Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

She looked at him smilingly as she repeated the verse of that old song which told of the all-powerful enchanting rod, but the young engineer's manner did not soften, in spite of all her blandness. His face, embrowned by exposure to sun and wind, was a shade paler, perhaps, than usual, but his voice sounded cool and self-controlled, as he answered:

"Our time no longer has need of an enchanter's wand. It has found another sort of one for splitting rocks and opening the earth–You see it, do you not?"

"Yes, indeed. I see bald destruction, rubbish and splintered quartz–but the treasures stay buried below."

"It is empty and dead below–there are no longer any buried treasures."

The answer had a harsh and joyless sound, and the tone in which it was spoken did not soften its asperity.

"Perhaps it is only because the magical word has been lost, without which the wand remains powerless," answered Cecilia lightly, without observing, apparently, his forbidding manner. "Do you not think so, Herr Runeck?"

"I think, Baroness Wildenrod, that the world of fairies and magicians has long been left behind us. We no longer comprehend it, and no longer want to comprehend it."

There was something almost menacing in these apparently insignificant words. Cecilia bit her lips, and through the sunny brightness of her smile there gleamed a flash of hostility from her eyes, but then she laughed gayly.

"How grim that sounds! The poor gnomes and dwarfs have a determined enemy, I perceive. Only hear, Eric, how your friend denounces the whole legendary world."

"Yes, it is not worth while to approach Egbert with such things," said Eric, who just now came up. "He has no opinion of poetry, either, that one cannot make by line and plummets, nor needs to draw plans for–therefore he regards it as a highly superfluous thing. I have not yet forgiven him for the way in which he took the news of my engagement–actually, with formal commiseration! And when I indignantly hurled at him the reproach that he knew nothing about love, nor cared to know it either–would you believe that I got for answer a frigid 'No.'"

Cecilia fixed her large, dark eyes upon the young engineer, and again that demoniacal spark flashed in them as she said smilingly:

"And were you really in earnest, Herr Runeck?"

Some seconds elapsed ere he answered. He seemed yet paler than awhile ago, but his eye met that look fully and darkly, while he coldly replied:

"Yes, Baroness Wildenrod."

"There, you hear it for yourself," cried Eric, half-laughing, half vexed. "He is as hard as these rocks."

The young lady tapped lightly with her riding-whip against the pile of rocks that lay heaped up in front of her.

"Maybe. But rocks, too, can be brought to yield, we see. Take heed, Herr Runeck, you have mocked and defied those mysterious powers–they will have their revenge!"

The words should have sounded playful, and yet there was a perceptible breath of defiance in them. Egbert answered not a word, while Eric looked in amazement from one to the other.

"Of what were you talking?" asked he.

"We were speaking of the caper-spurge, which cleaves rocks asunder, and unlocks the hidden treasures of earth.–But I think we had better go now, if you approve."

Eric assented, and then turned to Runeck.

"There is to be more blasting, I perceive; wait, though, before you apply the match, until we get beyond the region of the ravine. Our horses were made very unmanageable by it awhile ago, the groom could hardly hold them."

Again that wicked and contemptuous smile played about Cecilia's lips, for she had been quick to note awhile ago, that Eric had nervously started at the dull sounds of the explosion and had summoned the groom to his side. Her horse, too, had become very restive, but she had held it firmly in with the bit. Meanwhile she suppressed any remark and only said, while Egbert guided her and Eric to the place where the horses stood:

"Accept our thanks for your friendly guidance and explanation. You will be glad to be rid of such disturbing guests."

Runeck bowed low and formally.

"Oh, do not speak of it, I pray. Eric is here as proprietor on his own estate, there can be no talk of disturbance."

"And yet it would seem so. You were fairly shocked, when you caught sight of us in the entrance to the ravine."

"I? Have you such sharp eyes, noble lady?"

"Oh, yes, Eric often teases me about my 'falcon-glance.'"

"In this case, however, your sight deceived you. I was only anxious, when I caught sight of you so near–horses are so easily frightened by blasting."

The riding-whip struck impatiently against the folds of her silver-gray habit. Did that rock resist everything?

