The Youth of the Great Elector Part 19

Venus! Venus ever!

But he? He is no longer Endymion! He is the Electoral Prince Frederick William! And strange! like a dream, like a greeting from afar, conies stealing to his ears, "Be a good man."

"Take the pen and sign!" whispers Venus, with glowing looks of love.

He lays down the pen. "I must know what I sign. Read it, Sir Notary!"

The notary bows low and reads: "In friends.h.i.+p and devotion to the Electoral Prince Frederick William of Brandenburg and his spouse, born Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate, we grant them an undisturbed asylum in our territories, promise to protect and defend them with all our power, to grant them, besides, maintenance and support, paying to the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg yearly subsidies of three hundred thousand livres, until he a.s.sumes the reins of government. On his side, the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg pledges himself, so soon as he begins to rule in his own right, to conclude a league with us for twenty years, and never to unite with our enemies against us, but to be true to us in good as also in evil days. Both parties confirm this by their signatures. Count d'Entragues has signed in the name of France."

"France!" cried the Electoral Prince, with loudly ringing voice. "France is the friend who will lend us aid?"

"Yes, Prince, France it is," said Count d'Entragues, approaching the Prince and bowing low before him. "France through me offers to the n.o.ble Electoral Prince of Brandenburg protection and an asylum, pays him rich subsidies, and in return requires nothing but his alliance, and, above all things, his friends.h.i.+p. I am happy to offer the friends.h.i.+p and good offices of King Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu to the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg and his spouse, and to be permitted to witness the ceremony of their marriage."

"Come, my beloved, sign," whispered Ludovicka, with pleading voice.

But he thrust back the pen, and looked at the Princess with flaming eyes.

"Did you know, Princess, that it was France who was to a.s.sist us?"

"Certainly I knew it," replied she, with feigned astonishment. "Count d'Entragues himself offered me the a.s.sistance of France, and you gave me full powers to conclude all arrangements."

"It is true, so I did," murmured the Prince. "I thought you had reference to a private person, to one of those rich mynheers whom I have met at your house. I told you so, Princess, and you did not contradict me. You left me under the impression that it was a merchant of Holland who was offering his help and protection. From a private citizen I could have accepted aid, for that pledged the man, not the Prince. But from France I can accept no favors, for by such would be pledged and bound the Prince, the future ruler of his land, so that he could not act freely according to his judgment and the requirements of the case, but be subjected to restraint.

Sir Count d'Entragues, I shall not sign."

The Princess uttered a shriek and threw both her arms, round him. "If you are serious in that, beloved, then are we lost, for who will help us if France will not?"

"G.o.d and ourselves, Ludovicka!"

"G.o.d listens not to our entreaties, and we are too weak to help ourselves.

Oh, my beloved, prove now that you love me--that your vows are true. I am lost to you and you to me if we do not escape to-night--lost if we accept not France's aid. Look, here is the sheet of paper; our whole future lies on it. I offer it to you, beloved, and with it my life, my love, my happiness. Will you scorn me?"

She held out to him both her trembling hands, and looked at him with glances of entreaty. He returned the look, and a deadly paleness overspread his face. He took the sheet of paper from her hands--she opened her mouth for a cry of joy--then a shrill, rasping sound--he had torn the paper in two, and both pieces fell slowly to the ground.

"That is my answer, so help me G.o.d! I can do no otherwise."

A cry sounded from Ludovicka's lips, but it was a cry of horror. She reeled back, as if a fearful blow had struck her, and stared at the Prince with wide-open eyes.

"You reject me with disdain?" she asked in a toneless voice. "You will not flee with me?"

He rushed toward her, cast himself upon his knees before her, kissing her dress and hands with pa.s.sionate ardor.

"Forgive me, Ludovicka, forgive me! I can not act differently. I can not be a traitor to my country, to my father, to Germany. I can not listen to my heart, with regard to my future, for my future belongs to my people, my native land, not to myself alone. Go home, beloved; be steadfast and courageous, as I shall be, and then we shall conquer destiny itself and win victory for our love."

"Stand up, Electoral Prince of Brandenburg!" she cried imperiously, and with angry glance. "Now answer me, will you accept the help of France, and flee with me?"

