The Burgomaster's Wife — Complete

by Georg Ebers

  CHAPTER IX.

  On the evening of the third day after Wilhelm's interview with Henrica,his way led him through Nobelstrasse past the Hoogstraten mansion.

  Ere reaching it, he saw two gentlemen, preceded by a servant carrying alantern, cross the causeway towards it.

  Wilhelm's attention was attracted. The servant now seized the knocker,and the light of his lantern fell on the men's faces. Neither wasunfamiliar to him.

  The small, delicate old man, with the peaked hat and short black velvetcloak, was Abbe Picard, a gay Parisian, who had come to Leyden ten yearsbefore and gave French lessons in the wealthy families of the city.He had been Wilhelm's teacher too, but the musician's father, theReceiver-General, would have nothing to do with the witty abbe; for hewas said to have left his beloved France on account of some questionabletransactions, and Herr Cornelius scented in him a Spanish spy. The othergentleman, a grey-haired, unusually stout man, of middle height, whorequired a great deal of cloth for his fur-bordered cloak, was SignorLamperi, the representative of the great Italian mercantile house ofBonvisi in Antwerp, who was in the habit of annually coming to Leyden onbusiness for a few weeks with the storks and swallows, and was a welcomeguest in every tap-room as the inexhaustible narrator of funny stories.Before these two men entered the house, they were joined by a third,preceded by two servants carrying lanterns. A wide cloak envelopedhis tall figure; he too stood on the threshold of old age and was nostranger to Wilhelm, for the Catholic Monseigneur Gloria, who often cameto Leyden from Haarlem, was a patron of the noble art of music, and whenthe young man set out on his journey to Italy had provided him, spite ofhis heretical faith, with valuable letters of introduction.

  Wilhelm, as the door closed behind the three gentlemen, continued hisway. Belotti had told him the day before that the young lady seemedvery ill, but since her aunt was receiving guests, Henrica was doubtlessbetter.

  The first story in the Hoogstraten mansion was brightly lighted, but inthe second a faint, steady glow streamed into Nobelstrasse from a singlewindow, while she for whom the lamp burned sat beside a table, her eyessparkling with a feverish glitter, as she pressed her forehead againstthe marble top. Henrica was entirely alone in the wide, lofty room heraunt had assigned her. Behind curtains of thick faded brocade was herbedstead, a heavy structure of enormous width. The other articles offurniture were large and shabby, but had once been splendid. Everychair, every table looked as if it had been taken from some desertedbanqueting-hall. Nothing really necessary was lacking in the apartment,but it was anything but home-like and cosey, and no one would ever havesupposed a young girl occupied it, had it not been for a large gilt harpthat leaned against the long, hard couch beside the fireplace.

  Henrica's head was burning but, though she had wrapped a shawl aroundher lower limbs, her feet were freezing on the uncarpeted stone floor.

  A short time after the three gentlemen had entered her aunt's house, awoman's figure ascended the stairs leading from the first to the secondstory. Henrica's over-excited senses perceived the light tread ofthe satin shoes and the rustle of the silk train, long before theapproaching form had reached the room, and with quickened breathing, shesat erect.

  A thin hand, without any preliminary knock, now opened the door and oldFraulein Van Hoogstraten walked up to her niece.

  The elderly dame had once been beautiful, now and at this hour shepresented a strange, unpleasing appearance.

  The thin, bent figure was attired in a long trailing robe of heavy pinksilk. The little head almost disappeared in the ruff, a large structureof immense height and width. Long chains of pearls and glittering gemshung on the sallow skin displayed by the open neck of her dress, andon the false, reddish-yellow curls rested a roll of light-blue velvetdecked with ostrich plumes. A strong odor of various fragrant essencespreceded her. She herself probably found them somewhat overpowering, forher large glittering fan was in constant motion and fluttered violently,when in answer to her curt: "Quick, quick," Henrica returned a resolute"no, 'ma tante.'"

  The old lady, however, was not at all disconcerted by the refusal,but merely repeated her "Quick, quick," more positively, adding as animportant reason:

  "Monseigneur has come and wants to hear you."

  "He does me great honor," replied the young girl, "great honor, but howoften must I repeat: I will not come."

  "Is it allowable to ask why not, my fair one?" said the old lady.

