Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

"Well?" asked he sharply, the word sounding more like a command than a summons.

That decided the matter. The young engineer defiantly threw back his head and stepped up to the physician.

"A word with you, Doctor! How goes it at Odensburg–in the Manor-house, I mean?"

Hagenbach had responded very coolly to his greeting, and answered with reserve:

"As you would expect in a house of mourning, where death entered so suddenly and shockingly–you have heard, I suppose, how the young gentleman died?"

"Yes, I know about it," said Egbert in a voice that betrayed suppressed emotion. "How did his father bear it?"

"Worse than he would have one believe. And yet his is an iron nature that manfully resists every assault made upon it, and he has not much time to devote to his grief either. Affairs in and around Odensburg claim his attention more than ever. You will understand how this is better than I, Herr Runeck!"

The doctor's thrust, however, seemed to glance aside from the apparently thick panoply of Egbert's composure, as he calmly went on questioning:

"And Maia? She loved her brother very dearly."

"Why, Miss Maia, you know, is hardly seventeen yet. At that age one weeps freely and is then consoled. On the contrary, Mrs. Dernburg suffers more acutely under her loss than I could have supposed possible."

"The young widow?" asked Egbert in a low tone.

"Yes; those first days she abandoned herself so to grief, that I entertained serious apprehensions, and even now she is broken-hearted as it were. I would not have attributed to her such exquisite sensibility."

Runeck's lips quivered, but he made no reply to this last remark. "Remember me to Miss Maia–she perhaps will not spurn my salutation," said he hurriedly. "Farewell, Doctor."

So saying he turned to the stairs, where Landsfeld was still awaiting him, and mounted them with him, while Hagenbach called his coachman and then seated himself in his carriage.

Herr Willmann, from the front door, made another reverential bow. The very next minute, he hurried as fast as his corpulence would admit of, after the other two.

And he did not tremble at all when he stood before the dreaded Landsfeld, but bent just as low before him as he had done awhile ago to the doctor, and in the most fawning manner asked his honored guests to take possession of the gentlemen's parlor, where they should be entirely undisturbed–he would see to it that nobody came in. Whatever their honors wanted in kitchen or cellar, yes, the whole house was at their disposal.

"No, we need nothing now," said Landsfeld carelessly. "Only you see to it, mine host, that nothing is lacking this evening. The crowd will be very great."

The fat host of the "Lamb" exhausted himself in assurances that everything should be attended to in the very best of style, and then with the greatest self-complacency repaired to his assembly-room, to attend to making some arrangements in person. Herr Pancratius Willmann possessed, in the highest degree, the art of serving two masters.

The two guests meanwhile had entered. Egbert had seated himself, and his head rested in his hand. He looked pale and worn, and there was a harsh, bitter look upon his face, not at all habitual with him.

The new candidate for election did not seem, to find much pleasure in the honor that had been bestowed upon him. Landsfeld closed the door and likewise drew up to the table.

"Have you time for us, at last?" asked he with sharpness.

"I should think I always had that," was the short answer.

"And yet it does not seem so. You let me stand there on those steps like a fool, while you were talking with that doctor."

"You need not have listened. Why did you not go ahead of me?"

"Because it amused me to see how impossible you find it to break away from those to whom you have so long been in bondage. Ha, ha! to hear you inquiring after their health, in that highly sentimental manner. It was too funny!"

"What is it to you?" said Egbert harshly. "That is my own affair."

"Not exactly, my young man. You are the candidate of our party, and, as such, have decidedly and definitely to break off all connection with the enemy's camp. Before all things, you have to care for your popularity now, and you will make yourself disliked, yes, suspected, by such proceedings,–note that!"

Runeck contemptuously shrugged his shoulders. "I thank you for your good advice, but rather think that I ought to be capable of guiding my own actions."

"You speak in a very lofty tone forsooth," mocked Landsfeld. "You already behold yourself as the all-powerful party-leader, as the chief person in the Reichstag. You have, in general, quite a dangerous touch of the master about you. In this you bear a striking resemblance to the old man at Odensburg, no doubt having learned it from him. But that this kind of thing does not go down with us you should know by this time. If you continue to carry on so, my word for it, your election will be impossible."

