"There was no question here of a debt in the ordinary sense of the word. Those obligations, which my father agreed to meet were, in reality, held by himself alone. The doc.u.ments relating to the transaction were destroyed, so far as I know, when"--here the young man's extreme irritation broke for an instant through his enforced calm--"when you paid the price for them."

The Baron rose offended.

"The marriage was concluded at that time, in pursuance, certainly, of Herr Berkow's wish; it is now about to be dissolved, more particularly at our desire. The circ.u.mstances are completely reversed."

"Is it absolutely necessary that we should keep up the business point of view and make a bargain of the divorce also?" interrupted Arthur with cutting sarcasm. "I hope that I and my wife may not be made the subject of traffic a second time. Once was quite sufficient."

The Baron altogether misunderstood these words, as he also misunderstood the agitation which prompted them. He answered with his haughtiest air.

"Remember, if you please, Herr Berkow, that the word traffic, which you are pleased to employ, can only have reference to one of the parties concerned. It cannot apply to us."

Arthur stepped back; his att.i.tude was proud and dignified, such as the n.o.bleman opposite him could but rarely a.s.sume.

"I know now how this marriage was brought about, and I know too how those obligations came to exist which forced you into giving your consent. You will therefore understand why it is I request that not another syllable may be said about this debt. I require of you, Baron, that you do not make a son blush for his father's memory."

Once before Windeg had been disconcerted by his son-in-law's behaviour, on the occasion when the latter had thought fit to decline the peerage offered him, but that had been done in a cool, half negligent manner, and quite in the former Arthur Berkow's style. The present scene and the way in which he now bore himself fairly petrified the Baron.

Involuntarily he glanced at his son, who had come out of the recess, and on whose youthful countenance was depicted a boundless astonishment which he gave himself no trouble to conceal.

"I was not aware you viewed the matter in that light," said Windeg at last "It was not my intention to wound your feelings."

"I suppose not, so we will let the subject drop into the past. With regard to the divorce, I will give my solicitor instructions to meet yours in a friendly spirit, and to render him any a.s.sistance in his power. Should a personal application to myself be necessary at any time, pray consider me as quite at your disposal I will do all I can to bring the matter to an end as speedily and with as little unpleasantness as possible."

He bowed to both gentlemen and left the room. In an instant young Conrad was at his father's side.

"What can it all mean? What, in the name of goodness, has come over this Arthur Berkow during the last three months? I thought yesterday evening he was graver and had a more decided way with him than formerly, but I never should have imagined he would be capable of behaving with so much dignity."

The Baron had not yet recovered from his astonishment. His son's exclamation roused him. "He really appears not to have been aware of the part his father was acting towards us. That certainly alters the case," said he in some confusion. "If only he had not required me to remain in his debt!"

"He does perfectly right," said Conrad, firing up, "now that he knows by what a system of usury Berkow drove us to our ruin. Not a quarter of the prodigious sums, afterwards arrayed against us, was ever advanced or expended by him in buying up those bills, and not a penny can the son receive if he will not bring dishonour on himself too. One could see that he was filled with shame at the whole disgraceful story. But this interview of ours took a very strange turn. The painful, the humiliating role in it was, unquestionably, his, and yet he managed to make us feel almost ashamed of our offer."

Windeg seemed disposed to take this last observation rather ungraciously, perhaps because he could not gainsay it.

"If we were unjust to him before, I am ready now to do him full justice," said he, "and the more so that we really owe him some thanks for his conduct with regard to this divorce business. I did not expect it would be so easy, notwithstanding the indifference he has always shown about the marriage."

Conrad's face again a.s.sumed a meditative expression, which, certainly, was not proper to it.

"I don't know, sir; it strikes me that the thing is by no means so settled. Berkow was far from being as calm as he tried to appear, and it was the same with Eugenie. There was no indifference in that violent start of his when you declared that she insisted on an immediate separation, and in Eugenie's face, when she left us, there was still less. A very odd idea has occurred to me in consequence!"

The Baron smiled with great superiority.

"You are quite a child still in some things. Con, in spite of your epaulets and your twenty years. Do you imagine that the determination which, as it now appears, they have both long since come to, could have arisen without previous quarrels and unpleasantness? Eugenie has suffered much from these scenes; perhaps Berkow may have suffered also.

What you so sagely remarked was the reverberation of storms gone by, nothing more. Thank G.o.d, there is plain sailing between us now, and the storms are over for good and all."

"Or perhaps they are only just beginning!" said Conrad to himself under his breath, as he left the room with his father.

CHAPTER XIX.

