Read Ebook: The Breaking of the Storm Vol. II. by Spielhagen Friedrich Stephenson S E A H Translator
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"That is capital."
Ottomar had during the last few words completely turned his back on Philip; he now turned round.
"It will not be quite so lively as it was the other day at your house, my dear Schmidt; it was quite delightful. I heard from Golm that there was no end of a row afterwards, and the ladies were quite off their heads. So sorry I could not come; but I had a fearful headache; and headache, champagne, and pretty girls I have never yet been able to stand in that order, though in the reverse order I have suffered from them only too often."
"Bertalda was in despair," said Philip, who was inwardly greatly irritated at the off-hand manner of the young guardsman.
"Dear little thing!" said Ottomar, shrugging his shoulders. "She says just what comes into her head. She is a jolly little girl. I hope Golm will behave well to her. But is not Herr Anders' studio in this courtyard? His Satyr with the young Bacchus--or is it Cupid?--has made a tremendous sensation. I have never been in a sculptor's studio; would it be too much, my dear fellow, to ask you to get me admitted?"
Reinhold was quite willing. Philip remarked carelessly that if the other gentlemen had no objection he would take the opportunity of inquiring about the four marble statues which he had ordered of Anders for his staircase, and of which two must be finished by this time. He had inwardly hoped that Ottomar would be impressed by "the four marble statues." Ottomar did not even appear to have heard him. He walked on in front, with his arm in Reinhold's, to whom he spoke in so low a tone that Philip could not hear what he said, probably was not meant to hear.
And Ferdinanda was also dreaming the sweet, delicious dream of happy love, while she chatted and laughed with the others; only she never forgot or mistook the danger of the situation. From Reinhold, Justus, and Philip she feared nothing; a little prudence, a little clever acting, would suffice to protect her from any shadow of suspicion as far as they were concerned. But what prudence, however cunning, what acting, however clever, would protect her from Antonio's gleaming black eyes? It was true, he had returned to his work in the farthest corner of the room, and hammered and chiselled away, apparently quite unconcerned with anything that passed around him. But this very quietness, which was only apparent, alarmed her a thousand times more than if his glittering eyes had been continually upon her. What he did not see he heard. She knew the incredible sharpness of his senses; if he did not look round before, he would do so at the moment which she saw approaching. And that moment had come. Ottomar, thinking himself safe, approached her and whispered a word that she did not understand, so low was it breathed. But what matter? She read it in his eyes, on his lips: "I must speak to you alone--in your studio!"
But how was it to be managed? The moments were passing; there was so much to be seen in Justus's studio, and the talk seemed endless. There were the four life-sized allegorical figures for Philip's staircase.
"Trade, a bearded man of Oriental appearance and dress, calling to mind Nathan on his journey home. Industry, as you will perceive, rather vaguely represented by a female figure of the present day, with some half-dozen emblems, which may mean anything you please--all possible things--exactly as Industry herself makes everything possible out of all possible things. This Greek youth, gentlemen, with his winged sandals and hat, may be recognised at any distance as the genius of railroads, as Hermes, if he had lived long enough, would undoubtedly have been appointed Postmaster-General in Olympus. The tall, beautiful, stately lady, in the dress of a Nuremberg lady of rank of the fifteenth century, will be recognised by the mural crown on her head and the square and level in her hand, as patroness of architecture--a neat allusion to the suburban streets which the worthy possessor has had to pull down, in order to build for himself in the middle of the town the house the vestibule of which these masterpieces are to adorn."
"You are responsible for at least half a street, Anders!" cried Philip, laughing.
"Ah!" said Justus, "that is the reason then that the lady looks so gloomy and melancholy under her mural crown! I could not imagine what was the meaning of the expression that, without my intending it--and even against my will--would come out clearer and clearer; the good lady has a pang of conscience which I ought to have had! Will any one say now that we do not bestow our best heart's blood on our creations?"
"This last figure strikes me as being particularly beautiful, if I may venture to make an observation on a matter on which I am profoundly ignorant," said Ottomar, with a glance at Ferdinanda, who strikingly resembled the lady with the mural crown, both in figure and in the haughty expression of the features.
