Absorbed in fantastic dreams he sat waiting for Reginchen. What would Edwin say, when he came home and heard that Balder had had his excursion too. But the best part of it he must not be allowed to guess.

Or should he confess to-day? If he had really been as happy as he hoped, and talked with her heart to heart--would he be able to conceal his joy? Would it not sparkle in his eyes, flush his cheeks, and burst from his lips of its own accord?

He determined to let matters take their course and to follow the dictates of his heart. If she would only come! She could not have forgotten her promise, but what detained her so long? He was weary with anxious longing, and yet he did not venture to look for her in the house. Who could tell whether he should find her alone?

And yet she was alone, even after he had been sitting in the arbor for half an hour. She had had a great many things to do for the old couple upstairs; finally after taking up the tea tray she had been dismissed, and now for the first time remembered her promise, but at the same moment it occurred to her that she had not yet looked at the volume of Schiller, which must be returned in a few days. If he questioned her, it would be very shocking to know nothing about the poems; what could he think except that she did not care for the improvement of her mind?

So she sat down in the dark shop, whose half open door, admitted nevertheless light enough to read, laid the little book in her lap and took her knitting in her hand, for she thought it a waste of time to read without working. But she did not open the volume; her thoughts wandered far away to him of whom for weeks she had heard nothing, even through her brother. She would have liked to send him the stockings, which had long been finished, and then if he were in earnest--"he does not really love me," she sighed to herself. "But if he knew how often I think of him--he is such a good man!"

She remembered his st.u.r.dy figure and dark, honest face, with its black, bushy beard, so distinctly, that she could not help laughing, even at the moment when she secretly acknowledged her love. But she had a great respect for him on account of his trade of printer, which she supposed to be the most learned of all. Besides she knew through her brother that he composed all sorts of essays, which were very fine and always eagerly seized by the workmen. That such a clever and remarkable man should in her presence be as confused as a boy, not even daring to tell her he loved her, flattered her innocent and very modest self-consciousness not a little; nay it really touched her when she thought how dearly he must love her, that he did not seek some more distinguished and highly educated person. In return she meant to love him truly and faithfully and to learn a great deal, and thought it her duty, above all, to at least read Schiller, though she did not exactly understand the beautiful words. If _he_ would sit beside her and read them aloud, it would be so much easier. She liked to listen to his voice, and her brother had often boasted what an orator he was. But as he did not appear, she could do nothing but try to read to herself. She had just opened the book and read the first lines of the "Melancholie an Laura," when a black shadow suddenly appeared between her and the light, and she started up with a low cry, letting the book fall on the floor.

The subject of her secret thoughts was standing before her, or rather kneeling at her feet to pick up the book, stammering out an apology for the sudden entrance which had startled her.

Her nerves were so strong that she instantly recovered her composure, as soon as she was a.s.sured that the vision was no ghost, but her own sun-burnt lover, for whom she had so ardently longed. She laughed at her own terror, grew as red as she had before been pale, and could not understand why he was gazing so intently at the written sheet that had fallen out of the little book and which he had unfolded and read. She did not think it exactly polite for him to forget her for such a scrawl, but thought it must be on account of his learning. He also apologized as he laid the book down on the counter, and only asked timidly where she had obtained it. Herr Walter had lent it to her, and she had just commenced reading it for the first time. He had probably forgotten the written sheet. What was in it, that Herr Franzelius had studied it so eagerly?

"Fraulein Reginchen," replied the printer, wiping the perspiration from his brow, "will you allow me to put this in my pocket? I'll return it to him myself--it might fall into the wrong hands--but you've pardoned my bouncing in so abruptly, haven't you? If you knew, Fraulein Reginchen--"

So saying, he looked around in all directions with a very disturbed expression. She had never seen him so strangely excited before.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Do you want a gla.s.s of water? If I can help you in any way--"

"You cart, Reginchen, you're the only person who can help me. But here--so close to the street, where we may be interrupted at any moment--oh! you do not know the subject of which I want to speak."

She certainly thought she knew. What could it be, if she alone was able to help him? And what could he have to confide to her, in which he did not wish to be interrupted, except the one, the one great subject on which he had never yet found courage to speak, and which she had nevertheless seen long ago in his eyes?

"You're perfectly right," she said in the most innocent tone, and yet with a shade of curiosity. "This is just like being in the street. Do you know, the work-shop is empty and there's no one in the courtyard; you can tell me everything there. But I must first lock up the shop.

This is _such_ a surprise. The very last thing to be thought of, your coming here to-day."

