The old Mam'selle's secret

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Chapter I

“ — - — but, for Heaven’s sake, Hellwig, where are you g >ing now ?”

“Directly to X , with your kind permission,” was

the half-contemptuous reply.

“ But there is certainly no road thither over such a hill as this. You know nothing about it, Hellwig. Hallo ! — stop ! — I’ll get out ; I have no desire to be upset and have all my bones broken. Will you be kind enough to stop ?”

“Upset you? I! ’Twould be the first time in my life,” were the words upon the lips of the other; but a terrible crash interrupted him, and the voice of the speaker was silenced effectually. For a moment, the snorting and stamping of a horse were audible ; then the animal, having recovered his footing, galloped madly away.

“This is an upset indeed,” growled the first speaker at last, sitting upright on the damp, freshly-ploughed field. “Hellwig ! Boehm ! are either of you alive ?”

“ I am,” said the voice of Hellwig, not very far off, as he crept about on the sodden ground searching for his hat. Every spark of self-confidence, of jeering superiority, had utterly vanished from that feeble voice. The third victim, too, was now heard complaining, as he tried to lift his unwieldy form upon all-fours from close contact with his mother-earth. At last all three regained that posture whereby nature distinguishes man as the noblest of God’s creatures, and began to reflect upon what had happened, and what was best to be done.

In the first place, the light wagon in which the three gentlemen had left their homes on that morning upon a hunting expedition, was now lying completely overturned by the side of the little hill which had caused the disaster, displaying its four wheels to heaven ; the sound of the horse’s hoofs as he galloped off had died away some moments before, and pitchy darkness brooded over the consequences of Hellwig’s rash self-confidence.

“Well, one thing is certain, we can’t spend the night here. Let us go forward,” said Hell wig at last, with some reviving animation in his tone.

“Oh yes, resume the command,” growled his stout friend, privately assuring himself that the splintered remains of his beautiful meerschaum, and not of one of his ribs, were making that mysterious rattling sound in the region of his heart, — “resume the command, do, — it becomes you so well, just after you have been within a hair’s breadth of murdering two fathers of families with your confounded self-conceit, — no, I will not spend the night in this den of lions — but you shall devise some way out of it. A dozen horses shall not drag me from this spot without a light. 1 am up to my knees in mud, and the night air will, I know, fill my bones with rheumatism for the next six months, — that I must resign myself to, and it is all your fault, Hellwig. But I will not be so insane as to risk putting out my eyes or breaking my arms and legs in the thousand holes and ditches that abound in this confounded country.”

“Don’t be a fool, doctor,” said the third; “you can’t stand here like a milestone, shifting from one leg to the

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ather. while Hell wig and I grope our way to the town and procure help. I knew some time ago that this famous Jehu was driving too much to the left. We have only to go directly back across this ploughed field, and we shall certainly come to the road again, — so come along without any more grumbling, and think of your wife and children, who are perhaps drowned in grief at this moment because you are not at home at supper.”

The stout man muttered something into his moustache about ‘wretched management,’ — but left his post and groped his way with the others. The task of finding the road was indeed laborious and disagreeable enough. The earth stuck in great clods to their hunting-boots, and every now and then a foot put forward with unwary confidence would splash into some deep puddle, sending the dirty water like a fountain over the coats and faces of the three wretched wanderers. Still they regained the road without any serious mishaps, and strode forward bravely when they felt firm ground beneath them, — even the doctor’s good humour gradually returned, and he hummed aloud, in a terrible bass, “ Merrily jog the footpath way !”

In the vicinity of the little town a light appeared in the darkness — it advanced toward the travellers with agitated haste, and Hellwig recognized in the broad laughing face on which the light of the lantern shone, his servant Hemrich.

“Ah, gracious powers I Herr Hellwig, is it really you?” shouted the man. “ My mistress thinks you must be lying stone-dead outside of the town.”

“ But how comes your mistress to know of our misfortune ?”

“ Why, you see, sir, a wagonload of players drove into the town to-night,” — to the honest fellow all actors, jugglers, rope-dancers, &c. were always ‘players,’ — “and

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when the driver pulled np before the ‘Lion,’ there was our horse, poor beast, trotting behind as though he belonged to them. The host of the ‘ Lion ’ knows the old horse well enough, and brought him home himself. Ah, what a fright Madame had ! She sent me off directly with the lantern, and Frederika is brewing a cup of chamomile tea.”

“Chamomile tea! Hm — I think a glass of Burgundy, or at least a good foaming mug of beer would be more appropriate.”

“Yes I thought so too, Herr Hellwig; but you know how Madame ”

“ Very well, Heinrich, very well, — now go forward with the lantern. Let us get home as soon as possible.”

