Irretrievable

by Theodor Fontane

  “Will you try?” asked Holk, pointing to the lightning-conductor by which, with sufficient determination, it might still have been possible to lower themselves to the ground. But Ebba shook her head helplessly. “Then let’s see if we can work our way along the roof as far as the next mansard and climb in through there.” Cautiously, leaning back all the time, they slowly edged along the steep slope, bracing their feet against the gutter. It was a bare ten yards and everything seemed to be going well, but hardly had they gone half-way than Ebba said: “It’s no good, my legs won’t carry me any more.” Holk thought of shouting and waving but he soon realized that it would be useless, because in order not to over-balance, he had to remain leaning back and this excluded any possibility of being seen from below. Their only hope now lay in Karin, who presumably would not only be trying herself to discover where they were but would also have warned the others; and it was this that now actually rescued them from their fearful predicament. A quarter of an hour must have passed when they noticed that some persons had gone round the end of the lake and, almost at once, they heard cries from the Hilleröd side, where it was possible to have a better view of the roof. Although they could not understand the shouts, their encouraging tone left no doubt that those shouting were certain of rescuing them. A short while later, they heard behind them what sounded like the blows of axes and hammers and, immediately afterwards, they spied heads peering out of a hole in the roof, trying to see where they were. The first time, they misjudged the distance but this was easily remedied and, after a short delay, strong arms reached out from inside the castle and lifted first Ebba and then Holk into safety. In triumph, they were carried downstairs and into the courtyard. The first person to address them was the King himself.

  Although having returned from Skodsborg to Fredericksborg at midnight, only an hour before the outbreak of the fire, it was he who had been leading all the rescue operations and had been the most active and successful in bringing his precious antiques to safety; indeed, it was largely owing to him that anything was saved at all. His two equerries were beside him.

  “So it’s you, Holk,” he said as soon as he noticed him. “And like a gallant knight, you have rescued your lady too. I must make sure that this famous deed becomes known in Skodsborg.” And despite the gravity of the occurrence, there was a touch of mockery in the casually spoken words.

  Westergaard and Lundbye were anxiously bustling round Ebba. “Where is the Princess?” she asked.

  “At the station,” was the reply. “A special train is being provided for her. She says that she feels like a cat on hot bricks here.”

  The pun was quite unintentional and everyone took it as such. Only Ebba saw the unwitting humour of the remark and unable, even at such a moment as this, to resist a witticism, she said: “On hot bricks, indeed! The Princess has much less right to say that than Holk and I!”

  28

  Anxious to take advantage of the special train, Ebba wanted to go to the station at once but she was still in such a state of weakness that Holk, as well as the young equerries, urged her against it. Eventually, she allowed herself to be persuaded and was taken over to the left wing of the castle which was untouched by the fire. Here the castle chapel was being used as temporary accommodation and round the altar itself, where all the candles were lit, there were sitting, or rather camping, the wives and children of officials and servants, the children decked out in all sorts of clothes, including communion robes from Catholic times which had been brought out from the vestry. There was nothing left for Ebba to put on; all that could be found was a couple of pillows to protect her at least from the bitter cold of the stone floor. But it was not enough and after Holk had vainly searched for something better in the small caretaker’s lodge nearby, he suggested to Ebba, who was becoming increasingly chilled, that it would be better, after all, to risk going to the station. An old servant showed them the nearest way and so they set off, reaching the station just in time to hear the clock strike six. The Princess had left more than an hour before and the next train from Elsinore was not expected for another thirty minutes. At the station itself, everything was at sixes and sevens and there were no more seats in the waiting-room, which was full to overflowing with people from Hilleröd, young and old, who all wanted to get to Copenhagen as quickly as possible to report on the horrible events of the night—the most sensational of which were, fortunately, pure inventions. In one tower, it was being said with complete assurance, everyone had been burnt to cinders, three people from the court and a gardener as well. Ebba, who was having great difficulty in remaining on her feet, was forced to hear all this and she would have been hardly better off here than she had been in the icy chapel, if one of the station staff had not hit upon the good idea of opening up for Ebba and Holk the separate room reserved for the royal court. Here, it was not only warm and roomy but they found Pentz and Erichsen as well, who had remained behind in order to be able to report to the Princess the fate of those thought to have been trapped, a last-minute arrangement made when the Princess had already climbed into the compartment with Countess Schimmelmann. Holk and Ebba were naturally greeted with the greatest relief by the two gentlemen-in-waiting, who had feared the worst; and even more heartfelt, when she rushed in immediately afterwards, was their greeting of Karin, who had till now been sitting crouched in a corner of the adjacent waiting-room. “Never mind, child,” said Ebba, trying to joke. “What is there to make such a fuss about? First it was rather too warm and then rather too cool, that’s all.” But Karin, fond of jokes as she was, found it impossible to respond to Ebba’s humour and was unable to stifle her tears and sobs as she kept kissing her mistress’s hand. As may be imagined, Pentz was full of questions, principally addressed to Holk, but, before the latter could reply, a whistle was heard in the distance, signalling the approach of the Elsinore train. A minute later, it drew in at the platform and in spite of the lack of coaches, it was found possible to arrange for a special compartment for Ebba, where she was able to lie down covered by plaids and coats. Karin sat with her, while the three men climbed into an adjacent coach.

