The Old Flute-Player Part 16

For a moment, after he had reached it, he stopped to listen, for from the lower hallway came the sounds of altercation. He waited till a curse or two had died away, until the thudding of a heavy body on the boards was heard. It merely meant a fight, and fights were not uncommon in the tenement. He stepped out into the hall. "Come, sir,"

he called into the darkness.

A bounding step upon the stair responded and an instant later John entered, anxious faced and fixing his entreating eyes immovably upon his mother. He was a bit dishevelled.

"Excuse me," he said nervously. "I had to settle with Moresco. He was the officer you had. I'll have to pay a little fine, I guess; but it was worth it. What have you--decided, mother?"

"Your mother," Kreutzer said, before she had a chance to speak, "has given her consent."

John went to her with beaming face and caught her hands. "You're a brick, mother." Gaily he caught her in his arms.

His transport was rudely interrupted, though, by Kreutzer's voice, this time so harsh, so stern, so utterly unlike the old flute-player's usual genial tone that he was startled.

"But I, sir," he said raspingly, "I--I have, myself, something to say."

Son and mother looked at the new Kreutzer (for, suddenly, an utter change had come upon the man: he was majestic) with amazement, almost with alarm. He paid no heed to them but went firmly to the kitchen door.

"Anna, Anna," he called sternly. "Come, I want you. I have something which I wish to say."

Hurriedly the girl came in, looking at him wonderingly. Never in her life had she heard such a tone from her father's lips before.

"Anna, you love this man--Herr Vanderlyn?"

"Yes, father; I--I love him. Yes."

"You love him very, very much?" His voice, now, softened somewhat.

"More than I could ever tell you, father."

She turned her eyes from the old flute-player's to those of the young man, and smiled at him.

"Anna!" he exclaimed, and started towards her from his mother's side.

"Stop!" said Kreutzer and held up his hand. Then, turning again to Anna: "You would not even give him up for me?"

"You would not ask that of me, father," she said confidently, "for it is my happiness."

The old German nodded slowly, somewhat sadly. "No," he admitted, "no; I would not ask it.... You shall have--your happiness." He straightened, then, and looked as her so differently that it startled her a little. "But I, Anna," he said sorrowfully, "I go from your life--forever."

She stood, amazed. What could this mean? At first she thought he might be making game of her, but the look of bitter sorrow on his face convinced her that this could not be. "You, father!" she exclaimed.

"No; I will not allow it! Why--why--"

She made a move as if to cast her arms around his neck in her appeal.

He stepped back to avoid her and held his hand up warningly.

"Do not touch me," he said, chokingly. "I must be strong--strong enough, my little one, to tell you. Ah, my little girl, I go out of your life; but I shall not forget! I shall remember all our songs, and the old flute--when I play the old flute, Anna, always shall I think of you."

She would not be held back, but ran to him and put her hand upon his arm and thus stood, looking up into his face with pleading eyes.

"I will not give you up!" she cried. "You shall not go! Why ... why ..."

Here was the opportunity for which the old man had been waiting; here was his chance to pay in full for every pang, the haughty woman who had so egregiously insulted his and him; here the chance to show a parvenu her place--and yet to do these things without discourtesy.

Drawing himself up proudly, without the scornful look which one of less fine sensibility might have thrown at her in similar circ.u.mstances, he gave his calm and dignified explanation with the air of a true prince.

"It is because," said he, "that in my family no father ever has allowed his daughter to marry any one who is not by birth her equal."

There could be no mistaking the amazement which his words aroused among his hearers. Anna and the youth who held her hand looked at him in frank surprise; but it was on the face of Mrs. Vanderlyn that most emotion showed. It was plain that the grand lady found it hard to credit what her ears a.s.sured her they had heard. Upon the s.h.i.+p she had remarked that Kreutzer looked as if he might belong to a distinguished family. Now his att.i.tude and carriage were the att.i.tude and carriage of a king--a dignified, but kind and gentle king; not arrogant, as her instincts would have made her in like circ.u.mstances, but stately and--decisive. The aristocracy of centuries expressed itself in his straight back; his face was that of one born over-lord of thousands; his steady and unwavering glance was that of a real Personage looking kindly but not with any fellows.h.i.+p upon a commoner, as it calmly swung from its intent pause on his daughter's face to hers.

