Berlin and Sans-Souci Part 45

"Do you wish me to die?" murmured the princess, sinking exhausted upon the divan. "Where is Trenck?"

"He is in the fortress of Glatz," whispered Von Haak.

"Ah! in a Prussian fortress; sent there by the king? He has committed some small fault in discipline, as once before, and as this is the second offence, the king punishes him more severely.

That is all! I thank you; you have restored my peace of mind."

"I fear, princess, that you are mistaken. It is said that Baron von Trenck has been arrested for high treason."

The princess became deadly pale, and almost fainted. She overcame this weakness, however, quickly, and said smilingly: "He will then soon be free, for all must know that he is innocent."

"G.o.d grant that it may be proved!" said Mademoiselle von Haak. "This is no time to shrink or be silent. You have a great, strong heart, and you love him. You must know all! Listen, therefore, princess. I also love; I also look to the future with hope! My love is calm, for it is without danger; it has my mother's consent and blessing. Our only hope is, that my lover may be promoted, and that the king will give his consent to our marriage. We are both poor, and rely only upon the favor of the king. He is now lieutenant, and is on duty in the garrison of Glatz."

"In Glatz! and you say that Trenck is a prisoner in Glatz?"

"Yes, I received letters yesterday from Schnell. He belongs to the officers who have guard over Trenck. He writes that he feels the profoundest pity for this young man, and that he will joyfully aid him in every way. He asks me if I know no one who has the courage to plead with the king in behalf of this unhappy youth."

"My G.o.d! my G.o.d! give me strength to hear all, and yet control myself!" murmured Amelia. "Do you know the nature of his punishment?" said she, quietly.

"No one knows positively the duration of his punishment; but the commandant of the fort told the officers that Trenck would be a prisoner for many years."

The princess uttered one wild cry, then pressed both hands upon her lips and forced herself to silence.

"What is the charge against him?" she said, after a long pause.

"High treason. A treasonable correspondence has been discovered between him and his cousin the pandour."

The princess shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. "He will soon justify himself, in view of this pitiful charge! His judges will acknowledge his innocence, and set him at liberty. But why is he not already free? Why has he been condemned? Who were his judges? Did you not say to me that he was condemned?"

"My lover wrote me that Baron Trenck had written to the king and asked for a court-martial and trial."

"This proves his innocence; he does not fear a trial! What was the king's answer?"

"He ordered the commandant to place Trenck in closer confinement, and to forward no more letters from him. And now, princess, you must act promptly; use all your power and influence, if you would save him!"

"I have no influence, I have no power!" cried Amelia, with streaming eyes. "Oh! you do not know my brother; his heart is of stone. No one can move him--neither his, mother, his sisters, nor his wife; his purpose is unchangeable, and what he says is fixed. But I will show him that I am his sister; that the hot blood of the Hohenzollerns flows also in my veins. I will seek him boldly; I will avow that I love Trenck; I will demand that he give Trenck liberty, or give me death! I will demand--"

The door was hastily opened, and a servant said, breathlessly, "The king is coming!"

"No, he is already here," said the king, who now stood upon the threshold of the door. "He comes to beg his little sister to accompany him to the court-yard and see the reindeer and the Laplanders, sent to us by the crown princess of Sweden."

The king advanced to his sister, and held out both his hands. But Amelia did not appear to see this. She made a profound and ceremonious bow, and murmured a few cold words of greeting. The king frowned, and looked at her angrily. He saw that she had been weeping, and his expression was harsh and stern.

"Come, princess!" said he imperiously.

But Amelia had now overcome her terror and her confusion. She was resolved to act, and know the worst.

"Will your majesty grant me an audience? I have something important, most important to myself, to say. I would speak more to the heart of my brother than to the ear of my king. I pray your majesty to allow me to speak with you alone."

The king's eyes were fixed upon her with a dark and threatening expression, but she did not look down or tremble; she met his glance firmly, even daringly, and Frederick hesitated. "She will speak the whole truth to me," thought the king, "and I shall be forced to act with severity against her. I cannot do this; I am not brave enough to battle with a maiden's heart."

"Sister," said he aloud, "if you have indeed something to say to your brother, and not to the king, I counsel you not to speak now. I have so much to do and hear as a king, I have no time to act another part. Is what yon have to say to me truly important? Does it relate to a rare jewel, or a costly robe?--to some debt, which your pin- money does not suffice to meet?--in short, to any one of those great matters which completely fill the heart of a young maiden? If so, I advise you to confide in our mother. If she makes your wishes known to me, you are sure to receive no denial. It is decidedly better for a young girl to turn to her mother with her little wishes and mysteries. If they are innocent, her mother will ever promote them; if they are guilty, a mother's anger will be more restrained and milder than a brother's ever can be."

"You will not even listen to me, my brother?" said the princess, sobbing violently.

The king threw a quick glance backward toward the door opening into the corridor, where the cavaliers and maids of honor were a.s.sembled, and looking curiously into the room of the princess.

"No! I will not listen to you," said he, in a low tone; "but you shall listen to me! You shall not act a drama at my court; you shall not give the world a cause for scandal; you shall not exhibit yourself with red and swollen eyes; that might be misinterpreted. It might be said that the sister of the king did not rejoice at the return of her brother; that she was not patriot enough to feel happy at Prussia's release from the burdens of war, not patriot enough to despise and forget the enemies of her country! I command you to be gay, to conceal your childish grief. A princess dare not weep, or, if she does, it must be under the shadow of night, when G.o.d only is with her. This is my counsel and reproof, and I beg you to lay it to heart. I will not command you to accompany me, your eyes are red with weeping. Remain, then, in your room, and that the time may not pa.s.s heavily, I hand you this letter, which I have received for you."

