the fortune hunter(闯世界的人)-第17章
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into her waving black hair。 ‘‘MY Hilda；'' he said in a low voice。 And
she felt his blood beating very fast； and she understood。
‘‘Arbeit und Liebe und Heim；'' she quoted slowly and softly。
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CHAPTER X
MR。 FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT
The next day Mr。 Feuerstein returned from exile。 It is always
disillusioning to inspect the unheroic details of the life of that favorite
figure with romancersthe soldier of fortune。 Of Mr。 Feuerstein's six
weeks in Hoboken it is enough to say that they were weeks of storm and
stress wretched lodgments in low boarding… houses； odd jobs at giving
recitations in beer halls； undignified ejectments for drunkenness and
failure to pay； borrowings which were removed from frank street…begging
only in his imagination。 He sank very low indeed； but it must be
recorded to the credit of his consistency that he never even contemplated
the idea of working for a living。 And now here he was； back in New
York； with Hoboken an exhausted field； with no resources； no hopes； no
future that his brandy…soaked brain could discern。
His mane was still golden and bushy； but it was ragged and too long in
front of the ears and also on his neck。 His face still expressed insolence
and vanity； but it had a certain tragic bitterness； as if it were trying to
portray the emotions of a lofty spirit flinging defiance at destiny from a
slough of despair。 It was plain that he had been drinking heavilythe
whites of his eyes were yellow and bloodshot； the muscles of his eyelids
and mouth twitched disagreeably。 His romantic hat and collar and
graceful suit could endure with good countenance only the most casual
glance of the eye。
Mr。 Feuerstein had come to New York to perform a carefully…planned
last act in his life…drama； one that would send the curtain down amid tears
and plaudits for Mr。 Feuerstein； the central figure； enwrapped in a somber
and baleful blaze of glory。 He had arranged everything except such
details as must be left to the inspiration of the moment。 He was
impatient for the curtain to risebesides； he had empty pockets and might
be prevented from his climax by a vulgar arrest for vagrancy。
At one o'clock Hilda was in her father's shop alone。 The rest of the
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family were at the midday dinner。 As she bent over the counter； near the
door； she was filling a sheet of wrapping paper with figurescalculations
in connection with the new business。 A shadow fell across her paper and
she looked up。 She shrank and clasped her hands tightly against her
bosom。 ‘‘Mr。 Feuerstein！'' she exclaimed in a low； agitated voice。
He stood silent； his face ghastly as if he were very ill。 His eyes； sunk
deep in blue…black sockets； burned into hers with an intensity that terrified
her。 She began slowly to retreat。
‘‘Do not fly from me；'' he said in a hollow voice； leaning against the
counter weakly。 ‘‘I have come only for a moment。 Thenyou will see
me never again！''
She paused and watched him。 His expression； his tone； his words
filled her with pity for him。
‘‘You hate me；'' he went on。 ‘‘You abhor me。 It is justjust！ Yet''…
…he looked at her with passionate sadness‘‘it was because I loved you
that I deceived you。 BecauseIloved you！''
‘‘You must go away；'' said Hilda； pleading rather than commanding。
‘‘You've done me enough harm。''
‘‘I shall harm you no more。'' He drew himself up in gloomy majesty。
‘‘I have finished my life。 I am bowing my farewell。 Another instant；
and I shall vanish into the everlasting night。''
‘‘That would be cowardly！'' exclaimed Hilda。 She was profoundly
moved。 ‘‘You have plenty to live for。''
‘‘Do you forgive me； Hilda？'' He gave her one of his looks of tragic
eloquence。
‘‘YesI forgive you。''
He misunderstood the gentleness of her voice。 ‘‘She loves me still！''
he said to himself。 ‘‘We shall die together and our names will echo down
the ages。'' He looked burningly at her and said： ‘‘I was madmad with
love for you。 And when I realized that I had lost you； I went down； down；
down。 God！ What have I not suffered for your sake； Hilda！'' As he
talked he convinced himself； pictured himself to himself as having been
drawn on by a passion such as had ruined many others of the great of
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earth。
‘‘That's all past now。'' She spoke impatiently； irritated against herself
