CHAPTER II.
She had scarcely left the room, accompanied by Irene, when the baron stepped up to Schnetz.
"Well, I must confess," he cried, "you are not a cheerful man to pick bones with! For Heaven's sake, tell me, mon vieux, what devil possesses you to talk in this reckless way to that old court mummy?"
Schnetz looked him coolly in the face, and once more began to rub his mutilated ear.
"Do you really think she understood me?"
"Understood you? Que diable! You certainly left nothing to be desired on the score of plainness. I must say though, my good friend, now that we are quite alone again, that, excellent as I find your plan of bringing the two offended lovers together under cover of the freedom of a masquerade, I really can't approve of the way in which you have gone to work. For no matter how much my niece may be shaken in her whim by the prospect of America, or how thankful she may be at heart for every chance that is given her to capture her roving bird again--still, just think how difficult you have made the matter for her, by bringing up this question of the ball before that old woman! I ought to have been kept out of the game too. Now, if she asks me on my conscience as uncle and guardian----."
"On your conscience? On which, if I may ask? On your conscience as a baron or as a man?"
"H'm! I should imagine that two old tent companions, such as we are, would agree pretty well as to the matter itself. But you must admit that much, which might seem quite innocent to me as a bachelor, could hardly meet my approval as a guardian, in my official capacity, so to speak. And more than this, it seems to me that there really are two different moral standpoints for men and women, and what is right for the one is not always proper for the other."
"There you hit it exactly!" cried Schnetz, flying into a rage, and throwing his whip down on the table. "That is why we never come across a single sprig of fresh verdure in our social relations! that is why we must eternally carry about lies, narrow-hearted makeshifts, and mean reservations, all because we adopt a double standard of weights and measures, and regard a damned shrug of the shoulders as an excellent preventive for all the cancers of society! Neither of the two sexes, when they are together, dares express itself openly, neither says all that it thinks, each thinks to fool the other with its tricks and quibbles, while both know very well what they are about, and ought by good rights to laugh in each other's faces over these miserable and perfectly fruitless sham fights. And because this whole farce is so cursedly insipid, and this high tone of high society makes the women gape as well as the men, therefore both sides struggle all the more eagerly to indemnify themselves for the boredom they have suffered, each in his own way, in clubs or worse places, or under four eyes, where one throws aside all masks and strait-lacing. Honest old Sir John was quite right--'A plague of all cowards, say I'--And this modern world of ours will never grow healthy again until the two sexes become tired of this childish mummery and meet each other half-way in an honest endeavor to give truth a trial, without prudery and without coarseness!"
He raved on in this fashion for some time longer, without giving the baron a chance to get in a syllable. Not until his breath had given out, and he had seized upon his hat, did the other venture to offer a meek reply.
"All very good and fine, my dear friend, all admitted in theory. But in praxi--since the world has not yet become entirely sensible--won't it be necessary to respect the prejudices of a stupid majority for a while longer? Can our young lady--now that this old chatterer knows about it--go, without any further consideration, to your paradisaical festival, where she is sure to meet dubious daughters of Eve? where it is possible that the girl who was running after our Felix, the little, red-haired waiter-girl, may, God knows in what costume, stir up another scene of murder and manslaughter?"
Schnetz had remained standing with his hand on the door. As the baron said these words he let it go again, and stared at the excited speaker for a while; then he laughed bitterly, and stepped back into the room once more.
"This waiter-girl?" said he, laying his hand on the baron's shoulder. "Well, of all the games the devil ever played! Old friend, do you know who this waiter-girl is, who nursed this youngster Felix so faithfully, while others looked on from a distance? This waiter-girl, this child of the people, who would not be fitting company for a young baroness? Well, then, she is your own daughter, baron, and first cousin of your high-born niece!"--
The baron stepped back a step or two. "Trève de plaisanteries, mon cher!" he stammered, trying to laugh. "What sort of a romance is this you are trying to palm off on me! I--I am--ha, ha, ha! A delightful farce!"
"I congratulate you and your good child upon the cheerful mood in which this unhoped-for discovery finds you," remarked Schnetz, dryly. "To be sure, the affair is by no means so tragic as it would have been, were the mother still living. This poor deserted"--here he stepped close up to the baron, who stood as if petrified, and pronounced her name--"this sacrifice to our double code of morals has been dead for a year; nor has the child any suspicion that her dear papa is leading a jolly bachelor's life in the same city with her."
The baron sank upon the sofa; his arms hung at his sides; the only sign of life that he gave was in his little, restless eyes, that wandered about anxiously and unsteadily, without seeming to rest on anything. In the mean while Schnetz strode up and down with noiseless tread, apparently waiting to see whether his friend, who had received so severe a shock, stood in any need of his help or his advice. Ten minutes passed, and neither of them had uttered a word more.
"You will permit me to light a cigarette," growled Schnetz at length, between his teeth; "the lady of the house seems to have no intention of showing herself again--"
At this moment the door of the neighboring room opened, and Irene entered, paler than before, and with such an agitated, sad expression upon her young face, that Schnetz gazed upon her with a feeling of remorse.
No sooner had the door begun to creak than her uncle sprang up, hastily pressed his friend's hand, and whispered to him that he must speak with him about this matter at all hazards; then he rushed out without a glance at his ward.