Egbert suddenly rose to his feet and with furrowed brow planted himself right in front of Landsfeld.

"What is all this for? Better say, straight out, that you envy me the station to which the party has nominated me. You had calculated upon holding it and cannot forgive me for having been preferred before you. And you know best of all that this office was thrust upon me. I would have gladly committed it to you–only too gladly!"

"What I wished or expected is not to be considered here," answered Landsfeld coldly. "There was no prospect of my carrying the election; there is one for you, so I had to vacate the field for you, and this I do without murmuring. I know the discipline and adhere to it–would that others did the same."

Runeck did not seem to hear the last remark, he had stepped up to the window and looked out. "How does it stand in Odensburg?" asked he, abruptly.

"Well, better at least than we dared to hope. The old man"–Landsfeld used this designation for Dernburg by preference, because he knew that it wounded his comrade–"the old man, to be sure, feels himself impregnable in his high tower, and his eyes will not be opened, either, until election-day. But we have worked bravely, and that really was no easy matter in this case. Now it is for you to prove your strength! Much depends upon your speech this evening, perhaps everything. A part of the Odensburg workmen still stick firmly to Dernburg, the rest waver, and those are the ones that you are to capture this evening and draw over to us. You know how to do that splendidly, at least you used to."

"I shall do my duty," said Egbert glumly, without turning around. "But I am doubtful as to the result."

"Why so? Hark, it seems to me that your wings have been clipped since we played you against the old man at Odensburg. What you have spoken, these last weeks in Berlin, was tolerably flat and tiresome. Formerly you sparkled with fire and enthusiasm and carried everything before you, now when everything depends on it, you are neither cold nor hot. Can you really be as besotted over this Dernburg as he over you? I do believe he found the death of his son easier to bear than your defection. It will be a touching spectacle, to see you two pitted against one another in a life to life struggle."

"That's enough now, Landsfeld!" burst forth the young engineer, furiously excited. "I have already desired you, once before, not to disturb yourself about my personal relations; I forbid it to you now, once for all. Hush about that!"

"Yes, you threatened that time at Radefeld to put me out of doors," mocked Landsfeld, seeming only to be amused by Runeck's rage. "Here we are in another person's house, where you cannot resort to that measure. But let's to business! I only wanted to make it clear to you, that this evening you must lay aside all sentimental retrospect if your speech is to take effect. You know what the party expects of you."

"Yes–I know."

"Well, then, rally your forces! We must have the Odensburg workmen, for their votes will decide the matter. You must therefore make energetic front against Dernburg, and against all that he has set in motion. You must demonstrate to the people, that his schools and asylums and savings-banks, with which he decoys them, are of no value in our eyes, a beggar's pence that he casts to his workmen, while he rakes in by the million. The people do not believe us, but you they will believe, for they know to what end the old man gave you your training. You were to be the future superintendent of his works, the first after himself, and you refused to receive aught of all this from him, for the sake of our cause: this it is that makes you all-powerful among the men of Odensburg, and for this alone we nominated you for election. You will accomplish nothing by mere talk–you must make straight for your adversary and hit at a vital point."

Egbert turned, slowly around, dogged determination was stamped on his brow and his voice expressed bitter scorn, when he answered: "Yes, indeed, I must–must! I have no longer a will of my own.–Let us go and join the rest!"

CHAPTER XVII.

ELECTION TIMES

All the brightness had departed from the social life at Odensburg, which had been so gay all the summer through, its center of attraction being ever the young engaged couple. The family were still wearing the first deep mourning for him who had been laid in the grave hardly two months before, and the atmosphere in the house was as heavy and dull as was the bleak foggy autumn day outside.

Only Maia made an exception. Dr. Hagenbach was right–at seventeen years of age one weeps out one's grief and is then comforted even for the loss of a beloved brother; and moreover here was a particular comforter quite close at hand. Oscar von Wildenrod had, of course, remained at Odensburg; and although there could be no talk now of a public betrothal, yet the father had given his consent in due form.

