CHAPTER VI.
THE _BACKFISCH_.
One evening, after the habitual frequenters of the Plankenhorst househad taken their departure, as Alfonsine was undressing with the helpof her maid, she turned to the latter and asked:
"What is the _backfisch_ doing nowadays, Betty?"
_Backfisch_, be it observed, means literally _a fish for frying_, but,as commonly used in German, it denotes a girl who is no longer achild, but not yet a young lady; one who is still innocent andharmless, and who feels strange emotions stirring in her breast, butfails to understand them; who takes jest for earnest and earnest forjest, and who believes the first pretty speech poured into her ear tobe so much refined gold. That is the _backfisch_.
"The _backfisch_ is learning to swim," replied Mademoiselle Bettine.
"Still holding on to the guard-ropes? Not yet able to strike outalone?"
"She will be able before long," was Betty's reply, as she took downher mistress's hair and coiled it up anew for the night. "A day ortwo ago, as I was doing her hair, she asked me: 'Whose hair is thelonger, mine or Alfonsine's?'"
"Ha, ha! The _backfisch_!"
"And I told her that her hair was the more beautiful."
At this both laughed.
"She knows already, without any one's telling her, that she is apretty girl," said Alfonsine. "Does she ever talk about any of thegentlemen that visit us?"
"Oh, yes, we gossip about all the men that come to the house, and shetells me her opinion of each; but there is one she never names at all,and if I happen to mention him she blushes up to her eyes."
"And do you think he is after her?" asked Alfonsine.
"He is very cautious," answered the maid, "and whenever he meets heralone he can hardly find two words to say to her. But I know what thatmeans."
"Poor little _backfisch_!" murmured the other. "We'll give her apleasant surprise, Betty. To-morrow she shall have a new gown. Thedressmaker spoiled one of mine, and it will do nicely for her."
Mademoiselle Bettine laughed. "The pink tarlatan?" she inquired. "Thatis a ball-dress."
"Never mind. She shall have it and be happy. You make her believe thatwe have been rather slighting her hitherto because she was only achild, but that now she is to be regarded as a young lady. We willhave her taught dancing, playing, and singing."
"Really?"
"Oh, well, let her think so, and that she is to be introduced tosociety and treated like one of the family."
"If I tell her that now, I sha'n't get a wink of sleep all night long;she will chatter about it till morning. She is fairly crazy to takesinging lessons."
"Poor little _backfisch_! We'll gratify her for once."
Oh, the heartless Jezebel!
* * * * *
A few days later Richard received an invitation to take tea and playwhist at the Plankenhorsts'--quite _en famille_. Alfonsine was to singalso.
The young hussar officer refused no invitation from the Plankenhorstladies, nor was he ever tardy on such occasions, but was wont to sethis watch ahead so as to have an excuse to offer if he was the firstguest to arrive. Thus it occurred in this instance that he saw nosigns of a previous arrival when he handed his cloak and sword to thefootman in the anteroom.
"Am I the first one here?" he asked.
The footman smiled and replied in the affirmative as he opened thedrawing-room door for the guest.
Entering, he came upon Betty, who seemed busy with something about theroom.
"Am I too early, Miss Betty?" he asked.
The maid courtesied and smiled. "The baroness has not come in yet, butshe will soon be at home. The young lady is in the music-room."
At this moment, indeed, he heard some one singing in the next room,but the voice sounded fuller and richer than Alfonsine's. Heconcluded, however, that it was with her as with so many others, whosing their best when alone.
He passed into the music-room, but halted suddenly in surprise. At thepiano sat, not Alfonsine, but another young lady whom at first hefailed to recognise. It was Edith, in a new gown and with her hairarranged as he had never seen it before. She wore a low-necked pinkdress which exposed to view her beautiful neck and shoulders, and shewas singing a ballad, in an untrained voice, but with expression andfeeling, picking out the air on the piano with one hand like a personunskilled in playing. She was quite alone in the room.
Richard feasted his eyes on the little white hand dancing over thekeyboard, until Edith, glancing up from her music, caught sight ofhim. Her first impulse was to cover her bare neck with both hands, sonew and strange did her costume still seem to her. But recognisingthat this was exactly the wrong thing to do, she let her hands falland advanced to meet the young officer. Her face flushed a rosy redand her heart beat violently as, in a voice that nearly failed her,she announced that the baroness was not at home.
Richard pitied her embarrassment. "And Miss Alfonsine?" he asked.
"They both went out together," she replied. "They were called to courtand will not return until late."
"Has my brother been here?"
"Yes, but he went away again some time ago."
"And did not the baroness say that she expected company?"
"She said she had ordered the footman to go around to the houses ofthe invited guests and tell them that the whist party was postponeduntil to-morrow."
"Strange that he didn't say anything about it to me when he let me in.Pardon me, Miss Edith, for disturbing you. Please present mycompliments to the baroness."
