The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11

"Before? For Heaven's sake!"

He had led her the few steps to the boulders and now stood, throwing his arm about her, close to the edge of the promontory, whose sullen front was so steep that she seemed to be floating in the air above the gray sea.

"See, Else, that is the storm! I hear it, I see it, as if it were already let loose! Hours may yet pass, but it will come, it must come – as all signs indicate – with fearful violence. The metallic surface there below us, stirred into raging waves, will dash its foam up to this height! Woe to the ships which have not sought shelter in the harbor, perchance there to be secure against its wild fury! Woe to the lowlands down there below us! I wished to write to you about it this morning, for I saw it even yesterday, and tell you it would be better for you to leave Warnow; but you would not have gone if I had."

"Never! I am too proud that you trust me, that you have told me this! And when the storm breaks loose, and I know that your precious life is exposed to danger – I will not tremble; and, if I fear, surely I will not despair. I will say all the time: 'He could not fail to do his duty, or to be the brave man whom I love; what if he thought that I were weeping and wringing my hands, while he has to command and steer as on that evening!' Do you know, my love, do you know that I loved you then? And do you know that you said to me that I had eyes like a seaman? O how well I remember every word; every look! And how happy I was that I did not have to give the compass back to you at once; I did not wish to keep it, you were to have it back again – "

"Then you were more honorable than I, dear! I was determined not to give the glove back to you. You had taken it off when you looked through my telescope; it lay on the deck. I picked it up; it has accompanied me so faithfully ever since – do you see? It has been my talisman! Seamen are superstitious; I swore not to part with it till I held your hand in mine forever, instead of the glove." He kissed the little blue-gray glove before he put it back into his breast-pocket.

They had again seated themselves upon the rock, caressing, whispering fond words, jesting in happy phrases, pressing heart to heart and lips to lips, forgetful of the desolate waste in the blissful paradise of their young love, forgetful of the darkness which became more dense, forgetful of the storm which was brewing in the leadlike air over the leadlike sea, like the angel of destruction brooding over a world which he finally hopes to destroy forever and to hurl back into primeval chaos.

A sullen, rolling, trembling sound in the distance caused them to stop and listen; suddenly a roaring sound penetrated the air, without their noticing, even at this elevation, any motion, and this was again followed by an absolute stillness. Reinhold jumped up.

"It is coming faster than I thought; we have not a moment to lose."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take you back."

"That you must not do; you must remain at your post of duty; on that account you did not go to Warnow today; how could you now go so far, when the peril is so much nearer? No, no, dear; do not look at me with such concern! I must learn to live without fear, and I am going to do it; I have determined to do it. No more fear from this moment on, not even of men! I can no longer live without you, and you can no longer live without me. If I did not know it before, I know it now; and, believe me, my noble father is the first that will understand it. Indeed, he must have felt it when he told me what he wrote to you: 'I place your fate in your own hands.' Ottomar and your aunt share my inheritance; my proud father would not take anything from me, and you – you take me as I am, and lead me down there forever! One more glimpse of my paradise, and one more kiss! And now, farewell, farewell!"

He embraced her fondly, and was about to let her go; but he held her hand fast in his.

"It is impossible, Else; it is growing dark up here; in half an hour it will be night down there. You are not safe on the road, which cannot be distinguished from the heath, and the heath is full of deep moors – it is simply impossible, Else!"

"It must be possible! I should despise myself if I kept you from your duty; and how could you love me and not feel your love a burden if I did so? How do you know that you will not be very soon, perhaps are even now, needed down below? And the people are standing helpless, looking for their commander! Reinhold, my love, am I right or not?"

"You are indeed right; but – "

"No but, dear; we must part."

Thus speaking, they went hand in hand, with hasty steps, down the path by which Else had ascended, and stood now at the cross-path which led in both directions – to the Warnow heath over here, and to the Wissow peninsula over there.

"Only to the foot of the hill, till I know you are on the right road," said Reinhold.

"Not a step farther! Hark! What was that?"

