"And if I have wept alone, it is my own sorrow."--GOETHE
Latterly Otto had been but seldom at Mr. Berger's. He had nointerest about the merchant's home. The family showed him everypoliteness and mark of confidence; but his visits became every weekmore rare. Business matters, however, led him one day there.
Chance or fate, as we call it, if the shadow of a consequence showsitself, caused Maren to pass through the anteroom when Otto wasabout taking his departure. She was the only one of the ladies athome. In three weeks she would return to Lemvig. She said that shecould not boast of having enjoyed Mr. Thostrup's society too often.
"Your old friends interest you no longer!" added she, somewhatgravely. With this exception she had amused herself very well inthe city, had seen everything but the stuffed birds, and these sheshould see to-morrow. She had been seven times in the theatre, andhad seen the "Somnambule" twice. However, she had not seen "DerFriesché»·z," and she had an especial desire to see this on accountof the wolf-glen. At Aarhuus there was a place in the wood, saidshe, called the wolf-glen; this she knew, and now wished to seewhether it resembled the one on the stage.
"May I then greet Rosalie from you?" she asked at length.
"You will still remain three weeks here," said Otto: "it is toosoon to speak of leave-taking."
"But you scarcely ever come here," returned she. "You have betterplaces to go to! The Baron's sister certainly sees you oftener; sheis said to be a pretty and very clever girl: perhaps one may soonoffer one's congratulations?"
Otto became crimson.
"In spring you will travel abroad," pursued she; "we shall not thensee you in Jutland: yes, perhaps yon will never go there again!That will make old Rosalie sad: she thinks so incredibly much ofyou. In all the letters which I have received here there weregreetings to Mr. Thostrup. Yes, I have quite a multitude of themfor you; but you do not come to receive them, and I dare not pay avisit to such a young gentleman. For the sake of old friendship letme, at least, be the first who can relate at home of thebetrothal!"
"How can you have got such a thought?" replied Otto. "I go to somany houses where there are young ladies; if my heart had anythingto do with it, I should have a bad prospect. I have great esteemfor Miss Sophie; I speak with her as with you, that is all. Iperceive that the air of Copenhagen has affected you; here in thecity they are always betrothing people. This comes from the ladiesin the house here. How could you believe such stories?"
Maren also joked about it, but after they had parted she seatedherself in a corner, drew her little apron over her head and wept;perhaps because she should soon leave the lively city, where she hadbeen seven times to the theatre, and yet had not seen the wolf-glen.
"Betrothed!" repeated Otto to himself, and thought of Sophie, ofthe cousin, and of his own childhood, which hung like a storm-cloudin his heaven. Many thoughts passed through his mind: herecollected the Christmas Eve on which he had seen Sophie for thefirst time, when she, as one of the Fates, gave him the number. Hehad 33, she 34; they were united by the numbers following eachother. He received the pedigree, and was raised to her nobility.The whole joke had for him a signification. He read the verse againwhich had accompanied it. The conclusion sounded again and again inhis ears:--
"From this hour forth thy soul high rank hath won her,Nor will forget thy knighthood and thy honor!"
"O Sophie!" he exclaimed aloud, and the fire which had longsmouldered in his blood now burst forth in flames. "Sophie! theemust I press to my heart!" He lost himself in dreams. Dark shapesdisturbed them. "Can she then be happy? Can I? The picture whichshe received where the covering of ice was broken and the faithfuldog watched in vain, is also significant. That is the fulfillmentof hopes. I sink, and shall never return!"
The image of the cousin mingled in his dreams. That refinedcountenance with the little mustache looked forth saucily andloquaciously; and Sophie's eyes he saw rest upon the cousin, whilsther white hand played with the brown curls which fell over hercheek.
"O Sophie!" sighed Otto, and fell asleep.