THE STORYTELLER

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LI, Issue 50, 17 December 1924, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER

"You are very pious, sir," said Baron Dahnow. Bah! women easily forget, especially handsome ones, for they soon find a comforter. We two have the ugliest part of the. affair—all pain and no pleasure." In the afternoon Dahnow found himself, at the hour named by the chaplain, waiting for the countess at the station. As the train came puffing in, Degenthal also appeared on the platform. He was in travelling attire, but only carried a bag with him. "I shall accompany my mother, but will come back the day after to-morrow. I hope I shall find yon here," he said to Dahnow. The bell rang, a short introduction, a friendly nod from the countess, and the train carried off Degenthal with his mother. 'The day after to-morrow, without fail," cried Curt once more to his friend from the window of the coupe, as if he wished thus to inform his mother also of his intention. "A determined face that of the mother! It's not good to row in the same boat with her," Dahnow thought to himself on. his way back to the town. "The best thing would be if tho cousin" were as lovely as a cherub. An enthusiast is capable of anything, although he has shown more determination than I gave him credit for. Poor Nora! But the chaplain is right; it would bo dreadful if each impression of one's youth were indelible." And Baron Dahnow heaved a, deep sigh. "I have given him up into "lis mother's hands, and I will do no more in the matter," he added, at least, for the twentieth time. CHAPTER VIII. Those words summed up the wishes of Countess Degenthal. Like all women who once have the management of an affair, she attributed every mishap befalling the same to the fact of having, if only for a moment, allowed the reins to slip out of her hands.. It was because the chaplain wished Curt should learn to be nupre -independent that sho had sent him to - -the university. She had been against the step, but had, notwithstanding, allowed it to be taken, and she was comforted to think that this distressing love affair had been the result of an opposition to her will. Her nature was ono which built everything upon set principles, and, as we have before stated, a stern feeling of duty had been the guide of her life. To active, and particularly to feminine, natures, there; is; some; danger in the amount of things they include in their conception of duty, and in the extent they bring their notions to bear upon 'the fate of other people. Unless .heart asserts itself in a soothing manner, there is.

NORA •Translated from the German by Princess Liechtenstein (Published by arrangement with Burns, Oates, Washbourne, Ltd.) CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued.)

but one step from that stern spirit to tlio love of domineering. The countess, left a widow at an early age, had given herself up with great energy and devotion to the fulfilment of her maternal duties, as well as to the direction of her son's affairs. All the tenderness she was capable of was completely dedicated to her elder son, in.whose gentle nature she found all the qualities which were missing in herself. She had thus become absolute mistress of his feelings, forgetting, as many a mother does, that the day might arrive when a total revulsion would take place, and his heart would be as entirely given up into, other hands as it had been in hers. She had brought up her son according to her principles, with strong and powerful views, which, however, in his nature, had taken a more ideal turn. That he should thus forget his principles at the very first start into the world made him fall very low in her opinion. With motherly vanity she refused to seek the cause of this in her son, but rather in dangerous influences and low intrigues, joined to the excessive freedom of student life. She thought him safe as soon as she once more felt him given up, as we said, into her hands. She thought the battle- half Avon in the very fact that he was now sitting beside her. Dahnow had erred in supposing that she had not received dirt's letter before her departure, but she had considered it as the very height of folly, to which even the slightest attention was not to be paid. It was her principle to take active measures at once, and so it was that, according to Dahnow's advice, she had determined to secure her son without delay, and to keep him at home. The pretext for her journey was easily found in the necessity of fetching her niece from the convent. Her secret hope was that home would be made attractive to him by the presence of a young girl, and that she "would also then have a good reason for spending a winter in town, and thus offer him amusement. Her fertile brain could take in all the details of a plan and carry it out to its completion. But she was clever enough to know that there are times when silence is the best of weapons. Not one word alluding to the affair fell from her lips during that long journey. Her joy at his accompanying her had made her welcome warmer than it would otherwise have been; and Curt, not knowing whether_ she had received his letter, was also, silent upon the subject.' She explained to . him in, detail. business, which would require 'his* presence at home;,, and managed to awaken ,a little interest in him on the subject - and to bring" liim 'out 'of * his ' sullen reserve. Although she.considered the father's

