Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

According to the assertion of the railroad officials, they had to wait at least another hour for the Berlin train. Fräulein Maia found it very tiresome; she felt a desire to make a tour of discovery in the "Golden Lamb," and when, besides, from the window she caught sight of a troop of children, who were playing in the yard behind the house, she could sit still no longer. In spite of all the exhortations of her teacher, she slipped out of the room and left her companions to themselves.

An embarrassed silence reigned for a few minutes. The doctor and Fräulein Friedberg had, it is true, long ago come to a sort of tacit understanding that that unfortunate offer of marriage should be considered as unsaid. It was the only possible way to preserve the necessary ease in the almost daily intercourse to which they were forced; and, to be candid, they were neither of them so easy in one another's company as was desirable. Hagenbach could not help giving bent to his mortification at being rejected in various covert ways, and, in spite of herself, Leonie continually found herself acting on the defensive when he was present. But, in spite of these awkward relations, it was a fact that the doctor expended much more care upon his outward appearance than ever before, and made every effort to rein in his harshness of manner as much as possible. In this latter particular he succeeded only to a very moderate extent, but he at least showed a desire to be more gentle.

"Maia is not to be calculated upon!" began Fräulein Friedberg finally, with a sigh. "I am actually in despair at times. What is one to do with a young lady, who is already engaged to be married, and yet cannot appreciate the necessity of conforming to social usages?"

"But there is room for a difference of opinion as to that necessity," remarked the doctor, irritably.

"I beg your pardon, the position is not to be disputed at all," was the very decided answer. "It is the foundation upon which the whole social fabric rests."

"You may well say so–forms!" mocked Hagenbach, with unconcealed irritation, "they are the main things in the world. What avails it if a man be honorable, upright, and true–he must yield to the first goose that comes along, who knows how to make bows and exchange polite speeches–he, of course, has the precedence!"

"I did not say so."

"But thought it! I have not given much attention to forms in the course of my life, have not found it needful either in my practice or the management of my household. I am a bachelor, though–thank God!"

The returned thanks, however, to Heaven, on account of his fortunately preserved bachelor's estate was in so grim a tone that Leonie preferred not to answer. She stepped to the window and looked out. Fortunately one of the maids now appeared with the coffee-cups and a huge cake, sufficient for at least ten persons, bringing the message that, if the ladies and doctor would be patient for a little while longer, Fräulein Willmann would prepare the coffee herself.

Leonie started at the name, and turned around eagerly:

"Who did you say?"

"Fräulein Willmann, lady."

"Such is the name of the hostess of the 'Golden Lamb,'" explained Hagenbach, who now perceived that silence would profit nothing any longer, and that the whole melancholy story would have to be recapitulated. Leonie, indeed, did not say a word, but the mantling color that mounted to her cheeks betrayed her exceeding sensitiveness to anything that reminded her of her former lover. The doctor preferred, therefore, to introduce the subject himself, as soon as the maid had left the room.

"Does the name strike you?" he asked.

"It was once very dear to me, and still is. The coincidence here can only be the result of accident, but I shall try to find out from the hostess–"

"That is not necessary, when you can learn of me just as well. The proprietor of this inn is a cousin of the lamented Engelbert, the converter of heathen, who lies buried in the sands of the desert. He has told me so himself–that is to say, not the buried man, but the living Herr Pancratius Willmann of the 'Golden Lamb.'"

"A cousin of Engelbert's?" repeated Leonie, in surprise. "To judge by the age of his wife, this Herr Pancratius Willmann must be quite far advanced in years?"

"Heaven forbid! he is at least twelve years younger than his better half, not much over forty. He was just a poor starving wretch and she a rich widow. As for the rest, the man is not uncultivated–he has even been a student, as he recently informed me, but then concluded that he would rather clothe himself in the wool of the 'Golden Lamb.'"

