Part 15 (1/2)
”Ah, I have succeeded in surprising you, grandpapa, haven't I? I came up the back road, but the wheels stuck so in the mud that I had to get out and walk part of the way. I came in through the garden and by the back door--well, Babette, what is it?”
”Fraulein, the carrier is still waiting with the satchel,” Babette had just discovered that a stranger was on the premises. ”Shall I give him money for a drink and let him go?”
The young man, thus designated as the carrier, still stood, satchel in hand, awaiting Marietta's pleasure. Dr. Volkmar turned at once, and recognizing who it was, cried in a frightened tone:
”Good heavens--Herr von Eschenhagen!”
”Do you know the gentleman?” asked Marietta, without any especial interest or surprise, for her grandfather, being the only physician in the region, of course knew every one.
”To be sure I know him. Babette, take the valise at once. I beg your pardon, sir. I did not know that you were acquainted with my granddaughter.”
”Why, we never saw each other before to-day,” explained Marietta. ”But, grandpapa, will you not introduce me to this gentleman?”
”Certainly, my child. Herr Willibald von Eschenhagen of Burgsdorf--”
”Toni's betrothed!” interrupted Marietta delighted. ”O, how comical that we should meet each other for the first time in the mud. If I had known who it was I would not have treated you so cavalierly, Herr von Eschenhagen. I let you walk behind me as though you were a veritable porter. But why didn't you speak?”
Willibald didn't speak now, but looked stupidly at the little hand which was extended to him. He felt he must do or say something, and as it was an impossibility for him to speak, he grasped the little hand in his great, brawny palm and pressed and shook it vigorously.
”Oh!” cried Marietta as she drew back hastily. ”You have a terrible grip, Herr von Eschenhagen. I believe you have broken my finger.”
Willibald, glowing from embarra.s.sment and mortification, was about to stammer an apology, when the doctor came to his rescue by inviting him to come in. This invitation he accepted without speaking, and followed his host into the house. Marietta took the princ.i.p.al part in the conversation. She gave a very amusing account of her meeting with Willibald. Now that she knew he was her dear Toni's lover, she treated him with all the familiarity and freedom of an old friend. She asked question after question about Toni and the head forester, and her tongue went on without rest or intermission.
To the young man who sat so silent and listened so eagerly, the girl's pleasant, bird-like chatter was quite bewildering. He had met the doctor on the previous day at Furstenstein and had heard some talk of a certain Marietta who was a friend of his fiancee. Who or what she was, or from whence she came, he did not know, for Toni had not been very communicative on that occasion.
”And to think of this excited child leaving you standing at the back door, while she came in to play and sing to decoy me from my study,”
said Dr. Volkmar shaking his head. ”That was very impolite, Marietta, very impolite indeed.”
The young girl laughed merrily, and shook her short, curly hair.
”O, Herr von Eschenhagen has not taken it amiss. But as he only heard a bar or two of your favorite song, I think the least I can do is to sing it all for him now.”
And without waiting for an answer, she seated herself at the piano, and again the clear, silvery voice with its bird-like notes, broke forth on the evening air. She sang an old, simple ballad, but with such expression, such pathos and sweetness, that a bright spring sunlight seemed to enter and flood the little rooms of the old house. But no suns.h.i.+ne was half so bright as the joy which lit up the face of the old white-headed man, upon whose forehead lay the shadows of years and sorrow, and on whose cheeks care had pressed deep furrows. With a half-pathetic, happy smile he listened to the old familiar melody, which spoke to his heart like a voice from his own lost youth.
But he was not the only attentive listener. The master of Burgsdorf, who had fallen asleep amid the thunders of a military march, and who had felt himself entirely in accord with Tom when she declared music to be stupid, listened almost breathlessly to the enchanting strains. Such music was a revelation to him. He sat, leaning forward in his chair, as if fearful of losing a single note, with his eyes fastened upon the pretty maiden, who, singing with all her soul, moved her little head backward and forward with a graceful movement as she warbled forth her sweet song. When it was ended Willibald leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, and drew his hand across his eyes.
”My little singing bird,” said Dr. Volkmar tenderly, as he rose and leaned over his grandchild and kissed her forehead.
”Well, grandpapa,” she said teasingly, ”has my voice lost anything within the last few months? But I fear it does not please Herr von Eschenhagen. He has no word of commendation for me.”
She turned to Willibald with the a.s.sumed sulky look of a spoiled child.
He rose now and came over to her.
A slight flush diffused his face, and in his eyes, usually so expressionless, shone a new light.
”Oh, it was very beautiful!”
The young singer might be forgiven for having expected something more then these few embarra.s.sed words; but she felt the deep, honest admiration which they conveyed, and understood at once that her song had deeply impressed the taciturn stranger. She smiled pleasantly as she replied: