair, eh? Dyed, my dear
+man, dyed, I assure you. It is not worth the trouble to run after her.
+Her back is pretty, _mais pour le reste!_ Hm! Sit down and talk to me
+for a little!"
+
+The yellow chignon has vanished round a corner and the energetic old
+woman has drawn her ex-adorer down on a bench in the meagre shade of a
+watering-place promenade, upon a grass-green bench under gray-brown
+trees.
+
+It is in Franzensbad in July; afternoon; around them the sleepy
+stillness of a place where there is nothing to do and one cannot amuse
+one's self.
+
+Some ladies, pale, sickly, dressed with the grotesque elegance which is
+permissible in a watering-place, pass, some with arms bare to the
+elbow, others with pearls round their necks, still others with floating
+hair.
+
+"How glad I am, my dear Colonel!" cries the old Baroness to her
+captive, for at least the tenth time. "But how are you, pray tell me?
+No! Where do you get your elixir of life? You remain so fabulously
+young!"
+
+In fact the Colonel, closely shaven and dressed in the latest fashion,
+slender and active as he is, at a hundred paces looks like a young
+dandy; at twenty paces, at least like the mummy of one. Still he
+parries the old lady's compliments, while he shakes his head and shrugs
+his shoulders disparagingly.
+
+"Positively--positively!" croaks the old woman. "And now tell me what
+is the news with you people in Marienbad? It is not in vain that they
+call you 'Le Figaro de Marienbad.'"
+
+Marienbad, a few hours distant from Franzensbad, is the present
+stopping place of the Colonel.
+
+"News? News?" grumbles the Colonel. "A mill burned down yesterday,
+three head of cattle and two men with it."
+
+"Oh, cease such ordinary, horrible stories. What does society?"
+
+"Rejoices that it has opportunity of diversion through a fair for
+charity."
+
+"So? Ah!--and what else?"
+
+"Last night Princess Barenburg's groom hung himself. Perhaps that
+interests you?"
+
+"Ah, very agreeable that! Poor Clémence is unfortunate!" says the
+Baroness, compassionately.
+
+"Yes, the Pancini also!" remarks the Colonel, and looks down
+indifferently at the flower in his buttonhole.
+
+"Why she?"
+
+"What? you do not know!" cries the Colonel in astonishment. "Her last
+admirer, the Polish prince with the unpronounceable name, has turned
+out to be a circus rider."
+
+"The handsome blond with the mysterious political past."
+
+"It seems to have been merely a politic silence," jokes the Colonel.
+
+"_Tiens, tiens!_--how delightful--how delightful! But do you know it
+positively?" she asks with anxious excitement.
+
+"Positively! Nicki Arenhain, two years ago in Madrid, saw him dressed
+in a green satin jacket and white tights springing through hoops--she
+identified him at once. Famous story, quite famous." The Colonel rubs
+his hands with satisfaction--the old Baroness knocks enthusiastically
+on the ground with her umbrella, like an animated amateur who applauds
+her favorite virtuoso.
+
+"Excellent!" croaks she. "It serves her right, that Pancini, who
+permits herself to be as arrogant as a born lady. It serves her right,
+the soap-boiler's daughter."
+
+"Pardon! her father was a pawn-broker--or was in some banking
+business--I really do not remember----"
+
+"It is all the same--she will have to step down now. Bravo! Bravo!"
+
+"I know something else, Baroness," says the Colonel proudly, and
+smiling slyly. "A decided bit of news, _pour la bonne bouche_!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Felix Lanzberg is to be married."
+
+The Baroness is speechless; she opens her mouth, stares at the Colonel,
+clutches his arm, and only after several seconds she stammers softly:
+"The--the--certain--Lanzberg?"
+
+"Yes--it is considered certain."
+
+"Whom?"
+
+"Look around."
+
+The Baroness looks around. In the back seat of a carriage just rolling
+past them sit two ladies, one of whom, a woman in the fifties,
+tastelessly dressed, loaded with cameos and Florentine mosaics, has the
+piercing eyes, the excessive thinness as well as the aimless, twitching
+movements of a very uneasy temperament, while her neighbor at the left,
+beautiful and young, lazily crumpling her striking toilet, leans back
+among the cushions, the embodiment of dissatisfied indolence. A student
+with a bright red cap occupies the small seat opposite. On the box,
+usurping the coachman's raised seat, is a short individual with a
+crimson cravat between a blue shirt and purple face, a short, bright
+yellow foulard coat and large Panama hat. He smacks his lips
+incessantly at the horses, in driving holds his elbows far out from his
+sides so that one could easily place a travelling bag under each arm,
+and groans and puffs from exertion and attention. Near him, faultlessly
+erect, arms solemnly crossed on his chest, sits a majestic coachman,
+every feature expressing the despair of a distinguished servant who, in
+a weak hour, had let himself be persuaded to enter the service of an
+ordinary millionnaire.
+
+"Who is this elegant gentleman?" asked the Baroness, raising her
+lorgnon, still wholly absorbed in contemplating the interesting foulard
+back.
+
+"Felix Lanzberg's future father-in-law, Mr. Harfink."
+
+"He?" sighs the Baroness, emphatically. "Poor Felix! He does not
+deserve such punishment."
+
+The Colonel shrugs his shoulders. "What punishment? He is not marrying
+the father, and the daughter is charming--a refined beauty, a truly
+aristocratic girl, and I do not believe that she will ever worry
+Lanzberg by especial clinging to her parental house. Now I must part
+from you, _nolens volens_, Baroness--regret it deeply--I have a letter
+to deliver to the Countess Dey."
+
+"I will go with you, I will go with you," cries the old lady,
+animatedly. "Give me your arm and imagine it was forty years ago."
+
+And he, in his quality of man of the world condemned to perpetual
+politeness, gives her his arm and walks on laughing and chatting, at
+the side of the colossally stout woman with the servile, nodding little
+head--a martyr of _bon ton_.
+
+
+The Colonel and his friend were both fond of gossip--with the
+difference that the Colonel, an independent man, related scandal for
+his own pleasure, while the Baroness very often did so to please
+others. Her name was Baroness Klettenstein, but usually she was simply
+called _Klette_ (burr) because she could never be shaken off. She also
+had a second equally pretty nickname. In consequence of her
+indestructible life at the cost of others--she was remarkably robust
+for her sixty-six years--she had been christened the "immortal
+Cantharide." Hungrily she crept from one house to another, gained
+admission by a budget of malicious news, which, as we have seen, she
+collected indefatigably, at times even invented. She always rendered
+homage to the rising, never remembered even to have known the setting
+sun. And when, weary of her tiring parasitism, she rested in her tiny
+room at Prague, which was the only home she possessed, she swore that
+she would have been just as unselfish, just as truth-loving and
+discreet as others, if only her income had sufficed for her needs.
+
+Out of breath and panting, she entered the park on the arm of the
+Colonel. The bandmaster, a Pole with an interesting, revolutionist
+face, swings the baton with graceful languor. The ladies, leaning back
+in their white chairs on either side of the broad gravel walk, look
+weary, limp, and melancholy in their gay gowns, like flowers which a
+too hot sunbeam has withered and faded. They are worn, thin, and
+colorless, but for their toilets; but the transparent paleness of their
+faces, the excessive thinness of their forms lends them a certain
+charm, something fairylike and distinguished, refinedly aristocratic
+and Undine-like. Invalidism is less becoming to the men at the cure;
+many of them resemble corpses which an enterprising physiologist has
+exhumed to experiment upon.
+
+The first row of tables are already occupied, but an attendant,
+understanding the Klette's glance, brings forward another from the rear
+and places it where she is told. Hereupon the Baroness calls for coffee
+for two, and invites the Colonel in the most polite manner to sit
+beside her, and as he cannot deny that from this spot, purposely chosen
+by the Klette for a fine view of all present, he can soonest espy
+Countess Dey whom he has sought in vain, he resolves to await her here.
+
+Slowly the guests stroll along the promenade: most noticeable of all,
+admired or at least stared at by all, Linda Harfink. Her large, dark
+hat with its scarlet feather throws a mysterious shadow on her pale
+face; a black lace scarf is twisted round her throat and tied in a
+careless knot behind. Her pale green dress clings tightly, and yet in
+folds around her figure. Near her walks a young man, blond and
+handsome; in spite of his handsome figure and Nero-profile, too foppish
+and dandified, too strikingly dressed in the latest fashion, to be
+taken for any one but an elegant _parvenu_.
+
+"Who is he?" asks Klette, her mouth full of bread, a coffee cup in her
+hand.
+
+"A young Baron Rh[oe]den, born Grau. The family was ennobled five years
+ago, and since then only call themselves by the predicate," replies the
+Colonel. "A cousin of Linda--very nice fellow--_garçon coiffeur_, but
+very nice for his sphere--seems to be uncommonly smitten with his
+cousin."
+
+Through the evening air floats a sentimental potpourri from the "Flying
+Dutchman." The Harfinks, who wish to return the same evening to
+Marienbad, where they are staying, have left the park. Gazing down in
+coquettish silence at a rose in her hand, Linda has vanished through
+the gateway of the park, on the arm of her cousin, in the golden light
+of the setting sun.
+
+"Colonel!" now cries a gay voice.
+
+"Ah, Countess!" Intently gazing after Linda's seductive apparition, the
+Colonel had not noticed the approach of the so-long-awaited Countess
+Dey. Now he springs up, "falls at her feet, kisses her hands,"
+naturally only with words, and searches all his pockets for the letter
+for her.
+
+The Countess meanwhile, with lorgnon at her eyes, indifferently gazes
+at her surroundings.
+
+"I just met a little person who is considered a great beauty--Hopfing
+or Harpfink is her name, I believe. They say that Lanzberg is engaged
+to her--that cannot be true?"
+
+"I have heard so too," says the Colonel. "Curious match--what do you
+say to it, Countess?"
+
+"Felix Lanzberg is as unfortunate as ever," murmurs the Countess.
+
+But Klette shrugs her fat shoulders and hisses: "What does it matter if
+a certain Lanzberg makes a mésalliance?"
+
+
+
+
+                                  II.
+
+
+A tall form, slender, perhaps too narrow-shouldered, with too long
+arms, a small head with bushy, light brown hair fastened in a thick
+knot low on her neck, a golden furze at neck and temples, a pale,
+almost sallow, little face with large blue eyes, which love to look up
+and away from the earth like those of a devout cherub, a short, small
+nose, a little mouth which, with the corners slightly curving up, seems
+destined by nature for continual laughter, but later evidently
+disturbed by fate in this gay calling, in every movement the dreamy
+grace of a woman who, when scarcely grown, had experienced a great
+misfortune or a severe illness, all this pervaded by a breath of
+fanciful earnestness, melancholy tenderness, and united into an
+harmonious whole--Elsa--the sister of the "certain Felix Lanzberg," and
+since five years the wife of the Freiherr von Garzin.
+
+She is like a flower, but not like one of those proud, luxuriant roses
+which pass their life amid sunbeams and butterflies, but rather one of
+those delicate, white blossoms which have grown in deep shadow during a
+cold spring, and which close their petals from the sun.
+
+"Mamma, the letters dance again to-day," complains a little voice, the
+voice of Felicie, Elsa's four-year-old daughter, who with bare legs,
+her little form encased in a red embroidered gray linen frock, her
+towzled yellow curls fastened with a red ribbon, stands before her
+mamma.
+
+Elsa sits in a deep arm-chair, an alphabet on her knees. "Look very
+hard at the naughty letters and they will be quiet," says she with a
+smile. She finds that Felicie makes that excuse of dancing letters too
+often.
+
+The child tries to look hard at the letters.
+
+"M--a," spells she. "Mamma," she cries in great triumph at having
+spelled out a word which she knows so well.
+
+"Bravo, Litzi!"
+
+Litzi leans closely, closely against her mother's knees. "Mamma, the
+letters are tired," whispers she, "they want to go to sleep." And Elsa
+this time thinks that one cannot expect too much industry from such a
+tiny little bit of humanity, so she kisses the child and says, "Well,
+put them to bed, then." Whereupon, Litzi, with much pretext of
+business, puts the alphabet away in the drawer, while Elsa, leaning
+back comfortably in her arm-chair, her feet crossed, her arms clasped
+around her knees, gives herself up to that lazy thinking which with
+happy people is called reverie, with unhappy ones brooding. The room in
+which she sits, half boudoir, half library, furnished with tall
+book-cases, étagères, old faience and Japanese lacquer work, and filled
+with the perfume of the sweetest flowers, is an ideal nest for a young
+woman of good taste and serious habits.
+
+"Mamma, why must I learn to read?" asks Litzi after a while.
+
+"So as to be a wise girl," replies Elsa, absently.
+
+"Mamma, can the dear God read too?"
+
+"The dear God can do everything that He wishes," says Elsa, with
+difficulty restraining her laughter.
+
+"Everything?" asks the little one, with great, surprised eyes. "Could
+He make Fido into a cow?"
+
+Fido, a white bull-dog with pointed black ears and a black spot on his
+shoulder, raises his upper lip and shows his teeth pleasantly as a sign
+that he, clever dog that he is, notices when he is spoken of.
+
+"The dear God does not wish to do foolish things," says Elsa, very
+seriously.
+
+"But if He wanted to?"
+
+The door opens. Fido rises from the streak of sunlight in which he has
+been lying. "Papa!" cries Litzi, and a young man, blond, with unusually
+attractive dark eyes, seizes her under the shoulders, and raising her
+to him he says: "Litzi, Litzi, you are a dear little mouse, but a great
+big goose. Accustom yourself to the conditional."
+
+"What is conditional?"
+
+"A form of expression which leads one to much useless conjecture."
+
+"But, Erwin!" laughingly admonishes Elsa.
+
+"Perhaps you did not wholly understand me, Litzi?" he asks, drolly
+staring at the child.
+
+She shakes her head, and says somewhat vexedly, "You are laughing at
+me, papa."
+
+"Only a very little bit, so that you may get used to it, you pretty
+little scamp, you," says he, tenderly pinching her cheeks, "and now you
+may go to Mlle. Angelique, and ask her to put a clean dress and a
+pretty sash on you, for Uncle Felix is coming to dinner. Can you find
+the way?"
+
+He has placed her on the ground, and led her to the door, then looks
+after her until, calling "Angelique! Angelique!" she is met by a pretty
+French _bonne_.
+
+"And how is your Highness?" he now turns to his wife, who holds out
+both hands to him.
+
+"How long it is since one has seen you to-day," says she.
+
+"Has 'one' missed me a little?"
+
+"Do not ask such foolish questions!"
+
+"Thanks! I was very busy or else I should have burdened you with my
+presence sooner," says he, gayly. "And now give me your keys, so that I
+can put away your money."
+
+"Oh, my quarterly allowance. How much is it?"
+
+He hands her a little bundle of bank-notes.
+
+"Count!"
+
+"I do not understand, it is different every time. You always give me
+more than is due me," replies she, shaking her head.
+
+"Leave me this innocent pleasure. You are always in debt," says he,
+while he locks the notes in a drawer of her writing-desk.
+
+Erwin never would acknowledge the equal rights of woman with regard to
+the cares of life. He was pleased that Elsa, who read the most abstract
+treatises on political economy, did not understand an iota of business.
+He had purposely left her in this darkness, and she did not fight
+against it. He paid her the interest of her property, insisted that she
+should spend it exclusively upon her poor and her own fancies, and she
+never asked what he did with the capital.
+
+"May I write here?" he asks over his shoulder, sitting down at her
+writing-desk then, without waiting for an answer. "A lady's
+writing-desk without invitations and charitable circulars. The
+inspector has become confused about that farm business of your little
+_protégé_ in Johannesthal." He writes quickly.
+
+"The inspector is good for nothing," grumbles Elsa. "That is to say, he
+is newly married."
+
+Erwin defends his bailiff.
+
+"There, that is done. You can tell your little friend that it is all
+arranged. Hm! Elsa! Do you think that I would have been much more
+practical during our honeymoon than my inspector?"
+
+"Ah, you," says Elsa, who evidently does not understand how her husband
+can compare himself to his overseer, Cibulka. He has laid aside his pen
+and now pushes his chair lazily up to hers.
+
+"You will make marks in my carpet, you careless man," says she.
+
+"Do not cry," he says, consolingly. "I will buy you a new one, as the
+banker said to his daughter when her husband died."
+
+"I congratulate you on your fine comparison," says she, kissing his
+hair lightly. "Now I must dress for dinner."
+
+"Already? Am I to be sentenced to read the paper?"
+
+It was a little more than five years ago that Erwin Garzin had come to
+his estate of Steinbach adjoining the beautiful Lanzberg Traunberg in
+order to arrange his business after the death of his father. Elsa, with
+whom he had as boy played many a trick, he had found a grown girl. At
+that time nineteen years old, her mind, matured by pain, was far in
+advance of her years, her body far behind. She had the slender,
+undeveloped form of a child too quickly grown, and carried her head
+always bent forward, like a young tree over which a cold storm has
+passed, and was always sad and depressed. At times, to be sure, she
+smiled suddenly like a true child, but only for a moment, and her eyes
+were almost always moist. She spoke little and had a hollow, almost too
+deep voice. And yet the first time that Erwin heard this hollow voice
+his heart beat strangely, and that night he lay awake and was angry at
+the sweet song of a nightingale which disturbed him in his efforts to
+remember that hollow voice.
+
+It was spring-time then, a mixture of showers and rainbows, flowers
+heavy with dew, bright foliage and mild air. Erwin fell hopelessly in
+love with the pale daughter of old Mr. Lanzberg. She, however, avoided
+him, not with that pretty maidenly reserve behind which the coquetry of
+the future woman usually lurks, but with the shy despondency of a sick
+owl dreading the light. When he had at length accustomed her to his
+society he was still miles from his aim. She did not think of what most
+young girls do. She was wholly absorbed in consoling her bowed father,
+in pitying her unfortunate brother, at that time dwelling in a far
+distant land. Her heart was full, longed for no other feeling,
+suspected none, and yet slowly her whole being warmed; something like a
+cure was effected in her, and the day came when she laid her small hand
+firmly and confidingly in Erwin's and for the first time he
+whisperingly called her his betrothed.
+
+But he had not yet won. Soon she expressed her scruples at dragging the
+shadow which made her so sad under his roof, then at leaving her
+father. When they proved to her that nothing could so help the bowed
+man as the consolation of seeing at least one of his children happy,
+the wedding day was at length appointed. A strange turn suddenly seized
+her when Erwin one day asked her in what part of Vienna she would
+prefer to live.
+
+"In Vienna?" cried she. "We are to live in the city?" Whereupon he
+replied: "My treasure, you know that I am not a rich man, and the rents
+of Steinbach only just suffice for the support of a very economical
+couple. Therefore I, and you with me are dependent upon my career. But
+I like to work. I have fine connections, and the times are favorable to
+ambitious people. You will yet be the wife of an Excellency, Elsa!"
+
+From her pale face it could be read that she did not see the slightest
+pleasure in being the wife of a governor, ambassador, or minister. Her
+hand grew limp and cold in his, she evaded his caresses, and every time
+that evening that his glance met hers, her eyes were filled with tears.
+Her exaggerated aversion to the world disquieted him, without seeming
+to him other than a symptom of diseased nerves; he thought that his
+loving patience must vanquish it, and when the next morning his servant
+brought him a letter from Elsa, he admired the strange, energetic,
+large letters of the address, and played with it, firmly convinced that
+it could not contain anything important. It contained the following:
+
+
+"Above all things, many, many thanks for the sympathizing friendship
+which you have always showed to us, my father and me. Never should I
+have allowed myself to be persuaded into an engagement with you. I
+should be a lamentable wife for you. I will not hinder you in your
+career, and I cannot live in the world even for your sake. Therefore I
+give you back your word. I wish you all joy and happiness in the world,
+and as to me, when you have become a great man, keep a little friendly
+remembrance of the spring of '70.                     Elsa."
+
+
+What could he do but rush over to Traunberg, overwhelm her with tender
+reproaches, represent to her subtly and incontrovertibly that her
+shyness was morbid, her yielding to this mood fairly wrong.
+
+"Am I then nothing to you?" he finally cried, vexedly.
+
+Then she raised her large eyes, eyes such as Raphael has painted in the
+sweet face of the little John, as he kneels near the sleeping child
+Jesus, his God and his King.
+
+"I believe you love a quite different person from me--you do not know
+me!" she whispered, shaking her head.
+
+And Erwin flushed crimson and was ashamed of his brutal egoism. He
+kissed her hands, he would torment her no longer--but he could not give
+her up.
+
+He gave her eight days to consider it--all that remained of his
+vacation.
+
+But he did not gain a step during these eight days.
+
+With a heavy heart and hoarse voice he took leave. She smiled.
+
+And yet he never felt more plainly that she loved him. Her love was
+that emotion which is above earthly considerations, which is capable of
+the most painful sacrifices, the most complete renunciation, although,
+or perhaps because she scarcely thought of marriage; in a word, it was
+the love of a very young girl.
+
+It did not resemble his in the slightest. How shallow his life in
+Vienna and his career now seemed to him; how unattractive, how far away
+and vague his aim, and even if he did attain all for which he strove.
+
+The justifications of a true, warm, longing love are always quite
+incontrovertible for him whom it guides.
+
+Elsa stood before the park, under one of the black lindens. It was
+summer, the lindens bloomed, and a dreamy hum of bees pervaded their
+gnarled branches. Elsa looked through the clear summer air in the
+direction in which Castle Steinbach shone white above the wooded
+valley. Then she heard a step--she looked around. It was Erwin, thin,
+in spite of the flush of heat, looking very badly, but with sparkling
+eyes.
+
+"Where do you come from?" cried she, trembling with surprise, with
+happiness.
+
+"From the castle, where I sought you in vain. Your father did not know
+where you were."
+
+"He was asleep--did you wake him?"
+
+"Very possibly, but I had no time to reproach myself! Oh, Elsa, are you
+not in the least glad to see me? I have resigned--I cannot live without
+you!"
+
+She stood there with loudly beating heart, and embarrassed smile, like
+a surprised child before a Christmas tree.
+
+"You pay a high price for a miserable little thing," murmured she, and
+fairly wept.
+
+"Happiness desires to be paid dearly for--it seems to me a small one!"
+whispered he.
+
+Thereupon she was silent for a moment, looked at him anxiously,
+solemnly; was it possible that he clung to her, such a weak,
+insignificant creature? Then suddenly, with her lovely look of
+embarrassment, she threw both arms around him. "Oh you----" she cried,
+and paused because she found no word that in her opinion was great and
+splendid enough for him. "How I will love you!"
+
+It was a risky experiment, to tear himself away from his customary
+occupation and society, and wish to pass the rest of his life at the
+side of a nervous misanthropical wife.
+
+How did it succeed?
+
+He had feared having too little to do, had provided himself with books,
+quite like a diplomat sent to Japan. To his astonished delight, he soon
+found not only how much there was to occupy him but how much he could
+accomplish with the income from Steinbach, which he had been accustomed
+to estimate at two or three per cent., and which now daily increased;
+for the many lives around him whose weal and woe he held in his hands,
+from the overseer and farmers to the day-laborers, and then Elsa!
+
+How beautiful she grew after he had slowly kissed away the deep sadness
+from her face--and how lovely! The frivolous love of pleasure and
+gayety which is considered normal in young women never developed in
+her; she always remained quiet, but a dreamy happiness shone
+continually in her eyes, she was so blissfully happy.
+
+What a charming companion! She rode with the endurance and indifferent
+courage of a man, read everything, was interested in everything,
+noticed everything, spoke of the most forgotten historical characters
+as if she had met them yesterday. She rather spurred him on than
+dragged him down.
+
+Instead of, as he had feared, growing rusty in the country, he had time
+for making good much that he had neglected. She went on long journeys
+with him, but at home associated as little as possible with her
+neighbors. In these years Elsa was apparently one of the happiest women
+in the world.
+
+She was only sad when she thought of Felix.
+
+Her father, shortly after her marriage, blessing her a thousandfold,
+had died in her arms. Felix had returned to his home.
+
+
+
+
+                                  III.
+
+
+The two brothers-in-law sit alone in the circle of light which a
+garden lamp throws in a corner of the garden shaded by elder trees.
+Dinner is long over, they have ceased laughing at Litzi's childish
+pranks and remarks; she has become sleepy, and Elsa has taken her away
+to lay her in her pretty little white bed. The two men, meanwhile, are
+smoking their cigars in the open air.
+
+"Erwin, do you happen to know these Harfinks?" Felix asks his
+brother-in-law quite suddenly, in the embarrassed tone of a humiliated,
+bored man, and with the slightly husky voice which distinguishes all
+generations of indulgent and effeminate races.
+
+The "certain Lanzberg" is indisputably of an attractive appearance--the
+beauty of his sister in a man--and yet softer. All the lines of his
+face are rounder, less decided; the features of a faultless regularity,
+the eyes still bluer, and yet the whole face lacks Elsa's lovely,
+evident peace; the eyes are always weary and half closed; his full lips
+wear a suffering, tormented expression, and the light brown color of
+his complexion, in its natural color like Elsa's, is nevertheless ashy
+in comparison to her healthy pallor, and furrowed with little wrinkles.
+
+"Do you know these Harfinks?" he asks, softly.
+
+"Harfink fitted up my sugar factory," replies Erwin, and glances
+closely at his brother-in-law. "In consequence I have met him several
+times. Recently, in Marienbad, he reminded me of our acquaintance, and
+introduced me to his wife and daughter."
+
+"Strange man!" says Felix, shaking his head.
+
+"Yes, strange, silly! His wife is repulsive, both are very ordinary."
+
+"Yes, both," repeats Felix, and with the toe of his boot draws figures
+in the sand. "But the daughter?"
+
+"Well, the daughter?" Erwin glances still more attentively at his
+brother-in-law's face.
+
+"She is very well educated," murmurs the latter, indistinctly.
+
+"Her education was probably acquired in a very noble boarding-school,"
+remarks Erwin, dryly. "During the ten minutes of our acquaintance, she
+used the word 'aristocratic' three times, and twice complained that
+society in the Kursaal was so mixed. Besides that, she found the
+country monotonous, the weather dull, the music '_agacante_,' and
+concluded by saying, one rails at Marienbad and yet it was tiresome
+everywhere, for her friend Laure de Lonsigny wrote her quite desperate
+letters from Luchon."
+
+Felix has flushed more and more deeply during this pitiless account.
+"Poor girl, how embarrassed she must have been," says he, excusingly.
+
+"Embarrassed?" Erwin shrugged his shoulders. "She had a great deal of
+self-possession."
+
+"Is not a certain kind of self-possession only a form of
+embarrassment?" asked Felix, shyly.
+
+But Erwin evidently has no inclination to be lenient to Linda's faults.
+He suspects the approach of something which must shatter Felix's
+undermined existence, and seeks a means of meeting it.
+
+"You, perhaps, do not even think her pretty," says Felix, vexedly,
+hesitating.
+
+"Pretty, no; but dazzlingly beautiful. It is a pity that she has
+parents who, with all their perversity, are yet so respectable," says
+Erwin with unmistakable emphasis.
+
+Then Felix bursts out: "It is not only horrible, but absolutely
+indecent to speak of a girl with whom, by your own account, you have
+spoken for scarcely ten minutes, in such a repulsive manner." And as
+his brother-in-law, astonished at such an unusual outbreak from Felix,
+yet looks at him without the slightest harshness or coldness, the
+"certain Lanzberg" grows red and murmurs, "Pardon that I ventured to
+reprove you."
+
+Erwin clenches his fist and opens it again with the gesture of a man
+who has conquered a painful excitement.
+
+Such feelings often came over him in intercourse with his
+brother-in-law, although he felt great pity and much sympathy for
+the good, shy fellow; but his association with him was never wholly
+free, open, but always contained a tinge of sympathetic politeness,
+and there was never that warm abruptness which is a healthy symptom
+of manly friendship. Sad yielding on one side; on the other
+good-natured advances. This, after a half year's acquaintance, was the
+relation of the two brothers-in-law. One must--alas! it could not be
+otherwise--treat Felix as a precious but broken and only artificially
+mended cup of Sèvres porcelain.
+
+"Why does my opinion of the Harfinks interest you?" asks Erwin, now
+going straight to his object.
+
+For a while there is perfect silence, only animated by the soft voices
+of the night, and the fluttering of a moth which has wandered behind
+the tall shade of the garden lamp and has been singed.
+
+"Erwin!" cries Felix, his hands convulsively clasped, in his large
+feverish eyes a look such as Erwin had only once before seen, and then
+in a dying man's who suddenly longed to live. "Do you think that a man
+like me has a right to marry?"
+
+[Illustration: "Do you think a man like me has a right to marry?"]
+
+"No!" sounded harshly and firmly.
+
+It was not Erwin who answered. In the circle of light which the garden
+lamp shed amid the gray moonlight, a tall white form had placed itself
+opposite Felix, behind Erwin's chair.
+
+"No!"
+
+Erwin himself shudders; his wife seems uncanny. So beautiful, so pale,
+with such deathly tenderness, must have looked the angel when he drove
+the beings whom he loved out of Paradise.
+
+Felix lets his head sink in his hands. Elsa bends over him and caresses
+him like a sick child. Erwin wishes to withdraw, but Felix calls him
+back. "Stay, there are no secrets between us. I should have never dared
+take the hand which you held out to me, had I not been convinced that
+you know---- Yes, Elsa," he continued, very bitterly, "you despise me,
+it was cowardly, it was unconscionable to even think of it, but if you
+knew what it is to be weary and alone, with no one on whom to lean for
+support! To have no one to whom one can be anything, for whom one can
+sacrifice oneself, to be perpetually condemned to think of oneself when
+thought is torment and loathing--to be sometimes permitted by pitying
+people to look on at happiness which awakes all the furies in one--yes,
+at first it was a comfort to me to flee to you, to breathe the same air
+with two happy people--but then--your beaming eyes, the little
+tendernesses of your child, even the alms of love which you gave me,
+all made my blood hot and me giddy. My God! I have injured no one but
+myself! Must I be condemned for life? Ten years is usually considered
+enough for a heavy crime, and I would gladly exchange these last ten
+years with any galley slave."
+
+Since his return to his fatherland no one had heard him say so much;
+the gentle, quiet man is not to be recognized.
+
+Elsa stands near him, white and sad, tears are in her eyes, but the
+severe expression of her mouth has not softened. Erwin is more moved
+than she. "Felix," says he, "you go too far. You must not marry the
+young Harfink; she is worldly and selfish, and would seek in a marriage
+with you only the satisfaction of her social vanity."
+
+Felix laughs bitterly.
+
+"But the world is large. You must find a girl who loves you for
+yourself, who will raise you above yourself, who----"
+
+Felix's eyes rest on his brother-in-law, then they turn to Elsa.
+
+"It is all of no use, Erwin;" he suddenly interrupts him and rises.
+"And even if I found what is not to be found, and even if an angel came
+down from heaven to console me, I must repulse her. I have no right to
+marry for the sake of the children who would bear my name. Ask Elsa for
+her opinion."
+
+Elsa bows her head and is silent. He gives Erwin his hand, seizes his
+hat and, without having bid Elsa good-night, with the bearing of an
+offended man, takes a few hasty steps--then he turns, and as he sees
+Elsa still standing motionless, her face drawn with deepest misery,
+near the chair which he has left, he hurries back to her and takes her
+in his arms. "I was wrong to be angry, Elsa," murmurs he. "I know you
+must love me to have forgiven me. It may well be indifferent to him,"
+with a half nod to Erwin. "I was not myself to-day; have patience with
+me."
+
+The tears of the brother and sister mingle. Then Felix tears himself
+away.
+
+"Will you come back to-morrow?" asks Elsa.
+
+"Yes, to say farewell."
+
+"My God! what are you going to do?"
+
+"I am going away--it is better for me elsewhere--and you, you are very
+good to me, but----you do not need me."
+
+With that he goes. Erwin accompanies him. Then he returns to his wife,
+whom he finds where he had left her. She is not one of those who for
+long yield themselves to the weak enjoyment of tears. Her eyes are dry
+again, but so indescribably sad and staring that Erwin would rather see
+them wet. He draws her on his knees and whispers a thousand calming
+words of tenderness to her, but she remains absent.
+
+"So the young Harfink has robbed him of his senses?" she murmurs
+interrogatively.
+
+"So it seems!"
+
+"Poor Felix!--I was very hard to him--I dared not be otherwise. I fear,
+I fear it is all in vain--he will yield. You have the same thought!"
+
+"To dissuade any obstinate man is hard, but sometimes at least
+successful--to dissuade a weak man is quite easy, but always
+unsuccessful," replies Erwin. "Nevertheless let us hope."
+
+"Concerning Felix, hope fails," said Elsa. "O Erwin, Erwin, often it
+seems to me that father had no right to persuade him to live at that
+time!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  IV.
+
+
+Felix rode home.
+
+It was a moonlight night, but none of those which remind one of theatre
+scenery and silver-flecked green paint, such, as painted in oil,
+endanger all German art societies; the objects did not float in that
+universal green-black indistinctness; on the contrary, they stood out
+in sharp relief.
+
+The tall poplars and the short bushy grass at the edge of the road,
+the yellow fields of grain with their dark piles of sheaves, the
+pale flowers in the ditches, the red and black roofs of a distant
+village sleeping between green lindens, a round church cupola and a
+cemetery with its low, white wall, and the dark rows of crosses and
+monuments--all could be seen plainly, only with somewhat faded colors,
+and over all was a misty veil like thin smoke, and a white light shone
+on the poplar leaves, rustling and turning in the night wind. The
+reapers were still working. Through the mild air sounded their song,
+hollow and monotonous, with the quiet sadness which characterizes
+Slavonian folk-songs. Their scythes sparkle in the moonlight;
+occasionally the pleasant face of a young woman, nodding to a youth,
+rises before Felix's eyes from the crowd of workers, irradiated by the
+mystic half light.
+
+Felix watched them as he slowly rode on. He would gladly have been one
+of them, and would have taken upon himself all their burdens in
+exchange for the one he bore. He could have wished that the night had
+been less beautiful, that a dead, winter stillness had prevailed around
+him instead of this strange charm of the mild July moonlight.
+
+The night wind, warm and gentle, caressed his face and his hands, and
+awakened the strangest longing in his heart. His head grew heated; the
+allurements with which his imagination tormented his despondent heart
+grew more and more intense.
+
+The monotonous pace of his horse, the melancholy reaper's song lulled
+him not to sleep, but to that half slumber which produces dreams. He
+did not wholly lose the consciousness of motion; the open road, the
+trees, the wheat-fields, with everything, was mingled a light form; two
+large eyes sparkled half in sadness, half defiantly, and two full red
+lips smiled at him. An indescribable breath of youth and fresh life met
+him.
+
+The yellow fields and the reapers have sunken into the earth--folk-song
+and the swing of the scythes have long sounded only like a vague murmur
+of waters to his distracted ear. His horse stumbles, a twig strikes him
+in the face, he starts.
+
+The white dream-form has vanished, all is dark around him, a solemn,
+far-distant murmur breaks the stillness, and gigantic trees meet over
+the head of the solitary rider.
+
+The horse trembles under him, then rears suddenly, and as he checks it
+he sees in the distance something low and black hurrying away in great
+leaps, sees there--there, close before him, a light figure which slowly
+rises from the ground.
+
+He breathes heavily--for Heaven's sake is he still dreaming? That is
+surely she--Linda!
+
+"Ah! Baron Lanzberg, you here? Thank God," cries she.
+
+"You seem to have met with an unpleasant adventure," says Felix
+confusedly, coughs and springs from his horse without thinking what he
+is doing.
+
+"A very unpleasant one," says she in her high, fresh, girlish voice.
+"That is what comes of insisting upon riding a donkey. We set out on
+foot, my brother and I, to the burned mill, to have the great enjoyment
+of seeing charred beams and skeletons of hens, and devouring black
+bread and sour milk, we---- Have you a weakness for sour milk, Baron?"
+looking up at him with a childish glance and smile.
+
+"No, not exactly."
+
+"I was not at all satisfied with my expedition," she continued, with
+the self-satisfied fluency of all young girls who are accustomed to
+have their chatter listened to for the sake of their pretty faces. "Not
+at all. Then I discovered two donkeys, one of them had a saddle like an
+arm-chair. Raimund must hire them. I left him no peace! His donkey goes
+splendidly, but mine! I cannot move him from the spot. I call to my
+brother, but he does not hear, he is singing college songs, thunders
+like a whole chorus and has ears for his own voice only. I do not love
+Raimund's singing, but as it gradually sounded further and further
+away, and finally ceased entirely, I had quite a curious sensation.
+Then my donkey threw back his ears, opened his mouth, and--here I lay.
+I am so glad that I met you."
+
+The moonlight breaks through the green net-work of the woods, shines
+between the rushes, flowers and brambles of the ditch along the road,
+lights up Linda's face, the beautiful white face with the large dark
+eyes. Her hair is tumbled, she has lost her hat, her gown is torn, the
+affectation which usually conceals her inborn grace completely
+vanished.
+
+"I do not know the way," says she, "and what will mamma think when
+Raimund comes home without me?"
+
+After he has overcome his first fright, Felix tells himself that his
+dread of her charm must not prevent him from helping her. "If you will
+trust yourself to my guidance and will take this path across the
+fields, you can reach Marienbad in a half hour," he remarks, and tries
+to fasten his horse by the bridle to the low branch of an oak.
+
+"Ah, it will inconvenience you so; if you will only point out the
+way----"
+
+"You surely do not imagine that I could let you go alone, in the
+pitch-dark night? No." He smiles at her encouragingly. "What a child
+you still are, Miss Linda. Come."
+
+He goes ahead, carefully pushing aside all branches for her. The air
+becomes more and more sultry, an enervating damp odor rises from the
+ground, in the tree-tops rustle wonderful melodies.
+
+An intoxicating shudder runs over him at the thought of being alone
+with her in the great, silent, lonely woods. Then he becomes alarmed,
+quickens his steps, in order to run away from his thoughts and shorten
+the way.
+
+Then a voice behind him calls laughingly and complainingly: "How you
+hurry--do not make fun of me, I am tired--one moment, only one moment!"
+
+Linda stands there out of breath, heated, with half-closed eyes and
+half-opened mouth, her hair loosened by the rough caresses of the
+thicket, hanging over her shoulders.
+
+How beautiful she is. Shall he offer her his arm? No, no, no!
+
+He is one of those warm and weak natures in whom passion in one moment
+drowns everything, annihilates, crushes everything, intellect, honor
+and duty.
+
+He has more conscience than others, but not that prudent, warning
+conscience, which withholds one from a wrong deed, but only that
+malicious, accusing one which points the finger, grins and hurls sly
+insults in the face after the deed is done.
+
+"If you wish to spare your mother a fright, we must hurry," says Felix,
+with the last remnant of prudence which is left in him.
+
+They go on. Before their feet opens an abyss, barely ten feet broad; in
+its depths filters a small thread of water which the moonlight colors a
+bluish silver. At the edge of the abyss, curiously looking down into
+it, bending deeply down to it, grows a bush of wild roses, covered
+thickly with white blossoms, trembling slightly, like a living being;
+with outstretched wings it vibrates over the depths, as if it hesitated
+between the longing to fly up to the sacred mystery of heaven, and the
+desire to plunge down into the alluring enigma of the abyss.
+
+A small plank leads over it, slippery and tottering. Felix strides
+across it quickly and then looks around for Linda.
+
+There, in the middle of the board, trembling, her teeth set in her lip,
+stands Linda, and cannot advance. "I am giddy!" she gasps.
+
+There are few more attractive things in the world than a pretty,
+frightened woman.
+
+Felix rushes up to her, takes her in his arms and carries her over. All
+is forgotten, he holds her closely to him, his lips lose themselves in
+her loosened hair, burn on her forehead, seek her mouth, but then he
+suddenly pauses. The enormity of his deed occurs to him.
+
+"For Heaven's sake pardon me!" cries he. Whereupon she replies with a
+naïve smile and tender glance:
+
+"Pardon? Ah, I knew that you loved me."
+
+"That indeed a blind man could have seen," murmurs he bitterly. "But,
+Linda, could you resolve to be my wife?"
+
+"Could I resolve?" she murmurs with tender roguishness. "And why not?"
+
+"In spite of my past?"
+
+Past! The word has a romantic charm for her. It wakes in her an idea
+of baccaret and mabille, of a brilliantly squandered fortune, of
+ballet-dancers and duels. A "past" in her mind belongs to every true
+nobleman of a certain age.
+
+"If your heart is now wholly mine, what does your past matter to me?"
+says she softly.
+
+Then he kisses her hand. "Linda you are an angel," whispers he, and
+silent and happy, they finish their walk.
+
+Ten minutes later, before the ambitious singer, Raimund, reaches home,
+Linda was in the house.
+
+She stood on the balcony of the "Emperor of China," between
+dead-looking oleander trees which exhale a tiresome odor of bitter
+almonds: she stands there, her arms resting on the balustrade when
+Raimund and his donkey emerge from the shadows of the street. His red
+cap pushed back, his face shining as if freshly shaven, with glance
+directed upward in terror he comes along, the picture of bankrupt
+responsibility on a donkey.
+
+A gay laugh greets him.
+
+"Linda, where are you?"
+
+"Here."
+
+"Here! I have been looking for you for an hour," says he, scarcely
+believing his eyes.
+
+"Where? In the sky apparently--I have not been there, and have no wish
+to go. Do not stare at me so, please, as if I were my own ghost. Come
+up here, I have such a lovely secret."
+
+With that she withdraws from the balcony, but the secret with which she
+has enticed him she does not tell him when he comes up.
+
+"To-morrow, to-morrow," says she, clapping her hands, leaning far back
+in an old-fashioned arm-chair.
+
+Raimund cannot get a word from his pretty, capricious sister.
+
+"Who brought you home then?" he asks finally.
+
+"Ah! That is just it, ha-ha-ha!" answered she.
+
+"Linda! You have met Lanzberg--he has declared himself!" cries Raimund,
+excitedly.
+
+"Will you be silent?" replies she, laughing--triumphant.
+
+Meanwhile her parents, who have been to the farewell performance of a
+famous Vienna artiste at the theatre, enter.
+
+"Hush!" cries she with a decided gesture to her brother. "Good evening,
+papa and mamma!" without leaving her arm-chair. "I am frightfully fond
+of you, for, if you only knew of it, I am to-day, for the first time,
+glad to be in the world."
+
+Papa Harfink smiles delightedly, Mamma Harfink asks, "What is it?" and
+all her cameos and mosaic bracelets rattle with excitement.
+
+"She----" begins Raimund.
+
+"Hush, I tell you!" cries Linda, then laying her arms on the
+old-fashioned arms of the easy-chair, her head thrown teasingly back,
+she asks: "Is Baron Lanzberg a good _partie_?"
+
+"His affairs are very well arranged. I saw in the country register. He
+has scarcely any debts," says Papa Harfink.
+
+"And he is of the good old nobility, is he not?" asks Linda.
+
+"Did not his father receive a tip in the form of an iron crown from
+some tottering ministry?"
+
+"The Lanzbergs descend from the twelfth century," says mamma. "They are
+the younger line of the Counts Lanzberg, who are now known as the
+Counts Dey."
+
+"Oh! and what was his mother's maiden name?" Linda continues her
+examination.
+
+"She was a Countess Böhl."
+
+"Why does he associate so little with people, and is so sad?--because
+of his past?"
+
+Linda's eyes sparkle and shine, and capricious little dimples play
+about the corners of her mouth.
+
+"What do you know of his past?" bursts out mamma.
+
+"Oh, nothing; but I should so like to know something about it--it is
+not proper, eh?"
+
+"He had at one time a _liaison_, hm--hm--was deceived"--murmurs Mrs.
+Harfink--"never got over it."
+
+"Ah!--but it seems so--for--in a word, if all does not deceive me, he
+will come to-morrow to ask for my hand."
+
+Without leaving her arm-chair, her little feet dance a merry polka of
+triumph on the floor.
+
+"And do you love him?"
+
+"I?"--Linda opens her eyes wide--"naturally; he is the first man with a
+faultless profile and good manners whom I have met--since Laure de
+Lonsigny's father!"
+
+Old Harfink, wholly absorbed in gazing at his tongue in a hand-glass,
+has not heard the bold malice of his daughter. Raimund, on the
+contrary, says emphatically, "I find your delight at marrying a
+nobleman highly repulsive," and leaves the room.
+
+And Felix? He does not undress that night. Motionless his face buried
+in the pillows, he lies on his bed and still fights a long-lost battle.
+
+The air is heavy with the fragrance of linden blossoms and the
+approaching thunder-storm. A massive wall of clouds towers above the
+horizon like a barrier between heaven and earth.
+
+
+
+
+                                   V.
+
+
+Susanna Blecheisen, now Mrs. Harfink, usually called Madame von
+Harfink, was a famous blue-stocking. As a young girl she was interested
+in natural sciences, studied medicine, complained of the oppression of
+the female sex, and wrote articles on the emancipation of woman, in
+which with great boldness she described marriage as an antiquated and
+immoral institution.
+
+In spite of the energetic independence of her character, in her
+twenty-eighth year she succumbed to the magnetic attraction of a
+red-cheeked clerk in her father's office, and generously sacrificed for
+him her scorn of manly prejudice and ecclesiastical sacraments--she
+married him.
+
+Hereupon she moved with her husband to Vienna, and soon enjoyed a
+certain fame there on account of her fine German, and because she
+subscribed to the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, and had once sat beside
+Humboldt at a dinner, perhaps also because her husband was a very
+wealthy manufacturer.
+
+Soon convinced of the inferior intellect of this man, she did not give
+herself up to cowardly despair at this discovery, but did her best to
+educate him. She patiently read to him works on capital, during which
+he incessantly rattled the money in his pockets, as if he would say,
+How does the theoretical analysis of capital concern a practical man,
+as long as he relies solely upon the actual substance? This rubbish
+furnished occupation for poor wretches, he thought to himself, which
+opinion he finally announced to his wife. But when she told him that
+Carl Marx and Lassalle were both very wealthy men, he listened to her
+dissertations with considerably heightened respect. From political
+economy, which she treated as a light recreation, fitted to his case,
+she led him into the gloomy regions of German metaphysics, and plunged
+him confusedly into the most dangerous abysses of misused logic.
+
+He listened calmly, without astonishment, without complaining, with the
+lofty conviction that to cultivate one's self, as every kind of tasty
+idleness, was a very noble occupation, and, like many more clever
+people, he made a rule of despising everything which he did not
+understand. Instead of any other comment, during his wife's readings he
+merely rubbed his hands pleasantly, and murmured as long as he was not
+asleep, titteringly, "This confusion, this confusion."
+
+Yet, however Mrs. Susanna strove, his mental wings did not strengthen,
+and his digestion remained the most absorbing interest of his life.
+He always fell back again into his insignificant commonness, like
+a dog whom one wishes to train to walk upon two legs, but who
+always falls back upon four again. At an æsthetic tea, for which
+his wife had most conscientiously prepared him, most generously lent
+him her intelligence, she heard him, in the midst of a conversation
+upon Schopenhauer and Leopardi, say to his neighbor: "Have you
+a weakness for pickles, ma'am? I have a great weakness for pickles,
+but--he-he-he!--I--it is really very unusual--I always feel such a
+disagreeable prickling in my nose when I eat anything sour."
+
+With years, Susanna somewhat neglected the difficult education of this
+hopeless specimen, and transferred her pedagogic capabilities to the
+bringing up of her son, of whom she tried to make a genius.
+
+She designed him for jurisprudence. He, however, devoted himself to
+song. Instead of poring over law books in consideration of his
+examination, he passed two-thirds of his time at the piano, diligently
+trying to attain the summit of his ambition, high C, while he did not
+fail to twist himself into the original contortions which on such
+occasions all particularly ambitious but faulty voices find so
+effectual.
+
+With Linda, mamma Harfink from the first could do nothing, and in
+consequence she sent her to a Swiss pension. There she learned, besides
+a little French and piano thumping, to carry her head very high,
+learned to go into nervous spasms over creaking boots--in a word, she
+acquired the refined delicacy of feeling of the "princess with the
+pea."
+
+What torture when upon her return home she lay upon not a single pea,
+alleviated by comfortable mattresses, but upon a whole sack of
+undisguised peas! Her home was frightful to her. The unrestrained,
+coarse admiration which the young men of her circle offered her seemed
+unbearable to her. Discontented, weary of life, without an aim that was
+not bound up in vanity, she vegetated from one day to another; in
+desperate moments thought of going on the stage, or perpetrating some
+outrageous act to make herself notorious.
+
+The only consolation of this desolate time was the intercourse with her
+cousin, Eugene von Rhoeden, who had been educated in the Theresanium,
+had learned to turn up his nose more frequently and with more fine
+distinction than she herself, but to her misery, had his brand new
+title of Freiherr, and a couple of intimate friends of very old family
+beside. A passionate enemy of his relatives, he had greeted her
+enthusiastically with the words, "_Sapperment_, you are wholly
+different from your family, Linda!"
+
+"Do not call me Linda, that sounds so operatic," she had answered him.
+"My friends always called me Linn!"
+
+Eugene Rhoeden immediately perceived that Linda had a knowledge of _bon
+ton_--evidently knew that all Austrian countesses are called Piffi,
+Pantschi, Nina, like _grisettes_ or little dogs. Her romantic name was
+odious to her, but in a circle where the women called each other
+Theresa and Rosalie, she must rejoice at being named Linda and not
+Rosalinda.
+
+A superficial confidence arose between her and her noble cousin.
+
+So stood matters when Felix "accidentally" made the acquaintance of the
+Harfinks while walking. This was the family into which fate and his
+weakness had thrown him.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VI.
+
+
+Is Marienbad cheaper than Franzensbad because it is not so select, or
+is it less select because it is cheaper? I do not know. But certain it
+is that Marienbad does not possess the same stamp of distinction as
+Franzensbad, which latter, together with all the guests, seems about to
+slowly perish of its excessive distinction. The guests at Marienbad
+also lack that transparent thinness of the Franzensbad invalids, which
+so claims sympathy: they all look "not ill but only too healthy."
+
+As the Marienbad invalids do not look like invalids, so Marienbad does
+not look like a water cure. It wholly lacks that fairylike appearance
+of a cure where invalidism is an elegant pastime. It is so severely
+commonplace, so ordinary that one is forced to believe in its reality.
+Fortunately there is some compensation in the country round about, and
+when the guests look from the windows of the miserable hotel rooms,
+beyond the plainness of the dusty streets to the green beautiful woods,
+the most pretentious are satisfied. The Marienbad woods are so
+charming, not those barbaric gloomy woods like the Bohemian forests for
+example, which with their black branches grumblingly bar the way to the
+sunbeams, and groan so continually that the song birds from pure terror
+have all died or gone away.
+
+In the woods near Marienbad, the trees sing the whole day in
+competition with the birds, and the sunbeams fall between gay, dancing,
+quivering shadows, and the blue sky laughs through a thousand breaks in
+the lofty, floating leafy roof.
+
+The Harfink family live in the Mühle strasse, and have a view directly
+into the woods.
+
+It is half past eight in the morning. Papa Harfink, who is taking the
+cure, and every morning at six o'clock stands beside the spring, has
+drunk his seven glasses, taken the prescribed walk, and afterwards
+breakfasted; now he has gone to be weighed. The student, his son, is
+amusing himself by following a young lady who travels with many
+diamonds but without a chaperon, and who is entered in the register as
+a "singer." Linda is still at her toilet. Mamma Harfink is busy in the
+drawing-room with a medical pamphlet. Then the maid brings her a note.
+"A messenger from Traunberg brought it; he is waiting for an answer,"
+declared the maid.
+
+Before Mrs. Harfink had opened the letter Linda enters and asks: "We
+need expect no visitor before twelve o'clock, mamma? If the Baron
+chances to come, you know where I am--in the Kursaal. At twelve o'clock
+I take my Turkish bath. Adieu! I shall be back at one o'clock." With
+that she vanished.
+
+Mrs. Harfink had concealed the letter from her daughter. She secretly
+suspects that it contains matters of which Linda need know nothing.
+Scarcely has her daughter vanished when she hastily opens it. In an
+uncharacteristic handwriting, occupying a great deal of paper:
+
+
+"My Dear Madam: You have surely already learned from your daughter what
+has occurred between us. That I ventured, under the circumstances which
+you, madam, certainly know, to offer her my hand, seems to me now, upon
+calm consideration, incomprehensible and unpardonable."
+
+
+Mamma Harfink starts. Will the Baron take back his word? What can he
+mean by "under the circumstances"? Linda's unprotectedness in the great
+lonely woods? Or does he, perhaps, refer to his fatal past? She
+resolves to read further.
+
+
+"Your daughter's manner proves to me plainly that she has no suspicion
+of the stain upon my honor. I have not the courage to make my
+confession to her myself; do it for me, my dear madam, and kindly write
+me whether Miss Linda, after she has learned all, will yet hear
+anything of me, or will turn away from me. In the latter case I will go
+away for some time.
+
+"With the deepest respect, your submissive
+
+                                               "Lanzberg."
+
+
+"Absurd, eccentric man! He will yet spoil everything with his foolish
+scruples!" cries she, then, looking at the letter once more: "Horribly
+blunt, awkward style; no practised pen, but undeniably the sentiments
+of a refined gentleman."
+
+Mrs. Harfink folded her hands and thought. Should she read this letter
+to Linda? She had been so pleased at the prospect of Linda's
+advantageous match. But the strange girl was capable of giving up this
+brilliant _parti_ for the sake of a trifle like this spot in Lanzberg's
+past.
+
+Mrs. Harfink, in intercourse with the world very sensitive and wholly
+implacable, possessed theoretically that far-reaching consideration for
+any individuals attacked by scandal which has become so fashionable
+among the philanthropists of the present time. She always treated all
+city officials as calumniators and all accused as martyrs.
+
+"Oh, if I were only in Linda's place, I would be angry that I had so
+little to pardon in him," cried she dramatically; "but Linda is so
+narrow, so petty. Her intellect does not reach to the comprehension of
+the eternal divine morality; she understands merely the narrow
+prejudiced morality of good society, which divides sins as well as men
+into 'admissible and not admissible;' to-day calmly overlooks a crime,
+to-morrow screams itself hoarse over a fault which offends against its
+customs."
+
+While the Harfink satisfied her philanthropic heart with this subtle,
+humane eloquence, the girl stood waiting at the door. "The messenger
+begs an answer," she remarked shyly. Mrs. Harfink bit her lips
+impatiently. She was not capable of a decided deception, she must twist
+and turn it before her conscience until it took on a quite different
+aspect from the original one. Must, in a word, carry it out in such a
+highly virtuous manner that she could later deny it to her conscience.
+
+"The messenger begs an answer!"
+
+Mrs. Harfink seated herself at her writing-table and wrote:
+
+
+"My Dear Lanzberg: Come, if possible, at once--in any case before
+twelve. Linda expects you.
+
+"With cordial greeting, yours sincerely,
+
+                                         "S. Harfink."
+
+
+Two, almost three hours passed. Susanna's excitement became painful.
+What should she tell Felix? The best would be to tell him that Linda
+knew all. And did she not indeed know all? She had conscientiously told
+her daughter of a _liaison_ which had formerly been the unhappiness of
+the Baron. The _liaison_ was, on the whole, the principal thing,
+everything else only a detail. Only chance, which did not in the
+slightest accord with the whole life of the Baron before and since, and
+of which respectable people hesitate to speak, and which one should not
+exhume from the past in which it lay buried.
+
+She was in duty bound to conceal the affair from Linda, as one must
+conceal certain things in themselves wholly innocent from children,
+because their intellect, not yet matured by experience, is not capable
+of rightly comprehending them.
+
+In all her circle of acquaintances, Mrs. Harfink was the only one who
+knew anything definite of Lanzberg's disgrace. By chance, and through
+the acquaintance of a high official of the law, she had learned the sad
+facts. She thought of the envious glances with which all her friends
+had followed Lanzberg's attentions to Linda. Linda had somewhat forced
+the acquaintance with him. The good friends were horrified at her
+boldness--at her triumph. Mrs. Harfink remembered her sister, Rhoeden;
+what had she not done to marry her daughter to a coughing, bald-headed,
+Wurtemburg count, a gambler, whose debts they had been forced to pay
+before the marriage.
+
+Quarter of twelve struck--was Lanzberg not coming, then? In a short
+time Linda would be back.
+
+Then a carriage stopped before the "Emperor of China."
+
+A minute later there was a knock at the door, and Felix Lanzberg
+entered the room, pale, worn, with great uneasy, shy eyes.
+
+Mamma Harfink reached him both hands, and merely said, "My dear
+Lanzberg!" then she let him sit down.
+
+He was silent. Many times he tried to speak, but the words would not
+come, and he lowered his eyes helplessly to his hat, which he held on
+his knees.
+
+At last Mamma Harfink took his hat from his hand and put it away.
+
+"You will stay to dinner with us?"
+
+"If you will permit me, madam," said he, scarcely audibly.
+
+"Oh, you over-sensitive man!" cried she, with her loud, indelicate
+sympathy. How she pained him!
+
+"Does Linda think that I am an over-sensitive man?" said he, almost
+bitterly, and without looking at his future mother-in-law.
+
+Mamma Harfink pondered for a last time. "I do not understand how you
+could doubt Linda for a moment," replied she.
+
+He scarcely heard her, and only cried hastily "Was she surprised?"
+
+"My dear Lanzberg!" Mrs. Harfink called the Baron as often as possible
+"her dear Lanzberg," in order to show him that she already included him
+in her family--"a man who can oppose to his fault a counter-balance
+such as your whole subsequent life is, has not only expiated his fault
+but he has obliterated it." Madame Harfink very often spoke of her
+husband's views, and liked to allow him to participate before the world
+in her wealth of thought. If she herself could no longer cherish any
+illusions about him, she nevertheless carefully concealed his nullity
+from friends as well as she could in a sacred obscurity.
+
+"That may all be true," cried Felix, almost violently, "but
+nevertheless I cannot expect this philosophical consideration from a
+young girl. Oh, my dear madam, do you not deceive yourself?"
+
+From without sounded the gay click of high heels. Linda had returned
+sooner than her mamma had expected. The blood rushed to her face, she
+trembled so with excitement that, thanks to her cameos, she rattled
+like a rickety weather-vane in a storm. "Linda pardons you everything,"
+cried she, hastily. "Linda loves you, she only begs you one thing, that
+you will never speak to her of your past. That would be too painful for
+her!"
+
+The door opened. Linda entered, her hair in charming disorder, and her
+large straw hat carelessly pushed back from her forehead. When she
+perceived Felix she started slightly and joyously, then she rested her
+large eyes, radiant with happiness, upon him.
+
+"_A tantôt_, you dear people," cried Mrs. Harfink, and, gracefully
+waving her hand, this courageous and philanthropic liar left the room.
+
+For a few seconds there was utter silence. Linda gazed in astonishment
+at Felix, who stood there deathly pale and motionless, his hand resting
+on the corner of the table. That the charm of her person so confused
+him flattered her, it seemed to her interesting and romantic to cause
+such deep heart wounds, still his manner remained enigmatical to her.
+She tapped her foot in pretty impatience and coughed slightly.
+
+Then he looked up, his eyes full of pleading tenderness and dread.
+"Linda, will you really consecrate your young, blooming life to
+me?--me--a broken man who----" He paused.
+
+The situation became more dramatic, and pleased her better and better.
+She came close up to him.
+
+"If you ever permit yourself, in the presence of your betrothed, to
+remember your past, and look so sad, I will run away, do you hear, and
+will never know anything more of you." Her voice sounded so gentle, so
+sweet, her warm little hand lay so coaxingly and confidingly on his
+arm.
+
+"Poor Felix!" murmured she, looking up at him tenderly. He closed his
+eyes, blinded with tears and happiness, then he took her violently in
+his arms, and kissed her. Her hat slipped from her head and fell to the
+floor. She laughed at it very charmingly. He released her in order to
+look at her better. He was happy--he had forgotten. He drew a ring from
+his finger. "It was my mother's engagement ring," he whispered, and
+placed it on her finger. Then it proved that the ring was almost too
+small for her. "What slender fingers you must have!" cried she, and
+gazed with pride at his slender, aristocratic hand.
+
+Then there was a knock at the door. "Ah!" cried Linda, with a
+displeasure which her _fiancé_ found bewitching.
+
+Eugene von Rhoeden entered, a bouquet of white flowers in his hand.
+"Gardenias, Lin! Gardenias!" he cried, triumphantly. "What do you say
+to this progress of Marienbad civilization? Ah, Baron--excuse me--I
+really had not----" He glances from one to the other, sees the diamond
+ring sparkling on Linda's hand. "What a magnificent ring you have,
+Lin!"
+
+"A present," replies Linda, with a pretty gesture toward Felix. "May
+one accept gardenias from a relative?" she asks him, coaxingly--and
+takes one from the bouquet to place in his buttonhole.
+
+"Ah!" cries Eugene, suddenly changing an acid expression into a polite
+smile. "May I congratulate you, or will my congratulations not be
+received?"
+
+Felix gives him his hand with emotion. "Congratulate me, congratulate
+me," he murmurs.
+
+"I do not know which of you is more to be congratulated," says Eugene,
+with tact and feeling.
+
+In the adjoining room is heard a selection from the Huguenots, which
+breaks off in the middle, then a great, terrible howl, whereupon the
+improvised Rarol, red as his cravat, bursts in and cries, "Did you
+hear, Linda? That was C."
+
+"Unfortunately," says she, laughing.
+
+Raimund starts back. As he notices guests, he cries, "I will not
+disturb----" and vanishes.
+
+"And I also will not disturb you," says Rhoeden, with indescribably
+loving accent. "Adieu!" and kissing Linda's hand, whereupon he says to
+Felix, "Your betrothed, my cousin," he disappears.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VII.
+
+
+The music-stand in Franzensbad is torn down, the whining potpourries
+have ceased, the park is deserted, legions of dry leaves whirl on the
+sand, and exchange cutting remarks with the autumn wind upon the
+perpetual change of every earthly thing, which short-sighted humanity
+calls transitoriness.
+
+It is the 18th of October, the "certain Baron Lanzberg's" wedding-day.
+The week of torture in which he could not resolve to tell the severe
+Elsa of his betrothal is past, and when he at length resolved upon it,
+he received only a sad glance and a silent shrug of the shoulders as
+answer from her--past are the happy hours of the betrothal time--almost
+past.
+
+If the intoxication, the confusion which never becomes consciousness is
+happiness, then Felix was very happy in this time. Passion had numbed
+everything in him which did not refer to the present or to the 18th of
+October. He existed only in a feeling of longing and expectation. He
+had no time to tell himself that Linda's happy coquetries proved a very
+flippant conception of the serious situation--he himself had forgotten
+the gravity of the situation. He did not think, he only felt and saw a
+white, ever-changing face, a face which can smile in at least two
+hundred ways--felt a perpetual warm excitement, felt something like an
+electric shock when two soft lips touched his temples and left them
+quickly like butterflies which will not be caught, when two soft hands
+played round his neck.
+
+Yes, ft is the 18th of October, Felix Lanzberg's wedding-day.
+
+The wedding was to be solemnized at Castle Rineck, the Harfinks' new
+possession, and in a white circular chapel, with small windows shaded
+by ivy, and an altar-piece which was dark as the Catholic religion.
+
+The castle is crowded with guests, mostly honest manufacturers, who are
+proud of their fortunes acquired by their own ability, and others also
+less honest, who, after they have retired from business, wish to know
+nothing more of their money-making past.
+
+Needless to say, the wedding preparations were unpleasant to the
+infatuated Felix. The bride had joined in his request for a quiet
+wedding, for the contact with so much industry of which a considerable
+part had not yet become "finance," little pleased her; but the parents
+could not let the opportunity pass without displaying their wealth to
+the astonished throng.
+
+The afternoon is gray and moist. Mrs. von Harfink--for the past week,
+no longer through the obligingness of her acquaintances, but through
+the obligingness of a democratic ministry thus titled--Mrs. von
+Harfink, then, composes a toast for her husband to deliver at the
+wedding dinner. Raimund stands beside the piano--to sing while sitting
+might injure his voice--and strives to render the cry of the Valkyrs in
+Wagner's worthy accents; a sympathetic poodle seconds him in this
+melodious occupation.
+
+Outside in the park Linda wanders alone through the damp October air.
+The dead foliage lies thick on the lawn, and between the leaves shines
+the grass, bright and fresh as hope which lies under all the load of
+shattered joys of broken life, undisturbed.
+
+The bushes, glowing in autumnal splendor, look like huge moulting birds
+who shiveringly lose their feathers. Many flower-beds are already
+empty, only a couple of stiff georginias and chrysanthemums still raise
+their heads proudly and solitary in the universal desolation.
+
+Linda is quite alone; her friends, none of whom are very dear to her,
+are too zealously busied with cares of the toilet to disturb her
+solitude; they are also afraid to expose their complexions to the
+morning air. Linda feels no anxiety about her complexion, it is too
+beautiful for that. With her loosened hair which, brown as the dead
+leaves, falls over her back, and with the red cloak, in which she has
+wrapped herself, she is a bright spot in the park.
+
+[Illustration: She is a shy bride and not at all melancholy.]
+
+She is not a shy bride, and not at all melancholy. Her eyes shine, her
+lips quiver with excitement--distinguished acquaintances, foreign
+entertainments of which she will be queen. In mind, she already sees
+herself on the arm of one and another prince of the blood royal. She
+could clap her hands with joy that to-day at six o'clock she will no
+longer be called Harfink.
+
+She remains standing beside a pond where near the bank four swans,
+shivering and melancholy, swim round a yellow bath-house. Then a hand
+is laid lightly on her shoulder. "Felix!" whispers she with the
+charming smile which she always has in readiness for her betrothed.
+
+"No, not Felix--only Eugene," replies a gay voice, and blond, handsome,
+with clothes a trifle too modern, and a too pronounced perfume of
+Ylang-ylang, her cousin and former admirer stands near her.
+
+"Ah, have you really come?" says she, joyously.
+
+"Why naturally," replies he. "You do not think that for the sake of a
+few forlorn chamois I would stay away from your wedding?" Rhoeden has
+come from Steinmark, to be the cavalier of his cousin's second
+bridesmaid.
+
+"We had already begun to fear--that is, Emma was afraid," said Linda,
+coquettishly. "Naturally it was indifferent to me."
+
+"Wholly indifferent? I do not believe it," said he. His arm has slipped
+down from her shoulder, he has seated himself upon a low iron garden
+chair, from which, with elbows on his knees, his face between his
+hands, with the boldness which she likes so well in him, he can look at
+her as much as he pleases.
+
+"Wholly indifferent!" she repeats, and throws a pebble between the
+swans, who dip their black bills greedily in the green water.
+
+"O Lin! You naughty Lin! And nothing that concerns you is indifferent
+to me!" he groans. "The Trauns did not wish to let me go from them--but
+rather than not see you to-day I would have fought a duel with all the
+Trauns in the world!"
+
+Linda has slowly approached him; flattered vanity speaks from her
+shining eyes and glowing lips. He seizes her hand and draws her to him.
+"Do you know, Lin, that I was once absurdly in love with you?"
+
+She nods. "Yes, I know it."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"And I? Do not ask indiscreet questions, Eugene!"
+
+"But this question interests me so much," he excuses himself.
+
+"Tell me, Lin, if Lanzberg had not come between us--yes, if I only,
+most unfortunately, had not been born a Grau," he continues sighing,
+"could I have cherished a little, very little hope?"
+
+"It is quite possible," says she, shrugging her shoulders, and
+coquetting with him over her shoulder. "But it is better so for us
+both."
+
+"For you, certainly," says he, "but I shall feel quite peculiarly
+to-day when I see you with your bridal wreath, Lin! You will drive
+people mad with your beauty. You are the most beautiful person whom I
+have ever met in my life. Where the devil did you get your look of high
+breeding?"
+
+Eugene Rhoeden, with his gay boldness and graceful impudence, his
+unconscionable aplomb, and his denial from principle of all personal
+dignity, is what is called in the Vienna slang a _gamin_.
+
+Gamin as he is, no one knows how to bewitch Linda's small nature, how
+to feed her excessive vanity with such delicate bits as Eugene von
+Rhoeden. He understands her, she understands him; they are fairly made
+for each other, and for one moment, one very brief moment, Linda thinks
+almost with repugnance of the black raven in the red field which greets
+her from the Lanzberg coat-of-arms. "Eugene!" murmurs she. "Ah!" With
+that she suddenly turns to an elderly maid, who comes out from among
+the bushes.
+
+"Are you looking for me, Fanny?"
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+"I am probably to try my train for the twenty-ninth time. Ah, Eugene!
+There is something tiresome about a wedding-day!" then she breaks a red
+chrysanthemum as she passes, throws it to him, and vanishes.
+
+About seven hours later the wedding takes place in the castle chapel,
+adorned with greenhouse flowers. The blossoms tremble as if they were
+cold or afraid. Their sweet, exhilarating fragrance mingles with the
+odor of wax candles, and that of perfumery and cosmetics, which is
+always noticeable in select assemblies. The wind creeps curiously
+through the window cracks, creeps up to the altar, makes the flames of
+the candles flicker, and blows cold upon the bare shoulders of the
+bride and bridesmaids.
+
+The bride, loaded with the richest jewels, resembles a proud narcissus
+in the morning dew. Elsa is deathly pale, even her lips are colorless.
+Erwin displays the inexpressive gravity which the occasion demands of a
+well-bred man. Mrs. von Harfink looks continually at the decorations,
+and starts when a white rose falls from the wall. Mr. von Harfink looks
+as if his collar were too tight for him. Eugene von Rhoeden, his
+bridesmaid's wrap on his arm, a sceptical smile on his lips, his hand
+at his mustache, his glance resting now on his uncle, now on the
+priest, now on the bride, stands there, the image of a little society
+philosopher of the nineteenth century, who laughs at all vanity and
+cannot himself give up his own. Raimund looks like a radical who is
+paying an immense tribute to prejudice, and tries to look more
+distinguished than his brother-in-law.
+
+And Felix? Felix is as if paralyzed. The moment is here; his feverish
+longing nears its aim--happiness.
+
+Then the ivy taps on the window, the wind seizes him with ice-cold
+hands. Felix shudders and glances at his bride. How beautiful she is,
+and--how proud. Proud? Felix Lanzberg's bride proud? It is
+impossible--it cannot be. A suspicion which, however he may deny it to
+his conscience, has occurred to him again and again during their whole
+engagement, strikes him for the last time and becomes certain that
+Linda's mother has deceived him; Linda knows nothing!
+
+Then the priest demands his "Yes!" He hesitates; hesitates so long that
+Linda looks at him in surprise; two large, greenish eyes shine at him
+through the filmy, white bridal veil. "Yes!" says he firmly and
+shortly.
+
+A long dinner follows, a long, complicated dinner, which no one enjoys
+except Papa Harfink, who studies the menu with the tenderest pleasure,
+and with a small pencil marks the numbers for love of which he thinks
+to extend considerably his elastic appetite.
+
+He sits between Elsa and the wife of his nephew, the Freiherr, the
+elder Rhoeden, and, as he gulps down his _potage à la reine_, tells
+both ladies of his new Achenbach, which cost him 4,000 gulden, which
+does not seem at all dear to him; as, besides a great deal of sunset,
+there are thirty-four figures in the picture--he has counted them--and
+in the background something else, he does not know whether it is a
+buffalo or ruins. "They almost persuaded me to buy a Daubigny, a
+Frenchman, I think--a green sauce--what a sauce! I said no, thank you.
+I like spinach and eggs, I said; but spinach and cows--but--and such
+cows! without tails or horns--regular daubs of colors. These Frenchmen
+are tricky. Really, people are cheated by them." Thus concludes Papa
+Harfink, the art critic.
+
+Elsa only half listens to him. Her eyes wander wearily over the table
+with its stiff floral decorations and its heavy silverware, "real
+silver, and not plate," assures Papa Harfink.
+
+Of the men, the last generation are broad-shouldered, red-faced; a
+sparse beard curls around their full cheeks, a sharp glance, on the
+lookout for profit, shoots from their small eyes. The past generation
+breathe loudly, pick their teeth continually, wear too tight rings on
+too fat fingers, and without exception, a thick gold chain with a
+diamond medallion over their stomachs.
+
+The present generation are sickly, dissipated, and have something of
+the jockey and something of the valet who copies his master.
+
+The pride of the whole family is centred in Eugene von Rhoeden, the
+blond good-for-nothing, who has as many debts as a cavalier, who was
+educated in the Theresanium, and once had a quarrel with a watchman.
+
+Of the women, some are pretty, none are pleasing; they have all good
+dressmakers; none are well dressed.
+
+The usually pale face of a "certain Baron Lanzberg" begins to flush
+feverishly; without eating a mouthful he hastily swallows one glass of
+wine after another.
+
+"Try this delicious salmon; permit me to help you," the charming host
+turns to Elsa. She makes a desperate attempt to do justice to the
+salmon. "Strange," remarks Von Harfink, "my mother used to say that
+when she was young salmon was cheaper than beef, now it is very dear."
+
+Elsa has laid down her fork in despair. "I am behind the times," says
+she. "I still am frightened by a telegram, and always feel nervous at a
+wedding." She smiles sadly, and two charming dimples appear in her
+cheeks.
+
+Papa Harfink continues to urge her to eat. "You must taste this salmi,
+Baroness," he entreats. "Monsieur Galatin, my cook, would be unhappy if
+he learned that every one had not eaten some of his salmi. _Pâte à la
+Kotschubey_, he calls it. Only to-day, this Galatin said to me: '_Ah,
+Monsieur le Chevalier_, when I think how often Prince Kotschubey got
+his stomach out of order with my salmi. The physicians said he died of
+gastrosis, ah! he died of my salmi.'"
+
+"You have a dangerous cook," says Elsa.
+
+"But I understand this Kotschubey, do you know," continues Papa
+Harfink. "Since I have had this cook, I really have to go to Marienbad
+twice every year. And besides, he is a splendid fellow, talks politics
+like a deputy. He formerly served only with the highest nobility. I
+took him with the castle from Count Sylvani. A peculiar fellow--this
+Galatin; will not stay away from the swans and the park. A poetic
+creature; do you know, Baroness, he reads Victor Hugo and the
+Medisations of Lamartine."
+
+"Ah really, the Medisations of Lamartine," says Elsa, smiling. Susanna
+Harfink rushes to the assistance of her distressed husband. "Ha! ha!
+ha!" says she, with her shrill laugh. "My husband always calls
+meditations medisations--very malicious, do you not think so, but a
+good joke."
+
+Papa Harfink, sadly conscious that it always means a curtain lecture
+when his wife before people laughs so energetically at one of his
+"jokes," of which he feels innocent, with much grace and melancholia
+licks his knife on both sides.
+
+His wife looks as if she were weary of pulling the lion-skin again and
+again over the long ears.
+
+The moment has arrived when he is to speak his toast. He rises
+hesitatingly, the glass trembles in his hand. Fear and champagne have
+made him lose the last recollection of the few words prepared by his
+wife.
+
+"This is a great day for me--a day of pride and pain--no, that is not
+it!" thoughtfully raising his hand to his upper lip. "I hope that my
+brother-in-law, no, my son-in-law--Su--su--sanna!" he murmurs,
+helplessly. His cheeks seem to inflate, his eyes grow smaller and more
+shining, he has set down his glass, and twists his napkin like a
+conscientious washerwoman. Susanna rises, she is fairly Roman. "As my
+husband, overcome with emotion, cannot speak," she begins. "I will say,
+this is for----" for a moment she hesitates, then for the first time in
+her life, she resolutely denies her husband, emancipates herself from
+the "us" with which for long years she has protected him, and says:
+"This is for me a day of pain and of joy. I lose a daughter, gain a
+son; may my children always find the highest happiness in each other,
+and a safe retreat in their parental home."
+
+"He is getting a dreadful mother-in-law, this Lanzberg," whispers
+Eugene Rhoeden to his neighbor, a gay, more than audacious brunette.
+"Something between a Roman matron and a quarrelsome landlady from a
+bachelor boarding-house."
+
+The tasteful Raimund contributes a toast to the fusion of nobleman and
+citizen. The older Rhoeden hopes that his beautiful cousin will lend a
+new charm to the noble name of Lanzberg.
+
+Much similar follows.
+
+Eugene, for whom this rosary of _parvenu_ platitudes becomes too long,
+murmurs: "Shall we not soon have paid sufficient thanks for the honor
+of being allied with Baron Lanzberg?"
+
+This mocking remark was only meant for his neighbor, its bitterness was
+only meant for the fawning of the Harfinks.
+
+But Felix heard it; ashy pale, with glowing eyes, half rising from
+his chair, he stares at the impertinent young man. The latter says
+good-naturedly and thoughtlessly: "Yes, Lanzberg, I will jeer at
+myself. _Parole d'honneur_, I am a little ashamed to be quite so
+delighted at receiving an honest man into the family!"
+
+Thereupon the "certain Baron Lanzberg" lowers his eyes to the
+table-cloth, and remains silent.
+
+
+
+
+                                 VIII.
+
+
+Three years have passed since Linda left her father's house, and was no
+longer condemned to be called Harfink--three years and seven months.
+
+The trees have only recently lost their snowy blossoms; all are wrapped
+in soft young green, the whole earth seems bathed in new hope. It is a
+day in which death and misfortune seem like ghost stories, invented by
+old women--no one believes them. The birds twitter joyously, and
+without all is fragrance, sunshine and flowers. Fragrance and sunshine
+fill the room where Elsa sits, her youngest child in her lap.
+
+Elsa looks youthful and girlish, quite as much so as at the time when
+we first made her acquaintance. The same heavy brown hair, as if
+sprinkled with gold, clusters at her temples, and her eyes still shine
+with the old dreamy light of happiness, but her cheeks are thinner, her
+figure frail and thin.
+
+The existence of the little creature in her lap has deprived her of so
+much health. She has not yet recovered since baby's birth, and has not
+had time to think of her health, for baby was a sickly child, and great
+skill was required to bind the little soul, which seemed so anxious to
+fly back to heaven, to this earth. Day and night, in spite of her own
+delicateness, Elsa has nursed and cared for the child, holding her
+tender mother-hand protectingly before the little light which every
+breath of air threatened to extinguish.
+
+Erwin, who usually had such influence with her, this time could not
+induce her to spare her weakened strength.
+
+Now the little girl is a year old, and laughs and smiles at her mother
+gayly, and the physician said recently, "You may be proud of the child,
+Baroness. How you have raised her, God only knows. All doctors can
+learn from a mother. But now think of yourself a little."
+
+And the physician shook his head as he looked at the young woman.
+
+Yes, the air is full of perfume and sunshine, but, in the midst of the
+charming spring life, Elsa looks like a frail white flower.
+
+She has bathed baby, put on her little embroidered shirt, and wrapped
+her in a flannel slumber-robe, and now, with a fine towel, wipes the
+last drops from the tender pink little feet, and the little neck on
+which the water drops down from the small golden head. The nurse is
+meanwhile busy removing the bathing utensils, while Litzi, who is now a
+big girl, wearing long stockings, stands near her little sister and
+holding perfectly still, allows her long hair to be pulled.
+
+"Fie, you wild little thing, you will hurt her!" cries Elsa at last, as
+baby pulls harder and harder, and winds her tiny fist in Litzi's hair.
+
+Then baby throws her head back, shows her four teeth, laughs with all
+her little body, and finally leans her cheek sleepily against mamma's
+shoulder.
+
+"Go down-stairs, my Litzi, go to Miss Sidney; baby wishes to go to
+sleep," whispers Elsa to her big daughter, whereupon Litzi goes away on
+tip-toes.
+
+Dreamily humming a lullaby, Elsa cradles the child in her arms, and
+then lays it down in its pretty white bed. But when she thinks it
+asleep, it opens its blue eyes, and stretching out its arms, murmurs
+something which, with a vivid imagination, one can declare to be
+"Papa."
+
+"Did you hear him come sooner than I, baby?" says Elsa, while Garzin,
+sitting on the edge of the bed, strokes the child's head until she
+closes her eyes. There she lies, her hair full of golden lights, the
+unusually long, black lashes resting on the round cheeks, lengthened by
+their own shadow, the full little mouth half open, like the calyx of a
+red flower, one fat little arm thrown up over its head.
+
+"She is pretty, my little one, is she not?" says Elsa proudly, as she
+sees the quiet smile with which her husband watches the child. "And the
+doctor thinks I need have no more anxiety about her."
+
+"Yes, the little rogue is healthy enough," says Erwin, sighing, as he
+softly leaves the nursery with Elsa. "I wish I could say the same of
+her mamma. Poor Elsa, how thin you are."
+
+"Do I not please you any longer?" she replies, half laughing.
+
+"You are not very sensible!"
+
+"Probably not," replies she seriously. "With such old married people as
+we are, there can be no more talk of 'pleasing.'"
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"And if I should have small-pox, would it make any difference to you?"
+she asks him, looking at him curiously; the noblest woman is not
+ashamed to be loved a little because of her beauty.
+
+"Certainly," he replies, "I should love you just as much as before, but
+I would be bitterly sorry for your pretty face." Jestingly he passes
+his finger over her cheeks.
+
+They go into the garden; all is gay as if for a feast, the whole earth
+with her blooming mixture of white, blue and violet elder, golden rain
+and red acacias--a gay, shimmering picture under an endless blue sky.
+Everything lives and breathes. The birds twitter, the insects hum,
+every blade of grass seems to have a voice, and join in the great
+triumphal chorus of the newly-risen nature.
+
+There is a rustling, a murmuring, a whispering, a nodding, a quiver of
+life and pleasure, and in the enchanting music suddenly mingles a soft
+crackling, the crackling of dead leaves, which play at the foot of the
+trees.
+
+Garzin has led his wife to a bench, over which an elder tree bends its
+branches of bushy white blossoms. Elsa gazes before her at the lovely
+nature, the mixture of luxuriant green and gay blossoms, of short black
+shadows amid dazzling light.
+
+"How young the earth looks," says she dreamily.
+
+Erwin draws her to him. I do not know whether he loves her even more
+now when she is pale and ill; at any rate he is more conscious of his
+feeling for her, and treats her more tenderly, is more thoughtful of
+her, and she leans on him like a sick child. Her whole being has become
+softer, less independent.
+
+"I received a letter from Felix to-day," says Garzin after a pause.
+
+"Ah!" murmurs Elsa somewhat bitterly. "Does he write for money again?"
+
+"Yes, I am to raise some money for him," says Erwin looking troubled.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"He has a fine property, but that cannot last," he remarks
+thoughtfully.
+
+"If it makes him happy," Elsa shrugs her shoulders, and her voice
+sounds harsh.
+
+"Hm! To ruin one's self is at the time a very pleasant occupation, but
+to be ruined--a very unpleasant condition, especially with a wife like
+Linda. I do not believe that Felix will be willing to live on the
+income of his wealthy wife."
+
+During this remark Elsa continues silent.
+
+"Do you believe that Felix is happy?" Erwin continues; "his letters
+give a desperately depressed impression. Did you ever hear a really
+happy man assure one in every letter: 'I am very happy'--'Everything
+goes well with us'--'I am very contented.' Happy people are silent
+about their happiness."
+
+Elsa lowers her head, and remembers that in the first years of her
+marriage she had never written anything to her brother but: "I cannot
+express how I feel!"
+
+"As I know him," continues Erwin, "his present frequent contact with
+the world must be a continual torment."'
+
+Elsa frowns and grows very pale. "I do not understand Linda!" she
+cries. "How can she under--under the circumstances rush into society? I
+no longer try to understand Felix. Hm!--he is weak--could never refuse
+a woman anything; if one had asked him for his hand, he would have let
+it be cut off for her. As far as I am concerned he can give her his
+hand--but--but----"
+
+A strange fire glows in Elsa's eyes, her face takes on a rigid
+expression and she grows stiff and clutches both elbows convulsively.
+
+"Poor devil!" murmurs Erwin.
+
+"You pity him for my sake!" cries Elsa, bitterly. "It is not necessary.
+I know that you think his conduct unanswerable--that you must think so.
+He has forfeited all the sympathy which his blameless conduct for years
+had won. I will never forget the tone in which Marie Dey said to me
+last spring, when she returned from Rome: 'I have often met your
+sister-in-law; she goes a great deal into society--one sees her
+everywhere. Your brother does not seem to find as much pleasure in
+society as his wife!' And Marie was always a friend to Felix. I know
+that in Parisian society Felix is called '_le revenant_,' for which
+name he has naturally to thank some kind Austrian. Evidently the whole
+story, which was forgotten, has been warmed up again."
+
+"The world is very malicious," says Erwin, evasively.
+
+"Certainly! But after one has passed sixteen years, one knows it, and
+guards one's self!" cries Elsa, and adds with a bitter smile: "I
+suppose he is a great philosopher and thinks nothing of it."
+
+"Elsa! Elsa!" admonished Erwin.
+
+She shook her head. "See!" said she, dully, "to spare Felix a
+humiliation, I would give my life, but now I cannot think of him
+without anger. Heavens, when I think of his return I tremble! I know he
+will be very badly received, and as his wife's whole existence turns
+upon being received----"
+
+Erwin bites his lips. "Felix writes me that his wife plans to return in
+the latter part of June or the first of July. He will come to Traunberg
+with his little son somewhat sooner."
+
+"He will return?" murmurs Elsa, slowly.
+
+"Well, he must sooner or later."
+
+"Certainly!" cries Elsa, with a shudder. "Erwin, what will strangers
+think of his return, if I myself am not able to rejoice?"
+
+"Strangers do not take the situation so tragically," says Erwin,
+hastily and precipitately, looking away.
+
+"Well, to be sure!" sighs Elsa. "It is of no consequence to strangers
+whether he has acted without any tact, yes, unresponsibly. To think
+evil of one who is far from one is a pleasure to malicious people, and
+to the best is simply indifferent. But to be forced to think evil of
+one whom one loves is the most painful thing in the world."
+
+For a moment she is silent. "If Felix insists upon coming," she then
+continues, "I will do my utmost to make life endurable for him and his
+wife. I cannot persuade him to return."
+
+
+
+
+                                  IX.
+
+
+About a week after the conversation between Erwin and Elsa, recorded in
+the last chapter, a bowed man appeared in Steinbach whom at first Elsa
+did not recognize, but into whose arms she fell with a cry when he
+stretched out two trembling hands to her with a sad smile. She had
+forgotten his unsuitable behavior; every bitter word which she had
+pronounced against him fell heavily on her heart; she no longer felt
+anything for him but boundless, compassionate love. The sight of him
+shocked her, his hair had grown gray, his voice hoarse. An anxious
+habit of raising his shoulders, and pressing his elbows against his
+ribs, that shy manner of poor tutors and other despised individuals,
+who seem to strive to make themselves as small as possible, to deprive
+others of as little room as they can--lent his figure a sickly,
+narrow-chested look. He spoke a great deal, with forced fluency, often
+repeating himself. He whom for so long Elsa had at most only heard
+laugh fondly at Litzi's little wise sayings, now laughed continually,
+loudly and harshly at the slightest provocation, whereupon the wrinkles
+grew deeper in his face, the shadows under his eyes darker. Often after
+such an outburst of nervous hilarity, his face suddenly grew flabby, as
+if wearied by too great exertion, and for a moment displayed the stony
+features, the rigid pain of one who has died a hard death.
+
+He had travelled in advance of his wife, who was staying with friends
+at the Italian lakes, in order to prepare everything for her reception.
+He talked a great deal about his son, whom he could not bring to Elsa
+because the day was cold, and the little fellow was somewhat hoarse.
+All the little habits of the child, his manner of pronouncing words, he
+told his patiently listening sister.
+
+His voice sounded sadder than ever when he spoke of the child, and from
+time to time he sighed, "Poor boy, poor boy!"
+
+"What he must have suffered!" sobbed Elsa, when she was alone again
+with Erwin. "What he must have suffered!"
+
+Yes, what he had suffered! Not even those who saw the evident traces of
+suffering in this thin, gray, feverish man, could imagine the greatness
+of his misery, could judge the darkness of his soul which his
+intercourse with the world had caused.
+
+Immediately after the intoxication of the honeymoon, even during the
+wedding trip, which at Linda's wish they had made to Egypt, when he
+began to learn to know his wife, he came to the sad conviction that the
+most trivial acquaintance would have offered him as much distraction as
+this marriage. Pretty, coquettish, graceful, seductive. Linda was all
+these, but she had absolutely no mind. Like all narrow women without
+intelligence she became, after continued acquaintance, tiresome.
+
+Incessantly occupied with the ambition to appear a true aristocrat, in
+whom one could not perceive the _parvenue_, she had no room for other
+thoughts. Her joy at being now a "Lanzberg" was fairly naïve. He really
+could not be angry with her when she displayed her little vanities to
+him. She wished to flatter him. He looked at her compassionately at
+such times and turned away his head.
+
+From Cairo she had dragged him to Paris. There, at first, they had led
+an irregular, stranger life, with half-packed trunks in the Grand
+Hotel, went to the theatre and drove in the Bois de Boulogne. Linda for
+a while was satisfied with the acquaintances which she made in the
+hotel reading-room, at the skating-rink, etc. Felix always avoided a
+_table a'hôte_, which Linda, even if the _tête-à-tête_ meals were at
+times a bore to her, never opposed, as an elegant custom.
+
+Then she was one day accidentally asked by one of her friends whether
+she should attend the last _soirée_ of the Austrian ambassador. A pang
+went through Linda's heart. She enveloped her denial of the simple
+question in a confusion of excuses and explanations--she had only
+recently married, she had not yet thought of paying visits. Scarcely
+was she alone with Felix when she asked him if he knew the ambassador.
+
+Yes, Felix knew him, but had not seen him for years. Naturally Linda
+ascribed his evident objection to visiting His Excellency to the
+shyness which his _mésalliance_ caused in him. A scene followed, tears,
+cutting remarks--headache.
+
+The next morning, Felix stood mournfully before one of
+Froment-Meurice's windows and asked himself whether he should not buy
+his wife a diamond cluster of wheat to calm her anger, when some one
+seized his arm and cried, "Why, how are you, Felix?"
+
+Felix turned, discovered an old friend, who, many years younger, had
+served a degree lower in the same regiment with him at that time.
+
+Now the friend was attaché at the embassy, and a favorite with the
+Parisian ladies, a gay, hot-blooded comrade for whom some one had found
+the nickname, "Scirocco." "How are you, Felix?" he cried a second time,
+offering his former comrade his hand.
+
+Felix started. No one in all Austria knew his story better than this
+very Scirocco, and Scirocco offered him his hand.
+
+"Thank you, Rudi," he murmured softly. "It is very good in you to still
+remember me."
+
+Poor Scirocco grew very hot and uncomfortable. Lovable and impulsive,
+he had spoken to Felix without thinking for a moment how hard it is to
+associate with "such a man." Felix looked so miserable, so depressed
+that Scirocco would have told all the lies which might occur to him to
+talk him out of his sadness.
+
+"I was going to run after you in the Bois the other day," he went on,
+"but you were walking with your wife, and I did not wish to intrude.
+_Sapristi!_ How long have you been married? Here in foreign parts one
+loses all Austrian news. Your wife is a sensational beauty. Do not take
+it amiss that I do not even know who she is. I absolutely do not
+remember to have seen any one who could remind me of this fairy-like
+apparition a few years ago in short clothes."
+
+"You certainly never knew her," replied Felix. "She is the daughter of
+a Viennese manufacturer--Harfink."
+
+"Ah!" Somewhat robbed of his self-possession Scirocco, hastily leading
+the conversation from an unpleasant subject, stumbles upon yet more
+dangerous topics. "Do you live in jealous honeymoon solitude, do you
+not go out at all?"
+
+Felix looks pleadingly at him. "You know that I cannot go out," he
+murmurs.
+
+And Scirocco hurries over that--he will not understand. "Nonsense!" he
+cries. "People are wiser here than with us at home. Mind and beauty
+count for as much as nobility." Poor Scirocco, he was never guilty of a
+more trivial platitude. "You must take your wife to the X's," he
+continued.
+
+X was the ambassador at that time. "Never!" said Felix, violently. They
+had reached the Grand Hotel now.
+
+"When may I call upon your wife?" asked Scirocco.
+
+Felix had averted his face from his former friend. "When you wish,
+Rudi," he murmured, then, suddenly turning towards him, "God reward you
+for your kindness, but do not force yourself."
+
+Scirocco saw that tears rolled over the cheeks of the "certain
+Lanzberg."
+
+Scirocco did not philosophize over the weakness of his former comrade,
+he was far too deeply shocked. The result of his great cordiality to
+Felix was an uneasy conscience, the feeling that with the best
+intentions he had acted with a want of tact, and the need of inflicting
+punishment upon some one for Felix's tears. "Poor Felix! such a
+splendid fellow!" he murmured to himself.
+
+Scirocco, whom we must introduce to our readers by his name Count
+Sempaly, was noted for his good-natured precipitation and thoughtless
+generosity, by which he was often subsequently forced pitilessly to
+harshness which would be spared a less lovable but more prudent man.
+
+For instance, at one time there was the American Smythe, who had been
+guilty of a breach of etiquette in a Parisian circle at cards, and whom
+society had avoided, without harshness, with the assurance that he had
+assuredly been only stupid. They bowed to him on the street, they
+invited him to large entertainments, but they hoped that he would not
+accept the invitations; they cut him dead when he accepted them.
+
+Then there was the Marquis de Coup de Foudre, who was accused of
+cheating on the race-track, and who, from indignation--hm!--retired
+from the track. He was not wholly given up, but every one would only
+see him as far off as his neighbor did, in the beautiful bond of mutual
+responsibility which holds society together.
+
+Then finally there was Lady Jane Nevermore, who had permitted herself
+several little irregularities with her husband, and who now, divorced,
+with a grown daughter, rendered Paris and Nice uneasy.
+
+How he had defended these people, with what deep respect, with what
+sympathy he had spoken of them--showed himself with them on public
+occasions, made good all their lack of tact (people in an uncertain
+social position always develop a particular genius for this). He lent
+them more of his shadow than the devoted Bendel lent his master, Peter
+Schemil, procured the widest social credit for them.
+
+He made a legion of enemies, but the clouds which rested on Lady Jane,
+Coup de Foudre and Smythe--their names here stand for many--rested on
+him. People said at last that he must have his reasons for defending
+these people. Weary, angry, he then suddenly withdrew from his
+_protégés_, whom by this he injured much more than he had benefited,
+and who now could, without opposition, proclaim their social
+bankruptcy.
+
+Like many foolhardy heroes, at the last moment he was forced to beat a
+shameful retreat, when a perfectly respectable withdrawal would have
+been possible before.
+
+But with however a wounded heart he might return from his campaign
+against public opinion, he always ventured into battle again.
+
+After this philosophical interlude, we would perhaps do better to
+return to Scirocco, who is meanwhile breakfasting in the "Café Riche."
+
+He was not hungry--he pondered. Lanzberg's fall did not in the least
+remind one of Smythe's, Coup de Foudre's, or Lady Jane's. In regard to
+these people, to a certain extent, prejudice had been justified, as if
+prejudice is not always to a certain extent justified!
+
+Scirocco's pondering ended in the resolution to launch Lanzberg in
+Parisian society as one launches an unpopular _débutante_ of the
+theatre.
+
+The next day he called upon Linda, and the day after Count X---- paid
+his visit.
+
+How high she held her head among her acquaintances of the reading-room
+and skating-rink: "X----, an old friend of my husband," etc., etc.
+
+She took an apartment in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice, an apartment with
+a large cold _salon_ which was distinguished by gilded mouldings and
+white walls, pink doors, conventional chairs, and sky-blue satin
+upholstering. Linda very soon understood that this dazzling elegance,
+which at first had blinded her inexperienced eyes, was intolerably
+"_dentiste_," as they say on the Boulevard.
+
+She surrounded herself with old brocades, with modern bronzes, with
+Smyrna rugs--an irregular confusion of picturesque treasures whose
+unsuitableness justified the temporary look of the whole establishment.
+
+Scirocco helped her in everything. He found out auction sales in the
+Hôtel Drouot for her, stood for half the afternoon on an old Flemish
+chair, to drive a nail with his own hands in the wall for her to hang a
+Diaz or a Corot upon--procured all the invitations for her which she
+wished--in short, was unweariedly obliging, and, _nota bene_, he only
+paid her enough attention to make her the fashion.
+
+She was clever enough to take with him the good-natured, brusque tone
+of a woman who may permit herself little liberties because she is sure
+of her heart and of the respect of the man with whom she associates.
+
+She lived in the seventh heaven. To drive every day, leave orders with
+Worth and Fanet, not to dine at home a single day, to attend two balls
+and three routs in one night, never to have a moment for reflection, to
+be always out of breath with pleasure, and besides this, to be
+surrounded by a crowd of young men with distinguished attractions and
+fine names, animated by the consciousness that for her sake an attaché,
+in despair over her virtuous harshness, had had himself transferred to
+Persia--oh! in her romantic boarding-school dreams she had never
+suspected such a lovely life.
+
+And Felix.
+
+Scirocco had proposed him in the most exclusive club. Felix had not
+resisted this, and came seldom to the club. He could not avoid playing
+little games of _écarté_. He won. His opponent doubled, increased
+tenfold the stakes--Felix continued to win. The sweat stood on his
+brow; he was deathly pale. "Do not play with me--I always win--it is a
+curse!" he cried suddenly, throwing down the cards and completely
+losing his self-control.
+
+Scirocco grew embarrassed and nervously bit his nails. "If he had
+anything to reproach himself with!" he thought to himself. "But that is
+absolutely not the case, absolutely not!"
+
+The others who did not know Baron Lanzberg's history only laughingly
+called him "_un drôle de corps!_"
+
+The story went that Felix Lanzberg had once lost his mind from an
+unfortunate love-affair, and had spent two years in an insane asylum.
+Scirocco had probably invented this rumor and set it in motion to take
+away room for other rumors.
+
+Except Scirocco and Count X, none of the Austrians in Paris at that
+time knew the true state of affairs. A single one had a suspicion,
+wrote to Vienna to inform himself, and received for answer--this and
+that. But this one was a _parvenu_, and when he wished to spread his
+news the others listened to him with mocking smiles, shrugged their
+shoulders arrogantly, and condemned the communication so harshly that
+he never again referred to it. He noticed that it was considered the
+thing to believe in Lanzberg.
+
+Felix grew daily more unsociable, and liked to go to places only where
+he was sure of meeting no one whom he knew, no people of society. He
+took long trips on the steamboats, passed the afternoon in the quiet
+peace of the gardens, sometimes stood for a quarter of an hour gloomily
+before a half-decomposed corpse in the morgue, or wandered through the
+quiet rooms of the Louvre, which are so persistently avoided by certain
+Parisians.
+
+Formerly knowing as little of art as any other Austrian Uhlan officer,
+he now daily found greater pleasure in the pictures.
+
+His natural taste for glaring coloring, _décolleté_ cigarette beauties,
+humorous or sentimental _genre_ pictures disappeared. The soft
+harmonies of the old masterpieces had a strangely soothing effect upon
+his sick nerves.
+
+With slow, dragging steps, his eyes dreamily wandering from one picture
+to another, he sauntered through the long rooms.
+
+The gallery officials soon knew him, and with French talkativeness
+often spoke to him of the weather or politics.
+
+He never became a critic, but he had his favorites. For instance, he
+felt a quite inexplicable preference for Greuze, the Guido Reni of the
+eighteenth century, of whom one might think that he had mixed his
+colors of tears, moonbeams, and the dust of withered flowers, and
+instead of Beatrice Cenci had painted a "Cruche Cassé." Every day he
+stood for a while before the "Cruche Cassé" and murmured "Poor child!"
+
+In one of the galleries there was the gloomy portrait of a woman from
+the hand of the Jansenist, Philippe von Champaigne, pale with dark,
+mournful eyes; in the carriage of the emaciated frame the weary
+rigidity of vanquished pain. Everything in the appearance was so dead
+and ethereal that one almost fancied one could see the flesh dying
+around the soul. Felix stood before this picture every day.
+
+He loved the Samaritan and the Christ on the road to
+Emmaus--masterpieces in which the sublime mystery of the Rembrandt
+colors glorifies the harsh reality. He could not gaze often enough at
+the mysterious eyes of the Christ, the eyes in which compassion is as
+large as the world, the eyes which pardon all, and yet ever sad,
+despairing, seek the means of salvation for sinful creation.
+
+But the picture which beyond all attracted and repelled him, which
+he loved and which yet terrified him, was Watteau's Pierot, pale,
+ghost-like, with glassy eyes in a rigid face; it looks down from the
+wall of the Salle Lacaze. To-day he has gone to a mask-ball to distract
+himself, and his weary eyes ask in disappointment, "Is that all?"
+To-morrow he lies perhaps in the morgue, and his glassy eyes gaze with
+the same look at the solved riddle of eternity, as yesterday, at the
+hollow show--the same gaze which asks, "Is that all?"
+
+Felix almost daily passed a couple of hours in the Louvre. "_Bonjour!_"
+a diligent little artist cried to him here and there, some little
+person whom perhaps he had given some small assistance, and who greeted
+him as an habitué. Except for this all was silence. No one speaks in
+the Louvre; one only whispers.
+
+A hollow mutter and murmur woven of a thousand soft echoes pervade the
+old rooms in their vast monotony like the faint echo of the great
+tumult of the world, or like the murmur of the eternal stream of time.
+
+A year later, in a pretty country-house in Ville d'Avray, where they
+had passed the summer, a little son was laid in Felix's arms. The tiny
+creature, wrapped in white lawn, grew indistinct before his eyes; he
+scarcely saw it, only felt something warm, living, between his hands,
+something the touch of which caused him a wholly new, tender sensation,
+and lightly and carefully he kissed his son's little rosy face.
+
+Then remembrance smote his heart, a convulsive sob overcame him, and in
+a broken voice he murmured, "Poor child! poor child!"
+
+From Ville d'Avray Linda dragged Felix to Biarritz, then to Rome, where
+they passed three winters. These were still worse than the winter in
+Paris. Rome is the city of social consideration, a kind of free city
+for dubious characters. Felix's martyr nimbus had vanished through his
+intercourse with society in Paris. Scirocco who had been removed to
+Rome, was vexed with Linda for following him. Her manner of chaining
+herself to his protection irritated him, but he still assisted her
+social advancement where he could.
+
+The other Austrians were not exactly unfriendly to Felix, but cold and
+distant. On their faces could be read, "We are surprised that you show
+yourself," or even, "We will not turn our backs upon you--we are in
+Rome."
+
+With the certain feeling of kinship which characterizes the Austrian
+nobility, they, to be sure, never spoke of his affairs with a stranger,
+but so much the more among each other.
+
+At last Rome was tired of, and even London, where Linda spent a
+season and enjoyed her greatest triumph. But one place remained to
+try--Traunberg.
+
+It was a cool, unpleasant evening when Felix returned to Traunberg from
+his short visit in Steinbach. Gray and white strangely scattered clouds
+rose along the horizon, the lindens shivered, and threw long pale
+shadows over the smoothly-shaven lawn and the yellow gravel. The sun
+hung on the horizon almost without light, behind a pale mist like a
+half-faded spot of blood.
+
+Life had never been as hard to bear for a "certain Baron Lanzberg" as
+on this evening. Slowly he wandered through the large, gloomy rooms of
+the castle, in which the cold air was as close and mouldy as in a
+cloister, and where every step seemed to charm a remembrance from the
+floor.
+
+He saw Elsa, tall, somewhat pale, with the charming awkwardness of her
+fourteen years, hurry to meet him, shy before her handsome, brilliant
+brother who, a week before, had won a race--her brother of whom she was
+so proud. He saw his father, as he smiled joyfully at him, and pulling
+his ear, cried: "Do you amuse yourself, my boy? Do you amuse yourself?
+Have you debts? Out with it--not many? Always tell me what you need; I
+no longer know what circumstances require. You are my golden boy, you
+are your old father's joy!" He remembered the expression with which the
+Freiherr had surveyed him, a glance in which a kind of exaggerated
+paternal pride was glorified by the deepest love, and the gesture with
+which he had merrily cried to the old family portraits, "Are you
+satisfied with my boy?"
+
+His memory did not spare poor Felix a word.
+
+He had passed through one after another of the large rooms. In some of
+them stood great piles of furniture which Linda had sent here.
+
+Suddenly he found himself before a picture which hung in a dark corner,
+concealed by a curtain, in his father's former room. Hastily he drew
+back the curtain, then he clutched his temples and turned away from the
+painting with the short, dull groan of a dying animal. What had he
+seen? The portrait of an unusually handsome, merry, good-tempered young
+officer, who smiled at him through the twilight. Felix hurried away.
+
+In the lofty, arched corridor, the echo doubled the sound of his
+footsteps. It seemed to him as if that gay comrade had stepped down
+from the frame, and now, relating old stories, wandered at his side.
+The sweat of terror was on his brow. He met a servant, and hastily
+commanded him to remove the picture from the green corner room. His
+voice was always sharp when he spoke to servants, and yet he was the
+best, most generous master in the world.
+
+He entered his child's room. The French _bonne_ laid her finger on her
+lips to signify to him that the child slept. He bent over the little
+creature, who, with one little arm under his cheek, with the other
+clasping a gay gilded doll to him, lay in the embroidered pillows.
+
+Without, the lindens, sighing compassionately, shook their great black
+heads, the tower clock, indifferent as time which it serves, played its
+old piece in a flat tone, hesitating and pausing--a minuet to which the
+grandparents had courtesied and bowed.
+
+Felix listened, listened, like an old man who suddenly hears once more
+the cradle song with which he used to be lulled to sleep.
+
+It overcame him. He bent down deeper over his little son, and murmured
+softly, "Poor child, poor child!" And the words woke the child, he
+opened his large eyes and lisped, unabashed, "Why, poor child? Is Gery
+sick?"
+
+
+
+
+                                   X.
+
+
+"Elsa, dear Elsa, this is lovely in you! What an surprise! I only know
+you from my husband's accounts, and from my wedding-day, but I shall
+love you frightfully, that I feel already."
+
+Crying out these words, Linda had jumped out of the carriage with which
+Felix had met her at the railway station, and greeted Elsa, who, at her
+brother's wish, had come to Traunberg to welcome the young wife to her
+new home. Then leaving Elsa, Linda let her eyes wander over the façade
+of the castle. "_Charmant! magnifique!_" she cried. "A portal like a
+church, gray walls, cracked window-sills, balconies and volutings,
+small-paned old cloister windows! I am charmed, Felix--charmed! _C'est
+tout a fait seigneurial!_ If you knew, Elsa, how tired I am of modern
+villas, stucco and plate glass. Ah, you poor, little creature! I had
+half forgotten you;" with this Linda bends down to her son, who had
+first stamped his little feet with joy and excitement at his mother's
+arrival, but then, ever more and more abashed by the flow of words
+which had carelessly been uttered over his head, with his finger in his
+mouth, now seemed to take a mournful pleasure in crying.
+
+"Have all children a habit of sticking their fingers in their mouths,
+or is it an invention of my young hopeful?" asks Linda, after she has
+hastily kissed and caressed the child. "He will be pretty, the little
+brat. It is a pity that his hair will not grow. When he had typhoid
+fever or measles--what was it, Felix?"
+
+"Scarlet fever," he replied, tenderly raising the tiny man in his arms.
+
+"Oh, yes, scarlet fever; we had to cut his hair, and since then it has
+never grown long."
+
+"I think you can be satisfied with him as he is," says Elsa, looking
+approvingly at the handsome child.
+
+"Yes, he is a nice little thing," admits Linda; "he has splendid eyes,
+the true Lanzberg eyes. Oh, I am so glad that he resembles Felix."
+
+"Well, his beauty would not have suffered if he had resembled you,"
+replies Elsa, with an admiring glance at her sister-in-law.
+
+Linda's physique has developed splendidly. The discontented expression
+which formerly disfigured her face has vanished, has given place to a
+bewitching smile and brilliant glance. Negligence and grace are united
+in her carriage. She displays the gayety and cordiality of a person who
+is satisfied with herself. Laying her arm caressingly around Elsa's
+waist, she whispers: "So you really do not find me too homely for a
+Lanzberg; one would not guess from my looks where I come from, eh?"
+
+"Where you come from?--from the world of society--that certainly," says
+Elsa.
+
+"Bah! From an iron foundry!" cries Linda, laughing.
+
+Elsa glances once more at the picturesque distinction of the slender
+figure near her.
+
+"No," says she, decidedly.
+
+Indeed Linda does not look like the daughter of a self-made
+manufacturer; rather like a Parisian actress with a talent for
+aristocratic rôles.
+
+"And now you must show me everything in my new domain, Elsa,
+everything," cries the young woman, and Elsa says, "Are you not tired,
+will you not first have a cup of tea?" Then Linda says animatedly, "No,
+no, I must first see everything, everything!"
+
+Felix has disappeared with his little darling. Elsa leads her
+sister-in-law through the rooms of the ground floor and first story,
+shows her the elegantly furnished rooms which Elsa has herself helped
+arrange for her.
+
+"Oh, you poor Elsa, how you have tormented yourself for me!" cries
+Linda, and finds everything splendid and charming, with the affability
+of a newly married queen who, entering her kingdom, wishes to make
+herself popular.
+
+"There! I will reserve the attic rooms. I begin to feel the dust of
+travel. It is now much too late to take tea; as soon as I have changed
+my clothes, I will join you in the drawing-room. I do not yet know the
+way to my room--oh, yes--that is the room for my maid---_parfait,
+parfait--au revoir_, my dear heart!" And before she leaves her, Linda
+presses another kiss upon Elsa's cheek.
+
+On her way to the drawing-room, Elsa heard a little voice prattling and
+laughing behind one of the tall doors which open on the corridor. "May
+I come in?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she entered
+the room where Felix, his child on his knee, sat in an arm-chair and
+held a sugar-plum high in the air, while the child climbed up on him,
+half laughing, half vexed at his vain attempt to overcome his father's
+teasing resistance. Both were so absorbed in their occupation that they
+did not notice Elsa's entrance. She gazed at the pretty group with
+emotion--the gray-haired man, the blond child, until finally Felix
+surrendered the sugar-plum, and the child ate it with a very important
+air, smacking his lips, and with contortions of the face by which he
+seemed to show the ambitious desire of resembling as much as possible
+his little friend the monkey in the London Zoo.
+
+Then Elsa laid her hand lovingly on her brother's shoulder. "Oh, how
+you play with the child," said she.
+
+He raised his face to her, the pale face with the sunken eyes and
+hollow cheeks, in which everything was old but pain, which appeared
+fresh and young every morning, and said hastily: "I must love him
+doubly now. Who knows whether later he will have anything to do with
+me?"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XI.
+
+
+"I could not resolve to dress; to appear at dinner in a _peignoir_ is a
+fault which is pardoned in convalescents, and after twenty-four hours
+of railway travel, I feel at least like a convalescent. Ah, how pretty
+it is here!"
+
+So cried Linda, entering the drawing-room where Felix and Elsa awaited
+her, a half hour later.
+
+What she called a _peignoir_ was a confusion of yellowish lace and
+India muslin with elbow sleeves and the unavoidable Watteau plait in
+the back.
+
+Her soft hair hung loose over her shoulders.
+
+"I have a headache, and cannot bear a comb, and as we are _entre
+nous_----" she excused herself smilingly at Elsa's astonished glance,
+as she pushed back the heavy waves from temples and neck. Her gestures
+were full of seductive grace, and her whole form was pervaded with a
+moist, sweet perfume which reminded one of a summer morning after a
+storm, and which exhales from a woman who has just taken a perfumed
+bath. In her whole appearance lay something which excited Elsa's nerves
+without her being able to explain it--which wounded her feelings of
+delicacy.
+
+Linda suspected nothing of the impression which she made. "It is pretty
+here," she repeated, with a lazy glance of satisfaction around the
+room--"I thank you so much, Elsa! One sees everywhere that a woman's
+tact has superintended the furnishing--a workman never produces such an
+impression. Everything looks so cosey, so irregular. How happy I am to
+be home at last!" and Linda took her sister-in-law's slender, sallow
+hand in her white, rosy-tipped one, and kissed it with childish
+exaggeration.
+
+"Who is already here besides the Deys?" she asked then. "Before next
+week I must really think of paying calls."
+
+Elsa was spared an answer by the quick rolling of a carriage. Springing
+up she cried--whether her emotion betrayed merely a severe feeling of
+propriety, and did not also display an unconscious premonition of
+jealousy I cannot say--"Linda, it is Erwin who has come for me. Put up
+your hair; it would be unpleasant for you to meet a strange man so!"
+
+With a peculiar expression in glance and smile, Linda fulfilled her
+sister-in-law's wish. Elsa quickly helped her to twist up her hair, and
+thereby breathed the peculiar perfume which Baroness Lanzberg used.
+
+She will think of this perfume in many terrible hours which fate has in
+store for her.
+
+With both hands at her neck, her beautiful figure clearly outlined, her
+white arms exposed to the elbow by the falling back sleeves, Linda is
+just fastening a pin in her improvised _coiffure_, when Erwin enters
+the drawing-room.
+
+"I did not think that you would take the trouble to come over here,"
+stammers Linda, childishly, shyly offering him her hand, "or else you
+should have found me in more correct toilet."
+
+Elsa starts. Instead of answering, Erwin has kissed the warm white hand
+of his sister-in-law.
+
+The Garzins remained to dinner in Traunberg. Linda would not hear of
+their return to Steinbach, she was so happy at last to have an
+opportunity of learning to know her relations better. She asked advice
+and indulgence so childishly, was so gay, so amusing, so charming, that
+Elsa's antipathy to her increased and Erwin's rapidly lessened. Soon he
+fell into the tone of indifferent gallantry with her which in society
+almost every man takes with every woman who does not inspire a direct
+repugnance in him.
+
+But Elsa, inexperienced as she was, did not know this tone, did not
+know that one can listen with an expression of the most intense
+interest to a woman without having the slightest idea half an hour
+later of what she had said; that one pays her the little flatteries for
+which she hungers as one picks up her handkerchief--from polite habit;
+that for the time which one devotes to her, one is obliged, if not
+absolutely to forget the charms of all other women, still in no case to
+remind her of them.
+
+Linda behaved very cleverly with her brother-in-law, displayed a naïve
+wish to please him--no forward coquetry. She knew that naturalness,
+lack of reserve in a really pretty woman is always the most dangerous
+charm--she was refinedly natural. She told the drollest Parisian
+stories, made the drollest faces without the slightest regard for her
+symmetrical features; she made use of a momentary absence of the
+servants to throw a bread-ball in Felix's face with all the skill of a
+full-blooded street-boy, and as Felix frowned and Erwin could not
+conceal a slight astonishment, she excused herself so penitently, told
+with so much emphasis of how Marie Antoinette in her time had bombarded
+Louis XVI. with bread balls in Trianon, that Erwin was the first to
+console her, while there was something in his conventional courtesy of
+the encouraging consideration which a mature man shows to a spoiled
+child.
+
+After dinner Linda offered to sing something. "She had to be sure no
+voice, not even so much as a raven or Mlle. X----" she remarked
+smilingly, "but she relied upon her dramatic accent and----" as she
+remorsefully admitted--"she had taken such expensive lessons. Would not
+Elsa accompany her?"
+
+Elsa refused gently, almost with embarrassment. She could scarcely read
+the notes, and Erwin? He could read notes and could play enough to
+strum his favorite operatic airs by ear in weak moments. He would try
+to accompany Linda if she would promise to be very patient.
+
+"The worse you play, so much the more excuse will there be for my
+faulty singing," cried Linda gayly, and opened that charming, foolish
+cuckoo song from "Marbolaine."
+
+A pretty confusion followed, a laughing, correcting, her little hands
+playing between his. "Can we begin?" she cried finally, and still half
+leaning over him with one finger pointing to the notes, she began to
+sing "Cuckoo!"
+
+Her voice, in truth, did not remind one in the least of the gloomy
+organ of a raven, or the passionate hoarseness of the X----, rather of
+a child's laugh, it was so clear and boldly gay, even if somewhat thin
+and shrill.
+
+Felix, who had meanwhile been telling Elsa of Gery's scarlet fever with
+most interesting explicitness, grew silent, not, perhaps, because the
+cuckoo song was even half as interesting to him as Gery's parched lips
+and little hands--no! But because he noticed that the usually so
+patient and sympathetic Elsa no longer listened to him. Her eyes were
+fixed on Linda; that thin, flippant voice pained _her_, could it please
+Erwin?
+
+Then the last note ceased. "I am so sorry that I have hindered you by
+my miserable playing," he excused himself. "You sing so very
+charmingly! Another one, I beg you."
+
+For the first time in her life Elsa was vexed that she was not musical.
+
+
+
+
+                                  XII.
+
+
+"Cuckoo," hummed Erwin absently to himself as he drove back with his
+wife to Steinbach through the capricious, flickering evening shadows.
+
+A filmy confusion of pink and white, a tumbled knot of pale brown hair,
+two large, cold eyes, mysterious greenish riddles in a flattering, open
+child-face, a seductive, rococo figure which leaned over the stone
+balustrade of the terrace, and threw gay kisses after the departing
+carriage, this is the last impression which Erwin takes away with him
+from Traunberg, in the landau in which he now sits beside his pale
+wife.
+
+"She has changed greatly for the better. It is a pity that she has such
+bad manners," he breaks the silence after a while.
+
+"Do you really think that she has such bad manners?" replies Elsa,
+without looking at him.
+
+"There can scarcely be any doubt as to that," says he. "Some people may
+certainly think that it is becoming to her. Nevertheless I should wish
+that she gave them up. You must undertake her neglected education,
+child!"
+
+"Oh, I will leave that to you," she replies, coldly, almost irritably.
+"Linda is not a person who will learn anything from women."
+
+"Do not be harsh," he whispers, reproachfully, perhaps with a trace of
+impatience.
+
+The gloomy Traunberg lindens are far behind them, only show as a dark
+spot on the horizon. The carriage rolls on between gigantic poplars;
+the sun has set and the shadows have vanished with it. Over the earth
+is that dull gray light which might be called dead light. The new moon
+floats in the heavens, small and white, like a tiny cloud; pale yellow
+and reddish tints are on the horizon, above the violet distant
+mountains. At the left, only separated by a blooming clover-field, is
+the forest.
+
+"Elsa, do you feel strong enough to walk home through the woods?"
+whispers Erwin to his wife, coaxingly, and as she nods assent he stops
+the carriage, and they take a path through the clover to the shady
+woods.
+
+"Now, was not that a good idea of mine, is it not pretty here?" he
+asks, gayly and proudly, as if he had made the wood, surveying all its
+beauties.
+
+"Lovely," whispers she, but her voice sounds sad.
+
+At her feet the ground is blue with forget-me-nots; under the wild
+rose-bushes already lie many white petals. A sob and a sigh pass
+through the gloomy trees as if spring mourned that the first roses were
+dead. All is grave and solemn, the air spiced with the odor of withered
+generations of leaves, with the perfume of fading or still blooming
+flowers.
+
+Erwin teasingly waits for Elsa to speak to him--he waits in vain. With
+head thrown back and earnest eyes she wanders near him, and does not
+rest her little hands tenderly on his arm as usual.
+
+What is the matter with her? That she can be jealous does not occur to
+him.
+
+They have almost crossed the forest; the meadow which separates it from
+Steinbach park shines between the sparse trees, then Erwin discovers a
+striking trace of game; he bends down to observe it more closely. "A
+roebuck," he murmurs. "Strange--in this region."
+
+"Is there no other way across?" asks Elsa, who has meanwhile crawled
+close to the edge of the meadow, and casting a somewhat anxious glance
+over the knee-high, dewy grass.
+
+"No, wait a moment," he replies, still absorbed in contemplating the
+strange trace.
+
+"It will cost me a pair of shoes," she murmurs somewhat vexedly, raises
+her gown, and resolutely prepares for a very cold foot-bath.
+
+"Elsa, what are you doing?" cries he, perceiving her intention, and,
+leaving his hunter's problem, he hurries quickly up to her. "With your
+genius for taking cold."
+
+Before she has time to answer he has taken her in his arms and carries
+her through the dew. He has wholly forgotten Linda Lanzberg, and also
+that he had been vexed with his poor nervous wife's unjust, childish
+antipathy for Linda. He looks down tenderly upon the dear head, which
+rests with half-closed eyes on his shoulder.
+
+"How light you are," he remarks softly and anxiously; "you do not weigh
+much more than Litzi now, my mouse."
+
+Elsa does not answer, but her slender arms twine round his neck, and as
+his lips seek her pale face, he feels that she is crying.
+
+"What is the matter, my darling?" he asks.
+
+"I do not know myself," she murmurs with a slight shiver. "I am
+afraid."
+
+
+
+
+                                 XIII.
+
+
+"We really must invite her," says, in a mournful tone, Countess Mimi
+Dey, a large stately woman, with a too high forehead, a feature which
+has the proud advantage of being a family inheritance in the Sempaly
+family, an aristocratic, small, turn-up nose, a benevolent smile, and a
+near-sighted glance.
+
+The Countess is the best woman in the world, of proverbial good nature
+and unfeigned condescension in association with music-teachers,
+governesses, companions, maids, tutors and officials, and such poor
+devils who are paid and supported by the aristocracy, and politely
+courtesy to them; but she is unapproachably stiff to the upper middle
+classes, those persons who demand a place in society.
+
+She belongs to that exclusive coterie which considers itself the sole
+patented extract of humanity, and looks upon all the rest of the world
+as only a common herd, a mob which, under certain circumstances,
+permits itself to pay its servants better, and to give more to
+charitable aims than princely houses, a mob which speaks French, wears
+Swedish gloves, and lives in palaces. She has a vague idea that it
+speaks incorrect French, that under the gloves coarse hands are
+concealed, that the palaces are always furnished with the taste of
+first-class waiting-rooms, but knows nothing definite about it, does
+not know "these people" at all, does not see them, although they are
+everywhere--they do not exist for her.
+
+They tell an amusing anecdote of her: that once at the opera on a Patti
+evening, her cousin Pistasch Kamenz entered her box, and asked her, "Is
+any one in the theatre to-night?" She, after she had glanced around the
+crowded building, answered mournfully, "Not a soul!"
+
+What particularly amuses the Countess is that, as she hears, this great
+class of _bourgeoise_, "which one does not know," is, on its side,
+divided by various differences in education and condition into classes
+which do not "know" each other.
+
+"I really must invite her," she repeats, mournfully.
+
+She leans back in a deep arm-chair in a large drawing-room with brown
+wainscoting and numerous family portraits, and smokes a cigarette.
+
+"Pardon me that I really cannot so deeply pity you as you seem to
+expect," replies Scirocco Sempaly, who, now on leave, occupies a second
+armchair opposite his sister.
+
+"Hm! I do not care about the positive fact; last week I dined with my
+bailiff's wife, but--it is a matter of principle."
+
+"_Cent a'as_," says, with indifferent gravity, an old acquaintance of
+ours, Eugene von Rhoeden, who sits by an open window before a mediæval
+inlaid table and plays bézique with the above-mentioned cousin of the
+hostess, Count Pistasch Kamenz.
+
+"_Cent d'as_," he says, apparently wholly absorbed in his cards, and
+moves an ivory counter.
+
+A mild gentle rain is falling, the perfume of half-drowned roses and
+fresh foliage floats into the room. In one corner sits the only
+daughter of the widowed hostess, Countess Elli, a dark little girl in a
+white muslin frock, and near her, in a black silk gown, the governess.
