The sight of the ruins, constantly before the eyes of the newly-married couple, must have given a bitter flavour to their honeymoon.

And yet, Blanden was happier than he had ever been, in the possession, which he believed to be ensured, of a beloved wife. He gazed upon the Castle ruins, upon the ruins of his past, but in his Giulia's smile he saw the promise of an abiding, beautiful future.

The Ordensburg, the dining-hall, the Madonna's image, all should rise anew in the old form out of the rubbish. To attain this Blanden had sent for architects, who were well-known artists, to Kulmitten, so as to restore the building in accordance with the old foundations. Giulia took warm interest in all these plans, and often looked over Blanden's shoulder at the sketches of elevations over which he pored. Of course no art could compensate for the value of its historical age and associations, with the dining-hall the poetry of the olden days was destroyed, the new creation could but become a clever imitation. Several friends, especially Wegen and Olga, too, sometimes came to visit them, but the intercourse was not very lively, and Blanden wished to live alone with his love, and the object of that love. Often they sailed upon the lake or walked alone in the woods, upon the oak tree dykes, past the ponds filled with tall reeds; in that solitude which reminded her of primeval forests, Giulia forgot the world, the spell of her doom, the secret menaces of fate; and when Blanden's fowling piece brought down the water-fowl, and the broad belt of the fir forest sent back the echoes of the shot, Giulia felt as glad and as free as if she were living with a settler in the back woods, and as though prairie fires blazed between her and human society.

Owing to the fire and its mysterious cause, Kulmitten had fallen into still worse repute amongst the proprietors and their wives in the neighbourhood.

"There, we have it," said Frau Baronin Fuchs, to her husband, "gorgeous fireworks for their wedding! It is lucky that the dead cannot speak; that poor burned child who was drawn out of the flames, and probably set the place on fire, doubtlessly omitted to protest, in time, against the banns, and thus, in her fashion, made up for it on the wedding day. Of course she was a forsaken lover! The one loses her life in water the other in fire! Who knows which elements, those who remain may select, for naturally they have not come to an end yet. There was so much love-making in that community that it would be a school for a whole life-time!"

But not only to her husband, everywhere on the neighbouring estates, wherever her dapple-greys carried the clear-sighted Frau Baronin of firm morals, she uttered, with triumphant eloquence, her unpleasing belief in the just punishment that had befallen this knight of the rueful countenance. Outlaw and excommunication rested once again upon the master of those estates, and many crossed themselves when they spoke of the fire at Kulmitten Castle, of the ruins of the old nest of the Order, as the happy possessors of brand-new knightly castles contemptuously termed it, and of the Signora, who, out of the depths of the theatre, had risen to such a height, and whose family in the Apennines probably drove mules, or were even related to Fra Diavolo and other bandits of noble descent.

One day a young married couple were announced, Dr. Sperner and his wife. The principals of the school from the provincial capital, were making a tour of visits to the parents of their pupils, and hoping thus to obtain new ones. Dr. Sperner's moustache was a sign-board that did its duty. He still possessed the key to the mothers' hearts although it was now discreetly hidden by him in the key-basket of conjugal bliss. Lori had married soon after Blanden, whose conquest she had certainly only contemplated in daring dreams, was irretrievably lost. On that evening, in the theatre, on which the Doctor had distinguished himself by the active part he had taken in punishing the immoral prima donna, he had quite won Lori's heart; the schoolmistress' pride melted like snow in March, nothing remained but the little girl, who gladly gave herself into the strong man's keeping. There was an end of the commanding and dictating FrÄulein. Lori stepped down from the lofty pedestal, upon which she had placed herself with such dignity, and acknowledged her master in him, who, shortly before, had declared himself to be her white slave. Now the plantation belonged to them both, and the world maintained that it was Lori who had become the white slave. Sperner possessed all the qualifications for a despot, and it was in vain that she prepared to defend herself against his vigorous energy with the pin-pricks of her wit. Yet she could still occasionally celebrate tiny triumphs with it when the Doctor, in one or the other of the classes, distinguished a few favourites according to his old bad custom. She was implacable towards these successors of Iduna. She took possession of their copy-books after her husband had already corrected them, and let her red pen run riot through their pages until they resembled a corn field overgrown with poppies. Then their domestic peace was seriously imperilled, and the first-class listening at the door, had the satisfaction of witnessing noisy scenes between the conductors of the establishment. How differently FrÄulein Sohle had maintained discipline! Yes, even some lovely eyes peeping through the keyhole pretended to have seen how Dr. Sperner's moustache, the terror and glory of the school, played a suffering part in these disputes. At last, however, the Doctor gained his point, Lori was merely, by courtesy, the principal of the school.