The extraordinary haste with which he retreated did not seem to strike Irene as at all strange. She advanced quickly to the window at which Schnetz was standing, and said:
"Were you really in earnest about your invitation to the masquerade?"
He assured her that it would afford him the greatest pleasure to accompany her; all the more because, after what had been said on the subject, he should consider it not only as a proof of her confidence in him, but even as a token of true friendship and esteem, if she would not refuse to accept his invitation.
She went on to ask whether she would be allowed to come in a plain domino and mask--talking all the time with a half-absent expression.
He replied that only masks in costume would be admitted. As she considered four days to be too short a time for getting ready a complete costume, he proposed to her that, since she expressed herself as willing to be admitted to Bohemia, she should come as a gypsy. He offered to provide her, through his artist friends, with beautiful and genuine materials. It would be very easy for her to get plenty of bright coral and pearl ornaments and strings of coins with which to ornament her hair; and he would take her to some stores where such things could be bought. This costume, he concluded, would have the double advantage of being easily gotten up with a few feathers and scraps, and of permitting the wearer--since masks for the face were prohibited--to dye her skin, to blacken her eyebrows, and to make herself as unlike herself as possible. "I, myself, always appear as a Spaniard, as the Knight of the Rueful Countenance, or as Duke Alba. If I could have a Gitana upon my arm, I should be quite in character, and should create a sensation for the first time; for they are not used to seeing me appear with a beautiful partner."
As he said this he kissed the young lady's hand, quite in the courtly Spanish manner, and made as though he would take leave. But she still held him tightly.
"Will--that girl come, too?" she said, hesitatingly.
"What girl, Fräulein?"
She looked steadily before her. "I heard all!" she said, with a slight tremor in her voice. "The walls in this hotel are so thin that one cannot help overhearing, in spite of one's self, all that is being said in the next room. Oh, tell me candidly; is it really true?"
"Unquestionably. My dear young lady, if you were a little better acquainted with the society which surrounds you, you would find this case by no means an extraordinary one. Besides, the circumstances are favorable enough this time. Her own grandfather has already taken his long-lost granddaughter in charge; so jealously, indeed, that he would not give her up to her father, even if the latter wished it; and the girl herself is good and respectable. She is--"
"I know her," interrupted Irene, blushing. "And yet--it would agitate me greatly if I should chance to meet her at the ball. There are all sorts of--I will tell you some other time, if you feel interested."
She suddenly broke off, and he saw that she was struggling with her tears.
"You may make your mind easy, my dear Fräulein," said he, taking up his hat and whip. "The poor child will not be present. She is in such a strange mood since she went to live with her grandfather, and so carefully avoids meeting any one who knew her under former circumstances, that all the power in the world could not induce her to visit our Paradise. But seriously, now--á Dios, as we Spaniards say. Be of good courage; I believe everything will turn out better than we dream of now."
He gave the hand of the speechless girl a hearty pressure, and left her alone with her aching heart, which found that it could do nothing wiser than relieve itself by a flood of tears.
CHAPTER III.
It so happened that, in another room of the same house, and at almost exactly the same hour, the pleasures of the masquerade in Paradise formed the subject of conversation.
For some weeks past Rosenbusch had intended to make inquiries concerning the health of his Russian patroness, who, as he knew, was confined to her room by a slight injury to her foot. He felt it incumbent on him to show himself a young man who respected the laws of politeness and society, although he was a disciple of the liberal arts.
He found the countess in her bedroom, which smelled of Russian leather and cigarettes. A samovar and an empty champagne bottle stood on the table by the bed, and all kinds of note-books, portfolios, French books, and photographs lay about upon the chairs. Nelida reclined upon the bed, robed in a long silk dressing-gown, with a black point-lace veil thrown nun-fashion over her dark hair. She looked paler than in the summer, and, as she extended her white hand to the painter with a gracious smile, he was forced to admit to himself that she perfectly understood the art of making as much capital as possible out of her suffering condition, and of appearing still more interesting in her enforced quiet than in her usual activity.
She was not alone. The retired singer, who appeared to be regularly installed as her companion, and who was at the moment engaged in the back part of the room in poking the fire in the grate, had been sitting in the chair which was now offered to Rosenbusch.
Opposite the bed, in a low arm-chair, sat a younger lady, whom Rosenbusch had not seen before, and who immediately attracted his artistic eye. Was she a married woman or a girl? The countess did not mention her name. But, although the soft fullness of her figure seemed rather to indicate the mature woman, the features of the charming face and the glance of the dark-blue eyes had a soft and dreamy expression that was altogether maidenly. Then, too, she looked very girlish when, chancing to look up suddenly from the embroidery on which she was engaged, she gazed with innocent wonder straight into the face of the speaker, then opened her lips in a laugh which displayed two rows of the most beautiful little teeth, and the next instant bent down her head again as if in confusion, until her thick brown hair fell low over her forehead.