Meanwhile they had reached the spot where their horses were tied. Cecilia and Eric mounted. The former nodded slightly an adieu, then applied her switch sharply to her beautiful roan, The fiery animal reared, and immediately set off at a gallop, so that the other could hardly follow him.

They were still visible for about five minutes, on the forest-road that led to Radefeld. Like some apparition flew the slender girlish figure on the back of her racing steed, with her habit fluttering and the plumes in her hat streaming behind. Once more she was seen at the bend, then the forest closed behind her.

Egbert was still standing motionless in his place, looking with fixed and burning eyes upon that road through the woods. His lips were firmly compressed, and on his features rested a singular expression, as though of stifled pain or wrath: finally, he straightened himself up and turned to go.

Then he perceived something at his feet, soft and white, as though some blossom had blown there.

The foot of the young man seemed suddenly to be rooted to the ground, then he slowly stooped and picked it up.

It was a fine lace handkerchief, delicately perfumed, that appealed to Egbert's senses in a bewitchingly flattering manner. Involuntarily his fingers clutched the airy fabric tighter and tighter.

"Herr Runeck!" said a voice behind him.

Runeck started and turned around. It was old Mertens.

"The men would like to know if they are to go on with the blasting, it is all ready."

"Certainly, I am coming directly.–Mertens, you are going to Odensburg this evening, I suppose?"

"Yes, Herr Engineer, I want to spend Sunday with my children."

"Well, then, take–"

Runeck stopped, and the old man looked at him in amazement. It was exactly as if the engineer was with difficulty, struggling for breath. And yet it lasted only a second, when he continued with a peculiarly gruff voice,

"Take this handkerchief with you, and hand it in at the Manor-house. Baroness Wildenrod has lost it."

Mertens took the handkerchief held out to him, and stuck it in his pocket, while Egbert went back to the workmen, who were only waiting for his appearance. He gave the signal, and the magic wand of the new times did its duty. The startling explosion took place, and the cliff still uninjured, that had stood there so proud and lofty, was split in twain. It trembled, tottered, and then fell in ruins at Runeck's feet dragging trees and shrubs to destruction with it.

CHAPTER VIII.

A BOUGH OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS

"As I tell you, Miss Friedberg, the nerves are a mere habit, and one of the worst of ones at that. Since the ladies have discovered nerves, we doctors have been the most tormented people in the world. It may be a right useful invention so far as husbands are concerned, but a hardened bachelor like myself has not the least respect for it."

With these words Dr. Hagenbach closed a rather long harangue which he had been giving in Miss Friedberg's chamber. Leonie, who looked pale and worn, had called him in professionally, and in reply to his questions had only repeated again and again that she was "through and through nervous."

"I believe. Doctor, you are the only physician who denies the existence of nerves," she said. "I should think science–"

"What science calls 'nerves' has my deepest respect"–she was interrupted by Hagenbach. "But what ladies give out to be such, in their stead, does not exist. Why do you not have yourself treated by the city health-officer, who makes a profound bow to each nerve of his patients, or by one of my young colleagues here in Odensburg, who also advocates the thing, although with a certain timidity. If you give yourself into my hands, there is no favor shown, that you know."

"Yes, I do know it!" she answered with some feeling. "And now may I ask for your prescriptions."

"Which, of course, you have no mind to follow. But never mind that, I'll use strict vigilance. In the first place, then, the air in your room will not do, it is much too damp and heavy. Above all things, let us open the window."

"I beg pardon," opposed Leonie with warmth. "A keen north wind is blowing, which is more than I can stand."

"Wonderful air!" said Hagenbach, as, without paying any heed to her objection, he proceeded to the window and threw open both casements. "Were you out of doors yesterday?"

"No, we had a terrible rain-storm."

"Where were your umbrella and waterproof, I allow them unquestionably. Follow your pupil's example–down yonder in the park Miss Maia sails along quite merrily in the face of the storm, and that tiny thing, Puck, sails along with her, although he is almost blown away."

"Maia is young, a happy child, that knows nothing but laughter and sunshine," said Leonie with a sigh. "She knows nothing yet of sorrow and tears, of all the hard and bitter that is imposed upon us by fate."