When they reached the market-square the three companions in misery separated with a silent shake of the hand — one most dutifully to drink his chamomile tea, and the others in the humiliating consciousness that curtain lectures awaited them at home. For their respective wives were never very gracious toward the ‘ noble passion for the chase ’ which distinguished their lords, and now their only propitiatory offerings, their hunting bags, lay crushed under the overturned wagon, while the sight of their muddy hunting coats would surely call forth exclamations of dismay in place of any welcoming embrace.

The next morning bills printed in huge red letters were found posted up at all the street corners, announcing the arrival of the ‘renowned juggler Orlowsky, of great artistic fame,’ while a young woman went from house to house in the town offering tickets for sale. She was very beautiful, this young creature, with her wealth of magnificent golden hair, and a commanding figure full of grace and dignity ; but her lovely face was pale, ‘pale as death, people said, and when she lifted her darkly fringed eyelids, which, indeed, she did but seldom, a wonderfully touching tearful glance shot from the dark-gray eyes.

She came at last to Hellwig’s house, the finest on the market-square.

“Madame,” said Heinrich, opening the door into the sitting-room on the ground-floor, and holding it ajar, with his hand upon the highly polished door-handle, — “the player’s wife is here.”

“What does she want?” called out a stern, hard voice from within.

“Her husband is to play to-morrow, and she wishes to sell Madame a ticket.”

“We are respectable Christian people here, and have no money for such folly, — send her away, Heinrich.”

The man closed the door again. Then he pinched his ear thoughtfully and made a wry face, for the ‘player’s wife’ must have heard every word. She stood still for a moment as if crushed — a fleeting blush coloured her pale cheek, and a heavy sigh escaped her. Just then the sash of a little window opening upon the passage was gently lifted, and the suppressed voice of a man was heard desiring a ticket, — a Hand received it, and placed a shining thaler in the young wife’s palm. Before she could look up, the window was shut down, and a heavy green curtain hung in thick folds behind the panes. Heinrich opened the street door now with a smile and an awkward bow, and the young woman took up again her weary way.

Heinrich then picked up a pair of freshly blacked boots that he had put down upon the woman’s appearance, and went into his master’s room, which master reveals himself to us by daylight as a little elderly man with a world of kindness and good humour in his thin, pale face.

“Ah, Herr Hellwig,” said Heinrich, while he was put ting the boots in their place, “I am glad that you bought

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that ticket. The poor woman looked so unhappy. I am heartily sorry for her, though her husband does earn his living so disreputably. He’ll have no luck in this place, mark my words, Herr Hellwig.”

“And why not, Heinrich?”

“Why? because our poor beast of a horse, which had just caused such an accident, stuck so close to his wagon when it entered the town. No good can come of that. Depend upon what I tell you, Herr Hellwig, those people will have no luck herel”

As his master returned no reply to this gloomy prophecy, he shook his shock head and left the room, stooping in the hall to readjust the mat before the door of his stern mistress’s room. The ‘player’s wife’ had pushed it a little aside with her foot.

Chapter II

The town hall was crowded with spectators, and fresh throngs were continually arriving. Old Heinrich stood where the press was greatest, trying to gain comfortable standing room by squaring his elbows and making private attacks upon the toes of his neighbours. “Gracious powers! if Madame only knew that, there would be a storm!” he whispered grinning to an acquaintance, as he pointed a horny finger toward one of the elevated seats at the side of the hall. “ My master will be brought to confession early to-morrow morning, I’ll warrant.” In the direction of his finger sat Herr Hellwig, with his former companion in misfortune, Dr. Boehm.

Honest Heinrich had really had some difficulty in dis-

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covering his master, so closely crowded were the benches. The programme for the evening’s entertainment promised much that was new and wonderful, and concluded as follows:

‘Madame d’Orlowska will appear as an Amazon. Six soldiers with loaded muskets will fire upon her, and with one flourish of her sword she will divide in two each o f their six bullets in the air.’

The inhabitants of X had been attracted chiefly by

the hope of seeing this performance. The beautiful young creature had excited universal interest, and every one wished to see how she would look when the six muskets were pointed at her. But the previous performances of her husband were also received with applause. He was what ladies call an interesting looking man. Of middle size, with great grace of movement, regular but strikingly pale countenance, and most expressive eyes, his peculiarly accented German indicated his Polish nationality at once, and made him still more attractive as a son of that unhappy down-trodden land which has for so long excited the sympathies of the civilized world. But all this was forgotten when the six soldiers, under the command of a sergeant, marched into the hall. A murmur like the sound of the sea arose among the crowd, and was foB lowed by a dead silence.

