I saw my
father's hand suddenly grasp the pistol, saw a flash--and Brand fell
dead before him."
Hermann stopped and passed his hand over his brow, which was wet with
cold drops, it was manifestly a fearful torture to relate this, but
Gertrud made no effort to spare him; the "iron sense of duty in the
father" seemed to have descended to the daughter, she listened
immovably.
After an instant the Count breathed deeply, and then continued--
"Terror must have stunned me, I could not utter a sound. I saw my
father open the door and cry for help, saw my mother rush in--what
happened later you know. It was found possible to throw the guilt upon
the dead--"
"Oh, yes, it was found possible!" interrupted she bitterly. "The only
voice which upheld the truth, the cry of the widow, was at once
silenced as the shameful accusation of a highly respected man, And
Count Arnau swore as witness--"
"Gertrud."
Such terrible hidden torment found vent for itself in the exclamation,
that Gertrud did not finish the sentence.
"You must pardon me, Herr Graf, if I am overpowered with bitterness at
the remembrance of this, we have suffered too long and too deeply under
it. Our little all, which our father had saved so carefully, was, of
course, seized, and my mother being quite without help, was compelled
to ask assistance of well-to-do relatives in W----. We found there
protection from actual hunger, but only under a hard condition. Our
relatives were honest, strict _buerger_ people, and would not suffer a
name amongst them which stood in the papers as that of a thief and a
cheat. My mother was forced to re-assume her family name, she did it in
order to save her child, then but a few months old, from absolute want.
But our misfortune was not kept secret by those around us--we have been
despised so long as I can remember."
It seemed, indeed, as if with these remembrances, all the hatred and
suffering of the past years was once more awakened, every word became a
passionate reproach. Hermann had listened in dark silence, now he said
with a sort of bitter resignation--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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