Love stories, German; Sisters -- Fiction; Suicide victims -- Fiction
The old woman gazed up at the sky, so that she might not have to look
him in the face.
"Oh! young master," said she--he was always called "young master," to
distinguish him from his father, though he was long past thirty--"the
doctor wishes me to ask if you will kindly just step round there first;
he has something to say to you."
"Is what he has to say to me very pressing?"
The woman was very much terrified, for she thought the unhappy
intelligence would now fall to her lot to tell.
"Oh, gracious me!" she said; "he only put it like that."
"Well, then, give my kindest regards to my uncle the doctor, and the
message, that I only just wanted first to have a little talk with my
parents--he knows what about--and will then come round to him at once."
The old woman muttered something, but the words stuck in her throat.
The carriage rolled on in the direction of old Hellinger's villa,
that lay there under mighty old lime-trees, as if resting beneath a
canopy. The bright plate-glass windows greeted him cheerily, the
shining tiled roof gleamed in the light, the tranquillity of a
well-provisioned old age rested, as usual, over all. He tied his horse
to the garden-railings, and strode with heavy, noisy tread up the
small flight of steps, on the parapet of which, in wide-bellied urns,
half-faded aster plants mournfully drooped their heads.
The hall-bell sounded in shrill tones through the house, but no one put
in an appearance to receive him. He threw down his rain-soaked cloak on
one of the oak chests in which his mother's linen treasures were hidden
away. Then he stepped into the sitting-room--it was empty.
"The old people are probably taking their afternoon nap," he muttered;
"and I think it will be advisable to let them have their sleep out
to-day."
He flung himself into a corner of the sofa, and gazed towards the door;
for he privately hoped that Olga might have noticed his conveyance in
front of the house, and would come down to shake hands with him.
He began to get impatient. "Can she have gone out to the manor?" he
asked himself But, no--she would not do that; for she knew he would
come to speak to his parents.
"I will knock at her door," he decided, and got up.
He smiled anxiously, and stretched his mighty limbs. After having
longed for her incessantly since yesterday evening, now, at the moment
of beholding her again, he was filled with a peculiar fear of facing
her. The feeling of humble reverence, which always took possession of
him in her presence, now again made itself evident. Was it possible
that this woman had yesterday hung upon his neck? And what if she
regretted it to-day--if she went back from her word?
But at this moment all his defiance awoke within him. He opened his
arms wide, and with a smile which reflected the memory of happy hours
recently lived through, he cried:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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