Rosenbusch, who was smitten at once, would very gladly have drawn a little nearer to this enchanting stranger. But the countess took complete possession of him, making him give her a circumstantial account of his doings and actions, and expressing an unusual interest in the "Battle of Lützen," which was now finished. As she was a perfect mistress of the art of making every one believe that his particular plans and aims were of more importance to her than anything else, Rosenbusch did not remark, in the joy of his heart, that, in spite of her interest in him, she yawned several times, but went on talking about anything that came into his head--about his labors, his ideas of art, his friends, and finally about the masked ball in Paradise. He related, among other things, that Jansen would appear in a genuine Venetian costume, and his betrothed in a corresponding one, which was to be exactly copied from a portrait by Paris Bordone, in red velvet with a little gold embroidery, and which would go marvelously well with her pale complexion and the dull-gold color of her hair.
While he was giving this description the beautiful stranger let her embroidery fall in her lap, and fixed her eyes upon the speaker with the curious expression of a child listening to a fairy tale.
"Such a costume would be exceedingly becoming to you also, madame," stammered the painter, who now for the first time addressed a direct remark to the unknown person.
She laughed absently, sighed, but said nothing.
Nelida exchanged a quick glance with her, and then asked, as if to give the conversation another turn, what costume Rosenbusch had chosen for himself. The truth was, he candidly replied, his means did not permit him to make any very great display; he should put himself into a Capuchin's cowl, which would go exceedingly well with his beard, and, since he was always expected on such occasions to deliver some poetical effusion, he hoped this time to get out of the affair with a regular Capuchin sermon.
"No doubt you will compose a very talented and witty one," said the countess. "But wouldn't this costume be exceedingly warm and uncomfortable if worn long; and will it be easy for you to find a dress for your partner that will match yours?"
"My dear countess," sighed Rosenbusch, "I am unfortunately in a position to bear the vow of celibacy much more easily than most of the brothers of my order. The only partner in whom I could take any interest--But I won't bore the ladies with my private affairs."
"No, no, don't say that, my dear Herr Rosenbusch. Confess everything boldly. You will find the most sympathetic appreciation here."
"Well, then, I will tell you. I had engaged a young girl for this ball, who, I am convinced, would unquestionably have borne off the prize from all but the beautiful Julie. But her parents--bigoted, narrow-minded shopkeepers--cannot be persuaded to allow the poor thing this innocent pleasure. So you will readily understand, ladies, that I would rather throw myself into the arms of celibacy than take up with the first one who comes along."
He grew red, and wiped his forehead with his gloved right hand.
Nelida again exchanged a look with the stranger. The singer, too, now that she felt relieved from the fear of being recognized by Rosenbusch, had stepped up to the foot of the bed, and seemed to follow the conversation with especial interest.
"Perhaps," said the countess, smiling--"perhaps I may be able to provide you with a substitute, who will in some degree make good your loss. A moment before you came in we were saying how cruel it was of Fate to keep me here in my room at the very time of the carnival! It is true my dancing days are past. But my dear friend here, Madame--Madame von St.-Aubain, a good German, by-the-way, in spite of her name-- Only think, my principal object in inviting her to see me at this time was in order that I might show her our Munich carnival, and now she is forced to sit here at the side of my bed and practise the Christian virtues of patience and charity! To be sure, if she could only find a knight to whom I dared trust her with a good conscience--"
"O countess!" interrupted Rosenbusch, springing up enthusiastically, "are you really in earnest? Madame would not scorn to--"
"You are very good, sir," lisped the stranger, in a soft, pleasing voice, which completed the conquest of our friend's heart. "It is true that it is my greatest wish to catch a stolen glimpse of the life that goes on in this artists' world, about whose festivals I have heard so much. But I am too timid to venture into a perfectly strange circle, even under the most chivalrous protection, when, as you say, masks for the face are prohibited."
"I understand you perfectly, madame!" cried Rosenbusch, enthusiastically. "It is the custom to attribute such wild things to us artists that a lady belonging to high society might well be terrified by them. But you shall see yourself that we are better than our reputation. Allow me to make a proposal. I will provide you with a monk's dress similar to my own. In order to remain unrecognized you have only to pull the cowl over your head; and if, in addition to this, you should fasten on some white eyebrows and a beard of the same color, you could observe all that was going on as securely as if you were behind a curtain or in a dark theatre-box, without anyone having a suspicion how much grace and beauty--excuse these bold compliments--is hidden behind this plain disguise. The only possible suspicion that could arise would be that I led on my arm that young girl--that obedient daughter of cruel parents, who had secretly managed to escape from her cage."
The stranger stood up, approached the bed, and, bending over the countess, exchanged a few low words with her. In motion she appeared even more attractive than in repose. Rosenbusch, who was completely carried away, could not take his eye from this beautiful yet delicate figure, and awaited with beating heart the result of the secret consultation.
At last she turned to him again, fixed her soft eyes on his face, as if she wanted to convince herself once more that she might put confidence in him, and then said:
"I will really venture to do it, sir, but only under two conditions: that you will not betray to any of your friends, even by a syllable, that the mask at your side is a stranger, and not the person for whom they will all take her; and that, further, you will take me out of the company and see me to my carriage as soon as I ask you to. You need not fear," she continued, slyly smiling, "that I will trouble you long. But I really can't resist the desire to see so many celebrated artists together, to admire their costumes and the beautiful women they will bring with them. The best way will be for you to go without me, and when the festivities are well under way--say about eleven o'clock--I will be in the carriage at the garden-gate, where you will be so good as to meet me. Do you agree to this, and will you give me your word that you will strictly adhere to these conditions?"