Justus, who had caught the glance, laughed. "You are not so ignorant as you pretend, Herr von Werben! You appear to know very well where we get our inspirations. But that you may see that other people can not only inspire forms, but also create very beautiful ones--may we, Fr?ulein Ferdinanda?" and Justus pointed to the door of her studio.
"Certainly," said Ferdinanda, while her heart beat fast. Now or never was the time. Antonio had not looked round; perhaps he had not heard. It might be possible to go in with Ottomar while the others lingered behind. And so it happened. Philip and Reinhold were disputing about one of the symbols assigned to Trade; Philip, annoyed and irritated by the contradiction that met him on all sides to-day, in a loud, excited voice. Justus, however, was following her and Ottomar closely. As she got to the door, she turned and whispered to him, "Philip is unbearable to-day; do try and make peace between them?"
Justus answered, "Oh! it means nothing," but turned back.
Ferdinanda entered quickly, followed by Ottomar. She walked a few steps to the left, till she was quite concealed from those in the other studio. Her arms encircled him, while she felt his arms around her. Their lips met, while he tasted the sweetness of her first kiss.
"This evening?"
"As you will."
"Eight o'clock, in the Bellevue Gardens!"
"As you will."
"Darling!"
"Darling!"
They did not venture on a second kiss, fortunately, as Justus appeared, bringing with him, for greater security, the disputants.
They stood before the "Reaper," while Justus explained that it had been begun in the spring and intended at first for a pendant to the kneeling "Roman Shepherd Boy" in the Exhibition--a girl, who, in the solitude of her maize field, deep in the Campagna, hears the Ave Maria ring out from the neighbouring convent, and who, laying aside her sickle and her sheaf, folds her hands for a moment in prayer; that the figure was nearly completed, attitude, gesture and expression, all quite admirable, and would have done honour to the greatest sculptors; that the greatest sculptors in Berlin had expressed their admiration; the Milanese Enrico Braga, who had been there on a visit in the summer, was quite overpowered. "And now, gentlemen, I ask you whether it is possible for any woman, even the most gifted, to carry out persistently a clearly defined aim! The statue is almost finished, only a few touches are wanted, but those touches are not given; we are not in the vein, we will wait for a more favourable day. One, two months pass, the day does not come; the clay dries up in the most unfortunate manner, breaks and splits everywhere--we have lost all inclination for the work. I had made up my mind, at the risk of the deepest displeasure, to have the 'Reaper' secretly cast at night before it quite fell to pieces; when about four weeks ago, one fine morning, I entered the studio--the sweet, dreamy face, was changed into a Medusa head, whose terrible eyes, under the hand that had in the meantime been laid on her brow, stared into the distance, apparently expecting some one. I should not like to be that some one. Would you, Captain?"
Reinhold nodded to the sculptor; the statue had made exactly the same curiously mingled impression upon him, and he had almost expressed it in the same words. He said, smiling: "No, indeed!"
"Put it to the vote!" exclaimed Justus eagerly. "Would you, Herr von Werben?"
Ottomar did not answer. The work was begun in the spring; in the spring he had exchanged the first tender love-tokens with Ferdinanda; then had ensued a long, weary interval, during which she had altogether avoided him; and though four weeks ago she had given way to his imploring glances and resumed again their secret understanding, it had acquired in the interval a totally different character; a gloomy, passionate character, from which even he sometimes shrank. Was this the image of her love? Was it he who was here waited for?
All this passed through his brain with the speed of lightning, but his fixed glance had betrayed something of what was in his mind.
"Why say so much about it?" exclaimed Ferdinanda; "a work that must be put to the vote is not worthy to exist."
She had seized the heavy mallet which lay on the table amongst her other tools and swung it towards the statue. Justus caught hold of her arm.
"Are you mad, Fr?ulein Ferdinanda? Cannot you understand a joke? I swear to you that it was only a joke! That I admire it even more than the former one! That you have surpassed yourself and me."
Justus was quite pale with excitement; the others hastened to assure her that they were quite of the master's opinion, that they thought the statue surpassingly beautiful, that they did not wish to see one feature altered. Ottomar was foremost with his praises, and his beautiful eyes entreated for forgiveness; but Ferdinanda was not to be appeased.
"It is too late," she said, "the sentence has gone forth, and I am too proud, I confess, to accept praise which comes as an afterthought. Calm yourself, Anders; I will not destroy the statue, but I will never finish it, that I swear!"
