Withered Leaves Volume Ii Part 19

"Poor Wegen! He must have wearied for you? Have you not written to one another?"

"No," replied Ccilie, coolly. "I do not believe in his love; daily it became more timid--any true lover has courage. He let himself be bullied by his aunts and cousins, whom I pleased but little."

"Such a good match," said Olga; "a pleasant, good-hearted man. It would be a pity!"

"You would like to have me married," said Ccilie, while she threaded a needle. "You have your reasons for it."

"But, sister--"

"It is the best plan to get me out of the way; you, meanwhile, have had time to gain Paul's heart exclusively for yourself."

"That is not the case! Why, you know his theories."

"Theories? Dear child! you do not escape me thus! People are consistent in theory, but inconsistent in practice. Theories are for holidays, but for work-days a compromise exists. Men would be great thinkers, original geniuses; everything in the world has been thought of once already; people seek for a truth, which at least appears to be new, and prosecute it to the uttermost. This daring fills one with horror. In the world, however, provision is made against trees growing into the sky, and the lords of creation are not so stupid as to let their cleverness cause them to do anything inconvenient. They declare the impossible to be the law of the universe; in life they content themselves with the most practicable possibilities. Our mutual friend also is merely a t.i.tan in his hours of leisure; when he cannot storm heaven with his hundred arms, he contents himself with two, with which to caress one single sweetheart."

"But we do not need to complain that he has become faithless to his theories."

"Towards me he was cool enough at our last meeting; a temperature in which at most the snowdrops of friends.h.i.+p flourish. The hot-house warmth for the marvellous flowers of pa.s.sion he seems to reserve for you."

"But I can a.s.sure you, sister, he is just as he was."

"But only towards you he is so; I was foolish to remain so long away. I know, though, you are a coquette."

"Sister," cried Olga, while she gave an angry push to the work-table, so that it threatened to lose its equilibrium.

"I do not reproach you; it lies in your nature. You are an elementary being; you need life and pleasure, like a hundred thousand creatures between heaven and earth. Wherever you scent anything of the kind, you make bigger eyes than you possess naturally, and force aside everything that obstructs your path."

"I am no longer so foolish as I was formerly. Paul has lent me many books; I have educated myself, and you need not a.s.sume a tone of superiority towards me. Talk to me of what you will, of the Saint Simonites, of the nature of Christianity, of George Sand, of Llia and Pulcheria, of National a.s.semblies--I am ready. 'I think slowly,' says Paul, 'but I retain all firmly.' And you believe that I am still such a child of nature as formerly! But I am not coquettish, only ask Paul; he thinks I am too little so. I always show myself as I am; I am a nature clear as crystal, but too transparent. You call me coquettish? It is dreadful!"

Ccilie sought to appease her sister--

"But, dear child, it is no insult! Who would not be coquettish? I am so! We only wish to please; it is required of us. We are forced to wish it. Without coquettishness we should be left sitting still at b.a.l.l.s and through life, and we should not even be enabled to fulfil those serious duties of which so much is said to us."

Olga was soon pacified; the sisters kissed each other across the work-table, and glances of mutual affection pa.s.sed between them.

Then the door bell was rung; Frau von Dornau, in her cooking ap.r.o.n and nightcap, which she thought was indispensable as a protection against the draught of the kitchen, rushed in to announce Herr von Wegen, who wished to speak to Ccilie. Frau von Dornau was in a state of great perturbation; she was ashamed of the costume in which she had been surprised, and the strange gentleman looked so festive. If her sight had not deceived her, he carried a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Olga disappeared behind the _portire_; her mother, who had hastily thrown on a bright-coloured shawl, admitted the gentleman, and then repaired to her cooking utensils. Herr von Wegen appeared, smiling pleasantly; he had summoned all the graces to his toilet, his fair little moustache was daintily curled, the colour in his cheeks seemed fresher than usual, even his hair, the contemplation of which in the mirror had filled him with well justified melancholy, was so artistically arranged and disposed, that a superficial glance did not perceive the sad deficiency which was concealed beneath the adroit grouping of the meagre supply.

The cross of the Order of St. John adorned his coat, and with his gloves, of the verdant colour of hope, he held a bunch of camellias, trumpet flowers and other hot-house plants, amongst which also a few half frozen asters from the autumnal beds had been mingled.