As she spoke, her eye involuntarily sought the desk, above which a large photograph took the main place on the wall. Some sweet yet painful memory must have been linked to that picture, for it was decorated by a mourning veil of black crape, and below it was a bowl full of sweet violets, that seemed like a sacrificial offering.

That glance did not escape the doctor's sharp eyes. As though accidentally he stepped up to the desk and began to inspect the likenesses to be found there, while he dryly remarked:

"Every man has his troubles, but they are far better borne with good-humor than with wailing and mourning. Ah! there is the picture of the little lady–very like! And her brother by her side–remarkable, that he does not resemble his father in the least. Whom does that photograph represent?" He pointed to the picture draped in mourning.

This unexpected question seemed to embarrass Leonie, she blushed faintly and answered with a somewhat unsteady voice:

"A–a relation."

"Your brother, perhaps?"

"No, a cousin–quite a distant relation."

"Ah, indeed?" drawled Hagenbach.

The remote relation seemed to interest him, he examined very narrowly the features of the very pale and lank young man, with sleek hair and eyes romantically upturned, and then continued in an indifferent tone:

"That face has a familiar look to me. I must have seen it before somewhere."

"You are in error as to that." Leonie's voice quivered perceptibly. "It has been long since he was counted among the living. He has lain in his grave for years: the hot deserts of Africa."

"Heaven rest his soul!" said the doctor with provoking equanimity. "But what took him to Africa and into the desert? Did he go as an explorer perhaps?"

"No, he died a martyr to a holy cause. He had attached himself to a mission to the heathen, and succumbed to the climate."

"I can only say he might have done a cleverer thing!"

Leonie, who had just carried her handkerchief to her eyes, overcome with emotion, stopped, utterly shocked at his lack of feeling:

"Doctor!"

"Yes, I cannot help thinking so. Miss Friedberg. I deem it very superfluous, in the first place, to be going away off to Africa to convert the black heathen, while so many white heathens, are roving around here in Germany, who know nothing of Christianity, although they are baptized. If your cousin had preached the Word of God, as a well-installed pastor to his own people–"

"He was not a minister, but a teacher," the angry lady managed to put in.

"Never mind; then, emphatically, he should have taught the dear school-boys the fear of God and flogged them into it, too, if needful. Classes have little enough of that nowadays."

Leonie's face betrayed the indignation she felt at this mode of expression, but reply was spared her, however, for at this moment came a timid knock at the door, and immediately afterwards Dagobert entered, but was hardly allowed to pay his respects to the lady; his uncle calling out to him, in his threatening voice, just as soon as he laid eyes on him:

"No English lesson to-day. Miss Friedberg has just declared that she is 'nervous through and through,' and nerves and grammar do not agree."

The young man must have valued this instruction highly, for he was quite shocked at this announcement. But Leonie said most positively:

"I beg pardon, stay, dear Dagobert! Our English studies are not to suffer from my bad feelings, we shall have our accustomed lesson. I'll go for our books." So saying, she got up and went into the next room.

The doctor, with a vexed look, followed her with his eyes. "I never did have such a contrary patient! Always the embodiment of contradiction! Hark ye, Dagobert, you are tolerably well-informed–what sort of a man is the one hanging yonder?"

"Hanging? Whore?" asked the horror-stricken Dagobert, while, shuddering, he looked across at the trees in the park.

"Why, you need not be thinking directly of a rope," said his uncle. "I mean that picture over the desk, with the crazy decoration of crape and violets."

"It is a relative of Miss Friedberg, a cousin–"

"Yes, indeed, quite a remote one! She has told me that, too, but I know she must have been engaged to him. Tiresome enough he looks to have been. Do you know his name, perhaps?"

"Miss Friedberg told it to me once–Engelbert."

"So the man was named Engelbert, too!" cried the excited doctor. "The name is just as sentimental as that unbearable face. Engelbert and Leonie–they match splendidly together! How the two would have sat and cooed together like a pair of turtle-doves!"

"He is dead, poor man!" remarked Dagobert.

"Was not of much account in life," growled Hagenbach, "and does not seem to have had specially good nourishment either, before he hied him to the desert. What a wretched woe-begone face it is! I must away now, give my compliments to Miss Friedberg. Much satisfaction may you get out of your 'nervous' English hour."