Leonie's lips curled contemptuously. "What a conclusion! This ordinary woman–"

"Has money and is a splendid cook," chimed in Hagenbach, who felt a satisfaction in this, that at least the lamented Engelbert's cousin had no part in the halo of ideality that encircled his kinsman. "As for the rest, the marriage of this pair seems to be a very happy one, and they also have a numerous progeny–only look at the six young lambs disporting themselves in the garden down yonder!" He had likewise stepped to the window and pointed down into the small garden, where the offspring of the Willmann family were running about, shrieking and hallooing. They were certainly not marked by any special attractions, but were little well-fed, thick-skulled creatures with yellow locks, seeming to take after their mother in things essential.

Leonie shrugged her shoulders. "I do not understand how a cultivated man can condescend to such a union. To be sure, self-interest regulates the world nowadays. Who asks after the ideal?"

"Not Herr Pancratius Willmann certainly," dryly opined Hagenbach. "He holds with the practical, in complete contrast to his cousin. Herr Engelbert left home in the lurch, in order to baptize the black heathen back in Africa. Now he lies in the sand of the desert–that is the return he got."

Leonie looked daggers at him. "You certainly cannot appreciate such a resolve, Doctor. Engelbert Willmann had an ideal nature, that followed a higher inspiration without any reference to worldly advantages, and one must have somewhat of the same nature in order to understand it."

"No, I do not pretend to understand it," declared Hagenbach with an outburst of vexation. "I am not constituted 'ideal.' I am a plain healer of men's diseases, without higher inspiration, and am myself quite an ordinary man, without any ideal–therefore of no account whatever."

Thus were they fairly launched into another discussion, when the door opened, and Herr Pancratius Willmann appeared upon the threshold, in all the stateliness of his obesity, with broad red countenance. He made a low bow before the physician, a second one before the lady at the window, and then began in his soft, melancholy voice: "I have just heard from my wife that the Odensburg family were here, and could not deny myself the pleasure of expressing my joy and gratitude for the honor that has been done my modest house."

"It is well that you have come, mine host!" said the doctor. "I was just talking about you with Fräulein Friedberg–" He was not allowed to proceed farther, in consequence of the scene that now unfolded before his eyes.

Leonie had started in alarm at the sound of the strange voice, and Herr Willmann showed no less agitation at the sight of the lady at the window. He fairly quaked, his red cheeks turned pale, and, utterly disconcerted, he stared at the lady who now approached him.

"Sir," she began in quavering voice, "you bear a name that is familiar to me, and I learn from the doctor here that a relation does, in fact, exist–"

She paused and seemed to await an answer, but Herr Pancratius only nodded his head in the affirmative; but so low was his bow, that hardly a glimpse of his face was to be gotten.

"I certainly discover some resemblance in your features," continued Leonie, "and your voice, too, has an almost terrifying similarity with that of your deceased cousin, of whom you probably have slight recollection."

Willmann did not answer this time either, but shook his head, in sign of dissent, but without looking up.

"Why, man, have you lost the power of speech?" cried the doctor, vexedly. "What means this dumb show of nodding and shaking your head?"

But Herr Pancratius persisted in his silence; it seemed as though he had a regular dread of hearing the sound of his own voice again. Instead of this, he cast a shy glance at the door, as though he were weighing the possibility of a retreat. Now Hagenbach lost patience.

"What is concealed behind that demeanor?" cried he with aroused suspicion. "Is that whole tale of relationship a falsehood after all? Out with what you have to say, man!"

The craven, pressed upon two sides, evidently saw no way of escape. He cast his eyes up at the ceiling, with exactly the same pious, woe-begone expression that had startled the doctor at first, and sighed:

"Oh, oh, Doctor, Heaven is my witness–"

A loud shriek interrupted him. Leonie had suddenly turned pale as death, and with both hands convulsively clasped the back of the chair standing in front of her.

"Engelbert! Gracious master, it is he himself!"

At this instant Herr Willmann seemed to cherish the fervent wish that the earth would open at his feet and swallow him up. But as no such interposition on the part of Heaven took place, he remained standing in the middle of the room, in the full light of day. Dr. Hagenbach, however, dropped into the nearest chair; he had strong nerves, and yet, somehow, this revelation had a stunning effect upon him.

