Bertha Garlan | Page 6

edging nearer to her, and that his arm
was touching hers. Involuntarily she moved away. Suddenly she felt
herself seized from behind, her head pulled back over the bench and a
hand clasped over her eyes.
For a moment she thought that it was Klingemann's hand, which she
felt upon her lids.
"Why, you must be mad, sir," she cried.
"How funny it is to hear you call me 'Sir,' Aunt Bertha!" replied the
laughing voice of a boy at her back.
"Well, do let me at least open my eyes, Richard," said Bertha, trying to
remove the boy's hands from her face. "Have you come from home!"
she added, turning round towards him.

"Yes, Aunt, and here's the newspaper which I have brought you."
Bertha took the paper which he handed to her and began to read it.
Klingemann, meanwhile, rose to his feet and turned to Richard.
"Have you done your exercises already?" he asked.
"We have no exercises at all now, Herr Klingemann, because our final
examination is to take place in July."
"So you will actually be a student by this time next year?"
"This time next year! It'll be in the autumn!"
As he said this Richard drummed his fingers along the newspaper.
"What do you want, then, you ill-mannered fellow?" asked Bertha.
"I say, Aunt, will you come and visit me when I am in Vienna?"
"Yes, I should like to catch myself! I shall be glad to be rid of you!"
"Here comes Herr Rupius!" said Richard.
Bertha lowered the paper and looked in the direction indicated by her
nephew's glance. Along the avenue leading from the town a
maidservant came, pushing an invalid's chair, in which a man was
sitting. His head was uncovered and his soft felt hat was lying upon his
knees, from which a plaid rug reached down to his feet. His forehead
was lofty; his hair smooth and fair and slightly grizzled at the temples;
his feet were peculiarly large. As he passed the bench on which Bertha
was seated he only inclined his head slightly, without smiling. Bertha
knew that, had she been alone, he would certainly have stopped;
moreover, he looked only at her as he passed by, and his greeting
seemed to apply to her alone. It seemed to Bertha that she had never
before seen such a grave look in his eyes as on this occasion, and she
was exceedingly sorry, for she felt a profound compassion for the
paralysed man.

When Herr Rupius had passed by, Klingemann said:
"Poor devil! And wifie is away as usual on one of her visits to Vienna,
eh?"
"No," answered Bertha, almost angrily. "I was speaking to her only an
hour ago."
Klingemann was silent, for he felt that further remarks on the subject of
the mysterious visits of Frau Rupius to Vienna might not have been in
keeping with his own reputation as a freethinker.
"Won't he really ever be able to walk again?" asked Richard.
"No," said Bertha.
She knew this for a fact because Herr Rupius had told her so himself on
one occasion when she had called on him and his wife was in Vienna.
At that moment Herr Rupius seemed to her to be a particularly pitiful
figure, for, as he was being wheeled past her in his invalid's chair, she
had, in reading the paper, lighted upon the name of one whom she
regarded as a happy man.
Mechanically she read the paragraph again.
"Our celebrated compatriot Emil Lindbach returned to Vienna a few
days ago after his professional tour through France and Spain, in the
course of which he met with many a triumphant reception. In Madrid
this distinguished artist had the honour of playing before the Queen of
Spain. On the 24th of this month Herr Lindbach will take part in the
charity concert which has been organized for the relief of the
inhabitants of Vorarlberg, who have suffered such severe losses as a
result of the recent floods. A keen interest in the concert is being shown
by the public in spite of the fact that the season is so far advanced."
Emil Lindbach! It required a certain effort on Bertha's part to realize
that this was the same man whom she had loved--how many?--twelve

years ago. Twelve years! She could feel the hot blood mount up into
her brow. It seemed to her as though she ought to be ashamed of having
gradually grown older.
The sun had set. Bertha took Fritz by the hand, bade the others good
evening, and walked slowly homewards.
She lived on the first floor of a house in a new street. From her
windows she had a view of the hill, and opposite were only vacant
sites.
Bertha handed Fritz over to the care