The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11. Francke Kuno
of engaging himself to the daughter of an ultraradical Democrat; on the contrary the undersigned can picture to himself in advance the painful surprise which your Honor must feel on reading these lines; but, your Honor, the undersigned has also been a soldier and knows what a soldier's honor is – as he for his part has respected honor his whole life long – and he could no longer look on and see this mischievous machination carried on behind the back of such a brave and deserving officer by him, who more than any other, appears to be called to be the guardian of this honor.
"The undersigned believes that, after the above, there is no need of a special assurance of the high esteem with which he is to your Honor and your Honor's entire family
The General allowed his son some minutes; now that Ottomar still stared motionless before him – only his teeth bit nervously against his pale lower lip – he remained standing, separated by the width of the room, and asked: "Have you an idea who wrote this letter?"
"No."
"Have you the least suspicion who is the lady in question – ?"
"For Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Ottomar in anguish.
"I beg pardon; but I am in the painful situation of having to ask, since you seem inclined not to give the information which I expected."
"What shall I explain in the matter?" asked Ottomar with bitter scorn. "It is as it is."
"Brief and to the point," replied the General, "only not just so clear. There still remain some points which are obscure – to me, at least. Have you anything to object to the lady – I may so express myself?"
"I should have to request you to do so otherwise."
"Then have you anything, even the slightest thing – excepting external circumstances, and of that later – which would prevent you from bringing her into Else's company? On your honor!"
"On my honor, no!"
"Do you know anything at all, even the slightest, concerning her family, excepting external circumstances, which would and must prevent another officer, who is not in your exceptional position, from connecting himself with the family? On your honor!"
Ottomar hesitated a moment before answering. He knew absolutely nothing touching Philip's honor; he maintained toward him the native instinct of a gentleman who, in his eyes, was not a gentleman; but it seemed to him cowardice to wish to conceal himself behind this feeling.
"No!" said he solemnly.
"Have you acquainted the lady with your circumstances?"
"In a general way, yes."
"Among other things, that you are disinherited as soon as you marry a lady who is not of noble family?"
"No."
"That was a little imprudent; nevertheless I understand it. But in general, you said, she does understand the difficulties which will accompany a union between her and you in the most favorable case? Did you have her understand that you neither wish nor are in a position to remove the difficulties?"
"No."
"But led her to believe, perhaps assured her, that you could and would remove them?"
"Yes."
"Then you will marry the lady?"
Ottomar quivered like a steed when his rider drives the spurs into its flanks. He knew that would be, must be, the outcome of it; nevertheless, now that it was put into words, his pride revolted against any one forcing his heart, even his father. Was he to be the weaker one throughout – to follow where he did not wish to go – to allow his path to be prescribed by others?
"Not by any means!" he exclaimed.
"How? Not by any means?" returned the General. "I surely have not to do here with an obstinate boy, who breaks up his plaything because it does not amuse him any longer, but with a man of honor, an officer, who has the habit of keeping his word promptly?"
Ottomar felt that he must offer a reason – the shadow of a reason – something or other.
"I think," he said, "that I cannot decide to take a step in a direction which would put me into the position of necessarily doing an injustice in another direction."
"I think I understand your position," said the General. "It is not pleasant; but when one is so many sided he should be prepared for such things. Besides, I owe you the justice to declare that I am beginning to inform myself, now, at least, as to your conduct toward Miss von Wallbach, and I fail to find the consistency in that conduct which, to be sure, you have unfortunately never led me to expect. According to my conception, it was your duty to retire, once for all, the moment your heart was seriously engaged in another direction. In our close relations with the Wallbachs it would, indeed, have been very difficult and unpleasant, but a finality; one may be deceived in his feelings, and society accepts such changes of heart and their practical consequences if all is done at the right time and in the right manner. How you will make this retreat now without more serious embarrassment I do not know; I only know that it must be done. Or would you have pursued the wrong to the limit, and bound yourself in this case as you did in that?"
"I am not bound to Miss von Wallbach in any way except as everybody has seen, by no word which everybody has not heard, or at least might have heard; and my attachment for her has been so wavering from the first moment on – "
"Like your conduct. Let us not speak of it further, then; let us consider, rather, the situation into which you have brought yourself and consider the consequences. The first is that you have forfeited your diplomatic career – with a burgher woman as your wife, you cannot appear at St. Petersburg or any other court; the second is that you must have yourself transferred to another regiment, as you could not avoid the most objectionable conflicts and collisions in your own regiment, with a Miss Schmidt as your wife; third, that if the lady doesn't bring you property, or, at least, a very considerable sum, the arrangement of your external life in the future must be essentially different from what it has been heretofore, and, I fear, one that may be little in accord with your taste; the fourth consequence is that you by this union – even though it should be as honorable in a burgher moral sense as I wish and hope – by the simple letter of the will lose your claim to your inheritance – I mention this here once more only for the sake of completeness."
Ottomar knew that his father had not said everything, that he had generously kept silent about the twenty-five thousand thalers of debts which he had paid for him in the course of the last few years – that is, his entire private fortune except a very small residue – and that he could not pay back this money to his father in the near future as he had intended to do, perhaps would never be able to pay it back. His father was now dependent upon his salary, ultimately upon his pension; and he had repeatedly spoken recently of wishing to retire from the service!
His glance, which had been directed in his confusion toward the floor, now passed shyly over to his father, who was pacing slowly to and fro through the room. Was it the light? Was it that he saw him differently today? His father appeared to him to be ten years older – for the first time seemed to him an old man. With the feeling of love and reverence, which he had always cherished for him, was mingled one almost of pity; he wanted to fall at his feet, embrace his knees and exclaim, "Forgive me for the mistakes I have made!" But he felt riveted to the spot; his limbs would not move; his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth; he could say nothing but – "You still have Else."
The General had stopped in front of the life-size portraits of his father and mother, which hung on the wall – a superior officer in the uniform of the Wars of the Liberation, and a lady, still young, in the dress of the time, whom Else strikingly resembled about the forehead and eyes.
"Who knows?" he said.
He passed his hand over his forehead.
"It is late in the night, two o'clock, and the morrow will have its troubles, too. Will you be good enough to put out the gas lights above you? Have you a light out there?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Very well! Good-night!"
He had extinguished one of the lamps in front of the mirror, and taken