"And I am to be calm?" exclaimed Justus; "may I break stones in the road if I do, if I--what is it, Antonio?"
Antonio had entered, whispered a few words to Anders and then retired; as he went out he cast a gloomy look at the statue of the "Reaper."
"A gentleman from the committee," said Anders, "there is always somebody coming; they will drive me wild. I will be back directly."
He hurried into his studio; Ottomar suggested that they had already troubled the young lady too long: he expected that Ferdinanda would press them to stay, but she did not; he bowed. "I hope, Ferdinanda," said Reinhold, "that you will not distress us, I mean all of us, by carrying out your threat and leaving the statue unfinished."
"If you knew me better," said Ferdinanda, "you would know that I always keep my word to myself and to others."
These last words she had, as if accidentally, addressed to Ottomar, and accompanied it with a glance which Ottomar understood and returned. Whatever became of the "Reaper," she would come that evening.
The door had closed behind the gentlemen; Ferdinanda bolted it and then turned slowly round. Her fixed glance rested first on the spot where she had kissed Ottomar for the first time, and then passed on to the "Reaper." Was it an effect of light, or was it that others' words had first made it plain to her what she had produced? A shudder passed through her.
"I keep my word when I have given it--but I wish I had not given it!"
Ferdinanda had long ago emancipated herself from all control on the part of her aunt. She was accustomed to go and come as she pleased; the only point on which it was necessary to be attentive was punctuality at meals. Her father was very particular about this, only Aunt Rikchen declared, in order that he might worry her out of her five senses if she ever happened to be delayed by her household duties or other matters, as could hardly be avoided by such a poor creature. Ferdinanda was aware also that her father avoided every opportunity of being alone with his sister, and that it was therefore an especial annoyance to him if she herself stayed away from meals on any pretence. Under such circumstances her father always took his meals by himself in his own room. But this had very rarely happened, even in former days, and scarcely ever happened now. Ferdinanda had almost entirely withdrawn herself from all her friends; she said often that she had no friends, only acquaintances, and that she did not care much about them.
To-day she must pretend to visit some friend, and leave word at home that she should not probably be back to supper, which was always served at nine o'clock punctually. Her pride revolted at the necessity of the lie, and such an improbable one, but she had given her word; whether good or evil came of it, her fate was decided--the deed must be done.
She went therefore at half-past seven, with her bonnet and cloak on, down to her aunt, who was invariably to be found at that hour in the sitting-room behind the dining-room, where, in her seat near the window, she could count her stitches by the fading light, watch the passers-by without trouble, and, as Uncle Ernst said, indulge her fancies quite undisturbed. The latter employment was the most successful to-day; the stitches were very difficult to count, in consequence of the gloomy weather, and the same cause had diminished the number of passers-by, "as if they were all on strike, like those abominable work-people;" besides the butcher had brought for the next day a miserable leg of veal, which, that silly Trine, the cook, ought never to have taken in, and for her punishment must take back again, although Heaven only knew how she was to get the supper ready all alone, for as for Trine being back in less than an hour, she knew the idle thing better than that. And now Ferdinanda was going out--was going to spend the evening out! Aunt Rikchen in despair snatched her spectacles from her nose, and let her stocking, with the stitches she had only just picked up, fall into her lap.
"Good gracious! has everything combined against poor me to-day?" she exclaimed. "Reinhold has just been in to say that he will not be at home either."
"Where is Reinhold?"
"At whose house?"
"At the Werbens'! Young Herr von Werben came here himself this morning. You saw him in your studio, by-the-bye! I know nothing about it!--of course I know nothing about it. At eight o'clock. It must be half-past seven already."
Ferdinanda's countenance fell. "At the Werben's! At eight o'clock! How could that be!"
"And where are you going, if I may venture to ask?"
Ferdinanda told the lie she had prepared. She had spoken to Fr?ulein Marfolk the artist at the Exhibition; Fr?ulein Marfolk had given her such a pressing invitation to go and see her again; she had some curiosities and photographs to show her, which she had brought from Rome; this evening she happened to be disengaged. Professor Seefeld from Karlsruhe would be there also, who was most anxious to make Ferdinanda's acquaintance. She had accepted, and could not draw back now.
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