+
+The obligatory half hour which Elli must spend in the drawing-room so
+as to become accustomed to society, is over. Elli is rejoiced,
+sixteen-year-old girl that she is. She takes no particular pleasure in
+the society of grown people, who can no longer pet her as a child, and
+who must not yet treat her as a young lady.
+
+A rustle of silk and muslin, a shy "_Bon soir!_" and Mademoiselle
+retreats with her charge.
+
+Scirocco rises to open the door for the governess, makes her a deep bow
+as she disappears. Rhoeden also rises, only Pistasch indolently remains
+seated.
+
+"Pistasch, you might trouble yourself to say good evening to
+Mademoiselle," says the Countess half jokingly.
+
+"Pardon," replies Pistasch, "pure absent-mindedness, Mimi, and then she
+is so homely."
+
+"That simplifies matters ten-fold," replies Scirocco, hastily. "One can
+never be too polite to homely governesses--it is only the pretty ones
+that are troublesome."
+
+"I do not understand that," says Pistasch, and marks double bézique.
+
+"One never knows how one can be attentive enough to them so as not to
+vex them, and yet reserved enough not to impress them," says Scirocco,
+dryly.
+
+"Hm! You have very virtuous principles, Rudi; for some time you have
+moved wholly in the icy regions of lofty feelings of duty, where the
+tender flowers of the affections never bloom," laughs Pistasch. "I
+admire you, upon my word, but--hm--I do not trace the slightest desire
+to follow you into this rare atmosphere," and he rubbed his hands with
+satisfaction. He considered his cousin's conscientiousness either
+feigned or morbid. How could one be conscientious with women?
+Conscientious in regard to debts of honor, that is something quite
+different, that is self-understood; but regarding governesses--bah!
+
+"Count Pistasch Kamenz is a charming man." So at least say all the
+ladies and also all the men who have not yet come in conflict with him.
+He has the handsomest blond cinque-cento face, speaks the Viennese
+jargon with the most aristocratic accent, and possesses the most
+enviable talents. He rides like Renz, dances like Frappart, and more
+than that, in private theatricals he is like Blasel, Matras and Knaak
+in one person. In all Austria, no man has a greater talent for
+representing Polish Jews, poverty-stricken Czechs, drunken valets,
+provincials of all kinds. But his greatest triumph is the "Vienna
+shoemaker's boy." What accuracy of costume and grimaces! The ladies say
+he has a pug nose when he plays the shoemaker's boy, and a way of
+sticking out his tongue--ah!
+
+He has played for benevolent objects a hundred times, and in Vienna is
+a universally known and boundlessly popular individual, because he is
+intimate with actresses, occasionally from a freak rides in an omnibus,
+or another time is seen in the standing place of the opera house (for a
+half act), because one sometimes meets him in sausage houses, because
+in rainy weather he walks with an umbrella and upturned trousers,
+because once even--the gods and a pretty girl alone know why--he
+travelled from Salzburg to Vienna second class.
+
+The public see in him a pleasant, affable man without pride, and feel
+drawn to him like a brother. Poor public! I would not advise you to
+stretch out your hardened hand to him, for between ourselves Count
+Pistasch is one of the most arrogant of Austrian cavaliers.
+
+The actors with whom he one evening drinks friendship, and the next
+greets with "Hm!--ah--You, Mr.---- what do you call him," can tell
+this. One of them once challenged him. This was a great joke to the
+Count; he laughed until he cried, could not control himself, and
+finally settled it thus: "You are a fine fellow, am very sorry, etc.,
+deserve an order for personal bravery--ah--if I can be of any service
+to you," etc.
+
+He has never been outside of Austria, possesses the vaguest ideas of
+history. The French Revolution is a kind of accidental calamity for
+him, something between the earthquakes of Lisbon and the pest in
+Florence. He is a strict Catholic from aristocratic tradition, has very
+good manners when he wishes, speaks French well, and we can assure our
+readers, that just as he is, without a suspicion of the "principles of
+'89," he would be received with open arms in the most republican
+_salons_ of Paris, and would be admired by the ladies for his "_pureté
+de race_" and "_grand air_."
+
+Now we need only add that he naturally was not christened
+Pistasch--that this is a humorous nickname which was given him as a
+boy, by reason of his idealistic "greenness," but which now, when this
+greenness has long withered, is preserved for the sake of contrast.
+
+"Well, have you decided upon the day when you will invite the
+Lanzberg?" asks Scirocco of his sister, who, after long pondering, gold
+pencil in hand over a little velvet-bound book in which she enters her
+social obligations, now closes it.
+
+"It is very hard," complains the Countess.
+
+"When did this unfortunate Madame Lanzberg call upon you? Oh, yes.
+Wednesday. Have you returned her call yet?"
+
+"No; I must show her from the first that I am in no hurry to associate
+with her," says the Countess.
+
+"Hm!" says Scirocco, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed upon the
+ceiling. "Do you not think, Mimi, that as quite a near relation of
+Lanzberg it would be the thing for you to smooth the way a little for
+his wife? It would be an act of Christian charity."
+
+"The matter is very complicated, Rudi," replied Mimi Dey. "I was always
+very sorry for Felix--you know I decidedly took his part. I have
+nothing against his wife; her manner is indeed deplorable, but on the
+whole, if some little poverty-stricken Sempaly or Dey had married her,
+I should have been the last to withdraw my protection from her. In
+Felix's unfortunate circumstances, he has proved by his marriage that
+he no longer belongs to his caste; he has abdicated, _voilà_."
+
+Rhoeden and Pistasch have finished their game of bézique, and now
+devote themselves to the building of interesting card-houses. They
+spice this intelligent occupation by considerable wagers, which he
+shall win whose card-house remains standing the longest. Up to now
+Rhoeden has had the advantage. But the Countess's words seem to have
+excited him a very little--his card-houses no longer stand.
+
+Scirocco bites his lips, every finger quivers--how can he counsel his
+sister to silence or at least consideration? In vain he turns his back
+to Rhoeden, so as to make an impression upon her by energetic scowling.
+Soon he notices, like many subtle diplomats, that he has naïvely
+exposed himself to the enemy. His energetic play of expression beams at
+him from a mirror in which the attentively watching Rhoeden could
+certainly solve the interesting riddle--but it wholly escapes his
+short-sighted sister.
+
+"As she, nevertheless, must be invited, it would perhaps be better to
+fix the day," cries Scirocco, somewhat impatiently.
+
+"It cannot be this week," answers the Countess, counting over the days.
+"Thursday, Friday and Saturday are the days of the fair for the flooded
+people in Marienbad; Sunday, the ladies of the committee dine at the
+M----'s, Monday there are private theatricals at the M----'s, Thursday,
+the L----'s dine with me----"
+
+"Well, invite them for Thursday," cries Scirocco. "She is really very
+nice, sings chansonettes like Judic; she will amuse you greatly."
+
+"Do you think so?" cries the Countess. "Before Felix was married,
+L---- would hardly bow to him, how will it be now? No, Wednesday.
+Wednesday will be the best, but still I cannot exactly invite her _en
+famille_."
+
+"Hardly," says Scirocco, dryly.
+
+"And whom can I ask to meet her? One has an antipathy to Felix, others
+to her----" the Countess laughs lightly and kindles a fresh cigarette.
+"One must be so careful--it would be very disagreeable for me if toward
+evening some one should accidentally come over from Marienbad, and
+should meet her here."
+
+"Have a warning fastened over the door as when one has small-pox in the
+house," laughs Pistasch.
+
+"Invite the Garzins," proposes Scirocco.
+
+"Yes, that is something, but a strange element is still desirable,"
+remarks the Countess. "What do you say to the Klette?"
+
+Scirocco frowns. "I do not understand how respectable people can
+tolerate this poisonous old gossiping viper under their roofs," he
+answers, angrily.
+
+"Neither do I," replies Mimi Dey, obligingly, "but still every one
+does."
+
+"I make you another proposition, Mimi," cries Pistasch: "Invite old
+Harfink by telegram; I think he will come by special train."
+
+The Countess smiled. "I should certainly do it," remarks she, "but I
+believe the Lanzberg would look upon it as a mortal insult. Besides,
+when did you make his acquaintance?"
+
+"I met him once on the train, and thereupon he invited me to dinner,"
+explains Pistasch.
+
+"And you accepted?" asks the Countess, raising her eyebrows.
+
+"Why of course--I thought I should amuse myself as well as at the Carl
+Theatre. Yes--that was what I fancied. What a disappointment! The
+dinner was not bad, perfectly correct, alas! The wife spoke of nothing
+but the evils of the social question. I did not know where to look, and
+the husband spoke of nothing but the evils of his stomach. Except for
+that, they were both very charming, on my word. Paid me compliments to
+my face with a _sans gêne_. Bah! I was never very kindly disposed to
+Felix, but I pity him on account of this match. For my part I should
+rather marry into a Hottentot family than such people."
+
+I do not believe that during this speech Eugene Rhoeden felt exactly
+upon roses.
+
+There are _parvenus_ who listen in society to such speeches with
+self-satisfied indifference; yes, even laugh at them, and applying the
+English proverb, "Present company always excepted," to their own case,
+fancy themselves unreferred to. But Rhoeden does not belong to these
+enviable ones.
+
+He smiles slightly to himself, and after the conversation had continued
+for some time in a similar manner he begins:
+
+"There was once a French poet named Voltaire, and once when he went to
+London the street boys laughed at him, and sang mocking songs about
+Frenchmen. Then the poet turned round and said: 'You good people, is it
+not hard enough not to have been born among you? Really, you should
+pity us, not despise us!'"
+
+After this little anecdote a universal silence followed, then Scirocco
+cried, "Bravo, Rhoeden!"
+
+The good-natured Countess Dey blushed and said:
+
+"We had entirely forgotten that you are related to these people," which
+sounds like a _betise_, but is balm for Eugene's vanity. Pistasch,
+however, puts on an irritated expression, and cries with his colossal
+impertinence, "I pity you uncommonly!"
+
+Half an hour later the Countess is conferring in her dressing-room with
+her maid concerning her costume for to-morrow, and Pistasch has seated
+himself in a bad temper at the piano, where with his handsome,
+unpractised hands he thumps out the march from Norma, the only
+achievement of a ten years' study of music.
+
+Scirocco and Rhoeden stand below on the rain-wet terrace. "Your cigar
+bores me," cries Scirocco, "throw it away and fill your lungs with pure
+air," and he draws a deep breath so as to enjoy the fragrance of the
+summer evening after the rain.
+
+Eugene does as he is invited, and then asks, "Do you not admire my
+compliance?"
+
+"You are a good fellow; one can get along with you," answers Scirocco
+in his abrupt manner.
+
+"Thanks for the acknowledgment," says Rhoeden, not without bitterness.
+"Sometimes I ask myself whether it would not be better and more
+sensible for me to pack my trunk."
+
+"Don't see the necessity," growls Scirocco.
+
+"I am really not sure," says Rhoeden; "for between ourselves it is
+pleasanter to hear Pistasch make fun of my uncle than to hear my uncle
+rave over Pistasch when the latter has accidentally met him and said:
+'Ah! good day, Mr.---- what is your name--Mr. Harfink?'"
+
+"Curious world!" murmurs Scirocco, smiling to himself.
+
+Rhoeden, seeing him in a particularly good temper, makes use of the
+opportunity to ask him:
+
+"Say, what is the story about Lanzberg?"
+
+Scirocco is silent for a while; looks apparently absently before him,
+and then suddenly cries brusquely, "What did you ask?"
+
+"Whether you think we will have fine weather to-morrow," replies
+Rhoeden.
+
+Scirocco glances at him peculiarly with a half smile, behind which the
+words "Clever dog" may be read.
+
+That evening Eugene writes in the diary in which, instead of
+sentimental impressions, he notes down all freshly-acquired worldly
+wisdom:
+
+"Never ask society, except concerning things which you already know."
+
+
+
+
+                                  XIV.
+
+
+Klette was invited after all, or rather invited herself. At the fair in
+Marienbad she met Mimi Dey, and upon the latter remarking carelessly:
+"How are you, Caroline; when are we to see you in Iwanow?" assured her
+generously, "I am at your service as soon as you send the horses for
+me. I have been intending to spend a few days with you."
+
+And she stays a few days; the first of these, the eventful Wednesday,
+has already dawned, is in fact nearly over.
+
+Klette and the Countess are chatting in the drawing-room. The three
+gentlemen are firing at sparrows in the park, quite a bloodless
+occupation, which the sparrows seem to consider a good joke, and they
+laugh at the shooting with their ironical black eyes. They flutter
+about like will-o'-the-wisps. In vain does Pistasch, who seems
+particularly bent upon this sport, approach softly the trees where they
+crouch--krrm--and they are gone.
+
+For probably the tenth time Pistasch has cried, "The infamous sparrows
+are cleverer than I," has at last fixed his eye upon a comfortable old
+grandfather sparrow, who sleepily philosophizes on the thick branch of
+a nut-tree, but before he has aimed he hears from the open windows of
+the drawing-room loud laughter, the gay ripple of the Countess, and the
+deep, rough ha! ha! ha! of Klette.
+
+"How amused the ladies seem to be," he says, turning to his companions,
+forgetting the sparrow patriarch.
+
+"I do not understand how any one can laugh at that Cantharis," grumbles
+Scirocco.
+
+"Oh, she is surely relating something piquant about us," says Pistasch.
+"It is incredible how greatly interested the ladies are in our doings,
+that is to say, in our evil doings."
+
+Now the shadows have become much longer. Klette has withdrawn to don a
+wonderful cap of yellow lace and red ribbons, and the men have returned
+from their bloodless hunt, to exchange their gay shirts and light
+summer suits for solemn black and dazzling white.
+
+"Rudi," cries the Countess, as she hears a light and yet somewhat
+dragging step--Scirocco limps a little--passing her dressing-room door.
+
+"Have you any commission, Mimi?" asks Scirocco, with his good-natured
+obligingness, as he enters the room. The Countess has dismissed her
+maid, is already in dinner toilet, suppressed laughter sparkles in her
+bright brown eyes, the corners of her mouth twitch merrily. "No!" she
+replies to his question. "What commission should I have for you!--Ah!
+You came from the greenhouse?" pointing to a couple of flowers in his
+hand.
+
+"Yes. I wished to give the gardener some directions in regard to the
+flowers for your guests. I remember that Elsa cannot bear gardenias,
+and Linda--hm--the Lanzberg raves over stephanotis."
+
+"You really might have omitted the bouquets today," says Mimi, vexedly.
+"My greenhouses without this--thanks to the fair and those stupid
+theatricals--are pretty well stripped."
+
+"Elsa has never dined here without finding her favorite flowers beside
+her plate," remarked Scirocco, calmly. "I can neither pass over Linda,
+nor will I punish Elsa for the misfortune of having a Miss Harfink for
+sister-in-law. Why are you laughing so, Mimi, what seems so amusing to
+you?"
+
+"My own simplicity," cries the Countess. "I was so very stupid."
+
+"Mimi, I do not understand you in the least," says he in astonishment.
+
+"Oh, I took your protection of this pretty Lanzberg for unselfish
+philanthropy!" The Countess interrupts herself to laugh.
+
+"Unselfish philanthropy! Say rather ordinary justice," cries he,
+becoming somewhat violent. "What are you thinking of? What are you
+driving at?"
+
+"Your discretion is admirable! You understand no hints."
+
+"Ah, indeed!" cried Scirocco, pale with rage. "Ah, indeed! and the
+Cantharis told you that--that was what you were laughing over so
+immoderately?"
+
+"But Rudi, never mind. I do not take it amiss in you," cries the
+Countess good-naturedly, restraining her levity.
+
+"But I take it amiss in myself to have given rise by my thoughtless
+inconsiderateness to such infamous inventions!" cried Scirocco, "for,
+once for all, Mimi, Mrs. Lanzberg is horribly calumniated by such."
+
+"There are cases where perjury is permissible," says the Countess,
+indifferently. "Do not trouble yourself, I will never speak of the
+matter."
+
+Then Scirocco steps close up to his sister. "Mimi!" cries he, hoarsely,
+"do you know that I am wounded, seriously wounded by your suspicion?
+Pray consider the meanness which you ascribe to me! I have worked for
+Felix's rehabilitation so as to be able to carry on a convenient love
+affair with his wife, on the risk that the world, bad as it is,
+discredited as he is, should say that he voluntarily paid this price
+for my assistance. His wife was indifferent to me, but even if she had
+charmed me I would have avoided her like the plague rather than throw
+another shadow on Felix's compromised existence. Poor Felix! And I
+imagined that I had been of some use to him."
+
+Impossible not to believe in his honest excitement. "Pardon, Rudi,"
+whispers the Countess, "I had not thought."
+
+"Never mind that, Mimi," he murmured, "besides it is better that I know
+what people say. I can at least act accordingly--to-day. This venomous
+serpent will surely watch my every glance. However, I must hurry--_à
+tantôt_, Mimi!"
+
+With that he rushed out, had only just time to change his clothes when
+he heard a carriage approach.
+
+"Poor Felix!" he murmured thoughtfully and sadly, "I can do nothing
+more for you; they have tied my hands."
+
+Thus the last shadow of pleasure which Linda might have had at the
+dinner has vanished.
+
+The Lanzbergs arrived a few minutes before the Garzins. Scirocco
+received them at the foot of the terrace, offered Linda his arm, with
+somewhat formal politeness, and escorted her to his sister in the
+drawing-room, not in the cosey, brown wainscoted one, but in a
+ceremonious chamber hung with Gobelins. The Countess rose at her
+entrance and took two steps to meet her, then introduced her to those
+present with her usual absent-mindedness, naturally to Rhoeden also, at
+which Linda began to laugh; but as no one joined in her merriment, her
+pretty, attractive face suited itself to the universal gravity.
+
+Poor Linda, she so petted, so spoiled, to-day sees not a welcoming
+face, even among the men.
+
+The Countess exchanges polite commonplaces with her, while she
+addresses remarks to Klette in between. The chair near the sofa on
+which Linda sits remains empty. Pistasch, whose humorous talents are
+to-day wholly imperceptible, presents the appearance of a distinguished
+statue, and exchanges a few words with Eugene, while Scirocco with
+unnatural liveliness has entered into a conversation with Felix.
+
+At last the Garzins appear--every one thaws. The Countess does not
+walk, no, she runs to meet Elsa, kisses her on both cheeks, scolds
+Garzin for permitting his wife to look so pale, accidentally steps on
+Linda's train, turns round and says, "Ah, pardon me, Baroness!" a
+perfectly polite little phrase which makes Linda feel as if cold water
+had been thrown over her.
+
+The dinner is announced. Scirocco takes Linda in with the same strange
+formality which she perceives in him to-day for the first time. At the
+table a charming surprise does indeed await her--a bouquet of
+stephanotis and gardenias.
+
+"Oh, Scirocco!" cries she, perhaps a very little too loudly, "that is
+too lovely! It reminds me of Rome," she adds softly.
+
+She is already so nervous that she would like to burst into tears at
+the pretty attention. Her eyes sparkle, and a fleeting blush crimsons
+her cheeks. Scirocco is sorry for her. "I am glad that you appreciate
+my good memory," says he, bending slightly towards her. Then he notices
+how suddenly no less than three pairs of eyes watch him closely, those
+of Klette, Pistasch, and Rhoeden; he feels that Linda's excited manner
+is most suited to strengthen this distrustful trio in their suspicion,
+and immediately turns to Elsa.
+
+"I could not conjure up any white elder, unfortunately, Snowdrop," says
+he, shaking his handsome head vexedly.
+
+"Even with the assistance of all the seasons, you could hardly have
+found anything more beautiful than these white roses," she replies.
+
+She sits at Scirocco's left.
+
+Linda cannot eat, and finds no opportunity to speak, and relate the gay
+little stories which are her specialty. Pistasch, who sits at her
+right, contents himself by from time to time dutifully making some
+remark to her concerning the weather, the country, and such perfectly
+neutral subjects, excluding all intimate conversation, and Scirocco,
+her old friend, on whose homage she had relied so surely, to-day has
+nothing but etiquette for her. She listens to his conversation with
+Elsa. Elsa and he were playmates together. She calls him by his given
+name, he calls her Snowdrop, which pretty nick-name he had discovered
+for her years before. Both laugh lightly over old reminiscences which
+they share, and ask each other about old, half-forgotten friends.
+Pleasant confidence on her part, smiling courtesy on his, marks their
+manner to each other.
+
+Linda feels more and more depressed.
+
+Felix, more gloomy and embarrassed than usual, scarcely raises his eyes
+from his plate. Except Scirocco, who absolutely cannot help her, nor
+dares, only one notices and pities her misery--Erwin.
+
+"What has become of your wild gypsy, Snowdrop?" asks Scirocco, among
+other things.
+
+"My wild gypsy has become a very tame gypsy, who lets my little
+daughter ride her very good-naturedly," replies Elsa.
+
+"Ah, Litzi rides already; then I must accompany her some day soon,"
+says Scirocco.
+
+"Do not break her heart. She likes you better than any one else now,"
+says Elsa.
+
+"That is quite mutual," he assures her. "I hope you will bring Litzi up
+for me."
+
+"Since we have been at Traunberg I have not yet been able to find a
+suitable saddle-horse." Linda turns to Scirocco.
+
+"If you are not a grandfather before Litzi thinks of marriage," Elsa
+laughingly answers his last remark. "Do you know that you are beginning
+to grow gray?"
+
+Whereupon be, turning to his right, says: "You will find the country
+very pleasant for riding, Baroness--many meadows," and to the left:
+"You always were accustomed to discover the mote in my eye, Snowdrop!"
+
+"Why did you never mention your wish to me, Linda?" asks Erwin across
+the table. "I can place a horse at your disposal which might suit you."
+
+"Riding is a very pleasant pastime--will be a great resource for you,
+Baroness," remarks Pistasch.
+
+"Ah! Do you think that I will need many resources in Traunberg?" asks
+Linda, bitterly.
+
+"Well, life in the country is always monotonous," he says politely but
+somewhat hesitatingly.
+
+"These _pâtis_ are excellent, Mika," now says the bass voice of Klette,
+at his right. She has known him all his life, has dandled him on her
+knees when he wore short dresses, still calls him by his Christian
+name, and is one of the few people who remember that he was really
+baptised Michael.
+
+He gives a servant a sign. "Shall I help you?" he asks with droll
+gallantry.
+
+"I have nothing against it--two, please," she replies.
+
+"How is Marienbad looking? Any new beauties?" he asks.
+
+"Don't be so lazy, and come over and see for yourself," says she with
+her mouth very full.
+
+"I was there Saturday at the fair. Ruined myself buying cigar-cases. I
+place six at your disposal, Caroline. But on my word, it is astonishing
+what trash they had at the fair."
+
+"You distinguished yourself," cries the hostess, laughingly.
+
+"Yes, unfortunately I took a Ring Street beauty for the F---- from the
+Carl Theatre, and asked her how much a kiss cost. Her ladyship entered
+into the joke, and answered that she only sold cuffs, and as I
+persisted--_pour la bonne cause_, she replied in perfectly good French,
+'_La bonne cause s'en effaroucherait_,' then I grew urgent. 'Count
+Kamenz!' cried a warning voice near me. I look up, and behold beside
+me, the picture of offended dignity, the husband."
+
+"And how did you get out of the scrape? What did you say?" asks Klette.
+
+"I?--What could I say?--'Ah, pardon'--and decamped!"
+
+"Cool! Very!" remarks Rhoeden, who has been reconciled to Pistasch
+again, laughing.
+
+"I only wondered that he knew my name so well," says Pistasch,
+meditatively, with feigned simplicity. "I do not know to this day what
+his name is. His wife was a magnificent creature, on my word--what a
+pity!"
+
+"I think she was sadder at the interruption than you," says Rhoeden.
+
+"Possibly," replies Pistasch, calmly.
+
+The trivial little story has seemed diverting enough to all present
+except Linda. Is that the way in which young people of society speak of
+pretty women out of their sphere, to whom they pay attentions? she asks
+herself.
+
+
+
+
+                                  XV.
+
+
+Now the dinner is over. They have left the drawing-room to wander
+through the park. There are thunder-clouds in the sky, the air is close
+and breathless, sultry, but at times a sharp gust of wind rises. The
+birds fly close to the ground, as if the black sky frightened them, and
+the flowers smell strangely sweet.
+
+In vain has Linda sent inviting glances at Scirocco; he clings to Elsa
+as a sinner might cling to a saint through whose protection he hoped to
+gain admission to Paradise.
+
+Rhoeden who, whether from policy or convenience, plays the rôle of an
+injured man and is very reserved, polite and attentive as he is, has
+undertaken to be the young Elli's partner at lawn-tennis, by which game
+he can meet her in the park.
+
+Erwin has good-naturedly joined his pretty sister-in-law; chatting
+gayly, he tries to drive away her bitter mood. There is something in
+the shape of his eyes which makes them look sentimental, one might
+almost say loving. His temperament is such that he can be with no one,
+especially no woman, without trying to make her existence agreeable.
+
+Elsa who, walking with Scirocco, meets her husband, Linda on his arm,
+remembers neither the one thing nor the other; the smile with which,
+with head slightly lowered, he listens to her chat, the glance which he
+rests on her, are in Elsa's eyes half crimes. After a few superficial
+words the two couples separate again. Erwin as he goes turns round and
+calls to Scirocco, "See that you do not take my wife into a draught,
+Sempaly. She is strangely imprudent."
+
+"What admirable thoughtfulness," says Elsa, half aloud, and draws down
+the corners of her mouth so deeply that Scirocco, as an old friend,
+permits himself to remark laughingly, "I did not know that you could
+look so gloomy, Snowdrop!" whereupon Elsa blushes.
+
+Linda and Erwin join the lawn-tennis players. Linda has studied this
+modern pastime thoroughly in England, and likes to play; besides that,
+she knows very well that nothing is more becoming to her slender yet
+voluptuous figure than the quick litheness required in lawn-tennis.
+Her voice reaches Elsa from a distance, gay, shrill, then the soft
+half-laughing voice of Erwin.
+
+"You look so tired, Snowdrop," says Sempaly, sympathetically, "will you
+not rest a little?" With that he points to a bench in a niche of thick
+elder-bushes.
+
+"Yes, I am tired," says Elsa, dully, and sits down.
+
+"Tired after a two-hour drive and a little stroll through the park,
+Snowdrop," remarks Scirocco, anxiously. "I do not recognize you any
+more. You used to endure so much. Do you know that your health makes me
+anxious?"
+
+"Nonsense! My health interests you about as much as that of the Emperor
+of Brazil. If you receive notice of my death some day you will shrug
+your shoulders and sigh sympathetically, 'Poor Garzin!'"
+
+"You are intolerable, Snowdrop," says Scirocco, laughing. "Besides, the
+wind is rising and you are beginning to shiver. Let us go to the
+house."
+
+"No, I like it here," she cries with a pretty childishness. "I should
+like to see the sun set from here, and am curious as to whether the
+Flora there"--pointing to a statue--"will become flushed pink. Prove
+your friendship and get me a wrap."
+
+He goes away, but remains longer than the nearness of the castle seems
+to justify. Elsa does not notice his long absence. She prefers to be
+alone in this spot. The bench reminds her of old times, and is
+therefore dear to her. Whether the Flora becomes pink or not is
+perfectly indifferent to her--she does not look outward, she gazes
+inward. She thinks of the day when she sat there with Erwin, her
+betrothed. (Count Dey was still alive then.) She remembers--oh,
+something foolish--the little beetle which had fallen in her hair and
+which Erwin had brushed away with light hand; his caressing touch; how
+he looked lovingly at the beetle because it had touched his love's
+hair; how, instead of throwing the insect away, he had carried it with
+him when they left the bench, and had placed it carefully in the heart
+of the most beautiful rose which they passed.
+
+How he loved her then! How passionately and at the same time how
+tenderly! "Ah! those were such lovely times," she sighs with the old
+song.
+
+The voices of the lawn-tennis players are still heard. How can they
+play in such a gale? Suddenly she hears her name spoken near by.
+
+"How this poor Mrs. Garzin has gone off!" cries the Klette's bass
+voice. "I scarcely recognized her."
+
+"She looks badly," replies Count Pistasch's distinguished husky voice.
+
+"She has grown old, fearfully old; she looks as if she were forty,"
+asserts the Klette.
+
+"Ah, bah! She looks rather like a consumptive pensioner," replies
+Pistasch. "What can be the matter with her? I hope no trouble is
+worrying her."
+
+"Don't you think that this good Garzin is a little too fond of his
+pretty sister-in-law?"
+
+"Nonsense, Caroline!" says Pistasch, reprovingly. "You are always
+imagining something. Recently you asked me whether poor Rudi----"
+
+"Well, that is evidently over;" the Klette heaves a sigh of
+disappointment; "but she must coquet, poor Mrs. Lanzberg, to amuse
+herself, there is not much else for her to do; and say yourself--I do
+not assert that the good Garzin has already knelt to her, but would it
+not be natural? It would really serve this arrogant Elsa right. To
+force Garzin, a man of such a gay, sociable nature, to absolute
+solitude; to take away from him his career, his occupation, in short,
+everything."
+
+Elsa springs up; she listens breathlessly. What does she care that it
+is ill-bred to listen? But the voices die away. Pistasch and the Klette
+turn into another path without noticing the white form in the dark
+elder niche.
+
+Scirocco at length comes back.
+
+"I could not find either your things or Mimi's maid all this time," he
+excuses himself for his long delay. "I hope this belongs to you,"
+offering her a white crêpe shawl.
+
+She takes it, but immediately starts back with a violent gesture. "That
+belongs to my sister-in-law," she cries; "my things are never so
+strongly perfumed. Only smell it, how strange!"
+
+"Yes, truly," says he, holding the shawl to his face; "that is a harem
+perfume which some one brought her from Constantinople. But what is the
+matter, Snowdrop?"
+
+"I feel the storm approach," she murmurs, tonelessly. "Let us go to the
+house."
+
+They go. The swallows fly yet lower, the clouds hang heavier, almost
+touch the black tree-tops. There is a whistling and hissing in the
+leaves.
+
+Elsa hears nothing. With dragging, and yet overhasty, steps she walks
+near Sempaly. "Who knows whether he would even say 'poor Garzin' if I
+should die?" she thinks to herself.
+
+The lawn-tennis party, which Pistasch and the Klette have now also
+joined, growing more and more animated, has lasted until the first
+drops of rain have driven them away.
+
+Somewhat dishevelled and heated, her morbid self-consciousness healed
+by the admiration which Pistasch, escaped from his cousin's control,
+had unreservedly displayed for her, Linda enters the drawing-room where
+the Countess, Felix, Elsa and Scirocco are assembled.
+
+"How did your lawn-tennis come on?" asks Scirocco, as the Countess,
+vexed at Linda's triumphant look, does not condescend to address her.
+
+"Oh, excellently," cries Linda. "Count Kamenz and my brother-in-law
+display the greatest talent for this noble occupation."
+
+"To whom do you give the palm?" cries Kamenz.
+
+"I cannot decide that to-day," says she with as much gravity as if she
+were deciding upon the fortieth _fauteuil_ of the Paris Academy. "One
+judges talent not from what it first offers, but according to its
+subsequent development."
+
+This pedantic phrase from her fresh lips is so irresistibly droll that
+Pistasch and Erwin laugh heartily, and even Scirocco cannot suppress a
+slight smile.
+
+"We have come to the conclusion that the ground here is not favorable,"
+continues Linda, turning to Scirocco, "and the gentlemen are coming
+over to Traunberg to-morrow to practise. Will you be one of the party,
+Count Sempaly?"
+
+"If you will permit me, I will have the pleasure, Baroness," he replies
+with a bow.
+
+"You are as full of phrases as an old copy-setter to-day," cries she,
+shrugs her shoulders, laughs lightly, and sinks into the arm-chair
+which Pistasch pushes forward for her.
+
+Pistasch seats himself opposite her. His light laugh as he leans
+forward, her satisfied leaning back, the continuous conversation wholly
+incomprehensible to the others, indicated a dawning flirtation. What
+did it matter to Pistasch whether Linda's father's name was Harfink or
+Schmuckbuckling? A man never troubles himself about such a thing when
+he is paying court to a pretty woman.
+
+Poor Mimi! for years she has treated Pistasch as her exclusive
+property, she grows nervous, glances discontentedly in the direction of
+the two.
+
+"Rudi, will you order the carriage?" asks Felix, uneasily.
+
+Scirocco stretches out his hand to the bell, but asks politely, "Will
+you not wait until the rain has ceased?"
+
+"I have no desire to get wet in our open carriage," interposes Linda.
+
+"I could place a close carriage at your disposal," remarks the nervous
+Countess, irritated even more by Pistasch's manner than by Linda's
+victorious expression, and adds constrainedly, "However, I really see
+no reason for haste."
+
+Hardly can permission to remain be given in a colder tone. But Linda
+replies with astonishing aplomb, "Neither do I," and has a sweet, naïve
+smile for the Countess, and for Pistasch, on the contrary, a comical,
+expressive glance which delights him. He finds it quite in order that
+she should refresh herself with a little impertinence. "She is piquant
+as an actress," he thinks.
+
+Then the door opens; unannounced, like very old friends, a lady and
+gentleman enter. She, small, fat, lively, cries out, hurrying up to the
+Countess, "We flee to thee, Mimi, the rain has surprised us. Ah, you
+have guests--how are you, Elsa? do I really see you at last?"
+
+He, tall, thin, with a Velasquez nose, Don Quixote manner, and arrogant
+eyes, looking out through glasses, has meanwhile chivalrously kissed
+the hand of the Countess. Now he looks round, recognizes Erwin, greets
+him heartily, comes up to Felix, starts slightly, goes past him to
+Rhoeden, as if he had never seen Felix in his life before.
+
+Felix stands motionless, ashy, rigid, with bluish lips and half-closed
+eyes. Scirocco has lived through many unpleasant moments, but never a
+more painful one. Still he rapidly collects himself, takes the new
+guest by both shoulders and turns him toward Felix.
+
+"That is Lanzberg. Did you not recognize him, Max?" he cries.
+
+After that nothing remains for Count L---- but to murmur in apology, so
+as not to insult the guests of the house in which he is, "I am so
+near-sighted," and to stretch out two arrogant fingers to Felix.
+
+"Order the carriage, Rudi," begs Felix, very hoarsely.
+
+Linda, who has not noticed the little scene, gives Pistasch a glance at
+the interruption of their _tête-à-tête_, which flatters his vanity.
+
+
+
+
+                                  XVI.
+
+
+"You have slept badly, mouse; look at your poor eyes. You worry me, you
+pale person."
+
+With these words Erwin greets his wife the next morning at breakfast,
+kisses her lightly on the forehead, then reads his letters, swallows a
+cup of coffee in great haste, greets Miss Sidney, who enters with her
+little pupil, absently though pleasantly, lets himself, still
+pleasantly but somewhat passively, be embraced by his little daughter,
+puts his letters in his pocket and hurries away, but turns at the door
+and cries: "Do not expect me to lunch, Elsa; I have a great deal to do
+in Radewitz."
+
+Now he has gone, Elsa's eyes have grown sad. For a few minutes after
+Miss Sidney has led Litzi away Elsa remains at the deserted breakfast
+table and crumbling a roll, murmurs, "He has forgotten."
+
+To-day is their wedding-day, a day which Erwin has always made much of,
+which has always been a day of sweetest recollections. She had remained
+in her room this morning longer than usual, because she had hoped that
+he would seek her. In vain! Then she, poor Elsa, had expected a little
+surprise at the breakfast table--in vain!
+
+So now she sits there and hopes that perhaps he will return.
+
+Yes, he returns--his steps rapidly approach, her heart beats fast, the
+door opens, Erwin bursts in with hat on his head, and cries: "Elsa,
+don't forget to send the White Duchess to Traunberg. I have not time to
+give the order," and disappears.
+
+"He has forgotten--decidedly forgotten!" cries Elsa, "for the first
+time!" Then she leaves the breakfast room.
+
+Time passes slowly and sadly for her. "It is a trifle not worth
+speaking about," she tells herself again and again. "I should have
+reminded him," but then she feels herself grow hot.
+
+"He did not forget Linda's horse," she murmurs bitterly, and adds still
+more bitterly: "He is bored. Every diversion is welcome to him. Poor
+Erwin!"
+
+The day passes--the dinner hour draws near, several minutes before five
+Erwin at length returns. Heated and irritable he seeks her in her room.
+"How vexed I have been!" he cries as he enters.
+
+She smiles, a little excitement overcomes her. But soon it turns out
+that he has not been vexed at his forgetfulness--oh, no!--only at the
+cheating and roguery of his sugar factory director.
+
+"It serves you right," remarks Elsa, coldly. She cannot deny herself
+the satisfaction of making some sharp remark to him. "When he
+introduced himself to you, you told me 'the man is repulsive to me!'
+and when he came back again you engaged him. You always do so. At the
+first glance you judge men according to your instincts, and very
+justly; at the second glance you judge them by the universal statutes
+of lofty philanthropy, and always falsely. I know no one for whom it is
+more unpleasant to believe ill of his neighbor than you."
+
+"God be praised and thanked that the counterbalance of a desperately
+distrustful wife is given me, then," cried Erwin, somewhat irritably.
+Then a pair of large eyes meet his gloomily. "My distrust is a disease,
+and you know the cause," says she, earnestly.
+
+The shrill dinner-bell at this point interrupts the conversation.
+
+After dinner--Miss Sidney has gone into the garden with Litzi to
+play grace hoops--the husband and wife sit vexedly silent in the
+drawing-room, when a servant presents a  letter to Erwin from
+Traunberg. Elsa has at once perceived that it is in Linda's, not in
+Felix's handwriting. Erwin has opened it, apparently indifferently,
+then suddenly the blood rushes to his cheeks, almost violently he
+throws the letter away, kneels before Elsa and takes both her hands in
+his. "How could I forget the 27th? Elsa, are you very angry with me?"
+he cries.
+
+It would be hard to remain angry with him, if he had not been reminded
+of his duty by just Linda. But this vexes Elsa so much that she answers
+his warm glance and pleasant smile only with a cool "Why should I be
+angry?" as indifferently and calmly as if the 27th no more concerned
+her than the date of the battle of Leipzig.
+
+"Had you forgotten, also?" he asks, wounded.
+
+"Forgotten?--what?" asks she, dully.
+
+"That to-day is my lucky day--the loveliest day of all the year for me?
+Oh, Elsa! Has it become indifferent to you?"
+
+His voice goes deep to her heart, but she is ashamed to be so moved by
+his first warm words--is ashamed to show him how his forgetfulness has
+pained her. In proud fear of having shown too much feeling, she hardens
+her heart, and with the peculiar histrionic talent which is at the
+disposal of most women in critical moments, and which they love to
+display, so as to thereby ruin the happiness of their life, she says
+calmly, pleasantly, half laughingly: "Ah, indeed!--I should tease you
+for your lack of memory!"
+
+"Elsa!" confused and surprised he looks in her eyes. "Do you not
+remember how we have always valued the day; do you not remember the
+first year? You had forgotten it, then?--and when I put the ring on
+your finger--perhaps you do not wear it any longer?"
+
+"Oh, yes;" and Elsa looks down at the large diamond which sparkles like
+a dewdrop or a tear near her wedding-ring.
+
+"Well, you were ashamed, then, not to have thought of me," he
+continued, "and then--then you repeated to me, half crying, half
+laughing, very tenderly a little childish wish: 'Had I an empire I
+would lay it at thy feet, alas, I can offer you nothing but a kiss,' do
+you not remember, Elsa?"
+
+But Elsa only replies coldly, almost mockingly: "It is very long
+ago--hm! What does Linda write to you besides that to-day is the 27th?"
+
+"I have not read all of her letter, read it yourself if you wish," and
+with that he hands his wife the letter.
+
+Elsa at first struggles with herself, but then she reads it, and half
+aloud:
+
+
+Dear Erwin:--It is really too charming in you to so kindly gratify my
+thoughtless wish. Many, many thanks for the beautiful White Duchess.
+
+Felix just tells me that to-day is the 27th, a day on which you will
+have no pleasure in playing lawn-tennis with me. You might perhaps
+force yourself to come so as not to vex me, solitary as I am now.
+Therefore I release you from your promise. Kiss Elsa for me, and, with
+most cordial greetings,       Sincerely yours,     Linda Lanzberg.
+
+
+"How well she writes," says Elsa, who is sorry that she can find
+nothing to complain of in the letter, and with the firm resolve not to
+let her jealousy be perceived in the slightest, she continues: "I
+should be sorry if our foolish lovers' traditions should prevent you
+from amusing yourself a little, my poor Erwin." She had taken up some
+fancy work and seemed to ponder over a difficulty in it. "Pray go over
+to Traunberg and invite Linda to dinner Sunday."
+
+Erwin gazes angrily before him. "You send me away,
+Elsa--you--to-day--on our wedding-day?" says he then, slowly.
+
+She laughs lightly and threads a fresh needle. "Ah! do not be childish,
+Erwin," cries she. "It is not suited to our age now."
+
+He pulls the bell rope violently. "Elsa," he whispers once more before
+the servant enters, but with such intolerable cordiality she says,
+"Well, Erwin?" that he turns away his head and calls to the servant,
+who just then appears, "Tell Franz to saddle my horse."
+
+
+
+
+                                 XVII.
+
+
+A small room with large windows opening on the park, innumerable
+flowers in vases of different forms standing about the room, a perfume
+as intoxicating and painfully sweet as poison which gives one death in
+a last rapture; on the walls, hung with silver-worked rococo damask, a
+few rare pictures, only five or six; two Greuze heads with red-kissed
+lips and tear-reddened eyes, eyes which look up to heaven because earth
+has deceived them; then a Corot, a spring landscape, where dishevelled
+nymphs dance a wild round with dry leaves which winter has left; a
+Watteau, in which women, in the bouffant paniers of the time of the
+regents, with bared bosoms and hair drawn high up on their heads, touch
+glasses of champagne with gallant cavaliers, a picture in which
+everything smiles, and which yet makes one deeply mournful; a picture
+in which men and women, especially women, seem to have no heart, no
+soul, no enjoyment on earth, no belief in heaven; but in deepest
+_ennui_ float about like butterflies, tormented by the curse of the
+consciousness that their life lasts only from sunrise to sunset; a
+Rembrandt, a negress, brutally healthy, bestially stupid, with dull
+glance, broad, hungry lips, huge, homely, and wholly satisfied with
+herself and creation; about the room soft, inviting furniture; no
+dazzling light, pale reddish reflections; draperies in Roman style,
+artistic knick-knacks and soft rugs--this is what Erwin finds as,
+pushing aside the drawn portières, he enters Linda's boudoir without
+announcement.
+
+Amid these surroundings she sits at an upright piano, and softly and
+dreamily sings an Italian love-song.
+
+Erwin comes close up to the piano. "Ah!" cries she, springing up. It
+would be impossible not to see what unusual pleasure his visit gives
+her. Her eyes shine, and a faint blush passes over her cheeks. "Erwin,
+did you not receive my letter?" she cries almost shyly, and gives him a
+soft hand which trembles and grows warm in his.
+
+"Certainly," he replies. "It was very nice in you to consider our
+foo----" in spite of all the bitterness which for the moment he feels
+toward Elsa, he cannot use the byword foolish, and rather says--"little
+traditions. I only came for a moment, I----" he hesitates. "Elsa hopes
+that you will do us the pleasure of dining with us Sunday."
+
+"Sunday?" repeats Linda, letting her fingers wander absently in dreamy
+preluding over the keys.
+
+"Have you planned anything else?" asked Erwin, who had meanwhile taken
+a very comfortable chair.
+
+"What should I have planned?" asked she, shrugging her pretty
+shoulders. "No, no, I will come gladly. You are very good to me, Erwin,
+and I am inexpressibly thankful to you."
+
+A strangely exaggerated feeling was in her accent, in her moist glance,
+and the quick gesture with which she stretched out both hands to him.
+
+"Where is Felix?" he asked, turning the conversation.
+
+"Felix is, I believe, over in Lanzberg," she answered. "He has
+'something to attend to.' He always has 'something to attend to' when I
+expect people," she added, bitterly. "It makes my position so
+uncommonly easy, Erwin! Can you account for his behavior? Would you, if
+you had once resolved to choose a wife of unequal birth, afterward be
+so passionately ashamed of her as Felix is?"
+
+"How can you talk so foolishly, Linda?" Erwin interrupted the young
+wife, uneasily.
+
+"Foolishly!" Linda shook her head with discouragement. "If you only saw
+him! Lately he made a scene before I could be permitted to accept the
+Deys' invitation; then, at the last moment, he had a headache, and
+expressed the wish that I should join Elsa and go without him."
+
+"Strange idea to hang this monster in your pretty rococo nest!" cried
+Erwin, growing more and more embarrassed, and abruptly changing the
+conversation from Felix to the Rembrandt negress.
+
+"The monster pleases me, I like contrasts--but to return to Felix----"
+
+"You expect Pistasch and Sempaly, do you not?"
+
+"They wished to come this evening--alas--I could renounce their
+society; to-day I should like greatly to confide in you, Erwin. You are
+the only person who is sorry for me."
+
+There was a pause in the conversation of the two. Without, a murmur
+like a sigh of love sounds through the trees, and a few withered
+rose-leaves are blown into the room. Erwin's glance rests dreamily upon
+the young woman. She pleases him in somewhat the same manner as the
+Greuze head on the wall; no, differently--there is always something
+dead about a picture. A picture is either a recollection preserved in
+colors or a dream, and has the charm of a recollection, of a dream;
+while Linda has the charm of a foreboding, of a riddle, and above all
+things, the charm of life, of full young life.
+
+Then a carriage approaches. "Pistasch and Sempaly," cries Erwin,
+looking out of the window and seizing his hat. "On Sunday, eh, Linda?"
+says he in a tone of farewell.
+
+"Now you run away from me just like Felix," cries she, pouting. "Please
+stay; it is so unpleasant for me to receive young people without a
+protector."
+
+And he stays.
+
+
+"You have come late; we have scarcely three-quarters of an hour of
+daylight left."
+
+With these words, spoken in a very indifferent tone, Linda receives the
+young men. "Shall we set about it at once?" she continues.
+
+The lawn-tennis court is in a broad flat meadow in the park. The ground
+is not yet dry from yesterday's rain, still the players are unwearied,
+Erwin, after a short time, as animated as the others. He competes
+vigorously with Pistasch, whose skill he soon surpasses, and enjoys the
+society of the two agreeable and to-day good-tempered young men, who
+are both old acquaintances of his.
+
+Pistasch in old times he has pulled by the ear, paid his youthful
+debts, and on holidays taken him away from the Theresanium; with
+Scirocco, who is but little younger than Erwin himself, he has taken an
+Oriental trip, they were both overturned in the same drag, both raved
+over the same dancer, etc.
+
+Merry reminiscences pass between the players almost as quickly as the
+tennis balls, and Linda encourages all these reminiscences most
+charmingly; her smile lends a new spice to the play and the
+conversation.
+
+Erwin is of a much too lovable nature, is far too much occupied with
+the happiness of others and too little with his own, to think of what
+might have been if he had not, for love of Elsa, renounced the world.
+
+He possesses a decided disinclination for the "if," always looks
+straight before him, never behind him. It does not even occur to him
+to-day, when he is vexed with Elsa, to complain of the serious monotony
+of his life, to philosophize, but he feels well, likes to amuse himself
+again, laughs frequently, and is not unsusceptible to the evident wish
+to please him which Linda shows. No objection can be found to her
+behavior to-day--it is animated without being loud, cordial without
+being coquettish.
+
+The three-quarters of an hour are over, the daylight has become first
+pale, then gray, the balls have flown aimlessly, like plump night birds
+through the air; they have laughed, ridiculed the opposite side for
+their faults, finally lost several balls, and come to the conclusion
+that for the present nothing more can be done.
+
+The players have now assembled for a light supper in the somewhat
+gloomy dining-room, from whose walls a few old portraits, gentlemen
+with huge wigs and large flowered brocade vests, ladies with wasp
+waists and immoderately high powdered coiffures, look down upon them.
+The light of the lamps is reflected in the crystal decanters, in which
+red and white wine sparkles; the flowers, a mixture of transparent
+ribbon-grass and wild roses, move softly in their vases in the middle
+of the table, trembling in the night air which streams in through the
+open windows. Beautiful fruit shines fresh and inviting, in silver
+dishes, and Linda presides, somewhat flushed, cordial and wonderfully
+pretty. No annoying servants disturb the pleasant little repast.
+
+Pistasch behaves like the perfect gentleman which he is when he does
+not consider it his duty to be a perfect boor, or does not take
+pleasure in representing a perfect street Arab. He entertains the
+little circle by gay anecdotes, is attentive without impertinence to
+the hostess.
+
+Scirocco, more serious in manner, nevertheless laughs at his cousin's
+jokes, and often interposes a witty little remark.
+
+Erwin is as gay as the two others, but from time to time, however, his
+conscience reminds him that this is not the place for him, and that it
+is time for him to return home. "But can I leave my young sister-in-law
+alone with the two men?" he calms his inconvenient conscience.
+"Impossible!" He must wait for Felix to return.
+
+That Kamenz and Sempaly, well-bred as both are, and with no cause for
+importunity, would both leave as soon as he should start, he does not
+tell himself.
+
+Then a carriage rolls up to the castle. Linda rises to go to the
+window. "Felix!" she cries in her clear, childish voice. No answer
+follows. Her eyes become gloomy, she listens, evidently listens to see
+whether he will go to his room without appearing to his guests. Then a
+dragging, stumbling step is heard in the corridor. "Felix!" cries
+Linda, excitedly and imperiously.
+
+The door opens, Felix enters, he stumbles into the dining-room, his
+face is red and swollen, his eyes have a watery look, his knees bend at
+every step, and a repulsive flabbiness is betrayed in his whole form.
+
+"You have guests?" he says, thickly.
+
+"Sit down, you are not well," cries Erwin, seizing the staggering man
+by the arm, and forcing him into a chair.
+
+"No--but--the----" begins Felix, and breaks off, not able to finish the
+sentence.
+
+A pause ensues. The little company seem paralyzed with alarm and
+disgust. Then Sempaly rises. "We thank you for a very pleasant evening,
+Baroness," he turns politely to Linda, and he and his cousin withdraw.
+
+Linda is as white as the table-cloth. "Come, Felix, lie down," says
+Erwin to his brother-in-law, whose condition he does not wish to expose
+to the impertinent curiosity of servile lackeys.
+
+"A cigar," murmurs Felix, excusing himself like all drunkards.
+
+"Come;" Erwin urges him more sharply. Felix is about to make some
+reply, when he discovers his wife, turns his head away, and trembling
+throughout his entire frame, lets himself be taken to his room without
+resistance.
+
+When Erwin returns to the dining-room to bid farewell to Linda, he
+finds her still deathly pale, with gloomy eyes, sitting in the same
+place.
+
+"Linda, you are wrong to take this so seriously," says he, softly and
+consolingly; "it is really often an accident, a glass of poor wine----"
+
+At his first kind word she has burst into tears. "It is not the first
+time," she replies, with difficulty restraining her tears. "Ah! if
+it--if it was only because the wine went to his head or--but no--a year
+ago he was the most temperate man in the world--it began in London. It
+cannot all be my fault. What is the matter with him? My God! What is
+concealed from me?"
+
+A new light dawns upon Erwin's mind; Linda's lack of tact is excused; a
+boundless pity overcomes him.
+
+At a violent motion of her pretty head her hair has become loosened and
+now hangs in silken splendor over her shoulders.
+
+"Calm yourself, fasten up your hair, be prudent, my poor little
+sister-in-law!" says Erwin. Softly and involuntarily, as one would do
+to a child, he strokes the hair back from her temples.
+
+She tries to fasten it up, but suddenly she lets her arms sink, and
+looking directly at Erwin out of moist but not disfigured eyes, she
+whispers, "I cannot reach so high, and do not wish to be seen thus by
+my maid--it would be strange."
+
+"Can I help you?"
+
+She nods. Simply, but without undue haste or uneasiness, he twists the
+beautiful hair, fastens it firmly as one who is accustomed to perform
+such services. She keeps her head covered, breathes regularly, deeply,
+audibly--accidentally he touches her little glowing ear, then she
+starts. A clock strikes. "Half past ten!" cries Erwin, startled. "Good
+night, Baroness; poor Elsa will not know how to explain my absence,"
+and he rushes out.
+
+"Your horse must be saddled," says Linda, but he does not return--a few
+minutes later she hears him galloping rapidly away. "When he thinks of
+his wife he always calls me Baroness," she murmurs to herself with a
+peculiar smile.
+
+
+An hour later Erwin knocks at his wife's door. "Who is it?" an
+indifferent, sleepy voice asks from within.
+
+"I."
+
+"Ah, you, Erwin!" Elsa unlocks the door, and comes out in the corridor,
+where only a single lamp breaks the darkness.
+
+"Have you anything particular to ask me?" says she, and her feverish
+sparkling eyes contradict the indifferent voice.
+
+"Nothing," he whispers, softly. "I merely could not resolve to retire
+without having bid you good night; I felt that you must be still awake.
+Do you insist upon receiving me in the corridor?" he asks, smilingly,
+as she has closed the door behind her.
+
+"The baby is asleep," replies Elsa, coldly, rubbing her eyes with
+ostentation.
+
+"My voice will not wake her," he says, softly, taking Elsa's hand.
+"Elsa, my dear pouting Elsa, forgive me," he whispers. "I had no right
+to be angry and run away, merely because you were intolerable. It has
+been a horrid day, let it at least have a good ending!"
+
+He sees how she trembles, how she blushes, and tenderly he takes her
+thin little face between both hands. Then, then she changes color, her
+eyes open in wild horror, and she starts back from him with a gesture
+of decided aversion, but quickly collecting herself, and forcing
+herself to smile, she gives him her hand and says, "Good night!"
+
+How she has pained him! Is her love dead? He cannot understand her
+manner. How could he? He does not notice that on his hands, in his
+clothes has remained the peculiar perfume which a gallant diplomat had
+brought Linda from Constantinople.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XVIII.
+
+
+"One cannot please people," sighs Pistasch, several days after the
+lawn-tennis party, while, cigar between his teeth, a hat adorned with a
+cock's plume on the back of his head, his smoking jacket open over his
+broad chest, he tries to solve a difficult problem in billiards. "One
+cannot please people."
+
+"Hm! I think this sentence belonged to Solomon's _répertoire_ of
+phrases," grumbles Sempaly, who, stretched out in a deep arm-chair, is
+looking over an old _Revue des Deux Mondes_.
+
+"Solomon! Solomon!" says Pistasch, clutching his soft golden hair. "Was
+not that the Jew in the Leopoldstadt, whose money rate was so cheap,
+only three per cent, _per mese_?"
+
+Count Kamenz considers it "chic" to have forgotten his Bible history.
+
+"Do not make yourself out stupider than you are," Scirocco admonishes
+him. "We can be quite satisfied without that."
+
+"Thanks, you see one can never please people," repeats Pistasch,
+shrugging his shoulders in droll despair. "After the sacrificial meal,
+Mimi rejoices me with a remark upon my stiffness to the Lanzberg. I
+show the latter much-calumniated beauty some slight attention and
+accept an invitation to lawn-tennis at her house. Mimi reproaches me
+concerning my morals. In order to satisfy her demands I yesterday
+paid court to a sixteen-year-old dove; she reproaches me for
+my inconsequence, says with feeling, 'One does not trifle with
+love!'--there, it sounds as if it were a bit from a play." Pistasch
+turns to Sempaly.
+
+"Yes, it is the title of a play in which at the end some one is
+stabbed," says Scirocco, looking up from his reading.
+
+"Thank you, Rudi; one can always learn from you," assures Pistasch.
+
+"You are the first who has discovered that--I pity you," replies
+Sempaly, sarcastically.
+
+"Surely not because I am weak in history and literature," says
+Pistasch, phlegmatically. "Bah! if one of us only knows who he is, he
+knows what he needs."
+
+"Yes, everything else would only confuse him," says Scirocco,
+seriously.
+
+"Precisely," answers Pistasch, coolly. He now sits on the corner of the
+billiard table, both hands in his pockets, in the large room with its
+faded leather furniture. "But confess that your sister maltreats me,
+after I have tried so hard to please her."
+
+"Too hard, perhaps," says Scirocco, and looks gloomily at his cousin.
+Is the latter the only one who does not perceive that the Countess
+would prefer to preserve him in a cage, secure from the attacks of
+audacious women and mothers? "'_Ce sont toujour les concessions qui ont
+perdu les grands hommes_,' Philippe Egalité remarked on his way to
+execution," he continues, and takes his cousin's ostentatious _naïveté_
+for what it is really worth.
+
+"That might be called forcing history," cries Rhoeden, entering at this
+moment, and hearing the last phrase.
+
+"Who was Philippe Egalité?" asks Pistasch, with unembarrassed--yes,
+boasted ignorance.
+
+"A man who, in order to make himself loved by the masses, voted for the
+death of his cousin, the king, made himself riding trousers of the
+_ancien régime_, and was beheaded by the masses by way of thanks."
+
+"Ah! my historical knowledge is extensively widened--but if I only knew
+to whom to make love!"
+
+"_Il y avait une fois un séducteur qui cherchait de l'ouvrage_,"
+remarks Eugene.
+
+"_Je crois Men qu'il cherchait!_" yawns Pistasch. "Really, it is not
+only on Mimi's and morality's account that I do not dare try it with
+the Lanzberg--but she is so magnificently prudish! Now I do not object
+to a little prudishness, that is piquant, but quite so much! Recently
+she, for really nothing at all----"
+
+"Ah, really, for nothing at all?" repeats Scirocco, looking sharply at
+his cousin.
+
+"Well, not exactly for nothing at all," the latter admits, grumblingly,
+"but on my word, for a very slight cause, she gave me a dissertation
+upon her dignity, and that she felt bound to keep the honorable name
+which she bears spotless."
+
+"She is quite right," declares Sempaly, sharply.
+
+Pistasch laughs rudely. "Well, Rudi, between ourselves, it is
+nevertheless a little droll to think so much of this name, to boast of
+its spotlessness--hm!"
+
+Rhoeden displays the indifference of a man who knows that the
+conversation is upon delicate subjects, and retires to a window recess,
+where he unfolds a letter. A servant enters and reports that "The
+Countess begs the Baron to come to the music-room," whereupon Rhoeden
+vanishes.
+
+Scarcely has the door closed behind him when Scirocco bursts out
+violently: "You are a muttonhead, Pistasch; the little banker is a
+hundred times cleverer than you."
+
+"He needs it," says Pistasch, coolly.
+
+"Can you not be silent before him?" Scirocco attacks him.
+
+"No," replies Pistasch, lazily; "I have never accustomed myself to
+keeping secrets; respectable people have no secrets. Besides, Lanzberg
+begins to be fairly unbearable, his manner has become so unsteady, so
+nervous; he no longer finishes a single sentence correctly, has not an
+opinion of his own, and crouches like a whipped dog. He makes me
+nervous."
+
+"Are you of stone, have you no heart?" cries Scirocco.
+
+"I am under no obligations to Lanzberg," grumbles Pistasch, very
+defiantly. "I----"
+
+"Yes, you would be ashamed to protect him a little," says Scirocco,
+cuttingly. "Recently when L---- remarked to you that you seemed to
+associate with Lanzberg a great deal, you replied, 'Yes, he has a
+pretty wife!' Really, Pistasch, at that moment, in my eyes, you stood
+morally lower than poor Felix."
+
+"Really," Pistasch imitates his cousin's tragic tone, "I think I have
+blundered into an educational institution! Lectures and nothing but
+lectures! First you, then Mimi. How you can permit yourself to compare
+me with a man like a 'certain Lanzberg.'"
+
+"Do not talk yourself into useless heat, my dear fellow," says
+Scirocco, laying his hand on his shoulder. "At present I feel just as
+inclined to fight a duel with you as I should to cut my own brother's
+throat. Consider a little and you will come to the conclusion that you
+are in the wrong."
+
+Scirocco leaves the billiard-room. For a while Pistasch pushes the
+ivory balls over the green table with furious zeal, then he throws
+himself irritably into an arm-chair.
+
+Yes, he feels plainly that he is in the wrong, but he cannot resolve to
+change his behavior to Felix. He might at least avoid him, but just
+now, because and in defiance of Linda's prudishness, he does not wish
+to. His prejudice against Linda was nothing but arrogant affectation,
+but his antipathy to Felix is sincere; it almost resembles that
+aversion which many egoistic men feel for one mortally ill.
+
+Rhoeden spends an hour in teaching the Countess--a totally unmusical
+woman who does not know a note, has no feeling for rhythm, but
+possesses a good voice and a great desire to shine in that
+direction--twelve bars of a new Italian romance of Tosti.
+
+He goes his little way, pursues his little aim, and will attain it.
+Only two years ago young aristocrats invited him exclusively to stag
+parties, hunts, etc.; then Count F---- wrote a little operetta for a
+society tenor. The tenor, a young diplomat, after the first rehearsal
+of the operetta was transferred to Constantinople--universal
+consternation. They had about resolved to surrender the operetta, which
+was to be performed for a charitable object, to a professional when
+Pistasch proposed his old Theresanium comrade, Eugene. Eugene, with his
+unusually beautiful voice, sang the little rôle charmingly; all were
+delighted with his singing, his graceful acting. At one stroke he
+became the fashion.
+
+His passion for Linda, Eugene had long buried under his worldly egoism;
+he was glad that he had been prevented from the foolishness of a
+marriage with her. He planned quite a different match, made use of his
+opportunities, and meanwhile was in no hurry. He knew very well on what
+footing he stood with society, knew that they wished to fasten upon him
+Countess Fifi R----, who was red-haired and somewhat hump-backed, or
+even Countess Clarisse, who was scrofulous and had been much gossiped
+about, knew it and laughed at it. He was still young and could wait.
+
+Social vanity was his religion, the world his god, to whom, however, he
+did not pay such passionate, credulous homage as Linda, for example,
+but always with an ironical smile on his lips.
+
+After he had gone through the romance with the Countess for perhaps a
+hundred times, had finally taught her text, melody, and even a
+sentimental mordent, and is now dismissed from duty, Eugene looks into
+the billiard-room again before he goes to his own room, and finds
+Pistasch, between thick clouds of smoke, occupied with a tschibouk.
+
+"Do I disturb you?" he asks, gayly.
+
+"Oh, heavens, no! I have long been weary of my own society," sighs
+Pistasch with feeling.
+
+"I have an amusing bit of news for you, Pistasch," continues Rhoeden,
+approaching him. "My uncle Harfink"--Eugene always speaks of his
+relations in a mocking tone, somewhat as one kind of cripples speak of
+their humps--"my uncle Harfink--you remember his first wife, whom you
+knew, is dead--well, he has married again!"
+
+"Wish him much happiness," replies Pistasch, who does not see why that
+should interest him particularly.
+
+"He has married, and none other than the famous Juanita," says Rhoeden,
+with the calmness of a virtuoso who is sure of his effect.
+
+Pistasch drops his pipe, springs up from his armchair.
+"Harfink--married--Juanita, the----" he interrupts himself.
+
+"Yes," says Rhoeden, calmly, "the same Juanita who in her day ruined
+poor Lanzberg."
+
+"Hm! So you know the story?" asks Pistasch, breathing freely in the
+consciousness that now all discretion is unnecessary.
+
+"It will go no further through me," Rhoeden assures him solemnly. "But
+is not that delightful? My uncle writes me that he has married the
+aforesaid celebrity, and as his digestion is still not as good as it
+might be, they have gone to Marienbad for their wedding trip. He begs
+me to reconcile his daughter to his step, and to find out what kind of
+a reception his wife may expect in Traunberg. Piquant, eh? Very
+piquant!"
+
+A shrill bell announces lunch.
+
+"Rudi! Mimi!" cries Pistasch, rushing into the dining-room, where both
+these, together with Elli and Mademoiselle, are assembled, "old Harfink
+has married the Juanita, and has gone to Marienbad for his wedding
+trip. Is not that magnificent, is not that famous?"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XIX.
+
+
+"A Modern Donna Elvira!" This sarcastic nickname originated at the time
+when the charming Privy Councellor Dey, whose wife we are acquainted
+with, was still alive. Count Dey was a red-haired gnome, who was
+continually mistaken for his own tutor which, as the facetious Pistasch
+maintained with conviction to this day, was very annoying to the tutor.
+Besides, Count Dey was eighteen years older than his wife, who, if not
+beautiful, was still uncommonly attractive, and still the poor woman
+embittered her young life with the most painful jealousy, followed her
+husband about distrustfully, accompanied him on the briefest visits of
+inspection to his estates, shivering and heroic, shared with him the
+cold inconveniences of his grouse hunt in the Tyrol. The world
+maliciously delighted in the industry with which she defended her
+rights, and also in the fact that, in spite of her astonishing and
+extensive precautions, she was continually deceived by her red-haired
+spouse.
+
+Mimi Dey now served as a warning example for Elsa. She, Elsa, had not
+the slightest wish to undertake the rôle of the "modern Donna Elvira,"
+and expose herself to universal mockery. Therefore she concealed her
+jealousy from Erwin with Spartan self-control, and smiled with the most
+charming loftiness, while the poisonous mistrust tore her bosom as
+pitilessly as the young fox tore the brave little Lacedæmonian.
+
+When, the day after the lawn-tennis party, Erwin remorsefully sought
+the cause of her changed manner in his own behavior, and after he had
+tried to drive away her displeasure by a thousand loving attentions,
+put his arm around her and whispered to her softly: "Elsa, confess why
+you were so angry with me yesterday--only because I stayed away so
+long?" Frightened that he had so nearly touched upon her secret, she
+displayed the most arrogant indifference.
+
+"You surely do not think that I am vexed if you amuse yourself with
+Linda a little?" she replied, with an irritating smile. "I am glad that
+you have found a little amusement, my poor Erwin," she continued.
+
+He looked at her in some surprise. "Yes, but then I do not
+understand----" he murmured. "What is the real matter with you?--does
+anything worry you?---tell me--two can bear it more easily."
+
+"No, no, I have nothing to tell," she replied, hastily. "Nothing at
+all--I am tired, not very well."
+
+"Yes, that you decidedly are not," he admitted, and anxiously
+scrutinized her thin cheeks and the dark shadows under her eyes. "We
+must consult a physician."
+
+"We consulted him four weeks ago," she answered, "and he advised me to
+drink Louisen-Quelle, and I drink Louisen-Quelle." She folded her hands
+resignedly over her breast, with an expression as if to say how little
+faith she had in Louisen-Quelle, and how indifferent her health was to
+her.
+
+"Perhaps a trip to the sea-shore would do you good," proposed Erwin.
+
+"Could you go away now?" she asked, apparently calmly, but with her
+heart full of distrust.
+
+"Now? Hardly! But you could take Miss Sidney and Litzi with you, or, as
+far as I am concerned, both children."
+
+"With the necessary servants that would cost a good deal," replies
+Elsa, discouragingly.
+
+"Well, we are not quite such beggars that we need think of that when it
+is a question of your health," he cries, almost angry. "We have saved
+long enough and can now spend something. Decide upon Cowes; perhaps I
+can join you there later."
+
+For a while she gazes silently and gloomily before her, then a slight
+shudder runs over her.
+
+"Elsa! You seriously alarm me!" cries Erwin: "something must be done!"
+
+"Yes, certainly; I will go to Cowes," she decides, as if it was a
+decision to let herself be bound upon the wheel, then she turns her
+head to look at an approaching carriage. "Oh, Linda," she cries, and
+her voice betrays absolutely nothing, not even antipathy to her
+sister-in-law, and Erwin begs, "Be a little good to her--for Felix's
+sake. She needs women friends and has none but you."
+
+These naïve words may give the impression that Erwin is very obtuse.
+But he certainly was not, only his knowledge of human nature was always
+bounded by a great good-will, his keen sight blinded by good-nature.
+He possessed a true passion for making every one who came near him
+happy, and also the impractical habit of never thinking evil of his
+fellow-men, except when he absolutely could not otherwise.
+
+Therefore he saw to-day in Linda's visit nothing but a praiseworthy
+wish of coming nearer to Elsa.
+
+Linda wore a very simple gown, which was very becoming to her; she had
+brought a work-basket, and sewed almost the whole time of her visit
+upon a little collar for Gery which had a very exemplary appearance.
+She made the most modest and tender attempts to be friends with Elsa,
+and without the slightest touch of familiarity, took a tone of
+comradeship towards Erwin which pleased him greatly--perhaps so much
+the more as a charming, childlike smile accompanied this tone, and the
+merriest little stories.
+
+When evening had already become night, and Felix had still not
+appeared, as Linda seemed to have expected, to fetch her, and she
+confessed that she was afraid to return alone with her groom only, in
+the low pony carriage, Erwin good-naturedly escorted her on horseback
+to Traunberg.
+
+This was really unwelcome to him, but Elsa suspected the contrary, and
+as he had not the common habit of afterwards complaining of his
+obligingness, she remained of the same opinion. She herself had behaved
+perfectly charmingly to Linda. No one could have suspected that
+jealousy could smile so! No one--but Linda.
+
+And how she triumphed! how flattered vanity quivered in her every
+fibre, and how the drive home with Erwin amused her!
+
+She drove herself, and really she did not overdrive the ponies.
+
+Around them was the sultry, gloomy charm of the summer night.
+Long-drawn sighs and sweetly monotonous murmurs passed through the
+trees, the short grass trembled as if caressed by invisible hands. From
+time to time a glow-worm shot through the gray air like a falling star.
+
+"How beautiful!" said Linda to herself.
+
+"Yes, charming!" Erwin admitted, and secretly looked at his watch.
+
+In spite of the fact that he galloped home at a very sharp pace, it was
+midnight before he arrived there, which confirmed Elsa's strange idea.
+
+Almost every evening after tea Erwin was accustomed to read aloud to
+his wife, and this had originated in their honeymoon, when Erwin, very
+young, very much in love, still shyly coquetted with his little
+talents.
+
+He read well, and liked to read, and Elsa had until now always looked
+forward to the confidential chat, the happy fact of being alone
+together, which was a part of the reading hour, and both did not know
+which they really preferred: the wild, stormy winter evenings, in which
+Elsa sat as near the fireplace as possible, and contrary to his
+sensible prohibition, held one foot at a time over the glowing coals,
+until he stopped reading, and crouching on a stool, took the little
+feet from their light house slippers, and rubbed them warm between his
+hands; or the mild, fragrant summer evenings, when Elsa, gazing through
+the window at the sky, often interrupted the bitter earnestness of St.
+Simon, or the graceful bitterness of Voltaire, and with childish joy
+signalled a shooting star, and as Erwin laughingly asked her whether
+she had availed herself of the opportunity to wish something very
+beautiful, softly, with lips close to his ear, whispered, "Oh, yes,
+that it may always be so."
+
+Usually he read serious books aloud, but sometimes he brought the old
+Musset which had accompanied him on his wedding journey, and then they
+vied with each other in gay recollections of their honeymoon, and
+laughed when they came to verses the meaning of which had been dark to
+her, and had made her ask the most remarkable questions. They
+contradicted each other animatedly as to who had the most faithful
+memory for every foolish, tender jest, and Elsa, whose remembrance
+exceeded his, faintly whispered softly, "Do you see I have not let a
+single joy be lost out of my life. I have laid-them all away for my old
+days."
+
+The day after Linda's visit, Elsa made no move to leave the
+drawing-room when Erwin asked her softly, "How about our Mahon?" (they
+were just then reading this knightly pedant's English history), but
+replied discouragingly, "I am going to retire early this evening," and
+engaged Miss Sidney in a conversation upon English philanthropy.
+
+Erwin smoked a cigarette, glanced over a paper, finally, looking out of
+the window, remarked that it was a beautiful moonlight night and he was
+going shooting, kissed Elsa's forehead, bowed to Miss Sidney, and was
+about to leave the room when from Elsa's lips came anxiously:
+
+"But----!"
+
+"Do you want anything?"
+
+"Are you going to take any one with you?"
+
+"Why?" asked he, and raised his eyebrows; then suddenly laughing aloud
+he added, "Would you perhaps like to accompany me, mouse? The night is
+mild, I will find you an easy path; we need not go far."
+
+She hesitated, only for a moment she hesitated. She had formerly often
+gone with him; he had bought her a small rifle, and with anxious
+carefulness taught her to shoot, and as long as her health was good
+enough they had often hunted gayly together like good comrades. Why
+must just now Mimi Dey and the grouse hunt in the Tyrol come to her
+mind?
+
+"Thank you, I dare not venture out in the dew;" thus politely, but
+without a trace of warmth she refused his good-natured offer, and he
+shrugged his shoulders slightly and vanished.
+
+English philanthropy suddenly lost all interest for Elsa. She took
+leave of Miss Sidney quite absently, and went to her room which, since
+baby's existence, she had shared with the delicate little creature. She
+passed two tormenting hours; she was tortured by the most nonsensical
+fancies; she thought only of poachers and assassins; she did not close
+her eyes until she heard Erwin's step creep thoughtfully, softly past
+her door, but at least she had not been like Mimi Dey.
+
+Sempaly and Pistasch had accepted the invitation to dine in Steinbach
+on the Sunday for which Linda was invited. Elsa had been able to secure
+no ladies. Never had Linda been more beautiful than on this Sunday. She
+wore a dazzling toilet; "from Worth," she replied, in explanation to
+some polite remark which Elsa had made upon her dress. "From Worth, but
+I had to change it entirely. I cannot bear Worth any longer; he is too
+American. And how do you like my gown, Erwin?" she turned to him.
+
+"Linda, you surely are not trying to make me think that you care
+anything about the taste of such a rusty hayseed as I am!" cried he,
+laughingly.
+
+"Ah, you know very well that you are the only one, yes, the only one on
+God's earth from whom I will accept fault-finding," answered Linda, and
+putting her arm around Elsa's neck, she whispered in the latter's ear,
+"Your husband has bewitched me, Elsa. If I did not wish you the best of
+everything, I really could envy you him."
+
+Oh, the serpent! She feels very well that Elsa shivers in her arms, and
+she is happy.
+
+During the dinner Elsa suffered fearful torments. Monosyllabic she sat
+between Scirocco, who, more quiet and melancholy than usual, did not
+help her to talk, and Pistasch who, gazing at Linda, forgot to talk.
+Linda, on the contrary, chatted unweariedly, entertained the whole
+table with her odd little stories, and knew how to absorb Erwin so
+deeply by her artfully naïve flatteries and carefully veiled coquetries
+that he, the most polite man in the world, scarcely found time to
+address a few pleasant phrases to the Englishwoman who, for the sake of
+symmetry, sat at his left.
+
+After dinner Linda sang. Erwin accompanied her, and Pistasch lost his
+tongue with enthusiasm, except for the three words, "Superb!
+magnificent! delicious!" which he burst forth with again and again,
+gasping for breath.
+
+Elsa, who took no interest in French chansonnettes, and Sempaly, who
+did not care to hear them rendered by respectable women, or those who
+at least should be so, stood together in a window recess half chatting,
+half silent, like people who know and understand each other well. But
+suddenly Scirocco was silent, his glance wandered to Felix, who sat in
+the darkest corner of the drawing-room, and in order to give himself
+countenance, stroked Erwin's great hunting-dog. A little rattle of
+glasses had attracted Sempaly's notice. He went up to Felix, and after
+he had spoken a few words to him returned with him to Elsa. Elsa was
+frightened at sight of her brother. His cheeks were flushed to his
+forehead, the features swollen, the eyes shining as in one who has a
+severe fever.
+
+When everything had become quiet again in Steinbach, and Elsa was alone
+with Erwin in the drawing-room, she went to the table from which
+Sempaly had brought Felix away, and discovered there the _corpus
+delicti_ in the shape of a half-emptied flask of Chartreuse.
+
+"Ah!" cried she shuddering, and turned to Erwin. "Do you know the
+latest?--Felix drinks!"
+
+Erwin lowered his head. "Drinks--drinks!" he murmured with
+embarrassment but excusingly. "You must not call it that exactly; it is
+not yet so bad!"
+
+"You--you seem to have known it," cried Elsa, staring at him. He looked
+away.
+
+Elsa paces twice through the room, her arms crossed on her breast. Her
+short, unequal breaths can be heard. Then she stops before Erwin; the
+blood has rushed to her cheeks, and causes there two uneven red spots
+under her eyes. Her hatred for Linda suddenly bursts forth. "Oh, this
+repulsive, ordinary, tactless person! How deeply she has dragged him
+down!" she says, with set teeth.
+
+Erwin, to whom the cause of this unlovely and immoderate anger is
+wholly inexplicable, is displeasedly silent. This irritates Elsa still
+more, and in an even more unpleasant tone she continues, "Well, do you,
+perhaps, doubt that she and only she has ruined Felix by her incredible
+lack of tact?"
+
+For the first time since Erwin has known his wife he lost patience with
+her, and shrugging his shoulders, replied, "I find it hard to expect
+tact from a person who does not suspect the complicated difficulties of
+her position."
+
+"Erwin!--Erwin!--you--you surely do not believe that Felix would have
+married Linda without telling her of his circumstances?" She was now
+quite pale again, she trembled, her voice sounded weak and hoarse. He
+was terribly sorry for her, at this moment he would have given
+everything to be silent. He took refuge in vague phrases. "A mere
+suspicion--I spoke without thinking."
+
+But Elsa shook her head; an indescribable pain curved her lips. "No,
+Erwin," cried she, "you may not be the demi-god whom for nine years I
+have worshiped in you, but you are not capable of saying anything so
+degrading about my brother upon a mere suspicion. From whom do you know
+that?"
+
+She stood before him, drawn up to her full height, and looked him in
+the eyes with an expression which one could not lie to.
+
+"I judge so from questions which she has asked me," he stammers, and
+immediately adds, hastily, "Certainly Felix would not purposely have
+concealed the affair from her; he may have told her mother----"
+
+"That is all the same," interrupts Elsa. "His action remains
+unanswerable, for the first as well as the second time. Erwin, you poor
+man, into what a family have you married! Why would you have me? I did
+not wish it--I knew that it would be for no good." She is almost beside
+herself.
+
+"No good! Think of the nine years which we leave behind us," he
+replies, gently.
+
+"Think of the twenty, thirty years which we have before us," cries she.
+"The sacrifice which you made for me was too great."
+
+"I know of no sacrifice," he replies, warmly. "It is pure childishness
+which makes you bring that up again. Once for all, Elsa, I would not
+exchange a life at your side for the most brilliant career--to which,
+besides, I could scarcely have been called." With these words he goes
+up to her, and lays his hand gently under her chin to raise her face to
+his, but she breaks loose from him.
+
+"I thank you," says she, with hateful mockery. She thought of the
+thousand pretty speeches and charming attentions with which he had
+satisfied Linda's greedy vanity to-day. She was sick with suppressed
+jealousy. The bright light which Erwin's communication threw upon
+Linda's whole manner, and which so excused Linda, and on the other
+hand, so lowered Felix, mingled a new pain in all her morbid feelings.
+She literally no longer knew what she said, her voice became more and
+more cutting: "I thank you," she repeated. "You are very polite, you
+have a particular talent for politeness, you are the most charming man
+I know, but--but, I am sorry you had your way at that time."
+
+"Sorry, Elsa? For God's sake take that back," cried he. The pain
+which she had caused him was too deep for him to consider how much of
+her words were to be ascribed to true conviction, and what to her
+over-excited nerves.
+
+She shook her head obstinately. "Yes, I am sorry," she continued in her
+insensate speech. "At that time you could not live without me"--she
+spoke very bitterly--"yes, you would have been unhappy without me--a
+month, perhaps a year--who knows?--but then you would have consoled
+yourself, and it would have been better for you and for me. Good
+night!" and with head held high, with rigid face and trembling limbs
+she tottered out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+                                   X.
+
+
+Marienbad at six o'clock in the morning.
+
+The air is still fresh and fragrant, the long, slanting sunbeams fall
+between the damp coolness of the woody shadows. The guests crowd along
+the narrow spring walk, their glasses in their hands. They form a line
+before the spring after they have emptied their goblets, considerately
+turn and conscientiously take exercise.
+
+The sand beneath their feet, moist with the night dew, is of a dark
+reddish color. On the leaves of the graceful trees sparkle little drops
+of dew like finest enamel. In the turf which borders the sand walk
+great drops shine like diamonds. A white mist, too transparent to be
+called a fog, fills the distance. Thicker and thicker the guests crowd
+around the spring.
+
+Marienbad is overfull this year. Pleased landlords rub their fat hands,
+and push up prices to a most unheard-of amount. Guests who have omitted
+to engage rooms by telegraph can find no decent accommodations, seek
+shelter in the most miserable private houses, offer gold mines to
+shoemakers, tailors and glove-makers for one room. A whole excursion
+trainful pass the night in the waiting-room.
+
+The daughter of some reigning family, travelling incognito under the
+name "Comtesse Stip," has engaged the greatest part of the largest
+hotel for herself and her little prince in Scottish costume. A swarm of
+distinguished moths from every country has followed the princely light,
+and a crowd of _parvenus_, like a swarm of insects of the night, has
+followed the moths, who pass their time in Marienbad bandying strangely
+unselfish compliments.
+
+The famous Vienna artists play every evening in the stuffy theatre;
+princesses and dramatic _coryphées_ meet each other on the spring
+promenade.
+
+To-day a new animation is displayed by the spring pilgrims. All gaze at
+a couple who have this morning appeared for the first time upon the
+promenade. The aristocratic curiosity seems even more awakened than the
+plebeian, and all the thirty or forty pairs of eyes of Marienbad
+"society" are fixed upon the same spot--upon the knight of Harfink and
+his young wife.
+
+"That is the Juanita, the Carini; how badly she is dressed, how fat she
+has grown, how homely!" goes from mouth to mouth. "And not even an
+artistic temperament--a woman who could be sensible enough to marry a
+'checked' iron founder. When she sees Lanzberg--how he must feel!" Thus
+says society. Meanwhile, not noticing the voices hissing around her,
+Juanita, the widowed Marchesa Carini, upright and stiff, with the
+consequential manner of a retired dancer, walks between the knightly
+Harfink and his son, beaming with pride and satisfaction.
+
+How she looked fifteen years ago, at the time when she so fatally
+crossed the path of life of Felix Lanzberg, it would be difficult to
+determine. Today she looks like all elderly Spaniards, who to our
+unpractised northern eyes resemble each other almost as much as elderly
+negresses.
+
+An immoderately fleshy form, not very tall, with high bust, and
+unnaturally compressed waist, the hands tiny, like accidental
+appendages to her fat arms, the feet still incomparably beautiful, but
+too short to support the huge figure, the gait waddling, the face
+yellow and fat, mouth, eyes, and nose almost hidden by a pair of
+enormous cheeks--that is Juanita.
+
+She who, in her day, had worn the bandeaux of her nation coming down
+over her ears, now, probably because this manner of wearing the hair
+seems to her peasant-like, wears the hair drawn back from her withered
+temples, falling in black ringlets on her forehead, a hat on the back
+of her head, a green silk gown and diamonds. Her tiny shoes and
+stockings are the only parts of her costume which are faultless. The
+former, charming little black satin affairs, the latter of open-work
+black silk. In consequence of this, she wears her gown short beyond all
+bound in front, which increases the width of the whole appearance.
+
+She continually exchanges the most tender, loving glances with her
+husband, and a happy honeymoon smile illumines her yellow face when he
+addresses her.
+
+As she uses the cure with the same conscientiousness as he, she stands
+beside him at the spring. Little Comtesse L----, a lively lady whom
+nothing escapes, asserts that every time before emptying her goblet,
+Juanita coquettishly hits it against that of the "retired iron
+founder."
+
+The "checked iron founder" is a name given Mr. von Harfink on account
+of his immoderate preference for striking green and blue checked
+clothes. For two weeks Juanita has borne his name--for two weeks he has
+known how badly he really fared under Susanna's rule.
+
+The aforesaid Susanna had died a year after Linda's marriage. Linda,
+who at that time had not fully recovered from Gery's birth, expressed
+no wish to go to Vienna for her mother's burial or her father's
+consolation. Mr. von Harfink had been left to bear the heavy loss
+alone.
+
+At the funeral Baron von Harfink shed many tears into a black-bordered
+handkerchief, and displayed all the symptoms of honest emotion; after
+the funeral he fell into a condition of silent apathy. The flame which
+had given light to his mind was extinguished, all was dark within him.
+He felt like an actor of poor memory whose excellent prompter has died.
+
+About a week after the catastrophe, his nearest relatives assembled at
+a dinner in his house, with the good-natured view of diverting him. He
+sat in their midst, silently bent over his plate. They had adjourned to
+the drawing-room for coffee, and still he had not spoken a word.
+
+"The poor fellow! it has gone harder with him than we thought," the
+relatives whispered to each other. Then stretching himself comfortably
+in an arm-chair, and rubbing his stomach, he began, "Ah! things have
+not tasted so good to me as they did to-day for a long time."
+
+The feeling of an immense relief had awakened in him. No longer to be
+afraid of making stupid remarks, no longer, when he had put on his
+favorite checked vest, to be reproved with, "Anton, your vest insults
+my æsthetic feeling," or, when he had given himself up to the
+comfortable enjoyment of a favorite dish, to be frightened with,
+"Anton, a day-laborer is nothing in comparison with you;" to be forced
+to listen to no more articles from the _Rundschau_ and the _Revue des
+Deux Mondes_,--it was very pleasant.
+
+Scarcely had Susanna been three weeks in her grave, when Mr. von
+Harfink stopped the subscriptions to the _Revue_ and its German cousin,
+the _Rundschau_, retired to his estate, played nine-pins with his
+brewer and cook, and in his shirt sleeves, ordered those new checked
+plush vests, and ruined his stomach three times a week.
+
+Soon he displayed the most peculiar matrimonial intentions. He made
+love to the former companion of his deceased wife, an elderly spinster
+with thin hair and a very deep feeling for a blond theology student
+who, at that time in Magdeberg, sued for her hand.
+
+The improbable occurred; the companion refused the knight and his three
+millions, although after his death a settlement of seven hundred
+thousand guldens was assured her.
+
+The family was astonished at this unexpected unselfishness, and from
+thankfulness, and to prevent the romantic maiden from changing her mind
+later, married her to her student, with a splendid dowry.
+
+After they had met this model of prudence, the relations wrung their
+hands. If the charms of a forty-year-old, half bald companion had
+almost brought him to the altar, how should they protect him from a
+_mésalliance_?
+
+Only by the sharpest oversight was Mr. von Harfink prevented from
+marrying his housekeeper. Fearful conflicts burst forth on his
+estate--the castle became an inn.
+
+"Susie must have been cleverer than I accredited her with being," once
+remarked Eugene von Rhoeden, who indifferently looked on upon his
+relative's movements. "It certainly takes skill to govern the
+rhinoceros. None of you equal her!"
+
+At length the relatives were weary, and left Baron von Harfink to the
+guidance of his son, that is, to his fate. Raimund was far too much
+engaged in cultivating his high C to watch his father. The poor young
+man, who had been destined by his mother to be a genius, at this time
+suffered from deep depression. He had failed everywhere--at the
+university, on the stage, finally in literature.
+
+After long efforts, he had obtained an engagement in a Bohemian
+watering-place, and under the stage name of Remondo Monte-chiaro, had
+sung Raoul in a beautiful pale violet costume of real silk velvet.
+
+The audience hissed and laughed; he sprained his ankle by the leap from
+the window, and appeared no more.
+
+Then he prepared a comedy which fell through in P----, an accident
+which he attributed to the lack of cultivation of the audience there;
+then he wrote essays upon the love affair of George Sand and Alfred de
+Musset, the murder of the ambassador at Rastadt, and the Iron Mask.
+
+These effusions were published in a Vienna paper. The superficial
+public found the themes old, and did not read the articles. The
+intimate friends of the author read the first five sentences, had the
+satisfaction of discovering a grammatical error therein, and as, with
+the malice with which friendship meets every young striver, they sought
+nothing else in the articles, they laid them aside, satisfied. Raimund
+felt deeply wounded. The world seemed to him nothing more than an
+immense porcupine, which, with all its quills of prejudice, repelled
+his genius.
+
+He passed his days in gloomy brooding--then a message from his humorous
+cousin, Eugene von Rhoeden, in Venice, waked him.
+
+"Help what can be helped," he wrote. "He is going courting again; this
+time it is in earnest."
+
+Yes, it was in earnest.
+
+In Marienbad, the year before, he had first made her acquaintance; he
+had followed her to Venice. She had there, under the name Juanita,
+tried to obliterate the reputation of Pepita. Later she had borne the
+name of a Marchese Carini. She had been obliged to dance even as a
+Marchesa, for the Marchese did not disdain to make use of his wife's
+talent, and had dragged her from theatre to theatre. At one of her
+brilliant performances in St. Petersburg she broke her leg, and since
+then could dance no more. Now she became fat, sleepy, devout and
+irritable; the Marchese gambled away the greater part of her fortune,
+and died of galloping consumption. Ignorant of all business,
+continually deceived by her lovers, the Marchese Carini would have come
+to a sad end if the Knight of Harfink had not appeared as rescuer in
+her need.
+
+He married her in the beginning of June.
+
+Raimund, very depressed and deeply in debt, did not refuse to offer to
+kiss his new mamma's hand dutifully. She knew how so to fascinate him
+at the first meeting, that he was almost as slavishly submissive to her
+as his father. Juanita desired social position. She insisted upon being
+introduced to Linda. Harfink did not know that she had formerly had
+strange relations with Felix--she did not touch upon it; on the
+contrary, she reserved her power over Felix, which she had so
+boundlessly misused, for a favorable moment.
+
+Mr. von Harfink told his nephew, Eugene, when he met him in Marienbad,
+his wife's desire. "I really do not know what to do; Linda is so
+curious," he said.
+
+And Rhoeden answered with his sly smile, "Write Linda and ask her when
+you may bring her new mamma to see her--or, really I see no reason why
+you should not quietly drive over one of these days without announcing
+yourself."
+
+"I do not understand what any one could have against Chuchu!" said the
+young husband, enthusiastically. "What a woman she is! She has diamonds
+from the Emperor of ---- and a gold coat of mail from the Duke of ----,
+and with all that, she is nevertheless all domesticity and love! She
+calls me Tony, and darns my socks from pure love."
+
+
+
+
+                                  XXI.
+
+
+At this time life was for poor Felix only a heavy, oppressing burden.
+
+He knew that Juanita was staying in Marienbad; knew that she had
+married his father-in-law. He felt neither horror nor astonishment at
+this step; nothing which she did would have astonished him, but he felt
+oppressed by the sense of her nearness; a true superstitious fear of
+the magic charm which her beauty had for him weighed upon him. His
+recollections, his imagination, had been busy with the picture of her
+which he still possessed--had invested it with the most refined charms.
+For Felix, the only excuse for his inexcusable conduct, by which he had
+ruined his life, lay in the demoniac fascination of the dancer.
+
+Linda had written her father, before his marriage, an annihilating
+letter, to which she had received no answer. She believed her father
+angry, and therefore expected nothing less than a visit from him.
+Felix, who thought her opinion sensible, nevertheless showed from time
+to time a certain fear, and thereby excited the spirit of contradiction
+in Linda.
+
+"One can be glad that papa has done nothing worse," she remarked
+once, indifferently. "It is not to be supposed that they will have
+children--_et pour le reste_, such a marriage with a dancer has a
+certain _cachet_. I shall make no advances to her, but if she comes I
+must receive her!"
+
+Felix shuddered and was silent.
+
+Bitterly ashamed of himself, for a time he had tried to restrain his
+thirst for liquor. But he could control himself no longer. When the old
+remembrance began to burn in his heart like eating poison, he at first
+tried hard to occupy himself. He read, but, unaccustomed to all mental
+activity, a book scarcely chained his attention. He took long walks, he
+was too uneasy to become tired; he rode, he was too good a horseman to
+have any trouble with his horse.
+
+His heart grew more and more heavy, and he drank--drank privately in
+his room so as not to be surprised in an unreliable condition. He was
+always temperate at table. No one saw him now with flabby lips and
+tottering knees, and his friends did not notice that he was really
+never quite sober now. His hands shook perpetually, there was a watery
+look in his staring, hollow eyes. A slight bluish flush colored his
+nostrils, and his voice was quavering.
+
+Meanwhile Linda, careless and indifferent, fluttered around him,
+bitterness in her heart, on her lips a charming smile and malicious
+jests. A butterfly with a wasp's sting, Scirocco had called her, and
+Pistasch repeated it to her. It had greatly pleased her.
+
+At this time Pistasch came to Traunberg almost daily. Linda coquetted
+with him, but her coquetry was vague and cold, and was neither
+challenging nor encouraging. He made no progress, as he expressed
+himself to Scirocco. "She has no temperament and no heart," he
+grumbled, and once he added, "Perhaps I am not the right one----"
+
+"What do you mean?" replied Scirocco, impatiently, remembering the
+suspicion which had been cast upon him. But Pistasch only answered
+crossly, "Garzin!"
+
+"Impossible!" replied Scirocco, unwillingly. Pistasch only shrugged his
+shoulders, and when Sempaly began to consider the matter, he must admit
+that Garzin went oftener than was necessary to Traunberg, that Linda
+had quite a different glance and voice when she was with him from what
+she had for others, that she made concessions to him which she granted
+no one else, never wore again the most becoming toilets if he had once
+condemned them, and did not sing the most piquant couplets if he
+shrugged his shoulders over them, and, once on the slippery path of
+distrust, Scirocco told himself also that the charming sisterly
+confidence which Linda permitted herself with her brother-in-law was
+scarcely in place in such a beautiful woman with such a young man.
+
+He was angry with Garzin.
+
+"He really does not think of wrong, but he should be careful--for----"
+
+Like all people of his stamp, Scirocco, in affairs of passion, did not
+believe in free will, but so much the more in the compelling influence
+of opportunity.
+
+"You have a new bracelet, Linda," said Felix one day, after dinner, to
+his wife as she smoked a cigarette with him in the drawing-room.
+
+"Do you like it?" said she, and held out her white arm to him. The
+bracelet consisted of a thick gold chain to which a little coin was
+fastened.
+
+"Charming!" answered Felix, apparently indifferently. "Did you buy it
+in Marienbad?"
+
+"No; Kamenz gave it to me to-day--he owed me a philopena," replied
+Linda.
+
+"Hm!" Felix looked gloomy, but did not know exactly how to put his
+vexation into words. He asked himself, "Have I the right to reprove my
+wife?"
+
+"Ah, the bracelet seems to please you less since you know where it
+comes from," said Linda, smiling maliciously. "Poor Felix! Are you,
+perhaps, jealous of this handsome, silly Pistasch? He is about as
+dangerous to me as that dandy there," and she pointed to a dainty
+Meissner figure in knee breeches and flowered vest, who with cocked hat
+under his arm, smiled down from a bracket.
+
+"Well, I certainly do not wish to disturb your little amusement,"
+stammered Felix, "but you do not know how much gossip arises from
+intercourse between a woman like you and a man like Pistasch, and if he
+is really so indifferent to you--why--then--perhaps you might receive
+him somewhat less frequently."
+
+"Hm!" said Linda, thoughtfully. "However indifferent that porcelain
+dandy yonder is to me, I have not the slightest inclination to throw
+him out of the window." She blew a few whiffs of smoke up to the
+ceiling.
+
+"But there is no question of that," replied Felix, "only see him less
+often----"
+
+Linda would not let him finish.
+
+"But do you not see, my dear Felix," said she, knocking the ashes from
+her cigarette, "to the house of a woman like me, who--let us speak
+plainly--really does not belong to his set, a man like Pistasch either
+comes not at all or every day. I am of a sociable nature--I must
+associate with some one, or else I should die of _ennui_. If no ladies
+will come, then I will receive men."
+
+"I cannot understand why you do not get on better with Elsa," remarked
+Felix, uneasily.
+
+"I was there recently; she has not returned my visit," said Linda. "I
+cannot force her to come. I believe she is vexed with me because Erwin
+amuses himself with me. Heaven knows our intercourse is of wholly an
+innocent nature!"
+
+The young woman rocked softly back and forth in her chair and laughed
+to herself, striking the finger-tips of her loosely clasped hands
+together.
+
+"I do not doubt that for a moment, but you should have some
+consideration for Elsa--she is nervous and sensitive."
+
+"Ah! and I am to suit my behavior to her interesting nervous
+condition," laughed Linda. "That is to say, I am to be intolerable to
+Erwin. _Eh bien, non merci!_ He is the only man of my present
+acquaintance of whom I think anything."
+
+Felix was silent. Then without was heard a rustling and puffing as of a
+heavy silk gown and an asthmatic person. A foreboding distressed Felix.
+Linda half rose. "That is surely not----?" she murmured, but already
+the servant had opened the door. "Baron and Baroness Harfink!" he
+announced.
+
+Very red-faced, even fatter than formerly, with confident bearing,
+shining with happiness and perspiration, and with the air of a youthful
+dandy, Linda's father approached his daughter.
+
+Although she had thought that she remembered him very well, she is
+still somewhat abashed at his astonishing appearance. Nevertheless she
+makes the best of a bad game, and condescendingly offers him her cheek
+to kiss. He kisses her loudly on the mouth.
+
+"Ah, you look splendidly--no matter, you wrote me a foolish letter, but
+the past shall be forgotten. Here I bring your new mamma to you. She
+was good-hearted enough to pay you the first visit. You have certainly
+heard of the Marchesa Carini."
+
+"Also of Juanita," says Linda, giving the tips of her fingers to her
+step-mother. "I am indescribably pleased to make the acquaintance of
+such a great _coryphée_. I have never yet had the pleasure of seeing a
+dancer except on the stage." The colossal insolence of her words is
+lost upon Juanita, owing to her stupidity and deficient knowledge of
+German, but the depreciation in tone and glance is perceptible to the
+dancer. She feels helpless and irritated.
+
+"Does Marienbad please you?" continues Linda, with the insolent
+condescension which she has studied from the best examples.
+
+"Very pretty," murmurs the Spaniard, twisting her handkerchief between
+her hands. She speaks poor German. Linda is delighted with her
+pronunciation, and does not take the trouble to speak French, for which
+cosmopolitan language the dancer had forgotten her mother-tongue.
+
+"If I remember rightly, I once had the pleasure of seeing you dance--it
+was in '67, in Vienna--my first theatre evening."
+
+"In Vienna?" said the dancer. "Oh! that was a small performance--that
+was at first--later, when I travelled with my husband, the Marchese
+Carini, _je n'ai jamais travaillé_ except in St. Petersburg, Paris,
+London and Baden-Baden."
+
+"Ah!" says Linda; the conversation pauses.
+
+Papa Harfink, leaning somewhat forward, his heels under his chair,
+rests in a low arm-chair, and monotonously strokes his leg from the
+knee upwards and back again.
+
+And Felix? Pressed tightly into a dark corner, where the hope of being
+forgotten and overlooked chains him, he stands motionless. As light
+perspiration which does not cool, but rather burns, moistens his whole
+body, the blood sings in his ears, his tongue cleaves to his teeth. He
+has not self-possession enough to hear her, he has not the courage to
+look at her; she floats before his mind, the most seductive siren, the
+most bewitching woman that ever, trifling and playing with a man,
+ruined his honor. He still dreads the disturbing might of her beauty.
+Curiosity compels him to gaze at her; he looks and does not trust his
+eyes. Where is the Juanita? Near his wife he sees a yellow, bloated
+woman, prematurely old, tastelessly dressed, squeezed into a black
+_moiré antique_ gown, with folds under her round eyes, little
+fan-shaped wrinkles on her temples, and black down about the corners of
+her mouth. Common, fat, awkward, she sits there, a double chin resting
+on her fat bosom, her hands clasped over a lace-edged handkerchief in
+her lap! Felix cannot believe his eyes. That must be a mistake--that
+cannot be Juanita! Then, beneath the hem of her gown, he sees a tiny
+foot in a black satin shoe, and now he knows that this is Juanita!
+
+He notices a light brown mole on her neck--it disgusts him, but then he
+remembers how this mole had once pleased him, how often he had jokingly
+kissed it! His cheeks burn--he has lost his last illusion--the whole
+vulgarity of the temptress to whom he had yielded is pitilessly exposed
+to him. Involuntarily he makes a movement. Papa Harfink discovers him.
+"Ah, Felix," he cries, already somewhat out of temper, "are you hiding
+from me? I should think," he adds, relying upon the power of his
+millions, "that such a father-in-law as I is not to be despised."
+
+Slowly Felix advances.
+
+"My husband," says Linda to the dancer. But the latter's face has taken
+on a prepossessing smile, and with the confidential expression which
+appeals to old times, she says, "I know him already, _tout à fait un
+ami_ from my _débutante_ period; is it not so?"
+
+She gives him her hand.
+
+The hand, only covered by a lace mitt, is flabby, and as Juanita, half
+rising, presses this hand against the lips of Felix, who is bowing to
+her, his face changes, plainly expresses disgust, and he lets the hand
+fall unkissed.
+
+Juanita trembles with rage. "Let us go," screams she--"let us go! Oh,
+Sir Baron, you think that I am only a dancer--and--and----"
+
+Speech fails her, she gasps for breath. "Let us go, let us go!" she
+pants.
+
+"My Chuchu! My beloved wife!" cries Mr. von Harfink, and not honoring
+Felix and Linda with a word, he leads the Spaniard out of the room.
+
+The carriage rolls away with the wedded pair. Scarcely has the door
+closed behind the Harfinks when Linda bursts into loud, happy laughter.
+Her husband's stiff manner, his way of ignoring her father, which,
+under other circumstances, would another time have irritated her from
+pure capriciousness, have this time chanced to delight her. "You are
+unique, Felix, wholly unique!" she cries to him. "You were so
+deliciously arrogant! But what is the matter with you? Are you ill?
+_Tiens!_ Juanita is your great secret! Poor boy!" She taps him on the
+shoulder, she laughs yet. "What a disappointment, eh! But what is the
+matter? No, listen; it is humiliating for me that the meeting with this
+comedian has so robbed you of your self-control, Felix!"
+
+His secret still has a charm for her, surrounds his poor bent form with
+a romantic light. Something startling, shockingly horrible, she seeks
+behind this, but not something dishonorable! With a teasing tenderness,
+which she has never shown him since their honeymoon, she strokes his
+cheeks, and begs, "Tell me what distresses you."
+
+Then Felix's conscience torments him; he feels as if he would rather
+die than keep his secret longer. For a moment he almost counts upon
+mercy from this soft childish creature who has seated herself beside
+him on the arm of his old-fashioned chair.
+
+"Linda," he begins, "when I married you I did not know--that
+you--suspected nothing of--of this matter. Your mother assured me that
+she had told you of my past----" he hesitates.
+
+"Oh, my mother spared my youth, and only made the vaguest allusions!"
+
+He draws a deep breath. "A terrible story is connected with this
+Spaniard,"--he hesitates--she looks closely and curiously at him; a
+sudden idea occurs to her: "You shot a friend in a duel on her
+account?" she cries, and then, as she sees him start but shake his
+head, she says softly, with indistinct articulation and hollow voice,
+"Or--or not in a duel--from jealousy?"
+
+He lowers his head--he cannot speak--then slowly rising he totters out
+of the room. She remains alone--staring before her--her heart beats
+loudly--then she was right! All his enigmatical behavior is explained;
+she now even understands her fellow men, and strangely enough, she
+almost pardons him.
+
+Felix, beside himself with jealousy, thirsting for revenge, plunging a
+knife into the breast of his friend--the scene has something dazzling,
+something which compels her sympathy. She pictures the scene to
+herself; the luxurious apartment of the dancer--the two men, both
+deathly pale--she has seen something similar in the Porte St. Martin
+theatre. A peculiar excitement overpowers her corrupted nature,
+thirsting for strong stimulants. She loves Felix!
+
+Two minutes later she knocks at his locked door. "Let me in, me, your
+wife, who wishes to console you!"
+
+Felix does not open the door.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXII.
+
+
+It is already twilight. Eugene von Rhoeden sits with his cousin Raimund
+in the Harfinks' drawing-room. As Pistasch had ridden to Traunberg,
+where Rhoeden seldom accompanied him, the Countess Dey was in bed with
+a headache, and Scirocco had one of those fits of desperate melancholy
+which so often tormented him, and was wandering about the woods, Eugene
+had nothing to do in Iwanow. For a change he had ridden over to
+Marienbad. At the forest spring, where the guests were assembled around
+the music-stand, he had met Raimund, and had heard from him that "the
+old man" had driven over with his wife to see the arrogant Linda; he,
+Raimund, had spared them his society.
+
+Eugene resolved to await the return of the pair; it interested him to
+learn something about the result of the visit.
+
+The two cousins soon came to the conclusion that the music and the
+crowd around the pavilion were intolerable as well as the heat, and
+betook themselves to the _Mühl strasse_, where Papa Harfink, more
+conservative than superstitious, and besides wholly secure in his new
+happiness from indiscreet visits of Susanna's ghost, occupied the same
+apartments in which for long years he had "suffered" every summer with
+the deceased.
+
+With a tinge of bitterness Eugene looked about him as he entered the
+bright room in which he had passed so many sweet hours with Linda.
+There stood the old-fashioned arm-chair yet, with the same covering,
+now, to be sure, worn at all the corners, the chair in which she used
+to lean back in the sultry summer afternoons, teasingly pulling to
+pieces his last gift of flowers with her delicate fingers, while Papa
+Harfink snored in the adjoining room; Mamma Harfink, in her maid's
+room, discussed the cut of her new toilet with the latter, but he,
+Eugene, crouching at the feet of the young girl, told her gay, trifling
+little stories, many times half-jokingly interspersing a tender word.
+Then she threw a flower in his face; her hand remained imprisoned in
+his, and he kissed it for punishment. Thus it went on for hours, until
+Papa Harfink entered the room with scarcely opened eyes and hair
+tumbled by sleep, and asked, "Are we going to have coffee at home
+to-day?"
+
+Eugene had never seen the room since he had rushed into it, now more
+than five years ago, the bunch of white gardenias in his hand, and had
+found his cousin Lanzberg's _fiancée_. At that time he had not changed
+his expression, had not by one word betrayed his passion, knowing well
+that a man like him who wishes to rise in the world is condemned to
+perpetual agreeableness.
+
+How he had felt at that time!
+
+His was no sentimental nature, but he had a faithful memory, and
+remembered distinctly how he had murmured the most polite phrases of
+congratulation; had drawn a comparison between himself and the man of
+old family, and beside, Felix had seemed to himself like a handsome
+dry-goods clerk.
+
+His love for Linda--it had been genuine of its kind--had long fled, but
+the wound which her vanity had inflicted in his still burned. The wish
+to repay Linda for her arrogance still animated him.
+
+The hour was near.
+
+Outside a carriage was heard, then loud, creaking steps on the wooden
+stairs; a hoarse, croaking woman's voice gasped out from time to time
+furious and incomprehensible words; the door opened and Juanita
+entered. Crimson, with swollen veins and sparkling eyes, she threw her
+fan, broken in the middle, upon the table.
+
+In vain did Papa Harfink again and again stretch his short arms out to
+her and cry, "Lovely angel, calm yourself!" She had no time for love.
+
+"To insult me!--me--me!" she beat her breast; "me, Juanita, the
+Marchesa Carini--bah!" she clenched her fist, "he, a criminal--a----"
+
+"Who has insulted you, who is a criminal?" asks Raimund.
+
+"He--he--this Lanzberg!" she gasps. "Oh, I will revenge myself--they
+shall see--I will revenge myself--Caro, Caro!" screams the Spaniard.
+
+Caroline is the maid, who enters at her mistress's loud cry.
+
+"Bring me the little black casket with the golden bird!" commands
+Juanita.
+
+The maid disappears; soon she returns with the casket, which she places
+upon the table before her mistress, whereupon she withdraws.
+
+The blood throbs in Eugene's finger-tips, but, apparently perfectly
+indifferent, he stoops for the lace scarf which, with a quick gesture,
+Juanita has thrown from her upon the floor. Papa Harfink, who took the
+matter very phlegmatically, rang to order a flask of spring water and a
+lemon.
+
+Juanita rummaged for a long time among old newspapers in which her
+triumphs were recorded. She turned them over more and more uneasily.
+Papa Harfink had long since ordered his spring water, when at last
+Juanita "found it."
+
+"There it is!" cried she. "Will you read it?"
+
+Eugene von Rhoeden refused. Raimund read it aloud.
+
+It was an article in a scandalous journal which appeared in Vienna
+early in the sixties, but since then had failed or been suppressed. In
+that impertinent tone of cheap wit which seeks intellect in mockery,
+knowledge of human nature in cynicism, the story was told of a very
+arrogant young blue blood who in a weak hour had forged his father's
+name and who "now could further cultivate his talent for drawing in the
+prison of T----."
+
+The name of the young man was given as Baron L----. Some one had
+written "Lanzberg" above it.
+
+"That is not possible!" cried Raimund.
+
+"Oh, if you please--if you please--possible!" screamed Juanita. "It is
+all true--perfectly true!"
+
+"I once heard something of that," declared Harfink, senior, whom the
+whole story troubled very little, and who had not enlightened Susanna.
+
+Rhoeden was silent.
+
+"And this despicable rascal has dared to marry into our honest family!"
+cried Raimund, beside himself.
+
+"Susie knew of it! He-he-he!" burst out Mr. Harfink, who now only too
+gladly accused the deceased.
+
+"My mother knew it!" Raimund struck his forehead. "Linda surely does
+not know it!"
+
+"Leave her in her delusion," said Eugene, sweetly. "One cannot change
+matters in the slightest, and all these years Felix has behaved so
+blamelessly, so nobly, so----"
+
+He knew that his praise of Lanzberg would bring forth a new burst of
+rage from Juanita.
+
+"Indeed!" now repeated the Spaniard, with malevolent emphasis, "nobly,
+blamelessly!" and seized the paper.
+
+"No; Linda must know it; I shall write to her this very day!" cried
+Raimund.
+
+"That you will not do," said Eugene, firmly.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it would be vulgar." With that Eugene rose and took his hat.
+
+Juanita had meanwhile added to the time-obliterated pencil-mark a new,
+heavier one, had wrapped up the paper with remarkable deftness, and
+addressed it.
+
+"Will you put that in the post-box?" she asked.
+
+"No, my dear madam," he replied, gravely, bowed and left. Behind him he
+heard the voice of the Spaniard: "Caro, Caro--to the post--but
+immediately!"
+
+Through the damp evening shadows he trotted to Iwanow. He enjoyed the
+pleasant conviction of having behaved throughout as an eminently
+upright man, and also the pleasant conviction that he had attained his
+aim.
+
+At a turn of the road, castle Traunberg shone gray and ghost-like
+between the dark old lindens. Eugene took off his hat, smiling
+ironically, and murmured, "Good evening, Linda!"
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXIII.
+
+
+Linda knocked in vain at her husband's door. In spite of her coaxing
+requests she had not been admitted. More and more horrible thoughts
+occurred to her. In ever more interesting colors her imagination
+painted her husband's secret. She expected that he would appear at tea;
+he excused himself, and did not leave his room again that day. She grew
+more and more excited--she did not sleep that night, only towards
+morning did she close her eyes.
+
+Felix was no longer in the house when she had risen; he had ordered a
+horse saddled at six o'clock that morning, and had ridden over to
+Lanzberg.
+
+Linda grew impatient. "Can I find old letters anywhere?" thought she.
+"In any case I must look through the attic rooms some day." She ordered
+the keys of the upper story. Mrs. Stifler, the housekeeper, looked upon
+it as understood that the young wife would require a guide for her
+wanderings, and prepared to accompany her. But, pleasantly as she
+treated all the servants, and especially those who had been in the
+family from one generation to another, Linda declined the old woman's
+company.
+
+At first she had difficulty in finding the right key for the different
+keyholes. As the rooms for the most part opened into each other, and
+only the doors into the corridor were locked, that was soon overcome.
+
+None of the rooms were quite empty and none were fully furnished. An
+odor of mould and dry flowers and close, oppressive air filled them. On
+all objects dust lay like a gray seal of time. Some of the rooms had
+such thick curtains that only here and there a bluish white streak of
+light lay on the floor, amid the dark shadows; others, and the most,
+had neither curtains nor blinds, and the light in them was dazzlingly
+bright. There stood a gilded carved arm-chair with brocade covering
+of the style brought from France in those days when Maria Theresa
+called the Pompadour "_ma chère cousine_," and near by a whole row of
+spindle-legged chairs with lyre-shaped backs in the stiff style of the
+Empire. And the arm-chair looked handsome and arrogant, the chairs
+hideous and pretentiously solid--and both alike were long ago
+unavailable and did not know it! Alabaster and porcelain clocks with
+pillars for ornaments, and thin Arabian figures on large white dials,
+slept away the time on yellow commodes with inlaid wood arabesques.
+Many family portraits of long-ago generations hung on the walls, mostly
+oil paintings, the men all standing in very narrow coats with very
+large revers, their hands on their hips, their eyes contracted to that
+narrow exclusive gaze which overlooks all unpleasant circumstances of
+life and worldly affairs, characteristic of the manly _ancien régime_;
+the women all seated, with broad sleeves and curls arranged in the
+English fashion; in the eyes that charming, unabashed gaze which on
+their side characterizes the women of the _ancien régime_, a gaze which
+sees in poverty only picturesque objects at the side of their path; a
+gaze which, mild and loving as it is, yet pains because it is
+accustomed to nothing but the beautiful, expects nothing but the
+beautiful, and therefore humiliates misery and hideousness.
+
+Linda felt embarrassed at so much of the past; a certain hesitation,
+which did not accord with her indiscreet, egotistical, pushing nature,
+paralyzed her hands, while she, prying into Felix's secret, opened old
+chests and pulled out drawers.
+
+She found trophies of the hunt, an old brocade gown, in a wardrobe a
+bridal wreath and a half dozen old riding boots; she found old notes,
+books, albums full of copied poems, books of Latin and Greek exercises,
+and an ambitious plan for dramatizing Le Cid, in round, childish
+writing, old bills, receipts, but she found no old letters.
+
+In one of the last rooms she discovered a newer secretary, which was
+ornamented with painted porcelain tablets, on which pink and sky-blue
+ladies walked in brilliant green landscapes. Linda opened every drawer,
+knew how to fathom the most secret compartments, and finally discovered
+a bundle of old letters tied with a black ribbon. Her heart beat
+rapidly; she was about to hurry away when a picture with face turned to
+the wall attracted her attention. The dust upon it was more recent than
+upon the other objects. Not without difficulty she turned it around,
+and uttered a little "Ah!" of admiration.
+
+The picture was no better painted than most modern family portraits,
+but it represented the handsomest young man who ever wore the green
+uniform of the Austrian Uhlans, of '66. The carriage of the young
+officer, who sat there carelessly, with head slightly bent forward and
+sabre between his knees, was well portrayed. Linda thought that she had
+never seen a more fascinating man; the pleasant mouth, the shy and yet
+confident glance, the naïve arrogance of the whole expression--all
+pleased her. Who could that be? She went down stairs and commanded two
+servants to bring the picture to the drawing-room at once. One of the
+servants--it was Felix's old valet--permitted himself to remark, "The
+Baron did not like the picture, and in consequence had banished it to
+the second story."
+
+Linda insisted that her command should be executed. "Do you know whom
+the picture represents?" she asked, as she passed.
+
+The old man seemed surprised and hesitated. "The Baron, himself."
+
+"Ah!" Linda bit her lips, and made a gesture of dismissal.
+
+When the man had gone away with the servant to fetch the picture, Linda
+laughed to herself, gayly--the joke seemed to her delicious.
+
+Scarcely was she alone when she bent over the letters. They were
+written in a flippant, haughty tone which harmonized well with the
+portrait. The first dated from a Polish garrison; in all was evident
+the naïve selfishness of a good-hearted but uncommonly indulged man.
+The letters pleased Linda very well. From time to time she glanced at
+the portrait, which, in accordance with her wishes, had been brought
+in.
+
+"What a pity that I did not know him at that time," said she, and then
+added, shrugging her shoulders, "at that time he would scarcely have
+wished to have anything to do with me."
+
+When Felix returned from his ride he found in the vestibule, among
+other letters arrived in the morning, an old newspaper in a wrapper
+addressed in very poor writing to his wife.
+
+He looked at it, read the post-mark, Marienbad--he recognized Juanita's
+writing. His heart throbbed violently. The idea of suppressing the
+paper flashed through his mind; he seized it, then a kind of fury with
+himself overcame him. He was weary of striving to prevent his last
+great humiliation, and like one in deep water who, when the waves reach
+up to his throat, weary of exertion, defiantly flings himself into the
+horrible element in order to make an end of it, so he sent the paper to
+his wife himself, by a servant. Then he went to his room. He seated
+himself at his writing-desk, and resting his head on one hand, with the
+other mechanically smoothing a newspaper which lay before him, he
+waited, half with dread, half with longing, like a criminal condemned
+to death, for the message which should summon him to the gallows.
+
+Then he heard a fearful, piercing scream. "Ah!" said he, "she knows
+it!" Will she come to him? There is a rustle in the corridor, the door
+of the room is flung open, and Linda enters, or rather bursts in. Her
+face is distorted; a lock of loosened hair hangs over her ashy pale
+cheeks.
+
+"It is a calumny, it cannot be true!" she cried, and threw the paper
+which Juanita had sent her before him upon the table.
+
+He is silent. Her vanity believes in him until the last moment; has
+expected an explanation from him, but he is silent.
+
+She grasps his shoulder. "For God's sake is it true that you were
+sentenced to two years' imprisonment for forgery?"
+
+Then he murmurs so softly that his voice seems only an echo, "Yes!"
+
+She staggers back, remains speechless for a moment, and then bursts
+into not convulsive, not hysterical, no, only indescribably mocking
+laughter. "And I was proud to bear the name of Lanzberg," she murmurs.
+"Now at last I know how I came by that honor." She feels not one iota
+of pity for the mortally wounded man who has quivered at each of her
+words as beneath the blow of a whip; she feels nothing at all but her
+immense humiliation. The wish to pain him as much as possible burns
+within her, and for a moment she pauses in her speech because she can
+think of nothing that is cutting and venomous enough. "And if you had
+even informed me of the situation, had given me the choice whether I
+would bear a branded name or not," she at length begins again.
+
+Then he who had until this moment sat there perfectly silent, with
+anxiously raised shoulders, his hand over his eyes, raises his head
+wearily. "Linda, I begged your mother to tell you of my disgrace--she
+assured me that she had done so. On my word of----" he pauses, a
+horrible smile parts Linda's lips.
+
+"Go on," cries she, "your word of honor. I will believe you--it is
+possible that you speak the truth. My mother suppressed your
+confession, good; but every glance and word of mine during our
+engagement must have convinced you that she had suppressed it. You
+cannot answer that to your conscience," she hissed.
+
+To that he replies nothing, but sits there motionless and silent. She
+wishes to force him to proclaim his shame by an outcry, a gesture of
+supplication. "I have borne a branded name for five years--I have
+brought into the world a branded child," says she quickly and
+distinctly, her eyes resting intently upon him.
+
+At length he shudders; he looks at her with a glance which pleases her,
+it shows such fearful misery--her eyes sparkle. "And all for the sake
+of a Juanita!" she cries again scornfully, and leaves the room.
+
+She rushes down stairs breathlessly; there in the large drawing-room
+stands the picture, the package of letters lies on a table. Tears of
+rage rush to Linda's eyes. She pulls the bell sharply. "Take that
+picture away!" she commands the servant who appears.
+
+She would like to declare to the servant that she knew nothing of the
+Lanzberg disgrace when she married a Lanzberg.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXIV.
+
+
+"All for the sake of a Juanita!" That was the most biting remark Linda
+had made, was what made Felix feel most keenly his degradation.
+
+He had heard of people who sinned for a good object, who had forged
+their fathers' names from generous precipitancy to save the honor of a
+friend, with the ideal conviction that the father himself must declare
+that he was satisfied with the wrong action on account of the
+unfortunate complications. But he? No false idea of sacrifice, no
+desire for martyrdom had confused him; as the cause of his action he
+found nothing but egoism and search for enjoyment, a brutal passion for
+an unworthy woman.
+
+The explanation of his act lay in the hot-blooded temperament of a
+thoroughly spoiled and indulged man, whose first ungratified wish robs
+him of his senses--the excuse of his act lay nowhere. He also had never
+sought it, and had never for one instant forgiven himself, but all
+these years, wherever he went, had dragged about with him the
+consciousness of his degradation.
+
+It had weighed so heavily upon him that this in itself had prevented
+every moral elevation in him.
+
+Had his sense of honor not been by nature and education so fanatic, so
+morbidly sensitive, he would perhaps have learned in time to accustom
+himself to his situation, and become a commonplace, anxiously
+respectable man who contented himself with playing first fiddle in
+circles which were a step lower than his own.
+
+But however he was situated, he never learned to reckon with his
+detracted honor. It could not satisfy him to represent an ordinary,
+respectable man.
+
+"How was it possible; oh, God, how was it possible that I, Felix
+Lanzberg, could so forget myself?" he groaned.
+
+He let his head fall upon his folded arms on his writing-desk.
+
+Then through his weary mind, like a triumphal fanfare of temptation,
+rang the melody of a Spanish national dance, with its exciting, sharply
+accented rhythm and perfidious modulations. The portion of his past in
+which his present grief had root rose vividly and with the most minute
+particulars to his memory.
+
+It dated back--oh, that beautiful unrecallable time--twenty-three
+years. Very wealthy, handsome, of good family, fond of gay life and
+without any serious aims, he liked to amuse himself, rendered homage to
+his colonel's wife, as is obligatory in every young officer, supported
+here a factory-girl, there a glove-maker, but at that time his great
+passion was really four-in-hand driving. On the whole, he was of too
+ideal temperament to find enjoyment in light-minded passions, and had
+no talent for such. In association with all other beings--his
+superiors, comrades, subordinates, tradespeople and proletaries--full
+of a certain good-nature, self-satisfied. In intercourse with women he
+was almost shy, stiff, grave, and well-bred to the finger-tips. He was
+everywhere considered sentimental and solid.
+
+The last Easter he had raved over Countess Adelina L----, the sister of
+the same Count L---- whom he had encountered so unpleasantly at Mimi
+Dey's--had danced three cotillons with her, lost two philopenas to her,
+and passed much time at receptions, seated in a low arm-chair beside
+her, gazing at her with enraptured eyes, and accompanying his glances
+with a few anxious, very involved and equally unmeaning phrases. It
+only required some sharp elderly friend of the Countess to make matters
+plain to him--that is, to call his attention to the fact that he was
+really betrothed.
+
+He seemed made to marry early, to adore his wife, and to bore his
+intimate friends with accounts of the wonderful peculiarities of his
+children. Then, on a mild, damp spring evening, after a good dinner,
+and not quite sober, he chanced to go with several comrades to the
+Orpheum, which later, owing to an American who walked a telegraph wire
+with much ease and grace, became a great attraction, but which then
+tried its fortune with Spanish dancers and a lion-tamer.
+
+The dance production began with four Spaniards, two women, two men, all
+four old, homely, and so thin that they did not need castanets to
+rattle, danced with convulsive charm, smiled like painted death's
+heads, and on the whole reminded one strongly of certain repulsive
+pictures of Goya, which are usually voted exaggerated, so as to allay
+the horror which they cause.
