XI.

"Whether 'tis evil, or whether 'tis good, Done in the day, or in darkness of night, Even the thoughts that do lie in the heart,-- All shall be brought to the glare of the light." --TRANSLATED FROM FREIDANK.

It had been a blow in the face to good society. The misfortune of Wulf's low birth might have been condoned; but the fact of his having so openly, and even defiantly, claimed it as a distinction could not be passed over. The affair, therefore, paralyzed many a mother who had been quietly laying plans to capture the young man. Who would not prefer a pleasant young son-in-law to an old _blasé_ standing on golden feet? But this Wulf was discovered to stand only upon his own. Lady Von Kahring was reproached with great venality by society at large. She had introduced him, as well as protected him, under her powerful name, and she had even intimated that he was a wealthy Austrian. Beneath this fine showing, this one and that one had blushed when she thought of him, and how heartily and urgently all, even men, had coveted his presence. But now he must be made to feel his true position.

Of course there were some far-sighted ones who looked into the future, and were not disposed to decry a physician; and there were others who recognized the nobility of Wulf's behavior; but what could these few do in the face of the great majority? Conformity to fashionable usage is a terrible tyrant, but non-conformity is a still greater one. Ericksen was poor, his humble origin evident; therefore he was doomed. Naturally they were too polite to ignore him immediately; but he must occupy a different position. But their sufferance Wulf did not desire. His manhood was aroused--a manhood which refused to bow down before these people. What had they given him that he should render tribute? He wished to tear himself away from them, to turn his back upon them, to require nothing from them as if they were beneath him. Only one pang entered his soul: if he were banished from society, there would be no opportunity to see Sibylla again.

And yet she had evidently sought to encourage him. How she had prevailed upon her lofty-minded mamma to send him an invitation was more than he could guess. Besides, the Baroness Von Kaiser also recognized him most amiably, as well as the Kahrings; for while Lady Von Kahring was fortified with great pride, she and her son did not forget that the fisherman's son had saved two valuable lives in their family. Elsewhere the doors were closed to Wulf, and he no longer craved to have them open. But society was still a friendless circle to him.

The ill-usage a man experiences sharpens his understanding, but embitters the heart. Wulf began to be very unamiable, and to look at every thing with hypercritical eyes. When one stands in a dark corner he can see all the better what goes on in the light. Wulf now observed keenly that fashionable society intercourse was devoid of love and favor, and that while every one carried himself finely and courtly, no one had the courage to appear just as he really was. A large part of the young people were young without youth; what sounded fresh and bright was tiresome and stereotyped--first to slay, then artfully to restore to life. Where had his eyes been, hitherto, that they only saw these people surrounded with glory? Now he observed for the first time that empty heads sat by full tables, and that while the pearls which adorned the lovely forms were genuine, the hair was false. He saw and heard even more. He was convinced that Herr Von Lenkseuring ridiculed the inexperienced Olga, at the same time he was weaving a web around the rich maiden's love.

"Have you caught the gold-fish yet?" a lieutenant was heard to ask Von Lenkseuring.

"It has bitten, but I shall let it wriggle awhile," was the coarse reply.

"Take care it doesn't escape."

Just then Wulf was observed standing near.

"P'st! the fisherman's son!" laughed the lieutenant.

Wulf controlled himself. He was indeed a fisherman's son; but these gentlemen should take heed lest the fisherman's son let the fish out of the net. He approached Olga Von Steinfels. In his bold, frank way, he said earnestly:

"Fraulein, beware of Herr Von Lenkseuring: he means no good to you."

