The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11. Francke Kuno

The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11 - Francke Kuno


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replied, "My poor child!"

      "I am no longer your poor child, if you treat me so."

      "I fear you never have been my child at heart."

      "And if I have never been, who is to blame for it but you? Did you ever show me the love which a child is justified in demanding of a father? Have you ever done anything to make the life you gave me worth while? Did my industry ever wrest from you a word of praise? Did what I accomplished ever draw from you a word of recognition? Did you not rather do everything to humiliate me in my own eyes, to make me smaller than I really was, to make me dislike my art, to make me feel that in your eyes I was not and never could be an artist? Am I to blame that you never considered all this anything better than a big play house, which you bought for me to dally and play away my useless time in? And now – now you come to wrest from me my love, simply because your pride demands it, simply because it offends you that such a useless, lowly creature can ever have a will of its own, can wish something different from what you wish? But you are mistaken, Father! I am, in spite of all that, your daughter. You can cast me off, you can drive me into misery as you can crush me with a hammer, because you are the stronger; my love you cannot tear away from me!"

      "I can, and I will!"

      "Try it!"

      "The attempt and success are one. Do you wish to become the mistress of Lieutenant von Werben?"

      "What has that question to do with my love?"

      "Then I will put it in another form: Have you the courage to wish to be like those wretched foolish creatures who give themselves up to a man, out of wedlock or in wedlock – for wedlock does not change matters – for any other prize than the love which they take in exchange for their love? Von Werben has nothing to give in exchange; von Werben does not love you."

      Ferdinande laughed with scorn. – "And he came to you, knowing that you hated him and his whole family with a blind hatred, in order to tell you this?"

      "He could not come; his father had to do the difficult errand for him, for which he had not the courage, for which his father had to enforce the permission of his son."

      "That is – "

      "It is not a lie! By my oath! And still more: He did not even go of his own will to his father; he would not have done it today, he would perchance never have done it, if his father had been content with asking him whether it was true, what the sparrows chatter from the roof and the blackmailers wrote to the unsuspecting father anonymously, that Lieutenant von Werben has a sweetheart beyond the garden-wall or – how do I know!"

      "Show me the letters!"

      "Here is one of them; the General will be glad to let you have the other, no doubt; I do not think the son will lay claim to it."

      Ferdinande read the letter.

      She had considered it certain that Antonio alone could have been the betrayer; but this letter was not by Antonio – could not be by him. Then other eyes than the passionate jealous eyes of the Italian had looked into the secret. Her cheeks, still pale, flared with outraged modesty. – "Who wrote the letter?"

      "Roller; he has not even disguised his hand to the General."

      She gave the letter back to her father quickly, and pressed her forehead as if she wished to remove the traces of emotion. "Oh, the disgrace, the disgrace!" she muttered; "oh, the disgust! the disgust!"

      The dismissed inspector had taken up his residence in her family till Ferdinande had noticed that he was audaciously beginning to pay attention to her; she had made use of a pretense of a disagreement, which he had had with her father, first to strain the social relations, then to drop them. And the bold repulsive eyes of the man – "Oh, the disgrace! oh, the disgrace! oh, the disgust!" she muttered continually.

      She paced with long strides up and down, then went hurriedly to the writing-desk which stood at one end of the large room, wrote hastily a few lines, and then took the sheet to her father, who had remained standing motionless in the same spot. "Read!"

      And he read:

      My father wishes to make a sacrifice of his convictions for me, and consents to my union with Lieutenant von Werben. But, for reasons which my pride forbids me to record, I renounce this union once for all, as a moral impossibility, and release Lieutenant von Werben from all responsibility which he may consider he has toward me. This decision, which I have reached with full freedom, is irrevocable; I shall consider any attempt on the part of Lieutenant von Werben to change it as an insult.

Signed, Ferdinande Schmidt.

      "Is that correct?"

      He nodded. "Shall I send him this?"

      "In my name."

      She turned away from him and, seizing a modeling stick, went to her work. Her father folded the sheet and went toward the door. Then he stopped. She did not look up, apparently entirely absorbed in her work. His eyes rested upon her with deep pain – "And yet!" he murmured – "Yet!"

      He had closed the door behind him and was walking slowly across the court through whose broad empty space the rain-storm howled.

      "Empty and desolate!" he murmured. – "All is empty and desolate! That is the end of the story for me and for her!"

      "Uncle!"

      He started from his sullen brooding; Reinhold was hastily coming from the house toward him, bareheaded, excited.

      "Uncle, for Heaven's sake! – The General has just left me – I know all. – What did you decide?"

      "What we had to."

      "It will be the death of Ferdinande!"

      "Better that than a dishonorable life!"

      He strode past Reinhold into the house. Reinhold did not dare to follow him; he knew it would be useless.

      [Giraldi and Valerie have just returned from Rome and put up at the Hotel Royal in Berlin. Valerie writes her brother, the General, a note, which Else answers. Valerie thinks the friendly answer a trap. Giraldi has another interview with Privy Councilor Schieler, "the wonderworker," about the Warnow estates and about enlisting the interests of Count Golm. The Count snaps eagerly at the bait held out by the company – namely, the sale of the Warnow estates through him to the company. Giraldi plans to have Golm get Else's part of the estate by marrying her. Giraldi discovers that Antonio is the original of the "Shepherd Boy" in the exhibition, and identifies him as the son of himself and Valerie. Justus had discovered Antonio in Italy and brought him home with him to Berlin. Antonio remains with Justus to be near Ferdinande. Jealousy leads Antonio to the discovery of the relation between Ferdinande and Ottomar. Ottomar's betrothal to Carla and Else's relations with Reinhold are touched upon. Giraldi goes out to receive His Excellency, tossing a few sweet phrases to Valerie, enough to show her that she is still in his grip, and that she will never be able to break his spell over her. Else calls and finds her in this frame of mind.

      Aunt Sidonie calls to see Valerie and chatters long about the family and the betrothal of Ottomar and Carla. Else has thus been able to reestablish friendly relations between Valerie and her father's family.]

      Giraldi had not intended to stay away so long. It was to have been only a formal call, a return of the one he had made on His Excellency yesterday morning – but that loquacious gentleman still had much to say about the things they thought they had settled yesterday – much to add – even when he was standing at the door with one hand on the knob, and the other, which held his hat, passing before his half-blinded eyes, covered by gray spectacles, in an effort to shield them from the light that came in too brightly from the window opposite.

      "It seems foolish to try to warn the wisest of men," said he with a cynical smile which, on his strange face, turned into a tragic grimace.

      "Especially when the warning comes from the most courageous of men," answered Giraldi.

      "And yet," continued His Excellency, "even he is wise – you underestimate his wisdom; even he is courageous – almost to foolhardiness. He gives proof of it every day. People like him, I think, cannot be appreciated par distance at all; at least half of the charm which they have for their associates is in their personality.


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