The Pole stepped to a table and made up the cartridges in sight of the audience, tapping each ball with a hammer, that all might be convinced of their reality. Then he presented one to each soldier, who loaded his musket in full view of every one present. An anxious pause ensued. The juggler rang a little bell, and from behind a screen his wife stepped upon the stage, walked slowly forward, and placed herself opposite the soldiers. She was a strange and wonderfully beautiful apparition. A

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shield covered her left arm, in her right hand she held & glittering sword. The white folds of some heavy texture fell to the floor from under the shiny scales of the armour which covered her hips, while a dazzling breastplate concealed her magnificent bust. But the dazzle of her armour faded beside the rich glimmer of those waves of golden hair that rolled down from under her helmet until they almost touched the border of her robe.

The pale, anxious look rested full upon the barrels of the deadly weapons which were all pointed toward her. Not an eyelash quivered, not even the faintest motion in the folds of her white garment could be discerned — she stood there as if hewn out of marble. The last word of command rang through the listening hall — six shots sounded like one — the sword whistled through the air, and twelve half-bullets rolled upon the floor.

For one moment the tall form of the Amazon stood immovable ; the smoke of the powder obscured her features ; through its thick clouds her armour shone but dimly. Then she suddenly tottered, her sword and shield fell clattering upon the floor, she clutched wildly at the air with her right hand as if seeking some support, and, with a heart-rending shriek, — “Oh, God! I am wounded!” she fell into the arms of her husband, who hurried to her assistance. He carried her behind the screen, and then rushed back like a madman to interrogate the soldiers.

It seems that they had received strict directions to bite off the balls while biting their cartridges, and keep them in their mouths — this was the simple explanation of the trick. One of them, however, a stupid country fellow, had become utterly confused at the sight of the crowd, and had lost his head at the critical moment. When the five others at the passionate command of the juggler produced the balls from their mouths, he, to his horror, found

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in his only a little powder — his ball had entered the unfortunate woman’s breast.

At this discovery the wretched husband, beside himself with rage and despair, struck the involuntary criminal in the face.

Immediately the wildest confusion arose. Several ladies fainted, and countless voices called out for a physician. But Dr. Boehm, who had comprehended matters at a glance, was already behind the screen in attendance upon the wounded woman. When, at last, he came back to Hellwig with a face pale with dismay, he whispered : “There is no hope. That beautiful creature must die.”

An hour later the juggler’s wife lay dying on a bed at the 1 Lion. ’ They carried her from the hall on a sofa — old Heinrich insisting upon being one of the bearers. “Ah, Herr Hellwig, was I right or wrong about that unlucky beast of ours?” he asked as he passed his master, with the large tears rolling down his cheeks.

The woman lay quite still, with closed eyes. Her unbound hair fell in masses over the pillow and covering of the bed — the golden ends lying in curls upon the dark floor. By her side knelt the juggler, with her hand resting upon his head which was buried in the cushions of the bed.

“Is Fay asleep?” asked the woman almost inaudibly, as she wearily opened her eyes.

“Yes,” he murmured through his white lips. “The daughter of the host has taken her into her room ; she is sleeping gently there in a little white bed — our child is well cared for, Meta, dear love.”

The woman looked with an indescribable expression of anguish at her husband, in whose eyes shone the light of despair.

“Iasko,” she sighed, “I am dying.”

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The juggler sank back upon the ground and writhed as in acute physical agony.

“Meta! Meta!” he cried, beside himself, “do not leave me! Thou art the light upon my gloomy way; thou angel who hast pierced thine own breast with the thorns that spring from my despised calling — that mine might receive no sting! Meta, how can I live if thou art not beside me with thine ever-watchful eyes, and thy heart full of unspeakable devotion ! How can I live never to hear again thine intoxicating voice, to look into the heaven of thy smile ! How can I live with the torturing consciousness that I have snatched thee to my arms only to crown thy life with misery! O thou God above us, canst thou plunge me into such a hell?” — Then, more gently, “I will atone for my sin against thee, Meta, I will work for thee, support thee by hard, honest labour — together we will seek out some quiet retired spot, and

there live happy and contented ” he tore the spangled

velvet mantle from his shoulders — “away with this vile stuff! It shall never touch me again! Meta, stay with me, — we will begin a new existence together!”

A painful smile hovered upon the lips of the dying woman. She raised her head with difficulty; he put his arm under it, and with the other hand pressed her pale face convulsively to his breast.

