The Youth of the Great Elector Part 18

"How does he know my prayer?" she whispered softly, "and why did he smile as he repeated it? Ah! surely Cousin Ludovicka has told him what a timid little coward I was last night. But hark! Hulda is lowing. Yes, yes, I am coming now!"

And the little girl flew across the gra.s.splot, and flung both her arms around the animal's neck, and stroked and coaxed it, calling it pet names, and telling it of its beautiful calf, to which she would forthwith carry some milk. And the cow lowed no more, but looked with its big intelligent eyes into the child's face.

V.--MEDIA NOCTE.

"The G.o.ds have come down from Olympus! The G.o.ds greet the earth! They greet beauty! They greet youth! They greet wisdom and the arts! The G.o.ds greet the earth! Long live the G.o.ds! Live Venus, the mother of love! Long live Minerva, the unapproachable virgin, full of wisdom! Long live Zeus, the G.o.d of G.o.ds, men transformed into G.o.ds, and G.o.ds into men! Olympus live on earth!"

So sang they and rejoiced in triumphant chorus, and high above from the clouds pealed forth music, and from thicket and shrubbery sounded sweet songs, dying away in gentle whispers. Then all was still, for the G.o.ds, who had traversed the halls in dazzling procession, had now taken their places at the long rose-crowned tables. An Olympic festival was being solemnized that evening in the Media Nocte. Earth was forsaken now, and the children of earth found themselves again on Olympus, changed to G.o.ds.

Those were not the drawing rooms in which they had been wont to a.s.semble, commingling in cheerful pastimes, in hilarious merriment, these people clad in light Greek robes. No, this was cloud-capped Olympus, this was heaven upon earth; rose-colored, luminous clouds encircled the s.p.a.ce, and behind them the galleries which ran round the hall had vanished. Instead of the ceiling usually bounding this vast room, they now looked up to the deep blue sky, and star after star twinkled there, and filled the apartment with soft mild light. And not in a hall furnished with chairs and divans did they find themselves this evening, but in a monstrous grotto in the heart of Olympus--a grotto of sparkling, glittering mountain crystal, bright and transparent as silver gauze, and behind this a magical moving to and fro of beauteous human shapes, of genii and Cupids. Only the long table in the middle of the grotto reminded of earth, or maybe the home of heathen G.o.ds.

For, like the children of earth, the G.o.ds on Olympus used to carouse and drink, and, like the children of men, did they enjoy fullness of food and luscious wine. Golden goblets, wreathed with roses, stood before the silver plates loaded with fruits and tempting viands. In crystal flasks sparkled the golden wine, in silver vases the gay-colored flowers exhaled their sweets. Luxurious cus.h.i.+ons, soft as swan's down, spangled and silvery as were the clouds which stooped from heaven, lined both sides of the long table, and on them the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses had just sank in blissful silence, gazing on the glorious place, and rejoicing that men are G.o.ds and G.o.ds are men! There, on high, sits Zeus on golden throne, and Ganymede, the beautiful boy, stands near and hands him on golden dishes the fragrant ambrosia, and Hebe, the lovely, childlike maid, hovers about, and presents in crystal cups the gleaming purple wine, glistening like gold. Juno, the radiant queen of heaven, sits beside Zeus; and as if woven of silvery clouds and stars seems the garment that lightly and loosely envelops but does not hide the wondrous shape. A light cloud of silver gauze covers her countenance, as that of all the other G.o.ddesses.

But now, as all rest in silence, these G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, now rises Zeus from his golden throne and bows to both sides, greeting.

"At the table of the G.o.ds must be enthroned Truth, the purest, most chaste of all the G.o.ddesses, and at her side the wisest, most puissant Genius, the Genius of Silence!" calls out Zeus, with far-resounding voice. "Do you admit that, ye G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses?"

"We admit it!" call out all in exulting chorus.

"You G.o.ds, swear by all that is sacred to you in heaven and upon earth that you will present this evening as a thank offering in sacrifice to the Genius of Silence! That never will pa.s.s your lips what your eyes see, never will your eyes betray the memory that shall dwell within your hearts!"

"We swear it by all that is sacred in heaven and upon earth!" cry the G.o.ds.

"Ye G.o.ddesses all, ye have heard!" cries Zeus, the enthroned. "Now do homage to Truth, as she to the Genius of Silence! Away with falsehood and deceit! Away with your masks!"

And the plump, wanton arms of the G.o.ddesses are raised, and the rosy-fingered hands tear the silvery veils from their heads and cast them triumphantly behind them, and triumphantly the G.o.ds greet the beaming countenances of the G.o.ddesses, their sparkling eyes and rosy lips, the haunts of sweet, seductive smiles.