Maia was infinitely lovely in her deep, quiet happiness, and in the family-circle, where he needed not to be under restraint, he showed her the tenderest attention and devotion. He seemed greatly altered; the harsh features vanished more and more from his face, his whole nature being softened under the influence of that budding happiness which brought him to the goal of his desires.

Dernburg bore his grief for his son as he was accustomed to bear every hard thing in life, composedly and silently, seeking his consolation in that occupation, to which he gave himself up with greater zeal than ever. Between him and his daughter-in-law Eric's death had unexpectedly formed a close and tender tie. For, although the father had received the betrothed of his son with cordiality, and treated her as a daughter, yet in his inmost soul, he had never become really reconciled to this union; the vain, haughty child of the world had always been a creature apart from the man of strict duty. But the young widow, with her grief passionately expressed at first, but afterwards changing to a deep, settled melancholy, found a true father in him. From the moment when he had folded her in his arms at Eric's bedside, she had held a place in his heart.

He did not suspect, indeed, that this abandoned grief of Cecilia's was only remorse–remorse over that hour when she had so strongly expressed aversion for the husband, who was even then dying. She did not know the worst either, namely, that it was those unfortunate words of hers that had pronounced his death-sentence. Oscar had secured the silence of the man-servant, who had seen Eric go upstairs and enter the fatal room, and no one else was aware of the circumstance. But the young woman had some foreboding of the coincidence, and took refuge with her father, because she could not overcome a secret horror of her brother.

For that matter though, Dernburg had but little time now to devote to his family, for, besides the usual burdens that he took upon his shoulders now as ever, the impending election demanded his time and strength in large measure. It was considered a matter of course in his party that the prerogative of a seat in the Reichstag which he had so long exercised would this time, too, fall to his share, but they had soon become convinced that, for the first time, the victory must be a contested one, for their opponents were working under high pressure. The circumstances required activity in all directions, and here Dernburg found quite an unexpected prop in Oscar von Wildenrod.

With incredible celerity, he had made himself familiar with the political situation, and his keen penetration, accompanied by sound judgment, excited the admiration of others who had been in the midst of these relations.

The Baron was everywhere that it seemed likely his presence could do good: he took part in all mass-meetings and consultations, and went into the campaign with the most ardent zeal. The quondam diplomat was again launched on the open sea of politics, and it was no wonder that every day increased his influence over Dernburg, whose very shadow he became.

Finally the day arrived, when the last decisive battle was to be fought at the polls. Unusual activity now prevailed in the building devoted to the offices connected with the Odensburg works, which had commenced, indeed, at an early hour in the morning. The lower floor contained the hall usually devoted to lectures and all general assemblies: here all the officials were to be found to-day, here telegraphic communications were constantly coming from the city, and messengers from the country districts, which gave, approximately, at least, the returns from the polls. The commonly peaceful assembly-room looked like a camp in war-time, the director forming its central figure: and a continuous stream of messages was conveyed to the Manor.

It was not until the afternoon was considerably advanced that Dr. Hagenbach came in, and was greeted with reproaches on the part of the gentlemen present, because of his absence.

"Where in the world have you been hiding, Doctor?" cried the director, in rather a fault-finding tone. "Here we have been sitting all day immersed in care and anxiety, while, in all tranquillity of soul, you have been visiting your patients and not pretending to show your face!"

"I cannot prevent people from getting sick and dying on election-day," said Hagenbach gravely. "I had to go to Eckardstein this morning, and there they would have me stay, until all was over."

However much engrossed the gentlemen were by other things, this news aroused universal interest.

"Is the Count dead?" asked the director in surprise.

"He died two hours ago."

"That is a sudden turn of fortune's wheel in Count Victor's favor," remarked the upper-engineer. "Yesterday a poor, dependent lieutenant, and to-day proprietor of the great Eckardstein estate. Count Conrad had not been exactly kind to his younger brother, I believe."

