CHAPTER V.

In the meantime the cab had only proceeded a short distance, to the entrance of the Bellevue Garden.

"We are quite secure here, I swear to you," Ottomar had whispered, as he helped Ferdinanda to alight. The driver contentedly pocketed his thaler and immediately drove off. Ottomar gave Ferdinanda his arm and led her, bewildered, frightened, and half stunned, into the garden. He could hear her gasping for breath. "I swear it!" he repeated.

"Swear that you love me! I only ask that!"

Instead of answering he put his arm round her. She encircled him with both hers. Their lips met in a long, burning kiss. They then hastened, hand in hand, deeper into the park, till they were concealed by trees and shrubs and then sank again into one another's arms, exchanging burning kisses and words of love, intoxicated with the bliss of which they had so long been dreaming, and which was now more precious than they had ever imagined in their wildest dreams.

So at least thought Ferdinanda, and so she said, while her lips again sought his, and so said Ottomar; and yet, at the very moment that he returned her burning kisses, there was a feeling in his heart that he had never known before, a dread of the flames that surrounded him, a sensation as of powerlessness in the presence of a pa.s.sion which raged around and overpowered him with the irresistible might of a tempest. He had until now played at love, had looked upon his easy conquests as triumphs, had accepted the mute homage of beautiful eyes, the flattering words of gentle lips, as a tribute due to him, and not demanding any grat.i.tude. Here, for the first time, he was the weaker.

He would not acknowledge it to himself, and yet he knew it, as an experienced wrestler knows at the first touch that he has found his master, and that he must succ.u.mb, unless some accident gives him the advantage. Ottomar was already looking out for this accident, for some event to occur, some circ.u.mstance that should give him the advantage; then he blushed at his own cowardice, at his mean ingrat.i.tude towards this beautiful, gifted being, who so confidingly, so devotedly, and with such self-forgetfulness threw herself into his arms, and he redoubled the tenderness of his caresses and the sweet flattery of his loving words.

And then, that uneasy feeling might be a delusion; but she who had done what he had so often, so pressingly implored of her, who had at length granted him an interview, in which he could put before her his plans for the future, she would and must expect that he would at length trace out that sketch of the future over which he had so long delayed, and which at this moment seemed to him as uncertain as ever. He did not believe what she a.s.sured him, that she wanted nothing more than to love him, to be beloved by him, that everything of which he spoke--his father, her father, circ.u.mstances which must be taken into consideration, difficulties which must be overcome--all, all was only a mist, which would disperse before the rays of the sun; trifles not worthy that they should expend upon them one moment of precious time, one breath! He did not believe her; but he only too willingly took her at her word, even now silently absolving himself from the responsibility of the consequences which might, which must follow such a neglect of the simplest rules of prudence and wisdom.

And then he, too, forgot everything but the present moment, and she had to remind him that time was flying, that he was expected at home, and must not arrive too late for the party.

"But will you take me with you?" she asked. "Will you enter the room with me on your arm, and present me to all present as your bride? You have no need to be ashamed of me; there are not likely to be many women there whom I cannot look down upon, and I have always considered that to be able to look down upon others is half way at least towards being a fine lady. To you I shall always look up. Tall as I am, I must stretch myself higher to reach your dear lips."

There lay a wonderful proud charm in these jesting words, and deep love in the kiss which her smiling lips breathed upon his. He was intoxicated and bewitched by this loving gentleness, this proud love; he said to himself that she was right, and he told her so, that she could bear comparison with any queen in the world, that she deserved to be a queen; and yet--and yet--if it had been no jest, if she had demanded in earnest what one day she would demand.

"That was the last kiss," said Ferdinanda. "As usual, I must be the most reasonable always. And now give me your arm, and come with me to the nearest cab, and then go straight home, and be very charming and amiable this evening, and break a few more hearts in addition to those you have already broken, and which you will hereafter lay at my feet in return for my heart, which is worth more than all of them put together."

It was nearly dark when they quitted the silent, deserted park; the sky had clouded over, and heavy drops were beginning to fall. Fortunately an empty cab came by, in which Ferdinanda could go as far as the Brandenburg Gate, where she would take another, and thus destroy every trace of her road. She only allowed Ottomar to kiss her hand once more, as he helped her into the cab. Then she leaned back in the corner, closed her eyes, and dreamed over again the happy hour. Ottomar looked after the carriage. It was a miserable vehicle, drawn by a wretched screw, and as it swayed backwards and forwards in the feeble light of a few lamps, and disappeared in the darkness, a strange sensation of horror and loathing came over him. "It looks like a hea.r.s.e," he said to himself. "I could hardly bear to touch the wet handle. I could not have brought myself to get into it. The whole affair gets one into very uncomfortable situations. The walk home is no joke, either; it is nearly nine, and beginning to rain pretty hard."