+
+The officers cried "Brava!" with biting irony, the audience hissed,
+several indignant voices grumbled at the director. Then the first bars
+of the madrilèna resounded through the atmosphere impregnated with
+tobacco smoke and the odor of eatables. A new apparition stepped upon
+the stage. A smile--a glance--the deepest indignation changed to the
+most breathless astonishment. With the voluptuous bowing and swaying of
+a Spanish dance, the most beautiful woman that was ever called Senorita
+floated over the stage. That was Juanita! The horrible background of
+the quartette heightened the luxuriant charm of her figure.
+
+She was no practised dancer, none of our conventional ballerinas, whose
+perfect flexibility destroys all individual charm; her limbs had not
+been disfigured by year-long torture; they possessed neither the
+pitiful thinness nor the dazzling rapidity of a race-horse. She did not
+know how to execute with the lower extremities the most ambitious
+figures, while--as is considered essential--the upper body remained
+stiff; she did no gymnastics--she danced! And not only with her
+limbs--she danced with her whole body.
+
+Oh, what an intoxicating bending and swaying! A proud drawing up of the
+body, and caressing sinking backward! Her dancing had nothing animated,
+challenging about it, but something subtly alluring, almost magically
+seductive. Her whole appearance suggested longing weariness, as when in
+a storm the flowers shudderingly bend their heads earthward. And she
+was beautiful! The short oval of her face, the low brow, the short,
+straight nose, the delicate, quivering nostrils, the high cheek-bones,
+the slightly sunken cheeks, the long, deep-set eyes, full of loving
+dreaminess and passion, the full, curved lips, turning upward with an
+expression of languishing weariness--all this reminded one not in the
+least of the ideal, gentle brunette Madonnas of Murillo. It reminded
+one of nothing holy, nothing classical--but it was the most seductive
+earthly beauty which one could imagine!
+
+The audience raved; the officers screamed themselves hoarse with
+"Brava! Brava!" Some of them made poor jokes about the dancer, others
+hummed or whistled reminiscences of the Spanish music. Only Felix was
+silent. "You act like one to whom a ghost has announced death," jested
+Prince Hugo B----, and thereupon proposed that the officers should go
+upon the stage in a body and give Juanita an ovation.
+
+How he remembers all that to-day! The large half-lighted room near
+the stage, the dusty old rafters, the ropes, the torn scenes, the dim
+gas-lights, the crowd of actors and actresses huddled together, the
+trapeze artist who wore a brown waterproof over his pink doublet and
+green tights, and in the midst of this unsavory crowd--Juanita. In a
+shabby gray dress, and green and blue checked shawl, she stood near an
+elderly very shabby woman, and smiled with her languishing lips most
+indifferently, while the men vied with each other in paying her the
+most effusive compliments in imaginary Spanish or bad French. When they
+withdrew Felix stumbled over something. It was the yellow flower which
+Juanita had worn in her hair, dusty, withered, trodden upon. Carefully
+he wiped the dust from it, and tried to revive the faded, crumpled
+petals.
+
+"Deuce take it! We should invite her to supper," cried Prince B----,
+suddenly standing still.
+
+"Why, Hugo?" stammered Felix.
+
+The former laughed, turned on his heel, gave his invitation, and
+Juanita nodded perfectly contentedly. She had no objection to sup with
+the gentlemen. To be sure, she took her theatre mother with her.
+
+How Felix recalled all this!
+
+The glaring gas-light in the long narrow room of the restaurant; the
+sleepy, blinking waiter; Manuela--that was the name of the dancer's
+protecting angel--who, without removing hat or wrap, and also without
+saying a word, with the usual appetite of all theatre mothers, bent
+over her plate; the officers who, with faces flushed with wine,
+proposed clumsy toasts, and Juanita who, seated beside the Prince upon
+a red divan, again and again rubbed her large weary eyes with her
+little hands, like a sleepy child.
+
+She ate without affectation and without greediness--only sipped the
+champagne, smiled good-naturedly at the boldest jokes, whether she
+understood them not, with the resignation of a being who was accustomed
+to earn her bread in this manner.
+
+The old Manuela had long been snoring. Some the officers had grown
+melancholy, the others were noisy only by fits and starts--Juanita's
+eyes closed.
+
+"Let her go, she is tired," remarked an elderly captain.
+
+"Before we part, I beg one especial favor," cried Prince B----. "That
+the Senorita give us each a kiss."
+
+The dancer made a few gestures of dissent, because that was a part of
+her trade, and then yielded.
+
+Patiently she let one after the other of the young men press his
+mustache, smelling of wine and smoke, upon her beautiful mouth. At
+length Felix's turn came, but he avoided her lips, profaned by the
+kisses of his comrades, and only kissed her hand very softly.
+Misunderstanding the tenderness of his action, she believed that he
+despised her kiss.
+
+A few minutes later the two sleepy Spaniards rolled away to their home
+in a carriage which Prince B---- had paid for.
+
+"A beautiful creature, but a perfect goose," remarked B---- to Felix,
+as he strolled back to the barracks with him. The other officers drove.
+"Besides, she is at least twenty-five or six years old; that is old for
+a Spaniard," chatted the Prince.
+
+Felix walked silently beside him, a hot, unsatisfied feeling in his
+heart, a withered flower in his hand.
+
+He cherished it like a lover the rose-bud which his dear one had given
+him; yes, thus would Felix cherish the faded yellow flower which the
+dust in the wings of the stage had soiled--upon which an acrobat might
+have trodden. He placed it in a glass of water, and finally pressed it
+in a book of poems.
+
+Explain it who will! In the moment when Felix had avoided her lips, the
+narrow-minded Spaniard had taken a decided dislike for him, a dislike
+which more intimate acquaintance with him did not overcome, but which
+increased to aversion. Neither his unusual, truly somewhat effeminate,
+beauty, nor his reserved, chivalrous manners, pleased her. B----, with
+his bold, condescending ways, had more success with her, but her
+deepest, tenderest feelings were for the trapeze artist of the Orpheum,
+a young man with strongly developed muscles and bushy hair, who
+apparently seldom washed his face and never his hands; but, on the
+other hand, used the strongest-smelling pomade, and always wore the
+most brilliant cravats. One met him often when one visited Juanita.
+
+At that time Juanita lived in the Rossau, in a very plain locality,
+which continually smelt of mutton tallow and onions, because Manuela,
+in spite of the warm time of year, loved to cook unappetizing national
+dishes upon the drawing-room stove.
+
+Manuela was never seen without her crumpled black satin hat and her
+green shawl adorned with red palms. Around the old woman's waist, on a
+worn-out cord hung a pocket from which protruded a gay paper fan, and
+which beside this lodged a pack of cards, a rosary and cigarettes.
+
+Juanita lay from morning to night upon a divan, clad in a loose white
+wrapper, without corsets, without stockings, a rose behind her ear, and
+tiny black satin slippers upon her small bare feet. But how beautiful
+she was thus!
+
+The soft white clinging garment outlined her form distinctly. One could
+think of nothing more charming than her little feet, scarcely as long
+as one's palm, so narrow, beautifully arched, with pink soles and
+dainty dimples, and with blue veins around her ankles as they peeped
+out of the satin slippers.
+
+Except for a few fairly brutal bursts of rage, Juanita was uncommonly
+phlegmatic. She really loved nothing but cigarettes, sweet drinks mixed
+with ice, and a horrible Spanish national salad of garlic and cucumbers
+which she called a _gaspacho_. The time which she did not devote to her
+dancing exercises and her lovers, she passed smoking, laying cards, and
+telling the beads of her rosary.
+
+She tolerated Felix around her, like a poor actress who wishes to
+quarrel with no one and tolerates every one; she did not encourage him.
+
+Her coldness excited his feeling to madness; his boundless submission
+increased her repugnance for him. In association with her, he had no
+self-respect, no pride, no will, but the low-spirited air of a shy
+student. He grovelled at her feet, and spent half the day pasting gold
+spangles on one of her old costumes which Manuela was freshening up. He
+had known her for weeks without daring to send her anything but
+bouquets and candy.
+
+Then one evening he saw her in a box of a theatre. She wore her hair
+arranged in the Spanish manner, with a veil and high comb, and a black
+satin gown which fitted like a glove, adorned with a silver girdle. The
+whole audience was interested in the beautiful Spaniard. In the second
+act, Prince B---- appeared in her box. The people whispered, laughed.
+Felix was half dead with jealousy.
+
+The next day there was a violent altercation between the Prince and
+him, at which the former good-naturedly declared that he would a
+hundred times rather break with Juanita than with Felix; he did not
+care anything about her, she bored him; he had only sent her to the
+theatre, dressed beautifully, to mystify the Viennese, etc.
+
+Then Felix hired a charming entresol in K---- Street, and had it
+furnished in three days by the first upholsterer in Vienna. Juanita
+made no trouble about occupying it. She laughed and clapped her hands
+with joy over the magnificent furniture, gave up her loose wrappers,
+wore the clothes which Felix had made for her, and in honor of the
+beautiful apartment, played the great lady.
+
+Surprise and thankfulness, or perhaps a suddenly awakened covetousness
+for a time killed in her every other feeling. Felix revelled in a few
+weeks of mad happiness.
+
+To-day, however, his hair stood on end when he thought of this
+happiness.
+
+Juanita gave herself up to mad extravagance. Her ideal of elegance and
+style was Mlle. X----, the _première danseuse_ of the opera house.
+Juanita must have duplicates of everything: the toilets, the
+Newfoundland and the equipages. Finally she insisted upon dancing at
+the same theatre as the X----, and Felix succeeded in securing a
+performance for her.
+
+And yet how badly she treated him in spite of everything. Often he
+rattled his frail chains, but lacked the strength to break them. He
+made scenes for Juanita almost every day--it was owing to his jealousy;
+he left her and swore he would never come again. For an entire week he
+remained away from her, but in what a condition of excitement, fever,
+and longing! He ate nothing, he slept no longer, he ran into passers-by
+in the street because he saw no one; the whole world was a dark chaos
+to him--the only spot of light was Juanita.
+
+With bowed head, a bitter smile on his lips, the full consciousness of
+his degradation expressed by bearing and glance, he then dragged
+himself back to Juanita.
+
+She did with him what she wished. All Vienna spoke about him and her;
+from the lips of young matrons mysterious phrases floated about the
+ears of innocent young girls--the pretty Countess L---- cried her blue
+eyes out.
+
+And the summer passed. September arrived. The Spaniard had become more
+submissive--sometimes she was almost tender. The great moment of her
+début in the opera house approached, and made her timid. One more wish
+she expressed, a last one. Never before had she taken trouble to inform
+Felix of one of her expensive wishes with so many caressing
+digressions. With both arms round his neck, her lips close to his ear,
+she informed him that she would not appear at the opera house without a
+pair of diamond screws such as Mlle. X---- always wore in her ears when
+she danced.
+
+When he begged her only to wait a very little while, she fell back into
+her old phlegmatic, yes, apathetic manner, pouting angrily.
+
+He went to a jeweller whom he knew, of whom he had already purchased
+different ornaments for Juanita, but the man did not seem inclined to
+extend Felix's credit further. Too prudent to bluntly refuse such a
+distinguished customer he pretended that he had no stones of the size
+which the Baron required.
+
+He could perhaps obtain them from a business friend "for cash."
+
+Felix left the shop angrily, and now sought his old acquaintance,
+Ephraim Staub. But the latter shrugged his shoulders, said that he had
+already done a great deal for the Baron for the sake of his respectful
+devotion to him; he relied upon his honor, but still the notes of a
+minor were not legal, and all men were mortal, and if anything should
+happen to the young Baron who would answer to him, Ephraim Staub, that
+the young gentleman's papa would not throw him together with his notes,
+which in the eyes of the law were not legal, out of the door?
+
+Felix chewed the knob of his riding-whip angrily. Then carefully
+feeling his way, the usurer ventured an infamous proposition.
+
+"Certainly a note with your father's acceptance--that would be
+safe--the old gentleman would certainly redeem that--one could always
+apply the thumbscrews to one's papa." Ephraim could assure the Baron
+that young people of the best families--he must, alas, conceal the
+names--had given him this kind of guarantee.
+
+For a long time the true signification of this speech was wholly dark
+to Felix, but at length he understood, then he did not even take the
+trouble to fall into a rage, only threw back his head arrogantly and
+raised his riding-whip to the usurer as one strikes a cur who has
+ventured too near.
+
+How did it happen that three days later he returned to Ephraim Staub
+and made out the note in the shameful manner which the latter had
+desired of him? Yes; how did it happen? Felix no longer knows. If he
+knew, he could perhaps understand his crime to-day, but he does not
+understand it.
+
+His memory is a blank concerning the three days in which he had slowly
+sunk to forgery; there is a dark spot, a chasm in his recollection; he
+can only take it up again in the moment when, exhausted as if after
+weeks of fever, bathed in cold sweat, and groping along the walls, he
+crept from Ephraim's shop to the jeweller's; how suddenly he was
+frightened at the gargoyle on the cornice of a house, frightened
+because the head laughed.
+
+From this moment he was not happy for a second, not even with Juanita.
+Strangely enough, his passion for her now was completely in the
+background; it fled.
+
+It seemed to him that a monster sat upon his back and buried two iron
+claws in his shoulders, and blew in his ears with his hot, terrible
+breath.
+
+The evening on which Juanita was to show her splendid beauty and her
+empirical dancing to the audience of the opera house arrived.
+
+A warm, September evening. There had been a hard shower; there was an
+odor of wet stone and marble as Felix went to the theatre. By turns he
+shook with cold and grew feverish, he suffered with a severe cold. The
+theatre was still only sparsely filled. When he took his seat in one of
+the front rows he noticed that people pointed him out to each other and
+whispered his name. He was a celebrity--Juanita's lover!
+
+And all the soft voices pierced his ears, and yet no one could know
+that.
+
+The ballet had been introduced into an opera, he could not have said
+into which one; he heard nothing, he saw nothing which took place upon
+the stage.
+
+The triumphal fanfare of the madriléna roused him from his brooding.
+
+How beautiful she was!
+
+A cloud of black lace and satin floated about her. On her breast was a
+bunch of white roses, in her ears sparkled two great drops like frozen
+tears.
+
+Felix saw nothing of the whole apparition but these great sparkling
+drops. He would have liked to scream out, "Hold her fast, she wears my
+honor in her ears!"
+
+Poor Felix; he was delirious. The triumph which Juanita had experienced
+at the Orpheum was nothing to her present one at the opera house. A
+foreign prince, who chanced to be in the house, clapped his hands in
+approval; the X---- saw it in her box, and grew green with envy.
+
+Then Juanita threw her last kiss and vanished. The opera proceeded.
+Felix sat in his place as if petrified.
+
+At last, at the close of the act, he rose to go behind the scenes. That
+uneasy hum, which in the world follows a triumph or a fiasco, prevailed
+there. Juanita was nowhere to be seen. He knocked at her dressing-room
+door, her maid alone answered him. Juanita was gone, had just driven
+away. "His Highness Prince Arthur"--the girl was a born Viennese--"had
+arranged a supper in all haste in honor of the Senorita, and--she
+thought the Baron knew of it----"
+
+Felix heard nothing more; in mad haste he rushed down the narrow stairs
+to the stage entrance, and out across the open square before the
+theatre. He saw a closed carriage turn a corner. Felix did not know
+whom the carriage contained--probably a perfect stranger--and still he
+rushed after it--rushed after it like an insane man for a long
+distance. The earth trembled beneath him; with a hoarse, breathless
+gasp, he sank to the ground.
+
+When he was picked up, he was unconscious. For weeks he lay senseless,
+with a severe nervous fever. His father came to Vienna to care for him.
+After about eight weeks the physicians declared that for the present
+there was no danger--he could be transported to Traunberg, as was the
+urgent desire of his father.
+
+At that time Felix was still so weak that he had to be carried; he
+slept almost continuously, spoke indistinctly, and had forgotten the
+immediate past.
+
+
+Ephraim Staub hated Felix because of the manner in which, without
+removing his cap, with one finger on the visor, he would enter
+Ephraim's house, yawning, and say, "You, I want money!" and because of
+the manner in which he carelessly crumpled the bank-notes--which
+Ephraim never handled except reverently--and thrust them in his
+pockets, and because of the cut of the whip with which Felix had
+answered his perfidious proposition the first time.
+
+He discounted the note. The old Baron's lawyer learned that a note with
+his name upon it was in circulation, and inquired by letter whether the
+Baron wished it redeemed for family considerations.
+
+The Baron knew nothing of Juanita. Naturally, Felix had never written
+him of his relations with her, and a stranger would never have ventured
+to inform the violent old Lanzberg of anything discreditable to his
+son. Felix had of late asked his father for no great sums of money, and
+the father knew him to be always scrupulously honorable.
+
+How could he look upon the scarcely veiled insinuation of the advocate
+as other than an insult? Enraged at the suspicion cast upon his son, he
+did not even take the trouble to think the matter over, but wrote at
+once, in his first indignation, a brusque letter to his advocate, in
+which he declared that he knew nothing of the matter--it could take its
+course. It did not even occur to him to excite the invalid Felix with
+this horrid story--he told him nothing of it.
+
+Slowly Felix recovered his health, but his happy temper did not return,
+he remained always gloomy and monosyllabic--not rude but deeply sad.
+His father often gazed anxiously into his eyes, which then every time
+looked away from him, and he stroked his cheeks compassionately, which
+then always flushed beneath his touch. And once he took the
+convalescent's thin hand in his, and said, "Does anything worry you, my
+poor boy? It is surely some heart trouble which often comes to one of
+your age," and as Felix, who at the beginning of this speech had paled,
+now was silent, flushing more and more deeply, the Baron added,
+clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder, "You need not worry about
+your secret. I will ask you no more about it if it annoys you; I only
+thought it might relieve you to unburden your heart."
+
+Felix buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears. To this day
+he can hear in his ears the caressing consolation of his father, the
+soft, monotonous voice with which he murmured again and again, "Do not
+excite yourself, child; poor fellow, poor fellow!"
+
+That Felix's melancholy could have anything in connection with the
+lawyer's communication, did not occur to the Baron.
+
+The next day Felix confessed to his father. It was after breakfast;
+they sat alone, opposite each other, at a little round table.
+
+For a moment the old man stared before him with fixed, dull gaze; then
+rising helplessly and slowly from his chair, stretching out his
+trembling hands, he fell upon his face, senseless.
+
+What cut Felix most bitterly, most deeply to his heart was, that when
+the Baron recovered from his swoon he had not a word of reproof for his
+son--not a word. Oh, if he had raged, had cursed and execrated him, all
+this Felix could have borne more easily than the sight of the terrible,
+helpless sadness with which from time to time the Baron struck his
+hands together and murmured: "I was indiscreet; oh, furious old fool, I
+was indiscreet, indiscreet!"
+
+The meaning of these words only later became clear to Felix.
+
+The Baron telegraphed to the lawyer--he went to Vienna the same day.
+
+It was too late!
+
+All the steps which were taken to spare Felix the publication of his
+fault and the degrading punishment, were in vain.
+
+The affair occurred in an unfavorable epoch for him, as the courts felt
+obliged shortly after an _éclat_ to be doubly severe, as the
+consideration which had recently been shown in a similar case for a
+noble name had called forth the justest indignation from the liberal
+press.
+
+Felix was sentenced to two years' imprisonment.
+
+His father begged an audience of His Majesty. All that he attained was
+that the sentence should be diminished to one year.
+
+An example must be made.
+
+And the farewell. The last, long, trembling embrace of his father, the
+moment when the guards who were to conduct the convict away busied
+themselves with their sabres and compassionately withdrew while the
+father whispered imploringly to his son, "Promise me that you will do
+no harm to yourself!"
+
+And the time in the prison. The fearful despair of the first weeks,
+when he longed for death, and the promise which he had given his father
+continually weighed upon and tormented him like a fetter; the brooding
+stupor into which this despair changed, and which in its turn gave
+place to a gradual reviving and accustoming himself to his
+circumstances. He remembered very well the day when he began to look
+around at his companions, began anxiously to seek manifestations of
+their good qualities; to search among them for young people of
+blameless lives who had sinned in a moment of madness. What did he
+find? A few convicts who by alternating imprisonment and crime had
+gradually become dull and stupid, others who had wholly degenerated to
+rough, terrible, malicious animals; besides these, two or three sons of
+good family, who confessed their sins with brutal cynicism, scornfully
+derided their relatives and procured through the jailer wine, cards and
+evil romances. The sight of these people caused Felix boundless misery.
+How he loathed them; how they astonished him; the importance which
+trifles had for them, and that they had the heart to rail at the poor
+food!
+
+The doubt came to him whether the idea which he had of himself was not
+a mere illusion. He dissected his most secret impulses, criticised all
+his instincts--in short, tormented himself into a pitiable condition.
+The remnant of self-respect which he had taken into the prison shrunk
+away to nothing.
+
+All who had anything to do with him showed him the warmest sympathy. He
+was so quiet, so obliging; he never asked for anything except more
+work. The degraded officers were at that time employed in the office
+work. Felix fulfilled the tasks allotted him with the most painful
+punctiliousness. At the prison he accustomed himself to that correct
+regular handwriting which differed so greatly from the careless writing
+of his gay youth.
+
+The old baron had begged that some consideration might be shown Felix
+on account of his weakened health. They were perfectly willing to do
+so, but Felix would hear nothing of this. The money which his father
+sent him to procure little comforts, he gave to assistants.
+
+At last the year was over.
+
+Felix had received a letter from his father, in which the latter, too
+considerate to personally accompany his son from the prison, told him
+that he would meet him at this or that station, to take a long trip
+with him. But Felix could not resolve to meet his father immediately
+after this degrading imprisonment.
+
+It was in the year 1866. War was expected. Felix enlisted in a regiment
+as a private soldier. He performed his duties with fanatic zeal. The
+soldiers, who knew nothing of his sad story, looked upon his serving in
+their ranks as the "whim of a great gentleman," such as is not unusual
+in excited times, and met him with defiant opposition. But he took such
+sincere trouble to win their liking, so willingly shared their whole
+life, that they soon became devoted to him. Their unfeigned liking was
+more pleasant to him than the sentimental humanity which he met with
+later in life. Often one of his present comrades pushed him away from
+some work which he considered unworthy of Felix, and murmured with
+good-natured embarrassment, "That you are not used to, sir." The
+officers, who at first had been very ill at ease with him, gradually
+understood how painful it was to him if any difference was made between
+him and his comrades, and gave up attempting to make an exception of
+him.
+
+He never complained, ate the coarsest food without changing his
+expression in the slightest, conscientiously polished the buttons of
+his uniform, and always chose the worst place to bivouac.
+
+The first cannon was fired.
+
+Felix fought at Trautenau; fought without enthusiasm, without
+melodramatic heroism; he fought with the sober, unbounded bravery of a
+man who does not need the hurrahs to be spurred on by, whose life is
+wholly indifferent to him, and who hopes and wishes for no other reward
+for his self-sacrificing performance of his duty than--death.
+
+The leaden rain of the Prussian vanguard--it was wholly unknown to the
+Austrians who did not fight in Schlesing--had a soothing effect upon
+his nerves. The breathless excitement of battle did him good. What
+pained him was the moment before the conflict, when old veterans passed
+each other their field-flasks, and expressed indifferent opinions about
+the weather; and the young soldiers, scarcely grown recruits, with
+shining eyes and pale cheeks, cried "Hurrah!" and inflated their
+chests, while the guns shook in their hands. What pained him was the
+moment after the battle, when the last smoke of powder, and a dull echo
+of the noise of battle filled the air, and the soldiers, confused and
+stunned, met in camp, and one or another, rousing from the stupor which
+followed the fearful excitement of battle, asked fearfully, "Where is
+F----? where is M----?" and then with a shudder remembered that he,
+himself, had seen F---- and M---- fall. What pained him was, when in
+the night the wounded cried and groaned, until their comrades'
+compassion changed to impatience, and they complained over the noise
+which prevented them from sleeping.
+
+Then came the third of July, the day of Sadowa.
+
+It was damp, cold weather, no sun in the heavens. On the earth
+trodden-down grain, soiled with dirt and blood; a confusion of blue and
+white soldiers, partly arranged in compact, geometrically exact
+figures, partly scattered in sheltered positions, partly crouching
+behind earthworks, so far separated that Prussians and Austrians mostly
+saw each other as points or masses. Hostile, without hostility, they
+stood opposite each other; perhaps not one among the thousands upon
+thousands here and yonder hated the other, and yet each one was ready
+to do his utmost to kill the unknown enemy.
+
+Fog mixed with the powder-smoke. There was a wild confusion of screams,
+groans, rolling of wheels, rattling of sabres, and stamping of horses.
+In the distance chaos seemed to prevail; at the spot where Felix was
+stationed a kind of monotony, a kind of order ruled.
+
+The ranks close over the fallen. "Fire!" commands the officer.
+There is a click of the gun hammers, the flames shine redly on the
+gun-barrels--sch--sch whistle the hostile balls around Felix; crashing,
+ear-splitting, like sharp hail, answer the riflemen.
+
+Felix was at Swiepwald, with the regiment of riflemen of which the
+Austrians only speak with tears in their eyes, the Prussians with hands
+on their caps!
+
+For a while the losses were slight. All went well. Then came a moment
+when the riflemen received the hostile balls indifferently. Many of
+them were weary and found time to say so, still more were hungry--few
+Austrian soldiers received anything to eat on that memorable day, the
+day of Sadowa. Felix had given his last rations to a young recruit who,
+as he thought, needed nourishment more than he; but Felix had
+overestimated his strength, an unusual faintness suddenly overcame him,
+he begged his neighbor for his flask, and crash!--a shell--and the
+neighbor lay on the ground with shattered feet.
+
+From this moment the losses are immense. Man after man falls. Little
+brownish-red streams of blood trickle through the ruts of the ground,
+the pine-trees become bare, their needles fall unpleasantly,
+prickingly, upon the faces of the riflemen. With the whistling of the
+musket-balls mingles the groaning shots of the artillery like the
+deafening, reechoing thunder in a mountainous country. The atmosphere
+is unbearably impregnated with the peculiar odor of battle. With the
+smell of powder and heated iron mingles the odor of perspiration of an
+excited mass of men, and the repulsive, terrible, salt smell of their
+blood.
+
+The fog becomes more and more thick. The riflemen see nothing near them
+but dead comrades, and before, a white wall behind which death lurks.
+They no longer know what is taking place at the other end of the field,
+do not know that the Prussian Crown Prince has arrived; but all feel
+that they are fighting for a lost cause, and that their resistance is
+nothing more than a heroic demonstration.
+
+Always in the front rank, Felix fights on. Twice have the men at his
+right and left fallen, but all the balls whistle past him--from second
+to second he expects death, but it comes not.
+
+There are not thirty men left of his battalion; orderlies fly to and
+fro, the officers are hoarse, then suddenly the cry, "Retreat!"
+
+Retreat!
+
+Felix stands as if rooted to the ground--Retreat! What, shall he flee?
+No! But captivity, in which, bound as he is by his promise, he would
+not have the right to take his life! And he retreats with the others,
+who now join the great mass. Their pace becomes more and more irregular
+and hurried.
+
+The evening is dark, the enemy behind them, the few riflemen are among
+the last. A standard-bearer sinks down, wounded in the knee by a stray
+shot. No one troubles himself about him or the flag.
+
+What is the flag? Nothing but a soiled, torn rag. Nothing but--the
+symbol of the regiment's honor.
+
+Honor! The word has a mysterious, alluring sound for Felix, somewhat as
+the word water has for one perishing in the desert.
+
+Honor! honor! He takes the flag from the standard-bearer's hand, who
+pleads piteously that he may at least be pushed into a ditch and not
+trodden upon like a worm. Felix performs this service for him, and
+remains far behind his comrades. At length he raises the flag and is
+about to proceed with it.
+
+But, deathly wearied as he is, he can scarcely carry it, so he tears
+the flag from the pole, and breaking this over his knee he wishes to
+bury both pieces in the slime of the ditch, but before he has
+accomplished this a little band of Prussian cavalry approaches. He lays
+his hand on his gun, but if he defends himself, defends himself so that
+they must kill him, the flag is forfeited. He then stretches himself in
+the mire of the road, flat on his face over the flag, as to-day he has
+seen many of his comrades, shot through the heart.
+
+The horses trot past him; one of them starts back from him, this rider
+looks before him, sees what he takes for a corpse and passes on.
+
+The horse, who takes the leap required of him with the timidity which
+every human body inspires in his species, strikes Felix with his hoof.
+When the riders are out of sight, and all is still, Felix rises, a
+stinging pain in his left arm. At first he thought the arm was broken,
+but no, only a severe contusion causes the pain. He thrusts his hand
+into his coat, wraps the flag around it, and creeps wearily forward.
+
+In his ears a single word rings: "Honor!"
+
+He totters to the Elbe, which separates him from his comrades; there is
+no longer a bridge there; he does not trust his strength to swim
+across. Ah! and even if he does drown in the bottom of the river, the
+Prussians cannot find the flag, and he cares nothing for his life. He
+flings himself into the stream, the waves plash around his ears:
+"Honor!" The cold water strengthens him, and for the moment prevents
+the pain in his arm. He reaches the opposite shore, he himself never
+knew how.
+
+He staggers on in his clothes, made heavy by the water. His mind
+is not clear, only grasps the idea that he must go on. He stumbles
+along--slowly--slowly; often he sinks down and lies still for a while,
+then he suddenly springs up again, feels for the flag and totters on.
+He does not know where he is, the Austrian camp lies before him--he
+does not see it--then something red shines through the gray morning
+light. Felix gathers up his strength; breathless, gasping, he drags
+himself up to what he soon recognizes as an Austrian Uhlan picket.
+
+He reaches the picket, he can no longer speak, hands the flag to an
+officer, and falls to the ground.
+
+The Uhlans--there were two or three officers among them--crowd around
+him. When they see his lamentable condition they speak with pride of
+the fidelity to his flag of this common soldier, and they say it aloud,
+and Felix hears it and it does him good; it seems to him that the blot
+upon his honor is washed away.
+
+Then one of the officers bends over him, and suddenly starting, he
+cries to the others, "That is certainly Lanzberg!"
+
+"What do you say? 'The certain Lanzberg?'" ask they, hastily. They
+thought Felix unconscious, but he was not.
+
+The word, thoughtlessly spoken and not unkindly meant, goes to his
+heart. From that moment he knew that there was no regeneration for his
+honor.
+
+He might level mountains and dam rivers, but the world in its
+astonishment, in its admiration, would yet find no other name for him
+than "the certain Lanzberg!"
+
+He opened his large, mournful eyes. The officers were ill at ease, then
+they all stretched out their hands to him and cried, "We admire you; we
+envy you!"
+
+But he only turned his head away from them with a groan.
+
+His incomparable actions during the campaign had softened the harshest
+of his social judges toward him. The emperor, by a proclamation, had
+restored to him his forfeited social rights. His father awaited him
+longingly, and begged him by letters to telegraph his arrival in
+Traunberg, so that he could personally meet him at the railway station.
+
+But Felix dreaded the idea of being received by his father, and
+unannounced, in civilian clothes, he one day alighted in T----, the
+nearest station to Traunberg, from a third-class compartment, which he
+had taken so as to meet none of his acquaintances. He went on foot to
+the castle. He felt a kind of shyness of every tree, every stone, which
+formerly returning home after long absence, he had greeted joyously.
+The quick trot of horses' hoofs smote his ear; looking up he saw Elsa
+coming galloping along the park driveway toward him, at the side of his
+old playmate, Sempaly. Anxiously he drew back among the trees, and the
+two rushed past, and thought no more of the man in the plain gray coat.
+Silently he crept up to the castle and to his father's room. No one met
+him. Softly he opened the door. A thin, bowed, gray-haired man sat
+reading in an arm-chair. Felix took a few hesitating steps forward, he
+trembled throughout his entire frame. "Papa!" he stammered. One moment
+more and the father had clasped him in his arms. Then the old man
+pushed him back from him to see him more plainly. "My hero!" he cried.
+Felix started nervously and gazed pleadingly at his father. "You have
+grown gray, papa," he cried, as if startled.
+
+"People grow old, my boy," replied the Baron, hastily smoothing his
+whitened hair.
+
+"Old at forty-nine?" murmured Felix.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, as Felix sat beside his father, answering
+his questions, Elsa entered. She had grown tall and slender. But that
+was not the only change which Felix perceived in her: she had lost her
+light, springing girlish step, her merry smile. A reserved sadness had
+drawn harsh lines about her mouth, and a deep shade darkened her eyes.
+
+At her entrance he had risen awkwardly, and she, not seeing him
+distinctly, and taking him for some bailiff discussing business with
+her father, bowed formally.
+
+Her father glanced impatiently at her, then he cried, in irritation and
+anger, "It is Felix; do you not recognize him?"
+
+Elsa grew pale with excitement. "God greet you," said she, going
+quickly up to him.
+
+His trembling lips barely touched her forehead.
+
+Now came a hard, hard time for Felix, made hardest of all by the
+touching kindness of his father, who overwhelmed him with tender
+attentions, had forgotten none of Felix's former fancies--surprised him
+now with a splendid horse, now with a gun of a new, improved kind, or a
+pointer dog with fabulous traits--in short, anticipated every wish
+which Felix had formerly expressed. But Felix no longer wished for
+anything but to hide himself, and this his father would not hear of.
+
+He everywhere pushed his son forward; with the servants and overseer it
+was always, "I am growing old, go to the young master."
+
+And poor Felix, humiliated by the striking submission of the people,
+confused and without an idea or opinion of his own, gave orders in a
+shy, weak voice as modestly and reservedly as he could.
+
+However urgently he begged his father to leave him in the protecting
+shade of the background, the old man could not be induced to consent.
+He pressed the keys of his safe upon Felix, gave him free disposal of
+the largest sums of money. Painfully distrustful of all the rest of
+humanity, especially of his servants, since his misfortune, the Baron
+almost crushed his son by this ostentatious, conspicuous confidence.
+
+One day he desired Felix to pay a visit with him in the neighborhood.
+But this Felix opposed. Elsa supported his opposition. The old Baron
+took that amiss in her. At that time Elsa was scarcely sixteen years
+old. She suffered with the Lanzberg arrogance, as Felix had suffered
+from it; she was hurt to the heart by Felix's deed. And yet she loved
+her brother, and did not wish to let him feel how heavily his disgrace
+weighed upon her. But she could find no natural tone in intercourse
+with him.
+
+He had been a kind of idol for her, who good-naturedly descended from
+his pedestal to tease and caress his little sister. He had called her
+Liesel and Mietzel, pulled her ear or kissed her hand, mystified her
+with the strangest tales, gave her costly presents; then again, when
+his friends or important pleasures came between them, for days wholly
+ignored her insignificant existence.
+
+But this time the idol had not descended from his pedestal; he had
+fallen down, and had become a broken man. His former teasing courtesy
+had changed into the shyest politeness. He never pulled her ears, and
+never kissed her hand, never called her Liesel or Mietzel--his manners
+had wholly lost their playful aplomb. He was now helpless and awkward,
+sat at table like a poor sinner, ate little, never spoke a word, and,
+rendered clumsy by embarrassment, soiled the table-cloth. He was so
+boundlessly obliging and considerate that it made Elsa embarrassed. He
+broke a refractory horse for her with the greatest patience, took care
+of all her favorite flowers, accompanied her on her visits to the poor,
+and never forgot to take with him a warm wrap for her.
+
+He had really become a much better and lovable man than before, but the
+world had no use for this goodness and lovability. Even Elsa did not
+know how to value it. She was always constrained in intercourse with
+him, because she was always thinking of being kind to him. The old
+Baron gave her endless lectures concerning her behavior. Unweariedly
+attentive and tender to Felix, toward his other fellow men he was
+almost unbearably capricious, irritable and unjust, especially to Elsa.
+
+Once he overwhelmed her for so long with imprudent reproaches for her
+heartlessness and lack of tact, that at last she cried out defiantly
+and refractorily, "Why was Felix so?"
+
+Then her father struck her for the first and last time, and cried, "God
+punish you for your hard heart!"
+
+When the Baron had left her, and she began to almost hate Felix, angry
+at the injustice done her, he emerged from a dark corner, from which he
+had been forced to witness the scene, softly went up to her, and said,
+with his gentle sad smile, stretching out his hand hesitatingly to her,
+"Forgive him--he has not his head; he does not know any longer what he
+does; only think how he must feel."
+
+Then she threw herself with passionate violence into his arms. "He was
+right a hundred times," cried she, "only not in thinking that I do not
+love you, for I do love you, but I did not know how to show it to you."
+
+From that day the relation between brother and sister was touchingly
+tender. Elsa was almost as anticipating and unendingly tender in her
+attentions to Felix as her father himself.
+
+The first week after Felix's arrival, Sempaly discreetly remained away
+from Traunberg. He also had taken part in the campaign, but a very
+trifling part, and described the battle of Sadowa with charming
+flippancy, while he added, "Pity that it turned out so badly." For the
+first week, then, he remained away from Traunberg. But then he appeared
+there again, and, in fact, with the good-natured intention of paying
+Felix a special visit. But scarcely had the latter heard the voice of
+his former comrade, when with dog and gun he crept softly out of the
+castle.
+
+From then Sempaly came no more to Traunberg. Felix knew that formerly
+he had come two or three times a week, and asked Elsa about it. "You
+have surely begged him to come no longer, poor Elsa," said he, gazing
+deep into her eyes.
+
+Her embarrassment answered him.
+
+He saw that for his sake Elsa must give up all society, and also
+noticed that she had caught his morbid shyness. Her future was at
+stake. Then, carefully concealing his reasons, he begged leave of his
+father to go to South America. With a heavy heart, and after much
+opposition, the old man let him go.
+
+Felix did not return until he received the news of Elsa's marriage.
+After the death of his father he left Europe a second time, and had
+really only returned home for a visit, when he met Linda.
+
+
+Poor Felix! There he sat, his head resting on the table, all his
+thoughts in the past, when suddenly a little voice roused him from his
+dull brooding. Gery, whose little hand could not reach the doorknob,
+banged at the door outside, and screamed, "Papa! papa!" Felix rose and
+admitted him.
+
+The child was crying, and his left cheek was red and swollen.
+
+"Papa, mamma slapped me, and said she could not bear me," complained
+the little fellow.
+
+"She struck you because you are the son of 'the certain Lanzberg,'"
+murmured Felix with fearful bitterness. "Perhaps others will also make
+you do penance for that yet!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XXV.
+
+
+The gulf which malicious fortune and Elsa's overwrought nerves had
+opened between the two married people had not lessened, but on the
+contrary had daily become deeper, colder, and broader.
+
+Erwin found no explanation for his wife's changed manner; after some
+time he ceased to seek one. His was no brooding nature, and had no time
+to become one. That Elsa could be jealous of Linda any more than of a
+pretty work of art or an amusing book which unsuitably claimed a great
+deal of his attention, Erwin had never understood.
+
+"Poor Elsa, she is worried about Felix," he said to himself; "she will
+come to her senses again," and for several days he kept away from her,
+to give her time to calm herself. But three, four days passed, and she
+still had the same pale face and stiff manner. Then he tried a
+different plan, and once when they chanced to be alone together--it
+happened very seldom--he laid his hand under her chin and began: "Well,
+mouse----"
+
+But she did not lean her cheek against his hand as formerly when she
+was remorseful, neither did she resist his caress, as when she was
+refractory, but simply tolerated him as if she were a statue of stone
+or bronze. And she looked at him so coldly that all the loving words
+which he had in readiness faded from his memory and his hand sank down
+from her chin.
+
+He turned away from her with impatience and irritation. It was not the
+first time that she had been unjust and capricious to him. Her only
+fault was an easily awakened irritability; but formerly her vexation
+had been of short duration, and her bad mood had soon dissolved into
+the most remorseful tenderness.
+
+She had never begged his forgiveness after she had made a scene. Her
+proud obstinacy was not capable of that; she was not one of those
+sympathetic, dependent women who like to make little blunders so as to
+be able to coquet with their charming penitence. No! But an anxious,
+half-suppressed smile hesitated on her lips, when he returned to her
+several hours after the vexatious scene, and he could see by the book
+which she was reading, by the gown which she had put on, by the dinner
+which was ordered, how she had thought of him during his absence.
+
+But her manner now was of a quite different kind.
+
+What could he think but that her love for him had become less; that
+with Elsa, as with all good mothers, her children had gradually won the
+precedence in her heart, and there was nothing to do for it. And Erwin
+smiled peculiarly, shrugged his shoulders, for the first few days felt
+painfully wounded, and finally began to accustom himself to the
+situation. He hunted a great deal, and also occasionally rode to
+Traunberg, where he was always sure of a hearty reception, often met
+gay society, and from whence he brought back the comfortable conviction
+that he had the best influence over a lovable but superficial human
+being.
+
+Now, after Elsa had barricaded herself on all sides with diligence and
+pains and praiseworthy energy, against happiness, she was terrified at
+her own work, and she would gladly have annihilated it, but she now
+lacked the power. Erwin had become distant; formerly she would have
+silently slipped her hand into his and with that all would have been
+said, he would have understood. But now, now she no longer dared; she
+was as shy and embarrassed as a bride. That it was hateful, yes, fairly
+inexcusable to suspect a man who in all the different situations of his
+life had acted so severely honorably as Erwin, of such disgraceful
+conduct as her jealousy suggested to her, she knew, but----
+
+"The Lanzberg shadow has fallen upon my happiness," she sometimes
+thought sadly; "it must come so," but in the next moment she said, "No,
+it must not come so. I--I myself am to blame that it has come; why did
+I send him away from me on our wedding-day, from silly, childish
+obstinacy? If I believed in danger for him, I should have tried doubly
+hard to chain him to me; instead of this I have done everything to make
+myself disagreeable to him, only because my pride did not consider a
+threatened happiness worth defence. If what I feared now happens,
+then----" but here her thoughts paused. "That cannot be," she murmured
+impatiently; "It is not possible." Then suddenly she thought of her
+brother, who in his time had stood almost as high in her respect as
+Erwin, and who in one instant had sunken, oh, so deeply!
+
+"If that were possible, then everything is possible in this world," she
+decided, sternly.
+
+One day after another passed--a cloud had shown itself in her sky so
+small and transparent that a single sunbeam would have sufficed to kiss
+it away; but the cloud had grown larger, and now covered the whole sky
+so that it could not even be seen.
+
+An unpleasant accident contributed to embitter Elsa's feelings
+completely.
+
+For a long time she had been urged by her heart to show Erwin some
+little attention, and she ransacked her brains to think of something
+which could please him, and yet would not be a too direct reminder of
+her love. At last it occurred to her to have a photograph taken for him
+of Baby, who with her childish coquetries had gradually become dearer
+and dearer to her father's heart.
+
+She put the frock which Erwin liked best upon the little creature
+herself, one which showed off Baby's charms most advantageously. She
+kissed and smoothed the child's short curls, and hung a golden heart on
+a thin chain round her neck, of which the vain rogue was not a little
+proud, and tugged at it with both little fists to admire it, or put it
+in her mouth. Then Elsa ordered the carriage and drove over to
+Marienbad with Baby. Baby made the most attentive observations from the
+lap of her mamma; from time to time she stretched out her hand for some
+object which especially pleased her or was new to her, and gave a
+little clear joyous cry, or uttered some of those disconnected
+syllables which have significance for a mother's ear only.
+
+The novelty of the situation at the photographer's impressed her; the
+first attempt did not succeed. The photographer remarked that if the
+Baroness would hold the child herself, it would perhaps be better. Elsa
+replied blushingly that she did not wish to appear in the picture.
+
+But Baby would not have it otherwise. Now the trial succeeded
+admirably. The photographer showed the negative in which Baby's
+delicate face, with the solemn, staring eyes, and the shy, smiling
+mouth could plainly be recognized. Elsa nodded with satisfaction, but
+begged that he would wash out her figure. Then the old photographer--he
+knew Elsa from her childhood--surveyed his work with the look of an
+artist, and said, "Ah, Baroness, it would be a shame for the pretty
+picture. Has the Baroness one of the last photographs which I took of
+her as a bride? It is just the same face."
+
+And Elsa let him have his way; involuntarily the delight with which he
+held the dim negative against his rough coat-sleeve amused her, and she
+even stole a glance in the mirror, the first glance for a long time,
+and thought that although somewhat pale and thin, she did not look so
+very old and faded as she had thought. She rejoiced at this discovery,
+and rejoiced that her richly embroidered black gown was so becoming,
+and rejoiced over Baby's picture, and looked forward to the moment when
+she should take it to Erwin.
+
+When she now got into the carriage waiting below with Baby, and the
+servant closed the door, the child suddenly almost sprang out of her
+mother's lap, and stretched out her little arms, and cried in a clear,
+bell-like voice, "Papa! Papa!" As Baby's vocabulary is still very
+limited, and she had recently bestowed the title of Papa upon Litza's
+pony, Elsa glanced somewhat sceptically in the direction in which the
+child's arm pointed, but really saw Erwin about to enter a jeweller's
+shop.
+
+Linda Lanzberg was on his arm!
+
+Elsa grew deathly pale. When the carriage, as upon entering she had
+directed, stopped before a toy store, she did not alight, but ordered,
+"Home!"
+
+All reconciling feelings toward Erwin changed into a condition of
+boundless excitement; for the moment she felt a kind of hatred for him.
+When at dinner he asked, "Elsa, were not you in Marienbad to-day? It
+seemed to me that I saw the carriage pass when I was in Stein's," she
+answered, coldly, "I was there. I had something to attend to. And did
+you buy anything of Stein?" she then asked, as if casually. "Will he
+mention Linda?" she thought, but he replied half laughingly, "A pink
+coral necklace for the little one. To-morrow is, if I am not mistaken,
+her christening day." In fact Baby had been named after the Countess
+Dey, the sensible name, Marie.
+
+This explanation did not relieve Elsa in the slightest. The most
+innocent significance which she could ascribe to his presence there
+with Linda was that he had asked her advice in the choice of an
+ornament for the child. It did not occur to her that he could have met
+Linda in Marienbad quite accidentally. The rest of the evening she was
+in a hopelessly bad humor. Every word that Erwin spoke pained her, his
+manner of laying a pair of scissors on the table vexed her. With that,
+fever shone in her eyes and burned in her cheeks. The kiss which every
+evening he imprinted upon her forehead had long become a conventional
+ceremony, but to-day she wished to evade this formality. She
+disappeared from the drawing-room immediately after tea, upon some
+pretext, and did not return again.
+
+The next day was a holiday, Baby's christening day, the day after
+Juanita's visit to Traunberg.
+
+Most exceptionally, this time Erwin did not appear at breakfast, and
+when Elsa asked after him, the word was, "The Baron breakfasted in his
+own room, and had then gone away."
+
+About half-past eleven, as Elsa sat in the nursery, weary and languid,
+holding Baby on her lap, the door opened and Erwin entered. Baby
+stretched out her little hands joyously, but Elsa's eyes grew gloomy
+and she struck the child's hand reprovingly. Erwin grew deathly pale,
+pale as she had never seen him before.
+
+"Later, Baby," he murmured somewhat hoarsely, and left the room. But
+Baby began to cry bitterly, and would not stay in her mother's lap.
+
+After lunch, during which Erwin did not address another word to Elsa,
+she heard him down in the garden, talking and playing with the little
+one; she heard Baby's soft happy laugh; she went to the window,
+stretched out her head, and saw him swinging the child in the air. When
+Baby was finally weary of play, she laid her little arm around her
+father's neck, and leaned her delicate flower-like face against his
+sun-browned cheeks.
+
+Elsa's head ached; she burned with fever from head to foot, every nerve
+quivered and her thoughts were gloomy. Slowly she dragged herself up
+and down, finally seated herself with hands clasping her temples, upon
+a divan. She was losing consciousness when suddenly she started up and
+listened. She heard Erwin's horse pawing the ground in front of the
+house. Where was he going so suddenly? She roused herself, and holding
+to the walls, crept slowly down-stairs. Then, hidden by the turn of the
+stairs, in the shadow of the hall, she heard Erwin's voice:
+
+"If the Baroness asks for me, Martin, tell her that you do not know
+where I am; in no case shall she wait dinner for me," said he, quickly
+and softly.
+
+With that he mounted his horse and rode away at a rapid pace.
+
+Where? Elsa's heart stopped beating. Had anything happened?
+
+She crossed the hall--she would force old Martin to speak; but he had
+gone also. Then something on the floor rattled, a gray paper which the
+hem of her dress had touched; she stooped for it--it lay there crumpled
+as if it had just fallen from a violent hand. She committed no
+voluntary indiscretion, she only looked at it as one scrutinizes a
+paper to see whether one shall pick it up or throw it away. It was not
+her fault that, thanks to the writing, which was as plain as print, at
+the first glance her eyes had comprehended the whole contents.
+
+
+Dear Erwin:
+
+Come soon--to-day, now--at once--I expect you.
+
+                                                Linda.
+
+
+She took the note, carried it to Erwin's room, and laid it
+conscientiously upon his writing-desk. Then her knees trembled, and she
+had to sit down. Not that he had received the note surprised her. What
+fault was it of his if Linda wrote foolish notes? But what she did not
+understand, what remained absolutely incomprehensible to her was the
+fact that he had taken his valet into his confidence, that he had not
+been ashamed to make him his confidant. Had she not heard wrong? Had he
+gone to Traunberg? Now, when the facts spoke strongest against him, she
+weighed most justly the probabilities for and against his fault; she
+had acted imprudently towards him, and since the birth of the last
+child, devoting herself entirely to her maternal duties, had neglected
+him. He had borne this with goodness and patience; then Linda had
+suddenly appeared, with her dazzling beauty, her picturesque elegance,
+her coquettish heartlessness.
+
+For hours Elsa sat there and waited. At five o'clock she sat down to
+dinner; immediately after this she left the dining-room--she had no
+more control over herself.
+
+"It is all possible," she cried, giving way, desperate; her breath came
+heavily and so feverish that it burned her lips--black clouds swam
+before her eyes.
+
+She looked at the clock. What kept him away from home so long--with
+her? Another fifteen minutes passed--he must be with her. She could no
+longer endure her distrustful suspense--she would go to Traunberg.
+
+She ordered the carriage. On the way she started at every sound, at
+every shadow, everywhere she saw him and her.
+
+A fearful dread of the certainty came over her; at the last moment she
+clung to uncertainty.
+
+She wished to return, but she was ashamed of displaying such
+inconsequence before the servants, and just then the carriage drove
+through the iron gate into the Traunberg park. The lackey in the
+vestibule announced that the Baroness was not at home.
+
+Elsa sighed with relief; if Linda were not home, she could receive no
+guests, and Erwin could not be there. That she could have denied
+herself did not occur to her.
+
+It was pleasant to her to enjoy Traunberg once more, without Parisian
+anecdotes and French _chansonnettes_--without Linda.
+
+All was as if dead; it reminded her of the old Traunberg, where she had
+lived in loving solitude with her father. She did not think of
+returning at once; the great tension of her nerves had suddenly given
+way to vague dreaminess--the danger was not over but postponed.
+
+She went out into the garden; her heart grew more and more heavy, and
+her step slow. Her dress caught upon a branch. It seemed to her that a
+warning hand held her back. In mysterious dread of choosing the very
+gloomy path which lay before her, she took another. Her heart beat
+rapidly, she stood still, resolved to return. Between the trunks of the
+lindens, the water of the large pond which bounded one side of the
+Traunberg park shone in the sunset glow. With the gentle murmur of the
+water mingled the regular strokes of oars. Elsa stood still, she
+listened. Who could it be? Linda was not home. Elsa glanced at the
+pond. In a little boat she saw two figures, one, Linda, leaning back in
+the end of the little skiff, flowers in her hair and in her lap, one
+hand in the water, an evil light in her eyes, something luxuriantly
+melancholy in her whole form. Opposite her, with his back to Elsa,
+sat a man, slender, broad-shouldered, in a light summer suit, with
+close-cropped hair of that striking light blond which shines like
+molten gold in the sunlight.
+
+Elsa started back--it was surely Erwin--she turned away, she would
+see no more--but no--it seemed to her that she must call after
+him--there--the little row-boat had reached the small island covered
+with roses which was in the middle of the lake. In the gray-white
+August twilight she saw the two figures turn into the overgrown thicket
+of the island--they disappeared behind the bushes as if immersed in
+shadow.
+
+Elsa was as if paralyzed by a kind of gloomy numbness; a fearful
+excitement overcame her--she must go--where she did not know, only far,
+far away from the accursed spot.
+
+She did not think of ordering her carriage, of driving home. She
+scarcely thought of anything, only moved mechanically on, and
+instinctively took the path to Steinbach, as an animal wounded unto
+death seeks its hole to die in.
+
+She groped before her with her hands, she blinked as if blinded by a
+terrible light, she hit blindly against the trees as she passed, like a
+bat--she saw nothing but two light figures disappearing amid gloomy
+shadow. She hurried on and on--at first very rapidly--it seemed to her
+that she could fly, but she was mistaken. The unrest which raged within
+her was that of fever, of over-exhaustion, not of unused strength. Soon
+her feet felt like lead, and a heavy weight seemed resting upon her
+breast; she dragged herself wearily on like one in a bad dream, who
+wishes to flee from some monster and cannot. The more weary her body
+became, the more clear what had really frightened her became to her.
+
+"He and Linda," she murmured to herself, "he and my brother's wife."
+And with a desperate smile, a smile which condemned faith, hope and
+love to death, she added, "Yes, everything is possible in this world!"
+
+How good he had formerly been, how loving! The loveliest moments of her
+married life came to her mind with the sad charm of the irrevocably
+lost. On she tottered, in her wide-open eyes the wild look which seeks
+nothing more, which looks away from everything, the look of a being who
+has seen happiness die. "I was happy," she murmured to herself with
+unspeakable bitterness.
+
+But soon the poisonous breath of doubt tainted the happiness which had
+been also. How did she know how false it might have been, whether she
+had not merely been "considerately deceived"?
+
+Then it seems as if a frost falls upon her loveliest recollections,
+even upon those which until now she has treasured in the most secret
+corner of her heart. The past is desecrated--she has nothing more.
+
+She does not think of her children--in this moments he has forgotten
+that she has children.
+
+Slowly she drags herself through the wood, the same path which she had
+taken with Erwin before. Over her head the trees sing in melancholy
+peace their old song. Elsa can scarcely proceed; now the wood lies
+behind her, before her the dew on the meadow sparkles in the gray
+twilight, the colors are all dead--she shudders--here is the spot where
+he had carried her over that evening when for the first time she had
+been apprehensive for her happiness. Here he had put his arms round her
+and clasped her tightly to him and called her his treasure. She
+trembles in her whole body, then she gives a short gasping cry and
+sinks to the ground. She sobs, she has forgotten everything, she exists
+only in the feeling of weeping, of wishing convulsively to throw off a
+weight which oppresses her chest, and behind her the primeval forest
+still sings its melancholy peaceful song.
+
+How long she lies there she does not know; she does not notice either
+that the gray evening darkens to black night, does not notice that the
+dew falls heavier and heavier, that its cool dampness steals through
+her light gown to her weakened frame.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXVI.
+
+
+While Elsa lay so despairingly at the edge of the forest, two riders
+came slowly towards Steinbach--Sempaly and Erwin. They returned from a
+farm at some distance from, but belonging to Steinbach, which together
+with a part of the adjacent village had been burned this afternoon.
+
+Before them the castle of Steinbach, with its windows shining
+peacefully in the moonlight, between the shady trees; around them sweet
+fragrance and peaceful stillness; behind them a village, for the
+greater part in ashes, deserted ruins blackened with soot, as if clad
+in deepest mourning, animated by a few bent figures which could no
+longer speak from pain and fright, yes, could scarcely even complain
+more, and anxiously, with trembling hands, sought in the soaked heaps
+of ashes, in which fire still smouldered, for some pitiful remnant of
+their annihilated possessions. They rode through the park gate, their
+clothes were drenched and smelled of smoke and soot.
+
+When Sempaly heard of the breaking out of the fire, he had ridden from
+Iwanow to Billwitz, and had then joined Erwin honestly in the wildest
+confusion of the fire, and now accompanied him home.
+
+They only seldom exchanged a word. They were both weary from the help
+they had rendered, and saddened by the thought of how little they had
+been able to help. When they reached the castle, Sempaly was about to
+turn off towards Iwanow, but Erwin held him back. "Take tea with us,
+Rudi," said he.
+
+"In these clothes?" replied Sempaly, glancing at his soiled clothes;
+then he added, "Well, Snowdrop will be considerate," and dismounted.
+
+He had really from the first intended to remain at Steinbach, and
+looked forward to relating to Elsa, while fresh, all the little heroic
+deeds by which Erwin had distinguished himself during the fire. He felt
+a kind of indebtedness to Erwin on account of the hateful suspicion
+which for a moment he had cherished against him, and which to-day, when
+he once more thoroughly recognized Erwin's nobility, seemed to him
+foolish and inexcusable.
+
+Erwin asked for his wife; the servant informed him that she was not yet
+back from Traunberg.
+
+"Has a second message come from Traunberg?" asked Erwin, surprised.
+
+The valet glanced at the servant. "No!" It was certain that no second
+messenger came from Traunberg.
+
+Erwin and Sempaly went out again in the black shadows of the mild
+August moonlight night. "What does she seek in Traunberg?" murmured
+Erwin, aloud, ponderingly.
+
+"Did she know that you were at the fire?" asked Sempaly, with sudden
+inspiration.
+
+"I think not. I expressly requested the servants not to tell her where
+I went," replied Erwin. "What in all the world did she go to Traunberg
+for?"
+
+Then Scirocco looked at him peculiarly. "You," said he.
+
+"Me?" Erwin did not yet comprehend the situation.
+
+But Sempaly stamped his foot impatiently. "Are you stupid, Garzin?"
+cried he. "Do you not see what everybody sees, that your wife is
+consumed with jealousy of her sister-in-law?"
+
+"My wife jealous of my sister-in-law? Sempaly--you----" Erwin had burst
+out very violently at first, now he was suddenly silent. He called to
+mind Elsa's strange manner of late, much that was enigmatical was
+explained. He did not understand that he had been so obtuse.
+
+They had walked somewhat further into the park; then a low cry of pain
+vibrated through the painful stillness of the night. Erwin listened
+with beating heart. Once more it penetrated to him, somewhat louder. A
+cold shudder ran over him. He hurried toward the meadow from which the
+sound came. With sight sharpened by excitement he surveyed the gray
+dewy field. There at the edge of the wood he saw something white
+gleaming in the twilight, a misty spot which in the gloom he had almost
+taken for a thick cluster of immortelles. His anxiety drove him a few
+steps further. "Elsa!" cried he, and stretched his arms out to her.
+
+Then she raised her head, and rested her large, feverish, shining eyes
+upon him. "I forgive you," cried she with failing voice, and starting
+back from him. "I forgive you, but go--go--leave me."
+
+His eyes met hers.
+
+"You have nothing to forgive me," said he gravely, almost sternly. "But
+if you promise solemnly, very solemnly, to be very much ashamed of
+yourself I will forgive you."
+
+She stared at him without understanding, confused, stupefied; then he
+took hold of her dress; he was frightened to feel how cold and wet it
+was.
+
+"For God's sake!" cried he, violently, and with efficacious
+inconsiderateness, "before everything else see that you take off these
+wet things; there is time enough to speak of your mad freak later."
+With that he picked her up and carried her across, as he had done on
+the day of Linda's arrival.
+
+She did not resist him. At first she did not even know what had
+happened to her; then, when near the castle, she suddenly heard a
+gentle voice, kindly and reprovingly, as one speaks to an imprudent
+child, "Why, Snowdrop!" she looked around; this sudden exclamation
+recalled her to reality, which had been far from her confused mind.
+"How comes Sempaly here?" she asked, hastily.
+
+"We were at the fire in Billwitz together," said Erwin, without
+standing still. "He returned with me."
+
+"Fire--Billwitz----" murmured Elsa, then she trembled violently and
+burst into a flood of tears of relief.
+
+A little later Elsa lay in her pretty white bed feverish and hoarse,
+but with a light heart, and her soul full of a sweet mixture of
+remorse, happiness and shame. Erwin sat near her, and tried to be angry
+with her, and yet was only worried. But Scirocco had found that this
+was not the evening to take tea in Steinbach, and had gone away.
+
+
+And while Elsa with touching conscientiousness now confessed all the
+particulars of her hideous mistrust and her obstinate jealousy, and
+upon Erwin's lips, at first closed sternly, a smile had become more and
+more plain, Linda sat in her boudoir with scornfully curved lips and
+angry, staring eyes, which thirsted for spite. She wore a white gown,
+whose hem was slightly soiled, only as if it had perhaps brushed the
+dew from a flowerbed. On her breast rested a bunch of dark red roses.
+Some of them were withered, and others began to fade, others still to
+fall, and the red petals strewed her gown. To her excited gaze they
+seemed like drops of blood. She shuddered at sight of them; she
+shuddered to-day at everything, even at herself. Her whole being rose
+against the huge wrong which had been done her--the wrong which forced
+her to be wicked. That there was another outlet for her she did not
+acknowledge; that it was beautiful to forgive, she did not understand;
+that one has duties even toward those who have sinned against one, she
+did not believe.
+
+She railed against the system of the world, and her affairs in
+particular. The only man whom she had ever loved, so at least it seemed
+to her in her dramatic, gloomy excitement, this man had despised her.
+
+After she had been enlightened as to Felix's past, she had immediately
+written that letter to Erwin which had caused so much painful confusion
+in Steinbach.
+
+She had wished to sink into his compassionate arms, and had relied upon
+the demoniac charm of her beauty. She fancied that after the disgrace
+which she had suffered from, she had a right to sin. As answer to her
+note, she had received the following lines:
+
+
+Dear Linda:
+
+I am very sorry that, on account of urgent business, I cannot come
+to-day. I hope it is a question of nothing important.
+
+                                          E. Garzin.
+
+
+She loved him, and he wrote to her in this tone! She grew crimson for
+perhaps the first time in her life when she read the lines--but not
+with shame, with anger.
+
+Pistach came during her wildest excitement. He had won the game.
+
+Now he had gone; she was alone again!
+
+She buried her face in her hands; she sobbed convulsively. The roses on
+her breast fell one after the other, and the blood-red petals slid down
+to the soiled hem of her white gown.
+
+The next day Linda and Count Kamenz had disappeared!
+
+The whole country round about was horrified and dismayed at the affair;
+only one laughed in his sleeve: Eugene von Rhoeden. The last obstacle
+to his plans had been removed. Countess Elli blushed crimson when he
+took leave of Iwanow. He found opportunity to press a kiss upon her
+hand. A white handkerchief waved after him from one of the castle
+windows, as he drove in an open phaeton from Iwanow to the railway
+station.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXVII.
+
+
+By her fantastic walk from Traunberg to Steinbach, Elsa had brought on
+inflammation of the lungs. She convalesced so slowly that the physician
+whom Erwin consulted advised a long sojourn in the south. At first she
+could not resolve to leave her unhappy brother, and only went after he
+had promised to follow her as soon as possible to San Remo, where she
+would pass the winter with Erwin and the children.
+
+She left in the middle of September. Felix did not keep his promise.
+"As soon as possible" was capable of such varied conceptions.
+
+September, with its variegated foliage, and the long, tender farewell
+of the sunbeams vanished, and October came. The leaves withered,
+blood-red or pale-yellow they fell from the branches sadly and
+submissively, like all hopeless ones, and November followed October,
+and came in with an important bluster, like a lackey sent on before to
+make room for his master. He tore the last leaves from the branches,
+and sometimes tore away the branches with them, and he kissed the last
+roses dead and annihilated the unblossomed buds, covered the heavens
+with mournful clouds, blew so chill and poisonously in the face of the
+sun that he also sickened, and looked almost as pale as the moon.
+
+And at length all was desolate, all ready--the earth strewn with dead
+leaves and withered flowers for the solemn reception of the new-comer.
+Coldly and gravely winter entered his kingdom, the bare trees shivered
+a last time, and crackled one more sigh, and all is still--dead! The
+angels in heaven shook their wings, thicker and thicker fell the white
+down.
+
+January was long past and Felix still in Traunberg. After the last
+fearful blow which had fallen upon him he never rallied. Since Linda's
+flight he never left the park, seldom the castle, often scarcely left
+his room.
+
+There were days on which he would not even allow his little son
+admission, and other days on which he would allow no servant to wait
+upon him, because it was unbearable for him to even meet the eyes of a
+servant. On all faces he thought he could discover mocking, criticising
+expressions.
+
+When his overseers came to him to desire his signature or to ask his
+wishes concerning important business, with his hot, nervous hands he
+fumbled over the papers which were placed before him, read two or three
+lines, murmured something, and signed his name. The questions which
+were put to him he always answered with the same, "As you will," and
+then drummed impatiently upon the top of his writing-desk and glanced
+irritably at the door.
+
+He neglected his attire, his beard grew long; he did not even care for
+cleanliness. Often for days he ate nothing, always very little; but, on
+the other hand, he was always thirsty, and--drank. But the strongest
+spirits had ceased to procure relief for him. He no longer forgot;
+never more!
+
+He had a piano brought to his room, although he had almost never played
+before, and now strummed on it continually. Strange modulations sprang
+from beneath his stiff, unpractised fingers. He purposely sought the
+shrillest dissonances, which seemed to do him good. Again and again he
+struck the same piercing chord and never found a resolution for it.
+
+He always began to play so as to drown the madrilèna, which rang in his
+ears so often and so unbearably distinctly, and every time he ended by
+groping over the keys for the melody of this same madrilèna. Each tone
+went through his heart like the stab of a dagger, his forehead was
+covered with sweat, and with a long sigh he closed the piano.
+
+Intercourse with his child became of a strange nature. He indeed
+frequently overwhelmed the little one with passionate tenderness, but
+the games, the caressing teasing, which had formerly occupied them when
+together, and which had so delighted the boy, had ceased. Gery grew
+shy, pale and nervous. More and more often the fear of injuring the
+child by his presence crept over Felix.
+
+Erwin, who came from San Remo once during the winter, in order, as he
+said, to look after the house, was frightened at the confusion which,
+as he soon noticed, existed in Felix's business matters, as well as the
+terrible change in his whole appearance.
+
+Compassionately and kindly he urged his brother-in-law to accompany him
+to Italy, in order, as he had promised, to spend some time, together
+with Gery, with his sister.
+
+But Felix trembled visibly when it was a question of his leaving
+Traunberg, and going to a place where he must meet other people, were
+it only in the most passing way. Erwin promised him perfect quiet and
+seclusion from all intercourse with strangers--in vain.
+
+"Leave me," Felix repeated again and again; "leave me, I must be
+alone."
+
+Erwin ceased his pleadings, discouraged. Elsa's health did not permit
+her stay in the south to be shortened, so that her presence might
+alleviate her brother's painful condition.
+
+For one moment Erwin suspected a positive mental derangement in his
+brother-in-law, but soon convinced himself of the falsity of this
+opinion.
+
+The balance of his accounts was correct; as soon as his attention was
+excited he decided correctly, never made a mistake in a reckoning, and
+made no disconnected remarks. Only, exhausted as he was, everything
+concerning present affairs irritated him indescribably. The train of
+his thought flowed always backward. His mind rested continually upon
+that spot in the past where his happiness lay buried with his honor.
+
+He passed almost the whole of his time in living over again his life
+from the first meeting with Juanita to the signing of the fatal note.
+His memory, strangely faithful, and sharpened by practice, revived
+again and again new particulars of the Juanita period, with the
+distinctness of hallucinations.
+
+
+On a mild, sunny April day Elsa appeared in Traunberg, restored to
+health, more beautiful than ever, and with eyes radiant with happiness.
+She was shocked when she perceived her brother; what she saw was so
+much worse than what Erwin had considerately prepared her for. But
+Felix's misery only increased the tenderness of her sympathy. She spoke
+of the tender, intimate intercourse which should now exist between the
+two families, and said that Baby was now large enough for a playmate
+for her cousin; and Baby who, chubby-cheeked and gay, with great
+laughing eyes and tiny mouth with a drolly serious expression, sat on
+her mamma's knee, stretched out her fat little arms and said, "Where
+Gery?"
+
+Then the nurse--Gery's French _bonne_ had not been able to endure the
+winter solitude of Traunberg, and had long since left--brought
+the child. She had smoothed down his curly hair with a horrible,
+strong-smelling pomade, and had hidden his pretty little form in a
+heavy cloth costume, suitable for much older children. He looked pale,
+was awkward, and clung anxiously to his father. When he gradually lost
+his shyness through Elsa's soft voice and caressing manner, and
+approached her and answered her questions, she noticed that he had
+adopted the common broad accent of the nurse.
+
+It did not escape Felix's morbidly sharpened glance, that behind the
+pleasant smile with which Elsa met the child, surprise and compassion
+were hidden.
+
+"You probably find that he has changed for the worse?" he asked
+suddenly, gazing sharply at her. "What will you? Everything about me
+goes to ruin."
+
+When Elsa, after urgently and most tenderly begging Felix and his boy
+to come soon to Steinbach, had driven away, Felix took his boy on his
+knees, and kissed him passionately, murmuring again and again, "Poor
+child, poor branded child!"
+
+An unpleasant habit, common to most human beings living very much
+alone, he had adopted of late, that of talking to himself. The words
+which most frequently escaped him, which he probably repeated a dozen
+times, were, "The certain Lanzberg," and while he said that, his voice
+and his face expressed all the shades of bitterness, mockery and
+despair.
+
+And one evening, three or four days after Elsa's visit, Gery crept
+shyly up to him, and laying his little hand anxiously upon his father's
+arm, he asked in his gentle, somewhat sad little voice, "What is that,
+'the certain Lanzberg'?"
+
+Felix started; he gave a long-piercing gaze into the innocent eyes of
+the child, then he pushed him violently away and hurried out of the
+room.
+
+The same night Felix heard sobs outside his door, and as he opened it
+and looked out into the corridor, he discovered Gery, who stood there
+clad only in his little embroidered night-shirt, and barefoot.
+
+"Papa, you did not say good-night to me. Papa, was I naughty?" sobbed
+the child, with the morbid nervous excitement which proved his solitary
+life.
+
+Then Felix took him in his arms. It was a fresh spring night, and the
+child, who had stood for a long time outside, clad only in the thin
+night-shirt, shivered. Felix rubbed his little hands and feet warm.
+Then the nurse knocked at the door, seeking the child in anxious
+excitement.
+
+But Gery would not hear of returning to the nursery. He clung to his
+father and pleaded, "Let me stay with you, papa." Then Felix sent the
+nurse away, and took him into his bed. The child fell asleep nestled
+tenderly against him, slept soundly and unbrokenly. Felix lay awake.
+
+The opal-colored glow of the spring morning tinged the heavens, and
+Felix still was awake. He thought of old times, times which lay far
+back of the Juanita period; some jest over which he had laughed some
+twenty years ago occurred to him and pained him--he groaned; the child
+awoke; throwing his little arms around Felix's neck, he begged,
+coaxingly, "Dear papa, I sleep so well with you, let me always sleep
+with you." Then suddenly it flashed through Felix's mind, "Ah, if I
+could only die while he still loves me!" and suddenly the storm within
+him ceased--all became quiet within his heart, quiet as the grave.
+
+
+
+
+                                XXVIII.
+
+
+They passed the day happily together, Felix and his son. Felix bathed
+and dressed the child himself, with a thousand jests and little teasing
+ways. Gery had not seen his papa so gay for a long time, and rubbed
+against him again and again, like a young dog or kitten.
+
+The sky was blue, the earth white with blossoms, the first butterflies
+floated around the bushes. After lunch Felix drove with the child to
+Steinbach for the first time, in spite of Elsa's warm invitation.
+
+How warm and bright everything was in Steinbach. It almost seemed to
+him that there was a different sun there from Traunberg. Litzi received
+a holiday, so she could play with her little cousin to her heart's
+delight. Baby gave the little fellow her greatest treasure, a pot of
+ripe strawberries, which she had to clasp with both little arms when
+she carried it to him.
+
+Felix remained to dinner; they overwhelmed him with attentions, but
+still at heart he felt that Erwin and Elsa would have been happier and
+less constrained without him, which they would not, indeed, have
+admitted.
+
+As they did not wish to separate Felix from his boy during the meal, as
+a great exception they installed Baby in her high-chair at the table
+also, between Erwin and Litzi, an honor of which she proved herself
+wholly worthy, as she watched the others eating with great seriousness
+without desiring anything for herself. Only toward the end a little
+misfortune befell her: in a moment of extravagant tenderness, she tried
+to embrace her mother across the table, overturned a beer-glass, and
+showed herself so surprised and ashamed at this accident, that Erwin
+had to take her on his knee and console her. Felix felt plainly that
+Erwin's calm, playful good-nature to the child did not in the least
+remind one of the stormy immoderate caresses with which he overwhelmed
+his own son sometimes.
+
+After dessert, while the children played in the garden under Miss
+Sidney's care, and Felix sat somewhat apart with Elsa on a garden bench
+and watched them, Felix started suddenly.
+
+"What is the matter, Felix?" asked his sister, anxiously.
+
+He could not explain himself; he had heard the child laugh, and it had
+occurred to him how seldom the little one laughed at home--almost
+never.
+
+"Elsa," he asked after a while, "the child is growing very nervous and
+timid with me; will you do me the kindness to keep him with you for a
+while?"
+
+"Certainly, I will gladly keep the child," replied Elsa, "only you must
+promise me to visit him every day."
+
+Then Felix said, with a strange gaze, lost in the distance, and which
+she often later remembered, "Yes, I will visit him every day if I can."
+
+A short time after he took leave of Gery, who at first would not remain
+without his father, but grew quiet when Felix promised to visit him the
+next morning.
+
+The next morning!
+
+The carriage rolled away, and several minutes later Felix returned once
+more.
+
+"Have you forgotten something, Felix?" asked Erwin, who stood before
+the portal of the castle, talking in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, my revolver," replied Felix, uneasily and absently.
+
+When Erwin wished to go into the castle to help his brother-in-law find
+it, the latter held him back. "Oh, it is of no importance," he
+stammered. "I will get it--to-morrow. Where are the children?"
+
+"There," said Elsa, and in the distance, between the feathery green
+foliage, he saw the children at their play. They flew about and shouted
+like little gnomes, Gery the merriest of them all.
+
+"I will not disturb him," murmured Felix, after he had watched the
+children for a long time, without approaching them.
+
+He went.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXIX.
+
+
+Returned to Traunberg, he wandered slowly through all the rooms of the
+castle. Then he had tea served in his room, drank a cupful, and ate a
+trifle. He laid his watch upon the table. At twelve o'clock all should
+be finished, he decided.
+
+The cold calm of resolution gave way to the exciting feeling of
+expectation.
+
+He seated himself at his writing-table, thoughtfully he rested his head
+in his hand, then he dipped the pen into ink, and wrote a long letter.
+He read it through with a certain pedantry, added here and there a
+comma, or made a letter plainer, placed the letter in an envelope, and
+addressed it to Elsa.
+
+His glance fell upon the watch--the hands pointed to quarter past
+eleven. He rose and walked up and down uneasily. He began to ask
+himself whether he had forgotten nothing, began to unconsciously seek
+reasons for postponing his act.
+
+His brow was bathed with cold sweat. He looked for his revolver and
+Toledo dagger, which both had formerly lain upon his table. They were
+gone. Evidently his valet had removed them. The razors also were
+hidden.
+
+Felix smiled bitterly. Then he drew a little English penknife from his
+pocket, sharpened it upon an ash-receiver, and laid it on the table
+beside his bed. Then, with folded hands, he crouched for a few minutes
+beside his bed. He thought of the promise not to kill himself which he
+had once given to his father. The promise could have no weight except
+during the life of the old man.
+
+When he looked again, the hands of the watch pointed to quarter before
+twelve. His heart beat loudly. A moment of irresolution came. Then from
+without a little soft bird cry floated in to him. He suddenly heard
+again Gery's voice, "Who is 'the certain Lanzberg,' papa?"
+
+Then he undressed himself, took the penknife, and with firm stroke cut
+through the veins and arteries in his left wrist and ankle.
+
+He rose once more to extinguish the candles on the table beside his
+bed, then he sank back among the pillows.
+
+He felt the warm blood flowing from him, and experienced a kind of
+disgust; then he murmured with a sigh, "Blood washes all things clean."
+
+The triumphal fanfare of the madrilèna vibrated around him; the
+excitement which had burned within him throughout the whole time was
+for a moment increased tenfold.
+
+But the madrilèna died away, and the fearful memories faded, the great
+painful weariness which had almost paralyzed him recently, preventing
+him from sleeping, vanished--he felt easier and easier.
+
+A comfortable drowsiness overcame him, and a thousand pictures changed
+before his dreamy dim eyes.
+
+He saw himself in the school-room, beside his tutor, and smiled at the
+expression with which the tutor drew his cuffs down over his knuckles
+when Elsa's French _bonne_ entered the room.
+
+The present had vanished, his thoughts wandered further and further
+back into the past.
+
+He sits beside his mother in the church, small and sleepy. Through an
+open window the fresh spring air blows in to the atmosphere of mould
+and incense of the sacred edifice.
+
+From half-closed eyes he sees a crowd of red peasant women, sees
+the little school-boys who crowd as near as possible to the carved
+_prie-dieus_ of the gentry. One of them winks at him.
+
+The priest elevates the host. Little Felix's tired eyes close, the
+peasants fade into a large red spot, the colored shadows of the church
+windows lie on the bare, gray stone pavement like a carpet. His head
+sinks upon his mother's arm. All is rosy vapor around him. Then his
+mother kisses him on the forehead and whispers, "It is over; wake up!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XXX.
+
+
+The next morning a messenger came breathlessly to Steinbach. With
+gloomy obstinacy he refused to gratify the domestic's urgent questions.
+He desired to speak personally with the Baron.
+
+Erwin came. He was fearfully startled at the messenger's communication.
+Then as with distressed slowness he crossed the corridor to Elsa's
+room, she met him, pale as death, but calm. "A messenger has come from
+Traunberg. Felix has taken his life," she said in a hollow voice, with
+eyes fixed upon Erwin. She had guessed. With hand on her heart, her
+eyes closed, she remained for a moment speechless. Erwin feared a
+swoon, and with gentle force tried to lead her back to her room, but
+she resisted. "Order the carriage," she begged with almost inaudible
+voice; "I should like to go over there."
+
+Erwin accompanied her.
+
+An uneasy quiet, broken by the mysterious whispers of the domestics,
+pervaded Castle Traunberg. The servants all stood around in solemn
+idleness. Mrs. Stifler and the valet were busied with the corpse. They
+withdrew when Elsa entered the chamber of death.
+
+Slowly she approached the bed. There he lay--Felix!--his corpse.
+
+His head rested gently on the pillow; one saw that a lovely dream had
+helped the dying man across the threshold of eternity. The original
+beauty of his features, which life, with its shattering conflicts, had
+almost destroyed, death had restored again.
+
+Elsa kissed the corpse; she wept quietly and bitterly; she reproached
+herself a thousand times with not having shown her brother love enough,
+with not having helped him bravely enough to bear the heavy burden of
+his life.
+
+Then she noticed a letter, addressed to her, upon the table beside the
+bed.
+
+A quarter of an hour later she joined Erwin, who waited for her in the
+adjoining room. There were still tears on her cheeks, but in her eyes
+shone a kind of solemn pride. She handed Erwin the open letter. He
+read:
+
+
+Dear Elsa:
+
+You will be startled at what I have done. Forgive me this, as you have
+already forgiven me so much. I die not as a cowardly suicide, but as a
+man who has sentenced himself to death.
+
+The conviction has strengthened in my mind, that my life is of use and
+pleasure to no one. My own child begins to be saddened by the
+oppressive atmosphere which surrounds me. My shadow has long darkened
+your existence.
+
+After my death you will reproach yourself, dear, good heart; will fancy
+that you could have been better and more considerate to me than you
+have already been. Do not torment yourself. I remember nothing of you
+but unwearied love and tender compassion. May God bless you a thousand
+times, you and yours.
+
+Take my poor child to your home. Erwin will bring the boy up better
+than I could have done. Do not show my corpse to him, and put no
+mourning on him. I do not wish to be the cause of a single bitter hour
+to his poor little heart. Tell him I have gone on a journey. He will
+forget me.
+
+Never tell him, I beg you, of my disgrace, and if he learns of it
+through strangers, then--then tell him that I loved him beyond
+everything, and that I took my life so that I need never blush before
+him.
+
+Lay the little lock of golden hair which I cut from his head in Rome
+upon my breast. You will find it in the upper left drawer of my
+writing-desk, and put the old soldier's coat which I wore at Sadowa
+upon me. (Stifler knows where it is.) It is the only article of
+clothing in which I dare stretch myself out beside my ancestors for
+eternal rest, or appear before them for eternal reconciliation; who
+knows!
+
+A last kiss for my child. Farewell! and forgive
+
+                                   "The Certain Lanzberg."
+
+
+Erwin's eyes were moist. "He was indeed a noble nature," said he gently
+and hoarsely, as he gave the letter back to Elsa.
+
+"Yes," cried she, with a kind of pride. "He was really noble; therefore
+he tormented himself to death."
+
+Erwin drew the convulsively sobbing woman to his breast.
+
+Three days later the funeral took place.
+
+All the inhabitants of the country round of his rank were present; even
+Count L---- came to show Felix the last honors. All were deeply
+shocked. Suicide, against which in general they cherished the Catholic
+abhorrence, seemed to them in this case justified. They saw in this act
+almost the repayment of an outlawed debt.
+
+From that day the byword with which they had formerly designated Felix
+changed. They never again called him "the certain Lanzberg," but now
+always "the unfortunate Lanzberg."
+
+He was rehabilitated!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Felix Lanzberg's Expiation, by Ossip Schubin
+
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+<title>Felix Lanzberg's Expiation</title>
+<meta name="Author" content="Ossip Schubin.">
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+<meta name="Date" content="1892">
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Felix Lanzberg's Expiation, by Ossip Schubin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Felix Lanzberg's Expiation
+
+Author: Ossip Schubin
+
+Translator: Élise L. Lathrop
+
+Release Date: March 13, 2011 [EBook #35571]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FELIX LANZBERG'S EXPIATION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br>
+<br>
+1. Page scan source:
+http://books.google.com/books?id=ZQoZAAAAYAAJ<br>
+<br>
+2. Lacunae in English version were compared to the German edition
+(Ehre). Corrections to English version are shown in bold.</p>
+<br>
+<p class="hang2">Page 72, 3rd para., end of last sentence: wird ZUR GEWIßHEIT.
+Linda's Mutter hat ihn betrogen? Linda WEIß nichts!<br>
+<br>
+BECOMES CERTAIN that Linda's mother has deceived him; Linda
+KNOWS nothing!</p>
+<br>
+<p class="hang2">Page 72, 4th para, first sentence: Da fordert der PRIESTER sein
+&quot;Ja!&quot;<br>
+<br>
+Then the PRIEST demands his &quot;Yes!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<p class="hang2">Page 73, para. 1: --reine FARBENPATZEN.--Sind von einer
+Schlamperei diese Franzosen!--Daß sich wirklich NOCH JEMAND
+von ihnen prellen läßt!&quot; So schließt Papa HARFINK, der
+Kunstkritiker.<br>
+<br>
+--regular DAUBS OF COLORS. These Frenchmen are tricky.
+REALLY, PEOPLE are cheated by them. Thus concludes Papa
+HARFINK, the art critic.</p>
+<br>
+<p class="hang2">Page 244, para. 2: Sie aß ohne Ziererei und ohne Gier, nippte nur
+an dem Champagner, lächelte gutwillig über DIE frechsten
+Scherze, ob SIE SELBE VERSTAND ODER auch nicht verstand, mit
+der Resignation eines Geschöpfes, DAS ES GEWOHNT IST, sich
+auf diese Weise sein Brot zu verdienen.<br>
+<br>
+She ate without affectation and without greediness--only
+sipped the champagne, smiled good-naturedly at THE boldest
+jokes, whether she understood THEM OR not, with the
+resignation of a being WHO WAS ACCUSTOMED to earn her bread
+in this manner.</p>
+<br>
+<p class="hang2">Page 244, para. 3: DIE ALTE MANUELA schnarchte längst. Einige der
+OFFIZIERE waren melancholisch geworden, ...<br>
+<br>
+THE OLD MANUELA had long been snoring. Some the OFFICERS had
+grown melancholy, ...</p>
+<br>
+<p class="hang2">Page 245, para. 4: Er pflegte sie, wie ein Bräutigam die
+ROSENKNOSPE, die ihm seine liebe Braut geschenkt hat--ja, so
+PFLEGTE FELIX die welke gelbe Blume, die DER COULISSENSTAUB
+beschmutzt--auf die EIN AKROBAT GETRETEN HABEN MOCHTE!<br>
+<br>
+He cherished it like a lover the ROSE-BUD which his dear one
+had given him; yes, thus WOULD FELIX cherish the faded yellow
+flower which THE DUST [IN THE WINGS] OF the stage had
+soiled--upon which AN ACROBAT MIGHT HAVE trodden.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/front.png" alt="Elsa springs up--she listens breathlessly."><br>
+Elsa springs up--she listens breathlessly.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>FELIX LANZBERG'S<br>
+
+EXPIATION</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>OSSIP SCHUBIN</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4>
+
+<h3>ÉLISE L. LATHROP</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>ILLUSTRATED</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc2">NEW YORK</span><br>
+WORTHINGTON COMPANY<br>
+<span class="sc2">747 BROADWAY</span><br>
+1892</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4><span class="sc2">Copyright, 1892, by</span><br>
+WORTHINGTON COMPANY</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h5>Press of J. J. Little &amp; Co.<br>
+Astor Place, New York</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>FELIX LANZBERG'S EXPIATION.</h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>I.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dear Falk, do not tear past me so unheedingly, I beg you! Do you,
+then, not recognize me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus a stout old lady cries in a deep rough voice to a gentleman whose
+arm she has energetically grasped with both hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The gentleman--his carriage betokens a retired officer; his wrinkles
+betray him to be a contemporary of the lady--starts back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! it is you, Baroness!&quot; cries he, and half recalls that forty years
+or so ago he was an admirer of hers, and remembers very distinctly that
+last winter he had quarrelled with her at whist on account of a revoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am indescribably pleased,&quot; he adds, with well-bred resignation, and
+at the same time glances after a passing blonde chignon whose
+coquettish curls float to and fro as if they said &quot;catch me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, ah! age does not protect you from folly!&quot; laughs the old woman.
+&quot;She interests you, the person with the yellow hair, eh? Dyed, my dear
+man, dyed, I assure you. It is not worth the trouble to run after her.
+Her back is pretty, <i>mais pour le reste!</i> Hm! Sit down and talk to me
+for a little!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The yellow chignon has vanished round a corner and the energetic old
+woman has drawn her ex-adorer down on a bench in the meagre shade of a
+watering-place promenade, upon a grass-green bench under gray-brown
+trees.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is in Franzensbad in July; afternoon; around them the sleepy
+stillness of a place where there is nothing to do and one cannot amuse
+one's self.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some ladies, pale, sickly, dressed with the grotesque elegance which is
+permissible in a watering-place, pass, some with arms bare to the
+elbow, others with pearls round their necks, still others with floating
+hair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How glad I am, my dear Colonel!&quot; cries the old Baroness to her
+captive, for at least the tenth time. &quot;But how are you, pray tell me?
+No! Where do you get your elixir of life? You remain so fabulously
+young!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In fact the Colonel, closely shaven and dressed in the latest fashion,
+slender and active as he is, at a hundred paces looks like a young
+dandy; at twenty paces, at least like the mummy of one. Still he
+parries the old lady's compliments, while he shakes his head and shrugs
+his shoulders disparagingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Positively--positively!&quot; croaks the old woman. &quot;And now tell me what
+is the news with you people in Marienbad? It is not in vain that they
+call you 'Le Figaro de Marienbad.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Marienbad, a few hours distant from Franzensbad, is the present
+stopping place of the Colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;News? News?&quot; grumbles the Colonel. &quot;A mill burned down yesterday,
+three head of cattle and two men with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, cease such ordinary, horrible stories. What does society?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Rejoices that it has opportunity of diversion through a fair for
+charity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So? Ah!--and what else?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Last night Princess Barenburg's groom hung himself. Perhaps that
+interests you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, very agreeable that! Poor Clémence is unfortunate!&quot; says the
+Baroness, compassionately.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, the Pancini also!&quot; remarks the Colonel, and looks down
+indifferently at the flower in his buttonhole.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why she?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What? you do not know!&quot; cries the Colonel in astonishment. &quot;Her last
+admirer, the Polish prince with the unpronounceable name, has turned
+out to be a circus rider.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The handsome blond with the mysterious political past.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It seems to have been merely a politic silence,&quot; jokes the Colonel.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Tiens, tiens!</i>--how delightful--how delightful! But do you know it
+positively?&quot; she asks with anxious excitement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Positively! Nicki Arenhain, two years ago in Madrid, saw him dressed
+in a green satin jacket and white tights springing through hoops--she
+identified him at once. Famous story, quite famous.&quot; The Colonel rubs
+his hands with satisfaction--the old Baroness knocks enthusiastically
+on the ground with her umbrella, like an animated amateur who applauds
+her favorite virtuoso.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Excellent!&quot; croaks she. &quot;It serves her right, that Pancini, who
+permits herself to be as arrogant as a born lady. It serves her right,
+the soap-boiler's daughter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon! her father was a pawn-broker--or was in some banking
+business--I really do not remember----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is all the same--she will have to step down now. Bravo! Bravo!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know something else, Baroness,&quot; says the Colonel proudly, and
+smiling slyly. &quot;A decided bit of news, <i>pour la bonne bouche</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Felix Lanzberg is to be married.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Baroness is speechless; she opens her mouth, stares at the Colonel,
+clutches his arm, and only after several seconds she stammers softly:
+&quot;The--the--certain--Lanzberg?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes--it is considered certain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whom?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look around.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Baroness looks around. In the back seat of a carriage just rolling
+past them sit two ladies, one of whom, a woman in the fifties,
+tastelessly dressed, loaded with cameos and Florentine mosaics, has the
+piercing eyes, the excessive thinness as well as the aimless, twitching
+movements of a very uneasy temperament, while her neighbor at the left,
+beautiful and young, lazily crumpling her striking toilet, leans back
+among the cushions, the embodiment of dissatisfied indolence. A student
+with a bright red cap occupies the small seat opposite. On the box,
+usurping the coachman's raised seat, is a short individual with a
+crimson cravat between a blue shirt and purple face, a short, bright
+yellow foulard coat and large Panama hat. He smacks his lips
+incessantly at the horses, in driving holds his elbows far out from his
+sides so that one could easily place a travelling bag under each arm,
+and groans and puffs from exertion and attention. Near him, faultlessly
+erect, arms solemnly crossed on his chest, sits a majestic coachman,
+every feature expressing the despair of a distinguished servant who, in
+a weak hour, had let himself be persuaded to enter the service of an
+ordinary millionnaire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is this elegant gentleman?&quot; asked the Baroness, raising her
+lorgnon, still wholly absorbed in contemplating the interesting foulard
+back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Felix Lanzberg's future father-in-law, Mr. Harfink.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He?&quot; sighs the Baroness, emphatically. &quot;Poor Felix! He does not
+deserve such punishment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Colonel shrugs his shoulders. &quot;What punishment? He is not marrying
+the father, and the daughter is charming--a refined beauty, a truly
+aristocratic girl, and I do not believe that she will ever worry
+Lanzberg by especial clinging to her parental house. Now I must part
+from you, <i>nolens volens</i>, Baroness--regret it deeply--I have a letter
+to deliver to the Countess Dey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will go with you, I will go with you,&quot; cries the old lady,
+animatedly. &quot;Give me your arm and imagine it was forty years ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And he, in his quality of man of the world condemned to perpetual
+politeness, gives her his arm and walks on laughing and chatting, at
+the side of the colossally stout woman with the servile, nodding little
+head--a martyr of <i>bon ton</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The Colonel and his friend were both fond of gossip--with the
+difference that the Colonel, an independent man, related scandal for
+his own pleasure, while the Baroness very often did so to please
+others. Her name was Baroness Klettenstein, but usually she was simply
+called <i>Klette</i> (burr) because she could never be shaken off. She also
+had a second equally pretty nickname. In consequence of her
+indestructible life at the cost of others--she was remarkably robust
+for her sixty-six years--she had been christened the &quot;immortal
+Cantharide.&quot; Hungrily she crept from one house to another, gained
+admission by a budget of malicious news, which, as we have seen, she
+collected indefatigably, at times even invented. She always rendered
+homage to the rising, never remembered even to have known the setting
+sun. And when, weary of her tiring parasitism, she rested in her tiny
+room at Prague, which was the only home she possessed, she swore that
+she would have been just as unselfish, just as truth-loving and
+discreet as others, if only her income had sufficed for her needs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Out of breath and panting, she entered the park on the arm of the
+Colonel. The bandmaster, a Pole with an interesting, revolutionist
+face, swings the baton with graceful languor. The ladies, leaning back
+in their white chairs on either side of the broad gravel walk, look
+weary, limp, and melancholy in their gay gowns, like flowers which a
+too hot sunbeam has withered and faded. They are worn, thin, and
+colorless, but for their toilets; but the transparent paleness of their
+faces, the excessive thinness of their forms lends them a certain
+charm, something fairylike and distinguished, refinedly aristocratic
+and Undine-like. Invalidism is less becoming to the men at the cure;
+many of them resemble corpses which an enterprising physiologist has
+exhumed to experiment upon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first row of tables are already occupied, but an attendant,
+understanding the Klette's glance, brings forward another from the rear
+and places it where she is told. Hereupon the Baroness calls for coffee
+for two, and invites the Colonel in the most polite manner to sit
+beside her, and as he cannot deny that from this spot, purposely chosen
+by the Klette for a fine view of all present, he can soonest espy
+Countess Dey whom he has sought in vain, he resolves to await her here.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly the guests stroll along the promenade: most noticeable of all,
+admired or at least stared at by all, Linda Harfink. Her large, dark
+hat with its scarlet feather throws a mysterious shadow on her pale
+face; a black lace scarf is twisted round her throat and tied in a
+careless knot behind. Her pale green dress clings tightly, and yet in
+folds around her figure. Near her walks a young man, blond and
+handsome; in spite of his handsome figure and Nero-profile, too foppish
+and dandified, too strikingly dressed in the latest fashion, to be
+taken for any one but an elegant <i>parvenu</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is he?&quot; asks Klette, her mouth full of bread, a coffee cup in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A young Baron Rh&#339;den, born Grau. The family was ennobled five years
+ago, and since then only call themselves by the predicate,&quot; replies the
+Colonel. &quot;A cousin of Linda--very nice fellow--<i>garçon coiffeur</i>, but
+very nice for his sphere--seems to be uncommonly smitten with his
+cousin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Through the evening air floats a sentimental potpourri from the &quot;Flying
+Dutchman.&quot; The Harfinks, who wish to return the same evening to
+Marienbad, where they are staying, have left the park. Gazing down in
+coquettish silence at a rose in her hand, Linda has vanished through
+the gateway of the park, on the arm of her cousin, in the golden light
+of the setting sun.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Colonel!&quot; now cries a gay voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, Countess!&quot; Intently gazing after Linda's seductive apparition, the
+Colonel had not noticed the approach of the so-long-awaited Countess
+Dey. Now he springs up, &quot;falls at her feet, kisses her hands,&quot;
+naturally only with words, and searches all his pockets for the letter
+for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess meanwhile, with lorgnon at her eyes, indifferently gazes
+at her surroundings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I just met a little person who is considered a great beauty--Hopfing
+or Harpfink is her name, I believe. They say that Lanzberg is engaged
+to her--that cannot be true?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have heard so too,&quot; says the Colonel. &quot;Curious match--what do you
+say to it, Countess?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Felix Lanzberg is as unfortunate as ever,&quot; murmurs the Countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Klette shrugs her fat shoulders and hisses: &quot;What does it matter if
+a certain Lanzberg makes a mésalliance?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>II.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">A tall form, slender, perhaps too narrow-shouldered, with too long
+arms, a small head with bushy, light brown hair fastened in a thick
+knot low on her neck, a golden furze at neck and temples, a pale,
+almost sallow, little face with large blue eyes, which love to look up
+and away from the earth like those of a devout cherub, a short, small
+nose, a little mouth which, with the corners slightly curving up, seems
+destined by nature for continual laughter, but later evidently
+disturbed by fate in this gay calling, in every movement the dreamy
+grace of a woman who, when scarcely grown, had experienced a great
+misfortune or a severe illness, all this pervaded by a breath of
+fanciful earnestness, melancholy tenderness, and united into an
+harmonious whole--Elsa--the sister of the &quot;certain Felix Lanzberg,&quot; and
+since five years the wife of the Freiherr von Garzin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She is like a flower, but not like one of those proud, luxuriant roses
+which pass their life amid sunbeams and butterflies, but rather one of
+those delicate, white blossoms which have grown in deep shadow during a
+cold spring, and which close their petals from the sun.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mamma, the letters dance again to-day,&quot; complains a little voice, the
+voice of Felicie, Elsa's four-year-old daughter, who with bare legs,
+her little form encased in a red embroidered gray linen frock, her
+towzled yellow curls fastened with a red ribbon, stands before her
+mamma.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa sits in a deep arm-chair, an alphabet on her knees. &quot;Look very
+hard at the naughty letters and they will be quiet,&quot; says she with a
+smile. She finds that Felicie makes that excuse of dancing letters too
+often.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child tries to look hard at the letters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;M--a,&quot; spells she. &quot;Mamma,&quot; she cries in great triumph at having
+spelled out a word which she knows so well.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bravo, Litzi!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Litzi leans closely, closely against her mother's knees. &quot;Mamma, the
+letters are tired,&quot; whispers she, &quot;they want to go to sleep.&quot; And Elsa
+this time thinks that one cannot expect too much industry from such a
+tiny little bit of humanity, so she kisses the child and says, &quot;Well,
+put them to bed, then.&quot; Whereupon, Litzi, with much pretext of
+business, puts the alphabet away in the drawer, while Elsa, leaning
+back comfortably in her arm-chair, her feet crossed, her arms clasped
+around her knees, gives herself up to that lazy thinking which with
+happy people is called reverie, with unhappy ones brooding. The room in
+which she sits, half boudoir, half library, furnished with tall
+book-cases, étagères, old faience and Japanese lacquer work, and filled
+with the perfume of the sweetest flowers, is an ideal nest for a young
+woman of good taste and serious habits.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mamma, why must I learn to read?&quot; asks Litzi after a while.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So as to be a wise girl,&quot; replies Elsa, absently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mamma, can the dear God read too?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The dear God can do everything that He wishes,&quot; says Elsa, with
+difficulty restraining her laughter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Everything?&quot; asks the little one, with great, surprised eyes. &quot;Could
+He make Fido into a cow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fido, a white bull-dog with pointed black ears and a black spot on his
+shoulder, raises his upper lip and shows his teeth pleasantly as a sign
+that he, clever dog that he is, notices when he is spoken of.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The dear God does not wish to do foolish things,&quot; says Elsa, very
+seriously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But if He wanted to?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The door opens. Fido rises from the streak of sunlight in which he has
+been lying. &quot;Papa!&quot; cries Litzi, and a young man, blond, with unusually
+attractive dark eyes, seizes her under the shoulders, and raising her
+to him he says: &quot;Litzi, Litzi, you are a dear little mouse, but a great
+big goose. Accustom yourself to the conditional.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is conditional?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A form of expression which leads one to much useless conjecture.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, Erwin!&quot; laughingly admonishes Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps you did not wholly understand me, Litzi?&quot; he asks, drolly
+staring at the child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shakes her head, and says somewhat vexedly, &quot;You are laughing at
+me, papa.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only a very little bit, so that you may get used to it, you pretty
+little scamp, you,&quot; says he, tenderly pinching her cheeks, &quot;and now you
+may go to Mlle. Angelique, and ask her to put a clean dress and a
+pretty sash on you, for Uncle Felix is coming to dinner. Can you find
+the way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He has placed her on the ground, and led her to the door, then looks
+after her until, calling &quot;Angelique! Angelique!&quot; she is met by a pretty
+French <i>bonne</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And how is your Highness?&quot; he now turns to his wife, who holds out
+both hands to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How long it is since one has seen you to-day,&quot; says she.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has 'one' missed me a little?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not ask such foolish questions!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thanks! I was very busy or else I should have burdened you with my
+presence sooner,&quot; says he, gayly. &quot;And now give me your keys, so that I
+can put away your money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my quarterly allowance. How much is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He hands her a little bundle of bank-notes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Count!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not understand, it is different every time. You always give me
+more than is due me,&quot; replies she, shaking her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Leave me this innocent pleasure. You are always in debt,&quot; says he,
+while he locks the notes in a drawer of her writing-desk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin never would acknowledge the equal rights of woman with regard to
+the cares of life. He was pleased that Elsa, who read the most abstract
+treatises on political economy, did not understand an iota of business.
+He had purposely left her in this darkness, and she did not fight
+against it. He paid her the interest of her property, insisted that she
+should spend it exclusively upon her poor and her own fancies, and she
+never asked what he did with the capital.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I write here?&quot; he asks over his shoulder, sitting down at her
+writing-desk then, without waiting for an answer. &quot;A lady's
+writing-desk without invitations and charitable circulars. The
+inspector has become confused about that farm business of your little
+<i>protégé</i> in Johannesthal.&quot; He writes quickly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The inspector is good for nothing,&quot; grumbles Elsa. &quot;That is to say, he
+is newly married.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin defends his bailiff.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There, that is done. You can tell your little friend that it is all
+arranged. Hm! Elsa! Do you think that I would have been much more
+practical during our honeymoon than my inspector?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you,&quot; says Elsa, who evidently does not understand how her husband
+can compare himself to his overseer, Cibulka. He has laid aside his pen
+and now pushes his chair lazily up to hers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will make marks in my carpet, you careless man,&quot; says she.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not cry,&quot; he says, consolingly. &quot;I will buy you a new one, as the
+banker said to his daughter when her husband died.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I congratulate you on your fine comparison,&quot; says she, kissing his
+hair lightly. &quot;Now I must dress for dinner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Already? Am I to be sentenced to read the paper?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a little more than five years ago that Erwin Garzin had come to
+his estate of Steinbach adjoining the beautiful Lanzberg Traunberg in
+order to arrange his business after the death of his father. Elsa, with
+whom he had as boy played many a trick, he had found a grown girl. At
+that time nineteen years old, her mind, matured by pain, was far in
+advance of her years, her body far behind. She had the slender,
+undeveloped form of a child too quickly grown, and carried her head
+always bent forward, like a young tree over which a cold storm has
+passed, and was always sad and depressed. At times, to be sure, she
+smiled suddenly like a true child, but only for a moment, and her eyes
+were almost always moist. She spoke little and had a hollow, almost too
+deep voice. And yet the first time that Erwin heard this hollow voice
+his heart beat strangely, and that night he lay awake and was angry at
+the sweet song of a nightingale which disturbed him in his efforts to
+remember that hollow voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was spring-time then, a mixture of showers and rainbows, flowers
+heavy with dew, bright foliage and mild air. Erwin fell hopelessly in
+love with the pale daughter of old Mr. Lanzberg. She, however, avoided
+him, not with that pretty maidenly reserve behind which the coquetry of
+the future woman usually lurks, but with the shy despondency of a sick
+owl dreading the light. When he had at length accustomed her to his
+society he was still miles from his aim. She did not think of what most
+young girls do. She was wholly absorbed in consoling her bowed father,
+in pitying her unfortunate brother, at that time dwelling in a far
+distant land. Her heart was full, longed for no other feeling,
+suspected none, and yet slowly her whole being warmed; something like a
+cure was effected in her, and the day came when she laid her small hand
+firmly and confidingly in Erwin's and for the first time he
+whisperingly called her his betrothed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But he had not yet won. Soon she expressed her scruples at dragging the
+shadow which made her so sad under his roof, then at leaving her
+father. When they proved to her that nothing could so help the bowed
+man as the consolation of seeing at least one of his children happy,
+the wedding day was at length appointed. A strange turn suddenly seized
+her when Erwin one day asked her in what part of Vienna she would
+prefer to live.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In Vienna?&quot; cried she. &quot;We are to live in the city?&quot; Whereupon he
+replied: &quot;My treasure, you know that I am not a rich man, and the rents
+of Steinbach only just suffice for the support of a very economical
+couple. Therefore I, and you with me are dependent upon my career. But
+I like to work. I have fine connections, and the times are favorable to
+ambitious people. You will yet be the wife of an Excellency, Elsa!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From her pale face it could be read that she did not see the slightest
+pleasure in being the wife of a governor, ambassador, or minister. Her
+hand grew limp and cold in his, she evaded his caresses, and every time
+that evening that his glance met hers, her eyes were filled with tears.
+Her exaggerated aversion to the world disquieted him, without seeming
+to him other than a symptom of diseased nerves; he thought that his
+loving patience must vanquish it, and when the next morning his servant
+brought him a letter from Elsa, he admired the strange, energetic,
+large letters of the address, and played with it, firmly convinced that
+it could not contain anything important. It contained the following:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Above all things, many, many thanks for the sympathizing friendship
+which you have always showed to us, my father and me. Never should I
+have allowed myself to be persuaded into an engagement with you. I
+should be a lamentable wife for you. I will not hinder you in your
+career, and I cannot live in the world even for your sake. Therefore I
+give you back your word. I wish you all joy and happiness in the world,
+and as to me, when you have become a great man, keep a little friendly
+remembrance of the spring of '70. Elsa.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">What could he do but rush over to Traunberg, overwhelm her with tender
+reproaches, represent to her subtly and incontrovertibly that her
+shyness was morbid, her yielding to this mood fairly wrong.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Am I then nothing to you?&quot; he finally cried, vexedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she raised her large eyes, eyes such as Raphael has painted in the
+sweet face of the little John, as he kneels near the sleeping child
+Jesus, his God and his King.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe you love a quite different person from me--you do not know
+me!&quot; she whispered, shaking her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Erwin flushed crimson and was ashamed of his brutal egoism. He
+kissed her hands, he would torment her no longer--but he could not give
+her up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gave her eight days to consider it--all that remained of his
+vacation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But he did not gain a step during these eight days.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a heavy heart and hoarse voice he took leave. She smiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And yet he never felt more plainly that she loved him. Her love was
+that emotion which is above earthly considerations, which is capable of
+the most painful sacrifices, the most complete renunciation, although,
+or perhaps because she scarcely thought of marriage; in a word, it was
+the love of a very young girl.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It did not resemble his in the slightest. How shallow his life in
+Vienna and his career now seemed to him; how unattractive, how far away
+and vague his aim, and even if he did attain all for which he strove.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The justifications of a true, warm, longing love are always quite
+incontrovertible for him whom it guides.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa stood before the park, under one of the black lindens. It was
+summer, the lindens bloomed, and a dreamy hum of bees pervaded their
+gnarled branches. Elsa looked through the clear summer air in the
+direction in which Castle Steinbach shone white above the wooded
+valley. Then she heard a step--she looked around. It was Erwin, thin,
+in spite of the flush of heat, looking very badly, but with sparkling
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where do you come from?&quot; cried she, trembling with surprise, with
+happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From the castle, where I sought you in vain. Your father did not know
+where you were.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He was asleep--did you wake him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very possibly, but I had no time to reproach myself! Oh, Elsa, are you
+not in the least glad to see me? I have resigned--I cannot live without
+you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stood there with loudly beating heart, and embarrassed smile, like
+a surprised child before a Christmas tree.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You pay a high price for a miserable little thing,&quot; murmured she, and
+fairly wept.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Happiness desires to be paid dearly for--it seems to me a small one!&quot;
+whispered he.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thereupon she was silent for a moment, looked at him anxiously,
+solemnly; was it possible that he clung to her, such a weak,
+insignificant creature? Then suddenly, with her lovely look of
+embarrassment, she threw both arms around him. &quot;Oh you----&quot; she cried,
+and paused because she found no word that in her opinion was great and
+splendid enough for him. &quot;How I will love you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a risky experiment, to tear himself away from his customary
+occupation and society, and wish to pass the rest of his life at the
+side of a nervous misanthropical wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How did it succeed?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had feared having too little to do, had provided himself with books,
+quite like a diplomat sent to Japan. To his astonished delight, he soon
+found not only how much there was to occupy him but how much he could
+accomplish with the income from Steinbach, which he had been accustomed
+to estimate at two or three per cent., and which now daily increased;
+for the many lives around him whose weal and woe he held in his hands,
+from the overseer and farmers to the day-laborers, and then Elsa!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How beautiful she grew after he had slowly kissed away the deep sadness
+from her face--and how lovely! The frivolous love of pleasure and
+gayety which is considered normal in young women never developed in
+her; she always remained quiet, but a dreamy happiness shone
+continually in her eyes, she was so blissfully happy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What a charming companion! She rode with the endurance and indifferent
+courage of a man, read everything, was interested in everything,
+noticed everything, spoke of the most forgotten historical characters
+as if she had met them yesterday. She rather spurred him on than
+dragged him down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Instead of, as he had feared, growing rusty in the country, he had time
+for making good much that he had neglected. She went on long journeys
+with him, but at home associated as little as possible with her
+neighbors. In these years Elsa was apparently one of the happiest women
+in the world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was only sad when she thought of Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her father, shortly after her marriage, blessing her a thousandfold,
+had died in her arms. Felix had returned to his home.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>III.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The two brothers-in-law sit alone in the circle of light which a
+garden lamp throws in a corner of the garden shaded by elder trees.
+Dinner is long over, they have ceased laughing at Litzi's childish
+pranks and remarks; she has become sleepy, and Elsa has taken her away
+to lay her in her pretty little white bed. The two men, meanwhile, are
+smoking their cigars in the open air.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Erwin, do you happen to know these Harfinks?&quot; Felix asks his
+brother-in-law quite suddenly, in the embarrassed tone of a humiliated,
+bored man, and with the slightly husky voice which distinguishes all
+generations of indulgent and effeminate races.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The &quot;certain Lanzberg&quot; is indisputably of an attractive appearance--the
+beauty of his sister in a man--and yet softer. All the lines of his
+face are rounder, less decided; the features of a faultless regularity,
+the eyes still bluer, and yet the whole face lacks Elsa's lovely,
+evident peace; the eyes are always weary and half closed; his full lips
+wear a suffering, tormented expression, and the light brown color of
+his complexion, in its natural color like Elsa's, is nevertheless ashy
+in comparison to her healthy pallor, and furrowed with little wrinkles.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know these Harfinks?&quot; he asks, softly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Harfink fitted up my sugar factory,&quot; replies Erwin, and glances
+closely at his brother-in-law. &quot;In consequence I have met him several
+times. Recently, in Marienbad, he reminded me of our acquaintance, and
+introduced me to his wife and daughter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Strange man!&quot; says Felix, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, strange, silly! His wife is repulsive, both are very ordinary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, both,&quot; repeats Felix, and with the toe of his boot draws figures
+in the sand. &quot;But the daughter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, the daughter?&quot; Erwin glances still more attentively at his
+brother-in-law's face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is very well educated,&quot; murmurs the latter, indistinctly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Her education was probably acquired in a very noble boarding-school,&quot;
+remarks Erwin, dryly. &quot;During the ten minutes of our acquaintance, she
+used the word 'aristocratic' three times, and twice complained that
+society in the Kursaal was so mixed. Besides that, she found the
+country monotonous, the weather dull, the music '<i>agacante</i>,' and
+concluded by saying, one rails at Marienbad and yet it was tiresome
+everywhere, for her friend Laure de Lonsigny wrote her quite desperate
+letters from Luchon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix has flushed more and more deeply during this pitiless account.
+&quot;Poor girl, how embarrassed she must have been,&quot; says he, excusingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Embarrassed?&quot; Erwin shrugged his shoulders. &quot;She had a great deal of
+self-possession.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is not a certain kind of self-possession only a form of
+embarrassment?&quot; asked Felix, shyly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Erwin evidently has no inclination to be lenient to Linda's faults.
+He suspects the approach of something which must shatter Felix's
+undermined existence, and seeks a means of meeting it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You, perhaps, do not even think her pretty,&quot; says Felix, vexedly,
+hesitating.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pretty, no; but dazzlingly beautiful. It is a pity that she has
+parents who, with all their perversity, are yet so respectable,&quot; says
+Erwin with unmistakable emphasis.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Felix bursts out: &quot;It is not only horrible, but absolutely
+indecent to speak of a girl with whom, by your own account, you have
+spoken for scarcely ten minutes, in such a repulsive manner.&quot; And as
+his brother-in-law, astonished at such an unusual outbreak from Felix,
+yet looks at him without the slightest harshness or coldness, the
+&quot;certain Lanzberg&quot; grows red and murmurs, &quot;Pardon that I ventured to
+reprove you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin clenches his fist and opens it again with the gesture of a man
+who has conquered a painful excitement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such feelings often came over him in intercourse with his
+brother-in-law, although he felt great pity and much sympathy for
+the good, shy fellow; but his association with him was never wholly
+free, open, but always contained a tinge of sympathetic politeness,
+and there was never that warm abruptness which is a healthy symptom
+of manly friendship. Sad yielding on one side; on the other
+good-natured advances. This, after a half year's acquaintance, was the
+relation of the two brothers-in-law. One must--alas! it could not be
+otherwise--treat Felix as a precious but broken and only artificially
+mended cup of Sèvres porcelain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why does my opinion of the Harfinks interest you?&quot; asks Erwin, now
+going straight to his object.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a while there is perfect silence, only animated by the soft voices
+of the night, and the fluttering of a moth which has wandered behind
+the tall shade of the garden lamp and has been singed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Erwin!&quot; cries Felix, his hands convulsively clasped, in his large
+feverish eyes a look such as Erwin had only once before seen, and then
+in a dying man's who suddenly longed to live. &quot;Do you think that a man
+like me has a right to marry?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/page30.png" alt="Do you think a man like me has a right to marry?"><br>
+&quot;Do you think a man like me has a right to marry?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; sounded harshly and firmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was not Erwin who answered. In the circle of light which the garden
+lamp shed amid the gray moonlight, a tall white form had placed itself
+opposite Felix, behind Erwin's chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin himself shudders; his wife seems uncanny. So beautiful, so pale,
+with such deathly tenderness, must have looked the angel when he drove
+the beings whom he loved out of Paradise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix lets his head sink in his hands. Elsa bends over him and caresses
+him like a sick child. Erwin wishes to withdraw, but Felix calls him
+back. &quot;Stay, there are no secrets between us. I should have never dared
+take the hand which you held out to me, had I not been convinced that
+you know---- Yes, Elsa,&quot; he continued, very bitterly, &quot;you despise me,
+it was cowardly, it was unconscionable to even think of it, but if you
+knew what it is to be weary and alone, with no one on whom to lean for
+support! To have no one to whom one can be anything, for whom one can
+sacrifice oneself, to be perpetually condemned to think of oneself when
+thought is torment and loathing--to be sometimes permitted by pitying
+people to look on at happiness which awakes all the furies in one--yes,
+at first it was a comfort to me to flee to you, to breathe the same air
+with two happy people--but then--your beaming eyes, the little
+tendernesses of your child, even the alms of love which you gave me,
+all made my blood hot and me giddy. My God! I have injured no one but
+myself! Must I be condemned for life? Ten years is usually considered
+enough for a heavy crime, and I would gladly exchange these last ten
+years with any galley slave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Since his return to his fatherland no one had heard him say so much;
+the gentle, quiet man is not to be recognized.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa stands near him, white and sad, tears are in her eyes, but the
+severe expression of her mouth has not softened. Erwin is more moved
+than she. &quot;Felix,&quot; says he, &quot;you go too far. You must not marry the
+young Harfink; she is worldly and selfish, and would seek in a marriage
+with you only the satisfaction of her social vanity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix laughs bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But the world is large. You must find a girl who loves you for
+yourself, who will raise you above yourself, who----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix's eyes rest on his brother-in-law, then they turn to Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is all of no use, Erwin;&quot; he suddenly interrupts him and rises.
+&quot;And even if I found what is not to be found, and even if an angel came
+down from heaven to console me, I must repulse her. I have no right to
+marry for the sake of the children who would bear my name. Ask Elsa for
+her opinion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa bows her head and is silent. He gives Erwin his hand, seizes his
+hat and, without having bid Elsa good-night, with the bearing of an
+offended man, takes a few hasty steps--then he turns, and as he sees
+Elsa still standing motionless, her face drawn with deepest misery,
+near the chair which he has left, he hurries back to her and takes her
+in his arms. &quot;I was wrong to be angry, Elsa,&quot; murmurs he. &quot;I know you
+must love me to have forgiven me. It may well be indifferent to him,&quot;
+with a half nod to Erwin. &quot;I was not myself to-day; have patience with
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The tears of the brother and sister mingle. Then Felix tears himself
+away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you come back to-morrow?&quot; asks Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, to say farewell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My God! what are you going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am going away--it is better for me elsewhere--and you, you are very
+good to me, but----you do not need me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With that he goes. Erwin accompanies him. Then he returns to his wife,
+whom he finds where he had left her. She is not one of those who for
+long yield themselves to the weak enjoyment of tears. Her eyes are dry
+again, but so indescribably sad and staring that Erwin would rather see
+them wet. He draws her on his knees and whispers a thousand calming
+words of tenderness to her, but she remains absent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So the young Harfink has robbed him of his senses?&quot; she murmurs
+interrogatively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So it seems!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor Felix!--I was very hard to him--I dared not be otherwise. I fear,
+I fear it is all in vain--he will yield. You have the same thought!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To dissuade any obstinate man is hard, but sometimes at least
+successful--to dissuade a weak man is quite easy, but always
+unsuccessful,&quot; replies Erwin. &quot;Nevertheless let us hope.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Concerning Felix, hope fails,&quot; said Elsa. &quot;O Erwin, Erwin, often it
+seems to me that father had no right to persuade him to live at that
+time!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>IV.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix rode home.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a moonlight night, but none of those which remind one of theatre
+scenery and silver-flecked green paint, such, as painted in oil,
+endanger all German art societies; the objects did not float in that
+universal green-black indistinctness; on the contrary, they stood out
+in sharp relief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The tall poplars and the short bushy grass at the edge of the road,
+the yellow fields of grain with their dark piles of sheaves, the
+pale flowers in the ditches, the red and black roofs of a distant
+village sleeping between green lindens, a round church cupola and a
+cemetery with its low, white wall, and the dark rows of crosses and
+monuments--all could be seen plainly, only with somewhat faded colors,
+and over all was a misty veil like thin smoke, and a white light shone
+on the poplar leaves, rustling and turning in the night wind. The
+reapers were still working. Through the mild air sounded their song,
+hollow and monotonous, with the quiet sadness which characterizes
+Slavonian folk-songs. Their scythes sparkle in the moonlight;
+occasionally the pleasant face of a young woman, nodding to a youth,
+rises before Felix's eyes from the crowd of workers, irradiated by the
+mystic half light.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix watched them as he slowly rode on. He would gladly have been one
+of them, and would have taken upon himself all their burdens in
+exchange for the one he bore. He could have wished that the night had
+been less beautiful, that a dead, winter stillness had prevailed around
+him instead of this strange charm of the mild July moonlight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The night wind, warm and gentle, caressed his face and his hands, and
+awakened the strangest longing in his heart. His head grew heated; the
+allurements with which his imagination tormented his despondent heart
+grew more and more intense.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The monotonous pace of his horse, the melancholy reaper's song lulled
+him not to sleep, but to that half slumber which produces dreams. He
+did not wholly lose the consciousness of motion; the open road, the
+trees, the wheat-fields, with everything, was mingled a light form; two
+large eyes sparkled half in sadness, half defiantly, and two full red
+lips smiled at him. An indescribable breath of youth and fresh life met
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The yellow fields and the reapers have sunken into the earth--folk-song
+and the swing of the scythes have long sounded only like a vague murmur
+of waters to his distracted ear. His horse stumbles, a twig strikes him
+in the face, he starts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The white dream-form has vanished, all is dark around him, a solemn,
+far-distant murmur breaks the stillness, and gigantic trees meet over
+the head of the solitary rider.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The horse trembles under him, then rears suddenly, and as he checks it
+he sees in the distance something low and black hurrying away in great
+leaps, sees there--there, close before him, a light figure which slowly
+rises from the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He breathes heavily--for Heaven's sake is he still dreaming? That is
+surely she--Linda!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! Baron Lanzberg, you here? Thank God,&quot; cries she.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You seem to have met with an unpleasant adventure,&quot; says Felix
+confusedly, coughs and springs from his horse without thinking what he
+is doing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A very unpleasant one,&quot; says she in her high, fresh, girlish voice.
+&quot;That is what comes of insisting upon riding a donkey. We set out on
+foot, my brother and I, to the burned mill, to have the great enjoyment
+of seeing charred beams and skeletons of hens, and devouring black
+bread and sour milk, we---- Have you a weakness for sour milk, Baron?&quot;
+looking up at him with a childish glance and smile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, not exactly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was not at all satisfied with my expedition,&quot; she continued, with
+the self-satisfied fluency of all young girls who are accustomed to
+have their chatter listened to for the sake of their pretty faces. &quot;Not
+at all. Then I discovered two donkeys, one of them had a saddle like an
+arm-chair. Raimund must hire them. I left him no peace! His donkey goes
+splendidly, but mine! I cannot move him from the spot. I call to my
+brother, but he does not hear, he is singing college songs, thunders
+like a whole chorus and has ears for his own voice only. I do not love
+Raimund's singing, but as it gradually sounded further and further
+away, and finally ceased entirely, I had quite a curious sensation.
+Then my donkey threw back his ears, opened his mouth, and--here I lay.