  At eight o’clock the train came to a halt in the Copenhagen railway station, carriages were ordered and Pentz drove with Ebba and Karin to the palace, while Erichsen and Holk went to their own homes. Holk knocked and the door was opened by the beautiful Brigitte, who said: “Thank God, you have come back, Count Holk.” But some disappointment was plainly mingled with her relief, not surprisingly, since immediately after the arrival of the special train, rumours of the horrible death of Count Holk and Fräulein von Rosenberg had begun to circulate, a story sensational beyond the dreams of mother or daughter. And now the Count was alive, after all, and perhaps—or indeed certainly—Fräulein von Rosenberg as well. It was obviously impossible to rely on anything any more; it was always the most exciting things that turned out to be false. But Brigitte concealed her feelings and repeated: “Thank God, Count Holk. We were so afraid for you. And for that lovely Swedish girl …”

  As she spoke, her eyes never left Holk’s face and her extraordinary intuition—extraordinary in one direction, at least—enabled her to realize everything that had happened, particularly what most intimately concerned Holk and Ebba, as clearly as if she had been present.

  “Yes, my dear Frau Brigitte,” said Holk, who only heard, or chose only to hear, the sympathy in her voice, “yes, it was a dreadful experience that I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy and least of all myself and …”

  “… such a lovely girl.”

  “Well, if you like; but she’s not quite as lovely as you always seem to assume, and in any case not half as lovely as others whom I won’t name. But we must talk about that another time and decide the question then. At the moment, I am dog-tired, dear Frau Hansen, and I want to catch up with all the sleep that I have lost. Please tell everyone that I’m not to be disturbed, even Baron Pentz, if he calls. But wake me at twelve. And then I should like some lunch.”

  Holk slept soundl
y until he heard a knock on his door warning him that it was time to get up and dress, which he hastily did. He still felt in a dream and all that had happened seemed like some play passing through his mind; but when he went to the window and looked down into the street, all the events of the night came suddenly into clear focus. At this moment, Brigitte appeared with lunch and as she wanted Holk to begin telling his story, she not only laid the table very slowly but even went so far as to ask direct questions, a thing which she would normally never have done. But on this occasion, Holk remained impenetrable, replied only briefly, and through his whole attitude gave her to understand that he would prefer to be alone, which not only greatly amazed the beautiful Frau Hansen but gave her an even lower opinion of the young Swedish woman. None of this escaped Holk’s notice; but since he felt it prudent not to put the pretty Brigitte into a bad temper, he asked her to excuse his vagueness and to remember that he was still suffering from the effects of his terrible experience.