Rosenbusch, before whose fancy very different visions of splendor were floating, and who was secretly convinced that he would succeed in persuading the beautiful stranger to lay aside her disguise and shine with him in Paradise the moment the festive spirit of the ball seized upon her, very wisely refrained from making any objections to this plan, and solemnly promised everything that was asked of him. He agreed to bring the costume and all the other requisites to the hotel on the day before the festival, for the countess insisted upon dressing her friend in the monk's cowl with her own hands; and then he took leave in no slight state of excitement over his unexpected good fortune.
On the stairs he suddenly recollected Stephanopulos, and his relation to the Russian lady. For a moment it struck him as rather strange that the countess, since she seemed so anxious to introduce her friend to Paradise, had not made use of this cavalier, inasmuch as she personally could not avail herself of his escort.
"Perhaps," thought he, complacently stroking his beard, "she is jealous in regard to this young sinner and Don Juan, and doesn't care about trusting this charming woman to his charge. It is possible also that the lady herself may have expressed an aversion for this Greek adventurer. At all events, I seem to be more agreeable to her. A confoundedly charming little woman! I wonder where her husband keeps himself? or possibly she is a widow. If that were the case--"
He did not finish the sentence, even in his thoughts, for some one came down the steps behind him, and he immediately recognized the old baron whom he had seen out at Rossel's villa. But what had happened to the merry old gentleman that made him answer the artist's greeting so mechanically, and pass him, as he stood waiting on the stairs, with a wild look, as if he had been an utter stranger?
Rosenbusch followed him, shaking his head. "What devilish short memories these aristocrats have!" he growled. "If this Madame von St.-Aubain is made of the same stuff, I confess I should have a jollier time with Nanny. However, it can't be helped; that is one of the disadvantages of moving in the highest circles. In Rome one must do as the Romans do."
He threw his cloak in picturesque folds about his historical velvet jacket, and stepped forth into the snow with the joyful mien of a conqueror. His only sorrow was that he couldn't go at once to Angelica and tell her what a brilliant conquest he had made.
CHAPTER IV.
Among all the friends, Felix was the only one who looked forward to the ball not only without impatience, but even with a secret aversion. He was in no mood for masquerading; and, if he had not been afraid of giving offense to the good companions who were desirous of paying him this last honor, he would have been up and away long before this. He gave out that it was his fixed intention to leave on the day after the ball, and answered all objection in regard to the season, which made a sea-voyage impossible, by saying that he had important business matters to look after in his native place, the sale of his estates, and the making out of certain papers that it would be necessary for him to take with him across the ocean.
Jansen alone knew the real reason of his hasty flight. Daily intercourse with his old friend, and the confidential understanding that had once more sprung up between them, was all that lightened for Felix the painful burden of these last days. It is true Jansen had never been able to bring himself to initiate Felix into the history of his unhappy marriage as thoroughly as he had Julie. That he had once thrown himself away on an unworthy woman, and that he was now doing all in his power to effect a dissolution of the hated bond, but without success, since he had no legal proofs of her guilt, and she herself obstinately refused to give the child up to him--all this they had discussed one night over a bottle of wine, and had finally consoled themselves with the thought that the land across the ocean might eventually prove a place of refuge for Jansen also. Felix laughingly suggested that they should undertake a mission, and preach the gospel of high art to the redskins; and they had discussed the prospect of winning over some American Crœsus, and, by some colossal work, suddenly attracting the eyes of the whole world upon them.
Then they might found an art society in the backwoods, on a somewhat different scale from that to which people were accustomed in Germany, and each member should receive as an initiation present a cast of the group of Adam and Eve.
So they went on building castles in the air in the midst of the dark clouds that overhung their sky; and even Julie joined gladly in this cheerful tone, though her own heart was very heavy.
But, as the day of parting drew nearer and nearer, Felix's mood became steadily more depressed and wretched. Schnetz was almost the only one of his friends whom he cared to see; and he expended all his eloquence in trying to persuade him to follow his example and shake the dust of the Old World from his feet. Why should he lie here and grow rusty? why should he, in his best years, voluntarily withdraw himself from life and play the valetudinarian before his time? On the other side of the water, abilities like his would not be allowed to lie idle, his good wife would renew her youth again, and he might safely trust to the Yankees to provide him with plenty of material for the exercise of his Thersites-like black art during his leisure moments. To all this Schnetz replied by silently and thoughtfully rubbing his ear, without, however, giving any reason to believe that he absolutely declined the proposal. Indeed, he seemed to be bent upon keeping the lonely and dejected youngster in as good spirits as possible, and was especially active in trying to laugh away Felix's distaste for the ball, as an attack of sentimentality that a future American ought not to yield to. If it was a bother for him to look after a costume, he would be very glad to lend him a helping hand.
Felix thanked him for his good-will. He had, among the various relics of his travels, the complete suit of a Spanish majo, which he had brought with him from Mexico. The velvet jacket bordered with silver, the knee-breeches and the gay silk stockings, the red net for the hair, and whatever else belonged to the complete equipment of a Spanish dandy, became him excellently; and though in his present mood he had no thoughts of attempting any conquests, he was, nevertheless, glad that he would be able to show himself to his artist friends in a genuine national costume, and not in any patched-up frippery.