"My Frulein," said he, "I bid you heartily welcome to your home; may these flowers, at least, remind you of the beautiful south."

Ccilie accepted the flowers, while expressing her thanks.

"And may you, at the same time, see in them a greeting of old friends.h.i.+p; I cannot make a long speech, Frulein, but I bid you welcome once more."

These effusions of Wegen's heart met with slight encouragement; the young lady, usually so loquacious, could not find a word this time, and silently awaited that which was to come.

"You know, my Frulein, that I am your true friend; we played and danced together even in Neukuhren, those were delightful days at the sea-side. How charming, too, was the dance under the pear tree! We spoke of many things there; I have not forgotten them. And again in Masuren! How every day on which I could see and speak to you, made me glad."

"That pleasure was not shared by your people," replied Ccilie, with cold reserve.

"You are mistaken," said Wegen, losing somewhat of his self-possession.

"Indeed, altogether, I did not feel comfortable there, people did not understand me, I felt as if I did not belong to that circle."

"That is to be regretted," said Wegen, sighing.

"Regretted? The world is large enough, Herr von Wegen, some little sunny spot can always be found. I do not love the shade, least of all that in which I am placed."

"When I said to be regretted, I was thinking of myself, of my hopes and wishes--yes, the object of my visit to-day. Indeed, Frulein, I could wish that Masuren might become your second home, and that you should feel, not only comfortable, but also happy in it. You know the pleasant house there beneath the shade of the lime trees--no castle such as Kulmitten, but in summer buried amongst flowers--the cosy garden behind--thither I should like to conduct you, there I would prepare you a comfortable place for life, if you desire it, Ccilie, because I love you, and beseech you to give me your hand!"

Now Wegen had become warm, tears stood in his eyes, he had risen, and with real emotion had stretched out his hand to Ccilie, who hesitatingly and cautiously placed hers within it. Olga could not suppress a slight coughing fit behind the _portire_; it was a nervous cough, consequent upon sudden agitation.

"Will you be mine? I will cherish you all my life," continued Wegen, with overflowing fervour, "no one will dare to wound you; here and there they might, perhaps, gaze with unloving looks upon the strange girl who came into the country, but my wife will be respected and honoured, and all will meet her lovingly when she bears my name. That is one consideration which might make you doubtful, it is groundless, I a.s.sure you--and as regards the other, I see that you still are doubtful; well, I am no genius, no such promise was made by my cradle, I bow before your intellect, but would it not belong to me also, when we are one for life? I, however, possess sound common sense; I am a District Deputy, people have confidence in me, in my head, otherwise they would not select me for the post. Blanden, too, is my friend, and he is a genius. Tell me who your friends are--enough, that is a secondary matter! The princ.i.p.al one is that my heart is honest, and that I love you. They praise my model management in the district, but the real model management will then be found, not in the fields and stalls, but in my house."

"You honour me by your offer," said Ccilie, "it comes most unexpectedly upon me. Certainly there was a time when I was more prepared for it than I am just now."

"Do not be angry with me that I hesitated formerly, that I let you go away; I never wavered in my love, because whatsoever takes root in my mind has a firm foundation. I only wavered in my belief in the happiness that I could bring to you, such contradictions hovered in the air, and I became timid simply because I loved you. It is different now; I have shaken off all doubt, I feel the power within me to make you happy. And if there be underwood that blocks our path, I shall have the whole forest thinned or cut down, so truly as my name is Wegen.

Will you be mine, dear Ccilie?"

"First take my hand in token of my thanks and true friends.h.i.+p. But then grant me time for reflection, even if it only be for a few days. I, too, must see all quite clearly, and in me, also, everything wavering must become firm. You are sure of my hearty affection, and to which ever decision I may come, rest a.s.sured that I shall always count this day amongst the most beautiful in my life."

Wegen asked when he might come for her answer: Ccilie would give it him in two days' time. He rose with downcast air; he had hoped, at least, this time to receive a kiss as a trophy of victory. And how polite and amiable, but how little cordial was all that Ccilie said to him; how differently had he painted the meeting with his beloved one, as he ascended the stairs! Then, after his declaration, she had melted into tears, she had fallen upon his neck, she, too, had told him that she had already loved him for long, and could not live without him, then, for the first time, he had been permitted to press her pa.s.sionately against his heart!

