"I thank you, Your Highness; but I shall probably have to fight my way through it alone."

"Then I will press you no farther; but I am ready to serve you at any time, don't forget that."

Meantime they had emerged from between the houses; before them on the boundless expanse of meadow-land was the race-course, with its tall stands, its little city of booths and tents, its long rows of carriages drawn up side by side, its dark crowd of curious spectators. A party of hors.e.m.e.n dashed past them at a furious gallop; one of them, not without difficulty, checked his foaming racer and came to the carriage door.

"What, Pluggen, are you not with the others?" cried the Prince.

"Paid the forfeit at the last minute, Your Highness, at the last minute--too certain it would turn out to-day as it did at the Derby, four years ago. Once in--ah! Gotthold, _bon jour, bon jour!_ Your friend Brandow's doing a splendid business to-day, an infernally splendid business."

"How far away are they, then? Am I too late?"

"G.o.d forbid, your Highness! That is, they must be here in ten minutes.

Just up to the last obstacle but one; everybody there--intense excitement. Exactly as it was at the Derby four years ago, when Hurry-Harry by Robin Hood out of Drury Lane--"

"Then we won't detain you, Pluggen. _Au revoir_ until this evening; drive on."

Gustav von Pluggen, with rather a long face, touched his hat, turned his horse, and dashed after his companions.

"So you know this Brandow?" asked the Prince. "It's a pity about that man; he would have had, I think, the material for a splendid general of cavalry; a clear head, a keen eye, never at a loss, and withal brave even to foolhardiness; but amid these tame plebeian surroundings he will make, I fear, nothing better than a _mauvais sujet_. But it is shameful that they took the piece of bog into the course on purpose to injure him. I hear it was only done to give the other horses a chance, since it is generally believed that a horse of Brownlock's weight cannot cross a swamp."

"He will cross it, Your Highness," said Gotthold, "you can bet a million on it."

"How comes Saul among the prophets?" cried the Prince, laughing. "Since when have you become such a connoisseur in horse-flesh? You must keep beside me, and act as prompter, if I, a notorious dilettante in these n.o.ble arts, run any risk of distinguishing myself by my blunders."

"I am sure that Your Highness--"

"You want to get rid of me, I understand. Well, I am very well content, now that I have seen and spoken to you. I shall stay three days longer in Sundin, and then remain a week in Prora, where you must be my guest, even in case--with which idea, however, I won't destroy my present good humor--you will not paint a stroke for my castle. Here we are; you will surely come up with me. One can get a better view from above, and you must at least allow me to secure you a good place."

The carriage stopped. The Prince sprang out, and, without waiting for Gotthold's answer, began to ascend the steps of the stand. The latter was obliged to follow his friend, who fully expected him to do so; when once at the top, he could easily find an opportunity of taking leave of him without incivility.

The steps and stand were crowded, but every one was eager to make way for the Prince, who was very popular, that he might reach the first bench, on which several seats had been reserved for him and his attendants. "I think your best course will be to follow me," cried the Prince, laughing, and looking over his shoulder at Gotthold, "you see here as elsewhere: everything is given away!" But Gotthold could not do otherwise than make use of the permission. The narrow s.p.a.ce which had been opened between the rows of seats for the Prince had long since closed; nay, those behind were pressing forward to get as near him as possible, and Gotthold soon found himself surrounded by a brilliant a.s.sembly of the older and younger ladies of the country aristocracy, in magnificent attire; white-haired old n.o.blemen, civil dignitaries adorned with orders, and distinguished soldiers, all smiling brightly and bowing to the young Prince, who, bowing in every direction, graciously accepted the offered homage.

"Your Highness has come just at the right moment; we shall see the first horse appear from behind yonder hill directly; may I offer Your Highness my gla.s.s?" cried old Count Grieben, in his shrill voice.

"Thanks, thanks; I should not like to rob you; you are more nearly interested in the matter than I; I suppose the goal is here in front of the stands, as it has been every year?"

"Yes, Your Highness, there they come!"