But, when the night of the ball arrived, it was long before he could make up his mind to put on this gay dress. He had packed his luggage, paid his landlady, and made all his preparations for departure. When at last he stood alone before his glass in his empty room, surrounded only by his trunks, and proceeded to fasten the net in his hair, he could not help bursting out into a loud laugh, in spite of his melancholy mood, at the absurdity of his dancing a fandango on the eve of launching himself into the uncertain future of a life beyond the sea. The sound of his voice roused old Homo, who never left him now, from his usual half-slumberous state. The sober animal started, for a moment, with an almost disapproving air at the internal and external transformation that had come over Felix; then he rose slowly from his place near the stove, walked up to his master, and rubbed his broad nose against his hand.
"So even you are amazed, old boy," cried Felix, caressing his faithful companion, "at my merry spirits? Come, you shall experience a still greater miracle. I will take you with me; you are the only one of your race on whom the gates of Paradise are not shut."
He took up a little black wood guitar, which properly belonged to his costume, and fastened it with red ribbons on the shaggy back of the dog, who patiently submitted to the process. Then he called his landlady, cautioned her not to let him sleep too late the next morning, as he must take the first train, ordered a carriage, and rolled away, through the mild winter's night, to the English Garden, over the soft snow that had already begun to thaw in the warm wind.
He had to pass by Irene's hotel, and he looked up at her dark windows, and felt surprised that this parting look brought no tears to his eyes. Indeed he felt as if he were one who had bidden farewell to life; and only he who lives can sympathize. The dog slept patiently at his feet. When the carriage jolted over a stone, the strings of the guitar sounded, and the sleeping animal growled wonderingly in his dreams.
It was on the stroke of nine when the carriage drew up before the back entrance to the little garden of Paradise. The dance was to begin at seven, but it mattered little to Felix how much of it he missed. Not until he found himself in the vestibule was he able, by a powerful exertion, to shake off the depression of his spirits and steel himself to appear cheerful. He was aided in this resolve by the sound of the music that issued from the dancing-hall, and more especially by the aspect of Fridolin, the janitor, who, arrayed in the most ridiculous of costumes, played the part of warder, and permitted no one to enter who could not prove to his satisfaction that he was one of the invited guests. He was posted here in the character of the angel with the flaming sword, in a white, ruffled robe--with a golden girdle, two immense wings suspended from his back, a rose behind each ear, and a flaming wooden sword covered with gold-leaf in his hand. In this costume he sat behind a little table, on which stood an earthenware beer-mug, and greeted the late guest with a sly and hearty nod of his elegantly-dressed head, at the same time showing his long white teeth and bestowing a self-satisfied look upon his costume. Felix stood at his side convulsed with laughter and full of admiration at the success of the disguise.
Herr Rosenbusch had provided him with this beautiful dress, remarked the old fellow, evidently much flattered at the notice taken of him. But how handsomely the Herr Baron was dressed, and how glad he was that he had brought Homo with him! It was right that such an animal should know what carnival-time was like. This time it was unusually merry inside there. Each member had been allowed to invite a friend, and he in his turn to bring a lady; there were fifty or sixty present, to put it at the lowest figure. But he enjoyed himself best outside here, for the beer kept cooler, and he could take a look in from time to time, especially now when it was probable no one else would come, except a lady whom Herr Rosenbusch was still expecting.
Felix completed the paradisiacal mood of the good old man by forcing a very considerable present into his hand as a parting gift, for he was not going to visit the studio again. Then he escaped as quickly as possible from his thanks, and entered the large central hall of "Paradise," where the dancing was going on, the regular meeting-room having been transformed on this occasion into a supper-room.
It took him some time before he could separate the different groups and distinguish his friends, in the general whirl and confusion. Looking over the heads of the dancers, he saw half a dozen strange creatures mounted on a raised platform--gigantic tree-toads, a brown salamander, and a bat, who, playing upon two or three fiddles, a clarionet, a horn, and a bass-viol, composed the orchestra. Some of these amphibious beings, overpowered by the heat, had taken off their heads and fastened them on their backs, thus presenting a still more fantastic appearance by the contrast between their bearded, flushed, and very prosaic human faces and their reptile skins. This feature of the ball was also the work of the battle-painter, who, having little trouble in arranging his own costume, had been indefatigable in helping the others by deed and word. He now approached Felix, skillfully winding his way through the dancing couples, drew forth a snuff-box and a blue-checked handkerchief from his brown cowl, and murmured several Latin sentences of welcome and blessing; and not until he had played his rôle for some time longer did he gravely shake hands with his laughing friend, and reproach him for coming too late.
Felix had no time to excuse himself, for a tall Englishman, who was just dancing by with a blonde-haired Suabian girl, stopped suddenly, led his partner out of the dance, and advanced upon our friend--Elfinger, with Angelica. Then followed another welcome, another examination of the costumes, and much laughter and admiration. Angelica, in her pretty national costume, and standing by the side of the ridiculous caricature that Elfinger carried out with unswerving dignity, appeared to very great advantage, especially now when the excitement of dancing caused her eyes to sparkle and her cheeks to glow. Rosenbusch told them how much trouble he had had in persuading her to wear this dress, for she had obstinately persisted in coming as a Dachau peasant-girl, and making a scarecrow of her figure. She was guilty, unfortunately, of the weakness of not wishing to be conceited, which all women ought to be, according to the wise decree of Providence; and to stand aloof in this way from an hereditary sin was really one of the worst sorts of coquetry, and should be consigned to eternal punishment by holy men like himself.