+I am so glad that I met you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The moonlight breaks through the green net-work of the woods, shines
+between the rushes, flowers and brambles of the ditch along the road,
+lights up Linda's face, the beautiful white face with the large dark
+eyes. Her hair is tumbled, she has lost her hat, her gown is torn, the
+affectation which usually conceals her inborn grace completely
+vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know the way,&quot; says she, &quot;and what will mamma think when
+Raimund comes home without me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After he has overcome his first fright, Felix tells himself that his
+dread of her charm must not prevent him from helping her. &quot;If you will
+trust yourself to my guidance and will take this path across the
+fields, you can reach Marienbad in a half hour,&quot; he remarks, and tries
+to fasten his horse by the bridle to the low branch of an oak.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, it will inconvenience you so; if you will only point out the
+way----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You surely do not imagine that I could let you go alone, in the
+pitch-dark night? No.&quot; He smiles at her encouragingly. &quot;What a child
+you still are, Miss Linda. Come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He goes ahead, carefully pushing aside all branches for her. The air
+becomes more and more sultry, an enervating damp odor rises from the
+ground, in the tree-tops rustle wonderful melodies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An intoxicating shudder runs over him at the thought of being alone
+with her in the great, silent, lonely woods. Then he becomes alarmed,
+quickens his steps, in order to run away from his thoughts and shorten
+the way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then a voice behind him calls laughingly and complainingly: &quot;How you
+hurry--do not make fun of me, I am tired--one moment, only one moment!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda stands there out of breath, heated, with half-closed eyes and
+half-opened mouth, her hair loosened by the rough caresses of the
+thicket, hanging over her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How beautiful she is. Shall he offer her his arm? No, no, no!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He is one of those warm and weak natures in whom passion in one moment
+drowns everything, annihilates, crushes everything, intellect, honor
+and duty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He has more conscience than others, but not that prudent, warning
+conscience, which withholds one from a wrong deed, but only that
+malicious, accusing one which points the finger, grins and hurls sly
+insults in the face after the deed is done.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you wish to spare your mother a fright, we must hurry,&quot; says Felix,
+with the last remnant of prudence which is left in him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They go on. Before their feet opens an abyss, barely ten feet broad; in
+its depths filters a small thread of water which the moonlight colors a
+bluish silver. At the edge of the abyss, curiously looking down into
+it, bending deeply down to it, grows a bush of wild roses, covered
+thickly with white blossoms, trembling slightly, like a living being;
+with outstretched wings it vibrates over the depths, as if it hesitated
+between the longing to fly up to the sacred mystery of heaven, and the
+desire to plunge down into the alluring enigma of the abyss.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A small plank leads over it, slippery and tottering. Felix strides
+across it quickly and then looks around for Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There, in the middle of the board, trembling, her teeth set in her lip,
+stands Linda, and cannot advance. &quot;I am giddy!&quot; she gasps.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There are few more attractive things in the world than a pretty,
+frightened woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix rushes up to her, takes her in his arms and carries her over. All
+is forgotten, he holds her closely to him, his lips lose themselves in
+her loosened hair, burn on her forehead, seek her mouth, but then he
+suddenly pauses. The enormity of his deed occurs to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For Heaven's sake pardon me!&quot; cries he. Whereupon she replies with a
+naïve smile and tender glance:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon? Ah, I knew that you loved me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That indeed a blind man could have seen,&quot; murmurs he bitterly. &quot;But,
+Linda, could you resolve to be my wife?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could I resolve?&quot; she murmurs with tender roguishness. &quot;And why not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In spite of my past?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Past! The word has a romantic charm for her. It wakes in her an idea
+of baccaret and mabille, of a brilliantly squandered fortune, of
+ballet-dancers and duels. A &quot;past&quot; in her mind belongs to every true
+nobleman of a certain age.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If your heart is now wholly mine, what does your past matter to me?&quot;
+says she softly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he kisses her hand. &quot;Linda you are an angel,&quot; whispers he, and
+silent and happy, they finish their walk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ten minutes later, before the ambitious singer, Raimund, reaches home,
+Linda was in the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stood on the balcony of the &quot;Emperor of China,&quot; between
+dead-looking oleander trees which exhale a tiresome odor of bitter
+almonds: she stands there, her arms resting on the balustrade when
+Raimund and his donkey emerge from the shadows of the street. His red
+cap pushed back, his face shining as if freshly shaven, with glance
+directed upward in terror he comes along, the picture of bankrupt
+responsibility on a donkey.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A gay laugh greets him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Linda, where are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here! I have been looking for you for an hour,&quot; says he, scarcely
+believing his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where? In the sky apparently--I have not been there, and have no wish
+to go. Do not stare at me so, please, as if I were my own ghost. Come
+up here, I have such a lovely secret.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With that she withdraws from the balcony, but the secret with which she
+has enticed him she does not tell him when he comes up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To-morrow, to-morrow,&quot; says she, clapping her hands, leaning far back
+in an old-fashioned arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Raimund cannot get a word from his pretty, capricious sister.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who brought you home then?&quot; he asks finally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! That is just it, ha-ha-ha!&quot; answered she.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Linda! You have met Lanzberg--he has declared himself!&quot; cries Raimund,
+excitedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you be silent?&quot; replies she, laughing--triumphant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile her parents, who have been to the farewell performance of a
+famous Vienna artiste at the theatre, enter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hush!&quot; cries she with a decided gesture to her brother. &quot;Good evening,
+papa and mamma!&quot; without leaving her arm-chair. &quot;I am frightfully fond
+of you, for, if you only knew of it, I am to-day, for the first time,
+glad to be in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Papa Harfink smiles delightedly, Mamma Harfink asks, &quot;What is it?&quot; and
+all her cameos and mosaic bracelets rattle with excitement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She----&quot; begins Raimund.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hush, I tell you!&quot; cries Linda, then laying her arms on the
+old-fashioned arms of the easy-chair, her head thrown teasingly back,
+she asks: &quot;Is Baron Lanzberg a good <i>partie</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His affairs are very well arranged. I saw in the country register. He
+has scarcely any debts,&quot; says Papa Harfink.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And he is of the good old nobility, is he not?&quot; asks Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did not his father receive a tip in the form of an iron crown from
+some tottering ministry?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Lanzbergs descend from the twelfth century,&quot; says mamma. &quot;They are
+the younger line of the Counts Lanzberg, who are now known as the
+Counts Dey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! and what was his mother's maiden name?&quot; Linda continues her
+examination.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She was a Countess Böhl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why does he associate so little with people, and is so sad?--because
+of his past?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda's eyes sparkle and shine, and capricious little dimples play
+about the corners of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you know of his past?&quot; bursts out mamma.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, nothing; but I should so like to know something about it--it is
+not proper, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He had at one time a <i>liaison</i>, hm--hm--was deceived&quot;--murmurs Mrs.
+Harfink--&quot;never got over it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!--but it seems so--for--in a word, if all does not deceive me, he
+will come to-morrow to ask for my hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Without leaving her arm-chair, her little feet dance a merry polka of
+triumph on the floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And do you love him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I?&quot;--Linda opens her eyes wide--&quot;naturally; he is the first man with a
+faultless profile and good manners whom I have met--since Laure de
+Lonsigny's father!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Old Harfink, wholly absorbed in gazing at his tongue in a hand-glass,
+has not heard the bold malice of his daughter. Raimund, on the
+contrary, says emphatically, &quot;I find your delight at marrying a
+nobleman highly repulsive,&quot; and leaves the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Felix? He does not undress that night. Motionless his face buried
+in the pillows, he lies on his bed and still fights a long-lost battle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The air is heavy with the fragrance of linden blossoms and the
+approaching thunder-storm. A massive wall of clouds towers above the
+horizon like a barrier between heaven and earth.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>V.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Susanna Blecheisen, now Mrs. Harfink, usually called Madame von
+Harfink, was a famous blue-stocking. As a young girl she was interested
+in natural sciences, studied medicine, complained of the oppression of
+the female sex, and wrote articles on the emancipation of woman, in
+which with great boldness she described marriage as an antiquated and
+immoral institution.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In spite of the energetic independence of her character, in her
+twenty-eighth year she succumbed to the magnetic attraction of a
+red-cheeked clerk in her father's office, and generously sacrificed for
+him her scorn of manly prejudice and ecclesiastical sacraments--she
+married him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hereupon she moved with her husband to Vienna, and soon enjoyed a
+certain fame there on account of her fine German, and because she
+subscribed to the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, and had once sat beside
+Humboldt at a dinner, perhaps also because her husband was a very
+wealthy manufacturer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Soon convinced of the inferior intellect of this man, she did not give
+herself up to cowardly despair at this discovery, but did her best to
+educate him. She patiently read to him works on capital, during which
+he incessantly rattled the money in his pockets, as if he would say,
+How does the theoretical analysis of capital concern a practical man,
+as long as he relies solely upon the actual substance? This rubbish
+furnished occupation for poor wretches, he thought to himself, which
+opinion he finally announced to his wife. But when she told him that
+Carl Marx and Lassalle were both very wealthy men, he listened to her
+dissertations with considerably heightened respect. From political
+economy, which she treated as a light recreation, fitted to his case,
+she led him into the gloomy regions of German metaphysics, and plunged
+him confusedly into the most dangerous abysses of misused logic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He listened calmly, without astonishment, without complaining, with the
+lofty conviction that to cultivate one's self, as every kind of tasty
+idleness, was a very noble occupation, and, like many more clever
+people, he made a rule of despising everything which he did not
+understand. Instead of any other comment, during his wife's readings he
+merely rubbed his hands pleasantly, and murmured as long as he was not
+asleep, titteringly, &quot;This confusion, this confusion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet, however Mrs. Susanna strove, his mental wings did not strengthen,
+and his digestion remained the most absorbing interest of his life.
+He always fell back again into his insignificant commonness, like
+a dog whom one wishes to train to walk upon two legs, but who
+always falls back upon four again. At an æsthetic tea, for which
+his wife had most conscientiously prepared him, most generously lent
+him her intelligence, she heard him, in the midst of a conversation
+upon Schopenhauer and Leopardi, say to his neighbor: &quot;Have you
+a weakness for pickles, ma'am? I have a great weakness for pickles,
+but--he-he-he!--I--it is really very unusual--I always feel such a
+disagreeable prickling in my nose when I eat anything sour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With years, Susanna somewhat neglected the difficult education of this
+hopeless specimen, and transferred her pedagogic capabilities to the
+bringing up of her son, of whom she tried to make a genius.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She designed him for jurisprudence. He, however, devoted himself to
+song. Instead of poring over law books in consideration of his
+examination, he passed two-thirds of his time at the piano, diligently
+trying to attain the summit of his ambition, high C, while he did not
+fail to twist himself into the original contortions which on such
+occasions all particularly ambitious but faulty voices find so
+effectual.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With Linda, mamma Harfink from the first could do nothing, and in
+consequence she sent her to a Swiss pension. There she learned, besides
+a little French and piano thumping, to carry her head very high,
+learned to go into nervous spasms over creaking boots--in a word, she
+acquired the refined delicacy of feeling of the &quot;princess with the
+pea.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What torture when upon her return home she lay upon not a single pea,
+alleviated by comfortable mattresses, but upon a whole sack of
+undisguised peas! Her home was frightful to her. The unrestrained,
+coarse admiration which the young men of her circle offered her seemed
+unbearable to her. Discontented, weary of life, without an aim that was
+not bound up in vanity, she vegetated from one day to another; in
+desperate moments thought of going on the stage, or perpetrating some
+outrageous act to make herself notorious.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The only consolation of this desolate time was the intercourse with her
+cousin, Eugene von Rhoeden, who had been educated in the Theresanium,
+had learned to turn up his nose more frequently and with more fine
+distinction than she herself, but to her misery, had his brand new
+title of Freiherr, and a couple of intimate friends of very old family
+beside. A passionate enemy of his relatives, he had greeted her
+enthusiastically with the words, &quot;<i>Sapperment</i>, you are wholly
+different from your family, Linda!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not call me Linda, that sounds so operatic,&quot; she had answered him.
+&quot;My friends always called me Linn!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene Rhoeden immediately perceived that Linda had a knowledge of <i>bon
+ton</i>--evidently knew that all Austrian countesses are called Piffi,
+Pantschi, Nina, like <i>grisettes</i> or little dogs. Her romantic name was
+odious to her, but in a circle where the women called each other
+Theresa and Rosalie, she must rejoice at being named Linda and not
+Rosalinda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A superficial confidence arose between her and her noble cousin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So stood matters when Felix &quot;accidentally&quot; made the acquaintance of the
+Harfinks while walking. This was the family into which fate and his
+weakness had thrown him.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>VI.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Is Marienbad cheaper than Franzensbad because it is not so select, or
+is it less select because it is cheaper? I do not know. But certain it
+is that Marienbad does not possess the same stamp of distinction as
+Franzensbad, which latter, together with all the guests, seems about to
+slowly perish of its excessive distinction. The guests at Marienbad
+also lack that transparent thinness of the Franzensbad invalids, which
+so claims sympathy: they all look &quot;not ill but only too healthy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As the Marienbad invalids do not look like invalids, so Marienbad does
+not look like a water cure. It wholly lacks that fairylike appearance
+of a cure where invalidism is an elegant pastime. It is so severely
+commonplace, so ordinary that one is forced to believe in its reality.
+Fortunately there is some compensation in the country round about, and
+when the guests look from the windows of the miserable hotel rooms,
+beyond the plainness of the dusty streets to the green beautiful woods,
+the most pretentious are satisfied. The Marienbad woods are so
+charming, not those barbaric gloomy woods like the Bohemian forests for
+example, which with their black branches grumblingly bar the way to the
+sunbeams, and groan so continually that the song birds from pure terror
+have all died or gone away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the woods near Marienbad, the trees sing the whole day in
+competition with the birds, and the sunbeams fall between gay, dancing,
+quivering shadows, and the blue sky laughs through a thousand breaks in
+the lofty, floating leafy roof.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Harfink family live in the Mühle strasse, and have a view directly
+into the woods.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is half past eight in the morning. Papa Harfink, who is taking the
+cure, and every morning at six o'clock stands beside the spring, has
+drunk his seven glasses, taken the prescribed walk, and afterwards
+breakfasted; now he has gone to be weighed. The student, his son, is
+amusing himself by following a young lady who travels with many
+diamonds but without a chaperon, and who is entered in the register as
+a &quot;singer.&quot; Linda is still at her toilet. Mamma Harfink is busy in the
+drawing-room with a medical pamphlet. Then the maid brings her a note.
+&quot;A messenger from Traunberg brought it; he is waiting for an answer,&quot;
+declared the maid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before Mrs. Harfink had opened the letter Linda enters and asks: &quot;We
+need expect no visitor before twelve o'clock, mamma? If the Baron
+chances to come, you know where I am--in the Kursaal. At twelve o'clock
+I take my Turkish bath. Adieu! I shall be back at one o'clock.&quot; With
+that she vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Harfink had concealed the letter from her daughter. She secretly
+suspects that it contains matters of which Linda need know nothing.
+Scarcely has her daughter vanished when she hastily opens it. In an
+uncharacteristic handwriting, occupying a great deal of paper:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal" style="font-size:90%">&quot;<span class="sc">My Dear Madam</span>: You have surely already learned from your daughter what
+has occurred between us. That I ventured, under the circumstances which
+you, madam, certainly know, to offer her my hand, seems to me now, upon
+calm consideration, incomprehensible and unpardonable.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Mamma Harfink starts. Will the Baron take back his word? What can he
+mean by &quot;under the circumstances&quot;? Linda's unprotectedness in the great
+lonely woods? Or does he, perhaps, refer to his fatal past? She
+resolves to read further.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal" style="font-size:90%">&quot;Your daughter's manner proves to me plainly that she has no suspicion
+of the stain upon my honor. I have not the courage to make my
+confession to her myself; do it for me, my dear madam, and kindly write
+me whether Miss Linda, after she has learned all, will yet hear
+anything of me, or will turn away from me. In the latter case I will go
+away for some time.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:30%; font-size:90%">&quot;With the deepest respect, your submissive</p>
+
+<p class="right" style="font-size:90%">&quot;<span class="sc">Lanzberg</span>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Absurd, eccentric man! He will yet spoil everything with his foolish
+scruples!&quot; cries she, then, looking at the letter once more: &quot;Horribly
+blunt, awkward style; no practised pen, but undeniably the sentiments
+of a refined gentleman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Harfink folded her hands and thought. Should she read this letter
+to Linda? She had been so pleased at the prospect of Linda's
+advantageous match. But the strange girl was capable of giving up this
+brilliant <i>parti</i> for the sake of a trifle like this spot in Lanzberg's
+past.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Harfink, in intercourse with the world very sensitive and wholly
+implacable, possessed theoretically that far-reaching consideration for
+any individuals attacked by scandal which has become so fashionable
+among the philanthropists of the present time. She always treated all
+city officials as calumniators and all accused as martyrs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, if I were only in Linda's place, I would be angry that I had so
+little to pardon in him,&quot; cried she dramatically; &quot;but Linda is so
+narrow, so petty. Her intellect does not reach to the comprehension of
+the eternal divine morality; she understands merely the narrow
+prejudiced morality of good society, which divides sins as well as men
+into 'admissible and not admissible;' to-day calmly overlooks a crime,
+to-morrow screams itself hoarse over a fault which offends against its
+customs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While the Harfink satisfied her philanthropic heart with this subtle,
+humane eloquence, the girl stood waiting at the door. &quot;The messenger
+begs an answer,&quot; she remarked shyly. Mrs. Harfink bit her lips
+impatiently. She was not capable of a decided deception, she must twist
+and turn it before her conscience until it took on a quite different
+aspect from the original one. Must, in a word, carry it out in such a
+highly virtuous manner that she could later deny it to her conscience.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The messenger begs an answer!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Harfink seated herself at her writing-table and wrote:</p>
+<br>
+<div style="font-size:90%">
+<p class="normal">&quot;<span class="sc">My Dear Lanzberg</span>: Come, if possible, at once--in any case before
+twelve. Linda expects you.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:35%">&quot;With cordial greeting, yours sincerely,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:55%">&quot;<span class="sc">S. Harfink</span>.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Two, almost three hours passed. Susanna's excitement became painful.
+What should she tell Felix? The best would be to tell him that Linda
+knew all. And did she not indeed know all? She had conscientiously told
+her daughter of a <i>liaison</i> which had formerly been the unhappiness of
+the Baron. The <i>liaison</i> was, on the whole, the principal thing,
+everything else only a detail. Only chance, which did not in the
+slightest accord with the whole life of the Baron before and since, and
+of which respectable people hesitate to speak, and which one should not
+exhume from the past in which it lay buried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was in duty bound to conceal the affair from Linda, as one must
+conceal certain things in themselves wholly innocent from children,
+because their intellect, not yet matured by experience, is not capable
+of rightly comprehending them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In all her circle of acquaintances, Mrs. Harfink was the only one who
+knew anything definite of Lanzberg's disgrace. By chance, and through
+the acquaintance of a high official of the law, she had learned the sad
+facts. She thought of the envious glances with which all her friends
+had followed Lanzberg's attentions to Linda. Linda had somewhat forced
+the acquaintance with him. The good friends were horrified at her
+boldness--at her triumph. Mrs. Harfink remembered her sister, Rhoeden;
+what had she not done to marry her daughter to a coughing, bald-headed,
+Wurtemburg count, a gambler, whose debts they had been forced to pay
+before the marriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Quarter of twelve struck--was Lanzberg not coming, then? In a short
+time Linda would be back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then a carriage stopped before the &quot;Emperor of China.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A minute later there was a knock at the door, and Felix Lanzberg
+entered the room, pale, worn, with great uneasy, shy eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mamma Harfink reached him both hands, and merely said, &quot;My dear
+Lanzberg!&quot; then she let him sit down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was silent. Many times he tried to speak, but the words would not
+come, and he lowered his eyes helplessly to his hat, which he held on
+his knees.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last Mamma Harfink took his hat from his hand and put it away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will stay to dinner with us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you will permit me, madam,&quot; said he, scarcely audibly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you over-sensitive man!&quot; cried she, with her loud, indelicate
+sympathy. How she pained him!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does Linda think that I am an over-sensitive man?&quot; said he, almost
+bitterly, and without looking at his future mother-in-law.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mamma Harfink pondered for a last time. &quot;I do not understand how you
+could doubt Linda for a moment,&quot; replied she.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He scarcely heard her, and only cried hastily &quot;Was she surprised?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dear Lanzberg!&quot; Mrs. Harfink called the Baron as often as possible
+&quot;her dear Lanzberg,&quot; in order to show him that she already included him
+in her family--&quot;a man who can oppose to his fault a counter-balance
+such as your whole subsequent life is, has not only expiated his fault
+but he has obliterated it.&quot; Madame Harfink very often spoke of her
+husband's views, and liked to allow him to participate before the world
+in her wealth of thought. If she herself could no longer cherish any
+illusions about him, she nevertheless carefully concealed his nullity
+from friends as well as she could in a sacred obscurity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That may all be true,&quot; cried Felix, almost violently, &quot;but
+nevertheless I cannot expect this philosophical consideration from a
+young girl. Oh, my dear madam, do you not deceive yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From without sounded the gay click of high heels. Linda had returned
+sooner than her mamma had expected. The blood rushed to her face, she
+trembled so with excitement that, thanks to her cameos, she rattled
+like a rickety weather-vane in a storm. &quot;Linda pardons you everything,&quot;
+cried she, hastily. &quot;Linda loves you, she only begs you one thing, that
+you will never speak to her of your past. That would be too painful for
+her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The door opened. Linda entered, her hair in charming disorder, and her
+large straw hat carelessly pushed back from her forehead. When she
+perceived Felix she started slightly and joyously, then she rested her
+large eyes, radiant with happiness, upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>A tantôt</i>, you dear people,&quot; cried Mrs. Harfink, and, gracefully
+waving her hand, this courageous and philanthropic liar left the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a few seconds there was utter silence. Linda gazed in astonishment
+at Felix, who stood there deathly pale and motionless, his hand resting
+on the corner of the table. That the charm of her person so confused
+him flattered her, it seemed to her interesting and romantic to cause
+such deep heart wounds, still his manner remained enigmatical to her.
+She tapped her foot in pretty impatience and coughed slightly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he looked up, his eyes full of pleading tenderness and dread.
+&quot;Linda, will you really consecrate your young, blooming life to
+me?--me--a broken man who----&quot; He paused.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The situation became more dramatic, and pleased her better and better.
+She came close up to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you ever permit yourself, in the presence of your betrothed, to
+remember your past, and look so sad, I will run away, do you hear, and
+will never know anything more of you.&quot; Her voice sounded so gentle, so
+sweet, her warm little hand lay so coaxingly and confidingly on his
+arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor Felix!&quot; murmured she, looking up at him tenderly. He closed his
+eyes, blinded with tears and happiness, then he took her violently in
+his arms, and kissed her. Her hat slipped from her head and fell to the
+floor. She laughed at it very charmingly. He released her in order to
+look at her better. He was happy--he had forgotten. He drew a ring from
+his finger. &quot;It was my mother's engagement ring,&quot; he whispered, and
+placed it on her finger. Then it proved that the ring was almost too
+small for her. &quot;What slender fingers you must have!&quot; cried she, and
+gazed with pride at his slender, aristocratic hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then there was a knock at the door. &quot;Ah!&quot; cried Linda, with a
+displeasure which her <i>fiancé</i> found bewitching.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene von Rhoeden entered, a bouquet of white flowers in his hand.
+&quot;Gardenias, Lin! Gardenias!&quot; he cried, triumphantly. &quot;What do you say
+to this progress of Marienbad civilization? Ah, Baron--excuse me--I
+really had not----&quot; He glances from one to the other, sees the diamond
+ring sparkling on Linda's hand. &quot;What a magnificent ring you have,
+Lin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A present,&quot; replies Linda, with a pretty gesture toward Felix. &quot;May
+one accept gardenias from a relative?&quot; she asks him, coaxingly--and
+takes one from the bouquet to place in his buttonhole.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; cries Eugene, suddenly changing an acid expression into a polite
+smile. &quot;May I congratulate you, or will my congratulations not be
+received?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix gives him his hand with emotion. &quot;Congratulate me, congratulate
+me,&quot; he murmurs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know which of you is more to be congratulated,&quot; says Eugene,
+with tact and feeling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the adjoining room is heard a selection from the Huguenots, which
+breaks off in the middle, then a great, terrible howl, whereupon the
+improvised Rarol, red as his cravat, bursts in and cries, &quot;Did you
+hear, Linda? That was C.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Unfortunately,&quot; says she, laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Raimund starts back. As he notices guests, he cries, &quot;I will not
+disturb----&quot; and vanishes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I also will not disturb you,&quot; says Rhoeden, with indescribably
+loving accent. &quot;Adieu!&quot; and kissing Linda's hand, whereupon he says to
+Felix, &quot;Your betrothed, my cousin,&quot; he disappears.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>VII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The music-stand in Franzensbad is torn down, the whining potpourries
+have ceased, the park is deserted, legions of dry leaves whirl on the
+sand, and exchange cutting remarks with the autumn wind upon the
+perpetual change of every earthly thing, which short-sighted humanity
+calls transitoriness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is the 18th of October, the &quot;certain Baron Lanzberg's&quot; wedding-day.
+The week of torture in which he could not resolve to tell the severe
+Elsa of his betrothal is past, and when he at length resolved upon it,
+he received only a sad glance and a silent shrug of the shoulders as
+answer from her--past are the happy hours of the betrothal time--almost
+past.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If the intoxication, the confusion which never becomes consciousness is
+happiness, then Felix was very happy in this time. Passion had numbed
+everything in him which did not refer to the present or to the 18th of
+October. He existed only in a feeling of longing and expectation. He
+had no time to tell himself that Linda's happy coquetries proved a very
+flippant conception of the serious situation--he himself had forgotten
+the gravity of the situation. He did not think, he only felt and saw a
+white, ever-changing face, a face which can smile in at least two
+hundred ways--felt a perpetual warm excitement, felt something like an
+electric shock when two soft lips touched his temples and left them
+quickly like butterflies which will not be caught, when two soft hands
+played round his neck.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, ft is the 18th of October, Felix Lanzberg's wedding-day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The wedding was to be solemnized at Castle Rineck, the Harfinks' new
+possession, and in a white circular chapel, with small windows shaded
+by ivy, and an altar-piece which was dark as the Catholic religion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The castle is crowded with guests, mostly honest manufacturers, who are
+proud of their fortunes acquired by their own ability, and others also
+less honest, who, after they have retired from business, wish to know
+nothing more of their money-making past.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Needless to say, the wedding preparations were unpleasant to the
+infatuated Felix. The bride had joined in his request for a quiet
+wedding, for the contact with so much industry of which a considerable
+part had not yet become &quot;finance,&quot; little pleased her; but the parents
+could not let the opportunity pass without displaying their wealth to
+the astonished throng.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The afternoon is gray and moist. Mrs. von Harfink--for the past week,
+no longer through the obligingness of her acquaintances, but through
+the obligingness of a democratic ministry thus titled--Mrs. von
+Harfink, then, composes a toast for her husband to deliver at the
+wedding dinner. Raimund stands beside the piano--to sing while sitting
+might injure his voice--and strives to render the cry of the Valkyrs in
+Wagner's worthy accents; a sympathetic poodle seconds him in this
+melodious occupation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Outside in the park Linda wanders alone through the damp October air.
+The dead foliage lies thick on the lawn, and between the leaves shines
+the grass, bright and fresh as hope which lies under all the load of
+shattered joys of broken life, undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bushes, glowing in autumnal splendor, look like huge moulting birds
+who shiveringly lose their feathers. Many flower-beds are already
+empty, only a couple of stiff georginias and chrysanthemums still raise
+their heads proudly and solitary in the universal desolation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda is quite alone; her friends, none of whom are very dear to her,
+are too zealously busied with cares of the toilet to disturb her
+solitude; they are also afraid to expose their complexions to the
+morning air. Linda feels no anxiety about her complexion, it is too
+beautiful for that. With her loosened hair which, brown as the dead
+leaves, falls over her back, and with the red cloak, in which she has
+wrapped herself, she is a bright spot in the park.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/page66.png" alt="She is a shy bride and not at all melancholy."><br>
+She is a shy bride and not at all melancholy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She is not a shy bride, and not at all melancholy. Her eyes shine, her
+lips quiver with excitement--distinguished acquaintances, foreign
+entertainments of which she will be queen. In mind, she already sees
+herself on the arm of one and another prince of the blood royal. She
+could clap her hands with joy that to-day at six o'clock she will no
+longer be called Harfink.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She remains standing beside a pond where near the bank four swans,
+shivering and melancholy, swim round a yellow bath-house. Then a hand
+is laid lightly on her shoulder. &quot;Felix!&quot; whispers she with the
+charming smile which she always has in readiness for her betrothed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, not Felix--only Eugene,&quot; replies a gay voice, and blond, handsome,
+with clothes a trifle too modern, and a too pronounced perfume of
+Ylang-ylang, her cousin and former admirer stands near her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, have you really come?&quot; says she, joyously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why naturally,&quot; replies he. &quot;You do not think that for the sake of a
+few forlorn chamois I would stay away from your wedding?&quot; Rhoeden has
+come from Steinmark, to be the cavalier of his cousin's second
+bridesmaid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We had already begun to fear--that is, Emma was afraid,&quot; said Linda,
+coquettishly. &quot;Naturally it was indifferent to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wholly indifferent? I do not believe it,&quot; said he. His arm has slipped
+down from her shoulder, he has seated himself upon a low iron garden
+chair, from which, with elbows on his knees, his face between his
+hands, with the boldness which she likes so well in him, he can look at
+her as much as he pleases.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wholly indifferent!&quot; she repeats, and throws a pebble between the
+swans, who dip their black bills greedily in the green water.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;O Lin! You naughty Lin! And nothing that concerns you is indifferent
+to me!&quot; he groans. &quot;The Trauns did not wish to let me go from them--but
+rather than not see you to-day I would have fought a duel with all the
+Trauns in the world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda has slowly approached him; flattered vanity speaks from her
+shining eyes and glowing lips. He seizes her hand and draws her to him.
+&quot;Do you know, Lin, that I was once absurdly in love with you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She nods. &quot;Yes, I know it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I? Do not ask indiscreet questions, Eugene!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But this question interests me so much,&quot; he excuses himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tell me, Lin, if Lanzberg had not come between us--yes, if I only,
+most unfortunately, had not been born a Grau,&quot; he continues sighing,
+&quot;could I have cherished a little, very little hope?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is quite possible,&quot; says she, shrugging her shoulders, and
+coquetting with him over her shoulder. &quot;But it is better so for us
+both.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For you, certainly,&quot; says he, &quot;but I shall feel quite peculiarly
+to-day when I see you with your bridal wreath, Lin! You will drive
+people mad with your beauty. You are the most beautiful person whom I
+have ever met in my life. Where the devil did you get your look of high
+breeding?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene Rhoeden, with his gay boldness and graceful impudence, his
+unconscionable aplomb, and his denial from principle of all personal
+dignity, is what is called in the Vienna slang a <i>gamin</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gamin as he is, no one knows how to bewitch Linda's small nature, how
+to feed her excessive vanity with such delicate bits as Eugene von
+Rhoeden. He understands her, she understands him; they are fairly made
+for each other, and for one moment, one very brief moment, Linda thinks
+almost with repugnance of the black raven in the red field which greets
+her from the Lanzberg coat-of-arms. &quot;Eugene!&quot; murmurs she. &quot;Ah!&quot; With
+that she suddenly turns to an elderly maid, who comes out from among
+the bushes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you looking for me, Fanny?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, miss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am probably to try my train for the twenty-ninth time. Ah, Eugene!
+There is something tiresome about a wedding-day!&quot; then she breaks a red
+chrysanthemum as she passes, throws it to him, and vanishes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">About seven hours later the wedding takes place in the castle chapel,
+adorned with greenhouse flowers. The blossoms tremble as if they were
+cold or afraid. Their sweet, exhilarating fragrance mingles with the
+odor of wax candles, and that of perfumery and cosmetics, which is
+always noticeable in select assemblies. The wind creeps curiously
+through the window cracks, creeps up to the altar, makes the flames of
+the candles flicker, and blows cold upon the bare shoulders of the
+bride and bridesmaids.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bride, loaded with the richest jewels, resembles a proud narcissus
+in the morning dew. Elsa is deathly pale, even her lips are colorless.
+Erwin displays the inexpressive gravity which the occasion demands of a
+well-bred man. Mrs. von Harfink looks continually at the decorations,
+and starts when a white rose falls from the wall. Mr. von Harfink looks
+as if his collar were too tight for him. Eugene von Rhoeden, his
+bridesmaid's wrap on his arm, a sceptical smile on his lips, his hand
+at his mustache, his glance resting now on his uncle, now on the
+priest, now on the bride, stands there, the image of a little society
+philosopher of the nineteenth century, who laughs at all vanity and
+cannot himself give up his own. Raimund looks like a radical who is
+paying an immense tribute to prejudice, and tries to look more
+distinguished than his brother-in-law.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Felix? Felix is as if paralyzed. The moment is here; his feverish
+longing nears its aim--happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the ivy taps on the window, the wind seizes him with ice-cold
+hands. Felix shudders and glances at his bride. How beautiful she is,
+and--how proud. Proud? Felix Lanzberg's bride proud? It is
+impossible--it cannot be. A suspicion which, however he may deny it to
+his conscience, has occurred to him again and again during their whole
+engagement, strikes him for the last time and becomes certain that
+Linda's mother has deceived him; Linda knows nothing!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the priest demands his &quot;Yes!&quot; He hesitates; hesitates so long that
+Linda looks at him in surprise; two large, greenish eyes shine at him
+through the filmy, white bridal veil. &quot;Yes!&quot; says he firmly and
+shortly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A long dinner follows, a long, complicated dinner, which no one enjoys
+except Papa Harfink, who studies the menu with the tenderest pleasure,
+and with a small pencil marks the numbers for love of which he thinks
+to extend considerably his elastic appetite.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sits between Elsa and the wife of his nephew, the Freiherr, the
+elder Rhoeden, and, as he gulps down his <i>potage à la reine</i>, tells
+both ladies of his new Achenbach, which cost him 4,000 gulden, which
+does not seem at all dear to him; as, besides a great deal of sunset,
+there are thirty-four figures in the picture--he has counted them--and
+in the background something else, he does not know whether it is a
+buffalo or ruins. &quot;They almost persuaded me to buy a Daubigny, a
+Frenchman, I think--a green sauce--what a sauce! I said no, thank you.
+I like spinach and eggs, I said; but spinach and cows--but--and such
+cows! without tails or horns--regular daubs of colors. These Frenchmen
+are tricky. Really, people are cheated by them.&quot; Thus concludes Papa
+Harfink, the art critic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa only half listens to him. Her eyes wander wearily over the table
+with its stiff floral decorations and its heavy silverware, &quot;real
+silver, and not plate,&quot; assures Papa Harfink.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Of the men, the last generation are broad-shouldered, red-faced; a
+sparse beard curls around their full cheeks, a sharp glance, on the
+lookout for profit, shoots from their small eyes. The past generation
+breathe loudly, pick their teeth continually, wear too tight rings on
+too fat fingers, and without exception, a thick gold chain with a
+diamond medallion over their stomachs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The present generation are sickly, dissipated, and have something of
+the jockey and something of the valet who copies his master.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The pride of the whole family is centred in Eugene von Rhoeden, the
+blond good-for-nothing, who has as many debts as a cavalier, who was
+educated in the Theresanium, and once had a quarrel with a watchman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Of the women, some are pretty, none are pleasing; they have all good
+dressmakers; none are well dressed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The usually pale face of a &quot;certain Baron Lanzberg&quot; begins to flush
+feverishly; without eating a mouthful he hastily swallows one glass of
+wine after another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Try this delicious salmon; permit me to help you,&quot; the charming host
+turns to Elsa. She makes a desperate attempt to do justice to the
+salmon. &quot;Strange,&quot; remarks Von Harfink, &quot;my mother used to say that
+when she was young salmon was cheaper than beef, now it is very dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa has laid down her fork in despair. &quot;I am behind the times,&quot; says
+she. &quot;I still am frightened by a telegram, and always feel nervous at a
+wedding.&quot; She smiles sadly, and two charming dimples appear in her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Papa Harfink continues to urge her to eat. &quot;You must taste this salmi,
+Baroness,&quot; he entreats. &quot;Monsieur Galatin, my cook, would be unhappy if
+he learned that every one had not eaten some of his salmi. <i>Pâte à la
+Kotschubey</i>, he calls it. Only to-day, this Galatin said to me: '<i>Ah,
+Monsieur le Chevalier</i>, when I think how often Prince Kotschubey got
+his stomach out of order with my salmi. The physicians said he died of
+gastrosis, ah! he died of my salmi.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have a dangerous cook,&quot; says Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I understand this Kotschubey, do you know,&quot; continues Papa
+Harfink. &quot;Since I have had this cook, I really have to go to Marienbad
+twice every year. And besides, he is a splendid fellow, talks politics
+like a deputy. He formerly served only with the highest nobility. I
+took him with the castle from Count Sylvani. A peculiar fellow--this
+Galatin; will not stay away from the swans and the park. A poetic
+creature; do you know, Baroness, he reads Victor Hugo and the
+Medisations of Lamartine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah really, the Medisations of Lamartine,&quot; says Elsa, smiling. Susanna
+Harfink rushes to the assistance of her distressed husband. &quot;Ha! ha!
+ha!&quot; says she, with her shrill laugh. &quot;My husband always calls
+meditations medisations--very malicious, do you not think so, but a
+good joke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Papa Harfink, sadly conscious that it always means a curtain lecture
+when his wife before people laughs so energetically at one of his
+&quot;jokes,&quot; of which he feels innocent, with much grace and melancholia
+licks his knife on both sides.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His wife looks as if she were weary of pulling the lion-skin again and
+again over the long ears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The moment has arrived when he is to speak his toast. He rises
+hesitatingly, the glass trembles in his hand. Fear and champagne have
+made him lose the last recollection of the few words prepared by his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is a great day for me--a day of pride and pain--no, that is not
+it!&quot; thoughtfully raising his hand to his upper lip. &quot;I hope that my
+brother-in-law, no, my son-in-law--Su--su--sanna!&quot; he murmurs,
+helplessly. His cheeks seem to inflate, his eyes grow smaller and more
+shining, he has set down his glass, and twists his napkin like a
+conscientious washerwoman. Susanna rises, she is fairly Roman. &quot;As my
+husband, overcome with emotion, cannot speak,&quot; she begins. &quot;I will say,
+this is for----&quot; for a moment she hesitates, then for the first time in
+her life, she resolutely denies her husband, emancipates herself from
+the &quot;us&quot; with which for long years she has protected him, and says:
+&quot;This is for me a day of pain and of joy. I lose a daughter, gain a
+son; may my children always find the highest happiness in each other,
+and a safe retreat in their parental home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is getting a dreadful mother-in-law, this Lanzberg,&quot; whispers
+Eugene Rhoeden to his neighbor, a gay, more than audacious brunette.
+&quot;Something between a Roman matron and a quarrelsome landlady from a
+bachelor boarding-house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The tasteful Raimund contributes a toast to the fusion of nobleman and
+citizen. The older Rhoeden hopes that his beautiful cousin will lend a
+new charm to the noble name of Lanzberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Much similar follows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene, for whom this rosary of <i>parvenu</i> platitudes becomes too long,
+murmurs: &quot;Shall we not soon have paid sufficient thanks for the honor
+of being allied with Baron Lanzberg?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This mocking remark was only meant for his neighbor, its bitterness was
+only meant for the fawning of the Harfinks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Felix heard it; ashy pale, with glowing eyes, half rising from
+his chair, he stares at the impertinent young man. The latter says
+good-naturedly and thoughtlessly: &quot;Yes, Lanzberg, I will jeer at
+myself. <i>Parole d'honneur</i>, I am a little ashamed to be quite so
+delighted at receiving an honest man into the family!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thereupon the &quot;certain Baron Lanzberg&quot; lowers his eyes to the
+table-cloth, and remains silent.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>VIII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Three years have passed since Linda left her father's house, and was no
+longer condemned to be called Harfink--three years and seven months.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The trees have only recently lost their snowy blossoms; all are wrapped
+in soft young green, the whole earth seems bathed in new hope. It is a
+day in which death and misfortune seem like ghost stories, invented by
+old women--no one believes them. The birds twitter joyously, and
+without all is fragrance, sunshine and flowers. Fragrance and sunshine
+fill the room where Elsa sits, her youngest child in her lap.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa looks youthful and girlish, quite as much so as at the time when
+we first made her acquaintance. The same heavy brown hair, as if
+sprinkled with gold, clusters at her temples, and her eyes still shine
+with the old dreamy light of happiness, but her cheeks are thinner, her
+figure frail and thin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The existence of the little creature in her lap has deprived her of so
+much health. She has not yet recovered since baby's birth, and has not
+had time to think of her health, for baby was a sickly child, and great
+skill was required to bind the little soul, which seemed so anxious to
+fly back to heaven, to this earth. Day and night, in spite of her own
+delicateness, Elsa has nursed and cared for the child, holding her
+tender mother-hand protectingly before the little light which every
+breath of air threatened to extinguish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin, who usually had such influence with her, this time could not
+induce her to spare her weakened strength.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the little girl is a year old, and laughs and smiles at her mother
+gayly, and the physician said recently, &quot;You may be proud of the child,
+Baroness. How you have raised her, God only knows. All doctors can
+learn from a mother. But now think of yourself a little.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the physician shook his head as he looked at the young woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, the air is full of perfume and sunshine, but, in the midst of the
+charming spring life, Elsa looks like a frail white flower.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She has bathed baby, put on her little embroidered shirt, and wrapped
+her in a flannel slumber-robe, and now, with a fine towel, wipes the
+last drops from the tender pink little feet, and the little neck on
+which the water drops down from the small golden head. The nurse is
+meanwhile busy removing the bathing utensils, while Litzi, who is now a
+big girl, wearing long stockings, stands near her little sister and
+holding perfectly still, allows her long hair to be pulled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fie, you wild little thing, you will hurt her!&quot; cries Elsa at last, as
+baby pulls harder and harder, and winds her tiny fist in Litzi's hair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then baby throws her head back, shows her four teeth, laughs with all
+her little body, and finally leans her cheek sleepily against mamma's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go down-stairs, my Litzi, go to Miss Sidney; baby wishes to go to
+sleep,&quot; whispers Elsa to her big daughter, whereupon Litzi goes away on
+tip-toes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dreamily humming a lullaby, Elsa cradles the child in her arms, and
+then lays it down in its pretty white bed. But when she thinks it
+asleep, it opens its blue eyes, and stretching out its arms, murmurs
+something which, with a vivid imagination, one can declare to be
+&quot;Papa.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you hear him come sooner than I, baby?&quot; says Elsa, while Garzin,
+sitting on the edge of the bed, strokes the child's head until she
+closes her eyes. There she lies, her hair full of golden lights, the
+unusually long, black lashes resting on the round cheeks, lengthened by
+their own shadow, the full little mouth half open, like the calyx of a
+red flower, one fat little arm thrown up over its head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is pretty, my little one, is she not?&quot; says Elsa proudly, as she
+sees the quiet smile with which her husband watches the child. &quot;And the
+doctor thinks I need have no more anxiety about her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, the little rogue is healthy enough,&quot; says Erwin, sighing, as he
+softly leaves the nursery with Elsa. &quot;I wish I could say the same of
+her mamma. Poor Elsa, how thin you are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do I not please you any longer?&quot; she replies, half laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are not very sensible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Probably not,&quot; replies she seriously. &quot;With such old married people as
+we are, there can be no more talk of 'pleasing.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you think so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if I should have small-pox, would it make any difference to you?&quot;
+she asks him, looking at him curiously; the noblest woman is not
+ashamed to be loved a little because of her beauty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly,&quot; he replies, &quot;I should love you just as much as before, but
+I would be bitterly sorry for your pretty face.&quot; Jestingly he passes
+his finger over her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They go into the garden; all is gay as if for a feast, the whole earth
+with her blooming mixture of white, blue and violet elder, golden rain
+and red acacias--a gay, shimmering picture under an endless blue sky.
+Everything lives and breathes. The birds twitter, the insects hum,
+every blade of grass seems to have a voice, and join in the great
+triumphal chorus of the newly-risen nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There is a rustling, a murmuring, a whispering, a nodding, a quiver of
+life and pleasure, and in the enchanting music suddenly mingles a soft
+crackling, the crackling of dead leaves, which play at the foot of the
+trees.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Garzin has led his wife to a bench, over which an elder tree bends its
+branches of bushy white blossoms. Elsa gazes before her at the lovely
+nature, the mixture of luxuriant green and gay blossoms, of short black
+shadows amid dazzling light.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How young the earth looks,&quot; says she dreamily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin draws her to him. I do not know whether he loves her even more
+now when she is pale and ill; at any rate he is more conscious of his
+feeling for her, and treats her more tenderly, is more thoughtful of
+her, and she leans on him like a sick child. Her whole being has become
+softer, less independent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I received a letter from Felix to-day,&quot; says Garzin after a pause.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; murmurs Elsa somewhat bitterly. &quot;Does he write for money again?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I am to raise some money for him,&quot; says Erwin looking troubled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has a fine property, but that cannot last,&quot; he remarks
+thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it makes him happy,&quot; Elsa shrugs her shoulders, and her voice
+sounds harsh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! To ruin one's self is at the time a very pleasant occupation, but
+to be ruined--a very unpleasant condition, especially with a wife like
+Linda. I do not believe that Felix will be willing to live on the
+income of his wealthy wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">During this remark Elsa continues silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you believe that Felix is happy?&quot; Erwin continues; &quot;his letters
+give a desperately depressed impression. Did you ever hear a really
+happy man assure one in every letter: 'I am very happy'--'Everything
+goes well with us'--'I am very contented.' Happy people are silent
+about their happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa lowers her head, and remembers that in the first years of her
+marriage she had never written anything to her brother but: &quot;I cannot
+express how I feel!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As I know him,&quot; continues Erwin, &quot;his present frequent contact with
+the world must be a continual torment.&quot;'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa frowns and grows very pale. &quot;I do not understand Linda!&quot; she
+cries. &quot;How can she under--under the circumstances rush into society? I
+no longer try to understand Felix. Hm!--he is weak--could never refuse
+a woman anything; if one had asked him for his hand, he would have let
+it be cut off for her. As far as I am concerned he can give her his
+hand--but--but----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A strange fire glows in Elsa's eyes, her face takes on a rigid
+expression and she grows stiff and clutches both elbows convulsively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor devil!&quot; murmurs Erwin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You pity him for my sake!&quot; cries Elsa, bitterly. &quot;It is not necessary.
+I know that you think his conduct unanswerable--that you must think so.
+He has forfeited all the sympathy which his blameless conduct for years
+had won. I will never forget the tone in which Marie Dey said to me
+last spring, when she returned from Rome: 'I have often met your
+sister-in-law; she goes a great deal into society--one sees her
+everywhere. Your brother does not seem to find as much pleasure in
+society as his wife!' And Marie was always a friend to Felix. I know
+that in Parisian society Felix is called '<i>le revenant</i>,' for which
+name he has naturally to thank some kind Austrian. Evidently the whole
+story, which was forgotten, has been warmed up again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The world is very malicious,&quot; says Erwin, evasively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly! But after one has passed sixteen years, one knows it, and
+guards one's self!&quot; cries Elsa, and adds with a bitter smile: &quot;I
+suppose he is a great philosopher and thinks nothing of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa! Elsa!&quot; admonished Erwin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shook her head. &quot;See!&quot; said she, dully, &quot;to spare Felix a
+humiliation, I would give my life, but now I cannot think of him
+without anger. Heavens, when I think of his return I tremble! I know he
+will be very badly received, and as his wife's whole existence turns
+upon being received----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin bites his lips. &quot;Felix writes me that his wife plans to return in
+the latter part of June or the first of July. He will come to Traunberg
+with his little son somewhat sooner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He will return?&quot; murmurs Elsa, slowly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, he must sooner or later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly!&quot; cries Elsa, with a shudder. &quot;Erwin, what will strangers
+think of his return, if I myself am not able to rejoice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Strangers do not take the situation so tragically,&quot; says Erwin,
+hastily and precipitately, looking away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, to be sure!&quot; sighs Elsa. &quot;It is of no consequence to strangers
+whether he has acted without any tact, yes, unresponsibly. To think
+evil of one who is far from one is a pleasure to malicious people, and
+to the best is simply indifferent. But to be forced to think evil of
+one whom one loves is the most painful thing in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a moment she is silent. &quot;If Felix insists upon coming,&quot; she then
+continues, &quot;I will do my utmost to make life endurable for him and his
+wife. I cannot persuade him to return.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>IX.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">About a week after the conversation between Erwin and Elsa, recorded in
+the last chapter, a bowed man appeared in Steinbach whom at first Elsa
+did not recognize, but into whose arms she fell with a cry when he
+stretched out two trembling hands to her with a sad smile. She had
+forgotten his unsuitable behavior; every bitter word which she had
+pronounced against him fell heavily on her heart; she no longer felt
+anything for him but boundless, compassionate love. The sight of him
+shocked her, his hair had grown gray, his voice hoarse. An anxious
+habit of raising his shoulders, and pressing his elbows against his
+ribs, that shy manner of poor tutors and other despised individuals,
+who seem to strive to make themselves as small as possible, to deprive
+others of as little room as they can--lent his figure a sickly,
+narrow-chested look. He spoke a great deal, with forced fluency, often
+repeating himself. He whom for so long Elsa had at most only heard
+laugh fondly at Litzi's little wise sayings, now laughed continually,
+loudly and harshly at the slightest provocation, whereupon the wrinkles
+grew deeper in his face, the shadows under his eyes darker. Often after
+such an outburst of nervous hilarity, his face suddenly grew flabby, as
+if wearied by too great exertion, and for a moment displayed the stony
+features, the rigid pain of one who has died a hard death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had travelled in advance of his wife, who was staying with friends
+at the Italian lakes, in order to prepare everything for her reception.
+He talked a great deal about his son, whom he could not bring to Elsa
+because the day was cold, and the little fellow was somewhat hoarse.
+All the little habits of the child, his manner of pronouncing words, he
+told his patiently listening sister.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His voice sounded sadder than ever when he spoke of the child, and from
+time to time he sighed, &quot;Poor boy, poor boy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What he must have suffered!&quot; sobbed Elsa, when she was alone again
+with Erwin. &quot;What he must have suffered!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, what he had suffered! Not even those who saw the evident traces of
+suffering in this thin, gray, feverish man, could imagine the greatness
+of his misery, could judge the darkness of his soul which his
+intercourse with the world had caused.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Immediately after the intoxication of the honeymoon, even during the
+wedding trip, which at Linda's wish they had made to Egypt, when he
+began to learn to know his wife, he came to the sad conviction that the
+most trivial acquaintance would have offered him as much distraction as
+this marriage. Pretty, coquettish, graceful, seductive. Linda was all
+these, but she had absolutely no mind. Like all narrow women without
+intelligence she became, after continued acquaintance, tiresome.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Incessantly occupied with the ambition to appear a true aristocrat, in
+whom one could not perceive the <i>parvenue</i>, she had no room for other
+thoughts. Her joy at being now a &quot;Lanzberg&quot; was fairly naïve. He really
+could not be angry with her when she displayed her little vanities to
+him. She wished to flatter him. He looked at her compassionately at
+such times and turned away his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From Cairo she had dragged him to Paris. There, at first, they had led
+an irregular, stranger life, with half-packed trunks in the Grand
+Hotel, went to the theatre and drove in the Bois de Boulogne. Linda for
+a while was satisfied with the acquaintances which she made in the
+hotel reading-room, at the skating-rink, etc. Felix always avoided a
+<i>table a'hôte</i>, which Linda, even if the <i>tête-à-tête</i> meals were at
+times a bore to her, never opposed, as an elegant custom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she was one day accidentally asked by one of her friends whether
+she should attend the last <i>soirée</i> of the Austrian ambassador. A pang
+went through Linda's heart. She enveloped her denial of the simple
+question in a confusion of excuses and explanations--she had only
+recently married, she had not yet thought of paying visits. Scarcely
+was she alone with Felix when she asked him if he knew the ambassador.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, Felix knew him, but had not seen him for years. Naturally Linda
+ascribed his evident objection to visiting His Excellency to the
+shyness which his <i>mésalliance</i> caused in him. A scene followed, tears,
+cutting remarks--headache.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next morning, Felix stood mournfully before one of
+Froment-Meurice's windows and asked himself whether he should not buy
+his wife a diamond cluster of wheat to calm her anger, when some one
+seized his arm and cried, &quot;Why, how are you, Felix?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix turned, discovered an old friend, who, many years younger, had
+served a degree lower in the same regiment with him at that time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the friend was attaché at the embassy, and a favorite with the
+Parisian ladies, a gay, hot-blooded comrade for whom some one had found
+the nickname, &quot;Scirocco.&quot; &quot;How are you, Felix?&quot; he cried a second time,
+offering his former comrade his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix started. No one in all Austria knew his story better than this
+very Scirocco, and Scirocco offered him his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, Rudi,&quot; he murmured softly. &quot;It is very good in you to still
+remember me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Poor Scirocco grew very hot and uncomfortable. Lovable and impulsive,
+he had spoken to Felix without thinking for a moment how hard it is to
+associate with &quot;such a man.&quot; Felix looked so miserable, so depressed
+that Scirocco would have told all the lies which might occur to him to
+talk him out of his sadness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was going to run after you in the Bois the other day,&quot; he went on,
+&quot;but you were walking with your wife, and I did not wish to intrude.
+<i>Sapristi!</i> How long have you been married? Here in foreign parts one
+loses all Austrian news. Your wife is a sensational beauty. Do not take
+it amiss that I do not even know who she is. I absolutely do not
+remember to have seen any one who could remind me of this fairy-like
+apparition a few years ago in short clothes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You certainly never knew her,&quot; replied Felix. &quot;She is the daughter of
+a Viennese manufacturer--Harfink.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; Somewhat robbed of his self-possession Scirocco, hastily leading
+the conversation from an unpleasant subject, stumbles upon yet more
+dangerous topics. &quot;Do you live in jealous honeymoon solitude, do you
+not go out at all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix looks pleadingly at him. &quot;You know that I cannot go out,&quot; he
+murmurs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Scirocco hurries over that--he will not understand. &quot;Nonsense!&quot; he
+cries. &quot;People are wiser here than with us at home. Mind and beauty
+count for as much as nobility.&quot; Poor Scirocco, he was never guilty of a
+more trivial platitude. &quot;You must take your wife to the X's,&quot; he
+continued.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">X was the ambassador at that time. &quot;Never!&quot; said Felix, violently. They
+had reached the Grand Hotel now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When may I call upon your wife?&quot; asked Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix had averted his face from his former friend. &quot;When you wish,
+Rudi,&quot; he murmured, then, suddenly turning towards him, &quot;God reward you
+for your kindness, but do not force yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco saw that tears rolled over the cheeks of the &quot;certain
+Lanzberg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco did not philosophize over the weakness of his former comrade,
+he was far too deeply shocked. The result of his great cordiality to
+Felix was an uneasy conscience, the feeling that with the best
+intentions he had acted with a want of tact, and the need of inflicting
+punishment upon some one for Felix's tears. &quot;Poor Felix! such a
+splendid fellow!&quot; he murmured to himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco, whom we must introduce to our readers by his name Count
+Sempaly, was noted for his good-natured precipitation and thoughtless
+generosity, by which he was often subsequently forced pitilessly to
+harshness which would be spared a less lovable but more prudent man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For instance, at one time there was the American Smythe, who had been
+guilty of a breach of etiquette in a Parisian circle at cards, and whom
+society had avoided, without harshness, with the assurance that he had
+assuredly been only stupid. They bowed to him on the street, they
+invited him to large entertainments, but they hoped that he would not
+accept the invitations; they cut him dead when he accepted them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then there was the Marquis de Coup de Foudre, who was accused of
+cheating on the race-track, and who, from indignation--hm!--retired
+from the track. He was not wholly given up, but every one would only
+see him as far off as his neighbor did, in the beautiful bond of mutual
+responsibility which holds society together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then finally there was Lady Jane Nevermore, who had permitted herself
+several little irregularities with her husband, and who now, divorced,
+with a grown daughter, rendered Paris and Nice uneasy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How he had defended these people, with what deep respect, with what
+sympathy he had spoken of them--showed himself with them on public
+occasions, made good all their lack of tact (people in an uncertain
+social position always develop a particular genius for this). He lent
+them more of his shadow than the devoted Bendel lent his master, Peter
+Schemil, procured the widest social credit for them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He made a legion of enemies, but the clouds which rested on Lady Jane,
+Coup de Foudre and Smythe--their names here stand for many--rested on
+him. People said at last that he must have his reasons for defending
+these people. Weary, angry, he then suddenly withdrew from his
+<i>protégés</i>, whom by this he injured much more than he had benefited,
+and who now could, without opposition, proclaim their social
+bankruptcy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Like many foolhardy heroes, at the last moment he was forced to beat a
+shameful retreat, when a perfectly respectable withdrawal would have
+been possible before.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But with however a wounded heart he might return from his campaign
+against public opinion, he always ventured into battle again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After this philosophical interlude, we would perhaps do better to
+return to Scirocco, who is meanwhile breakfasting in the &quot;Café Riche.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was not hungry--he pondered. Lanzberg's fall did not in the least
+remind one of Smythe's, Coup de Foudre's, or Lady Jane's. In regard to
+these people, to a certain extent, prejudice had been justified, as if
+prejudice is not always to a certain extent justified!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco's pondering ended in the resolution to launch Lanzberg in
+Parisian society as one launches an unpopular <i>débutante</i> of the
+theatre.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next day he called upon Linda, and the day after Count X---- paid
+his visit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How high she held her head among her acquaintances of the reading-room
+and skating-rink: &quot;X----, an old friend of my husband,&quot; etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She took an apartment in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice, an apartment with
+a large cold <i>salon</i> which was distinguished by gilded mouldings and
+white walls, pink doors, conventional chairs, and sky-blue satin
+upholstering. Linda very soon understood that this dazzling elegance,
+which at first had blinded her inexperienced eyes, was intolerably
+&quot;<i>dentiste</i>,&quot; as they say on the Boulevard.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She surrounded herself with old brocades, with modern bronzes, with
+Smyrna rugs--an irregular confusion of picturesque treasures whose
+unsuitableness justified the temporary look of the whole establishment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco helped her in everything. He found out auction sales in the
+Hôtel Drouot for her, stood for half the afternoon on an old Flemish
+chair, to drive a nail with his own hands in the wall for her to hang a
+Diaz or a Corot upon--procured all the invitations for her which she
+wished--in short, was unweariedly obliging, and, <i>nota bene</i>, he only
+paid her enough attention to make her the fashion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was clever enough to take with him the good-natured, brusque tone
+of a woman who may permit herself little liberties because she is sure
+of her heart and of the respect of the man with whom she associates.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She lived in the seventh heaven. To drive every day, leave orders with
+Worth and Fanet, not to dine at home a single day, to attend two balls
+and three routs in one night, never to have a moment for reflection, to
+be always out of breath with pleasure, and besides this, to be
+surrounded by a crowd of young men with distinguished attractions and
+fine names, animated by the consciousness that for her sake an attaché,
+in despair over her virtuous harshness, had had himself transferred to
+Persia--oh! in her romantic boarding-school dreams she had never
+suspected such a lovely life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco had proposed him in the most exclusive club. Felix had not
+resisted this, and came seldom to the club. He could not avoid playing
+little games of <i>écarté</i>. He won. His opponent doubled, increased
+tenfold the stakes--Felix continued to win. The sweat stood on his
+brow; he was deathly pale. &quot;Do not play with me--I always win--it is a
+curse!&quot; he cried suddenly, throwing down the cards and completely
+losing his self-control.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco grew embarrassed and nervously bit his nails. &quot;If he had
+anything to reproach himself with!&quot; he thought to himself. &quot;But that is
+absolutely not the case, absolutely not!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The others who did not know Baron Lanzberg's history only laughingly
+called him &quot;<i>un drôle de corps!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The story went that Felix Lanzberg had once lost his mind from an
+unfortunate love-affair, and had spent two years in an insane asylum.
+Scirocco had probably invented this rumor and set it in motion to take
+away room for other rumors.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Except Scirocco and Count X, none of the Austrians in Paris at that
+time knew the true state of affairs. A single one had a suspicion,
+wrote to Vienna to inform himself, and received for answer--this and
+that. But this one was a <i>parvenu</i>, and when he wished to spread his
+news the others listened to him with mocking smiles, shrugged their
+shoulders arrogantly, and condemned the communication so harshly that
+he never again referred to it. He noticed that it was considered the
+thing to believe in Lanzberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix grew daily more unsociable, and liked to go to places only where
+he was sure of meeting no one whom he knew, no people of society. He
+took long trips on the steamboats, passed the afternoon in the quiet
+peace of the gardens, sometimes stood for a quarter of an hour gloomily
+before a half-decomposed corpse in the morgue, or wandered through the
+quiet rooms of the Louvre, which are so persistently avoided by certain
+Parisians.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Formerly knowing as little of art as any other Austrian Uhlan officer,
+he now daily found greater pleasure in the pictures.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His natural taste for glaring coloring, <i>décolleté</i> cigarette beauties,
+humorous or sentimental <i>genre</i> pictures disappeared. The soft
+harmonies of the old masterpieces had a strangely soothing effect upon
+his sick nerves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With slow, dragging steps, his eyes dreamily wandering from one picture
+to another, he sauntered through the long rooms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The gallery officials soon knew him, and with French talkativeness
+often spoke to him of the weather or politics.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He never became a critic, but he had his favorites. For instance, he
+felt a quite inexplicable preference for Greuze, the Guido Reni of the
+eighteenth century, of whom one might think that he had mixed his
+colors of tears, moonbeams, and the dust of withered flowers, and
+instead of Beatrice Cenci had painted a &quot;Cruche Cassé.&quot; Every day he
+stood for a while before the &quot;Cruche Cassé&quot; and murmured &quot;Poor child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In one of the galleries there was the gloomy portrait of a woman from
+the hand of the Jansenist, Philippe von Champaigne, pale with dark,
+mournful eyes; in the carriage of the emaciated frame the weary
+rigidity of vanquished pain. Everything in the appearance was so dead
+and ethereal that one almost fancied one could see the flesh dying
+around the soul. Felix stood before this picture every day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He loved the Samaritan and the Christ on the road to
+Emmaus--masterpieces in which the sublime mystery of the Rembrandt
+colors glorifies the harsh reality. He could not gaze often enough at
+the mysterious eyes of the Christ, the eyes in which compassion is as
+large as the world, the eyes which pardon all, and yet ever sad,
+despairing, seek the means of salvation for sinful creation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the picture which beyond all attracted and repelled him, which
+he loved and which yet terrified him, was Watteau's Pierot, pale,
+ghost-like, with glassy eyes in a rigid face; it looks down from the
+wall of the Salle Lacaze. To-day he has gone to a mask-ball to distract
+himself, and his weary eyes ask in disappointment, &quot;Is that all?&quot;
+To-morrow he lies perhaps in the morgue, and his glassy eyes gaze with
+the same look at the solved riddle of eternity, as yesterday, at the
+hollow show--the same gaze which asks, &quot;Is that all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix almost daily passed a couple of hours in the Louvre. &quot;<i>Bonjour!</i>&quot;
+a diligent little artist cried to him here and there, some little
+person whom perhaps he had given some small assistance, and who greeted
+him as an habitué. Except for this all was silence. No one speaks in
+the Louvre; one only whispers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A hollow mutter and murmur woven of a thousand soft echoes pervade the
+old rooms in their vast monotony like the faint echo of the great
+tumult of the world, or like the murmur of the eternal stream of time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A year later, in a pretty country-house in Ville d'Avray, where they
+had passed the summer, a little son was laid in Felix's arms. The tiny
+creature, wrapped in white lawn, grew indistinct before his eyes; he
+scarcely saw it, only felt something warm, living, between his hands,
+something the touch of which caused him a wholly new, tender sensation,
+and lightly and carefully he kissed his son's little rosy face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then remembrance smote his heart, a convulsive sob overcame him, and in
+a broken voice he murmured, &quot;Poor child! poor child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From Ville d'Avray Linda dragged Felix to Biarritz, then to Rome, where
+they passed three winters. These were still worse than the winter in
+Paris. Rome is the city of social consideration, a kind of free city
+for dubious characters. Felix's martyr nimbus had vanished through his
+intercourse with society in Paris. Scirocco who had been removed to
+Rome, was vexed with Linda for following him. Her manner of chaining
+herself to his protection irritated him, but he still assisted her
+social advancement where he could.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The other Austrians were not exactly unfriendly to Felix, but cold and
+distant. On their faces could be read, &quot;We are surprised that you show
+yourself,&quot; or even, &quot;We will not turn our backs upon you--we are in
+Rome.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With the certain feeling of kinship which characterizes the Austrian
+nobility, they, to be sure, never spoke of his affairs with a stranger,
+but so much the more among each other.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last Rome was tired of, and even London, where Linda spent a
+season and enjoyed her greatest triumph. But one place remained to
+try--Traunberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a cool, unpleasant evening when Felix returned to Traunberg from
+his short visit in Steinbach. Gray and white strangely scattered clouds
+rose along the horizon, the lindens shivered, and threw long pale
+shadows over the smoothly-shaven lawn and the yellow gravel. The sun
+hung on the horizon almost without light, behind a pale mist like a
+half-faded spot of blood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Life had never been as hard to bear for a &quot;certain Baron Lanzberg&quot; as
+on this evening. Slowly he wandered through the large, gloomy rooms of
+the castle, in which the cold air was as close and mouldy as in a
+cloister, and where every step seemed to charm a remembrance from the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He saw Elsa, tall, somewhat pale, with the charming awkwardness of her
+fourteen years, hurry to meet him, shy before her handsome, brilliant
+brother who, a week before, had won a race--her brother of whom she was
+so proud. He saw his father, as he smiled joyfully at him, and pulling
+his ear, cried: &quot;Do you amuse yourself, my boy? Do you amuse yourself?
+Have you debts? Out with it--not many? Always tell me what you need; I
+no longer know what circumstances require. You are my golden boy, you
+are your old father's joy!&quot; He remembered the expression with which the
+Freiherr had surveyed him, a glance in which a kind of exaggerated
+paternal pride was glorified by the deepest love, and the gesture with
+which he had merrily cried to the old family portraits, &quot;Are you
+satisfied with my boy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His memory did not spare poor Felix a word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had passed through one after another of the large rooms. In some of
+them stood great piles of furniture which Linda had sent here.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly he found himself before a picture which hung in a dark corner,
+concealed by a curtain, in his father's former room. Hastily he drew
+back the curtain, then he clutched his temples and turned away from the
+painting with the short, dull groan of a dying animal. What had he
+seen? The portrait of an unusually handsome, merry, good-tempered young
+officer, who smiled at him through the twilight. Felix hurried away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the lofty, arched corridor, the echo doubled the sound of his
+footsteps. It seemed to him as if that gay comrade had stepped down
+from the frame, and now, relating old stories, wandered at his side.
+The sweat of terror was on his brow. He met a servant, and hastily
+commanded him to remove the picture from the green corner room. His
+voice was always sharp when he spoke to servants, and yet he was the
+best, most generous master in the world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He entered his child's room. The French <i>bonne</i> laid her finger on her
+lips to signify to him that the child slept. He bent over the little
+creature, who, with one little arm under his cheek, with the other
+clasping a gay gilded doll to him, lay in the embroidered pillows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Without, the lindens, sighing compassionately, shook their great black
+heads, the tower clock, indifferent as time which it serves, played its
+old piece in a flat tone, hesitating and pausing--a minuet to which the
+grandparents had courtesied and bowed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix listened, listened, like an old man who suddenly hears once more
+the cradle song with which he used to be lulled to sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It overcame him. He bent down deeper over his little son, and murmured
+softly, &quot;Poor child, poor child!&quot; And the words woke the child, he
+opened his large eyes and lisped, unabashed, &quot;Why, poor child? Is Gery
+sick?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>X.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa, dear Elsa, this is lovely in you! What an surprise! I only know
+you from my husband's accounts, and from my wedding-day, but I shall
+love you frightfully, that I feel already.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Crying out these words, Linda had jumped out of the carriage with which
+Felix had met her at the railway station, and greeted Elsa, who, at her
+brother's wish, had come to Traunberg to welcome the young wife to her
+new home. Then leaving Elsa, Linda let her eyes wander over the façade
+of the castle. &quot;<i>Charmant! magnifique!</i>&quot; she cried. &quot;A portal like a
+church, gray walls, cracked window-sills, balconies and volutings,
+small-paned old cloister windows! I am charmed, Felix--charmed! <i>C'est
+tout a fait seigneurial!</i> If you knew, Elsa, how tired I am of modern
+villas, stucco and plate glass. Ah, you poor, little creature! I had
+half forgotten you;&quot; with this Linda bends down to her son, who had
+first stamped his little feet with joy and excitement at his mother's
+arrival, but then, ever more and more abashed by the flow of words
+which had carelessly been uttered over his head, with his finger in his
+mouth, now seemed to take a mournful pleasure in crying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have all children a habit of sticking their fingers in their mouths,
+or is it an invention of my young hopeful?&quot; asks Linda, after she has
+hastily kissed and caressed the child. &quot;He will be pretty, the little
+brat. It is a pity that his hair will not grow. When he had typhoid
+fever or measles--what was it, Felix?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Scarlet fever,&quot; he replied, tenderly raising the tiny man in his arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes, scarlet fever; we had to cut his hair, and since then it has
+never grown long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think you can be satisfied with him as he is,&quot; says Elsa, looking
+approvingly at the handsome child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, he is a nice little thing,&quot; admits Linda; &quot;he has splendid eyes,
+the true Lanzberg eyes. Oh, I am so glad that he resembles Felix.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, his beauty would not have suffered if he had resembled you,&quot;
+replies Elsa, with an admiring glance at her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda's physique has developed splendidly. The discontented expression
+which formerly disfigured her face has vanished, has given place to a
+bewitching smile and brilliant glance. Negligence and grace are united
+in her carriage. She displays the gayety and cordiality of a person who
+is satisfied with herself. Laying her arm caressingly around Elsa's
+waist, she whispers: &quot;So you really do not find me too homely for a
+Lanzberg; one would not guess from my looks where I come from, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where you come from?--from the world of society--that certainly,&quot; says
+Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bah! From an iron foundry!&quot; cries Linda, laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa glances once more at the picturesque distinction of the slender
+figure near her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; says she, decidedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Indeed Linda does not look like the daughter of a self-made
+manufacturer; rather like a Parisian actress with a talent for
+aristocratic rôles.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And now you must show me everything in my new domain, Elsa,
+everything,&quot; cries the young woman, and Elsa says, &quot;Are you not tired,
+will you not first have a cup of tea?&quot; Then Linda says animatedly, &quot;No,
+no, I must first see everything, everything!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix has disappeared with his little darling. Elsa leads her
+sister-in-law through the rooms of the ground floor and first story,
+shows her the elegantly furnished rooms which Elsa has herself helped
+arrange for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you poor Elsa, how you have tormented yourself for me!&quot; cries
+Linda, and finds everything splendid and charming, with the affability
+of a newly married queen who, entering her kingdom, wishes to make
+herself popular.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There! I will reserve the attic rooms. I begin to feel the dust of
+travel. It is now much too late to take tea; as soon as I have changed
+my clothes, I will join you in the drawing-room. I do not yet know the
+way to my room--oh, yes--that is the room for my maid---<i>parfait,
+parfait--au revoir</i>, my dear heart!&quot; And before she leaves her, Linda
+presses another kiss upon Elsa's cheek.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On her way to the drawing-room, Elsa heard a little voice prattling and
+laughing behind one of the tall doors which open on the corridor. &quot;May
+I come in?&quot; she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she entered
+the room where Felix, his child on his knee, sat in an arm-chair and
+held a sugar-plum high in the air, while the child climbed up on him,
+half laughing, half vexed at his vain attempt to overcome his father's
+teasing resistance. Both were so absorbed in their occupation that they
+did not notice Elsa's entrance. She gazed at the pretty group with
+emotion--the gray-haired man, the blond child, until finally Felix
+surrendered the sugar-plum, and the child ate it with a very important
+air, smacking his lips, and with contortions of the face by which he
+seemed to show the ambitious desire of resembling as much as possible
+his little friend the monkey in the London Zoo.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Elsa laid her hand lovingly on her brother's shoulder. &quot;Oh, how
+you play with the child,&quot; said she.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He raised his face to her, the pale face with the sunken eyes and
+hollow cheeks, in which everything was old but pain, which appeared
+fresh and young every morning, and said hastily: &quot;I must love him
+doubly now. Who knows whether later he will have anything to do with
+me?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XI.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not resolve to dress; to appear at dinner in a <i>peignoir</i> is a
+fault which is pardoned in convalescents, and after twenty-four hours
+of railway travel, I feel at least like a convalescent. Ah, how pretty
+it is here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So cried Linda, entering the drawing-room where Felix and Elsa awaited
+her, a half hour later.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What she called a <i>peignoir</i> was a confusion of yellowish lace and
+India muslin with elbow sleeves and the unavoidable Watteau plait in
+the back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her soft hair hung loose over her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have a headache, and cannot bear a comb, and as we are <i>entre
+nous</i>----&quot; she excused herself smilingly at Elsa's astonished glance,
+as she pushed back the heavy waves from temples and neck. Her gestures
+were full of seductive grace, and her whole form was pervaded with a
+moist, sweet perfume which reminded one of a summer morning after a
+storm, and which exhales from a woman who has just taken a perfumed
+bath. In her whole appearance lay something which excited Elsa's nerves
+without her being able to explain it--which wounded her feelings of
+delicacy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda suspected nothing of the impression which she made. &quot;It is pretty
+here,&quot; she repeated, with a lazy glance of satisfaction around the
+room--&quot;I thank you so much, Elsa! One sees everywhere that a woman's
+tact has superintended the furnishing--a workman never produces such an
+impression. Everything looks so cosey, so irregular. How happy I am to
+be home at last!&quot; and Linda took her sister-in-law's slender, sallow
+hand in her white, rosy-tipped one, and kissed it with childish
+exaggeration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is already here besides the Deys?&quot; she asked then. &quot;Before next
+week I must really think of paying calls.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa was spared an answer by the quick rolling of a carriage. Springing
+up she cried--whether her emotion betrayed merely a severe feeling of
+propriety, and did not also display an unconscious premonition of
+jealousy I cannot say--&quot;Linda, it is Erwin who has come for me. Put up
+your hair; it would be unpleasant for you to meet a strange man so!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a peculiar expression in glance and smile, Linda fulfilled her
+sister-in-law's wish. Elsa quickly helped her to twist up her hair, and
+thereby breathed the peculiar perfume which Baroness Lanzberg used.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She will think of this perfume in many terrible hours which fate has in
+store for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With both hands at her neck, her beautiful figure clearly outlined, her
+white arms exposed to the elbow by the falling back sleeves, Linda is
+just fastening a pin in her improvised <i>coiffure</i>, when Erwin enters
+the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not think that you would take the trouble to come over here,&quot;
+stammers Linda, childishly, shyly offering him her hand, &quot;or else you
+should have found me in more correct toilet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa starts. Instead of answering, Erwin has kissed the warm white hand
+of his sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Garzins remained to dinner in Traunberg. Linda would not hear of
+their return to Steinbach, she was so happy at last to have an
+opportunity of learning to know her relations better. She asked advice
+and indulgence so childishly, was so gay, so amusing, so charming, that
+Elsa's antipathy to her increased and Erwin's rapidly lessened. Soon he
+fell into the tone of indifferent gallantry with her which in society
+almost every man takes with every woman who does not inspire a direct
+repugnance in him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Elsa, inexperienced as she was, did not know this tone, did not
+know that one can listen with an expression of the most intense
+interest to a woman without having the slightest idea half an hour
+later of what she had said; that one pays her the little flatteries for
+which she hungers as one picks up her handkerchief--from polite habit;
+that for the time which one devotes to her, one is obliged, if not
+absolutely to forget the charms of all other women, still in no case to
+remind her of them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda behaved very cleverly with her brother-in-law, displayed a naïve
+wish to please him--no forward coquetry. She knew that naturalness,
+lack of reserve in a really pretty woman is always the most dangerous
+charm--she was refinedly natural. She told the drollest Parisian
+stories, made the drollest faces without the slightest regard for her
+symmetrical features; she made use of a momentary absence of the
+servants to throw a bread-ball in Felix's face with all the skill of a
+full-blooded street-boy, and as Felix frowned and Erwin could not
+conceal a slight astonishment, she excused herself so penitently, told
+with so much emphasis of how Marie Antoinette in her time had bombarded
+Louis XVI. with bread balls in Trianon, that Erwin was the first to
+console her, while there was something in his conventional courtesy of
+the encouraging consideration which a mature man shows to a spoiled
+child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After dinner Linda offered to sing something. &quot;She had to be sure no
+voice, not even so much as a raven or Mlle. X----&quot; she remarked
+smilingly, &quot;but she relied upon her dramatic accent and----&quot; as she
+remorsefully admitted--&quot;she had taken such expensive lessons. Would not
+Elsa accompany her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa refused gently, almost with embarrassment. She could scarcely read
+the notes, and Erwin? He could read notes and could play enough to
+strum his favorite operatic airs by ear in weak moments. He would try
+to accompany Linda if she would promise to be very patient.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The worse you play, so much the more excuse will there be for my
+faulty singing,&quot; cried Linda gayly, and opened that charming, foolish
+cuckoo song from &quot;Marbolaine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A pretty confusion followed, a laughing, correcting, her little hands
+playing between his. &quot;Can we begin?&quot; she cried finally, and still half
+leaning over him with one finger pointing to the notes, she began to
+sing &quot;Cuckoo!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her voice, in truth, did not remind one in the least of the gloomy
+organ of a raven, or the passionate hoarseness of the X----, rather of
+a child's laugh, it was so clear and boldly gay, even if somewhat thin
+and shrill.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix, who had meanwhile been telling Elsa of Gery's scarlet fever with
+most interesting explicitness, grew silent, not, perhaps, because the
+cuckoo song was even half as interesting to him as Gery's parched lips
+and little hands--no! But because he noticed that the usually so
+patient and sympathetic Elsa no longer listened to him. Her eyes were
+fixed on Linda; that thin, flippant voice pained <i>her</i>, could it please
+Erwin?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the last note ceased. &quot;I am so sorry that I have hindered you by
+my miserable playing,&quot; he excused himself. &quot;You sing so very
+charmingly! Another one, I beg you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For the first time in her life Elsa was vexed that she was not musical.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Cuckoo,&quot; hummed Erwin absently to himself as he drove back with his
+wife to Steinbach through the capricious, flickering evening shadows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A filmy confusion of pink and white, a tumbled knot of pale brown hair,
+two large, cold eyes, mysterious greenish riddles in a flattering, open
+child-face, a seductive, rococo figure which leaned over the stone
+balustrade of the terrace, and threw gay kisses after the departing
+carriage, this is the last impression which Erwin takes away with him
+from Traunberg, in the landau in which he now sits beside his pale
+wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She has changed greatly for the better. It is a pity that she has such
+bad manners,&quot; he breaks the silence after a while.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you really think that she has such bad manners?&quot; replies Elsa,
+without looking at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There can scarcely be any doubt as to that,&quot; says he. &quot;Some people may
+certainly think that it is becoming to her. Nevertheless I should wish
+that she gave them up. You must undertake her neglected education,
+child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I will leave that to you,&quot; she replies, coldly, almost irritably.
+&quot;Linda is not a person who will learn anything from women.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not be harsh,&quot; he whispers, reproachfully, perhaps with a trace of
+impatience.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The gloomy Traunberg lindens are far behind them, only show as a dark
+spot on the horizon. The carriage rolls on between gigantic poplars;
+the sun has set and the shadows have vanished with it. Over the earth
+is that dull gray light which might be called dead light. The new moon
+floats in the heavens, small and white, like a tiny cloud; pale yellow
+and reddish tints are on the horizon, above the violet distant
+mountains. At the left, only separated by a blooming clover-field, is
+the forest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa, do you feel strong enough to walk home through the woods?&quot;
+whispers Erwin to his wife, coaxingly, and as she nods assent he stops
+the carriage, and they take a path through the clover to the shady
+woods.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, was not that a good idea of mine, is it not pretty here?&quot; he
+asks, gayly and proudly, as if he had made the wood, surveying all its
+beauties.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lovely,&quot; whispers she, but her voice sounds sad.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At her feet the ground is blue with forget-me-nots; under the wild
+rose-bushes already lie many white petals. A sob and a sigh pass
+through the gloomy trees as if spring mourned that the first roses were
+dead. All is grave and solemn, the air spiced with the odor of withered
+generations of leaves, with the perfume of fading or still blooming
+flowers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin teasingly waits for Elsa to speak to him--he waits in vain. With
+head thrown back and earnest eyes she wanders near him, and does not
+rest her little hands tenderly on his arm as usual.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What is the matter with her? That she can be jealous does not occur to
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They have almost crossed the forest; the meadow which separates it from
+Steinbach park shines between the sparse trees, then Erwin discovers a
+striking trace of game; he bends down to observe it more closely. &quot;A
+roebuck,&quot; he murmurs. &quot;Strange--in this region.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there no other way across?&quot; asks Elsa, who has meanwhile crawled
+close to the edge of the meadow, and casting a somewhat anxious glance
+over the knee-high, dewy grass.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, wait a moment,&quot; he replies, still absorbed in contemplating the
+strange trace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will cost me a pair of shoes,&quot; she murmurs somewhat vexedly, raises
+her gown, and resolutely prepares for a very cold foot-bath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa, what are you doing?&quot; cries he, perceiving her intention, and,
+leaving his hunter's problem, he hurries quickly up to her. &quot;With your
+genius for taking cold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before she has time to answer he has taken her in his arms and carries
+her through the dew. He has wholly forgotten Linda Lanzberg, and also
+that he had been vexed with his poor nervous wife's unjust, childish
+antipathy for Linda. He looks down tenderly upon the dear head, which
+rests with half-closed eyes on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How light you are,&quot; he remarks softly and anxiously; &quot;you do not weigh
+much more than Litzi now, my mouse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa does not answer, but her slender arms twine round his neck, and as
+his lips seek her pale face, he feels that she is crying.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter, my darling?&quot; he asks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know myself,&quot; she murmurs with a slight shiver. &quot;I am
+afraid.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XIII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We really must invite her,&quot; says, in a mournful tone, Countess Mimi
+Dey, a large stately woman, with a too high forehead, a feature which
+has the proud advantage of being a family inheritance in the Sempaly
+family, an aristocratic, small, turn-up nose, a benevolent smile, and a
+near-sighted glance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess is the best woman in the world, of proverbial good nature
+and unfeigned condescension in association with music-teachers,
+governesses, companions, maids, tutors and officials, and such poor
+devils who are paid and supported by the aristocracy, and politely
+courtesy to them; but she is unapproachably stiff to the upper middle
+classes, those persons who demand a place in society.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She belongs to that exclusive coterie which considers itself the sole
+patented extract of humanity, and looks upon all the rest of the world
+as only a common herd, a mob which, under certain circumstances,
+permits itself to pay its servants better, and to give more to
+charitable aims than princely houses, a mob which speaks French, wears
+Swedish gloves, and lives in palaces. She has a vague idea that it
+speaks incorrect French, that under the gloves coarse hands are
+concealed, that the palaces are always furnished with the taste of
+first-class waiting-rooms, but knows nothing definite about it, does
+not know &quot;these people&quot; at all, does not see them, although they are
+everywhere--they do not exist for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They tell an amusing anecdote of her: that once at the opera on a Patti
+evening, her cousin Pistasch Kamenz entered her box, and asked her, &quot;Is
+any one in the theatre to-night?&quot; She, after she had glanced around the
+crowded building, answered mournfully, &quot;Not a soul!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What particularly amuses the Countess is that, as she hears, this great
+class of <i>bourgeoise</i>, &quot;which one does not know,&quot; is, on its side,
+divided by various differences in education and condition into classes
+which do not &quot;know&quot; each other.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I really must invite her,&quot; she repeats, mournfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She leans back in a deep arm-chair in a large drawing-room with brown
+wainscoting and numerous family portraits, and smokes a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me that I really cannot so deeply pity you as you seem to
+expect,&quot; replies Scirocco Sempaly, who, now on leave, occupies a second
+armchair opposite his sister.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! I do not care about the positive fact; last week I dined with my
+bailiff's wife, but--it is a matter of principle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Cent a'as</i>,&quot; says, with indifferent gravity, an old acquaintance of
+ours, Eugene von Rhoeden, who sits by an open window before a mediæval
+inlaid table and plays bézique with the above-mentioned cousin of the
+hostess, Count Pistasch Kamenz.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Cent d'as</i>,&quot; he says, apparently wholly absorbed in his cards, and
+moves an ivory counter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A mild gentle rain is falling, the perfume of half-drowned roses and
+fresh foliage floats into the room. In one corner sits the only
+daughter of the widowed hostess, Countess Elli, a dark little girl in a
+white muslin frock, and near her, in a black silk gown, the governess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The obligatory half hour which Elli must spend in the drawing-room so
+as to become accustomed to society, is over. Elli is rejoiced,
+sixteen-year-old girl that she is. She takes no particular pleasure in
+the society of grown people, who can no longer pet her as a child, and
+who must not yet treat her as a young lady.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A rustle of silk and muslin, a shy &quot;<i>Bon soir!</i>&quot; and Mademoiselle
+retreats with her charge.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco rises to open the door for the governess, makes her a deep bow
+as she disappears. Rhoeden also rises, only Pistasch indolently remains
+seated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pistasch, you might trouble yourself to say good evening to
+Mademoiselle,&quot; says the Countess half jokingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon,&quot; replies Pistasch, &quot;pure absent-mindedness, Mimi, and then she
+is so homely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That simplifies matters ten-fold,&quot; replies Scirocco, hastily. &quot;One can
+never be too polite to homely governesses--it is only the pretty ones
+that are troublesome.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not understand that,&quot; says Pistasch, and marks double bézique.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One never knows how one can be attentive enough to them so as not to
+vex them, and yet reserved enough not to impress them,&quot; says Scirocco,
+dryly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! You have very virtuous principles, Rudi; for some time you have
+moved wholly in the icy regions of lofty feelings of duty, where the
+tender flowers of the affections never bloom,&quot; laughs Pistasch. &quot;I
+admire you, upon my word, but--hm--I do not trace the slightest desire
+to follow you into this rare atmosphere,&quot; and he rubbed his hands with
+satisfaction. He considered his cousin's conscientiousness either
+feigned or morbid. How could one be conscientious with women?
+Conscientious in regard to debts of honor, that is something quite
+different, that is self-understood; but regarding governesses--bah!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Count Pistasch Kamenz is a charming man.&quot; So at least say all the
+ladies and also all the men who have not yet come in conflict with him.
+He has the handsomest blond cinque-cento face, speaks the Viennese
+jargon with the most aristocratic accent, and possesses the most
+enviable talents. He rides like Renz, dances like Frappart, and more
+than that, in private theatricals he is like Blasel, Matras and Knaak
+in one person. In all Austria, no man has a greater talent for
+representing Polish Jews, poverty-stricken Czechs, drunken valets,
+provincials of all kinds. But his greatest triumph is the &quot;Vienna
+shoemaker's boy.&quot; What accuracy of costume and grimaces! The ladies say
+he has a pug nose when he plays the shoemaker's boy, and a way of
+sticking out his tongue--ah!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He has played for benevolent objects a hundred times, and in Vienna is
+a universally known and boundlessly popular individual, because he is
+intimate with actresses, occasionally from a freak rides in an omnibus,
+or another time is seen in the standing place of the opera house (for a
+half act), because one sometimes meets him in sausage houses, because
+in rainy weather he walks with an umbrella and upturned trousers,
+because once even--the gods and a pretty girl alone know why--he
+travelled from Salzburg to Vienna second class.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The public see in him a pleasant, affable man without pride, and feel
+drawn to him like a brother. Poor public! I would not advise you to
+stretch out your hardened hand to him, for between ourselves Count
+Pistasch is one of the most arrogant of Austrian cavaliers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The actors with whom he one evening drinks friendship, and the next
+greets with &quot;Hm!--ah--You, Mr.---- what do you call him,&quot; can tell
+this. One of them once challenged him. This was a great joke to the
+Count; he laughed until he cried, could not control himself, and
+finally settled it thus: &quot;You are a fine fellow, am very sorry, etc.,
+deserve an order for personal bravery--ah--if I can be of any service
+to you,&quot; etc.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He has never been outside of Austria, possesses the vaguest ideas of
+history. The French Revolution is a kind of accidental calamity for
+him, something between the earthquakes of Lisbon and the pest in
+Florence. He is a strict Catholic from aristocratic tradition, has very
+good manners when he wishes, speaks French well, and we can assure our
+readers, that just as he is, without a suspicion of the &quot;principles of
+'89,&quot; he would be received with open arms in the most republican
+<i>salons</i> of Paris, and would be admired by the ladies for his &quot;<i>pureté
+de race</i>&quot; and &quot;<i>grand air</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now we need only add that he naturally was not christened
+Pistasch--that this is a humorous nickname which was given him as a
+boy, by reason of his idealistic &quot;greenness,&quot; but which now, when this
+greenness has long withered, is preserved for the sake of contrast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, have you decided upon the day when you will invite the
+Lanzberg?&quot; asks Scirocco of his sister, who, after long pondering, gold
+pencil in hand over a little velvet-bound book in which she enters her
+social obligations, now closes it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is very hard,&quot; complains the Countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When did this unfortunate Madame Lanzberg call upon you? Oh, yes.
+Wednesday. Have you returned her call yet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; I must show her from the first that I am in no hurry to associate
+with her,&quot; says the Countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm!&quot; says Scirocco, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed upon the
+ceiling. &quot;Do you not think, Mimi, that as quite a near relation of
+Lanzberg it would be the thing for you to smooth the way a little for
+his wife? It would be an act of Christian charity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The matter is very complicated, Rudi,&quot; replied Mimi Dey. &quot;I was always
+very sorry for Felix--you know I decidedly took his part. I have
+nothing against his wife; her manner is indeed deplorable, but on the
+whole, if some little poverty-stricken Sempaly or Dey had married her,
+I should have been the last to withdraw my protection from her. In
+Felix's unfortunate circumstances, he has proved by his marriage that
+he no longer belongs to his caste; he has abdicated, <i>voilà</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rhoeden and Pistasch have finished their game of bézique, and now
+devote themselves to the building of interesting card-houses. They
+spice this intelligent occupation by considerable wagers, which he
+shall win whose card-house remains standing the longest. Up to now
+Rhoeden has had the advantage. But the Countess's words seem to have
+excited him a very little--his card-houses no longer stand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco bites his lips, every finger quivers--how can he counsel his
+sister to silence or at least consideration? In vain he turns his back
+to Rhoeden, so as to make an impression upon her by energetic scowling.
+Soon he notices, like many subtle diplomats, that he has naïvely
+exposed himself to the enemy. His energetic play of expression beams at
+him from a mirror in which the attentively watching Rhoeden could
+certainly solve the interesting riddle--but it wholly escapes his
+short-sighted sister.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As she, nevertheless, must be invited, it would perhaps be better to
+fix the day,&quot; cries Scirocco, somewhat impatiently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It cannot be this week,&quot; answers the Countess, counting over the days.
+&quot;Thursday, Friday and Saturday are the days of the fair for the flooded
+people in Marienbad; Sunday, the ladies of the committee dine at the
+M----'s, Monday there are private theatricals at the M----'s, Thursday,
+the L----'s dine with me----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, invite them for Thursday,&quot; cries Scirocco. &quot;She is really very
+nice, sings chansonettes like Judic; she will amuse you greatly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you think so?&quot; cries the Countess. &quot;Before Felix was married,
+L---- would hardly bow to him, how will it be now? No, Wednesday.
+Wednesday will be the best, but still I cannot exactly invite her <i>en
+famille</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hardly,&quot; says Scirocco, dryly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And whom can I ask to meet her? One has an antipathy to Felix, others
+to her----&quot; the Countess laughs lightly and kindles a fresh cigarette.
+&quot;One must be so careful--it would be very disagreeable for me if toward
+evening some one should accidentally come over from Marienbad, and
+should meet her here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have a warning fastened over the door as when one has small-pox in the
+house,&quot; laughs Pistasch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Invite the Garzins,&quot; proposes Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, that is something, but a strange element is still desirable,&quot;
+remarks the Countess. &quot;What do you say to the Klette?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco frowns. &quot;I do not understand how respectable people can
+tolerate this poisonous old gossiping viper under their roofs,&quot; he
+answers, angrily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Neither do I,&quot; replies Mimi Dey, obligingly, &quot;but still every one
+does.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I make you another proposition, Mimi,&quot; cries Pistasch: &quot;Invite old
+Harfink by telegram; I think he will come by special train.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess smiled. &quot;I should certainly do it,&quot; remarks she, &quot;but I
+believe the Lanzberg would look upon it as a mortal insult. Besides,
+when did you make his acquaintance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I met him once on the train, and thereupon he invited me to dinner,&quot;
+explains Pistasch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you accepted?&quot; asks the Countess, raising her eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why of course--I thought I should amuse myself as well as at the Carl
+Theatre. Yes--that was what I fancied. What a disappointment! The
+dinner was not bad, perfectly correct, alas! The wife spoke of nothing
+but the evils of the social question. I did not know where to look, and
+the husband spoke of nothing but the evils of his stomach. Except for
+that, they were both very charming, on my word. Paid me compliments to
+my face with a <i>sans gêne</i>. Bah! I was never very kindly disposed to
+Felix, but I pity him on account of this match. For my part I should
+rather marry into a Hottentot family than such people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I do not believe that during this speech Eugene Rhoeden felt exactly
+upon roses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There are <i>parvenus</i> who listen in society to such speeches with
+self-satisfied indifference; yes, even laugh at them, and applying the
+English proverb, &quot;Present company always excepted,&quot; to their own case,
+fancy themselves unreferred to. But Rhoeden does not belong to these
+enviable ones.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He smiles slightly to himself, and after the conversation had continued
+for some time in a similar manner he begins:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There was once a French poet named Voltaire, and once when he went to
+London the street boys laughed at him, and sang mocking songs about
+Frenchmen. Then the poet turned round and said: 'You good people, is it
+not hard enough not to have been born among you? Really, you should
+pity us, not despise us!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After this little anecdote a universal silence followed, then Scirocco
+cried, &quot;Bravo, Rhoeden!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The good-natured Countess Dey blushed and said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We had entirely forgotten that you are related to these people,&quot; which
+sounds like a <i>betise</i>, but is balm for Eugene's vanity. Pistasch,
+however, puts on an irritated expression, and cries with his colossal
+impertinence, &quot;I pity you uncommonly!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Half an hour later the Countess is conferring in her dressing-room with
+her maid concerning her costume for to-morrow, and Pistasch has seated
+himself in a bad temper at the piano, where with his handsome,
+unpractised hands he thumps out the march from Norma, the only
+achievement of a ten years' study of music.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco and Rhoeden stand below on the rain-wet terrace. &quot;Your cigar
+bores me,&quot; cries Scirocco, &quot;throw it away and fill your lungs with pure
+air,&quot; and he draws a deep breath so as to enjoy the fragrance of the
+summer evening after the rain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene does as he is invited, and then asks, &quot;Do you not admire my
+compliance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a good fellow; one can get along with you,&quot; answers Scirocco
+in his abrupt manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thanks for the acknowledgment,&quot; says Rhoeden, not without bitterness.
+&quot;Sometimes I ask myself whether it would not be better and more
+sensible for me to pack my trunk.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't see the necessity,&quot; growls Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am really not sure,&quot; says Rhoeden; &quot;for between ourselves it is
+pleasanter to hear Pistasch make fun of my uncle than to hear my uncle
+rave over Pistasch when the latter has accidentally met him and said:
+'Ah! good day, Mr.---- what is your name--Mr. Harfink?'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Curious world!&quot; murmurs Scirocco, smiling to himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rhoeden, seeing him in a particularly good temper, makes use of the
+opportunity to ask him:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Say, what is the story about Lanzberg?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco is silent for a while; looks apparently absently before him,
+and then suddenly cries brusquely, &quot;What did you ask?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whether you think we will have fine weather to-morrow,&quot; replies
+Rhoeden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco glances at him peculiarly with a half smile, behind which the
+words &quot;Clever dog&quot; may be read.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That evening Eugene writes in the diary in which, instead of
+sentimental impressions, he notes down all freshly-acquired worldly
+wisdom:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never ask society, except concerning things which you already know.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XIV.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Klette was invited after all, or rather invited herself. At the fair in
+Marienbad she met Mimi Dey, and upon the latter remarking carelessly:
+&quot;How are you, Caroline; when are we to see you in Iwanow?&quot; assured her
+generously, &quot;I am at your service as soon as you send the horses for
+me. I have been intending to spend a few days with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And she stays a few days; the first of these, the eventful Wednesday,
+has already dawned, is in fact nearly over.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Klette and the Countess are chatting in the drawing-room. The three
+gentlemen are firing at sparrows in the park, quite a bloodless
+occupation, which the sparrows seem to consider a good joke, and they
+laugh at the shooting with their ironical black eyes. They flutter
+about like will-o'-the-wisps. In vain does Pistasch, who seems
+particularly bent upon this sport, approach softly the trees where they
+crouch--krrm--and they are gone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For probably the tenth time Pistasch has cried, &quot;The infamous sparrows
+are cleverer than I,&quot; has at last fixed his eye upon a comfortable old
+grandfather sparrow, who sleepily philosophizes on the thick branch of
+a nut-tree, but before he has aimed he hears from the open windows of
+the drawing-room loud laughter, the gay ripple of the Countess, and the
+deep, rough ha! ha! ha! of Klette.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How amused the ladies seem to be,&quot; he says, turning to his companions,
+forgetting the sparrow patriarch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not understand how any one can laugh at that Cantharis,&quot; grumbles
+Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, she is surely relating something piquant about us,&quot; says Pistasch.
+&quot;It is incredible how greatly interested the ladies are in our doings,
+that is to say, in our evil doings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the shadows have become much longer. Klette has withdrawn to don a
+wonderful cap of yellow lace and red ribbons, and the men have returned
+from their bloodless hunt, to exchange their gay shirts and light
+summer suits for solemn black and dazzling white.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Rudi,&quot; cries the Countess, as she hears a light and yet somewhat
+dragging step--Scirocco limps a little--passing her dressing-room door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you any commission, Mimi?&quot; asks Scirocco, with his good-natured
+obligingness, as he enters the room. The Countess has dismissed her
+maid, is already in dinner toilet, suppressed laughter sparkles in her
+bright brown eyes, the corners of her mouth twitch merrily. &quot;No!&quot; she
+replies to his question. &quot;What commission should I have for you!--Ah!
+You came from the greenhouse?&quot; pointing to a couple of flowers in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. I wished to give the gardener some directions in regard to the
+flowers for your guests. I remember that Elsa cannot bear gardenias,
+and Linda--hm--the Lanzberg raves over stephanotis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You really might have omitted the bouquets today,&quot; says Mimi, vexedly.
+&quot;My greenhouses without this--thanks to the fair and those stupid
+theatricals--are pretty well stripped.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa has never dined here without finding her favorite flowers beside
+her plate,&quot; remarked Scirocco, calmly. &quot;I can neither pass over Linda,
+nor will I punish Elsa for the misfortune of having a Miss Harfink for
+sister-in-law. Why are you laughing so, Mimi, what seems so amusing to
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My own simplicity,&quot; cries the Countess. &quot;I was so very stupid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mimi, I do not understand you in the least,&quot; says he in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I took your protection of this pretty Lanzberg for unselfish
+philanthropy!&quot; The Countess interrupts herself to laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Unselfish philanthropy! Say rather ordinary justice,&quot; cries he,
+becoming somewhat violent. &quot;What are you thinking of? What are you
+driving at?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your discretion is admirable! You understand no hints.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, indeed!&quot; cried Scirocco, pale with rage. &quot;Ah, indeed! and the
+Cantharis told you that--that was what you were laughing over so
+immoderately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But Rudi, never mind. I do not take it amiss in you,&quot; cries the
+Countess good-naturedly, restraining her levity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I take it amiss in myself to have given rise by my thoughtless
+inconsiderateness to such infamous inventions!&quot; cried Scirocco, &quot;for,
+once for all, Mimi, Mrs. Lanzberg is horribly calumniated by such.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are cases where perjury is permissible,&quot; says the Countess,
+indifferently. &quot;Do not trouble yourself, I will never speak of the
+matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Scirocco steps close up to his sister. &quot;Mimi!&quot; cries he, hoarsely,
+&quot;do you know that I am wounded, seriously wounded by your suspicion?
+Pray consider the meanness which you ascribe to me! I have worked for
+Felix's rehabilitation so as to be able to carry on a convenient love
+affair with his wife, on the risk that the world, bad as it is,
+discredited as he is, should say that he voluntarily paid this price
+for my assistance. His wife was indifferent to me, but even if she had
+charmed me I would have avoided her like the plague rather than throw
+another shadow on Felix's compromised existence. Poor Felix! And I
+imagined that I had been of some use to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Impossible not to believe in his honest excitement. &quot;Pardon, Rudi,&quot;
+whispers the Countess, &quot;I had not thought.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never mind that, Mimi,&quot; he murmured, &quot;besides it is better that I know
+what people say. I can at least act accordingly--to-day. This venomous
+serpent will surely watch my every glance. However, I must hurry--<i>à
+tantôt</i>, Mimi!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With that he rushed out, had only just time to change his clothes when
+he heard a carriage approach.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor Felix!&quot; he murmured thoughtfully and sadly, &quot;I can do nothing
+more for you; they have tied my hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus the last shadow of pleasure which Linda might have had at the
+dinner has vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Lanzbergs arrived a few minutes before the Garzins. Scirocco
+received them at the foot of the terrace, offered Linda his arm, with
+somewhat formal politeness, and escorted her to his sister in the
+drawing-room, not in the cosey, brown wainscoted one, but in a
+ceremonious chamber hung with Gobelins. The Countess rose at her
+entrance and took two steps to meet her, then introduced her to those
+present with her usual absent-mindedness, naturally to Rhoeden also, at
+which Linda began to laugh; but as no one joined in her merriment, her
+pretty, attractive face suited itself to the universal gravity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Poor Linda, she so petted, so spoiled, to-day sees not a welcoming
+face, even among the men.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess exchanges polite commonplaces with her, while she
+addresses remarks to Klette in between. The chair near the sofa on
+which Linda sits remains empty. Pistasch, whose humorous talents are
+to-day wholly imperceptible, presents the appearance of a distinguished
+statue, and exchanges a few words with Eugene, while Scirocco with
+unnatural liveliness has entered into a conversation with Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the Garzins appear--every one thaws. The Countess does not
+walk, no, she runs to meet Elsa, kisses her on both cheeks, scolds
+Garzin for permitting his wife to look so pale, accidentally steps on
+Linda's train, turns round and says, &quot;Ah, pardon me, Baroness!&quot; a
+perfectly polite little phrase which makes Linda feel as if cold water
+had been thrown over her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The dinner is announced. Scirocco takes Linda in with the same strange
+formality which she perceives in him to-day for the first time. At the
+table a charming surprise does indeed await her--a bouquet of
+stephanotis and gardenias.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Scirocco!&quot; cries she, perhaps a very little too loudly, &quot;that is
+too lovely! It reminds me of Rome,&quot; she adds softly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She is already so nervous that she would like to burst into tears at
+the pretty attention. Her eyes sparkle, and a fleeting blush crimsons
+her cheeks. Scirocco is sorry for her. &quot;I am glad that you appreciate
+my good memory,&quot; says he, bending slightly towards her. Then he notices
+how suddenly no less than three pairs of eyes watch him closely, those
+of Klette, Pistasch, and Rhoeden; he feels that Linda's excited manner
+is most suited to strengthen this distrustful trio in their suspicion,
+and immediately turns to Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not conjure up any white elder, unfortunately, Snowdrop,&quot; says
+he, shaking his handsome head vexedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Even with the assistance of all the seasons, you could hardly have
+found anything more beautiful than these white roses,&quot; she replies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sits at Scirocco's left.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda cannot eat, and finds no opportunity to speak, and relate the gay
+little stories which are her specialty. Pistasch, who sits at her
+right, contents himself by from time to time dutifully making some
+remark to her concerning the weather, the country, and such perfectly
+neutral subjects, excluding all intimate conversation, and Scirocco,
+her old friend, on whose homage she had relied so surely, to-day has
+nothing but etiquette for her. She listens to his conversation with
+Elsa. Elsa and he were playmates together. She calls him by his given
+name, he calls her Snowdrop, which pretty nick-name he had discovered
+for her years before. Both laugh lightly over old reminiscences which
+they share, and ask each other about old, half-forgotten friends.
+Pleasant confidence on her part, smiling courtesy on his, marks their
+manner to each other.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda feels more and more depressed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix, more gloomy and embarrassed than usual, scarcely raises his eyes
+from his plate. Except Scirocco, who absolutely cannot help her, nor
+dares, only one notices and pities her misery--Erwin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What has become of your wild gypsy, Snowdrop?&quot; asks Scirocco, among
+other things.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My wild gypsy has become a very tame gypsy, who lets my little
+daughter ride her very good-naturedly,&quot; replies Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, Litzi rides already; then I must accompany her some day soon,&quot;
+says Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not break her heart. She likes you better than any one else now,&quot;
+says Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is quite mutual,&quot; he assures her. &quot;I hope you will bring Litzi up
+for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Since we have been at Traunberg I have not yet been able to find a
+suitable saddle-horse.&quot; Linda turns to Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you are not a grandfather before Litzi thinks of marriage,&quot; Elsa
+laughingly answers his last remark. &quot;Do you know that you are beginning
+to grow gray?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Whereupon be, turning to his right, says: &quot;You will find the country
+very pleasant for riding, Baroness--many meadows,&quot; and to the left:
+&quot;You always were accustomed to discover the mote in my eye, Snowdrop!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why did you never mention your wish to me, Linda?&quot; asks Erwin across
+the table. &quot;I can place a horse at your disposal which might suit you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Riding is a very pleasant pastime--will be a great resource for you,
+Baroness,&quot; remarks Pistasch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! Do you think that I will need many resources in Traunberg?&quot; asks
+Linda, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, life in the country is always monotonous,&quot; he says politely but
+somewhat hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;These <i>pâtis</i> are excellent, Mika,&quot; now says the bass voice of Klette,
+at his right. She has known him all his life, has dandled him on her
+knees when he wore short dresses, still calls him by his Christian
+name, and is one of the few people who remember that he was really
+baptised Michael.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gives a servant a sign. &quot;Shall I help you?&quot; he asks with droll
+gallantry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have nothing against it--two, please,&quot; she replies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is Marienbad looking? Any new beauties?&quot; he asks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be so lazy, and come over and see for yourself,&quot; says she with
+her mouth very full.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was there Saturday at the fair. Ruined myself buying cigar-cases. I
+place six at your disposal, Caroline. But on my word, it is astonishing
+what trash they had at the fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You distinguished yourself,&quot; cries the hostess, laughingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, unfortunately I took a Ring Street beauty for the F---- from the
+Carl Theatre, and asked her how much a kiss cost. Her ladyship entered
+into the joke, and answered that she only sold cuffs, and as I
+persisted--<i>pour la bonne cause</i>, she replied in perfectly good French,
+'<i>La bonne cause s'en effaroucherait</i>,' then I grew urgent. 'Count
+Kamenz!' cried a warning voice near me. I look up, and behold beside
+me, the picture of offended dignity, the husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And how did you get out of the scrape? What did you say?&quot; asks Klette.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I?--What could I say?--'Ah, pardon'--and decamped!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Cool! Very!&quot; remarks Rhoeden, who has been reconciled to Pistasch
+again, laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I only wondered that he knew my name so well,&quot; says Pistasch,
+meditatively, with feigned simplicity. &quot;I do not know to this day what
+his name is. His wife was a magnificent creature, on my word--what a
+pity!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think she was sadder at the interruption than you,&quot; says Rhoeden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Possibly,&quot; replies Pistasch, calmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The trivial little story has seemed diverting enough to all present
+except Linda. Is that the way in which young people of society speak of
+pretty women out of their sphere, to whom they pay attentions? she asks
+herself.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XV.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the dinner is over. They have left the drawing-room to wander
+through the park. There are thunder-clouds in the sky, the air is close
+and breathless, sultry, but at times a sharp gust of wind rises. The
+birds fly close to the ground, as if the black sky frightened them, and
+the flowers smell strangely sweet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In vain has Linda sent inviting glances at Scirocco; he clings to Elsa
+as a sinner might cling to a saint through whose protection he hoped to
+gain admission to Paradise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rhoeden who, whether from policy or convenience, plays the rôle of an
+injured man and is very reserved, polite and attentive as he is, has
+undertaken to be the young Elli's partner at lawn-tennis, by which game
+he can meet her in the park.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin has good-naturedly joined his pretty sister-in-law; chatting
+gayly, he tries to drive away her bitter mood. There is something in
+the shape of his eyes which makes them look sentimental, one might
+almost say loving. His temperament is such that he can be with no one,
+especially no woman, without trying to make her existence agreeable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa who, walking with Scirocco, meets her husband, Linda on his arm,
+remembers neither the one thing nor the other; the smile with which,
+with head slightly lowered, he listens to her chat, the glance which he
+rests on her, are in Elsa's eyes half crimes. After a few superficial
+words the two couples separate again. Erwin as he goes turns round and
+calls to Scirocco, &quot;See that you do not take my wife into a draught,
+Sempaly. She is strangely imprudent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What admirable thoughtfulness,&quot; says Elsa, half aloud, and draws down
+the corners of her mouth so deeply that Scirocco, as an old friend,
+permits himself to remark laughingly, &quot;I did not know that you could
+look so gloomy, Snowdrop!&quot; whereupon Elsa blushes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda and Erwin join the lawn-tennis players. Linda has studied this
+modern pastime thoroughly in England, and likes to play; besides that,
+she knows very well that nothing is more becoming to her slender yet
+voluptuous figure than the quick litheness required in lawn-tennis.
+Her voice reaches Elsa from a distance, gay, shrill, then the soft
+half-laughing voice of Erwin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You look so tired, Snowdrop,&quot; says Sempaly, sympathetically, &quot;will you
+not rest a little?&quot; With that he points to a bench in a niche of thick
+elder-bushes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I am tired,&quot; says Elsa, dully, and sits down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tired after a two-hour drive and a little stroll through the park,
+Snowdrop,&quot; remarks Scirocco, anxiously. &quot;I do not recognize you any
+more. You used to endure so much. Do you know that your health makes me
+anxious?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nonsense! My health interests you about as much as that of the Emperor
+of Brazil. If you receive notice of my death some day you will shrug
+your shoulders and sigh sympathetically, 'Poor Garzin!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are intolerable, Snowdrop,&quot; says Scirocco, laughing. &quot;Besides, the
+wind is rising and you are beginning to shiver. Let us go to the
+house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I like it here,&quot; she cries with a pretty childishness. &quot;I should
+like to see the sun set from here, and am curious as to whether the
+Flora there&quot;--pointing to a statue--&quot;will become flushed pink. Prove
+your friendship and get me a wrap.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He goes away, but remains longer than the nearness of the castle seems
+to justify. Elsa does not notice his long absence. She prefers to be
+alone in this spot. The bench reminds her of old times, and is
+therefore dear to her. Whether the Flora becomes pink or not is
+perfectly indifferent to her--she does not look outward, she gazes
+inward. She thinks of the day when she sat there with Erwin, her
+betrothed. (Count Dey was still alive then.) She remembers--oh,
+something foolish--the little beetle which had fallen in her hair and
+which Erwin had brushed away with light hand; his caressing touch; how
+he looked lovingly at the beetle because it had touched his love's
+hair; how, instead of throwing the insect away, he had carried it with
+him when they left the bench, and had placed it carefully in the heart
+of the most beautiful rose which they passed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How he loved her then! How passionately and at the same time how
+tenderly! &quot;Ah! those were such lovely times,&quot; she sighs with the old
+song.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The voices of the lawn-tennis players are still heard. How can they
+play in such a gale? Suddenly she hears her name spoken near by.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How this poor Mrs. Garzin has gone off!&quot; cries the Klette's bass
+voice. &quot;I scarcely recognized her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She looks badly,&quot; replies Count Pistasch's distinguished husky voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She has grown old, fearfully old; she looks as if she were forty,&quot;
+asserts the Klette.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, bah! She looks rather like a consumptive pensioner,&quot; replies
+Pistasch. &quot;What can be the matter with her? I hope no trouble is
+worrying her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you think that this good Garzin is a little too fond of his
+pretty sister-in-law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nonsense, Caroline!&quot; says Pistasch, reprovingly. &quot;You are always
+imagining something. Recently you asked me whether poor Rudi----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, that is evidently over;&quot; the Klette heaves a sigh of
+disappointment; &quot;but she must coquet, poor Mrs. Lanzberg, to amuse
+herself, there is not much else for her to do; and say yourself--I do
+not assert that the good Garzin has already knelt to her, but would it
+not be natural? It would really serve this arrogant Elsa right. To
+force Garzin, a man of such a gay, sociable nature, to absolute
+solitude; to take away from him his career, his occupation, in short,
+everything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa springs up; she listens breathlessly. What does she care that it
+is ill-bred to listen? But the voices die away. Pistasch and the Klette
+turn into another path without noticing the white form in the dark
+elder niche.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco at length comes back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not find either your things or Mimi's maid all this time,&quot; he
+excuses himself for his long delay. &quot;I hope this belongs to you,&quot;
+offering her a white crêpe shawl.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She takes it, but immediately starts back with a violent gesture. &quot;That
+belongs to my sister-in-law,&quot; she cries; &quot;my things are never so
+strongly perfumed. Only smell it, how strange!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, truly,&quot; says he, holding the shawl to his face; &quot;that is a harem
+perfume which some one brought her from Constantinople. But what is the
+matter, Snowdrop?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I feel the storm approach,&quot; she murmurs, tonelessly. &quot;Let us go to the
+house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They go. The swallows fly yet lower, the clouds hang heavier, almost
+touch the black tree-tops. There is a whistling and hissing in the
+leaves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa hears nothing. With dragging, and yet overhasty, steps she walks
+near Sempaly. &quot;Who knows whether he would even say 'poor Garzin' if I
+should die?&quot; she thinks to herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lawn-tennis party, which Pistasch and the Klette have now also
+joined, growing more and more animated, has lasted until the first
+drops of rain have driven them away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Somewhat dishevelled and heated, her morbid self-consciousness healed
+by the admiration which Pistasch, escaped from his cousin's control,
+had unreservedly displayed for her, Linda enters the drawing-room where
+the Countess, Felix, Elsa and Scirocco are assembled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How did your lawn-tennis come on?&quot; asks Scirocco, as the Countess,
+vexed at Linda's triumphant look, does not condescend to address her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, excellently,&quot; cries Linda. &quot;Count Kamenz and my brother-in-law
+display the greatest talent for this noble occupation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To whom do you give the palm?&quot; cries Kamenz.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot decide that to-day,&quot; says she with as much gravity as if she
+were deciding upon the fortieth <i>fauteuil</i> of the Paris Academy. &quot;One
+judges talent not from what it first offers, but according to its
+subsequent development.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This pedantic phrase from her fresh lips is so irresistibly droll that
+Pistasch and Erwin laugh heartily, and even Scirocco cannot suppress a
+slight smile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We have come to the conclusion that the ground here is not favorable,&quot;
+continues Linda, turning to Scirocco, &quot;and the gentlemen are coming
+over to Traunberg to-morrow to practise. Will you be one of the party,
+Count Sempaly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you will permit me, I will have the pleasure, Baroness,&quot; he replies
+with a bow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are as full of phrases as an old copy-setter to-day,&quot; cries she,
+shrugs her shoulders, laughs lightly, and sinks into the arm-chair
+which Pistasch pushes forward for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistasch seats himself opposite her. His light laugh as he leans
+forward, her satisfied leaning back, the continuous conversation wholly
+incomprehensible to the others, indicated a dawning flirtation. What
+did it matter to Pistasch whether Linda's father's name was Harfink or
+Schmuckbuckling? A man never troubles himself about such a thing when
+he is paying court to a pretty woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Poor Mimi! for years she has treated Pistasch as her exclusive
+property, she grows nervous, glances discontentedly in the direction of
+the two.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Rudi, will you order the carriage?&quot; asks Felix, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco stretches out his hand to the bell, but asks politely, &quot;Will
+you not wait until the rain has ceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have no desire to get wet in our open carriage,&quot; interposes Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could place a close carriage at your disposal,&quot; remarks the nervous
+Countess, irritated even more by Pistasch's manner than by Linda's
+victorious expression, and adds constrainedly, &quot;However, I really see
+no reason for haste.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hardly can permission to remain be given in a colder tone. But Linda
+replies with astonishing aplomb, &quot;Neither do I,&quot; and has a sweet, naïve
+smile for the Countess, and for Pistasch, on the contrary, a comical,
+expressive glance which delights him. He finds it quite in order that
+she should refresh herself with a little impertinence. &quot;She is piquant
+as an actress,&quot; he thinks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the door opens; unannounced, like very old friends, a lady and
+gentleman enter. She, small, fat, lively, cries out, hurrying up to the
+Countess, &quot;We flee to thee, Mimi, the rain has surprised us. Ah, you
+have guests--how are you, Elsa? do I really see you at last?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He, tall, thin, with a Velasquez nose, Don Quixote manner, and arrogant
+eyes, looking out through glasses, has meanwhile chivalrously kissed
+the hand of the Countess. Now he looks round, recognizes Erwin, greets
+him heartily, comes up to Felix, starts slightly, goes past him to
+Rhoeden, as if he had never seen Felix in his life before.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix stands motionless, ashy, rigid, with bluish lips and half-closed
+eyes. Scirocco has lived through many unpleasant moments, but never a
+more painful one. Still he rapidly collects himself, takes the new
+guest by both shoulders and turns him toward Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is Lanzberg. Did you not recognize him, Max?&quot; he cries.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After that nothing remains for Count L---- but to murmur in apology, so
+as not to insult the guests of the house in which he is, &quot;I am so
+near-sighted,&quot; and to stretch out two arrogant fingers to Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Order the carriage, Rudi,&quot; begs Felix, very hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda, who has not noticed the little scene, gives Pistasch a glance at
+the interruption of their <i>tête-à-tête</i>, which flatters his vanity.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XVI.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have slept badly, mouse; look at your poor eyes. You worry me, you
+pale person.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With these words Erwin greets his wife the next morning at breakfast,
+kisses her lightly on the forehead, then reads his letters, swallows a
+cup of coffee in great haste, greets Miss Sidney, who enters with her
+little pupil, absently though pleasantly, lets himself, still
+pleasantly but somewhat passively, be embraced by his little daughter,
+puts his letters in his pocket and hurries away, but turns at the door
+and cries: &quot;Do not expect me to lunch, Elsa; I have a great deal to do
+in Radewitz.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now he has gone, Elsa's eyes have grown sad. For a few minutes after
+Miss Sidney has led Litzi away Elsa remains at the deserted breakfast
+table and crumbling a roll, murmurs, &quot;He has forgotten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To-day is their wedding-day, a day which Erwin has always made much of,
+which has always been a day of sweetest recollections. She had remained
+in her room this morning longer than usual, because she had hoped that
+he would seek her. In vain! Then she, poor Elsa, had expected a little
+surprise at the breakfast table--in vain!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So now she sits there and hopes that perhaps he will return.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, he returns--his steps rapidly approach, her heart beats fast, the
+door opens, Erwin bursts in with hat on his head, and cries: &quot;Elsa,
+don't forget to send the White Duchess to Traunberg. I have not time to
+give the order,&quot; and disappears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has forgotten--decidedly forgotten!&quot; cries Elsa, &quot;for the first
+time!&quot; Then she leaves the breakfast room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Time passes slowly and sadly for her. &quot;It is a trifle not worth
+speaking about,&quot; she tells herself again and again. &quot;I should have
+reminded him,&quot; but then she feels herself grow hot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He did not forget Linda's horse,&quot; she murmurs bitterly, and adds still
+more bitterly: &quot;He is bored. Every diversion is welcome to him. Poor
+Erwin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The day passes--the dinner hour draws near, several minutes before five
+Erwin at length returns. Heated and irritable he seeks her in her room.
+&quot;How vexed I have been!&quot; he cries as he enters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She smiles, a little excitement overcomes her. But soon it turns out
+that he has not been vexed at his forgetfulness--oh, no!--only at the
+cheating and roguery of his sugar factory director.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It serves you right,&quot; remarks Elsa, coldly. She cannot deny herself
+the satisfaction of making some sharp remark to him. &quot;When he
+introduced himself to you, you told me 'the man is repulsive to me!'
+and when he came back again you engaged him. You always do so. At the
+first glance you judge men according to your instincts, and very
+justly; at the second glance you judge them by the universal statutes
+of lofty philanthropy, and always falsely. I know no one for whom it is
+more unpleasant to believe ill of his neighbor than you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God be praised and thanked that the counterbalance of a desperately
+distrustful wife is given me, then,&quot; cried Erwin, somewhat irritably.
+Then a pair of large eyes meet his gloomily. &quot;My distrust is a disease,
+and you know the cause,&quot; says she, earnestly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The shrill dinner-bell at this point interrupts the conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After dinner--Miss Sidney has gone into the garden with Litzi to
+play grace hoops--the husband and wife sit vexedly silent in the
+drawing-room, when a servant presents a letter to Erwin from
+Traunberg. Elsa has at once perceived that it is in Linda's, not in
+Felix's handwriting. Erwin has opened it, apparently indifferently,
+then suddenly the blood rushes to his cheeks, almost violently he
+throws the letter away, kneels before Elsa and takes both her hands in
+his. &quot;How could I forget the 27th? Elsa, are you very angry with me?&quot;
+he cries.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It would be hard to remain angry with him, if he had not been reminded
+of his duty by just Linda. But this vexes Elsa so much that she answers
+his warm glance and pleasant smile only with a cool &quot;Why should I be
+angry?&quot; as indifferently and calmly as if the 27th no more concerned
+her than the date of the battle of Leipzig.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Had you forgotten, also?&quot; he asks, wounded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Forgotten?--what?&quot; asks she, dully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That to-day is my lucky day--the loveliest day of all the year for me?
+Oh, Elsa! Has it become indifferent to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His voice goes deep to her heart, but she is ashamed to be so moved by
+his first warm words--is ashamed to show him how his forgetfulness has
+pained her. In proud fear of having shown too much feeling, she hardens
+her heart, and with the peculiar histrionic talent which is at the
+disposal of most women in critical moments, and which they love to
+display, so as to thereby ruin the happiness of their life, she says
+calmly, pleasantly, half laughingly: &quot;Ah, indeed!--I should tease you
+for your lack of memory!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa!&quot; confused and surprised he looks in her eyes. &quot;Do you not
+remember how we have always valued the day; do you not remember the
+first year? You had forgotten it, then?--and when I put the ring on
+your finger--perhaps you do not wear it any longer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes;&quot; and Elsa looks down at the large diamond which sparkles like
+a dewdrop or a tear near her wedding-ring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, you were ashamed, then, not to have thought of me,&quot; he
+continued, &quot;and then--then you repeated to me, half crying, half
+laughing, very tenderly a little childish wish: 'Had I an empire I
+would lay it at thy feet, alas, I can offer you nothing but a kiss,' do
+you not remember, Elsa?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Elsa only replies coldly, almost mockingly: &quot;It is very long
+ago--hm! What does Linda write to you besides that to-day is the 27th?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have not read all of her letter, read it yourself if you wish,&quot; and
+with that he hands his wife the letter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa at first struggles with herself, but then she reads it, and half
+aloud:</p>
+<br>
+<div style="font-size:90%">
+<p class="normal"><span class="sc">Dear Erwin</span>:--It is really too charming in you to so kindly gratify my
+thoughtless wish. Many, many thanks for the beautiful White Duchess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix just tells me that to-day is the 27th, a day on which you will
+have no pleasure in playing lawn-tennis with me. You might perhaps
+force yourself to come so as not to vex me, solitary as I am now.
