When I entered the little room, Minna was sitting by the open window. I could at once see by the look she gave me, that she had shed many tears.
"Has he been to see you?" I asked at once, while I held her trembling hands in mine.
"Yes."
She allowed me to hold her right hand, while the other, with which she was crushing a small handkerchief, was firmly pressed under her breast, as if she was suffering acute pain.
"What he has said to you, dear Minna, I know beforehand after the interview I had with him last night.… He—after all—you were right yesterday, at all events with regard to the motive of his coming … unfortunately … though perhaps it is selfish of me to say so.…"
I hardly knew what I said, and even commonplace words were not any longer at my command, but stuck in my stifled throat. I watched the expression of her averted face, and waited for a word. But she, after one firm grip, suddenly snatched her hand from mine, sank down on the chair, and burst into a dreadfully violent fit of sobbing, with her face hidden in her hands. This heartrending sound, and the touching sight of this delicate girlish form shaken by the elementary force of weeping, affected me to such a degree that I forgot everything else. I threw myself on my knees beside her, embraced and pressed her firmly to me, called her again and again by name, and implored her with foolish entreaties to stop, not to cry in that way, to take heart and spare herself. Soon my tears fell as freely as hers. Little by little the crisis passed over, she smiled languidly, dried my eyes with the little handkerchief, which was wet with her own tears; and while she tenderly pressed my hand, she whispered several times—
"My dearest friend."
"That I am, Minna, that I am whatever happens.… But you must not take it in this way, do you hear? You must not feel unhappy, for you are not going to be unhappy.… I would rather suffer anything than that, rather lose you, and so would he, I am quite sure of that.… We must be wise and you must make yourself strong … you must not consider me at all … only think of yourself, what is best for you, that must also be best for us. Only do what is right and follow what your own nature dictates, that is the main thing.… We shall both be satisfied, if only you will be happy."
"I—no, really I am the last one who ought to be considered.… Oh, if I could make both of you happy by giving both of you up, I really think—yes, I am sure—I could make that sacrifice, rather than disappoint one of you.… And now I cannot give my hand to the one without taking it away from the other; how then is it possible for me to be happy? That is out of the question."
"Indeed, my dearest, that alone must be the question. I know that at the beginning you will feel very unhappy because you will be bound to hurt one of us so much, but there is time enough for happiness, as it concerns your whole life.… When you choose what is best, you will gradually feel content; and the one who does not get the right to call you his—he will also in time resign himself to what is inevitable. Only if you choose wrongly, if you mistake your feelings, well, then you will make all three of us unhappy."
"It is dreadful! To be obliged to make such a choice! If only some one could choose for me, if only a duty existed in this case, which said: 'You must do this, otherwise you will be doing wrong!' … But I do wrong whichever way I decide, for I have already done wrong, and it will continue."
"No, no! You must not yield to such thoughts! Do not add scruples of this kind to all the rest"
"Harald!" she exclaimed, getting up and looking steadily into my eyes, "dare you make the choice for me? Have you the courage? Understand me rightly, I mean is your conviction so strong, that you with a clear conscience can say: 'Your duty is to come with me. You have given me your word, and I cannot give it you back because I am convinced that if you act otherwise it will be your ruin'?…"
A shiver of joy passed through me, as I suddenly saw our fate placed in my own hands, and the comforting knowledge that I only had to grasp it made me momentarily forget the seriousness of the responsibility. But before I could answer, Minna stretched out her hand, as if she would place it on my lips, and with an anxious pleading look continued
"But do remember, Harald, that although you get a wife who loves you, and whom you love much more than she deserves,—indeed I know that—she may not ever be able to make you happy, for she has an inner wound which will never quite heal, and which might kill her. I should never be able to forgive myself for being unfaithful to my first love.… No domestic happiness would quite be able to drive away the image of him, to whom I owed my first consciousness, my first thoughts, my independence, the awakening of my best and purest feelings—a life and feelings which rightly belonged to him. Oh, how fondly precious has not his image been to me—and now it must come as a ghost accusing me of giving all this to another, while he confidently waited for me, worked for us both, for our future! No, no, never can I be really happy or give you such happiness as you deserve!"
I stood terrified and almost stunned by the despair of this outburst; my eyes turned away from hers while I tried to collect my thoughts, and to unravel the tangle into which my mind had been thrown. It was quite plain to me, that a girl with her pure and faithful nature could not help putting the most flattering interpretation possible upon Stephensen's conduct. Already in consequence of his letter with the Elegy by Heine she had held forth his faithfulness as a supposition, and after my interview with him yesterday I had not doubted that he, making use of his knowledge of her heart, would let this very flattering, almost melodramatic, light fall upon the obscure interval of time which separated them. For my part I looked upon this through such very critical glasses that every bit of romantic glamour was taken away; and it seemed to me that in time its true character was sure to become clear to her also, for which reason the danger of the ghost did not seem to me quite so great as she had imagined. But, unfortunately, even I was not quite sure of my case, and I was obliged to admit to myself, that as I was possessed with a very natural antipathy towards Stephensen, it was not impossible that this led me to judge him unfairly. And in that case …
I still faltered, and already the favourable minute had slipped by.
