"If I could have foreseen that all conciliating words would be unavailing, I should not have sought this interview. I have offered to make peace with you and to let you remain on the works. Hardly any other man would have made such a sacrifice, and it cost me an effort before I could bring myself to do it. You have rejected my proposal with scorn and hatred. You will be my enemy. Well, be it so then, but the whole responsibility of what may now happen must lie with you. I have striven in vain to stem the torrent of disaster. Whatever may be the issue of the strife between us, you and I have done with each other for ever."

So saying, he turned his back on the miner and left him.

"Success to you," cried out Hartmann after him ironically, but Arthur did not appear to hear. He was already at some little distance, and now struck off into the road which led towards the houses.

Ulric remained behind. Above his head the willow-branches swayed to and fro in the evening breeze; over the meadows floated and curled a soft white vapour, and up yonder over the tops of the pines there came once more a weird blood-red flush which paled gradually until it faded completely away. As the Deputy gazed at the flaming sky, his own face caught a tinge of that sanguinary hue.

"'We have done with each other.' No, no, Arthur Berkow, we are only beginning now. I would not own to myself the cowardly feeling which held me back, but I dared not attack him whilst she was by his side.

Now the way is open; now the time for a reckoning has come."

CHAPTER XXII.

In the capital there reigned all the busy movement of a summer afternoon. A many-coloured ever-changing crowd thronged the main streets, promenaders, people intent on business, and artisans succeeding each other in one unbroken stream. All around unceasing noise and the endless roll of carriages, great clouds of dust rising on every side, and overhead the hot rays of the afternoon sun, already falling obliquely, and lighting up the whole scene.

From the windows of the Windeg mansion, situated in one of the princ.i.p.al streets, a young lady was looking down on the hurry and bustle below which had grown almost strange to her in the solitude of her mountain home.

Eugenie had returned to her father's house, and the short interval of her married life seemed effaced and forgotten. In the family circle it was rarely adverted to, and never except when some allusion to the approaching separation had to be made. The sons followed in this their father's example, and he kept silence on the subject at home, hoping thereby to stifle every painful remembrance.

At the same time he busied himself with those preliminary steps necessary before entering on the judicial proceedings of the divorce.

Until this stage should be reached, the matter was not to be made public. The servants and those few acquaintances, who were still in town, knew no more than that the young wife had come on a visit to her family, in consequence of some disturbances on her husband's estates.

Eugenie occupied the rooms which had been hers before her marriage.

Nothing in them had been altered, and when, as in former days, she stood at her favourite window, which opened on to a balcony, and looked out, all the old well-known objects met her sight; she might never have been away at all.

The last three months could be nothing more to her than an ugly dream, from which she had now awakened to the old freedom of her maidenhood, and to a freedom far more complete than any she had known before, for now there was no spectre of care haunting each step made by herself and those dearest to her. Every new day would no longer bring fresh humiliations and fresh sacrifices, each hour of the family life need no longer be poisoned by the fear of what might happen on the morrow, of possible disgrace, of ruin with all its fearful consequences. The n.o.ble old race of the Windegs could now come forward once more with all the prestige of wealth and power, for the Lord of Rabenau was rich enough, when all former losses were covered, to make a splendid provision for himself and all belonging to him.

There was indeed one shadow still on all this new-born sunshine, and it was caused by that plebeian name so detested by the Baron, and, at one time, by Eugenie.

But even this need only be a question of time. The beautiful talented girl had formerly met with many admirers of her own rank, who would sooner or later have become suitors for her hand, in spite of her father's embarra.s.sed circ.u.mstances; indeed, any man wedding Eugenie Windeg might well forget that he would be taking home as his bride the daughter of a poor and debt-laden house. Then the elder Berkow had stepped in, had roughly interfered with all these plans and projects, and destined the prize to his own son. He was able to demand that which others must sue for, and he knew how to use his power. But now Eugenie would be free, and her father could afford to give her a brilliant dowry. He knew more than one among his peers who was ready, and not from interested motives alone, to take up again the thread which had been so rudely severed; and so, with the name, the last remembrance of that former marriage would vanish for ever, and, by a union of suitable rank, the young Baroness would be placed in a position equal, if not superior, to that a.s.signed to her by birth. Then the last spot on the Windeg shield would be effaced, and it would shine out once more with undiminished l.u.s.tre.

But the young wife hardly looked as calm and full of joyous hope as the advent of so much good fortune might have led one to expect. She had now been some weeks in her father's house, and yet the colour had not returned to her cheeks, and her mouth had not learnt to smile again.

Here, surrounded by all the love and care of her own people, she continued pale and silent as she had been by the side of the husband who had been forced upon her, and now, as she looked down on the crowds below, there was not one in all that varying mult.i.tude who had power to fix her attention for an instant. She gazed down on them with that far-off dreamy look which sees nothing near at hand, but is intent on some very different object in some far distant place. "In that city of yours one loses everything, even one's love of solitude and the woods."

These words hardly seemed applicable here. Eugenie looked as if quite a painful longing for them had taken possession of her.