  “Yes,” said Frau Hansen. “Terrible; it must have been terrible with the responsibility and wanting to help and not being able to. And with everybody looking on and perhaps wearing only a very thin dress … if she was wearing a dress …”

  She said all this with such a serious expression on her face and in such an emotional tone that when she had left, Holk was once again left wondering if he ought to consider it all pure malice and shameless play-acting on her part. Yet perhaps there was some real sympathy in her, for, after all, that type of person is always very good-hearted. But whatever it was, he was in no mood to pursue the matter further and hardly was he alone than he was once more assailed by all the thoughts and fancies which Brigitte’s appearance had merely interrupted. It seemed hardly possible that it was not twenty-four hours ago that they had set out on the excursion to the hotel on Lake Arre. So much had happened since then! First, their escapade together out to the broken and crumbling ice and then the return and the teasing and Ebba’s arrogance at supper … and then when Karin came and the flames spurted from the floor and walls and how they finally stepped out on to the castle roof, with death and destruction below them, and how this step had eventually led them to safety.

  “Yes, to safety,” he said to himself. “With everything hanging by a thread, as it did then and as it always does. What was it that saved us? The fact that, on the very first day, we walked by the lakes and summer-houses as far as the ferry in the park and on that very day, the sun happened to be shining and I looked back at the castle which was bathed in light; and because everything was so clear and bright, I could see quite plainly how the lower end of the tower-roof joined on to the bottom of the castle-roof. Yes, it was that which saved us. A pure chance, if there is such a thing. But no, there is no such thing; it had to be so, some providence had arranged it. And I must accept that and use it as the foundation for all that I now intend to do. When someone is in trouble and doubt, he is waiting for some sign to show him what he is to do; and I have been given a sign, by the fact that a higher providence brought us out of danger. If all my feelings had been wrong all this time, punishment would have overtaken us and Ebba and I would have fallen unconscious and been suffocated and never found our way to safety. And if I understood Christine’s last letter properly, she also feels that this will be the best thing for us to do. All those happy days we spent together mustn’t be forgotten, of course not, and by remembering them we can lessen the bitterness of parting, but part we must and I think it is our duty to do so, because we have become complete strangers to each other. Ah, all that bickering and nagging! I’m longing for a new life, one that doesn’t begin and end with religious tracts, I want harmony in my home, not a harmonium, joy and mutual understanding and air and light and freedom. That’s what I want and that’s what I have always wanted, ever since the first day I arrived here, and now I’ve been given the sign that I’m going to be allowed to have it.”

  He broke off for a moment and then he started all over again. His thoughts were all revolving around one idea and he had only one purpose in mind: to still an inner voice that refused to be silenced, because, while believing that he had proved everything to his own satisfaction, in his heart of hearts he was still haunted by the thought that his proofs were worthless and if he had been able to step outside himself and listen to his own arguments, he would have realized that he was studiously avoiding two words: God and heaven. He was appealing to neither because, dimly yet quite certainly, he felt that he was fighting in the defence of an unjust cause and he did not dare to misuse the name of God by involving Him in the question. Had he been able to see himself from outside he would have been able to realize all this, but this gift had been denied him; and so he continued to float along on the stream of his specious arguments, following his dreams, lulling his conscience to sleep, writing himself one certificate of good conduct after another. And why not? After all, he was an easy man to live with, as he said to himself, if only one set about it the right way; but Christine had never known how to do it nor did she want to; yes, she was the victim of all her fine Christian talk, that was quite definite, or at least he wanted it to be definite, and suddenly filled with a longing to bring his good cause, his just cause, to a speedy conclusion, he finally lost all sense of judgement and reason. He would go and see Ebba this very minute and then take her to the Princess, confess everything to her and then beg first for forgiveness and then for her consent. And tell her, too, that Christine had already written in the same terms or at least hinted at it. There could be no question of opposition from anyone in Holkenäs, their separation was as good as accomplished, just one tiny formality and he would ask the Princess to approve the step that he proposed to take and agree to consider his relationship with Ebba as an unofficial engagement.

  He felt relieved as this plan took firm shape in his mind; Ebba must be told of it within the hour; he could see no obstacles or, if he did, he brushed them aside.

  It was striking two from the tower of the Town Hall as he made his way towards the palace. Two or three times he was delayed by meeting acquaintances who had heard of the danger from which he had escaped as if by a miracle. Holk spoke to them, but each time broke away quickly, pretexting “duty with the Princess.”

