My father will hear of this from my lips—why
not he? Ah! did I suspect you ever so little?
I will atone for it; not atone, I will make it my
pleasure; it is my pride that has hurt you both.
O my lover! my lover! Dear head, dear eyes!
Delicate and noble that you are! my own stronger soul!
Where was my heart? Is it sometimes dead, or
sleeping? But you can touch it to life. Look
at me—I am yours. I consent, I desire
it; I will see him. I will be bound. The
heavier the chains, oh! the better for me. What
am I, to be proud of anything not yours, Harry? and
I that have passed over to you! I will see him
at once.’
A third in the room cried out, ‘No, not that—you
do not!’
The tongue was German and struck on us like a roll
of unfriendly musketry before we perceived the enemy.
’Princess Ottilia! you remember your dignity
or I defend you and it, think of me what you will!’
Baroness Turckems, desperately entangled by the sofa-covering,
rushed into the ray of the lamps and laid her hand
on the bell-rope. In a minute we had an alarm
sounding, my father was among us, there was a mad play
of chatter, and we stood in the strangest nightmare-light
that ever ended an interview of lovers.
HOMEWARD AND HOME AGAIN
The room was in flames, Baroness Turckems plucking
at the bell-rope, my father looking big and brilliant.
‘Hold hand!’ he shouted to the frenzied
baroness.
She counter-shouted; both of them stamped feet; the
portico sentinel struck the butt of his musket on
the hall-doors; bell answered bell along the upper
galleries.
‘Foolish woman, be silent!’ cried my father.
‘Incendiary!’ she half-shrieked.
He turned to the princess, begging her to retire,
but she stared at him, and I too, after having seen
him deliberately apply the flame of her lamp to the
curtains, deemed him mad. He was perfectly self-possessed,
and said, ‘This will explain the bell!’
and fetched a deep breath, and again urged the princess
to retire.
Peterborough was the only one present who bethought
him of doing fireman’s duty. The risk looked
greater than it was. He had but to tear the lighted
curtains down and trample on them. Suddenly the
baroness called out, ’The man is right!
Come with me, princess; escape, your Highness, escape!
And you,’ she addressed me—’you
rang the bell, you!’
‘To repair your error, baroness,’ said
my father.
‘I have my conscience pure; have you?’
she retorted.
He bowed and said, ’The fire will also excuse
your presence on the spot, baroness.’
‘I thank my God I am not so cool as you,’
said she.
‘Your warmth’—he bent to her—’shall
always be your apology, baroness.’
Seeing the curtains extinguished, Ottilia withdrew.
She gave me no glance.