Although this couple's last kindly relation to Giulia had consisted in the homage which they paid to her talent in the theatre by hissing and whistling, it did not, in the least, prevent them paying a friendly visit to Herr and Frau von Blanden. Times change, and besides, in those days, they were a portion of the public, the most irresponsible creature that the world contains, because the individual disappears within it like a wave in the ocean, which none can make permanently stationary?

Lori was most agreeable; she could not sufficiently regret that Frau von Blanden had said farewell to the stage. Since her retirement there had been a total lack of all real interest, and nothing was heard but commonplace ballad-singing for salaries and wages, without any of the divine spark.

Sperner, too, kissed the lady's hand with the very lips which had given the signal whistle in the pit, and looked up at her with such true-hearted eyes that she could not but believe in his genuineness. He was one of those honest men whose frank manner, whose warm impulsive speeches inspire confidence at once, one of those men, with open hearts and open shirt collars, whose genuineness, as Kuhl said, is nothing but studied hypocrisy, while behind the mask of their honesty lurks the vilest deception.

Blanden led his guests round the Castle and into the apartments of the old stronghold, which Lori surveyed with peculiar ill-nature. They ascended the tower, which had been temporarily restored. Yet the view over the wide woods to the limits of the estate, fading into the sky on the horizon, awoke a disagreeable emotion in Frau Sperner. She thought of her home, of the gravel walk, of the narrow cells in which she housed those entrusted to her care--how small, how miserable compared with such a magnificent possession; she thought of Dr. Sperner, who brought nothing to the union but his moustache, a box of clothes, another of books, and an undeniable talent as a dictatorial teacher in the school and conjugal lord, and a heavy shadow overclouded her life. Blanden stood transfigured before her like a being of a higher order. Giulia had remained behind in the chapel with the Doctor. Lori looked at Blanden with an expression, in which lay the pain of deceived affection, combined with one of sad resignation. But Blanden said, smilingly--

"You will surely call me to your assistance against the bold tutor, who took so much upon himself! Verily he has set a crown upon his boldness now, robbed you of heart and name, trodden FrÄulein Baute's door plate in the dust, and upon the long suffering metal written the name of the wild man who was so dreadful. Can I help you, my FrÄulein? Shall I call him out? I am ready as ever for knightly duty!"

"Laugh away, a knight may be needed at all times, and a man who is a savage does not at once become tame in marriage. Herr von Blanden, we may call ourselves teachers, but nevertheless we always remain pupils in life."

It was well that Giulia and Sperner appeared, or Lori would have fallen into Blanden's arms upon the Castle leads, if he had shown the least inclination to bear so precious a burden.

At any rate Frau Sperner had the satisfaction of driving back to the town in Herr von Blanden's elegant carriage. Reclining in the soft cushions, drawn by the four high stepping horses, she could indulge in dreams of being the mistress and owner of this team! How contemptible the Doctor appeared at that moment; he possessed no carriages and horses, castles and villages, forests and meadows, and yet assumed a mien as if his frown were dreaded in a circumference of thirty square miles. And he was really living upon borrowed capital. That was all the grandeur!

With a sigh she leaned back in the cushions and closed her eyes, and in a half dream of delight she saw herself as Frau von Blanden with Sperner seated in his proper place, upon the box in a splendid livery, thrashing the horses and stroking his moustache.

