Clear the Track! A Story of To-day

"Not yet, but one cannot know what the next hour may bring forth. So the ladies have gone to the grave, have they? Well, it lies at the end of the park, in the opposite direction from the works, so that I trust there is nothing to fear. It would be well, though, for them to come back soon."

"I expect them every moment. Is it so threatening, then, over at the works?"

Hagenbach nodded and took a seat opposite the lady.

"Alas! the officers are doing their very best to get through with paying off and discharging the workmen in peace and quiet, but this does not suit Fallner and his crew, who want to have a row, whether or no. A portion of the men have announced their intention to resume work to-morrow morning, the others have responded by threats and curses: finally, here and there it has come to deeds of violence, and it seems as if an insurrection may break forth this very evening."

Leonie folded her hands with anxious mien. "Dear me! what is to be the end of all this? Herr Dernburg is as hard and inaccessible as a rock. You have no idea in what a mood he is. He will bid defiance to all–I am distressed to death."

"Why, there is no need of that! What am I here for?" said Hagenbach, with emphasis. "I should protect you in case of necessity, but such necessity is not likely to occur. This house and its inmates are unconditionally safe, even if there should be some excesses committed over there. In that case you can depend upon me."

"I know that," replied Leonie, warmly, holding out her hand to him, which he took, too, readily enough; he kept it likewise, and did not think of releasing it from his clasp.

"I called to see you this morning," he began again, "but was not admitted!"

Leonie cast down her eyes and her voice trembled, as she softly answered:

"You will understand that it was painful for me, after the events of yesterday–"

"I beg your pardon, I came only as a physician to inquire as to your health," remarked Hagenbach. "You look worn, have had a sleepless night–for that matter, so have I!"

"You, Doctor?"

"Why, yes, so many things were racking my brain. For example, I thought you were quite right in regarding me as a half bear. The only question is, whether the attempt would be worth while to try and make something human out of me. What is your opinion?"

"My opinion? I have not thought on the subject," said Leonie, with a vain effort to disengage her hand.

"But your opinion is a great deal to me," continued he. "You see, Fräulein Friedberg, if one goes through life as a bachelor, without caring for anybody in particular, and knowing that no one cares particularly about him–it is a bad case. If one has, at least, a mother or sister, then one can get along somehow; but I have only that silly fellow Dagobert, and what I have in him you know yourself."

"But, Doctor, must we discuss this subject just today?" said Leonie, trying to evade an answer. "At this hour, when all Odensburg–"

"Odensburg will, I hope, do me the pleasure to defer its rebellion until we have arranged our matters," interposed Hagenbach. "And arranged they must be now, that I solemnly swore to myself during that aforesaid sleepless night. I called upon you, for the second time, awhile ago, but did not find you, because you were with Frau von Ringstedt. Nevertheless, I took the liberty of going in, because I wanted to take a peep at your desk. Over it hangs now the picture of your blessed mother, and I yield her that place cheerfully, for she is a saint in heaven. You have made short work of it, and bravely abandoned old memories and the like–and therefore–yes. What was it that I wanted to say?"

The doctor began to get rather entangled in his talk. When he offered himself for the first time, he had gone ahead without calculation of any kind, and now, this second time, he wanted to proceed most gently and considerately–but here he stuck fast. But he made a quick resolve, got up and approached the lady of his choice, saying, with simple heartiness:

"I love you, Leonie, and although I am a rough fellow–one cannot alter the old habits in a trice–yet I mean well, and if you would risk it with me, your consent would make me very happy. You say nothing: Nothing at all? May I take this as a good sign?"

Leonie sat with glowing cheeks and downcast eyes, conscious of all the magnanimity and goodness of heart displayed by the man, whom she had so harshly rejected, and who now again offered her his heart and hand. He also understood this perfectly, and brought the matter into shape now, as quickly as possible, by taking his betrothed into his arms and kissing her.

"God be thanked that we have at last got so far," said he, from the bottom of his heart. "I shall write to-morrow to that fellow Dagobert. Now he can make a wedding-song for us, and celebrate the praises of his future aunt–a poem that I shall certainly permit him to indite."

