She raised her large eyes and looked him steadily in the face.

"People said that Arthur Berkow only made so princely a display, only threw away thousands upon thousands, in order to buy the favour of the young n.o.bility and the right to a.s.sociate with them, hoping that his own humble birth would thus be forgotten. People said that in the wild, dissipated doings of a certain set, he was the wildest, the most dissipated of all. As to some of the other reports, it would ill become me as a woman to p.r.o.nounce upon them."

Arthur's hand still rested on the back of the armchair on which he was leaning; during the last few seconds it had buried itself involuntarily deeper and deeper in the silken cushions.

"And you naturally do not think it worth while to attempt to reclaim this lost sinner, on whom sentence has been pa.s.sed without appeal?"

"No."

She spoke this 'No' in a freezing tone. The young man's face twitched a little as he drew himself up quickly.

"You are more than sincere! Never mind, it is an advantage to know exactly on what footing we are to be together, for together we must remain for a time, at all events. The step we took yesterday cannot be recalled immediately, without exposing us both to ridicule. If you provoked this scene with a view to showing me, that though my presumption had won your hand, yet I must learn to hold myself at a respectful distance from the Baroness Windeg--and I fear this was your sole object--you have gained your end, but"----here Arthur relapsed into his old languid manner, "but I beg of you, let this be the first and last conversation of the kind between us. I detest everything which resembles a scene; my nerves really will not bear them, and it is always possible to regulate one's life without any such useless excitement. And now I think I shall best meet your wishes by leaving you alone. Allow me to wish you good evening."

He took up from the sideboard a silver candelabra, in which lights were burning, and left the room. Outside the threshold he stopped a moment and turned to look back. The gleam in his eyes was no longer faint, it blazed up for one second clear and bright; then all grew dull and lifeless once more, but the candles flared unsteadily as he crossed the anteroom, possibly from the current of air, or was it because the hand which carried them shook a little?

Eugenie remained alone. She drew a deep breath of relief as the _portiere_ fell behind her husband. As though needing some fresh air after so painful a scene, she drew the curtains back, half opened the window, and, stepping on to the balcony, looked out at the balmy spring evening. The stars shone faintly through the thin transparent clouds which veiled the heavens, and the landscape without looked indistinct and shadowy, for the deep twilight had already fallen, clothing it on all sides with its dusky garment The flowers on the terrace below filled the air with their fragrance, and the low splash of the fountains came refreshingly to the ear. Peace and rest were everywhere--everywhere but in the heart of the young wife, who, to-day, for the first time, had crossed the threshold of her new home.

It was over at last, the dumb torturing struggle of the last two months, through which she had been supported by the pain and by the ardour of the fight itself. For heroic natures there is something grand in the idea of giving up one's whole future for others, of buying their salvation with the happiness of one's own life, of sacrificing one's self in their stead to an inexorable destiny. But now when the sacrifice was made, when deliverance had been secured, when there was nothing left to fight for, and nothing to overcome, now all the romantic glamour, which filial love had hitherto woven round Eugenie's resolve, faded away, and she began to feel deeply the cold desolation of the life before her.

The breezy, balmy air of the spring evening seemed to stir in its depths all the long-repressed anguish of this young soul, which had demanded its share of love and happiness from life, and which had been so cruelly robbed of its lawful due. She was young and beautiful, more beautiful than most, she was of a n.o.ble old race; and the proud daughter of the Windegs had ever adorned the hero of her youthful dreams with all the brilliant chivalry of her forefathers. That he should be her equal in name and rank was a thing never questioned ....

and now? Had the husband, who had been forced upon her, possessed that energy and strength of character which she prized above everything in a man, she might, perhaps, have forgiven him his plebeian birth; but this weakling, whom she had despised before she had known him----Had the insults, which she, with fullest intent, had heaped upon him, and which would have stung any other man to fury, even roused him from his apathetic indifference? Had this apathy of his been shaken even for one moment by the open expression of her contempt? Another, a stranger, must throw himself before the maddened animals this morning, at the risk of being trampled to death by them.