“Iasko, be composed — be a man!” she gasped, and her head fell back ; but again she opened her eyes, as though her parting soul made one more despairing effort to cleave for a while to the dying body — those lips so soon to crumble into dust must sphak once more ; the heart could not cease to beat and sink into the earth with the yearnings of maternal anxiety unsatisfied.

“Thou art unjust to thyself, Iasko,” she said after a pause, during which she had collected all her remaining

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strength — “thou hast never caused me misery, — I have had love such as few other women can boast. I knew what I was doing when I gave my hand to the juggler, — and I left my father’s house, where they rejected me on account of my love, with a happy heart to wander through life at thy side. If shadows fell upon that life, I only was to blame, — I who had overestimated my strength which failed sometimes beneath the disdain that thy position calls forth. Iasko,” she continued still more gently, “a man is exalted above the assaults of the narrow prejudices of the world by the thought that his art, whatever it may be, ennobles him, — but a woman writhes beneath the sting of the world’s contempt. Oh, Iasko, anxiety for Fay makes my death-bed a bed of thorns. I conjure thee, — let the child know nothing of thy calling!”

She seized his hand and pressed it closely. Her whole soul gazed once more from her beautiful eyes, whose light death would so shortly extinguish.

“I know what a cruel thing I ask of thee, Iasko,” she went on imploringly, — “part from Fay, — give her into the charge of simple, honest, kind people, that she may grow up to lead a quiet happy home-life. Oh, promise me this, my only love!”

In a voice choked by sobs her husband promised what she asked. A terrible night ensued — the death-struggle was long and agonizing, but the dawning morning threw the roses of its ray through the window upon a fair dead form whose transfigured features showed no trace of anguish. Orlowsky had thrown himself upon the stiffening body, and the exertions of several men were necessary to drag him from it to another room.

On the evening of the third day a great crowd followed the body of the player’s wife to its last resting-place. Kind hands had covered the coffin with flowers, and Hell-

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wig walked after it among the most respectable men oi the place. The juggler staggered and would have fallen as the first shovelful of earth fell dull upon the coffin, had not Hellwig supported him, and led him back to the inn. There he remained several hours alone with the brokenhearted man, who until then had repulsed all attempts to express sympathy, and had even tried to lay violent hands upon his own life. Those who passed the door of the room from time to time afterward heard the agonized sobs of the unhappy man, interrupted by bursts of passionate tenderness, which were replied to by the gentle voice of a child. It was a heart-rending sound — the mingling of the tear-choked voice, and the silvery, laughing, childish tones.

Chapter III

The evening was far advanced. A keen November wind swept through the streets, and the first winter snow-flakes were whitening the roofs of the houses and the dark freshly-made mound which covered the fair body of the wife of the Pole.

The table was spread in the sitting-room at the Hellwigs. The' service was of massive silver, and the pattern upon the white damask table-cloth shone like satin.

The lamp stood upon a little round sofa-table, behind which sat Frau Hellwig knitting a long woollen stocking. She was a tall broad-shouldered woman, just over forty. Perhaps, while surrounded by the golden light of youth, her face might have been thought handsome, for even now it possessed the classical outline demanded as a condition of regular beauty. But it could never have been charming, for spite of the large well-shaped eye and the fair, smooth complexion, the want of what only true sensibility of soul can give to a face must always have been felt. That countenance could never have stiffened into such a hard stony expression if it had been informed by any warmth of heart. Those bright-gray eyes could never have shone so icily after a youth full of the joys and sorrows which every susceptible kindly nature must experience. Smooth bands of hair were laid above a brow still fair, and the rest of the head was covered by a spotless muslin cap. This cap and a black dress of the plainest cut with tight sleeves and narrow white cuffs at the wrists gave a puritanical air to her whole appearance.

Now and then a side door opened, and the wrinkled face of the old cook peeped through the crack.

“Not yet, Frederika l” said Frau Hellwig, each time in a monotonous voice, without looking up, but her needles flew more quickly, and the thin lips were compressed with a peculiar expression of self-control. The old cook knew perfectly well that ‘Madame’ was impatient — she liked to aggravate the mood — and at last said in an almost tearful tone as she peeped into the room :

“Ah, gracious Heaven! where can the master be? The roast will be spoiled, and when shall I be thro'ugh with my work ?”

This remark did her no good, for Frau Hellwig never suffered her subordinates to express any opinion in her presence, but the old servant retired with her reproof, very well satisfied, for she had seen the proof of her power in the wrinkle that had appeared between Madame’s eyebrows.

At last the street door was opened as the full, deep sound of the bell rang through the house.

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“Ah, what a pretty noise!” cried the clear voice of a child outside.