He, too, had heard it – a noise like that of horses' hoofs, which struck in swiftest pace upon the hard ground behind the hill rising in their rear and making impossible a further view of the ridge of the promontory, which sloped more rapidly at that point. The next moment a rider came in sight over the hill. He was now at the top, stopped his horse, stood up in his stirrups and appeared to be looking about him.

"It is the Count!" said Else.

A deep flush came into her face. "Now, you will have to accompany me for a little distance," said she. "Come!"

She took his arm. At that moment the Count, who had looked beyond them, to the hill, turning his eyes downward, saw them both. He gave his horse the spurs, and, galloping down the slope, was with them in an instant. He had already seen Reinhold, doubtless, but as he checked his horse and lifted his hat his face did not show the slightest trace of astonishment or wonder; he seemed rather not to notice Reinhold at all, as if he had met Else alone.

"That I call good fortune, Miss Else! How your aunt will rejoice! She is waiting over there; the carriage couldn't go farther – "

He pointed with the butt of his whip over the hill.

"My Heavens, Miss Else! Even if you look at me twice as astonished! Your aunt is worried because you have been away so long. – Messengers in the neighborhood heard of Pölitz that you had come hither – strange notion, Miss Else, by Heavens! – your aunt insisted upon coming herself – stayed behind with Miss von Wallbach – offered to accompany her – most despairing – astounding luck! Beg permission to accompany you to the carriage, not two hundred paces."

He leaped from the saddle and took his horse by the bridle-rein.

Reinhold looked Else straight in the eye; she understood and answered the look.

"We're very grateful to you, Count," said he, "but shouldn't like to try your kindness a moment longer than is necessary. I shall accompany my betrothed myself to the Baroness."

"Oh!" exclaimed the Count.

He had rejoiced in advance over the utter confusion which, in his opinion, the discovered lovers must have felt in his presence, and which would shock the Baroness if he could tell her in whose company he had the good fortune to find her niece. For, that the fellow would traipse down to Wissow with an expression of stammering embarrassment, he assumed as a matter of course, now that he had gone so far. And now! He thought he had not heard aright, he could hardly believe his eyes, when Else and the fellow, turning their backs upon him as if he were not there, walked on arm in arm. With a leap he was back in the saddle.

"Then allow me, at least, to announce the happy event to the Baroness!" he exclaimed ironically, lifting his hat as he passed, and hurrying ahead of them up the hill, beyond which he soon vanished.

"The wretch!" cried Else. "I thank you, Reinhold, that you understood, that you have freed me forever from him, from all of them! You cannot imagine how thankful I am and why I am so thankful to you! I will not now burden you, dear heart, with the hateful things which I have experienced; I shall tell you another time. Come what may, I am yours and you are mine! This joy is so great – everything else is small and insignificant compared with it!"

An open carriage was standing a short distance from them and by it a rider. They thought it was the Count, but coming nearer they saw that it was a servant. The Count had vanished with a scornful laugh, after communicating the great discovery to the Baroness, and receiving only the answer, "I thank you, Count, for your escort thus far!" The two last words had been spoken with special emphasis and, lifting his hat again, he rode off at a gallop from the road over the hills.

The Baroness left the carriage and came to meet the lovers. Else released Reinhold's arm and hastened to meet her aunt; she told all that was necessary by impulsively embracing her. As Reinhold came up the Baroness extended her hand to him and said in a voice full of emotion, "You bring me the dear child and – yourself! Then have double thanks!"

Reinhold kissed the trembling hand. – "It is not a time for many words, Baroness," said he, "and what I feel your kind heart knows. God's blessing upon you!"

"And upon thee, my Reinhold!" exclaimed Else, embracing him; "God's blessing! And joy and happiness!"

He helped the ladies into the carriage; one clasp of her dear hand, and the company was off, the servant riding ahead.

Notwithstanding the hilly ground, as the road was good and the ground firm, they could ride sufficiently fast even here upon the hill, and Reinhold had urged all possible haste. Only a few minutes had passed when the carriage had vanished from his sight behind the hills; when it reached the plain below, and became visible again, half an hour had elapsed. He had not time to wait for that; he must not lose a minute more.