The style of his warning was not commendable, but it scarcely deserved the treatment it received. The young woman blushed deeply, and without a word turned her back upon Wulf. Dr. Uhlhart had seen the proceeding. Perhaps he divined the cause. He enjoyed interpreting things falsely. It was now only a short time before all sorts of unseemly and regardless things were repeated, which Herr Ericksen had perpetrated. Many believed too readily these buzzing rumors in the air, as confirmations that low birth and low inclinations went hand-in-hand. It is marvelous how like a serpent creeps a wicked, calumniating word from place to place; one can not catch it, but the poisonous breath it spreads around an unfortunate person is evident. And Wulf soon perceived this venom, without knowing whence it came. Always earnest, he devoted himself to his studies. True, the ideal of his professional calling was removed far from him. So demoralizing had life been to him on account of his experiences with the want of integrity and human love, that his ambition to become a celebrated physician, in order to relieve suffering by his skill, had been dispelled. The ideas which formerly animated him were now repulsive, and stood like good spirits lamenting in the distance. Besides this, a formidable enemy approached Wulf. It was materialism. He could not reconcile the intuition which science gave him with the fundamental principles of Christianity as he had learned them at home. He gave to materialism, which raises its head high to the student of medicine, a sacred, prominent place, second to Christianity. If he had only possessed the true spirit of the latter, it would have comforted and calmed him; but it was only a vague, empty shadow. God, Christianity, immortality, gradually became to Wulf vain, hollow words. While he still battled for them against the advancing enemy, and only desired to know the truth, he was continually entangled by them. Science had not informed the young, vigorous student how to interpret those deep watchwords in the controversy.

Olga Von Steinfels sat in her room. She had now been two years from boarding-school and into society. As an uncontaminated lady she had returned to her father's home. Childhood had been outgrown. Why had she pursued so many hundred studies? Why had she continued French and English so long, if not to show their utility in society? And yet a good genius had folded its pinions around Olga, in order that the allurements of pleasure and the fascination of wealth might not harm the susceptible maiden. This good genius had been a love for Wulf.

He had been the first to pay her marked attention in the days of his glory; but she had been pressed back by the circle of her associates, on account of a natural timidity, and they had praised and monopolized the one whose manly beauty and agreeable friendliness had been so pleasant to her. How she envied them! Soon she had builded airy, fanciful castles, in which Wulf the king, and herself the queen, were enthroned. True, he had given her little encouragement for these fantasies, but Olga never knew how much she really owed to the fisherman's son. He was the star upon which she gazed, and the miserable baubles she had formerly admired faded away utterly. She was, for the most part, like many girls of her age, from youth accustomed to think herself the center of the universe; to adore externals more than to discern true merit; to enjoy herself with the happy, and to shed a tear with the sorrowing; to pass her days as best she might, and look upon the childish frivolities of life as its highest aims.

To-day Sibylla has called upon Olga. They are not intimate friends, but the fair hostess is not wholly able to conceal from her guest her hopes and happiness. Sibylla is too polite to question her very closely; but she has, herself, thought Wulf had shown recently much solicitation for Olga, and Dr. Uhlhart had also intimated the same to her. Suddenly, however, she has become so cool and restrained that little Olga is wholly frightened. When Sibylla had returned home she said to herself: "What is it to me? He can do as he pleases; but if he really loves this superficial girl, he is not the man I have believed him to be. And as for Olga--well, when one feels deeply it is difficult to express a sentiment. But what does it matter to me?"

Sometime after, Dr. Uhlhart called upon Sibylla. He talked of various things, and finally mentioned Wulf. Being careful to defend him, he at the same time related so many wicked and disagreeable stories about him that one so bright as Sibylla could not fail to be impressed. And the doctor knew her well enough to discern just what displeased her. He described how Wulf had suddenly evinced a great interest in the lower classes; how he loafed in beer-saloons in order to acquaint himself with the working-men who especially pleased him. He regretted Wulf had so little consideration, and that he went so far as to ridicule those with whom he had formerly associated. In this way he dropped the poison in Sibylla's ear. She was silent. At length she silenced him with: "And why, pray, do you tell me all this? It interests me very little to hear of people's failings." The doctor bit his lips. But why did his glance pierce Sibylla so keenly? Had he made a good stroke, or had he made a fool of himself? He feared the latter; but a point had been gained, perhaps, and he knew it was necessary to take many tricks to win a game.

Lady Von Steinfels sat holding a letter in her hand. It had come by post, without seal or signature. The writer declared his desire to call her attention to the fact that Wulf Ericksen was paying court to her daughter, and not in vain. He had observed this himself, as well as heard it spoken of in many places. He therefore felt under obligation to inform the mother by direct communication. At first Lady Von Steinfels threw the letter indignantly aside, feeling that an anonymous letter was unworthy of notice; but after some conversation with her daughter, she discovered that her unknown correspondent knew more about her family affairs than she did; for Olga stood before her, and, with hot tears, protested she loved Wulf, and that any opposition from her mother would render her unspeakably miserable.

