"Trude," said she, gently, continuing to repose upon her bosom, "Iam so wretched that words cannot express it or tears soothe it. If Ishould give myself up to sorrow and mourning I should die, and that cannot be, for I must live to wait for him--to rescue him. How Iknow not yet; my thoughts and resolutions are so confused that they flicker like the ignes fatui. I will force my mind to be calm, and these wandering lights shall unite in one glowing flame to destroy the walls and obstructions which confine him. He is a prisoner; Ifeel it in my heart, and I must live to free him. This is my task, and I will accomplish it; therefore I would be composed, and strong in myself. Wonder not that I weep or complain no more, and do not refer to my misfortune. I should die if I did not suppress this anguish, and I would become strong and active. Seek not to enfeeble me, but aid me to harden myself; refrain from complaint, that I may be silent. I think only of him, and I ask nothing further than to yield my life to free him. Let us never speak of it again, for Ifeel that all the firmness which I had gained has been swept from me in this giving way, and that I must begin anew."From this hour she commenced to build, and rose upon her grief as on a column which projects toward heaven; leaned upon it, and received, as Brisaeus from the earth, the power of life and action. She had already so conquered herself as to be able to leave her own quiet room, and descend to that of her parents. There she would sit calmly for hours, listening attentively to the conversation, hoping to catch some word that might give her a clew.
They avoided every exciting topic, and were milder and more thoughtful for her. Even her mother made no reproaches, and never alluded to the past, because she feared to delay her recovery, and remove the longed-for goal in hindering the marriage with Ebenstreit. The latter carefully avoided troubling her by his presence; when he heard Marie's step in the anteroom, who descended at a certain hour every day, he withdrew by the other entrance.
"Who goes out every time I come in?" asked Marie, one day as she appeared in the sitting-room.
The general coughed with embarrassment, and glanced anxiously at his wife, whose eyes rested upon her daughter with a cold, searching expression. Their eyes met, and were riveted upon each other. Acold, cruel smile played around the thin, bloodless lips of the mother as she recognized the defiance and firmness in her child, and felt that she had recovered.
"It is your betrothed," she answered, "our dear Ebenstreit--a good, generous, and self-sacrificing son, for whom we thank God every day, who wishes to spare you the annoyance of seeing him.""He need not inconvenience himself on my account. Nothing excites or wounds my feelings now. It would be a pity for your heartless, thankless daughter to deprive you of the society of your dear son.
Let him remain; it is not necessary for us to notice one another."Her parents regarded each other astonished, and, as she ceased, they still listened to the dying tones of her voice, which sounded so strangely to them. "She is much changed," mumbled the general to himself. "She does not seem the same person, she is so haughty and majestic. She might well inspire fear."The following day, as Marie entered the room, Ebenstreit was there.
He approached her, extending both hands smiling, and greeting her with tender words, rejoicing at her recovery.
She took no notice of his friendly demonstrations, but coldly and harshly regarded his smiling face, and particularly the broad, blood-red scar which ran from forehead to chin. Then suddenly her face lighted up, and an expression of savage triumph shot from her eyes. "How disfigured you look," she cried exultingly. "Where did you get that scar?""You know well, Marie," he murmured, gloomily.
"Yes," she cried, triumphantly. "I know it. He branded you, and you will wear this mark before God and man as long as you live.""You are very cruel to remind me of it, Marie," he softly whispered.
She laughed aloud so wild and savagely, that even her mother was startled. "Cruel--I cruel!" she cried. "Ah, sir, it becomes you indeed to accuse me of it!"Trude entered at this instant, pale and excited.
"What is the matter?"
"There is some one here who wishes to speak with you, Marie; he has something very important to tell you.""How dare you announce any one without my permission?" cried Frau von Werrig.
"Silence, mother!--if I may be allowed, let us hear who it is.--Speak, dear Trude, who is it?"
"It is the Director Gedicke from the Gray Cloister," said Trude, with quivering voice.
Marie was startled--a glowing red overspread her cheeks, and she was obliged to lean against a chair for support.
"I forbid you to receive him," said her mother.
She suddenly ceased, and stared at the door, which opened at that moment, the tall, dignified form of a venerable old man appearing.
"Pardon me, sir," said he, with a cold, reserved manner, "if I enter before I receive permission. The command of the king, to which Ibelieve we all yield without resistance, empowers me to do so.""How, sir, you come by the king's order?" asked the general, who rose with difficulty. "Has his majesty given you a message for General von Leuthen?""No, general, I come with a communication from his majesty to Fraulein von Leuthen, the betrothed of Herr Ebenstreit, and the order runs to deliver the same personally and without witnesses.""Professor," cried the mother, shrugging her shoulders, "you mistake us for very innocent people, if you suppose we believe this silly invention, and that you can gain a secret conversation by a ruse with our daughter. You are the director of the gymnasium, and naturally the friend of Conrector Moritz. In his name you will speak, and bring a secret message. Very sly, indeed, very sly, but it will not succeed."For response, the director drew two large folded documents from his pocket, approaching the general. "Do you recognize this seal?" he asked.