+Therefore I release you from your promise. Kiss Elsa for me, and, with
+most cordial greetings,<span style="letter-spacing:20px">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span> Sincerely
+yours, <span style="letter-spacing:20px">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span><span class="sc">Linda Lanzberg</span>.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How well she writes,&quot; says Elsa, who is sorry that she can find
+nothing to complain of in the letter, and with the firm resolve not to
+let her jealousy be perceived in the slightest, she continues: &quot;I
+should be sorry if our foolish lovers' traditions should prevent you
+from amusing yourself a little, my poor Erwin.&quot; She had taken up some
+fancy work and seemed to ponder over a difficulty in it. &quot;Pray go over
+to Traunberg and invite Linda to dinner Sunday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin gazes angrily before him. &quot;You send me away,
+Elsa--you--to-day--on our wedding-day?&quot; says he then, slowly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She laughs lightly and threads a fresh needle. &quot;Ah! do not be childish,
+Erwin,&quot; cries she. &quot;It is not suited to our age now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He pulls the bell rope violently. &quot;Elsa,&quot; he whispers once more before
+the servant enters, but with such intolerable cordiality she says,
+&quot;Well, Erwin?&quot; that he turns away his head and calls to the servant,
+who just then appears, &quot;Tell Franz to saddle my horse.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XVII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">A small room with large windows opening on the park, innumerable
+flowers in vases of different forms standing about the room, a perfume
+as intoxicating and painfully sweet as poison which gives one death in
+a last rapture; on the walls, hung with silver-worked rococo damask, a
+few rare pictures, only five or six; two Greuze heads with red-kissed
+lips and tear-reddened eyes, eyes which look up to heaven because earth
+has deceived them; then a Corot, a spring landscape, where dishevelled
+nymphs dance a wild round with dry leaves which winter has left; a
+Watteau, in which women, in the bouffant paniers of the time of the
+regents, with bared bosoms and hair drawn high up on their heads, touch
+glasses of champagne with gallant cavaliers, a picture in which
+everything smiles, and which yet makes one deeply mournful; a picture
+in which men and women, especially women, seem to have no heart, no
+soul, no enjoyment on earth, no belief in heaven; but in deepest
+<i>ennui</i> float about like butterflies, tormented by the curse of the
+consciousness that their life lasts only from sunrise to sunset; a
+Rembrandt, a negress, brutally healthy, bestially stupid, with dull
+glance, broad, hungry lips, huge, homely, and wholly satisfied with
+herself and creation; about the room soft, inviting furniture; no
+dazzling light, pale reddish reflections; draperies in Roman style,
+artistic knick-knacks and soft rugs--this is what Erwin finds as,
+pushing aside the drawn portières, he enters Linda's boudoir without
+announcement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Amid these surroundings she sits at an upright piano, and softly and
+dreamily sings an Italian love-song.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin comes close up to the piano. &quot;Ah!&quot; cries she, springing up. It
+would be impossible not to see what unusual pleasure his visit gives
+her. Her eyes shine, and a faint blush passes over her cheeks. &quot;Erwin,
+did you not receive my letter?&quot; she cries almost shyly, and gives him a
+soft hand which trembles and grows warm in his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly,&quot; he replies. &quot;It was very nice in you to consider our
+foo----&quot; in spite of all the bitterness which for the moment he feels
+toward Elsa, he cannot use the byword foolish, and rather says--&quot;little
+traditions. I only came for a moment, I----&quot; he hesitates. &quot;Elsa hopes
+that you will do us the pleasure of dining with us Sunday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sunday?&quot; repeats Linda, letting her fingers wander absently in dreamy
+preluding over the keys.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you planned anything else?&quot; asked Erwin, who had meanwhile taken
+a very comfortable chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What should I have planned?&quot; asked she, shrugging her pretty
+shoulders. &quot;No, no, I will come gladly. You are very good to me, Erwin,
+and I am inexpressibly thankful to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A strangely exaggerated feeling was in her accent, in her moist glance,
+and the quick gesture with which she stretched out both hands to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is Felix?&quot; he asked, turning the conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Felix is, I believe, over in Lanzberg,&quot; she answered. &quot;He has
+'something to attend to.' He always has 'something to attend to' when I
+expect people,&quot; she added, bitterly. &quot;It makes my position so
+uncommonly easy, Erwin! Can you account for his behavior? Would you, if
+you had once resolved to choose a wife of unequal birth, afterward be
+so passionately ashamed of her as Felix is?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How can you talk so foolishly, Linda?&quot; Erwin interrupted the young
+wife, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Foolishly!&quot; Linda shook her head with discouragement. &quot;If you only saw
+him! Lately he made a scene before I could be permitted to accept the
+Deys' invitation; then, at the last moment, he had a headache, and
+expressed the wish that I should join Elsa and go without him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Strange idea to hang this monster in your pretty rococo nest!&quot; cried
+Erwin, growing more and more embarrassed, and abruptly changing the
+conversation from Felix to the Rembrandt negress.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The monster pleases me, I like contrasts--but to return to Felix----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You expect Pistasch and Sempaly, do you not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They wished to come this evening--alas--I could renounce their
+society; to-day I should like greatly to confide in you, Erwin. You are
+the only person who is sorry for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a pause in the conversation of the two. Without, a murmur
+like a sigh of love sounds through the trees, and a few withered
+rose-leaves are blown into the room. Erwin's glance rests dreamily upon
+the young woman. She pleases him in somewhat the same manner as the
+Greuze head on the wall; no, differently--there is always something
+dead about a picture. A picture is either a recollection preserved in
+colors or a dream, and has the charm of a recollection, of a dream;
+while Linda has the charm of a foreboding, of a riddle, and above all
+things, the charm of life, of full young life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then a carriage approaches. &quot;Pistasch and Sempaly,&quot; cries Erwin,
+looking out of the window and seizing his hat. &quot;On Sunday, eh, Linda?&quot;
+says he in a tone of farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now you run away from me just like Felix,&quot; cries she, pouting. &quot;Please
+stay; it is so unpleasant for me to receive young people without a
+protector.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And he stays.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have come late; we have scarcely three-quarters of an hour of
+daylight left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With these words, spoken in a very indifferent tone, Linda receives the
+young men. &quot;Shall we set about it at once?&quot; she continues.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lawn-tennis court is in a broad flat meadow in the park. The ground
+is not yet dry from yesterday's rain, still the players are unwearied,
+Erwin, after a short time, as animated as the others. He competes
+vigorously with Pistasch, whose skill he soon surpasses, and enjoys the
+society of the two agreeable and to-day good-tempered young men, who
+are both old acquaintances of his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistasch in old times he has pulled by the ear, paid his youthful
+debts, and on holidays taken him away from the Theresanium; with
+Scirocco, who is but little younger than Erwin himself, he has taken an
+Oriental trip, they were both overturned in the same drag, both raved
+over the same dancer, etc.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Merry reminiscences pass between the players almost as quickly as the
+tennis balls, and Linda encourages all these reminiscences most
+charmingly; her smile lends a new spice to the play and the
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin is of a much too lovable nature, is far too much occupied with
+the happiness of others and too little with his own, to think of what
+might have been if he had not, for love of Elsa, renounced the world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He possesses a decided disinclination for the &quot;if,&quot; always looks
+straight before him, never behind him. It does not even occur to him
+to-day, when he is vexed with Elsa, to complain of the serious monotony
+of his life, to philosophize, but he feels well, likes to amuse himself
+again, laughs frequently, and is not unsusceptible to the evident wish
+to please him which Linda shows. No objection can be found to her
+behavior to-day--it is animated without being loud, cordial without
+being coquettish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The three-quarters of an hour are over, the daylight has become first
+pale, then gray, the balls have flown aimlessly, like plump night birds
+through the air; they have laughed, ridiculed the opposite side for
+their faults, finally lost several balls, and come to the conclusion
+that for the present nothing more can be done.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The players have now assembled for a light supper in the somewhat
+gloomy dining-room, from whose walls a few old portraits, gentlemen
+with huge wigs and large flowered brocade vests, ladies with wasp
+waists and immoderately high powdered coiffures, look down upon them.
+The light of the lamps is reflected in the crystal decanters, in which
+red and white wine sparkles; the flowers, a mixture of transparent
+ribbon-grass and wild roses, move softly in their vases in the middle
+of the table, trembling in the night air which streams in through the
+open windows. Beautiful fruit shines fresh and inviting, in silver
+dishes, and Linda presides, somewhat flushed, cordial and wonderfully
+pretty. No annoying servants disturb the pleasant little repast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistasch behaves like the perfect gentleman which he is when he does
+not consider it his duty to be a perfect boor, or does not take
+pleasure in representing a perfect street Arab. He entertains the
+little circle by gay anecdotes, is attentive without impertinence to
+the hostess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco, more serious in manner, nevertheless laughs at his cousin's
+jokes, and often interposes a witty little remark.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin is as gay as the two others, but from time to time, however, his
+conscience reminds him that this is not the place for him, and that it
+is time for him to return home. &quot;But can I leave my young sister-in-law
+alone with the two men?&quot; he calms his inconvenient conscience.
+&quot;Impossible!&quot; He must wait for Felix to return.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That Kamenz and Sempaly, well-bred as both are, and with no cause for
+importunity, would both leave as soon as he should start, he does not
+tell himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then a carriage rolls up to the castle. Linda rises to go to the
+window. &quot;Felix!&quot; she cries in her clear, childish voice. No answer
+follows. Her eyes become gloomy, she listens, evidently listens to see
+whether he will go to his room without appearing to his guests. Then a
+dragging, stumbling step is heard in the corridor. &quot;Felix!&quot; cries
+Linda, excitedly and imperiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The door opens, Felix enters, he stumbles into the dining-room, his
+face is red and swollen, his eyes have a watery look, his knees bend at
+every step, and a repulsive flabbiness is betrayed in his whole form.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have guests?&quot; he says, thickly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sit down, you are not well,&quot; cries Erwin, seizing the staggering man
+by the arm, and forcing him into a chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--but--the----&quot; begins Felix, and breaks off, not able to finish the
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A pause ensues. The little company seem paralyzed with alarm and
+disgust. Then Sempaly rises. &quot;We thank you for a very pleasant evening,
+Baroness,&quot; he turns politely to Linda, and he and his cousin withdraw.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda is as white as the table-cloth. &quot;Come, Felix, lie down,&quot; says
+Erwin to his brother-in-law, whose condition he does not wish to expose
+to the impertinent curiosity of servile lackeys.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A cigar,&quot; murmurs Felix, excusing himself like all drunkards.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come;&quot; Erwin urges him more sharply. Felix is about to make some
+reply, when he discovers his wife, turns his head away, and trembling
+throughout his entire frame, lets himself be taken to his room without
+resistance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Erwin returns to the dining-room to bid farewell to Linda, he
+finds her still deathly pale, with gloomy eyes, sitting in the same
+place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Linda, you are wrong to take this so seriously,&quot; says he, softly and
+consolingly; &quot;it is really often an accident, a glass of poor wine----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At his first kind word she has burst into tears. &quot;It is not the first
+time,&quot; she replies, with difficulty restraining her tears. &quot;Ah! if
+it--if it was only because the wine went to his head or--but no--a year
+ago he was the most temperate man in the world--it began in London. It
+cannot all be my fault. What is the matter with him? My God! What is
+concealed from me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A new light dawns upon Erwin's mind; Linda's lack of tact is excused; a
+boundless pity overcomes him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At a violent motion of her pretty head her hair has become loosened and
+now hangs in silken splendor over her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Calm yourself, fasten up your hair, be prudent, my poor little
+sister-in-law!&quot; says Erwin. Softly and involuntarily, as one would do
+to a child, he strokes the hair back from her temples.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She tries to fasten it up, but suddenly she lets her arms sink, and
+looking directly at Erwin out of moist but not disfigured eyes, she
+whispers, &quot;I cannot reach so high, and do not wish to be seen thus by
+my maid--it would be strange.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can I help you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She nods. Simply, but without undue haste or uneasiness, he twists the
+beautiful hair, fastens it firmly as one who is accustomed to perform
+such services. She keeps her head covered, breathes regularly, deeply,
+audibly--accidentally he touches her little glowing ear, then she
+starts. A clock strikes. &quot;Half past ten!&quot; cries Erwin, startled. &quot;Good
+night, Baroness; poor Elsa will not know how to explain my absence,&quot;
+and he rushes out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your horse must be saddled,&quot; says Linda, but he does not return--a few
+minutes later she hears him galloping rapidly away. &quot;When he thinks of
+his wife he always calls me Baroness,&quot; she murmurs to herself with a
+peculiar smile.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">An hour later Erwin knocks at his wife's door. &quot;Who is it?&quot; an
+indifferent, sleepy voice asks from within.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you, Erwin!&quot; Elsa unlocks the door, and comes out in the corridor,
+where only a single lamp breaks the darkness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you anything particular to ask me?&quot; says she, and her feverish
+sparkling eyes contradict the indifferent voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing,&quot; he whispers, softly. &quot;I merely could not resolve to retire
+without having bid you good night; I felt that you must be still awake.
+Do you insist upon receiving me in the corridor?&quot; he asks, smilingly,
+as she has closed the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The baby is asleep,&quot; replies Elsa, coldly, rubbing her eyes with
+ostentation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My voice will not wake her,&quot; he says, softly, taking Elsa's hand.
+&quot;Elsa, my dear pouting Elsa, forgive me,&quot; he whispers. &quot;I had no right
+to be angry and run away, merely because you were intolerable. It has
+been a horrid day, let it at least have a good ending!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sees how she trembles, how she blushes, and tenderly he takes her
+thin little face between both hands. Then, then she changes color, her
+eyes open in wild horror, and she starts back from him with a gesture
+of decided aversion, but quickly collecting herself, and forcing
+herself to smile, she gives him her hand and says, &quot;Good night!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How she has pained him! Is her love dead? He cannot understand her
+manner. How could he? He does not notice that on his hands, in his
+clothes has remained the peculiar perfume which a gallant diplomat had
+brought Linda from Constantinople.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XVIII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One cannot please people,&quot; sighs Pistasch, several days after the
+lawn-tennis party, while, cigar between his teeth, a hat adorned with a
+cock's plume on the back of his head, his smoking jacket open over his
+broad chest, he tries to solve a difficult problem in billiards. &quot;One
+cannot please people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! I think this sentence belonged to Solomon's <i>répertoire</i> of
+phrases,&quot; grumbles Sempaly, who, stretched out in a deep arm-chair, is
+looking over an old <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Solomon! Solomon!&quot; says Pistasch, clutching his soft golden hair. &quot;Was
+not that the Jew in the Leopoldstadt, whose money rate was so cheap,
+only three per cent, <i>per mese</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Count Kamenz considers it &quot;chic&quot; to have forgotten his Bible history.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not make yourself out stupider than you are,&quot; Scirocco admonishes
+him. &quot;We can be quite satisfied without that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thanks, you see one can never please people,&quot; repeats Pistasch,
+shrugging his shoulders in droll despair. &quot;After the sacrificial meal,
+Mimi rejoices me with a remark upon my stiffness to the Lanzberg. I
+show the latter much-calumniated beauty some slight attention and
+accept an invitation to lawn-tennis at her house. Mimi reproaches me
+concerning my morals. In order to satisfy her demands I yesterday
+paid court to a sixteen-year-old dove; she reproaches me for
+my inconsequence, says with feeling, 'One does not trifle with
+love!'--there, it sounds as if it were a bit from a play.&quot; Pistasch
+turns to Sempaly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it is the title of a play in which at the end some one is
+stabbed,&quot; says Scirocco, looking up from his reading.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, Rudi; one can always learn from you,&quot; assures Pistasch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are the first who has discovered that--I pity you,&quot; replies
+Sempaly, sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Surely not because I am weak in history and literature,&quot; says
+Pistasch, phlegmatically. &quot;Bah! if one of us only knows who he is, he
+knows what he needs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, everything else would only confuse him,&quot; says Scirocco,
+seriously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Precisely,&quot; answers Pistasch, coolly. He now sits on the corner of the
+billiard table, both hands in his pockets, in the large room with its
+faded leather furniture. &quot;But confess that your sister maltreats me,
+after I have tried so hard to please her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Too hard, perhaps,&quot; says Scirocco, and looks gloomily at his cousin.
+Is the latter the only one who does not perceive that the Countess
+would prefer to preserve him in a cage, secure from the attacks of
+audacious women and mothers? &quot;'<i>Ce sont toujour les concessions qui ont
+perdu les grands hommes</i>,' Philippe Egalité remarked on his way to
+execution,&quot; he continues, and takes his cousin's ostentatious <i>naïveté</i>
+for what it is really worth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That might be called forcing history,&quot; cries Rhoeden, entering at this
+moment, and hearing the last phrase.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who was Philippe Egalité?&quot; asks Pistasch, with unembarrassed--yes,
+boasted ignorance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A man who, in order to make himself loved by the masses, voted for the
+death of his cousin, the king, made himself riding trousers of the
+<i>ancien régime</i>, and was beheaded by the masses by way of thanks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! my historical knowledge is extensively widened--but if I only knew
+to whom to make love!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Il y avait une fois un séducteur qui cherchait de l'ouvrage</i>,&quot;
+remarks Eugene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Je crois Men qu'il cherchait!</i>&quot; yawns Pistasch. &quot;Really, it is not
+only on Mimi's and morality's account that I do not dare try it with
+the Lanzberg--but she is so magnificently prudish! Now I do not object
+to a little prudishness, that is piquant, but quite so much! Recently
+she, for really nothing at all----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, really, for nothing at all?&quot; repeats Scirocco, looking sharply at
+his cousin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, not exactly for nothing at all,&quot; the latter admits, grumblingly,
+&quot;but on my word, for a very slight cause, she gave me a dissertation
+upon her dignity, and that she felt bound to keep the honorable name
+which she bears spotless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is quite right,&quot; declares Sempaly, sharply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistasch laughs rudely. &quot;Well, Rudi, between ourselves, it is
+nevertheless a little droll to think so much of this name, to boast of
+its spotlessness--hm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rhoeden displays the indifference of a man who knows that the
+conversation is upon delicate subjects, and retires to a window recess,
+where he unfolds a letter. A servant enters and reports that &quot;The
+Countess begs the Baron to come to the music-room,&quot; whereupon Rhoeden
+vanishes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scarcely has the door closed behind him when Scirocco bursts out
+violently: &quot;You are a muttonhead, Pistasch; the little banker is a
+hundred times cleverer than you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He needs it,&quot; says Pistasch, coolly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you not be silent before him?&quot; Scirocco attacks him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replies Pistasch, lazily; &quot;I have never accustomed myself to
+keeping secrets; respectable people have no secrets. Besides, Lanzberg
+begins to be fairly unbearable, his manner has become so unsteady, so
+nervous; he no longer finishes a single sentence correctly, has not an
+opinion of his own, and crouches like a whipped dog. He makes me
+nervous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you of stone, have you no heart?&quot; cries Scirocco.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am under no obligations to Lanzberg,&quot; grumbles Pistasch, very
+defiantly. &quot;I----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you would be ashamed to protect him a little,&quot; says Scirocco,
+cuttingly. &quot;Recently when L---- remarked to you that you seemed to
+associate with Lanzberg a great deal, you replied, 'Yes, he has a
+pretty wife!' Really, Pistasch, at that moment, in my eyes, you stood
+morally lower than poor Felix.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Really,&quot; Pistasch imitates his cousin's tragic tone, &quot;I think I have
+blundered into an educational institution! Lectures and nothing but
+lectures! First you, then Mimi. How you can permit yourself to compare
+me with a man like a 'certain Lanzberg.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not talk yourself into useless heat, my dear fellow,&quot; says
+Scirocco, laying his hand on his shoulder. &quot;At present I feel just as
+inclined to fight a duel with you as I should to cut my own brother's
+throat. Consider a little and you will come to the conclusion that you
+are in the wrong.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scirocco leaves the billiard-room. For a while Pistasch pushes the
+ivory balls over the green table with furious zeal, then he throws
+himself irritably into an arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, he feels plainly that he is in the wrong, but he cannot resolve to
+change his behavior to Felix. He might at least avoid him, but just
+now, because and in defiance of Linda's prudishness, he does not wish
+to. His prejudice against Linda was nothing but arrogant affectation,
+but his antipathy to Felix is sincere; it almost resembles that
+aversion which many egoistic men feel for one mortally ill.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rhoeden spends an hour in teaching the Countess--a totally unmusical
+woman who does not know a note, has no feeling for rhythm, but
+possesses a good voice and a great desire to shine in that
+direction--twelve bars of a new Italian romance of Tosti.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He goes his little way, pursues his little aim, and will attain it.
+Only two years ago young aristocrats invited him exclusively to stag
+parties, hunts, etc.; then Count F---- wrote a little operetta for a
+society tenor. The tenor, a young diplomat, after the first rehearsal
+of the operetta was transferred to Constantinople--universal
+consternation. They had about resolved to surrender the operetta, which
+was to be performed for a charitable object, to a professional when
+Pistasch proposed his old Theresanium comrade, Eugene. Eugene, with his
+unusually beautiful voice, sang the little rôle charmingly; all were
+delighted with his singing, his graceful acting. At one stroke he
+became the fashion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His passion for Linda, Eugene had long buried under his worldly egoism;
+he was glad that he had been prevented from the foolishness of a
+marriage with her. He planned quite a different match, made use of his
+opportunities, and meanwhile was in no hurry. He knew very well on what
+footing he stood with society, knew that they wished to fasten upon him
+Countess Fifi R----, who was red-haired and somewhat hump-backed, or
+even Countess Clarisse, who was scrofulous and had been much gossiped
+about, knew it and laughed at it. He was still young and could wait.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Social vanity was his religion, the world his god, to whom, however, he
+did not pay such passionate, credulous homage as Linda, for example,
+but always with an ironical smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After he had gone through the romance with the Countess for perhaps a
+hundred times, had finally taught her text, melody, and even a
+sentimental mordent, and is now dismissed from duty, Eugene looks into
+the billiard-room again before he goes to his own room, and finds
+Pistasch, between thick clouds of smoke, occupied with a tschibouk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do I disturb you?&quot; he asks, gayly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, heavens, no! I have long been weary of my own society,&quot; sighs
+Pistasch with feeling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have an amusing bit of news for you, Pistasch,&quot; continues Rhoeden,
+approaching him. &quot;My uncle Harfink&quot;--Eugene always speaks of his
+relations in a mocking tone, somewhat as one kind of cripples speak of
+their humps--&quot;my uncle Harfink--you remember his first wife, whom you
+knew, is dead--well, he has married again!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wish him much happiness,&quot; replies Pistasch, who does not see why that
+should interest him particularly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has married, and none other than the famous Juanita,&quot; says Rhoeden,
+with the calmness of a virtuoso who is sure of his effect.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistasch drops his pipe, springs up from his armchair.
+&quot;Harfink--married--Juanita, the----&quot; he interrupts himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; says Rhoeden, calmly, &quot;the same Juanita who in her day ruined
+poor Lanzberg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! So you know the story?&quot; asks Pistasch, breathing freely in the
+consciousness that now all discretion is unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will go no further through me,&quot; Rhoeden assures him solemnly. &quot;But
+is not that delightful? My uncle writes me that he has married the
+aforesaid celebrity, and as his digestion is still not as good as it
+might be, they have gone to Marienbad for their wedding trip. He begs
+me to reconcile his daughter to his step, and to find out what kind of
+a reception his wife may expect in Traunberg. Piquant, eh? Very
+piquant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A shrill bell announces lunch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Rudi! Mimi!&quot; cries Pistasch, rushing into the dining-room, where both
+these, together with Elli and Mademoiselle, are assembled, &quot;old Harfink
+has married the Juanita, and has gone to Marienbad for his wedding
+trip. Is not that magnificent, is not that famous?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XIX.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A Modern Donna Elvira!&quot; This sarcastic nickname originated at the time
+when the charming Privy Councellor Dey, whose wife we are acquainted
+with, was still alive. Count Dey was a red-haired gnome, who was
+continually mistaken for his own tutor which, as the facetious Pistasch
+maintained with conviction to this day, was very annoying to the tutor.
+Besides, Count Dey was eighteen years older than his wife, who, if not
+beautiful, was still uncommonly attractive, and still the poor woman
+embittered her young life with the most painful jealousy, followed her
+husband about distrustfully, accompanied him on the briefest visits of
+inspection to his estates, shivering and heroic, shared with him the
+cold inconveniences of his grouse hunt in the Tyrol. The world
+maliciously delighted in the industry with which she defended her
+rights, and also in the fact that, in spite of her astonishing and
+extensive precautions, she was continually deceived by her red-haired
+spouse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mimi Dey now served as a warning example for Elsa. She, Elsa, had not
+the slightest wish to undertake the rôle of the &quot;modern Donna Elvira,&quot;
+and expose herself to universal mockery. Therefore she concealed her
+jealousy from Erwin with Spartan self-control, and smiled with the most
+charming loftiness, while the poisonous mistrust tore her bosom as
+pitilessly as the young fox tore the brave little Lacedæmonian.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When, the day after the lawn-tennis party, Erwin remorsefully sought
+the cause of her changed manner in his own behavior, and after he had
+tried to drive away her displeasure by a thousand loving attentions,
+put his arm around her and whispered to her softly: &quot;Elsa, confess why
+you were so angry with me yesterday--only because I stayed away so
+long?&quot; Frightened that he had so nearly touched upon her secret, she
+displayed the most arrogant indifference.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You surely do not think that I am vexed if you amuse yourself with
+Linda a little?&quot; she replied, with an irritating smile. &quot;I am glad that
+you have found a little amusement, my poor Erwin,&quot; she continued.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked at her in some surprise. &quot;Yes, but then I do not
+understand----&quot; he murmured. &quot;What is the real matter with you?--does
+anything worry you?---tell me--two can bear it more easily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no, I have nothing to tell,&quot; she replied, hastily. &quot;Nothing at
+all--I am tired, not very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, that you decidedly are not,&quot; he admitted, and anxiously
+scrutinized her thin cheeks and the dark shadows under her eyes. &quot;We
+must consult a physician.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We consulted him four weeks ago,&quot; she answered, &quot;and he advised me to
+drink Louisen-Quelle, and I drink Louisen-Quelle.&quot; She folded her hands
+resignedly over her breast, with an expression as if to say how little
+faith she had in Louisen-Quelle, and how indifferent her health was to
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps a trip to the sea-shore would do you good,&quot; proposed Erwin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could you go away now?&quot; she asked, apparently calmly, but with her
+heart full of distrust.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now? Hardly! But you could take Miss Sidney and Litzi with you, or, as
+far as I am concerned, both children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With the necessary servants that would cost a good deal,&quot; replies
+Elsa, discouragingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, we are not quite such beggars that we need think of that when it
+is a question of your health,&quot; he cries, almost angry. &quot;We have saved
+long enough and can now spend something. Decide upon Cowes; perhaps I
+can join you there later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a while she gazes silently and gloomily before her, then a slight
+shudder runs over her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa! You seriously alarm me!&quot; cries Erwin: &quot;something must be done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, certainly; I will go to Cowes,&quot; she decides, as if it was a
+decision to let herself be bound upon the wheel, then she turns her
+head to look at an approaching carriage. &quot;Oh, Linda,&quot; she cries, and
+her voice betrays absolutely nothing, not even antipathy to her
+sister-in-law, and Erwin begs, &quot;Be a little good to her--for Felix's
+sake. She needs women friends and has none but you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These naïve words may give the impression that Erwin is very obtuse.
+But he certainly was not, only his knowledge of human nature was always
+bounded by a great good-will, his keen sight blinded by good-nature.
+He possessed a true passion for making every one who came near him
+happy, and also the impractical habit of never thinking evil of his
+fellow-men, except when he absolutely could not otherwise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Therefore he saw to-day in Linda's visit nothing but a praiseworthy
+wish of coming nearer to Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda wore a very simple gown, which was very becoming to her; she had
+brought a work-basket, and sewed almost the whole time of her visit
+upon a little collar for Gery which had a very exemplary appearance.
+She made the most modest and tender attempts to be friends with Elsa,
+and without the slightest touch of familiarity, took a tone of
+comradeship towards Erwin which pleased him greatly--perhaps so much
+the more as a charming, childlike smile accompanied this tone, and the
+merriest little stories.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When evening had already become night, and Felix had still not
+appeared, as Linda seemed to have expected, to fetch her, and she
+confessed that she was afraid to return alone with her groom only, in
+the low pony carriage, Erwin good-naturedly escorted her on horseback
+to Traunberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was really unwelcome to him, but Elsa suspected the contrary, and
+as he had not the common habit of afterwards complaining of his
+obligingness, she remained of the same opinion. She herself had behaved
+perfectly charmingly to Linda. No one could have suspected that
+jealousy could smile so! No one--but Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And how she triumphed! how flattered vanity quivered in her every
+fibre, and how the drive home with Erwin amused her!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drove herself, and really she did not overdrive the ponies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Around them was the sultry, gloomy charm of the summer night.
+Long-drawn sighs and sweetly monotonous murmurs passed through the
+trees, the short grass trembled as if caressed by invisible hands. From
+time to time a glow-worm shot through the gray air like a falling star.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How beautiful!&quot; said Linda to herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, charming!&quot; Erwin admitted, and secretly looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In spite of the fact that he galloped home at a very sharp pace, it was
+midnight before he arrived there, which confirmed Elsa's strange idea.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Almost every evening after tea Erwin was accustomed to read aloud to
+his wife, and this had originated in their honeymoon, when Erwin, very
+young, very much in love, still shyly coquetted with his little
+talents.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He read well, and liked to read, and Elsa had until now always looked
+forward to the confidential chat, the happy fact of being alone
+together, which was a part of the reading hour, and both did not know
+which they really preferred: the wild, stormy winter evenings, in which
+Elsa sat as near the fireplace as possible, and contrary to his
+sensible prohibition, held one foot at a time over the glowing coals,
+until he stopped reading, and crouching on a stool, took the little
+feet from their light house slippers, and rubbed them warm between his
+hands; or the mild, fragrant summer evenings, when Elsa, gazing through
+the window at the sky, often interrupted the bitter earnestness of St.
+Simon, or the graceful bitterness of Voltaire, and with childish joy
+signalled a shooting star, and as Erwin laughingly asked her whether
+she had availed herself of the opportunity to wish something very
+beautiful, softly, with lips close to his ear, whispered, &quot;Oh, yes,
+that it may always be so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Usually he read serious books aloud, but sometimes he brought the old
+Musset which had accompanied him on his wedding journey, and then they
+vied with each other in gay recollections of their honeymoon, and
+laughed when they came to verses the meaning of which had been dark to
+her, and had made her ask the most remarkable questions. They
+contradicted each other animatedly as to who had the most faithful
+memory for every foolish, tender jest, and Elsa, whose remembrance
+exceeded his, faintly whispered softly, &quot;Do you see I have not let a
+single joy be lost out of my life. I have laid-them all away for my old
+days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The day after Linda's visit, Elsa made no move to leave the
+drawing-room when Erwin asked her softly, &quot;How about our Mahon?&quot; (they
+were just then reading this knightly pedant's English history), but
+replied discouragingly, &quot;I am going to retire early this evening,&quot; and
+engaged Miss Sidney in a conversation upon English philanthropy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin smoked a cigarette, glanced over a paper, finally, looking out of
+the window, remarked that it was a beautiful moonlight night and he was
+going shooting, kissed Elsa's forehead, bowed to Miss Sidney, and was
+about to leave the room when from Elsa's lips came anxiously:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But----!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you want anything?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you going to take any one with you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot; asked he, and raised his eyebrows; then suddenly laughing aloud
+he added, &quot;Would you perhaps like to accompany me, mouse? The night is
+mild, I will find you an easy path; we need not go far.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She hesitated, only for a moment she hesitated. She had formerly often
+gone with him; he had bought her a small rifle, and with anxious
+carefulness taught her to shoot, and as long as her health was good
+enough they had often hunted gayly together like good comrades. Why
+must just now Mimi Dey and the grouse hunt in the Tyrol come to her
+mind?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, I dare not venture out in the dew;&quot; thus politely, but
+without a trace of warmth she refused his good-natured offer, and he
+shrugged his shoulders slightly and vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">English philanthropy suddenly lost all interest for Elsa. She took
+leave of Miss Sidney quite absently, and went to her room which, since
+baby's existence, she had shared with the delicate little creature. She
+passed two tormenting hours; she was tortured by the most nonsensical
+fancies; she thought only of poachers and assassins; she did not close
+her eyes until she heard Erwin's step creep thoughtfully, softly past
+her door, but at least she had not been like Mimi Dey.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sempaly and Pistasch had accepted the invitation to dine in Steinbach
+on the Sunday for which Linda was invited. Elsa had been able to secure
+no ladies. Never had Linda been more beautiful than on this Sunday. She
+wore a dazzling toilet; &quot;from Worth,&quot; she replied, in explanation to
+some polite remark which Elsa had made upon her dress. &quot;From Worth, but
+I had to change it entirely. I cannot bear Worth any longer; he is too
+American. And how do you like my gown, Erwin?&quot; she turned to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Linda, you surely are not trying to make me think that you care
+anything about the taste of such a rusty hayseed as I am!&quot; cried he,
+laughingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you know very well that you are the only one, yes, the only one on
+God's earth from whom I will accept fault-finding,&quot; answered Linda, and
+putting her arm around Elsa's neck, she whispered in the latter's ear,
+&quot;Your husband has bewitched me, Elsa. If I did not wish you the best of
+everything, I really could envy you him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, the serpent! She feels very well that Elsa shivers in her arms, and
+she is happy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">During the dinner Elsa suffered fearful torments. Monosyllabic she sat
+between Scirocco, who, more quiet and melancholy than usual, did not
+help her to talk, and Pistasch who, gazing at Linda, forgot to talk.
+Linda, on the contrary, chatted unweariedly, entertained the whole
+table with her odd little stories, and knew how to absorb Erwin so
+deeply by her artfully naïve flatteries and carefully veiled coquetries
+that he, the most polite man in the world, scarcely found time to
+address a few pleasant phrases to the Englishwoman who, for the sake of
+symmetry, sat at his left.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After dinner Linda sang. Erwin accompanied her, and Pistasch lost his
+tongue with enthusiasm, except for the three words, &quot;Superb!
+magnificent! delicious!&quot; which he burst forth with again and again,
+gasping for breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa, who took no interest in French chansonnettes, and Sempaly, who
+did not care to hear them rendered by respectable women, or those who
+at least should be so, stood together in a window recess half chatting,
+half silent, like people who know and understand each other well. But
+suddenly Scirocco was silent, his glance wandered to Felix, who sat in
+the darkest corner of the drawing-room, and in order to give himself
+countenance, stroked Erwin's great hunting-dog. A little rattle of
+glasses had attracted Sempaly's notice. He went up to Felix, and after
+he had spoken a few words to him returned with him to Elsa. Elsa was
+frightened at sight of her brother. His cheeks were flushed to his
+forehead, the features swollen, the eyes shining as in one who has a
+severe fever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When everything had become quiet again in Steinbach, and Elsa was alone
+with Erwin in the drawing-room, she went to the table from which
+Sempaly had brought Felix away, and discovered there the <i>corpus
+delicti</i> in the shape of a half-emptied flask of Chartreuse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; cried she shuddering, and turned to Erwin. &quot;Do you know the
+latest?--Felix drinks!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin lowered his head. &quot;Drinks--drinks!&quot; he murmured with
+embarrassment but excusingly. &quot;You must not call it that exactly; it is
+not yet so bad!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You--you seem to have known it,&quot; cried Elsa, staring at him. He looked
+away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa paces twice through the room, her arms crossed on her breast. Her
+short, unequal breaths can be heard. Then she stops before Erwin; the
+blood has rushed to her cheeks, and causes there two uneven red spots
+under her eyes. Her hatred for Linda suddenly bursts forth. &quot;Oh, this
+repulsive, ordinary, tactless person! How deeply she has dragged him
+down!&quot; she says, with set teeth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin, to whom the cause of this unlovely and immoderate anger is
+wholly inexplicable, is displeasedly silent. This irritates Elsa still
+more, and in an even more unpleasant tone she continues, &quot;Well, do you,
+perhaps, doubt that she and only she has ruined Felix by her incredible
+lack of tact?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For the first time since Erwin has known his wife he lost patience with
+her, and shrugging his shoulders, replied, &quot;I find it hard to expect
+tact from a person who does not suspect the complicated difficulties of
+her position.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Erwin!--Erwin!--you--you surely do not believe that Felix would have
+married Linda without telling her of his circumstances?&quot; She was now
+quite pale again, she trembled, her voice sounded weak and hoarse. He
+was terribly sorry for her, at this moment he would have given
+everything to be silent. He took refuge in vague phrases. &quot;A mere
+suspicion--I spoke without thinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Elsa shook her head; an indescribable pain curved her lips. &quot;No,
+Erwin,&quot; cried she, &quot;you may not be the demi-god whom for nine years I
+have worshiped in you, but you are not capable of saying anything so
+degrading about my brother upon a mere suspicion. From whom do you know
+that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stood before him, drawn up to her full height, and looked him in
+the eyes with an expression which one could not lie to.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I judge so from questions which she has asked me,&quot; he stammers, and
+immediately adds, hastily, &quot;Certainly Felix would not purposely have
+concealed the affair from her; he may have told her mother----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is all the same,&quot; interrupts Elsa. &quot;His action remains
+unanswerable, for the first as well as the second time. Erwin, you poor
+man, into what a family have you married! Why would you have me? I did
+not wish it--I knew that it would be for no good.&quot; She is almost beside
+herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No good! Think of the nine years which we leave behind us,&quot; he
+replies, gently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Think of the twenty, thirty years which we have before us,&quot; cries she.
+&quot;The sacrifice which you made for me was too great.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know of no sacrifice,&quot; he replies, warmly. &quot;It is pure childishness
+which makes you bring that up again. Once for all, Elsa, I would not
+exchange a life at your side for the most brilliant career--to which,
+besides, I could scarcely have been called.&quot; With these words he goes
+up to her, and lays his hand gently under her chin to raise her face to
+his, but she breaks loose from him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you,&quot; says she, with hateful mockery. She thought of the
+thousand pretty speeches and charming attentions with which he had
+satisfied Linda's greedy vanity to-day. She was sick with suppressed
+jealousy. The bright light which Erwin's communication threw upon
+Linda's whole manner, and which so excused Linda, and on the other
+hand, so lowered Felix, mingled a new pain in all her morbid feelings.
+She literally no longer knew what she said, her voice became more and
+more cutting: &quot;I thank you,&quot; she repeated. &quot;You are very polite, you
+have a particular talent for politeness, you are the most charming man
+I know, but--but, I am sorry you had your way at that time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sorry, Elsa? For God's sake take that back,&quot; cried he. The pain
+which she had caused him was too deep for him to consider how much of
+her words were to be ascribed to true conviction, and what to her
+over-excited nerves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shook her head obstinately. &quot;Yes, I am sorry,&quot; she continued in her
+insensate speech. &quot;At that time you could not live without me&quot;--she
+spoke very bitterly--&quot;yes, you would have been unhappy without me--a
+month, perhaps a year--who knows?--but then you would have consoled
+yourself, and it would have been better for you and for me. Good
+night!&quot; and with head held high, with rigid face and trembling limbs
+she tottered out of the room.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>X.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Marienbad at six o'clock in the morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The air is still fresh and fragrant, the long, slanting sunbeams fall
+between the damp coolness of the woody shadows. The guests crowd along
+the narrow spring walk, their glasses in their hands. They form a line
+before the spring after they have emptied their goblets, considerately
+turn and conscientiously take exercise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sand beneath their feet, moist with the night dew, is of a dark
+reddish color. On the leaves of the graceful trees sparkle little drops
+of dew like finest enamel. In the turf which borders the sand walk
+great drops shine like diamonds. A white mist, too transparent to be
+called a fog, fills the distance. Thicker and thicker the guests crowd
+around the spring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Marienbad is overfull this year. Pleased landlords rub their fat hands,
+and push up prices to a most unheard-of amount. Guests who have omitted
+to engage rooms by telegraph can find no decent accommodations, seek
+shelter in the most miserable private houses, offer gold mines to
+shoemakers, tailors and glove-makers for one room. A whole excursion
+trainful pass the night in the waiting-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The daughter of some reigning family, travelling incognito under the
+name &quot;Comtesse Stip,&quot; has engaged the greatest part of the largest
+hotel for herself and her little prince in Scottish costume. A swarm of
+distinguished moths from every country has followed the princely light,
+and a crowd of <i>parvenus</i>, like a swarm of insects of the night, has
+followed the moths, who pass their time in Marienbad bandying strangely
+unselfish compliments.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The famous Vienna artists play every evening in the stuffy theatre;
+princesses and dramatic <i>coryphées</i> meet each other on the spring
+promenade.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To-day a new animation is displayed by the spring pilgrims. All gaze at
+a couple who have this morning appeared for the first time upon the
+promenade. The aristocratic curiosity seems even more awakened than the
+plebeian, and all the thirty or forty pairs of eyes of Marienbad
+&quot;society&quot; are fixed upon the same spot--upon the knight of Harfink and
+his young wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the Juanita, the Carini; how badly she is dressed, how fat she
+has grown, how homely!&quot; goes from mouth to mouth. &quot;And not even an
+artistic temperament--a woman who could be sensible enough to marry a
+'checked' iron founder. When she sees Lanzberg--how he must feel!&quot; Thus
+says society. Meanwhile, not noticing the voices hissing around her,
+Juanita, the widowed Marchesa Carini, upright and stiff, with the
+consequential manner of a retired dancer, walks between the knightly
+Harfink and his son, beaming with pride and satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How she looked fifteen years ago, at the time when she so fatally
+crossed the path of life of Felix Lanzberg, it would be difficult to
+determine. Today she looks like all elderly Spaniards, who to our
+unpractised northern eyes resemble each other almost as much as elderly
+negresses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An immoderately fleshy form, not very tall, with high bust, and
+unnaturally compressed waist, the hands tiny, like accidental
+appendages to her fat arms, the feet still incomparably beautiful, but
+too short to support the huge figure, the gait waddling, the face
+yellow and fat, mouth, eyes, and nose almost hidden by a pair of
+enormous cheeks--that is Juanita.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She who, in her day, had worn the bandeaux of her nation coming down
+over her ears, now, probably because this manner of wearing the hair
+seems to her peasant-like, wears the hair drawn back from her withered
+temples, falling in black ringlets on her forehead, a hat on the back
+of her head, a green silk gown and diamonds. Her tiny shoes and
+stockings are the only parts of her costume which are faultless. The
+former, charming little black satin affairs, the latter of open-work
+black silk. In consequence of this, she wears her gown short beyond all
+bound in front, which increases the width of the whole appearance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She continually exchanges the most tender, loving glances with her
+husband, and a happy honeymoon smile illumines her yellow face when he
+addresses her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As she uses the cure with the same conscientiousness as he, she stands
+beside him at the spring. Little Comtesse L----, a lively lady whom
+nothing escapes, asserts that every time before emptying her goblet,
+Juanita coquettishly hits it against that of the &quot;retired iron
+founder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The &quot;checked iron founder&quot; is a name given Mr. von Harfink on account
+of his immoderate preference for striking green and blue checked
+clothes. For two weeks Juanita has borne his name--for two weeks he has
+known how badly he really fared under Susanna's rule.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The aforesaid Susanna had died a year after Linda's marriage. Linda,
+who at that time had not fully recovered from Gery's birth, expressed
+no wish to go to Vienna for her mother's burial or her father's
+consolation. Mr. von Harfink had been left to bear the heavy loss
+alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the funeral Baron von Harfink shed many tears into a black-bordered
+handkerchief, and displayed all the symptoms of honest emotion; after
+the funeral he fell into a condition of silent apathy. The flame which
+had given light to his mind was extinguished, all was dark within him.
+He felt like an actor of poor memory whose excellent prompter has died.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">About a week after the catastrophe, his nearest relatives assembled at
+a dinner in his house, with the good-natured view of diverting him. He
+sat in their midst, silently bent over his plate. They had adjourned to
+the drawing-room for coffee, and still he had not spoken a word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The poor fellow! it has gone harder with him than we thought,&quot; the
+relatives whispered to each other. Then stretching himself comfortably
+in an arm-chair, and rubbing his stomach, he began, &quot;Ah! things have
+not tasted so good to me as they did to-day for a long time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The feeling of an immense relief had awakened in him. No longer to be
+afraid of making stupid remarks, no longer, when he had put on his
+favorite checked vest, to be reproved with, &quot;Anton, your vest insults
+my æsthetic feeling,&quot; or, when he had given himself up to the
+comfortable enjoyment of a favorite dish, to be frightened with,
+&quot;Anton, a day-laborer is nothing in comparison with you;&quot; to be forced
+to listen to no more articles from the <i>Rundschau</i> and the <i>Revue des
+Deux Mondes</i>,--it was very pleasant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scarcely had Susanna been three weeks in her grave, when Mr. von
+Harfink stopped the subscriptions to the <i>Revue</i> and its German cousin,
+the <i>Rundschau</i>, retired to his estate, played nine-pins with his
+brewer and cook, and in his shirt sleeves, ordered those new checked
+plush vests, and ruined his stomach three times a week.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Soon he displayed the most peculiar matrimonial intentions. He made
+love to the former companion of his deceased wife, an elderly spinster
+with thin hair and a very deep feeling for a blond theology student
+who, at that time in Magdeberg, sued for her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The improbable occurred; the companion refused the knight and his three
+millions, although after his death a settlement of seven hundred
+thousand guldens was assured her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The family was astonished at this unexpected unselfishness, and from
+thankfulness, and to prevent the romantic maiden from changing her mind
+later, married her to her student, with a splendid dowry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After they had met this model of prudence, the relations wrung their
+hands. If the charms of a forty-year-old, half bald companion had
+almost brought him to the altar, how should they protect him from a
+<i>mésalliance</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Only by the sharpest oversight was Mr. von Harfink prevented from
+marrying his housekeeper. Fearful conflicts burst forth on his
+estate--the castle became an inn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Susie must have been cleverer than I accredited her with being,&quot; once
+remarked Eugene von Rhoeden, who indifferently looked on upon his
+relative's movements. &quot;It certainly takes skill to govern the
+rhinoceros. None of you equal her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At length the relatives were weary, and left Baron von Harfink to the
+guidance of his son, that is, to his fate. Raimund was far too much
+engaged in cultivating his high C to watch his father. The poor young
+man, who had been destined by his mother to be a genius, at this time
+suffered from deep depression. He had failed everywhere--at the
+university, on the stage, finally in literature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After long efforts, he had obtained an engagement in a Bohemian
+watering-place, and under the stage name of Remondo Monte-chiaro, had
+sung Raoul in a beautiful pale violet costume of real silk velvet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The audience hissed and laughed; he sprained his ankle by the leap from
+the window, and appeared no more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he prepared a comedy which fell through in P----, an accident
+which he attributed to the lack of cultivation of the audience there;
+then he wrote essays upon the love affair of George Sand and Alfred de
+Musset, the murder of the ambassador at Rastadt, and the Iron Mask.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These effusions were published in a Vienna paper. The superficial
+public found the themes old, and did not read the articles. The
+intimate friends of the author read the first five sentences, had the
+satisfaction of discovering a grammatical error therein, and as, with
+the malice with which friendship meets every young striver, they sought
+nothing else in the articles, they laid them aside, satisfied. Raimund
+felt deeply wounded. The world seemed to him nothing more than an
+immense porcupine, which, with all its quills of prejudice, repelled
+his genius.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He passed his days in gloomy brooding--then a message from his humorous
+cousin, Eugene von Rhoeden, in Venice, waked him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Help what can be helped,&quot; he wrote. &quot;He is going courting again; this
+time it is in earnest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, it was in earnest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In Marienbad, the year before, he had first made her acquaintance; he
+had followed her to Venice. She had there, under the name Juanita,
+tried to obliterate the reputation of Pepita. Later she had borne the
+name of a Marchese Carini. She had been obliged to dance even as a
+Marchesa, for the Marchese did not disdain to make use of his wife's
+talent, and had dragged her from theatre to theatre. At one of her
+brilliant performances in St. Petersburg she broke her leg, and since
+then could dance no more. Now she became fat, sleepy, devout and
+irritable; the Marchese gambled away the greater part of her fortune,
+and died of galloping consumption. Ignorant of all business,
+continually deceived by her lovers, the Marchese Carini would have come
+to a sad end if the Knight of Harfink had not appeared as rescuer in
+her need.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He married her in the beginning of June.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Raimund, very depressed and deeply in debt, did not refuse to offer to
+kiss his new mamma's hand dutifully. She knew how so to fascinate him
+at the first meeting, that he was almost as slavishly submissive to her
+as his father. Juanita desired social position. She insisted upon being
+introduced to Linda. Harfink did not know that she had formerly had
+strange relations with Felix--she did not touch upon it; on the
+contrary, she reserved her power over Felix, which she had so
+boundlessly misused, for a favorable moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. von Harfink told his nephew, Eugene, when he met him in Marienbad,
+his wife's desire. &quot;I really do not know what to do; Linda is so
+curious,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Rhoeden answered with his sly smile, &quot;Write Linda and ask her when
+you may bring her new mamma to see her--or, really I see no reason why
+you should not quietly drive over one of these days without announcing
+yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not understand what any one could have against Chuchu!&quot; said the
+young husband, enthusiastically. &quot;What a woman she is! She has diamonds
+from the Emperor of ---- and a gold coat of mail from the Duke of ----,
+and with all that, she is nevertheless all domesticity and love! She
+calls me Tony, and darns my socks from pure love.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXI.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">At this time life was for poor Felix only a heavy, oppressing burden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He knew that Juanita was staying in Marienbad; knew that she had
+married his father-in-law. He felt neither horror nor astonishment at
+this step; nothing which she did would have astonished him, but he felt
+oppressed by the sense of her nearness; a true superstitious fear of
+the magic charm which her beauty had for him weighed upon him. His
+recollections, his imagination, had been busy with the picture of her
+which he still possessed--had invested it with the most refined charms.
+For Felix, the only excuse for his inexcusable conduct, by which he had
+ruined his life, lay in the demoniac fascination of the dancer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda had written her father, before his marriage, an annihilating
+letter, to which she had received no answer. She believed her father
+angry, and therefore expected nothing less than a visit from him.
+Felix, who thought her opinion sensible, nevertheless showed from time
+to time a certain fear, and thereby excited the spirit of contradiction
+in Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One can be glad that papa has done nothing worse,&quot; she remarked
+once, indifferently. &quot;It is not to be supposed that they will have
+children--<i>et pour le reste</i>, such a marriage with a dancer has a
+certain <i>cachet</i>. I shall make no advances to her, but if she comes I
+must receive her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix shuddered and was silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bitterly ashamed of himself, for a time he had tried to restrain his
+thirst for liquor. But he could control himself no longer. When the old
+remembrance began to burn in his heart like eating poison, he at first
+tried hard to occupy himself. He read, but, unaccustomed to all mental
+activity, a book scarcely chained his attention. He took long walks, he
+was too uneasy to become tired; he rode, he was too good a horseman to
+have any trouble with his horse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His heart grew more and more heavy, and he drank--drank privately in
+his room so as not to be surprised in an unreliable condition. He was
+always temperate at table. No one saw him now with flabby lips and
+tottering knees, and his friends did not notice that he was really
+never quite sober now. His hands shook perpetually, there was a watery
+look in his staring, hollow eyes. A slight bluish flush colored his
+nostrils, and his voice was quavering.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile Linda, careless and indifferent, fluttered around him,
+bitterness in her heart, on her lips a charming smile and malicious
+jests. A butterfly with a wasp's sting, Scirocco had called her, and
+Pistasch repeated it to her. It had greatly pleased her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this time Pistasch came to Traunberg almost daily. Linda coquetted
+with him, but her coquetry was vague and cold, and was neither
+challenging nor encouraging. He made no progress, as he expressed
+himself to Scirocco. &quot;She has no temperament and no heart,&quot; he
+grumbled, and once he added, &quot;Perhaps I am not the right one----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean?&quot; replied Scirocco, impatiently, remembering the
+suspicion which had been cast upon him. But Pistasch only answered
+crossly, &quot;Garzin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Impossible!&quot; replied Scirocco, unwillingly. Pistasch only shrugged his
+shoulders, and when Sempaly began to consider the matter, he must admit
+that Garzin went oftener than was necessary to Traunberg, that Linda
+had quite a different glance and voice when she was with him from what
+she had for others, that she made concessions to him which she granted
+no one else, never wore again the most becoming toilets if he had once
+condemned them, and did not sing the most piquant couplets if he
+shrugged his shoulders over them, and, once on the slippery path of
+distrust, Scirocco told himself also that the charming sisterly
+confidence which Linda permitted herself with her brother-in-law was
+scarcely in place in such a beautiful woman with such a young man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was angry with Garzin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He really does not think of wrong, but he should be careful--for----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Like all people of his stamp, Scirocco, in affairs of passion, did not
+believe in free will, but so much the more in the compelling influence
+of opportunity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have a new bracelet, Linda,&quot; said Felix one day, after dinner, to
+his wife as she smoked a cigarette with him in the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you like it?&quot; said she, and held out her white arm to him. The
+bracelet consisted of a thick gold chain to which a little coin was
+fastened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Charming!&quot; answered Felix, apparently indifferently. &quot;Did you buy it
+in Marienbad?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; Kamenz gave it to me to-day--he owed me a philopena,&quot; replied
+Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm!&quot; Felix looked gloomy, but did not know exactly how to put his
+vexation into words. He asked himself, &quot;Have I the right to reprove my
+wife?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, the bracelet seems to please you less since you know where it
+comes from,&quot; said Linda, smiling maliciously. &quot;Poor Felix! Are you,
+perhaps, jealous of this handsome, silly Pistasch? He is about as
+dangerous to me as that dandy there,&quot; and she pointed to a dainty
+Meissner figure in knee breeches and flowered vest, who with cocked hat
+under his arm, smiled down from a bracket.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I certainly do not wish to disturb your little amusement,&quot;
+stammered Felix, &quot;but you do not know how much gossip arises from
+intercourse between a woman like you and a man like Pistasch, and if he
+is really so indifferent to you--why--then--perhaps you might receive
+him somewhat less frequently.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm!&quot; said Linda, thoughtfully. &quot;However indifferent that porcelain
+dandy yonder is to me, I have not the slightest inclination to throw
+him out of the window.&quot; She blew a few whiffs of smoke up to the
+ceiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But there is no question of that,&quot; replied Felix, &quot;only see him less
+often----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda would not let him finish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But do you not see, my dear Felix,&quot; said she, knocking the ashes from
+her cigarette, &quot;to the house of a woman like me, who--let us speak
+plainly--really does not belong to his set, a man like Pistasch either
+comes not at all or every day. I am of a sociable nature--I must
+associate with some one, or else I should die of <i>ennui</i>. If no ladies
+will come, then I will receive men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot understand why you do not get on better with Elsa,&quot; remarked
+Felix, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was there recently; she has not returned my visit,&quot; said Linda. &quot;I
+cannot force her to come. I believe she is vexed with me because Erwin
+amuses himself with me. Heaven knows our intercourse is of wholly an
+innocent nature!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young woman rocked softly back and forth in her chair and laughed
+to herself, striking the finger-tips of her loosely clasped hands
+together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not doubt that for a moment, but you should have some
+consideration for Elsa--she is nervous and sensitive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! and I am to suit my behavior to her interesting nervous
+condition,&quot; laughed Linda. &quot;That is to say, I am to be intolerable to
+Erwin. <i>Eh bien, non merci!</i> He is the only man of my present
+acquaintance of whom I think anything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix was silent. Then without was heard a rustling and puffing as of a
+heavy silk gown and an asthmatic person. A foreboding distressed Felix.
+Linda half rose. &quot;That is surely not----?&quot; she murmured, but already
+the servant had opened the door. &quot;Baron and Baroness Harfink!&quot; he
+announced.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Very red-faced, even fatter than formerly, with confident bearing,
+shining with happiness and perspiration, and with the air of a youthful
+dandy, Linda's father approached his daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Although she had thought that she remembered him very well, she is
+still somewhat abashed at his astonishing appearance. Nevertheless she
+makes the best of a bad game, and condescendingly offers him her cheek
+to kiss. He kisses her loudly on the mouth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you look splendidly--no matter, you wrote me a foolish letter, but
+the past shall be forgotten. Here I bring your new mamma to you. She
+was good-hearted enough to pay you the first visit. You have certainly
+heard of the Marchesa Carini.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Also of Juanita,&quot; says Linda, giving the tips of her fingers to her
+step-mother. &quot;I am indescribably pleased to make the acquaintance of
+such a great <i>coryphée</i>. I have never yet had the pleasure of seeing a
+dancer except on the stage.&quot; The colossal insolence of her words is
+lost upon Juanita, owing to her stupidity and deficient knowledge of
+German, but the depreciation in tone and glance is perceptible to the
+dancer. She feels helpless and irritated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does Marienbad please you?&quot; continues Linda, with the insolent
+condescension which she has studied from the best examples.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very pretty,&quot; murmurs the Spaniard, twisting her handkerchief between
+her hands. She speaks poor German. Linda is delighted with her
+pronunciation, and does not take the trouble to speak French, for which
+cosmopolitan language the dancer had forgotten her mother-tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I remember rightly, I once had the pleasure of seeing you dance--it
+was in '67, in Vienna--my first theatre evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In Vienna?&quot; said the dancer. &quot;Oh! that was a small performance--that
+was at first--later, when I travelled with my husband, the Marchese
+Carini, <i>je n'ai jamais travaillé</i> except in St. Petersburg, Paris,
+London and Baden-Baden.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; says Linda; the conversation pauses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Papa Harfink, leaning somewhat forward, his heels under his chair,
+rests in a low arm-chair, and monotonously strokes his leg from the
+knee upwards and back again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Felix? Pressed tightly into a dark corner, where the hope of being
+forgotten and overlooked chains him, he stands motionless. As light
+perspiration which does not cool, but rather burns, moistens his whole
+body, the blood sings in his ears, his tongue cleaves to his teeth. He
+has not self-possession enough to hear her, he has not the courage to
+look at her; she floats before his mind, the most seductive siren, the
+most bewitching woman that ever, trifling and playing with a man,
+ruined his honor. He still dreads the disturbing might of her beauty.
+Curiosity compels him to gaze at her; he looks and does not trust his
+eyes. Where is the Juanita? Near his wife he sees a yellow, bloated
+woman, prematurely old, tastelessly dressed, squeezed into a black
+<i>moiré antique</i> gown, with folds under her round eyes, little
+fan-shaped wrinkles on her temples, and black down about the corners of
+her mouth. Common, fat, awkward, she sits there, a double chin resting
+on her fat bosom, her hands clasped over a lace-edged handkerchief in
+her lap! Felix cannot believe his eyes. That must be a mistake--that
+cannot be Juanita! Then, beneath the hem of her gown, he sees a tiny
+foot in a black satin shoe, and now he knows that this is Juanita!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He notices a light brown mole on her neck--it disgusts him, but then he
+remembers how this mole had once pleased him, how often he had jokingly
+kissed it! His cheeks burn--he has lost his last illusion--the whole
+vulgarity of the temptress to whom he had yielded is pitilessly exposed
+to him. Involuntarily he makes a movement. Papa Harfink discovers him.
+&quot;Ah, Felix,&quot; he cries, already somewhat out of temper, &quot;are you hiding
+from me? I should think,&quot; he adds, relying upon the power of his
+millions, &quot;that such a father-in-law as I is not to be despised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly Felix advances.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My husband,&quot; says Linda to the dancer. But the latter's face has taken
+on a prepossessing smile, and with the confidential expression which
+appeals to old times, she says, &quot;I know him already, <i>tout à fait un
+ami</i> from my <i>débutante</i> period; is it not so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She gives him her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The hand, only covered by a lace mitt, is flabby, and as Juanita, half
+rising, presses this hand against the lips of Felix, who is bowing to
+her, his face changes, plainly expresses disgust, and he lets the hand
+fall unkissed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Juanita trembles with rage. &quot;Let us go,&quot; screams she--&quot;let us go! Oh,
+Sir Baron, you think that I am only a dancer--and--and----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Speech fails her, she gasps for breath. &quot;Let us go, let us go!&quot; she
+pants.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My Chuchu! My beloved wife!&quot; cries Mr. von Harfink, and not honoring
+Felix and Linda with a word, he leads the Spaniard out of the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The carriage rolls away with the wedded pair. Scarcely has the door
+closed behind the Harfinks when Linda bursts into loud, happy laughter.
+Her husband's stiff manner, his way of ignoring her father, which,
+under other circumstances, would another time have irritated her from
+pure capriciousness, have this time chanced to delight her. &quot;You are
+unique, Felix, wholly unique!&quot; she cries to him. &quot;You were so
+deliciously arrogant! But what is the matter with you? Are you ill?
+<i>Tiens!</i> Juanita is your great secret! Poor boy!&quot; She taps him on the
+shoulder, she laughs yet. &quot;What a disappointment, eh! But what is the
+matter? No, listen; it is humiliating for me that the meeting with this
+comedian has so robbed you of your self-control, Felix!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His secret still has a charm for her, surrounds his poor bent form with
+a romantic light. Something startling, shockingly horrible, she seeks
+behind this, but not something dishonorable! With a teasing tenderness,
+which she has never shown him since their honeymoon, she strokes his
+cheeks, and begs, &quot;Tell me what distresses you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Felix's conscience torments him; he feels as if he would rather
+die than keep his secret longer. For a moment he almost counts upon
+mercy from this soft childish creature who has seated herself beside
+him on the arm of his old-fashioned chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Linda,&quot; he begins, &quot;when I married you I did not know--that
+you--suspected nothing of--of this matter. Your mother assured me that
+she had told you of my past----&quot; he hesitates.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my mother spared my youth, and only made the vaguest allusions!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He draws a deep breath. &quot;A terrible story is connected with this
+Spaniard,&quot;--he hesitates--she looks closely and curiously at him; a
+sudden idea occurs to her: &quot;You shot a friend in a duel on her
+account?&quot; she cries, and then, as she sees him start but shake his
+head, she says softly, with indistinct articulation and hollow voice,
+&quot;Or--or not in a duel--from jealousy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He lowers his head--he cannot speak--then slowly rising he totters out
+of the room. She remains alone--staring before her--her heart beats
+loudly--then she was right! All his enigmatical behavior is explained;
+she now even understands her fellow men, and strangely enough, she
+almost pardons him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix, beside himself with jealousy, thirsting for revenge, plunging a
+knife into the breast of his friend--the scene has something dazzling,
+something which compels her sympathy. She pictures the scene to
+herself; the luxurious apartment of the dancer--the two men, both
+deathly pale--she has seen something similar in the Porte St. Martin
+theatre. A peculiar excitement overpowers her corrupted nature,
+thirsting for strong stimulants. She loves Felix!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Two minutes later she knocks at his locked door. &quot;Let me in, me, your
+wife, who wishes to console you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix does not open the door.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">It is already twilight. Eugene von Rhoeden sits with his cousin Raimund
+in the Harfinks' drawing-room. As Pistasch had ridden to Traunberg,
+where Rhoeden seldom accompanied him, the Countess Dey was in bed with
+a headache, and Scirocco had one of those fits of desperate melancholy
+which so often tormented him, and was wandering about the woods, Eugene
+had nothing to do in Iwanow. For a change he had ridden over to
+Marienbad. At the forest spring, where the guests were assembled around
+the music-stand, he had met Raimund, and had heard from him that &quot;the
+old man&quot; had driven over with his wife to see the arrogant Linda; he,
+Raimund, had spared them his society.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene resolved to await the return of the pair; it interested him to
+learn something about the result of the visit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two cousins soon came to the conclusion that the music and the
+crowd around the pavilion were intolerable as well as the heat, and
+betook themselves to the <i>Mühl strasse</i>, where Papa Harfink, more
+conservative than superstitious, and besides wholly secure in his new
+happiness from indiscreet visits of Susanna's ghost, occupied the same
+apartments in which for long years he had &quot;suffered&quot; every summer with
+the deceased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a tinge of bitterness Eugene looked about him as he entered the
+bright room in which he had passed so many sweet hours with Linda.
+There stood the old-fashioned arm-chair yet, with the same covering,
+now, to be sure, worn at all the corners, the chair in which she used
+to lean back in the sultry summer afternoons, teasingly pulling to
+pieces his last gift of flowers with her delicate fingers, while Papa
+Harfink snored in the adjoining room; Mamma Harfink, in her maid's
+room, discussed the cut of her new toilet with the latter, but he,
+Eugene, crouching at the feet of the young girl, told her gay, trifling
+little stories, many times half-jokingly interspersing a tender word.
+Then she threw a flower in his face; her hand remained imprisoned in
+his, and he kissed it for punishment. Thus it went on for hours, until
+Papa Harfink entered the room with scarcely opened eyes and hair
+tumbled by sleep, and asked, &quot;Are we going to have coffee at home
+to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene had never seen the room since he had rushed into it, now more
+than five years ago, the bunch of white gardenias in his hand, and had
+found his cousin Lanzberg's <i>fiancée</i>. At that time he had not changed
+his expression, had not by one word betrayed his passion, knowing well
+that a man like him who wishes to rise in the world is condemned to
+perpetual agreeableness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How he had felt at that time!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His was no sentimental nature, but he had a faithful memory, and
+remembered distinctly how he had murmured the most polite phrases of
+congratulation; had drawn a comparison between himself and the man of
+old family, and beside, Felix had seemed to himself like a handsome
+dry-goods clerk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His love for Linda--it had been genuine of its kind--had long fled, but
+the wound which her vanity had inflicted in his still burned. The wish
+to repay Linda for her arrogance still animated him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The hour was near.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Outside a carriage was heard, then loud, creaking steps on the wooden
+stairs; a hoarse, croaking woman's voice gasped out from time to time
+furious and incomprehensible words; the door opened and Juanita
+entered. Crimson, with swollen veins and sparkling eyes, she threw her
+fan, broken in the middle, upon the table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In vain did Papa Harfink again and again stretch his short arms out to
+her and cry, &quot;Lovely angel, calm yourself!&quot; She had no time for love.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To insult me!--me--me!&quot; she beat her breast; &quot;me, Juanita, the
+Marchesa Carini--bah!&quot; she clenched her fist, &quot;he, a criminal--a----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who has insulted you, who is a criminal?&quot; asks Raimund.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He--he--this Lanzberg!&quot; she gasps. &quot;Oh, I will revenge myself--they
+shall see--I will revenge myself--Caro, Caro!&quot; screams the Spaniard.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Caroline is the maid, who enters at her mistress's loud cry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bring me the little black casket with the golden bird!&quot; commands
+Juanita.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The maid disappears; soon she returns with the casket, which she places
+upon the table before her mistress, whereupon she withdraws.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The blood throbs in Eugene's finger-tips, but, apparently perfectly
+indifferent, he stoops for the lace scarf which, with a quick gesture,
+Juanita has thrown from her upon the floor. Papa Harfink, who took the
+matter very phlegmatically, rang to order a flask of spring water and a
+lemon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Juanita rummaged for a long time among old newspapers in which her
+triumphs were recorded. She turned them over more and more uneasily.
+Papa Harfink had long since ordered his spring water, when at last
+Juanita &quot;found it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There it is!&quot; cried she. &quot;Will you read it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eugene von Rhoeden refused. Raimund read it aloud.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was an article in a scandalous journal which appeared in Vienna
+early in the sixties, but since then had failed or been suppressed. In
+that impertinent tone of cheap wit which seeks intellect in mockery,
+knowledge of human nature in cynicism, the story was told of a very
+arrogant young blue blood who in a weak hour had forged his father's
+name and who &quot;now could further cultivate his talent for drawing in the
+prison of T----.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The name of the young man was given as Baron L----. Some one had
+written &quot;Lanzberg&quot; above it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is not possible!&quot; cried Raimund.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, if you please--if you please--possible!&quot; screamed Juanita. &quot;It is
+all true--perfectly true!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I once heard something of that,&quot; declared Harfink, senior, whom the
+whole story troubled very little, and who had not enlightened Susanna.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rhoeden was silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And this despicable rascal has dared to marry into our honest family!&quot;
+cried Raimund, beside himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Susie knew of it! He-he-he!&quot; burst out Mr. Harfink, who now only too
+gladly accused the deceased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My mother knew it!&quot; Raimund struck his forehead. &quot;Linda surely does
+not know it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Leave her in her delusion,&quot; said Eugene, sweetly. &quot;One cannot change
+matters in the slightest, and all these years Felix has behaved so
+blamelessly, so nobly, so----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He knew that his praise of Lanzberg would bring forth a new burst of
+rage from Juanita.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed!&quot; now repeated the Spaniard, with malevolent emphasis, &quot;nobly,
+blamelessly!&quot; and seized the paper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; Linda must know it; I shall write to her this very day!&quot; cried
+Raimund.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That you will not do,&quot; said Eugene, firmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because it would be vulgar.&quot; With that Eugene rose and took his hat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Juanita had meanwhile added to the time-obliterated pencil-mark a new,
+heavier one, had wrapped up the paper with remarkable deftness, and
+addressed it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you put that in the post-box?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, my dear madam,&quot; he replied, gravely, bowed and left. Behind him he
+heard the voice of the Spaniard: &quot;Caro, Caro--to the post--but
+immediately!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Through the damp evening shadows he trotted to Iwanow. He enjoyed the
+pleasant conviction of having behaved throughout as an eminently
+upright man, and also the pleasant conviction that he had attained his
+aim.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At a turn of the road, castle Traunberg shone gray and ghost-like
+between the dark old lindens. Eugene took off his hat, smiling
+ironically, and murmured, &quot;Good evening, Linda!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXIII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda knocked in vain at her husband's door. In spite of her coaxing
+requests she had not been admitted. More and more horrible thoughts
+occurred to her. In ever more interesting colors her imagination
+painted her husband's secret. She expected that he would appear at tea;
+he excused himself, and did not leave his room again that day. She grew
+more and more excited--she did not sleep that night, only towards
+morning did she close her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix was no longer in the house when she had risen; he had ordered a
+horse saddled at six o'clock that morning, and had ridden over to
+Lanzberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda grew impatient. &quot;Can I find old letters anywhere?&quot; thought she.
+&quot;In any case I must look through the attic rooms some day.&quot; She ordered
+the keys of the upper story. Mrs. Stifler, the housekeeper, looked upon
+it as understood that the young wife would require a guide for her
+wanderings, and prepared to accompany her. But, pleasantly as she
+treated all the servants, and especially those who had been in the
+family from one generation to another, Linda declined the old woman's
+company.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At first she had difficulty in finding the right key for the different
+keyholes. As the rooms for the most part opened into each other, and
+only the doors into the corridor were locked, that was soon overcome.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">None of the rooms were quite empty and none were fully furnished. An
+odor of mould and dry flowers and close, oppressive air filled them. On
+all objects dust lay like a gray seal of time. Some of the rooms had
+such thick curtains that only here and there a bluish white streak of
+light lay on the floor, amid the dark shadows; others, and the most,
+had neither curtains nor blinds, and the light in them was dazzlingly
+bright. There stood a gilded carved arm-chair with brocade covering
+of the style brought from France in those days when Maria Theresa
+called the Pompadour &quot;<i>ma chère cousine</i>,&quot; and near by a whole row of
+spindle-legged chairs with lyre-shaped backs in the stiff style of the
+Empire. And the arm-chair looked handsome and arrogant, the chairs
+hideous and pretentiously solid--and both alike were long ago
+unavailable and did not know it! Alabaster and porcelain clocks with
+pillars for ornaments, and thin Arabian figures on large white dials,
+slept away the time on yellow commodes with inlaid wood arabesques.
+Many family portraits of long-ago generations hung on the walls, mostly
+oil paintings, the men all standing in very narrow coats with very
+large revers, their hands on their hips, their eyes contracted to that
+narrow exclusive gaze which overlooks all unpleasant circumstances of
+life and worldly affairs, characteristic of the manly <i>ancien régime</i>;
+the women all seated, with broad sleeves and curls arranged in the
+English fashion; in the eyes that charming, unabashed gaze which on
+their side characterizes the women of the <i>ancien régime</i>, a gaze which
+sees in poverty only picturesque objects at the side of their path; a
+gaze which, mild and loving as it is, yet pains because it is
+accustomed to nothing but the beautiful, expects nothing but the
+beautiful, and therefore humiliates misery and hideousness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda felt embarrassed at so much of the past; a certain hesitation,
+which did not accord with her indiscreet, egotistical, pushing nature,
+paralyzed her hands, while she, prying into Felix's secret, opened old
+chests and pulled out drawers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She found trophies of the hunt, an old brocade gown, in a wardrobe a
+bridal wreath and a half dozen old riding boots; she found old notes,
+books, albums full of copied poems, books of Latin and Greek exercises,
+and an ambitious plan for dramatizing Le Cid, in round, childish
+writing, old bills, receipts, but she found no old letters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In one of the last rooms she discovered a newer secretary, which was
+ornamented with painted porcelain tablets, on which pink and sky-blue
+ladies walked in brilliant green landscapes. Linda opened every drawer,
+knew how to fathom the most secret compartments, and finally discovered
+a bundle of old letters tied with a black ribbon. Her heart beat
+rapidly; she was about to hurry away when a picture with face turned to
+the wall attracted her attention. The dust upon it was more recent than
+upon the other objects. Not without difficulty she turned it around,
+and uttered a little &quot;Ah!&quot; of admiration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The picture was no better painted than most modern family portraits,
+but it represented the handsomest young man who ever wore the green
+uniform of the Austrian Uhlans, of '66. The carriage of the young
+officer, who sat there carelessly, with head slightly bent forward and
+sabre between his knees, was well portrayed. Linda thought that she had
+never seen a more fascinating man; the pleasant mouth, the shy and yet
+confident glance, the naïve arrogance of the whole expression--all
+pleased her. Who could that be? She went down stairs and commanded two
+servants to bring the picture to the drawing-room at once. One of the
+servants--it was Felix's old valet--permitted himself to remark, &quot;The
+Baron did not like the picture, and in consequence had banished it to
+the second story.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda insisted that her command should be executed. &quot;Do you know whom
+the picture represents?&quot; she asked, as she passed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man seemed surprised and hesitated. &quot;The Baron, himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; Linda bit her lips, and made a gesture of dismissal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the man had gone away with the servant to fetch the picture, Linda
+laughed to herself, gayly--the joke seemed to her delicious.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Scarcely was she alone when she bent over the letters. They were
+written in a flippant, haughty tone which harmonized well with the
+portrait. The first dated from a Polish garrison; in all was evident
+the naïve selfishness of a good-hearted but uncommonly indulged man.
+The letters pleased Linda very well. From time to time she glanced at
+the portrait, which, in accordance with her wishes, had been brought
+in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a pity that I did not know him at that time,&quot; said she, and then
+added, shrugging her shoulders, &quot;at that time he would scarcely have
+wished to have anything to do with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Felix returned from his ride he found in the vestibule, among
+other letters arrived in the morning, an old newspaper in a wrapper
+addressed in very poor writing to his wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked at it, read the post-mark, Marienbad--he recognized Juanita's
+writing. His heart throbbed violently. The idea of suppressing the
+paper flashed through his mind; he seized it, then a kind of fury with
+himself overcame him. He was weary of striving to prevent his last
+great humiliation, and like one in deep water who, when the waves reach
+up to his throat, weary of exertion, defiantly flings himself into the
+horrible element in order to make an end of it, so he sent the paper to
+his wife himself, by a servant. Then he went to his room. He seated
+himself at his writing-desk, and resting his head on one hand, with the
+other mechanically smoothing a newspaper which lay before him, he
+waited, half with dread, half with longing, like a criminal condemned
+to death, for the message which should summon him to the gallows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he heard a fearful, piercing scream. &quot;Ah!&quot; said he, &quot;she knows
+it!&quot; Will she come to him? There is a rustle in the corridor, the door
+of the room is flung open, and Linda enters, or rather bursts in. Her
+face is distorted; a lock of loosened hair hangs over her ashy pale
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a calumny, it cannot be true!&quot; she cried, and threw the paper
+which Juanita had sent her before him upon the table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He is silent. Her vanity believes in him until the last moment; has
+expected an explanation from him, but he is silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She grasps his shoulder. &quot;For God's sake is it true that you were
+sentenced to two years' imprisonment for forgery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he murmurs so softly that his voice seems only an echo, &quot;Yes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She staggers back, remains speechless for a moment, and then bursts
+into not convulsive, not hysterical, no, only indescribably mocking
+laughter. &quot;And I was proud to bear the name of Lanzberg,&quot; she murmurs.
+&quot;Now at last I know how I came by that honor.&quot; She feels not one iota
+of pity for the mortally wounded man who has quivered at each of her
+words as beneath the blow of a whip; she feels nothing at all but her
+immense humiliation. The wish to pain him as much as possible burns
+within her, and for a moment she pauses in her speech because she can
+think of nothing that is cutting and venomous enough. &quot;And if you had
+even informed me of the situation, had given me the choice whether I
+would bear a branded name or not,&quot; she at length begins again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he who had until this moment sat there perfectly silent, with
+anxiously raised shoulders, his hand over his eyes, raises his head
+wearily. &quot;Linda, I begged your mother to tell you of my disgrace--she
+assured me that she had done so. On my word of----&quot; he pauses, a
+horrible smile parts Linda's lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go on,&quot; cries she, &quot;your word of honor. I will believe you--it is
+possible that you speak the truth. My mother suppressed your
+confession, good; but every glance and word of mine during our
+engagement must have convinced you that she had suppressed it. You
+cannot answer that to your conscience,&quot; she hissed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To that he replies nothing, but sits there motionless and silent. She
+wishes to force him to proclaim his shame by an outcry, a gesture of
+supplication. &quot;I have borne a branded name for five years--I have
+brought into the world a branded child,&quot; says she quickly and
+distinctly, her eyes resting intently upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At length he shudders; he looks at her with a glance which pleases her,
+it shows such fearful misery--her eyes sparkle. &quot;And all for the sake
+of a Juanita!&quot; she cries again scornfully, and leaves the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rushes down stairs breathlessly; there in the large drawing-room
+stands the picture, the package of letters lies on a table. Tears of
+rage rush to Linda's eyes. She pulls the bell sharply. &quot;Take that
+picture away!&quot; she commands the servant who appears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She would like to declare to the servant that she knew nothing of the
+Lanzberg disgrace when she married a Lanzberg.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXIV.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All for the sake of a Juanita!&quot; That was the most biting remark Linda
+had made, was what made Felix feel most keenly his degradation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had heard of people who sinned for a good object, who had forged
+their fathers' names from generous precipitancy to save the honor of a
+friend, with the ideal conviction that the father himself must declare
+that he was satisfied with the wrong action on account of the
+unfortunate complications. But he? No false idea of sacrifice, no
+desire for martyrdom had confused him; as the cause of his action he
+found nothing but egoism and search for enjoyment, a brutal passion for
+an unworthy woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The explanation of his act lay in the hot-blooded temperament of a
+thoroughly spoiled and indulged man, whose first ungratified wish robs
+him of his senses--the excuse of his act lay nowhere. He also had never
+sought it, and had never for one instant forgiven himself, but all
+these years, wherever he went, had dragged about with him the
+consciousness of his degradation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It had weighed so heavily upon him that this in itself had prevented
+every moral elevation in him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Had his sense of honor not been by nature and education so fanatic, so
+morbidly sensitive, he would perhaps have learned in time to accustom
+himself to his situation, and become a commonplace, anxiously
+respectable man who contented himself with playing first fiddle in
+circles which were a step lower than his own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But however he was situated, he never learned to reckon with his
+detracted honor. It could not satisfy him to represent an ordinary,
+respectable man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How was it possible; oh, God, how was it possible that I, Felix
+Lanzberg, could so forget myself?&quot; he groaned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He let his head fall upon his folded arms on his writing-desk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then through his weary mind, like a triumphal fanfare of temptation,
+rang the melody of a Spanish national dance, with its exciting, sharply
+accented rhythm and perfidious modulations. The portion of his past in
+which his present grief had root rose vividly and with the most minute
+particulars to his memory.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It dated back--oh, that beautiful unrecallable time--twenty-three
+years. Very wealthy, handsome, of good family, fond of gay life and
+without any serious aims, he liked to amuse himself, rendered homage to
+his colonel's wife, as is obligatory in every young officer, supported
+here a factory-girl, there a glove-maker, but at that time his great
+passion was really four-in-hand driving. On the whole, he was of too
+ideal temperament to find enjoyment in light-minded passions, and had
+no talent for such. In association with all other beings--his
+superiors, comrades, subordinates, tradespeople and proletaries--full
+of a certain good-nature, self-satisfied. In intercourse with women he
+was almost shy, stiff, grave, and well-bred to the finger-tips. He was
+everywhere considered sentimental and solid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The last Easter he had raved over Countess Adelina L----, the sister of
+the same Count L---- whom he had encountered so unpleasantly at Mimi
+Dey's--had danced three cotillons with her, lost two philopenas to her,
+and passed much time at receptions, seated in a low arm-chair beside
+her, gazing at her with enraptured eyes, and accompanying his glances
+with a few anxious, very involved and equally unmeaning phrases. It
+only required some sharp elderly friend of the Countess to make matters
+plain to him--that is, to call his attention to the fact that he was
+really betrothed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He seemed made to marry early, to adore his wife, and to bore his
+intimate friends with accounts of the wonderful peculiarities of his
+children. Then, on a mild, damp spring evening, after a good dinner,
+and not quite sober, he chanced to go with several comrades to the
+Orpheum, which later, owing to an American who walked a telegraph wire
+with much ease and grace, became a great attraction, but which then
+tried its fortune with Spanish dancers and a lion-tamer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The dance production began with four Spaniards, two women, two men, all
+four old, homely, and so thin that they did not need castanets to
+rattle, danced with convulsive charm, smiled like painted death's
+heads, and on the whole reminded one strongly of certain repulsive
+pictures of Goya, which are usually voted exaggerated, so as to allay
+the horror which they cause.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The officers cried &quot;Brava!&quot; with biting irony, the audience hissed,
+several indignant voices grumbled at the director. Then the first bars
+of the madrilèna resounded through the atmosphere impregnated with
+tobacco smoke and the odor of eatables. A new apparition stepped upon
+the stage. A smile--a glance--the deepest indignation changed to the
+most breathless astonishment. With the voluptuous bowing and swaying of
+a Spanish dance, the most beautiful woman that was ever called Senorita
+floated over the stage. That was Juanita! The horrible background of
+the quartette heightened the luxuriant charm of her figure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was no practised dancer, none of our conventional ballerinas, whose
+perfect flexibility destroys all individual charm; her limbs had not
+been disfigured by year-long torture; they possessed neither the
+pitiful thinness nor the dazzling rapidity of a race-horse. She did not
+know how to execute with the lower extremities the most ambitious
+figures, while--as is considered essential--the upper body remained
+stiff; she did no gymnastics--she danced! And not only with her
+limbs--she danced with her whole body.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, what an intoxicating bending and swaying! A proud drawing up of the
+body, and caressing sinking backward! Her dancing had nothing animated,
+challenging about it, but something subtly alluring, almost magically
+seductive. Her whole appearance suggested longing weariness, as when in
+a storm the flowers shudderingly bend their heads earthward. And she
+was beautiful! The short oval of her face, the low brow, the short,
+straight nose, the delicate, quivering nostrils, the high cheek-bones,
+the slightly sunken cheeks, the long, deep-set eyes, full of loving
+dreaminess and passion, the full, curved lips, turning upward with an
+expression of languishing weariness--all this reminded one not in the
+least of the ideal, gentle brunette Madonnas of Murillo. It reminded
+one of nothing holy, nothing classical--but it was the most seductive
+earthly beauty which one could imagine!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The audience raved; the officers screamed themselves hoarse with
+&quot;Brava! Brava!&quot; Some of them made poor jokes about the dancer, others
+hummed or whistled reminiscences of the Spanish music. Only Felix was
+silent. &quot;You act like one to whom a ghost has announced death,&quot; jested
+Prince Hugo B----, and thereupon proposed that the officers should go
+upon the stage in a body and give Juanita an ovation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How he remembers all that to-day! The large half-lighted room near
+the stage, the dusty old rafters, the ropes, the torn scenes, the dim
+gas-lights, the crowd of actors and actresses huddled together, the
+trapeze artist who wore a brown waterproof over his pink doublet and
+green tights, and in the midst of this unsavory crowd--Juanita. In a
+shabby gray dress, and green and blue checked shawl, she stood near an
+elderly very shabby woman, and smiled with her languishing lips most
+indifferently, while the men vied with each other in paying her the
+most effusive compliments in imaginary Spanish or bad French. When they
+withdrew Felix stumbled over something. It was the yellow flower which
+Juanita had worn in her hair, dusty, withered, trodden upon. Carefully
+he wiped the dust from it, and tried to revive the faded, crumpled
+petals.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Deuce take it! We should invite her to supper,&quot; cried Prince B----,
+suddenly standing still.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Hugo?&quot; stammered Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The former laughed, turned on his heel, gave his invitation, and
+Juanita nodded perfectly contentedly. She had no objection to sup with
+the gentlemen. To be sure, she took her theatre mother with her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How Felix recalled all this!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The glaring gas-light in the long narrow room of the restaurant; the
+sleepy, blinking waiter; Manuela--that was the name of the dancer's
+protecting angel--who, without removing hat or wrap, and also without
+saying a word, with the usual appetite of all theatre mothers, bent
+over her plate; the officers who, with faces flushed with wine,
+proposed clumsy toasts, and Juanita who, seated beside the Prince upon
+a red divan, again and again rubbed her large weary eyes with her
+little hands, like a sleepy child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She ate without affectation and without greediness--only sipped the
+champagne, smiled good-naturedly at the boldest jokes, whether she
+understood them not, with the resignation of a being who was accustomed
+to earn her bread in this manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old Manuela had long been snoring. Some the officers had grown
+melancholy, the others were noisy only by fits and starts--Juanita's
+eyes closed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let her go, she is tired,&quot; remarked an elderly captain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before we part, I beg one especial favor,&quot; cried Prince B----. &quot;That
+the Senorita give us each a kiss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The dancer made a few gestures of dissent, because that was a part of
+her trade, and then yielded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Patiently she let one after the other of the young men press his
+mustache, smelling of wine and smoke, upon her beautiful mouth. At
+length Felix's turn came, but he avoided her lips, profaned by the
+kisses of his comrades, and only kissed her hand very softly.
+Misunderstanding the tenderness of his action, she believed that he
+despised her kiss.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A few minutes later the two sleepy Spaniards rolled away to their home
+in a carriage which Prince B---- had paid for.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A beautiful creature, but a perfect goose,&quot; remarked B---- to Felix,
+as he strolled back to the barracks with him. The other officers drove.
+&quot;Besides, she is at least twenty-five or six years old; that is old for
+a Spaniard,&quot; chatted the Prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix walked silently beside him, a hot, unsatisfied feeling in his
+heart, a withered flower in his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He cherished it like a lover the rose-bud which his dear one had given
+him; yes, thus would Felix cherish the faded yellow flower which the
+dust in the wings of the stage had soiled--upon which an acrobat might
+have trodden. He placed it in a glass of water, and finally pressed it
+in a book of poems.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Explain it who will! In the moment when Felix had avoided her lips, the
+narrow-minded Spaniard had taken a decided dislike for him, a dislike
+which more intimate acquaintance with him did not overcome, but which
+increased to aversion. Neither his unusual, truly somewhat effeminate,
+beauty, nor his reserved, chivalrous manners, pleased her. B----, with
+his bold, condescending ways, had more success with her, but her
+deepest, tenderest feelings were for the trapeze artist of the Orpheum,
+a young man with strongly developed muscles and bushy hair, who
+apparently seldom washed his face and never his hands; but, on the
+other hand, used the strongest-smelling pomade, and always wore the
+most brilliant cravats. One met him often when one visited Juanita.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that time Juanita lived in the Rossau, in a very plain locality,
+which continually smelt of mutton tallow and onions, because Manuela,
+in spite of the warm time of year, loved to cook unappetizing national
+dishes upon the drawing-room stove.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Manuela was never seen without her crumpled black satin hat and her
+green shawl adorned with red palms. Around the old woman's waist, on a
+worn-out cord hung a pocket from which protruded a gay paper fan, and
+which beside this lodged a pack of cards, a rosary and cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Juanita lay from morning to night upon a divan, clad in a loose white
+wrapper, without corsets, without stockings, a rose behind her ear, and
+tiny black satin slippers upon her small bare feet. But how beautiful
+she was thus!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The soft white clinging garment outlined her form distinctly. One could
+think of nothing more charming than her little feet, scarcely as long
+as one's palm, so narrow, beautifully arched, with pink soles and
+dainty dimples, and with blue veins around her ankles as they peeped
+out of the satin slippers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Except for a few fairly brutal bursts of rage, Juanita was uncommonly
+phlegmatic. She really loved nothing but cigarettes, sweet drinks mixed
+with ice, and a horrible Spanish national salad of garlic and cucumbers
+which she called a <i>gaspacho</i>. The time which she did not devote to her
+dancing exercises and her lovers, she passed smoking, laying cards, and
+telling the beads of her rosary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She tolerated Felix around her, like a poor actress who wishes to
+quarrel with no one and tolerates every one; she did not encourage him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her coldness excited his feeling to madness; his boundless submission
+increased her repugnance for him. In association with her, he had no
+self-respect, no pride, no will, but the low-spirited air of a shy
+student. He grovelled at her feet, and spent half the day pasting gold
+spangles on one of her old costumes which Manuela was freshening up. He
+had known her for weeks without daring to send her anything but
+bouquets and candy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then one evening he saw her in a box of a theatre. She wore her hair
+arranged in the Spanish manner, with a veil and high comb, and a black
+satin gown which fitted like a glove, adorned with a silver girdle. The
+whole audience was interested in the beautiful Spaniard. In the second
+act, Prince B---- appeared in her box. The people whispered, laughed.
+Felix was half dead with jealousy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next day there was a violent altercation between the Prince and
+him, at which the former good-naturedly declared that he would a
+hundred times rather break with Juanita than with Felix; he did not
+care anything about her, she bored him; he had only sent her to the
+theatre, dressed beautifully, to mystify the Viennese, etc.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Felix hired a charming entresol in K---- Street, and had it
+furnished in three days by the first upholsterer in Vienna. Juanita
+made no trouble about occupying it. She laughed and clapped her hands
+with joy over the magnificent furniture, gave up her loose wrappers,
+wore the clothes which Felix had made for her, and in honor of the
+beautiful apartment, played the great lady.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Surprise and thankfulness, or perhaps a suddenly awakened covetousness
+for a time killed in her every other feeling. Felix revelled in a few
+weeks of mad happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To-day, however, his hair stood on end when he thought of this
+happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Juanita gave herself up to mad extravagance. Her ideal of elegance and
+style was Mlle. X----, the <i>première danseuse</i> of the opera house.
+Juanita must have duplicates of everything: the toilets, the
+Newfoundland and the equipages. Finally she insisted upon dancing at
+the same theatre as the X----, and Felix succeeded in securing a
+performance for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And yet how badly she treated him in spite of everything. Often he
+rattled his frail chains, but lacked the strength to break them. He
+made scenes for Juanita almost every day--it was owing to his jealousy;
+he left her and swore he would never come again. For an entire week he
+remained away from her, but in what a condition of excitement, fever,
+and longing! He ate nothing, he slept no longer, he ran into passers-by
+in the street because he saw no one; the whole world was a dark chaos
+to him--the only spot of light was Juanita.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With bowed head, a bitter smile on his lips, the full consciousness of
+his degradation expressed by bearing and glance, he then dragged
+himself back to Juanita.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did with him what she wished. All Vienna spoke about him and her;
+from the lips of young matrons mysterious phrases floated about the
+ears of innocent young girls--the pretty Countess L---- cried her blue
+eyes out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the summer passed. September arrived. The Spaniard had become more
+submissive--sometimes she was almost tender. The great moment of her
+début in the opera house approached, and made her timid. One more wish
+she expressed, a last one. Never before had she taken trouble to inform
+Felix of one of her expensive wishes with so many caressing
+digressions. With both arms round his neck, her lips close to his ear,
+she informed him that she would not appear at the opera house without a
+pair of diamond screws such as Mlle. X---- always wore in her ears when
+she danced.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When he begged her only to wait a very little while, she fell back into
+her old phlegmatic, yes, apathetic manner, pouting angrily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He went to a jeweller whom he knew, of whom he had already purchased
+different ornaments for Juanita, but the man did not seem inclined to
+extend Felix's credit further. Too prudent to bluntly refuse such a
+distinguished customer he pretended that he had no stones of the size
+which the Baron required.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He could perhaps obtain them from a business friend &quot;for cash.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix left the shop angrily, and now sought his old acquaintance,
+Ephraim Staub. But the latter shrugged his shoulders, said that he had
+already done a great deal for the Baron for the sake of his respectful
+devotion to him; he relied upon his honor, but still the notes of a
+minor were not legal, and all men were mortal, and if anything should
+happen to the young Baron who would answer to him, Ephraim Staub, that
+the young gentleman's papa would not throw him together with his notes,
+which in the eyes of the law were not legal, out of the door?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix chewed the knob of his riding-whip angrily. Then carefully
+feeling his way, the usurer ventured an infamous proposition.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly a note with your father's acceptance--that would be
+safe--the old gentleman would certainly redeem that--one could always
+apply the thumbscrews to one's papa.&quot; Ephraim could assure the Baron
+that young people of the best families--he must, alas, conceal the
+names--had given him this kind of guarantee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a long time the true signification of this speech was wholly dark
+to Felix, but at length he understood, then he did not even take the
+trouble to fall into a rage, only threw back his head arrogantly and
+raised his riding-whip to the usurer as one strikes a cur who has
+ventured too near.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How did it happen that three days later he returned to Ephraim Staub
+and made out the note in the shameful manner which the latter had
+desired of him? Yes; how did it happen? Felix no longer knows. If he
+knew, he could perhaps understand his crime to-day, but he does not
+understand it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His memory is a blank concerning the three days in which he had slowly
+sunk to forgery; there is a dark spot, a chasm in his recollection; he
+can only take it up again in the moment when, exhausted as if after
+weeks of fever, bathed in cold sweat, and groping along the walls, he
+crept from Ephraim's shop to the jeweller's; how suddenly he was
+frightened at the gargoyle on the cornice of a house, frightened
+because the head laughed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From this moment he was not happy for a second, not even with Juanita.
+Strangely enough, his passion for her now was completely in the
+background; it fled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed to him that a monster sat upon his back and buried two iron
+claws in his shoulders, and blew in his ears with his hot, terrible
+breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The evening on which Juanita was to show her splendid beauty and her
+empirical dancing to the audience of the opera house arrived.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A warm, September evening. There had been a hard shower; there was an
+odor of wet stone and marble as Felix went to the theatre. By turns he
+shook with cold and grew feverish, he suffered with a severe cold. The
+theatre was still only sparsely filled. When he took his seat in one of
+the front rows he noticed that people pointed him out to each other and
+whispered his name. He was a celebrity--Juanita's lover!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And all the soft voices pierced his ears, and yet no one could know
+that.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ballet had been introduced into an opera, he could not have said
+into which one; he heard nothing, he saw nothing which took place upon
+the stage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The triumphal fanfare of the madriléna roused him from his brooding.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How beautiful she was!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cloud of black lace and satin floated about her. On her breast was a
+bunch of white roses, in her ears sparkled two great drops like frozen
+tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix saw nothing of the whole apparition but these great sparkling
+drops. He would have liked to scream out, &quot;Hold her fast, she wears my
+honor in her ears!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Poor Felix; he was delirious. The triumph which Juanita had experienced
+at the Orpheum was nothing to her present one at the opera house. A
+foreign prince, who chanced to be in the house, clapped his hands in
+approval; the X---- saw it in her box, and grew green with envy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Juanita threw her last kiss and vanished. The opera proceeded.
+Felix sat in his place as if petrified.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last, at the close of the act, he rose to go behind the scenes. That
+uneasy hum, which in the world follows a triumph or a fiasco, prevailed
+there. Juanita was nowhere to be seen. He knocked at her dressing-room
+door, her maid alone answered him. Juanita was gone, had just driven
+away. &quot;His Highness Prince Arthur&quot;--the girl was a born Viennese--&quot;had
+arranged a supper in all haste in honor of the Senorita, and--she
+thought the Baron knew of it----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix heard nothing more; in mad haste he rushed down the narrow stairs
+to the stage entrance, and out across the open square before the
+theatre. He saw a closed carriage turn a corner. Felix did not know
+whom the carriage contained--probably a perfect stranger--and still he
+rushed after it--rushed after it like an insane man for a long
+distance. The earth trembled beneath him; with a hoarse, breathless
+gasp, he sank to the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When he was picked up, he was unconscious. For weeks he lay senseless,
+with a severe nervous fever. His father came to Vienna to care for him.
+After about eight weeks the physicians declared that for the present
+there was no danger--he could be transported to Traunberg, as was the
+urgent desire of his father.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that time Felix was still so weak that he had to be carried; he
+slept almost continuously, spoke indistinctly, and had forgotten the
+immediate past.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Ephraim Staub hated Felix because of the manner in which, without
+removing his cap, with one finger on the visor, he would enter
+Ephraim's house, yawning, and say, &quot;You, I want money!&quot; and because of
+the manner in which he carelessly crumpled the bank-notes--which
+Ephraim never handled except reverently--and thrust them in his
+pockets, and because of the cut of the whip with which Felix had
+answered his perfidious proposition the first time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He discounted the note. The old Baron's lawyer learned that a note with
+his name upon it was in circulation, and inquired by letter whether the
+Baron wished it redeemed for family considerations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Baron knew nothing of Juanita. Naturally, Felix had never written
+him of his relations with her, and a stranger would never have ventured
+to inform the violent old Lanzberg of anything discreditable to his
+son. Felix had of late asked his father for no great sums of money, and
+the father knew him to be always scrupulously honorable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How could he look upon the scarcely veiled insinuation of the advocate
+as other than an insult? Enraged at the suspicion cast upon his son, he
+did not even take the trouble to think the matter over, but wrote at
+once, in his first indignation, a brusque letter to his advocate, in
+which he declared that he knew nothing of the matter--it could take its
+course. It did not even occur to him to excite the invalid Felix with
+this horrid story--he told him nothing of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly Felix recovered his health, but his happy temper did not return,
+he remained always gloomy and monosyllabic--not rude but deeply sad.
+His father often gazed anxiously into his eyes, which then every time
+looked away from him, and he stroked his cheeks compassionately, which
+then always flushed beneath his touch. And once he took the
+convalescent's thin hand in his, and said, &quot;Does anything worry you, my
+poor boy? It is surely some heart trouble which often comes to one of
+your age,&quot; and as Felix, who at the beginning of this speech had paled,
+now was silent, flushing more and more deeply, the Baron added,
+clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder, &quot;You need not worry about
+your secret. I will ask you no more about it if it annoys you; I only
+thought it might relieve you to unburden your heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears. To this day
+he can hear in his ears the caressing consolation of his father, the
+soft, monotonous voice with which he murmured again and again, &quot;Do not
+excite yourself, child; poor fellow, poor fellow!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That Felix's melancholy could have anything in connection with the
+lawyer's communication, did not occur to the Baron.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next day Felix confessed to his father. It was after breakfast;
+they sat alone, opposite each other, at a little round table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a moment the old man stared before him with fixed, dull gaze; then
+rising helplessly and slowly from his chair, stretching out his
+trembling hands, he fell upon his face, senseless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What cut Felix most bitterly, most deeply to his heart was, that when
+the Baron recovered from his swoon he had not a word of reproof for his
+son--not a word. Oh, if he had raged, had cursed and execrated him, all
+this Felix could have borne more easily than the sight of the terrible,
+helpless sadness with which from time to time the Baron struck his
+hands together and murmured: &quot;I was indiscreet; oh, furious old fool, I
+was indiscreet, indiscreet!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The meaning of these words only later became clear to Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Baron telegraphed to the lawyer--he went to Vienna the same day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was too late!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All the steps which were taken to spare Felix the publication of his
+fault and the degrading punishment, were in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The affair occurred in an unfavorable epoch for him, as the courts felt
+obliged shortly after an <i>éclat</i> to be doubly severe, as the
+consideration which had recently been shown in a similar case for a
+noble name had called forth the justest indignation from the liberal
+press.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix was sentenced to two years' imprisonment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His father begged an audience of His Majesty. All that he attained was
+that the sentence should be diminished to one year.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An example must be made.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the farewell. The last, long, trembling embrace of his father, the
+moment when the guards who were to conduct the convict away busied
+themselves with their sabres and compassionately withdrew while the
+father whispered imploringly to his son, &quot;Promise me that you will do
+no harm to yourself!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And the time in the prison. The fearful despair of the first weeks,
+when he longed for death, and the promise which he had given his father
+continually weighed upon and tormented him like a fetter; the brooding
+stupor into which this despair changed, and which in its turn gave
+place to a gradual reviving and accustoming himself to his
+circumstances. He remembered very well the day when he began to look
+around at his companions, began anxiously to seek manifestations of
+their good qualities; to search among them for young people of
+blameless lives who had sinned in a moment of madness. What did he
+find? A few convicts who by alternating imprisonment and crime had
+gradually become dull and stupid, others who had wholly degenerated to
+rough, terrible, malicious animals; besides these, two or three sons of
+good family, who confessed their sins with brutal cynicism, scornfully
+derided their relatives and procured through the jailer wine, cards and
+evil romances. The sight of these people caused Felix boundless misery.
+How he loathed them; how they astonished him; the importance which
+trifles had for them, and that they had the heart to rail at the poor
+food!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The doubt came to him whether the idea which he had of himself was not
+a mere illusion. He dissected his most secret impulses, criticised all
+his instincts--in short, tormented himself into a pitiable condition.
+The remnant of self-respect which he had taken into the prison shrunk
+away to nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All who had anything to do with him showed him the warmest sympathy. He
+was so quiet, so obliging; he never asked for anything except more
+work. The degraded officers were at that time employed in the office
+work. Felix fulfilled the tasks allotted him with the most painful
+punctiliousness. At the prison he accustomed himself to that correct
+regular handwriting which differed so greatly from the careless writing
+of his gay youth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old baron had begged that some consideration might be shown Felix
+on account of his weakened health. They were perfectly willing to do
+so, but Felix would hear nothing of this. The money which his father
+sent him to procure little comforts, he gave to assistants.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the year was over.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix had received a letter from his father, in which the latter, too
+considerate to personally accompany his son from the prison, told him
+that he would meet him at this or that station, to take a long trip
+with him. But Felix could not resolve to meet his father immediately
+after this degrading imprisonment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was in the year 1866. War was expected. Felix enlisted in a regiment
+as a private soldier. He performed his duties with fanatic zeal. The
+soldiers, who knew nothing of his sad story, looked upon his serving in
+their ranks as the &quot;whim of a great gentleman,&quot; such as is not unusual
+in excited times, and met him with defiant opposition. But he took such
+sincere trouble to win their liking, so willingly shared their whole
+life, that they soon became devoted to him. Their unfeigned liking was
+more pleasant to him than the sentimental humanity which he met with
+later in life. Often one of his present comrades pushed him away from
+some work which he considered unworthy of Felix, and murmured with
+good-natured embarrassment, &quot;That you are not used to, sir.&quot; The
+officers, who at first had been very ill at ease with him, gradually
+understood how painful it was to him if any difference was made between
+him and his comrades, and gave up attempting to make an exception of
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He never complained, ate the coarsest food without changing his
+expression in the slightest, conscientiously polished the buttons of
+his uniform, and always chose the worst place to bivouac.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first cannon was fired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix fought at Trautenau; fought without enthusiasm, without
+melodramatic heroism; he fought with the sober, unbounded bravery of a
+man who does not need the hurrahs to be spurred on by, whose life is
+wholly indifferent to him, and who hopes and wishes for no other reward
+for his self-sacrificing performance of his duty than--death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The leaden rain of the Prussian vanguard--it was wholly unknown to the
+Austrians who did not fight in Schlesing--had a soothing effect upon
+his nerves. The breathless excitement of battle did him good. What
+pained him was the moment before the conflict, when old veterans passed
+each other their field-flasks, and expressed indifferent opinions about
+the weather; and the young soldiers, scarcely grown recruits, with
+shining eyes and pale cheeks, cried &quot;Hurrah!&quot; and inflated their
+chests, while the guns shook in their hands. What pained him was the
+moment after the battle, when the last smoke of powder, and a dull echo
+of the noise of battle filled the air, and the soldiers, confused and
+stunned, met in camp, and one or another, rousing from the stupor which
+followed the fearful excitement of battle, asked fearfully, &quot;Where is
+F----? where is M----?&quot; and then with a shudder remembered that he,
+himself, had seen F---- and M---- fall. What pained him was, when in
+the night the wounded cried and groaned, until their comrades'
+compassion changed to impatience, and they complained over the noise
+which prevented them from sleeping.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then came the third of July, the day of Sadowa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was damp, cold weather, no sun in the heavens. On the earth
+trodden-down grain, soiled with dirt and blood; a confusion of blue and
+white soldiers, partly arranged in compact, geometrically exact
+figures, partly scattered in sheltered positions, partly crouching
+behind earthworks, so far separated that Prussians and Austrians mostly
+saw each other as points or masses. Hostile, without hostility, they
+stood opposite each other; perhaps not one among the thousands upon
+thousands here and yonder hated the other, and yet each one was ready
+to do his utmost to kill the unknown enemy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fog mixed with the powder-smoke. There was a wild confusion of screams,
+groans, rolling of wheels, rattling of sabres, and stamping of horses.
+In the distance chaos seemed to prevail; at the spot where Felix was
+stationed a kind of monotony, a kind of order ruled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ranks close over the fallen. &quot;Fire!&quot; commands the officer.
+There is a click of the gun hammers, the flames shine redly on the
+gun-barrels--sch--sch whistle the hostile balls around Felix; crashing,
+ear-splitting, like sharp hail, answer the riflemen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix was at Swiepwald, with the regiment of riflemen of which the
+Austrians only speak with tears in their eyes, the Prussians with hands
+on their caps!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a while the losses were slight. All went well. Then came a moment
+when the riflemen received the hostile balls indifferently. Many of
+them were weary and found time to say so, still more were hungry--few
+Austrian soldiers received anything to eat on that memorable day, the
+day of Sadowa. Felix had given his last rations to a young recruit who,
+as he thought, needed nourishment more than he; but Felix had
+overestimated his strength, an unusual faintness suddenly overcame him,
+he begged his neighbor for his flask, and crash!--a shell--and the
+neighbor lay on the ground with shattered feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From this moment the losses are immense. Man after man falls. Little
+brownish-red streams of blood trickle through the ruts of the ground,
+the pine-trees become bare, their needles fall unpleasantly,
+prickingly, upon the faces of the riflemen. With the whistling of the
+musket-balls mingles the groaning shots of the artillery like the
+deafening, reechoing thunder in a mountainous country. The atmosphere
+is unbearably impregnated with the peculiar odor of battle. With the
+smell of powder and heated iron mingles the odor of perspiration of an
+excited mass of men, and the repulsive, terrible, salt smell of their
+blood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The fog becomes more and more thick. The riflemen see nothing near them
+but dead comrades, and before, a white wall behind which death lurks.
+They no longer know what is taking place at the other end of the field,
+do not know that the Prussian Crown Prince has arrived; but all feel
+that they are fighting for a lost cause, and that their resistance is
+nothing more than a heroic demonstration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Always in the front rank, Felix fights on. Twice have the men at his
+right and left fallen, but all the balls whistle past him--from second
+to second he expects death, but it comes not.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There are not thirty men left of his battalion; orderlies fly to and
+fro, the officers are hoarse, then suddenly the cry, &quot;Retreat!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Retreat!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix stands as if rooted to the ground--Retreat! What, shall he flee?
+No! But captivity, in which, bound as he is by his promise, he would
+not have the right to take his life! And he retreats with the others,
+who now join the great mass. Their pace becomes more and more irregular
+and hurried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The evening is dark, the enemy behind them, the few riflemen are among
+the last. A standard-bearer sinks down, wounded in the knee by a stray
+shot. No one troubles himself about him or the flag.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What is the flag? Nothing but a soiled, torn rag. Nothing but--the
+symbol of the regiment's honor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Honor! The word has a mysterious, alluring sound for Felix, somewhat as
+the word water has for one perishing in the desert.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Honor! honor! He takes the flag from the standard-bearer's hand, who
+pleads piteously that he may at least be pushed into a ditch and not
+trodden upon like a worm. Felix performs this service for him, and
+remains far behind his comrades. At length he raises the flag and is
+about to proceed with it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But, deathly wearied as he is, he can scarcely carry it, so he tears
+the flag from the pole, and breaking this over his knee he wishes to
+bury both pieces in the slime of the ditch, but before he has
+accomplished this a little band of Prussian cavalry approaches. He lays
+his hand on his gun, but if he defends himself, defends himself so that
+they must kill him, the flag is forfeited. He then stretches himself in
+the mire of the road, flat on his face over the flag, as to-day he has
+seen many of his comrades, shot through the heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The horses trot past him; one of them starts back from him, this rider
+looks before him, sees what he takes for a corpse and passes on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The horse, who takes the leap required of him with the timidity which
+every human body inspires in his species, strikes Felix with his hoof.
+When the riders are out of sight, and all is still, Felix rises, a
+stinging pain in his left arm. At first he thought the arm was broken,
+but no, only a severe contusion causes the pain. He thrusts his hand
+into his coat, wraps the flag around it, and creeps wearily forward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In his ears a single word rings: &quot;Honor!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He totters to the Elbe, which separates him from his comrades; there is
+no longer a bridge there; he does not trust his strength to swim
+across. Ah! and even if he does drown in the bottom of the river, the
+Prussians cannot find the flag, and he cares nothing for his life. He
+flings himself into the stream, the waves plash around his ears:
+&quot;Honor!&quot; The cold water strengthens him, and for the moment prevents
+the pain in his arm. He reaches the opposite shore, he himself never
+knew how.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He staggers on in his clothes, made heavy by the water. His mind
+is not clear, only grasps the idea that he must go on. He stumbles
+along--slowly--slowly; often he sinks down and lies still for a while,
+then he suddenly springs up again, feels for the flag and totters on.
+He does not know where he is, the Austrian camp lies before him--he
+does not see it--then something red shines through the gray morning
+light. Felix gathers up his strength; breathless, gasping, he drags
+himself up to what he soon recognizes as an Austrian Uhlan picket.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He reaches the picket, he can no longer speak, hands the flag to an
+officer, and falls to the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Uhlans--there were two or three officers among them--crowd around
+him. When they see his lamentable condition they speak with pride of
+the fidelity to his flag of this common soldier, and they say it aloud,
+and Felix hears it and it does him good; it seems to him that the blot
+upon his honor is washed away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then one of the officers bends over him, and suddenly starting, he
+cries to the others, &quot;That is certainly Lanzberg!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you say? 'The certain Lanzberg?'&quot; ask they, hastily. They
+thought Felix unconscious, but he was not.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The word, thoughtlessly spoken and not unkindly meant, goes to his
+heart. From that moment he knew that there was no regeneration for his
+honor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He might level mountains and dam rivers, but the world in its
+astonishment, in its admiration, would yet find no other name for him
+than &quot;the certain Lanzberg!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He opened his large, mournful eyes. The officers were ill at ease, then
+they all stretched out their hands to him and cried, &quot;We admire you; we
+envy you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But he only turned his head away from them with a groan.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His incomparable actions during the campaign had softened the harshest
+of his social judges toward him. The emperor, by a proclamation, had
+restored to him his forfeited social rights. His father awaited him
+longingly, and begged him by letters to telegraph his arrival in
+Traunberg, so that he could personally meet him at the railway station.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Felix dreaded the idea of being received by his father, and
+unannounced, in civilian clothes, he one day alighted in T----, the
+nearest station to Traunberg, from a third-class compartment, which he
+had taken so as to meet none of his acquaintances. He went on foot to
+the castle. He felt a kind of shyness of every tree, every stone, which
+formerly returning home after long absence, he had greeted joyously.
+The quick trot of horses' hoofs smote his ear; looking up he saw Elsa
+coming galloping along the park driveway toward him, at the side of his
+old playmate, Sempaly. Anxiously he drew back among the trees, and the
+two rushed past, and thought no more of the man in the plain gray coat.
+Silently he crept up to the castle and to his father's room. No one met
+him. Softly he opened the door. A thin, bowed, gray-haired man sat
+reading in an arm-chair. Felix took a few hesitating steps forward, he
+trembled throughout his entire frame. &quot;Papa!&quot; he stammered. One moment
+more and the father had clasped him in his arms. Then the old man
+pushed him back from him to see him more plainly. &quot;My hero!&quot; he cried.
+Felix started nervously and gazed pleadingly at his father. &quot;You have
+grown gray, papa,&quot; he cried, as if startled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;People grow old, my boy,&quot; replied the Baron, hastily smoothing his
+whitened hair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Old at forty-nine?&quot; murmured Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A quarter of an hour later, as Felix sat beside his father, answering
+his questions, Elsa entered. She had grown tall and slender. But that
+was not the only change which Felix perceived in her: she had lost her
+light, springing girlish step, her merry smile. A reserved sadness had
+drawn harsh lines about her mouth, and a deep shade darkened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At her entrance he had risen awkwardly, and she, not seeing him
+distinctly, and taking him for some bailiff discussing business with
+her father, bowed formally.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her father glanced impatiently at her, then he cried, in irritation and
+anger, &quot;It is Felix; do you not recognize him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa grew pale with excitement. &quot;God greet you,&quot; said she, going
+quickly up to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His trembling lips barely touched her forehead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now came a hard, hard time for Felix, made hardest of all by the
+touching kindness of his father, who overwhelmed him with tender
+attentions, had forgotten none of Felix's former fancies--surprised him
+now with a splendid horse, now with a gun of a new, improved kind, or a
+pointer dog with fabulous traits--in short, anticipated every wish
+which Felix had formerly expressed. But Felix no longer wished for
+anything but to hide himself, and this his father would not hear of.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He everywhere pushed his son forward; with the servants and overseer it
+was always, &quot;I am growing old, go to the young master.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And poor Felix, humiliated by the striking submission of the people,
+confused and without an idea or opinion of his own, gave orders in a
+shy, weak voice as modestly and reservedly as he could.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">However urgently he begged his father to leave him in the protecting
+shade of the background, the old man could not be induced to consent.
+He pressed the keys of his safe upon Felix, gave him free disposal of
+the largest sums of money. Painfully distrustful of all the rest of
+humanity, especially of his servants, since his misfortune, the Baron
+almost crushed his son by this ostentatious, conspicuous confidence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One day he desired Felix to pay a visit with him in the neighborhood.
+But this Felix opposed. Elsa supported his opposition. The old Baron
+took that amiss in her. At that time Elsa was scarcely sixteen years
+old. She suffered with the Lanzberg arrogance, as Felix had suffered
+from it; she was hurt to the heart by Felix's deed. And yet she loved
+her brother, and did not wish to let him feel how heavily his disgrace
+weighed upon her. But she could find no natural tone in intercourse
+with him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had been a kind of idol for her, who good-naturedly descended from
+his pedestal to tease and caress his little sister. He had called her
+Liesel and Mietzel, pulled her ear or kissed her hand, mystified her
+with the strangest tales, gave her costly presents; then again, when
+his friends or important pleasures came between them, for days wholly
+ignored her insignificant existence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But this time the idol had not descended from his pedestal; he had
+fallen down, and had become a broken man. His former teasing courtesy
+had changed into the shyest politeness. He never pulled her ears, and
+never kissed her hand, never called her Liesel or Mietzel--his manners
+had wholly lost their playful aplomb. He was now helpless and awkward,
+sat at table like a poor sinner, ate little, never spoke a word, and,
+rendered clumsy by embarrassment, soiled the table-cloth. He was so
+boundlessly obliging and considerate that it made Elsa embarrassed. He
+broke a refractory horse for her with the greatest patience, took care
+of all her favorite flowers, accompanied her on her visits to the poor,
+and never forgot to take with him a warm wrap for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had really become a much better and lovable man than before, but the
+world had no use for this goodness and lovability. Even Elsa did not
+know how to value it. She was always constrained in intercourse with
+him, because she was always thinking of being kind to him. The old
+Baron gave her endless lectures concerning her behavior. Unweariedly
+attentive and tender to Felix, toward his other fellow men he was
+almost unbearably capricious, irritable and unjust, especially to Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Once he overwhelmed her for so long with imprudent reproaches for her
+heartlessness and lack of tact, that at last she cried out defiantly
+and refractorily, &quot;Why was Felix so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then her father struck her for the first and last time, and cried, &quot;God
+punish you for your hard heart!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the Baron had left her, and she began to almost hate Felix, angry
+at the injustice done her, he emerged from a dark corner, from which he
+had been forced to witness the scene, softly went up to her, and said,
+with his gentle sad smile, stretching out his hand hesitatingly to her,
+&quot;Forgive him--he has not his head; he does not know any longer what he
+does; only think how he must feel.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she threw herself with passionate violence into his arms. &quot;He was
+right a hundred times,&quot; cried she, &quot;only not in thinking that I do not
+love you, for I do love you, but I did not know how to show it to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From that day the relation between brother and sister was touchingly
+tender. Elsa was almost as anticipating and unendingly tender in her
+attentions to Felix as her father himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first week after Felix's arrival, Sempaly discreetly remained away
+from Traunberg. He also had taken part in the campaign, but a very
+trifling part, and described the battle of Sadowa with charming
+flippancy, while he added, &quot;Pity that it turned out so badly.&quot; For the
+first week, then, he remained away from Traunberg. But then he appeared
+there again, and, in fact, with the good-natured intention of paying
+Felix a special visit. But scarcely had the latter heard the voice of
+his former comrade, when with dog and gun he crept softly out of the
+castle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From then Sempaly came no more to Traunberg. Felix knew that formerly
+he had come two or three times a week, and asked Elsa about it. &quot;You
+have surely begged him to come no longer, poor Elsa,&quot; said he, gazing
+deep into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her embarrassment answered him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He saw that for his sake Elsa must give up all society, and also
+noticed that she had caught his morbid shyness. Her future was at
+stake. Then, carefully concealing his reasons, he begged leave of his
+father to go to South America. With a heavy heart, and after much
+opposition, the old man let him go.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix did not return until he received the news of Elsa's marriage.
+After the death of his father he left Europe a second time, and had
+really only returned home for a visit, when he met Linda.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Poor Felix! There he sat, his head resting on the table, all his
+thoughts in the past, when suddenly a little voice roused him from his
+dull brooding. Gery, whose little hand could not reach the doorknob,
+banged at the door outside, and screamed, &quot;Papa! papa!&quot; Felix rose and
+admitted him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child was crying, and his left cheek was red and swollen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Papa, mamma slapped me, and said she could not bear me,&quot; complained
+the little fellow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She struck you because you are the son of 'the certain Lanzberg,'&quot;
+murmured Felix with fearful bitterness. &quot;Perhaps others will also make
+you do penance for that yet!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXV.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The gulf which malicious fortune and Elsa's overwrought nerves had
+opened between the two married people had not lessened, but on the
+contrary had daily become deeper, colder, and broader.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin found no explanation for his wife's changed manner; after some
+time he ceased to seek one. His was no brooding nature, and had no time
+to become one. That Elsa could be jealous of Linda any more than of a
+pretty work of art or an amusing book which unsuitably claimed a great
+deal of his attention, Erwin had never understood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor Elsa, she is worried about Felix,&quot; he said to himself; &quot;she will
+come to her senses again,&quot; and for several days he kept away from her,
+to give her time to calm herself. But three, four days passed, and she
+still had the same pale face and stiff manner. Then he tried a
+different plan, and once when they chanced to be alone together--it
+happened very seldom--he laid his hand under her chin and began: &quot;Well,
+mouse----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But she did not lean her cheek against his hand as formerly when she
+was remorseful, neither did she resist his caress, as when she was
+refractory, but simply tolerated him as if she were a statue of stone
+or bronze. And she looked at him so coldly that all the loving words
+which he had in readiness faded from his memory and his hand sank down
+from her chin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He turned away from her with impatience and irritation. It was not the
+first time that she had been unjust and capricious to him. Her only
+fault was an easily awakened irritability; but formerly her vexation
+had been of short duration, and her bad mood had soon dissolved into
+the most remorseful tenderness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had never begged his forgiveness after she had made a scene. Her
+proud obstinacy was not capable of that; she was not one of those
+sympathetic, dependent women who like to make little blunders so as to
+be able to coquet with their charming penitence. No! But an anxious,
+half-suppressed smile hesitated on her lips, when he returned to her
+several hours after the vexatious scene, and he could see by the book
+which she was reading, by the gown which she had put on, by the dinner
+which was ordered, how she had thought of him during his absence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But her manner now was of a quite different kind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What could he think but that her love for him had become less; that
+with Elsa, as with all good mothers, her children had gradually won the
+precedence in her heart, and there was nothing to do for it. And Erwin
+smiled peculiarly, shrugged his shoulders, for the first few days felt
+painfully wounded, and finally began to accustom himself to the
+situation. He hunted a great deal, and also occasionally rode to
+Traunberg, where he was always sure of a hearty reception, often met
+gay society, and from whence he brought back the comfortable conviction
+that he had the best influence over a lovable but superficial human
+being.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, after Elsa had barricaded herself on all sides with diligence and
+pains and praiseworthy energy, against happiness, she was terrified at
+her own work, and she would gladly have annihilated it, but she now
+lacked the power. Erwin had become distant; formerly she would have
+silently slipped her hand into his and with that all would have been
+said, he would have understood. But now, now she no longer dared; she
+was as shy and embarrassed as a bride. That it was hateful, yes, fairly
+inexcusable to suspect a man who in all the different situations of his
+life had acted so severely honorably as Erwin, of such disgraceful
+conduct as her jealousy suggested to her, she knew, but----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Lanzberg shadow has fallen upon my happiness,&quot; she sometimes
+thought sadly; &quot;it must come so,&quot; but in the next moment she said, &quot;No,
+it must not come so. I--I myself am to blame that it has come; why did
+I send him away from me on our wedding-day, from silly, childish
+obstinacy? If I believed in danger for him, I should have tried doubly
+hard to chain him to me; instead of this I have done everything to make
+myself disagreeable to him, only because my pride did not consider a
+threatened happiness worth defence. If what I feared now happens,
+then----&quot; but here her thoughts paused. &quot;That cannot be,&quot; she murmured
+impatiently; &quot;It is not possible.&quot; Then suddenly she thought of her
+brother, who in his time had stood almost as high in her respect as
+Erwin, and who in one instant had sunken, oh, so deeply!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If that were possible, then everything is possible in this world,&quot; she
+decided, sternly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One day after another passed--a cloud had shown itself in her sky so
+small and transparent that a single sunbeam would have sufficed to kiss
+it away; but the cloud had grown larger, and now covered the whole sky
+so that it could not even be seen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An unpleasant accident contributed to embitter Elsa's feelings
+completely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For a long time she had been urged by her heart to show Erwin some
+little attention, and she ransacked her brains to think of something
+which could please him, and yet would not be a too direct reminder of
+her love. At last it occurred to her to have a photograph taken for him
+of Baby, who with her childish coquetries had gradually become dearer
+and dearer to her father's heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She put the frock which Erwin liked best upon the little creature
+herself, one which showed off Baby's charms most advantageously. She
+kissed and smoothed the child's short curls, and hung a golden heart on
+a thin chain round her neck, of which the vain rogue was not a little
+proud, and tugged at it with both little fists to admire it, or put it
+in her mouth. Then Elsa ordered the carriage and drove over to
+Marienbad with Baby. Baby made the most attentive observations from the
+lap of her mamma; from time to time she stretched out her hand for some
+object which especially pleased her or was new to her, and gave a
+little clear joyous cry, or uttered some of those disconnected
+syllables which have significance for a mother's ear only.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The novelty of the situation at the photographer's impressed her; the
+first attempt did not succeed. The photographer remarked that if the
+Baroness would hold the child herself, it would perhaps be better. Elsa
+replied blushingly that she did not wish to appear in the picture.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Baby would not have it otherwise. Now the trial succeeded
+admirably. The photographer showed the negative in which Baby's
+delicate face, with the solemn, staring eyes, and the shy, smiling
+mouth could plainly be recognized. Elsa nodded with satisfaction, but
+begged that he would wash out her figure. Then the old photographer--he
+knew Elsa from her childhood--surveyed his work with the look of an
+artist, and said, &quot;Ah, Baroness, it would be a shame for the pretty
+picture. Has the Baroness one of the last photographs which I took of
+her as a bride? It is just the same face.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Elsa let him have his way; involuntarily the delight with which he
+held the dim negative against his rough coat-sleeve amused her, and she
+even stole a glance in the mirror, the first glance for a long time,
+and thought that although somewhat pale and thin, she did not look so
+very old and faded as she had thought. She rejoiced at this discovery,
+and rejoiced that her richly embroidered black gown was so becoming,
+and rejoiced over Baby's picture, and looked forward to the moment when
+she should take it to Erwin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When she now got into the carriage waiting below with Baby, and the
+servant closed the door, the child suddenly almost sprang out of her
+mother's lap, and stretched out her little arms, and cried in a clear,
+bell-like voice, &quot;Papa! Papa!&quot; As Baby's vocabulary is still very
+limited, and she had recently bestowed the title of Papa upon Litza's
+pony, Elsa glanced somewhat sceptically in the direction in which the
+child's arm pointed, but really saw Erwin about to enter a jeweller's
+shop.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Linda Lanzberg was on his arm!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa grew deathly pale. When the carriage, as upon entering she had
+directed, stopped before a toy store, she did not alight, but ordered,
+&quot;Home!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All reconciling feelings toward Erwin changed into a condition of
+boundless excitement; for the moment she felt a kind of hatred for him.
