Emilie Rantzau, however, hardly thought her own interests in the town would be greatly furthered by closer a.s.sociation with Sukkerstad and his circle; on the other hand, it was just as well to keep on good terms with all sections of local society. She therefore informed the deputation that she would think over the matter, and a.s.sured them meanwhile of her earnest sympathy with the good cause.
The same day she hurried up to Consul Jansen, switched on her eloquent dark eyes, and suggested that the Temperance Movement was one they ought to support, but that the best way of doing so would be to get up a little subscription, and raise enough for an excursion--a steamer trip for the afternoon, with tea and lemonade. "It would look well, you know, and all that--and get them off our hands for a bit,"
she added meaningly.
No one could refuse her, and in the course of one afternoon she managed to collect eight pounds, which she dispatched to Sukkerstad and Rordam for the purpose indicated. Sukkerstad was so enthusiastic in his appreciation that he determined to convene a meeting of the committee and propose a vote of thanks and an address.
All the members turned up, with the exception of Rordam, who, in his joy at the eight pounds, had given way to a sudden relapse, which rendered him incapable of further temperance work for the time being.
After some discussion, the committee decided to purchase a portrait of Mrs. Rantzau from the photographer, and hang it up in their hall; this was voted preferable to the address.
Mrs. Heidt was beginning to lag behind; it was impossible to keep pace with a woman of such untiring energy and initiative as Mrs.
Rantzau.
Four ladies were gathered one day in her drawing-room, to talk over what was to be done; they could not suffer themselves to be set aside like this. What they wanted was some grand idea, something to vanquish the enemy at a single blow, and show the rest of the town that Emilie Rantzau was not wanted.
It was Mrs. Knap who had the happy thought--the Peace Movement. The cause of universal peace was surely one which n.o.body in Strandvik could refuse to aid.
Mrs. Abrahamsen was more inclined to concentrate on a bazaar and lottery in aid of the proposed crematorium, which inst.i.tution she regarded as most desirable from the humane, the sanitary and various other points of view.
Mrs. Knap protested energetically against the idea; she had recently had an accident with a box of matches, which had gone off suddenly and burnt her hand. She for her part would have nothing more to do with burning--for the present, at any rate.
Finally, after some heated argument, it was agreed that a grand harvest festival should be held, the proceeds to be devoted to the cause of universal peace.
Emilie Rantzau was to be kept out of it altogether; they would not have her help in the arrangements, not a contribution--not so much as a bunch of flowers was to come from her; it was to be a festival "for ourselves and by ourselves." The old ladies were already triumphant; this intriguing minx, this person from nowhere, who had tried to force herself into society, should be made to feel their power and her own insignificance. The festival was to be held in the park on Sunday, from five to nine; there would be illuminations, coloured lanterns, fireworks and so on. Singing,--male and female choir,--lecture by a Professor from Christiania, recitation by a famous actor, solos by an amateur and an "amatrice"--it was a programme so magnificent that the whole town was amazed.
Meantime, Mrs. Rantzau sat quietly at home, in her pink morning-gown, pouring out coffee for Nickelsen. She was very quiet and gentle in manner--there was a curious atmosphere about the situation generally.
There lay the morning papers, white, uncrumpled, untouched. The coffee now seethed gently in little regular gasps, like a school-mistress out on a mountaineering expedition; the sun peeped in through the windows, casting gay gleams over Old Nick"s white mop of hair and Emilie"s raven locks.
"Why shouldn"t I be happy the few years I"ve still to live? And who is to have my money when I"m gone?" Old Nick sat staring absently before him.
She bent over towards him, handing his cup; he felt her soft, curling tresses close to his cheek, and her hand just touched his own.
"Mrs. Rantzau!" he exclaimed, flushing as he spoke; his voice was unsteady.
"Why, how serious you are all of a sudden! You quite frightened me,"
she said, with a laugh, looking up at him innocently.
"Mrs. Rantzau," he began again, "do you know that poem of Byronson, that--that begins:
""When blushing blood, In humble mood Turns to the man whose mind is proved, When timid, shy She seeks....""