"Child, child!" said Lady Von Steinfels, soothingly, "you are too young to know the meaning of love. Only believe me when I assure you that what we imagine to be love at first, soon passes off, and is nothing but a dream or fleeting fancy. In a little while you will laugh over this, and look upon it as a folly."

Olga turned scornfully away. She had not been educated on a mother's heart, and she had scarcely been out of boarding-school before her young soul had been filled with love's dreams. Her mother was no friend in whom she might confide. Olga had never been taught to trust her, and how could she expect this inexperienced, intoxicated girl to please her or to obey her with a willing heart?

But the mother's heart was bitter. An inner voice warningly asked: "Why have you given over your only child to strangers? Was not your home large enough for both?" "Alas! there was no room there. Social duties, a husband's position, left no time to look after my daughter. I did what thousands of others have done--gave her the advantages of the best boarding-school and the most expensive teachers. Now I want to be her friend. O, why should I be treated so?" she mourned.

Olga continued steadfast in her love and trust. But how long? When she found that Wulf no longer gave her any attention, when she heard nothing but evil reports of his behavior, she confessed that her mother was right. It was the young soul's first disappointment, and she was bitter and hard in her conclusions. Olga asked: What is the use of living? Why dress and go out into company where everybody deceives and lies? What should she do there? Lie and deceive also? A torturing pang shot through her inmost soul during these days, when she was forced to accept the position as the best wisdom. Well is it for us that the future is hidden!

What Dr. Uhlhart had repeated was not wholly untrue. Wulf had really desired to become acquainted with the so-called "common people;" he wished to discover whether they possessed, under perhaps a rude exterior, a better kernel than those among higher classes. Perhaps he did not take the best method to secure his aim, especially since Uhlhart, who had proffered his services as companion, was no good guide.

Wulf had a horror for this man, and yet he could not shake off his influence--an influence that Uhlhart exerted over many with demoniacal power. Wulf found as little of what he sought among the working-class as he had in aristocratic circles, and it was very agreeable to him when one of his instructors strongly advised him to spend his third year in some other place. He desired to go away from Sibylla, as his affection for her continued to increase, and he had no reason to believe it was reciprocated. What she had approved so openly upon that eventful evening concerned the subject, not the person. She was among a circle of acquaintances who gave her perfect liberty of action. She had openly enough during the latter months shown Wulf that she asked nothing from him, as she only vindicated him on account of the opposition against him. Wulf was too honorable to ask her a direct question; for he had no home to offer and as yet no prospect of one. Still, for a time longer, life played itself away, until now it was Summer, and people were enjoying themselves at the various watering-places. If one met an acquaintance on the streets of Berlin it was a source of as great surprise as if he had met him on the bay at Naples.

Then Wulf packed up his traps, and started off likewise. This time not homeward; he had no desire to go there, and all communication with his relatives had been confined to an occasional letter. He would first wander through Thuringia, then go to Jena. When he went to take leave of Lady Von Herbig, he found she had gone; Uhlhart had given him a later day for her departure. But it was well enough so, as it made his own leaving easier.

Wulf had learned many things in Berlin. His knowledge, his intuition were richer, and his understanding had been formed. He had also unlearned much. He had not become actually wicked, for his manly heart revolted against dishonesty; but many of his noble aspirations had been wrested from him with icy grasp. He longed for the good things of earth; but he was not happy, for his soul was not satisfied. So he went to Jena. "I behold a youth whose true inner self excites my love, but I fear he is only too apt to swim with the current of time. He has given his rudder into the hands of one who will prove unfaithful, and his frail boat will not be able to stem the tide, but will obey the guidance of its destroyer."

Uhlhart accompanied Wulf, whom he called his friend, to the railroad station. When he had disappeared from view, he rubbed his hands gleefully and said: "Now, with regard to Fraulein Sibylla it shall be 'out of sight, out of mind,' and I shall take care she will learn what a vulgar peasant has attracted her attention."