+When at dinner he asked, &quot;Elsa, were not you in Marienbad to-day? It
+seemed to me that I saw the carriage pass when I was in Stein's,&quot; she
+answered, coldly, &quot;I was there. I had something to attend to. And did
+you buy anything of Stein?&quot; she then asked, as if casually. &quot;Will he
+mention Linda?&quot; she thought, but he replied half laughingly, &quot;A pink
+coral necklace for the little one. To-morrow is, if I am not mistaken,
+her christening day.&quot; In fact Baby had been named after the Countess
+Dey, the sensible name, Marie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This explanation did not relieve Elsa in the slightest. The most
+innocent significance which she could ascribe to his presence there
+with Linda was that he had asked her advice in the choice of an
+ornament for the child. It did not occur to her that he could have met
+Linda in Marienbad quite accidentally. The rest of the evening she was
+in a hopelessly bad humor. Every word that Erwin spoke pained her, his
+manner of laying a pair of scissors on the table vexed her. With that,
+fever shone in her eyes and burned in her cheeks. The kiss which every
+evening he imprinted upon her forehead had long become a conventional
+ceremony, but to-day she wished to evade this formality. She
+disappeared from the drawing-room immediately after tea, upon some
+pretext, and did not return again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next day was a holiday, Baby's christening day, the day after
+Juanita's visit to Traunberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Most exceptionally, this time Erwin did not appear at breakfast, and
+when Elsa asked after him, the word was, &quot;The Baron breakfasted in his
+own room, and had then gone away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">About half-past eleven, as Elsa sat in the nursery, weary and languid,
+holding Baby on her lap, the door opened and Erwin entered. Baby
+stretched out her little hands joyously, but Elsa's eyes grew gloomy
+and she struck the child's hand reprovingly. Erwin grew deathly pale,
+pale as she had never seen him before.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Later, Baby,&quot; he murmured somewhat hoarsely, and left the room. But
+Baby began to cry bitterly, and would not stay in her mother's lap.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After lunch, during which Erwin did not address another word to Elsa,
+she heard him down in the garden, talking and playing with the little
+one; she heard Baby's soft happy laugh; she went to the window,
+stretched out her head, and saw him swinging the child in the air. When
+Baby was finally weary of play, she laid her little arm around her
+father's neck, and leaned her delicate flower-like face against his
+sun-browned cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa's head ached; she burned with fever from head to foot, every nerve
+quivered and her thoughts were gloomy. Slowly she dragged herself up
+and down, finally seated herself with hands clasping her temples, upon
+a divan. She was losing consciousness when suddenly she started up and
+listened. She heard Erwin's horse pawing the ground in front of the
+house. Where was he going so suddenly? She roused herself, and holding
+to the walls, crept slowly down-stairs. Then, hidden by the turn of the
+stairs, in the shadow of the hall, she heard Erwin's voice:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If the Baroness asks for me, Martin, tell her that you do not know
+where I am; in no case shall she wait dinner for me,&quot; said he, quickly
+and softly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With that he mounted his horse and rode away at a rapid pace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Where? Elsa's heart stopped beating. Had anything happened?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She crossed the hall--she would force old Martin to speak; but he had
+gone also. Then something on the floor rattled, a gray paper which the
+hem of her dress had touched; she stooped for it--it lay there crumpled
+as if it had just fallen from a violent hand. She committed no
+voluntary indiscretion, she only looked at it as one scrutinizes a
+paper to see whether one shall pick it up or throw it away. It was not
+her fault that, thanks to the writing, which was as plain as print, at
+the first glance her eyes had comprehended the whole contents.</p>
+<br>
+<div style="font-size:90%">
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Dear Erwin</span>:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Come soon--to-day, now--at once--I expect you.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:30%"><span class="sc">Linda</span>.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">She took the note, carried it to Erwin's room, and laid it
+conscientiously upon his writing-desk. Then her knees trembled, and she
+had to sit down. Not that he had received the note surprised her. What
+fault was it of his if Linda wrote foolish notes? But what she did not
+understand, what remained absolutely incomprehensible to her was the
+fact that he had taken his valet into his confidence, that he had not
+been ashamed to make him his confidant. Had she not heard wrong? Had he
+gone to Traunberg? Now, when the facts spoke strongest against him, she
+weighed most justly the probabilities for and against his fault; she
+had acted imprudently towards him, and since the birth of the last
+child, devoting herself entirely to her maternal duties, had neglected
+him. He had borne this with goodness and patience; then Linda had
+suddenly appeared, with her dazzling beauty, her picturesque elegance,
+her coquettish heartlessness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For hours Elsa sat there and waited. At five o'clock she sat down to
+dinner; immediately after this she left the dining-room--she had no
+more control over herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is all possible,&quot; she cried, giving way, desperate; her breath came
+heavily and so feverish that it burned her lips--black clouds swam
+before her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She looked at the clock. What kept him away from home so long--with
+her? Another fifteen minutes passed--he must be with her. She could no
+longer endure her distrustful suspense--she would go to Traunberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She ordered the carriage. On the way she started at every sound, at
+every shadow, everywhere she saw him and her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A fearful dread of the certainty came over her; at the last moment she
+clung to uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She wished to return, but she was ashamed of displaying such
+inconsequence before the servants, and just then the carriage drove
+through the iron gate into the Traunberg park. The lackey in the
+vestibule announced that the Baroness was not at home.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa sighed with relief; if Linda were not home, she could receive no
+guests, and Erwin could not be there. That she could have denied
+herself did not occur to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was pleasant to her to enjoy Traunberg once more, without Parisian
+anecdotes and French <i>chansonnettes</i>--without Linda.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All was as if dead; it reminded her of the old Traunberg, where she had
+lived in loving solitude with her father. She did not think of
+returning at once; the great tension of her nerves had suddenly given
+way to vague dreaminess--the danger was not over but postponed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She went out into the garden; her heart grew more and more heavy, and
+her step slow. Her dress caught upon a branch. It seemed to her that a
+warning hand held her back. In mysterious dread of choosing the very
+gloomy path which lay before her, she took another. Her heart beat
+rapidly, she stood still, resolved to return. Between the trunks of the
+lindens, the water of the large pond which bounded one side of the
+Traunberg park shone in the sunset glow. With the gentle murmur of the
+water mingled the regular strokes of oars. Elsa stood still, she
+listened. Who could it be? Linda was not home. Elsa glanced at the
+pond. In a little boat she saw two figures, one, Linda, leaning back in
+the end of the little skiff, flowers in her hair and in her lap, one
+hand in the water, an evil light in her eyes, something luxuriantly
+melancholy in her whole form. Opposite her, with his back to Elsa,
+sat a man, slender, broad-shouldered, in a light summer suit, with
+close-cropped hair of that striking light blond which shines like
+molten gold in the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa started back--it was surely Erwin--she turned away, she would
+see no more--but no--it seemed to her that she must call after
+him--there--the little row-boat had reached the small island covered
+with roses which was in the middle of the lake. In the gray-white
+August twilight she saw the two figures turn into the overgrown thicket
+of the island--they disappeared behind the bushes as if immersed in
+shadow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa was as if paralyzed by a kind of gloomy numbness; a fearful
+excitement overcame her--she must go--where she did not know, only far,
+far away from the accursed spot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did not think of ordering her carriage, of driving home. She
+scarcely thought of anything, only moved mechanically on, and
+instinctively took the path to Steinbach, as an animal wounded unto
+death seeks its hole to die in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She groped before her with her hands, she blinked as if blinded by a
+terrible light, she hit blindly against the trees as she passed, like a
+bat--she saw nothing but two light figures disappearing amid gloomy
+shadow. She hurried on and on--at first very rapidly--it seemed to her
+that she could fly, but she was mistaken. The unrest which raged within
+her was that of fever, of over-exhaustion, not of unused strength. Soon
+her feet felt like lead, and a heavy weight seemed resting upon her
+breast; she dragged herself wearily on like one in a bad dream, who
+wishes to flee from some monster and cannot. The more weary her body
+became, the more clear what had really frightened her became to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He and Linda,&quot; she murmured to herself, &quot;he and my brother's wife.&quot;
+And with a desperate smile, a smile which condemned faith, hope and
+love to death, she added, &quot;Yes, everything is possible in this world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How good he had formerly been, how loving! The loveliest moments of her
+married life came to her mind with the sad charm of the irrevocably
+lost. On she tottered, in her wide-open eyes the wild look which seeks
+nothing more, which looks away from everything, the look of a being who
+has seen happiness die. &quot;I was happy,&quot; she murmured to herself with
+unspeakable bitterness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But soon the poisonous breath of doubt tainted the happiness which had
+been also. How did she know how false it might have been, whether she
+had not merely been &quot;considerately deceived&quot;?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then it seems as if a frost falls upon her loveliest recollections,
+even upon those which until now she has treasured in the most secret
+corner of her heart. The past is desecrated--she has nothing more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She does not think of her children--in this moments he has forgotten
+that she has children.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly she drags herself through the wood, the same path which she had
+taken with Erwin before. Over her head the trees sing in melancholy
+peace their old song. Elsa can scarcely proceed; now the wood lies
+behind her, before her the dew on the meadow sparkles in the gray
+twilight, the colors are all dead--she shudders--here is the spot where
+he had carried her over that evening when for the first time she had
+been apprehensive for her happiness. Here he had put his arms round her
+and clasped her tightly to him and called her his treasure. She
+trembles in her whole body, then she gives a short gasping cry and
+sinks to the ground. She sobs, she has forgotten everything, she exists
+only in the feeling of weeping, of wishing convulsively to throw off a
+weight which oppresses her chest, and behind her the primeval forest
+still sings its melancholy peaceful song.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How long she lies there she does not know; she does not notice either
+that the gray evening darkens to black night, does not notice that the
+dew falls heavier and heavier, that its cool dampness steals through
+her light gown to her weakened frame.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXVI.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">While Elsa lay so despairingly at the edge of the forest, two riders
+came slowly towards Steinbach--Sempaly and Erwin. They returned from a
+farm at some distance from, but belonging to Steinbach, which together
+with a part of the adjacent village had been burned this afternoon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before them the castle of Steinbach, with its windows shining
+peacefully in the moonlight, between the shady trees; around them sweet
+fragrance and peaceful stillness; behind them a village, for the
+greater part in ashes, deserted ruins blackened with soot, as if clad
+in deepest mourning, animated by a few bent figures which could no
+longer speak from pain and fright, yes, could scarcely even complain
+more, and anxiously, with trembling hands, sought in the soaked heaps
+of ashes, in which fire still smouldered, for some pitiful remnant of
+their annihilated possessions. They rode through the park gate, their
+clothes were drenched and smelled of smoke and soot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Sempaly heard of the breaking out of the fire, he had ridden from
+Iwanow to Billwitz, and had then joined Erwin honestly in the wildest
+confusion of the fire, and now accompanied him home.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They only seldom exchanged a word. They were both weary from the help
+they had rendered, and saddened by the thought of how little they had
+been able to help. When they reached the castle, Sempaly was about to
+turn off towards Iwanow, but Erwin held him back. &quot;Take tea with us,
+Rudi,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In these clothes?&quot; replied Sempaly, glancing at his soiled clothes;
+then he added, &quot;Well, Snowdrop will be considerate,&quot; and dismounted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had really from the first intended to remain at Steinbach, and
+looked forward to relating to Elsa, while fresh, all the little heroic
+deeds by which Erwin had distinguished himself during the fire. He felt
+a kind of indebtedness to Erwin on account of the hateful suspicion
+which for a moment he had cherished against him, and which to-day, when
+he once more thoroughly recognized Erwin's nobility, seemed to him
+foolish and inexcusable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin asked for his wife; the servant informed him that she was not yet
+back from Traunberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has a second message come from Traunberg?&quot; asked Erwin, surprised.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The valet glanced at the servant. &quot;No!&quot; It was certain that no second
+messenger came from Traunberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin and Sempaly went out again in the black shadows of the mild
+August moonlight night. &quot;What does she seek in Traunberg?&quot; murmured
+Erwin, aloud, ponderingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did she know that you were at the fire?&quot; asked Sempaly, with sudden
+inspiration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think not. I expressly requested the servants not to tell her where
+I went,&quot; replied Erwin. &quot;What in all the world did she go to Traunberg
+for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Scirocco looked at him peculiarly. &quot;You,&quot; said he.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Me?&quot; Erwin did not yet comprehend the situation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Sempaly stamped his foot impatiently. &quot;Are you stupid, Garzin?&quot;
+cried he. &quot;Do you not see what everybody sees, that your wife is
+consumed with jealousy of her sister-in-law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My wife jealous of my sister-in-law? Sempaly--you----&quot; Erwin had burst
+out very violently at first, now he was suddenly silent. He called to
+mind Elsa's strange manner of late, much that was enigmatical was
+explained. He did not understand that he had been so obtuse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They had walked somewhat further into the park; then a low cry of pain
+vibrated through the painful stillness of the night. Erwin listened
+with beating heart. Once more it penetrated to him, somewhat louder. A
+cold shudder ran over him. He hurried toward the meadow from which the
+sound came. With sight sharpened by excitement he surveyed the gray
+dewy field. There at the edge of the wood he saw something white
+gleaming in the twilight, a misty spot which in the gloom he had almost
+taken for a thick cluster of immortelles. His anxiety drove him a few
+steps further. &quot;Elsa!&quot; cried he, and stretched his arms out to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she raised her head, and rested her large, feverish, shining eyes
+upon him. &quot;I forgive you,&quot; cried she with failing voice, and starting
+back from him. &quot;I forgive you, but go--go--leave me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His eyes met hers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have nothing to forgive me,&quot; said he gravely, almost sternly. &quot;But
+if you promise solemnly, very solemnly, to be very much ashamed of
+yourself I will forgive you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stared at him without understanding, confused, stupefied; then he
+took hold of her dress; he was frightened to feel how cold and wet it
+was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For God's sake!&quot; cried he, violently, and with efficacious
+inconsiderateness, &quot;before everything else see that you take off these
+wet things; there is time enough to speak of your mad freak later.&quot;
+With that he picked her up and carried her across, as he had done on
+the day of Linda's arrival.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did not resist him. At first she did not even know what had
+happened to her; then, when near the castle, she suddenly heard a
+gentle voice, kindly and reprovingly, as one speaks to an imprudent
+child, &quot;Why, Snowdrop!&quot; she looked around; this sudden exclamation
+recalled her to reality, which had been far from her confused mind.
+&quot;How comes Sempaly here?&quot; she asked, hastily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We were at the fire in Billwitz together,&quot; said Erwin, without
+standing still. &quot;He returned with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fire--Billwitz----&quot; murmured Elsa, then she trembled violently and
+burst into a flood of tears of relief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A little later Elsa lay in her pretty white bed feverish and hoarse,
+but with a light heart, and her soul full of a sweet mixture of
+remorse, happiness and shame. Erwin sat near her, and tried to be angry
+with her, and yet was only worried. But Scirocco had found that this
+was not the evening to take tea in Steinbach, and had gone away.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">And while Elsa with touching conscientiousness now confessed all the
+particulars of her hideous mistrust and her obstinate jealousy, and
+upon Erwin's lips, at first closed sternly, a smile had become more and
+more plain, Linda sat in her boudoir with scornfully curved lips and
+angry, staring eyes, which thirsted for spite. She wore a white gown,
+whose hem was slightly soiled, only as if it had perhaps brushed the
+dew from a flowerbed. On her breast rested a bunch of dark red roses.
+Some of them were withered, and others began to fade, others still to
+fall, and the red petals strewed her gown. To her excited gaze they
+seemed like drops of blood. She shuddered at sight of them; she
+shuddered to-day at everything, even at herself. Her whole being rose
+against the huge wrong which had been done her--the wrong which forced
+her to be wicked. That there was another outlet for her she did not
+acknowledge; that it was beautiful to forgive, she did not understand;
+that one has duties even toward those who have sinned against one, she
+did not believe.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She railed against the system of the world, and her affairs in
+particular. The only man whom she had ever loved, so at least it seemed
+to her in her dramatic, gloomy excitement, this man had despised her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After she had been enlightened as to Felix's past, she had immediately
+written that letter to Erwin which had caused so much painful confusion
+in Steinbach.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had wished to sink into his compassionate arms, and had relied upon
+the demoniac charm of her beauty. She fancied that after the disgrace
+which she had suffered from, she had a right to sin. As answer to her
+note, she had received the following lines:</p>
+<br>
+<div style="font-size:90%">
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Dear Linda</span>:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I am very sorry that, on account of urgent business, I cannot come
+to-day. I hope it is a question of nothing important.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:50%"><span class="sc">E. Garzin</span>.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">She loved him, and he wrote to her in this tone! She grew crimson for
+perhaps the first time in her life when she read the lines--but not
+with shame, with anger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pistach came during her wildest excitement. He had won the game.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now he had gone; she was alone again!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She buried her face in her hands; she sobbed convulsively. The roses on
+her breast fell one after the other, and the blood-red petals slid down
+to the soiled hem of her white gown.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next day Linda and Count Kamenz had disappeared!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The whole country round about was horrified and dismayed at the affair;
+only one laughed in his sleeve: Eugene von Rhoeden. The last obstacle
+to his plans had been removed. Countess Elli blushed crimson when he
+took leave of Iwanow. He found opportunity to press a kiss upon her
+hand. A white handkerchief waved after him from one of the castle
+windows, as he drove in an open phaeton from Iwanow to the railway
+station.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXVII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">By her fantastic walk from Traunberg to Steinbach, Elsa had brought on
+inflammation of the lungs. She convalesced so slowly that the physician
+whom Erwin consulted advised a long sojourn in the south. At first she
+could not resolve to leave her unhappy brother, and only went after he
+had promised to follow her as soon as possible to San Remo, where she
+would pass the winter with Erwin and the children.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She left in the middle of September. Felix did not keep his promise.
+&quot;As soon as possible&quot; was capable of such varied conceptions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">September, with its variegated foliage, and the long, tender farewell
+of the sunbeams vanished, and October came. The leaves withered,
+blood-red or pale-yellow they fell from the branches sadly and
+submissively, like all hopeless ones, and November followed October,
+and came in with an important bluster, like a lackey sent on before to
+make room for his master. He tore the last leaves from the branches,
+and sometimes tore away the branches with them, and he kissed the last
+roses dead and annihilated the unblossomed buds, covered the heavens
+with mournful clouds, blew so chill and poisonously in the face of the
+sun that he also sickened, and looked almost as pale as the moon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And at length all was desolate, all ready--the earth strewn with dead
+leaves and withered flowers for the solemn reception of the new-comer.
+Coldly and gravely winter entered his kingdom, the bare trees shivered
+a last time, and crackled one more sigh, and all is still--dead! The
+angels in heaven shook their wings, thicker and thicker fell the white
+down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">January was long past and Felix still in Traunberg. After the last
+fearful blow which had fallen upon him he never rallied. Since Linda's
+flight he never left the park, seldom the castle, often scarcely left
+his room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were days on which he would not even allow his little son
+admission, and other days on which he would allow no servant to wait
+upon him, because it was unbearable for him to even meet the eyes of a
+servant. On all faces he thought he could discover mocking, criticising
+expressions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When his overseers came to him to desire his signature or to ask his
+wishes concerning important business, with his hot, nervous hands he
+fumbled over the papers which were placed before him, read two or three
+lines, murmured something, and signed his name. The questions which
+were put to him he always answered with the same, &quot;As you will,&quot; and
+then drummed impatiently upon the top of his writing-desk and glanced
+irritably at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He neglected his attire, his beard grew long; he did not even care for
+cleanliness. Often for days he ate nothing, always very little; but, on
+the other hand, he was always thirsty, and--drank. But the strongest
+spirits had ceased to procure relief for him. He no longer forgot;
+never more!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had a piano brought to his room, although he had almost never played
+before, and now strummed on it continually. Strange modulations sprang
+from beneath his stiff, unpractised fingers. He purposely sought the
+shrillest dissonances, which seemed to do him good. Again and again he
+struck the same piercing chord and never found a resolution for it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He always began to play so as to drown the madrilèna, which rang in his
+ears so often and so unbearably distinctly, and every time he ended by
+groping over the keys for the melody of this same madrilèna. Each tone
+went through his heart like the stab of a dagger, his forehead was
+covered with sweat, and with a long sigh he closed the piano.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Intercourse with his child became of a strange nature. He indeed
+frequently overwhelmed the little one with passionate tenderness, but
+the games, the caressing teasing, which had formerly occupied them when
+together, and which had so delighted the boy, had ceased. Gery grew
+shy, pale and nervous. More and more often the fear of injuring the
+child by his presence crept over Felix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin, who came from San Remo once during the winter, in order, as he
+said, to look after the house, was frightened at the confusion which,
+as he soon noticed, existed in Felix's business matters, as well as the
+terrible change in his whole appearance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Compassionately and kindly he urged his brother-in-law to accompany him
+to Italy, in order, as he had promised, to spend some time, together
+with Gery, with his sister.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Felix trembled visibly when it was a question of his leaving
+Traunberg, and going to a place where he must meet other people, were
+it only in the most passing way. Erwin promised him perfect quiet and
+seclusion from all intercourse with strangers--in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Leave me,&quot; Felix repeated again and again; &quot;leave me, I must be
+alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin ceased his pleadings, discouraged. Elsa's health did not permit
+her stay in the south to be shortened, so that her presence might
+alleviate her brother's painful condition.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For one moment Erwin suspected a positive mental derangement in his
+brother-in-law, but soon convinced himself of the falsity of this
+opinion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The balance of his accounts was correct; as soon as his attention was
+excited he decided correctly, never made a mistake in a reckoning, and
+made no disconnected remarks. Only, exhausted as he was, everything
+concerning present affairs irritated him indescribably. The train of
+his thought flowed always backward. His mind rested continually upon
+that spot in the past where his happiness lay buried with his honor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He passed almost the whole of his time in living over again his life
+from the first meeting with Juanita to the signing of the fatal note.
+His memory, strangely faithful, and sharpened by practice, revived
+again and again new particulars of the Juanita period, with the
+distinctness of hallucinations.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">On a mild, sunny April day Elsa appeared in Traunberg, restored to
+health, more beautiful than ever, and with eyes radiant with happiness.
+She was shocked when she perceived her brother; what she saw was so
+much worse than what Erwin had considerately prepared her for. But
+Felix's misery only increased the tenderness of her sympathy. She spoke
+of the tender, intimate intercourse which should now exist between the
+two families, and said that Baby was now large enough for a playmate
+for her cousin; and Baby who, chubby-cheeked and gay, with great
+laughing eyes and tiny mouth with a drolly serious expression, sat on
+her mamma's knee, stretched out her fat little arms and said, &quot;Where
+Gery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the nurse--Gery's French <i>bonne</i> had not been able to endure the
+winter solitude of Traunberg, and had long since left--brought
+the child. She had smoothed down his curly hair with a horrible,
+strong-smelling pomade, and had hidden his pretty little form in a
+heavy cloth costume, suitable for much older children. He looked pale,
+was awkward, and clung anxiously to his father. When he gradually lost
+his shyness through Elsa's soft voice and caressing manner, and
+approached her and answered her questions, she noticed that he had
+adopted the common broad accent of the nurse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It did not escape Felix's morbidly sharpened glance, that behind the
+pleasant smile with which Elsa met the child, surprise and compassion
+were hidden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You probably find that he has changed for the worse?&quot; he asked
+suddenly, gazing sharply at her. &quot;What will you? Everything about me
+goes to ruin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Elsa, after urgently and most tenderly begging Felix and his boy
+to come soon to Steinbach, had driven away, Felix took his boy on his
+knees, and kissed him passionately, murmuring again and again, &quot;Poor
+child, poor branded child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An unpleasant habit, common to most human beings living very much
+alone, he had adopted of late, that of talking to himself. The words
+which most frequently escaped him, which he probably repeated a dozen
+times, were, &quot;The certain Lanzberg,&quot; and while he said that, his voice
+and his face expressed all the shades of bitterness, mockery and
+despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And one evening, three or four days after Elsa's visit, Gery crept
+shyly up to him, and laying his little hand anxiously upon his father's
+arm, he asked in his gentle, somewhat sad little voice, &quot;What is that,
+'the certain Lanzberg'?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix started; he gave a long-piercing gaze into the innocent eyes of
+the child, then he pushed him violently away and hurried out of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The same night Felix heard sobs outside his door, and as he opened it
+and looked out into the corridor, he discovered Gery, who stood there
+clad only in his little embroidered night-shirt, and barefoot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Papa, you did not say good-night to me. Papa, was I naughty?&quot; sobbed
+the child, with the morbid nervous excitement which proved his solitary
+life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Felix took him in his arms. It was a fresh spring night, and the
+child, who had stood for a long time outside, clad only in the thin
+night-shirt, shivered. Felix rubbed his little hands and feet warm.
+Then the nurse knocked at the door, seeking the child in anxious
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Gery would not hear of returning to the nursery. He clung to his
+father and pleaded, &quot;Let me stay with you, papa.&quot; Then Felix sent the
+nurse away, and took him into his bed. The child fell asleep nestled
+tenderly against him, slept soundly and unbrokenly. Felix lay awake.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The opal-colored glow of the spring morning tinged the heavens, and
+Felix still was awake. He thought of old times, times which lay far
+back of the Juanita period; some jest over which he had laughed some
+twenty years ago occurred to him and pained him--he groaned; the child
+awoke; throwing his little arms around Felix's neck, he begged,
+coaxingly, &quot;Dear papa, I sleep so well with you, let me always sleep
+with you.&quot; Then suddenly it flashed through Felix's mind, &quot;Ah, if I
+could only die while he still loves me!&quot; and suddenly the storm within
+him ceased--all became quiet within his heart, quiet as the grave.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXVIII.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">They passed the day happily together, Felix and his son. Felix bathed
+and dressed the child himself, with a thousand jests and little teasing
+ways. Gery had not seen his papa so gay for a long time, and rubbed
+against him again and again, like a young dog or kitten.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sky was blue, the earth white with blossoms, the first butterflies
+floated around the bushes. After lunch Felix drove with the child to
+Steinbach for the first time, in spite of Elsa's warm invitation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How warm and bright everything was in Steinbach. It almost seemed to
+him that there was a different sun there from Traunberg. Litzi received
+a holiday, so she could play with her little cousin to her heart's
+delight. Baby gave the little fellow her greatest treasure, a pot of
+ripe strawberries, which she had to clasp with both little arms when
+she carried it to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix remained to dinner; they overwhelmed him with attentions, but
+still at heart he felt that Erwin and Elsa would have been happier and
+less constrained without him, which they would not, indeed, have
+admitted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As they did not wish to separate Felix from his boy during the meal, as
+a great exception they installed Baby in her high-chair at the table
+also, between Erwin and Litzi, an honor of which she proved herself
+wholly worthy, as she watched the others eating with great seriousness
+without desiring anything for herself. Only toward the end a little
+misfortune befell her: in a moment of extravagant tenderness, she tried
+to embrace her mother across the table, overturned a beer-glass, and
+showed herself so surprised and ashamed at this accident, that Erwin
+had to take her on his knee and console her. Felix felt plainly that
+Erwin's calm, playful good-nature to the child did not in the least
+remind one of the stormy immoderate caresses with which he overwhelmed
+his own son sometimes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After dessert, while the children played in the garden under Miss
+Sidney's care, and Felix sat somewhat apart with Elsa on a garden bench
+and watched them, Felix started suddenly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter, Felix?&quot; asked his sister, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He could not explain himself; he had heard the child laugh, and it had
+occurred to him how seldom the little one laughed at home--almost
+never.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Elsa,&quot; he asked after a while, &quot;the child is growing very nervous and
+timid with me; will you do me the kindness to keep him with you for a
+while?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, I will gladly keep the child,&quot; replied Elsa, &quot;only you must
+promise me to visit him every day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Felix said, with a strange gaze, lost in the distance, and which
+she often later remembered, &quot;Yes, I will visit him every day if I can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A short time after he took leave of Gery, who at first would not remain
+without his father, but grew quiet when Felix promised to visit him the
+next morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next morning!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The carriage rolled away, and several minutes later Felix returned once
+more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you forgotten something, Felix?&quot; asked Erwin, who stood before
+the portal of the castle, talking in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my revolver,&quot; replied Felix, uneasily and absently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Erwin wished to go into the castle to help his brother-in-law find
+it, the latter held him back. &quot;Oh, it is of no importance,&quot; he
+stammered. &quot;I will get it--to-morrow. Where are the children?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There,&quot; said Elsa, and in the distance, between the feathery green
+foliage, he saw the children at their play. They flew about and shouted
+like little gnomes, Gery the merriest of them all.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will not disturb him,&quot; murmured Felix, after he had watched the
+children for a long time, without approaching them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He went.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXIX.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Returned to Traunberg, he wandered slowly through all the rooms of the
+castle. Then he had tea served in his room, drank a cupful, and ate a
+trifle. He laid his watch upon the table. At twelve o'clock all should
+be finished, he decided.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The cold calm of resolution gave way to the exciting feeling of
+expectation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He seated himself at his writing-table, thoughtfully he rested his head
+in his hand, then he dipped the pen into ink, and wrote a long letter.
+He read it through with a certain pedantry, added here and there a
+comma, or made a letter plainer, placed the letter in an envelope, and
+addressed it to Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His glance fell upon the watch--the hands pointed to quarter past
+eleven. He rose and walked up and down uneasily. He began to ask
+himself whether he had forgotten nothing, began to unconsciously seek
+reasons for postponing his act.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His brow was bathed with cold sweat. He looked for his revolver and
+Toledo dagger, which both had formerly lain upon his table. They were
+gone. Evidently his valet had removed them. The razors also were
+hidden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Felix smiled bitterly. Then he drew a little English penknife from his
+pocket, sharpened it upon an ash-receiver, and laid it on the table
+beside his bed. Then, with folded hands, he crouched for a few minutes
+beside his bed. He thought of the promise not to kill himself which he
+had once given to his father. The promise could have no weight except
+during the life of the old man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When he looked again, the hands of the watch pointed to quarter before
+twelve. His heart beat loudly. A moment of irresolution came. Then from
+without a little soft bird cry floated in to him. He suddenly heard
+again Gery's voice, &quot;Who is 'the certain Lanzberg,' papa?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he undressed himself, took the penknife, and with firm stroke cut
+through the veins and arteries in his left wrist and ankle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He rose once more to extinguish the candles on the table beside his
+bed, then he sank back among the pillows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He felt the warm blood flowing from him, and experienced a kind of
+disgust; then he murmured with a sigh, &quot;Blood washes all things clean.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The triumphal fanfare of the madrilèna vibrated around him; the
+excitement which had burned within him throughout the whole time was
+for a moment increased tenfold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the madrilèna died away, and the fearful memories faded, the great
+painful weariness which had almost paralyzed him recently, preventing
+him from sleeping, vanished--he felt easier and easier.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A comfortable drowsiness overcame him, and a thousand pictures changed
+before his dreamy dim eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He saw himself in the school-room, beside his tutor, and smiled at the
+expression with which the tutor drew his cuffs down over his knuckles
+when Elsa's French <i>bonne</i> entered the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The present had vanished, his thoughts wandered further and further
+back into the past.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sits beside his mother in the church, small and sleepy. Through an
+open window the fresh spring air blows in to the atmosphere of mould
+and incense of the sacred edifice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From half-closed eyes he sees a crowd of red peasant women, sees
+the little school-boys who crowd as near as possible to the carved
+<i>prie-dieus</i> of the gentry. One of them winks at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The priest elevates the host. Little Felix's tired eyes close, the
+peasants fade into a large red spot, the colored shadows of the church
+windows lie on the bare, gray stone pavement like a carpet. His head
+sinks upon his mother's arm. All is rosy vapor around him. Then his
+mother kisses him on the forehead and whispers, &quot;It is over; wake up!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>XXX.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The next morning a messenger came breathlessly to Steinbach. With
+gloomy obstinacy he refused to gratify the domestic's urgent questions.
+He desired to speak personally with the Baron.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin came. He was fearfully startled at the messenger's communication.
+Then as with distressed slowness he crossed the corridor to Elsa's
+room, she met him, pale as death, but calm. &quot;A messenger has come from
+Traunberg. Felix has taken his life,&quot; she said in a hollow voice, with
+eyes fixed upon Erwin. She had guessed. With hand on her heart, her
+eyes closed, she remained for a moment speechless. Erwin feared a
+swoon, and with gentle force tried to lead her back to her room, but
+she resisted. &quot;Order the carriage,&quot; she begged with almost inaudible
+voice; &quot;I should like to go over there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin accompanied her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An uneasy quiet, broken by the mysterious whispers of the domestics,
+pervaded Castle Traunberg. The servants all stood around in solemn
+idleness. Mrs. Stifler and the valet were busied with the corpse. They
+withdrew when Elsa entered the chamber of death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly she approached the bed. There he lay--Felix!--his corpse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His head rested gently on the pillow; one saw that a lovely dream had
+helped the dying man across the threshold of eternity. The original
+beauty of his features, which life, with its shattering conflicts, had
+almost destroyed, death had restored again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Elsa kissed the corpse; she wept quietly and bitterly; she reproached
+herself a thousand times with not having shown her brother love enough,
+with not having helped him bravely enough to bear the heavy burden of
+his life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she noticed a letter, addressed to her, upon the table beside the
+bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A quarter of an hour later she joined Erwin, who waited for her in the
+adjoining room. There were still tears on her cheeks, but in her eyes
+shone a kind of solemn pride. She handed Erwin the open letter. He
+read:</p>
+<br>
+<div style="font-size:90%">
+<p class="continue"><span class="sc">Dear Elsa</span>:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">You will be startled at what I have done. Forgive me this, as you have
+already forgiven me so much. I die not as a cowardly suicide, but as a
+man who has sentenced himself to death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The conviction has strengthened in my mind, that my life is of use and
+pleasure to no one. My own child begins to be saddened by the
+oppressive atmosphere which surrounds me. My shadow has long darkened
+your existence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After my death you will reproach yourself, dear, good heart; will fancy
+that you could have been better and more considerate to me than you
+have already been. Do not torment yourself. I remember nothing of you
+but unwearied love and tender compassion. May God bless you a thousand
+times, you and yours.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Take my poor child to your home. Erwin will bring the boy up better
+than I could have done. Do not show my corpse to him, and put no
+mourning on him. I do not wish to be the cause of a single bitter hour
+to his poor little heart. Tell him I have gone on a journey. He will
+forget me.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Never tell him, I beg you, of my disgrace, and if he learns of it
+through strangers, then--then tell him that I loved him beyond
+everything, and that I took my life so that I need never blush before
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lay the little lock of golden hair which I cut from his head in Rome
+upon my breast. You will find it in the upper left drawer of my
+writing-desk, and put the old soldier's coat which I wore at Sadowa
+upon me. (Stifler knows where it is.) It is the only article of
+clothing in which I dare stretch myself out beside my ancestors for
+eternal rest, or appear before them for eternal reconciliation; who
+knows!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A last kiss for my child. Farewell! and forgive</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:30%">&quot;<span class="sc">The Certain Lanzberg</span>.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin's eyes were moist. &quot;He was indeed a noble nature,&quot; said he gently
+and hoarsely, as he gave the letter back to Elsa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; cried she, with a kind of pride. &quot;He was really noble; therefore
+he tormented himself to death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Erwin drew the convulsively sobbing woman to his breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Three days later the funeral took place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All the inhabitants of the country round of his rank were present; even
+Count L---- came to show Felix the last honors. All were deeply
+shocked. Suicide, against which in general they cherished the Catholic
+abhorrence, seemed to them in this case justified. They saw in this act
+almost the repayment of an outlawed debt.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From that day the byword with which they had formerly designated Felix
+changed. They never again called him &quot;the certain Lanzberg,&quot; but now
+always &quot;the unfortunate Lanzberg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was rehabilitated!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Felix Lanzberg's Expiation, by Ossip Schubin
+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Felix Lanzberg's Expiation, by Ossip Schubin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Felix Lanzberg's Expiation
+
+Author: Ossip Schubin
+
+Translator: Elise L. Lathrop
+
+Release Date: March 13, 2011 [EBook #35571]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FELIX LANZBERG'S EXPIATION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://books.google.com/books?id=ZQoZAAAAYAAJ
+
+   2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
+
+   3. Lacunae in English version were compared to the German edition
+      (Ehre). Corrections to English version are shown in bold.
+
+      Page 72, 3rd para., end of last sentence: wird ZUR GEWIssHEIT.
+          Linda's Mutter hat ihn betrogen? Linda WEIss nichts!
+
+          BECOMES CERTAIN that Linda's mother has deceived him; Linda
+          KNOWS nothing!
+
+      Page 72, 4th para, first sentence: Da fordert der PRIESTER sein
+          "Ja!"
+
+          Then the PRIEST demands his "Yes!"
+
+      Page 73, para. 1: --reine FARBENPATZEN.--Sind von einer
+          Schlamperei diese Franzosen!--Dass sich wirklich NOCH JEMAND
+          von ihnen prellen laesst!" So schliesst Papa HARFINK, der
+          Kunstkritiker.
+
+          --regular DAUBS OF COLORS. These Frenchmen are tricky.
+          REALLY, PEOPLE are cheated by them. Thus concludes Papa
+          HARFINK, the art critic.
+
+      Page 244, para. 2: Sie ass ohne Ziererei und ohne Gier, nippte nur
+          an dem Champagner, laechelte gutwillig ueber DIE frechsten
+          Scherze, ob SIE SELBE VERSTAND ODER auch nicht verstand, mit
+          der Resignation eines Geschoepfes, DAS ES GEWOHNT IST, sich
+          auf diese Weise sein Brot zu verdienen.
+
+          She ate without affectation and without greediness--only
+          sipped the champagne, smiled good-naturedly at THE boldest
+          jokes, whether she understood THEM OR not, with the
+          resignation of a being WHO WAS ACCUSTOMED to earn her bread
+          in this manner.
+
+      Page 244, para. 3: DIE ALTE MANUELA schnarchte laengst. Einige der
+          OFFIZIERE waren melancholisch geworden, ...
+
+          THE OLD MANUELA had long been snoring. Some the OFFICERS had
+          grown melancholy, ...
+
+      Page 245, para. 4: Er pflegte sie, wie ein Braeutigam die
+          ROSENKNOSPE, die ihm seine liebe Braut geschenkt hat--ja, so
+          PFLEGTE FELIX die welke gelbe Blume, die DER COULISSENSTAUB
+          beschmutzt--auf die EIN AKROBAT GETRETEN HABEN MOCHTE!
+
+          He cherished it like a lover the ROSE-BUD which his dear one
+          had given him; yes, thus WOULD FELIX cherish the faded yellow
+          flower which THE DUST [IN THE WINGS] OF the stage had
+          soiled--upon which AN ACROBAT MIGHT HAVE trodden.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Elsa springs up--she listens breathlessly.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            FELIX LANZBERG'S
+
+                               EXPIATION
+
+
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                             OSSIP SCHUBIN
+
+
+
+
+                             TRANSLATED BY
+
+                            ELISE L. LATHROP
+
+
+
+
+                              ILLUSTRATED
+
+
+
+
+                                NEW YORK
+                          WORTHINGTON COMPANY
+                              747 BROADWAY
+                                  1892
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          Copyright, 1892, by
+                          WORTHINGTON COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      Press of J. J. Little & Co.
+                         Astor Place, New York
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      FELIX LANZBERG'S EXPIATION.
+
+
+
+
+                                   I.
+
+
+"My dear Falk, do not tear past me so unheedingly, I beg you! Do you,
+then, not recognize me?"
+
+Thus a stout old lady cries in a deep rough voice to a gentleman whose
+arm she has energetically grasped with both hands.
+
+The gentleman--his carriage betokens a retired officer; his wrinkles
+betray him to be a contemporary of the lady--starts back.
+
+"Oh! it is you, Baroness!" cries he, and half recalls that forty years
+or so ago he was an admirer of hers, and remembers very distinctly that
+last winter he had quarrelled with her at whist on account of a revoke.
+
+"I am indescribably pleased," he adds, with well-bred resignation, and
+at the same time glances after a passing blonde chignon whose
+coquettish curls float to and fro as if they said "catch me!"
+
+"Ah, ah! age does not protect you from folly!" laughs the old woman.
+"She interests you, the person with the yellow hair, eh? Dyed, my dear
+man, dyed, I assure you. It is not worth the trouble to run after her.
+Her back is pretty, _mais pour le reste!_ Hm! Sit down and talk to me
+for a little!"
+
+The yellow chignon has vanished round a corner and the energetic old
+woman has drawn her ex-adorer down on a bench in the meagre shade of a
+watering-place promenade, upon a grass-green bench under gray-brown
+trees.
+
+It is in Franzensbad in July; afternoon; around them the sleepy
+stillness of a place where there is nothing to do and one cannot amuse
+one's self.
+
+Some ladies, pale, sickly, dressed with the grotesque elegance which is
+permissible in a watering-place, pass, some with arms bare to the
+elbow, others with pearls round their necks, still others with floating
+hair.
+
+"How glad I am, my dear Colonel!" cries the old Baroness to her
+captive, for at least the tenth time. "But how are you, pray tell me?
+No! Where do you get your elixir of life? You remain so fabulously
+young!"
+
+In fact the Colonel, closely shaven and dressed in the latest fashion,
+slender and active as he is, at a hundred paces looks like a young
+dandy; at twenty paces, at least like the mummy of one. Still he
+parries the old lady's compliments, while he shakes his head and shrugs
+his shoulders disparagingly.
+
+"Positively--positively!" croaks the old woman. "And now tell me what
+is the news with you people in Marienbad? It is not in vain that they
+call you 'Le Figaro de Marienbad.'"
+
+Marienbad, a few hours distant from Franzensbad, is the present
+stopping place of the Colonel.
+
+"News? News?" grumbles the Colonel. "A mill burned down yesterday,
+three head of cattle and two men with it."
+
+"Oh, cease such ordinary, horrible stories. What does society?"
+
+"Rejoices that it has opportunity of diversion through a fair for
+charity."
+
+"So? Ah!--and what else?"
+
+"Last night Princess Barenburg's groom hung himself. Perhaps that
+interests you?"
+
+"Ah, very agreeable that! Poor Clemence is unfortunate!" says the
+Baroness, compassionately.
+
+"Yes, the Pancini also!" remarks the Colonel, and looks down
+indifferently at the flower in his buttonhole.
+
+"Why she?"
+
+"What? you do not know!" cries the Colonel in astonishment. "Her last
+admirer, the Polish prince with the unpronounceable name, has turned
+out to be a circus rider."
+
+"The handsome blond with the mysterious political past."
+
+"It seems to have been merely a politic silence," jokes the Colonel.
+
+"_Tiens, tiens!_--how delightful--how delightful! But do you know it
+positively?" she asks with anxious excitement.
+
+"Positively! Nicki Arenhain, two years ago in Madrid, saw him dressed
+in a green satin jacket and white tights springing through hoops--she
+identified him at once. Famous story, quite famous." The Colonel rubs
+his hands with satisfaction--the old Baroness knocks enthusiastically
+on the ground with her umbrella, like an animated amateur who applauds
+her favorite virtuoso.
+
+"Excellent!" croaks she. "It serves her right, that Pancini, who
+permits herself to be as arrogant as a born lady. It serves her right,
+the soap-boiler's daughter."
+
+"Pardon! her father was a pawn-broker--or was in some banking
+business--I really do not remember----"
+
+"It is all the same--she will have to step down now. Bravo! Bravo!"
+
+"I know something else, Baroness," says the Colonel proudly, and
+smiling slyly. "A decided bit of news, _pour la bonne bouche_!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Felix Lanzberg is to be married."
+
+The Baroness is speechless; she opens her mouth, stares at the Colonel,
+clutches his arm, and only after several seconds she stammers softly:
+"The--the--certain--Lanzberg?"
+
+"Yes--it is considered certain."
+
+"Whom?"
+
+"Look around."
+
+The Baroness looks around. In the back seat of a carriage just rolling
+past them sit two ladies, one of whom, a woman in the fifties,
+tastelessly dressed, loaded with cameos and Florentine mosaics, has the
+piercing eyes, the excessive thinness as well as the aimless, twitching
+movements of a very uneasy temperament, while her neighbor at the left,
+beautiful and young, lazily crumpling her striking toilet, leans back
+among the cushions, the embodiment of dissatisfied indolence. A student
+with a bright red cap occupies the small seat opposite. On the box,
+usurping the coachman's raised seat, is a short individual with a
+crimson cravat between a blue shirt and purple face, a short, bright
+yellow foulard coat and large Panama hat. He smacks his lips
+incessantly at the horses, in driving holds his elbows far out from his
+sides so that one could easily place a travelling bag under each arm,
+and groans and puffs from exertion and attention. Near him, faultlessly
+erect, arms solemnly crossed on his chest, sits a majestic coachman,
+every feature expressing the despair of a distinguished servant who, in
+a weak hour, had let himself be persuaded to enter the service of an
+ordinary millionnaire.
+
+"Who is this elegant gentleman?" asked the Baroness, raising her
+lorgnon, still wholly absorbed in contemplating the interesting foulard
+back.
+
+"Felix Lanzberg's future father-in-law, Mr. Harfink."
+
+"He?" sighs the Baroness, emphatically. "Poor Felix! He does not
+deserve such punishment."
+
+The Colonel shrugs his shoulders. "What punishment? He is not marrying
+the father, and the daughter is charming--a refined beauty, a truly
+aristocratic girl, and I do not believe that she will ever worry
+Lanzberg by especial clinging to her parental house. Now I must part
+from you, _nolens volens_, Baroness--regret it deeply--I have a letter
+to deliver to the Countess Dey."
+
+"I will go with you, I will go with you," cries the old lady,
+animatedly. "Give me your arm and imagine it was forty years ago."
+
+And he, in his quality of man of the world condemned to perpetual
+politeness, gives her his arm and walks on laughing and chatting, at
+the side of the colossally stout woman with the servile, nodding little
+head--a martyr of _bon ton_.
+
+
+The Colonel and his friend were both fond of gossip--with the
+difference that the Colonel, an independent man, related scandal for
+his own pleasure, while the Baroness very often did so to please
+others. Her name was Baroness Klettenstein, but usually she was simply
+called _Klette_ (burr) because she could never be shaken off. She also
+had a second equally pretty nickname. In consequence of her
+indestructible life at the cost of others--she was remarkably robust
+for her sixty-six years--she had been christened the "immortal
+Cantharide." Hungrily she crept from one house to another, gained
+admission by a budget of malicious news, which, as we have seen, she
+collected indefatigably, at times even invented. She always rendered
+homage to the rising, never remembered even to have known the setting
+sun. And when, weary of her tiring parasitism, she rested in her tiny
+room at Prague, which was the only home she possessed, she swore that
+she would have been just as unselfish, just as truth-loving and
+discreet as others, if only her income had sufficed for her needs.
+
+Out of breath and panting, she entered the park on the arm of the
+Colonel. The bandmaster, a Pole with an interesting, revolutionist
+face, swings the baton with graceful languor. The ladies, leaning back
+in their white chairs on either side of the broad gravel walk, look
+weary, limp, and melancholy in their gay gowns, like flowers which a
+too hot sunbeam has withered and faded. They are worn, thin, and
+colorless, but for their toilets; but the transparent paleness of their
+faces, the excessive thinness of their forms lends them a certain
+charm, something fairylike and distinguished, refinedly aristocratic
+and Undine-like. Invalidism is less becoming to the men at the cure;
+many of them resemble corpses which an enterprising physiologist has
+exhumed to experiment upon.
+
+The first row of tables are already occupied, but an attendant,
+understanding the Klette's glance, brings forward another from the rear
+and places it where she is told. Hereupon the Baroness calls for coffee
+for two, and invites the Colonel in the most polite manner to sit
+beside her, and as he cannot deny that from this spot, purposely chosen
+by the Klette for a fine view of all present, he can soonest espy
+Countess Dey whom he has sought in vain, he resolves to await her here.
+
+Slowly the guests stroll along the promenade: most noticeable of all,
+admired or at least stared at by all, Linda Harfink. Her large, dark
+hat with its scarlet feather throws a mysterious shadow on her pale
+face; a black lace scarf is twisted round her throat and tied in a
+careless knot behind. Her pale green dress clings tightly, and yet in
+folds around her figure. Near her walks a young man, blond and
+handsome; in spite of his handsome figure and Nero-profile, too foppish
+and dandified, too strikingly dressed in the latest fashion, to be
+taken for any one but an elegant _parvenu_.
+
+"Who is he?" asks Klette, her mouth full of bread, a coffee cup in her
+hand.
+
+"A young Baron Rh[oe]den, born Grau. The family was ennobled five years
+ago, and since then only call themselves by the predicate," replies the
+Colonel. "A cousin of Linda--very nice fellow--_garcon coiffeur_, but
+very nice for his sphere--seems to be uncommonly smitten with his
+cousin."
+
+Through the evening air floats a sentimental potpourri from the "Flying
+Dutchman." The Harfinks, who wish to return the same evening to
+Marienbad, where they are staying, have left the park. Gazing down in
+coquettish silence at a rose in her hand, Linda has vanished through
+the gateway of the park, on the arm of her cousin, in the golden light
+of the setting sun.
+
+"Colonel!" now cries a gay voice.
+
+"Ah, Countess!" Intently gazing after Linda's seductive apparition, the
+Colonel had not noticed the approach of the so-long-awaited Countess
+Dey. Now he springs up, "falls at her feet, kisses her hands,"
+naturally only with words, and searches all his pockets for the letter
+for her.
+
+The Countess meanwhile, with lorgnon at her eyes, indifferently gazes
+at her surroundings.
+
+"I just met a little person who is considered a great beauty--Hopfing
+or Harpfink is her name, I believe. They say that Lanzberg is engaged
+to her--that cannot be true?"
+
+"I have heard so too," says the Colonel. "Curious match--what do you
+say to it, Countess?"
+
+"Felix Lanzberg is as unfortunate as ever," murmurs the Countess.
+
+But Klette shrugs her fat shoulders and hisses: "What does it matter if
+a certain Lanzberg makes a mesalliance?"
+
+
+
+
+                                  II.
+
+
+A tall form, slender, perhaps too narrow-shouldered, with too long
+arms, a small head with bushy, light brown hair fastened in a thick
+knot low on her neck, a golden furze at neck and temples, a pale,
+almost sallow, little face with large blue eyes, which love to look up
+and away from the earth like those of a devout cherub, a short, small
+nose, a little mouth which, with the corners slightly curving up, seems
+destined by nature for continual laughter, but later evidently
+disturbed by fate in this gay calling, in every movement the dreamy
+grace of a woman who, when scarcely grown, had experienced a great
+misfortune or a severe illness, all this pervaded by a breath of
+fanciful earnestness, melancholy tenderness, and united into an
+harmonious whole--Elsa--the sister of the "certain Felix Lanzberg," and
+since five years the wife of the Freiherr von Garzin.
+
+She is like a flower, but not like one of those proud, luxuriant roses
+which pass their life amid sunbeams and butterflies, but rather one of
+those delicate, white blossoms which have grown in deep shadow during a
+cold spring, and which close their petals from the sun.
+
+"Mamma, the letters dance again to-day," complains a little voice, the
+voice of Felicie, Elsa's four-year-old daughter, who with bare legs,
+her little form encased in a red embroidered gray linen frock, her
+towzled yellow curls fastened with a red ribbon, stands before her
+mamma.
+
+Elsa sits in a deep arm-chair, an alphabet on her knees. "Look very
+hard at the naughty letters and they will be quiet," says she with a
+smile. She finds that Felicie makes that excuse of dancing letters too
+often.
+
+The child tries to look hard at the letters.
+
+"M--a," spells she. "Mamma," she cries in great triumph at having
+spelled out a word which she knows so well.
+
+"Bravo, Litzi!"
+
+Litzi leans closely, closely against her mother's knees. "Mamma, the
+letters are tired," whispers she, "they want to go to sleep." And Elsa
+this time thinks that one cannot expect too much industry from such a
+tiny little bit of humanity, so she kisses the child and says, "Well,
+put them to bed, then." Whereupon, Litzi, with much pretext of
+business, puts the alphabet away in the drawer, while Elsa, leaning
+back comfortably in her arm-chair, her feet crossed, her arms clasped
+around her knees, gives herself up to that lazy thinking which with
+happy people is called reverie, with unhappy ones brooding. The room in
+which she sits, half boudoir, half library, furnished with tall
+book-cases, etageres, old faience and Japanese lacquer work, and filled
+with the perfume of the sweetest flowers, is an ideal nest for a young
+woman of good taste and serious habits.
+
+"Mamma, why must I learn to read?" asks Litzi after a while.
+
+"So as to be a wise girl," replies Elsa, absently.
+
+"Mamma, can the dear God read too?"
+
+"The dear God can do everything that He wishes," says Elsa, with
+difficulty restraining her laughter.
+
+"Everything?" asks the little one, with great, surprised eyes. "Could
+He make Fido into a cow?"
+
+Fido, a white bull-dog with pointed black ears and a black spot on his
+shoulder, raises his upper lip and shows his teeth pleasantly as a sign
+that he, clever dog that he is, notices when he is spoken of.
+
+"The dear God does not wish to do foolish things," says Elsa, very
+seriously.
+
+"But if He wanted to?"
+
+The door opens. Fido rises from the streak of sunlight in which he has
+been lying. "Papa!" cries Litzi, and a young man, blond, with unusually
+attractive dark eyes, seizes her under the shoulders, and raising her
+to him he says: "Litzi, Litzi, you are a dear little mouse, but a great
+big goose. Accustom yourself to the conditional."
+
+"What is conditional?"
+
+"A form of expression which leads one to much useless conjecture."
+
+"But, Erwin!" laughingly admonishes Elsa.
+
+"Perhaps you did not wholly understand me, Litzi?" he asks, drolly
+staring at the child.
+
+She shakes her head, and says somewhat vexedly, "You are laughing at
+me, papa."
+
+"Only a very little bit, so that you may get used to it, you pretty
+little scamp, you," says he, tenderly pinching her cheeks, "and now you
+may go to Mlle. Angelique, and ask her to put a clean dress and a
+pretty sash on you, for Uncle Felix is coming to dinner. Can you find
+the way?"
+
+He has placed her on the ground, and led her to the door, then looks
+after her until, calling "Angelique! Angelique!" she is met by a pretty
+French _bonne_.
+
+"And how is your Highness?" he now turns to his wife, who holds out
+both hands to him.
+
+"How long it is since one has seen you to-day," says she.
+
+"Has 'one' missed me a little?"
+
+"Do not ask such foolish questions!"
+
+"Thanks! I was very busy or else I should have burdened you with my
+presence sooner," says he, gayly. "And now give me your keys, so that I
+can put away your money."
+
+"Oh, my quarterly allowance. How much is it?"
+
+He hands her a little bundle of bank-notes.
+
+"Count!"
+
+"I do not understand, it is different every time. You always give me
+more than is due me," replies she, shaking her head.
+
+"Leave me this innocent pleasure. You are always in debt," says he,
+while he locks the notes in a drawer of her writing-desk.
+
+Erwin never would acknowledge the equal rights of woman with regard to
+the cares of life. He was pleased that Elsa, who read the most abstract
+treatises on political economy, did not understand an iota of business.
+He had purposely left her in this darkness, and she did not fight
+against it. He paid her the interest of her property, insisted that she
+should spend it exclusively upon her poor and her own fancies, and she
+never asked what he did with the capital.
+
+"May I write here?" he asks over his shoulder, sitting down at her
+writing-desk then, without waiting for an answer. "A lady's
+writing-desk without invitations and charitable circulars. The
+inspector has become confused about that farm business of your little
+_protege_ in Johannesthal." He writes quickly.
+
+"The inspector is good for nothing," grumbles Elsa. "That is to say, he
+is newly married."
+
+Erwin defends his bailiff.
+
+"There, that is done. You can tell your little friend that it is all
+arranged. Hm! Elsa! Do you think that I would have been much more
+practical during our honeymoon than my inspector?"
+
+"Ah, you," says Elsa, who evidently does not understand how her husband
+can compare himself to his overseer, Cibulka. He has laid aside his pen
+and now pushes his chair lazily up to hers.
+
+"You will make marks in my carpet, you careless man," says she.
+
+"Do not cry," he says, consolingly. "I will buy you a new one, as the
+banker said to his daughter when her husband died."
+
+"I congratulate you on your fine comparison," says she, kissing his
+hair lightly. "Now I must dress for dinner."
+
+"Already? Am I to be sentenced to read the paper?"
+
+It was a little more than five years ago that Erwin Garzin had come to
+his estate of Steinbach adjoining the beautiful Lanzberg Traunberg in
+order to arrange his business after the death of his father. Elsa, with
+whom he had as boy played many a trick, he had found a grown girl. At
+that time nineteen years old, her mind, matured by pain, was far in
+advance of her years, her body far behind. She had the slender,
+undeveloped form of a child too quickly grown, and carried her head
+always bent forward, like a young tree over which a cold storm has
+passed, and was always sad and depressed. At times, to be sure, she
+smiled suddenly like a true child, but only for a moment, and her eyes
+were almost always moist. She spoke little and had a hollow, almost too
+deep voice. And yet the first time that Erwin heard this hollow voice
+his heart beat strangely, and that night he lay awake and was angry at
+the sweet song of a nightingale which disturbed him in his efforts to
+remember that hollow voice.
+
+It was spring-time then, a mixture of showers and rainbows, flowers
+heavy with dew, bright foliage and mild air. Erwin fell hopelessly in
+love with the pale daughter of old Mr. Lanzberg. She, however, avoided
+him, not with that pretty maidenly reserve behind which the coquetry of
+the future woman usually lurks, but with the shy despondency of a sick
+owl dreading the light. When he had at length accustomed her to his
+society he was still miles from his aim. She did not think of what most
+young girls do. She was wholly absorbed in consoling her bowed father,
+in pitying her unfortunate brother, at that time dwelling in a far
+distant land. Her heart was full, longed for no other feeling,
+suspected none, and yet slowly her whole being warmed; something like a
+cure was effected in her, and the day came when she laid her small hand
+firmly and confidingly in Erwin's and for the first time he
+whisperingly called her his betrothed.
+
+But he had not yet won. Soon she expressed her scruples at dragging the
+shadow which made her so sad under his roof, then at leaving her
+father. When they proved to her that nothing could so help the bowed
+man as the consolation of seeing at least one of his children happy,
+the wedding day was at length appointed. A strange turn suddenly seized
+her when Erwin one day asked her in what part of Vienna she would
+prefer to live.
+
+"In Vienna?" cried she. "We are to live in the city?" Whereupon he
+replied: "My treasure, you know that I am not a rich man, and the rents
+of Steinbach only just suffice for the support of a very economical
+couple. Therefore I, and you with me are dependent upon my career. But
+I like to work. I have fine connections, and the times are favorable to
+ambitious people. You will yet be the wife of an Excellency, Elsa!"
+
+From her pale face it could be read that she did not see the slightest
+pleasure in being the wife of a governor, ambassador, or minister. Her
+hand grew limp and cold in his, she evaded his caresses, and every time
+that evening that his glance met hers, her eyes were filled with tears.
+Her exaggerated aversion to the world disquieted him, without seeming
+to him other than a symptom of diseased nerves; he thought that his
+loving patience must vanquish it, and when the next morning his servant
+brought him a letter from Elsa, he admired the strange, energetic,
+large letters of the address, and played with it, firmly convinced that
+it could not contain anything important. It contained the following:
+
+
+"Above all things, many, many thanks for the sympathizing friendship
+which you have always showed to us, my father and me. Never should I
+have allowed myself to be persuaded into an engagement with you. I
+should be a lamentable wife for you. I will not hinder you in your
+career, and I cannot live in the world even for your sake. Therefore I
+give you back your word. I wish you all joy and happiness in the world,
+and as to me, when you have become a great man, keep a little friendly
+remembrance of the spring of '70.                     Elsa."
+
+
+What could he do but rush over to Traunberg, overwhelm her with tender
+reproaches, represent to her subtly and incontrovertibly that her
+shyness was morbid, her yielding to this mood fairly wrong.
+
+"Am I then nothing to you?" he finally cried, vexedly.
+
+Then she raised her large eyes, eyes such as Raphael has painted in the
+sweet face of the little John, as he kneels near the sleeping child
+Jesus, his God and his King.
+
+"I believe you love a quite different person from me--you do not know
+me!" she whispered, shaking her head.
+
+And Erwin flushed crimson and was ashamed of his brutal egoism. He
+kissed her hands, he would torment her no longer--but he could not give
+her up.
+
+He gave her eight days to consider it--all that remained of his
+vacation.
+
+But he did not gain a step during these eight days.
+
+With a heavy heart and hoarse voice he took leave. She smiled.
+
+And yet he never felt more plainly that she loved him. Her love was
+that emotion which is above earthly considerations, which is capable of
+the most painful sacrifices, the most complete renunciation, although,
+or perhaps because she scarcely thought of marriage; in a word, it was
+the love of a very young girl.
+
+It did not resemble his in the slightest. How shallow his life in
+Vienna and his career now seemed to him; how unattractive, how far away
+and vague his aim, and even if he did attain all for which he strove.
+
+The justifications of a true, warm, longing love are always quite
+incontrovertible for him whom it guides.
+
+Elsa stood before the park, under one of the black lindens. It was
+summer, the lindens bloomed, and a dreamy hum of bees pervaded their
+gnarled branches. Elsa looked through the clear summer air in the
+direction in which Castle Steinbach shone white above the wooded
+valley. Then she heard a step--she looked around. It was Erwin, thin,
+in spite of the flush of heat, looking very badly, but with sparkling
+eyes.
+
+"Where do you come from?" cried she, trembling with surprise, with
+happiness.
+
+"From the castle, where I sought you in vain. Your father did not know
+where you were."
+
+"He was asleep--did you wake him?"
+
+"Very possibly, but I had no time to reproach myself! Oh, Elsa, are you
+not in the least glad to see me? I have resigned--I cannot live without
+you!"
+
+She stood there with loudly beating heart, and embarrassed smile, like
+a surprised child before a Christmas tree.
+
+"You pay a high price for a miserable little thing," murmured she, and
+fairly wept.
+
+"Happiness desires to be paid dearly for--it seems to me a small one!"
+whispered he.
+
+Thereupon she was silent for a moment, looked at him anxiously,
+solemnly; was it possible that he clung to her, such a weak,
+insignificant creature? Then suddenly, with her lovely look of
+embarrassment, she threw both arms around him. "Oh you----" she cried,
+and paused because she found no word that in her opinion was great and
+splendid enough for him. "How I will love you!"
+
+It was a risky experiment, to tear himself away from his customary
+occupation and society, and wish to pass the rest of his life at the
+side of a nervous misanthropical wife.
+
+How did it succeed?
+
+He had feared having too little to do, had provided himself with books,
+quite like a diplomat sent to Japan. To his astonished delight, he soon
+found not only how much there was to occupy him but how much he could
+accomplish with the income from Steinbach, which he had been accustomed
+to estimate at two or three per cent., and which now daily increased;
+for the many lives around him whose weal and woe he held in his hands,
+from the overseer and farmers to the day-laborers, and then Elsa!
+
+How beautiful she grew after he had slowly kissed away the deep sadness
+from her face--and how lovely! The frivolous love of pleasure and
+gayety which is considered normal in young women never developed in
+her; she always remained quiet, but a dreamy happiness shone
+continually in her eyes, she was so blissfully happy.
+
+What a charming companion! She rode with the endurance and indifferent
+courage of a man, read everything, was interested in everything,
+noticed everything, spoke of the most forgotten historical characters
+as if she had met them yesterday. She rather spurred him on than
+dragged him down.
+
+Instead of, as he had feared, growing rusty in the country, he had time
+for making good much that he had neglected. She went on long journeys
+with him, but at home associated as little as possible with her
+neighbors. In these years Elsa was apparently one of the happiest women
+in the world.
+
+She was only sad when she thought of Felix.
+
+Her father, shortly after her marriage, blessing her a thousandfold,
+had died in her arms. Felix had returned to his home.
+
+
+
+
+                                  III.
+
+
+The two brothers-in-law sit alone in the circle of light which a
+garden lamp throws in a corner of the garden shaded by elder trees.
+Dinner is long over, they have ceased laughing at Litzi's childish
+pranks and remarks; she has become sleepy, and Elsa has taken her away
+to lay her in her pretty little white bed. The two men, meanwhile, are
+smoking their cigars in the open air.
+
+"Erwin, do you happen to know these Harfinks?" Felix asks his
+brother-in-law quite suddenly, in the embarrassed tone of a humiliated,
+bored man, and with the slightly husky voice which distinguishes all
+generations of indulgent and effeminate races.
+
+The "certain Lanzberg" is indisputably of an attractive appearance--the
+beauty of his sister in a man--and yet softer. All the lines of his
+face are rounder, less decided; the features of a faultless regularity,
+the eyes still bluer, and yet the whole face lacks Elsa's lovely,
+evident peace; the eyes are always weary and half closed; his full lips
+wear a suffering, tormented expression, and the light brown color of
+his complexion, in its natural color like Elsa's, is nevertheless ashy
+in comparison to her healthy pallor, and furrowed with little wrinkles.
+
+"Do you know these Harfinks?" he asks, softly.
+
+"Harfink fitted up my sugar factory," replies Erwin, and glances
+closely at his brother-in-law. "In consequence I have met him several
+times. Recently, in Marienbad, he reminded me of our acquaintance, and
+introduced me to his wife and daughter."
+
+"Strange man!" says Felix, shaking his head.
+
+"Yes, strange, silly! His wife is repulsive, both are very ordinary."
+
+"Yes, both," repeats Felix, and with the toe of his boot draws figures
+in the sand. "But the daughter?"
+
+"Well, the daughter?" Erwin glances still more attentively at his
+brother-in-law's face.
+
+"She is very well educated," murmurs the latter, indistinctly.
+
+"Her education was probably acquired in a very noble boarding-school,"
+remarks Erwin, dryly. "During the ten minutes of our acquaintance, she
+used the word 'aristocratic' three times, and twice complained that
+society in the Kursaal was so mixed. Besides that, she found the
+country monotonous, the weather dull, the music '_agacante_,' and
+concluded by saying, one rails at Marienbad and yet it was tiresome
+everywhere, for her friend Laure de Lonsigny wrote her quite desperate
+letters from Luchon."
+
+Felix has flushed more and more deeply during this pitiless account.
+"Poor girl, how embarrassed she must have been," says he, excusingly.
+
+"Embarrassed?" Erwin shrugged his shoulders. "She had a great deal of
+self-possession."
+
+"Is not a certain kind of self-possession only a form of
+embarrassment?" asked Felix, shyly.
+
+But Erwin evidently has no inclination to be lenient to Linda's faults.
+He suspects the approach of something which must shatter Felix's
+undermined existence, and seeks a means of meeting it.
+
+"You, perhaps, do not even think her pretty," says Felix, vexedly,
+hesitating.
+
+"Pretty, no; but dazzlingly beautiful. It is a pity that she has
+parents who, with all their perversity, are yet so respectable," says
+Erwin with unmistakable emphasis.
+
+Then Felix bursts out: "It is not only horrible, but absolutely
+indecent to speak of a girl with whom, by your own account, you have
+spoken for scarcely ten minutes, in such a repulsive manner." And as
+his brother-in-law, astonished at such an unusual outbreak from Felix,
+yet looks at him without the slightest harshness or coldness, the
+"certain Lanzberg" grows red and murmurs, "Pardon that I ventured to
+reprove you."
+
+Erwin clenches his fist and opens it again with the gesture of a man
+who has conquered a painful excitement.
+
+Such feelings often came over him in intercourse with his
+brother-in-law, although he felt great pity and much sympathy for
+the good, shy fellow; but his association with him was never wholly
+free, open, but always contained a tinge of sympathetic politeness,
+and there was never that warm abruptness which is a healthy symptom
+of manly friendship. Sad yielding on one side; on the other
+good-natured advances. This, after a half year's acquaintance, was the
+relation of the two brothers-in-law. One must--alas! it could not be
+otherwise--treat Felix as a precious but broken and only artificially
+mended cup of Sevres porcelain.
+
+"Why does my opinion of the Harfinks interest you?" asks Erwin, now
+going straight to his object.
+
+For a while there is perfect silence, only animated by the soft voices
+of the night, and the fluttering of a moth which has wandered behind
+the tall shade of the garden lamp and has been singed.
+
+"Erwin!" cries Felix, his hands convulsively clasped, in his large
+feverish eyes a look such as Erwin had only once before seen, and then
+in a dying man's who suddenly longed to live. "Do you think that a man
+like me has a right to marry?"
+
+[Illustration: "Do you think a man like me has a right to marry?"]
+
+"No!" sounded harshly and firmly.
+
+It was not Erwin who answered. In the circle of light which the garden
+lamp shed amid the gray moonlight, a tall white form had placed itself
+opposite Felix, behind Erwin's chair.
+
+"No!"
+
+Erwin himself shudders; his wife seems uncanny. So beautiful, so pale,
+with such deathly tenderness, must have looked the angel when he drove
+the beings whom he loved out of Paradise.
+
+Felix lets his head sink in his hands. Elsa bends over him and caresses
+him like a sick child. Erwin wishes to withdraw, but Felix calls him
+back. "Stay, there are no secrets between us. I should have never dared
+take the hand which you held out to me, had I not been convinced that
+you know---- Yes, Elsa," he continued, very bitterly, "you despise me,
+it was cowardly, it was unconscionable to even think of it, but if you
+knew what it is to be weary and alone, with no one on whom to lean for
+support! To have no one to whom one can be anything, for whom one can
+sacrifice oneself, to be perpetually condemned to think of oneself when
+thought is torment and loathing--to be sometimes permitted by pitying
+people to look on at happiness which awakes all the furies in one--yes,
+at first it was a comfort to me to flee to you, to breathe the same air
+with two happy people--but then--your beaming eyes, the little
+tendernesses of your child, even the alms of love which you gave me,
+all made my blood hot and me giddy. My God! I have injured no one but
+myself! Must I be condemned for life? Ten years is usually considered
+enough for a heavy crime, and I would gladly exchange these last ten
+years with any galley slave."
+
+Since his return to his fatherland no one had heard him say so much;
+the gentle, quiet man is not to be recognized.
+
+Elsa stands near him, white and sad, tears are in her eyes, but the
+severe expression of her mouth has not softened. Erwin is more moved
+than she. "Felix," says he, "you go too far. You must not marry the
+young Harfink; she is worldly and selfish, and would seek in a marriage
+with you only the satisfaction of her social vanity."
+
+Felix laughs bitterly.
+
+"But the world is large. You must find a girl who loves you for
+yourself, who will raise you above yourself, who----"
+
+Felix's eyes rest on his brother-in-law, then they turn to Elsa.
+
+"It is all of no use, Erwin;" he suddenly interrupts him and rises.
+"And even if I found what is not to be found, and even if an angel came
+down from heaven to console me, I must repulse her. I have no right to
+marry for the sake of the children who would bear my name. Ask Elsa for
+her opinion."
+
+Elsa bows her head and is silent. He gives Erwin his hand, seizes his
+hat and, without having bid Elsa good-night, with the bearing of an
+offended man, takes a few hasty steps--then he turns, and as he sees
+Elsa still standing motionless, her face drawn with deepest misery,
+near the chair which he has left, he hurries back to her and takes her
+in his arms. "I was wrong to be angry, Elsa," murmurs he. "I know you
+must love me to have forgiven me. It may well be indifferent to him,"
+with a half nod to Erwin. "I was not myself to-day; have patience with
+me."
+
+The tears of the brother and sister mingle. Then Felix tears himself
+away.
+
+"Will you come back to-morrow?" asks Elsa.
+
+"Yes, to say farewell."
+
+"My God! what are you going to do?"
+
+"I am going away--it is better for me elsewhere--and you, you are very
+good to me, but----you do not need me."
+
+With that he goes. Erwin accompanies him. Then he returns to his wife,
+whom he finds where he had left her. She is not one of those who for
+long yield themselves to the weak enjoyment of tears. Her eyes are dry
+again, but so indescribably sad and staring that Erwin would rather see
+them wet. He draws her on his knees and whispers a thousand calming
+words of tenderness to her, but she remains absent.
+
+"So the young Harfink has robbed him of his senses?" she murmurs
+interrogatively.
+
+"So it seems!"
+
+"Poor Felix!--I was very hard to him--I dared not be otherwise. I fear,
+I fear it is all in vain--he will yield. You have the same thought!"
+
+"To dissuade any obstinate man is hard, but sometimes at least
+successful--to dissuade a weak man is quite easy, but always
+unsuccessful," replies Erwin. "Nevertheless let us hope."
+
+"Concerning Felix, hope fails," said Elsa. "O Erwin, Erwin, often it
+seems to me that father had no right to persuade him to live at that
+time!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  IV.
+
+
+Felix rode home.
+
+It was a moonlight night, but none of those which remind one of theatre
+scenery and silver-flecked green paint, such, as painted in oil,
+endanger all German art societies; the objects did not float in that
+universal green-black indistinctness; on the contrary, they stood out
+in sharp relief.
+
+The tall poplars and the short bushy grass at the edge of the road,
+the yellow fields of grain with their dark piles of sheaves, the
+pale flowers in the ditches, the red and black roofs of a distant
+village sleeping between green lindens, a round church cupola and a
+cemetery with its low, white wall, and the dark rows of crosses and
+monuments--all could be seen plainly, only with somewhat faded colors,
+and over all was a misty veil like thin smoke, and a white light shone
+on the poplar leaves, rustling and turning in the night wind. The
+reapers were still working. Through the mild air sounded their song,
+hollow and monotonous, with the quiet sadness which characterizes
+Slavonian folk-songs. Their scythes sparkle in the moonlight;
+occasionally the pleasant face of a young woman, nodding to a youth,
+rises before Felix's eyes from the crowd of workers, irradiated by the
+mystic half light.
+
+Felix watched them as he slowly rode on. He would gladly have been one
+of them, and would have taken upon himself all their burdens in
+exchange for the one he bore. He could have wished that the night had
+been less beautiful, that a dead, winter stillness had prevailed around
+him instead of this strange charm of the mild July moonlight.
+
+The night wind, warm and gentle, caressed his face and his hands, and
+awakened the strangest longing in his heart. His head grew heated; the
+allurements with which his imagination tormented his despondent heart
+grew more and more intense.
+
+The monotonous pace of his horse, the melancholy reaper's song lulled
+him not to sleep, but to that half slumber which produces dreams. He
+did not wholly lose the consciousness of motion; the open road, the
+trees, the wheat-fields, with everything, was mingled a light form; two
+large eyes sparkled half in sadness, half defiantly, and two full red
+lips smiled at him. An indescribable breath of youth and fresh life met
+him.
+
+The yellow fields and the reapers have sunken into the earth--folk-song
+and the swing of the scythes have long sounded only like a vague murmur
+of waters to his distracted ear. His horse stumbles, a twig strikes him
+in the face, he starts.
+
+The white dream-form has vanished, all is dark around him, a solemn,
+far-distant murmur breaks the stillness, and gigantic trees meet over
+the head of the solitary rider.
+
+The horse trembles under him, then rears suddenly, and as he checks it
+he sees in the distance something low and black hurrying away in great
+leaps, sees there--there, close before him, a light figure which slowly
+rises from the ground.
+
+He breathes heavily--for Heaven's sake is he still dreaming? That is
+surely she--Linda!
+
+"Ah! Baron Lanzberg, you here? Thank God," cries she.
+
+"You seem to have met with an unpleasant adventure," says Felix
+confusedly, coughs and springs from his horse without thinking what he
+is doing.
+
+"A very unpleasant one," says she in her high, fresh, girlish voice.
+"That is what comes of insisting upon riding a donkey. We set out on
+foot, my brother and I, to the burned mill, to have the great enjoyment
+of seeing charred beams and skeletons of hens, and devouring black
+bread and sour milk, we---- Have you a weakness for sour milk, Baron?"
+looking up at him with a childish glance and smile.
+
+"No, not exactly."
+
+"I was not at all satisfied with my expedition," she continued, with
+the self-satisfied fluency of all young girls who are accustomed to
+have their chatter listened to for the sake of their pretty faces. "Not
+at all. Then I discovered two donkeys, one of them had a saddle like an
+arm-chair. Raimund must hire them. I left him no peace! His donkey goes
+splendidly, but mine! I cannot move him from the spot. I call to my
+brother, but he does not hear, he is singing college songs, thunders
+like a whole chorus and has ears for his own voice only. I do not love
+Raimund's singing, but as it gradually sounded further and further
+away, and finally ceased entirely, I had quite a curious sensation.
+Then my donkey threw back his ears, opened his mouth, and--here I lay.
+I am so glad that I met you."
+
+The moonlight breaks through the green net-work of the woods, shines
+between the rushes, flowers and brambles of the ditch along the road,
+lights up Linda's face, the beautiful white face with the large dark
+eyes. Her hair is tumbled, she has lost her hat, her gown is torn, the
+affectation which usually conceals her inborn grace completely
+vanished.
+
+"I do not know the way," says she, "and what will mamma think when
+Raimund comes home without me?"
+
+After he has overcome his first fright, Felix tells himself that his
+dread of her charm must not prevent him from helping her. "If you will
+trust yourself to my guidance and will take this path across the
+fields, you can reach Marienbad in a half hour," he remarks, and tries
+to fasten his horse by the bridle to the low branch of an oak.
+
+"Ah, it will inconvenience you so; if you will only point out the
+way----"
+
+"You surely do not imagine that I could let you go alone, in the
+pitch-dark night? No." He smiles at her encouragingly. "What a child
+you still are, Miss Linda. Come."
+
+He goes ahead, carefully pushing aside all branches for her. The air
+becomes more and more sultry, an enervating damp odor rises from the
+ground, in the tree-tops rustle wonderful melodies.
+
+An intoxicating shudder runs over him at the thought of being alone
+with her in the great, silent, lonely woods. Then he becomes alarmed,
+quickens his steps, in order to run away from his thoughts and shorten
+the way.
+
+Then a voice behind him calls laughingly and complainingly: "How you
+hurry--do not make fun of me, I am tired--one moment, only one moment!"
+
+Linda stands there out of breath, heated, with half-closed eyes and
+half-opened mouth, her hair loosened by the rough caresses of the
+thicket, hanging over her shoulders.
+
+How beautiful she is. Shall he offer her his arm? No, no, no!
+
+He is one of those warm and weak natures in whom passion in one moment
+drowns everything, annihilates, crushes everything, intellect, honor
+and duty.
+
+He has more conscience than others, but not that prudent, warning
+conscience, which withholds one from a wrong deed, but only that
+malicious, accusing one which points the finger, grins and hurls sly
+insults in the face after the deed is done.
+
+"If you wish to spare your mother a fright, we must hurry," says Felix,
+with the last remnant of prudence which is left in him.
+
+They go on. Before their feet opens an abyss, barely ten feet broad; in
+its depths filters a small thread of water which the moonlight colors a
+bluish silver. At the edge of the abyss, curiously looking down into
+it, bending deeply down to it, grows a bush of wild roses, covered
+thickly with white blossoms, trembling slightly, like a living being;
+with outstretched wings it vibrates over the depths, as if it hesitated
+between the longing to fly up to the sacred mystery of heaven, and the
+desire to plunge down into the alluring enigma of the abyss.
+
+A small plank leads over it, slippery and tottering. Felix strides
+across it quickly and then looks around for Linda.
+
+There, in the middle of the board, trembling, her teeth set in her lip,
+stands Linda, and cannot advance. "I am giddy!" she gasps.
+
+There are few more attractive things in the world than a pretty,
+frightened woman.
+
+Felix rushes up to her, takes her in his arms and carries her over. All
+is forgotten, he holds her closely to him, his lips lose themselves in
+her loosened hair, burn on her forehead, seek her mouth, but then he
+suddenly pauses. The enormity of his deed occurs to him.
+
+"For Heaven's sake pardon me!" cries he. Whereupon she replies with a
+naive smile and tender glance:
+
+"Pardon? Ah, I knew that you loved me."
+
+"That indeed a blind man could have seen," murmurs he bitterly. "But,
+Linda, could you resolve to be my wife?"
+
+"Could I resolve?" she murmurs with tender roguishness. "And why not?"
+
+"In spite of my past?"
+
+Past! The word has a romantic charm for her. It wakes in her an idea
+of baccaret and mabille, of a brilliantly squandered fortune, of
+ballet-dancers and duels. A "past" in her mind belongs to every true
+nobleman of a certain age.
+
+"If your heart is now wholly mine, what does your past matter to me?"
+says she softly.
+
+Then he kisses her hand. "Linda you are an angel," whispers he, and
+silent and happy, they finish their walk.
+
+Ten minutes later, before the ambitious singer, Raimund, reaches home,
+Linda was in the house.
+
+She stood on the balcony of the "Emperor of China," between
+dead-looking oleander trees which exhale a tiresome odor of bitter
+almonds: she stands there, her arms resting on the balustrade when
+Raimund and his donkey emerge from the shadows of the street. His red
+cap pushed back, his face shining as if freshly shaven, with glance
+directed upward in terror he comes along, the picture of bankrupt
+responsibility on a donkey.
+
+A gay laugh greets him.
+
+"Linda, where are you?"
+
+"Here."
+
+"Here! I have been looking for you for an hour," says he, scarcely
+believing his eyes.
+
+"Where? In the sky apparently--I have not been there, and have no wish
+to go. Do not stare at me so, please, as if I were my own ghost. Come
+up here, I have such a lovely secret."
+
+With that she withdraws from the balcony, but the secret with which she
+has enticed him she does not tell him when he comes up.
+
+"To-morrow, to-morrow," says she, clapping her hands, leaning far back
+in an old-fashioned arm-chair.
+
+Raimund cannot get a word from his pretty, capricious sister.
+
+"Who brought you home then?" he asks finally.
+
+"Ah! That is just it, ha-ha-ha!" answered she.
+
+"Linda! You have met Lanzberg--he has declared himself!" cries Raimund,
+excitedly.
+
+"Will you be silent?" replies she, laughing--triumphant.
+
+Meanwhile her parents, who have been to the farewell performance of a
+famous Vienna artiste at the theatre, enter.
+
+"Hush!" cries she with a decided gesture to her brother. "Good evening,
+papa and mamma!" without leaving her arm-chair. "I am frightfully fond
+of you, for, if you only knew of it, I am to-day, for the first time,
+glad to be in the world."
+
+Papa Harfink smiles delightedly, Mamma Harfink asks, "What is it?" and
+all her cameos and mosaic bracelets rattle with excitement.
+
+"She----" begins Raimund.
+
+"Hush, I tell you!" cries Linda, then laying her arms on the
+old-fashioned arms of the easy-chair, her head thrown teasingly back,
+she asks: "Is Baron Lanzberg a good _partie_?"
+
+"His affairs are very well arranged. I saw in the country register. He
+has scarcely any debts," says Papa Harfink.
+
+"And he is of the good old nobility, is he not?" asks Linda.
+
+"Did not his father receive a tip in the form of an iron crown from
+some tottering ministry?"
+
+"The Lanzbergs descend from the twelfth century," says mamma. "They are
+the younger line of the Counts Lanzberg, who are now known as the
+Counts Dey."
+
+"Oh! and what was his mother's maiden name?" Linda continues her
+examination.
+
+"She was a Countess Boehl."
+
+"Why does he associate so little with people, and is so sad?--because
+of his past?"
+
+Linda's eyes sparkle and shine, and capricious little dimples play
+about the corners of her mouth.
+
+"What do you know of his past?" bursts out mamma.
+
+"Oh, nothing; but I should so like to know something about it--it is
+not proper, eh?"
+
+"He had at one time a _liaison_, hm--hm--was deceived"--murmurs Mrs.
+Harfink--"never got over it."
+
+"Ah!--but it seems so--for--in a word, if all does not deceive me, he
+will come to-morrow to ask for my hand."
+
+Without leaving her arm-chair, her little feet dance a merry polka of
+triumph on the floor.
+
+"And do you love him?"
+
+"I?"--Linda opens her eyes wide--"naturally; he is the first man with a
+faultless profile and good manners whom I have met--since Laure de
+Lonsigny's father!"
+
+Old Harfink, wholly absorbed in gazing at his tongue in a hand-glass,
+has not heard the bold malice of his daughter. Raimund, on the
+contrary, says emphatically, "I find your delight at marrying a
+nobleman highly repulsive," and leaves the room.
+
+And Felix? He does not undress that night. Motionless his face buried
+in the pillows, he lies on his bed and still fights a long-lost battle.
+
+The air is heavy with the fragrance of linden blossoms and the
+approaching thunder-storm. A massive wall of clouds towers above the
+horizon like a barrier between heaven and earth.
+
+
+
+
+                                   V.
+
+
+Susanna Blecheisen, now Mrs. Harfink, usually called Madame von
+Harfink, was a famous blue-stocking. As a young girl she was interested
+in natural sciences, studied medicine, complained of the oppression of
+the female sex, and wrote articles on the emancipation of woman, in
+which with great boldness she described marriage as an antiquated and
+immoral institution.
+
+In spite of the energetic independence of her character, in her
+twenty-eighth year she succumbed to the magnetic attraction of a
+red-cheeked clerk in her father's office, and generously sacrificed for
+him her scorn of manly prejudice and ecclesiastical sacraments--she
+married him.
+
+Hereupon she moved with her husband to Vienna, and soon enjoyed a
+certain fame there on account of her fine German, and because she
+subscribed to the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, and had once sat beside
+Humboldt at a dinner, perhaps also because her husband was a very
+wealthy manufacturer.
+
+Soon convinced of the inferior intellect of this man, she did not give
+herself up to cowardly despair at this discovery, but did her best to
+educate him. She patiently read to him works on capital, during which
+he incessantly rattled the money in his pockets, as if he would say,
+How does the theoretical analysis of capital concern a practical man,
+as long as he relies solely upon the actual substance? This rubbish
+furnished occupation for poor wretches, he thought to himself, which
+opinion he finally announced to his wife. But when she told him that
+Carl Marx and Lassalle were both very wealthy men, he listened to her
+dissertations with considerably heightened respect. From political
+economy, which she treated as a light recreation, fitted to his case,
+she led him into the gloomy regions of German metaphysics, and plunged
+him confusedly into the most dangerous abysses of misused logic.
+
+He listened calmly, without astonishment, without complaining, with the
+lofty conviction that to cultivate one's self, as every kind of tasty
+idleness, was a very noble occupation, and, like many more clever
+people, he made a rule of despising everything which he did not
+understand. Instead of any other comment, during his wife's readings he
+merely rubbed his hands pleasantly, and murmured as long as he was not
+asleep, titteringly, "This confusion, this confusion."
+
+Yet, however Mrs. Susanna strove, his mental wings did not strengthen,
+and his digestion remained the most absorbing interest of his life.
+He always fell back again into his insignificant commonness, like
+a dog whom one wishes to train to walk upon two legs, but who
+always falls back upon four again. At an aesthetic tea, for which
+his wife had most conscientiously prepared him, most generously lent
+him her intelligence, she heard him, in the midst of a conversation
+upon Schopenhauer and Leopardi, say to his neighbor: "Have you
+a weakness for pickles, ma'am? I have a great weakness for pickles,
+but--he-he-he!--I--it is really very unusual--I always feel such a
+disagreeable prickling in my nose when I eat anything sour."
+
+With years, Susanna somewhat neglected the difficult education of this
+hopeless specimen, and transferred her pedagogic capabilities to the
+bringing up of her son, of whom she tried to make a genius.
+
+She designed him for jurisprudence. He, however, devoted himself to
+song. Instead of poring over law books in consideration of his
+examination, he passed two-thirds of his time at the piano, diligently
+trying to attain the summit of his ambition, high C, while he did not
+fail to twist himself into the original contortions which on such
+occasions all particularly ambitious but faulty voices find so
+effectual.
+
+With Linda, mamma Harfink from the first could do nothing, and in
+consequence she sent her to a Swiss pension. There she learned, besides
+a little French and piano thumping, to carry her head very high,
+learned to go into nervous spasms over creaking boots--in a word, she
+acquired the refined delicacy of feeling of the "princess with the
+pea."
+
+What torture when upon her return home she lay upon not a single pea,
+alleviated by comfortable mattresses, but upon a whole sack of
+undisguised peas! Her home was frightful to her. The unrestrained,
+coarse admiration which the young men of her circle offered her seemed
+unbearable to her. Discontented, weary of life, without an aim that was
+not bound up in vanity, she vegetated from one day to another; in
+desperate moments thought of going on the stage, or perpetrating some
+outrageous act to make herself notorious.
+
+The only consolation of this desolate time was the intercourse with her
+cousin, Eugene von Rhoeden, who had been educated in the Theresanium,
+had learned to turn up his nose more frequently and with more fine
+distinction than she herself, but to her misery, had his brand new
+title of Freiherr, and a couple of intimate friends of very old family
+beside. A passionate enemy of his relatives, he had greeted her
+enthusiastically with the words, "_Sapperment_, you are wholly
+different from your family, Linda!"
+
+"Do not call me Linda, that sounds so operatic," she had answered him.
+"My friends always called me Linn!"
+
+Eugene Rhoeden immediately perceived that Linda had a knowledge of _bon
+ton_--evidently knew that all Austrian countesses are called Piffi,
+Pantschi, Nina, like _grisettes_ or little dogs. Her romantic name was
+odious to her, but in a circle where the women called each other
+Theresa and Rosalie, she must rejoice at being named Linda and not
+Rosalinda.
+
+A superficial confidence arose between her and her noble cousin.
+
+So stood matters when Felix "accidentally" made the acquaintance of the
+Harfinks while walking. This was the family into which fate and his
+weakness had thrown him.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VI.
+
+
+Is Marienbad cheaper than Franzensbad because it is not so select, or
+is it less select because it is cheaper? I do not know. But certain it
+is that Marienbad does not possess the same stamp of distinction as
+Franzensbad, which latter, together with all the guests, seems about to
+slowly perish of its excessive distinction. The guests at Marienbad
+also lack that transparent thinness of the Franzensbad invalids, which
+so claims sympathy: they all look "not ill but only too healthy."
+
+As the Marienbad invalids do not look like invalids, so Marienbad does
+not look like a water cure. It wholly lacks that fairylike appearance
+of a cure where invalidism is an elegant pastime. It is so severely
+commonplace, so ordinary that one is forced to believe in its reality.
+Fortunately there is some compensation in the country round about, and
+when the guests look from the windows of the miserable hotel rooms,
+beyond the plainness of the dusty streets to the green beautiful woods,
+the most pretentious are satisfied. The Marienbad woods are so
+charming, not those barbaric gloomy woods like the Bohemian forests for
+example, which with their black branches grumblingly bar the way to the
+sunbeams, and groan so continually that the song birds from pure terror
+have all died or gone away.
+
+In the woods near Marienbad, the trees sing the whole day in
+competition with the birds, and the sunbeams fall between gay, dancing,
+quivering shadows, and the blue sky laughs through a thousand breaks in
+the lofty, floating leafy roof.
+
+The Harfink family live in the Muehle strasse, and have a view directly
+into the woods.
+
+It is half past eight in the morning. Papa Harfink, who is taking the
+cure, and every morning at six o'clock stands beside the spring, has
+drunk his seven glasses, taken the prescribed walk, and afterwards
+breakfasted; now he has gone to be weighed. The student, his son, is
+amusing himself by following a young lady who travels with many
+diamonds but without a chaperon, and who is entered in the register as
+a "singer." Linda is still at her toilet. Mamma Harfink is busy in the
+drawing-room with a medical pamphlet. Then the maid brings her a note.
+"A messenger from Traunberg brought it; he is waiting for an answer,"
+declared the maid.
+
+Before Mrs. Harfink had opened the letter Linda enters and asks: "We
+need expect no visitor before twelve o'clock, mamma? If the Baron
+chances to come, you know where I am--in the Kursaal. At twelve o'clock
+I take my Turkish bath. Adieu! I shall be back at one o'clock." With
+that she vanished.
+
+Mrs. Harfink had concealed the letter from her daughter. She secretly
+suspects that it contains matters of which Linda need know nothing.
+Scarcely has her daughter vanished when she hastily opens it. In an
+uncharacteristic handwriting, occupying a great deal of paper:
+
+
+"My Dear Madam: You have surely already learned from your daughter what
+has occurred between us. That I ventured, under the circumstances which
+you, madam, certainly know, to offer her my hand, seems to me now, upon
+calm consideration, incomprehensible and unpardonable."
+
+
+Mamma Harfink starts. Will the Baron take back his word? What can he
+mean by "under the circumstances"? Linda's unprotectedness in the great
+lonely woods? Or does he, perhaps, refer to his fatal past? She
+resolves to read further.
+
+
+"Your daughter's manner proves to me plainly that she has no suspicion
+of the stain upon my honor. I have not the courage to make my
+confession to her myself; do it for me, my dear madam, and kindly write
+me whether Miss Linda, after she has learned all, will yet hear
+anything of me, or will turn away from me. In the latter case I will go
+away for some time.
+
+"With the deepest respect, your submissive
+
+                                               "Lanzberg."
+
+
+"Absurd, eccentric man! He will yet spoil everything with his foolish
+scruples!" cries she, then, looking at the letter once more: "Horribly
+blunt, awkward style; no practised pen, but undeniably the sentiments
+of a refined gentleman."
+
+Mrs. Harfink folded her hands and thought. Should she read this letter
+to Linda? She had been so pleased at the prospect of Linda's
+advantageous match. But the strange girl was capable of giving up this
+brilliant _parti_ for the sake of a trifle like this spot in Lanzberg's
+past.
+
+Mrs. Harfink, in intercourse with the world very sensitive and wholly
+implacable, possessed theoretically that far-reaching consideration for
+any individuals attacked by scandal which has become so fashionable
+among the philanthropists of the present time. She always treated all
+city officials as calumniators and all accused as martyrs.
+
+"Oh, if I were only in Linda's place, I would be angry that I had so
+little to pardon in him," cried she dramatically; "but Linda is so
+narrow, so petty. Her intellect does not reach to the comprehension of
+the eternal divine morality; she understands merely the narrow
+prejudiced morality of good society, which divides sins as well as men
+into 'admissible and not admissible;' to-day calmly overlooks a crime,
+to-morrow screams itself hoarse over a fault which offends against its
+customs."
+
+While the Harfink satisfied her philanthropic heart with this subtle,
+humane eloquence, the girl stood waiting at the door. "The messenger
+begs an answer," she remarked shyly. Mrs. Harfink bit her lips
+impatiently. She was not capable of a decided deception, she must twist
+and turn it before her conscience until it took on a quite different
+aspect from the original one. Must, in a word, carry it out in such a
+highly virtuous manner that she could later deny it to her conscience.
+
+"The messenger begs an answer!"
+
+Mrs. Harfink seated herself at her writing-table and wrote:
+
+
+"My Dear Lanzberg: Come, if possible, at once--in any case before
+twelve. Linda expects you.
+
+"With cordial greeting, yours sincerely,
+
+                                         "S. Harfink."
+
+
+Two, almost three hours passed. Susanna's excitement became painful.
+What should she tell Felix? The best would be to tell him that Linda
+knew all. And did she not indeed know all? She had conscientiously told
+her daughter of a _liaison_ which had formerly been the unhappiness of
+the Baron. The _liaison_ was, on the whole, the principal thing,
+everything else only a detail. Only chance, which did not in the
+slightest accord with the whole life of the Baron before and since, and
+of which respectable people hesitate to speak, and which one should not
+exhume from the past in which it lay buried.
+
+She was in duty bound to conceal the affair from Linda, as one must
+conceal certain things in themselves wholly innocent from children,
+because their intellect, not yet matured by experience, is not capable
+of rightly comprehending them.
+
+In all her circle of acquaintances, Mrs. Harfink was the only one who
+knew anything definite of Lanzberg's disgrace. By chance, and through
+the acquaintance of a high official of the law, she had learned the sad
+facts. She thought of the envious glances with which all her friends
+had followed Lanzberg's attentions to Linda. Linda had somewhat forced
+the acquaintance with him. The good friends were horrified at her
+boldness--at her triumph. Mrs. Harfink remembered her sister, Rhoeden;
+what had she not done to marry her daughter to a coughing, bald-headed,
+Wurtemburg count, a gambler, whose debts they had been forced to pay
+before the marriage.
+
+Quarter of twelve struck--was Lanzberg not coming, then? In a short
+time Linda would be back.
+
+Then a carriage stopped before the "Emperor of China."
+
+A minute later there was a knock at the door, and Felix Lanzberg
+entered the room, pale, worn, with great uneasy, shy eyes.
+
+Mamma Harfink reached him both hands, and merely said, "My dear
+Lanzberg!" then she let him sit down.
+
+He was silent. Many times he tried to speak, but the words would not
+come, and he lowered his eyes helplessly to his hat, which he held on
+his knees.
+
+At last Mamma Harfink took his hat from his hand and put it away.
+
+"You will stay to dinner with us?"
+
+"If you will permit me, madam," said he, scarcely audibly.
+
+"Oh, you over-sensitive man!" cried she, with her loud, indelicate
+sympathy. How she pained him!
+
+"Does Linda think that I am an over-sensitive man?" said he, almost
+bitterly, and without looking at his future mother-in-law.
+
+Mamma Harfink pondered for a last time. "I do not understand how you
+could doubt Linda for a moment," replied she.
+
+He scarcely heard her, and only cried hastily "Was she surprised?"
+
+"My dear Lanzberg!" Mrs. Harfink called the Baron as often as possible
+"her dear Lanzberg," in order to show him that she already included him
+in her family--"a man who can oppose to his fault a counter-balance
+such as your whole subsequent life is, has not only expiated his fault
+but he has obliterated it." Madame Harfink very often spoke of her
+husband's views, and liked to allow him to participate before the world
+in her wealth of thought. If she herself could no longer cherish any
+illusions about him, she nevertheless carefully concealed his nullity
+from friends as well as she could in a sacred obscurity.
+
+"That may all be true," cried Felix, almost violently, "but
+nevertheless I cannot expect this philosophical consideration from a
+young girl. Oh, my dear madam, do you not deceive yourself?"
+
+From without sounded the gay click of high heels. Linda had returned
+sooner than her mamma had expected. The blood rushed to her face, she
+trembled so with excitement that, thanks to her cameos, she rattled
+like a rickety weather-vane in a storm. "Linda pardons you everything,"
+cried she, hastily. "Linda loves you, she only begs you one thing, that
+you will never speak to her of your past. That would be too painful for
+her!"
+
+The door opened. Linda entered, her hair in charming disorder, and her
+large straw hat carelessly pushed back from her forehead. When she
+perceived Felix she started slightly and joyously, then she rested her
+large eyes, radiant with happiness, upon him.
+
+"_A tantot_, you dear people," cried Mrs. Harfink, and, gracefully
+waving her hand, this courageous and philanthropic liar left the room.
+
+For a few seconds there was utter silence. Linda gazed in astonishment
+at Felix, who stood there deathly pale and motionless, his hand resting
+on the corner of the table. That the charm of her person so confused
+him flattered her, it seemed to her interesting and romantic to cause
+such deep heart wounds, still his manner remained enigmatical to her.
+She tapped her foot in pretty impatience and coughed slightly.
+
+Then he looked up, his eyes full of pleading tenderness and dread.
+"Linda, will you really consecrate your young, blooming life to
+me?--me--a broken man who----" He paused.
+
+The situation became more dramatic, and pleased her better and better.
+She came close up to him.
+
+"If you ever permit yourself, in the presence of your betrothed, to
+remember your past, and look so sad, I will run away, do you hear, and
+will never know anything more of you." Her voice sounded so gentle, so
+sweet, her warm little hand lay so coaxingly and confidingly on his
+arm.
+
+"Poor Felix!" murmured she, looking up at him tenderly. He closed his
+eyes, blinded with tears and happiness, then he took her violently in
+his arms, and kissed her. Her hat slipped from her head and fell to the
+floor. She laughed at it very charmingly. He released her in order to
+look at her better. He was happy--he had forgotten. He drew a ring from
+his finger. "It was my mother's engagement ring," he whispered, and
+placed it on her finger. Then it proved that the ring was almost too
+small for her. "What slender fingers you must have!" cried she, and
+gazed with pride at his slender, aristocratic hand.
+
+Then there was a knock at the door. "Ah!" cried Linda, with a
+displeasure which her _fiance_ found bewitching.
+
+Eugene von Rhoeden entered, a bouquet of white flowers in his hand.
+"Gardenias, Lin! Gardenias!" he cried, triumphantly. "What do you say
+to this progress of Marienbad civilization? Ah, Baron--excuse me--I
+really had not----" He glances from one to the other, sees the diamond
+ring sparkling on Linda's hand. "What a magnificent ring you have,
+Lin!"
+
+"A present," replies Linda, with a pretty gesture toward Felix. "May
+one accept gardenias from a relative?" she asks him, coaxingly--and
+takes one from the bouquet to place in his buttonhole.
+
+"Ah!" cries Eugene, suddenly changing an acid expression into a polite
+smile. "May I congratulate you, or will my congratulations not be
+received?"
+
+Felix gives him his hand with emotion. "Congratulate me, congratulate
+me," he murmurs.
+
+"I do not know which of you is more to be congratulated," says Eugene,
+with tact and feeling.
+
+In the adjoining room is heard a selection from the Huguenots, which
+breaks off in the middle, then a great, terrible howl, whereupon the
+improvised Rarol, red as his cravat, bursts in and cries, "Did you
+hear, Linda? That was C."
+
+"Unfortunately," says she, laughing.
+
+Raimund starts back. As he notices guests, he cries, "I will not
+disturb----" and vanishes.
+
+"And I also will not disturb you," says Rhoeden, with indescribably
+loving accent. "Adieu!" and kissing Linda's hand, whereupon he says to
+Felix, "Your betrothed, my cousin," he disappears.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VII.
+
+
+The music-stand in Franzensbad is torn down, the whining potpourries
+have ceased, the park is deserted, legions of dry leaves whirl on the
+sand, and exchange cutting remarks with the autumn wind upon the
+perpetual change of every earthly thing, which short-sighted humanity
+calls transitoriness.
+
+It is the 18th of October, the "certain Baron Lanzberg's" wedding-day.
+The week of torture in which he could not resolve to tell the severe
+Elsa of his betrothal is past, and when he at length resolved upon it,
+he received only a sad glance and a silent shrug of the shoulders as
+answer from her--past are the happy hours of the betrothal time--almost
+past.
+
+If the intoxication, the confusion which never becomes consciousness is
+happiness, then Felix was very happy in this time. Passion had numbed
+everything in him which did not refer to the present or to the 18th of
+October. He existed only in a feeling of longing and expectation. He
+had no time to tell himself that Linda's happy coquetries proved a very
+flippant conception of the serious situation--he himself had forgotten
+the gravity of the situation. He did not think, he only felt and saw a
+white, ever-changing face, a face which can smile in at least two
+hundred ways--felt a perpetual warm excitement, felt something like an
+electric shock when two soft lips touched his temples and left them
+quickly like butterflies which will not be caught, when two soft hands
+played round his neck.
+
+Yes, ft is the 18th of October, Felix Lanzberg's wedding-day.
+
+The wedding was to be solemnized at Castle Rineck, the Harfinks' new
+possession, and in a white circular chapel, with small windows shaded
+by ivy, and an altar-piece which was dark as the Catholic religion.
+
+The castle is crowded with guests, mostly honest manufacturers, who are
+proud of their fortunes acquired by their own ability, and others also
+less honest, who, after they have retired from business, wish to know
+nothing more of their money-making past.
+
+Needless to say, the wedding preparations were unpleasant to the
+infatuated Felix. The bride had joined in his request for a quiet
+wedding, for the contact with so much industry of which a considerable
+part had not yet become "finance," little pleased her; but the parents
+could not let the opportunity pass without displaying their wealth to
+the astonished throng.
+
+The afternoon is gray and moist. Mrs. von Harfink--for the past week,
+no longer through the obligingness of her acquaintances, but through
+the obligingness of a democratic ministry thus titled--Mrs. von
+Harfink, then, composes a toast for her husband to deliver at the
+wedding dinner. Raimund stands beside the piano--to sing while sitting
+might injure his voice--and strives to render the cry of the Valkyrs in
+Wagner's worthy accents; a sympathetic poodle seconds him in this
+melodious occupation.
+
+Outside in the park Linda wanders alone through the damp October air.
+The dead foliage lies thick on the lawn, and between the leaves shines
+the grass, bright and fresh as hope which lies under all the load of
+shattered joys of broken life, undisturbed.
+
+The bushes, glowing in autumnal splendor, look like huge moulting birds
+who shiveringly lose their feathers. Many flower-beds are already
+empty, only a couple of stiff georginias and chrysanthemums still raise
+their heads proudly and solitary in the universal desolation.
+
+Linda is quite alone; her friends, none of whom are very dear to her,
+are too zealously busied with cares of the toilet to disturb her
+solitude; they are also afraid to expose their complexions to the
+morning air. Linda feels no anxiety about her complexion, it is too
+beautiful for that. With her loosened hair which, brown as the dead
+leaves, falls over her back, and with the red cloak, in which she has
+wrapped herself, she is a bright spot in the park.
+
+[Illustration: She is a shy bride and not at all melancholy.]
+
+She is not a shy bride, and not at all melancholy. Her eyes shine, her
+lips quiver with excitement--distinguished acquaintances, foreign
+entertainments of which she will be queen. In mind, she already sees
+herself on the arm of one and another prince of the blood royal. She
+could clap her hands with joy that to-day at six o'clock she will no
+longer be called Harfink.
+
+She remains standing beside a pond where near the bank four swans,
+shivering and melancholy, swim round a yellow bath-house. Then a hand
+is laid lightly on her shoulder. "Felix!" whispers she with the
+charming smile which she always has in readiness for her betrothed.
+
+"No, not Felix--only Eugene," replies a gay voice, and blond, handsome,
+with clothes a trifle too modern, and a too pronounced perfume of
+Ylang-ylang, her cousin and former admirer stands near her.
+
+"Ah, have you really come?" says she, joyously.
+
+"Why naturally," replies he. "You do not think that for the sake of a
+few forlorn chamois I would stay away from your wedding?" Rhoeden has
+come from Steinmark, to be the cavalier of his cousin's second
+bridesmaid.
+
+"We had already begun to fear--that is, Emma was afraid," said Linda,
+coquettishly. "Naturally it was indifferent to me."
+
+"Wholly indifferent? I do not believe it," said he. His arm has slipped
+down from her shoulder, he has seated himself upon a low iron garden
+chair, from which, with elbows on his knees, his face between his
+hands, with the boldness which she likes so well in him, he can look at
+her as much as he pleases.
+
+"Wholly indifferent!" she repeats, and throws a pebble between the
+swans, who dip their black bills greedily in the green water.
+
+"O Lin! You naughty Lin! And nothing that concerns you is indifferent
+to me!" he groans. "The Trauns did not wish to let me go from them--but
+rather than not see you to-day I would have fought a duel with all the
+Trauns in the world!"
+
+Linda has slowly approached him; flattered vanity speaks from her
+shining eyes and glowing lips. He seizes her hand and draws her to him.
+"Do you know, Lin, that I was once absurdly in love with you?"
+
+She nods. "Yes, I know it."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"And I? Do not ask indiscreet questions, Eugene!"
+
+"But this question interests me so much," he excuses himself.
+
+"Tell me, Lin, if Lanzberg had not come between us--yes, if I only,
+most unfortunately, had not been born a Grau," he continues sighing,
+"could I have cherished a little, very little hope?"
+
+"It is quite possible," says she, shrugging her shoulders, and
+coquetting with him over her shoulder. "But it is better so for us
+both."
+
+"For you, certainly," says he, "but I shall feel quite peculiarly
+to-day when I see you with your bridal wreath, Lin! You will drive
+people mad with your beauty. You are the most beautiful person whom I
+have ever met in my life. Where the devil did you get your look of high
+breeding?"
+
+Eugene Rhoeden, with his gay boldness and graceful impudence, his
+unconscionable aplomb, and his denial from principle of all personal
+dignity, is what is called in the Vienna slang a _gamin_.
+
+Gamin as he is, no one knows how to bewitch Linda's small nature, how
+to feed her excessive vanity with such delicate bits as Eugene von
+Rhoeden. He understands her, she understands him; they are fairly made
+for each other, and for one moment, one very brief moment, Linda thinks
+almost with repugnance of the black raven in the red field which greets
+her from the Lanzberg coat-of-arms. "Eugene!" murmurs she. "Ah!" With
+that she suddenly turns to an elderly maid, who comes out from among
+the bushes.
+
+"Are you looking for me, Fanny?"
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+"I am probably to try my train for the twenty-ninth time. Ah, Eugene!
+There is something tiresome about a wedding-day!" then she breaks a red
+chrysanthemum as she passes, throws it to him, and vanishes.
+
+About seven hours later the wedding takes place in the castle chapel,
+adorned with greenhouse flowers. The blossoms tremble as if they were
+cold or afraid. Their sweet, exhilarating fragrance mingles with the
+odor of wax candles, and that of perfumery and cosmetics, which is
+always noticeable in select assemblies. The wind creeps curiously
+through the window cracks, creeps up to the altar, makes the flames of
+the candles flicker, and blows cold upon the bare shoulders of the
+bride and bridesmaids.
+
+The bride, loaded with the richest jewels, resembles a proud narcissus
+in the morning dew. Elsa is deathly pale, even her lips are colorless.
+Erwin displays the inexpressive gravity which the occasion demands of a
+well-bred man. Mrs. von Harfink looks continually at the decorations,
+and starts when a white rose falls from the wall. Mr. von Harfink looks
+as if his collar were too tight for him. Eugene von Rhoeden, his
+bridesmaid's wrap on his arm, a sceptical smile on his lips, his hand
+at his mustache, his glance resting now on his uncle, now on the
+priest, now on the bride, stands there, the image of a little society
+philosopher of the nineteenth century, who laughs at all vanity and
+cannot himself give up his own. Raimund looks like a radical who is
+paying an immense tribute to prejudice, and tries to look more
+distinguished than his brother-in-law.
+
+And Felix? Felix is as if paralyzed. The moment is here; his feverish
+longing nears its aim--happiness.
+
+Then the ivy taps on the window, the wind seizes him with ice-cold
+hands. Felix shudders and glances at his bride. How beautiful she is,
+and--how proud. Proud? Felix Lanzberg's bride proud? It is
+impossible--it cannot be. A suspicion which, however he may deny it to
+his conscience, has occurred to him again and again during their whole
+engagement, strikes him for the last time and becomes certain that
+Linda's mother has deceived him; Linda knows nothing!
+
+Then the priest demands his "Yes!" He hesitates; hesitates so long that
+Linda looks at him in surprise; two large, greenish eyes shine at him
+through the filmy, white bridal veil. "Yes!" says he firmly and
+shortly.
+
+A long dinner follows, a long, complicated dinner, which no one enjoys
+except Papa Harfink, who studies the menu with the tenderest pleasure,
+and with a small pencil marks the numbers for love of which he thinks
+to extend considerably his elastic appetite.
+
+He sits between Elsa and the wife of his nephew, the Freiherr, the
+elder Rhoeden, and, as he gulps down his _potage a la reine_, tells
+both ladies of his new Achenbach, which cost him 4,000 gulden, which
+does not seem at all dear to him; as, besides a great deal of sunset,
+there are thirty-four figures in the picture--he has counted them--and
+in the background something else, he does not know whether it is a
+buffalo or ruins. "They almost persuaded me to buy a Daubigny, a
+Frenchman, I think--a green sauce--what a sauce! I said no, thank you.
+I like spinach and eggs, I said; but spinach and cows--but--and such
+cows! without tails or horns--regular daubs of colors. These Frenchmen
+are tricky. Really, people are cheated by them." Thus concludes Papa
+Harfink, the art critic.
+
+Elsa only half listens to him. Her eyes wander wearily over the table
+with its stiff floral decorations and its heavy silverware, "real
+silver, and not plate," assures Papa Harfink.
+
+Of the men, the last generation are broad-shouldered, red-faced; a
+sparse beard curls around their full cheeks, a sharp glance, on the
+lookout for profit, shoots from their small eyes. The past generation
+breathe loudly, pick their teeth continually, wear too tight rings on
+too fat fingers, and without exception, a thick gold chain with a
+diamond medallion over their stomachs.
+
+The present generation are sickly, dissipated, and have something of
+the jockey and something of the valet who copies his master.
+
+The pride of the whole family is centred in Eugene von Rhoeden, the
+blond good-for-nothing, who has as many debts as a cavalier, who was
+educated in the Theresanium, and once had a quarrel with a watchman.
+
+Of the women, some are pretty, none are pleasing; they have all good
+dressmakers; none are well dressed.
+
+The usually pale face of a "certain Baron Lanzberg" begins to flush
+feverishly; without eating a mouthful he hastily swallows one glass of
+wine after another.
+
+"Try this delicious salmon; permit me to help you," the charming host
+turns to Elsa. She makes a desperate attempt to do justice to the
+salmon. "Strange," remarks Von Harfink, "my mother used to say that
+when she was young salmon was cheaper than beef, now it is very dear."
+
+Elsa has laid down her fork in despair. "I am behind the times," says
+she. "I still am frightened by a telegram, and always feel nervous at a
+wedding." She smiles sadly, and two charming dimples appear in her
+cheeks.
+
+Papa Harfink continues to urge her to eat. "You must taste this salmi,
+Baroness," he entreats. "Monsieur Galatin, my cook, would be unhappy if
+he learned that every one had not eaten some of his salmi. _Pate a la
+Kotschubey_, he calls it. Only to-day, this Galatin said to me: '_Ah,
+Monsieur le Chevalier_, when I think how often Prince Kotschubey got
+his stomach out of order with my salmi. The physicians said he died of
+gastrosis, ah! he died of my salmi.'"
+
+"You have a dangerous cook," says Elsa.
+
+"But I understand this Kotschubey, do you know," continues Papa
+Harfink. "Since I have had this cook, I really have to go to Marienbad
+twice every year. And besides, he is a splendid fellow, talks politics
+like a deputy. He formerly served only with the highest nobility. I
+took him with the castle from Count Sylvani. A peculiar fellow--this
+Galatin; will not stay away from the swans and the park. A poetic
+creature; do you know, Baroness, he reads Victor Hugo and the
+Medisations of Lamartine."
+
+"Ah really, the Medisations of Lamartine," says Elsa, smiling. Susanna
+Harfink rushes to the assistance of her distressed husband. "Ha! ha!
+ha!" says she, with her shrill laugh. "My husband always calls
+meditations medisations--very malicious, do you not think so, but a
+good joke."
+
+Papa Harfink, sadly conscious that it always means a curtain lecture
+when his wife before people laughs so energetically at one of his
+"jokes," of which he feels innocent, with much grace and melancholia
+licks his knife on both sides.
+
+His wife looks as if she were weary of pulling the lion-skin again and
+again over the long ears.
+
+The moment has arrived when he is to speak his toast. He rises
+hesitatingly, the glass trembles in his hand. Fear and champagne have
+made him lose the last recollection of the few words prepared by his
+wife.
+
+"This is a great day for me--a day of pride and pain--no, that is not
+it!" thoughtfully raising his hand to his upper lip. "I hope that my
+brother-in-law, no, my son-in-law--Su--su--sanna!" he murmurs,
+helplessly. His cheeks seem to inflate, his eyes grow smaller and more
+shining, he has set down his glass, and twists his napkin like a
+conscientious washerwoman. Susanna rises, she is fairly Roman. "As my
+husband, overcome with emotion, cannot speak," she begins. "I will say,
+this is for----" for a moment she hesitates, then for the first time in
+her life, she resolutely denies her husband, emancipates herself from
+the "us" with which for long years she has protected him, and says:
+"This is for me a day of pain and of joy. I lose a daughter, gain a
+son; may my children always find the highest happiness in each other,
+and a safe retreat in their parental home."
+
+"He is getting a dreadful mother-in-law, this Lanzberg," whispers
+Eugene Rhoeden to his neighbor, a gay, more than audacious brunette.
+"Something between a Roman matron and a quarrelsome landlady from a
+bachelor boarding-house."
+
+The tasteful Raimund contributes a toast to the fusion of nobleman and
+citizen. The older Rhoeden hopes that his beautiful cousin will lend a
+new charm to the noble name of Lanzberg.
+
+Much similar follows.
+
+Eugene, for whom this rosary of _parvenu_ platitudes becomes too long,
+murmurs: "Shall we not soon have paid sufficient thanks for the honor
+of being allied with Baron Lanzberg?"
+
+This mocking remark was only meant for his neighbor, its bitterness was
+only meant for the fawning of the Harfinks.
+
+But Felix heard it; ashy pale, with glowing eyes, half rising from
+his chair, he stares at the impertinent young man. The latter says
+good-naturedly and thoughtlessly: "Yes, Lanzberg, I will jeer at
+myself. _Parole d'honneur_, I am a little ashamed to be quite so
+delighted at receiving an honest man into the family!"
+
+Thereupon the "certain Baron Lanzberg" lowers his eyes to the
+table-cloth, and remains silent.
+
+
+
+
+                                 VIII.
+
+
+Three years have passed since Linda left her father's house, and was no
+longer condemned to be called Harfink--three years and seven months.
+
+The trees have only recently lost their snowy blossoms; all are wrapped
+in soft young green, the whole earth seems bathed in new hope. It is a
+day in which death and misfortune seem like ghost stories, invented by
+old women--no one believes them. The birds twitter joyously, and
+without all is fragrance, sunshine and flowers. Fragrance and sunshine
+fill the room where Elsa sits, her youngest child in her lap.
+
+Elsa looks youthful and girlish, quite as much so as at the time when
+we first made her acquaintance. The same heavy brown hair, as if
+sprinkled with gold, clusters at her temples, and her eyes still shine
+with the old dreamy light of happiness, but her cheeks are thinner, her
+figure frail and thin.
+
+The existence of the little creature in her lap has deprived her of so
+much health. She has not yet recovered since baby's birth, and has not
+had time to think of her health, for baby was a sickly child, and great
+skill was required to bind the little soul, which seemed so anxious to
+fly back to heaven, to this earth. Day and night, in spite of her own
+delicateness, Elsa has nursed and cared for the child, holding her
+tender mother-hand protectingly before the little light which every
+breath of air threatened to extinguish.
+
+Erwin, who usually had such influence with her, this time could not
+induce her to spare her weakened strength.
+
+Now the little girl is a year old, and laughs and smiles at her mother
+gayly, and the physician said recently, "You may be proud of the child,
+Baroness. How you have raised her, God only knows. All doctors can
+learn from a mother. But now think of yourself a little."
+
+And the physician shook his head as he looked at the young woman.
+
+Yes, the air is full of perfume and sunshine, but, in the midst of the
+charming spring life, Elsa looks like a frail white flower.
+
+She has bathed baby, put on her little embroidered shirt, and wrapped
+her in a flannel slumber-robe, and now, with a fine towel, wipes the
+last drops from the tender pink little feet, and the little neck on
+which the water drops down from the small golden head. The nurse is
+meanwhile busy removing the bathing utensils, while Litzi, who is now a
+big girl, wearing long stockings, stands near her little sister and
+holding perfectly still, allows her long hair to be pulled.
+
+"Fie, you wild little thing, you will hurt her!" cries Elsa at last, as
+baby pulls harder and harder, and winds her tiny fist in Litzi's hair.
+
+Then baby throws her head back, shows her four teeth, laughs with all
+her little body, and finally leans her cheek sleepily against mamma's
+shoulder.
+
+"Go down-stairs, my Litzi, go to Miss Sidney; baby wishes to go to
+sleep," whispers Elsa to her big daughter, whereupon Litzi goes away on
+tip-toes.
+
+Dreamily humming a lullaby, Elsa cradles the child in her arms, and
+then lays it down in its pretty white bed. But when she thinks it
+asleep, it opens its blue eyes, and stretching out its arms, murmurs
+something which, with a vivid imagination, one can declare to be
+"Papa."
+
+"Did you hear him come sooner than I, baby?" says Elsa, while Garzin,
+sitting on the edge of the bed, strokes the child's head until she
+closes her eyes. There she lies, her hair full of golden lights, the
+unusually long, black lashes resting on the round cheeks, lengthened by
+their own shadow, the full little mouth half open, like the calyx of a
+red flower, one fat little arm thrown up over its head.
+
+"She is pretty, my little one, is she not?" says Elsa proudly, as she
+sees the quiet smile with which her husband watches the child. "And the
+doctor thinks I need have no more anxiety about her."
+
+"Yes, the little rogue is healthy enough," says Erwin, sighing, as he
+softly leaves the nursery with Elsa. "I wish I could say the same of
+her mamma. Poor Elsa, how thin you are."
+
+"Do I not please you any longer?" she replies, half laughing.
+
+"You are not very sensible!"
+
+"Probably not," replies she seriously. "With such old married people as
+we are, there can be no more talk of 'pleasing.'"
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"And if I should have small-pox, would it make any difference to you?"
+she asks him, looking at him curiously; the noblest woman is not
+ashamed to be loved a little because of her beauty.
+
+"Certainly," he replies, "I should love you just as much as before, but
+I would be bitterly sorry for your pretty face." Jestingly he passes
+his finger over her cheeks.
+
+They go into the garden; all is gay as if for a feast, the whole earth
+with her blooming mixture of white, blue and violet elder, golden rain
+and red acacias--a gay, shimmering picture under an endless blue sky.
+Everything lives and breathes. The birds twitter, the insects hum,
+every blade of grass seems to have a voice, and join in the great
+triumphal chorus of the newly-risen nature.
+
+There is a rustling, a murmuring, a whispering, a nodding, a quiver of
+life and pleasure, and in the enchanting music suddenly mingles a soft
+crackling, the crackling of dead leaves, which play at the foot of the
+trees.