"Long live the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses of Olympus! No earthly memories cleave to them; if perchance they have borne earthly names, who knows it, who remembers it? The present only belongs to the G.o.ds--this hour is one of precious joy."

Only those two sitting there at the table of the G.o.ds, arm linked in arm, only they remember, for not alone the present but the future, too, belongs to them. The G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses call the two Venus and Endymion, but they, in tender whispers, call each other Ludovicka and Frederick. No one disturbs himself about them, no one notices the happy pair, and they observe and regard no one, for they are thinking only of themselves.

"Oh, my beloved," whispers the Prince, "how stale and insipid seems this fantastic feast to me to-night! Once it would have charmed me, and would have been to me as embodied poesy. But to-night it leaves me cold and empty, and I feel that the true and real contain in themselves the highest poetry."

"You are indeed right, my Endymion," says she softly--"you are indeed right: love is the highest poetry, and he who possesses the true and real needs not the fantastic semblance. Still, this is a feast of G.o.ds; therefore let us enjoy it with glad hearts and swelling joy. For is it not our wedding feast, and are not all these G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses unwittingly solemnizing the hymeneal of our love? Rejoice then, my darling, rejoice and sing with the convivial, open your heart to the ravis.h.i.+ng hour, drink into thy soul the delight and rapture of the G.o.ds!"

A shadow stole over Endymion's high, clear brow, and he gently shook his head. "I love you so deeply and truly that I can not be merry in this hour," he said thoughtfully; "and this wild tumult and this uproarious joy seem not to me like a glorification of our love, but rather its profanation. Ah! my dear love, would that I were alone with you in the open air, beneath the broad high arch of heaven, instead of here beneath this artificial one; would that we sat hand in hand in one of those quiet shady spots in your park, where I could pour into your ear the holy secrets of my heart and tell you sweet stories of our love, and you should listen to me with tranquil, reverent heart, and you and I would solemnize together a glorious feast divine, more glorious than this mad joy can furnish us! He who is happy flees noisy pleasures, and he who loves ardently and truthfully longs for quiet and solitude, to meditate upon his love."

"We shall be solitary and alone, my Frederick, when we belong to one another--when nothing more can separate us, when we shall no more have to meet under the veil of secrecy, no more have to conceal the fair, divine reality under borrowed tinsel! You know, love, to-night we flee."

"G.o.d be praised! to-night will make you forever mine, and nothing then can separate us but death alone!"

"Speak not of death while life encircles us with all its charms! Be cheerful, my beloved--be happy, my Endymion. We celebrate the G.o.dly feast of love, and yet is it only the foretaste of our bliss. Yield yourself to the delights of the moment, drink from the golden goblet of joy, my Endymion!"

"Yes, I will drink, drink, for Venus drinks with me."

"She hands you, Endymion, the flower-crowned goblet! Drink! drink! drink!

Enjoy the moment! Taste the pleasures of this hour! But think of the coming hour which is to consummate our bliss!"

"When will it be, beloved? And where shall I meet you?"

"When all is bustle and stir and singing, then let my Endymion descend from Olympus and repair to the grotto of rocks close by. To the left of the entrance he will find a cavern. Let him go in and there find his white garments; put them on and wait. All the rest follows of itself."

"And you, my heart--will you, too, follow of yourself?"

"Follow of myself and fetch Endymion!"

Music sent forth sweet strains, and from the rosy clouds the chorus of Cupids greeted the G.o.ds with songs of rejoicing.

After the singing the Muses entered, winding round the table, quoting far-famed songs and praising the arts, which they protected. And suddenly the starry sky above became obscure, and twilight reigned. Only behind the crystalline walls it shone bright and ever brighter, and in suns.h.i.+ne splendor emerged the antique marble statues of the G.o.ds, and walked and moved, endowed with flesh and growing life. Music resounded and bands of Cupids sang; again the hall was lighted up, the tables at which the G.o.ds had reclined vanished, geniuses hovered about, strewing the ground with fragrant flowers, and in glad confusion mingled G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, heroes and demiG.o.ds, with sparkling eyes and beating hearts. They poetized and sang, praised the G.o.ds, and laughed and shouted, "Long live the Media Nocte! Long live those great minds and n.o.ble hearts which belong to it!"

And all was bustle, stir, and song!

Endymion forsook Olympus, entered the nearest grotto amid the rocks, and slipped into the little cavern to the left. Venus was still in the hall.

To her came Hercules and softly whispered, "All is ready!"

"But where? Tell me, where? It seems to me like a dream! You see how I trust you, for without question have I done everything just as the paper directed. Here I am, in the Media Nocte, and know not at all what remains to be done!"