The Prince had now taken the gla.s.s from the old gentleman; there was a loud whispering and rustling on the stand. "There they come--pray sit down," echoed on all sides, and all eyes, whether furnished with gla.s.ses or not, sought the long hill Count Grieben had pointed out to the Prince, and on which in fact three moving specks now became visible, which with great speed, considering the distance, glided down the hill, and had already disappeared in a hollow, when four or five other moving dots appeared in precisely the same spot, likewise glided down the hill, and vanished. But the interest of the public was almost exclusively fixed upon the three foremost dots. From the interval of time between the appearance of the first three specks and the four following--to say nothing of the stragglers--it was now evident that the victor must be one of their number; and although even the best gla.s.s could only distinguish that the three moving clots were hors.e.m.e.n racing at the top of their speed, two names were already mentioned with positive certainty; there was a doubt about the third rider; some thought it was Baron k.u.mmerrow on Hengist, while others bet upon Count Zarrentin's Rebecca, ridden by the younger Baron Breesen.

"But the two others, Your Highness--the two others are my Curt and Carl Brandow," shrieked old Count Grieben, crimson with excitement and gesticulating furiously, in a tone so loud that it could be heard over the whole stand.

Count Grieben! Carl Brandow! Like an alarm of fire the names flew from lip to lip along the stand, down the steps, and through the dense throng of men below, who were standing on tiptoe and stretching their necks; Count Grieben! Carl Brandow on Brownlock!

Carl Brandow! A strange emotion thrilled Gotthold's frame. That was the name which, like the spell of some evil magician, had desolated and ruined his life; the name with which so many unpleasant thoughts had been connected from his youth, and which in early and later times, and even during the last few days, had been to him the incarnation of the principle that in every human breast strives and rebels against the G.o.d of light. And here the name rang on his ears from every lip. Carl Brandow! Carl Brandow! like a man from whose approach streams happiness and blessing; and beautiful eyes sparkled, and aristocratic hands impatiently fluttered the lace-edged handkerchiefs with which they wished to wave a welcome to the victor. Was the man whom a whole people thus awaited in breathless suspense, perhaps right when he ventured all and anything to gain his shining goal; wealth, and honor, and woman's favor? Could one who took every obstacle so boldly, be expected to turn aside from his path for a pious scruple? Could one who unhesitatingly risked his life when the victory could not be obtained at a lesser price, be blamed if he was not so punctilious about the weal and woe or even the lives of others, as may be expected and demanded from the quiet citizen?

Such were the strange thoughts that pa.s.sed through Gotthold's brain, while his eyes, like those of the a.s.sembled thousands, were fixed upon the spot pointed out by the experts near him as the one where the riders must again appear. And there they were already--now recognizable as hors.e.m.e.n, even by the naked eye--and "Count Grieben and Carl Brandow" burst forth anew. For only two emerged at the same time, while the third had already lost so much ground that he appeared full thirty seconds later. Nothing more was to be expected from him. At the speed with which the horses were running a lost second could not be regained, let alone the eternity of thirty! The result now depended upon Brownlock and Bessy, the two horses that had been the object of public attention from the first moment and on which immense sums had been staked up to the last. Would Brownlock win? Would Bessy carry off the prize? No one dared to decide, no one offered or accepted a bet; they scarcely ventured to speak, to stir; suspense had chained every tongue.

The scales were still exactly poised, without bending in the least towards either side. If Bessy, as was universally a.s.serted, was the faster animal, Brandow's well-known skill in horsemanship made up for the difference; head to head--the winding course to the stand could be as distinctly followed as the lines on a map--the horses leaped over the last hurdle but three, the last but two, the last but one; side by side the riders took the last obstacle, a wall six feet high, while a cry of admiration buzzed through the surging crowd. Then followed a breathless silence. The race must be decided within the next minute.

After the last hurdle was a tract of perfectly level ground about five hundred paces long; then came several hundred acres of bog, marked by little flags affixed to poles. If Brownlock did not get a very considerable lead on the level ground, the race was lost to him; for Bessy--every one knew--could cross a marsh as lightly as a roe, and Brownlock would either stick fast or must take a round-about way, which would cost him his advantage and the victory.

But Brownlock obtained no advantage, not a foot, not an inch; head to head they dashed across half the distance, and now Bessy took the lead, a half, a whole length, two, three, a half-dozen lengths. Those who had bet on Brownlock turned pale, but a hundred times as much was staked on Bessy; the betters exchanged triumphant glances; no one had time to speak; Bessy was already approaching the edge of the bog; her rider was seen to turn in his saddle to note the distance between him and his rival, and now he turned to the left towards the edge of the swamp.