"Lord bless me, old boy, spouting poetry so early in the morning! Did you think it was Const.i.tution Day--or the day after?"
Old Nick looked round anything but amiably at Nachmann"s unbeautiful face smiling in the doorway; Mrs. Rantzau left the room without a word.
A long and earnest conference ensued between the two men, after which they went out for a long walk together.
Emilie Rantzau felt now that her position was secure; it was only a question of time before she could appear as Mrs. Nickelsen. And inwardly she vowed vengeance on the women who had systematically excluded her from the Peace Festival; she pondered how best to get even with Mrs. Heidt and the rest.
It took a deal of thinking out, but at last she hit upon a way.
Quickly she put on her things, and hurried round to her faithful supporter, Consul Jansen.
On Sat.u.r.day evening, the _Strandvik News_ appeared, and created an indescribable sensation throughout the town by printing immediately under the big announcement of the festival in the park, the following lines:
"_N.B._ _N.B._
"After the conclusion of the festival, an impromptu dance for young people will take place in the Town Hall. Tickets, three shillings each. The surplus will be devoted to the Society for Tending Sick and Wounded in the Field. Mrs. Emma Jansen and Mrs.
Emilie Rantzau have kindly consented to act as hostesses."
Mrs. Heidt started up in a fury, and declared it was a disgraceful piece of trickery on the part of that Emilie Rantzau. She could forgive Mrs. Jansen, perhaps, as being too much of a simpleton herself to see through the artful meanness of the whole thing.
On Sunday evening, after the festival, all the young people and a number of the older ones flocked to the Town Hall, where Mrs. Rantzau received them with her most winning smile.
Mrs. Heidt, Mrs. Knap and Mrs. Abrahamsen went each to their several homes, boiling with indignation; they had not even been invited to look on.
Some few there were, perhaps, who failed to see any immediate connection between a Peace Festival and the Society for Tending Sick and Wounded in the Field, but all enjoyed themselves thoroughly, and that, after all, was the main thing.
Emilie Rantzau was the queen of the ball, and well aware of it. She felt she had vanquished her rivals now, and was left in victorious possession of the field. One thing, however, caused her some slight anxiety, and that was that Nickelsen did not put in an appearance, though he had promised to come on later--what could it mean?
Old Nick was sitting at home, deep in thought, and with him were Thor Smith, Nachmann and Warden Prois.
"You must see and get clear of this, Nickelsen," said Prois warmly, laying one hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, I suppose I must. But the worst of it is, I"ve got fond of her, you see, and I"ve been hoping she"d brighten up the few years I"ve got left."
"I know, I know," said Prois. "I"ve been through exactly the same thing myself, a few years back, but, thanks to Providence, I got out of it all right."
"Don"t blame it on Providence, Warden," put in Nachmann. "It was that telegraph fellow you had to thank for cutting you out."
"It"s not a matter for joking," said Prois sharply; and Nachmann withdrew to a corner of the sofa, quite depressed by the seriousness of the situation.
Thor Smith could stand it no longer; this unwonted solemnity was too much for him. He slipped out into the hall, and, sitting down on an old leather trunk, laughed till he cried.
There was a long conference at Old Nick"s that evening, and it was one o"clock before he faithfully promised to follow his friends"
advice, and thrust out Emilie Rantzau from his house and heart.
How this was to be accomplished must be decided later; meantime the conspirators would take it in turn to dine with Old Nick and spend the rest of the day with him, to guard against any backsliding.
Old Nick agreed to it all, helplessly as a child.
How could they get her to go? The question was argued and discussed, but no one could hit upon any reasonable plan. At last they decided to call in Peter Oiland, who had lately been on terms of intimacy with Old Nick, and see what he could do.
Peter Oiland put on a serious face, and looked doubtfully over at Prois, whose mind was becoming almost unhinged by these everlasting conferences and endless discussions, while the seriousness of the situation forbade any over-hasty steps.
"Well, we can"t very well turn her out by force," said Peter Oiland.
"The only thing to do is to try and get at the soft side of her: an appeal to the heart, you understand."
"H"m; her heart"s like the drawers in my store," said Nachmann. "In and out according to what"s wanted."