Judith Trachtenberg Part 13

"Hm! my dear count, I am no friend of the Jews, but I do not consider the disgrace such that you cannot survive it."

Agenor shook his head. "It is hard to reason with sentiment. My family pride, my name and race--that was the backbone of my life. It was taught me by my father, and I have clung to it with body and soul. I cannot live a cripple with a broken back. That is all!"

"That is all," repeated Wroblewski, mechanically. He had delayed the suggestion of his plan, but it had to come at last. "Ahem! Listen, my dear friend; you can always have recourse to that. But if I--you mentioned just now that the doctor had produced an artificial sleep for to-night--if you could induce such a sleep for her soul, to last one, two, or three years, or as long as you liked? It would depend on yourself when she was to be wakened."

"What do you mean?"

"As I have said, it would depend on yourself. Of course you would not do it until you felt convinced she would take it more quietly than she has to-day. That will be sure to come with time. The first outburst over, she will remember her duties; there may be children to be cared for. Of course you would have to leave the country immediately."

"What the devil do you mean?"

"It has only just pa.s.sed through my brain. I have only mentioned it out of friends.h.i.+p, but you can make your own decision. The poor devil will do it for you gladly, for he was saved by your aid, and will hold his tongue in his own interests."

"Who?"

"You remember the affair with your farmer, Afanasiewicz? Well, that Ignatius Tondka--"

The count winced. He trembled in every limb.

"Silence!" he shouted.

"Pardon me. It was only a suggestion. But it is late." He looked at the clock. "Really, it is past midnight."

"It would be criminal."

"Yes, but murder and suicide are also not agreeable matters. Think of it until to-morrow. Good-night, my dear count," and without looking around he left the room, and was shown to his bedchamber. "To the devil with all this sentimentality!" he thought; and yet, though he was far from being sentimental, it was a good long time before he got to sleep.

The sun was high in the heavens when he awoke. The clock indicated ten.

He dressed quickly, and rang for the servant, who told him the count had inquired for him repeatedly. The doctor had left, and the invalid was still asleep.

A few minutes after, and the magistrate stood before his host. Agenor looked ill and suddenly old. "I wish to expedite this affair as much as possible. When can the man be here?"

"Have you considered it thoroughly?"

"No hypocrisy! It fits your plans; you will be safe for life. You knew perfectly well that a drowning man would clutch at the blade of a sword. Your carriage is waiting. How much do you want, and when can the man be here?"

Herr von Wroblewski could be laconic when occasion required. "Ten thousand gulden! To-morrow!"

The count wrote a check, and handed it to the magistrate. He read it carefully, nodded, put it into his pocket, and left the room without bow or farewell word.

CHAPTER VII.

Raphael returned from his sad walk as he had started, pale, rigid, and upright. There was not only pity, but even admiration for him in the minds of all, for he gave no heed to his own sorrow and fatigue; he thought only of the wants of others. He called together all the poor to whom his father had been a benefactor, and told them only the giver was changed, not the gift. And to none of those humble and afflicted ones was he more friendly and pitiful than to the old woman who had entered his presence with a fainting heart, Miriam Gold, whose daughter had become a Christian. "Do not tremble, Miriam!" he said. "Such disgrace may be incurred innocently."

This was his own consolation in the first hours of terrible suffering which he had to undergo after his filial duties were ended. He would crouch down in a corner of the death-chamber and keep vigil for the dead, staring into the dim light of the "soul-lamp," and think of the way in which his presentiments had been realized, and the warnings he had vainly given.

"Were we ourselves free from blame?" Nothing hurt him more than this doubt. But he discharged the thought when he remembered the depth of the disgrace his sister had brought upon herself and him. The commonest wench of the Ghetto, he thought, grinding his teeth, would die rather than surrender her honor, and yet the daughter of the best man in the place could defile herself. She deserved his contempt, and he awaited the reading of the will with fear, lest the dying man should have exhorted him to clemency.

His anxiety proved groundless. In the doc.u.ment, written to express Nathaniel's last wishes, Judith was mentioned only in the a.s.signment to her of her portion. He left his blessing to Raphael, with the option of taking up the business or of continuing his studies, but particularly urging him not to allow the action which Rosenberg, the lawyer, had undertaken to fall through. Neither Judith nor the count was involved in it, only Wroblewski. "Such a man should not be a law-giver."

Raphael's mind was soon made up. He a.s.sured his guardian he would remain in Galicia, continue the business, and pattern his life after his father's. When the first week of mourning was past, he undertook the management of the factory. What he lacked in years he made up in zeal and diligence.

The government appointed the burgomaster as guardian to Judith. This gave little inconvenience to the good man after he had sent her a copy of the will, to the count's address, and he had put out the money advantageously.

Time pa.s.sed, but no answer came from her. This surprised no one. They knew she was somewhere on the Continent with the count--where, no one knew exactly, not even Raphael. He was the only man in the town who never mentioned her name.

Week after week slipped by. Winter came and buried moor and town in snow, and people spoke less and less of the beautiful sinner who had broken her father's heart, and was now living with her lover under Southern skies, amid a thousand delights.

Another topic of conversation cropped up. It was the downfall of the magistrate. It was first rumored that he was less firmly seated in his position than formerly, then that Rosenberg had secured an investigation; and then came a day in February when all, young and old, were on the street to catch a glimpse of the commission--a district judge and his secretary. Every one found it most natural. "It was bound to come!" they declared, and all rejoiced.

But they were mistaken. The result was what could hardly be expected.

