Chapter 94
"I do not see what objection my husband can have. It seems to me rather, the more I think of it, that he only sent us here to settle it between you. Only I think it would have been more civil of him--and of you too, by the way--if you had told me so beforehand instead of leaving me in the dark; and I shall tell Edward so when we get home today."
Carla had sat down on the sofa by her sister-in-law, and was playing with one of the long ribbons of her dressing-gown.
"We, sweet pet?" said she. "I thought you meant to go home alone, pet?"
"And I think you are too foolish," answered Frau von Wallbach, "and I should be ashamed of myself in your place, only I suppose you are too much in love to know what you are talking about. How can you, now that you have come to an understanding with Golm, as you seem to have done--"
"But there is nothing decided between us!" cried Carla.
"It is all the same, besides--begging your pardon--I don't believe it.
But no matter, you cannot remain another day as a guest in the house of Ottomar's aunt; it would be perfectly scandalous, and I will have nothing to do with it, and if you do not come with me--what's that?"
The remaining shutter closed noisily, and a pane of gla.s.s fell with a clatter into the room.
Carla jumped up with a scream of terror.
"Do you want us to travel in this weather?"
"If I can, so can you," said Frau von Wallbach; "and now have the goodness to get ready; we shall start in an hour at latest."
Fortunately for Carla, who did not know how to avert the threatened blow, the maid came back at this moment to say that the Baroness was very sorry that she could not oblige Frau von Wallbach; she was herself obliged to go out with Fraulein von Werben. But she had sent to inquire in the village; perhaps one of the peasants might provide horses, but it was not very likely.
"This is pleasant," said Frau von Wallbach, "I cannot go away on foot.
Where are the ladies going?"
The maid smiled. She could not say for certain, but Fraulein von Werben's maid thought they might be going to Wissow.
"Very well," said Frau von Wallbach; "just see that that window is put right. I will go myself to the Baroness, she will excuse my deshabille.
Come with me, Carla!"
Carla would much rather not have gone, but Louisa was so intolerably determined today, that she must do all she could to coax her back into good humour. Besides, if, as now appeared probable, Louisa did not go away, she had at least the pleasant prospect of seeing the two other ladies out of the house, perhaps for the whole day. She could soon talk over Louisa into not putting any insurmountable obstacle in the way of the daring, delightful scheme which she had hastily concocted with the Count yesterday. And as to the important question of her own stay, there could hardly remain a doubt.
"But, my sweet pet," said she to her sister-in-law, as they pa.s.sed along the corridor to the Baroness's room, "you would not do such a thing by me as to make any allusion to Count Golm in my presence? So long as they keep silence towards us, we really need not be the first to speak."
"I thought nothing had been decided between you," said Frau von Wallbach.
"All the more then," said Carla.
Valerie was alone when the two ladies came in, and already dressed for her drive. She, too, looked pale and tired, so much so that the good-natured Louisa exclaimed:
"You should go to bed again, my dear Baroness, instead of braving this storm, which really seems to be frightful. I will go with Elsa, that sort of thing does not hurt me; or, what would be the wisest thing, we will all stay here and keep you company, even if my company is not too amusing."
"Certainly," interposed Carla, "we will willingly remain with you, and pa.s.s this dull day sociably together."
Valerie, without seeming to see Carla, took Louisa's hand.
"Thank you for your kindness, dear Frau von Wallbach, but forgive me if notwithstanding I seem to slight the duties of hospitality. It can only be for a few hours, as I expect another visitor to-day, Signor Giraldi, with whom I have to speak of some most important business. He will be surprised and disappointed, therefore, at not finding me, and so I wanted to ask you to tell him that I have gone to Wissow with my niece, whose betrothed--of course you have heard of it all from Fraulein von Wallbach--is exposed to great danger in this fearful storm. We have waited until now for news, but in vain, as was natural under the circ.u.mstances; and have no hope of receiving any now, while we fear the worst, at least I do; for my dear niece is still trying to inspire me with courage, though hers must be inwardly failing her. Your kind heart can feel for me--for us, I am sure."
"Of course, of course!" said Frau von Wallbach, in whose good-natured eyes tears were standing; "go, my dear Baroness, and think no more of us; and as for your commission--when do you expect Signor Giraldi?"
"He ought to have been here the first thing this morning, but no doubt the violence of the storm has detained him; he may arrive at any moment."
