823

COMTESSE ERNESTINE.

THE family plate of the Rosenkrantzes was generally pledged at the 'Lombard's' in the High Street of Klatscheburg.

Indeed it was always there, except when they 'received.' This occurred once in two months. The evening before the reception, Martin Petersen, the old family factotum, under cover of the gathering darkness, slipped up the High Street, a large basket under his well-worn cloak. He returned with the basket tightly packed with as much of the old silver as it would hold, and two more journeys sufficed to bring the greater part of it to the house of its rightful owners. This silver was priceless and had been in the family for hundreds of years. There were some candlesticks said to be the work of Cellini, and some marvellously beautiful dishes, whose designs suggested that they had been wrought for sacred purposes. They had fallen into the hands of the von Rosenkrantzes at the time of the Reformation. The spoons, with their daintily twisted handles, were the work of some craftsman of Southern Germany in medieval times. They had been presented to the von Rosenkrantz who had been a loyal servant of the unfortunate Queen Louisa, by that royal lady herself. And there were other treasures too numerous to mention.

The Gräfin arranged these beautiful things on the tables with her own hands, after they had been carefully cleaned and polished by old Martin. Her tables thus royally set out, she felt for that one evening perfectly happy, and tried to forget that her treasures must return to the Lombard's on the following day. This was necessary, owing to the fallen fortunes of the family. The lady's late husband had, by an extravagant life, reduced their income to a sum which would barely have sufficed to keep a simple burgher household of Klatscheburg together. Her son, an officer in the Blue Hussars, had tastes similar to those of his father, and required constant pecuniary help from his mother to enable him to live the life which he found best suited him.

The Gräfin did not blame him. The family must not forget that they were different from other people. Carefulness and economy are virtues among the Bourgeoisie, but a von Rosen

krantz-especially if he be an officer (and how could he follow any other profession ?)-must do his duty in that state of life to which he has been called. It was humiliating to be obliged to pawn the family plate, but it would have been still more humiliating to think that Otto von Rosenkrantz was not keeping up the family character for lavish extravagance among the Blue Hussars. Then he was the only son, and the girls had really cost very little. The two younger were still at the school for young ladies of noble family in Munich, where they received their education free.

The eldest, Ernestine, had left this institution about a year. Of course, the chief anxiety of the Gräfin was to get Ernestine married, but eligible men with the requisite number of noble ancestors were rather scarce, and young maids are proverbially obstinate and sometimes refuse to accept elderly widowers with bald heads and gouty feet, even though their pedigree may be unexceptionable.

Then there was Lieutenant Braun. But he was not to be thought of. True, he was an officer in the Blue Hussars-a circumstance which had made the Gräfin remark in a despairing way I wonder what the country is coming to, when the sons of tradespeople can get commissions in the best regiments!"

For in truth Braun was a nobody-a cipher—a person who could only be admitted on sufferance to the Gräfin's receptions— in short, an individual without a grandfather. The fact that he had lent a by no means inconsiderable sum of money to the young Graf von Rosenkrantz-a sum which the latter had no expectation of ever being able to repay-could not raise him in the opinion of the Gräfin. To lend money to a von Rosenkrantz was an honour in itself. If the money were never repaid, the honour accruing to the lender was, of course, all the greater. Virtue was its own reward.

Nor must we accuse the Gräfin of being unreasonable, when we consider that Braun's father was a common rubber manufacturer of Harburg—a maker of hair-combs, a holder of patents, an employer of labour; in short, a person 'we' do not recognise.

It was rather a pity-even the Gräfin admitted that. For Braun was a presentable young man enough, and as smart an officer as any in the Blue Hussars. But that is only external,' said the Gräfin with a sigh. 'Do men gather grapes from thorns? From such a stock nothing good can come. I am not

deceived by his gentlemanly appearance and manners.

They

are an outward veneer to conceal the commonness of what lies beneath.'

So Lieutenant Braun, when he came to ask for Ernestine's hand, was flatly refused, and on his persisting in his suit, was forbidden the house, and the receptions knew him no more.

'It's rather a nuisance,' said Otto von Rosenkrantz to one of his chief cronies, as they sat together at a little table in Gerhardt's Restaurant, it's rather a nuisance that the Gräfin won't let Ernestine marry Braun. He's a good fellow and so rich. He would be useful as a connection. But what would you? I cannot go against the Gräfin, and poor Ernestine has no spirit. She would never set herself in opposition to our mother.'

And in the meanwhile little Ernestine von Rosenkrantz wept in secret over the maternal decree-but not altogether hopelessly, for, being a young lady of some resource, she resolved schemes for circumventing it.

The ancestral home of the von Rosenkrantzes is quite a feature of the little town of Klatscheburg. Among the quaint gabled houses of the narrow straggling Friedrich Wilhelm Strasse who would fail to notice the square façade of hewn stone, with its windows decorated with florid garlands? Its general effect reminds one of some Italian palace of the later Renaissance.