In spite of this discovery, which must have been an appalling one to her, Leonie recovered her self-command in an astonishing manner. She neither fell in a swoon, nor fell into convulsions; motionless she stood there gazing upon him who had once been her betrothed lover, and made no attempt to deny it.

"Leonie, you here?" he stammered in mortal confusion. "I had no idea–I will explain everything–"

"Yes, I too would earnestly beg you to do so!" cried the doctor, who had now recovered breath and sprang up in a rage. "What! for twelve long years, you allowed yourself to be wept as a martyred apostle to the heathen, while all the time you were alive and merry here at the 'Golden Lamb,' flourishing as a happy husband and a six-fold father of a family? That is vile."

"Doctor," interrupted Leonie, still trembling in every limb, but still with perfect composure, "I have to talk with this–this gentleman. Please leave us!"

Hagenbach looked at her rather critically, for he did not exactly trust this composure. Yet he could but perceive that during such an explanation the presence of a third party would be superfluous. He therefore left the room. Little as he was in the habit of playing the eavesdropper, this time he kept his post close to a slit in the door, without any scruple of conscience whatever. The affair that was being settled inside was partly his concern as well.

Herr Engelbert Willmann seemed to be greatly relieved when the witness to this painful scene departed, and now prepared finally for the promised explanation. He began in a penitential tone: "Leonie, hear me!"

Still she kept her place without stirring, and looked as if she would not and could not believe that this coarse, common-looking individual was one and the same with the ideal being upon whom her youthful affections had been set.

"No explanation is needed," said she, with a tranquillity incomprehensible to herself. "I only desire you to answer me a few questions. Are you really the husband of the woman who received us just now; the father of the children playing in the garden down there?"

"Highly rational and practical!" growled the doctor approvingly outside. "No sign of convulsions! Matters are progressing quite well."

Leonie's question seemed utterly to confound Herr Willmann. "Do not condemn me, Leonie!" he implored stammeringly. "The force of circumstances–an unfortunate chain of peculiar–"

"Do not address me in the familiar tone of long ago, Herr Willmann," said Leonie, cutting him short in the midst of his sentence. "How long have you been married?"

Willmann hesitated. He would have gladly given as recent a date as possible to his admission into the order of Benedict; but there were his children making their presence noisily manifest out of doors, his eldest, a boy of ten, being likewise in the game of romps. "Eleven years," he finally said in a low voice.

"And twelve years ago you wrote me that you wanted to go as missionary into the interior of Africa, and from that time your letters ceased. Immediately afterwards you must have returned to Germany–without letting me know?"

"It was done only for thy–for your sake, Leonie," Engelbert assured her, with an attempt to give a tender intonation to his voice. "We were both poor, I had no prospects, years might elapse ere I should be in a situation to offer you my hand. Should I allow you to waste your youth, mourning over me, and perhaps forfeiting a different and a happier fate? Never! And since I knew your magnanimity, knew that you would never have broken your word to me, with a bleeding heart I did what I had to–I restored your freedom to you through my supposed death–"

"Give yourself no trouble. I am not to be deceived again," replied she, contemptuously. "Pray remember, Herr Willmann, that all is at an end between us, and we have nothing more to say. I only ask one thing of you: if accidentally our paths should ever cross again, pass me as a stranger and never show by any sign that we were ever friends."

Engelbert secretly breathed more freely at this declaration, for he had not hoped to be let off so easily, and now prepared to depart in a very dignified manner. "You condemn me–well, I must bear it!" said he softly, and in an aggrieved tone. "Farewell, Leonie, appearances are against me, but for all that you have been my first and only love!"

He cast a wofully sentimental glance upon his former lady-love, and then beat a hasty retreat. But outside fate overtook him in the person of Dr. Hagenbach, who unceremoniously grabbed him by the arm. "Now we shall have a few words together, Herr Engelbert Willmann," said he, dragging the terrified creature regardlessly to the other end of the passage, where one was out of ear-shot of the guest-chamber. "I shall certainly not have much to do with you, but this one thing I must tell you, that you are a rascal!"

Once more he gave the annihilated Willmann another good shaking, then left him standing and returned to the room, where he was confident his medical services would be in requisition.