"It is all the same to me," said Frau von Wallbach; "I will do the honours to him. The chief thing is that you should set off; and here comes dear Elsa."
She met Elsa, who now came in ready for her drive, with a warmth to which Elsa gratefully responded. It was a comfort to feel that all good hearts would be on the same side in this conflict which was threatening all around, and in which so many of the worst pa.s.sions were let loose, so many sordid motives were mingling. And she could not help admiring the honesty with which this woman, whose insignificance had become a byword, declared herself on the side which she considered right in the decisive moment, even in Carla's presence, following the impulse of her own heart with no thought for anything further. What Carla might think of it, as she stood apart,
It was unfortunately impossible to-day to choose the shorter road to Wissow. The fields and meadows along the sh.o.r.e, through which Elsa had pa.s.sed the evening before, were too wet, the coachman said, in consequence of the torrents of rain which had been falling since last night. They saw traces of this as soon as they had left the comparatively higher ground on which the castle with the park and home farm were situated, and had reached the hollow which extended along the side of the chain of hills on which the village stood, and which joined at either end the plain. The wheels sank at once almost to the axles, although the road was well gravelled and was in general quite dry; and they had some trouble in getting through it though it extended for barely two hundred yards.
It was dreadful, said Herr Damberg, the farmer, who met them on their way to the village, and rode a little way back by the sides of the carriage; and one couldn't tell yet whether it might not get much worse, and if it would not be better to follow Captain Schmidt's advice, who had sent word all round the coast yesterday that there would be a frightfully high tide if the storm came up from the east, which might reach far inland, and measures should be taken to prepare for it. Well, the castle and the home farm lay high enough, unless things got worse than bad; but the hollow here, whose bottom was on the same level as, or even lower than the marshes, would at any rate be flooded, and then at Warnow they would be on an island. And a pleasant situation that would be, particularly as inland here they had got no boats, and n.o.body could tell how long this state of things might last.
He was only glad that he had not signed the new agreement with the Count. The wheatfields and meadows there were all very well, but they could not yield enough to carry one through a calamity such as threatened now, and the consequences of which were not to be foretold, especially when rents were twice as high as they used to be.
"Ah! yes, my lady," said Herr Damberg, "your good husband was a just man. He thought of other people, and not of himself alone, like some other gentlemen. Well, my lady, I must go back now, and look after things at home, before they all lose their heads there. I hope your ladys.h.i.+p and the young lady will get safe to Wissow and back again, and tell the Captain that he had better keep some boats ready for us, as he may have work to do here before night."
The old man said this quite seriously, and then pulled his cap, which he had taken off, well down upon his forehead, set spurs to his horse, and rode down to the farm just as the carriage reached the first house in the village.
Here, too, the excitement, which to-day had roused the most sluggish, had taken hold of the people. Although they were themselves safe from the flood in case it came, with the exception of a few cottages at the foot of the hill, their comparatively lofty position had exposed them all the more to the ravages of the storm. Both thatched and tiled roofs had been partly or entirely destroyed, windows blown in, chimneys knocked down, hedges overthrown, branches had been broken off in quant.i.ties, and even the trees themselves blown down. On the little green before the inn-door, about the highest spot in the place, lay the great lime-tree, the pride of the village, torn up by the roots. It had only happened half an hour before, and it was fortunate that the three waggons which had come down from Jasmund, on their way to Prora, had not already stood where they were waiting now, at the inn-door, for if so horses and men must all have been killed. The men would not go any farther, said the landlord, who had come to the carriage-door; they were afraid that the waggon might be blown off the road in the storm.
And indeed the Baroness had much better turn back too; for though the road to Wissow ran behind the hill for a part of the way, and so was to some extent protected, it might be very bad when they got round the point and down upon Wissow itself, where they would be fully exposed to the storm again.
"Oh, go on, go on!" cried Elsa.
She had indeed summoned up all her strength, so that no one who did not feel for her like Valerie could have guessed what was pa.s.sing in her mind. But now, when the fury of the elements, from which she had been sheltered in the castle, broke upon her from all sides, and appeared to her by a thousand terrible signs; when she saw written upon so many faces, the terror which she, for her aunt's sake, had been hiding in her trembling heart, even her courage wavered, and she laid her head weeping upon her faithful friend's shoulder.