"No; but nevertheless he was as affectionate as possible, at the last.–And now, gentlemen, I trust that I have apologized sufficiently for my absence, and sincerely hope that I have not been sensibly missed. How goes the reckoning? Well, I hope."

"Not so particularly well, either," muttered the upper-engineer. "The reports from the country districts are satisfactory, but in town, the Socialists evidently have the whip-hand of us."

"Well, we were prepared for that from the beginning," remarked Winning, the chief of the technical bureau. "Odensburg gives the casting-vote, and with that we are sure of a majority."

"If we can unconditionally calculate upon it–yes," said the director, "but I am afraid–"

"What are you afraid of?" asked Hagenbach with a look of concern, as the other broke off in the middle of his sentence.

"That we shall be in the minority here too. Runeck's hold upon the people seems to be greater than we foresaw–signs of it, indeed, have come to light just in the last hour."

"Runeck is a forcible speaker," said Winning, earnestly, "and his great speech, recently, at the 'Golden Lamb' carried away his whole audience. To be sure it did not reach his former level. He used to speak coldly, with stern repose, but every word told–this time he stormed away like a runaway horse, without method or aim."

"He was suffering anxiety about his election," mocked the upper-engineer. "Yet there comes Helm; perhaps he brings something important."

It was one of the younger officials who now entered and handed over a telegram just received. The director opened and read it, after which he silently handed it to the doctor, who stood at his side. He glanced over it and then shook his head. "This is very disagreeable! So, in town the victory of the Socialists is already decided! Read it, gentlemen!"

The telegram went the rounds, while the director stepped to the telephone, that connected the assembly-room with the Manor, in order to report to the chief.

"Now the decision rests wholly and solely upon Odensburg," said the upper-engineer. "At all events it was imprudent to dismiss that ranter Fallner, immediately before the elections. It has made bad blood and cost us hundreds of votes, perhaps. But Herr Dernburg was inexorable!"

"Was he to submit placidly to having this man prate against him in his own workshops, setting them of his own household against him?" remarked Winning. "Things of the kind have never been suffered at Odensburg, and now would have been an example of unpardonable weakness."

"But I am afraid that we were only the victims of a party maneuver," persisted the other. "Fallner knew exactly what was before him–must have known it–but he belonged to that new set, who do not lose much if they go, so that he could afford to give himself to the venture. He was to be dismissed, the affair was meant to stir up bad blood among the people, for that it was planned. I represented all this to the master–but in vain. 'I suffer no rebellion and no stirring up of strife on my place. Let this be announced to the man at once.' Such was his answer, and thereby he put weapons in the hands of his adversaries."

Winning was silent, vexed that nobody would take him up, and contradict his assertion. But the director, who now came back from the telephone and had heard these last words, said significantly:

"If the matter would only end with our losing votes! I was told only yesterday, that the workmen are being worked upon from all quarters, to take up for Fallner and insist upon his being allowed to remain. If they really do this, we shall have strife."

"But they will not do it, because they know the master," said Dr. Hagenbach, mingling in the conversation. "He lets nothing be forced from him, even though he should have to close all his works. Our men, here, at Odensburg would be simply mad, if they allowed it to come to that!"

"And though it were the maddest thing in the world, what care Landsfeld and his crew for that?" exclaimed upper-engineer. "They want strife, no matter at what price and what sacrifice. At the same time, I believe that it was a mistake to dismiss Fallner. Alas! he is still here, and does not leave the works until day after to-morrow. If the election is lost, and passions consequently become aroused, we may live to get a disagreeable surprise."

"Nonsense! You see ghosts!" scolded Winning; but the director said gravely:

"I would that this day were past!" Over at the Manor, they waited the returns from the elections with the same suspense, and in the master's office there was almost as much commotion as in the building where the director presided. Dernburg, indeed, took the arrival of reports and telegrams, going and coming of officers and their announcements, with his wonted calmness. For him it involved no mere question of ambition, he sacrificed to his seat in the Reichstag, time and strength which were needed in his calling, the want of which he sometimes felt now, at the coming on of old age. He would willingly have resigned his seat to a representative of his own way of thinking, but as things stood, the victory of his party linked itself with his name, and, besides, it was Odensburg that would decide his election. Thus this election was an affair of honor with him.

