The Breaking of the Storm Volume Ii Part 10

His father remained standing at the table, leaning on one hand, with his back towards him, without answering. The silence lay like a mountain on Ottomar's soul. With a great effort he shook off his vague dread.

"What do you want, father?"

"First that you should read this letter," said the General, turning round slowly, and pointing to a paper that was spread out before him on the table.

"A letter to me?"

"In that case I should not have read it; and I have read it."

He had stepped back from the table, and paced slowly up and down the room with his hands behind his back, while Ottomar, standing where his father had stood just before, without taking the letter in his hand--the handwriting was legible enough--read as follows:

"Honoured Sir,--I trust your honour will forgive your humble servant, the undersigned, for venturing to call your honour's attention to a circ.u.mstance which threatens seriously to endanger the welfare of your honoured family. It concerns the relations which have for some time subsisted between your son, Lieutenant von Werben, and the daughter of your neighbour, Herr Schmidt, the owner of the great marble-works. Your honour will excuse the undersigned from entering into details, with which he is thoroughly conversant, but which are better consigned to the obscurity in which the parties in question seek in vain to remain, and if the undersigned begs you to ask your son where, and in whose company he was this evening between eight and nine, it is only to prove to your honour how far the said relations have been carried.

"It would be both foolish and unpardonable to suppose that your honour is acquainted with all this, and has connived at it till your son is on the point of being betrothed to the daughter of an ultra-radical democrat. On the contrary, the undersigned can imagine beforehand the painful astonishment which your honour will experience on reading these lines; but, your honour, the undersigned has also been a soldier, and knows what military honour is, as indeed all his life long he has cherished it, and he cannot endure any longer to see the honour of such a brave officer so criminally trifled with behind his back, by him who more than any other appears called to protect that honour.

"The undersigned feels he need say no more in a.s.sertion of the great veneration with which he is of his honour and his honour's whole family

"The obedient, humble servant."

The General did not interrupt his son for some minutes, but as Ottomar still remained motionless, staring in front of him, his teeth pressing hard on his white lip, he stopped in his walk at the far end of the room, and asked:

"Have you any idea who wrote that letter?"

"No."

"Have you the slightest suspicion that the lady whom it concerns----"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Ottomar impetuously.

"I beg your pardon, but I am under the painful necessity of asking questions, as you do not appear disposed to give me the explanations which I expected."

"What am I to explain!" asked Ottomar half defiantly; "the thing is true."

"Short and conclusive," answered the General, "but not quite clear. At least, some points still require clearing up. Have you anything to reproach this lady with--I may call her so?"

"I must beg you to do so."

"Well, then, have you anything in the least to reproach this lady with, which, setting aside outward circ.u.mstances of which we will speak later, could prevent you from bringing her into Elsa's company? On your honour!"

"On my honour, nothing!"

"Do you know anything of her family, again setting aside outward circ.u.mstances, even the smallest fact, which would and ought to hinder any other officer who was not in your peculiar position from forming a connection with her family! On your honour!"

Ottomar hesitated a moment; he knew absolutely nothing dishonourable of Philip; he only had the inborn instinct of a gentleman against a man who, in his eyes, is not a gentleman; but he would have considered it cowardly to shelter himself behind this vague feeling.

"No!" said he moodily.

"You have acquainted the lady with your circ.u.mstances?"

"In a general way, yes."

"Amongst other things, that you are disinherited if you marry a woman who is not of n.o.ble birth?"

"No."

"That was somewhat imprudent; however, I can understand it. But in a general way you say that she is aware of the difficulties which, under the most favourable circ.u.mstances, must stand in the way of a union between you and her?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever let her perceive that you have neither the will nor the power to remove these difficulties?"

"No."

"Rather have allowed her to believe, have probably a.s.sured her that you can and will set aside these obstacles?"

"Yes."

"Then you will marry her."

