The Initials. Baroness Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus
to wife, in order to dispel ennui, was a proof of great discernment,” observed Hamilton, ironically.
“Rather say, most unpardonable effrontery,” replied Zedwitz, growing very red.
“A man of his discrimination,” continued Hamilton, provokingly, “must be aware that Crescenz is but a bad substitute for her sister; Hildegarde, too, would have suited him much better; she would have kept him in order by——” Here he waved his hand significantly.
“How you harp on that subject, Hamilton!”
“I shall never mention it again if it distresses you. I was really not aware——”
“Pshaw!” he exclaimed, impatiently, turning away.
“As to Crescenz, poor girl,” continued Hamilton, “I really pity her. Such a fearful difference of age and person makes it an odious sacrifice!”
“Not so much as you think, perhaps,” said Zedwitz, quietly; “Stultz is a good-hearted man, and will let her do whatever she pleases. You will see how soon she will be satisfied with her lot in life! Perhaps even before her marriage!”
“It is at least to be hoped so,” observed Hamilton, dryly.
“The trousseau will soon occupy her mind completely, and while exhibiting it to her friends and receiving their congratulations, she will learn to like the cause of all the preparations, and end, perhaps, by fancying herself a singularly fortunate person!”
Crescenz entered the garden while they were speaking, and blushed deeply as she passed them. Hamilton felt the blood mount to his temples, and turned away that Zedwitz might not observe it.
“This is the beginning of the comedy,” cried the latter, after a moment’s pause, touching Hamilton’s arm to make him look round. He turned, and, through the foliage of the arbour, saw Major Stultz clasping a massive gold bracelet on Crescenz’s arm. She appeared for a moment embarrassed and shy; then played with a padlock or heart, or some such thing which dangled from the bracelet, and finally she looked up at him and smiled.
“She is a thorough-bred coquette!” exclaimed Hamilton, indignantly. “Zedwitz, I throw down the gauntlet, and enter the list as your rival. I prefer running the chance of occasional chastisement from the fair hand of Hildegarde, to having anything more to do with such a silly, vain creature as this Crescenz seems to be.”
“Seems to be, Hamilton—and only seems. The circumstances must also be taken into consideration. She must marry this Stultz, whether she like him or not. That he is not the ideal of a girl of her age, one can easily imagine. He suspects this, perhaps, and wisely commences by giving her a handsome present. That is probably the first gold bracelet she has ever had clasped on her arm. She is very young—childish, if you will—but neither silly nor very vain for feeling a little pleasure, and honestly showing what she feels. I see nothing reprehensible in her conduct.”
“Had you but heard her last night telling me how unhappy she was!”
Zedwitz shrugged his shoulders.
“How she talked of his forty-six years, and declared her hatred of red-faced men!”
Zedwitz laughed.
“She mentioned, also, that her sister had the same antipathy.”
“Sorry to hear it,” cried Zedwitz, picking up a handful of flat pebbles and pitching them one by one with considerable skill into the lake, watching them skimming along the surface, with an interest that half provoked Hamilton.
“You seem to have a thorough contempt for my rivalship by daylight.”
“What do you mean? Did you not tell me last night that Crescenz suited you exactly, as you only wished to amuse yourself for a time?”
“Such were my intentions. May I ask what were yours? Or rather, what are yours?”
“Oh, certainly you may ask, but you must forgive my not answering you, as I have not the most remote idea what I may be induced to do. I shall most probably be guided altogether by circumstances.”
He put an end to the conversation by walking towards the arbour, where the arrangements for the next day’s party were soon made—Major Stultz not venturing, before Crescenz, to say a word about storm or danger.
They left Seon at a very early hour the next morning in two carriages. Madame Rosenberg, as usual, took her three boys with her, in order, as she said, to keep them out of mischief. Fritz, the eldest, on finding himself separated from her, immediately found amusement in climbing from the carriage to the box, and from the box into the carriage again, causing Hildegarde, who had charge of him, such anxiety lest he should fall on the wheel that she could scarcely remain a moment quiet. Zedwitz assisted her so sedulously that he did not perceive an attack which Gustle directly commenced on the buttons of his coat with a blunt penknife; and Hamilton, alone unoccupied, half listened to the desultory conversation of his companions, while admiring in silence the scenery, than which nothing could be more beautiful to an English eye. The fine old trees in the domain-like meadows which were bounded by extensive woods; the splendid lake, appearing at intervals through openings which seemed made as if to show to advantage its extent, and the magnificent range of mountains beyond. The rippling of the water on the sandy shore brought at last such a crowd of home-recollections to his mind that he leaned back, forgetful of all around him; Fritz’s irritating gymnastics, Gustle’s mischievous pertinacity, Hildegarde’s angelic face, and Zedwitz’s amusingly enamoured expression of countenance! The sudden stopping of the carriage made him once more alive to everything going on about him. The little maneuvres of Madame Rosenberg to place Major Stultz near Crescenz; the determination with which she insisted on Hildegarde’s sitting between two of her brothers; the third she gave in charge to Zedwitz, and Hamilton had the honour of being reserved for herself.
Hildegarde and Crescenz were, for the first time in their lives, in a boat, and neither of them was at her ease. Crescenz exhibited her fear by various little half-suppressed screams, sometimes catching the side of the boat, sometimes the arm of Major Stultz. Hildegarde sat perfectly quiet, not venturing to look to the right or left, her colour varying with every movement of her unruly neighbours, who amused themselves by adding to the fears of their sisters by balancing the boat from side to side.
They landed first on the Frauen Insel (Woman’s Island), hoping to be allowed to see the nunnery. While waiting for the necessary permission to enter, they wandered through the churchyard and into the church.
On the appearance of a tall, haggard, austere-looking man, in the long garment of a priest, Zedwitz advanced towards him and begged admittance for the ladies, the scowling countenance convincing him at once that for him there was no chance whatever. He was volubly seconded by Madame Rosenberg, who, with that want of tact not unusual on the part of uneducated women, actually attempted to be jocular with the awful looking personage; but neither the polished address of Zedwitz nor the jocularity of Madame Rosenberg could prevail. He refused without ceremony, and in very few words told them that without bringing a permission from the Ordinariat in Munich they could not be admitted; the entrance of strangers disturbed the nuns, and was against the rules of the convent.
They turned away, Crescenz observing timidly that she would not like to be a nun where there was such a severe confessor.
“I hope you have no thoughts of being a nun anywhere,” observed the Major.
“I should have no objection to such a confessor,” said Hildegarde; “I rather prefer one who has something imposing in his appearance; it gives me the idea that he is above the weaknesses of human nature.”
“What nonsense you talk, Hildegarde!” cried Madame Rosenberg, with evident irritation. “It is only a spirit of contradiction which makes you pretend to admire a man who has been so disagreeable and uncivil to us all.”
Hildegarde walked more slowly, and Zedwitz, who had been lingering behind, immediately joined her.
“So you like stern-looking men!” he observed, in a low voice.