The Danes Sketched by Themselves Volume Iii Part 2

'I could not understand another word; she was dying, and her speech was very imperfect. Suddenly a convulsive fit came on, and in a moment she was gone. It is now, alas! too late to obtain, for _her_ peace, an answer to the mysterious question; but for the sake of my own peace, I would claim it. Tell me, Franz, what is it you know which made my mother so miserable on her death-bed?'

'And did she really and truly say nothing more?' asked Franz, with a relieved look.

'Not another word. But you must tell me the rest.'

'Thank your G.o.d that you have escaped hearing more, Herr Count! I will carry to my grave what I know; it would be good neither for you nor for myself, were I to disclose it.'

'You shall, though,' cried the count, grasping his short sword. 'I will know it, or--'

'Act as you please, Herr Count,' said Franz, coldly, and without appearing to be in the least intimidated by the threat. 'You would be doing me a service by putting an end to a life which I care not to hold; but no power on earth shall wring from me one word I do not choose to utter.'

The coolness of Franz checked the rising anger of the young man.

'Forgive my impetuosity, Franz,' he said, in a lower tone; 'your firmness and your calm demeanour put me to shame; I have no right to insist on any explanation from you. But I shall remain for a little while in this neighbourhood; we shall probably meet often, and when you are convinced of the great importance it is to me to discover what you now think advisable to conceal, perhaps you will change your determination.'

'I doubt that,' replied Franz. 'If you were a holy priest, Herr Count, and belonged to the true church, in which alone salvation can be found, but which is proscribed hereabouts, it would be another thing.'

'It is, then, a matter of conscience, Franz, about which my mother--'

'Think what you will of me, Herr Count, but do not implicate your mother! Whatever she may have fancied, and whatever account I may have to render to Him who will judge every soul, and the actions of every being, at the great day of doom--for the sake of your own peace of mind seek not to dive into the mystery of my gloomy fate; enough that it casts a dark shadow over my life. For Giuliana's sake, let me also entreat of you to keep this conversation secret from her, and if you do not wish to destroy the childish simplicity and peace of that unfortunate girl, leave us as soon as you possibly can, that she may not witness such scenes between you and myself.'

'I have a plan in regard to Giuliana, Franz, which I shall tell you to-morrow. To-night I do not feel in spirits to enter on the subject.

Farewell!'

So saying, the young count left him, and when Giuliana entered shortly after with the wine, she found her father alone, and asked why Count Otto had gone away in such a hurry, and without even bidding her farewell.

'He had business to attend to, my child,' replied her father; 'but he intends to remain at Soroe to-night, and he will pay us another visit before he goes away.'

'What! is he going away so soon?' sighed Giuliana. 'I thought he meant to have stayed some time among us.'

'Have you, then, much pleasure in the thought of seeing him, my daughter?' asked Franz.

'Oh yes, yes! he is my dear old playfellow, and it seems to me as if we had always known each other. If he had not been so tall, and also a count, a n.o.bleman of high rank, I would actually have embraced him when he came in so suddenly, and told me he was little Otto.'

'Never forget, my child, to behave to him with the respectful distance which becomes the difference between his situation and ours,' said Franz gravely, and fell into a gloomy mood.

In the hope of enlivening him, Giuliana took up the little Italian mandolin which her father had brought from her native land, and sang, in the language of that foreign country, Franz's favourite song, which ran as follows:--

'If life's joys thou wouldst find, 'Twere well oft to be blind, Let the changeful hours roll as they may.

The stranger who goes, Where the summer wind blows, Dreads to think of a dark wintry day.

'The stranger who goes, Where the summer wind blows, Dreams that brightness and beauty shall last.

But too oft as he strays, Where life's fountain plays, He turns with regret to the past.

'Yet sometimes he strays, Where life's fountain plays, And pleasures unfading are met.

Where the balmy breeze sighs, 'Neath the soft Southern skies, His soul can all sorrow forget!'

The next day Count Otto came again. Contrary to his usual custom, Franz remained at home, and he sought, by lively conversation and jovial manners, to efface the remembrance of the painful scene of the previous evening. He seemed determined to entertain his guest himself without any a.s.sistance from Giuliana, with whom Otto had, therefore, very little communication. Thus several days pa.s.sed, yet the young count did not seem to think of his departure, although Franz often reminded him of it by drinking to his safe journey home.

Otto no longer doubted that Franz had observed the impression which the beautiful Giuliana had made upon him, and at the same time he became more watchful of his own feelings. Upon reflection, he allowed to himself that the father was acting wisely in wis.h.i.+ng to check a pa.s.sion which, if it were implanted and nourished in the heart of the lovely Giuliana, might cause, on account of the difference in their rank and station in life, great unhappiness to both. For several days he battled with himself, and several times he resolved to go away at once, and to give up the plan about Giuliana, which he had not yet communicated to her father. This plan would indeed gratify her long-cherished desire to visit her dear native land, but it would necessarily place her and him in a position which might be dangerous to the peace of both, unless he could sacrifice for her the opinions of his family, and the prejudices inherent to his standing in life. The longer he considered the matter, the more he felt convinced that the situation he proposed her filling was far beneath Giuliana. After all, he was his own master, and _he_ valued mind, beauty, and amiable disposition more than all the genealogical trees and worm-eaten patents of n.o.bility that ever existed.