"I wanted to see how you were," said the doctor, with a certain embarrassment. "I was afraid–yes, my dear young lady, I admit that to-day, for once, you have a right to be nervous.–You need not dread ever being ridiculed. Mind!"

"I am quite well," protested Leonie, without raising her eyes. "I have gone through a very painful experience in having my illusions dispelled. You may easily guess, Doctor, how the story runs–spare me the shame of repeating it in detail."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of!" cried Hagenbach, with warm feeling. "There is no shame in putting firm, inviolable faith in the goodness and nobility of a man's nature. And if one has deceived you, you need not therefore lose faith in everybody. There is many a one among us who deserves to be trusted."

"I know it," replied Leonie, softly, extending her hand to him, "and I shall not waste time crying over a recollection that is not worth having tears shed over it. Let it be buried!"

"Bravo!" cried the doctor, grasping her proffered hand, as though about to shake it. But suddenly he bethought himself, and paused. The "rough diamond" must have really been well on the way towards being polished, for an unheard-of thing happened–Dr. Hagenbach stooped down and imprinted upon that hand an extremely tender kiss.

CHAPTER XX.

MAIA MUST BE SAVED

The gentlemen's room at the "Golden Lamb" was almost entirely empty, as was commonly the case in the early afternoon hours. The visitors were not accustomed to come in until towards evening. At present only a single guest was there, namely, Landsfeld, who had come to consult with the host concerning a mass-meeting that was to take place in the course of the next few days. Herr Willmann did not happen to be at home, and Landsfeld, who wanted to have the matter settled, had taken possession of the gentlemen's room, without further ceremony, where he had already been waiting for a quarter of an hour. He had no idea that Herr Willmann had already got home and knew of his being there, but preferred making a servile bow to the Odensburg family ere he gave as respectful a greeting to the leader of the Socialists. Already he began to grow impatient, when finally the door opened. But instead of the party expected Egbert Runeck came in.

The young delegate, who had gone to Berlin for a few days immediately after his election to consult with the leaders of his party, gave a strikingly cold and short salutation to his comrade, who, on his side, acknowledged it only by a slight nod.

"Back already from Berlin?" asked Landsfeld.

"I got here about an hour ago," answered Runeck. "I went straight to your house and heard there that I would be sure to find you at the 'Golden Lamb.'"

"To my house? That is a rare honor! I want to secure the hall for the day after to-morrow, since there turns out to be a necessity for a second mass meeting. As for the rest, we did not expect you back. Are you through with your business already?"

"Yes, for the time being only some preliminaries were to be settled. My permanent presence in Berlin will not be required for four weeks yet, when the sessions of the Reichstag begin, and so it seems to me I am more needed here just now than there."

"You are mistaken," declared Landsfeld. "We need you here no longer, now that your election has been carried. But I thought to myself that you would return as speedily as possible, when you heard that trouble was brewing for your beloved Odensburg. Yes, we have beaten it into the old man's brain at last that he is not infallible. Until now he was so inaccessible that nothing could come nigh him; now that he has to wrestle with us like the rest of his colleagues, it may go hard enough with him!"

"I rather think you have no occasion to triumph," said Egbert gloomily. "Dernburg has responded to your challenge by a wholesale discharge."

"Of course! That was to be expected of the obstinate old man, and we were perfectly prepared for it."

"Or rather, you have planned for it. And what now?"

"Well, it means bend or break. Either the old man withdraws his discharge of the workmen, or all his enterprises come to a standstill."

"Dernburg is not going to bend, that you all know, and to break him you have not the power. But he has it, and will use it unsparingly now that he has been goaded so far. He can hold out if his works lie idle for weeks and months–but not you. The strike is perfectly senseless, and the leaders of our party do not wish it–never have wished it. Now the decision against it has been definitely made."

"Ah, indeed! I know you did your very best to persuade them to come to this decision. Now, didn't you?" asked Landsfeld with a piercing glance. "You are one of the leaders yourself now! The youngest and most masterful of all. You seem to have got the whip-hand of the others already."