Before Eugenie's mental vision rose the face of her deliverer with its defiant blue eyes and bleeding forehead. Her husband did not even know whether this man's wound were dangerous, whether it might not prove mortal, yet both he and she must have perished but for that energetic, lightning-like deed.

She sank back into a seat and hid her face in her hands. All that she had suffered and fought against for months pressed in on her now with tenfold power, and found utterance in the one despairing cry, "My G.o.d!

my G.o.d! how shall I bear this life?"

CHAPTER V.

Herr Berkow's very extensive mining works lay at some distance from the capital, in one of the remoter provinces. The neighbouring country offered no great attractions. Hills, and nothing but hills; for miles around only the uniform dark green of the pines, which clothed alike the heights and valleys; buried in their midst occasional villages and hamlets, and, here and there, a farm or a country-house. But the soil up in these parts could not yield much. The treasures of the land lay hidden under the earth, and therefore was it that all the life and activity of the neighbourhood congregated to the Berkow estates, where operations on a magnificent scale were carried on for bringing these treasures forth to the light of day.

The estates were rather isolated and cut off from the great lines of communication, for the nearest town was some miles distant; but the great labyrinth of buildings, store and dwelling houses, which had sprung up in these quiet valleys, with all their busy life and movement, formed almost a town in itself. Every appliance which industry or science could suggest, every a.s.sistance which machinery and men's hands could afford, was here brought into play to wring its treasures from the reluctant earth. A perfect host of officials, of engineers, inspectors, and superintendents, all under the control of the Director, formed a colony apart, and the men, to be counted by several thousands, only a small minority of whom could be lodged on the spot, lived in the adjacent villages.

The undertaking which, from a very insignificant beginning, had only been raised by the present proprietor to the vast proportions it had now attained, seemed almost too great for the means of any private individual. A gigantic capital was indeed needed to keep it on foot; it was by far the most important enterprise of the sort in the province, and took the lead, therefore, in its branch of industry. This settlement with its unlimited forces of machinery and hand labour, with its establishments and dwelling-houses, with its officials and working-men, formed a state in itself, and its master was as sovereign a lord as any ruler of a small princ.i.p.ality.

It was somewhat surprising that a man at the head of such an undertaking should have hitherto failed to obtain a distinction for which he had striven, and which had been granted to others who had done less for the industry of the country. But whenever the decision on such matters emanates directly from a very high quarter, the character and conduct of the candidate for honours come into question. It was so here. Berkow enjoyed but little sympathy in the leading circles of society; there were so many dark spots in his past life, which his riches could veil, but not altogether efface. He had certainly never come into open conflict with the law, but he had often enough drawn very near those confines where the law's action makes itself felt. It was even averred by many that his operations in the distant province, on however grand a scale they might be, were yet not altogether exemplary.

Much was said of an unscrupulous system of working, which aimed only at increasing the proprietor's wealth, and took no heed of the ill or well being of those human agents impressed into its service, of arbitrary encroachments on the part of the officials, of a low ferment of discontent among the hands. But, after all, these were only reports, the settlement itself lay too far off for them to be verified; on the other hand, the fact remained certain that it proved an almost inexhaustible source of wealth to its owner.

Every one was forced, indeed, to confess that this man's perseverance, tenacity, and industrial genius, were at least equal to his unscrupulousness. Sprung originally from a very low condition, tossed hither and thither by the waves of life, he had at last succeeded in gaining a point of vantage, and now for some years had enjoyed the undisputed position of a millionaire. In fact, fortune had latterly seemed to follow in his footsteps; each time he put her to the test, she remained faithful to him, and the most precarious transaction, the most hazardous speculation, would invariably succeed if his hand were but at the helm.

