E. Werner - The Alpine Fay

"I can readily believe it," the lady replied, with an indignant glance.

"Come, Thurgau, let us leave the children to make acquaintance with each other; they have not seen each other for years," said Nordheim, who, although quite used to his brother-in-law's rough manner, was annoyed by it in the present company. He would have led the way to the next room, but Elmhorst, who during this domestic scene had considerately withdrawn to the recess of a window, now advanced, as if about to take his leave, whereupon the president, of course, presented him to his relative.

Thurgau immediately remembered the name which he had heard mentioned in no flattering fashion by the comrades of the young superintendent, whose attractive exterior seemed only to confirm the Freiherr in his mistrust of him. Erna too had turned towards the stranger; she suddenly started and retreated a step.

"This is not the first time that I have had the honour of meeting the Baroness Thurgau," said Elmhorst, bowing courteously. "She was kind enough to act as my guide when I had lost my way among the cliffs of the Wolkenstein. Her name, indeed, I hear to-day for the first time."

"Ah, indeed. So this was the stranger whom you met?" growled Thurgau, not greatly edified, it would seem, by this encounter.

"I trust the Baroness was not alone?" Frau von Lasberg inquired, in a tone which betrayed her horror at such a possibility.

"Of course I was alone!" Erna exclaimed, perceiving the reproach in the lady's words, and flaming up indignantly. "I always walk alone in the mountains, with only Griff for a companion. Be quiet, Griff! Lie down!"

Elmhorst had tried to stroke the beautiful animal, but his advances had been met with an angry growl. At the sound of his mistress's voice, however, the dog was instantly silent and lay down obediently at her feet.

"The dog is not cross, I hope?" Nordheim asked, with evident annoyance. "If he is, I must really entreat–"

"Griff is never cross," Erna interposed almost angrily. "He never hurts any one, and always lets strangers pat him, but he does not like this gentleman at all, and–"

"Baroness–I beg of you!" murmured Frau von Lasberg, with difficulty maintaining her formal demeanour. Elmhorst, however, acknowledged Erna's words with a low bow.

"I am excessively mortified to have fallen into disgrace with Herr Griff, and, as I fear, with his mistress also," he declared, "but it really is not my fault. Allow me, ladies, to bid you good-morning."

He approached Alice, beside whom Frau von Lasberg was standing guard, as if to protect her from all contact with these savages who had suddenly burst into the drawing-room, and who could not, unfortunately, be turned out, because, setting aside the relationship, they were Baron and Baroness born.

On the other hand, this young man with the bourgeois name conducted himself like a gentleman. His voice was gentle and sympathetic as he expressed the hope that Fräulein Nordheim would recover her health in the air of Heilborn; he courteously kissed the hand of the elder lady when she graciously extended it to him, and then he turned to the president to take leave of him also, when a most unexpected interruption occurred.

Outside on the balcony, which overhung the garden and was half filled with blossoming shrubs, appeared a kitten, which had probably found its way thither from the garden. It approached the open glass door with innocent curiosity, and, unfortunately, came within the range of Griff's vision. The dog, in his hereditary hostility to the tribe of cats, started up, barking violently, almost overturned Frau von Lasberg, shot past Alice, frightening her terribly, and out upon the balcony, where a wild chase began. The terrified kitten tore hither and thither with lightning-like rapidity without finding any outlet of escape and with its persecutor in close pursuit; the glass panes of the door rattled, the flower-pots were overturned and smashed, and amidst the confusion were heard the Freiherr's shrill whistle and Erna's voice of command. The dog, young, not fully broken, and eager for the chase, did not obey,–the hurly-burly was frightful.

At last the kitten succeeded in jumping upon the balustrade of the balcony and thence down into the garden. But Griff would not let his prey escape him thus; he leaped after it, overturning as he did so the only flower-pot as yet uninjured, and immediately afterwards there was a terrific barking in the garden, mingled with a child's scream of terror.

All this happened in less than two minutes, and when Thurgau hurried out on the balcony to establish peace it was already too late. Meanwhile, the drawing-room was a scene of indescribable confusion,–Alice had a nervous attack, and lay with her eyes closed in Frau von Lasberg's arms; Elmhorst, with quick presence of mind, had picked up a cologne-bottle and was sprinkling with its contents the fainting girl's temples and forehead, while the president, scowling, pulled the bell to summon the servants. In the midst of all this the two gentlemen and Frau von Lasberg witnessed a spectacle which almost took away their breath. The young Baroness, the Freifräulein von Thurgau, suddenly stood upon the balustrade of the balcony, but only for an instant, before she sprang down into the garden.

This was too much! Frau von Lasberg dropped Alice out of her arms and sank into the nearest armchair. Elmhorst found himself necessitated to come to her relief also with cologne, which he sprinkled impartially to the right and to the left.

Below in the garden Erna's interference was very necessary. The child whose screams had caused her to spring from the balcony was a little boy, and he held his kitten clasped in his arms, while before him stood the huge dog, barking loudly, without, however, touching the little fellow. The child was in extreme terror, and went on screaming until Erna seized the dog by the collar and dragged him away.

Baron Thurgau, meanwhile, stood quietly on the balcony observing the course of affairs. He knew that the child would not be hurt, for Griff was not at all vicious. When Erna returned to the house with the culprit, now completely subdued, while the child unharmed ran off with his kitten, the Freiherr turned and called out in stentorian tones to his brother-in-law in the drawing-room, "There! did I not tell you, Nordheim, that my Erna was a grand girl?"

President Nordheim belonged to the class of men who owe their success to themselves. The son of a petty official, with no means of his own, he had educated himself as an engineer, and had lived in very narrow circumstances until he suddenly appeared before the public with a technical invention which attracted the attention of the entire profession. The first mountain-railway had just been projected, and the young, obscure engineer had devised a locomotive which could drag the trains up the heights. The invention was as clever as it was practical; it instantly distanced all competing devices, and was adopted by the company, which finally purchased the patent from the inventor at a price which then seemed a fortune to him, and which certainly laid the foundation of his future wealth, for he took rank immediately among men of enterprise.

Contrary to expectation, however, Nordheim did not pursue the path in which he had made so brilliant a début ; strangely enough, he seemed to lose interest in it, and adopted another, although kindred, career. He undertook the formation and the financial conduct of a large building association, of which in a few years he made an enormous success, meanwhile increasing his own property tenfold.

Other projects were the consequence of this first undertaking, and with the increase of his means the magnitude of his schemes increased, and it became clear that this was the field for the exercise of his talents. He was not a man to ponder and pore for years over technical details,–he needed to plunge into the life of the age, to venture and contrive, making all possible interests subservient to his success, and developing in all directions his great talent for organization.