To this the good soul replied in a tone of mock anger, defended herself bravely against his ecclesiastical arrogance, and refused to listen to the sermons of any other sect but her own. She gave Felix a most hearty welcome, but with a certain sly smile, as if she knew of some particular masquerade joke that was in preparation for him; and then took him by the hand and led him to Jansen and Julie, who were the handsomest couple at the ball--"so far, at all events," she added, with the same mysterious expression as before.
In order to reach the two, they were obliged to work their way through the whole length of the hall, and were often delayed by the whirl of the dancers. So Felix had plenty of time to examine the company. He recognized but few of them in their costumes. A stout Arab, with a dark face and wearing a white burnoose, approached him, bowed low with his hands on his breast, and then withdrew after this dumb greeting to take possession of a chair at the lower end of the hall. It was only when he saw the way in which he comfortably settled himself in it that Felix recognized him. But just as he was on the point of going after Rossel, a young Greek, gorgeously dressed in full armor, attracted his attention. He and his partner, a beautiful girl, were dancing madly in and out among the waltzing couples, yet without creating the slightest confusion.
"Stephanopulos!" whispered Felix. "Do you know his partner?" Angelica shrugged her shoulders, and apparently preferred to leave the question unanswered. There was no lack of pretty girls, and, although they belonged to the most different social ranks, they all bore themselves with the like respectability, and, with all their freedom, with natural good taste. The young architect stepped up to say good-evening to him. He wore a becoming Flemish costume, and his companion, who was not exactly pretty, but looked sensible and modest, was dressed as a mediæval burgher's daughter, with a large coif and ruffles about the neck. Then the couple danced a graceful provincial dance to the Ländler that the band was playing, waltzing round and round in the same spot, or separating in fantastic figures to approach each other again and take each other by the finger-tips.
Kohle also danced, but entirely by himself, in an exceedingly comical costume, for he represented St. Dionysius, who was accustomed to carry his decapitated head under his arm. For this purpose he had rigged up an immense cabbage-head, had painted it and hung it round with long horse-hairs, while his own head was ingeniously encircled by a huge aureole, from which there hung a golden fringe covering his face, so that, from a distance, this yellow, dazzling disk seemed to rest immediately on the neck. This figure, half ghastly, half droll, slowly swung itself about among the whirling couples, to the sound of the music, occasionally going through with a little extemporaneous buffoonery, especially with the Capuchin, who evinced a deep respect for the holy man, which he expressed by incessantly offering him his snuffbox, and by mating frantic efforts to kiss the head of the martyr.
"Where is Schnetz?" asked Felix. Angelica appeared not to have heard the question; for just at this moment they arrived at the side of the hall where the windows were, and where several spectators were sitting, among them Jansen and his betrothed. "Isn't she adorable?" whispered Angelica, as she led her companion close up to the couple, who welcomed him with a joyful exclamation. Indeed, it would have been impossible to see anything more magnificent than this beautiful blonde girl, dressed in the rich folds of a dark-red velvet dress, with puffed and slashed sleeves, her beautiful neck bare, and wearing no other ornament than a delicate Venetian chain; her blonde hair, slightly curled, flowing freely over her shoulders, and set off by a few dark flowers. It seemed to Felix, also, that he had never seen her in her real beauty before to-day, and the sweetness of her expression completed the charm. Jansen stood at her side in his dark suit, not less full of dignity and character, but looking only like a courtier standing by the side of his princess. They had neither of them danced, for he did not care for it, and she did not like to fly through the hall with any one else. They at once offered him a seat by their side, for Elfinger had once more taken possession of his Suabian maid, and began a pleasant conversation, in the course of which he could not help noticing that Julie now and then threw in some playful allusion and smiled slyly, while they were talking about the most ordinary things, just as Angelica had done before. He dropped a word or two about his approaching departure, which they did not seem to hear at all.
"Have you seen the lieutenant yet?" asked Julie, suddenly. "You ought to look him up, he has been wandering about the whole room in search of you. If I remember rightly he just went into the next room, possibly to console himself with a glass of wine for his ill success in finding you."
She smiled and laid one of her beautiful hands in that of her betrothed, while with the other she played with her black fan.
Felix rose. A restless curiosity seized upon him.
"Sha'n't we go into that sanctum, too?" he said. "We might sit down together at one of the little tables, and have some supper."
"Perhaps you will find better company," she replied, turning away from him. "We are a couple of tiresome old lovers, and you are a young Spanish lion who has not yet found his lioness. Go alone; we will follow quite soon enough."
She nodded to him pleasantly, again with a peculiar expression. He left them, shaking his head, and wound his way through the maze of dancers, to the real hall of Paradise.
CHAPTER V.