Dernburg chanced to find himself alone with his daughter-in-law. That young lady, looking grave and fair in her widow's garb, leaned against the window. She had of late been admitted more and more to the confidence of her father-in-law. He allowed her, at times, an insight into the workings of his soul, that were else a sealed book: she alone knew the reason why his brow was to-day so dark and lowering. It was not solicitude lest he be defeated, which, for that matter, he hardly deemed possible: no, the bitterness of this conflict lay for him in the thought that his opponent was Egbert Runeck.

"Oscar is as much excited as if his own election were at stake," said Dernburg, after he had once more read through his dispatches.

"It surprises me, too, to see my brother thus immersed in politics," replied Cecilia, with a slight shake of the head. "He used to care so little about them."

"Because he kept aloof from his fatherland for so many years. I just now begin to see what he is capable of, when field is given him for a great activity."

"Oh, I believe Oscar can perform wonders, if he has a mind to, and he will begin a new life at Odensburg: he has promised me to."

These words sounded peculiar, almost like an apology, but Dernburg paid no heed to this.

"I wish good luck to him and myself on that account," said he, earnestly. "I candidly confess to you, Cecilia, that hitherto I have entertained a certain prejudice against your brother, but it has passed away; in these last days he has been the greatest comfort to me. For this I want to thank him."

The young woman made no answer; she gazed out upon the gray, misty October day that was now fast drawing to a close. It was already twilight; the servant brought the lamp, and with it came Wildenrod and Maia into the room. The Baron looked gloomy and excited. Dernburg quickly turned to him.

"Well, how goes it, Oscar? What news do you bring? Nothing good. I see from your countenance! Have new returns come in?"

"Yes, from the city. Our fears have been confirmed, the Socialists have gotten the majority there."

"Ah, indeed!" cried Dernburg hotly. "It is the first time that they have accomplished that. We shall soon, however, dampen the joy of their triumph with the half of our Odensburg votes!"

Cecilia's glance sought her brother's with a timid expression, and his features betrayed that he did not share this confidence. There was also a certain hesitation in his voice as he answered:

"Odensburg certainly has the deciding word, and it will, I hope, be spoken for us. Nevertheless, we must prepare for any possibility–"

"But not the possibility of my workmen leaving me in the lurch," remarked Dernburg. "Once for all, I cannot believe such a thing of my men. Possess your soul in patience, Oscar, you are marked for a novice by your feverish uneasiness. As for the rest, the election must be over directly."

He got up, but the way in which he paced up and down the room, looking ever and anon at the clock, proved that he was by no means so cold-blooded, as he would have them believe. Then his glance fell upon Maia, who had almost shyly entered the room and immediately joined her sister-in-law, and he stood still:

"My poor little girl has been quite frightened today," said he, compassionately. "Yes, bad politics! It engrosses us men to the exclusion of everything else. Come to me, my Maia!"

Maia flew to her father and nestled up to him. Her voice sounded very dejected, as she replied:

"Ah, papa, I understand so little of political affairs. I am very much ashamed of it sometimes."

Dernburg smiled and tenderly stroked the fair hair of his darling. "You are not to bother your young head about such grave affairs, my child. You can safely commit that to Oscar and me."

"But I shall be obliged to learn some time," said Maia with a heavy sigh. "Cecilia has learned, too. Ah, papa, I am jealous of Cecile. You have quite closed your heart to everybody else; you consult her about everything, while I am always shoved aside as a silly little thing."

"How abominable of me!" sportively returned Dernburg, at the same time casting an affectionate glance upon his daughter-in-law. The latter smiled, but it was a melancholy, joyless smile.

"I almost believe Maia is put out with me, too, because I have had so little time to give her to-day," said Oscar, stepping up to his betrothed and taking her hand.