He turned into the Grosse Stern Avenue, which was his shortest way home. Under the great trees it was already so dark that he could only just distinguish the foot-path along which he hastily walked; on the other side of the broad road, along which ran a narrower foot-path, the trunks of the trees were hardly perceptible in the darkness. How many and many times had he ridden along this grand avenue--alone--with brother officers--in a brilliant company of ladies and gentlemen--how often with Carla! Elsa was right, Carla was a splendid rider, the best probably of all the ladies, certainly the most graceful. They had been so often seen and spoken of together--after all it was quite impossible to draw back now; it would make such a frightful scandal.

Ottomar stood still. He had walked too fast. The perspiration was streaming from his brow; he felt stifled, and tore open his coat and waistcoat. He had never before experienced the sensation of physical fear, but now he started and his eyes peered anxiously into the darkness, as he heard behind him a slight rustle--probably a twig that had broken in its fall.

"I feel as if I had committed a murder, or as if in another moment I should be murdered," he said to himself, as almost running he continued on his way.

He did not suspect that to the breaking of that twig he owed his life.

Antonio had lingered, as if under the influence of a spell, at the entrance of the avenue, now sitting on the iron railing which separated the ride from the foot-path, now pacing up and down, now leaning against the trunk of a tree, always revolving the same dark thoughts, concocting plans of revenge, delighting himself with the idea of the torments he would inflict on her and on him, as soon as he had them in his power, from time to time directing his glance across the Platz towards the entrance of the other avenue, along which the carriage had disappeared with them, as if they must reappear in that direction, as if his revengeful soul had the power of compelling them. He could have spent the whole night there, as a beast of prey, furious at the loss of his victim, remains obstinately in his lair, in spite of the pangs of hunger.

But what was that? There he came across the Platz directly towards him.

His eyes, accustomed to the darkness, recognised him as if it had been bright day. Would the bestia be such a fool as to venture into the avenue, to give himself into his hands? Per Bacco! he would--there.

After a short pause he turned into the avenue; on the other side of the road, true, but so much the better, he could the more easily follow him on this side; he had only to dash across the ride when the moment came; in the deep sand his first steps would not be heard, and then in a few bounds he would reach him and bury the stiletto in his back, or if he should turn round, drive it up to the hilt under the seventh rib!

And his hand closed on the hilt as if hand and hilt were one, and with the finger of the other hand he repeatedly tried the sharp point, while he glided with long steps from tree to tree--softly, softly--the tiger's velvet paw could not have fallen and been raised more softly.

They had reached the centre of the avenue. The darkness could not get more intense; it was just light enough to see the blade of the stiletto. One moment more, to a.s.sure himself that they were alone in the dark wood--that other and himself--and now, crouching low, he crossed the soft sand, behind the thick trunk which he had already selected.

But, quickly as he had crossed, the other had gained some twenty paces in advance. This was too much; they must be diminished by half. And it would not be difficult. He was in the soft sand of the road, to the right of the trees, while the other was on the hard foot-path to the left, where the sound of his steps would overpower any accidental noise. But, maledetto di Dio--his foot touched a dry twig, which broke with a snap. He stepped behind a tree--he could not be seen; but the other must have heard; he was standing still--listening, perhaps awaiting his a.s.sailant--at all events no longer unprepared. Who knew--he was a brave man and a soldier--perhaps he was turning to defy his a.s.sailant. So much the better! only one spring from behind the tree, and--he was coming!

The Italian's heart throbbed as if it would choke him, as he now with his left foot advanced prepared for the spring; but his murderous thoughts had affected his usually sharp hearing. The steps were not coming towards him, but going away from him! By the time he became aware of his mistake, the distance between them was quite doubled; and trebled before, in his consternation, he could decide what was to be done.

Give up the chase? There was nothing else to do. His prey was now almost running, and a late cab rolled along the drive which crossed the avenue, and on the other side of the drive were cross paths right and left--he had no certainty of being able to carry out his intention or of escaping afterwards; the moment was past--for this time, but the next time!

Antonio murmured a fearful curse as he replaced his dagger in its sheath and concealed it in his coat pocket.