"Cry as much as you will, dear child," said Valerie kindly; "it will relieve your poor anxious heart. They are pure and gentle tears, and truly you need not be ashamed of them. You have struggled as not many could have done."
"But I had promised myself and him to be brave," sobbed Elsa; "and I always think he will find out if I am not, and then he will not be so strong himself as is required of him by his duty and by his own brave heart."
A wonderful smile flitted across Valerie's pale face.
"If all could rest as securely in their love and in their faith in those they love as you can do! Oh, Elsa, Elsa, how unspeakably happy you are in your sorrow!"
"I know it," said Elsa, "and am doubly ashamed of myself for burdening your poor heart with fresh cares for me."
"And for whom else should I care?" answered Valerie. "Certainly not for myself, I have told you all without losing your love; I want to carry your love with me to the grave, and so end my life joyfully, as a wild, fever-haunted night ends with a gentle morning dream. It might all be over then; for the day so pa.s.sionately hoped for through the long, terrible years--the day when your father would say to me, 'Valerie, I have forgiven you,' will never come now."
"What if it were to-day?" said Elsa, taking her aunt's hand in hers.
"Forgive me for what I have done without consulting you! As I sat by you last night, and the storm raged more and more furiously, I felt that I had over-calculated my strength, that I should have to leave you to-day to hasten to Reinhold, and that I ought not to leave you without sending for my father. I telegraphed to him early this morning; he will come, I am sure. But he cannot be here before the evening, and that is why, my dear aunt, I have let you accompany me. Everything fits in so well with this arrangement: that dreadful man has not come as we expected, and when we go home this evening, even if you go home alone, you will not have to meet him by yourself; you will have one by you who can and will protect you better than I could do. You are not angry with me, aunt?"
Valerie smiled through the tears which ran down her pale cheeks.
"I cannot be angry with my good angel! May you have been my good angel in this case also!--but I dare not hope it! Your father knows and respects justice alone; the gracious, redeeming power of mercy he does not know. I cannot but suppose that he despises it, and despises those who plead for mercy. My imploring letters, which I was forced amidst a thousand terrors to hide from spying eyes, as I hid the answers also, have never moved him. Cold and repelling was the look with which he met me after so long a lapse of time, which generally softens the sternest; cold and repelling the few words which he deigned to address to me, merely to tell me what was the first step I must take if there were to be peace between him and me. He did not see what you, my darling, perceived at the first glance, that I could not take this step as matters now stood--that without the help of some compa.s.sionate heart I never could take it. Oh, Elsa, Elsa! I will not blame your father, especially before you; but, Elsa, many things would have happened differently and more happily for me--for us all--for your father himself--if he had ever really understood that profound saying, that the proud will not enter the kingdom of heaven."
"But my father has been so kind to me," said Elsa, "although my attachment has so completely destroyed all his hopes for my future. And it was he, too, who made the first advance to Reinhold's proud uncle, so that it was not his fault certainly that Ottomar's affairs turned out so badly."
Valerie did not answer. She did not wish to tell her dear niece how very differently the matter appeared to her; how she believed, on the contrary, that it was just his father's intervention that had made Ottomar's union with Ferdinanda impossible; and that even his consent in Elsa's case was not the hearty approval of a loving father, but that of a man who unwillingly allows what he cannot prevent, without violating his highest principles of justice.
Elsa was silent also; her thoughts had flown forward in advance of the carriage, which seemed hardly to make any progress, in spite of all the efforts of their bold driver and powerful horses. They would have been even slower in their movements over the ill-made road, which in some places was almost destroyed by the rain, if the hill, along the side of which they were driving, had not broken the force of the gale. Two or three times only, on rising ground, they met its full power, and then it seemed almost a miracle that the whole equipage was not blown over.
Still it held firm, and so did the horses, who repeatedly had to stand still and stem the blast with the whole weight of their bodies. At such moments when they could see over the plain to the left, right down to the sea, the two ladies saw with terror, above the long waving line of the grey dunes from Golmberg to the point, another white line rising and falling, and here and there shooting up thirty or forty feet into the air, and falling upon the land in dense clouds. They knew that this was surf, the surf of that same sea whose waves generally rippled and splashed on the smooth sand, fifty or a hundred yards away from the foot of the dunes, as they had done on that rainy evening when Elsa stood there wrapped in her cloak, and the waving gra.s.ses on the edge of the dunes behind her seemed to entice her on farther to more delightful adventures.