He drew a sealed letter from his bosom, handed it to Amelia, and left the room.

"Let us go," said he, nodding to his courtiers; "the princess is unwell, and cannot accompany us."

Mademoiselle von Haak hastened again to the boudoir. "Has your royal highness spoken to the king?"

She shook her head silently, and with trembling hands tore open the letter given her by the king. Breathlessly she fixed her eyes upon the writing, uttered one wild shriek, and fell insensible upon the floor. This was the last letter she had written to Trenck, and upon the margin the king had written this one word, "Read." The king then knew all; he had read the letter; he knew of her engagement to Trenck, knew how she loved him, and he had no mercy. For this was he condemned. He had given her this letter to prove to her that she had nothing to hope; that Trenck was punished, not for high treason against the state, but because he was the lover of the princess.

Amelia understood all. With flas.h.i.+ng eyes, with glowing cheeks, she exclaimed: "I will set him at liberty; he suffers because he loves me; for my sake he languishes in a lonely prison. I will free him if it costs me my heart's blood, drop by drop! Now, King Frederick, you shall see that I am indeed your sister; that I have a will even like your own. My life belongs to my beloved; if I cannot share it with him, I will offer it up to him--I swear this; may G.o.d condemn me if I break my oath! Trenck shall be free! that is the mission of my life. Now, friend, come to my help; all that I am and have I offer up. I have gold, I have diamonds, I gave an estate given me by my father. I will sell all to liberate him; we will, if necessary, bribe the whole garrison. But now, before all other things, I must write to him."

"I promise he shall receive your letter," said Mademoiselle von Haak; "I will send it to Lieutenant Schnell. I will enclose it to my mother; no one here must know that I correspond with an officer at the fortress of Glatz."

"No one dare know that, till the day of Trenck's liberation," said Amelia, with a radiant smile.

CHAPTER XI.

THE UNDECEIVED.

Since the day Joseph Fredersdorf introduced Lupinus to Eckhof, an affectionate intercourse had grown up between them. They were very happy in each other, and Fredersdorf a.s.serted that there was more of love than friends.h.i.+p in their hearts, that Lupinus was not the friend but the bride of Eckhof! In fact, Lupinus had but little of the unembarra.s.sed, frank, free manner of a young man. He was modest and reserved, never sought Eckhof; but when the latter came to him, his pale face colored with a soft red, and his great eyes flashed with a wondrous glow. Eckhof could not but see how much his silent young friend rejoiced in his presence.

He came daily to Lupinus. It strengthened and consoled him in the midst of his nervous, restless artist-life, to look upon the calm, peaceful face of his friend; this alone, without a word spoken, soothed his heart--agitated by storms and pa.s.sions, and made him mild and peaceable. The quiet room, the books and papers, the weighty folios, the s.h.i.+ning, polished medical instruments, these stern realities, formed a strange and strong contrast to the dazzling, s.h.i.+mmering, frivolous, false life of the stage; and all this exercised a wondrous influence upon the artiste. Eckhof came often, weighed down with care and exhaustion, or in feverish excitement over some new role he was studying, not to speak of his anxieties and perplexities, but to sit silently near Lupinus and looked calmly upon him.

"Be silent, my Lupinus," said Eckhof to him. "Let me lay my storm- tossed, wild heart in the moonlight of thy glance; it will be warmed and cooled at the same time. Let thy mild countenance beam upon me, soften and heal my aching heart. Look you, when I lay my head thus upon your shoulder, it seems to me I have escaped all trouble; that only far away in the distance do I hear the noise and tumult of the restless, busy world; and I hear the voice of my mother, even as I heard it in my childish days, whispering of G.o.d, of paradise, and the angels. Still, still, friend, let me dream thus upon your shoulder."

He closed his eyes in silence, and did not see the fond and tender expression with which Lupinus looked down upon him. He did not feel how violently the young heart beat, how quick the hot breath came.

At other times it was a consolation to Eckhof to relate, in pa.s.sionate and eloquent words, all his sorrows and disappointments; all the strifes and contests; all his scorn over the intrigues and cabals which then, as now, were the necessary attendants of a stage- life. Lupinus listened till this wild cataract of rage had ceased to foam, and he might hope that his soft and loving words of consolation could find an entrance into Eckhof's heart.

Months went by, and Lupinus, faithful to the promise given to Eckhof, was still the thoughtful, diligent student; he sat ever in quiet meditation upon the bench of the auditory, and listened to the learned dissertations of the professors, and studied the secrets of science in his lonely room.

But this time of trial was soon to be at an end. Eckhof agreed, that after Lupinus had pa.s.sed his examination, he should decide for himself if he would abandon the glittering career of science for the rough and stormy path of artist-life. In the next few days this important event was to take place, and Lupinus would publicly and solemnly receive his diploma.

Lupinus thought but little of this. He knew that the events of that day must exercise an important influence upon his future, upon the happiness or unhappiness of his whole life.

The day before the examination Lupinus was alone in his room. He said to himself, "If the faculty give me my diploma, I will show myself in my true form to Eckhof. I will step suddenly before him, and in his surprise I will see if his friend Lupinus is more welcome as--"

He did not complete the sentence, but blus.h.i.+ng crimson at his own thoughts, he turned away and took refuge in his books; but the excitement and agitation of his soul were stronger than his will; the letters danced and glimmered before his eyes; his heart beat joyfully and stormily; and his soul, borne aloft on bold wings, could no longer be held down to the dusty and dreary writing-desk; he sprang up, threw the book aside, and hastened to the adjoining room. No other foot had ever crossed the threshold of this still, small room; it was always closed against the most faithful of his friends.