A few days after this visit, Blanden had to cross the frontier to see a landowner in Russian Poland about agricultural matters and the new buildings, for which he hoped to find desirable materials. Giulia bade him a fond farewell, as though she had a presentiment that it would be farewell for a long, long time. The road from Kulmitten first led along a beautifully situated road on the estate, then between little lakes on either side; farther on, at several places, the traveller might easily imagine himself to be in Arabia PetrÆa, for the highway went past hills which had been strewn with a shower of stones. Here not a tree grew, not a shrub, it was a limitless waste. The horses, too, had difficulty in making their way through the stony dÉbris, for Blanden had already to diverge from the main road, because his friend's estate was only accessible along by-ways. It was a toilsome drive, twilight overtook them before the frontier was reached. Meanwhile the landscape had again assumed a different character; the hills were covered with woods, and in the hollows between them small lakes which terminated in swamps. The carriage wheels often ran so closely to their edge that only the light of the carriage lamps and the driver's caution preserved them from some mishap. Some of these morasses were so deep that it would be fatal to sink into them. Suddenly the carriage dropped below into a copse dividing two lakes or swamps; a string of carts which had been driven up one behind another, and would not move on, blocked the road. The coachman became impatient, but he was bidden to wait; Blanden sprang out of the carriage and climbed up a little eminence close to the road, however, it was too dusk to be able to overlook the whole train. He saw a few dark figures moving about amongst the carts, and some of them were armed with guns.

At last the cry "Forward!" resounded. The line of carts was set in motion, it was possible to proceed. Blanden had to act as rear-guard.

Thus they went on for some time alternating from wooded hills to swampy vallies, then they stopped again, a post with the Russian colours showed that the frontier was reached. That "halt!" was not given in the loud voice of the "forward," but in a whispered tone. Blanden became impatient, he knew already that he had fallen amidst a caravan of smugglers, which could only seek to cross the frontier on by-roads, in the dead of the night. Then suddenly the soundless silence was disturbed by noisy cries; shots and din of conflict followed, the horses in Blanden's carriage reared, the coachman could hardly keep them in hand. More shots. Cossacks on fleet horses dashed upon the foot-wide margin that separated the carts from a swamp on the right hand from a steep wooded hill on the left. They overpowered the drivers of the carts, bound them safely, and mounted the waggons themselves. A Cossack also seated himself beside Blanden's coachman, obliging him to deviate from his course and follow to the frontier station.

As they drove past the scene of conflict he saw that it had cost the lives of several victims; a wounded Cossack was lifted up and placed in one of the carts, two officials from the frontier searched a wildly overgrown bank running out into the swamp, evidently they expected to find a wounded smuggler there. As the road became wider, and passed through a plain of meadows, one cart was left behind to bring on a few more prisoners, and several Cossacks galloped back to catch some runaway smugglers. Clearly the attack on the column of carts had been unexpected and sudden, and doubtlessly its leader had formerly often succeeded in crossing the frontier unperceived by these remote roads.

Blanden was supremely annoyed at this compulsory divergence; almost an hour elapsed before they reached the station, near which was an inn. He knew the inspector of the frontier personally, and also had papers with him fully proving his identity, and setting the matter beyond doubt that he was in nowise connected with the band of smugglers.

The Cossack upon the box, who had escorted him safely, took leave, and for his unwelcome trouble received a trink-geld that he accepted with eloquent gestures. It was too late at night to drive to his friend's estate, they had turned off in an exactly opposite direction. Blanden had the horses taken out, and resigned himself to the fate of spending the rest of the night in that miserable inn.

Gradually the carts arrived with the Cossacks. Blanden had preceded them. The waggons contained jewellery, silks, and linen; he learned that a bold speculator, who accompanied the train himself, hoped to do a great stroke of business with it. He had not yet been caught. Blanden overheard all this in the inn parlour, when he walked impatiently up and down, waiting for the wretched meal which he had ordered.