because she was not hating him。 ‘‘I don't care to hear any more of that
kind of talk。''
A customer came in； and while Hilda was busy Mr。 Feuerstein went to
the rear counter。 On a chopping block lay a knife with a long； thin blade；
ground to a fine edge and a sharp point。 He began to play with it； and
presently； with a sly； almost insane glance to assure himself that she was
not seeing； slipped it into the right outside pocket of his coat。 The
customer left and he returned to the front of the shop and stood with just
the breadth of the end of the narrow counter between him and her。
‘‘It's all over for me；'' he began。 ‘‘Your love has failed me。 There is
nothing left。 I shall fling myself through the gates of death。 I shall be
forgotten。 And you will live on and laugh and not remember that you
ever had such love as mine。''
Another customer entered。 Mr。 Feuerstein again went to the rear of
the space outside the counters。 ‘‘She loves me。 She will gladly die with
me；'' he muttered。 ‘‘First into HER heart； then into mine； and we shall be
at peace； dead； as lovers and heroes die！''
When they were again alone； he advanced and began to edge round the
end of the counter。 She was no longer looking at him； did not note his
excitement； was thinking only of how to induce him to go。 ‘‘Hilda；'' he
said； ‘‘I have one last requesta dying man's request''
The counter was no longer between them。 He was within three feet
of her。 His right hand was in his coat pocket； grasping the knife。 His
eyes began to blaze and he nerved himself to seize her
Both heard her father's voice in the hall leading to the sitting…room。
‘‘You must go；'' she cried； hastily retreating。
‘‘Hilda；'' he pleaded rapidly； ‘‘there is something I must say to you。 I
can not say it here。 Come over to Meinert's as soon as you can。 I shall
be in the sitting…room。 Just for a moment； Hilda。 It might save my life。
If not that； it certainly would make my death happier。''
Brauner was advancing into the shop and his lowering face warned Mr。
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Feuerstein not to linger。 With a last； appealing look at Hilda he departed。
‘‘What was HE doing here？'' growled Brauner。
‘‘He'd just come in；'' answered Hilda absently。 ‘‘He won't bother us
any more。''
‘‘If he comes again； don't speak to him；'' said Brauner in the
commanding voice that sounded so fierce and meant so little。 ‘‘Just call
me or August。''
Hilda could not thrust him out of her mind。 His looks； his tones； his
dramatic melancholy saddened her； and his last words rang in her ears。
She no longer loved him； but she HAD loved him。 She could not think
of him as a stranger and an enemythere might be truth in his plea that he
had in some mysterious way fallen through love for her。 She might be
able to save him。
Almost mechanically she left the shop； went to Sixth Street and to the
‘‘family entrance'' of Meinert's beer…garden。 She went into the little
anteroom and； with her hand on the swinging door leading to the sitting…
room； paused like one waking from a dream。
‘‘I must be crazy；'' she said half aloud。 ‘‘He's a scoundrel and no
good can come of my seeing him。 What would Otto think of me？ What
am I doing here？'' And she hastened away； hoping that no one had seen
her。
Mr。 Feuerstein was seated at a table a few feet from where she had
paused and turned back。 He had come in half an hour before and had
ordered and drunk three glasses of cheap； fiery brandy。 As the moments
passed his mood grew wilder and more somber。 ‘‘She has failed me！'' he
exclaimed。 He called for pen； ink and paper。 He wrote rapidly and；
when he had finished； declaimed his production； punctuating the sentences
with looks and gestures。 His voice gradually broke； and he uttered the
last words with sobs and with the tears streaming down his cheeks。 He
signed his name with a flourish； added a postscript。 He took a stamped
envelope from his pocket； sealed the letter； addressed it and laid it before
him on the table。 ‘‘The presence of death inspired me；'' he said； looking
at his production with tragic pride。 And he called for another drink。
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When the waiter brought it； he lifted it high and； standing up； bowed
as if some one were opposite him at the table。 ‘‘I drink to you； Death！''
he said。 The waiter stared in open…mouthed astonishment； and with a
muttered； ‘‘He's luny！'' backed from the room。
He sat again and