He was just crossing the threshold when a well-known voice struck his ear, proceeding from the corner where the little wine cask lay, covered up by green oleander bushes. "Buenas tardes, Señor Don Felix! You come rather late, but not too late to prevent you from dancing yourself tired. I have the honor to introduce you to one of my countrywomen, a genuine Gitana. Senorita ----."
But Felix had long ceased to hear what he said. Before him stood--Irene.
She looked marvelously charming as she stood there, her picturesque shawls and draperies thrown loosely about her, her hair ornamented with a heavy string of corals and gold coins, large silver rings in her ears, and her eyebrows slightly darkened and joined together over her proud little nose by a delicate line! And how her cheeks glowed at this sudden meeting with him whom, after all, she had expected, and for whose sake she had thus adorned herself; how she cast down her eyes--and breathed hard--and tried to smile, and yet had enough to do to keep back the tears that were welling up behind her eyelashes!
For a minute or two Schnetz stood gazing with delight at this most charming of all pantomimes. Then he came to the assistance of the embarrassed couple.
"You are not altogether unacquainted with each other," said he, in his driest manner. "Senorita Gitana has to thank this noble Andalusian for saving her life from the tempestuous waves of the lake of Starnberg. He will now steer her quite as safely through the dangers of a waltz, better, most certainly, than your humble servant, whose strut might possibly strike her as rather too Spanish. So at it, youngster! pluck up courage and lead the Gitanilla to the dance. After that she will show you how to read your future from your hand."
Felix recovered himself by a violent effort. "Shall we dance?" stammered he, in a scarcely audible voice, as he stepped up to Irene.
She nodded assent, and the glow on her face burned hotter, but she spoke not a word, and did not even raise her eyes. She seemed to him so utterly transformed that, even now, when he felt her hand resting on his arm, and saw her gliding along at his side, he was almost inclined to doubt again whether it could really be she. He had never seen her so yielding, so tremblingly timid, so incapable of uttering a word; and now when he held her close and swung her in the dance, he felt more than once as if he were whirling about in one of those strangely happy dreams that change, in some curious way, the most familiar features, and lead us only into the arms of the unattainable.
Yet, all the while he felt so wonderfully happy that he was content to leave everything just as it was, and strove only to clasp this miracle as closely as possible to his breast, and to enjoy the full blessedness of this meeting as long as the dream would last. Nor did she try to resist; indeed, she herself felt as if it were a necessity for her to press her head and glowing face close to his shoulder, and, with half-closed eyes, to submit herself absolutely to his guidance. He could not see her face, for she held her head bent down; but his eyes rested on her soft, brown hair, and his arm, clasped about her waist, could feel how her heart was beating. No word came from the lips of either of these two happy beings; they did not even press one another's hands in silent sympathy, for the simple reason that both felt that there was nothing special for them to communicate--two souls had merely become one again. Nor did they take heed of those about them, who gazed with earnest interest upon this noble couple the moment they entered the room--the strangers with simple pleasure, or perhaps here and there with envy, the initiated with heart-felt joy at the triumphant success of their work.
For them there was no outside world at this moment, no friends or strangers. Besides the beating of their own hearts they felt nothing but the music; and it seemed to them a heavenly kindness on the part of fortune, that allowed them to dance instead of forcing them to talk with one another; that the wild and merry tones of the instruments gave them wings that lifted them above the earth, the one clasped as tightly to the other as only the dance could have made permissible before so many witnesses.
Neither of them felt the slightest fatigue, or thought of stopping to rest. Indeed, when the music finally came to an end, it seemed to them as if they had just begun; and they stood in the middle of the hall, startled, and almost painfully still, clasped in one another's embrace as they had been in the waltz. His arm reluctantly released her figure, but he could not bring himself to give up her little slender hand. However, this did not appear to attract any attention, since the other couples also were very tender with one another, and had quite enough to do in looking after their own affairs.
None of their intimate friends crossed their path. So the majo succeeded in leading his gypsy unchallenged into the adjoining room, from which even Schnetz had taken care to steal away.
They walked arm-in-arm, vigorously fanning themselves, down the flower-decked side of the hall, past the little tables, and stood suddenly, before they suspected it, before the buffet, which had been put up at the other end, and before which a number of waiter-girls were selling cold viands, cake, ice, and various kinds of drinks.
"Will you drink something?" he said.
It was the first word he had addressed to her. It struck him as being very stupid that he had nothing more important to say to her after such a long silence. But she did not appear to think it strange at all.
She shook her head quite seriously, drew off her glove, and took a large orange from one of the plates. "That is better after dancing," she said, in a low voice. "Come, let us eat it together."
They seated themselves at one of the small tables, and she drew off the other glove and began to peel and divide the beautiful fruit with her white little fingers. But all the while she never looked at him.
"Irene!" he whispered--"is it really possible? You are here--I--we are so unexpectedly brought together again."
"Not unexpectedly," replied she, in a still lower tone; "I knew that you would come--and that is the only reason why I came myself. Do you believe I cared anything for the dancing and the masks? Feeling as I did--"
Her voice failed her. The tears rose to her eyes. He bent down close to her, and pressed his lips to the little hands that were so busily at work.
She gave a slight start. "Oh! don't, please!" she whispered, pleadingly. "Not here, they can see us. O Felix! is it really true? You are going away--away forever?"