Berkow had become a widower early in life, and had never re-married. To his restless mind, always bent upon the chances of gain, home-ties seemed more of a chain than a consolation. His only son and heir had been brought up in the capital, and nothing had been spared for his education in the way of tutors, professors, visits to the University, and home and foreign travel. But as for any peculiar preparation for his calling as the future head and leader of a great industrial enterprise, such a thing was not thought of.

Herr Arthur showed a decided distaste for learning anything beyond the usual fashionable curriculum, and his father was much too weak, and much too vain of the brilliant role his son was playing--to support which he himself cheerfully paid--ever to insist upon a more thorough course of study. If it came to the worst, there were always capable men enough to be had whose technical and commercial knowledge could be secured at a high salary. So the young heir came but once a year to his possessions in the far-off province, while his father, though he took up his residence occasionally in the capital, still retained the superintendence of the whole concern.

The young couple had not been specially favoured by the weather during their visit to the country. The sun showed itself but rarely this spring-time; after many rainy days it shone out at last, however, as if to greet the Sunday. The shafts were empty and the works at rest; but in spite of the Sabbath calm and the smiling sunshine, something of the gloomy monotonous character of the country seemed to weigh on the whole colony.

No attempt at embellishment, no attention to the convenience of the inhabitants, was noticeable in the buildings connected with the industry of the place, or in the dwelling-houses; they were all constructed on a strictly utilitarian principle. That a due sense of the beautiful was not wanting to the proprietor, his own house sufficiently attested. Care had been taken to build it at a suitable distance from the works, and so that it should command a full view over the wooded hills. Within and without it was fitted up and decorated in so luxurious a style as to be almost princely, and with its balconies, terraces and flower gardens, it looked like an oasis of fragrance and poetry lying in the midst of this busy region.

In the immediate neighbourhood of the shafts stood the cottage of Hartmann, the Manager. Its appearance plainly showed that the occupant enjoyed a position of peculiar privilege, and so indeed it was. In his youth the st.u.r.dy miner had married a girl in the service of the late Frau Berkow, and a special favourite of her mistress. Even after her marriage the young woman preserved something of her old relations with her former employers, and so it came to pa.s.s that her husband was favoured and preferred in every way, advanced from post to post, and finally even promoted to be working-manager. These relations and these favours ceased, it is true, at Frau Berkow's death; the widower was not the man to trouble himself about former members of his household, and when Hartmann's wife also died shortly afterwards, the old connection came altogether to an end.

But from that time forth, the Manager had cherished a strong devotion to the Berkow family, to whose support he owed his present position so devoid of care, whereas, without it, he would probably, like so many of his comrades, never have got beyond the laborious, poorly-paid work in the mines. Several years ago he had brought home his sister's orphan-child, Martha Ewers, and now she admirably filled the place of mistress of his house. As for the fulfilment of his secret desire that she and his son should come together as man and wife, there seemed so far but small prospect of it.

On this particular Sunday morning, the cottage, formerly so peaceful, had been the scene of one of those excited discussions which unhappily had ceased to be uncommon between father and son. The Manager, standing in the middle of the room, was declaiming violently at Ulric, who had just returned from the Director's house, and now leaned, silent and morose, against the door. Martha stood a little apart, watching the strife with unconcealed anxiety.

"Was such a thing ever heard of!" stormed the old man. "Have you not enemies enough up yonder, that you must set to work to hunt up more? A sum of money is offered to my gentleman there, large enough to begin housekeeping upon, and he sets his obstinate head against it, and says 'No!' without more ado! But what do you care about housekeeping and the like? Much you think of taking a wife! To bury yourself in your newspapers when you come home from work; to sit up half the night over your books, and stuff your head full of that new-fangled nonsense which an honest miner has no need to know anything about; to play the lord and master among your mates, so that soon we shall not have to ask the Director, but Herr Ulric Hartmann, what is to be done upon the works--that is all that pleases you. And when, for once in a way, we are reminded that, after all, we are nothing more as yet than a Deputy, then we talk of 'not taking payment,' and throw it back in our employers' faces. I should think if any one ever really earned money, it was you that day."