So saying the doctor picked up hat and cane and left. Ill-humoredly he descended the stairs, that sentimental "man of the desert" seemed to have thoroughly spoiled his temper. Suddenly he stood still.

"I have seen that face somewhere else, I stick to that, but strange–it looked entirely different!"

With this oracular remark he shook his head with a puzzled look and left the house.

The weather out of doors did not indeed look very inviting, being one of those cold, stormy spring-days, such as occur so frequently in the mountains. It is true the landscape no longer wore the bleak, wintry aspect that it had done a few weeks before, the trees having already decked themselves in fresh green, while the first flowers were blossoming in the meadows and fields, but this blooming and growing went forward only slowly, because sunshine was lacking.

Dark masses of cloud chased each other over the face of the sky, the rustling tree-tops bent before the wind, but this did not trouble the young girl, who, with light step, hurried forward on a narrow path through the woods.

Maia knew, to be sure, that her father did not approve of her taking such long walks unattended, but in the beginning she had confined her stroll to the park-limits, then Puck darted across the meadows and she after him, and then he went into the woods only a little distance, but it was so beautiful there under the murmuring pines, it enticed her on and on into the green solitude. What delight, to be, for once, so entirely alone, running races with the barking Puck, as if for a wager! Absorbed in this pleasure, Maia forgot entirely about the way back, until rather rudely reminded of it.

The dark clouds, which had been already threatening the whole day long, seemed finally to determine to fulfill their promise, for it began to rain, at first softly, then harder and harder, until there poured such torrents from the sky as accompany a regular thunder-storm.

Maia had taken refuge beneath a huge fir-tree, but found protection there only for the moment. It did not last long, on account of the dripping and trickling from every limb; she stood as though under the eaves of a roof, and the heavens grew ever darker. It was no quickly passing shower, so there was nothing for it but to run as fast as possible to the little lodge, only a quarter of a mile away, that offered a secure shelter. No sooner thought than done! The young girl rushed along over stick and stone, on the wet mossy soil, between dripping trees, finally, across a clearing in the forest, where wind and rain assailed her with full force, until, at last, breathless and thoroughly drenched, she found herself, with her four-footed companion, in a dry spot where they could bid defiance to the storm.

This lodge belonged to the forestry equipment at Odensburg, but was almost a half league from it, in the midst of the woods. In winter-time, when deep snow had fallen, they fed the hungry game here and also stored food for their cattle.

It was a small building constructed of boards and the trunks of trees joined together, with a water-tight roof and two low windows, now in the spring empty and unused, but a welcome place of refuge for the two fugitives.

Maia shook herself, so that the drops splashed in all directions. The rain had not hurt her waterproof at all, although it poured out of its folds, but her pretty hat, which she now took from her head, was so much the worse treated. The dainty thing, with its feathers and lace, was now nothing but a shapeless mass, and Puck did not look much better. His white coat was dripping, and its usually long silky hairs were hanging down in wet strands, giving him such a comically disconsolate look, that his young mistress laughed aloud.

"Only look, Puck! what a thing we have made of it!" said she in mock despair. "Why were we not sensible enough to stay in the park! How we do look, and how papa will scold! But you are to blame, you were the first to run off to the woods. Thank God, that at least we have a dry spot to sit in, else both of us would have been washed down to Radefeld, and Egbert would have had to fish us out."

She hurled the utterly spoiled hat upon the low bench that lined the wall on one side, seated herself and looked through the little window out upon the tempest. The rain was still coming down in torrents, and the wind howled around the lodge as though it would like to demolish it. Return home at present was not to be thought of. Mala yielded to the inevitable, drew the hood of her waterproof over her head, and watched Puck, who had stuck his nose through the small opening made by the door being left slightly ajar, and discontentedly followed with his eyes the falling drops.

Just then there appeared on the verge of the forest a person, who stood still for a moment and cast a searching glance around, but then started at a running pace over the clearing, straightway to the forest lodge. Now it was reached by the stranger, who was evidently likewise a fugitive from the storm, with a bold leap he cleared the little lake that had already been formed in front of the door, and kicked this open so violently, the inquisitive Puck was driven back by the shock. But then, with a loud bark, he rushed upon the intruder, who thus presumed to contest the sole possession of the house with himself and his mistress.