Runeck made an unequivocal sign of impatience.

"Have you only personal attacks against me, where the question concerns a party measure? I bring you the positive direction, not to proceed to extremities–conform to it."

"I am sorry, it is too late; the direction should have come earlier," answered Landsfeld coldly. "The offer has been made, and in case of its non-acceptance the strike is announced. The people cannot retract–they will see it so in Berlin also."

"Ah, ah, you show your true colors at last," cried Egbert in embittered tone. "You, who have always had the word discipline in your mouth, have followed your own head entirely!"

"Acted upon my own responsibility, yes! Those narrow-minded cowards, those Odensburgers, must at last be thoroughly aroused from their dream of security. What trouble we have had in getting them to elect you, under what high pressure did we have to work, and all was left in doubt, up to the last minute! Now the dull mass is at last in motion; now it is of moment to urge them forward!"

"And whither? To certain defeat! They have followed you to the polls, and even now they go with you blindly–the intoxication of victory has mounted to their heads! You have not preached to them in vain that they were almighty. But the intoxication will pass away. Just let the people come to their senses for once, and perceive what they lose when they turn their backs upon Odensburg, and what sorrows they thereby entail upon their wives and children–I tell you, you will not be able to hold them together for eight days; they will run back to Dernburg as fast as their legs can carry them. But he will be a different man from what he has been heretofore; he will not and cannot pardon the insult that they have inflicted upon him."

The young engineer had long since lost the cool calmness with which he had opened the interview, and had worked himself up into continually greater excitement. Landsfeld quietly kept his seat and looked at him fixedly: an evil smile played about his lips, as he replied:

"You seem to find this quite in order. On what side do you really stand, may I ask?"

"On the side of reason and of right!" exclaimed Runeck passionately. "That the workmen elected me in opposition to Dernburg was their right, and he would not contest that, either, deeply as it might mortify him. But that they celebrated my victory in his works, that they had processions and rejoiced over his defeat, almost under his windows, that is a bold challenge, and he has given them, in reply, the answer they deserved!"

"Ah, indeed? They deserved it, did they?" repeated Landsfeld, in a tone that should have warned his young comrade; but he paid no heed to it and continued with gathering warmth:

"You had the people stirred up through Fallner, I know this; you goaded them into making that senseless demand, which is equivalent to inflicting incredible humiliation upon their chief. Is it that you so entirely mistake the man with whom you have to deal, or would you have war to the knife? Well, you shall have it! Dernburg has shown himself the protector of the workman long enough, now he will reveal himself as the master, and he does right in this–I would not act differently in his place!"

A loud, bitter laugh from Landsfeld brought Egbert to a stop, for he had uttered those last words inconsiderately, stung into revolt.

"Bravo! Oh, that is an inestimable confession! There at last you show your true face! It was the old man of Odensburg to the life–you are a worthy pupil of your master's school. What think you if I report the sentiment just heard from you in Berlin?"

Runeck could hardly fail to be aware that he had allowed himself to go too far, but he only straightened himself up more defiantly.

"What care I? Do you suppose that I allow myself to be such a slave, that I dare not express my opinions freely, when we are among ourselves?"

"Among ourselves! Do you actually do us the honor to account yourself one of us? It is true you are our delegate! I have warned and counseled enough, for I knew long ago how far we would probably get with you. They would not listen to me, would secure that genial power to our party, and therefore the election must be pushed with all the means at our command. It was the hardest to manage of any in the electorial campaign–and for whom? The eyes of the others will soon be opened too."

"If you want to help them in this, then do so!" said Egbert harshly and proudly. But now Landsfeld jumped up and planted himself close in front of him.

"Perhaps you would be quite agreed to this. You are regularly planning, I believe, to lead up to a breach. Give yourself no trouble, young man: we will not do you that favor, we will not release you. If you choose to turn traitor and runagate, then let the whole disgrace of it fall upon you!"

A bitter expression curled Runeck's lips at these scornful words.

"Traitor! This, then, is what I get for giving myself up to you, body and soul, for sacrificing to you a future grander and more brilliant than falls to the lot of one in a thousand."