The Chief Justice Part 24

Berger only held the gla.s.s to his eye for a second and then handed it back to the Captain.

"No," he said, "I don't know him, it must be another family of von Tessenau."

He went down to the cabin and stayed there, till the boat had got well beyond the landing-stage.

It had been Franz.

Berger had to stay in London a week before his task was done. He left the completion of the agreement to his colleague, and began his journey home. At first he intended to go by Dover and Calais. But at the station in London he was overcome by his feelings; he could not let his friend depart forever without seeing him again. He went back by Holland, and the next day was in Arnhem.

Not until he was in the carriage which he had hired to take him to Oosterdaal, was he visited by scruples, the same sort of feeling which a week before had kept him from remaining on the deck of the steamer.

Was it not indelicate and selfish to gratify his own longing at the price of deeply and painfully stirring up his friend's heart?

Sendlingen did not wish to see him again, otherwise he would have written and told him of his whereabouts. And what would he not feel if he was so suddenly reminded of the fatality of his life, if his wounds were suddenly torn open again just as they were beginning to heal? And when Berger thought of Victorine, he altogether lost courage to continue the journey. Unfriendly,--nay it would be cruel, inhuman, to remind the newly-married girl of the misery of the past, and to plunge her in fatal embarra.s.sment.

The roof of the house was already visible in the distance above the tops of the trees, when these reflections overmastered Berger. "Stop, back to Arnhem!" he ordered the driver.

But that could not be done at once; the horses would have to be fed first, explained the driver. The carriage proceeded still nearer the house, and stopped at a little friendly-looking inn opposite the entrance to the avenue of poplars which led up to the door. While the driver drove into the yard, the landlady suggested to Berger to take the refreshment he had ordered in front of the house. This, however, he declined and entered the inn-parlour. His remorse increased every minute, and he feared to be seen, if by chance one of the occupants of the house went by.

Sighing deeply, he looked out of the window at the driver leisurely unharnessing his horses. The landlady, a young, plump, little woman, tried to console him by telling him he would not have to wait more than an hour. She spoke in broken German; she had been maid to the young German lady up at the house, she said, and had learnt the language there. They were kind, good people at Oosterdaal, the driver had told her that the gentleman was going to have driven there, why had he given up the idea? They would certainly be very glad to see a countryman again, even if he were only a slight acquaintance. No German had ever come to see them, not even at the wedding. The festivities had altogether been very quiet, but very nice. Had the gentry no relations in Germany then?

"How can I tell you," replied Berger impatiently. "I don't know them."

"Indeed?" she asked astonished. "Then I suppose you have come to buy the house?" Several people had been with that intention, she added, but Herr von Tessenau had already made it over to his son-in-law, and he to his brother, Herr Jan van der Weyden. In a fortnight they were all going to Batavia. The Housekeeper, Fraulein Brigitta, too, and the old German man-servant. "But won't you go up to the house after all?" she asked again. Before he could answer, however, she cried out: "There they come!" and flew to the window.

A carriage went by at a leisurely trot. "Do come here," cried the landlady. Berger had retired deeper into the room, but he could still plainly see his friend. Sendlingen was looking fresher and stronger than when he saw him last; but his hair had the silver-white hue of old age, although he could hardly have reached the middle of the fifties.

But in the young, blooming, happy woman at his side, Berger would scarcely have recognized his once unfortunate client, if he had met her under other circ.u.mstances. She was just laughingly bending forward and straightening the tie of her husband opposite her. The stately, fair-haired man smilingly submitted to the operation.

"How happy they are!" cried the landlady. "But they deserve it. Why the carriage is stopping," she cried, bending out of the window. "What an honour, they are going to come in."

Berger turned pale. But in the next instant he breathed again: the carriage drove on. "Oh, no!" cried the landlady, "only Franz has got down! Good day!" she cried to the old man as he went by. "A gla.s.s of wine!"

"No," answered Franz. "I am only to tell you to come up to the house.