"The marriage ceremony and flight, fair Venus! Listen, however, to this one thing! In close proximity to this house, as you well know, stands the hotel of the French emba.s.sy. Well, gracious lady, walls can be leveled, and my enchanter Ducato can turn them into doors! Repair to the grotto hall and the cavern on the right. There will Venus be transformed into the Princess Ludovicka, and still be Venus! Then cross over to the cavern on the left, where, instead of Endymion, waits the Electoral Prince. She gives him her hand! My enchanter Ducato sees it, and all the rest takes care of itself. Only follow the G.o.d within your own breast! Only one thing more, Princess! Be Venus to him, and ravish his heart and soul, that he may not delay to sign the contract and inquire into its contents."

"Be not uneasy," smiles Venus proudly; "he will sign anything to be able to call me his."

Louder resound the peals of music, and all the G.o.ds sing and laugh and jest and shout. And the Bacchantes swing to and fro their ivy-wreathed staves, and their mouths with ecstasy pour forth their stammering songs of mirth! Venus has soared away! But no one observes it. Each is his own deity, here in the Media Nocte. Oh, blessed night of the G.o.ds! Forget that the wretched day of man will return in the morning! Louder resound the strains of music, and all is bustle, stir, and song there in Olympus!

From the cavern on the right steps forth the Princess Ludovicka in white satin robe, a myrtle wreath twined in her hair, and behind her sweeps her veil like a silver cloud. Venus! Venus ever! full of sweet enchantment!

She goes to the cavern on the left, and gently knocks. The door springs open, and she enters. It is bright within, and the Electoral Prince, in gold-embroidered suit, comes to meet her with beaming eyes, looks upon her radiant with happiness, and sinks down at her feet. Endymion! Endymion ever! Enchained by sweet magic! A door flies open; n.o.body has opened it, but there it is. The Electoral Prince jumps up and offers the Princess his hand. Neither of the two speaks, for their hearts are beating overloud.

The merry music and uproarious shouts of the G.o.ds on Olympus penetrate to them even in the stillness of the cave, but through the open door other sounds steal near. Solemn, long-drawn organ peals are heard, uniting in the melody of a pious choral. How strangely blended within that narrow s.p.a.ce those exultant songs and those organ tones! The young lovers hear only the notes of the organ, and hand in hand move toward the sound.

A small pleasure boat receives them, flowers and myrtle trees line the banks, and inviting and alluring the organ calls them. Light glimmers at the end of the pa.s.sage, and the lovers go toward it. They enter a large wide room! Solemn silence reigns here. At the farther end is a small altar. On it burn tall wax tapers, and before it, in full canonicals, stands the priest, prayer book in hand. At his sides are two gentlemen in simple, somber dress.

Farther forward, nearer the center of the hall, is a table hung with green, on which lie several papers and implements of writing, and near it is a notary in his official garb, again attended by several men. To all this Prince Frederick William gives but one brief glance, then turns his eyes once more upon his beloved, standing at his side, radiant in beauty and enticingly sweet. The jubilant songs of Olympus yet ring in their ears, the images of the G.o.ds yet flame and flaunt before their eyes.

"How beautiful you are, beloved Ludovicka! My Electoral Princess! come, let us go to the altar! Oh, your good, kind friends! How I thank them! How well they have arranged everything! Come! You see, the priest is waiting!"

"Not yet, beloved! For you see before the priest stands the notary, and my good friends will have us go through all the formalities of legal marriage. Before we are married we must sign the contract!"

"The contract of love is written in our hearts alone. What need for the intervention of signatures on paper? And how can strangers know what we alone can settle with one another? I swear unswerving love and fidelity to my Electoral Princess, and that requires no written confirmation. Come to the altar, dearest!"

He endeavors to draw her forward, but Ludovicka flings her arm about his neck and holds him back. "Beloved," she whispers, "the contract which we sign concerns not us, but the benevolent, mighty friends, who have lent us their aid, and will help us still further. Ah! without these n.o.ble friends our flight would have been wholly impossible, and we would have been separated for ever! To-morrow I would have been the bride of the Prince of Hesse, and your father would already have found means to compel your return home. Ah! beloved, they would have separated us, if our n.o.ble friends had not helped us. They have prepared everything, cared for everything. As soon as we are married, we shall journey away to our safe asylum, and there, under the protection of friends, be sheltered and secure. For such love and devotion we must be grateful, must we not?"

"Certainly, that we must, and shall be gladly, beloved of my heart! Let them say how we can prove our grat.i.tude, and certainly it shall be done!"

"They have said it, and written it down in the contract. Come, dearest, we will sign it, and then to the altar."

She throws her arm around his neck, she draws him to the table where stands the notary with his witnesses. She hands him the pen and looks at him with a sweet smile.