Down in Wissow the beacons were already lighted; at this moment the signal for a pilot blazed up from the sea. They would answer promptly – he knew they would; but a new situation might come any moment which would require his presence; and it would take him a quarter of an hour at a full run to get down there.

He ran down the hill in long bounds, when a rider appeared right before him in a hollow of the ground, which extended to the right in a deep depression along the length of the promontory, and stood on the path. It happened so suddenly that Reinhold almost ran into the horse.

"You seem to be in a very great hurry, now," said the Count.

"I am in a great hurry," replied Reinhold, breathless from his rapid running – and was about to go past the head of the horse; but the Count pulled the horse around so that his head was toward Reinhold.

"Make room!" exclaimed Reinhold.

"I am on my own ground," replied the Count. "The road is free, and you are for freedom of all sorts."

"Once more – Make room!"

"If I wish to do so."

Reinhold seized the bridle of the horse, which reared high from the sharp spurs in his flank; Reinhold reeled backward. The next moment he drew his long knife, which as a seaman he always carried with him.

"I should be sorry for the horse," he exclaimed, "but if you will not have it otherwise – "

"I only wished to say 'Good evening, Commander' – I forgot it a while ago; Good evening!"

The Count lifted his hat with scornful laughter, turned his horse about again, and rode off to one side of the valley from whence he had come.

"That kind won't learn anything," muttered Reinhold, shutting his knife again. It was a word that he had often heard from his Uncle Ernst. As he felt now, so must Uncle Ernst have felt in that moment when the dagger came down upon him – the dagger of her father. "Great Heavens!" he reflected. "Is it true then that the sins of the father are visited upon the children? That this combat, handed down from generations, was to continue forever? That we ourselves, who are guiltless, must renew it against our will and our convictions?"

A sound of thunder, still in the distance, but clear, louder and more threatening than before, rolled through the heavy air; and again a gust of wind followed it – this time no longer in the upper air, but raging along the hill and the slopes of the promontory, echoing with screeches and groans in the ravines. The next gust might strike the sea, letting loose the storm which would bring the flood.

There was another storm for which human machinations appear as child's play, and human hate as an offense, but one feeling remains victorious – love! That Reinhold felt in the depth of his heart, as he hastened downward to redeem the minutes which had been foolishly lost, to risk his life if it must be, in spite of it all, for the lives of other men.

[Valerie having heard of the reason for Else's absence starts out to look for her. Golm discovers Else and Reinhold and spreads the news of their betrothal. Else writes a hasty note to her father, telling him all. Upon Else's return, Valerie expresses her sympathy, and tells her the long sad story of her life. Valerie had loved her deceased husband with a boundless love, but was carried away by a passion for Signor Giraldi, before she was married to von Warnow. The early years of her married life had been spent largely in travel; but still her heart was ill at ease. On their journeys they came to Rome, where Valerie met Giraldi again, coming hopelessly under the spell of his magic power. In the midst of it all her husband dies, leaving a strange, complicated will, which disinherited the children of the General, her brother, in case they should marry outside of the nobility. After her husband's death she had Giraldi as counselor and companion, and manager of her affairs.

The storm has raged all day through the streets of Berlin, and a financial storm, still more fierce, has been raging in the Exchange, shaking many a proud countinghouse to its foundations by the wild speculation in stocks. The Berlin-Sundin railway has been the storm centre, and Philip Schmidt, the great promoter, has been making full use of the French proverb, sauve qui peut. It is the evening of the ball at Philip's new house; guests, many and mighty, throng the burgher palace of the young promoter, whose democratic motto is to bring together poets and kings, artists and speculators. Even the venerable Baroness Kniebreche was all curiosity to see the luxury and the motley throng. The Wallbachs, the Werbens, Golm, Lübbener, Justus and Mieting, Krethe and Plethe, all are there. Toasts are drunk, speeches are made, wine flows freely, and spirits run high. The air is charged with financial and social gossip. Giraldi expects Ottomar's engagement with Carla to be broken. A duel between Ottomar and Wallbach is impending. If Valerie consents on the morrow to Giraldi's plans, there will not be left one stone of the Werben fortune upon another – dallying, temporizing, diplomatizing are the order of the day. Antonio watches Ottomar and disturbs Giraldi's mind. Schieler declares Golm a ruined man, and engages with Lübbener, who is pale with concern, in conversation about Philip. Giraldi has just drawn the last fifty thousand from Haselow, making it impossible for Haselow to help Lübbener.