Ernestine's chamber had the same character of faded grandeur as the other rooms in the house. Its great four-post bed seemed absurdly large for so small a person, and the forlorn hangings of velvet might well have been replaced by something lighter and brighter hued. The old glass, blurred from age, reflected a strange travesty of the childish face which peered into it every morning, and the straight-backed chairs offered little suggestion of comfort. But the room looked out, not on to the street, but on to the garden which sloped down to the river, which at that part was so broad as to resemble a lake. Every morning, if she waked early enough, Ernestine could see the sun rise over the range of low hills across the water, and every morning she looked out for something else as well. For very early in the morning, whenever he was able, Braun would climb the low wall from the river shore, a dark cloak thrown over his shoulders to conceal the bright uniform of the Blue Hussars. Just for one moment he was visible, and then he had hidden himself behind a hedge of clipped yews, where he was presently joined by the girl.

No one knew of these secret interviews except Martin, the old servant, and he kept the secret.

This had been going on for perhaps six months, and there seemed to be no chance of any change in the prospects of the lovers. 'We shall never marry at this rate,' reflected Ernestine. We may go on like this till we are old and grey.' Ernestine was just nineteen.

It was early spring. The lilacs and magnolia shrubs in the neglected garden were beginning to flower. Every little bourgeoise in Klatscheburg was thinking about the new dress she would have at Whitsuntide, and debating whether it would be safe to invest in white muslin and blue ribbons, or whether, Whitsuntide falling early, something less summery in character would be desirable.

Ernestine von Rosenkrantz had no hope of having a new dress at Whitsuntide. The dress she wore had not been paid for. She was reflecting upon this circumstance in the garden, when a sudden idea seemed to occur to her. It brought a blush to her colourless cheeks.

'Dare I?' she asked herself. Can I carry it through? What will he think of me?'

The morning passed. At dinner the Gräfin said: 'I am going to drive to the Castle this afternoon, Erna. We must leave our cards there. I wish I could take you, but that dress'

'Is much too shabby,' finished Erna.

'Yes; you really must have a new dress, my dear.'

'Frau Jens has not been paid for your dress for the Court ball, nor for mine, nor for any dresses for the last year,' said Ernestine, with as much decision as she dared assume in speaking to her mother. She provided the materials for the Court dresses. I have not the face to order another dress from her.'

The Gräfin could not deny that there was some sense in what her daughter said.

'Perhaps when the rent of the farm falls due we shall be able to manage something,' she said.

'Otto will want all the money,' said the girl, and really it doesn't matter, mother. I can stay at home, though I should have liked to have seen the princesses. They will be sure to ask you in and wonder why I am not with you.'

The Gräfin's face grew grave and sad. What chance had her daughter of marrying if she never went out? If only Lieutenant Braun had had a pedigree.

Ernestine watched her mother drive off in a lumbering old vehicle drawn by one emaciated horse.

Then she slipped upstairs and put on her hat and walking shoes. She came down slowly, her face thoughtful and grave, and let herself out into the street through the heavy front door. Once out of the Friedrich Wilhelm Strasse and in the High Street, she walked swiftly till she came to an old house with a flight of stone steps leading up to the door. On the first floor of this house lived Frau Jens, the dressmaker who made for the best families in and round Klatscheburg. Ernestine sprang up the staircase, and was soon knocking at the door of the dressmaker's little flat. It was opened by a child.

'Tell your mother Comtesse Ernestine von Rosenkrantz would like to speak to her,' she said, following the little girl into the trying-on room. Ernestine had taken her place on a red velvet sofa, when little Frau Jens bustled in in rustling silks.

'Good morning, Comtesse.'
'Good morning, Frau Jens.'
"The Frau Gräfin is well?'

'Oh, yes; Mamma has perfect health. Won't you sit down a minute, Frau Jens. I have something to talk to you about.' The little dressmaker seated herself on the edge of a red velvet chair.

'I should like to know,' said Ernestine, ' about how much we owe you ?'

Frau Jens's face lit up with hope.

Was it possible that the young lady had come to pay the bill?' 'If you will wait one moment my daughter will make you out the little bill, Comtesse, and I will bring it to you.'

'Ah, no!—that is not necessary. You must know approximately.' Frau Jens's face fell again. This did not look like paying. 'Let me see, Comtesse. There were the two dresses you had when you came home from the Pensionnat last year. (I was quite sorry to see you in anything but the little dark blue dress of the Pensionnaires, it suited you so well.) Making of one with extras, thirty marks. Material, and making of the summer cambric, fifty marks. How that little dress suited you also, with the pale pink sash and the shoulder ribbons! My daughter was so anxious you should have it for the garden fête at Frau General von Bartels, that she sat up nearly all night sewing the tucks, and really I think it was a charming dress-was it not?'