The Alpine Fay

Again the drawing-room door opened and Alice and Frau von Lasberg entered, the latter with a certain air of resignation; a darling wish of hers was to be frustrated to-night. She had looked forward to seeing Alice, whom she had trained entirely according to her own ideas, enrolled in the ranks of the aristocracy, and one of the young girl's distinguished suitors, the scion of an ancient noble line, had enjoyed the Baroness's special favour, and now Wolfgang Elmhorst was carrying off the prize! He was indeed the only man without a title whom Frau von Lasberg could have forgiven for so doing,–he had long since succeeded in winning her regard,–but it was nevertheless a painful fact that a man so perfectly well-bred, so agreeable to the strict old lady, possessed not the ghost of a title.

Alice, in a pale-blue satin gown rather overtrimmed with costly lace, and with a long train, did not look particularly well. The heavy folds of the rich material seemed to weigh down her delicate figure, and the diamonds sparkling on her neck and arms–her father's birthday gift to her–did not avail to relieve her want of colour. Such a frame did not suit her; an airy flower-trimmed ball-dress would have been much more becoming.

Wolfgang hastened to meet his betrothed, and carried her hand to his lips. He was full of tender consideration for her, and he was courtesy itself to the Baroness Lasberg, but the cloud did not vanish from his brow until the president returned and the guests began to arrive. Gradually the rooms were filled with a brilliant assemblage. Those present were indeed the foremost in the capital, the aristocracy by birth and by talent, those distinguished both in the world of finance and in the domain of art, the best names in military and diplomatic circles. Splendid uniforms alternated with costly toilets, and the throng glittered and rustled as only such an assemblage can,–an assemblage thoroughly in keeping with the magnificence of the Nordheim establishment.

The centre of attraction was found in the betrothed pair, or rather in the lover, who, an entire stranger to most of those present, was doubly an object of interest. He certainly was an extremely handsome man, this Wolfgang Elmhorst, no one could deny that, and there was no doubt of his capacity and his talent, but these gifts alone hardly entitled him to the hand of a wealthy heiress, who might well look for something more. And then, too, the young man appeared to take his good fortune, which would have fairly intoxicated any one else, quite as a matter of course. Not the slightest embarrassment betrayed that this was the first time he had been thus surrounded. With his betrothed's hand resting on his arm he stood proudly calm beside his future father-in-law, was presented to every one, received and acknowledged with easy grace all congratulations, and played admirably the principal part thus assigned him. He was entirely the son of the house, accepting his position as such as a foregone conclusion, and even at times seeming to dominate the entire assembly.

Among the guests was the Court-Councillor von Ernsthausen, a stiff, formal bureaucrat, who in the absence of his wife had his daughter on his arm. The little Baroness was charming in her pink tulle ball-dress, with a wreath of snow-drops on her black curls, and she was beaming with delight and exultation in having, after a hard combat, succeeded in being present at the entertainment. Her parents had at first refused to allow her to come, because Herr Gersdorf was also invited, and they dreaded the renewal of his attentions. The Herr Papa was armed to the teeth against attack from the hostile force; he kept guard like a sentinel over his daughter, and seemed resolved that she should not leave his side during the entire evening.

But the lover showed no inclination to expose himself to the danger of another repulse; he contented himself with a courteous salutation from a distance, which Baron Ernsthausen returned very stiffly. Molly inclined her head gravely and decorously, as if quite agreed with her paternal escort; of course she had devised the plan of her campaign, and she proceeded to carry it out with an energy that left nothing to be desired.

She embraced and congratulated Alice, which necessitated her leaving her father's arm; then she greeted Frau von Lasberg with the greatest amiability in return for a very cool recognition on that lady's part, and finally she overwhelmed Erna with demonstrations of affection, drawing her aside to the recess of a window. The councillor looked after her with a discontented air, but, as Gersdorf remained quietly at the other end of the room, he was reassured, and apparently conceived that his office of guardian was perfectly discharged by keeping the enemy constantly in sight. He never suspected the cunning schemes that were being contrived and carried out behind his back.