Notwithstanding all her father's efforts to prevent Giuliana from being much with the count, he met her frequently by accident, and often saw her when Franz's occupations obliged him to be absent, and it was not long before he perceived that the interest she took in him, and the attention she paid him, sprang from something more than mere good will, or simple childish affection. She tried, indeed, to obey her father's directions, and to be distant and respectful; she called him, as she had been desired, 'Herr Count,' and always corrected herself when the familiar 'Otto' trembled on her lips. Yet, from a thousand little circ.u.mstances, the said Otto could not fail to see that he was very dear to her, and when his departure was mentioned, it was evident that she tried in vain to conceal her distress at the idea of his going.

One evening, on returning home, Franz found Count Otto at the forest lodge, where he was sitting close to Giuliana, reading some beautiful old ballads to her; the sight of their intimacy displeased him, and by way of reminding the count of his long-delayed journey, he asked what day of the month it was.

'It is the second of November,' replied Otto; whereupon Franz, who for some weeks past seemed to have dismissed all his old sad thoughts, and had been always cheerful, often in a gay humour, became suddenly silent and gloomy. In a minute or two he rose with a grave air, and entering the little side-room, which he had fitted up as an oratory, he locked himself in. As he did not come back, Otto asked Giuliana what could detain him so long there.

'This is All Souls' Day,' she replied; 'my father did not remember it until you mentioned the day of the month. He keeps _this_ day more strictly than any of the other fasts or festivals of the Church. He always pa.s.ses it in fasting and prayer. I shall not see him again until about this time tomorrow evening.'

'Who would have thought that Jaeger Franz was so pious?' said Otto. 'For some days after my arrival he scarcely gave me an opportunity of saying one serious word, he was so full of mirth and pleasantry.'

'My father's humours are very changeable now-a-days,' sighed Giuliana, 'and I am certain he would be happier if he did not get into such wild spirits sometimes. These strange fits of gaiety are generally succeeded by moods of deep dejection. Do you remember,' she continued, 'the evening that you arrived--'

'Let us not think of that evening,' cried Otto, interrupting her, while his countenance darkened at the recollection of the dreadful secret which he had come on purpose to discover, but his anxiety about which had given way to the new and softer feelings which his daily intercourse with the beautiful Giuliana had awakened in his heart. He tried in vain to recover his equanimity of manner, and finding that even _her_ society could not, that evening, chase away the gloom that was stealing over his mind, he took his leave earlier than usual.

When Count Otto returned the next evening, he found that Franz had not yet made his appearance, and that Giuliana was very uneasy at his long self-imprisonment; but she did not dare to knock at the door, or in any way to intrude on his solitude. At length the door of the oratory was slowly opened, and Franz came out of it, but so altered in appearance as scarcely to be recognized. There was such agony in the expression of his wild, almost livid face, that he looked like one who might be supposed to have died in a state of despair, and arisen from the grave because he could find no rest there.

'But, dear Franz, what strange whim induces you to do such terrible penance?' asked Otto, with a mixed feeling in his own mind of horror and compa.s.sion.

Giuliana made a sign to him to be silent, while she quickly, yet quietly, set about getting something to revive and strengthen her father. It was not until he had drunk a whole flask of wine that he seemed to recover his consciousness, and to observe who was in the room.

'What, you still here, Herr Count?' he said, turning to Otto. 'I thought you had gone long ago. I have been ill, as you may perceive, and my memory is not quite clear yet, but I shall soon be better. Some good wine and the fresh air will speedily set me to rights. Will you hunt with me to-morrow?'

'Oh yes, with pleasure,' replied Otto, who treated him almost as if he were a lunatic, who must be coaxed and humoured. Before he left the lodge, however, that evening, Franz had quite recovered himself, and was as talkative and lively as usual.

'I have done penance long enough,' said he, as he emptied gla.s.s after gla.s.s of wine. 'Let us be merry now, as long as we can.'

The next day they rode out hunting together. On their way homewards Giuliana became the subject of their conversation, and Otto praised her warmly, and commended Franz for the care he had taken in educating her so well, and in cultivating her natural taste for all that was grand and beautiful. 'But,' he added, 'what sort of abode is a forester's lonely cottage for such a superior girl? Such a jewel would adorn a crown, and is too good to be thrown away among low people, or hidden in obscurity. She is fitted to s.h.i.+ne in a much higher station of life.'

'I pray you not to put any such nonsense into the girl's head, count,'

replied Franz. 'I see that you like her, but she can never be a countess; and if you say one syllable to her touching upon love or admiration, I shall be compelled to make it my earnest request to you to give up coming to my house.'

'But if I now ask her hand, Franz--'

'Are you mad, Herr Count?' said Franz, stopping his horse, and looking inquiringly at him. 'If things have really come to this pa.s.s, I must only warn you, Herr Count, that you will have to put up with my society alone for the future, should you continue to honour us with your visits, for hereafter I shall lock Giuliana up out of your way.'

'But if she herself, as I hope--'

'So much the worse,' cried Franz, interrupting him. 'She shall _never_ be yours, Herr Count; rather than that, I would bury her in a convent, if I could find one here.'

'But what are your reasons?'

'I am the girl's father, and do not choose to give my consent; if that is not a sufficient reason, fancy any one you please. Cast a glance at your genealogy, and see how well a woodman's daughter would look among such a n.o.ble a.s.semblage. Doves may not mate with eagles--that is _my_ opinion. Breathe not a single word about love to Giuliana, Herr Count; not a single whisper. Promise me this, upon your honour, or you shall never see her again.'

'Well,' replied Otto, 'for the present I cannot escape giving you the promise you require; but you must, and shall, withdraw your unreasonable objections.'

'Never, as long as I live. Nothing can make me alter my decision while I have life; and when I am dead, perhaps you will change your mind yourself.'