Withered Leaves Volume Ii Part 15

Blanden's conversation seemed to glide unconcernedly above all this by-play, which in reality he watched closely; the other guests'

obduracy obliged him to be the first to take leave. Giulia's looks, however, a.s.sured him of her unchanged affection; she requested him to repeat his visit very soon.

"My Beatrice," said Buschmann, who thought much of his knowledge of Dante's comedy, "my guide through Paradise appears to turn completely away from me! Who then is this stranger who crosses our mutual path?"

"I have already mentioned his name," said Giulia coldly, "but here is his card!"

"An old Italian acquaintance! Herr von Blanden, a gentleman of large property! Ah, ah, Bller, that is promotion over our heads, we shall have to retire to the ranks."

"I gave no cause for such remarks," said Giulia.

"No, Signora, we have not yet lost all courage. Such acquaintances from the land where the oranges bloom, easily droop in our climate; they require a special hot-house here, and it is to be hoped that you will not find one. But we are tried weather-proof friends, is it not so Bller? But we will not disturb the Signora any longer! no bad feelings, lovely one! Does not Beatrice bear the olive branch of peace?"

When Buschmann and Bller had retired, Giulia gave way to violent tears and sobs. Beate came to her and enquired as to the cause of this despair.

"Despair, indeed! I have seen him again and all else has become worthless to me; it is the breath of this pa.s.sion that extinguishes all the other lights on the Christmas tree of my life, while I, dazzled, stare fixedly into the one all-consuming flame! But he, he--how can he respect me? That love, which I as if in a dream and intoxication gave to him, I the nameless one to the stranger--does it not now speak its own verdict of condemnation upon me? Now, when all gains name, form humiliating distinctness! In what circles does he see me. In those of importunate admirers, who sacrifice my name! The theatrical tinsel that rustles around me is sure to make all appear like a _comedia_ to him, and who knows if like a _divina comedia_! Ah! and he does not imagine how the glowing recollection of him governs all my dreams, how, like that Penelope who waited for her Odyssey, I reject every other lover."

"He does not know it," said Beate, consolingly, "but you can tell him though."

"And when I have told him, if he believe me, if he still love me, what then? Is my misfortune any the less? The secret of my life, that baneful fetter that I drag after me, all prohibit any thought of lasting happiness! Was there ever a more pitiable slave than I? I would make a holocaust of all my laurel wreaths, of that acc.u.mulated adornment of my life, and precipitate myself into the flames; it would be best!"

"Do not despair," said Beate, "I have courage and resolution! I think day and night of a means by which to release you."

"It is impossible," replied Giulia sighing.

"First you shall speak to your friend of Lago Maggiore, and probe his heart. Appoint the hour yourself; I shall keep guard and no one shall cross this threshold."

Gratia pressed Beate's hand gratefully, but then she shook her head, threw herself upon the sofa, and, weeping silently, buried her face in the cus.h.i.+ons.

CHAPTER IX.

IN THE BOARDING SCHOOL.

Upon his writing table in the _hotel garni_ that he inhabited with his wife and sisters-in-law, Professor Reising found a delicate, perfumed little note in disguised handwriting, which invited him to a _rendezvous_ in a confectioner's shop by the Castle lake.

He read it through carefully, pushed it all crumpled up into his pocket, and gave himself up to meditation as grave as if he had to decipher the most difficult pa.s.sages in the Hegelian logic.

He was so convinced of his personal charms that he did not deem it at all impossible that he should have inflamed some female heart.

Rose-coloured paper--disguised writing---what could this tiny sheet signify, that might have been wafted into his room through the air?

All philosophers are inquisitive; is not all study of philosophy one great piece of inquisitiveness that peeps behind the scenes of the world, in order to convince itself by what means they are pushed and turned, and how the comedy of life is prepared.

Euphrasia was allowing the dreams of an afternoon nap to float around her. The sisters-in-law were in her room. Reising brushed his hat and repaired to the confectioner's shop.

It was situated by the Castle lake, and contained a suite of small rooms, which opened into a large hall looking towards the lake.

Reising pa.s.sed from one room into another and cast questioning glances at several members of the fair s.e.x, who, here or there, were sitting alone.

But these questions met with no other response excepting that of an unmeaning stare.

Several rattled their newspapers angrily, in the perusal of which they had been absorbed.

At last he seated himself in the open hall, and gazed discontentedly at the lake. Had any one ventured to play a practical joke on him?

Otherwise he would not have been displeased at a little adventure, although until now he had never thought of such a thing.

His imagination, whenever it did picture any particularly delightful event, had always let a torchlight procession in his honour float before him, and in idle moments he had even surprised himself in the effort to express in well-chosen words his thanks for that honour which his pupils vouchsafed to him.

Now the play of his imagination had discovered fresh food, for, indeed, there lay an exciting charm in such expectation and tension; because, even while he was looking at the lake he listened at the same time with quickened ears whether the door did not open, whether any little tripping foot or rustling silken gown did not intimate the approaching surprise.

At last--a veiled lady appeared--she threw back the veil--it was Ccilie von Dornau.

Reising had always thought her pretty and clever, and he felt particularly flattered that she should have invited him to a _tte--tte_. But how dangerous was this meeting! Not only was Ccilie said to be engaged to Herr von Wegen, but she also possessed a pa.s.sionate admirer in Dr. Kuhl, and now--he to be the third in the game! The girl was, indeed, enterprising!

Ccilie seemed to be embarra.s.sed when she perceived him. The Professor was so really. He did not quite know how to adapt himself to his good fortune, and how he should behave on so unusual an occasion.

He stood there, turning his hat round in his hand. Should he request her to sit down beside him?

Ccilie meanwhile had seated herself at another table. Reising went up to her and gazed at her with most speaking looks. He was waiting for her to address him, and with reason--a pink note has its duties!

"It is very cool to-day," said Ccilie, wrapping herself more closely in her cloak.

"You have been spoiled in Italy," said Reising.

"It is cold enough there, too. I stayed a year and a half with a friend in Florence and Rome, and have only recently returned home. I a.s.sure you I have been as nearly frozen on the Arno and the Tiber as one can be on a Polar expedition. Italy in the winter is a delusion."

"In summer, also--at least for many."

"But surely not for you?"

"In many respects, yes; especially as far as the Italian women are concerned. In pictures, indeed, or national costume, such as those of Rovert, or in Olympic ones, as those of t.i.tian, there are beauties, but in reality it is different. In Milan, thin fair women, of Lombard blood, with black veils; in Genoa, well-nourished Italian Hanseatic ones, in white veils; in Rome, beautifully moulded heads upon a plump body! And then those masculine voices; if one does not look narrowly one often imagines it is a non-commissioned officer who speaks; they are wanting in everything soft and womanly. How different with us! Oh, how different!"

"Why do you look so strangely at me?"

"I thought, I would--"

These questions caused Reising to become confused. Plainly Ccilie would not open the confidential interview.

Was he, as the recipient of such a mysterious note, that shed forth the perfumes of every scent of a toilet table, bound to break the seal of the secret?

He mustered his resolution and said--

"You wished to speak to me here, my Frulein. I am happy that you repose a confidence in me that I shall never misuse."

At these almost whispered words he looked at her with a doubtful glance. He hoped for encouragement, so as to be able then to open his eyes more boldly and to let them rest upon the charming young lady.