The first weak step leading to this result was the suppression of any display of ill-feeling against Wroblewski by members of the congregation, at Raphael's request, and by command of the elders. It is true, proofs which the deceased as well as Raphael had collected effected a good deal. But although the Lemberg government did at last become attentive and read these accusations more carefully than previous ones, yet Lady Anna's uncle was a prominent member, and he a.s.sured his coadjutors that they were all lies, and any contradiction on the part of the other gentlemen would have been rude. And these high officials were exceedingly polite to each other in Austria before March, 1848!

At times even Rosenberg was inclined to give it up, and to Raphael's despairing cry, "How can a government exist where such things are possible?" would answer: "It exists only in proportion to these circ.u.mstances." But suddenly the uncle became ill, and had to take a holiday. This would not have availed much had not the doctors said he would never be able to return to his official duties. Then it was decided that such a disgrace was no longer to be borne, and an investigation was ordered. The result was known beforehand--deposition and punishment. An official who deserved deposing merely was never tried in Austria. The machinery of the courts would otherwise have become clogged, and there would have been too many vacant offices.

Herr von Wroblewski knew all that. For the first three months he was kept in continual suspense between fear and hope--fear of the dead, and of the pale, gloomy youth who glanced so contemptuously at him whenever they pa.s.sed each other that he clenched his fists without daring to raise them--and hope in the politeness of the Lemberg officials. There came a time when he was again able to enjoy the monthly checks brought him by the count's bailiff. The larger proportion he kept, the balance he sent to Russia, to the address of "Herr Antonius Brodski, in Mohilev." Inside the cover was written: "Here, Herr Tondka, is the money the count has sent for you. I hope you are satisfied; but if you are not, it will do you no good. We are not afraid of you." All the notes were in the same strain, some more, some less rude, according to the amount enclosed. As to the other matter, he could rejoice. "The stupid Jews laughed before their time." But when news of the impending investigation reached him, he gave up hope. It was fully determined upon, and there was no use in fighting. He had known for twenty years the way in which these investigations ended. His office was lost, and he must make an effort to escape punishment.

With the air of a man of injured honor, he stepped up to the judge and handed in his resignation. "The investigation will establish my innocence, but I will not remain after these insulting suspicions. I owe this to my dignity, the dignity of my position and of my colleagues, who have acted with the same zeal. I can affirm this with confidence, for I know their manner of conducting business," and he named a number of officials, each of whom had a worse reputation than the other.

The judge listened. A tremendous scandal was threatened. He commenced the inquiry, but reported this at Lemberg. The government reflected, the scamp was out of harm's way, and it mattered little to the state whether he got a pension or some years' imprisonment; besides, the cost would be the same, for he would be certain to drag a number of companions down with him, and his patron was still alive. So the investigation was stopped after two months, and Herr von Wroblewski was pensioned off.

The result was unsatisfactory to all parties, but chiefly to Raphael.

Though displaced from office, the magistrate had escaped his well-earned punishment, "because he sinned mostly against Jews,"

thought Raphael, and the reflection made him more bitter than ever.

On the other hand, after Wroblewski was over his first annoyance, he was well satisfied with his lot. The dignitaries of the town and the n.o.bles in the neighborhood were cold towards him, it is true; but a little philosophy made that endurable, especially when there were always some amiable people to be met who would appreciate his and his wife's social talents. He was free from the tiresome duties of office, and could stand the reduction in pay, since a brief note to the count was always effectual in producing any sum, he chose to ask for.

Agenor never wrote. In all this time Wroblewski had not received a line from him, and consequently knew as little as others where the lovers were staying. The bailiff, Herr Michael Stiegle, a silent, grumpy Swabian, forwarded the letters punctually, and brought the replies in a form which delighted the heart of the ex-magistrate more than the tenderest epistle could have done.

True, Herr Stiegle made sour faces; and when Herr von Wroblewski, after he had been turned out by Raphael, desired a wing of the castle to be prepared for him, the bailiff threatened even to be rude. But a letter from the count caused him to carry out this wish too. In short, Wroblewski lived as pleasantly as formerly, and much more free from care.

The letters from Russia did not disturb his equanimity, and the more threatening they became the more amus.e.m.e.nt they afforded. "What fools try to be scamps nowadays!" he said, contemptuously. "Such a stupid fellow, and yet he wishes to be a scamp!"

What did Ignatius Tondka want? Of the three hundred gulden the count promised him monthly, he received one hundred, a sum upon which he could live very comfortably in Mohilev. It was impertinent for him to demand the entire amount and to recall Agenor's promise. "The count refuses to give more," Wroblewski had written repeatedly. "He knows you. You would not dare to betray him, or to return to Austria, for your own sake."

The impudent fellow, however, was not content with this, but kept on writing. "I will ruin you both, though I perish myself." It was too comical!

So the days sped by, pleasant days of leisure for the former official; and as neither the Rittmeister nor the prior belonged to those narrow-minded men who had given them the cut because of the court of inquiry and its results, Lady Anna was also content.

The couple did not envy their successors, who had hired their apartment at Trachtenberg's, the magistrate Graze and his wife, vulgar people and poor creatures. The new judge actually lived, with wife and children, on his salary. A Puritan--he even paid his rent.

Certainly, living in the castle was not only pleasanter, but cheaper.

There was the splendid park before their windows, in which no Jew could be seen again. For the first act of Wroblewski, after his transmigration, had been the resurrection of the "notice board."

Stiegle, the boor, had striven against it, and had even asked the count about it, but had been forced to give in. The flowers seemed to smell sweeter in spring, and the arbors afforded a cooler shade in summer to Herr von Wroblewski, since the board was in its old place.