But for the matter of that as I _am_ here----"

Then Berger heard his footsteps approaching on the floor outside; the door was opened. "Well, a gla.s.s of----" he began, but the words died on his lips. Pale as death, he started back and stared at Berger as if he had seen a ghost.

"It is I, Franz," said Berger, himself very pale. "Don't be afraid--I only want----"

"You have come to warn us?" he exclaimed, trembling all over as he approached Berger. "It is all discovered, is it not?"

"No!" replied Berger. "Why, what is there to discover?"

He made a sign to draw Franz's attention to the landlady, who was inquisitively drinking in the scene.

"I am glad to see you," he said meaningly. "I am going to continue my journey at once."

"Excuse me, Marie," said Franz, turning to her, "but I have something to say to this gentleman. He is an old acquaintance."

"After all!" she cried, and left the room shaking her head.

"She will listen," whispered Berger. "Come here, Franz, and sit beside me."

"Oh, how terrified I am," he replied in the same whisper. "So people suspect nothing? It would have been frightful if misfortune had come now, now, when everything is going so well. Certainly my fears were foolish; how should it be found out? We had arranged everything with such care: even the duplicate keys were not made at Bolosch, but at Dresden, where Brigitta was waiting for us."

"Enough!" said Berger, checking him. "I don't wish to know anything about it. How has Baron Sendlingen been since?"

"Bad enough at first!" replied Franz. "We did not eat, nor sleep, and we fell into a worse decline than at Bolosch--but it was perhaps less from the fear of discovery than from remorse. And yet we had only done, what had to be done--isn't that so, Dr. Berger?"

Berger looked on the ground and was silent. Old Franz sighed deeply.

"If even you--" he began, but he interrupted himself and continued his story. "Gradually we became calmer again. Fear vanished though remorse remained, but for this too there was a salve in seeing how the poor child blossomed again. Then we began to write a book. It deals with the punishment of--h'm. Dr. Berger----"

"I know the work," said Berger.

"Indeed? We did not put our name to it. Well, while we were working at the book, we forgot our own sorrow, and later on, after the work had appeared and all the newspapers were saying that it would have great influence, there were moments when we seemed happy again. Then came this business with the Dutchman, and we got as sad and despairing as ever. But we took courage and told the man everything; our real name, and that we were only called von Tessenau here----"

"How did he come by this name?" asked Berger. "It sounds so familiar to me."

"Probably because it is one of the many t.i.tles of the family. Tessenau was the name of an estate in Carinthia, which once belonged to the family. We were obliged to choose this name, because on settling here it was necessary to prove our ident.i.ty to the police. Well, we confessed this to Herr Willem and also what the young lady's plight was----"

Berger gave a sigh of relief.

"We said to him: she is not called von Tessenau because she was married to a cousin, but because we adopted the name here with the proper formalities. She was never married, she was betrayed by a scoundrel.

That we said no more, nothing of the deed that brought her to prison, nothing of the way she was released--that, Dr. Berger, is surely excusable."

"Of course!" a.s.sented Berger. "And Herr van der Weyden?"

"Acted bravely and magnanimously, because he is a brave and magnanimous man, G.o.d bless him! He made her happy, her and himself. And now at length we got peace of heart once more. We are going to Batavia. May it continue as heretofore!"

"Amen!" said Berger deeply moved. "Farewell, Franz."

"You are not going up to the house?"

"No. Don't tell him of my visit till you are on the sea. And say to him that I will always think of him with love and respect. With _respect_, Franz, do not forget that!"

He shook hands with the old servant, got into his carriage, and drove back to Arnhem.

CHAPTER XV.

Three weeks later, on a glowing hot August day, the Austrian Minister of Justice sat in his office, conferring with one of his subordinates, when an attendant brought him a card; the gentleman, he said, was waiting in the ante-room and would not be denied admittance.

"Sendlingen!" read the Minister. "This is a surprise; it has not been known for years whether he was alive or dead. Excuse me," he said to his companion, "but I cannot very well keep him waiting."

The official departed, Sendlingen was shown in. He was very pale; the expression of his features was gloomy, but resolved.

The Minister rose and offered his hand with the friendliest smile.