The whispered interview in the window-recess did not last long, and at its close Fräulein von Thurgau vanished from the room, while Molly returned to her father and entered into conversation with various friends. She managed, however, to perceive that Erna returned after a few minutes, and, approaching Herr Gersdorf, addressed him. He looked rather surprised, but bowed in assent, and the little Baroness triumphantly unfurled her fan. The action had begun, and the guardian was checkmated for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, the president had missed his niece and was looking about for her rather impatiently, while talking with a gentleman who had just arrived, and who was not one of the habitués of the house. He was undoubtedly a person of distinction, for Nordheim treated him with a consideration which he accorded to but few individuals. Erna no sooner made her appearance again than her uncle approached her and presented the stranger.

"Herr Ernst Waltenberg, of whom you have heard me speak."

"I was so unfortunate as to miss the ladies when I called yesterday, and so am an entire stranger to Fräulein von Thurgau," said Waltenberg.

"Not quite: I talked much of you at dinner," Nordheim interposed. "A cosmopolitan like yourself, who after the tour of the world comes to us directly from Persia, cannot fail to interest, and I am sure you will find an eager listener to your experiences of travel in my niece. Her taste is decidedly for the strange and unusual."

"Indeed, Fräulein von Thurgau?" asked Waltenberg, gazing in evident admiration at Erna's lovely face.

Nordheim perceived this and smiled, while, without giving his niece a chance to reply, he continued:

"You may rely upon it. But we must first of all try to make you more at home in Europe, where you are positively a stranger. I shall be glad if my house can in any wise contribute to your pleasure; I pray you to believe that you will always be welcome here."

He shook his guest's hand with great cordiality and retired. There was a degree of intention in the way in which he had brought the pair together and then left them to themselves, but Erna did not perceive it. She had been in no wise interested in the presentation of the new-comer,–strangers from beyond the seas were no rarity in her uncle's house,–but her first glance at the guest's unusual type of countenance aroused her attention.

Ernst Waltenberg was no longer young,–he had passed forty, and although not very tall his frame was muscular and well-knit, showing traces, however, of a life of exposure and exertion. His face, tanned dark brown by his sojourn for years in tropical countries, was not handsome, but full of expression and of those lines graven not by years, but by experience of life. His broad brow was crowned by close black curls, and his steel-gray eyes beneath their black brows could evidently flash on occasion. There was something strangely foreign about him that set him quite apart from the brilliant but mostly uninteresting personages that crowded Nordheim's rooms. His voice too had a peculiar intonation,–it was deep, but sounded slightly foreign, possibly from years of speaking other tongues than his own. Evidently he was perfectly versed in the forms of society; the manner in which he took his seat beside Fräulein von Thurgau was entirely that of a man of the world.

"You have but lately come from Persia?" Erna asked, referring to what her uncle had said.

"Yes, I was there last; for ten years I have not seen Europe before."

"And yet you are a German? Probably your profession kept you away thus long?"

"My profession?" Waltenberg repeated, with a fleeting smile. "No; I merely yielded to my inclination. I am not of those steadfast natures which become rooted in house and home. I was always longing to be out in the world, and I gratified my desire absolutely in this respect."

"And in all these ten years have you never been homesick?"

"To tell the truth, no! One gradually becomes weaned from one's home, and at last feels like a stranger there. I am here now only to arrange various business affairs and personal matters, and do not propose to stay long. I have no family to keep me here; I am quite alone."

"But your country should have a claim upon you," Erna interposed.

"Perhaps so; but I am modest enough to imagine that it does not need me. There are so many better men than I here."

"And do you not need your country?"

The remark was rather an odd one from a young lady, and Waltenberg looked surprised, especially when the glance that met his own emphasized the reproach in the girl's words.

"You are indignant at my admission, Fräulein Thurgau, but nevertheless I must plead guilty," he said, gravely. "Believe me, a life such as mine has been for years, free of all fetters, surrounded by a nature lavish in beauty and luxuriance, while our own is meagre enough, has the effect of a magic draught. Those who have once tasted it can never again forego it. Were I really obliged to return to this world of unrealities, this formal existence in what we call society, beneath these gray wintry skies, I think I–but this is rank heresy in the eyes of one who is an admired centre of this same society."