Philip excuses himself to Baroness Kniebreche for a few minutes, to move around among the guests. He comes upon Lübbener and Schieler in a corner, addresses Lübbener as "Dear Hugo," and tells him that this splendor is all due to him. At the close of a laudatory speech in honor of Philip, an officer, whom Lübbener has ordered, comes in to arrest Philip. Philip seizes Lübbener by the wrist, telling him he shall pay for it. Philip and the officer, Müller, leave the company and go upstairs, that Philip may change his clothes. They pass through one room after another until they reach Philip's bedroom. While Philip changes the officer sits and waits; he hears a rustle, but suddenly all is quiet. The time grows long. He goes to the door, only to find Philip gone and himself a prisoner. It is announced that Philip has had a stroke. The police rescue the officer. The ball breaks up. Ottomar quarrels with Wallbach, and is to give notice in the morning. Antonio is in evidence and threatens to stab Ottomar, but Bertalde interposes.

Von Wallbach writes to the General that he cannot accept Ottomar's challenge to a duel until Ottomar can clear his record of the reported scandal. Captain von Schönau offers to help the General pay Ottomar's debts, but Colonel von Bohl comes to inform the General that Ottomar's notes are all forged, that Giraldi had been paying Ottomar's notes as they came due, and promised to pay the twenty thousand, but had drawn the half million from the bank, and left during the night for Warnow. The General, instead of signing the order to pay Ottomar's debts, tears it up, sends Ottomar one of his brace of pistols, and loads the other to shoot the devil who lured his son into shame.

Ottomar is at the lodging of Bertalde, who goes to fetch Ferdinande. Ottomar plans to go to America, which Bertalde says is all nonsense. She declares Ottomar is not going to leave her room, and that Ferdinande shall stay with him – "these men act like children with their silly honor." Ferdinande writes a note to her father, and gives it to Cilli to deliver.

Cilli finds Uncle Ernst in a bad state of mind, but his heart warms as he sees the blind girl, who delivers the letter and pleads for Ferdinande. She starts home by way of the studio, and kneels down before Justus' statue of Mieting.

Justus and Mieting are looking for furniture to set up housekeeping, and find a bargain at Isaac Lobstein's. On the way back they chat of all sorts of things, and speak of Cilli, for whom, Mieting says, they must provide, because Justus would have married her if she hadn't been blind and he so ugly! They return to the studio and find Cilli dead before Mieting's bust.

The General is at the station to take the train for Sundin on the way to Warnow. The storm has interfered with traffic, and the General is frantic. Uncle Ernst is likewise waiting for a train to Sundin. He has engaged a special, and invites the General to ride with him. Uncle Ernst pours out his soul to the General, and pleads for the children; but the General replies that all are biased by tradition in judging their fellowmen. The special train for Uncle Ernst is announced. A message from Else is handed to the General: "Come by the next train. Fearful storm. Shall perhaps have to go to Reinhold. Aunt will then be left alone with the terrible man. Come for my sake, for Ottomar's sake, for Aunt's sake, who has thrown herself on our protection. Everything is at stake. Else."

Madame von Wallbach insists upon going home, as Carla is committed to Golm, and they can no longer be the guests of Ottomar's friends. But Valerie cannot send them, because she wishes to accompany Else to Wissow Hook. The tenant, Damberg, repeats Reinhold's statement that "if the wind comes from the east there will be a bad storm flood." Valerie starts for Wissow. As they hear the surf breaking on the dunes, Else shrinks at the thought of Reinhold being in such peril. Valerie comforts her.