Outside there was incessant running to and fro; shouting, ordering, rolling of cartwheels, and stamping of horses, echoed through the night. A company of infantry had been summoned from the neighbouring town, because they had to deal with the most dangerous traders of the East Prussian forests, who thoroughly understood the little frontier struggles, and amongst whom were several reckless axe-bearers and dreaded shots.

It was late when one more conveyance arrived, from out of which a groaning man was lifted; he had been found upon the bank in the swamps, where he had sought to conceal himself in the wild profusion of overgrowth.

"He will not live much longer," said the host, returning, after having gleaned the information outside, "but, besides the room which I have given up to you, there is not an empty spot in the house."

"I will gladly resign it," replied Blanden. "I shall not be able to sleep any more; put the unhappy man in my room."

Accompanied by two Cossacks, the wounded man was carried into the parlour where the landlord told him he could be accommodated in the upper room, which this gentleman had relinquished to him. Out of a cloak which concealed the rest of his face two great glowing eyes fixed themselves upon Blanden. A sudden quiver passed through the wounded man. He was carried out and up the stairs.

"Who is the man?" asked Blanden.

"So far as I can hear," said the host, "he is a dealer, who, in transporting his goods--whether from greediness and anxiety, whether from delight in such adventures--does not leave the matter to competent professional smugglers, but assumes the management himself. Certainly, this time it is a great expedition, which might have entirely provided a princely ball at Warsaw with jewels and silk. He has fared ill to-day! He defended himself and fired a revolver, but was mortally wounded."

The servant of the house then entered and begged Blanden to go to the wounded man, who urgently requested it.

"The poor man will not part from life without thanking me," said Blanden.

He went up the stairs and entered a room meagrely lighted with a feeble oil lamp. Against the wall stood a wretched bedstead, upon which lay a straw mattress. At the head of the bed sat a Cossack, his lance in his hand.

"Make room, good fellow," said the wounded man's voice, "let the gentleman come to me! You can stand on guard as well as sit. I am no longer dangerous."

He had spoken Russian. The Cossack drew back while Blanden went up to the bed, but his sensation of pity suddenly gave place to one of astonishment, when, in the man doomed to die, he recognised the amber merchant.

"Signor Baluzzi!" cried he shocked, for he suddenly recollected that this man stood in some mysterious relation to Giulia.

"I shall soon be dead," said Baluzzi, while spasmodic gasps interrupted the words brought out with such difficulty. "Corpo di bacco! I should not have believed that it would come so soon, but I feel it is to be, and the frontier official, who was a surgeon formerly, says so too. People follow many trades here."

"I am sorry for you, Baluzzi! How could you enter upon so insane an undertaking?"

"Insane? L'assicuro di no! I have often had the most splendid success, but misfortune must befall all in time; you, too, Herr von Blanden, and I am glad, because I have the right to hate you."

The Italian's dim eyes gleamed, he clenched his hand convulsively, and then let it fall again upon the pillow.

"What do these insinuations mean?--speak! If you have a secret to confide to me do not hesitate, for it might easily become too late."

"A secret of a strange kind," said Baluzzi, as he tossed about and groaned. "Haha, now it will come upon her, too. This bullet speeds beyond the frontier--and into her heart! I foretold it to her when she gave me up in her unworthy pride. I was too weak. I let myself be dazzled by the gold that she promised and gave me! But now it is all over, death is approaching, it needs no bribe. Now I will speak! That was the agreement. I shall hold firmly to it!"

"You speak in riddles," said Blanden.

"As she will no longer rest in my arms, neither shall she in yours," said the Italian. "I shall assert my rights. I shall preserve them with my last breath, long as I may have denied them. That is worthy of a brave man. She is mine, and belongs to this death-bed."

"Of whom do you speak?" cried Blanden, more astonished.

"Of Giulia, your--mistress!"

"Hah, you scoundrel," cried Blanden, "I shall be forgetting that a dying man is before me, that these words are the unnecessary attacks of an expiring intellect."