"But, Doctor," admonished Leonie, reproachfully.

"I am called Peter," interposed he. "The name does not please you, I know that of old–it is not poetical enough for you–but I was baptized so, and you will have to get used to it. Fräulein Leonie Friedberg and Dr. Peter Hagenbach–that is the way it will stand on our betrothal cards."

"But surely you have other baptismal names besides that one?" the bride-elect ventured to suggest.

"Of course. Peter Francis Hugo."

"Hugo, how pretty! I shall call you by that in the future."

"That I protest against," declared Hagenbach, with a positiveness that already bespoke the future husband. "I am named Peter after my father and grandfather, so I have been always called, and so will my intended wife call me too."

With timid familiarity that became her very well, Leonie placed her hand on her lover's arm and pleadingly looked him in the eye. "Dear Hugo–do you not like the sound of that already?"

"No," growled the doctor, while he turned away.

"Well, as you choose, Hugo. I shall conform in this respect entirely to your wishes. But Peter and Leonie do not suit together at all, you must perceive that yourself."

Again Hagenbach growled, but this time in a much more subdued tone. He did not find his new name so bad, after all, when pronounced in this tone. But immediately there loomed up before him the horrors of petticoat government, and he felt himself pledged to guard his supremacy once for all.

"Peter it stands," he decided. "You must submit to me in this, Leonie."

"I submit myself in everything," asserted Leonie in tenderest tone. "I am, in general, a weak, dependent creature, who has no will of her own. You shall never listen to a contradiction in the whole course of our married life, dear Hugo–but surely you will not refuse the first request I make of you, and that on our betrothal-day?"

Dear Hugo began to melt under the softening influence of this gentle voice and these pleading eyes, and his constancy as well as supremacy showed signs of giving way.

"Well, if it gives you such great pleasure, you can call me so yourself," he admitted. "But on the cards of invitation it shall stand–"

"Leonie Friedberg and Dr. Hugo Hagenbach! I thank you, Hugo, with all my heart, for this proof of your love!"

What was poor Peter Hagenbach to do? He pocketed the thanks and covered his shameful retreat by bestowing a kiss upon his beloved. In this first dispute the "weaker" half had come off with flying colors and the stronger had had to lower his flag–it might be an omen–

Meanwhile Dernburg was in his office, receiving announcements from the works that were anything but quieting. At other times, any unusual occurrence had found him either in the midst of or at the head of his workmen, but now he avoided any contact with them. Of late he had not spoken a word to any of the men, or taken the least notice of any, although he went daily to the works.

He stood at the window, lost in melancholy brooding, for the moment entirely alone, and slowly turned around when the door was opened, believing that some new announcement was about to be made. In the next second, though, he shrank back and stared at the intruder, as though he could not believe his own eyes.

"Egbert!"

Egbert closed the door behind him, but paused on its threshold, while he said in a low voice:

"I beg your pardon for having once more made use of my old privilege, of entering unannounced–it happens for the last time."

Dernburg had already recovered his self-command, his eyes flashed portentously, and his voice was chilling in the extreme.

"I certainly did not expect to see you again at Odensburg. Here Runeck, pray what leads the new delegate to me? I thought that we two were to have no more to say to one another."

Runeck might have expected such a reception, but his glance was fixed reproachfully upon the speaker.

"Herr Dernburg, you are too just to make me responsible for the excesses of election-day evening. I was in town–"

"I know–with Landsfeld. And from there the movement was directed."

Egbert turned pale and quickly drew one step nearer. "Am I to bear this reproach, too? Is it possible that you believe I could have had a share in those insults, that I could have known of them and not prevented them?"

"Let us leave that," said Dernburg in the same cold tone. "We are now only political opponents, Herr Runeck. As such we shall occasionally meet in public life, but there no longer exists between us relations of any other sort. If you really have further communications to make to me, I would prefer to have them in writing. Since, however, you are here this time, what would you have of me?"

"I could not select writing as my medium," returned Runeck, firmly. "If my coming surprises you–"