refusal to be a mere calculation, she was determined to make use of it. For the present, her main object was not to let Curt out of her sight; she had a vague feeling that ho might escape her at any moment. The next day her first request was that he should accompany her to the convent, whence she intended to take Lily, who had never got over her home-sickness. Curt did not feel any great inclination to go; but what was a small inconvenience at such a moment compared to the one great sorrow gnawing at his soul? He had only ono idea; and that was how he could get at Nora, and prove to her father and to herself that he would consider no obstacle insurmountable, in order to possess her. He was not yet quite sure of his plan of attack; indeed, the thought of returning home had crossed his mind the university town would be odious to him now, and he could carry out his researches as well from one place as from another. Anyhow, the whereabouts of Nora's father could not long remain a secret to him. In order, therefore, to avoid any useless bickering, he accompanied his mother to the convent. There, the countess pressed him to come in, as the Mother Superior was a friend of her childhood, as well as a relation; she would like, she said, to introduce her son to her. Curt, in a complete state of moral indifference as to what became of him, once more gave way. They traversed the old-fashioned court and entered the building. The nun who received them, led them into the "parlor." and went to call the reverend mother. The countess sat down upon one of the small horsehair sofas, whilst Curt stared absently at the pictures which adorned the walls of the otherwise plain little reception-room. Both mother and son had their hearts too full to enter upon any indifferent conversation. The nun soon came back, and announced that the Mother Superior would be down directly. She was just going to leave the room, when a low voice asked her where the Mother Superior was. "No, don't go upstairs, miss," answered the nun, "Mother Superior will be here in a moment. You woudl miss her by going upstairs. Please wait in the parlor." "I have only a few words to say," answered the speaker, and the rustle of a gown was heard. "But there are visitors here already," she said, looking into the room, and standing at the door. Curt had started at the first sound of the voice, but now he turned hastily round. For a moment each one stood as if nailed to their place; but then, he sprang to her side. "Nora, Nora, why are you here? You have no right to bo here! They shan't bury you alive!".ho cried in wild despair. "T shall bring every law of human justice to bear against so flagrant treachery. You are mine, you know you told mo so yourself!" The countess looked on, horror-struck, and was speechless. Before her, in the doorway, was a beautiful girl whose hand her son had taken possession of. She saw how the young lady made a gesture as if to beg

him to leave her, and prepared to turn away from the room herself. Her strength, however, failed, and she leant back against the door, a. deadly pallor overspreading her features. Curt passed his arm around her waist, and said authoritatively to tho poor nun who was watching the scene with terror: "Go and call the Lady Superior, and bring some salts or something to restore her; you see that she is fainting. The young lady is engaged to me, so I have a right to look after her." Saying this, ho raised Nora in his arms and placed her upon the sofa, from which the countess instinctively drew back. The nun disappeared; she had never yet witnessed such a scene within the quiet convent walls; but with a true woman's heart, her sympathy was awakened for the unhappy lovers. Curt meanwhile knelt at Nora's side. He called her by all the fondest names he could think of; he covered her hands with passionate kisses, and implored her to tell him the reason why she had left him. Her eyes soon opened again; .it had only been a, passing weakness caused by the suddenness of (he mooting. "Curt," she said in a soft low tone, and she looked at him with all the love her heart was full of. Suddenly, however, she sat up in terror, and pushed him away from her. She had noticed Curt's mother, and had seen the stern and almost despairing looks the countess threw upon her son. At this juncture Curt turned. "Mother," he said, "this .is Nora. Some one tried to tear her away from me; you yourself have brought me hack to her. It would, perhaps, have been difficult for you to picture her to yourself such as she is; God has now allowed that you should .meet her here, and that you should see how worthy she is to become your daughter. I had already written to you, telling you all, but now we can implore you viva voce for your blessing." "I received your letter," said the countess coldly; "but there are species of folly which are best answered by silent contempt." "Mother," cried Curt hotly, "then, perhaps, you are also aware that I consider this madness as the one happiness of my whole life, and that I shall give up everything for it." "I think wo have had enough of this scene," said the countess again; "I art) not fond of discussing family matters before strangers." With these words she turned, for the Mother Superior had just entered, and was looking in mute surprise upon the excited group. As soon as Nora saw her, she arose and threw herself sobbing upon her neck. "What is it, my child?" asked the Lady Superior gently. Curt answered for her. "Madam, this young lady is kept back here against all sort of justice. Even if she came here of her own accord, you must not believe, you must not accept her vows. She has been talked, forced and frightened into it; she has told me herself that her heart belongs to me; she has given me her word. Nora, you cannot, you dare not deny it!"