So saying, he bowed with much formality and withdrew, purposing tocall the footman to account for his negligence. But he failed to findhim in the anteroom, and the front door, by which he had entered,proved to be locked and the key removed. He was forced to go backthrough the drawing-room and seek an exit by the servants' door; butthis also was locked. One other door was known to him, leading intothe kitchen, and he tried it. It would not open, however. In thedining-room was a bell-cord communicating with the servants' quarters;he pulled it sharply three times in succession, but no one answeredhis summons. Returning once more to the anteroom, he found it stillempty. Evidently he and Edith were the only ones in the house. Hisheart beat tumultuously. He felt himself the victim of a curious plotwhose outcome he could not foresee. Once more he returned to themusic-room. At the sound of his step Edith came toward him. Her facewas no longer flushed; she was very pale. But she met the young man'seyes calmly, with no sign of trembling or embarrassment.
"Pardon me, Miss Edith," he began, "I have tried all the doors andfound them locked, nor is there any one in the house to let me out."
A life-size portrait of Alfonsine hung on the wall. To Richard, atthat moment, the fair face seemed to smile down upon the scene with amalicious triumph.
Edith, however, lost none of her composure. "The servants must havegone down into the courtyard," said she; "but I know where there isanother key to the front door, and I will let you out."
Against the wall hung a wicker-work device for holding keys, and inorder to reach it Edith was forced to pass by Richard. When she wasvery near him he suddenly stepped in front of her.
"One word, Edith," said he. "Do you know what is in my mind at thismoment?"
In his fancy the fair lady on the wall seemed to be carrying on adiabolical dialogue with his loudly beating heart. The world was onfire around him. Yet the young girl whom he was confronting stoodthere calmly and answered him with great presence of mind:
"Yes; you are thinking: 'I once promised this girl never to offend hereven with a look, and not to raise my eyes, when I stand before her,higher than her hands.'" Therewith she folded her hands and droppedthem in front of her.
"That is it," nodded Richard, feeling as if a hundred-pound weight hadbeen removed from his breast. "And one thing more I must ask of you,Miss Edith," he added. "I have an urgent message to write to thebaroness. Can you furnish me with writing-materials?"
Edith opened her aunt's desk and, with a mot
ion of her hand, invitedhim to be seated.
Richard sat down and wrote. His letter was brief and soon written. Heenclosed it in an envelope and sealed it, Edith meanwhile standingquietly on the other side of the desk with her hands still folded andresting upon her lap. Then he rose and advanced with the sealed noteto where she stood. Nobility spoke in his face and pride in hisbearing. The girl's very soul was in her eyes as she met his gaze.
"Can you also tell me, Miss Edith," he asked, "what I have written inthis letter which I hold sealed before you?"
The young girl slowly raised her hands and pressed them to herforehead, unmindful that in so doing she invited him to raise his eyesand look into hers, where he could not but read the mingled expressionof pain and delight, of despair and rapture.
"In this letter," he continued, "I have written the following: 'Mydear Baroness: I beg herewith to prefer my petition for Miss EdithLiedenwall's hand in marriage. I shall be of age in a year's time, andwill then come and claim her. Until then pray let her be regarded asmy affianced bride.'" Therewith he handed the letter to Edith, whopressed its seal to her lips in a long kiss, after which she returnedit to him. His lips also touched the seal, while it was still warmwith the kiss of his beloved. That was their betrothal kiss.
"Will you deliver this letter to the baroness?" asked Richard.
Edith inclined her head without speaking, and stuck the note into herbodice.
"And now we shall not have another such interview for a year.Good-bye." He withdrew and let himself out by aid of the key whichEdith had given him.
When he had gone Edith sank down and pressed a kiss on the spot stillmarked by her lover's footprints in the soft carpet.
* * * * *
It was late when the baroness and her daughter returned, and Edith hadalready gone to her room,--that is, the room which she shared with themaid.
"Send the _backfisch_ to us," commanded Alfonsine, addressing Betty.
"Not gone to bed yet, Edith?" asked the baroness, as her niece enteredthe room.
"No, aunt."
Antoinette looked into the girl's eyes with searching scrutiny, butfailed to find there what she sought. She saw, on the contrary, aproud self-consciousness that was new to the girl.
"Have any callers come while we were out?" inquired the baroness.
"Yes; Captain Baradlay."
The two ladies' eyes directed a cross-fire upon Edith, but with noeffect. She no longer blushed at the mention of that name. It was nowenshrined in her heart and would not again drive the tell-tale bloodto her cheeks.
"Did the captain wait for us?" asked Antoinette.
"Only long enough to write this letter," was the girl's calm reply, asshe delivered Richard's note to her aunt.
Now it was the latter's turn to feel the hot blood mounting to herface as she read the missive.
"Do you know what is in this letter?" she asked, giving the girl apenetrating look.
"Yes," answered Edith, with modest dignity.
"You may return to your room and go to bed," said the baroness.
Edith withdrew. Antoinette tossed the letter wrathfully to herdaughter.
"There!" she exclaimed, "that's what comes of your fine scheme."
Alfonsine turned pale and trembled with passion as she read theletter. Her voice failed her. Her mother's face was distorted withanger.
"You evidently thought," said the baroness, biting her words off oneby one, "that every man was an Otto Palvicz! Your stupid game is lost,and now we will try my plan."