  "Because I am not fit for your society," cried Henrica vehemently,"because my head aches and my eyes burn, because I can't sing to-day,and because--because--because--I entreat you, leave me in peace."

  Old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten let her fan sink by her side, and saidcoolly:

  "Were you singing two hours ago--yes or no?"

  "Yes."

  "Then your headache can't be so very bad, and Denise will dress you."

  "If she comes, I'll send her away. When I just took the harp, I did soto sing the pain away. It was relieved for a few minutes, but now mytemples are throbbing with twofold violence."

  "Excuses."

  "Believe what you choose. Besides--even if I felt better at this momentthan a squirrel in the woods. I wouldn't go down to see the gentlemen. Ishall stay here. I have given my word, and I am a Hoogstraten as well asyou."

  Henrica had risen, and her eyes flashed with a gloomy fire at heroppressor. The old lady waved her fan faster, and her projecting chintrembled. Then she said curtly:

  "Your word of honor! So you won't! You won't!"

  "Certainly not," cried the young girl with undutiful positiveness.

  "Everybody must have his way," replied the old lady, turning towards thedoor. "What is too wilful is too wilful. Your father won't thank you forthis." With these words Fraulein Van Hoogstraten raised her long trainand approached the door. There she paused, and again glanced enquiringlyat Henrica. The latter doubtless noticed her aunt's hesitation, butwithout heeding the implied threat intentionally turned her back.

  As soon as the door closed, the young girl sank back into her chair,pressed her forehead against the marble slab and let it remain therea long time. Then she rose as suddenly and hastily as if obeying someurgent summons, raised the lid of her trunk, tossed the stockings,bodices and shoes, that came into her way, out on the floor, and didnot rise until she had found a few sheets of writing-paper which shehad laid, before leaving her father's castle, among the rest of herproperty.

  As she rose from her kneeling posture, she was seized with giddiness,but still kept her feet, carried to the table first the white sheets anda portfolio, then the large inkstand that had already stood several daysin her room, and seated herself beside it.

  Leaning far back in her chair, she began to write. The book that servedas a desk lay on her knee, the paper on the book. Creaking and pausing,the goosequill made large, stiff letters on the white surface. Henricawas not skilled in writing, but to-day it must have been unspeakablydifficult for her; her high forehead became covered with perspiration,her mouth was distorted by pain, and whenever she had finished a fewlines, she closed her eyes or drank greedily from the water-pitcher thatstood beside her.

  The large room was perfectly still, but the peace that surrounded herwas often disturbed by strange noises and tones, that rose from thedining-hall directly under her chamber. The clinking of glasses, shrilltittering, loud, deep laughter, single bars of a dissolute love-song,cheers, and then the sharp rattle of a shattered wine glass reached herin mingled sounds. She did not wish to hear it, but could not escapeand clenched her white teeth indignantly. Yet meantime the pen did notwholly stop.

  She wrote in broken, or long, disconnected sentences, almostincoherently involved. Sometimes there were gaps, sometimes the sameword was twice or thrice repeated. The whole resembled a letter writtenby a lunatic, yet every line, every stroke of the pen, expressed thesame desire uttered with passionate longing: "Take me away from here!Take me away from this woman and this house!"

  The epistle was addressed to her father.
She implored him to rescueher from this place, come or send for her. "Her uncle, Matanesse VanWibisma," she said, "seemed to be a sluggish messenger; he had probablyenjoyed the evenings at her aunt's, which filled her, Henrica, withloathing. She would go out into the world after her sister, if herfather compelled her to stay here." Then she began a description of heraunt and her life. The picture of the days and nights she had now spentfor weeks with the old lady, presented in vivid characters a mixture ofgreat and petty troubles, external and mental humiliations.