Ulric had listened in silence so far, but at the last few words he stamped his foot angrily.

"Once for all, I will have nothing to do with the set up there. I have told them that I want no payment for my 'courageous act,' which they make such a fuss about, and I'll take none, so there's an end of it."

The Manager's anger flamed out again; he was just beginning a still sharper remonstrance when Martha interrupted him.

"Let him be, uncle," said she shortly; "he is right."

The old man, quite disconcerted at this unlooked-for interference, stared at her open-mouthed.

"Oh! he is right, is he?" he repeated grimly. "I might have been sure you would take his part!"

"Ulric is angry that they should have tried to pay their debt through the Director, without giving themselves any further trouble about the matter," continued the girl firmly, "and it was not seemly. If Herr Berkow had spoken to him himself, and said just one word of thanks ...

But he indeed! he troubles himself about nothing on earth. He always looks as if he were half asleep, and as if it cost him the most dreadful effort even to look at one; and when, for a wonder, he is not really asleep, he lies all day long on a sofa and stares at the ceiling" ...

"Let the young master alone!" broke in the Manager hastily. "All that lies at his father's door. From his childhood, Herr Berkow has given way to all his wishes, and encouraged him in his faults. He used to tell him constantly how rich he would be one day, and to send away the tutors and servants if they would not obey the youngster. Later on, when he grew older, he was only to a.s.sociate with counts and barons.

Money was handed over to him in heaps, and the madder his way of life was, the better his father was pleased. How could a young lad like that keep his own goodness of heart? For a good heart he had, young Arthur, as to that no one shall say me nay! I ought to know, for I have ridden him often on my knee--and he had some feeling too. I remember well when he had to go away to town after his mother's death, how he clung to me and cried bitterly, so that they could not get him away, though Herr Berkow was begging, and coaxing, and promising him everything in the world. I had to carry him to the carriage myself. No doubt, when he had been in the city a while with all those _bonnes_ and masters, it was different; next time he just gave me his hand, and since then he has always grown prouder and cooler, until now"----an expression of pain pa.s.sed over the old man's face, but he shook off the weakness quickly, and went on. "Well! it does not matter much to me, but I do not like to hear you rail at him, whenever you get a chance, especially Ulric, who has a downright hatred to him. If that obstinate fellow had had as much of his own way, and some thousands to spend into the bargain, I should like to know what he would have grown into! Nothing good, that is certain."

"Perhaps something worse, father," said Ulric, curtly, "but he would not have grown into a milksop like that, you may take my word for it."

The conversation, which again seemed taking a critical turn, was now fortunately brought to an end. There came a knock at the door, and a servant, in the rich and somewhat over-decorated livery of the Berkow family, entered without waiting for an invitation, and greeted the Manager with a "Good-day."

"Her ladyship sent me over. I am to tell your Ulric--oh! there you are, Hartmann! Her ladyship wishes to speak to you; I am to say she will expect you over there at seven o'clock sharp."

"Me?"

"Ulric?"

These two exclamations were uttered by the old man and his son, in a tone of equal surprise; as to Martha, she stood looking at the man in blank astonishment. He continued equably:

"There must have been something up between you and the Director, Hartmann. He was with her ladyship quite early to-day, though, in a usual way, she does not trouble herself about the gentlemen's business matters, and I was sent off to you at full speed. There is plenty to do up at the house, I a.s.sure you; all the gentlemen from the works are invited to dinner, and there are all sorts of grandees coming out from the town too.... But I have not a moment's time. Be punctual, seven o'clock, just after dinner."

The man seemed really in a hurry; he nodded shortly, by way of adieu to all present, and went.

"There!" burst forth the Manager. "They know already of your ridiculous refusal up there. Now look to yourself to find a way of settling the business."

"Shall you go, Ulric?" quickly and eagerly asked Martha, who had remained silent so far.