Giraldi arrives at Warnow, much the worse for the stormy journey. Madame von Wallbach tells him what he is, and what she thinks of him, and informs him that Valerie is going to look out for Else and Ottomar and will them her property. He is disconcerted by the calm disclosure of his schemes by what he has hitherto thought an insignificant woman. He bribes François to spy for him secretly, and sends him to Valerie in Wissow with a letter, charging her with having fled from him, and demanding that she return by six o'clock. Giraldi rages about the weather, "made for barbarians," while the storm shakes the castle. Count Golm sends back his jockey to get a handkerchief for Carla, while he and Carla ride on over the dunes toward the sea. The jockey declares that they will not be heard from before tomorrow, as he knows the Count and his wiles.

As the jockey rides back the Count begins his game, kisses Carla, and disarranges her hat; he excuses his conduct, as this is the first time he has been alone with the prettiest girl in the world. Carla is intoxicated with delight, and, as the Count suggests they may have to remain alone, she replies: "An eternity – with you!" She makes him swear that he will declare their engagement in the presence of Valerie, Else, and Giraldi, and will marry her within four weeks. He swears, with reservation, by his honor, but begins to ponder the bargain. Carla throws herself impulsively into his arms exclaiming: "With you. With you! Take me, take me! I am yours, yours, yours!" The Count is now bent on the boldest plunge of all; he rides for the inn at Ahlbeck, where they can spend the night. As they reach the village, all is confusion in the streets. The people are rushing from the houses, crying, howling, raging. The Count rides over a woman; the mob rush after him with curses, clubs, sticks, and knives, while Carla rides on over the dune. When the Count finally reaches her she has discovered his character, and is silent. They seek shelter at the house of Pölitz, who shouts to the Count – "Away with your butchery!" Carla finally falls to the ground and cries – "Wretch! Go away with your butchery!" The Count is undone, and weeps like a child.]

"It is half-past four o'clock," said Else; "we must go. Stay here! I am not sure that Father has arrived yet; even if he left by the noon train, he can't be in Warnow yet; but that dreadful man is certainly there, waiting for you, will perhaps go away again without waiting for your return – "

"I must speak with him," muttered Valerie.

"And you must speak with him alone, though I don't wish you to do so; and so we must go – "

"Without taking along any consolation for you, poor child!"

"I am consoled; I am quite calm. – You must know that from the way I talk and look."

Else bent down to her aunt and kissed her pale lips.

They were sitting at the window of Reinhold's study, to the right of the entrance of the one-storied house – a rather large one in comparison with the other houses. Else had been in almost all of them – in the houses of the two chief pilots, and in five or six of the twelve houses occupied by the other twenty-four pilots; and she would have gone into the houses of the other pilots, also, and the fisher-houses, of which there might have been several dozen, but it was not necessary, because the people were standing in the doors and stretching out their hands wherever she came – wrinkled hairy hands of a few worn-out tars, who had crept out from behind the warm stove; brown strong hands of brown strong women; small hard hands of rough, flaxen-haired children, who looked up with blue eyes to the beautiful lady and did not believe their mothers when they said that she was not a princess, but the Commander's betrothed, who was to live here always, and was so happy about it! And the Commander would come back, the women said, even if it were a worse storm, the worst which Claus Rickmann had ever seen – and he was ninety-two years old, so his word must mean something! The Commander understood his business, and had six with him who also understood their business, and he had already been out three times in the new life-boat without once upsetting, so it would not upset today, especially since his dear betrothed herself had come to meet him on his return.

So the women spoke, one after another, almost the same words, as if they had previously arranged what they should say; and then they had all said so many good things about the Commander, to the effect that he was better than the old commander, though he, too, had been a good man; and they had all said the same thing over again, one after the other, almost in the same words, with the same frank expression, and in the same tone; but Else could have heard it a thousand times more, and thanked each one individually, as if she heard it for the first time and as if it were a message from Heaven.

And then a whole host of women and girls, with a still larger number of children running beside them and after them, accompanied her to the place near the end of the peninsula, where signal-staffs and great light-buoys were placed on a high dune; and behind the dune, which offered at least some protection, a dense mass of men, in high wading boots and strange oilskin hats reaching far down behind, were looking out upon the raging sea; and, as the young lady slipped into their midst, they raised their oilskin hats, and left it to Claus Janssen, the oldest of them, to answer the young lady's questions, and listened and nodded eagerly, and, when they turned away to spy out over the sea, were careful that it was to the leeward.