She hastily closed the heavy outer doors of the shop, so that both were suddenly left in total darkness. But the next instant she opened the second door leading into the entry and let him pa.s.s out. "There's n.o.body at home," she whispered, "my parents won't return from the christening until seven, the Herr Doctor has gone into the country, and only Herr Walter--"

She suddenly remembered what she had promised the lonely youth. But it was now too late, she would apologize in the evening.

"If its something that's to be an entire secret and you do not wish to be seen in the house, run across the courtyard as fast as you can. The old lady up stairs might happen to look out of the window. Dear me, what's the matter? You're so pale and don't speak a word!"

He made no reply but followed her advice. Without looking to the right or left, both glided across the little courtyard, which was now very dark, and entered the work-shop whose windows were directly opposite to the bean arbor. They were all closed.

"We'll open one," whispered the brisk little maiden. "You're not accustomed to the smell of leather and cobbler's wax, and besides there's no danger; as I said before, there's not even a cat in the courtyard to overhear us. Well? Have you recovered your breath a little? I really shudder at the thought of what this secret may be."

She had seated herself on a three-legged stool, with her back to the open window, that he might not see her face distinctly, and was smoothing with both hands the rebellious little curls that cl.u.s.tered around her forehead. "It's very hot here," she said as he still preserved his silence, and with both hands behind his back paced heavily up and down the dark room, absorbed in deep thought. At last he stopped before a table, on which lay various tools and half finished pieces of work piled upon each other.

"Reginchen," said he, "perhaps this will be the last time we shall see each other. If all signs do not fail, I shall either be a prisoner or on my way to America to-morrow."

"Merciful G.o.d!" she exclaimed with unconcealed anguish, "you're not in earnest."

"Only too much so," he answered in a hollow tone. "I am not surprised; I've seen this coming a long time. Reginchen--look at me and tell me: do you believe I'm capable of a crime?"

"You! You're the best man under the sun! You could not hurt a child--"

"Thank you, Reginchen. To hear you say so is a great consolation, perhaps the only one I shall take with me, if I'm compelled to fly; no, not even the consciousness that I'm suffering for a holy cause--"

"But pray tell me--"

"You're right, the moments are precious. I'm here to ask you for a great service, which you can render me and the sacred cause. Your brother, the best young fellow I have ever known--he's worthy to have you for a sister, Reginchen--if you wish to know farther particulars, ask him. He has all the numbers of my newspaper, on account of which I'm persecuted. True, I have irritated them, but we have all practised the patience of the lamb long enough, the a.s.s's skin is at last becoming too tight for the lion, but perhaps he was unwise to betray himself by his roar before he was ready to spring. However, it is done; only slaves and cowards are always wise. I don't know what they intend to do now. But that it will--"

"Merciful Heavens!" she exclaimed, "will they try you, throw you into prison?"

"To render me harmless, yes! What is there new or strange in that? Oh!

dear Reginchen, the falsity of this so-called justice is so old that quiet citizens may well accept it as a matter of course. But I'm not here to tell you things of which your n.o.ble innocent heart can frame no idea. See, this is my dearest possession"--and he drew out a tolerably thick leather pocket book, fastened with a string and sealed. "It contains papers, which if found on my person, would ruin not only me--what would that matter--but many n.o.ble men who have trusted me. I knew of no place where I could safely conceal these papers and letters, no one whom I could trust under all circ.u.mstances to protect them from every eye; for all my friends run the same risk; any night the police may break into their asylum and search their most secret repositories.

Then I thought of you, Reginchen. No one will ever dream of looking here for papers dangerous to the government; your father, though a liberal, has always shaken his head at all the plans of socialism. Will you do me so great a favor as to keep my legacy and never allow it to leave your hands until I write myself and tell you to what address to send the pacquet?"

She hastily seized the pocketbook with both hands and thrust it under the thick woolen handkerchief she wore crossed over her shoulders and tied in a knot behind. "No living soul shall know anything about it,"

she said, "it shall be as safe with me as if it were in the bank. But oh! Herr Franzelius, have matters really gone so far? Must you go away forever?" She hastily pa.s.sed her hand over her eyes, he must not see that they were wet; he was causing her quite too much pain, and she seemed to herself a very unhappy creature that all her dreams should be so quickly destroyed.

"Reginchen," he stammered, "I thank you for your sorrow--though--you cannot suspect what I feel. You would never have known, if I could have remained here--but now--since it can no longer do any harm--"

She gazed at him in astonishment with eyes that had suddenly become dry. "No longer do any harm?" she repeated.