Frau Hellwig laid the stocking she was knitting in a basket at her side, and arose. The impatient expression of her features was succeeded by one of astonishment, as she looked across the light of the lamp toward the door. Some one outside was rubbing his feet long and carefully upon the mat — that was her husband.

Immediately afterward he entered the room and ap proached his wife with rather uncertain steps, for he carried in his arms a little girl about four years old.

“ I have brought you home something, Brigitta,” he said, coaxingly, — but he stopped short as he met his wife’s eye.

“Well?” she asked, without moving.

“I bring you a poor child ”

“Whose is it?” she coldly interrupted.

“ She is the child of the unfortunate man who has just lost his wife so distressingly. Dear Brigitta, receive the little one kindly.”

“But only for this night?”

“No ; I have given the father a sacred promise that the child shall be brought up in my house.”

These words were spoken quickly and firmly, as though the speaker wished them well over.

The white face of hi9 wife was suddenly coloured by a deep flush, and a sarcastic expression wreathed her lips. She left her place and came slowly forward, saying, as she touched her forehead with malicious significance:

“I am really afraid, Hellwig, that you are not quite right here. To require of me that I should accede to such a proposal, that I should convert my house, which I endeavour to render worthy to be a temple of the Lord, into an asylum for players’ children, implies something more in you than mere folly.”

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Hellwig started, and a most unusual flash sparkled from his kindly eyes.

“You have deceived yourself grossly, Hellwig,” she continued. “ 1 shall not receive beneath my roof this child of sin, the child of a lost creature overtaken in her iniquity by the visible wrath of the Lord.”

“ Indeed 1 is that your view of it, Brigitta ? Let me ask you then what iniquity your brother was guilty of for which he .was killed by a stray shot while hunting? He was pursuing his own pleasure, while this poor woman died while fulfilling a hard duty.”

The flush suddenly left the cheeks of his wife, and she became ashy pale. She stood silent for a moment, with her astonished eyes resting upon her husband, who had so suddenly developed such an amount of energy in her presence.

In the mean while the little girl whom Hellwig had set down upon the floor, had taken off her pink hood, and ex posed to view a charming head covered with thick chestnut curls. The little cloak too had fallen off. How stern and hard Madame’s heart must have been not to have taken the child at once to her arms 1 Was she entirely blind to the inexpressible grace of the little figure tripping about the room upon the prettiest feet in the world, gazing at the new surroundings with childish wonder ? The rosy shoulders contrasted charmingly with the light-blue woollen dress, the delicate embroidery of which had perhaps been the last work of loving hands now cold in death.

But the tasteful dress, the careless, lovely flow of the curls upon brow and neck, and the graceful movements Oi the child, only excited Madame’s dislike.

“ I will not have this puppet an hour in my presence I” she said suddenly without returning a syllable to her husband’s striking reproof. “The forward little thing, with B 2*

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its curled hair and bare shoulders, has no place in our discreet serious household — it would be opening our doors to all levity and dissipation. Hellwig, you will not cast this apple of discord into our midst, but will see that the child is taken hence to where she rightly belongs.”

She opened the door which led to the kitchen and called in the cook.

“Frederika, put this child’s hood and cloak on,” she said, pointing to the little garments upon the floor.

“ Go back instantly to your kitchen !” said Hellwig in a loud angry voice, motioning her to the door.

The wondering servant vanished.

44 You drive me to extremities by your sternness and cruelty, Brigitta!” cried her angry husband. “Ascribe it to yourself and your own narrow prejudices if I now say to you what otherwise had never passed my lips. Whose is this house which, as you falsely declare, you have tried to constitute a temple of the Lord ? Mine ! Brigitta, you came to this house a poor orphan — in the lapse of years you have forgotten it — and, alas that I must say it 1 the more labour you have spent upon this temple, as you call it, the oftener that the words God and Heaven, and Christian Love and Humility are upon your lips, the more hard, self-righteous, and uncharitable do you become ! This house is mine, I pay for the bread which we eat, and I declare to you now that this child shall stay where she is. And if your heart is too narrow and loveless to feel a mother’s tenderness for the poor little orphan, I can at least require from my wife that she shall, in conformity with my will, afford her the requisite feminine protection. If 3 T ou do not wish to lose all authority with our servants, give the necessary orders now for the reception of the child, otherwise I shall give them myself.”

Not another word did Madame’s white lips utter. Any other woman would at such a moment of utter helplessness have resorted to a woman’s last weapon— tears, but that relieving fountain seemed dried for those cold eyes. Her entire silence, her freezing manner, enveloped her whole form like a suit of armour, and struck a chill into all around her. She took up a basket of keys, and, still silent, left the room.