"See, you hesitate, you dare not!" she exclaimed. "And still you have only us two to consider. The third, to whom you would do the greatest harm, is to you only a stranger, yes, even a man you hate.… Then consider how dreadful this choice must be for me, as I know that to whichever side I turn, I must cause unhappiness to one I love."
"It is just that which makes it so difficult for me to put myself in your place. I do not understand this.… You say you love me, I feel it, I will not doubt it, but at the same time you mean that you love Stephensen. It is a problem to me. I do not think that what you feel now for Stephensen is love at all, but only remembrance of past love, and that certainly is too frail ground on which to build a matrimonial life, and especially so, when a new passion has sprung up in opposition to the old one."
Minna shook her head.
"You love, really love, two men? Impossible."
"I do not know what is called possible and impossible, my friend! But consider all that you know yourself and then acknowledge, even if you cannot believe it, that I must love him. I have shown you, as well as I could, what he has been to me, you know that my love was constant during the long separation, yes, in spite of my belief that his feelings had changed, you saw—it was indeed the first you saw of me—how even a poor dictionary could give nourishment to my enthusiastic remembrances by teaching me words of his language, and by creating the illusion that I was learning it in order to speak with him.… And how could I, only some weeks after this, have grown indifferent to him! If I had heard something disparaging about him, or even, that he loved another—but what have I heard! That he, in the midst of an active and social life, which offered him so many different and stronger inducements, has retained his affection more faithfully than I, who had nothing to distract me. Oh, how meanly and miserably have I behaved! If he had held me in contempt! Oh, I have not the heart to wish it, and still perhaps it would have been better for all of us! But instead he comes here, as if his life and happiness depended on my decision—mine! Poor me! That so much love should be able to be a curse for one—love which, otherwise, is the greatest blessing."
She turned away, struggling to repress her tears.
"Dearest Minna," I began, laying my hand on her trembling shoulder, "you are right, I could have foreseen all this, and I ought to have. I now think that your feeling towards me is rather an enthusiastic friendship than a real love."
"Why?" she exclaimed, and turned towards me with swimming eyes—" why cannot I love you both? Perhaps I do in a different way, you are not alike and the conditions are also now quite different. Perhaps in reality I love you best"
"Oh, Minna!"
"And am most in love with him," she added faintly, lowering her eyes.
My outstretched arms fell, and I started as if I had received a blow. Now I felt how that elementary power, which my jealousy had ever secretly feared, was rising against me, scattering my hopes, overthrowing all my nearly victorious efforts, carrying the day with the irresistible birthright of love. But in a moment Minna was embracing me with genuine tenderness.
"No, do not take it in that way, Harald. My God, I have hurt you! I did not mean it like that. It just came to me, but all words express so badly what we mean.… Perhaps it is not at all like that, I do not know, I understand nothing any longer. I only feel that both of you belong to my life. I am torn in two directions. Oh, my God, what will become of me!"
"You will become a sound and true woman, my own dear girl, by your own strength, when you have overcome these fights and struggles.… God knows how willingly I would assist you, but you see I cannot. Nobody can do it, not even Mrs. Hertz, with all her love for you. It is a temptation to me to advise you to confide in her—there is at least a great probability that her counsel would be in my favour, but that does not matter. I do not think that you ought to ask anybody but yourself. Your own nature will perhaps suddenly, instinctively, choose what is best for it.… More important than all, neither Stephensen nor I must from now add to your agitation, and especially not, as to-day, by our alternate presence make the task of deciding more difficult for you. You cannot stand that, and very likely it would end by your taking a rash decision, as was the case just a moment ago. Both of us have now seen you alone and have pleaded our cause. From this time …"
"Pleaded your cause!" Minna exclaimed, and looked at me with a candid smile; "but, dearest Harald, you have not done that at all."
"Have I not?" I asked timidly. "Do you think I have taken it too calmly?"
"No, no, my dearest, I understand you so well, you are so tender and loving, so careful for me, you want to save me from the reproaches that you might charge me with; oh, but be sure, so much the more bitterly do I reproach myself!"
"Not for my sake, Minna! you have no right to do that.… What should I have to reproach you with? As if I could wish this time had never been, even if it is to bring no future with it! I am so grateful to you for the love I have felt"
"No, Harald! Oh, don't say that"
"Does it pain you? Then I will not speak about it any more. Still less ought I to frighten you by picturing the tragic consequences of such a loss to me.… What has to be borne must be, and, on the contrary, I promise you that I shall do all in my power to get over it sensibly—and—though I cannot attempt to forget you—nor will—" My lips quivered and my eyes filled with tears. "No, no." I continued, "it was not this I wanted to speak of. Besides, your heart will tell it all to you.… I made the suggestion that from now Stephensen and I must agree not to see you again until you have made up your mind. It would be better, if you could leave the town for the present, if you had relations in the country whom you could visit"
"I have a cousin in the neighbourhood of Meissen, her husband has a farm there. I could easily visit them, they asked me only this summer, and I need not even write beforehand."