"And yet she can perhaps understand you," Erna said, with a sudden access of bitterness. "I grew up among the mountains, in the magnificent solitude of the highlands, far from the world and its ways, and it is hard, very hard, to forego the sunny, golden liberty of my childhood!"

"Even here?" Waltenberg asked, with a glance about him at the brilliant rooms, now crowded with guests.

"Most of all here."

The answer was low, scarcely audible, and the look that accompanied it was strangely sad and weary, but the next moment the young girl seemed to repent the half-involuntary confession; she smiled and said, jestingly,–

"You are right, this is heresy, and my uncle would disapprove; he evidently hopes to make you really at home among us. Let me make you acquainted with the gentleman now approaching us; he is one of our celebrities and will surely interest you."

Her intention of breaking off a conversation that had become unusually grave was evident, and Waltenberg bowed silently, but with an expression of annoyance. He was presented to the 'celebrity,' with whom he conversed but for a few moments, however, before seeking out Herr Gersdorf, whom he had long known; they had been college-friends.

"Well, Ernst, are you beginning to be at home among us?" the lawyer asked. "You seemed much interested in your talk with Fräulein Thurgau. A handsome girl, is she not?"

"Yes, and really worth the trouble of talking to," Ernst replied, retiring somewhat from the throng with his friend, who laughed, as he said in an undertone,–

"Extremely complimentary to all the other ladies. I suppose it is not worth the trouble to talk with them?"

"No, it is not," Waltenberg coolly replied, in a still lower tone. "I really cannot bring myself to take part in their vapid talk through an entire evening. It is particularly tiresome around the betrothed couple,–a perfect chorus of utterly senseless remarks. Moreover, the lady looks very insignificant, and is very uninteresting."

Gersdorf shrugged his shoulders: "Nevertheless her name is Alice Nordheim, and that was quite enough for her lover. There is many a one here who would gladly stand in his shoes, but he had the wit to gain her father's favour, and so won the prize."

"Marrying for money, then? A fortune-hunter?"

"If you choose to call him so,–yes; but very talented, very energetic,–sure to succeed. He already rules the various officials of his railway as absolutely as his future father-in-law does the directors, and when you see his chef-d'[oe]uvre, the Wolkenstein bridge, you will admit that his talent is of no common order."

"No matter for that, I detest fortune-hunting from my very soul. One might forgive it in a poor devil with no other chance to rise in the world, but this Elmhorst seems to have force of character, and yet sells himself and his liberty for money. Contemptible!"

"My dear Ernst, you are evidently just from the wilds," Gersdorf rejoined. "Such things are very usual in our much-lauded 'society,' and among very respectable people. Of course money is no consideration to you, with your hundreds of thousands. Are you never going to cease wandering to and fro on the earth and try sitting beside your own hearthstone?"

"No, Albert, I never was made for that. Liberty is my bride, and I shall be faithful to her."

"I said the same thing," the lawyer rejoined, with a laugh; "but time brings one experience of this same bride's rather chilly nature, and if in addition one meets with the misfortune of falling in love, liberty loses all attraction and the whilom bachelor is glad enough to turn into an honest married man. I am just about to undergo this transformation."

"I condole with you."

"No need; it suits me extremely well. But you know all the story of my love and woe; what do you think of the future Frau Gersdorf?"

"I think her so charming that she excuses in a measure your desertion of your colours. She is lovely, with that rosy, laughing little face."

"Yes, my little Molly is an embodiment of sunshine," Albert said, heartily, his glance seeking out the young girl. "The barometer at her home points to 'stormy' at present; but although the court-councillor and his entire family, with the famous granduncle,–who, by the bye, is the worst of all,–should take the field against me, I am resolved to come off victorious."

"Herr Waltenberg, may I request you to escort my niece to supper?" said the president as he passed the young men.

"With pleasure," Waltenberg assented, hurrying away, with such sincere satisfaction expressed in his face, that Gersdorf could not help looking after him with a mocking smile.

"I doubt whether I shall long be the only one of us two to desert his colours," he said to himself as his friend joined Fräulein von Thurgau, looking like anything rather than a misogynist.

