Dame Care Part 15

"Do join us soon," his mother called down to him from the carriage, and Katie getting into it whispered into his ear,

"I believe they will be there, too."

Now he stood quite alone in the deserted courtyard. The servants had gone to the fields to milk--no human being was to be seen far and wide.

The ducks in their pool had put their heads under their wings, and the kennel-dog snapped sleepily at the flies.

Paul seated himself on the garden fence and gazed towards the wood, at the edge of which gay light dresses flitted to and fro, while now and then there was a bright glitter, when the sunbeams were reflected in the harness of the waiting carriage-horses.

The evening came; he was still undecided whether he should venture to follow his family.

A thousand reasons occurred to him which made his staying at home absolutely necessary, and when it was quite clear to him that he ought to remain at home and not go anywhere else he put on his Sunday coat and went to the festival.

It began already to grow dusk as he walked across the sweet-scented heather. His heart was weighed down with secret fear. He did not dare to think out the cause, but as he walked past the juniper-bush, beneath which he once had whistled his most beautiful song to Elsbeth, a pain shot through his breast as if he had been stabbed.

He stopped and reconsidered whether it would not be better to turn back.

"My coat is much too shabby," he said to himself; "I can't show myself in any decent society." He took it off and looked at it on all sides.

The back was getting s.h.i.+ny at the seams; at the elbows there was a dull silver gloss, and the border on the flaps of the breast even showed a little fringe.

"It won't do with the best will in the world," he said, and then he sat down beneath the juniper-bush and dreamed how smart and elegant he would look if only he could afford a new coat. "But that won't be yet a while," he continued; "first Max and Gottfried must have permanent places, and Greta and Katie must have the ball-dresses they wish for, and mother's arm-chair must be newly done up--" and the more he thought the more other things came to his mind which had a prior claim.

Then again he saw himself in a brand-new black suit, patent-leather shoes on his feet, a fas.h.i.+onable tie round his neck, entering the dancing-room with a careless, distinguished air, while Elsbeth smiled at him very respectfully.

Suddenly he started from his dreams. "Oh, fie! what a fop I am growing!"

he scolded himself. "What have I to do with patent-leather shoes and fas.h.i.+onable ties? And now I will just go in my old coat to the wood.

Besides, it has almost grown dark," he added, prudently.

Louder sounded the trumpets, and through the branches of the fir-trees joyful laughter met his ears.

A turfy spot in the wood had been selected for the princ.i.p.al scene of the festival. In the middle of it stood the platform for the musicians, on the right the tent of the village innkeeper, who sold sour beer and sweet cake, and on the left a place for dancing was fenced off, the entrance to which cost a groschen more, as one might read on a white board.

Round about in a big circle tables and benches had been placed where the different families enjoyed the supper they had brought with them, and through it all a jubilant, giggling, staring crowd was pressing, eager for either love or a good hand-to-hand fight.

The concert was already finished, the dancing had begun; on the firm, trodden-down moss the couples circled round breathless and stumbling.

The glow of the sunset lay on the open s.p.a.ce, while the wood bordering it was already buried in darkness. Here were the farm-servants and maids from the neighboring hamlets; even the coachmen had left their carriages, because it would have broken their hearts to have looked on at these love-makings from the distance. Every bush, every small tree seemed alive, and out of the darkness came low, amorous t.i.ttering.

Shyly, like a criminal, Paul slunk round the festive scene. A fear of strangers had always been his peculiarity, but never yet had his heart fluttered so anxiously as at this moment.

"Is Elsbeth there?" Nowhere in all the crowd were there any traces of the inmates of the White House, but then his family also seemed to have disappeared without leaving any trace. Once he thought the cooing laughter of the twins caught his ear, but the next moment the noise had drowned it.

Twice he had already made the round; then suddenly--his heart threatened to stop from surprise and rapture--he saw, quite close before him, his mother and father sitting in peaceful intercourse at the same table with the Douglas family.

