The Wish Part 20

"What if a servant should spy upon me--should see me stealing into our guest's room! My heart stood still at the thought.

"The clock struck twelve. I opened the window and looked out upon the world. Everything seemed asleep, even from Robert's and Martha's rooms no light shone forth. Both were burying their sorrow and anguish in the lap of darkness.

"With the night wind that beat against the cas.e.m.e.nt, the words droned in my ears: 'You must--you must!' And like a soft sweet melody it coaxed and cajoled at intervals: 'Thus you will see him again--will feel his hand in yours--will hear his voice--perhaps even his laugh; do you not want to bring him happiness--the happiness of his life?'

"With a sudden impulse I shut the cas.e.m.e.nt, wrapped myself in my dressing-gown, took my slippers in my hand and stole out into the dark corridor.

"Ah, how my heart beat, how my blood coursed through my temples! I staggered--I was obliged to support myself by the walls.

"Now I stood outside his door. Even yet his footsteps shook the boards.

But the noise of his heavy tread had ceased. He had evidently divested himself of his boots.

"'You must not knock!' it struck me suddenly, 'that would not escape Martha.'

"My hand grasped the door-handle. I shuddered. I do not know how I opened the door. I felt as if some one else had done it for me.

"Before me the outline of his mighty figure----.

"A low cry from his lips--a bound towards me. Then I felt both my hands clutched--felt a hot wave of breath near my forehead.

"At the first moment the mad idea may have darted through his brain, that Martha had in such impetuous manner bethought herself of her old love--in the next he had already recognised me.

"'For Heaven's sake, child,' he cried, 'whatever has possessed you?

What brings you to me? Has no one possibly seen you, say--has no one seen you?'

"I shook my head. He still evidently thinks you very stupid, I thought to myself, and drew a deep breath, for I felt the terrors of my venture were disappearing from my soul.

"He set me free and hastened to make a light. I groped my way to the sofa, and dropped down in a corner.

"The light of the candle flared up--it dazzled me. I turned towards the wall and covered my face. A feeling of weakness, a longing to cling to something, had come over me. I was so glad to be with him, that I forgot all else.

"'Olga, my dear, good child,' he urged, 'speak out, tell me what you want of me?'

"I looked up at him. I saw his swarthy, serious face, in which the day's trouble had graven deep furrows, and became lost in its contemplation.

"'What do you want? Do you bring me news of Martha?'

"'Yes, of course, Martha!' I pulled myself together. Away with this sentimental self-abandon! In my limbs I once more felt the firm strength of which I was so proud. 'Listen, Robert,' said I, 'you will not set out at daybreak already.'

'Why should I not do so?' said he, setting his lips.

"'Because I do not wish it!'

"'All due respect to your wishes, my dear child!' replied he, with a bitter laugh, 'but they alter nothing in my resolve.'

"'So you want to lose Martha for ever?'

"Now I felt myself once more so strong and joyous in my _role_ of guardian, that I would have taken up fight with the whole world to bring these two together. Foolish, unsuspecting creature that I was!

"'Have I not already lost her?' he replied, and stared into vacancy.

"'What did she say to you to-day?'

"'Why should I repeat it? She spoke very wisely and very staidly, as one can only speak if one has ceased to love a person.'

"'And you really believe that?' I asked.

"'Must I not believe it? And after all, what does it signify? Even if she had retained a remnant of her affection for me, she did well to get rid of it thoroughly on this occasion; it is better thus, for her as well as for me. I have nothing to offer her; no happiness, no joy, not even some little paltry pleasure, nothing but work, and trouble, and anxiety--from year's end to year's end. And added to that, a mother-in-law who is hostile to her, who would make her feel it keenly, that she had come with empty hands.'

"I felt how my blood rushed to my face. I was ashamed, but not for Martha or myself--for I was of course just as poor as she; no, for him, that he should have to speak thus of his own mother.

"'And now say yourself, my girl,' he went on, 'is she not wiser, with such prospects before her, to remain in the shelter of her warm nest, and to send me about my business, as I could never give her anything but unhappiness?'

"He dishevelled his hair and ran about the room the while like a hunted animal.

"'Robert,' said I, 'you are deceiving yourself.'

"He stopped, looked at me and laughed out loud: 'What is it you want of me? Am I perhaps to demand a written confirmation of her refusal, before I betake myself off?'

"'Robert,' I continued, without allowing myself to be put out, 'tell me candidly whether you love her?'

"'Child,' he replied, 'should I be here if I did not love her?'

"With his huge arms outspread he stood before me. I felt as if I must be crushed between them if they closed around me--everything danced before my eyes--I squeezed myself further into my corner. And then there came into my thoughts what I had pictured to myself now and for years before; how I would love him if I were Martha, and how I should want him to love me in return.

"'See, Robert.' I said, 'taking me altogether, I am a foolish creature.

But as regards love, I do know about that, not only through the poets; I have felt it in myself for a long time.'

"'Do you love some one then?' he asked.

"I blushed and shook my head.

"'How else can you feel it within you?' he went on.

"'It came as an inspiration from Heaven,' I replied, lowering my gaze to the ground, 'but I know I would not love like you two. I would not be downcast, I would not steal away as you are doing and say: "It is better so!" I would compel her with the ardour of my soul; I would conquer her with the strength of my arms; I would clasp her to my breast and carry her away with me, no matter whither! Out into the night, into the desert, if no sun would s.h.i.+ne upon us, no house give us shelter. I would starve with her at the roadside, rather than give fair words to the world--the world that sought to separate me from her.

Thus, Robert, I would act if I were you; and if I were she, I would laughingly throw myself upon your breast, and would say to you: "Come, I will go a-begging for you if you have no bread, my lap shall be your resting-place if you have no bed, your wounds I will heal with my tears--I will suffer a thousand deaths for your sake, and thank G.o.d that it is vouchsafed to me to do so." You see, Robert, that is how I imagine love, and not pasted together out of fear of mothers-in-law and unpaid interests.'

"I had talked myself into a pa.s.sion. I felt how my cheeks were a-glow, and then suddenly shame overwhelmed me at the thought that I had thus laid bare to him my innermost being. I pressed my hands to my face, and struggled with my tears.

"When I dared to look up again, he was standing before me with glistening eyes and staring at me.

"'Child,' he said, 'where in all the world did you get that from? Why it sounded like the Song of Songs.'

"I set my teeth and was silent. I did not know myself how it had come to me.

"He then seated himself at my side and seized both my hands.

"'Olga.' he went on, 'what you just said was not exactly practical, but it was beautiful and true, and has stirred up the very depths of my soul. It seemed to me as if I were listening to a voice from some other world, and I am almost ashamed of having been faint-hearted and cowardly. But even if I braced myself up and thought as you do: what good would it all be, seeing that she no longer cares for me?'