The German Pioneers Part 14

"You think you are going to play me off with words. For me smooth words; for him kisses! I saw to-day in the woods how handsomely you can kiss."

He broke out in loud laughter. Catherine, frightened, drew back.

"So!" said Conrad, "that is your true face. Do you still love me as a sister her brother?"

"If you are so unbrotherly, no!" said Catherine. "But you do not know what you are saying."

"Truly not," growled Conrad.

"And not what you are doing," said Catherine. "You would otherwise be ashamed to torment a poor, helpless girl."

She leaned against the door-post, pale and trembling, her hands folded over her breast, her large eyes fixed on the angry man, who tried in vain to meet her gaze, and raved before her like a wild animal.

Then the dog dashed forward, and at the same moment the dull hoof-beats of a horse in full run became perceptible. Fear seized Catherine as to what the issue would be should Lambert now return--and it could be no other.

"Conrad!" she called; "Conrad, it is your brother."

Impelled by an overwhelming feeling she threw herself before him and wound her arms about his knees.

"Let me be!" cried Conrad.

"Not till you have sworn that you will not injure him."

"Let me be!" cried Conrad again, and he violently tore her loose.

Catherine tottered forward, stumbled and fell. Her head struck hard against the door-sill.

She came near fainting, but with a great effort picked herself up again, as angry voices struck her ear, and threw herself between the brothers.

"Lambert! Conrad! For G.o.d's sake, rather kill me! Conrad, it is your brother. Lambert, he does not know what he is doing!"

The brothers released each other, and panting, looked at one another with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. By the sound Lambert's rifle had fallen to the ground. Conrad held his half-raised in his strong hands.

"Now," said Lambert; "why do you not shoot?"

"I do not want to kill you," said Conrad. "If I wanted your life I could have taken it this morning."

"What then do you want?"

"Nothing from you. Why did you come just now? You shall not see me again. Since we have happened again to meet, let me tell you that it must be the last time. Go your own way and let me go mine."

With a powerful swing he threw his rifle on his shoulder and turned away.

Lambert intercepted him. "You must not go. I will forget that you raised your hand against me. Do you also forget that I raised mine against you. By the memory of our father; by the memory of our mother, I conjure you, do not leave your parents' house."

"It is too small for us all," said Conrad, with bitter scorn.

"Then _we_ will leave it. I will gladly do it if you will but stay."

"I need no house," said Conrad.

"The house, however, needs you, as you can help defend it against our bitter enemies. Do you wish to see it go up in flames? You know that the French are coming--perhaps you know more about it than I--than all of us; and we to-day greatly missed you. Will you become a traitor to our common interests--to your brother, your friends, to wives and children? Conrad, you must not go away!"

"If the enemy comes you will again creep away as you did before," said Conrad. "I will not hide in forts. I will fight openly. I will take the matter in hand entirely alone, and you may here, in your holes, go to destruction or not; it will not trouble me. My blood be upon me if I again set either foot across this door-sill!"

He pushed his fur cap down over his eyes, whistled to his dog, and as he, making his rounds about the house, did not come, he called out:

"So you, too, stay here. Curse on you all!"

That was the last word that Catherine heard. The dreadful, soul-stirring excitement of these hours had exhausted her strength, and her fall had broken her down entirely. She felt a stinging pain in her temples. There was a ringing in her ears. She saw Lambert's form, as through a veil, bending over her; and then it was not Lambert, but Aunt Ursul, and then everything sunk away about her in deep night.

CHAPTER XI

Aunt Ursul sat at Catherine's bed in the room carefully noticing every motion of the young girl who lay there, pale, with closed eyes, half asleep as it appeared. She repeatedly felt her pulse, and renewed the cold cloths on her forehead. She then again bent over her, listened to her quiet breathing, then bowed satisfied and murmured: "There's nothing more to be done here now. We will now look after the young man."

She arose and retired, as quietly as her heavy boots would permit, from the chamber, her face expressing displeasure as the door creaked a little, though she shut it very softly. Lambert, who had been sitting at the hearth, raised his head and looked at her who was entering with anxious eye. Aunt Ursul sat down by his side, placed her feet firmly on the hearth, and said, in a tone intended to be a whisper, but on account of her deep, rough voice was a dull growl:

"No, Lambert, on that side"--she at the same time inclined her large head toward the chamber--"so far it goes quite well. The girl is a brave child, and will to-morrow again stand firm in her shoes. If we women should at once discover your stupidities we would have much to do."

Lambert seized the hand of the kind woman. Tears stood in his eyes.

Aunt Ursul did not know how it happened, but her eyelashes also became moist. She breathed deeply two or three times, and said: "You ought to be ashamed, Lambert. You really have a heart like a young chicken, and now it occurs to me that I have eaten nothing the whole day. Give me a piece of bread and some ham, or whatever you have, and if there is yet a swallow of rum in the flask it won't do any hurt--but add to it two-thirds water. A well-behaved person will not otherwise drink the fiery stuff. And now we will once have a little rational talk, Lambert.

We need not be in a hurry. The girl sleeps so soundly that she will not wake under six hours."

Lambert had taken what was wanted out of the cupboard. Aunt Ursul moved her chair to the table, and while she was eating heartily, said:

"Do you know, Lambert, that the girl is a treasure?"

Lambert bowed.

"And that neither you, nor Conrad, nor any man in this earthly vale of tears, is good enough for the maiden?"

Lambert's eyes said: "Yes."

"I have now for the first time carefully looked at her," said Aunt Ursul; "as she lay there, white and b.l.o.o.d.y, like the doves this morning. There is not one false or distorted line in her lovely face.

Everything is entire purity and innocence, as though the Lord G.o.d had opened a window in heaven and sent her forth upon the earth. And now to think that such a lovely angel is destined to all the suffering and anguish which is our inheritance from our mother Eve--Good G.o.d, it is dreadful! Since, rightly considered, Lambert, you cannot help it, as you did not make the world, and are all in all a good man, Lambert--yes, a right good man--what Aunt Ursul can do to smooth the way to your happiness that she will do with all her heart. Yes, surely, Lambert, that she will."

"I thank you, aunt," replied Lambert. "I can truly say that I have always been persuaded of your good will, and have constantly reckoned on you, but I am afraid that now n.o.body can any longer help us. How shall I stand with her before G.o.d's altar when I know that my brother begrudges me my happiness? Even could I do so, Catherine could not bear the thought that it is she on whose account Conrad is irreconcilably angry. She knows how I have loved the young man--how I still love him. I could shed my blood for him, and how did he renounce us even now--even now?"

Lambert supported his forehead with his hand. On Aunt Ursul's rough face there also lay a deep, helpless sadness. She wished to say something comforting to Lambert, but found nothing to say. Lambert proceeded:

"I am not angry at him. How could I be? You know, aunt, that we were long uncertain whether he or I should go to New York, since he had less to keep him, and we thought it would do him good to get out among other people. Then he would have found Catherine, and he would surely have dealt just as I did; and who knows how everything would then have fitted itself in?"

Aunt Ursul shook her large head.

"Do not sin against yourself, Lambert," said she. "I have always found that, rightly weighed, everything had to come out just as it did come out, and with this we pause."