"Not so fierce, you little yelper!" cried the stranger, laughing. "Are you the lord and master in this enchanted cottage, or is it that little gray dryad cowering over yonder on that bench?"

He had stooped down to grasp the little animal, that quickly eluded him and took refuge in the corner, whence was now heard a suppressed laugh and a thin little voice saying:

"The dryad thanks you for your good opinion."

The stranger pricked up his ears; the answer showed him that it was no child of a collier or peasant, as he had at first supposed, who was crouched up there in the half-darkness of the ill-lit room. He gave a sharper look, but the low-drawn hood allowed nothing farther to be seen than a rosy little mouth, a pretty nose, and a pair of large brown eyes, that now, in their turn, were surveying the intruder with curiosity and astonishment.

He was a young man of about four-and-twenty years, with a handsome, open countenance, brown wavy hair, and bright laughing eyes. The weather had treated him ill, for he was without any waterproof: the gray traveling suit that he wore was dripping wet, and when he pulled off his hat, and waved it in salutation, the water fell from the brim in little rivulets on the floor.

"Let me implore you," said he "to grant most graciously to a lost traveler who has been caught in the rain, opportunity for a little rest. I am really an ordinary mortal, and no water-sprite, as my outward appearance would certainly lead you to suppose. May I come closer?"

"Just stay where you are at the door!" sounded from out of the corner. "Water-sprites and the little people of the wood cannot bear one another you know, I suppose, from the fairy-tales."

"Is that so? Well, then, nothing is left for me, but to come forward with all my human attributes, such as, name, rank, family, and other earthly props. So: Count Eckardstein, lieutenant of infantry, brother of the hereditary lord of Eckardstein, to which place I am now on my way. At Radefeld I sent my carriage on ahead, in order to take that beautiful walk through the Odensburg forests, when lo! these pitiless clouds resolved to empty themselves on my devoted head. Thence come my watery habiliments, laying me open to so vile a suspicion, but it is the only fairy-like thing about me–may I regard myself as sufficiently introduced?"

"I believe so. His native place, then, may be congratulated upon seeing Count Victor again, after an absence of six years?"

The young Count started, and, despite the prohibition, impulsively drew a few steps nearer. "Do you know me?"

"Dryads are all-knowing."

"But they do not remain invisible after they have once lowered themselves to converse with mortals. Am I actually, then, not to be permitted to see what is hidden under that gray wrap?" As he uttered these last words, he made a new attempt to get a near look at the face of that mysterious being, but in vain, for, a rosy little hand that suddenly became visible, drew the hood down so low that nothing but the tip of a nose could be discerned, and again sounded that low, mocking laugh, that rippled like the twittering of larks.

"Guess, Count!"

"Impossible, how can I? I know nobody at Eckardstein or rather at Odensburg, for we are still on Odensburg land."

He paused, as if waiting for an answer, but he only heard repeated that:

"Guess!"

Count Victor perceived that he would not carry his point in this way, but the clear laugh and voice betrayed to him the fact that it must be a very young girl, who played "hide-and-seek" with him in this way. There was a gleam of haughtiness in his eye, as, with a deep bow and apparent earnestness he said:

"Indeed, I believe I do recognize now the voice and also the figure–I have the honor of standing in the presence of the Honorable Miss Corona Von Schmettwitz?"

This expedient served his purpose; quick as a wink the dryad suddenly darted forth from her dark corner, the hood flew back, and while her fair hair, released from confinement, flowed in rich light waves over the gray mantle, there appeared also Maia's shapely head and sweet innocent face, that, at this moment, indeed, was crimsoned by anger.

Corona von Schmettwitz, indeed! That forty-year-old canoness, with high shoulders and grating voice! She to look so, indeed! She to talk that way! She cast a withering look upon the Count.

He could have had no idea that the gray mantle concealed anything so lovely, for, motionless, he gazed in blank astonishment upon the young girl, whose bright appearance shone like a sunbeam in that gloomy environment. At the first instant, he evidently did not recognize her, but then a remembrance dawned upon him, and, almost shouting for joy, he exclaimed: