Iolanthe's Wedding Part 11

The carriage wheels splashed through the mud puddles--ss--ss--ss.

The wind whistled and howled. The rain drummed on the top of the carriage--tara tata! Tara tata!

"And now, what are you going to do with her?" I asked myself.

She was not to be seen, heard, or felt. As if I were driving through the night absolutely by myself. It was not until we reached the woods and the light from the lanterns shone on the wet birch trees so that a gleam of light was reflected back into the carriage that I saw her cowering in the corner as though she were trying to press through the side and throw herself out.

Good Heavens! Such a poor little thing! Bereft of all that made up her old existence and beholding in her new world nothing but an oldish fellow who had just been dead drunk.

The devil! How ashamed of myself I felt.

"Iolanthe."

But, of course, I had to say something.

Not a sound.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Yes."

"Won't you give me your hand?"

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"Here."

Slowly--very slowly--something soft touched my sleeve. I caught it, I held it fast, I covered it up.

Poor thing! Poor thing!

And at the same time a kind of--I might call it "sacred fire" if I wanted to be sentimental--took possession of me. In my hour of need, I found beautiful, warm, comforting words to say to her.

"You see, Iolanthe," I said, "you are now my wife. There's no changing that. And, after all, you wanted it yourself. But you mustn't suppose I shall bother you with all sorts of amorous ways and make demands. It is a true friend who is sitting here beside you--I may say a fatherly friend, if you can get any comfort out of that--because I haven't the least idea of trying to disguise the fact that I am much older than you. So, my dear, if your heart is heavy and if you want to cry to your heart's content, you'll never find a breast on which you can rest more securely. Always come to me for refuge, just come to me even if you do feel that I am the enemy from whom you are seeking refuge."

That was very nicely said, wasn't it? It was inspired by my sympathy and by my pure unqualified good will.

Poor old me! As if a little bit of youthful fervour were not worth a thousand times more than the deepest sympathy and all that. But at the moment the impression of what I said was so strong that I myself was frightened.

With one bound she was out of her corner, with her arms round my neck, kissing my face through her veil and saying between sobs:

"Forgive me--forgive me, you dear, dear man."

At this I thought of the scene at our engagement when she had puzzled me by the same behaviour.

"What's all this?" I said. "What am I always to forgive you for?"

She did not answer. She merely withdrew to her corner, and from then on not another sound from her lips.

The rain had stopped falling, but the wind blew at the carriage windows more madly than ever. Then--suddenly--a flash of lightning! And hard upon it a peal of thunder.

The horses reared and curvetted toward the ditch.

"Rein them in tight, John!" I cried. Of course he didn't hear me.

However, the beasts stood still. His fists were like iron. I never had a better coachman.

The thunderbolt turned out to be nothing but a signal. Peal after peal followed--right and left--everywhere. Flaming roofs, b.a.l.l.s of fire, towers aglow, and the park all alight with a beautiful emerald green.

My good old Ilgenstein transformed into a real fairy castle.

A s.h.i.+ver of pure delight went through me at being able to show her the new home bathed in such splendour. All this I owed to Lothar--the dear boy--and perhaps much more. For often it is the first impression that casts the lot for a whole life.

Iolanthe leaned out of the carriage window, and in the red glow I saw her eyes looking ahead in a kind of eager or anxious searching.

"All this is yours, my dear," I said and tried to find her hand.

But she did not hear me. She seemed to be completely overwhelmed by the beautiful picture.

As we drew into the court, bedlam broke loose--a shouting and shooting, drums and trumpets, torches and lanterns on all sides, and faces blackened by smoke, glowing eyes, open mouths.

"Hurrah! Long live his Lords.h.i.+p! Long live her Grace! Hurrah!" Such a trampling and waving of hats! The horde of them behaved as though possessed.

"Well," I thought to myself, "now she certainly must see that she isn't married to a bad man, since his servants love him so much," and, primed for emotion as one is at such times, I began to blubber a bit.

When the carriage stopped, I saw Lothar standing in front of the door among the inspectors and apprentices. I jumped out and took him into my arms.

"My boy! My dear, dear boy!" In my thankfulness I could have kissed his hand.

When I started to a.s.sist my young wife out of the carriage, that unfortunate creature, the chief inspector, in the midst of the excitement, started to treat us to a solemn speech.

"For G.o.d's sake, Baumann," I said, "we'll take all that for granted,"

and I helped Iolanthe into the house.

There the housemaids were standing, curtseying and t.i.ttering, the housekeeper at their head. But Iolanthe stared right past them.

Then I was seized by dread of what was to come.

"Oh, if you had not sent your sister away!" I thought, and looking around for help I spied Lothar in the doorway, apparently about to take leave. I rushed over to him and caught his hands.

"Come now, you aren't leaving us, are you? After all this trouble we must have something hot together--what do you say?"

He turned red as blood, but I led him over to Iolanthe, who had just been relieved of her hat and cloak.

"You must help me persuade him to stay, Iolanthe. His exertions for us have surely earned him a cup of tea."

"I ask you," she said, without even raising her eyes.