"You are mistaken," said Baluzzi, but pain compelled him to stop for a time and to speak more softly. "I speak the truth."

"Fool--united to me at the altar!"

"Null and invalid, null and invalid!"

"Is there anything you wish, Baluzzi? I will gladly carry it out, but to listen longer to your wandering speech is impossible."

"Wandering speech! Haha--am I a madman? Do I tear off the bandage which the wretched surgeon, the old frontier official, put on? Do I grope in the air half unconsciously? No, my mind is clear, clear as yours, clearer, perhaps, at this moment. I can understand that the world begins to go round with you when I repeat that 'Giulia can only be your mistress, because she is--my wife!'"

"Your wife, madman!"

Blanden shouted in a torrent of anger, then he shuddered. Various dark impressions, for which hitherto he could not account, swept suddenly over him, the possibility of what was incredible lay before him like a deep fearful abyss.

"She has deceived you, carissimo!"

"Oh, then--then I should envy you the merciful bullet which struck you, envy you your approaching death," cried Blanden, beside himself, "but it cannot be, Giulia could not thus deceive me."

"She wanted to belong to you for ever, and she did not mind a crime."

"She must have dreaded the disclosure every moment."

"There you have an ardent daughter of our country! She would be happy at any price."

"You should have come forward long since, have opposed it."

"I did not do it. I was accustomed to turn away from her, to be silent. It was more advantageous for me! She paid well for my silence, but that she should treat me with contempt ate silently into my vitals, and I vowed to be avenged upon the overbearing woman as soon as the hour should have struck."

Bach one of these replies, which Baluzzi gave in a low expiring voice, was a deathblow for Blanden. Not only could he not refute them, but they bore the impress of truth.

The dark recollection of the Lago Maggiore, of Giulia's agonised bursts of anguish, of the force of circumstances which she lamented, of Baluzzi's appearance on the shore of the lake, and at the gate of the villa, all returned overwhelmingly upon him. He had many times asked casual questions which she had always answered crossly and evasively, and only in order to avoid marring the peace of their honeymoon had he refrained from an enquiry which might easily be misinterpreted. With the keen sharpness of a knife this thought quivered through his brain, and a dread feeling of pain rent his heart, and yet with every excuse which his anxious reason could discover, he tried to stem the coming evil.

"Your wife, you say, your wife, but where were you married?"

"In the church of San Giulio, on the island, in the lake of Orta."

"I will assume that you are speaking the truth, assume it without believing it. But then she was your wife years ago. She is divorced."

"Our Church knows no divorce," murmured Baluzzi softly to himself.

"Your laws--"

"Do not recognise it either!"

"Well, then, she has been divorced in some other country where it is permitted."

"I have always remained a subject of Italy, and even here--I had grounds enough for a divorce--remember the villa at Stresa--but I would not."

Baluzzi made a sign of denial. He groaned, and pressed his hand upon his heart. He could not speak any more.

"Horrible," cried Blanden; then he began to perceive what Giulia's heart must have gone through in its passionate love for him--the unbounded deception became comprehensible. He could not but acknowledge to himself that he should never have made his, this vagrant's wife, even if she had been divorced. Giulia had told herself the same, and therefore concealed the past from him.

But that he should realise the possibility, could realise it, seemed to him like inexpiable injustice to Giulia.

The man, sick unto death, was a prey to wild delirium, but even through madness there runs one connecting thread, on which it hangs its pictures, and is often more sharp-sighted, more rational than sound sense.

A pause ensued. The Cossack, who was weary, began to whistle a song which is sung on the shores of the Don by the girls of his race. Baluzzi had somewhat recovered.

"You still doubt? Pray call in the officer of the frontier."

Under the impression that the Italian felt weak, and needed some surgical assistance, Blanden hastened down the stairs and returned with the chief guardian of the frontier. The latter felt Baluzzi's pulse, and shook his head.

"One favour! Show this gentleman what you found sewn up in my coat."