Evening had come, and throughout the house there was a feeling of disquiet and much busy movement. Baron Windeg had had another and a longer interview with his daughter in the afternoon, and directly afterwards the lady's maid had received orders to pack up her mistress's wardrobe. Herr Berkow had previously informed the servants that his wife would leave in the morning with her father for a stay of several weeks in the capital, and had desired that the necessary preparations should be made.

Of course, this piece of news at once made the round of all the officials' dwellings, and there, as at home, excited more uneasiness than surprise. It was clear as day that the master was only sending away her ladyship because he was convinced there would soon be "a row"

on the works. He wished to know that she was in safety, and had probably himself sent for her father to fetch her away. Windeg was right. The pretext was so plausible, it occurred to n.o.body to doubt it.

At first, the strangely cold relations between the young married pair had been much discussed and commented on; but that had gradually ceased. It was known that the marriage had not been one of inclination, but as no quarrels or violent scenes were ever heard of--and, had there been any such, they could hardly have escaped the servants' notice--as Berkow was always politeness itself in his behaviour to his wife, and Eugenie tranquillity itself in her manner towards him, it was concluded that they must have become accustomed to and satisfied with each other: the usual result of these marriages of convenience. Their peculiar way of life seemed to be only what was practised in the great world.

In the higher circles of the capital it was usual to live thus apart and on a politely cool footing, and it could therefore be a matter of no surprise that the Baroness Windeg and the son of Berkow the millionaire should adopt the same course. That this journey, which had been preceded by no quarrel, should contain in it the germs of a final separation, was suspected by no one, and it struck no one as strange that the family did not spend that evening in company as usual.

Dinner was served for the two guests in the dining-room; her ladyship, being unwell, ordered tea in her boudoir, and then, to her maid's astonishment, left it untouched. As to Herr Berkow, he did not dine at all, but retired to his study where he had "business" to attend to, giving strict orders that he should not be disturbed.

Without all was pitch darkness, and here within the lamp on the writing-table shed its light on a man who, for more than an hour, had been pacing restlessly to and fro. Behind those closed doors the mask of indifference he had worn so long, was thrown off at last, and an outlet given to the storm silently raging within him. This was no longer the blase young heir, nor the resolute leader whose suddenly-aroused energy and presence of mind had impressed his subordinates with respect and inspired the officials with courage.

In this man's face were visible traces of a great pa.s.sion, the extent of which had been unknown even to himself, until the moment when the object of it was about to be lost to him. That moment had now come, and, for a while, his pa.s.sion claimed its right to be heard.

The pallor of his brow, his quivering lips and burning eyeb.a.l.l.s told a tale of what that day's interview had cost him, though the Baron had a.s.serted of it that he could not have supposed the matter would be so easily arranged.

It had come at last then, that much-dreaded day of separation! and it was well that another had stepped in and effected that which his will lacked strength to undertake. How often during the last fortnight had Arthur himself thought of using the pretext which the Baron now suggested to him, and so of shortening the torture of this life under a common roof; for that measured calm of exterior, belying at every moment, as it did, the inward glow at his heart, could no longer be sustained. It exceeded his powers of endurance! And yet he had taken no step.

It is an indisputable truth that what is unavoidable had best be done at once; but not every one who would, if necessary, courageously use the knife to a poisoned bodily wound, can pluck up resolution to tear a devouring pa.s.sion from his breast. With it there comes irresistibly the dread of losing the much loved object.

They had been long separated, these two, but, at least, he could still behold that fair face with the dark, speaking eyes, and the proud and delicate features which had grown so grave of late, and then there came moments of bliss, fleeting as lightning, which made amends for whole days and weeks of bitterness; such as that time in the forest the day before yesterday, when, with evident anxiety, she had pressed her horse close to his, when she had trembled in his arms as he lifted her from her saddle.... It might be cowardly, but he could not voluntarily renounce all this before it was demanded of him. And now the demand was made!

The door was gently opened, and a servant appeared hesitating on the threshold.

"What is it?" exclaimed Arthur. "Did I not give orders"----

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man timidly.

"I knew you did not wish to be disturbed, but as her ladyship herself"----

"Who?"

"Her ladyship is here herself, and wishes"----

The man had no time to finish. To his astonishment, his master tore the door from his hand and hurried past him into the ante-room. There he saw his wife, apparently waiting; in an instant he was at her side.

"You have yourself announced? What unnecessary etiquette!"

"You wished to see no one, I hear, and Frank told me the order applied to every one without exception."

"Arthur frowned, and turned to the servant, who said apologetically,

"I really did not know what to do. It is the first time my lady has come here."

He stammered these words in his confusion, meaning them as an excuse and nothing more, but Eugenie turned quickly away, and the reprimand on her husband's lips remained unspoken.