"Of equal birth!" said she, amazed. "Why, what--"

"Madame," said he, with no abatement of his kindly dignity, "I must explain some things. My life has been a very hard one and my Anna has been all which made it livable. When her mother died--there were objections to the marriage and I also had some wicked enemies--they would have taken my dear child from me. Twenty years of dread of this, of dodging and evasion like a fugitive, in humble places have succeeded. Had they found me, then I might have lost my Anna, for her mother's relatives, who hate me, they are very, very powerful. I have worried, worried, worried, ever, lest I lose her. Even have I had to hide my little artistry in my profession because, had I exploited it, it would have told my enemies where they could find me. Such has been the life which I have led because I loved my daughter.

"Madame," he went on, not patronizingly but with a growing consciousness of his own impregnable position which impressed even the self-seeking woman he addressed, "to you I am only Kreutzer, the poor flute-player; but in my native country I am more--Count Otto Von Lichtenstahl."

"Good heavens!" she cried. "The man is mad!"

"No, Madame. I have been unfortunate. I have not even told my Anna of my t.i.tle, because I have not wished to make her feel unhappy. It is so long since I have lived as would befit my rank, that, almost, I had quite forgotten it; but always I have kept the proofs."

From an inner pocket of his coat the old man drew a worn cloth envelope which held long, folded papers.

"Look, Madame."

Almost as one who dreams she took the little packet from his hand and hastily glanced through the papers which comprised it. Though evidently somewhat impressed her doubts still remained.

"It is easy to manufacture such doc.u.ments," she said finally. "How am I to know that these are genuine?"

The old man, wounded to the quick, made no reply, but looked at her with a silent dignity and stern reproof that affected her more than any words could have. It was evident that his pent-up indignation, however, was on the point of breaking forth; but what he might have said must always remain mystery, for at that moment, M'riar entered, a large, impressive envelope held in her hand.

"Postman's bean 'ere," she explained, and held it toward the old musician.

As Herr Kreutzer saw this letter he gasped with astonishment and, taking it eagerly from her hand, quickly tore it open. As he read it great joy showed upon his face. He stood transfigured, speechless. At last he handed it to Mrs. Vanderlyn.

"Perhaps Madame will believe this," he said quietly.

Mrs. Vanderlyn gave an ecstatic little cry after her first glance at the imposing doc.u.ment.

"The Imperial Seal!" she exclaimed. "A letter from the Emperor himself!

"But, what is this?" she continued, as she read farther. "He speaks about a pardon. What have you done, Herr Kreutzer?"

"It is very simple, Madame," he replied. "Now that I have this, now I can tell all. It had been necessary, as I have explained, that my marriage to my dear Anna's mother be kept secret. When, after one short year, she died, as I have already told you, all came to light.

"I was an officer in His Majesty's Imperial guards. One day a fellow officer, an enemy who had always hated me, insulted me because of my marriage--insulted the memory of my dead wife. There was a duel. He fell, as I thought, mortally wounded. The law was strict against partic.i.p.ants in duels, and because I could not be parted from my little Anna I took her in my arms and we left Prussia--I believed forever. But at last the Emperor has relented and has pardoned me. He calls me back to Prussia! Ah, it is like him! He has not forgotten!"

"Were you such friends?" asked Mrs. Vanderlyn with awe.

"We were schoolmates at the College in Bonn," he answered. "We have drunk the hoffbrau together--in a beer garden."

Gone was all the scorn of Mrs. Vanderlyn. Quite forgotten, to all outward seeming, were her apprehensions lest the old musician's daughter might be unworthy of her son, her fears lest the old man, himself, should prove to be a handicap upon her social aspirations.

She was still running through the papers, and, it must be said, with real intelligence and understanding, and her face was beaming with delight. It was as if from the beginning she had favored him and Anna and was now delighted to find confirmation of the confidence which she had felt in them.