"So much the better. Can you leave to-morrow?"
"To-morrow? Oh well, I suppose I could."
"Then do it, Minna, It is better not to put it off. And when you have made up your mind, I suppose you will write your decision."
Minna nodded. She had again seated herself on the chair by the window, and was staring at the gardens.
I took my hat, which was lying on the table, and turned it over and over in my hands, waiting for her to look round. At last I approached her and touched her shoulder. She turned her head, and her tearful eyes gazed in astonishment at my outstretched hand, and at the other that nervously fidgeted with my hat.
"What is this? You are not going?"
"Yes, Minna, I must—it is already—I mean, as you leave to-morrow, I suppose you have a good deal to arrange and pack up."
"Well, it is not to Siberia I am going."
"No more it is, but I must go—in order to"
"It is not true, Harald! But perhaps you are right in going and leaving me to myself, though that is just what I fear, but I must grow accustomed to it.… When are you coming again? "
"I am not coming again."
She jumped up.
"Not coming again? What do you mean by that?… Will you not spend this evening with me?"
"I do not think it would be right, as we are no longer engaged."
"Not engaged? It seems to me we must be still, as long … at any rate nothing has happened so far."
"'Still,' until you perhaps 'break it off with me.' But you must not be obliged to do that, you must never have the feeling that you have severed a pledge. Whatever decision you come to, you tie a new bond. It is I who have broken our engagement, you must feel yourself free."
"Oh, Harald, how sad and bitter it is! Who would have thought of this yesterday, when we exchanged rings?"
She looked down upon her ring, which glittered while she clenched her hands.
"By the way, the ring," I exclaimed, and with the feeling of an heroic effort I began to wriggle the ring over my knuckle.
"No, not that," she cried, and laid her hand preventingly on mine, "oh do not give me back the ring, do not demand yours!—Why should we be so cruel to one another?"
I sighed, smiling, pressed her hand tenderly and kissed it, grateful that her unerring instinct spared us an unnecessary pain, perhaps the bitterest of all; because by touching the magic symbol the full meaning of the pledge is realised. How many a knight has felt the announcement of the dishonouring doom less terrible than the breaking of his shield by the hands of the executioner.
"Are you not coming, Harald? Engaged or not, we are after all the same."
"Dearest Minna, imagine for yourself how much determination it will take to remain away. I really hardly know how to bear it myself, when I realise that this is perhaps the last evening I can spend with you."
My emotion overwhelmed me; I pressed my lips together, and while I looked away in order to avoid her glance, my eyes fastened on a boot-shaped spot on the homely grey wall-paper. It would be untrue to say that there was anything pretty in it, but all the same there was real dread in the thought: "Perhaps you will never see it again." Minna looked helpless at my grief, and I was conscious of her expression, though I still kept on staring at that spot. A minute or two passed before I could continue.
"But it is after all best like this.… Quite true that we are the same, but we shall be different to each other, and that will be painful for us. Besides, it is also more correct now that we have taken such a decision,—I mean it looks more fair towards Stephensen."
"But suppose he came this evening!"
"Has he spoken about it?"
"No, I only thought that he possibly might do so, perhaps only to prevent your being alone with me. He very likely thinks you will come as usual."
"You are right, anyhow I will not leave the field open for him. If he comes, then send for me; there is, I suppose, some one you could send such a short distance.… Look, here is my pocket-book, I will leave it with you. If I have that sent to me, then I shall know that I am to come. Just let him know that you are sending it to me, it is better for him to understand that I am not coming uninvited.… Farewell, my beloved, no one can forbid me calling you that."
I gave her my hand, which she pressed impetuously, while she looked penetratingly into my eyes with a frightened and questioning smile, and her face approached a very little nearer, perhaps unconsciously to herself. I then drew her to my breast, and our lips met in a long kiss, as if each of us would forcibly imbibe the other's life in order to have it safe and impregnable. At last I felt that she relaxed from my embrace, and in stepping back, still with my arm round her waist, I noticed that she could hardly stand, her head fell on to her shoulder, she gasped for breath and trembled. I led her carefully across to the little sofa, on which I allowed her to slip down, and then I pushed the cushion under her head.
Thereupon I opened the door and called her mother, who at once appeared out of the obscurity of the kitchen, and, when I had told her that Minna was unwell, she again disappeared to fetch some water. Nimble and confused, always bent like some gnome on the stage, she quickly rushed into the sitting-room; the alarmed expression simultaneously made her coarse features still more grotesque and gave them a rather spiritual beauty, inasmuch as it made visible her great tenderness for Minna. When I saw her tending the half-conscious girl I hastened away, for I felt certain that Minna would have no peace of mind while I was present.