+
+Garzin has led his wife to a bench, over which an elder tree bends its
+branches of bushy white blossoms. Elsa gazes before her at the lovely
+nature, the mixture of luxuriant green and gay blossoms, of short black
+shadows amid dazzling light.
+
+"How young the earth looks," says she dreamily.
+
+Erwin draws her to him. I do not know whether he loves her even more
+now when she is pale and ill; at any rate he is more conscious of his
+feeling for her, and treats her more tenderly, is more thoughtful of
+her, and she leans on him like a sick child. Her whole being has become
+softer, less independent.
+
+"I received a letter from Felix to-day," says Garzin after a pause.
+
+"Ah!" murmurs Elsa somewhat bitterly. "Does he write for money again?"
+
+"Yes, I am to raise some money for him," says Erwin looking troubled.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"He has a fine property, but that cannot last," he remarks
+thoughtfully.
+
+"If it makes him happy," Elsa shrugs her shoulders, and her voice
+sounds harsh.
+
+"Hm! To ruin one's self is at the time a very pleasant occupation, but
+to be ruined--a very unpleasant condition, especially with a wife like
+Linda. I do not believe that Felix will be willing to live on the
+income of his wealthy wife."
+
+During this remark Elsa continues silent.
+
+"Do you believe that Felix is happy?" Erwin continues; "his letters
+give a desperately depressed impression. Did you ever hear a really
+happy man assure one in every letter: 'I am very happy'--'Everything
+goes well with us'--'I am very contented.' Happy people are silent
+about their happiness."
+
+Elsa lowers her head, and remembers that in the first years of her
+marriage she had never written anything to her brother but: "I cannot
+express how I feel!"
+
+"As I know him," continues Erwin, "his present frequent contact with
+the world must be a continual torment."'
+
+Elsa frowns and grows very pale. "I do not understand Linda!" she
+cries. "How can she under--under the circumstances rush into society? I
+no longer try to understand Felix. Hm!--he is weak--could never refuse
+a woman anything; if one had asked him for his hand, he would have let
+it be cut off for her. As far as I am concerned he can give her his
+hand--but--but----"
+
+A strange fire glows in Elsa's eyes, her face takes on a rigid
+expression and she grows stiff and clutches both elbows convulsively.
+
+"Poor devil!" murmurs Erwin.
+
+"You pity him for my sake!" cries Elsa, bitterly. "It is not necessary.
+I know that you think his conduct unanswerable--that you must think so.
+He has forfeited all the sympathy which his blameless conduct for years
+had won. I will never forget the tone in which Marie Dey said to me
+last spring, when she returned from Rome: 'I have often met your
+sister-in-law; she goes a great deal into society--one sees her
+everywhere. Your brother does not seem to find as much pleasure in
+society as his wife!' And Marie was always a friend to Felix. I know
+that in Parisian society Felix is called '_le revenant_,' for which
+name he has naturally to thank some kind Austrian. Evidently the whole
+story, which was forgotten, has been warmed up again."
+
+"The world is very malicious," says Erwin, evasively.
+
+"Certainly! But after one has passed sixteen years, one knows it, and
+guards one's self!" cries Elsa, and adds with a bitter smile: "I
+suppose he is a great philosopher and thinks nothing of it."
+
+"Elsa! Elsa!" admonished Erwin.
+
+She shook her head. "See!" said she, dully, "to spare Felix a
+humiliation, I would give my life, but now I cannot think of him
+without anger. Heavens, when I think of his return I tremble! I know he
+will be very badly received, and as his wife's whole existence turns
+upon being received----"
+
+Erwin bites his lips. "Felix writes me that his wife plans to return in
+the latter part of June or the first of July. He will come to Traunberg
+with his little son somewhat sooner."
+
+"He will return?" murmurs Elsa, slowly.
+
+"Well, he must sooner or later."
+
+"Certainly!" cries Elsa, with a shudder. "Erwin, what will strangers
+think of his return, if I myself am not able to rejoice?"
+
+"Strangers do not take the situation so tragically," says Erwin,
+hastily and precipitately, looking away.
+
+"Well, to be sure!" sighs Elsa. "It is of no consequence to strangers
+whether he has acted without any tact, yes, unresponsibly. To think
+evil of one who is far from one is a pleasure to malicious people, and
+to the best is simply indifferent. But to be forced to think evil of
+one whom one loves is the most painful thing in the world."
+
+For a moment she is silent. "If Felix insists upon coming," she then
+continues, "I will do my utmost to make life endurable for him and his
+wife. I cannot persuade him to return."
+
+
+
+
+                                  IX.
+
+
+About a week after the conversation between Erwin and Elsa, recorded in
+the last chapter, a bowed man appeared in Steinbach whom at first Elsa
+did not recognize, but into whose arms she fell with a cry when he
+stretched out two trembling hands to her with a sad smile. She had
+forgotten his unsuitable behavior; every bitter word which she had
+pronounced against him fell heavily on her heart; she no longer felt
+anything for him but boundless, compassionate love. The sight of him
+shocked her, his hair had grown gray, his voice hoarse. An anxious
+habit of raising his shoulders, and pressing his elbows against his
+ribs, that shy manner of poor tutors and other despised individuals,
+who seem to strive to make themselves as small as possible, to deprive
+others of as little room as they can--lent his figure a sickly,
+narrow-chested look. He spoke a great deal, with forced fluency, often
+repeating himself. He whom for so long Elsa had at most only heard
+laugh fondly at Litzi's little wise sayings, now laughed continually,
+loudly and harshly at the slightest provocation, whereupon the wrinkles
+grew deeper in his face, the shadows under his eyes darker. Often after
+such an outburst of nervous hilarity, his face suddenly grew flabby, as
+if wearied by too great exertion, and for a moment displayed the stony
+features, the rigid pain of one who has died a hard death.
+
+He had travelled in advance of his wife, who was staying with friends
+at the Italian lakes, in order to prepare everything for her reception.
+He talked a great deal about his son, whom he could not bring to Elsa
+because the day was cold, and the little fellow was somewhat hoarse.
+All the little habits of the child, his manner of pronouncing words, he
+told his patiently listening sister.
+
+His voice sounded sadder than ever when he spoke of the child, and from
+time to time he sighed, "Poor boy, poor boy!"
+
+"What he must have suffered!" sobbed Elsa, when she was alone again
+with Erwin. "What he must have suffered!"
+
+Yes, what he had suffered! Not even those who saw the evident traces of
+suffering in this thin, gray, feverish man, could imagine the greatness
+of his misery, could judge the darkness of his soul which his
+intercourse with the world had caused.
+
+Immediately after the intoxication of the honeymoon, even during the
+wedding trip, which at Linda's wish they had made to Egypt, when he
+began to learn to know his wife, he came to the sad conviction that the
+most trivial acquaintance would have offered him as much distraction as
+this marriage. Pretty, coquettish, graceful, seductive. Linda was all
+these, but she had absolutely no mind. Like all narrow women without
+intelligence she became, after continued acquaintance, tiresome.
+
+Incessantly occupied with the ambition to appear a true aristocrat, in
+whom one could not perceive the _parvenue_, she had no room for other
+thoughts. Her joy at being now a "Lanzberg" was fairly naive. He really
+could not be angry with her when she displayed her little vanities to
+him. She wished to flatter him. He looked at her compassionately at
+such times and turned away his head.
+
+From Cairo she had dragged him to Paris. There, at first, they had led
+an irregular, stranger life, with half-packed trunks in the Grand
+Hotel, went to the theatre and drove in the Bois de Boulogne. Linda for
+a while was satisfied with the acquaintances which she made in the
+hotel reading-room, at the skating-rink, etc. Felix always avoided a
+_table a'hote_, which Linda, even if the _tete-a-tete_ meals were at
+times a bore to her, never opposed, as an elegant custom.
+
+Then she was one day accidentally asked by one of her friends whether
+she should attend the last _soiree_ of the Austrian ambassador. A pang
+went through Linda's heart. She enveloped her denial of the simple
+question in a confusion of excuses and explanations--she had only
+recently married, she had not yet thought of paying visits. Scarcely
+was she alone with Felix when she asked him if he knew the ambassador.
+
+Yes, Felix knew him, but had not seen him for years. Naturally Linda
+ascribed his evident objection to visiting His Excellency to the
+shyness which his _mesalliance_ caused in him. A scene followed, tears,
+cutting remarks--headache.
+
+The next morning, Felix stood mournfully before one of
+Froment-Meurice's windows and asked himself whether he should not buy
+his wife a diamond cluster of wheat to calm her anger, when some one
+seized his arm and cried, "Why, how are you, Felix?"
+
+Felix turned, discovered an old friend, who, many years younger, had
+served a degree lower in the same regiment with him at that time.
+
+Now the friend was attache at the embassy, and a favorite with the
+Parisian ladies, a gay, hot-blooded comrade for whom some one had found
+the nickname, "Scirocco." "How are you, Felix?" he cried a second time,
+offering his former comrade his hand.
+
+Felix started. No one in all Austria knew his story better than this
+very Scirocco, and Scirocco offered him his hand.
+
+"Thank you, Rudi," he murmured softly. "It is very good in you to still
+remember me."
+
+Poor Scirocco grew very hot and uncomfortable. Lovable and impulsive,
+he had spoken to Felix without thinking for a moment how hard it is to
+associate with "such a man." Felix looked so miserable, so depressed
+that Scirocco would have told all the lies which might occur to him to
+talk him out of his sadness.
+
+"I was going to run after you in the Bois the other day," he went on,
+"but you were walking with your wife, and I did not wish to intrude.
+_Sapristi!_ How long have you been married? Here in foreign parts one
+loses all Austrian news. Your wife is a sensational beauty. Do not take
+it amiss that I do not even know who she is. I absolutely do not
+remember to have seen any one who could remind me of this fairy-like
+apparition a few years ago in short clothes."
+
+"You certainly never knew her," replied Felix. "She is the daughter of
+a Viennese manufacturer--Harfink."
+
+"Ah!" Somewhat robbed of his self-possession Scirocco, hastily leading
+the conversation from an unpleasant subject, stumbles upon yet more
+dangerous topics. "Do you live in jealous honeymoon solitude, do you
+not go out at all?"
+
+Felix looks pleadingly at him. "You know that I cannot go out," he
+murmurs.
+
+And Scirocco hurries over that--he will not understand. "Nonsense!" he
+cries. "People are wiser here than with us at home. Mind and beauty
+count for as much as nobility." Poor Scirocco, he was never guilty of a
+more trivial platitude. "You must take your wife to the X's," he
+continued.
+
+X was the ambassador at that time. "Never!" said Felix, violently. They
+had reached the Grand Hotel now.
+
+"When may I call upon your wife?" asked Scirocco.
+
+Felix had averted his face from his former friend. "When you wish,
+Rudi," he murmured, then, suddenly turning towards him, "God reward you
+for your kindness, but do not force yourself."
+
+Scirocco saw that tears rolled over the cheeks of the "certain
+Lanzberg."
+
+Scirocco did not philosophize over the weakness of his former comrade,
+he was far too deeply shocked. The result of his great cordiality to
+Felix was an uneasy conscience, the feeling that with the best
+intentions he had acted with a want of tact, and the need of inflicting
+punishment upon some one for Felix's tears. "Poor Felix! such a
+splendid fellow!" he murmured to himself.
+
+Scirocco, whom we must introduce to our readers by his name Count
+Sempaly, was noted for his good-natured precipitation and thoughtless
+generosity, by which he was often subsequently forced pitilessly to
+harshness which would be spared a less lovable but more prudent man.
+
+For instance, at one time there was the American Smythe, who had been
+guilty of a breach of etiquette in a Parisian circle at cards, and whom
+society had avoided, without harshness, with the assurance that he had
+assuredly been only stupid. They bowed to him on the street, they
+invited him to large entertainments, but they hoped that he would not
+accept the invitations; they cut him dead when he accepted them.
+
+Then there was the Marquis de Coup de Foudre, who was accused of
+cheating on the race-track, and who, from indignation--hm!--retired
+from the track. He was not wholly given up, but every one would only
+see him as far off as his neighbor did, in the beautiful bond of mutual
+responsibility which holds society together.
+
+Then finally there was Lady Jane Nevermore, who had permitted herself
+several little irregularities with her husband, and who now, divorced,
+with a grown daughter, rendered Paris and Nice uneasy.
+
+How he had defended these people, with what deep respect, with what
+sympathy he had spoken of them--showed himself with them on public
+occasions, made good all their lack of tact (people in an uncertain
+social position always develop a particular genius for this). He lent
+them more of his shadow than the devoted Bendel lent his master, Peter
+Schemil, procured the widest social credit for them.
+
+He made a legion of enemies, but the clouds which rested on Lady Jane,
+Coup de Foudre and Smythe--their names here stand for many--rested on
+him. People said at last that he must have his reasons for defending
+these people. Weary, angry, he then suddenly withdrew from his
+_proteges_, whom by this he injured much more than he had benefited,
+and who now could, without opposition, proclaim their social
+bankruptcy.
+
+Like many foolhardy heroes, at the last moment he was forced to beat a
+shameful retreat, when a perfectly respectable withdrawal would have
+been possible before.
+
+But with however a wounded heart he might return from his campaign
+against public opinion, he always ventured into battle again.
+
+After this philosophical interlude, we would perhaps do better to
+return to Scirocco, who is meanwhile breakfasting in the "Cafe Riche."
+
+He was not hungry--he pondered. Lanzberg's fall did not in the least
+remind one of Smythe's, Coup de Foudre's, or Lady Jane's. In regard to
+these people, to a certain extent, prejudice had been justified, as if
+prejudice is not always to a certain extent justified!
+
+Scirocco's pondering ended in the resolution to launch Lanzberg in
+Parisian society as one launches an unpopular _debutante_ of the
+theatre.
+
+The next day he called upon Linda, and the day after Count X---- paid
+his visit.
+
+How high she held her head among her acquaintances of the reading-room
+and skating-rink: "X----, an old friend of my husband," etc., etc.
+
+She took an apartment in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice, an apartment with
+a large cold _salon_ which was distinguished by gilded mouldings and
+white walls, pink doors, conventional chairs, and sky-blue satin
+upholstering. Linda very soon understood that this dazzling elegance,
+which at first had blinded her inexperienced eyes, was intolerably
+"_dentiste_," as they say on the Boulevard.
+
+She surrounded herself with old brocades, with modern bronzes, with
+Smyrna rugs--an irregular confusion of picturesque treasures whose
+unsuitableness justified the temporary look of the whole establishment.
+
+Scirocco helped her in everything. He found out auction sales in the
+Hotel Drouot for her, stood for half the afternoon on an old Flemish
+chair, to drive a nail with his own hands in the wall for her to hang a
+Diaz or a Corot upon--procured all the invitations for her which she
+wished--in short, was unweariedly obliging, and, _nota bene_, he only
+paid her enough attention to make her the fashion.
+
+She was clever enough to take with him the good-natured, brusque tone
+of a woman who may permit herself little liberties because she is sure
+of her heart and of the respect of the man with whom she associates.
+
+She lived in the seventh heaven. To drive every day, leave orders with
+Worth and Fanet, not to dine at home a single day, to attend two balls
+and three routs in one night, never to have a moment for reflection, to
+be always out of breath with pleasure, and besides this, to be
+surrounded by a crowd of young men with distinguished attractions and
+fine names, animated by the consciousness that for her sake an attache,
+in despair over her virtuous harshness, had had himself transferred to
+Persia--oh! in her romantic boarding-school dreams she had never
+suspected such a lovely life.
+
+And Felix.
+
+Scirocco had proposed him in the most exclusive club. Felix had not
+resisted this, and came seldom to the club. He could not avoid playing
+little games of _ecarte_. He won. His opponent doubled, increased
+tenfold the stakes--Felix continued to win. The sweat stood on his
+brow; he was deathly pale. "Do not play with me--I always win--it is a
+curse!" he cried suddenly, throwing down the cards and completely
+losing his self-control.
+
+Scirocco grew embarrassed and nervously bit his nails. "If he had
+anything to reproach himself with!" he thought to himself. "But that is
+absolutely not the case, absolutely not!"
+
+The others who did not know Baron Lanzberg's history only laughingly
+called him "_un drole de corps!_"
+
+The story went that Felix Lanzberg had once lost his mind from an
+unfortunate love-affair, and had spent two years in an insane asylum.
+Scirocco had probably invented this rumor and set it in motion to take
+away room for other rumors.
+
+Except Scirocco and Count X, none of the Austrians in Paris at that
+time knew the true state of affairs. A single one had a suspicion,
+wrote to Vienna to inform himself, and received for answer--this and
+that. But this one was a _parvenu_, and when he wished to spread his
+news the others listened to him with mocking smiles, shrugged their
+shoulders arrogantly, and condemned the communication so harshly that
+he never again referred to it. He noticed that it was considered the
+thing to believe in Lanzberg.
+
+Felix grew daily more unsociable, and liked to go to places only where
+he was sure of meeting no one whom he knew, no people of society. He
+took long trips on the steamboats, passed the afternoon in the quiet
+peace of the gardens, sometimes stood for a quarter of an hour gloomily
+before a half-decomposed corpse in the morgue, or wandered through the
+quiet rooms of the Louvre, which are so persistently avoided by certain
+Parisians.
+
+Formerly knowing as little of art as any other Austrian Uhlan officer,
+he now daily found greater pleasure in the pictures.
+
+His natural taste for glaring coloring, _decollete_ cigarette beauties,
+humorous or sentimental _genre_ pictures disappeared. The soft
+harmonies of the old masterpieces had a strangely soothing effect upon
+his sick nerves.
+
+With slow, dragging steps, his eyes dreamily wandering from one picture
+to another, he sauntered through the long rooms.
+
+The gallery officials soon knew him, and with French talkativeness
+often spoke to him of the weather or politics.
+
+He never became a critic, but he had his favorites. For instance, he
+felt a quite inexplicable preference for Greuze, the Guido Reni of the
+eighteenth century, of whom one might think that he had mixed his
+colors of tears, moonbeams, and the dust of withered flowers, and
+instead of Beatrice Cenci had painted a "Cruche Casse." Every day he
+stood for a while before the "Cruche Casse" and murmured "Poor child!"
+
+In one of the galleries there was the gloomy portrait of a woman from
+the hand of the Jansenist, Philippe von Champaigne, pale with dark,
+mournful eyes; in the carriage of the emaciated frame the weary
+rigidity of vanquished pain. Everything in the appearance was so dead
+and ethereal that one almost fancied one could see the flesh dying
+around the soul. Felix stood before this picture every day.
+
+He loved the Samaritan and the Christ on the road to
+Emmaus--masterpieces in which the sublime mystery of the Rembrandt
+colors glorifies the harsh reality. He could not gaze often enough at
+the mysterious eyes of the Christ, the eyes in which compassion is as
+large as the world, the eyes which pardon all, and yet ever sad,
+despairing, seek the means of salvation for sinful creation.
+
+But the picture which beyond all attracted and repelled him, which
+he loved and which yet terrified him, was Watteau's Pierot, pale,
+ghost-like, with glassy eyes in a rigid face; it looks down from the
+wall of the Salle Lacaze. To-day he has gone to a mask-ball to distract
+himself, and his weary eyes ask in disappointment, "Is that all?"
+To-morrow he lies perhaps in the morgue, and his glassy eyes gaze with
+the same look at the solved riddle of eternity, as yesterday, at the
+hollow show--the same gaze which asks, "Is that all?"
+
+Felix almost daily passed a couple of hours in the Louvre. "_Bonjour!_"
+a diligent little artist cried to him here and there, some little
+person whom perhaps he had given some small assistance, and who greeted
+him as an habitue. Except for this all was silence. No one speaks in
+the Louvre; one only whispers.
+
+A hollow mutter and murmur woven of a thousand soft echoes pervade the
+old rooms in their vast monotony like the faint echo of the great
+tumult of the world, or like the murmur of the eternal stream of time.
+
+A year later, in a pretty country-house in Ville d'Avray, where they
+had passed the summer, a little son was laid in Felix's arms. The tiny
+creature, wrapped in white lawn, grew indistinct before his eyes; he
+scarcely saw it, only felt something warm, living, between his hands,
+something the touch of which caused him a wholly new, tender sensation,
+and lightly and carefully he kissed his son's little rosy face.
+
+Then remembrance smote his heart, a convulsive sob overcame him, and in
+a broken voice he murmured, "Poor child! poor child!"
+
+From Ville d'Avray Linda dragged Felix to Biarritz, then to Rome, where
+they passed three winters. These were still worse than the winter in
+Paris. Rome is the city of social consideration, a kind of free city
+for dubious characters. Felix's martyr nimbus had vanished through his
+intercourse with society in Paris. Scirocco who had been removed to
+Rome, was vexed with Linda for following him. Her manner of chaining
+herself to his protection irritated him, but he still assisted her
+social advancement where he could.
+
+The other Austrians were not exactly unfriendly to Felix, but cold and
+distant. On their faces could be read, "We are surprised that you show
+yourself," or even, "We will not turn our backs upon you--we are in
+Rome."
+
+With the certain feeling of kinship which characterizes the Austrian
+nobility, they, to be sure, never spoke of his affairs with a stranger,
+but so much the more among each other.
+
+At last Rome was tired of, and even London, where Linda spent a
+season and enjoyed her greatest triumph. But one place remained to
+try--Traunberg.
+
+It was a cool, unpleasant evening when Felix returned to Traunberg from
+his short visit in Steinbach. Gray and white strangely scattered clouds
+rose along the horizon, the lindens shivered, and threw long pale
+shadows over the smoothly-shaven lawn and the yellow gravel. The sun
+hung on the horizon almost without light, behind a pale mist like a
+half-faded spot of blood.
+
+Life had never been as hard to bear for a "certain Baron Lanzberg" as
+on this evening. Slowly he wandered through the large, gloomy rooms of
+the castle, in which the cold air was as close and mouldy as in a
+cloister, and where every step seemed to charm a remembrance from the
+floor.
+
+He saw Elsa, tall, somewhat pale, with the charming awkwardness of her
+fourteen years, hurry to meet him, shy before her handsome, brilliant
+brother who, a week before, had won a race--her brother of whom she was
+so proud. He saw his father, as he smiled joyfully at him, and pulling
+his ear, cried: "Do you amuse yourself, my boy? Do you amuse yourself?
+Have you debts? Out with it--not many? Always tell me what you need; I
+no longer know what circumstances require. You are my golden boy, you
+are your old father's joy!" He remembered the expression with which the
+Freiherr had surveyed him, a glance in which a kind of exaggerated
+paternal pride was glorified by the deepest love, and the gesture with
+which he had merrily cried to the old family portraits, "Are you
+satisfied with my boy?"
+
+His memory did not spare poor Felix a word.
+
+He had passed through one after another of the large rooms. In some of
+them stood great piles of furniture which Linda had sent here.
+
+Suddenly he found himself before a picture which hung in a dark corner,
+concealed by a curtain, in his father's former room. Hastily he drew
+back the curtain, then he clutched his temples and turned away from the
+painting with the short, dull groan of a dying animal. What had he
+seen? The portrait of an unusually handsome, merry, good-tempered young
+officer, who smiled at him through the twilight. Felix hurried away.
+
+In the lofty, arched corridor, the echo doubled the sound of his
+footsteps. It seemed to him as if that gay comrade had stepped down
+from the frame, and now, relating old stories, wandered at his side.
+The sweat of terror was on his brow. He met a servant, and hastily
+commanded him to remove the picture from the green corner room. His
+voice was always sharp when he spoke to servants, and yet he was the
+best, most generous master in the world.
+
+He entered his child's room. The French _bonne_ laid her finger on her
+lips to signify to him that the child slept. He bent over the little
+creature, who, with one little arm under his cheek, with the other
+clasping a gay gilded doll to him, lay in the embroidered pillows.
+
+Without, the lindens, sighing compassionately, shook their great black
+heads, the tower clock, indifferent as time which it serves, played its
+old piece in a flat tone, hesitating and pausing--a minuet to which the
+grandparents had courtesied and bowed.
+
+Felix listened, listened, like an old man who suddenly hears once more
+the cradle song with which he used to be lulled to sleep.
+
+It overcame him. He bent down deeper over his little son, and murmured
+softly, "Poor child, poor child!" And the words woke the child, he
+opened his large eyes and lisped, unabashed, "Why, poor child? Is Gery
+sick?"
+
+
+
+
+                                   X.
+
+
+"Elsa, dear Elsa, this is lovely in you! What an surprise! I only know
+you from my husband's accounts, and from my wedding-day, but I shall
+love you frightfully, that I feel already."
+
+Crying out these words, Linda had jumped out of the carriage with which
+Felix had met her at the railway station, and greeted Elsa, who, at her
+brother's wish, had come to Traunberg to welcome the young wife to her
+new home. Then leaving Elsa, Linda let her eyes wander over the facade
+of the castle. "_Charmant! magnifique!_" she cried. "A portal like a
+church, gray walls, cracked window-sills, balconies and volutings,
+small-paned old cloister windows! I am charmed, Felix--charmed! _C'est
+tout a fait seigneurial!_ If you knew, Elsa, how tired I am of modern
+villas, stucco and plate glass. Ah, you poor, little creature! I had
+half forgotten you;" with this Linda bends down to her son, who had
+first stamped his little feet with joy and excitement at his mother's
+arrival, but then, ever more and more abashed by the flow of words
+which had carelessly been uttered over his head, with his finger in his
+mouth, now seemed to take a mournful pleasure in crying.
+
+"Have all children a habit of sticking their fingers in their mouths,
+or is it an invention of my young hopeful?" asks Linda, after she has
+hastily kissed and caressed the child. "He will be pretty, the little
+brat. It is a pity that his hair will not grow. When he had typhoid
+fever or measles--what was it, Felix?"
+
+"Scarlet fever," he replied, tenderly raising the tiny man in his arms.
+
+"Oh, yes, scarlet fever; we had to cut his hair, and since then it has
+never grown long."
+
+"I think you can be satisfied with him as he is," says Elsa, looking
+approvingly at the handsome child.
+
+"Yes, he is a nice little thing," admits Linda; "he has splendid eyes,
+the true Lanzberg eyes. Oh, I am so glad that he resembles Felix."
+
+"Well, his beauty would not have suffered if he had resembled you,"
+replies Elsa, with an admiring glance at her sister-in-law.
+
+Linda's physique has developed splendidly. The discontented expression
+which formerly disfigured her face has vanished, has given place to a
+bewitching smile and brilliant glance. Negligence and grace are united
+in her carriage. She displays the gayety and cordiality of a person who
+is satisfied with herself. Laying her arm caressingly around Elsa's
+waist, she whispers: "So you really do not find me too homely for a
+Lanzberg; one would not guess from my looks where I come from, eh?"
+
+"Where you come from?--from the world of society--that certainly," says
+Elsa.
+
+"Bah! From an iron foundry!" cries Linda, laughing.
+
+Elsa glances once more at the picturesque distinction of the slender
+figure near her.
+
+"No," says she, decidedly.
+
+Indeed Linda does not look like the daughter of a self-made
+manufacturer; rather like a Parisian actress with a talent for
+aristocratic roles.
+
+"And now you must show me everything in my new domain, Elsa,
+everything," cries the young woman, and Elsa says, "Are you not tired,
+will you not first have a cup of tea?" Then Linda says animatedly, "No,
+no, I must first see everything, everything!"
+
+Felix has disappeared with his little darling. Elsa leads her
+sister-in-law through the rooms of the ground floor and first story,
+shows her the elegantly furnished rooms which Elsa has herself helped
+arrange for her.
+
+"Oh, you poor Elsa, how you have tormented yourself for me!" cries
+Linda, and finds everything splendid and charming, with the affability
+of a newly married queen who, entering her kingdom, wishes to make
+herself popular.
+
+"There! I will reserve the attic rooms. I begin to feel the dust of
+travel. It is now much too late to take tea; as soon as I have changed
+my clothes, I will join you in the drawing-room. I do not yet know the
+way to my room--oh, yes--that is the room for my maid---_parfait,
+parfait--au revoir_, my dear heart!" And before she leaves her, Linda
+presses another kiss upon Elsa's cheek.
+
+On her way to the drawing-room, Elsa heard a little voice prattling and
+laughing behind one of the tall doors which open on the corridor. "May
+I come in?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she entered
+the room where Felix, his child on his knee, sat in an arm-chair and
+held a sugar-plum high in the air, while the child climbed up on him,
+half laughing, half vexed at his vain attempt to overcome his father's
+teasing resistance. Both were so absorbed in their occupation that they
+did not notice Elsa's entrance. She gazed at the pretty group with
+emotion--the gray-haired man, the blond child, until finally Felix
+surrendered the sugar-plum, and the child ate it with a very important
+air, smacking his lips, and with contortions of the face by which he
+seemed to show the ambitious desire of resembling as much as possible
+his little friend the monkey in the London Zoo.
+
+Then Elsa laid her hand lovingly on her brother's shoulder. "Oh, how
+you play with the child," said she.
+
+He raised his face to her, the pale face with the sunken eyes and
+hollow cheeks, in which everything was old but pain, which appeared
+fresh and young every morning, and said hastily: "I must love him
+doubly now. Who knows whether later he will have anything to do with
+me?"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XI.
+
+
+"I could not resolve to dress; to appear at dinner in a _peignoir_ is a
+fault which is pardoned in convalescents, and after twenty-four hours
+of railway travel, I feel at least like a convalescent. Ah, how pretty
+it is here!"
+
+So cried Linda, entering the drawing-room where Felix and Elsa awaited
+her, a half hour later.
+
+What she called a _peignoir_ was a confusion of yellowish lace and
+India muslin with elbow sleeves and the unavoidable Watteau plait in
+the back.
+
+Her soft hair hung loose over her shoulders.
+
+"I have a headache, and cannot bear a comb, and as we are _entre
+nous_----" she excused herself smilingly at Elsa's astonished glance,
+as she pushed back the heavy waves from temples and neck. Her gestures
+were full of seductive grace, and her whole form was pervaded with a
+moist, sweet perfume which reminded one of a summer morning after a
+storm, and which exhales from a woman who has just taken a perfumed
+bath. In her whole appearance lay something which excited Elsa's nerves
+without her being able to explain it--which wounded her feelings of
+delicacy.
+
+Linda suspected nothing of the impression which she made. "It is pretty
+here," she repeated, with a lazy glance of satisfaction around the
+room--"I thank you so much, Elsa! One sees everywhere that a woman's
+tact has superintended the furnishing--a workman never produces such an
+impression. Everything looks so cosey, so irregular. How happy I am to
+be home at last!" and Linda took her sister-in-law's slender, sallow
+hand in her white, rosy-tipped one, and kissed it with childish
+exaggeration.
+
+"Who is already here besides the Deys?" she asked then. "Before next
+week I must really think of paying calls."
+
+Elsa was spared an answer by the quick rolling of a carriage. Springing
+up she cried--whether her emotion betrayed merely a severe feeling of
+propriety, and did not also display an unconscious premonition of
+jealousy I cannot say--"Linda, it is Erwin who has come for me. Put up
+your hair; it would be unpleasant for you to meet a strange man so!"
+
+With a peculiar expression in glance and smile, Linda fulfilled her
+sister-in-law's wish. Elsa quickly helped her to twist up her hair, and
+thereby breathed the peculiar perfume which Baroness Lanzberg used.
+
+She will think of this perfume in many terrible hours which fate has in
+store for her.
+
+With both hands at her neck, her beautiful figure clearly outlined, her
+white arms exposed to the elbow by the falling back sleeves, Linda is
+just fastening a pin in her improvised _coiffure_, when Erwin enters
+the drawing-room.
+
+"I did not think that you would take the trouble to come over here,"
+stammers Linda, childishly, shyly offering him her hand, "or else you
+should have found me in more correct toilet."
+
+Elsa starts. Instead of answering, Erwin has kissed the warm white hand
+of his sister-in-law.
+
+The Garzins remained to dinner in Traunberg. Linda would not hear of
+their return to Steinbach, she was so happy at last to have an
+opportunity of learning to know her relations better. She asked advice
+and indulgence so childishly, was so gay, so amusing, so charming, that
+Elsa's antipathy to her increased and Erwin's rapidly lessened. Soon he
+fell into the tone of indifferent gallantry with her which in society
+almost every man takes with every woman who does not inspire a direct
+repugnance in him.
+
+But Elsa, inexperienced as she was, did not know this tone, did not
+know that one can listen with an expression of the most intense
+interest to a woman without having the slightest idea half an hour
+later of what she had said; that one pays her the little flatteries for
+which she hungers as one picks up her handkerchief--from polite habit;
+that for the time which one devotes to her, one is obliged, if not
+absolutely to forget the charms of all other women, still in no case to
+remind her of them.
+
+Linda behaved very cleverly with her brother-in-law, displayed a naive
+wish to please him--no forward coquetry. She knew that naturalness,
+lack of reserve in a really pretty woman is always the most dangerous
+charm--she was refinedly natural. She told the drollest Parisian
+stories, made the drollest faces without the slightest regard for her
+symmetrical features; she made use of a momentary absence of the
+servants to throw a bread-ball in Felix's face with all the skill of a
+full-blooded street-boy, and as Felix frowned and Erwin could not
+conceal a slight astonishment, she excused herself so penitently, told
+with so much emphasis of how Marie Antoinette in her time had bombarded
+Louis XVI. with bread balls in Trianon, that Erwin was the first to
+console her, while there was something in his conventional courtesy of
+the encouraging consideration which a mature man shows to a spoiled
+child.
+
+After dinner Linda offered to sing something. "She had to be sure no
+voice, not even so much as a raven or Mlle. X----" she remarked
+smilingly, "but she relied upon her dramatic accent and----" as she
+remorsefully admitted--"she had taken such expensive lessons. Would not
+Elsa accompany her?"
+
+Elsa refused gently, almost with embarrassment. She could scarcely read
+the notes, and Erwin? He could read notes and could play enough to
+strum his favorite operatic airs by ear in weak moments. He would try
+to accompany Linda if she would promise to be very patient.
+
+"The worse you play, so much the more excuse will there be for my
+faulty singing," cried Linda gayly, and opened that charming, foolish
+cuckoo song from "Marbolaine."
+
+A pretty confusion followed, a laughing, correcting, her little hands
+playing between his. "Can we begin?" she cried finally, and still half
+leaning over him with one finger pointing to the notes, she began to
+sing "Cuckoo!"
+
+Her voice, in truth, did not remind one in the least of the gloomy
+organ of a raven, or the passionate hoarseness of the X----, rather of
+a child's laugh, it was so clear and boldly gay, even if somewhat thin
+and shrill.
+
+Felix, who had meanwhile been telling Elsa of Gery's scarlet fever with
+most interesting explicitness, grew silent, not, perhaps, because the
+cuckoo song was even half as interesting to him as Gery's parched lips
+and little hands--no! But because he noticed that the usually so
+patient and sympathetic Elsa no longer listened to him. Her eyes were
+fixed on Linda; that thin, flippant voice pained _her_, could it please
+Erwin?
+
+Then the last note ceased. "I am so sorry that I have hindered you by
+my miserable playing," he excused himself. "You sing so very
+charmingly! Another one, I beg you."
+
+For the first time in her life Elsa was vexed that she was not musical.
+
+
+
+
+                                  XII.
+
+
+"Cuckoo," hummed Erwin absently to himself as he drove back with his
+wife to Steinbach through the capricious, flickering evening shadows.
+
+A filmy confusion of pink and white, a tumbled knot of pale brown hair,
+two large, cold eyes, mysterious greenish riddles in a flattering, open
+child-face, a seductive, rococo figure which leaned over the stone
+balustrade of the terrace, and threw gay kisses after the departing
+carriage, this is the last impression which Erwin takes away with him
+from Traunberg, in the landau in which he now sits beside his pale
+wife.
+
+"She has changed greatly for the better. It is a pity that she has such
+bad manners," he breaks the silence after a while.
+
+"Do you really think that she has such bad manners?" replies Elsa,
+without looking at him.
+
+"There can scarcely be any doubt as to that," says he. "Some people may
+certainly think that it is becoming to her. Nevertheless I should wish
+that she gave them up. You must undertake her neglected education,
+child!"
+
+"Oh, I will leave that to you," she replies, coldly, almost irritably.
+"Linda is not a person who will learn anything from women."
+
+"Do not be harsh," he whispers, reproachfully, perhaps with a trace of
+impatience.
+
+The gloomy Traunberg lindens are far behind them, only show as a dark
+spot on the horizon. The carriage rolls on between gigantic poplars;
+the sun has set and the shadows have vanished with it. Over the earth
+is that dull gray light which might be called dead light. The new moon
+floats in the heavens, small and white, like a tiny cloud; pale yellow
+and reddish tints are on the horizon, above the violet distant
+mountains. At the left, only separated by a blooming clover-field, is
+the forest.
+
+"Elsa, do you feel strong enough to walk home through the woods?"
+whispers Erwin to his wife, coaxingly, and as she nods assent he stops
+the carriage, and they take a path through the clover to the shady
+woods.
+
+"Now, was not that a good idea of mine, is it not pretty here?" he
+asks, gayly and proudly, as if he had made the wood, surveying all its
+beauties.
+
+"Lovely," whispers she, but her voice sounds sad.
+
+At her feet the ground is blue with forget-me-nots; under the wild
+rose-bushes already lie many white petals. A sob and a sigh pass
+through the gloomy trees as if spring mourned that the first roses were
+dead. All is grave and solemn, the air spiced with the odor of withered
+generations of leaves, with the perfume of fading or still blooming
+flowers.
+
+Erwin teasingly waits for Elsa to speak to him--he waits in vain. With
+head thrown back and earnest eyes she wanders near him, and does not
+rest her little hands tenderly on his arm as usual.
+
+What is the matter with her? That she can be jealous does not occur to
+him.
+
+They have almost crossed the forest; the meadow which separates it from
+Steinbach park shines between the sparse trees, then Erwin discovers a
+striking trace of game; he bends down to observe it more closely. "A
+roebuck," he murmurs. "Strange--in this region."
+
+"Is there no other way across?" asks Elsa, who has meanwhile crawled
+close to the edge of the meadow, and casting a somewhat anxious glance
+over the knee-high, dewy grass.
+
+"No, wait a moment," he replies, still absorbed in contemplating the
+strange trace.
+
+"It will cost me a pair of shoes," she murmurs somewhat vexedly, raises
+her gown, and resolutely prepares for a very cold foot-bath.
+
+"Elsa, what are you doing?" cries he, perceiving her intention, and,
+leaving his hunter's problem, he hurries quickly up to her. "With your
+genius for taking cold."
+
+Before she has time to answer he has taken her in his arms and carries
+her through the dew. He has wholly forgotten Linda Lanzberg, and also
+that he had been vexed with his poor nervous wife's unjust, childish
+antipathy for Linda. He looks down tenderly upon the dear head, which
+rests with half-closed eyes on his shoulder.
+
+"How light you are," he remarks softly and anxiously; "you do not weigh
+much more than Litzi now, my mouse."
+
+Elsa does not answer, but her slender arms twine round his neck, and as
+his lips seek her pale face, he feels that she is crying.
+
+"What is the matter, my darling?" he asks.
+
+"I do not know myself," she murmurs with a slight shiver. "I am
+afraid."
+
+
+
+
+                                 XIII.
+
+
+"We really must invite her," says, in a mournful tone, Countess Mimi
+Dey, a large stately woman, with a too high forehead, a feature which
+has the proud advantage of being a family inheritance in the Sempaly
+family, an aristocratic, small, turn-up nose, a benevolent smile, and a
+near-sighted glance.
+
+The Countess is the best woman in the world, of proverbial good nature
+and unfeigned condescension in association with music-teachers,
+governesses, companions, maids, tutors and officials, and such poor
+devils who are paid and supported by the aristocracy, and politely
+courtesy to them; but she is unapproachably stiff to the upper middle
+classes, those persons who demand a place in society.
+
+She belongs to that exclusive coterie which considers itself the sole
+patented extract of humanity, and looks upon all the rest of the world
+as only a common herd, a mob which, under certain circumstances,
+permits itself to pay its servants better, and to give more to
+charitable aims than princely houses, a mob which speaks French, wears
+Swedish gloves, and lives in palaces. She has a vague idea that it
+speaks incorrect French, that under the gloves coarse hands are
+concealed, that the palaces are always furnished with the taste of
+first-class waiting-rooms, but knows nothing definite about it, does
+not know "these people" at all, does not see them, although they are
+everywhere--they do not exist for her.
+
+They tell an amusing anecdote of her: that once at the opera on a Patti
+evening, her cousin Pistasch Kamenz entered her box, and asked her, "Is
+any one in the theatre to-night?" She, after she had glanced around the
+crowded building, answered mournfully, "Not a soul!"
+
+What particularly amuses the Countess is that, as she hears, this great
+class of _bourgeoise_, "which one does not know," is, on its side,
+divided by various differences in education and condition into classes
+which do not "know" each other.
+
+"I really must invite her," she repeats, mournfully.
+
+She leans back in a deep arm-chair in a large drawing-room with brown
+wainscoting and numerous family portraits, and smokes a cigarette.
+
+"Pardon me that I really cannot so deeply pity you as you seem to
+expect," replies Scirocco Sempaly, who, now on leave, occupies a second
+armchair opposite his sister.
+
+"Hm! I do not care about the positive fact; last week I dined with my
+bailiff's wife, but--it is a matter of principle."
+
+"_Cent a'as_," says, with indifferent gravity, an old acquaintance of
+ours, Eugene von Rhoeden, who sits by an open window before a mediaeval
+inlaid table and plays bezique with the above-mentioned cousin of the
+hostess, Count Pistasch Kamenz.
+
+"_Cent d'as_," he says, apparently wholly absorbed in his cards, and
+moves an ivory counter.
+
+A mild gentle rain is falling, the perfume of half-drowned roses and
+fresh foliage floats into the room. In one corner sits the only
+daughter of the widowed hostess, Countess Elli, a dark little girl in a
+white muslin frock, and near her, in a black silk gown, the governess.
+
+The obligatory half hour which Elli must spend in the drawing-room so
+as to become accustomed to society, is over. Elli is rejoiced,
+sixteen-year-old girl that she is. She takes no particular pleasure in
+the society of grown people, who can no longer pet her as a child, and
+who must not yet treat her as a young lady.
+
+A rustle of silk and muslin, a shy "_Bon soir!_" and Mademoiselle
+retreats with her charge.
+
+Scirocco rises to open the door for the governess, makes her a deep bow
+as she disappears. Rhoeden also rises, only Pistasch indolently remains
+seated.
+
+"Pistasch, you might trouble yourself to say good evening to
+Mademoiselle," says the Countess half jokingly.
+
+"Pardon," replies Pistasch, "pure absent-mindedness, Mimi, and then she
+is so homely."
+
+"That simplifies matters ten-fold," replies Scirocco, hastily. "One can
+never be too polite to homely governesses--it is only the pretty ones
+that are troublesome."
+
+"I do not understand that," says Pistasch, and marks double bezique.
+
+"One never knows how one can be attentive enough to them so as not to
+vex them, and yet reserved enough not to impress them," says Scirocco,
+dryly.
+
+"Hm! You have very virtuous principles, Rudi; for some time you have
+moved wholly in the icy regions of lofty feelings of duty, where the
+tender flowers of the affections never bloom," laughs Pistasch. "I
+admire you, upon my word, but--hm--I do not trace the slightest desire
+to follow you into this rare atmosphere," and he rubbed his hands with
+satisfaction. He considered his cousin's conscientiousness either
+feigned or morbid. How could one be conscientious with women?
+Conscientious in regard to debts of honor, that is something quite
+different, that is self-understood; but regarding governesses--bah!
+
+"Count Pistasch Kamenz is a charming man." So at least say all the
+ladies and also all the men who have not yet come in conflict with him.
+He has the handsomest blond cinque-cento face, speaks the Viennese
+jargon with the most aristocratic accent, and possesses the most
+enviable talents. He rides like Renz, dances like Frappart, and more
+than that, in private theatricals he is like Blasel, Matras and Knaak
+in one person. In all Austria, no man has a greater talent for
+representing Polish Jews, poverty-stricken Czechs, drunken valets,
+provincials of all kinds. But his greatest triumph is the "Vienna
+shoemaker's boy." What accuracy of costume and grimaces! The ladies say
+he has a pug nose when he plays the shoemaker's boy, and a way of
+sticking out his tongue--ah!
+
+He has played for benevolent objects a hundred times, and in Vienna is
+a universally known and boundlessly popular individual, because he is
+intimate with actresses, occasionally from a freak rides in an omnibus,
+or another time is seen in the standing place of the opera house (for a
+half act), because one sometimes meets him in sausage houses, because
+in rainy weather he walks with an umbrella and upturned trousers,
+because once even--the gods and a pretty girl alone know why--he
+travelled from Salzburg to Vienna second class.
+
+The public see in him a pleasant, affable man without pride, and feel
+drawn to him like a brother. Poor public! I would not advise you to
+stretch out your hardened hand to him, for between ourselves Count
+Pistasch is one of the most arrogant of Austrian cavaliers.
+
+The actors with whom he one evening drinks friendship, and the next
+greets with "Hm!--ah--You, Mr.---- what do you call him," can tell
+this. One of them once challenged him. This was a great joke to the
+Count; he laughed until he cried, could not control himself, and
+finally settled it thus: "You are a fine fellow, am very sorry, etc.,
+deserve an order for personal bravery--ah--if I can be of any service
+to you," etc.
+
+He has never been outside of Austria, possesses the vaguest ideas of
+history. The French Revolution is a kind of accidental calamity for
+him, something between the earthquakes of Lisbon and the pest in
+Florence. He is a strict Catholic from aristocratic tradition, has very
+good manners when he wishes, speaks French well, and we can assure our
+readers, that just as he is, without a suspicion of the "principles of
+'89," he would be received with open arms in the most republican
+_salons_ of Paris, and would be admired by the ladies for his "_purete
+de race_" and "_grand air_."
+
+Now we need only add that he naturally was not christened
+Pistasch--that this is a humorous nickname which was given him as a
+boy, by reason of his idealistic "greenness," but which now, when this
+greenness has long withered, is preserved for the sake of contrast.
+
+"Well, have you decided upon the day when you will invite the
+Lanzberg?" asks Scirocco of his sister, who, after long pondering, gold
+pencil in hand over a little velvet-bound book in which she enters her
+social obligations, now closes it.
+
+"It is very hard," complains the Countess.
+
+"When did this unfortunate Madame Lanzberg call upon you? Oh, yes.
+Wednesday. Have you returned her call yet?"
+
+"No; I must show her from the first that I am in no hurry to associate
+with her," says the Countess.
+
+"Hm!" says Scirocco, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed upon the
+ceiling. "Do you not think, Mimi, that as quite a near relation of
+Lanzberg it would be the thing for you to smooth the way a little for
+his wife? It would be an act of Christian charity."
+
+"The matter is very complicated, Rudi," replied Mimi Dey. "I was always
+very sorry for Felix--you know I decidedly took his part. I have
+nothing against his wife; her manner is indeed deplorable, but on the
+whole, if some little poverty-stricken Sempaly or Dey had married her,
+I should have been the last to withdraw my protection from her. In
+Felix's unfortunate circumstances, he has proved by his marriage that
+he no longer belongs to his caste; he has abdicated, _voila_."
+
+Rhoeden and Pistasch have finished their game of bezique, and now
+devote themselves to the building of interesting card-houses. They
+spice this intelligent occupation by considerable wagers, which he
+shall win whose card-house remains standing the longest. Up to now
+Rhoeden has had the advantage. But the Countess's words seem to have
+excited him a very little--his card-houses no longer stand.
+
+Scirocco bites his lips, every finger quivers--how can he counsel his
+sister to silence or at least consideration? In vain he turns his back
+to Rhoeden, so as to make an impression upon her by energetic scowling.
+Soon he notices, like many subtle diplomats, that he has naively
+exposed himself to the enemy. His energetic play of expression beams at
+him from a mirror in which the attentively watching Rhoeden could
+certainly solve the interesting riddle--but it wholly escapes his
+short-sighted sister.
+
+"As she, nevertheless, must be invited, it would perhaps be better to
+fix the day," cries Scirocco, somewhat impatiently.
+
+"It cannot be this week," answers the Countess, counting over the days.
+"Thursday, Friday and Saturday are the days of the fair for the flooded
+people in Marienbad; Sunday, the ladies of the committee dine at the
+M----'s, Monday there are private theatricals at the M----'s, Thursday,
+the L----'s dine with me----"
+
+"Well, invite them for Thursday," cries Scirocco. "She is really very
+nice, sings chansonettes like Judic; she will amuse you greatly."
+
+"Do you think so?" cries the Countess. "Before Felix was married,
+L---- would hardly bow to him, how will it be now? No, Wednesday.
+Wednesday will be the best, but still I cannot exactly invite her _en
+famille_."
+
+"Hardly," says Scirocco, dryly.
+
+"And whom can I ask to meet her? One has an antipathy to Felix, others
+to her----" the Countess laughs lightly and kindles a fresh cigarette.
+"One must be so careful--it would be very disagreeable for me if toward
+evening some one should accidentally come over from Marienbad, and
+should meet her here."
+
+"Have a warning fastened over the door as when one has small-pox in the
+house," laughs Pistasch.
+
+"Invite the Garzins," proposes Scirocco.
+
+"Yes, that is something, but a strange element is still desirable,"
+remarks the Countess. "What do you say to the Klette?"
+
+Scirocco frowns. "I do not understand how respectable people can
+tolerate this poisonous old gossiping viper under their roofs," he
+answers, angrily.
+
+"Neither do I," replies Mimi Dey, obligingly, "but still every one
+does."
+
+"I make you another proposition, Mimi," cries Pistasch: "Invite old
+Harfink by telegram; I think he will come by special train."
+
+The Countess smiled. "I should certainly do it," remarks she, "but I
+believe the Lanzberg would look upon it as a mortal insult. Besides,
+when did you make his acquaintance?"
+
+"I met him once on the train, and thereupon he invited me to dinner,"
+explains Pistasch.
+
+"And you accepted?" asks the Countess, raising her eyebrows.
+
+"Why of course--I thought I should amuse myself as well as at the Carl
+Theatre. Yes--that was what I fancied. What a disappointment! The
+dinner was not bad, perfectly correct, alas! The wife spoke of nothing
+but the evils of the social question. I did not know where to look, and
+the husband spoke of nothing but the evils of his stomach. Except for
+that, they were both very charming, on my word. Paid me compliments to
+my face with a _sans gene_. Bah! I was never very kindly disposed to
+Felix, but I pity him on account of this match. For my part I should
+rather marry into a Hottentot family than such people."
+
+I do not believe that during this speech Eugene Rhoeden felt exactly
+upon roses.
+
+There are _parvenus_ who listen in society to such speeches with
+self-satisfied indifference; yes, even laugh at them, and applying the
+English proverb, "Present company always excepted," to their own case,
+fancy themselves unreferred to. But Rhoeden does not belong to these
+enviable ones.
+
+He smiles slightly to himself, and after the conversation had continued
+for some time in a similar manner he begins:
+
+"There was once a French poet named Voltaire, and once when he went to
+London the street boys laughed at him, and sang mocking songs about
+Frenchmen. Then the poet turned round and said: 'You good people, is it
+not hard enough not to have been born among you? Really, you should
+pity us, not despise us!'"
+
+After this little anecdote a universal silence followed, then Scirocco
+cried, "Bravo, Rhoeden!"
+
+The good-natured Countess Dey blushed and said:
+
+"We had entirely forgotten that you are related to these people," which
+sounds like a _betise_, but is balm for Eugene's vanity. Pistasch,
+however, puts on an irritated expression, and cries with his colossal
+impertinence, "I pity you uncommonly!"
+
+Half an hour later the Countess is conferring in her dressing-room with
+her maid concerning her costume for to-morrow, and Pistasch has seated
+himself in a bad temper at the piano, where with his handsome,
+unpractised hands he thumps out the march from Norma, the only
+achievement of a ten years' study of music.
+
+Scirocco and Rhoeden stand below on the rain-wet terrace. "Your cigar
+bores me," cries Scirocco, "throw it away and fill your lungs with pure
+air," and he draws a deep breath so as to enjoy the fragrance of the
+summer evening after the rain.
+
+Eugene does as he is invited, and then asks, "Do you not admire my
+compliance?"
+
+"You are a good fellow; one can get along with you," answers Scirocco
+in his abrupt manner.
+
+"Thanks for the acknowledgment," says Rhoeden, not without bitterness.
+"Sometimes I ask myself whether it would not be better and more
+sensible for me to pack my trunk."
+
+"Don't see the necessity," growls Scirocco.
+
+"I am really not sure," says Rhoeden; "for between ourselves it is
+pleasanter to hear Pistasch make fun of my uncle than to hear my uncle
+rave over Pistasch when the latter has accidentally met him and said:
+'Ah! good day, Mr.---- what is your name--Mr. Harfink?'"
+
+"Curious world!" murmurs Scirocco, smiling to himself.
+
+Rhoeden, seeing him in a particularly good temper, makes use of the
+opportunity to ask him:
+
+"Say, what is the story about Lanzberg?"
+
+Scirocco is silent for a while; looks apparently absently before him,
+and then suddenly cries brusquely, "What did you ask?"
+
+"Whether you think we will have fine weather to-morrow," replies
+Rhoeden.
+
+Scirocco glances at him peculiarly with a half smile, behind which the
+words "Clever dog" may be read.
+
+That evening Eugene writes in the diary in which, instead of
+sentimental impressions, he notes down all freshly-acquired worldly
+wisdom:
+
+"Never ask society, except concerning things which you already know."
+
+
+
+
+                                  XIV.
+
+
+Klette was invited after all, or rather invited herself. At the fair in
+Marienbad she met Mimi Dey, and upon the latter remarking carelessly:
+"How are you, Caroline; when are we to see you in Iwanow?" assured her
+generously, "I am at your service as soon as you send the horses for
+me. I have been intending to spend a few days with you."
+
+And she stays a few days; the first of these, the eventful Wednesday,
+has already dawned, is in fact nearly over.
+
+Klette and the Countess are chatting in the drawing-room. The three
+gentlemen are firing at sparrows in the park, quite a bloodless
+occupation, which the sparrows seem to consider a good joke, and they
+laugh at the shooting with their ironical black eyes. They flutter
+about like will-o'-the-wisps. In vain does Pistasch, who seems
+particularly bent upon this sport, approach softly the trees where they
+crouch--krrm--and they are gone.
+
+For probably the tenth time Pistasch has cried, "The infamous sparrows
+are cleverer than I," has at last fixed his eye upon a comfortable old
+grandfather sparrow, who sleepily philosophizes on the thick branch of
+a nut-tree, but before he has aimed he hears from the open windows of
+the drawing-room loud laughter, the gay ripple of the Countess, and the
+deep, rough ha! ha! ha! of Klette.
+
+"How amused the ladies seem to be," he says, turning to his companions,
+forgetting the sparrow patriarch.
+
+"I do not understand how any one can laugh at that Cantharis," grumbles
+Scirocco.
+
+"Oh, she is surely relating something piquant about us," says Pistasch.
+"It is incredible how greatly interested the ladies are in our doings,
+that is to say, in our evil doings."
+
+Now the shadows have become much longer. Klette has withdrawn to don a
+wonderful cap of yellow lace and red ribbons, and the men have returned
+from their bloodless hunt, to exchange their gay shirts and light
+summer suits for solemn black and dazzling white.
+
+"Rudi," cries the Countess, as she hears a light and yet somewhat
+dragging step--Scirocco limps a little--passing her dressing-room door.
+
+"Have you any commission, Mimi?" asks Scirocco, with his good-natured
+obligingness, as he enters the room. The Countess has dismissed her
+maid, is already in dinner toilet, suppressed laughter sparkles in her
+bright brown eyes, the corners of her mouth twitch merrily. "No!" she
+replies to his question. "What commission should I have for you!--Ah!
+You came from the greenhouse?" pointing to a couple of flowers in his
+hand.
+
+"Yes. I wished to give the gardener some directions in regard to the
+flowers for your guests. I remember that Elsa cannot bear gardenias,
+and Linda--hm--the Lanzberg raves over stephanotis."
+
+"You really might have omitted the bouquets today," says Mimi, vexedly.
+"My greenhouses without this--thanks to the fair and those stupid
+theatricals--are pretty well stripped."
+
+"Elsa has never dined here without finding her favorite flowers beside
+her plate," remarked Scirocco, calmly. "I can neither pass over Linda,
+nor will I punish Elsa for the misfortune of having a Miss Harfink for
+sister-in-law. Why are you laughing so, Mimi, what seems so amusing to
+you?"
+
+"My own simplicity," cries the Countess. "I was so very stupid."
+
+"Mimi, I do not understand you in the least," says he in astonishment.
+
+"Oh, I took your protection of this pretty Lanzberg for unselfish
+philanthropy!" The Countess interrupts herself to laugh.
+
+"Unselfish philanthropy! Say rather ordinary justice," cries he,
+becoming somewhat violent. "What are you thinking of? What are you
+driving at?"
+
+"Your discretion is admirable! You understand no hints."
+
+"Ah, indeed!" cried Scirocco, pale with rage. "Ah, indeed! and the
+Cantharis told you that--that was what you were laughing over so
+immoderately?"
+
+"But Rudi, never mind. I do not take it amiss in you," cries the
+Countess good-naturedly, restraining her levity.
+
+"But I take it amiss in myself to have given rise by my thoughtless
+inconsiderateness to such infamous inventions!" cried Scirocco, "for,
+once for all, Mimi, Mrs. Lanzberg is horribly calumniated by such."
+
+"There are cases where perjury is permissible," says the Countess,
+indifferently. "Do not trouble yourself, I will never speak of the
+matter."
+
+Then Scirocco steps close up to his sister. "Mimi!" cries he, hoarsely,
+"do you know that I am wounded, seriously wounded by your suspicion?
+Pray consider the meanness which you ascribe to me! I have worked for
+Felix's rehabilitation so as to be able to carry on a convenient love
+affair with his wife, on the risk that the world, bad as it is,
+discredited as he is, should say that he voluntarily paid this price
+for my assistance. His wife was indifferent to me, but even if she had
+charmed me I would have avoided her like the plague rather than throw
+another shadow on Felix's compromised existence. Poor Felix! And I
+imagined that I had been of some use to him."
+
+Impossible not to believe in his honest excitement. "Pardon, Rudi,"
+whispers the Countess, "I had not thought."
+
+"Never mind that, Mimi," he murmured, "besides it is better that I know
+what people say. I can at least act accordingly--to-day. This venomous
+serpent will surely watch my every glance. However, I must hurry--_a
+tantot_, Mimi!"
+
+With that he rushed out, had only just time to change his clothes when
+he heard a carriage approach.
+
+"Poor Felix!" he murmured thoughtfully and sadly, "I can do nothing
+more for you; they have tied my hands."
+
+Thus the last shadow of pleasure which Linda might have had at the
+dinner has vanished.
+
+The Lanzbergs arrived a few minutes before the Garzins. Scirocco
+received them at the foot of the terrace, offered Linda his arm, with
+somewhat formal politeness, and escorted her to his sister in the
+drawing-room, not in the cosey, brown wainscoted one, but in a
+ceremonious chamber hung with Gobelins. The Countess rose at her
+entrance and took two steps to meet her, then introduced her to those
+present with her usual absent-mindedness, naturally to Rhoeden also, at
+which Linda began to laugh; but as no one joined in her merriment, her
+pretty, attractive face suited itself to the universal gravity.
+
+Poor Linda, she so petted, so spoiled, to-day sees not a welcoming
+face, even among the men.
+
+The Countess exchanges polite commonplaces with her, while she
+addresses remarks to Klette in between. The chair near the sofa on
+which Linda sits remains empty. Pistasch, whose humorous talents are
+to-day wholly imperceptible, presents the appearance of a distinguished
+statue, and exchanges a few words with Eugene, while Scirocco with
+unnatural liveliness has entered into a conversation with Felix.
+
+At last the Garzins appear--every one thaws. The Countess does not
+walk, no, she runs to meet Elsa, kisses her on both cheeks, scolds
+Garzin for permitting his wife to look so pale, accidentally steps on
+Linda's train, turns round and says, "Ah, pardon me, Baroness!" a
+perfectly polite little phrase which makes Linda feel as if cold water
+had been thrown over her.
+
+The dinner is announced. Scirocco takes Linda in with the same strange
+formality which she perceives in him to-day for the first time. At the
+table a charming surprise does indeed await her--a bouquet of
+stephanotis and gardenias.
+
+"Oh, Scirocco!" cries she, perhaps a very little too loudly, "that is
+too lovely! It reminds me of Rome," she adds softly.
+
+She is already so nervous that she would like to burst into tears at
+the pretty attention. Her eyes sparkle, and a fleeting blush crimsons
+her cheeks. Scirocco is sorry for her. "I am glad that you appreciate
+my good memory," says he, bending slightly towards her. Then he notices
+how suddenly no less than three pairs of eyes watch him closely, those
+of Klette, Pistasch, and Rhoeden; he feels that Linda's excited manner
+is most suited to strengthen this distrustful trio in their suspicion,
+and immediately turns to Elsa.
+
+"I could not conjure up any white elder, unfortunately, Snowdrop," says
+he, shaking his handsome head vexedly.
+
+"Even with the assistance of all the seasons, you could hardly have
+found anything more beautiful than these white roses," she replies.
+
+She sits at Scirocco's left.
+
+Linda cannot eat, and finds no opportunity to speak, and relate the gay
+little stories which are her specialty. Pistasch, who sits at her
+right, contents himself by from time to time dutifully making some
+remark to her concerning the weather, the country, and such perfectly
+neutral subjects, excluding all intimate conversation, and Scirocco,
+her old friend, on whose homage she had relied so surely, to-day has
+nothing but etiquette for her. She listens to his conversation with
+Elsa. Elsa and he were playmates together. She calls him by his given
+name, he calls her Snowdrop, which pretty nick-name he had discovered
+for her years before. Both laugh lightly over old reminiscences which
+they share, and ask each other about old, half-forgotten friends.
+Pleasant confidence on her part, smiling courtesy on his, marks their
+manner to each other.
+
+Linda feels more and more depressed.
+
+Felix, more gloomy and embarrassed than usual, scarcely raises his eyes
+from his plate. Except Scirocco, who absolutely cannot help her, nor
+dares, only one notices and pities her misery--Erwin.
+
+"What has become of your wild gypsy, Snowdrop?" asks Scirocco, among
+other things.
+
+"My wild gypsy has become a very tame gypsy, who lets my little
+daughter ride her very good-naturedly," replies Elsa.
+
+"Ah, Litzi rides already; then I must accompany her some day soon,"
+says Scirocco.
+
+"Do not break her heart. She likes you better than any one else now,"
+says Elsa.
+
+"That is quite mutual," he assures her. "I hope you will bring Litzi up
+for me."
+
+"Since we have been at Traunberg I have not yet been able to find a
+suitable saddle-horse." Linda turns to Scirocco.
+
+"If you are not a grandfather before Litzi thinks of marriage," Elsa
+laughingly answers his last remark. "Do you know that you are beginning
+to grow gray?"
+
+Whereupon be, turning to his right, says: "You will find the country
+very pleasant for riding, Baroness--many meadows," and to the left:
+"You always were accustomed to discover the mote in my eye, Snowdrop!"
+
+"Why did you never mention your wish to me, Linda?" asks Erwin across
+the table. "I can place a horse at your disposal which might suit you."
+
+"Riding is a very pleasant pastime--will be a great resource for you,
+Baroness," remarks Pistasch.
+
+"Ah! Do you think that I will need many resources in Traunberg?" asks
+Linda, bitterly.
+
+"Well, life in the country is always monotonous," he says politely but
+somewhat hesitatingly.
+
+"These _patis_ are excellent, Mika," now says the bass voice of Klette,
+at his right. She has known him all his life, has dandled him on her
+knees when he wore short dresses, still calls him by his Christian
+name, and is one of the few people who remember that he was really
+baptised Michael.
+
+He gives a servant a sign. "Shall I help you?" he asks with droll
+gallantry.
+
+"I have nothing against it--two, please," she replies.
+
+"How is Marienbad looking? Any new beauties?" he asks.
+
+"Don't be so lazy, and come over and see for yourself," says she with
+her mouth very full.
+
+"I was there Saturday at the fair. Ruined myself buying cigar-cases. I
+place six at your disposal, Caroline. But on my word, it is astonishing
+what trash they had at the fair."
+
+"You distinguished yourself," cries the hostess, laughingly.
+
+"Yes, unfortunately I took a Ring Street beauty for the F---- from the
+Carl Theatre, and asked her how much a kiss cost. Her ladyship entered
+into the joke, and answered that she only sold cuffs, and as I
+persisted--_pour la bonne cause_, she replied in perfectly good French,
+'_La bonne cause s'en effaroucherait_,' then I grew urgent. 'Count
+Kamenz!' cried a warning voice near me. I look up, and behold beside
+me, the picture of offended dignity, the husband."
+
+"And how did you get out of the scrape? What did you say?" asks Klette.
+
+"I?--What could I say?--'Ah, pardon'--and decamped!"
+
+"Cool! Very!" remarks Rhoeden, who has been reconciled to Pistasch
+again, laughing.
+
+"I only wondered that he knew my name so well," says Pistasch,
+meditatively, with feigned simplicity. "I do not know to this day what
+his name is. His wife was a magnificent creature, on my word--what a
+pity!"
+
+"I think she was sadder at the interruption than you," says Rhoeden.
+
+"Possibly," replies Pistasch, calmly.
+
+The trivial little story has seemed diverting enough to all present
+except Linda. Is that the way in which young people of society speak of
+pretty women out of their sphere, to whom they pay attentions? she asks
+herself.
+
+
+
+
+                                  XV.
+
+
+Now the dinner is over. They have left the drawing-room to wander
+through the park. There are thunder-clouds in the sky, the air is close
+and breathless, sultry, but at times a sharp gust of wind rises. The
+birds fly close to the ground, as if the black sky frightened them, and
+the flowers smell strangely sweet.
+
+In vain has Linda sent inviting glances at Scirocco; he clings to Elsa
+as a sinner might cling to a saint through whose protection he hoped to
+gain admission to Paradise.
+
+Rhoeden who, whether from policy or convenience, plays the role of an
+injured man and is very reserved, polite and attentive as he is, has
+undertaken to be the young Elli's partner at lawn-tennis, by which game
+he can meet her in the park.
+
+Erwin has good-naturedly joined his pretty sister-in-law; chatting
+gayly, he tries to drive away her bitter mood. There is something in
+the shape of his eyes which makes them look sentimental, one might
+almost say loving. His temperament is such that he can be with no one,
+especially no woman, without trying to make her existence agreeable.
+
+Elsa who, walking with Scirocco, meets her husband, Linda on his arm,
+remembers neither the one thing nor the other; the smile with which,
+with head slightly lowered, he listens to her chat, the glance which he
+rests on her, are in Elsa's eyes half crimes. After a few superficial
+words the two couples separate again. Erwin as he goes turns round and
+calls to Scirocco, "See that you do not take my wife into a draught,
+Sempaly. She is strangely imprudent."
+
+"What admirable thoughtfulness," says Elsa, half aloud, and draws down
+the corners of her mouth so deeply that Scirocco, as an old friend,
+permits himself to remark laughingly, "I did not know that you could
+look so gloomy, Snowdrop!" whereupon Elsa blushes.
+
+Linda and Erwin join the lawn-tennis players. Linda has studied this
+modern pastime thoroughly in England, and likes to play; besides that,
+she knows very well that nothing is more becoming to her slender yet
+voluptuous figure than the quick litheness required in lawn-tennis.
+Her voice reaches Elsa from a distance, gay, shrill, then the soft
+half-laughing voice of Erwin.
+
+"You look so tired, Snowdrop," says Sempaly, sympathetically, "will you
+not rest a little?" With that he points to a bench in a niche of thick
+elder-bushes.
+
+"Yes, I am tired," says Elsa, dully, and sits down.
+
+"Tired after a two-hour drive and a little stroll through the park,
+Snowdrop," remarks Scirocco, anxiously. "I do not recognize you any
+more. You used to endure so much. Do you know that your health makes me
+anxious?"
+
+"Nonsense! My health interests you about as much as that of the Emperor
+of Brazil. If you receive notice of my death some day you will shrug
+your shoulders and sigh sympathetically, 'Poor Garzin!'"
+
+"You are intolerable, Snowdrop," says Scirocco, laughing. "Besides, the
+wind is rising and you are beginning to shiver. Let us go to the
+house."
+
+"No, I like it here," she cries with a pretty childishness. "I should
+like to see the sun set from here, and am curious as to whether the
+Flora there"--pointing to a statue--"will become flushed pink. Prove
+your friendship and get me a wrap."
+
+He goes away, but remains longer than the nearness of the castle seems
+to justify. Elsa does not notice his long absence. She prefers to be
+alone in this spot. The bench reminds her of old times, and is
+therefore dear to her. Whether the Flora becomes pink or not is
+perfectly indifferent to her--she does not look outward, she gazes
+inward. She thinks of the day when she sat there with Erwin, her
+betrothed. (Count Dey was still alive then.) She remembers--oh,
+something foolish--the little beetle which had fallen in her hair and
+which Erwin had brushed away with light hand; his caressing touch; how
+he looked lovingly at the beetle because it had touched his love's
+hair; how, instead of throwing the insect away, he had carried it with
+him when they left the bench, and had placed it carefully in the heart
+of the most beautiful rose which they passed.
+
+How he loved her then! How passionately and at the same time how
+tenderly! "Ah! those were such lovely times," she sighs with the old
+song.
+
+The voices of the lawn-tennis players are still heard. How can they
+play in such a gale? Suddenly she hears her name spoken near by.
+
+"How this poor Mrs. Garzin has gone off!" cries the Klette's bass
+voice. "I scarcely recognized her."
+
+"She looks badly," replies Count Pistasch's distinguished husky voice.
+
+"She has grown old, fearfully old; she looks as if she were forty,"
+asserts the Klette.
+
+"Ah, bah! She looks rather like a consumptive pensioner," replies
+Pistasch. "What can be the matter with her? I hope no trouble is
+worrying her."
+
+"Don't you think that this good Garzin is a little too fond of his
+pretty sister-in-law?"
+
+"Nonsense, Caroline!" says Pistasch, reprovingly. "You are always
+imagining something. Recently you asked me whether poor Rudi----"
+
+"Well, that is evidently over;" the Klette heaves a sigh of
+disappointment; "but she must coquet, poor Mrs. Lanzberg, to amuse
+herself, there is not much else for her to do; and say yourself--I do
+not assert that the good Garzin has already knelt to her, but would it
+not be natural? It would really serve this arrogant Elsa right. To
+force Garzin, a man of such a gay, sociable nature, to absolute
+solitude; to take away from him his career, his occupation, in short,
+everything."
+
+Elsa springs up; she listens breathlessly. What does she care that it
+is ill-bred to listen? But the voices die away. Pistasch and the Klette
+turn into another path without noticing the white form in the dark
+elder niche.
+
+Scirocco at length comes back.
+
+"I could not find either your things or Mimi's maid all this time," he
+excuses himself for his long delay. "I hope this belongs to you,"
+offering her a white crepe shawl.
+
+She takes it, but immediately starts back with a violent gesture. "That
+belongs to my sister-in-law," she cries; "my things are never so
+strongly perfumed. Only smell it, how strange!"
+
+"Yes, truly," says he, holding the shawl to his face; "that is a harem
+perfume which some one brought her from Constantinople. But what is the
+matter, Snowdrop?"
+
+"I feel the storm approach," she murmurs, tonelessly. "Let us go to the
+house."
+
+They go. The swallows fly yet lower, the clouds hang heavier, almost
+touch the black tree-tops. There is a whistling and hissing in the
+leaves.
+
+Elsa hears nothing. With dragging, and yet overhasty, steps she walks
+near Sempaly. "Who knows whether he would even say 'poor Garzin' if I
+should die?" she thinks to herself.
+
+The lawn-tennis party, which Pistasch and the Klette have now also
+joined, growing more and more animated, has lasted until the first
+drops of rain have driven them away.
+
+Somewhat dishevelled and heated, her morbid self-consciousness healed
+by the admiration which Pistasch, escaped from his cousin's control,
+had unreservedly displayed for her, Linda enters the drawing-room where
+the Countess, Felix, Elsa and Scirocco are assembled.
+
+"How did your lawn-tennis come on?" asks Scirocco, as the Countess,
+vexed at Linda's triumphant look, does not condescend to address her.
+
+"Oh, excellently," cries Linda. "Count Kamenz and my brother-in-law
+display the greatest talent for this noble occupation."
+
+"To whom do you give the palm?" cries Kamenz.
+
+"I cannot decide that to-day," says she with as much gravity as if she
+were deciding upon the fortieth _fauteuil_ of the Paris Academy. "One
+judges talent not from what it first offers, but according to its
+subsequent development."
+
+This pedantic phrase from her fresh lips is so irresistibly droll that
+Pistasch and Erwin laugh heartily, and even Scirocco cannot suppress a
+slight smile.
+
+"We have come to the conclusion that the ground here is not favorable,"
+continues Linda, turning to Scirocco, "and the gentlemen are coming
+over to Traunberg to-morrow to practise. Will you be one of the party,
+Count Sempaly?"
+
+"If you will permit me, I will have the pleasure, Baroness," he replies
+with a bow.
+
+"You are as full of phrases as an old copy-setter to-day," cries she,
+shrugs her shoulders, laughs lightly, and sinks into the arm-chair
+which Pistasch pushes forward for her.
+
+Pistasch seats himself opposite her. His light laugh as he leans
+forward, her satisfied leaning back, the continuous conversation wholly
+incomprehensible to the others, indicated a dawning flirtation. What
+did it matter to Pistasch whether Linda's father's name was Harfink or
+Schmuckbuckling? A man never troubles himself about such a thing when
+he is paying court to a pretty woman.
+
+Poor Mimi! for years she has treated Pistasch as her exclusive
+property, she grows nervous, glances discontentedly in the direction of
+the two.
+
+"Rudi, will you order the carriage?" asks Felix, uneasily.
+
+Scirocco stretches out his hand to the bell, but asks politely, "Will
+you not wait until the rain has ceased?"
+
+"I have no desire to get wet in our open carriage," interposes Linda.
+
+"I could place a close carriage at your disposal," remarks the nervous
+Countess, irritated even more by Pistasch's manner than by Linda's
+victorious expression, and adds constrainedly, "However, I really see
+no reason for haste."
+
+Hardly can permission to remain be given in a colder tone. But Linda
+replies with astonishing aplomb, "Neither do I," and has a sweet, naive
+smile for the Countess, and for Pistasch, on the contrary, a comical,
+expressive glance which delights him. He finds it quite in order that
+she should refresh herself with a little impertinence. "She is piquant
+as an actress," he thinks.
+
+Then the door opens; unannounced, like very old friends, a lady and
+gentleman enter. She, small, fat, lively, cries out, hurrying up to the
+Countess, "We flee to thee, Mimi, the rain has surprised us. Ah, you
+have guests--how are you, Elsa? do I really see you at last?"
+
+He, tall, thin, with a Velasquez nose, Don Quixote manner, and arrogant
+eyes, looking out through glasses, has meanwhile chivalrously kissed
+the hand of the Countess. Now he looks round, recognizes Erwin, greets
+him heartily, comes up to Felix, starts slightly, goes past him to
+Rhoeden, as if he had never seen Felix in his life before.
+
+Felix stands motionless, ashy, rigid, with bluish lips and half-closed
+eyes. Scirocco has lived through many unpleasant moments, but never a
+more painful one. Still he rapidly collects himself, takes the new
+guest by both shoulders and turns him toward Felix.
+
+"That is Lanzberg. Did you not recognize him, Max?" he cries.
+
+After that nothing remains for Count L---- but to murmur in apology, so
+as not to insult the guests of the house in which he is, "I am so
+near-sighted," and to stretch out two arrogant fingers to Felix.
+
+"Order the carriage, Rudi," begs Felix, very hoarsely.
+
+Linda, who has not noticed the little scene, gives Pistasch a glance at
+the interruption of their _tete-a-tete_, which flatters his vanity.
+
+
+
+
+                                  XVI.
+
+
+"You have slept badly, mouse; look at your poor eyes. You worry me, you
+pale person."
+
+With these words Erwin greets his wife the next morning at breakfast,
+kisses her lightly on the forehead, then reads his letters, swallows a
+cup of coffee in great haste, greets Miss Sidney, who enters with her
+little pupil, absently though pleasantly, lets himself, still
+pleasantly but somewhat passively, be embraced by his little daughter,
+puts his letters in his pocket and hurries away, but turns at the door
+and cries: "Do not expect me to lunch, Elsa; I have a great deal to do
+in Radewitz."
+
+Now he has gone, Elsa's eyes have grown sad. For a few minutes after
+Miss Sidney has led Litzi away Elsa remains at the deserted breakfast
+table and crumbling a roll, murmurs, "He has forgotten."
+
+To-day is their wedding-day, a day which Erwin has always made much of,
+which has always been a day of sweetest recollections. She had remained
+in her room this morning longer than usual, because she had hoped that
+he would seek her. In vain! Then she, poor Elsa, had expected a little
+surprise at the breakfast table--in vain!
+
+So now she sits there and hopes that perhaps he will return.
+
+Yes, he returns--his steps rapidly approach, her heart beats fast, the
+door opens, Erwin bursts in with hat on his head, and cries: "Elsa,
+don't forget to send the White Duchess to Traunberg. I have not time to
+give the order," and disappears.
+
+"He has forgotten--decidedly forgotten!" cries Elsa, "for the first
+time!" Then she leaves the breakfast room.
+
+Time passes slowly and sadly for her. "It is a trifle not worth
+speaking about," she tells herself again and again. "I should have
+reminded him," but then she feels herself grow hot.
+
+"He did not forget Linda's horse," she murmurs bitterly, and adds still
+more bitterly: "He is bored. Every diversion is welcome to him. Poor
+Erwin!"
+
+The day passes--the dinner hour draws near, several minutes before five
+Erwin at length returns. Heated and irritable he seeks her in her room.
+"How vexed I have been!" he cries as he enters.
+
+She smiles, a little excitement overcomes her. But soon it turns out
+that he has not been vexed at his forgetfulness--oh, no!--only at the
+cheating and roguery of his sugar factory director.
+
+"It serves you right," remarks Elsa, coldly. She cannot deny herself
+the satisfaction of making some sharp remark to him. "When he
+introduced himself to you, you told me 'the man is repulsive to me!'
+and when he came back again you engaged him. You always do so. At the
+first glance you judge men according to your instincts, and very
+justly; at the second glance you judge them by the universal statutes
+of lofty philanthropy, and always falsely. I know no one for whom it is
+more unpleasant to believe ill of his neighbor than you."
+
+"God be praised and thanked that the counterbalance of a desperately
+distrustful wife is given me, then," cried Erwin, somewhat irritably.
+Then a pair of large eyes meet his gloomily. "My distrust is a disease,
+and you know the cause," says she, earnestly.
+
+The shrill dinner-bell at this point interrupts the conversation.
+
+After dinner--Miss Sidney has gone into the garden with Litzi to
+play grace hoops--the husband and wife sit vexedly silent in the
+drawing-room, when a servant presents a  letter to Erwin from
+Traunberg. Elsa has at once perceived that it is in Linda's, not in
+Felix's handwriting. Erwin has opened it, apparently indifferently,
+then suddenly the blood rushes to his cheeks, almost violently he
+throws the letter away, kneels before Elsa and takes both her hands in
+his. "How could I forget the 27th? Elsa, are you very angry with me?"
+he cries.
+
+It would be hard to remain angry with him, if he had not been reminded
+of his duty by just Linda. But this vexes Elsa so much that she answers
+his warm glance and pleasant smile only with a cool "Why should I be
+angry?" as indifferently and calmly as if the 27th no more concerned
+her than the date of the battle of Leipzig.
+
+"Had you forgotten, also?" he asks, wounded.
+
+"Forgotten?--what?" asks she, dully.
+
+"That to-day is my lucky day--the loveliest day of all the year for me?
+Oh, Elsa! Has it become indifferent to you?"
+
+His voice goes deep to her heart, but she is ashamed to be so moved by
+his first warm words--is ashamed to show him how his forgetfulness has
+pained her. In proud fear of having shown too much feeling, she hardens
+her heart, and with the peculiar histrionic talent which is at the
+disposal of most women in critical moments, and which they love to
+display, so as to thereby ruin the happiness of their life, she says
+calmly, pleasantly, half laughingly: "Ah, indeed!--I should tease you
+for your lack of memory!"
+
+"Elsa!" confused and surprised he looks in her eyes. "Do you not
+remember how we have always valued the day; do you not remember the
+first year? You had forgotten it, then?--and when I put the ring on
+your finger--perhaps you do not wear it any longer?"
+
+"Oh, yes;" and Elsa looks down at the large diamond which sparkles like
+a dewdrop or a tear near her wedding-ring.
+
+"Well, you were ashamed, then, not to have thought of me," he
+continued, "and then--then you repeated to me, half crying, half
+laughing, very tenderly a little childish wish: 'Had I an empire I
+would lay it at thy feet, alas, I can offer you nothing but a kiss,' do
+you not remember, Elsa?"
+
+But Elsa only replies coldly, almost mockingly: "It is very long
+ago--hm! What does Linda write to you besides that to-day is the 27th?"
+
+"I have not read all of her letter, read it yourself if you wish," and
+with that he hands his wife the letter.
+
+Elsa at first struggles with herself, but then she reads it, and half
+aloud:
+
+
+Dear Erwin:--It is really too charming in you to so kindly gratify my
+thoughtless wish. Many, many thanks for the beautiful White Duchess.
+
+Felix just tells me that to-day is the 27th, a day on which you will
+have no pleasure in playing lawn-tennis with me. You might perhaps
+force yourself to come so as not to vex me, solitary as I am now.
+Therefore I release you from your promise. Kiss Elsa for me, and, with
+most cordial greetings,       Sincerely yours,     Linda Lanzberg.
+
+
+"How well she writes," says Elsa, who is sorry that she can find
+nothing to complain of in the letter, and with the firm resolve not to
+let her jealousy be perceived in the slightest, she continues: "I
+should be sorry if our foolish lovers' traditions should prevent you
+from amusing yourself a little, my poor Erwin." She had taken up some
+fancy work and seemed to ponder over a difficulty in it. "Pray go over
+to Traunberg and invite Linda to dinner Sunday."
+
+Erwin gazes angrily before him. "You send me away,
+Elsa--you--to-day--on our wedding-day?" says he then, slowly.
+
+She laughs lightly and threads a fresh needle. "Ah! do not be childish,
+Erwin," cries she. "It is not suited to our age now."
+
+He pulls the bell rope violently. "Elsa," he whispers once more before
+the servant enters, but with such intolerable cordiality she says,
+"Well, Erwin?" that he turns away his head and calls to the servant,
+who just then appears, "Tell Franz to saddle my horse."
+
+
+
+
+                                 XVII.
+
+
+A small room with large windows opening on the park, innumerable
+flowers in vases of different forms standing about the room, a perfume
+as intoxicating and painfully sweet as poison which gives one death in
+a last rapture; on the walls, hung with silver-worked rococo damask, a
+few rare pictures, only five or six; two Greuze heads with red-kissed
+lips and tear-reddened eyes, eyes which look up to heaven because earth
+has deceived them; then a Corot, a spring landscape, where dishevelled
+nymphs dance a wild round with dry leaves which winter has left; a
+Watteau, in which women, in the bouffant paniers of the time of the
+regents, with bared bosoms and hair drawn high up on their heads, touch
+glasses of champagne with gallant cavaliers, a picture in which
+everything smiles, and which yet makes one deeply mournful; a picture
+in which men and women, especially women, seem to have no heart, no
+soul, no enjoyment on earth, no belief in heaven; but in deepest
+_ennui_ float about like butterflies, tormented by the curse of the
+consciousness that their life lasts only from sunrise to sunset; a
+Rembrandt, a negress, brutally healthy, bestially stupid, with dull
+glance, broad, hungry lips, huge, homely, and wholly satisfied with
+herself and creation; about the room soft, inviting furniture; no
+dazzling light, pale reddish reflections; draperies in Roman style,
+artistic knick-knacks and soft rugs--this is what Erwin finds as,
+pushing aside the drawn portieres, he enters Linda's boudoir without
+announcement.
+
+Amid these surroundings she sits at an upright piano, and softly and
+dreamily sings an Italian love-song.
+
+Erwin comes close up to the piano. "Ah!" cries she, springing up. It
+would be impossible not to see what unusual pleasure his visit gives
+her. Her eyes shine, and a faint blush passes over her cheeks. "Erwin,
+did you not receive my letter?" she cries almost shyly, and gives him a
+soft hand which trembles and grows warm in his.
+
+"Certainly," he replies. "It was very nice in you to consider our
+foo----" in spite of all the bitterness which for the moment he feels
+toward Elsa, he cannot use the byword foolish, and rather says--"little
+traditions. I only came for a moment, I----" he hesitates. "Elsa hopes
+that you will do us the pleasure of dining with us Sunday."
+
+"Sunday?" repeats Linda, letting her fingers wander absently in dreamy
+preluding over the keys.
+
+"Have you planned anything else?" asked Erwin, who had meanwhile taken
+a very comfortable chair.
+
+"What should I have planned?" asked she, shrugging her pretty
+shoulders. "No, no, I will come gladly. You are very good to me, Erwin,
+and I am inexpressibly thankful to you."
+
+A strangely exaggerated feeling was in her accent, in her moist glance,
+and the quick gesture with which she stretched out both hands to him.
+
+"Where is Felix?" he asked, turning the conversation.
+
+"Felix is, I believe, over in Lanzberg," she answered. "He has
+'something to attend to.' He always has 'something to attend to' when I
+expect people," she added, bitterly. "It makes my position so
+uncommonly easy, Erwin! Can you account for his behavior? Would you, if
+you had once resolved to choose a wife of unequal birth, afterward be
+so passionately ashamed of her as Felix is?"
+
+"How can you talk so foolishly, Linda?" Erwin interrupted the young
+wife, uneasily.
+
+"Foolishly!" Linda shook her head with discouragement. "If you only saw
+him! Lately he made a scene before I could be permitted to accept the
+Deys' invitation; then, at the last moment, he had a headache, and
+expressed the wish that I should join Elsa and go without him."
+
+"Strange idea to hang this monster in your pretty rococo nest!" cried
+Erwin, growing more and more embarrassed, and abruptly changing the
+conversation from Felix to the Rembrandt negress.
+
+"The monster pleases me, I like contrasts--but to return to Felix----"
+
+"You expect Pistasch and Sempaly, do you not?"
+
+"They wished to come this evening--alas--I could renounce their
+society; to-day I should like greatly to confide in you, Erwin. You are
+the only person who is sorry for me."
+
+There was a pause in the conversation of the two. Without, a murmur
+like a sigh of love sounds through the trees, and a few withered
+rose-leaves are blown into the room. Erwin's glance rests dreamily upon
+the young woman. She pleases him in somewhat the same manner as the
+Greuze head on the wall; no, differently--there is always something
+dead about a picture. A picture is either a recollection preserved in
+colors or a dream, and has the charm of a recollection, of a dream;
+while Linda has the charm of a foreboding, of a riddle, and above all
+things, the charm of life, of full young life.
+
+Then a carriage approaches. "Pistasch and Sempaly," cries Erwin,
+looking out of the window and seizing his hat. "On Sunday, eh, Linda?"
+says he in a tone of farewell.
+
+"Now you run away from me just like Felix," cries she, pouting. "Please
+stay; it is so unpleasant for me to receive young people without a
+protector."
+
+And he stays.
+
+
+"You have come late; we have scarcely three-quarters of an hour of
+daylight left."
+
+With these words, spoken in a very indifferent tone, Linda receives the
+young men. "Shall we set about it at once?" she continues.
+
+The lawn-tennis court is in a broad flat meadow in the park. The ground
+is not yet dry from yesterday's rain, still the players are unwearied,
+Erwin, after a short time, as animated as the others. He competes
+vigorously with Pistasch, whose skill he soon surpasses, and enjoys the
+society of the two agreeable and to-day good-tempered young men, who
+are both old acquaintances of his.
+
+Pistasch in old times he has pulled by the ear, paid his youthful
+debts, and on holidays taken him away from the Theresanium; with
+Scirocco, who is but little younger than Erwin himself, he has taken an
+Oriental trip, they were both overturned in the same drag, both raved
+over the same dancer, etc.
+
+Merry reminiscences pass between the players almost as quickly as the
+tennis balls, and Linda encourages all these reminiscences most
+charmingly; her smile lends a new spice to the play and the
+conversation.
+
+Erwin is of a much too lovable nature, is far too much occupied with
+the happiness of others and too little with his own, to think of what
+might have been if he had not, for love of Elsa, renounced the world.
+
+He possesses a decided disinclination for the "if," always looks
+straight before him, never behind him. It does not even occur to him
+to-day, when he is vexed with Elsa, to complain of the serious monotony
+of his life, to philosophize, but he feels well, likes to amuse himself
+again, laughs frequently, and is not unsusceptible to the evident wish
+to please him which Linda shows. No objection can be found to her
+behavior to-day--it is animated without being loud, cordial without
+being coquettish.
+
+The three-quarters of an hour are over, the daylight has become first
+pale, then gray, the balls have flown aimlessly, like plump night birds
+through the air; they have laughed, ridiculed the opposite side for
+their faults, finally lost several balls, and come to the conclusion
+that for the present nothing more can be done.
+
+The players have now assembled for a light supper in the somewhat
+gloomy dining-room, from whose walls a few old portraits, gentlemen
+with huge wigs and large flowered brocade vests, ladies with wasp
+waists and immoderately high powdered coiffures, look down upon them.
+The light of the lamps is reflected in the crystal decanters, in which
+red and white wine sparkles; the flowers, a mixture of transparent
+ribbon-grass and wild roses, move softly in their vases in the middle
+of the table, trembling in the night air which streams in through the
+open windows. Beautiful fruit shines fresh and inviting, in silver
+dishes, and Linda presides, somewhat flushed, cordial and wonderfully
+pretty. No annoying servants disturb the pleasant little repast.
+
+Pistasch behaves like the perfect gentleman which he is when he does
+not consider it his duty to be a perfect boor, or does not take
+pleasure in representing a perfect street Arab. He entertains the
+little circle by gay anecdotes, is attentive without impertinence to
+the hostess.
+
+Scirocco, more serious in manner, nevertheless laughs at his cousin's
+jokes, and often interposes a witty little remark.
+
+Erwin is as gay as the two others, but from time to time, however, his
+conscience reminds him that this is not the place for him, and that it
+is time for him to return home. "But can I leave my young sister-in-law
+alone with the two men?" he calms his inconvenient conscience.
+"Impossible!" He must wait for Felix to return.
+
+That Kamenz and Sempaly, well-bred as both are, and with no cause for
+importunity, would both leave as soon as he should start, he does not
+tell himself.
+
+Then a carriage rolls up to the castle. Linda rises to go to the
+window. "Felix!" she cries in her clear, childish voice. No answer
+follows. Her eyes become gloomy, she listens, evidently listens to see
+whether he will go to his room without appearing to his guests. Then a
+dragging, stumbling step is heard in the corridor. "Felix!" cries
+Linda, excitedly and imperiously.
+
+The door opens, Felix enters, he stumbles into the dining-room, his
+face is red and swollen, his eyes have a watery look, his knees bend at
+every step, and a repulsive flabbiness is betrayed in his whole form.
+
+"You have guests?" he says, thickly.
+
+"Sit down, you are not well," cries Erwin, seizing the staggering man
+by the arm, and forcing him into a chair.
+
+"No--but--the----" begins Felix, and breaks off, not able to finish the
+sentence.
+
+A pause ensues. The little company seem paralyzed with alarm and
+disgust. Then Sempaly rises. "We thank you for a very pleasant evening,
+Baroness," he turns politely to Linda, and he and his cousin withdraw.
+
+Linda is as white as the table-cloth. "Come, Felix, lie down," says
+Erwin to his brother-in-law, whose condition he does not wish to expose
+to the impertinent curiosity of servile lackeys.
+
+"A cigar," murmurs Felix, excusing himself like all drunkards.
+
+"Come;" Erwin urges him more sharply. Felix is about to make some
+reply, when he discovers his wife, turns his head away, and trembling
+throughout his entire frame, lets himself be taken to his room without
+resistance.
+
+When Erwin returns to the dining-room to bid farewell to Linda, he
+finds her still deathly pale, with gloomy eyes, sitting in the same
+place.
+
+"Linda, you are wrong to take this so seriously," says he, softly and
+consolingly; "it is really often an accident, a glass of poor wine----"
+
+At his first kind word she has burst into tears. "It is not the first
+time," she replies, with difficulty restraining her tears. "Ah! if
+it--if it was only because the wine went to his head or--but no--a year
+ago he was the most temperate man in the world--it began in London. It
+cannot all be my fault. What is the matter with him? My God! What is
+concealed from me?"
+
+A new light dawns upon Erwin's mind; Linda's lack of tact is excused; a
+boundless pity overcomes him.
+
+At a violent motion of her pretty head her hair has become loosened and
+now hangs in silken splendor over her shoulders.
+
+"Calm yourself, fasten up your hair, be prudent, my poor little
+sister-in-law!" says Erwin. Softly and involuntarily, as one would do
+to a child, he strokes the hair back from her temples.
+
+She tries to fasten it up, but suddenly she lets her arms sink, and
+looking directly at Erwin out of moist but not disfigured eyes, she
+whispers, "I cannot reach so high, and do not wish to be seen thus by
+my maid--it would be strange."
+
+"Can I help you?"
+
+She nods. Simply, but without undue haste or uneasiness, he twists the
+beautiful hair, fastens it firmly as one who is accustomed to perform
+such services. She keeps her head covered, breathes regularly, deeply,
+audibly--accidentally he touches her little glowing ear, then she
+starts. A clock strikes. "Half past ten!" cries Erwin, startled. "Good
+night, Baroness; poor Elsa will not know how to explain my absence,"
+and he rushes out.
+
+"Your horse must be saddled," says Linda, but he does not return--a few
+minutes later she hears him galloping rapidly away. "When he thinks of
+his wife he always calls me Baroness," she murmurs to herself with a
+peculiar smile.
+
+
+An hour later Erwin knocks at his wife's door. "Who is it?" an
+indifferent, sleepy voice asks from within.
+
+"I."
+
+"Ah, you, Erwin!" Elsa unlocks the door, and comes out in the corridor,
+where only a single lamp breaks the darkness.
+
+"Have you anything particular to ask me?" says she, and her feverish
+sparkling eyes contradict the indifferent voice.
+
+"Nothing," he whispers, softly. "I merely could not resolve to retire
+without having bid you good night; I felt that you must be still awake.
+Do you insist upon receiving me in the corridor?" he asks, smilingly,
+as she has closed the door behind her.
+
+"The baby is asleep," replies Elsa, coldly, rubbing her eyes with
+ostentation.
+
+"My voice will not wake her," he says, softly, taking Elsa's hand.
+"Elsa, my dear pouting Elsa, forgive me," he whispers. "I had no right
+to be angry and run away, merely because you were intolerable. It has
+been a horrid day, let it at least have a good ending!"
+
+He sees how she trembles, how she blushes, and tenderly he takes her
+thin little face between both hands. Then, then she changes color, her
+eyes open in wild horror, and she starts back from him with a gesture
+of decided aversion, but quickly collecting herself, and forcing
+herself to smile, she gives him her hand and says, "Good night!"
+
+How she has pained him! Is her love dead? He cannot understand her
+manner. How could he? He does not notice that on his hands, in his
+clothes has remained the peculiar perfume which a gallant diplomat had
+brought Linda from Constantinople.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XVIII.
+
+
+"One cannot please people," sighs Pistasch, several days after the
+lawn-tennis party, while, cigar between his teeth, a hat adorned with a
+cock's plume on the back of his head, his smoking jacket open over his
+broad chest, he tries to solve a difficult problem in billiards. "One
+cannot please people."
+
+"Hm! I think this sentence belonged to Solomon's _repertoire_ of
+phrases," grumbles Sempaly, who, stretched out in a deep arm-chair, is
+looking over an old _Revue des Deux Mondes_.
+
+"Solomon! Solomon!" says Pistasch, clutching his soft golden hair. "Was
+not that the Jew in the Leopoldstadt, whose money rate was so cheap,
+only three per cent, _per mese_?"
+
+Count Kamenz considers it "chic" to have forgotten his Bible history.
+
+"Do not make yourself out stupider than you are," Scirocco admonishes
+him. "We can be quite satisfied without that."
+
+"Thanks, you see one can never please people," repeats Pistasch,
+shrugging his shoulders in droll despair. "After the sacrificial meal,
+Mimi rejoices me with a remark upon my stiffness to the Lanzberg. I
+show the latter much-calumniated beauty some slight attention and
+accept an invitation to lawn-tennis at her house. Mimi reproaches me
+concerning my morals. In order to satisfy her demands I yesterday
+paid court to a sixteen-year-old dove; she reproaches me for
+my inconsequence, says with feeling, 'One does not trifle with
+love!'--there, it sounds as if it were a bit from a play." Pistasch
+turns to Sempaly.
+
+"Yes, it is the title of a play in which at the end some one is
+stabbed," says Scirocco, looking up from his reading.
+
+"Thank you, Rudi; one can always learn from you," assures Pistasch.
+
+"You are the first who has discovered that--I pity you," replies
+Sempaly, sarcastically.
+
+"Surely not because I am weak in history and literature," says
+Pistasch, phlegmatically. "Bah! if one of us only knows who he is, he
+knows what he needs."
+
+"Yes, everything else would only confuse him," says Scirocco,
+seriously.
+
+"Precisely," answers Pistasch, coolly. He now sits on the corner of the
+billiard table, both hands in his pockets, in the large room with its
+faded leather furniture. "But confess that your sister maltreats me,
+after I have tried so hard to please her."
+
+"Too hard, perhaps," says Scirocco, and looks gloomily at his cousin.
+Is the latter the only one who does not perceive that the Countess
+would prefer to preserve him in a cage, secure from the attacks of
+audacious women and mothers? "'_Ce sont toujour les concessions qui ont
+perdu les grands hommes_,' Philippe Egalite remarked on his way to
+execution," he continues, and takes his cousin's ostentatious _naivete_
+for what it is really worth.
+
+"That might be called forcing history," cries Rhoeden, entering at this
+moment, and hearing the last phrase.
+
+"Who was Philippe Egalite?" asks Pistasch, with unembarrassed--yes,
+boasted ignorance.
+
+"A man who, in order to make himself loved by the masses, voted for the
+death of his cousin, the king, made himself riding trousers of the
+_ancien regime_, and was beheaded by the masses by way of thanks."
+
+"Ah! my historical knowledge is extensively widened--but if I only knew
+to whom to make love!"
+
+"_Il y avait une fois un seducteur qui cherchait de l'ouvrage_,"
+remarks Eugene.
+
+"_Je crois Men qu'il cherchait!_" yawns Pistasch. "Really, it is not
+only on Mimi's and morality's account that I do not dare try it with
+the Lanzberg--but she is so magnificently prudish! Now I do not object
+to a little prudishness, that is piquant, but quite so much! Recently
+she, for really nothing at all----"
+
+"Ah, really, for nothing at all?" repeats Scirocco, looking sharply at
+his cousin.
+
+"Well, not exactly for nothing at all," the latter admits, grumblingly,
+"but on my word, for a very slight cause, she gave me a dissertation
+upon her dignity, and that she felt bound to keep the honorable name
+which she bears spotless."
+
+"She is quite right," declares Sempaly, sharply.
+
+Pistasch laughs rudely. "Well, Rudi, between ourselves, it is
+nevertheless a little droll to think so much of this name, to boast of
+its spotlessness--hm!"
+
+Rhoeden displays the indifference of a man who knows that the
+conversation is upon delicate subjects, and retires to a window recess,
+where he unfolds a letter. A servant enters and reports that "The
+Countess begs the Baron to come to the music-room," whereupon Rhoeden
+vanishes.
+
+Scarcely has the door closed behind him when Scirocco bursts out
+violently: "You are a muttonhead, Pistasch; the little banker is a
+hundred times cleverer than you."
+
+"He needs it," says Pistasch, coolly.
+
+"Can you not be silent before him?" Scirocco attacks him.
+
+"No," replies Pistasch, lazily; "I have never accustomed myself to
+keeping secrets; respectable people have no secrets. Besides, Lanzberg
+begins to be fairly unbearable, his manner has become so unsteady, so
+nervous; he no longer finishes a single sentence correctly, has not an
+opinion of his own, and crouches like a whipped dog. He makes me
+nervous."
+
+"Are you of stone, have you no heart?" cries Scirocco.
+
+"I am under no obligations to Lanzberg," grumbles Pistasch, very
+defiantly. "I----"
+
+"Yes, you would be ashamed to protect him a little," says Scirocco,
+cuttingly. "Recently when L---- remarked to you that you seemed to
+associate with Lanzberg a great deal, you replied, 'Yes, he has a
+pretty wife!' Really, Pistasch, at that moment, in my eyes, you stood
+morally lower than poor Felix."
+
+"Really," Pistasch imitates his cousin's tragic tone, "I think I have
+blundered into an educational institution! Lectures and nothing but
+lectures! First you, then Mimi. How you can permit yourself to compare
+me with a man like a 'certain Lanzberg.'"
+
+"Do not talk yourself into useless heat, my dear fellow," says
+Scirocco, laying his hand on his shoulder. "At present I feel just as
+inclined to fight a duel with you as I should to cut my own brother's
+throat. Consider a little and you will come to the conclusion that you
+are in the wrong."
+
+Scirocco leaves the billiard-room. For a while Pistasch pushes the
+ivory balls over the green table with furious zeal, then he throws
+himself irritably into an arm-chair.
+
+Yes, he feels plainly that he is in the wrong, but he cannot resolve to
+change his behavior to Felix. He might at least avoid him, but just
+now, because and in defiance of Linda's prudishness, he does not wish
+to. His prejudice against Linda was nothing but arrogant affectation,
+but his antipathy to Felix is sincere; it almost resembles that
+aversion which many egoistic men feel for one mortally ill.
+
+Rhoeden spends an hour in teaching the Countess--a totally unmusical
+woman who does not know a note, has no feeling for rhythm, but
+possesses a good voice and a great desire to shine in that
+direction--twelve bars of a new Italian romance of Tosti.
+
+He goes his little way, pursues his little aim, and will attain it.
+Only two years ago young aristocrats invited him exclusively to stag
+parties, hunts, etc.; then Count F---- wrote a little operetta for a
+society tenor. The tenor, a young diplomat, after the first rehearsal
+of the operetta was transferred to Constantinople--universal
+consternation. They had about resolved to surrender the operetta, which
+was to be performed for a charitable object, to a professional when
+Pistasch proposed his old Theresanium comrade, Eugene. Eugene, with his
+unusually beautiful voice, sang the little role charmingly; all were
+delighted with his singing, his graceful acting. At one stroke he
+became the fashion.
+
+His passion for Linda, Eugene had long buried under his worldly egoism;
+he was glad that he had been prevented from the foolishness of a
+marriage with her. He planned quite a different match, made use of his
+opportunities, and meanwhile was in no hurry. He knew very well on what
+footing he stood with society, knew that they wished to fasten upon him
+Countess Fifi R----, who was red-haired and somewhat hump-backed, or
+even Countess Clarisse, who was scrofulous and had been much gossiped
+about, knew it and laughed at it. He was still young and could wait.
+
+Social vanity was his religion, the world his god, to whom, however, he
+did not pay such passionate, credulous homage as Linda, for example,
+but always with an ironical smile on his lips.
+
+After he had gone through the romance with the Countess for perhaps a
+hundred times, had finally taught her text, melody, and even a
+sentimental mordent, and is now dismissed from duty, Eugene looks into
+the billiard-room again before he goes to his own room, and finds
+Pistasch, between thick clouds of smoke, occupied with a tschibouk.
+
+"Do I disturb you?" he asks, gayly.
+
+"Oh, heavens, no! I have long been weary of my own society," sighs
+Pistasch with feeling.
+
+"I have an amusing bit of news for you, Pistasch," continues Rhoeden,
+approaching him. "My uncle Harfink"--Eugene always speaks of his
+relations in a mocking tone, somewhat as one kind of cripples speak of
+their humps--"my uncle Harfink--you remember his first wife, whom you
+knew, is dead--well, he has married again!"
+
+"Wish him much happiness," replies Pistasch, who does not see why that
+should interest him particularly.
+
+"He has married, and none other than the famous Juanita," says Rhoeden,
+with the calmness of a virtuoso who is sure of his effect.
+
+Pistasch drops his pipe, springs up from his armchair.
+"Harfink--married--Juanita, the----" he interrupts himself.
+
+"Yes," says Rhoeden, calmly, "the same Juanita who in her day ruined
+poor Lanzberg."
+
+"Hm! So you know the story?" asks Pistasch, breathing freely in the
+consciousness that now all discretion is unnecessary.
+
+"It will go no further through me," Rhoeden assures him solemnly. "But
+is not that delightful? My uncle writes me that he has married the
+aforesaid celebrity, and as his digestion is still not as good as it
+might be, they have gone to Marienbad for their wedding trip. He begs
+me to reconcile his daughter to his step, and to find out what kind of
+a reception his wife may expect in Traunberg. Piquant, eh? Very
+piquant!"
+
+A shrill bell announces lunch.
+
+"Rudi! Mimi!" cries Pistasch, rushing into the dining-room, where both
+these, together with Elli and Mademoiselle, are assembled, "old Harfink
+has married the Juanita, and has gone to Marienbad for his wedding
+trip. Is not that magnificent, is not that famous?"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XIX.
+
+
+"A Modern Donna Elvira!" This sarcastic nickname originated at the time
+when the charming Privy Councellor Dey, whose wife we are acquainted
+with, was still alive. Count Dey was a red-haired gnome, who was
+continually mistaken for his own tutor which, as the facetious Pistasch
+maintained with conviction to this day, was very annoying to the tutor.
+Besides, Count Dey was eighteen years older than his wife, who, if not
+beautiful, was still uncommonly attractive, and still the poor woman
+embittered her young life with the most painful jealousy, followed her
+husband about distrustfully, accompanied him on the briefest visits of
+inspection to his estates, shivering and heroic, shared with him the
+cold inconveniences of his grouse hunt in the Tyrol. The world
+maliciously delighted in the industry with which she defended her
+rights, and also in the fact that, in spite of her astonishing and
+extensive precautions, she was continually deceived by her red-haired
+spouse.
+
+Mimi Dey now served as a warning example for Elsa. She, Elsa, had not
+the slightest wish to undertake the role of the "modern Donna Elvira,"
+and expose herself to universal mockery. Therefore she concealed her
+jealousy from Erwin with Spartan self-control, and smiled with the most
+charming loftiness, while the poisonous mistrust tore her bosom as
+pitilessly as the young fox tore the brave little Lacedaemonian.
+
+When, the day after the lawn-tennis party, Erwin remorsefully sought
+the cause of her changed manner in his own behavior, and after he had
+tried to drive away her displeasure by a thousand loving attentions,
+put his arm around her and whispered to her softly: "Elsa, confess why
+you were so angry with me yesterday--only because I stayed away so
+long?" Frightened that he had so nearly touched upon her secret, she
+displayed the most arrogant indifference.
+
+"You surely do not think that I am vexed if you amuse yourself with
+Linda a little?" she replied, with an irritating smile. "I am glad that
+you have found a little amusement, my poor Erwin," she continued.
+
+He looked at her in some surprise. "Yes, but then I do not
+understand----" he murmured. "What is the real matter with you?--does
+anything worry you?---tell me--two can bear it more easily."
+
+"No, no, I have nothing to tell," she replied, hastily. "Nothing at
+all--I am tired, not very well."
+
+"Yes, that you decidedly are not," he admitted, and anxiously
+scrutinized her thin cheeks and the dark shadows under her eyes. "We
+must consult a physician."
+
+"We consulted him four weeks ago," she answered, "and he advised me to
+drink Louisen-Quelle, and I drink Louisen-Quelle." She folded her hands
+resignedly over her breast, with an expression as if to say how little
+faith she had in Louisen-Quelle, and how indifferent her health was to
+her.
+
+"Perhaps a trip to the sea-shore would do you good," proposed Erwin.
+
+"Could you go away now?" she asked, apparently calmly, but with her
+heart full of distrust.
+
+"Now? Hardly! But you could take Miss Sidney and Litzi with you, or, as
+far as I am concerned, both children."
+
+"With the necessary servants that would cost a good deal," replies
+Elsa, discouragingly.
+
+"Well, we are not quite such beggars that we need think of that when it
+is a question of your health," he cries, almost angry. "We have saved
+long enough and can now spend something. Decide upon Cowes; perhaps I
+can join you there later."
+
+For a while she gazes silently and gloomily before her, then a slight
+shudder runs over her.
+
+"Elsa! You seriously alarm me!" cries Erwin: "something must be done!"
+
+"Yes, certainly; I will go to Cowes," she decides, as if it was a
+decision to let herself be bound upon the wheel, then she turns her
+head to look at an approaching carriage. "Oh, Linda," she cries, and
+her voice betrays absolutely nothing, not even antipathy to her
+sister-in-law, and Erwin begs, "Be a little good to her--for Felix's
+sake. She needs women friends and has none but you."
+
+These naive words may give the impression that Erwin is very obtuse.
+But he certainly was not, only his knowledge of human nature was always
+bounded by a great good-will, his keen sight blinded by good-nature.
+He possessed a true passion for making every one who came near him
+happy, and also the impractical habit of never thinking evil of his
+fellow-men, except when he absolutely could not otherwise.
+
+Therefore he saw to-day in Linda's visit nothing but a praiseworthy
+wish of coming nearer to Elsa.
+
+Linda wore a very simple gown, which was very becoming to her; she had
+brought a work-basket, and sewed almost the whole time of her visit
+upon a little collar for Gery which had a very exemplary appearance.
+She made the most modest and tender attempts to be friends with Elsa,
+and without the slightest touch of familiarity, took a tone of
+comradeship towards Erwin which pleased him greatly--perhaps so much
+the more as a charming, childlike smile accompanied this tone, and the
+merriest little stories.
+
+When evening had already become night, and Felix had still not
+appeared, as Linda seemed to have expected, to fetch her, and she
+confessed that she was afraid to return alone with her groom only, in
+the low pony carriage, Erwin good-naturedly escorted her on horseback
+to Traunberg.
+
+This was really unwelcome to him, but Elsa suspected the contrary, and
+as he had not the common habit of afterwards complaining of his
+obligingness, she remained of the same opinion. She herself had behaved
+perfectly charmingly to Linda. No one could have suspected that
+jealousy could smile so! No one--but Linda.
+
+And how she triumphed! how flattered vanity quivered in her every
+fibre, and how the drive home with Erwin amused her!
+
+She drove herself, and really she did not overdrive the ponies.
+
+Around them was the sultry, gloomy charm of the summer night.
+Long-drawn sighs and sweetly monotonous murmurs passed through the
+trees, the short grass trembled as if caressed by invisible hands. From
+time to time a glow-worm shot through the gray air like a falling star.
+
+"How beautiful!" said Linda to herself.
+
+"Yes, charming!" Erwin admitted, and secretly looked at his watch.
+
+In spite of the fact that he galloped home at a very sharp pace, it was
+midnight before he arrived there, which confirmed Elsa's strange idea.
+
+Almost every evening after tea Erwin was accustomed to read aloud to
+his wife, and this had originated in their honeymoon, when Erwin, very
+young, very much in love, still shyly coquetted with his little
+talents.
+
+He read well, and liked to read, and Elsa had until now always looked
+forward to the confidential chat, the happy fact of being alone
+together, which was a part of the reading hour, and both did not know
+which they really preferred: the wild, stormy winter evenings, in which
+Elsa sat as near the fireplace as possible, and contrary to his
+sensible prohibition, held one foot at a time over the glowing coals,
+until he stopped reading, and crouching on a stool, took the little
+feet from their light house slippers, and rubbed them warm between his
+hands; or the mild, fragrant summer evenings, when Elsa, gazing through
+the window at the sky, often interrupted the bitter earnestness of St.
+Simon, or the graceful bitterness of Voltaire, and with childish joy
+signalled a shooting star, and as Erwin laughingly asked her whether
+she had availed herself of the opportunity to wish something very
+beautiful, softly, with lips close to his ear, whispered, "Oh, yes,
+that it may always be so."
+
+Usually he read serious books aloud, but sometimes he brought the old
+Musset which had accompanied him on his wedding journey, and then they
+vied with each other in gay recollections of their honeymoon, and
+laughed when they came to verses the meaning of which had been dark to
+her, and had made her ask the most remarkable questions. They
+contradicted each other animatedly as to who had the most faithful
+memory for every foolish, tender jest, and Elsa, whose remembrance
+exceeded his, faintly whispered softly, "Do you see I have not let a
+single joy be lost out of my life. I have laid-them all away for my old
+days."
+
+The day after Linda's visit, Elsa made no move to leave the
+drawing-room when Erwin asked her softly, "How about our Mahon?" (they
+were just then reading this knightly pedant's English history), but
+replied discouragingly, "I am going to retire early this evening," and
+engaged Miss Sidney in a conversation upon English philanthropy.
+
+Erwin smoked a cigarette, glanced over a paper, finally, looking out of
+the window, remarked that it was a beautiful moonlight night and he was
+going shooting, kissed Elsa's forehead, bowed to Miss Sidney, and was
+about to leave the room when from Elsa's lips came anxiously:
+
+"But----!"
+
+"Do you want anything?"
+
+"Are you going to take any one with you?"
+
+"Why?" asked he, and raised his eyebrows; then suddenly laughing aloud
+he added, "Would you perhaps like to accompany me, mouse? The night is
+mild, I will find you an easy path; we need not go far."
+
+She hesitated, only for a moment she hesitated. She had formerly often
+gone with him; he had bought her a small rifle, and with anxious
+carefulness taught her to shoot, and as long as her health was good
+enough they had often hunted gayly together like good comrades. Why
+must just now Mimi Dey and the grouse hunt in the Tyrol come to her
+mind?
+
+"Thank you, I dare not venture out in the dew;" thus politely, but
+without a trace of warmth she refused his good-natured offer, and he
+shrugged his shoulders slightly and vanished.
+
+English philanthropy suddenly lost all interest for Elsa. She took
+leave of Miss Sidney quite absently, and went to her room which, since
+baby's existence, she had shared with the delicate little creature. She
+passed two tormenting hours; she was tortured by the most nonsensical
+fancies; she thought only of poachers and assassins; she did not close
+her eyes until she heard Erwin's step creep thoughtfully, softly past
+her door, but at least she had not been like Mimi Dey.
+
+Sempaly and Pistasch had accepted the invitation to dine in Steinbach
+on the Sunday for which Linda was invited. Elsa had been able to secure
+no ladies. Never had Linda been more beautiful than on this Sunday. She
+wore a dazzling toilet; "from Worth," she replied, in explanation to
+some polite remark which Elsa had made upon her dress. "From Worth, but
+I had to change it entirely. I cannot bear Worth any longer; he is too
+American. And how do you like my gown, Erwin?" she turned to him.
+
+"Linda, you surely are not trying to make me think that you care
+anything about the taste of such a rusty hayseed as I am!" cried he,
+laughingly.
+
+"Ah, you know very well that you are the only one, yes, the only one on
+God's earth from whom I will accept fault-finding," answered Linda, and
+putting her arm around Elsa's neck, she whispered in the latter's ear,
+"Your husband has bewitched me, Elsa. If I did not wish you the best of
+everything, I really could envy you him."
+
+Oh, the serpent! She feels very well that Elsa shivers in her arms, and
+she is happy.
+
+During the dinner Elsa suffered fearful torments. Monosyllabic she sat
+between Scirocco, who, more quiet and melancholy than usual, did not
+help her to talk, and Pistasch who, gazing at Linda, forgot to talk.
+Linda, on the contrary, chatted unweariedly, entertained the whole
+table with her odd little stories, and knew how to absorb Erwin so
+deeply by her artfully naive flatteries and carefully veiled coquetries
+that he, the most polite man in the world, scarcely found time to
+address a few pleasant phrases to the Englishwoman who, for the sake of
+symmetry, sat at his left.
+
+After dinner Linda sang. Erwin accompanied her, and Pistasch lost his
+tongue with enthusiasm, except for the three words, "Superb!
+magnificent! delicious!" which he burst forth with again and again,
+gasping for breath.
+
+Elsa, who took no interest in French chansonnettes, and Sempaly, who
+did not care to hear them rendered by respectable women, or those who
+at least should be so, stood together in a window recess half chatting,
+half silent, like people who know and understand each other well. But
+suddenly Scirocco was silent, his glance wandered to Felix, who sat in
+the darkest corner of the drawing-room, and in order to give himself
+countenance, stroked Erwin's great hunting-dog. A little rattle of
+glasses had attracted Sempaly's notice. He went up to Felix, and after
+he had spoken a few words to him returned with him to Elsa. Elsa was
+frightened at sight of her brother. His cheeks were flushed to his
+forehead, the features swollen, the eyes shining as in one who has a
+severe fever.
+
+When everything had become quiet again in Steinbach, and Elsa was alone
+with Erwin in the drawing-room, she went to the table from which
+Sempaly had brought Felix away, and discovered there the _corpus
+delicti_ in the shape of a half-emptied flask of Chartreuse.
+
+"Ah!" cried she shuddering, and turned to Erwin. "Do you know the
+latest?--Felix drinks!"
+
+Erwin lowered his head. "Drinks--drinks!" he murmured with
+embarrassment but excusingly. "You must not call it that exactly; it is
+not yet so bad!"
+
+"You--you seem to have known it," cried Elsa, staring at him. He looked
+away.
+
+Elsa paces twice through the room, her arms crossed on her breast. Her
+short, unequal breaths can be heard. Then she stops before Erwin; the
+blood has rushed to her cheeks, and causes there two uneven red spots
+under her eyes. Her hatred for Linda suddenly bursts forth. "Oh, this
+repulsive, ordinary, tactless person! How deeply she has dragged him
+down!" she says, with set teeth.
+
+Erwin, to whom the cause of this unlovely and immoderate anger is
+wholly inexplicable, is displeasedly silent. This irritates Elsa still
+more, and in an even more unpleasant tone she continues, "Well, do you,
+perhaps, doubt that she and only she has ruined Felix by her incredible
+lack of tact?"
+
+For the first time since Erwin has known his wife he lost patience with
+her, and shrugging his shoulders, replied, "I find it hard to expect
+tact from a person who does not suspect the complicated difficulties of
+her position."
+
+"Erwin!--Erwin!--you--you surely do not believe that Felix would have
+married Linda without telling her of his circumstances?" She was now
+quite pale again, she trembled, her voice sounded weak and hoarse. He
+was terribly sorry for her, at this moment he would have given
+everything to be silent. He took refuge in vague phrases. "A mere
+suspicion--I spoke without thinking."
+
+But Elsa shook her head; an indescribable pain curved her lips. "No,
+Erwin," cried she, "you may not be the demi-god whom for nine years I
+have worshiped in you, but you are not capable of saying anything so
+degrading about my brother upon a mere suspicion. From whom do you know
+that?"
+
+She stood before him, drawn up to her full height, and looked him in
+the eyes with an expression which one could not lie to.
+
+"I judge so from questions which she has asked me," he stammers, and
+immediately adds, hastily, "Certainly Felix would not purposely have
+concealed the affair from her; he may have told her mother----"
+
+"That is all the same," interrupts Elsa. "His action remains
+unanswerable, for the first as well as the second time. Erwin, you poor
+man, into what a family have you married! Why would you have me? I did
+not wish it--I knew that it would be for no good." She is almost beside
+herself.
+
+"No good! Think of the nine years which we leave behind us," he
+replies, gently.
+
+"Think of the twenty, thirty years which we have before us," cries she.
+"The sacrifice which you made for me was too great."
+
+"I know of no sacrifice," he replies, warmly. "It is pure childishness
+which makes you bring that up again. Once for all, Elsa, I would not
+exchange a life at your side for the most brilliant career--to which,
+besides, I could scarcely have been called." With these words he goes
+up to her, and lays his hand gently under her chin to raise her face to
+his, but she breaks loose from him.
+
+"I thank you," says she, with hateful mockery. She thought of the
+thousand pretty speeches and charming attentions with which he had
+satisfied Linda's greedy vanity to-day. She was sick with suppressed
+jealousy. The bright light which Erwin's communication threw upon
+Linda's whole manner, and which so excused Linda, and on the other
+hand, so lowered Felix, mingled a new pain in all her morbid feelings.
+She literally no longer knew what she said, her voice became more and
+more cutting: "I thank you," she repeated. "You are very polite, you
+have a particular talent for politeness, you are the most charming man
+I know, but--but, I am sorry you had your way at that time."
+
+"Sorry, Elsa? For God's sake take that back," cried he. The pain
+which she had caused him was too deep for him to consider how much of
+her words were to be ascribed to true conviction, and what to her
+over-excited nerves.
+
+She shook her head obstinately. "Yes, I am sorry," she continued in her
+insensate speech. "At that time you could not live without me"--she
+spoke very bitterly--"yes, you would have been unhappy without me--a
+month, perhaps a year--who knows?--but then you would have consoled
+yourself, and it would have been better for you and for me. Good
+night!" and with head held high, with rigid face and trembling limbs
+she tottered out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+                                   X.
+
+
+Marienbad at six o'clock in the morning.
+
+The air is still fresh and fragrant, the long, slanting sunbeams fall
+between the damp coolness of the woody shadows. The guests crowd along
+the narrow spring walk, their glasses in their hands. They form a line
+before the spring after they have emptied their goblets, considerately
+turn and conscientiously take exercise.
+
+The sand beneath their feet, moist with the night dew, is of a dark
+reddish color. On the leaves of the graceful trees sparkle little drops
+of dew like finest enamel. In the turf which borders the sand walk
+great drops shine like diamonds. A white mist, too transparent to be
+called a fog, fills the distance. Thicker and thicker the guests crowd
+around the spring.
+
+Marienbad is overfull this year. Pleased landlords rub their fat hands,
+and push up prices to a most unheard-of amount. Guests who have omitted
+to engage rooms by telegraph can find no decent accommodations, seek
+shelter in the most miserable private houses, offer gold mines to
+shoemakers, tailors and glove-makers for one room. A whole excursion
+trainful pass the night in the waiting-room.
+
+The daughter of some reigning family, travelling incognito under the
+name "Comtesse Stip," has engaged the greatest part of the largest
+hotel for herself and her little prince in Scottish costume. A swarm of
+distinguished moths from every country has followed the princely light,
+and a crowd of _parvenus_, like a swarm of insects of the night, has
+followed the moths, who pass their time in Marienbad bandying strangely
+unselfish compliments.
+
+The famous Vienna artists play every evening in the stuffy theatre;
+princesses and dramatic _coryphees_ meet each other on the spring
+promenade.
+
+To-day a new animation is displayed by the spring pilgrims. All gaze at
+a couple who have this morning appeared for the first time upon the
+promenade. The aristocratic curiosity seems even more awakened than the
+plebeian, and all the thirty or forty pairs of eyes of Marienbad
+"society" are fixed upon the same spot--upon the knight of Harfink and
+his young wife.
