Carla was enchanted; she knew what prize was being ridden for in this race, and why the foremost rider took the highest hedges and the widest ditches with such temerity, and that it was from her hands the winner would receive the prize. Poor Golm, he did all he could, and more than all; it was not his fault if he remained farther and farther behind, and at length seemed inclined to turn out of the course. But that could not be allowed; he must be cheered and encouraged, he must be allowed to receive at least the second prize, and be persuaded that it was only an unlucky accident that vanquished him this time, and that it was not impossible that another time he might win the first.
But this must be done very carefully, by an encouraging smile, by a kind, rapid glance; before the company Ottomar must be crowned; to Ottomar she addressed herself as they rose from table, and holding out her hand, said, loud enough to be heard by the bystanders:
“You really surpassed yourself, Herr von Werben.”
“You are too kind,” answered Ottomar, with so low a bow that it was almost mocking.
The mockery was not heartfelt. He was intoxicated by his success, and not by his success only. He had desired to forget his cares and troubles by drowning them in wine, and he had succeeded. The dark wood, and the beautiful girl whom a few hours back he had folded in his arms in that dark wood, it was all a dream—a wild, confused dream which he had dreamt, heaven only knew when; here were pleasure and mirth, and light and brightness, whichever way he looked; and whichever way he looked bright eyes sparkled, rosy lips laughed, white shoulders glistened, and all sparkled, laughed, and glistened for him! Here was his empire; here he was king; he had only to hold out his hand and the hand of the lady most courted here would be laid in his! Was there a tomorrow? Let it come; the present belonged to him; pleasure and mirth forever! Bright eyes, and rosy lips, and white shoulders forever!
And as if all the spirits of pleasure and mirth were surrounding him, Ottomar flew through the rooms to apologise to the elder guests, if in the interests of the young people who wanted to dance a little they were somewhat crowded till the supper-room could be cleared, begging his brother officers not to waste precious time, but to engage their partners if they had not been wise enough to do so already, giving the young ladies the delightful information that the evening would wind up with a cotillon, with orders to be given by the ladies, and that there was room on his breast for more than one. And now the doors were reopened, from the empty room resounded the notes of a merry polka, and—
“You will dance this with me, Carla?” exclaimed Ottomar, and without awaiting her answer—putting his arm round her—he flew with her into the dancing-room, followed by the other couples who had anxiously awaited this moment.
“Are you not dancing?” asked a deep voice behind Reinhold.
Reinhold turned. “No, General.”
“Do you not dance?”
“Oh yes; but you did me the honour to say you wished to speak to me. I was just about to—”
“That is very good of you. I was coming to fetch you.”
“I am at your orders, General.”
“Come, then.”
The General, however, did not move. The aspect of the room, which was almost filled with dancers, appeared to interest and absorb him. Reinhold, who had unconsciously turned in the direction in which the General was looking, saw that the eyes of the latter were fastened on Ottomar, who with Carla was engaged in the centre of the room in performing the skilful evolutions demanded by the polka. A smile passed over his grave, stern face; then, as if rousing himself from a dream, he passed his hand over his forehead, and said again, “Come, then.”
He put his arm through Reinhold’s, and crossed with him the large drawing-room in front of a group that had assembled round Baroness Kniebreche. The Baroness suddenly stopped speaking; the round glasses of her pince-nez seemed to flash forth angry flames at the sight of the confidential manner of the General towards the young officer of the reserve.
“Look away!” thought Reinhold, while his heart beat proudly, “and heaven grant that I may prove worthy of the honour!”
They entered the small room in which a little while before Wagner had been so warmly discussed. The room was empty.
“Sit down,” said the General, taking possession of an armchair and motioning to Reinhold to sit by him; “I will not keep you long.”
“I am really in no hurry. General; I am only engaged once for a later dance with your daughter.”
“That is right,” said the General. “Elsa is in your debt, and here am I going to take advantage of your good-nature again. In one word, you have spoken to Colonel Sattelstädt and to Schönau, and have given them your decided opinion upon the matter you know of. They both say that your explanations have put the matter in quite a new light, which they consider most important, and which ought to decide the question in the eyes of all who can see in our favour; that is to say, in mine and these two gentlemen’s, who unfortunately stand pretty nearly alone in our views, and have every reason to look about us for allies. I ask you now, in our joint names, if you will