"Clever fellow," cried old Count Grieben; "it's wider, Your Highness, it's wider there, but the ground is firmer, and he has plenty of time.

Brownlock can't come up with her, hurrah!" cried the enthusiastic old gentleman, waving his hat. "Hurrah, hurrah!" echoed from the fickle crowd, which had just cheered Brownlock; "Bessy wins, Brownlock loses.

Hurrah!"

Suddenly a deep silence followed, as if a thunderbolt had fallen before the eyes of all. Brandow reached the spot from which, a few seconds before, Count Grieben, rendered secure of the victory by his opponent's delay, had turned aside; and with a powerful bound Brownlock dashed upon the bog, without turning a hair's breadth from the straight course, flying directly over the deepest but narrowest part, with a speed which seemed to increase every moment, while his rider, as if going over the smoothest meadow-land, used neither whip nor spur, and waved his hand to his rival, as he darted by him with such speed that the water dashed into the air in a bright shower of spray.

And now he had already reached the edge on the side nearest the stand, and came up the broad straight course which led to the goal--no longer at full speed, but in a long stretching gallop, as if to jeer at his opponent, who after reaching the firm ground, despairing of victory, had stopped; it seemed as if he wished to give the crowd an opportunity to offer their homage.

And "Hurrah Brownlock! hurrah Brandow!" they shouted, waving their hats and caps, and the cry increased and swelled to a deafening, thundering roar as the victor now rode past the stands to the goal, in the same long stretching gallop. Everybody stood on tiptoe, the gentlemen cheering, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs--and now all crowded down the broad steps to the level ground, to see the victor and the beautiful horse still nearer, when he, as was customary, returned and again pa.s.sed before the stands, but this time at a walk.

"No privileges are recognized here, strength conquers," said the Prince, who as well as Gotthold was pushed down the steps by the swaying crowd; "the strength of enthusiasm, which is powerful even in the weak. Just see how heroically that delicate lady struggles through the throng--Is it Frau Brandow? I should like to offer her my arm."

The lady's blue veil brushed against Gotthold's face, and he recognized Alma Sellien. She did not see him, though she stood directly beside him. The delicate, wan face was strangely beautified by the proud smile that hovered on the lips; a joyous light sparkled in the blue eyes, usually so dull and heavy; heeding nothing around her, she looked and waited for the coming of the man she loved, whose uncovered head was just visible above the surging crowd. And now a pair of bay shoulders appeared, vanished, and appeared again, then the beautiful head of a horse, and then the whole figure of the red-coated rider. Those standing in the foremost row, recognizing the Prince, made way, and he, with several other ladies and gentlemen, among them Alma Sellien, were pressed forward, while the ranks closed before Gotthold, who willingly drew back. Brandow, who, hat in hand, was bowing to the right and left, and talking to a few friends that surrounded him, had come very near them, when he saw the Prince, with Alma Sellien leaning on his arm. An amazed smile flitted over his face; he hastily turned Brownlock till he faced the pair, and bowed low over the racer's slender neck. The n.o.ble animal stood snorting, champing its bit, and pawing impatiently.

Suddenly it sprang aside in wild alarm, and then, as its rider tried to force it back to the spot, reared. "Back!" shouted the Prince to the crowd, who, pressing forward from every direction, had collected in a dense ma.s.s. But those farther away, whom no immediate danger threatened, remained motionless. "Back, back!" cried the Prince again; the ladies screamed. "Jump down, Brandow!" exclaimed the gentlemen. But Brandow seemed to have forgotten his universally admired horsemanship.

Some said afterwards that he had been stunned from the first moment by the violence with which, as the horse threw back its head in rearing, it struck him on the forehead. As he vainly struggled with the animal in an inconceivably preposterous manner, his eyes were fixed intently upon a man in the crowd, who in some way--all were pressing upon each other in wild confusion--had reached the foremost rank, and now, with upraised arms, sprang directly before, nay under the rearing horse; it was supposed he wanted to pull the furious animal down by the bridle.

"Let me pa.s.s, for G.o.d's sake!" cried Gotthold.