Ottomar started like a horse touched by the spur. He had felt that this must and would be the end; and yet, as the words were spoken, his pride chafed against the pressure put upon his heart even by his own father.

And in the background lurked again ghost-like the horrid sensation that he had had in the park; that he was weaker than she who so confidingly nestled in his arms. Was he to be always the weaker, always to follow, whether he would or no, always to have his path traced out for him by others?

"Never!" burst from him.

"How! never!" said the General. "Surely I am not speaking to a headstrong boy who breaks the toy that he no longer cares about, but to an officer and a gentleman who is accustomed to keep his word strictly."

Ottomar felt that he must give a reason, or at least the shadow of a reason.

"I mean," he said, "that I cannot make up my mind to take a step in one direction that would compel me to do wrong in another."

"I think I understand your position," said the General; "it is not an agreeable one, but a man who pays attention in so many quarters should be prepared for the consequences. I must, however, do you the justice of admitting that I begin now to understand your behaviour to Fraulein von Wallbach, and that I only find wanting in it that consistency to which you have unfortunately never accustomed me on any point. In my opinion it was your duty to draw back once for all, the instant that your heart became seriously engaged in another direction. No doubt, considering our intimate acquaintance with the Wallbachs, this would have been extremely difficult and disagreeable, still a man may be deceived in his feelings, and society accepts such changes of mind and their practical consequences, provided everything is done at the right time and in a proper manner. How you are now to draw back, without bringing upon yourself and us the most serious embarra.s.sment, I do not know; I only know that it must be done. Or have you carried your misconduct to its highest point and bound yourself here as you are bound there?"

"I am bound to Fraulein von Wallbach by nothing that the whole world has not seen; by no word that the whole world has not heard, or might not have heard, and my feelings for her have been from the first as undecided----"

"As your behaviour. Let us say no more about it, then; let us rather face the situation into which you have brought yourself, and deduce the consequences. The first is, that you have destroyed your diplomatic career--you cannot appear at the Court of St. Petersburg or any other court with a wife of low birth; the second, that you must exchange into another regiment, as you would never see the last of the collisions and rubs that must happen to you in your present regiment if you had a Fraulein Schmidt for your wife; the third, that if the lady does not bring you a fortune, or at least a very considerable addition to your means, you will have for the future to live in a very different way from what you have been hitherto accustomed to, and one which I fear will not be in accordance with your tastes; the fourth consequence is, that in forming this connection, were it as honourable in one sense as I wish and hope it may be, you will, according to the literal words of the will, lose all right to your inheritance. I mention this only in order to put the whole matter clearly before you."

Ottomar knew that his father had not said everything, that he had been generously silent with regard to the five-and-twenty thousand thalers which he had in the course of the last few years paid for his son's debts, that is to say, all but a small remnant of his own property, and that he could not soon repay his father the money as he had fully intended to do; perhaps would never be able to repay it. His father would then only have his pay, and later his pension, to depend upon, and he had often spoken lately of retiring.

His eyes, which in his confusion had sought the ground, now turned timidly towards his father, who, as before, slowly paced up and down the room. Was it the light, or was it that he looked at him more closely than usual? his father seemed to him aged by ten years, for the first time he looked like an old man. With the feelings of respect and affection that he had always entertained towards him were mixed a sensation almost of pity; he would have liked to throw himself at his feet, and clasping his knees, to cry: "Forgive me the sins I have committed against you!" But he felt rooted to the spot; his limbs would not obey him, or go the way he wished; his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth; he could utter nothing but: "You have still Elsa!"

The General had remained standing before the life-sized pictures of his parents, which adorned one of the walls; an officer of rank in the uniform worn in the war of liberation, and a lady, still young, in the dress of that time, who strikingly resembled Elsa about the forehead and eyes.

"Who knows?" said he.

He pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead.

"It is late; two o'clock; and to-morrow will have its cares also. Will you be so good as to extinguish the gas-light above you? Have you got a light outside!"