Annoyed, but unwilling to refuse a dying man's entreaty, the officer, with an enquiring glance at Blanden, went into his office, and returned, bringing another Cossack with him as watchman.

Out of a rough wooden box close at hand at the time, he took a sparkling diamond coronet. Even the Cossacks drew nearer with covetous glances.

Only one stone was wanting in the ornament. Blanden started back as if stung by an adder.

"My, her diamonds! Our family jewels! Robber!

"I a robber? Did she wear these diamonds on her wedding day? Did she complain that she had lost them? It is a gift that she gave to me--one of the many with which she bought my silence. I came to her on the evening before her wedding. KÄtchen showed me the road through the tower and the subterranean passage, and cleared the way--poor child, it was there, too, that she died the following day in the fireworks, which she let off in honour of the bridal couple. These diamonds are my honestly gained property."

Now Blanden said no more. Groping about blindly he sought an explanation, but all excuses were denied to him. Desperate, he buried his face in his hands, and stamped as if in an impotent rage with his fate.

"He is dying," said the official, pointing at Baluzzi, whose features suddenly became overshadowed.

But he raised himself once more with a powerful effort, and cried in a shrieking half-failing voice--

"Thrust her from you, the adulteress. Where am I? The brand upon her brow, the chains of the galley rattle about me--"

"And if it were so," cried Blanden, "the proofs are wanting. The secret goes with you to the grave. I alone have the right to punish her."

"You are wrong," said Baluzzi, gathering up his strength once more. "Revenge I have vowed to her, I keep my oath, the proofs are not here, not at hand, but they are in safe keeping. The accusation I carried for long, carefully sealed up in my breast pocket. Beate burned the page in the registry in San Giulio, but a legal copy at the See in Milan proves the marriage. And this accusation is my legacy, the lightning that strikes the worthless woman, even before I die."

"This accusation--" cried Blanden, almost breathlessly.

"Bears the address of the nearest court in the district, shows all proofs, and is in the hands of Wild Robert, who fled with me on to the bank in the swamps. The ball hit me--it missed him. He promised me, even if it cost his life, to take the papers there. He knows the way through the morass, and if he had to hew down bush and tree with an axe to make a bridge for himself, the bailiffs have not caught him. Triumph! Chains and fetters for her--she has despised me, I, too, may despise her--thus I die--gladly!" And with these words, which were already interrupted by the rattle of approaching death, he bowed his head and passed away.

As if out of his mind Blanden rushed into the night, ran along lonely roads, sprang over ditches and fences, hurried up and down--he felt as though he must fly from himself.

His Giulia had deceived him, she was a criminal, his marriage invalid--the myrmidons of the law were already knocking at the door of his Castle! He repeated all this to himself mechanically, hopelessly, as though he were conning a lesson. It was impossible that all this could concern himself.

After two hours of rapid flight through the night, which just began to yield to the dawn in the east, he returned to the inn, asked for ink and paper, and wrote to Giulia--

"Baluzzi is dead, he fell in a smuggler's fight, and dying confessed to me that you are his wife, and never were divorced from him! Shortly before his death he sent in an accusation against you. It cannot all be true, confirm the untruth with a few lines; they will find me with the proprietor of Opaczno."

He obtained a messenger and despatched him to Kulmitten with his letter.

It would have been impossible for him to return now, look into Giulia's eyes, hear from her own lips that she was the wife of that wretch.

He gave some orders and money for Baluzzi's burial, and then drove to Opaczno.

Fixedly he gazed at the morning, he saw none of the objects past which he drove, for him a heavy shadow lay upon all earthly things.

She whom he had so proudly loved, seemed like a spectre to him, a bride of Corinth, a vampire, which had sucked his blood, his life.

And yet--in the midst of his wrath at the deception, he was seized with fear, with pity for her, an inexpressible feeling of pain, that gnawed at his heart.

He felt as if the mild god of Hindoostan, the old King's son, laid a hand upon his brow like a healing doctor, and whispered to him, "Have pity upon all creation!"