  Ebba lived above the Princess’s rooms in the palace itself. Holk tugged at the bell; no one answered. Finally, Karin appeared but what she had to tell Holk did little to satisfy his urgent desire for a speedy solution to his problems. He was told merely that, after a fever lasting many hours, Ebba had just fallen asleep and must not be awakened. “All right, I shall call again later. And don’t forget, Karin, to tell your mistress that I called and asked after her.” Karin promised with a smile. She had no idea of all that was going on in Holk’s mind and saw him only as an impetuous lover eager for further proofs of affection.

  Holk went slowly downstairs and it was not until he was passing through the long corridor, off which the Princess’s rooms lay, that he suddenly remembered that he had omitted to fulfil what should have been his first duty. But was it his first duty? Certainly not for him. In his present mood, the health of the Princess was for him largely a matter of indifference and her only purpose, as far as he was concerned, was to give her blessing to his project and make him and Ebba happy. And suddenly (for he was convinced that Ebba had the same idea), he was seized with the desire to make sure, that very day, that the Princess would give her assent. And so he went into one of the ante-rooms, only to be told by one of the gentlemen-in-waiting on duty that Her Royal Highness was keeping to her bed. Yet another disappointment, for if the Princess was kept to her bed, there could naturally be no question of any decision—which he considered the equivalent of approval. How tiresome, nothing was going as he had hoped. Pentz and Erichsen were in the next room, but he did not want to see them and left quickly, to go for a walk as far as the citadel and then to stroll for an hour in Ostergaade. At five, he was back in the palace asking once again for Ebba. “The doctor had been,” he was told, “and had prescri
bed two things: medicine and a night-nurse. Fräulein Ebba had a high fever again and it was hardly surprising after the danger she had been through … and everything else ….” These last three words were half whispered, almost involuntarily, by Karin, loth to deny herself the pleasure of letting Holk guess her thoughts.

  Holk’s patience was now being sorely tried. He had hoped to see his fate settled within the hour and now he was meeting obstacle after obstacle. Ebba ill, the Princess ill. In his own mind, he was sure of Ebba and thus far there was no difficulty; but the Princess? He could not imagine how he could spend all those waiting hours, hours that might turn into days and, when he went over in his mind all the entertainments that pleasure-loving Copenhagen offered, he was horrified to realize how much he loathed them all. The Alhambra and Tivoli, Harlequin and Columbine, the Thorwaldsen Museum and Klampenborg, all of these, and the beautiful Frau Brigitte as well, had lost their attraction for him; and even when he thought of Pentz, he felt a shudder run down his back: that was the last thing that he could bear; he would rather suffer Erichsen’s banalities and Countess Schimmelmann’s stiff formality than Pentz’s puns and bons mots ….

  He slept little that night and his head felt heavy, partly through excitement, partly because he had caught cold; and he was glad when the morning sun reddened the roofs across the way. Breakfast came and the papers and, in these papers, detailed accounts of the fire at the castle. He read everything, was amused and, at least while he was reading, almost succeeded in forgetting his troubles. The actual events had been very much embroidered to his credit; according to two almost identical reports, he had tried to let himself down by the lightning-conductor, in order to fetch help for the unfortunate young lady; but when he reached that part of the tower that was on fire, it had been impossible to slide further down the iron bar, which was already red-hot; and so, with a courage and strength equalled only by his agility, he had clambered up again. He read this and thought to himself that he must certainly be the hero of the hour. The hero! And yet how unheroic he was now! Indeed, he felt on the brink of a nervous breakdown and in real danger of falling ill himself, and perhaps even becoming deranged in his mind, unless he could finally succeed in settling today what he had been vainly trying to arrange yesterday. It was unlikely that Ebba would have recovered yet, but the Princess might be well again and that was really even more important. What she had suffered since the day before yesterday was, after all, relatively slight and if, as was very probable, she had left her bed, she would have to listen to him and tell him her decision. “And her decision must mean endorsing my happiness, because she is kind and broad-minded.”