+
+"That is the Juanita, the Carini; how badly she is dressed, how fat she
+has grown, how homely!" goes from mouth to mouth. "And not even an
+artistic temperament--a woman who could be sensible enough to marry a
+'checked' iron founder. When she sees Lanzberg--how he must feel!" Thus
+says society. Meanwhile, not noticing the voices hissing around her,
+Juanita, the widowed Marchesa Carini, upright and stiff, with the
+consequential manner of a retired dancer, walks between the knightly
+Harfink and his son, beaming with pride and satisfaction.
+
+How she looked fifteen years ago, at the time when she so fatally
+crossed the path of life of Felix Lanzberg, it would be difficult to
+determine. Today she looks like all elderly Spaniards, who to our
+unpractised northern eyes resemble each other almost as much as elderly
+negresses.
+
+An immoderately fleshy form, not very tall, with high bust, and
+unnaturally compressed waist, the hands tiny, like accidental
+appendages to her fat arms, the feet still incomparably beautiful, but
+too short to support the huge figure, the gait waddling, the face
+yellow and fat, mouth, eyes, and nose almost hidden by a pair of
+enormous cheeks--that is Juanita.
+
+She who, in her day, had worn the bandeaux of her nation coming down
+over her ears, now, probably because this manner of wearing the hair
+seems to her peasant-like, wears the hair drawn back from her withered
+temples, falling in black ringlets on her forehead, a hat on the back
+of her head, a green silk gown and diamonds. Her tiny shoes and
+stockings are the only parts of her costume which are faultless. The
+former, charming little black satin affairs, the latter of open-work
+black silk. In consequence of this, she wears her gown short beyond all
+bound in front, which increases the width of the whole appearance.
+
+She continually exchanges the most tender, loving glances with her
+husband, and a happy honeymoon smile illumines her yellow face when he
+addresses her.
+
+As she uses the cure with the same conscientiousness as he, she stands
+beside him at the spring. Little Comtesse L----, a lively lady whom
+nothing escapes, asserts that every time before emptying her goblet,
+Juanita coquettishly hits it against that of the "retired iron
+founder."
+
+The "checked iron founder" is a name given Mr. von Harfink on account
+of his immoderate preference for striking green and blue checked
+clothes. For two weeks Juanita has borne his name--for two weeks he has
+known how badly he really fared under Susanna's rule.
+
+The aforesaid Susanna had died a year after Linda's marriage. Linda,
+who at that time had not fully recovered from Gery's birth, expressed
+no wish to go to Vienna for her mother's burial or her father's
+consolation. Mr. von Harfink had been left to bear the heavy loss
+alone.
+
+At the funeral Baron von Harfink shed many tears into a black-bordered
+handkerchief, and displayed all the symptoms of honest emotion; after
+the funeral he fell into a condition of silent apathy. The flame which
+had given light to his mind was extinguished, all was dark within him.
+He felt like an actor of poor memory whose excellent prompter has died.
+
+About a week after the catastrophe, his nearest relatives assembled at
+a dinner in his house, with the good-natured view of diverting him. He
+sat in their midst, silently bent over his plate. They had adjourned to
+the drawing-room for coffee, and still he had not spoken a word.
+
+"The poor fellow! it has gone harder with him than we thought," the
+relatives whispered to each other. Then stretching himself comfortably
+in an arm-chair, and rubbing his stomach, he began, "Ah! things have
+not tasted so good to me as they did to-day for a long time."
+
+The feeling of an immense relief had awakened in him. No longer to be
+afraid of making stupid remarks, no longer, when he had put on his
+favorite checked vest, to be reproved with, "Anton, your vest insults
+my aesthetic feeling," or, when he had given himself up to the
+comfortable enjoyment of a favorite dish, to be frightened with,
+"Anton, a day-laborer is nothing in comparison with you;" to be forced
+to listen to no more articles from the _Rundschau_ and the _Revue des
+Deux Mondes_,--it was very pleasant.
+
+Scarcely had Susanna been three weeks in her grave, when Mr. von
+Harfink stopped the subscriptions to the _Revue_ and its German cousin,
+the _Rundschau_, retired to his estate, played nine-pins with his
+brewer and cook, and in his shirt sleeves, ordered those new checked
+plush vests, and ruined his stomach three times a week.
+
+Soon he displayed the most peculiar matrimonial intentions. He made
+love to the former companion of his deceased wife, an elderly spinster
+with thin hair and a very deep feeling for a blond theology student
+who, at that time in Magdeberg, sued for her hand.
+
+The improbable occurred; the companion refused the knight and his three
+millions, although after his death a settlement of seven hundred
+thousand guldens was assured her.
+
+The family was astonished at this unexpected unselfishness, and from
+thankfulness, and to prevent the romantic maiden from changing her mind
+later, married her to her student, with a splendid dowry.
+
+After they had met this model of prudence, the relations wrung their
+hands. If the charms of a forty-year-old, half bald companion had
+almost brought him to the altar, how should they protect him from a
+_mesalliance_?
+
+Only by the sharpest oversight was Mr. von Harfink prevented from
+marrying his housekeeper. Fearful conflicts burst forth on his
+estate--the castle became an inn.
+
+"Susie must have been cleverer than I accredited her with being," once
+remarked Eugene von Rhoeden, who indifferently looked on upon his
+relative's movements. "It certainly takes skill to govern the
+rhinoceros. None of you equal her!"
+
+At length the relatives were weary, and left Baron von Harfink to the
+guidance of his son, that is, to his fate. Raimund was far too much
+engaged in cultivating his high C to watch his father. The poor young
+man, who had been destined by his mother to be a genius, at this time
+suffered from deep depression. He had failed everywhere--at the
+university, on the stage, finally in literature.
+
+After long efforts, he had obtained an engagement in a Bohemian
+watering-place, and under the stage name of Remondo Monte-chiaro, had
+sung Raoul in a beautiful pale violet costume of real silk velvet.
+
+The audience hissed and laughed; he sprained his ankle by the leap from
+the window, and appeared no more.
+
+Then he prepared a comedy which fell through in P----, an accident
+which he attributed to the lack of cultivation of the audience there;
+then he wrote essays upon the love affair of George Sand and Alfred de
+Musset, the murder of the ambassador at Rastadt, and the Iron Mask.
+
+These effusions were published in a Vienna paper. The superficial
+public found the themes old, and did not read the articles. The
+intimate friends of the author read the first five sentences, had the
+satisfaction of discovering a grammatical error therein, and as, with
+the malice with which friendship meets every young striver, they sought
+nothing else in the articles, they laid them aside, satisfied. Raimund
+felt deeply wounded. The world seemed to him nothing more than an
+immense porcupine, which, with all its quills of prejudice, repelled
+his genius.
+
+He passed his days in gloomy brooding--then a message from his humorous
+cousin, Eugene von Rhoeden, in Venice, waked him.
+
+"Help what can be helped," he wrote. "He is going courting again; this
+time it is in earnest."
+
+Yes, it was in earnest.
+
+In Marienbad, the year before, he had first made her acquaintance; he
+had followed her to Venice. She had there, under the name Juanita,
+tried to obliterate the reputation of Pepita. Later she had borne the
+name of a Marchese Carini. She had been obliged to dance even as a
+Marchesa, for the Marchese did not disdain to make use of his wife's
+talent, and had dragged her from theatre to theatre. At one of her
+brilliant performances in St. Petersburg she broke her leg, and since
+then could dance no more. Now she became fat, sleepy, devout and
+irritable; the Marchese gambled away the greater part of her fortune,
+and died of galloping consumption. Ignorant of all business,
+continually deceived by her lovers, the Marchese Carini would have come
+to a sad end if the Knight of Harfink had not appeared as rescuer in
+her need.
+
+He married her in the beginning of June.
+
+Raimund, very depressed and deeply in debt, did not refuse to offer to
+kiss his new mamma's hand dutifully. She knew how so to fascinate him
+at the first meeting, that he was almost as slavishly submissive to her
+as his father. Juanita desired social position. She insisted upon being
+introduced to Linda. Harfink did not know that she had formerly had
+strange relations with Felix--she did not touch upon it; on the
+contrary, she reserved her power over Felix, which she had so
+boundlessly misused, for a favorable moment.
+
+Mr. von Harfink told his nephew, Eugene, when he met him in Marienbad,
+his wife's desire. "I really do not know what to do; Linda is so
+curious," he said.
+
+And Rhoeden answered with his sly smile, "Write Linda and ask her when
+you may bring her new mamma to see her--or, really I see no reason why
+you should not quietly drive over one of these days without announcing
+yourself."
+
+"I do not understand what any one could have against Chuchu!" said the
+young husband, enthusiastically. "What a woman she is! She has diamonds
+from the Emperor of ---- and a gold coat of mail from the Duke of ----,
+and with all that, she is nevertheless all domesticity and love! She
+calls me Tony, and darns my socks from pure love."
+
+
+
+
+                                  XXI.
+
+
+At this time life was for poor Felix only a heavy, oppressing burden.
+
+He knew that Juanita was staying in Marienbad; knew that she had
+married his father-in-law. He felt neither horror nor astonishment at
+this step; nothing which she did would have astonished him, but he felt
+oppressed by the sense of her nearness; a true superstitious fear of
+the magic charm which her beauty had for him weighed upon him. His
+recollections, his imagination, had been busy with the picture of her
+which he still possessed--had invested it with the most refined charms.
+For Felix, the only excuse for his inexcusable conduct, by which he had
+ruined his life, lay in the demoniac fascination of the dancer.
+
+Linda had written her father, before his marriage, an annihilating
+letter, to which she had received no answer. She believed her father
+angry, and therefore expected nothing less than a visit from him.
+Felix, who thought her opinion sensible, nevertheless showed from time
+to time a certain fear, and thereby excited the spirit of contradiction
+in Linda.
+
+"One can be glad that papa has done nothing worse," she remarked
+once, indifferently. "It is not to be supposed that they will have
+children--_et pour le reste_, such a marriage with a dancer has a
+certain _cachet_. I shall make no advances to her, but if she comes I
+must receive her!"
+
+Felix shuddered and was silent.
+
+Bitterly ashamed of himself, for a time he had tried to restrain his
+thirst for liquor. But he could control himself no longer. When the old
+remembrance began to burn in his heart like eating poison, he at first
+tried hard to occupy himself. He read, but, unaccustomed to all mental
+activity, a book scarcely chained his attention. He took long walks, he
+was too uneasy to become tired; he rode, he was too good a horseman to
+have any trouble with his horse.
+
+His heart grew more and more heavy, and he drank--drank privately in
+his room so as not to be surprised in an unreliable condition. He was
+always temperate at table. No one saw him now with flabby lips and
+tottering knees, and his friends did not notice that he was really
+never quite sober now. His hands shook perpetually, there was a watery
+look in his staring, hollow eyes. A slight bluish flush colored his
+nostrils, and his voice was quavering.
+
+Meanwhile Linda, careless and indifferent, fluttered around him,
+bitterness in her heart, on her lips a charming smile and malicious
+jests. A butterfly with a wasp's sting, Scirocco had called her, and
+Pistasch repeated it to her. It had greatly pleased her.
+
+At this time Pistasch came to Traunberg almost daily. Linda coquetted
+with him, but her coquetry was vague and cold, and was neither
+challenging nor encouraging. He made no progress, as he expressed
+himself to Scirocco. "She has no temperament and no heart," he
+grumbled, and once he added, "Perhaps I am not the right one----"
+
+"What do you mean?" replied Scirocco, impatiently, remembering the
+suspicion which had been cast upon him. But Pistasch only answered
+crossly, "Garzin!"
+
+"Impossible!" replied Scirocco, unwillingly. Pistasch only shrugged his
+shoulders, and when Sempaly began to consider the matter, he must admit
+that Garzin went oftener than was necessary to Traunberg, that Linda
+had quite a different glance and voice when she was with him from what
+she had for others, that she made concessions to him which she granted
+no one else, never wore again the most becoming toilets if he had once
+condemned them, and did not sing the most piquant couplets if he
+shrugged his shoulders over them, and, once on the slippery path of
+distrust, Scirocco told himself also that the charming sisterly
+confidence which Linda permitted herself with her brother-in-law was
+scarcely in place in such a beautiful woman with such a young man.
+
+He was angry with Garzin.
+
+"He really does not think of wrong, but he should be careful--for----"
+
+Like all people of his stamp, Scirocco, in affairs of passion, did not
+believe in free will, but so much the more in the compelling influence
+of opportunity.
+
+"You have a new bracelet, Linda," said Felix one day, after dinner, to
+his wife as she smoked a cigarette with him in the drawing-room.
+
+"Do you like it?" said she, and held out her white arm to him. The
+bracelet consisted of a thick gold chain to which a little coin was
+fastened.
+
+"Charming!" answered Felix, apparently indifferently. "Did you buy it
+in Marienbad?"
+
+"No; Kamenz gave it to me to-day--he owed me a philopena," replied
+Linda.
+
+"Hm!" Felix looked gloomy, but did not know exactly how to put his
+vexation into words. He asked himself, "Have I the right to reprove my
+wife?"
+
+"Ah, the bracelet seems to please you less since you know where it
+comes from," said Linda, smiling maliciously. "Poor Felix! Are you,
+perhaps, jealous of this handsome, silly Pistasch? He is about as
+dangerous to me as that dandy there," and she pointed to a dainty
+Meissner figure in knee breeches and flowered vest, who with cocked hat
+under his arm, smiled down from a bracket.
+
+"Well, I certainly do not wish to disturb your little amusement,"
+stammered Felix, "but you do not know how much gossip arises from
+intercourse between a woman like you and a man like Pistasch, and if he
+is really so indifferent to you--why--then--perhaps you might receive
+him somewhat less frequently."
+
+"Hm!" said Linda, thoughtfully. "However indifferent that porcelain
+dandy yonder is to me, I have not the slightest inclination to throw
+him out of the window." She blew a few whiffs of smoke up to the
+ceiling.
+
+"But there is no question of that," replied Felix, "only see him less
+often----"
+
+Linda would not let him finish.
+
+"But do you not see, my dear Felix," said she, knocking the ashes from
+her cigarette, "to the house of a woman like me, who--let us speak
+plainly--really does not belong to his set, a man like Pistasch either
+comes not at all or every day. I am of a sociable nature--I must
+associate with some one, or else I should die of _ennui_. If no ladies
+will come, then I will receive men."
+
+"I cannot understand why you do not get on better with Elsa," remarked
+Felix, uneasily.
+
+"I was there recently; she has not returned my visit," said Linda. "I
+cannot force her to come. I believe she is vexed with me because Erwin
+amuses himself with me. Heaven knows our intercourse is of wholly an
+innocent nature!"
+
+The young woman rocked softly back and forth in her chair and laughed
+to herself, striking the finger-tips of her loosely clasped hands
+together.
+
+"I do not doubt that for a moment, but you should have some
+consideration for Elsa--she is nervous and sensitive."
+
+"Ah! and I am to suit my behavior to her interesting nervous
+condition," laughed Linda. "That is to say, I am to be intolerable to
+Erwin. _Eh bien, non merci!_ He is the only man of my present
+acquaintance of whom I think anything."
+
+Felix was silent. Then without was heard a rustling and puffing as of a
+heavy silk gown and an asthmatic person. A foreboding distressed Felix.
+Linda half rose. "That is surely not----?" she murmured, but already
+the servant had opened the door. "Baron and Baroness Harfink!" he
+announced.
+
+Very red-faced, even fatter than formerly, with confident bearing,
+shining with happiness and perspiration, and with the air of a youthful
+dandy, Linda's father approached his daughter.
+
+Although she had thought that she remembered him very well, she is
+still somewhat abashed at his astonishing appearance. Nevertheless she
+makes the best of a bad game, and condescendingly offers him her cheek
+to kiss. He kisses her loudly on the mouth.
+
+"Ah, you look splendidly--no matter, you wrote me a foolish letter, but
+the past shall be forgotten. Here I bring your new mamma to you. She
+was good-hearted enough to pay you the first visit. You have certainly
+heard of the Marchesa Carini."
+
+"Also of Juanita," says Linda, giving the tips of her fingers to her
+step-mother. "I am indescribably pleased to make the acquaintance of
+such a great _coryphee_. I have never yet had the pleasure of seeing a
+dancer except on the stage." The colossal insolence of her words is
+lost upon Juanita, owing to her stupidity and deficient knowledge of
+German, but the depreciation in tone and glance is perceptible to the
+dancer. She feels helpless and irritated.
+
+"Does Marienbad please you?" continues Linda, with the insolent
+condescension which she has studied from the best examples.
+
+"Very pretty," murmurs the Spaniard, twisting her handkerchief between
+her hands. She speaks poor German. Linda is delighted with her
+pronunciation, and does not take the trouble to speak French, for which
+cosmopolitan language the dancer had forgotten her mother-tongue.
+
+"If I remember rightly, I once had the pleasure of seeing you dance--it
+was in '67, in Vienna--my first theatre evening."
+
+"In Vienna?" said the dancer. "Oh! that was a small performance--that
+was at first--later, when I travelled with my husband, the Marchese
+Carini, _je n'ai jamais travaille_ except in St. Petersburg, Paris,
+London and Baden-Baden."
+
+"Ah!" says Linda; the conversation pauses.
+
+Papa Harfink, leaning somewhat forward, his heels under his chair,
+rests in a low arm-chair, and monotonously strokes his leg from the
+knee upwards and back again.
+
+And Felix? Pressed tightly into a dark corner, where the hope of being
+forgotten and overlooked chains him, he stands motionless. As light
+perspiration which does not cool, but rather burns, moistens his whole
+body, the blood sings in his ears, his tongue cleaves to his teeth. He
+has not self-possession enough to hear her, he has not the courage to
+look at her; she floats before his mind, the most seductive siren, the
+most bewitching woman that ever, trifling and playing with a man,
+ruined his honor. He still dreads the disturbing might of her beauty.
+Curiosity compels him to gaze at her; he looks and does not trust his
+eyes. Where is the Juanita? Near his wife he sees a yellow, bloated
+woman, prematurely old, tastelessly dressed, squeezed into a black
+_moire antique_ gown, with folds under her round eyes, little
+fan-shaped wrinkles on her temples, and black down about the corners of
+her mouth. Common, fat, awkward, she sits there, a double chin resting
+on her fat bosom, her hands clasped over a lace-edged handkerchief in
+her lap! Felix cannot believe his eyes. That must be a mistake--that
+cannot be Juanita! Then, beneath the hem of her gown, he sees a tiny
+foot in a black satin shoe, and now he knows that this is Juanita!
+
+He notices a light brown mole on her neck--it disgusts him, but then he
+remembers how this mole had once pleased him, how often he had jokingly
+kissed it! His cheeks burn--he has lost his last illusion--the whole
+vulgarity of the temptress to whom he had yielded is pitilessly exposed
+to him. Involuntarily he makes a movement. Papa Harfink discovers him.
+"Ah, Felix," he cries, already somewhat out of temper, "are you hiding
+from me? I should think," he adds, relying upon the power of his
+millions, "that such a father-in-law as I is not to be despised."
+
+Slowly Felix advances.
+
+"My husband," says Linda to the dancer. But the latter's face has taken
+on a prepossessing smile, and with the confidential expression which
+appeals to old times, she says, "I know him already, _tout a fait un
+ami_ from my _debutante_ period; is it not so?"
+
+She gives him her hand.
+
+The hand, only covered by a lace mitt, is flabby, and as Juanita, half
+rising, presses this hand against the lips of Felix, who is bowing to
+her, his face changes, plainly expresses disgust, and he lets the hand
+fall unkissed.
+
+Juanita trembles with rage. "Let us go," screams she--"let us go! Oh,
+Sir Baron, you think that I am only a dancer--and--and----"
+
+Speech fails her, she gasps for breath. "Let us go, let us go!" she
+pants.
+
+"My Chuchu! My beloved wife!" cries Mr. von Harfink, and not honoring
+Felix and Linda with a word, he leads the Spaniard out of the room.
+
+The carriage rolls away with the wedded pair. Scarcely has the door
+closed behind the Harfinks when Linda bursts into loud, happy laughter.
+Her husband's stiff manner, his way of ignoring her father, which,
+under other circumstances, would another time have irritated her from
+pure capriciousness, have this time chanced to delight her. "You are
+unique, Felix, wholly unique!" she cries to him. "You were so
+deliciously arrogant! But what is the matter with you? Are you ill?
+_Tiens!_ Juanita is your great secret! Poor boy!" She taps him on the
+shoulder, she laughs yet. "What a disappointment, eh! But what is the
+matter? No, listen; it is humiliating for me that the meeting with this
+comedian has so robbed you of your self-control, Felix!"
+
+His secret still has a charm for her, surrounds his poor bent form with
+a romantic light. Something startling, shockingly horrible, she seeks
+behind this, but not something dishonorable! With a teasing tenderness,
+which she has never shown him since their honeymoon, she strokes his
+cheeks, and begs, "Tell me what distresses you."
+
+Then Felix's conscience torments him; he feels as if he would rather
+die than keep his secret longer. For a moment he almost counts upon
+mercy from this soft childish creature who has seated herself beside
+him on the arm of his old-fashioned chair.
+
+"Linda," he begins, "when I married you I did not know--that
+you--suspected nothing of--of this matter. Your mother assured me that
+she had told you of my past----" he hesitates.
+
+"Oh, my mother spared my youth, and only made the vaguest allusions!"
+
+He draws a deep breath. "A terrible story is connected with this
+Spaniard,"--he hesitates--she looks closely and curiously at him; a
+sudden idea occurs to her: "You shot a friend in a duel on her
+account?" she cries, and then, as she sees him start but shake his
+head, she says softly, with indistinct articulation and hollow voice,
+"Or--or not in a duel--from jealousy?"
+
+He lowers his head--he cannot speak--then slowly rising he totters out
+of the room. She remains alone--staring before her--her heart beats
+loudly--then she was right! All his enigmatical behavior is explained;
+she now even understands her fellow men, and strangely enough, she
+almost pardons him.
+
+Felix, beside himself with jealousy, thirsting for revenge, plunging a
+knife into the breast of his friend--the scene has something dazzling,
+something which compels her sympathy. She pictures the scene to
+herself; the luxurious apartment of the dancer--the two men, both
+deathly pale--she has seen something similar in the Porte St. Martin
+theatre. A peculiar excitement overpowers her corrupted nature,
+thirsting for strong stimulants. She loves Felix!
+
+Two minutes later she knocks at his locked door. "Let me in, me, your
+wife, who wishes to console you!"
+
+Felix does not open the door.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXII.
+
+
+It is already twilight. Eugene von Rhoeden sits with his cousin Raimund
+in the Harfinks' drawing-room. As Pistasch had ridden to Traunberg,
+where Rhoeden seldom accompanied him, the Countess Dey was in bed with
+a headache, and Scirocco had one of those fits of desperate melancholy
+which so often tormented him, and was wandering about the woods, Eugene
+had nothing to do in Iwanow. For a change he had ridden over to
+Marienbad. At the forest spring, where the guests were assembled around
+the music-stand, he had met Raimund, and had heard from him that "the
+old man" had driven over with his wife to see the arrogant Linda; he,
+Raimund, had spared them his society.
+
+Eugene resolved to await the return of the pair; it interested him to
+learn something about the result of the visit.
+
+The two cousins soon came to the conclusion that the music and the
+crowd around the pavilion were intolerable as well as the heat, and
+betook themselves to the _Muehl strasse_, where Papa Harfink, more
+conservative than superstitious, and besides wholly secure in his new
+happiness from indiscreet visits of Susanna's ghost, occupied the same
+apartments in which for long years he had "suffered" every summer with
+the deceased.
+
+With a tinge of bitterness Eugene looked about him as he entered the
+bright room in which he had passed so many sweet hours with Linda.
+There stood the old-fashioned arm-chair yet, with the same covering,
+now, to be sure, worn at all the corners, the chair in which she used
+to lean back in the sultry summer afternoons, teasingly pulling to
+pieces his last gift of flowers with her delicate fingers, while Papa
+Harfink snored in the adjoining room; Mamma Harfink, in her maid's
+room, discussed the cut of her new toilet with the latter, but he,
+Eugene, crouching at the feet of the young girl, told her gay, trifling
+little stories, many times half-jokingly interspersing a tender word.
+Then she threw a flower in his face; her hand remained imprisoned in
+his, and he kissed it for punishment. Thus it went on for hours, until
+Papa Harfink entered the room with scarcely opened eyes and hair
+tumbled by sleep, and asked, "Are we going to have coffee at home
+to-day?"
+
+Eugene had never seen the room since he had rushed into it, now more
+than five years ago, the bunch of white gardenias in his hand, and had
+found his cousin Lanzberg's _fiancee_. At that time he had not changed
+his expression, had not by one word betrayed his passion, knowing well
+that a man like him who wishes to rise in the world is condemned to
+perpetual agreeableness.
+
+How he had felt at that time!
+
+His was no sentimental nature, but he had a faithful memory, and
+remembered distinctly how he had murmured the most polite phrases of
+congratulation; had drawn a comparison between himself and the man of
+old family, and beside, Felix had seemed to himself like a handsome
+dry-goods clerk.
+
+His love for Linda--it had been genuine of its kind--had long fled, but
+the wound which her vanity had inflicted in his still burned. The wish
+to repay Linda for her arrogance still animated him.
+
+The hour was near.
+
+Outside a carriage was heard, then loud, creaking steps on the wooden
+stairs; a hoarse, croaking woman's voice gasped out from time to time
+furious and incomprehensible words; the door opened and Juanita
+entered. Crimson, with swollen veins and sparkling eyes, she threw her
+fan, broken in the middle, upon the table.
+
+In vain did Papa Harfink again and again stretch his short arms out to
+her and cry, "Lovely angel, calm yourself!" She had no time for love.
+
+"To insult me!--me--me!" she beat her breast; "me, Juanita, the
+Marchesa Carini--bah!" she clenched her fist, "he, a criminal--a----"
+
+"Who has insulted you, who is a criminal?" asks Raimund.
+
+"He--he--this Lanzberg!" she gasps. "Oh, I will revenge myself--they
+shall see--I will revenge myself--Caro, Caro!" screams the Spaniard.
+
+Caroline is the maid, who enters at her mistress's loud cry.
+
+"Bring me the little black casket with the golden bird!" commands
+Juanita.
+
+The maid disappears; soon she returns with the casket, which she places
+upon the table before her mistress, whereupon she withdraws.
+
+The blood throbs in Eugene's finger-tips, but, apparently perfectly
+indifferent, he stoops for the lace scarf which, with a quick gesture,
+Juanita has thrown from her upon the floor. Papa Harfink, who took the
+matter very phlegmatically, rang to order a flask of spring water and a
+lemon.
+
+Juanita rummaged for a long time among old newspapers in which her
+triumphs were recorded. She turned them over more and more uneasily.
+Papa Harfink had long since ordered his spring water, when at last
+Juanita "found it."
+
+"There it is!" cried she. "Will you read it?"
+
+Eugene von Rhoeden refused. Raimund read it aloud.
+
+It was an article in a scandalous journal which appeared in Vienna
+early in the sixties, but since then had failed or been suppressed. In
+that impertinent tone of cheap wit which seeks intellect in mockery,
+knowledge of human nature in cynicism, the story was told of a very
+arrogant young blue blood who in a weak hour had forged his father's
+name and who "now could further cultivate his talent for drawing in the
+prison of T----."
+
+The name of the young man was given as Baron L----. Some one had
+written "Lanzberg" above it.
+
+"That is not possible!" cried Raimund.
+
+"Oh, if you please--if you please--possible!" screamed Juanita. "It is
+all true--perfectly true!"
+
+"I once heard something of that," declared Harfink, senior, whom the
+whole story troubled very little, and who had not enlightened Susanna.
+
+Rhoeden was silent.
+
+"And this despicable rascal has dared to marry into our honest family!"
+cried Raimund, beside himself.
+
+"Susie knew of it! He-he-he!" burst out Mr. Harfink, who now only too
+gladly accused the deceased.
+
+"My mother knew it!" Raimund struck his forehead. "Linda surely does
+not know it!"
+
+"Leave her in her delusion," said Eugene, sweetly. "One cannot change
+matters in the slightest, and all these years Felix has behaved so
+blamelessly, so nobly, so----"
+
+He knew that his praise of Lanzberg would bring forth a new burst of
+rage from Juanita.
+
+"Indeed!" now repeated the Spaniard, with malevolent emphasis, "nobly,
+blamelessly!" and seized the paper.
+
+"No; Linda must know it; I shall write to her this very day!" cried
+Raimund.
+
+"That you will not do," said Eugene, firmly.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it would be vulgar." With that Eugene rose and took his hat.
+
+Juanita had meanwhile added to the time-obliterated pencil-mark a new,
+heavier one, had wrapped up the paper with remarkable deftness, and
+addressed it.
+
+"Will you put that in the post-box?" she asked.
+
+"No, my dear madam," he replied, gravely, bowed and left. Behind him he
+heard the voice of the Spaniard: "Caro, Caro--to the post--but
+immediately!"
+
+Through the damp evening shadows he trotted to Iwanow. He enjoyed the
+pleasant conviction of having behaved throughout as an eminently
+upright man, and also the pleasant conviction that he had attained his
+aim.
+
+At a turn of the road, castle Traunberg shone gray and ghost-like
+between the dark old lindens. Eugene took off his hat, smiling
+ironically, and murmured, "Good evening, Linda!"
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXIII.
+
+
+Linda knocked in vain at her husband's door. In spite of her coaxing
+requests she had not been admitted. More and more horrible thoughts
+occurred to her. In ever more interesting colors her imagination
+painted her husband's secret. She expected that he would appear at tea;
+he excused himself, and did not leave his room again that day. She grew
+more and more excited--she did not sleep that night, only towards
+morning did she close her eyes.
+
+Felix was no longer in the house when she had risen; he had ordered a
+horse saddled at six o'clock that morning, and had ridden over to
+Lanzberg.
+
+Linda grew impatient. "Can I find old letters anywhere?" thought she.
+"In any case I must look through the attic rooms some day." She ordered
+the keys of the upper story. Mrs. Stifler, the housekeeper, looked upon
+it as understood that the young wife would require a guide for her
+wanderings, and prepared to accompany her. But, pleasantly as she
+treated all the servants, and especially those who had been in the
+family from one generation to another, Linda declined the old woman's
+company.
+
+At first she had difficulty in finding the right key for the different
+keyholes. As the rooms for the most part opened into each other, and
+only the doors into the corridor were locked, that was soon overcome.
+
+None of the rooms were quite empty and none were fully furnished. An
+odor of mould and dry flowers and close, oppressive air filled them. On
+all objects dust lay like a gray seal of time. Some of the rooms had
+such thick curtains that only here and there a bluish white streak of
+light lay on the floor, amid the dark shadows; others, and the most,
+had neither curtains nor blinds, and the light in them was dazzlingly
+bright. There stood a gilded carved arm-chair with brocade covering
+of the style brought from France in those days when Maria Theresa
+called the Pompadour "_ma chere cousine_," and near by a whole row of
+spindle-legged chairs with lyre-shaped backs in the stiff style of the
+Empire. And the arm-chair looked handsome and arrogant, the chairs
+hideous and pretentiously solid--and both alike were long ago
+unavailable and did not know it! Alabaster and porcelain clocks with
+pillars for ornaments, and thin Arabian figures on large white dials,
+slept away the time on yellow commodes with inlaid wood arabesques.
+Many family portraits of long-ago generations hung on the walls, mostly
+oil paintings, the men all standing in very narrow coats with very
+large revers, their hands on their hips, their eyes contracted to that
+narrow exclusive gaze which overlooks all unpleasant circumstances of
+life and worldly affairs, characteristic of the manly _ancien regime_;
+the women all seated, with broad sleeves and curls arranged in the
+English fashion; in the eyes that charming, unabashed gaze which on
+their side characterizes the women of the _ancien regime_, a gaze which
+sees in poverty only picturesque objects at the side of their path; a
+gaze which, mild and loving as it is, yet pains because it is
+accustomed to nothing but the beautiful, expects nothing but the
+beautiful, and therefore humiliates misery and hideousness.
+
+Linda felt embarrassed at so much of the past; a certain hesitation,
+which did not accord with her indiscreet, egotistical, pushing nature,
+paralyzed her hands, while she, prying into Felix's secret, opened old
+chests and pulled out drawers.
+
+She found trophies of the hunt, an old brocade gown, in a wardrobe a
+bridal wreath and a half dozen old riding boots; she found old notes,
+books, albums full of copied poems, books of Latin and Greek exercises,
+and an ambitious plan for dramatizing Le Cid, in round, childish
+writing, old bills, receipts, but she found no old letters.
+
+In one of the last rooms she discovered a newer secretary, which was
+ornamented with painted porcelain tablets, on which pink and sky-blue
+ladies walked in brilliant green landscapes. Linda opened every drawer,
+knew how to fathom the most secret compartments, and finally discovered
+a bundle of old letters tied with a black ribbon. Her heart beat
+rapidly; she was about to hurry away when a picture with face turned to
+the wall attracted her attention. The dust upon it was more recent than
+upon the other objects. Not without difficulty she turned it around,
+and uttered a little "Ah!" of admiration.
+
+The picture was no better painted than most modern family portraits,
+but it represented the handsomest young man who ever wore the green
+uniform of the Austrian Uhlans, of '66. The carriage of the young
+officer, who sat there carelessly, with head slightly bent forward and
+sabre between his knees, was well portrayed. Linda thought that she had
+never seen a more fascinating man; the pleasant mouth, the shy and yet
+confident glance, the naive arrogance of the whole expression--all
+pleased her. Who could that be? She went down stairs and commanded two
+servants to bring the picture to the drawing-room at once. One of the
+servants--it was Felix's old valet--permitted himself to remark, "The
+Baron did not like the picture, and in consequence had banished it to
+the second story."
+
+Linda insisted that her command should be executed. "Do you know whom
+the picture represents?" she asked, as she passed.
+
+The old man seemed surprised and hesitated. "The Baron, himself."
+
+"Ah!" Linda bit her lips, and made a gesture of dismissal.
+
+When the man had gone away with the servant to fetch the picture, Linda
+laughed to herself, gayly--the joke seemed to her delicious.
+
+Scarcely was she alone when she bent over the letters. They were
+written in a flippant, haughty tone which harmonized well with the
+portrait. The first dated from a Polish garrison; in all was evident
+the naive selfishness of a good-hearted but uncommonly indulged man.
+The letters pleased Linda very well. From time to time she glanced at
+the portrait, which, in accordance with her wishes, had been brought
+in.
+
+"What a pity that I did not know him at that time," said she, and then
+added, shrugging her shoulders, "at that time he would scarcely have
+wished to have anything to do with me."
+
+When Felix returned from his ride he found in the vestibule, among
+other letters arrived in the morning, an old newspaper in a wrapper
+addressed in very poor writing to his wife.
+
+He looked at it, read the post-mark, Marienbad--he recognized Juanita's
+writing. His heart throbbed violently. The idea of suppressing the
+paper flashed through his mind; he seized it, then a kind of fury with
+himself overcame him. He was weary of striving to prevent his last
+great humiliation, and like one in deep water who, when the waves reach
+up to his throat, weary of exertion, defiantly flings himself into the
+horrible element in order to make an end of it, so he sent the paper to
+his wife himself, by a servant. Then he went to his room. He seated
+himself at his writing-desk, and resting his head on one hand, with the
+other mechanically smoothing a newspaper which lay before him, he
+waited, half with dread, half with longing, like a criminal condemned
+to death, for the message which should summon him to the gallows.
+
+Then he heard a fearful, piercing scream. "Ah!" said he, "she knows
+it!" Will she come to him? There is a rustle in the corridor, the door
+of the room is flung open, and Linda enters, or rather bursts in. Her
+face is distorted; a lock of loosened hair hangs over her ashy pale
+cheeks.
+
+"It is a calumny, it cannot be true!" she cried, and threw the paper
+which Juanita had sent her before him upon the table.
+
+He is silent. Her vanity believes in him until the last moment; has
+expected an explanation from him, but he is silent.
+
+She grasps his shoulder. "For God's sake is it true that you were
+sentenced to two years' imprisonment for forgery?"
+
+Then he murmurs so softly that his voice seems only an echo, "Yes!"
+
+She staggers back, remains speechless for a moment, and then bursts
+into not convulsive, not hysterical, no, only indescribably mocking
+laughter. "And I was proud to bear the name of Lanzberg," she murmurs.
+"Now at last I know how I came by that honor." She feels not one iota
+of pity for the mortally wounded man who has quivered at each of her
+words as beneath the blow of a whip; she feels nothing at all but her
+immense humiliation. The wish to pain him as much as possible burns
+within her, and for a moment she pauses in her speech because she can
+think of nothing that is cutting and venomous enough. "And if you had
+even informed me of the situation, had given me the choice whether I
+would bear a branded name or not," she at length begins again.
+
+Then he who had until this moment sat there perfectly silent, with
+anxiously raised shoulders, his hand over his eyes, raises his head
+wearily. "Linda, I begged your mother to tell you of my disgrace--she
+assured me that she had done so. On my word of----" he pauses, a
+horrible smile parts Linda's lips.
+
+"Go on," cries she, "your word of honor. I will believe you--it is
+possible that you speak the truth. My mother suppressed your
+confession, good; but every glance and word of mine during our
+engagement must have convinced you that she had suppressed it. You
+cannot answer that to your conscience," she hissed.
+
+To that he replies nothing, but sits there motionless and silent. She
+wishes to force him to proclaim his shame by an outcry, a gesture of
+supplication. "I have borne a branded name for five years--I have
+brought into the world a branded child," says she quickly and
+distinctly, her eyes resting intently upon him.
+
+At length he shudders; he looks at her with a glance which pleases her,
+it shows such fearful misery--her eyes sparkle. "And all for the sake
+of a Juanita!" she cries again scornfully, and leaves the room.
+
+She rushes down stairs breathlessly; there in the large drawing-room
+stands the picture, the package of letters lies on a table. Tears of
+rage rush to Linda's eyes. She pulls the bell sharply. "Take that
+picture away!" she commands the servant who appears.
+
+She would like to declare to the servant that she knew nothing of the
+Lanzberg disgrace when she married a Lanzberg.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXIV.
+
+
+"All for the sake of a Juanita!" That was the most biting remark Linda
+had made, was what made Felix feel most keenly his degradation.
+
+He had heard of people who sinned for a good object, who had forged
+their fathers' names from generous precipitancy to save the honor of a
+friend, with the ideal conviction that the father himself must declare
+that he was satisfied with the wrong action on account of the
+unfortunate complications. But he? No false idea of sacrifice, no
+desire for martyrdom had confused him; as the cause of his action he
+found nothing but egoism and search for enjoyment, a brutal passion for
+an unworthy woman.
+
+The explanation of his act lay in the hot-blooded temperament of a
+thoroughly spoiled and indulged man, whose first ungratified wish robs
+him of his senses--the excuse of his act lay nowhere. He also had never
+sought it, and had never for one instant forgiven himself, but all
+these years, wherever he went, had dragged about with him the
+consciousness of his degradation.
+
+It had weighed so heavily upon him that this in itself had prevented
+every moral elevation in him.
+
+Had his sense of honor not been by nature and education so fanatic, so
+morbidly sensitive, he would perhaps have learned in time to accustom
+himself to his situation, and become a commonplace, anxiously
+respectable man who contented himself with playing first fiddle in
+circles which were a step lower than his own.
+
+But however he was situated, he never learned to reckon with his
+detracted honor. It could not satisfy him to represent an ordinary,
+respectable man.
+
+"How was it possible; oh, God, how was it possible that I, Felix
+Lanzberg, could so forget myself?" he groaned.
+
+He let his head fall upon his folded arms on his writing-desk.
+
+Then through his weary mind, like a triumphal fanfare of temptation,
+rang the melody of a Spanish national dance, with its exciting, sharply
+accented rhythm and perfidious modulations. The portion of his past in
+which his present grief had root rose vividly and with the most minute
+particulars to his memory.
+
+It dated back--oh, that beautiful unrecallable time--twenty-three
+years. Very wealthy, handsome, of good family, fond of gay life and
+without any serious aims, he liked to amuse himself, rendered homage to
+his colonel's wife, as is obligatory in every young officer, supported
+here a factory-girl, there a glove-maker, but at that time his great
+passion was really four-in-hand driving. On the whole, he was of too
+ideal temperament to find enjoyment in light-minded passions, and had
+no talent for such. In association with all other beings--his
+superiors, comrades, subordinates, tradespeople and proletaries--full
+of a certain good-nature, self-satisfied. In intercourse with women he
+was almost shy, stiff, grave, and well-bred to the finger-tips. He was
+everywhere considered sentimental and solid.
+
+The last Easter he had raved over Countess Adelina L----, the sister of
+the same Count L---- whom he had encountered so unpleasantly at Mimi
+Dey's--had danced three cotillons with her, lost two philopenas to her,
+and passed much time at receptions, seated in a low arm-chair beside
+her, gazing at her with enraptured eyes, and accompanying his glances
+with a few anxious, very involved and equally unmeaning phrases. It
+only required some sharp elderly friend of the Countess to make matters
+plain to him--that is, to call his attention to the fact that he was
+really betrothed.
+
+He seemed made to marry early, to adore his wife, and to bore his
+intimate friends with accounts of the wonderful peculiarities of his
+children. Then, on a mild, damp spring evening, after a good dinner,
+and not quite sober, he chanced to go with several comrades to the
+Orpheum, which later, owing to an American who walked a telegraph wire
+with much ease and grace, became a great attraction, but which then
+tried its fortune with Spanish dancers and a lion-tamer.
+
+The dance production began with four Spaniards, two women, two men, all
+four old, homely, and so thin that they did not need castanets to
+rattle, danced with convulsive charm, smiled like painted death's
+heads, and on the whole reminded one strongly of certain repulsive
+pictures of Goya, which are usually voted exaggerated, so as to allay
+the horror which they cause.
+
+The officers cried "Brava!" with biting irony, the audience hissed,
+several indignant voices grumbled at the director. Then the first bars
+of the madrilena resounded through the atmosphere impregnated with
+tobacco smoke and the odor of eatables. A new apparition stepped upon
+the stage. A smile--a glance--the deepest indignation changed to the
+most breathless astonishment. With the voluptuous bowing and swaying of
+a Spanish dance, the most beautiful woman that was ever called Senorita
+floated over the stage. That was Juanita! The horrible background of
+the quartette heightened the luxuriant charm of her figure.
+
+She was no practised dancer, none of our conventional ballerinas, whose
+perfect flexibility destroys all individual charm; her limbs had not
+been disfigured by year-long torture; they possessed neither the
+pitiful thinness nor the dazzling rapidity of a race-horse. She did not
+know how to execute with the lower extremities the most ambitious
+figures, while--as is considered essential--the upper body remained
+stiff; she did no gymnastics--she danced! And not only with her
+limbs--she danced with her whole body.
+
+Oh, what an intoxicating bending and swaying! A proud drawing up of the
+body, and caressing sinking backward! Her dancing had nothing animated,
+challenging about it, but something subtly alluring, almost magically
+seductive. Her whole appearance suggested longing weariness, as when in
+a storm the flowers shudderingly bend their heads earthward. And she
+was beautiful! The short oval of her face, the low brow, the short,
+straight nose, the delicate, quivering nostrils, the high cheek-bones,
+the slightly sunken cheeks, the long, deep-set eyes, full of loving
+dreaminess and passion, the full, curved lips, turning upward with an
+expression of languishing weariness--all this reminded one not in the
+least of the ideal, gentle brunette Madonnas of Murillo. It reminded
+one of nothing holy, nothing classical--but it was the most seductive
+earthly beauty which one could imagine!
+
+The audience raved; the officers screamed themselves hoarse with
+"Brava! Brava!" Some of them made poor jokes about the dancer, others
+hummed or whistled reminiscences of the Spanish music. Only Felix was
+silent. "You act like one to whom a ghost has announced death," jested
+Prince Hugo B----, and thereupon proposed that the officers should go
+upon the stage in a body and give Juanita an ovation.
+
+How he remembers all that to-day! The large half-lighted room near
+the stage, the dusty old rafters, the ropes, the torn scenes, the dim
+gas-lights, the crowd of actors and actresses huddled together, the
+trapeze artist who wore a brown waterproof over his pink doublet and
+green tights, and in the midst of this unsavory crowd--Juanita. In a
+shabby gray dress, and green and blue checked shawl, she stood near an
+elderly very shabby woman, and smiled with her languishing lips most
+indifferently, while the men vied with each other in paying her the
+most effusive compliments in imaginary Spanish or bad French. When they
+withdrew Felix stumbled over something. It was the yellow flower which
+Juanita had worn in her hair, dusty, withered, trodden upon. Carefully
+he wiped the dust from it, and tried to revive the faded, crumpled
+petals.
+
+"Deuce take it! We should invite her to supper," cried Prince B----,
+suddenly standing still.
+
+"Why, Hugo?" stammered Felix.
+
+The former laughed, turned on his heel, gave his invitation, and
+Juanita nodded perfectly contentedly. She had no objection to sup with
+the gentlemen. To be sure, she took her theatre mother with her.
+
+How Felix recalled all this!
+
+The glaring gas-light in the long narrow room of the restaurant; the
+sleepy, blinking waiter; Manuela--that was the name of the dancer's
+protecting angel--who, without removing hat or wrap, and also without
+saying a word, with the usual appetite of all theatre mothers, bent
+over her plate; the officers who, with faces flushed with wine,
+proposed clumsy toasts, and Juanita who, seated beside the Prince upon
+a red divan, again and again rubbed her large weary eyes with her
+little hands, like a sleepy child.
+
+She ate without affectation and without greediness--only sipped the
+champagne, smiled good-naturedly at the boldest jokes, whether she
+understood them not, with the resignation of a being who was accustomed
+to earn her bread in this manner.
+
+The old Manuela had long been snoring. Some the officers had grown
+melancholy, the others were noisy only by fits and starts--Juanita's
+eyes closed.
+
+"Let her go, she is tired," remarked an elderly captain.
+
+"Before we part, I beg one especial favor," cried Prince B----. "That
+the Senorita give us each a kiss."
+
+The dancer made a few gestures of dissent, because that was a part of
+her trade, and then yielded.
+
+Patiently she let one after the other of the young men press his
+mustache, smelling of wine and smoke, upon her beautiful mouth. At
+length Felix's turn came, but he avoided her lips, profaned by the
+kisses of his comrades, and only kissed her hand very softly.
+Misunderstanding the tenderness of his action, she believed that he
+despised her kiss.
+
+A few minutes later the two sleepy Spaniards rolled away to their home
+in a carriage which Prince B---- had paid for.
+
+"A beautiful creature, but a perfect goose," remarked B---- to Felix,
+as he strolled back to the barracks with him. The other officers drove.
+"Besides, she is at least twenty-five or six years old; that is old for
+a Spaniard," chatted the Prince.
+
+Felix walked silently beside him, a hot, unsatisfied feeling in his
+heart, a withered flower in his hand.
+
+He cherished it like a lover the rose-bud which his dear one had given
+him; yes, thus would Felix cherish the faded yellow flower which the
+dust in the wings of the stage had soiled--upon which an acrobat might
+have trodden. He placed it in a glass of water, and finally pressed it
+in a book of poems.
+
+Explain it who will! In the moment when Felix had avoided her lips, the
+narrow-minded Spaniard had taken a decided dislike for him, a dislike
+which more intimate acquaintance with him did not overcome, but which
+increased to aversion. Neither his unusual, truly somewhat effeminate,
+beauty, nor his reserved, chivalrous manners, pleased her. B----, with
+his bold, condescending ways, had more success with her, but her
+deepest, tenderest feelings were for the trapeze artist of the Orpheum,
+a young man with strongly developed muscles and bushy hair, who
+apparently seldom washed his face and never his hands; but, on the
+other hand, used the strongest-smelling pomade, and always wore the
+most brilliant cravats. One met him often when one visited Juanita.
+
+At that time Juanita lived in the Rossau, in a very plain locality,
+which continually smelt of mutton tallow and onions, because Manuela,
+in spite of the warm time of year, loved to cook unappetizing national
+dishes upon the drawing-room stove.
+
+Manuela was never seen without her crumpled black satin hat and her
+green shawl adorned with red palms. Around the old woman's waist, on a
+worn-out cord hung a pocket from which protruded a gay paper fan, and
+which beside this lodged a pack of cards, a rosary and cigarettes.
+
+Juanita lay from morning to night upon a divan, clad in a loose white
+wrapper, without corsets, without stockings, a rose behind her ear, and
+tiny black satin slippers upon her small bare feet. But how beautiful
+she was thus!
+
+The soft white clinging garment outlined her form distinctly. One could
+think of nothing more charming than her little feet, scarcely as long
+as one's palm, so narrow, beautifully arched, with pink soles and
+dainty dimples, and with blue veins around her ankles as they peeped
+out of the satin slippers.
+
+Except for a few fairly brutal bursts of rage, Juanita was uncommonly
+phlegmatic. She really loved nothing but cigarettes, sweet drinks mixed
+with ice, and a horrible Spanish national salad of garlic and cucumbers
+which she called a _gaspacho_. The time which she did not devote to her
+dancing exercises and her lovers, she passed smoking, laying cards, and
+telling the beads of her rosary.
+
+She tolerated Felix around her, like a poor actress who wishes to
+quarrel with no one and tolerates every one; she did not encourage him.
+
+Her coldness excited his feeling to madness; his boundless submission
+increased her repugnance for him. In association with her, he had no
+self-respect, no pride, no will, but the low-spirited air of a shy
+student. He grovelled at her feet, and spent half the day pasting gold
+spangles on one of her old costumes which Manuela was freshening up. He
+had known her for weeks without daring to send her anything but
+bouquets and candy.
+
+Then one evening he saw her in a box of a theatre. She wore her hair
+arranged in the Spanish manner, with a veil and high comb, and a black
+satin gown which fitted like a glove, adorned with a silver girdle. The
+whole audience was interested in the beautiful Spaniard. In the second
+act, Prince B---- appeared in her box. The people whispered, laughed.
+Felix was half dead with jealousy.
+
+The next day there was a violent altercation between the Prince and
+him, at which the former good-naturedly declared that he would a
+hundred times rather break with Juanita than with Felix; he did not
+care anything about her, she bored him; he had only sent her to the
+theatre, dressed beautifully, to mystify the Viennese, etc.
+
+Then Felix hired a charming entresol in K---- Street, and had it
+furnished in three days by the first upholsterer in Vienna. Juanita
+made no trouble about occupying it. She laughed and clapped her hands
+with joy over the magnificent furniture, gave up her loose wrappers,
+wore the clothes which Felix had made for her, and in honor of the
+beautiful apartment, played the great lady.
+
+Surprise and thankfulness, or perhaps a suddenly awakened covetousness
+for a time killed in her every other feeling. Felix revelled in a few
+weeks of mad happiness.
+
+To-day, however, his hair stood on end when he thought of this
+happiness.
+
+Juanita gave herself up to mad extravagance. Her ideal of elegance and
+style was Mlle. X----, the _premiere danseuse_ of the opera house.
+Juanita must have duplicates of everything: the toilets, the
+Newfoundland and the equipages. Finally she insisted upon dancing at
+the same theatre as the X----, and Felix succeeded in securing a
+performance for her.
+
+And yet how badly she treated him in spite of everything. Often he
+rattled his frail chains, but lacked the strength to break them. He
+made scenes for Juanita almost every day--it was owing to his jealousy;
+he left her and swore he would never come again. For an entire week he
+remained away from her, but in what a condition of excitement, fever,
+and longing! He ate nothing, he slept no longer, he ran into passers-by
+in the street because he saw no one; the whole world was a dark chaos
+to him--the only spot of light was Juanita.
+
+With bowed head, a bitter smile on his lips, the full consciousness of
+his degradation expressed by bearing and glance, he then dragged
+himself back to Juanita.
+
+She did with him what she wished. All Vienna spoke about him and her;
+from the lips of young matrons mysterious phrases floated about the
+ears of innocent young girls--the pretty Countess L---- cried her blue
+eyes out.
+
+And the summer passed. September arrived. The Spaniard had become more
+submissive--sometimes she was almost tender. The great moment of her
+debut in the opera house approached, and made her timid. One more wish
+she expressed, a last one. Never before had she taken trouble to inform
+Felix of one of her expensive wishes with so many caressing
+digressions. With both arms round his neck, her lips close to his ear,
+she informed him that she would not appear at the opera house without a
+pair of diamond screws such as Mlle. X---- always wore in her ears when
+she danced.
+
+When he begged her only to wait a very little while, she fell back into
+her old phlegmatic, yes, apathetic manner, pouting angrily.
+
+He went to a jeweller whom he knew, of whom he had already purchased
+different ornaments for Juanita, but the man did not seem inclined to
+extend Felix's credit further. Too prudent to bluntly refuse such a
+distinguished customer he pretended that he had no stones of the size
+which the Baron required.
+
+He could perhaps obtain them from a business friend "for cash."
+
+Felix left the shop angrily, and now sought his old acquaintance,
+Ephraim Staub. But the latter shrugged his shoulders, said that he had
+already done a great deal for the Baron for the sake of his respectful
+devotion to him; he relied upon his honor, but still the notes of a
+minor were not legal, and all men were mortal, and if anything should
+happen to the young Baron who would answer to him, Ephraim Staub, that
+the young gentleman's papa would not throw him together with his notes,
+which in the eyes of the law were not legal, out of the door?
+
+Felix chewed the knob of his riding-whip angrily. Then carefully
+feeling his way, the usurer ventured an infamous proposition.
+
+"Certainly a note with your father's acceptance--that would be
+safe--the old gentleman would certainly redeem that--one could always
+apply the thumbscrews to one's papa." Ephraim could assure the Baron
+that young people of the best families--he must, alas, conceal the
+names--had given him this kind of guarantee.
+
+For a long time the true signification of this speech was wholly dark
+to Felix, but at length he understood, then he did not even take the
+trouble to fall into a rage, only threw back his head arrogantly and
+raised his riding-whip to the usurer as one strikes a cur who has
+ventured too near.
+
+How did it happen that three days later he returned to Ephraim Staub
+and made out the note in the shameful manner which the latter had
+desired of him? Yes; how did it happen? Felix no longer knows. If he
+knew, he could perhaps understand his crime to-day, but he does not
+understand it.
+
+His memory is a blank concerning the three days in which he had slowly
+sunk to forgery; there is a dark spot, a chasm in his recollection; he
+can only take it up again in the moment when, exhausted as if after
+weeks of fever, bathed in cold sweat, and groping along the walls, he
+crept from Ephraim's shop to the jeweller's; how suddenly he was
+frightened at the gargoyle on the cornice of a house, frightened
+because the head laughed.
+
+From this moment he was not happy for a second, not even with Juanita.
+Strangely enough, his passion for her now was completely in the
+background; it fled.
+
+It seemed to him that a monster sat upon his back and buried two iron
+claws in his shoulders, and blew in his ears with his hot, terrible
+breath.
+
+The evening on which Juanita was to show her splendid beauty and her
+empirical dancing to the audience of the opera house arrived.
+
+A warm, September evening. There had been a hard shower; there was an
+odor of wet stone and marble as Felix went to the theatre. By turns he
+shook with cold and grew feverish, he suffered with a severe cold. The
+theatre was still only sparsely filled. When he took his seat in one of
+the front rows he noticed that people pointed him out to each other and
+whispered his name. He was a celebrity--Juanita's lover!
+
+And all the soft voices pierced his ears, and yet no one could know
+that.
+
+The ballet had been introduced into an opera, he could not have said
+into which one; he heard nothing, he saw nothing which took place upon
+the stage.
+
+The triumphal fanfare of the madrilena roused him from his brooding.
+
+How beautiful she was!
+
+A cloud of black lace and satin floated about her. On her breast was a
+bunch of white roses, in her ears sparkled two great drops like frozen
+tears.
+
+Felix saw nothing of the whole apparition but these great sparkling
+drops. He would have liked to scream out, "Hold her fast, she wears my
+honor in her ears!"
+
+Poor Felix; he was delirious. The triumph which Juanita had experienced
+at the Orpheum was nothing to her present one at the opera house. A
+foreign prince, who chanced to be in the house, clapped his hands in
+approval; the X---- saw it in her box, and grew green with envy.
+
+Then Juanita threw her last kiss and vanished. The opera proceeded.
+Felix sat in his place as if petrified.
+
+At last, at the close of the act, he rose to go behind the scenes. That
+uneasy hum, which in the world follows a triumph or a fiasco, prevailed
+there. Juanita was nowhere to be seen. He knocked at her dressing-room
+door, her maid alone answered him. Juanita was gone, had just driven
+away. "His Highness Prince Arthur"--the girl was a born Viennese--"had
+arranged a supper in all haste in honor of the Senorita, and--she
+thought the Baron knew of it----"
+
+Felix heard nothing more; in mad haste he rushed down the narrow stairs
+to the stage entrance, and out across the open square before the
+theatre. He saw a closed carriage turn a corner. Felix did not know
+whom the carriage contained--probably a perfect stranger--and still he
+rushed after it--rushed after it like an insane man for a long
+distance. The earth trembled beneath him; with a hoarse, breathless
+gasp, he sank to the ground.
+
+When he was picked up, he was unconscious. For weeks he lay senseless,
+with a severe nervous fever. His father came to Vienna to care for him.
+After about eight weeks the physicians declared that for the present
+there was no danger--he could be transported to Traunberg, as was the
+urgent desire of his father.
+
+At that time Felix was still so weak that he had to be carried; he
+slept almost continuously, spoke indistinctly, and had forgotten the
+immediate past.
+
+
+Ephraim Staub hated Felix because of the manner in which, without
+removing his cap, with one finger on the visor, he would enter
+Ephraim's house, yawning, and say, "You, I want money!" and because of
+the manner in which he carelessly crumpled the bank-notes--which
+Ephraim never handled except reverently--and thrust them in his
+pockets, and because of the cut of the whip with which Felix had
+answered his perfidious proposition the first time.
+
+He discounted the note. The old Baron's lawyer learned that a note with
+his name upon it was in circulation, and inquired by letter whether the
+Baron wished it redeemed for family considerations.
+
+The Baron knew nothing of Juanita. Naturally, Felix had never written
+him of his relations with her, and a stranger would never have ventured
+to inform the violent old Lanzberg of anything discreditable to his
+son. Felix had of late asked his father for no great sums of money, and
+the father knew him to be always scrupulously honorable.
+
+How could he look upon the scarcely veiled insinuation of the advocate
+as other than an insult? Enraged at the suspicion cast upon his son, he
+did not even take the trouble to think the matter over, but wrote at
+once, in his first indignation, a brusque letter to his advocate, in
+which he declared that he knew nothing of the matter--it could take its
+course. It did not even occur to him to excite the invalid Felix with
+this horrid story--he told him nothing of it.
+
+Slowly Felix recovered his health, but his happy temper did not return,
+he remained always gloomy and monosyllabic--not rude but deeply sad.
+His father often gazed anxiously into his eyes, which then every time
+looked away from him, and he stroked his cheeks compassionately, which
+then always flushed beneath his touch. And once he took the
+convalescent's thin hand in his, and said, "Does anything worry you, my
+poor boy? It is surely some heart trouble which often comes to one of
+your age," and as Felix, who at the beginning of this speech had paled,
+now was silent, flushing more and more deeply, the Baron added,
+clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder, "You need not worry about
+your secret. I will ask you no more about it if it annoys you; I only
+thought it might relieve you to unburden your heart."
+
+Felix buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears. To this day
+he can hear in his ears the caressing consolation of his father, the
+soft, monotonous voice with which he murmured again and again, "Do not
+excite yourself, child; poor fellow, poor fellow!"
+
+That Felix's melancholy could have anything in connection with the
+lawyer's communication, did not occur to the Baron.
+
+The next day Felix confessed to his father. It was after breakfast;
+they sat alone, opposite each other, at a little round table.
+
+For a moment the old man stared before him with fixed, dull gaze; then
+rising helplessly and slowly from his chair, stretching out his
+trembling hands, he fell upon his face, senseless.
+
+What cut Felix most bitterly, most deeply to his heart was, that when
+the Baron recovered from his swoon he had not a word of reproof for his
+son--not a word. Oh, if he had raged, had cursed and execrated him, all
+this Felix could have borne more easily than the sight of the terrible,
+helpless sadness with which from time to time the Baron struck his
+hands together and murmured: "I was indiscreet; oh, furious old fool, I
+was indiscreet, indiscreet!"
+
+The meaning of these words only later became clear to Felix.
+
+The Baron telegraphed to the lawyer--he went to Vienna the same day.
+
+It was too late!
+
+All the steps which were taken to spare Felix the publication of his
+fault and the degrading punishment, were in vain.
+
+The affair occurred in an unfavorable epoch for him, as the courts felt
+obliged shortly after an _eclat_ to be doubly severe, as the
+consideration which had recently been shown in a similar case for a
+noble name had called forth the justest indignation from the liberal
+press.
+
+Felix was sentenced to two years' imprisonment.
+
+His father begged an audience of His Majesty. All that he attained was
+that the sentence should be diminished to one year.
+
+An example must be made.
+
+And the farewell. The last, long, trembling embrace of his father, the
+moment when the guards who were to conduct the convict away busied
+themselves with their sabres and compassionately withdrew while the
+father whispered imploringly to his son, "Promise me that you will do
+no harm to yourself!"
+
+And the time in the prison. The fearful despair of the first weeks,
+when he longed for death, and the promise which he had given his father
+continually weighed upon and tormented him like a fetter; the brooding
+stupor into which this despair changed, and which in its turn gave
+place to a gradual reviving and accustoming himself to his
+circumstances. He remembered very well the day when he began to look
+around at his companions, began anxiously to seek manifestations of
+their good qualities; to search among them for young people of
+blameless lives who had sinned in a moment of madness. What did he
+find? A few convicts who by alternating imprisonment and crime had
+gradually become dull and stupid, others who had wholly degenerated to
+rough, terrible, malicious animals; besides these, two or three sons of
+good family, who confessed their sins with brutal cynicism, scornfully
+derided their relatives and procured through the jailer wine, cards and
+evil romances. The sight of these people caused Felix boundless misery.
+How he loathed them; how they astonished him; the importance which
+trifles had for them, and that they had the heart to rail at the poor
+food!
+
+The doubt came to him whether the idea which he had of himself was not
+a mere illusion. He dissected his most secret impulses, criticised all
+his instincts--in short, tormented himself into a pitiable condition.
+The remnant of self-respect which he had taken into the prison shrunk
+away to nothing.
+
+All who had anything to do with him showed him the warmest sympathy. He
+was so quiet, so obliging; he never asked for anything except more
+work. The degraded officers were at that time employed in the office
+work. Felix fulfilled the tasks allotted him with the most painful
+punctiliousness. At the prison he accustomed himself to that correct
+regular handwriting which differed so greatly from the careless writing
+of his gay youth.
+
+The old baron had begged that some consideration might be shown Felix
+on account of his weakened health. They were perfectly willing to do
+so, but Felix would hear nothing of this. The money which his father
+sent him to procure little comforts, he gave to assistants.
+
+At last the year was over.
+
+Felix had received a letter from his father, in which the latter, too
+considerate to personally accompany his son from the prison, told him
+that he would meet him at this or that station, to take a long trip
+with him. But Felix could not resolve to meet his father immediately
+after this degrading imprisonment.
+
+It was in the year 1866. War was expected. Felix enlisted in a regiment
+as a private soldier. He performed his duties with fanatic zeal. The
+soldiers, who knew nothing of his sad story, looked upon his serving in
+their ranks as the "whim of a great gentleman," such as is not unusual
+in excited times, and met him with defiant opposition. But he took such
+sincere trouble to win their liking, so willingly shared their whole
+life, that they soon became devoted to him. Their unfeigned liking was
+more pleasant to him than the sentimental humanity which he met with
+later in life. Often one of his present comrades pushed him away from
+some work which he considered unworthy of Felix, and murmured with
+good-natured embarrassment, "That you are not used to, sir." The
+officers, who at first had been very ill at ease with him, gradually
+understood how painful it was to him if any difference was made between
+him and his comrades, and gave up attempting to make an exception of
+him.
+
+He never complained, ate the coarsest food without changing his
+expression in the slightest, conscientiously polished the buttons of
+his uniform, and always chose the worst place to bivouac.
+
+The first cannon was fired.
+
+Felix fought at Trautenau; fought without enthusiasm, without
+melodramatic heroism; he fought with the sober, unbounded bravery of a
+man who does not need the hurrahs to be spurred on by, whose life is
+wholly indifferent to him, and who hopes and wishes for no other reward
+for his self-sacrificing performance of his duty than--death.
+
+The leaden rain of the Prussian vanguard--it was wholly unknown to the
+Austrians who did not fight in Schlesing--had a soothing effect upon
+his nerves. The breathless excitement of battle did him good. What
+pained him was the moment before the conflict, when old veterans passed
+each other their field-flasks, and expressed indifferent opinions about
+the weather; and the young soldiers, scarcely grown recruits, with
+shining eyes and pale cheeks, cried "Hurrah!" and inflated their
+chests, while the guns shook in their hands. What pained him was the
+moment after the battle, when the last smoke of powder, and a dull echo
+of the noise of battle filled the air, and the soldiers, confused and
+stunned, met in camp, and one or another, rousing from the stupor which
+followed the fearful excitement of battle, asked fearfully, "Where is
+F----? where is M----?" and then with a shudder remembered that he,
+himself, had seen F---- and M---- fall. What pained him was, when in
+the night the wounded cried and groaned, until their comrades'
+compassion changed to impatience, and they complained over the noise
+which prevented them from sleeping.
+
+Then came the third of July, the day of Sadowa.
+
+It was damp, cold weather, no sun in the heavens. On the earth
+trodden-down grain, soiled with dirt and blood; a confusion of blue and
+white soldiers, partly arranged in compact, geometrically exact
+figures, partly scattered in sheltered positions, partly crouching
+behind earthworks, so far separated that Prussians and Austrians mostly
+saw each other as points or masses. Hostile, without hostility, they
+stood opposite each other; perhaps not one among the thousands upon
+thousands here and yonder hated the other, and yet each one was ready
+to do his utmost to kill the unknown enemy.
+
+Fog mixed with the powder-smoke. There was a wild confusion of screams,
+groans, rolling of wheels, rattling of sabres, and stamping of horses.
+In the distance chaos seemed to prevail; at the spot where Felix was
+stationed a kind of monotony, a kind of order ruled.
+
+The ranks close over the fallen. "Fire!" commands the officer.
+There is a click of the gun hammers, the flames shine redly on the
+gun-barrels--sch--sch whistle the hostile balls around Felix; crashing,
+ear-splitting, like sharp hail, answer the riflemen.
+
+Felix was at Swiepwald, with the regiment of riflemen of which the
+Austrians only speak with tears in their eyes, the Prussians with hands
+on their caps!
+
+For a while the losses were slight. All went well. Then came a moment
+when the riflemen received the hostile balls indifferently. Many of
+them were weary and found time to say so, still more were hungry--few
+Austrian soldiers received anything to eat on that memorable day, the
+day of Sadowa. Felix had given his last rations to a young recruit who,
+as he thought, needed nourishment more than he; but Felix had
+overestimated his strength, an unusual faintness suddenly overcame him,
+he begged his neighbor for his flask, and crash!--a shell--and the
+neighbor lay on the ground with shattered feet.
+
+From this moment the losses are immense. Man after man falls. Little
+brownish-red streams of blood trickle through the ruts of the ground,
+the pine-trees become bare, their needles fall unpleasantly,
+prickingly, upon the faces of the riflemen. With the whistling of the
+musket-balls mingles the groaning shots of the artillery like the
+deafening, reechoing thunder in a mountainous country. The atmosphere
+is unbearably impregnated with the peculiar odor of battle. With the
+smell of powder and heated iron mingles the odor of perspiration of an
+excited mass of men, and the repulsive, terrible, salt smell of their
+blood.
+
+The fog becomes more and more thick. The riflemen see nothing near them
+but dead comrades, and before, a white wall behind which death lurks.
+They no longer know what is taking place at the other end of the field,
+do not know that the Prussian Crown Prince has arrived; but all feel
+that they are fighting for a lost cause, and that their resistance is
+nothing more than a heroic demonstration.
+
+Always in the front rank, Felix fights on. Twice have the men at his
+right and left fallen, but all the balls whistle past him--from second
+to second he expects death, but it comes not.
+
+There are not thirty men left of his battalion; orderlies fly to and
+fro, the officers are hoarse, then suddenly the cry, "Retreat!"
+
+Retreat!
+
+Felix stands as if rooted to the ground--Retreat! What, shall he flee?
+No! But captivity, in which, bound as he is by his promise, he would
+not have the right to take his life! And he retreats with the others,
+who now join the great mass. Their pace becomes more and more irregular
+and hurried.
+
+The evening is dark, the enemy behind them, the few riflemen are among
+the last. A standard-bearer sinks down, wounded in the knee by a stray
+shot. No one troubles himself about him or the flag.
+
+What is the flag? Nothing but a soiled, torn rag. Nothing but--the
+symbol of the regiment's honor.
+
+Honor! The word has a mysterious, alluring sound for Felix, somewhat as
+the word water has for one perishing in the desert.
+
+Honor! honor! He takes the flag from the standard-bearer's hand, who
+pleads piteously that he may at least be pushed into a ditch and not
+trodden upon like a worm. Felix performs this service for him, and
+remains far behind his comrades. At length he raises the flag and is
+about to proceed with it.
+
+But, deathly wearied as he is, he can scarcely carry it, so he tears
+the flag from the pole, and breaking this over his knee he wishes to
+bury both pieces in the slime of the ditch, but before he has
+accomplished this a little band of Prussian cavalry approaches. He lays
+his hand on his gun, but if he defends himself, defends himself so that
+they must kill him, the flag is forfeited. He then stretches himself in
+the mire of the road, flat on his face over the flag, as to-day he has
+seen many of his comrades, shot through the heart.
+
+The horses trot past him; one of them starts back from him, this rider
+looks before him, sees what he takes for a corpse and passes on.
+
+The horse, who takes the leap required of him with the timidity which
+every human body inspires in his species, strikes Felix with his hoof.
+When the riders are out of sight, and all is still, Felix rises, a
+stinging pain in his left arm. At first he thought the arm was broken,
+but no, only a severe contusion causes the pain. He thrusts his hand
+into his coat, wraps the flag around it, and creeps wearily forward.
+
+In his ears a single word rings: "Honor!"
+
+He totters to the Elbe, which separates him from his comrades; there is
+no longer a bridge there; he does not trust his strength to swim
+across. Ah! and even if he does drown in the bottom of the river, the
+Prussians cannot find the flag, and he cares nothing for his life. He
+flings himself into the stream, the waves plash around his ears:
+"Honor!" The cold water strengthens him, and for the moment prevents
+the pain in his arm. He reaches the opposite shore, he himself never
+knew how.
+
+He staggers on in his clothes, made heavy by the water. His mind
+is not clear, only grasps the idea that he must go on. He stumbles
+along--slowly--slowly; often he sinks down and lies still for a while,
+then he suddenly springs up again, feels for the flag and totters on.
+He does not know where he is, the Austrian camp lies before him--he
+does not see it--then something red shines through the gray morning
+light. Felix gathers up his strength; breathless, gasping, he drags
+himself up to what he soon recognizes as an Austrian Uhlan picket.
+
+He reaches the picket, he can no longer speak, hands the flag to an
+officer, and falls to the ground.
+
+The Uhlans--there were two or three officers among them--crowd around
+him. When they see his lamentable condition they speak with pride of
+the fidelity to his flag of this common soldier, and they say it aloud,
+and Felix hears it and it does him good; it seems to him that the blot
+upon his honor is washed away.
+
+Then one of the officers bends over him, and suddenly starting, he
+cries to the others, "That is certainly Lanzberg!"
+
+"What do you say? 'The certain Lanzberg?'" ask they, hastily. They
+thought Felix unconscious, but he was not.
+
+The word, thoughtlessly spoken and not unkindly meant, goes to his
+heart. From that moment he knew that there was no regeneration for his
+honor.
+
+He might level mountains and dam rivers, but the world in its
+astonishment, in its admiration, would yet find no other name for him
+than "the certain Lanzberg!"
+
+He opened his large, mournful eyes. The officers were ill at ease, then
+they all stretched out their hands to him and cried, "We admire you; we
+envy you!"
+
+But he only turned his head away from them with a groan.
+
+His incomparable actions during the campaign had softened the harshest
+of his social judges toward him. The emperor, by a proclamation, had
+restored to him his forfeited social rights. His father awaited him
+longingly, and begged him by letters to telegraph his arrival in
+Traunberg, so that he could personally meet him at the railway station.
+
+But Felix dreaded the idea of being received by his father, and
+unannounced, in civilian clothes, he one day alighted in T----, the
+nearest station to Traunberg, from a third-class compartment, which he
+had taken so as to meet none of his acquaintances. He went on foot to
+the castle. He felt a kind of shyness of every tree, every stone, which
+formerly returning home after long absence, he had greeted joyously.
+The quick trot of horses' hoofs smote his ear; looking up he saw Elsa
+coming galloping along the park driveway toward him, at the side of his
+old playmate, Sempaly. Anxiously he drew back among the trees, and the
+two rushed past, and thought no more of the man in the plain gray coat.
+Silently he crept up to the castle and to his father's room. No one met
+him. Softly he opened the door. A thin, bowed, gray-haired man sat
+reading in an arm-chair. Felix took a few hesitating steps forward, he
+trembled throughout his entire frame. "Papa!" he stammered. One moment
+more and the father had clasped him in his arms. Then the old man
+pushed him back from him to see him more plainly. "My hero!" he cried.
+Felix started nervously and gazed pleadingly at his father. "You have
+grown gray, papa," he cried, as if startled.
+
+"People grow old, my boy," replied the Baron, hastily smoothing his
+whitened hair.
+
+"Old at forty-nine?" murmured Felix.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, as Felix sat beside his father, answering
+his questions, Elsa entered. She had grown tall and slender. But that
+was not the only change which Felix perceived in her: she had lost her
+light, springing girlish step, her merry smile. A reserved sadness had
+drawn harsh lines about her mouth, and a deep shade darkened her eyes.
+
+At her entrance he had risen awkwardly, and she, not seeing him
+distinctly, and taking him for some bailiff discussing business with
+her father, bowed formally.
+
+Her father glanced impatiently at her, then he cried, in irritation and
+anger, "It is Felix; do you not recognize him?"
+
+Elsa grew pale with excitement. "God greet you," said she, going
+quickly up to him.
+
+His trembling lips barely touched her forehead.
+
+Now came a hard, hard time for Felix, made hardest of all by the
+touching kindness of his father, who overwhelmed him with tender
+attentions, had forgotten none of Felix's former fancies--surprised him
+now with a splendid horse, now with a gun of a new, improved kind, or a
+pointer dog with fabulous traits--in short, anticipated every wish
+which Felix had formerly expressed. But Felix no longer wished for
+anything but to hide himself, and this his father would not hear of.
+
+He everywhere pushed his son forward; with the servants and overseer it
+was always, "I am growing old, go to the young master."
+
+And poor Felix, humiliated by the striking submission of the people,
+confused and without an idea or opinion of his own, gave orders in a
+shy, weak voice as modestly and reservedly as he could.
+
+However urgently he begged his father to leave him in the protecting
+shade of the background, the old man could not be induced to consent.
+He pressed the keys of his safe upon Felix, gave him free disposal of
+the largest sums of money. Painfully distrustful of all the rest of
+humanity, especially of his servants, since his misfortune, the Baron
+almost crushed his son by this ostentatious, conspicuous confidence.
+
+One day he desired Felix to pay a visit with him in the neighborhood.
+But this Felix opposed. Elsa supported his opposition. The old Baron
+took that amiss in her. At that time Elsa was scarcely sixteen years
+old. She suffered with the Lanzberg arrogance, as Felix had suffered
+from it; she was hurt to the heart by Felix's deed. And yet she loved
+her brother, and did not wish to let him feel how heavily his disgrace
+weighed upon her. But she could find no natural tone in intercourse
+with him.
+
+He had been a kind of idol for her, who good-naturedly descended from
+his pedestal to tease and caress his little sister. He had called her
+Liesel and Mietzel, pulled her ear or kissed her hand, mystified her
+with the strangest tales, gave her costly presents; then again, when
+his friends or important pleasures came between them, for days wholly
+ignored her insignificant existence.
+
+But this time the idol had not descended from his pedestal; he had
+fallen down, and had become a broken man. His former teasing courtesy
+had changed into the shyest politeness. He never pulled her ears, and
+never kissed her hand, never called her Liesel or Mietzel--his manners
+had wholly lost their playful aplomb. He was now helpless and awkward,
+sat at table like a poor sinner, ate little, never spoke a word, and,
+rendered clumsy by embarrassment, soiled the table-cloth. He was so
+boundlessly obliging and considerate that it made Elsa embarrassed. He
+broke a refractory horse for her with the greatest patience, took care
+of all her favorite flowers, accompanied her on her visits to the poor,
+and never forgot to take with him a warm wrap for her.
+
+He had really become a much better and lovable man than before, but the
+world had no use for this goodness and lovability. Even Elsa did not
+know how to value it. She was always constrained in intercourse with
+him, because she was always thinking of being kind to him. The old
+Baron gave her endless lectures concerning her behavior. Unweariedly
+attentive and tender to Felix, toward his other fellow men he was
+almost unbearably capricious, irritable and unjust, especially to Elsa.
+
+Once he overwhelmed her for so long with imprudent reproaches for her
+heartlessness and lack of tact, that at last she cried out defiantly
+and refractorily, "Why was Felix so?"
+
+Then her father struck her for the first and last time, and cried, "God
+punish you for your hard heart!"
+
+When the Baron had left her, and she began to almost hate Felix, angry
+at the injustice done her, he emerged from a dark corner, from which he
+had been forced to witness the scene, softly went up to her, and said,
+with his gentle sad smile, stretching out his hand hesitatingly to her,
+"Forgive him--he has not his head; he does not know any longer what he
+does; only think how he must feel."
+
+Then she threw herself with passionate violence into his arms. "He was
+right a hundred times," cried she, "only not in thinking that I do not
+love you, for I do love you, but I did not know how to show it to you."
+
+From that day the relation between brother and sister was touchingly
+tender. Elsa was almost as anticipating and unendingly tender in her
+attentions to Felix as her father himself.
+
+The first week after Felix's arrival, Sempaly discreetly remained away
+from Traunberg. He also had taken part in the campaign, but a very
+trifling part, and described the battle of Sadowa with charming
+flippancy, while he added, "Pity that it turned out so badly." For the
+first week, then, he remained away from Traunberg. But then he appeared
+there again, and, in fact, with the good-natured intention of paying
+Felix a special visit. But scarcely had the latter heard the voice of
+his former comrade, when with dog and gun he crept softly out of the
+castle.
+
+From then Sempaly came no more to Traunberg. Felix knew that formerly
+he had come two or three times a week, and asked Elsa about it. "You
+have surely begged him to come no longer, poor Elsa," said he, gazing
+deep into her eyes.
+
+Her embarrassment answered him.
+
+He saw that for his sake Elsa must give up all society, and also
+noticed that she had caught his morbid shyness. Her future was at
+stake. Then, carefully concealing his reasons, he begged leave of his
+father to go to South America. With a heavy heart, and after much
+opposition, the old man let him go.
+
+Felix did not return until he received the news of Elsa's marriage.
+After the death of his father he left Europe a second time, and had
+really only returned home for a visit, when he met Linda.
+
+
+Poor Felix! There he sat, his head resting on the table, all his
+thoughts in the past, when suddenly a little voice roused him from his
+dull brooding. Gery, whose little hand could not reach the doorknob,
+banged at the door outside, and screamed, "Papa! papa!" Felix rose and
+admitted him.
+
+The child was crying, and his left cheek was red and swollen.
+
+"Papa, mamma slapped me, and said she could not bear me," complained
+the little fellow.
+
+"She struck you because you are the son of 'the certain Lanzberg,'"
+murmured Felix with fearful bitterness. "Perhaps others will also make
+you do penance for that yet!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XXV.
+
+
+The gulf which malicious fortune and Elsa's overwrought nerves had
+opened between the two married people had not lessened, but on the
+contrary had daily become deeper, colder, and broader.
+
+Erwin found no explanation for his wife's changed manner; after some
+time he ceased to seek one. His was no brooding nature, and had no time
+to become one. That Elsa could be jealous of Linda any more than of a
+pretty work of art or an amusing book which unsuitably claimed a great
+deal of his attention, Erwin had never understood.
+
+"Poor Elsa, she is worried about Felix," he said to himself; "she will
+come to her senses again," and for several days he kept away from her,
+to give her time to calm herself. But three, four days passed, and she
+still had the same pale face and stiff manner. Then he tried a
+different plan, and once when they chanced to be alone together--it
+happened very seldom--he laid his hand under her chin and began: "Well,
+mouse----"
+
+But she did not lean her cheek against his hand as formerly when she
+was remorseful, neither did she resist his caress, as when she was
+refractory, but simply tolerated him as if she were a statue of stone
+or bronze. And she looked at him so coldly that all the loving words
+which he had in readiness faded from his memory and his hand sank down
+from her chin.
+
+He turned away from her with impatience and irritation. It was not the
+first time that she had been unjust and capricious to him. Her only
+fault was an easily awakened irritability; but formerly her vexation
+had been of short duration, and her bad mood had soon dissolved into
+the most remorseful tenderness.
+
+She had never begged his forgiveness after she had made a scene. Her
+proud obstinacy was not capable of that; she was not one of those
+sympathetic, dependent women who like to make little blunders so as to
+be able to coquet with their charming penitence. No! But an anxious,
+half-suppressed smile hesitated on her lips, when he returned to her
+several hours after the vexatious scene, and he could see by the book
+which she was reading, by the gown which she had put on, by the dinner
+which was ordered, how she had thought of him during his absence.
+
+But her manner now was of a quite different kind.
+
+What could he think but that her love for him had become less; that
+with Elsa, as with all good mothers, her children had gradually won the
+precedence in her heart, and there was nothing to do for it. And Erwin
+smiled peculiarly, shrugged his shoulders, for the first few days felt
+painfully wounded, and finally began to accustom himself to the
+situation. He hunted a great deal, and also occasionally rode to
+Traunberg, where he was always sure of a hearty reception, often met
+gay society, and from whence he brought back the comfortable conviction
+that he had the best influence over a lovable but superficial human
+being.
+
+Now, after Elsa had barricaded herself on all sides with diligence and
+pains and praiseworthy energy, against happiness, she was terrified at
+her own work, and she would gladly have annihilated it, but she now
+lacked the power. Erwin had become distant; formerly she would have
+silently slipped her hand into his and with that all would have been
+said, he would have understood. But now, now she no longer dared; she
+was as shy and embarrassed as a bride. That it was hateful, yes, fairly
+inexcusable to suspect a man who in all the different situations of his
+life had acted so severely honorably as Erwin, of such disgraceful
+conduct as her jealousy suggested to her, she knew, but----
+
+"The Lanzberg shadow has fallen upon my happiness," she sometimes
+thought sadly; "it must come so," but in the next moment she said, "No,
+it must not come so. I--I myself am to blame that it has come; why did
+I send him away from me on our wedding-day, from silly, childish
+obstinacy? If I believed in danger for him, I should have tried doubly
+hard to chain him to me; instead of this I have done everything to make
+myself disagreeable to him, only because my pride did not consider a
+threatened happiness worth defence. If what I feared now happens,
+then----" but here her thoughts paused. "That cannot be," she murmured
+impatiently; "It is not possible." Then suddenly she thought of her
+brother, who in his time had stood almost as high in her respect as
+Erwin, and who in one instant had sunken, oh, so deeply!
+
+"If that were possible, then everything is possible in this world," she
+decided, sternly.
+
+One day after another passed--a cloud had shown itself in her sky so
+small and transparent that a single sunbeam would have sufficed to kiss
+it away; but the cloud had grown larger, and now covered the whole sky
+so that it could not even be seen.
+
+An unpleasant accident contributed to embitter Elsa's feelings
+completely.
+
+For a long time she had been urged by her heart to show Erwin some
+little attention, and she ransacked her brains to think of something
+which could please him, and yet would not be a too direct reminder of
+her love. At last it occurred to her to have a photograph taken for him
+of Baby, who with her childish coquetries had gradually become dearer
+and dearer to her father's heart.
+
+She put the frock which Erwin liked best upon the little creature
+herself, one which showed off Baby's charms most advantageously. She
+kissed and smoothed the child's short curls, and hung a golden heart on
+a thin chain round her neck, of which the vain rogue was not a little
+proud, and tugged at it with both little fists to admire it, or put it
+in her mouth. Then Elsa ordered the carriage and drove over to
+Marienbad with Baby. Baby made the most attentive observations from the
+lap of her mamma; from time to time she stretched out her hand for some
+object which especially pleased her or was new to her, and gave a
+little clear joyous cry, or uttered some of those disconnected
+syllables which have significance for a mother's ear only.
+
+The novelty of the situation at the photographer's impressed her; the
+first attempt did not succeed. The photographer remarked that if the
+Baroness would hold the child herself, it would perhaps be better. Elsa
+replied blushingly that she did not wish to appear in the picture.
+
+But Baby would not have it otherwise. Now the trial succeeded
+admirably. The photographer showed the negative in which Baby's
+delicate face, with the solemn, staring eyes, and the shy, smiling
+mouth could plainly be recognized. Elsa nodded with satisfaction, but
+begged that he would wash out her figure. Then the old photographer--he
+knew Elsa from her childhood--surveyed his work with the look of an
+artist, and said, "Ah, Baroness, it would be a shame for the pretty
+picture. Has the Baroness one of the last photographs which I took of
+her as a bride? It is just the same face."
+
+And Elsa let him have his way; involuntarily the delight with which he
+held the dim negative against his rough coat-sleeve amused her, and she
+even stole a glance in the mirror, the first glance for a long time,
+and thought that although somewhat pale and thin, she did not look so
+very old and faded as she had thought. She rejoiced at this discovery,
+and rejoiced that her richly embroidered black gown was so becoming,
+and rejoiced over Baby's picture, and looked forward to the moment when
+she should take it to Erwin.
+
+When she now got into the carriage waiting below with Baby, and the
+servant closed the door, the child suddenly almost sprang out of her
+mother's lap, and stretched out her little arms, and cried in a clear,
+bell-like voice, "Papa! Papa!" As Baby's vocabulary is still very
+limited, and she had recently bestowed the title of Papa upon Litza's
+pony, Elsa glanced somewhat sceptically in the direction in which the
+child's arm pointed, but really saw Erwin about to enter a jeweller's
+shop.
+
+Linda Lanzberg was on his arm!
+
+Elsa grew deathly pale. When the carriage, as upon entering she had
+directed, stopped before a toy store, she did not alight, but ordered,
+"Home!"
+
+All reconciling feelings toward Erwin changed into a condition of
+boundless excitement; for the moment she felt a kind of hatred for him.
+When at dinner he asked, "Elsa, were not you in Marienbad to-day? It
+seemed to me that I saw the carriage pass when I was in Stein's," she
+answered, coldly, "I was there. I had something to attend to. And did
+you buy anything of Stein?" she then asked, as if casually. "Will he
+mention Linda?" she thought, but he replied half laughingly, "A pink
+coral necklace for the little one. To-morrow is, if I am not mistaken,
+her christening day." In fact Baby had been named after the Countess
+Dey, the sensible name, Marie.
+
+This explanation did not relieve Elsa in the slightest. The most
+innocent significance which she could ascribe to his presence there
+with Linda was that he had asked her advice in the choice of an
+ornament for the child. It did not occur to her that he could have met
+Linda in Marienbad quite accidentally. The rest of the evening she was
+in a hopelessly bad humor. Every word that Erwin spoke pained her, his
+manner of laying a pair of scissors on the table vexed her. With that,
+fever shone in her eyes and burned in her cheeks. The kiss which every
+evening he imprinted upon her forehead had long become a conventional
+ceremony, but to-day she wished to evade this formality. She
+disappeared from the drawing-room immediately after tea, upon some
+pretext, and did not return again.
+
+The next day was a holiday, Baby's christening day, the day after
+Juanita's visit to Traunberg.
+
+Most exceptionally, this time Erwin did not appear at breakfast, and
+when Elsa asked after him, the word was, "The Baron breakfasted in his
+own room, and had then gone away."
+
+About half-past eleven, as Elsa sat in the nursery, weary and languid,
+holding Baby on her lap, the door opened and Erwin entered. Baby
+stretched out her little hands joyously, but Elsa's eyes grew gloomy
+and she struck the child's hand reprovingly. Erwin grew deathly pale,
+pale as she had never seen him before.
+
+"Later, Baby," he murmured somewhat hoarsely, and left the room. But
+Baby began to cry bitterly, and would not stay in her mother's lap.
+
+After lunch, during which Erwin did not address another word to Elsa,
+she heard him down in the garden, talking and playing with the little
+one; she heard Baby's soft happy laugh; she went to the window,
+stretched out her head, and saw him swinging the child in the air. When
+Baby was finally weary of play, she laid her little arm around her
+father's neck, and leaned her delicate flower-like face against his
+sun-browned cheeks.
+
+Elsa's head ached; she burned with fever from head to foot, every nerve
+quivered and her thoughts were gloomy. Slowly she dragged herself up
+and down, finally seated herself with hands clasping her temples, upon
+a divan. She was losing consciousness when suddenly she started up and
+listened. She heard Erwin's horse pawing the ground in front of the
+house. Where was he going so suddenly? She roused herself, and holding
+to the walls, crept slowly down-stairs. Then, hidden by the turn of the
+stairs, in the shadow of the hall, she heard Erwin's voice:
+
+"If the Baroness asks for me, Martin, tell her that you do not know
+where I am; in no case shall she wait dinner for me," said he, quickly
+and softly.
+
+With that he mounted his horse and rode away at a rapid pace.
+
+Where? Elsa's heart stopped beating. Had anything happened?
+
+She crossed the hall--she would force old Martin to speak; but he had
+gone also. Then something on the floor rattled, a gray paper which the
+hem of her dress had touched; she stooped for it--it lay there crumpled
+as if it had just fallen from a violent hand. She committed no
+voluntary indiscretion, she only looked at it as one scrutinizes a
+paper to see whether one shall pick it up or throw it away. It was not
+her fault that, thanks to the writing, which was as plain as print, at
+the first glance her eyes had comprehended the whole contents.
+
+
+Dear Erwin:
+
+Come soon--to-day, now--at once--I expect you.
+
+                                                Linda.
+
+
+She took the note, carried it to Erwin's room, and laid it
+conscientiously upon his writing-desk. Then her knees trembled, and she
+had to sit down. Not that he had received the note surprised her. What
+fault was it of his if Linda wrote foolish notes? But what she did not
+understand, what remained absolutely incomprehensible to her was the
+fact that he had taken his valet into his confidence, that he had not
+been ashamed to make him his confidant. Had she not heard wrong? Had he
+gone to Traunberg? Now, when the facts spoke strongest against him, she
+weighed most justly the probabilities for and against his fault; she
+had acted imprudently towards him, and since the birth of the last
+child, devoting herself entirely to her maternal duties, had neglected
+him. He had borne this with goodness and patience; then Linda had
+suddenly appeared, with her dazzling beauty, her picturesque elegance,
+her coquettish heartlessness.
+
+For hours Elsa sat there and waited. At five o'clock she sat down to
+dinner; immediately after this she left the dining-room--she had no
+more control over herself.
+
+"It is all possible," she cried, giving way, desperate; her breath came
+heavily and so feverish that it burned her lips--black clouds swam
+before her eyes.
+
+She looked at the clock. What kept him away from home so long--with
+her? Another fifteen minutes passed--he must be with her. She could no
+longer endure her distrustful suspense--she would go to Traunberg.
+
+She ordered the carriage. On the way she started at every sound, at
+every shadow, everywhere she saw him and her.
+
+A fearful dread of the certainty came over her; at the last moment she
+clung to uncertainty.
+
+She wished to return, but she was ashamed of displaying such
+inconsequence before the servants, and just then the carriage drove
+through the iron gate into the Traunberg park. The lackey in the
+vestibule announced that the Baroness was not at home.
+
+Elsa sighed with relief; if Linda were not home, she could receive no
+guests, and Erwin could not be there. That she could have denied
+herself did not occur to her.
+
+It was pleasant to her to enjoy Traunberg once more, without Parisian
+anecdotes and French _chansonnettes_--without Linda.
+
+All was as if dead; it reminded her of the old Traunberg, where she had
+lived in loving solitude with her father. She did not think of
+returning at once; the great tension of her nerves had suddenly given
+way to vague dreaminess--the danger was not over but postponed.
+
+She went out into the garden; her heart grew more and more heavy, and
+her step slow. Her dress caught upon a branch. It seemed to her that a
+warning hand held her back. In mysterious dread of choosing the very
+gloomy path which lay before her, she took another. Her heart beat
+rapidly, she stood still, resolved to return. Between the trunks of the
+lindens, the water of the large pond which bounded one side of the
+Traunberg park shone in the sunset glow. With the gentle murmur of the
+water mingled the regular strokes of oars. Elsa stood still, she
+listened. Who could it be? Linda was not home. Elsa glanced at the
+pond. In a little boat she saw two figures, one, Linda, leaning back in
+the end of the little skiff, flowers in her hair and in her lap, one
+hand in the water, an evil light in her eyes, something luxuriantly
+melancholy in her whole form. Opposite her, with his back to Elsa,
+sat a man, slender, broad-shouldered, in a light summer suit, with
+close-cropped hair of that striking light blond which shines like
+molten gold in the sunlight.
+
+Elsa started back--it was surely Erwin--she turned away, she would
+see no more--but no--it seemed to her that she must call after
+him--there--the little row-boat had reached the small island covered
+with roses which was in the middle of the lake. In the gray-white
+August twilight she saw the two figures turn into the overgrown thicket
+of the island--they disappeared behind the bushes as if immersed in
+shadow.
+
+Elsa was as if paralyzed by a kind of gloomy numbness; a fearful
+excitement overcame her--she must go--where she did not know, only far,
+far away from the accursed spot.
+
+She did not think of ordering her carriage, of driving home. She
+scarcely thought of anything, only moved mechanically on, and
+instinctively took the path to Steinbach, as an animal wounded unto
+death seeks its hole to die in.
+
+She groped before her with her hands, she blinked as if blinded by a
+terrible light, she hit blindly against the trees as she passed, like a
+bat--she saw nothing but two light figures disappearing amid gloomy
+shadow. She hurried on and on--at first very rapidly--it seemed to her
+that she could fly, but she was mistaken. The unrest which raged within
+her was that of fever, of over-exhaustion, not of unused strength. Soon
+her feet felt like lead, and a heavy weight seemed resting upon her
+breast; she dragged herself wearily on like one in a bad dream, who
+wishes to flee from some monster and cannot. The more weary her body
+became, the more clear what had really frightened her became to her.
+
+"He and Linda," she murmured to herself, "he and my brother's wife."
+And with a desperate smile, a smile which condemned faith, hope and
+love to death, she added, "Yes, everything is possible in this world!"
+
+How good he had formerly been, how loving! The loveliest moments of her
+married life came to her mind with the sad charm of the irrevocably
+lost. On she tottered, in her wide-open eyes the wild look which seeks
+nothing more, which looks away from everything, the look of a being who
+has seen happiness die. "I was happy," she murmured to herself with
+unspeakable bitterness.
+
+But soon the poisonous breath of doubt tainted the happiness which had
+been also. How did she know how false it might have been, whether she
+had not merely been "considerately deceived"?
+
+Then it seems as if a frost falls upon her loveliest recollections,
+even upon those which until now she has treasured in the most secret
+corner of her heart. The past is desecrated--she has nothing more.
+
+She does not think of her children--in this moments he has forgotten
+that she has children.
+
+Slowly she drags herself through the wood, the same path which she had
+taken with Erwin before. Over her head the trees sing in melancholy
+peace their old song. Elsa can scarcely proceed; now the wood lies
+behind her, before her the dew on the meadow sparkles in the gray
+twilight, the colors are all dead--she shudders--here is the spot where
+he had carried her over that evening when for the first time she had
+been apprehensive for her happiness. Here he had put his arms round her
+and clasped her tightly to him and called her his treasure. She
+trembles in her whole body, then she gives a short gasping cry and
+sinks to the ground. She sobs, she has forgotten everything, she exists
+only in the feeling of weeping, of wishing convulsively to throw off a
+weight which oppresses her chest, and behind her the primeval forest
+still sings its melancholy peaceful song.
+
+How long she lies there she does not know; she does not notice either
+that the gray evening darkens to black night, does not notice that the
+dew falls heavier and heavier, that its cool dampness steals through
+her light gown to her weakened frame.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXVI.
+
+
+While Elsa lay so despairingly at the edge of the forest, two riders
+came slowly towards Steinbach--Sempaly and Erwin. They returned from a
+farm at some distance from, but belonging to Steinbach, which together
+with a part of the adjacent village had been burned this afternoon.
+
+Before them the castle of Steinbach, with its windows shining
+peacefully in the moonlight, between the shady trees; around them sweet
+fragrance and peaceful stillness; behind them a village, for the
+greater part in ashes, deserted ruins blackened with soot, as if clad
+in deepest mourning, animated by a few bent figures which could no
+longer speak from pain and fright, yes, could scarcely even complain
+more, and anxiously, with trembling hands, sought in the soaked heaps
+of ashes, in which fire still smouldered, for some pitiful remnant of
+their annihilated possessions. They rode through the park gate, their
+clothes were drenched and smelled of smoke and soot.
+
+When Sempaly heard of the breaking out of the fire, he had ridden from
+Iwanow to Billwitz, and had then joined Erwin honestly in the wildest
+confusion of the fire, and now accompanied him home.
+
+They only seldom exchanged a word. They were both weary from the help
+they had rendered, and saddened by the thought of how little they had
+been able to help. When they reached the castle, Sempaly was about to
+turn off towards Iwanow, but Erwin held him back. "Take tea with us,
+Rudi," said he.
+
+"In these clothes?" replied Sempaly, glancing at his soiled clothes;
+then he added, "Well, Snowdrop will be considerate," and dismounted.
+
+He had really from the first intended to remain at Steinbach, and
+looked forward to relating to Elsa, while fresh, all the little heroic
+deeds by which Erwin had distinguished himself during the fire. He felt
+a kind of indebtedness to Erwin on account of the hateful suspicion
+which for a moment he had cherished against him, and which to-day, when
+he once more thoroughly recognized Erwin's nobility, seemed to him
+foolish and inexcusable.
+
+Erwin asked for his wife; the servant informed him that she was not yet
+back from Traunberg.
+
+"Has a second message come from Traunberg?" asked Erwin, surprised.
+
+The valet glanced at the servant. "No!" It was certain that no second
+messenger came from Traunberg.
+
+Erwin and Sempaly went out again in the black shadows of the mild
+August moonlight night. "What does she seek in Traunberg?" murmured
+Erwin, aloud, ponderingly.
+
+"Did she know that you were at the fire?" asked Sempaly, with sudden
+inspiration.
+
+"I think not. I expressly requested the servants not to tell her where
+I went," replied Erwin. "What in all the world did she go to Traunberg
+for?"
+
+Then Scirocco looked at him peculiarly. "You," said he.
+
+"Me?" Erwin did not yet comprehend the situation.
+
+But Sempaly stamped his foot impatiently. "Are you stupid, Garzin?"
+cried he. "Do you not see what everybody sees, that your wife is
+consumed with jealousy of her sister-in-law?"
+
+"My wife jealous of my sister-in-law? Sempaly--you----" Erwin had burst
+out very violently at first, now he was suddenly silent. He called to
+mind Elsa's strange manner of late, much that was enigmatical was
+explained. He did not understand that he had been so obtuse.
+
+They had walked somewhat further into the park; then a low cry of pain
+vibrated through the painful stillness of the night. Erwin listened
+with beating heart. Once more it penetrated to him, somewhat louder. A
+cold shudder ran over him. He hurried toward the meadow from which the
+sound came. With sight sharpened by excitement he surveyed the gray
+dewy field. There at the edge of the wood he saw something white
+gleaming in the twilight, a misty spot which in the gloom he had almost
+taken for a thick cluster of immortelles. His anxiety drove him a few
+steps further. "Elsa!" cried he, and stretched his arms out to her.
+
+Then she raised her head, and rested her large, feverish, shining eyes
+upon him. "I forgive you," cried she with failing voice, and starting
+back from him. "I forgive you, but go--go--leave me."
+
+His eyes met hers.
+
+"You have nothing to forgive me," said he gravely, almost sternly. "But
+if you promise solemnly, very solemnly, to be very much ashamed of
+yourself I will forgive you."
+
+She stared at him without understanding, confused, stupefied; then he
+took hold of her dress; he was frightened to feel how cold and wet it
+was.
+
+"For God's sake!" cried he, violently, and with efficacious
+inconsiderateness, "before everything else see that you take off these
+wet things; there is time enough to speak of your mad freak later."
+With that he picked her up and carried her across, as he had done on
+the day of Linda's arrival.
+
+She did not resist him. At first she did not even know what had
+happened to her; then, when near the castle, she suddenly heard a
+gentle voice, kindly and reprovingly, as one speaks to an imprudent
+child, "Why, Snowdrop!" she looked around; this sudden exclamation
+recalled her to reality, which had been far from her confused mind.
+"How comes Sempaly here?" she asked, hastily.
+
+"We were at the fire in Billwitz together," said Erwin, without
+standing still. "He returned with me."
+
+"Fire--Billwitz----" murmured Elsa, then she trembled violently and
+burst into a flood of tears of relief.
+
+A little later Elsa lay in her pretty white bed feverish and hoarse,
+but with a light heart, and her soul full of a sweet mixture of
+remorse, happiness and shame. Erwin sat near her, and tried to be angry
+with her, and yet was only worried. But Scirocco had found that this
+was not the evening to take tea in Steinbach, and had gone away.
+
+
+And while Elsa with touching conscientiousness now confessed all the
+particulars of her hideous mistrust and her obstinate jealousy, and
+upon Erwin's lips, at first closed sternly, a smile had become more and
+more plain, Linda sat in her boudoir with scornfully curved lips and
+angry, staring eyes, which thirsted for spite. She wore a white gown,
+whose hem was slightly soiled, only as if it had perhaps brushed the
+dew from a flowerbed. On her breast rested a bunch of dark red roses.
+Some of them were withered, and others began to fade, others still to
+fall, and the red petals strewed her gown. To her excited gaze they
+seemed like drops of blood. She shuddered at sight of them; she
+shuddered to-day at everything, even at herself. Her whole being rose
+against the huge wrong which had been done her--the wrong which forced
+her to be wicked. That there was another outlet for her she did not
+acknowledge; that it was beautiful to forgive, she did not understand;
+that one has duties even toward those who have sinned against one, she
+did not believe.
+
+She railed against the system of the world, and her affairs in
+particular. The only man whom she had ever loved, so at least it seemed
+to her in her dramatic, gloomy excitement, this man had despised her.
+
+After she had been enlightened as to Felix's past, she had immediately
+written that letter to Erwin which had caused so much painful confusion
+in Steinbach.
+
+She had wished to sink into his compassionate arms, and had relied upon
+the demoniac charm of her beauty. She fancied that after the disgrace
+which she had suffered from, she had a right to sin. As answer to her
+note, she had received the following lines:
+
+
+Dear Linda:
+
+I am very sorry that, on account of urgent business, I cannot come
+to-day. I hope it is a question of nothing important.
+
+                                          E. Garzin.
+
+
+She loved him, and he wrote to her in this tone! She grew crimson for
+perhaps the first time in her life when she read the lines--but not
+with shame, with anger.
+
+Pistach came during her wildest excitement. He had won the game.
+
+Now he had gone; she was alone again!
+
+She buried her face in her hands; she sobbed convulsively. The roses on
+her breast fell one after the other, and the blood-red petals slid down
+to the soiled hem of her white gown.
+
+The next day Linda and Count Kamenz had disappeared!
+
+The whole country round about was horrified and dismayed at the affair;
+only one laughed in his sleeve: Eugene von Rhoeden. The last obstacle
+to his plans had been removed. Countess Elli blushed crimson when he
+took leave of Iwanow. He found opportunity to press a kiss upon her
+hand. A white handkerchief waved after him from one of the castle
+windows, as he drove in an open phaeton from Iwanow to the railway
+station.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXVII.
+
+
+By her fantastic walk from Traunberg to Steinbach, Elsa had brought on
+inflammation of the lungs. She convalesced so slowly that the physician
+whom Erwin consulted advised a long sojourn in the south. At first she
+could not resolve to leave her unhappy brother, and only went after he
+had promised to follow her as soon as possible to San Remo, where she
+would pass the winter with Erwin and the children.
+
+She left in the middle of September. Felix did not keep his promise.
+"As soon as possible" was capable of such varied conceptions.
+
+September, with its variegated foliage, and the long, tender farewell
+of the sunbeams vanished, and October came. The leaves withered,
+blood-red or pale-yellow they fell from the branches sadly and
+submissively, like all hopeless ones, and November followed October,
+and came in with an important bluster, like a lackey sent on before to
+make room for his master. He tore the last leaves from the branches,
+and sometimes tore away the branches with them, and he kissed the last
+roses dead and annihilated the unblossomed buds, covered the heavens
+with mournful clouds, blew so chill and poisonously in the face of the
+sun that he also sickened, and looked almost as pale as the moon.
+
+And at length all was desolate, all ready--the earth strewn with dead
+leaves and withered flowers for the solemn reception of the new-comer.
+Coldly and gravely winter entered his kingdom, the bare trees shivered
+a last time, and crackled one more sigh, and all is still--dead! The
+angels in heaven shook their wings, thicker and thicker fell the white
+down.
+
+January was long past and Felix still in Traunberg. After the last
+fearful blow which had fallen upon him he never rallied. Since Linda's
+flight he never left the park, seldom the castle, often scarcely left
+his room.
+
+There were days on which he would not even allow his little son
+admission, and other days on which he would allow no servant to wait
+upon him, because it was unbearable for him to even meet the eyes of a
+servant. On all faces he thought he could discover mocking, criticising
+expressions.
+
+When his overseers came to him to desire his signature or to ask his
+wishes concerning important business, with his hot, nervous hands he
+fumbled over the papers which were placed before him, read two or three
+lines, murmured something, and signed his name. The questions which
+were put to him he always answered with the same, "As you will," and
+then drummed impatiently upon the top of his writing-desk and glanced
+irritably at the door.
+
+He neglected his attire, his beard grew long; he did not even care for
+cleanliness. Often for days he ate nothing, always very little; but, on
+the other hand, he was always thirsty, and--drank. But the strongest
+spirits had ceased to procure relief for him. He no longer forgot;
+never more!
+
+He had a piano brought to his room, although he had almost never played
+before, and now strummed on it continually. Strange modulations sprang
+from beneath his stiff, unpractised fingers. He purposely sought the
+shrillest dissonances, which seemed to do him good. Again and again he
+struck the same piercing chord and never found a resolution for it.
+
+He always began to play so as to drown the madrilena, which rang in his
+ears so often and so unbearably distinctly, and every time he ended by
+groping over the keys for the melody of this same madrilena. Each tone
+went through his heart like the stab of a dagger, his forehead was
+covered with sweat, and with a long sigh he closed the piano.
+
+Intercourse with his child became of a strange nature. He indeed
+frequently overwhelmed the little one with passionate tenderness, but
+the games, the caressing teasing, which had formerly occupied them when
+together, and which had so delighted the boy, had ceased. Gery grew
+shy, pale and nervous. More and more often the fear of injuring the
+child by his presence crept over Felix.
+
+Erwin, who came from San Remo once during the winter, in order, as he
+said, to look after the house, was frightened at the confusion which,
+as he soon noticed, existed in Felix's business matters, as well as the
+terrible change in his whole appearance.
+
+Compassionately and kindly he urged his brother-in-law to accompany him
+to Italy, in order, as he had promised, to spend some time, together
+with Gery, with his sister.
+
+But Felix trembled visibly when it was a question of his leaving
+Traunberg, and going to a place where he must meet other people, were
+it only in the most passing way. Erwin promised him perfect quiet and
+seclusion from all intercourse with strangers--in vain.
+
+"Leave me," Felix repeated again and again; "leave me, I must be
+alone."
+
+Erwin ceased his pleadings, discouraged. Elsa's health did not permit
+her stay in the south to be shortened, so that her presence might
+alleviate her brother's painful condition.
+
+For one moment Erwin suspected a positive mental derangement in his
+brother-in-law, but soon convinced himself of the falsity of this
+opinion.
+
+The balance of his accounts was correct; as soon as his attention was
+excited he decided correctly, never made a mistake in a reckoning, and
+made no disconnected remarks. Only, exhausted as he was, everything
+concerning present affairs irritated him indescribably. The train of
+his thought flowed always backward. His mind rested continually upon
+that spot in the past where his happiness lay buried with his honor.
+
+He passed almost the whole of his time in living over again his life
+from the first meeting with Juanita to the signing of the fatal note.
+His memory, strangely faithful, and sharpened by practice, revived
+again and again new particulars of the Juanita period, with the
+distinctness of hallucinations.
+
+
+On a mild, sunny April day Elsa appeared in Traunberg, restored to
+health, more beautiful than ever, and with eyes radiant with happiness.
+She was shocked when she perceived her brother; what she saw was so
+much worse than what Erwin had considerately prepared her for. But
+Felix's misery only increased the tenderness of her sympathy. She spoke
+of the tender, intimate intercourse which should now exist between the
+two families, and said that Baby was now large enough for a playmate
+for her cousin; and Baby who, chubby-cheeked and gay, with great
+laughing eyes and tiny mouth with a drolly serious expression, sat on
+her mamma's knee, stretched out her fat little arms and said, "Where
+Gery?"
+
+Then the nurse--Gery's French _bonne_ had not been able to endure the
+winter solitude of Traunberg, and had long since left--brought
+the child. She had smoothed down his curly hair with a horrible,
+strong-smelling pomade, and had hidden his pretty little form in a
+heavy cloth costume, suitable for much older children. He looked pale,
+was awkward, and clung anxiously to his father. When he gradually lost
+his shyness through Elsa's soft voice and caressing manner, and
+approached her and answered her questions, she noticed that he had
+adopted the common broad accent of the nurse.
+
+It did not escape Felix's morbidly sharpened glance, that behind the
+pleasant smile with which Elsa met the child, surprise and compassion
+were hidden.
+
+"You probably find that he has changed for the worse?" he asked
+suddenly, gazing sharply at her. "What will you? Everything about me
+goes to ruin."
+
+When Elsa, after urgently and most tenderly begging Felix and his boy
+to come soon to Steinbach, had driven away, Felix took his boy on his
+knees, and kissed him passionately, murmuring again and again, "Poor
+child, poor branded child!"
+
+An unpleasant habit, common to most human beings living very much
+alone, he had adopted of late, that of talking to himself. The words
+which most frequently escaped him, which he probably repeated a dozen
+times, were, "The certain Lanzberg," and while he said that, his voice
+and his face expressed all the shades of bitterness, mockery and
+despair.
+
+And one evening, three or four days after Elsa's visit, Gery crept
+shyly up to him, and laying his little hand anxiously upon his father's
+arm, he asked in his gentle, somewhat sad little voice, "What is that,
+'the certain Lanzberg'?"
+
+Felix started; he gave a long-piercing gaze into the innocent eyes of
+the child, then he pushed him violently away and hurried out of the
+room.
+
+The same night Felix heard sobs outside his door, and as he opened it
+and looked out into the corridor, he discovered Gery, who stood there
+clad only in his little embroidered night-shirt, and barefoot.
+
+"Papa, you did not say good-night to me. Papa, was I naughty?" sobbed
+the child, with the morbid nervous excitement which proved his solitary
+life.
+
+Then Felix took him in his arms. It was a fresh spring night, and the
+child, who had stood for a long time outside, clad only in the thin
+night-shirt, shivered. Felix rubbed his little hands and feet warm.
+Then the nurse knocked at the door, seeking the child in anxious
+excitement.
+
+But Gery would not hear of returning to the nursery. He clung to his
+father and pleaded, "Let me stay with you, papa." Then Felix sent the
+nurse away, and took him into his bed. The child fell asleep nestled
+tenderly against him, slept soundly and unbrokenly. Felix lay awake.
+
+The opal-colored glow of the spring morning tinged the heavens, and
+Felix still was awake. He thought of old times, times which lay far
+back of the Juanita period; some jest over which he had laughed some
+twenty years ago occurred to him and pained him--he groaned; the child
+awoke; throwing his little arms around Felix's neck, he begged,
+coaxingly, "Dear papa, I sleep so well with you, let me always sleep
+with you." Then suddenly it flashed through Felix's mind, "Ah, if I
+could only die while he still loves me!" and suddenly the storm within
+him ceased--all became quiet within his heart, quiet as the grave.
+
+
+
+
+                                XXVIII.
+
+
+They passed the day happily together, Felix and his son. Felix bathed
+and dressed the child himself, with a thousand jests and little teasing
+ways. Gery had not seen his papa so gay for a long time, and rubbed
+against him again and again, like a young dog or kitten.
+
+The sky was blue, the earth white with blossoms, the first butterflies
+floated around the bushes. After lunch Felix drove with the child to
+Steinbach for the first time, in spite of Elsa's warm invitation.
+
+How warm and bright everything was in Steinbach. It almost seemed to
+him that there was a different sun there from Traunberg. Litzi received
+a holiday, so she could play with her little cousin to her heart's
+delight. Baby gave the little fellow her greatest treasure, a pot of
+ripe strawberries, which she had to clasp with both little arms when
+she carried it to him.
+
+Felix remained to dinner; they overwhelmed him with attentions, but
+still at heart he felt that Erwin and Elsa would have been happier and
+less constrained without him, which they would not, indeed, have
+admitted.
+
+As they did not wish to separate Felix from his boy during the meal, as
+a great exception they installed Baby in her high-chair at the table
+also, between Erwin and Litzi, an honor of which she proved herself
+wholly worthy, as she watched the others eating with great seriousness
+without desiring anything for herself. Only toward the end a little
+misfortune befell her: in a moment of extravagant tenderness, she tried
+to embrace her mother across the table, overturned a beer-glass, and
+showed herself so surprised and ashamed at this accident, that Erwin
+had to take her on his knee and console her. Felix felt plainly that
+Erwin's calm, playful good-nature to the child did not in the least
+remind one of the stormy immoderate caresses with which he overwhelmed
+his own son sometimes.
+
+After dessert, while the children played in the garden under Miss
+Sidney's care, and Felix sat somewhat apart with Elsa on a garden bench
+and watched them, Felix started suddenly.
+
+"What is the matter, Felix?" asked his sister, anxiously.
+
+He could not explain himself; he had heard the child laugh, and it had
+occurred to him how seldom the little one laughed at home--almost
+never.
+
+"Elsa," he asked after a while, "the child is growing very nervous and
+timid with me; will you do me the kindness to keep him with you for a
+while?"
+
+"Certainly, I will gladly keep the child," replied Elsa, "only you must
+promise me to visit him every day."
+
+Then Felix said, with a strange gaze, lost in the distance, and which
+she often later remembered, "Yes, I will visit him every day if I can."
+
+A short time after he took leave of Gery, who at first would not remain
+without his father, but grew quiet when Felix promised to visit him the
+next morning.
+
+The next morning!
+
+The carriage rolled away, and several minutes later Felix returned once
+more.
+
+"Have you forgotten something, Felix?" asked Erwin, who stood before
+the portal of the castle, talking in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, my revolver," replied Felix, uneasily and absently.
+
+When Erwin wished to go into the castle to help his brother-in-law find
+it, the latter held him back. "Oh, it is of no importance," he
+stammered. "I will get it--to-morrow. Where are the children?"
+
+"There," said Elsa, and in the distance, between the feathery green
+foliage, he saw the children at their play. They flew about and shouted
+like little gnomes, Gery the merriest of them all.
+
+"I will not disturb him," murmured Felix, after he had watched the
+children for a long time, without approaching them.
+
+He went.
+
+
+
+
+                                 XXIX.
+
+
+Returned to Traunberg, he wandered slowly through all the rooms of the
+castle. Then he had tea served in his room, drank a cupful, and ate a
+trifle. He laid his watch upon the table. At twelve o'clock all should
+be finished, he decided.
+
+The cold calm of resolution gave way to the exciting feeling of
+expectation.
+
+He seated himself at his writing-table, thoughtfully he rested his head
+in his hand, then he dipped the pen into ink, and wrote a long letter.
+He read it through with a certain pedantry, added here and there a
+comma, or made a letter plainer, placed the letter in an envelope, and
+addressed it to Elsa.
+
+His glance fell upon the watch--the hands pointed to quarter past
+eleven. He rose and walked up and down uneasily. He began to ask
+himself whether he had forgotten nothing, began to unconsciously seek
+reasons for postponing his act.
+
+His brow was bathed with cold sweat. He looked for his revolver and
+Toledo dagger, which both had formerly lain upon his table. They were
+gone. Evidently his valet had removed them. The razors also were
+hidden.
+
+Felix smiled bitterly. Then he drew a little English penknife from his
+pocket, sharpened it upon an ash-receiver, and laid it on the table
+beside his bed. Then, with folded hands, he crouched for a few minutes
+beside his bed. He thought of the promise not to kill himself which he
+had once given to his father. The promise could have no weight except
+during the life of the old man.
+
+When he looked again, the hands of the watch pointed to quarter before
+twelve. His heart beat loudly. A moment of irresolution came. Then from
+without a little soft bird cry floated in to him. He suddenly heard
+again Gery's voice, "Who is 'the certain Lanzberg,' papa?"
+
+Then he undressed himself, took the penknife, and with firm stroke cut
+through the veins and arteries in his left wrist and ankle.
+
+He rose once more to extinguish the candles on the table beside his
+bed, then he sank back among the pillows.
+
+He felt the warm blood flowing from him, and experienced a kind of
+disgust; then he murmured with a sigh, "Blood washes all things clean."
+
+The triumphal fanfare of the madrilena vibrated around him; the
+excitement which had burned within him throughout the whole time was
+for a moment increased tenfold.
+
+But the madrilena died away, and the fearful memories faded, the great
+painful weariness which had almost paralyzed him recently, preventing
+him from sleeping, vanished--he felt easier and easier.
+
+A comfortable drowsiness overcame him, and a thousand pictures changed
+before his dreamy dim eyes.
+
+He saw himself in the school-room, beside his tutor, and smiled at the
+expression with which the tutor drew his cuffs down over his knuckles
+when Elsa's French _bonne_ entered the room.
+
+The present had vanished, his thoughts wandered further and further
+back into the past.
+
+He sits beside his mother in the church, small and sleepy. Through an
+open window the fresh spring air blows in to the atmosphere of mould
+and incense of the sacred edifice.
+
+From half-closed eyes he sees a crowd of red peasant women, sees
+the little school-boys who crowd as near as possible to the carved
+_prie-dieus_ of the gentry. One of them winks at him.
+
+The priest elevates the host. Little Felix's tired eyes close, the
+peasants fade into a large red spot, the colored shadows of the church
+windows lie on the bare, gray stone pavement like a carpet. His head
+sinks upon his mother's arm. All is rosy vapor around him. Then his
+mother kisses him on the forehead and whispers, "It is over; wake up!"
+
+
+
+
+                                  XXX.
+
+
+The next morning a messenger came breathlessly to Steinbach. With
+gloomy obstinacy he refused to gratify the domestic's urgent questions.
+He desired to speak personally with the Baron.
+
+Erwin came. He was fearfully startled at the messenger's communication.
+Then as with distressed slowness he crossed the corridor to Elsa's
+room, she met him, pale as death, but calm. "A messenger has come from
+Traunberg. Felix has taken his life," she said in a hollow voice, with
+eyes fixed upon Erwin. She had guessed. With hand on her heart, her
+eyes closed, she remained for a moment speechless. Erwin feared a
+swoon, and with gentle force tried to lead her back to her room, but
+she resisted. "Order the carriage," she begged with almost inaudible
+voice; "I should like to go over there."
+
+Erwin accompanied her.
+
+An uneasy quiet, broken by the mysterious whispers of the domestics,
+pervaded Castle Traunberg. The servants all stood around in solemn
+idleness. Mrs. Stifler and the valet were busied with the corpse. They
+withdrew when Elsa entered the chamber of death.
+
+Slowly she approached the bed. There he lay--Felix!--his corpse.
+
+His head rested gently on the pillow; one saw that a lovely dream had
+helped the dying man across the threshold of eternity. The original
+beauty of his features, which life, with its shattering conflicts, had
+almost destroyed, death had restored again.
+
+Elsa kissed the corpse; she wept quietly and bitterly; she reproached
+herself a thousand times with not having shown her brother love enough,
+with not having helped him bravely enough to bear the heavy burden of
+his life.
+
+Then she noticed a letter, addressed to her, upon the table beside the
+bed.
+
+A quarter of an hour later she joined Erwin, who waited for her in the
+adjoining room. There were still tears on her cheeks, but in her eyes
+shone a kind of solemn pride. She handed Erwin the open letter. He
+read:
+
+
+Dear Elsa:
+
+You will be startled at what I have done. Forgive me this, as you have
+already forgiven me so much. I die not as a cowardly suicide, but as a
+man who has sentenced himself to death.
+
+The conviction has strengthened in my mind, that my life is of use and
+pleasure to no one. My own child begins to be saddened by the
+oppressive atmosphere which surrounds me. My shadow has long darkened
+your existence.
+
+After my death you will reproach yourself, dear, good heart; will fancy
+that you could have been better and more considerate to me than you
+have already been. Do not torment yourself. I remember nothing of you
+but unwearied love and tender compassion. May God bless you a thousand
+times, you and yours.
+
+Take my poor child to your home. Erwin will bring the boy up better
+than I could have done. Do not show my corpse to him, and put no
+mourning on him. I do not wish to be the cause of a single bitter hour
+to his poor little heart. Tell him I have gone on a journey. He will
+forget me.
+
+Never tell him, I beg you, of my disgrace, and if he learns of it
+through strangers, then--then tell him that I loved him beyond
+everything, and that I took my life so that I need never blush before
+him.
+
+Lay the little lock of golden hair which I cut from his head in Rome
+upon my breast. You will find it in the upper left drawer of my
+writing-desk, and put the old soldier's coat which I wore at Sadowa
+upon me. (Stifler knows where it is.) It is the only article of
+clothing in which I dare stretch myself out beside my ancestors for
+eternal rest, or appear before them for eternal reconciliation; who
+knows!
+
+A last kiss for my child. Farewell! and forgive
+
+                                   "The Certain Lanzberg."
+
+
+Erwin's eyes were moist. "He was indeed a noble nature," said he gently
+and hoarsely, as he gave the letter back to Elsa.
+
+"Yes," cried she, with a kind of pride. "He was really noble; therefore
+he tormented himself to death."
+
+Erwin drew the convulsively sobbing woman to his breast.
+
+Three days later the funeral took place.
+
+All the inhabitants of the country round of his rank were present; even
+Count L---- came to show Felix the last honors. All were deeply
+shocked. Suicide, against which in general they cherished the Catholic
+abhorrence, seemed to them in this case justified. They saw in this act
+almost the repayment of an outlawed debt.
+
+From that day the byword with which they had formerly designated Felix
+changed. They never again called him "the certain Lanzberg," but now
+always "the unfortunate Lanzberg."
+
+He was rehabilitated!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Felix Lanzberg's Expiation, by Ossip Schubin
+
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 20:04:04 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 20:04:04 -0700
commit	87f622f685018417a456e88c1143321a062abb5c (patch)
tree	0f51a62e37f33a6b193fa9d34c998695d681f913