  Only too often the same drinking and carousing had gone on below asto-day-Henrica had always been compelled to join her aunt's guests,elderly dissolute men of French or Italian origin and easy morals. Whiledescribing these conventicles, the blood crimsoned her flushed cheeksstill more deeply, and the long strokes of the pen grew heavier andheavier. What the abbe related and her aunt laughed at, what the Italianscreamed and Monseigneur smilingly condemned with a slight shake ofthe head, was so shamelessly bold that she would have been defiled byrepeating the words. Was she a respectable girl or not? She would ratherhunger and thirst, than be present at such a banquet again. If thedining-room was empty, other unprecedented demands were made uponHenrica, for then her aunt, who could not endure to be alone a moment,was sick and miserable, and she was obliged to nurse her. That shegladly and readily served the suffering, she wrote, she had sufficientlyproved by her attendance on the village children when they had thesmallpox, but if her aunt could not sleep she was compelled to watchbeside her, hold her hand, and listen until morning as she moaned,whined and prayed, sometimes cursing herself and sometimes thetreacherous world. She, Henrica, had come to the house strong and well,but so much disgust and anger, such constant struggling to controlherself had robbed her of her health.

  The young girl had written until midnight. The letters became more andmore irregular and indistinct, the lines more crooked, and with the lastwords: "My head, my poor head! You will see that I am losing my senses.I beseech you, I beseech you, my dear, stern father, take me home. Ihave again heard something about Anna--" her eyes grew dim, her pendropped from her hand, and she fell back in the chair unconscious.

  There she lay, until the last laugh and sound of rattling glass had diedaway below, and her aunt's guests had left the house.

  Denise, the cameriera, noticed the light in the room, entered, and aftervainly endeavoring to rouse Henrica, called her mistress.

  The latter followed the maid, muttering as she ascended the stairs:

  "Fallen asleep, found the time hang heavy--that's all! She might havebeen lively and laughed with us! Stupid race! 'Men of butter,' KingPhilip says. That wild Lamperi was really impertinent to-night, and theabbe said things--things--"

  The old lady's large eyes were sparkling vinously, and her fan wavedrapidly to and fro to cool the flush on her cheeks.

  She now stood opposite to Henrica, called her, shook her and sprinkledher with perfumed water from the large shell, set in gold, which hung asan essence bottle from her belt. When her niece only muttered incoherentwords, she ordered the maid to bring her medicine-chest.

  Denise had gone and Fraulein Van Hoogstraten now perceived Henrica'sletter, raised it close to her eyes, read page after page withincreasing indignation, and at last tossed it on the floor and tried toshake her niece awake; but in vain.

  Meantime Belotti had been informed of Henrica's serious illness and, ashe liked the young girl, sent for a physician on his own responsibility,and instead of the family priest summoned Father Damianus. Then he wentto the sick girl's chamber.

  Even before he crossed the threshold, the old lady in the utmostexcitement, exclaimed:

  "Belotti, what do you say now, Belotti? Sickness in the house, perhapscontagious sickness, perhaps the plague."

  "It seems to be only a fever," replied the Italian soothingly. "Come,Denise, we will carry the young lady to the bed.

  "The doctor will soon be here."

  "The doctor?" cried the old lady, striking her fan on the marble top ofthe table. "Who permitted you, Belotti--"

  "We are Christians," interrupted the servant, not without dignity.

  "Very well, very well," she cried. "Do what you please, call whom youchoose, but Henrica can't stay here. Contagion in the house, the plague,a black tablet."

  "Excellenza is disturbing herself unnecessarily. Let us first hear whatthe doctor says."

  "I won't hear him; I can't bear the plague and the small-pox. Go downat once, Belotti, and have the sedan-chair prepared. The old chevalier'sroom in the rear building is empty."

  "But, Excellenza, it's gloomy, and so damp that the north wall iscovered with mould."

  "Then let it be aired and cleaned. What does this delay mean? You haveonly to obey. Do you understand?"

  "The chevalier's room isn't fit for my mistress's sick niece," repliedBelotti civilly, but resolutely.

  "Isn't it? And you know exactly?" asked his mistress scornfully. "Godown, Denise, and order the sedan-chair to be brought up. Have youanything more to say, Belotti?"

  "Yes, Padrona," replied the Italian, in a trembling voice. "I beg yourexcellenza to dismiss me."

  "Dismiss you from my service?"

  "With your excellenza's permission, yes--from your service."

  The old woman started, clasped her hands tightly upon her fan, and said:

  "You are irritable, Belotti."

  "No, Padrona, but I am old and dread the misfortune of being ill in thishouse."

  Fraulein Van Hoogstraten shrugged her shoulders and turning to her maid,cried:

  "The sedan-chair, Denise. You are dismissed, Belotti."