"Who talks of keeping any one back, of vows, or of vocation?" the Superior calmly replied. "This young lady came hero because she was brought up here, and spent ten years of her life here; she only intended remaining a few days, and was to start to-morrow." "No, Nora, you will not go away! You will not bo once more faithless to me! Can' your love bear with nothing Is it too weak for a little patience?" cried the youth, mad with grief. "Count Degenthal," said the nun gravely, "so long as this young lady is under my protection, 1 cannot allow you to use this language to her. I do not know whether you have any right to speak thus, nor can I judge of the reasons which keep you asunder and prevent your union. That is a question you must decide with the young lady's father, and with your family," she added, with a look at the countess, who stood near, her face distorted with anguish. "Nora, dear," she then said, "you had better go upstairs, if you feel yourself strong enough." Nora arose submissively. For a moment she stood irresolute, and then she turned suddenly to the countess. "Madam," she said, and her voice was pathetic and touching in tho extreme, "I should never have thought that our meeting would have been so painful a one! You were so inexpressibly good to my poor dear mother —do not be hard to her daughter who will be grateful to you her whole life long. It is dreadful to be the cause of such misery!" The countess- was too much embittered and excited to understand a syllable of what Nora said. "You have caught him so completely in your nets," she answered coldly, "that it does not much matter what his mother's feelings are the while." "Nora drew herself up. "It was he who sought me out, and we have met to-day without any wish of mine. He is perfectly free!" she said coldly and calmly, and there was something in that tone which made the countess look up in spite of herself. She was, nolens volens, impressed (by the tall and graceful figure which turned proudly and gravely away. That moment was the only one in which Countess Degenthal ever understood her son's passion. "Mother!" cried the latter wildly. "Beware of treading too harshly upon our life's happiness. I can implore you, but I shall also know how to act. Nora, say one word to me!" and he tried to rush after her. The Superior stepped forward, and stood between him and the door. "Speak with the young lady's father, or else visit her at his lodgings; here I cannot allow you to say one word more. As far as I know, Mr. Karsten is living, for the present, at the P. Hotel." Curt looked up at (lie nun's sweet face, and it seemed to him as if she were, perhaps, his ally. "Oh, if indeed you are to Nora all that she has told me she found in you, then tell my mother that she is worthy of her!"

"She possesses all the qualities of the mind and of the heart which would fit her

for any position," said the Superior. "But, dear Count Curt, there are circumstances against which no man should try to fight; he always regrets his resistance sooner or Vhe always regrets his resistance if you had later. It would have been better if you had > not met." "But it was Providence which brought us for the third time together in so miraculous a manner." "We often call providential that which tpleases us, and yet it is often but a trial which Providence sends us," answered the *nun gently. "I cannot remain hero any longer. I must have a carriage and return to the hotel," said the countess with agitation. The Superior was going to ring the bell, but Curt offered to go and fetch a carriage himself. As soon as he had left the room the countess sank, as if completely broken down, upon the sofa. "Clotilde," said the nun, calling her tenderly as she had done in the days of their youth, "Clotilde, I can fully understand and sympathise with your grief and with your bitter experience. But lie at least comforted by the thought that your son has not been caught in the nets of an unworthy person. I have known her since earliest childhood, and can only say that if her social position were different, he could not have made a better choice." The countess made an impatient and deprecating gesture while the nun continued: "I know how that very fact is one which opposes all your, and, indeed, all my principles; it is seldom good to 'bring a disproportionate element into any society. But surely there are exceptions. I cannot be\lieve that a passion conceived by two such natures as those of Curt and of Nora will be a mere passing thing. It is a deep and pure affection, such as takes its birth in two unspoilt hearts. The strangeness of their relative positions, too, has only strengthened this feeling; for he must also have fought long with himself before love got the upper

hand. You may be sure that the gulf at first seemed as great to him as it now seems to you. So much have I ascertained from herself, for she had confided her short love tale to me. It is perhaps dangerous to shatter so deep an affection without some all-impor-tant reason. You know young hearts do not feel much inclination to bend before old principles." "I never change my principles," said the countess sharply, "and still less would I do so for the sake of two lovers' folly, or for that of some low intrigue. It would not be my duty to act otherwise." "We often consider those duties the most important which we impose on ourselves; and Ave cannot build up other people's happiness according to our ideas. Clotilde, don't be too hard upon them; you might lose a son, instead of gaining a daughter." "Don't waste a word more upon the matter," said the countess impatiently. "I never allow myself to be influenced by any one. Moreover, I don't wish Lily to hear anything about this. She is too young. In the afternoon I will ask the chaplain to come and fetch her. I feel too much overcome to do so myself. Please tell her nothing of this visit." The Lady Superior promised to do as the countess wished and Curt entered, saying that the carriage was there. His mother did not accept his proffered arm, but he followed her into the carriage. Mother and son sat silently side by side. Perhaps Curt had hoped she would say one soothing word; but she did not open her lips. When they arrived at the hotel he helped her to get out; then, giving the coachman another address, he hastily re-entered the carriage, and drove away. "Where did the count say he wished to be taken?" asked the countess of the waiter who stood by. "To the P. Hotel," was the answer. The countess heaved a deeo sigh for she knew what that address meant. (To be continued.)