The Breaking of the Storm

strength to let it ripen in him, to live for that alone. But it must be very difficult in the life that he leads, that he must lead, which I also have led in my way, and have enjoyed myself in it⁠—all these prejudices of rank, these social fetters, which we no longer feel as such, because we have grown up amongst them and can never free ourselves without a hard struggle. And if he failed in this struggle, the strange circumstances of our family will certainly have contributed to it; and, lastly, the rebuff which he has experienced in the person of his father, whom, I know, in the bottom of his heart he deeply reverences. I will not defend him, when, passionate and hotheaded as he is, he rushed out of the house⁠—we none of us knew what he intended⁠—and returned engaged to Carla; but he must not, he cannot be utterly condemned.” She gazed anxiously, with clasped hands, into Reinhold’s face, a bitter feeling was stirring in him. If she spoke so eloquently of the singular position in which her brother was at the decisive moment, was not this position hers also? Would not she so speak at the last moment for herself? So decide for herself? or was it already on her account that she spoke? Had she so decided? Was he to read her decision between the lines?

“I always find it difficult,” he said, “to condemn anyone⁠—in men’s hearts there are so many depths, which no lead can reach⁠—and I have not condemned your brother. On the contrary, I have for his sake and⁠—I cannot deny it⁠—for yours⁠—”

His voice shook, but he collected himself by a strong effort and went on quietly, “Done everything which a brother would at such a time do for a brother. I have even set my uncle’s friendship and affection, which are very dear to me, at stake, and I fear, lost them. That it was all in vain, that I must let that be, which I foresaw would be to those most nearly concerned a deadly blow, which would more or less recoil upon us all without exception⁠—I do not know whether I need tell you how hard this has been to me, how hard it is!”

“You do not need,” said Elsa. “Take the thanks of the sister for the brother. You do not perhaps believe how grateful I am to you, and how your words have comforted me. Since this morning, through all the trouble which has come upon us, I have continually asked myself how you would be affected by it. I have longed to hear these words from you. Now that I have heard them my heart feels lighter, and now, between us two at least, all will be again as it was.”

“Do you believe that? do you really believe it?” asked Reinhold.

The smile died away upon her lips. She gently drew back the hand which she had given him, and which he firmly held; the blood flew again into her cheeks, which then became whiter than before.

“Have I been mistaken?” stammered Elsa.

“I do not think so,” said Reinhold, “because, forgive me, I cannot think that at this moment you have been quite sincere. And⁠—you have yourself said it⁠—what brought ruin upon your brother, and upon my cousin, save that they were not open, neither to themselves, nor to each other, nor to their friends⁠—that they never had the courage of their opinions⁠—that they never had the true courage of their love? Well! I, for my part, will not and dare not burden my soul with this reproach. I will keep my conscience free, however heavy my heart may remain. May I speak out what is in my heart? and will you answer me as your heart dictates?”

She sat there, pale and motionless, only the hand which she had given him, and which now lay in her lap, trembled.

“I will,” she said, in a low voice.

“Well then,” said Reinhold, “I came to take leave of your father, and before I took leave of him, to thank him from the bottom of my heart, for the kindness with which he had overwhelmed me, and for the confidence with which he honoured me. Perhaps, thought I, since I still remain in your neighbourhood, and my duties will also often bring me here, he would then have said that he hoped and wished to see me again. And I must have replied, that as an honourable man I could only take advantage of this permission under one condition. And I should have said ‘That condition, General, is impossible. I have had the fullest opportunities in this unfortunate business, and in the many confidential conversations with which you have honoured me, of entering into your thoughts and feelings; you have condescended even to initiate me into the circumstances of your family, and I am convinced that you will never of your own free will, grant me the hand of your daughter whom I love.’ ”

Elsa neither answered nor stirred, only her bosom rose and fell wildly.

“ ‘Whom I have loved,’ ” continued Reinhold, in a voice trembling with emotion, “ ‘I may say from the first moment that I saw her. Since then I have thought of her every hour of the day; and when I lie awake at night, her image stands out before my soul, clear, steadfast, immovable, like the north star; and I am as sure as that I am a living man, that this love can only end with my life.’ That is what I should have said to your father.”

“And then,” said Elsa softly, “then should you have come to me?”

“Yes,” said Reinhold, “then I should have come to you.”

A lovely colour lay upon her cheeks; her eyes resting full and steadfastly upon him, gleamed through tears, whilst her voice seemed as if it would cry out for joy, and again trembled with emotion.

“I should have said to you, that I was unutterably happy in the knowledge that I