His father rested his elbows on the table, and, red with excitement, talked eagerly to Mr. Douglas. The broad-shouldered giant with the bushy gray beard listened to him silently, at times nodding and smiling to himself. The slender, delicate figure with the sunken cheeks and the blue rings round her eyes, who leaned wearily against the trunk of a tree and clasped his mother's hand with her thin white fingers, that was his G.o.dmother, who had always seemed to him like an angel from the other world. But next to her--next to her, the lady in the modest gray dress, her fair hair simply combed back--

"Elsbeth! Elsbeth!" cried a voice within him; and then suddenly a wall of clouds sank down between him and her, and froze his innermost soul, and veiled his eyes with a damp mist.

Opposite to her sat a gentleman with a saucy-looking fair mustache, and still more saucy blue eyes, who bent towards her familiarly, while a smile flitted over her quiet face.

"She will marry that man," he said to himself, with a conviction which seemed to be more than a jealous foreboding. With the clear-sightedness of love he had understood that these two natures harmonized and must seek each other. And perhaps they had already found one another while he himself wasted his days in idle dreams.

He stood there as if stunned, and scrutinized the man who suddenly had rendered it clear to him what he had lost--lost, indeed, without ever having possessed it.

How could he ever have dared to compare himself to this man that, to a hair, was the ideal man of whom he had always dreamed?

Bold and energetic and triumphant (that's what he had meant to be one day), exactly like the strange young man who looked at Elsbeth with his frivolous smile. He also wore patent-leather boots and a fas.h.i.+onable colored necktie, and his suit was made of the finest s.h.i.+ning black cloth.

Almost for an hour Paul stood there without daring to move from his position, devouring Elsbeth and her vis-a-vis with his eyes.

The night came. He scarcely perceived it. Long rows of lanterns were lighted, and shed forth an uncertain light on the gay crowd.

"How well I am hidden," thought Paul, and was glad of the darkness into which he had crept. He did not see that two men came walking towards him and were occupying themselves close to him with something on the ground.

Then suddenly, not ten steps away from him, a purple red flame flared up and flooded all around in a sea of dazzling light.

He wanted to take refuge quickly in the shade of a tree, but it was too late.

"Isn't that Paul standing there?" called out his mother.

"Where?" asked Elsbeth, turning with curiosity.

"Boy, why are you hanging about in the dark?" shouted his father.

Then he had to come out, in spite of all; and burning with shame, his cap in his hand, he stood before Elsbeth, who leaned her head on her hand and looked up at him smilingly.

"Yes, that's what he always is: a real sneaker," said his father, giving him a clap on the shoulder, and the unknown young gentleman pushed his hair from his forehead and smiled half good-naturedly, half ironically.

Then old Douglas rose, went up to him, and seized both his hands. "Hold up your head, young friend," he called out, with his lion's voice. "You have no reason to lower your eyes--you, least of all the world. He who can at the age of twenty do what you do is a capital fellow and need not hide himself. I won't make you conceited, but just ask who could bear comparison with you. You, perhaps, Leo?" He turned to the young fop, who answered, with a merry laugh,

"You must make the best of me as I am, dear uncle."

"If only there was anything in you to make the best of, you good-for-nothing!" replied Douglas. "This, you must know, is my nephew, Leo h.e.l.ler, a new edition of 'Fritz Triddlefitz.'"

"Uncle, I'll have my revenge."

"Be quiet, you scoundrel."

"Uncle, I'll wager twenty gla.s.ses which of us lies under the table first."

"That's what he calls respect."

"Uncle, you are pinching me."

"Be quiet; just look at this young farmer, twenty years old, who keeps the whole farm going."

"Well, Mr. Douglas, _I_ count for something, too," cried Meyerhofer, with a somewhat lengthened face.

"No offence to you," the former answered; "but you have so much to do with your company you naturally cannot bother about such trifles."

Meyerhofer bowed, flattered, and Paul felt ashamed for him, for he well understood the irony of these words.