The Baron was in the habit of coming to his daughter's rooms for half an hour before going for his afternoon ride. He came in now with a graver face than usual and holding a paper in his hand.

"I must trouble you with some business matters to-day, my dear," he began, after a few words of greeting. "I have just had an interview with our solicitor, which has proved more satisfactory than we could have expected. The representative of the other side is empowered to meet all our wishes, and the two have come to an agreement as to the necessary steps to be taken. The whole affair will probably be settled much more quickly and easily than we had dared to hope. I must ask you to sign this paper, please."

He held out the doc.u.ment to her. Eugenie stretched out her hand to take it, and then suddenly drew it back again.

"I am to"----

"Just to put your name here underneath, nothing more," said the Baron calmly, laying the paper on a writing-table and pushing forward a chair. Eugenie hesitated.

"It is a deed, I see. Ought I not to read it over first?"

Windeg smiled.

"If it were an important doc.u.ment, we should have given it to you to read, of course, but it has reference only to the proceedings in divorce. The demand will be made for you by counsel, but your signature is required. It is a mere formality at the opening of the suit, the details will follow later. If you would like to hear how it sounds, I"----

"No, no," interrupted she, "it is not necessary. I will sign, but it need not be done at once. I am not in the humour for it now."

The Baron looked at her in astonishment.

"Humour? but you have only to sign your name. It will be done in a minute, and I have promised your counsel to let him have it this evening; he intends to present the pet.i.tion to-morrow morning."

"Well then, I will bring it to you this evening signed. Only not now, I cannot do it now."

Windeg shook his head and looked displeased.

"This is a very strange whim, Eugenie, and I do not understand it at all. Why cannot you make this simple stroke of your pen now in my presence? However, if you insist upon it .... I shall expect that you will give it to me this evening at tea, there will still be time to send it off."

He did not notice that his daughter breathed a sigh of relief at these words. Going up to the window, he too looked down into the street.

"Will not Conrad come to me?" asked Eugenie, after a moment's pause. "I have not seen him yet except at dinner."

"He is very likely tired after his journey, and may be taking a little rest. Oh, there you are, Conrad, we were just speaking of you."

The young Baron, who came in at this moment, must have counted on finding his sister alone, for he said with evident and not altogether pleased surprise,

"You here, sir? They told me you were having an interview with the solicitor in the library."

"It is over, as you see."

Conrad seemed to wish it had lasted a little longer. He made no answer, but went up to his sister and sat down comfortably by her side. He had only come up from the country that day at noon.

A strange, and, in the Baron's sight, highly untoward chance had willed that the regiment to which his eldest son belonged should be quartered in the town nearest to the Berkow estates. Now, of all times, when the connection had so entirely ceased! An extension of leave for the young officer could not be thought of, as the rising of the miners throughout the neighbourhood had produced much agitation in the province, and riots were expected which might call for an intervention of the military, so Conrad must return very shortly to the garrison-town, where Berkow had, of course, many intimate acquaintances.

He had already received strict injunctions from his father not to mention the intended separation just at present. The Baron kept to his original tactics; he would present the world with an accomplished fact.

For the rest, he fondly imagined, though he did not say so, that his son would avoid all personal contact with his whilom relative.

This supposition appeared to be correct; at least Arthur's name was never mentioned in the young officer's letters, and the existing state of things on his works only casually alluded to. Conrad had been sent to the capital on some matter relating to his service. There had been no opportunity as yet of talking freely; he had only been at home a few hours, and, at dinner, the presence of guests had imposed some restraint upon the family.

Now, however, the objectionable subject having once been introduced in reference to Eugenie's signature, the Baron inquired in a tone of the utmost indifference, as if asking for news of a very slight and distant acquaintance, how things were going on the Berkow estates.

"Badly, sir, very badly," said Conrad, turning to his father, but keeping his place at his sister's side. "Arthur fights like a man against the misfortunes which are a.s.sailing him on all sides, but I am afraid he will succ.u.mb to them at last. He has ten times more to battle against than the proprietors of the other works. All his father's sins, during twenty years of tyranny and oppression, are visited now upon him, and he has to suffer, too, for all the reckless speculations of later times. I cannot make out how he manages to struggle on. Any one else would have given way long ago."

"If the movement is growing too strong for him, I am surprised he does not call in military aid," said the Baron coldly.

"That is just it, but on this subject he won't listen to reason. For my part," cried the young heir of the Windegs, with the characteristic inconsiderateness of his cla.s.s, "for my part, I would have shot down the fellows long ago, and have forced them to leave me in peace. They have given him cause enough, and if their ringleader goes on exciting them, as he is now doing day by day, they will be burning his house over his head soon. But it is all of no use, you may argue and pray.

'No, and once again no; so long as I can defend myself, no stranger shall set his foot on my works!'

"And to be frank with you, sir, they will be very pleased in the regiment if our help is not required; we have had to give it too often already during the last few weeks. At the other places round, things were not half so bad as at the Berkow mines, yet the first thing the owners did was to cry out for troops to protect them, and thereby place themselves on a war-footing with their own people.