Bruno's fingers moved yet more quickly than before--death, grief, sickness were intended for the lower orders, and not for the higher cla.s.ses. The world is miserably arranged after all, since there is no preservative against such ills, and since one cannot purchase immunity from them.

His excellency Von Schnabelsdorf also came. Bruno hated him at heart, for it was he who had invented the sobriquet of "Miss Mother-in-law"

for Baroness Steigeneck, the whilom dancer. Bruno, however, felt obliged to act as if he knew nothing of it, to take his hand in the most polite and grateful manner, and to receive a kiss from the lips which had put a stigma upon his family; for Von Schnabelsdorf stood highest at court, and Bruno could not do without his friendship, which was doubly necessary, now that his main support, his sister, had been taken from him.

Thus Bruno felt annoyed at the visits of condolence he received, as well as at those which were withheld. The world was considerate enough to refrain from alluding to anything more than Irma's sudden and unfortunate death; how she was thrown from her horse and fell into the lake. The vice-master of the horse maintained that Pluto had never properly been broken in. Bruno, himself, behaved as if he really believed that Irma had met with her death by accident.

But it seemed as if he delighted to picture to himself the scene of the suicide, and to think of Irma at the bottom of the lake, held fast to the rocks by her long hair. He could not banish the awful picture, and at last threw open the window, so that he might divert himself with external objects.

Bruno did not care to eat or drink anything; the intendant could only induce him to take some food, by ordering dinner for himself. Bruno felt obliged to sit down with him, and, at every mouthful, he said: "I can't eat." At last, however, he ordered some champagne.

"I must build a fire in my engine!" said he, gnashing his teeth, while he thrust the bottle into the wine-cooler. "I derive as little pleasure from this as the engine does from the coals."

He drank down the wine hastily, and went on eating with a woe-begone expression, as if he would, at any moment, burst into tears.

He ordered more champagne.

"Did you see that?" said he, looking out of the window. His eyes were inflamed. "There's Kreuter, the merchant, riding Count Klettenheim's chestnut gelding. They must have played high last night, that the count should give up his horse; why, it's the pride of his life, his honor.

What is Klettenheim without his gelding. A mere cipher, a double zero.

Ah, my dear friend, excuse me! I am feverish, I am ill. But I won't be ill! I shall say nothing more. Go on; say whatever you please."

The intendant had nothing to say. He felt as ill-at-ease as if he were shut up in a dungeon with a maniac.

"I wish to speak with lackey Baum," cried Bruno suddenly. The intendant was obliged to dispatch a telegram to the summer palace, asking that Baum should be sent to the king's aid-de-camp.

Bruno let down the curtains, ordered lights and more wine, and gave orders that no one should be admitted. The intendant was in despair, but Bruno exclaimed:

"My dear friend, everything on earth is suicide, with this difference, however--here, one can always come to life again. The hour one kills is the only one that is rightly spent."

The intendant feared an outbreak of delirium, but Bruno was not one of those cavaliers who have only as much mind as the champagne they have just tossed down inspires them with, and who, at best, can only write a gallant billet-doux or devise a witty impropriety. At other times, Bruno would have laughed at the man who would ask him to adopt a system as his own, and yet he now a.s.serted that he had one, and, filling his gla.s.s again, exclaimed: "Yes, my friend; there are only two kinds of human beings in the world."

"Men and women?" said the intendant, who thought it best to fall in with his vein, in order more easily to divert him from it.

"Pshaw!" interrupted Bruno. "Who is speaking of such things? Listen, my friend; the two human species are those who enjoy and those who suffer.

He who lives for so-called ideas--for the good, the beautiful, the true. The man with an ideal may sacrifice his life, or be burnt at the stake. It is his duty. His life is a short and uneventful one, but is compensated by the long and enduring remembrance in which he is held by posterity. That balances the reckoning. Is it not so?"

The intendant was obliged to a.s.sent. What could he do?

"And the second species," added Bruno, "includes ourselves--those who enjoy. The best thing in the world is enjoyment without consequences.

After I have been smoking, gaming or listening to music, I can do anything; nothing disturbs me then. Other pleasures unfortunately have consequences. One ought to have no family--no family--by all means, no family."

Bruno suddenly burst into tears. The intendant was at a loss how to help him, and reproached himself for not having induced Bruno to refrain from drinking and talking. Bruno threw his head back, and the intendant wrapped a piece of ice in a handkerchief and laid it on his forehead.

"Thanks!" said Bruno, closing his eyes; "thanks!"

He was soon asleep.

The servant entered. Bruno awoke. The intendant drew aside the curtains and opened the windows. It was high noon.

Word came that Baum had already started off with Doctor Sixtus, the court physician. "Then we will go without them," said Bruno, who had regained his composure.

"We?"

"You see, my grief makes me think that I have already told you everything. We must go to the lake to look for traces of my unfortunate sister. Have I really said nothing of this to you before?"

"No--but I am at your service. I will ask for leave of absence for myself and for you, too."

"There's no need of that. His majesty has already offered it to me.

Your Majesty is very gracious--very. Do you think we serve you? Ha, ha!

we only serve you because we can enjoy ourselves better, and in more varied ways, at your court. You are our host, and do not mind stealthily taking a t.i.t-bit yourself, behind the bar--I beg of you, my dear friend--what did I say? You heard nothing--did you? It was delirium! I am growing mad! I must go out! Let us start this very day!"

The intendant consented and left him for an hour, in order to arrange various matters before his departure.

Bruno ordered his trunks to be packed, and gave instructions that two saddle-horses should be sent to the lake at once.

CHAPTER IX.

Bruno was standing in his room, surrounded by luggage of various shapes, when a servant announced his gracious mother-in-law.

"She here? And in spite of my prohibition?" thought he to himself.

"Show her in," he said to the servant, who quickly threw open the folding-doors, and closed them again when the lady had entered. "Ah, my dear mother!" exclaimed Bruno, who was about to hurry forward to embrace her, but she coolly offered him her hand and said:

"No, no," and then, seating herself on a sofa, she continued:

"Draw near; take a seat."

"Do you know--?" inquired Bruno.

"I know all; you need tell me nothing."

"I thank you for coming to offer me your sympathy."

"I'm delighted--I meant to say that I feel comforted to find you so composed. Arabella knows nothing as yet?"

"No."

"Nor need she know of it.--What is the meaning of all this luggage?"

Bruno looked at her in astonishment. Who had any right to inquire, and in such a tone? "I'm going on a journey," he answered bluntly, and then, in order to prevent a scene, he added in a gentle tone: "As her brother, I must make inquiries in regard to the accident."

"I approve of that; it's quite proper," replied the Baroness. "Have you already had an understanding with him!--You don't seem to understand me, as you don't answer; I mean with this king."

"Yes," replied Bruno boldly, "but I have pledged my word to let it go no further."

"Very well, I respect your discretion; but now, a frank word with you.

Please close the _portiere_."