The other man had vanished; Antonio followed slowly along the same path, out of the park, along the Thiergartenstra.s.se, into the Springbrunnenstra.s.se, and to the house in which the man he hated lived, the windows of which were brightly lighted. A carriage drove up, an officer and some ladies in evening dress, wrapped in their shawls, got out; a second carriage followed. He, above, was now laughing and feasting, and whispering at that moment to one of the pretty girls who had just arrived what ten minutes before he might have whispered to Ferdinanda. If he could only pour into her heart the poison of jealousy which burnt in his own! If he could put some impossible barrier between her and him! If the whole affair could be betrayed to the stern _signor_, her father, or to the haughty _capitano_, his father, or to both----

"Hallo!"

A man coming along the pavement had run up against him, as he leaned with folded arms against the iron railing of the front garden, and had called out rudely.

"Scusi!" said the Italian, lifting his hat. "I beg your pardon!"

"Hallo!" repeated the man, "is it you, Antonio?"

"Ah! Signor Roller, the overseer!"

"Signor Roller! overseer! No more signors and overseers for me," said the man, with a loud laugh, "for the present at least--till we have served out the old man; he and his nephew and the whole lot of them! If I only had them by the throat! If I could only do them some injury! I would not mind what it cost me, so it were not money! That is all gone."

The man laughed again; he was evidently half drunk.

"I have money," said Antonio quickly--"and----"

"We'll have a drink then, Signor Italiano!" exclaimed the other, clapping him on the shoulder; "una bottiglia--capisci!--ha, ha! I have not quite forgotten my Italian!--Carrara marble--capisci, capisci?"

"Eccomi tutto a voi," said the Italian, taking the man's arm. "Where to?"

"To drink, to the devil, to the public-house!" exclaimed Roller, laughing and pointing to the red lamp over the public-house at the corner of the Springbrunnenstra.s.se.

CHAPTER VI.

The three moderate-sized rooms in the upper floor of the small villa inhabited by the General, in the Springbrunnenstra.s.se, were got ready for the reception of the company; the larger room at the back was for the present closed. The supper was to be served there, and later it would be used as the dancing-room. Elsa went once more through the rooms to see that everything was in order. She did not usually do this, as she could quite depend upon the care and attention of the perfectly trained August; to-day, for the first time, he seemed to have taken his duties more easily. Or was it only her fancy? She asked herself this while she moved a few candlesticks and put them back again, and altered the arrangement of some nicknacks without being any better pleased with their appearance. "I do not know what is the matter with me to-day,"

said Elsa.

She stepped before the looking-gla.s.s and contemplated her reflection with the greatest attention: she did not think herself looking the least pretty to-day. She was disappointed in her new blue dress; her hair was done much too loosely, the rosebuds were decidedly too dark, and were put in too far back; her eyes were not the least bright, and her nose was perceptibly red on the left side. "I really do not know what is the matter with me to-day," said Elsa.

She sank into an arm-chair, laid her fan and gloves in her lap, and rested her head on her hand.

"I was looking forward so to this evening; but it is all Ottomar's fault. How can any one marry without love?--it happens often enough though. Wallbach certainly does not love Louise, any more than she loves him; but Ottomar, who is so tender-hearted and can be so good and dear! That detestable money! how can one man spend such a sinful amount? I can't think how they manage it. Horses!--they always say they have sold them for so many guineas more than they gave for them; I don't believe it; I am sure they always lose; but even that would not come to so much. I do not know; they say Wartenberg cannot manage with twenty thousand, and, that Clemda, with fifty thousand, incurs debts to that amount every year--it is incredible! What good would my poor five thousand do him, and he would have to wait, one way and another, nearly five years for it. And if I fell in love with somebody who was not n.o.ble, and lost my portion--I should not care, of course not, but I could not give him anything if I had not got it myself--to say nothing of papa, who would certainly not allow it, though he is always talking about him; but it is all about the harbour, which is never out of his head--but I am so glad that he always talks so kindly of him--so glad--"

"Good heavens, child, what are you doing?"

"What is it?" exclaimed Elsa, starting up from her dreams, and looking with a startled expression at her aunt, who, no less startled, stood before her.

"Your new tarlatane dress! You are completely crushing it."

"Is that all?" exclaimed Elsa, drawing a deep breath.

"Oh, it is nothing to you!" exclaimed Sidonie. "You do not care about things that I care about very much, but I am getting accustomed to that by degrees!"