CHAPTER VII.

A NEW SCHEME

The doors of the supper-room were opened and the assemblage began to enter it by couples. Baron Ernsthausen offered his arm to the Baroness Lasberg, having been assigned her as his neighbour at table, and having learned from her with much satisfaction that Lieutenant von Alven was to be his daughter's escort, and that Herr Gersdorf's place was at the opposite end of the table. The distinguished couple slowly advanced followed by a crowd of others, but, strangely enough, Lieutenant von Alven offered his arm to another young girl, and Herr Gersdorf approached the Baroness Ernsthausen.

"What does this mean, Molly?" he asked, in a low tone. "Am I to take you to supper, as Fräulein von Thurgau tells me? Did you prevail on Frau von Lasberg–?"

"Oh, she is a firm ally of my father and mother," Molly whispered, taking his arm. "Only fancy, she had the entire length of the table between us! Mamma is at home with a headache, but she enjoined it upon papa not to let me out of his sight, and Frau von Lasberg was to be guard number two. But they have no idea with whom they have to deal; I have outwitted them all."

"What is it that you have done?" Gersdorf asked, rather uneasily.

"Changed the table-cards!" Molly declared, exultantly, "or rather persuaded Erna to change them. She did not want to at first, but when I asked her whether she could answer it to her conscience to plunge us both into fathomless despair, she really could not, and so she consented."

The phrases which the little Baroness used to beguile the guardian angels of her love came trippingly from her tongue; her lover, however, did not seem greatly edified by her stroke of policy; he shook his head, and said, reproachfully, "But, my dear Molly, it cannot possibly be concealed, and when your father sees us–"

"He'll be furious!" Molly completed the sentence very placidly. "But you know, Albert, he always is that, and a little more or a little less really makes no difference. And now do not look so frightfully grave. I believe you would actually like to scold me for my brilliant idea."

"I ought to," said Albert, smiling in spite of himself; "but who could find fault with you, you wayward little sprite?"

In the buzz of conversation the lovers' whispered tones were unheard as they entered the supper-room, where the councillor was already seated beside his companion. The pleasures of the table were dear to his heart, and the prospect of a good supper attuned his soul to benevolence. But suddenly his face grew rigid as if from a sight of the Gorgon, although it was only upon perceiving the extremely happy face of his little daughter as she appeared upon Herr Gersdorf's arm.

"Madame, for heaven's sake, look there!" he whispered. "You told me that Lieutenant von Alven–"

"Was to take Molly to supper; and in accordance with your express wish Herr Gersdorf–"

Frau von Lasberg stopped in the middle of her sentence and also became petrified as she perceived the couple just taking their seats near the other end of the table.

"Beside him!" The councillor darted an annihilating glance down the long table, past thirty seated guests, at the lawyer.

"I cannot understand this; I arranged the places at table myself."

"Perhaps some mistake of the servants–"

"No, it is a plot of the Baroness's," Frau von Lasberg interposed, indignantly. "But pray let us have no scene. When supper is over–"

"I shall take Molly directly home!" Ernsthausen concluded the sentence, opening his napkin with an energy that boded no good to his disobedient daughter.

The supper began and followed its course with all the splendour to be expected from an entertainment in the Nordheim mansion. The tables were almost overloaded with heavy silver and glittering glass, among which bloomed the rarest flowers. There was an endless variety of food, with the finest kinds of wine. The usual toasts to the betrothed couple were offered, the usual speeches made, and over it all brooded the weariness inseparable from such displays of princely wealth.

Nevertheless certain of the younger folk enjoyed themselves excessively; notably Baroness Molly, who, quite unaffected by her approaching doom, laughed and talked with her neighbour at table, while Gersdorf would have been no lover had he not forgotten all else and quaffed full draughts of the unexpected happiness of this interview.

Not less eager, if graver and of more significance, was the conversation carried on at the upper end of the table between Fräulein von Thurgau, who as the nearest relative of the family had her place opposite the betrothed couple, and Ernst Waltenberg, who was a distinguished guest. Hitherto he had seemed to take but little interest in the assemblage and had been rather silent, but now he made it plain that where it pleased him to charm by his conversation he was fully able to do so.