The slight outlines of this imaginary picture still stood before his mind; but how totally differently this meeting had pa.s.sed off!

No acquiescence, no loving effusions, no moment of sweet self-forgetfulness. Friendly, but distantly she stood before him; certainly as desirable, as charming as ever! Even in the more comfortable house attire, her slender figure was so seductively displayed; the polite smile upon her lips, the animated glance of her clever eyes, that supple fascination in her whole person, Wegen would have deemed himself to be the most felicitous of mortals if it had been vouchsafed to him to receive the word of a.s.sent from that delicate fairy who seemed to glide through life with elf-like steps, the a.s.senting word which should give her to him as his own for evermore.

Instead, however, he must take up his hat and collect all his emotions in one friendly shake of the hand, but he consoled himself with the thought that it must be hard for a girl to utter the decisive word, that from shyness and shamefacedness, she would prefer to entrust it first to a little scented note, and would then be able to let the unavoidable consequences of a declaration of love flow over herself with more mental composure. It is true that an inner voice told him again and again, as he descended the stairs, that in reality Ccilie had no girlish modesty about her--and his grounds of consolation were scattered again outside like faded leaves in a November wind.

Wegen had barely left the room before Olga stepped forth from behind the curtain, and folded her sister to her heart amid warm felicitations. The mother, too, whom Olga's powerful voice had intelligibly informed of the joyful event, was too happy at the offer.

"You dispose of me too quickly," said Ccilie, drawing back; "it needs mature consideration first."

And she seated herself in the _causeuse_ in her boudoir, her head propped upon her arm; sometimes gazing out upon the trees of the Philosopher's d.y.k.e, tossed about and stripped of their leaves by a ruthless north wind.

Olga and her mother did not disturb her in her silent reflections, which were, however, of a very different nature from what the former imagined. Her mother, with a heavy heart, was already thinking of the outfit. Olga was touched by the handsome man's kindliness and goodness, which were visible in every one of his words. Ccilie was unmoved by these advantages. The language of the heart, of homely feeling, was not adapted for her; she merely looked upon Wegen as a figure upon the chess-board, with whom she could make a good move.

Towards evening Olga announced that she should visit her friend Minna, the daughter of the Kanzleirath; half-an-hour later Ccilie informed her mother that she wished to breathe the fresh air, and should enquire after Major Bern's youngest child, who was seriously ill.

That evening Dr. Kuhl was sitting in his laboratory, a vaulted apartment with barred windows, only one door communicating between it and his study. His mother, a widow of ample means, owned the house, and, after his father's death, he had fitted it up comfortably in his own way. His mother allowed him perfect liberty, she humoured all his whims and fancies, even when she did not approve of them and when they could not be brought into unison with social forms. To conduct an intrigue for her Paul, in perfect secrecy, gave her intense satisfaction, and it was not to be wondered at that her son, by means of these principles of education, attained such singularity that he was brought, more or less, into evil repute in every circle.

There he sat now, amidst crucibles, retorts, bottles and tubes; here were covered utensils, heated over little lamps, there others stood open, so that he might watch the process of decomposition which the oxygen in the air calls forth in its contact with other gases.

The Doctor had just blown into the blowpipe, and laid it aside. The blow-pipe, thought he to himself, plays a still greater part in the world than it does here in the laboratory. How many flames, which burned upwards to the sky, has it not blown back, until they crept away upon the ground! And in all ages the sycophants of a State, and the false teachers of mankind, have blown their ruinous breath upon nations through the blow-pipe of egotism.

He went up to a retort and observed how in the process of heating two matters lost the unity of their elements, exchanged their const.i.tutional parts with one another, so that, in consequence of this flow and dissolution, two other quite different combinations ensued.

"Those fatal elective affinities," said he to himself, "what evil have they not caused in the world! How can one apply the laws of dead nature to the human heart? As if two were the decisive numbers for it; although, however, Hindoostan's G.o.ds already formed a triune Trimurti, as if, at the accession of a third, the one must fly this, the other that way, instead of remaining together in one beautiful league. What does it matter to us if chloride and lead, hydrogen and oxygen, seek and find one another, whether they meet as oxyde of lead and chlorate of hydrogen? How can any one wish to rule the human heart according to this freak of nature? Our great poets are the most dangerous enemies of freedom of the heart, and of a glorious love in common."