On the Heights Part 61

In Countess Irma's apartment, which was just below that of the crown prince and Walpurga, a scene of quite a different nature was going on.

Bruno was there, and thus addressed Irma:

"I'm in trouble, and I can't help saying that it's your fault. Mother Sylph has inflicted herself upon me, and is very much in my way.

"Whom do you mean?"

"My mother-in-law has come and has told me with a smile, that as long as my sister--she, too, might just as well be here."

Irma covered her face with both her hands.

"And do you, too, believe it?"

"What matters it what I believe? It's the town-talk, and that's enough."

"It isn't enough; I shall teach them to talk differently."

"Very well. Go into every house, to every man and every woman, and tell them to think differently. But there's one thing you can do. Shall I tell you what it is?"

Irma nodded a silent a.s.sent.

"I know that the intendant sued for your hand last summer. He would feel it an honor to be able to call you his wife. Make up your mind to accept him."

A servant entered and announced the intendant.

"What a strange coincidence! Make up your mind at once."

The intendant entered. Bruno greeted him most cordially, and Irma's welcome was a friendly one.

Bruno soon took his leave. The intendant handed Irma a ma.n.u.script play and requested her to read it and give him her opinion of it. She accepted it with thanks, and laid it on a table.

"Ah, when spring returns, I shall not care to hear the theater mentioned. Our theater is a winter plant."

"This piece is intended for next winter."

"I can't tell you how I long for summer. When everything is barren and desolate at present, one can hardly realize that there ever were suns.h.i.+ne and green trees and sparkling seas. Do you remember the balmy day last summer, when we met on the lake?"

"I do, indeed; very well."

A long pause ensued. Irma waited for the intendant to speak, but he remained silent. Not a sound was heard but that made by the parrot hopping about in its cage and pecking at the golden wires.

"I long," said Irma, "to visit my friend Emma next summer. I would like to revel in solitude. This winter has been too noisy and exciting."

"Yes, and besides that, the queen's illness."

The parrot tugged at the golden wires, and Irma slightly loosened the red velvet ribbon on her morning dress.

"Do you intend to visit the lake again?" said Irma, trembling.

"No, dear Countess; I shall visit the various theaters of Germany, in order to engage a second ba.s.so and, above all, a young person for the lover's parts. You would hardly believe how scarce youthful lovers have become in the German world."

Irma laughed heartily, while the blood mounted to her temples. She felt quite faint.

The servant announced Baroness Steigeneck.

"I'm not at home," was Irma's hurried reply. "Pray remain a moment longer," said she, addressing the intendant.

He remained for some time longer, and referred to the ma.n.u.script, mentioning that the pa.s.sages to be omitted were marked with a red pencil. Irma promised to read the play, thanked him for the compliment paid her judgment, and conversed in a light and careless tone, until he had left the room. As soon as he had gone, she threw herself on a sofa, where she lay for a long while, weeping bitterly. At last, she looked up, as if bewildered, for she thought she had heard a voice saying: "You meant to--Is there no other course left? Must one who has swerved from the straight path, necessarily sink into the mire of self-abas.e.m.e.nt?"

Suddenly, she arose, shook her head defiantly and brushed the hair from her face. She ordered her carriage, intending to drive to the sculptor's atelier and resume her work. The servant announced Colonel von Bronnen. "Let him enter," said Irma. A moment later, Irma was apologizing for receiving him in her hat. She was just about to drive out.

"I can call again, dear Countess, and will only leave the messages I have for you."

"Messages?"

"Yes, from your father."

"From my father? Where did you meet him?"

"At Wildenort."

"Were you there?"

"Yes, I had some matters to attend to in the neighborhood, and, without further introduction, called on your father. I felt that I had a right to call myself an intimate friend of yours."

"And how fares it with my father?"

"As it should with the father of such a daughter."

"Of such a daughter--"

"Pardon me, dearest Countess. You are in a hurry, and I am still so impressed by your father's great and n.o.ble nature, that I would rather we were both calm--"

"I am quite calm now; pray tell me, have you a message for me?"

"I have not. But it seems to me, dear Countess, as if I were just beginning to understand you.--Oh, what a man your father is!"

Irma looked up in surprise. She thought of Appiani speaking to Odoardo.

The colonel continued, calmly:

"Dear Countess, I am not an enthusiastic youth; but, during the short time I was permitted to spend with your father, I felt as if the exalted existence which had once been my ideal had become a real, living fact. Such perfect communings are impossible unless one feels sure that he is looked upon with favor, and I feel that I have had the good fortune to gain your father's good opinion."

"You fully deserve it. Excuse me, while I lay off my hat. Pray take a seat and tell me more about father." She removed her hat; her excitement had only added to her beauty.

She rang for a servant and ordered him to send the carriage away.

The colonel seated himself.