He did indeed tell of distant lands and peoples, but he described them so vividly that his hearer seemed to see them. As he spoke of the charm of the southern seas, the splendour of the tropical landscape, Erna, listening with sparkling eyes, seemed carried away. Now and then Wolfgang, beside Alice on the opposite side of the table, scanned the pair with an oddly searching glance; his conversation with his betrothed did not seem to be of a particularly lively nature, master of the art though he were.

At last supper was over, and all returned to the reception-rooms. The universal mood seemed less constrained, laughter and talk were louder, and so general was the mingling of various groups that it was difficult to single out any particular individual, as Baron Ernsthausen found to his vexation, for his young daughter had disappeared for the time.

Ernst Waltenberg had conducted Erna to the conservatory, and was seated beside her, deep in the conversation begun at supper, when the betrothed couple entered. Wolfgang started as he perceived the pair, he bowed coldly to Waltenberg, who sprang up to offer his place to Fräulein Nordheim, and said, "Alice complains of weariness and thinks it will be quieter here. We are not intruding?"

"Upon whom?" Erna asked, quietly.

"Upon yourself and Herr Waltenberg. You were in such earnest conversation, and we should be very sorry–"

Instead of replying, Erna took her cousin's hand and drew her down beside her: "You are right, Alice, you need rest. It is a hard task even for those stronger than you to be the centre of such an entertainment."

"I only wanted to withdraw for a few moments," said Alice, who really did look fatigued. "But we seem to have disturbed you; Herr Waltenberg was in the midst of a most interesting description, which he broke off when we entered."

"I was telling of my last visit to India," Waltenberg explained, "and I took the opportunity to make a request of Baroness Thurgau, which I should like to make of you also, Fräulein Nordheim. In the course of my ten years of absence from Europe I have collected a quantity of foreign curiosities. They were all sent home, and form a veritable museum which I am just having arranged by an experienced hand. May I entreat the ladies to honour me with a visit,–with yourself, of course, Herr Elmhorst? I think I can show you much that will interest you."

"I fear my engagements will not allow me to accept your kind invitation," Elmhorst replied, with rather cool courtesy. "I must leave town in a couple of days."

"So shortly after your betrothal?"

"I must. In the present condition of our work I cannot allow myself a longer leave of absence."

"Do you agree to this, Fräulein Nordheim?" Waltenberg appealed to Alice. "I should think under present circumstances you would have the first claim."

"Duty has the first claim upon me, Herr Waltenberg,–in my opinion, at least."

"Must you take it so seriously,–even now?"

"Wolfgang's eyes flashed. He understood this 'even now?' and understood also the look which he encountered; he had seen the same expression on another face a few hours ago. He bit his lip; for the second time he was reminded that he was considered in society only as 'Alice Nordheim's future husband,'–one who could with her fortune in prospect purchase immunity from duties which he had undertaken to fulfil.

"To fulfil a duty is with me a point of honour," he replied, coldly.

"Yes, we Germans are fanatics for duty," Waltenberg said, negligently. "I have lost somewhat of this national characteristic in foreign countries. Oh, Fräulein von Thurgau, not that disapproving look, I entreat. My unfortunate frankness will ruin me in your estimation, but remember I come from quite another world, and am absolutely uncivilized according to European ideas."

"You certainly seem so with respect to some of your views," Erna said, lightly, but withal with a shade of severity.

He smiled, and, leaning over the back of her chair, said, in a lower tone, "Yes, I need to be harmonized with mankind, and with our worthy Germans. Perhaps some one will have pity upon me and undertake the task. Do you think it would be worth the trouble?"

"Can you really endure this close, stifling temperature, Alice?" Wolfgang asked, with ill-concealed impatience. "I fear it is worse for you than the heat of the rooms."

"But there is such a crowd of people there. Pray let us stay here, Wolfgang."

He bit his lip, but naturally yielded to a wish of his betrothed's so distinctly expressed.

"The air here is tropical," said Waltenberg.

"It is indeed. Oppressive, and debilitating for any one accustomed to breathe freely."