He did not answer for a moment, but sat absorbed in the happiness of being so near her, of listening to her voice, of feeling her warm breath as it came from her sweet lips. A reckless joy took possession of his heart, an exhilarating determination to face boldly whatever fate might have in store for him.
"Why talk of such sad things?" said he at length--for she still kept her anxious gaze fixed upon him, and seemed unable to understand the joy that lit up his face--"there will be time enough for that later on, when the ball is over and the intoxication gone, and the harsh daylight shines once more upon our lives. This is my first happy evening for many months; I thank you for giving it to me. I always knew that you loved me, and if I were only a different man from what I unfortunately am--"
"O Felix!" she pleaded, looking him full in the face. "You grieve me; it is not kind of you to shame me so, for I suffered so much before I could bring myself to admit my fault and see myself as you must have seen me for a long time past. O Felix! that you could love me in spite of all--that you could grieve for me--but wait! I have a thousand things to tell you--I must tell you them to-night--at once--but not here among all these merry people--and look there, I see some of your friends coming--only tell me how and where--"
He had no time to answer, for at this moment Jansen approached, with Julie hanging on his arm, both with faces that made no attempt to conceal the part that they had taken in bringing about this great happiness. They refrained, however, from making any remarks that might embarrass the young couple, and simply invited them to be their vis-à-vis in a quadrille that was just going to begin. A pressure of the hand from Jansen was all that passed between the two friends in regard to the event. But Jansen and Julie helped to eat the oranges that were divided into sections and passed about by Irene; then, separating into couples again, they entered the hall, where the other couples had already taken their places.
However, they were by no means sorry to be left alone, and they got up a quadrille of their own in one of the corners near the windows, with Schnetz and Angelica and the Capuchin and the headless martyr for side couples.
And indeed these eight figures were well calculated to afford an inexhaustible fund of amusement for one another, and the novelty of the contrast between the two beautiful and the two grotesque couples attracted around them all those outsiders who, for one reason or another, had not taken part in the dance. Nothing could have been finer or more pleasing than when this blonde, blooming Venetian figure, in the fullness of its ripe beauty, advanced to meet this slim, foreign-looking, dazzling gypsy, and the hands of the two charming creatures met, and their eyes beamed upon one another. On the other hand, it was one of the funniest and most picturesque sights imaginable when gaunt Alba bore down with his stiff, spidery walk upon the holy martyr, while the Capuchin paid homage to the Suabian maiden in all kinds of cringing and fawning attitudes. The latter seemed to be the happiest one in the whole company at the success of the plan, concerning which Schnetz had given her a hint some time before. She was perpetually making mistakes in the different figures of the quadrille, for she was always studying either the Spanish or the Venetian girl, and was, moreover, obliged to communicate to her partner her observations in regard to their particular fine points. She afterward found a still more attentive listener in Rossel, who had seated himself near by in the character of a spectator, holding Homo between his knees, and now and then sweeping with a careless hand the strings of the guitar that the faithful old animal still bore upon his back.
When the dance ended, Julie, whose heart was glowing with gladness and love, could not refrain from taking Irene to her arms and imprinting on her lips the congratulation she did not dare to put in words. Irene understood her, and blushed; but she returned the embrace with hearty good-will, and nodded also to Angelica as if she were an old friend. Then she took Felix's arm, and allowed him to escort her to the supper-room.
"Shall we take a seat at the little table again?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"I must be still more alone with you," he said. "Only be brave and follow me. The air here begins to be oppressive."
"Where are you going to?"
"Outside. Not a breath of wind is stirring, and it is the most beautiful spring-like weather. And you are not heated at all! I will wrap you up in my cloak. Take my word for it, we will not even catch a cold in the head."
"Go out into the dark garden?" She involuntarily slackened her step. "What will they think of us?"
"That we love one another, my darling, and want to be alone. Besides, it will occur to very few of these good people to miss us, or to make any remarks about the subject. And since you have once ventured into this bad society, and no one knows what may happen to-morrow, and whether there will still be time then--"
"You are right," she interrupted hastily. "It was merely the last sign of the stupid old habit. Come; I think myself I should not be alive to-morrow if the night passed without my having told you everything."
He drew her close to his side, and they left the hall together. The angel with the flaming sword had fallen asleep over his mug of beer; but as Felix had been the last to arrive, he easily found his hat and cloak in the dressing-room without Fridolin's assistance. He carefully wrapped a large woolen shawl, which he recognized as belonging to Angelica, about the head and shoulders of his sweetheart, and then threw his own cloak over the whole, so that she would have been well protected even for a colder night.
"But don't cover up your face entirely; I must have a chance to find your lips!" he whispered, and immediately kissed her as if to put her to the test. But she held him tight, and with a passionate submission, of which he had hardly believed her capable, returned his kiss and held up her glowing face to his, submitting to his stormy caresses in happy confusion, and returning them anew.
Not until she was startled by a noise did she ask him in a pleading voice to desist. Then he put his arm about her and went out with her into the mild winter's night, covered peacefully in its snowy mantle. No star looked down from heaven, but it seemed to these two happy beings, wandering all alone among the trees, as if the world about them were in flames, and they were walking through it unscathed, for in their hearts there raged a hotter fire.