"Yes Reginchen. When I am gone, you will soon forget me, even if you know that I--that I--but perhaps you do know it already."

"I, Herr Franzelius?" Her Eve's nature was again aroused; she would not make it easy for him, he must speak out. How could he possibly be so good an orator, when in her presence he stammered like a school boy?

"Reginchen," said he, drawing a long breath and taking a sudden start, "if you really have not noticed--and I believe you, for you're incapable of dissumulation--I--I have long--for two years--give me your hand, Reginchen. You see I've sometimes imagined that some day I should be granted the happiness of asking you--and your dear parents--to give me this hand for life. I--I have loved you dearly, unspeakably, ever since I knew you--and--though I know that I usually have very little success--either in life or with women--it often seemed to me--as if you too--"

He paused and let her hand fall, to take out his handkerchief and wipe his forehead. The little fair haired deceiver thought it more decorous to keep him in suspense a short time, though her whole heart drew her toward him and she would gladly have thrown herself into his arms at once.

"What are you talking about, Herr Franzelius?" she replied, half pouting. "You have loved me, and now--now it's over. Because you're going away, you will leave me behind like a troublesome piece of property that won't go into your trunk?"

"Oh! Reginchen," he exclaimed, suddenly gazing at her so tenderly that she blushed and cast down her eyes, "you're only joking. You know very well what I mean, and that I shall never cease to love you far more than any one else. If I tear myself away, believe me it's not only because I should think it unprincipled--with my uncertain future and the destiny which may be in store for me--to ask one so young and so unused to want and privation--"

"Oh!" she interrupted, "is that all? I've always heard that the princ.i.p.al thing is for people to love each other. Doesn't Annchen von Tharau's song, which you once wrote out for me, say:

"No matter what tempests may burst overhead, We'll cling to each other our pathway to tread--?"

"My darling," He exclaimed, fairly beside himself with delight, while a ray of surprise and joy flashed over his gloomy face, "is this true?

You have--you have remembered this--applied it to me, to us both? Oh! I never ventured to hope for so much. My precious Reginchen! And now--how happy I should be--if I only dared. Tell me once more, dear precious child, is it true? You would have gone with me, if I had proposed it--and your parents--But no, tell me nothing! It can do no good, and will only make my hard task still harder." He sank down on a stool by the table, and buried his face in his broad hands. Reginchen watched him in silence. She could not understand his behavior. What was it that stood in the way? Why could it "do no good," this acknowledgement of her love, and her willing offer to go out into the wide world with him?

Suddenly he started up and approaching her said: "Promise me, dear Reginchen, that you'll try to forget what I have said. I ought to have kept silence; but my feelings overpowered me. And now farewell and make _him_ happy. He deserves it more than I, he also loves you truly and fondly--though certainly no one in the whole world can hold you dearer than I."

He pressed his lips to her hands, then strove to release them and rush out of the workshop. But Reginchen stopped him. "Dear Herr Franzelius,"

she said, "if you're in earnest and really love me, why do you grieve me so, by telling me things I don't understand, and asking me to make somebody else happy when I do not even know of whom you're speaking? I love you too, and if it were only my parents--but speak; I don't understand a single word of all you have said."

He paused at the door and looked at her in astonishment. "Is it possible?" said he. "That you have no idea of whom I mean? That you see him daily, and yet have never perceived what an impression you have made on his heart? I noticed it long ago, and suffered deeply in consequence. Oh! Reginchen, you don't know what it is to grudge such a friend the love of such a girl, because one loves her himself! And yet I know what I owe him, how deeply, perhaps fatally, it would wound him, if you and I--"

"Merciful Heaven!" she suddenly exclaimed, "no, no, it's impossible--you can't mean Herr Walter!"

"And why not?"

"Pray consider, he's so sickly, do you really believe he ever will be well again, ever think--dear me, how you startled me! I should never have dreamed of such a thing in all my life! Herr Walter!"

"I know what I know, dear Reginchen," replied the printer sadly. "What will be done _when_ he is again well and strong, and whether that will ever come to pa.s.s--who can tell? But I should be a scoundrel, if I caused him who has already suffered so much, even the shadow of a grief that I could spare him. Oh! Reginchen, if you knew him thoroughly, the n.o.blest, loftiest soul that ever dwelt in a fragile body--you could not help loving him as I love him, more than myself, and you would rather bear and suffer everything, than cloud even an hour of his life." Both fixed their eyes on the floor. An anxious, oppressive pause followed.