He had recognized Hinrich Scheel, although he had only seen the square head, covered with gray curling hair, from which the cap had been knocked in pressing through the crowd; not the brutal face with the squinting green eyes, under whose fiendish power the frightened animal reared higher and higher, pawing the air with its steel-shod hoofs as if it would fain destroy its tormentor. And now one of the hoofs struck the head of the mysterious man, who fell as if a bullet had pierced his brain; but at the same moment the horse, again rearing, fell backwards, burying his rider under him. The crowd parted with shrieks of horror.

"A doctor, a doctor, is there no doctor here?"

There was none, but no physician could have been of any avail. The man who had tried to seize the horse's bridle, and in whom others also now recognized Brandow's former trainer, Hinrich Scheel, for whose arrest a warrant had been issued, lay dead on his back with crushed skull and horribly distorted face, from which the dim eyes glared frightfully; his master still lived, but Gotthold, who was supporting him in his arms, saw that his end was fast approaching. A deathlike pallor rested on the delicate, clear-cut features, and the white teeth gleamed with a strange, frightful expression from between livid lips. A shudder convulsed the whole body, and the head fell on Gotthold's breast.

"Here comes a doctor," cried several voices.

"He will find nothing to do," murmured Gotthold; "help me to carry him away."

As they raised the body, a lady in a blue veil, who had been standing near with her hands clenched convulsively, shrieked aloud, and sank fainting on the ground. No particular notice was taken of it. Several ladies had fainted.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

A wondrously beautiful autumn, with mild golden days, and clear starry nights, brooded over the country. Everywhere summer roses bloomed in the gardens beside the asters, and the forests were very slow in decking themselves in brilliant hues. The air was so still that the floating threads of gossamer scarcely stirred, and when a leaf fell it remained just where it touched the ground. The birds of pa.s.sage had paused in their migration, and chirped and--twittered among the fields and hedges with their merry little voices, while in the evening the wild swans, which usually, long ere this time, had soared away on their strong white wings, called to each other along the sh.o.r.e.

It was a wondrously beautiful autumn, which seemed marvellously like summer; "but it is only an illusion," said Cecilia, "the summer is over, winter is close at hand, and I must prepare for it."

She had been six weeks in Dollan, which she had never expected to enter, never hoped to see again. But the physicians had urgently desired that, to secure perfect recovery from her severe illness, if a winter's residence in the South was impracticable, Gretchen should at least spend the beautiful days of autumn on the sea-sh.o.r.e, in a sunny spot, sheltered from the cold winds; and what place could have fulfilled these requirements better than quiet, sunny Dollan? And, even if it were a sacrifice for her to return here, she made it unhesitatingly for the sake of her child and her old father.

He had so longed for Dollan when, contrary to the doctor's expectation, he recovered his consciousness after a fainting fit which, a few days after the accident on the race-course, suddenly attacked him as he sat surrounded by his friends. "Gratify the old man's wish," said the physician, "and do so quickly; he will not have many more. His days are numbered, and it is our duty to procure for him, during the few that remain, all the sunshine he misses so keenly here in the narrow crowded streets."

And with deep thankfulness the old man greeted the sunlight on his native fields. Not that he expressed his grat.i.tude in words. He usually talked very little; but on his pale, quiet face rested an expression of the deepest peace, his mild eyes often sparkled as if with joyful memories, and a happy smile played around his lips, as he walked slowly through the sunny fields by Cecilia's side, leaning on her arm. Often too--especially in the early morning--he went out alone, and Cecilia had been anxious about him, and at last ventured to beg him to take her with him, no hour was too early for her. But the old man stroked her cheeks, and said, "Let me alone; you don't know yet."

Cecilia pondered over these strange words, and understood them for the first time when, one morning at early dawn, she looked out of her window, and saw the old man stand a long time in the garden beside one of the oldest trees--a linden, under whose shade, so the story ran, Charles the Twelfth of Sweden had sat--and then bend his white head and wave his hand, as people do when they take leave of any one. Yes, the old man was taking his leave, when he wandered alone through garden and field, forest and meadow--leave of the friends and acquaintances of his youth: here a tree, under whose branches he had dreamed of the woman he loved; yonder a rock, against whose hard breast he had once pressed his tortured young heart; the meadow where he had broken the wild steed with which he had hoped to win the beautiful Ulrica von Dahlitz; the forest whose echoes he had so often waked by the report of his good rifle. He never carried it now: the trusty gun that had formerly accompanied him in all his walks, rested quietly in the corner; he had taken leave of his faithful companion forever.