He turned away from her with a deep sigh. "No, I shall not accept the help of France."

"Count d'Entragues," said the Princess, with shrill, quivering voice, "you are a gentleman; I place myself under your protection. You will immediately conduct me to Doornward."

The count hastened to her and offered her his hand. She accepted it, and he led her slowly through the vast hall to one of the doors of entrance.

The Electoral Prince looked after her with distorted features and burning eyes. Once he made a movement as if to rush after her, but by a mighty effort he kept his place. Arrived at the door, she paused and turned upon him an earnest, questioning glance; he cast down his eyes before it. Count d'Entragues opened the door--a breathless pause ensued--then the door closed behind her.

The Electoral Prince placed his trembling hand upon his heart, and two tears rolled from his eyes. Violently he shook them away, and turned his head to the notary.

"Sir," he said, in a firm voice--"sir, I beg you to show me the way out. I would go to my palace."

VI.--THE HARDEST VICTORY.

The Electoral Prince had returned home, but he did not sleep the whole night through. The chamberlain, whose room adjoined the Prince's sleeping apartment, had heard him restlessly pacing the floor all night long, at times talking to himself half aloud, and then even weeping and lamenting.

In his anguish of heart he had wakened Baron Leuchtmar and the private secretary Muller, in order to impart to them the melancholy news. Both gentlemen had immediately risen and dressed themselves, and softly approached the door of the princely chamber. They, too, had heard the restless steps, the loud groans and lamentations of the Prince, and his grief had pa.s.sed into their own hearts. As they looked at each other, each observed tears in the eyes of the other, and with quivering lips both whispered, "Poor young man! he must have some great grief! He suffers a great deal!"

"You must go to him, Leuchtmar," whispered Muller. "You must ask what ails him, and try to comfort him."

The baron mournfully shook his head. "My dear Muller," he said, "have you ever been in love?"

"No, never!" replied Muller, in astonishment. "Why do you ask such a question?"

"Because you would then know, friend, that there is no consolation for disappointment in love."

"You think, then, that the Prince is disappointed in love?"

"Certainly, I think so. What other grief can a young Prince of hardly eighteen years have, especially when his heart is engrossed with a glowing pa.s.sion. The Prince was last night in the Media Nocte, and something peculiar must have occurred there, for he came home unusually early, his custom having been of late not to return home until daybreak, singing and rejoicing."

"Only hear, Leuchtmar, how he sobs and groans! And now! Hus.h.!.+ what does he say?"

Both gentlemen held their breath, and quite distinctly could be heard within the wailing, tear-choked voice of the Prince:

"It is impossible--it is impossible. I can not. No, I can not. The sacrifice is too heavy! My heart will break!"

"Hear him well," whispered Muller, amid his tears; "he can not make the sacrifice. He will die of grief. My G.o.d! go to him, baron. Tell him he need not make the sacrifice. No one can require of him the impossible. Go to him, man! Be humane. My G.o.d! only hear how he laments and groans!"

"I hear it, but I can not go in. I do not know his sorrow, and if the Prince needs me he can call me."

"You are a savage," said Muller desperately. "Well, if you will not comfort him, then shall I go to him."

He stretched out his hand for the door k.n.o.b, but Baron Leuchtmar held him back, and led the good private secretary back to his own room.

"Let us go to bed, friend," he said; "even if we can not sleep, as is probable, yet we can rest, which is needful for our aged limbs. We can not yet help the Prince; and, believe me, he would never forgive us if we were to go to him unsummoned, thereby betraying that we have been privy to his suffering and his pain. He has a grief, there is no question about that; but he is retiringly modest, and at the same time has a stout heart that will admit no one to share with him a burden he has perhaps imposed upon himself. I am glad of this, Muller, and I tell you such hours of solitary grief purify the manly heart; in them the old myth is verified, from the fire and ashes of spent sorrows springs up the new-fledged phoenix. Should we prevent our Prince from pa.s.sing through his purgatory, that he may emerge from the flames as a phoenix and a victorious hero?"

"You may be right," sighed Muller, "but I only know that he is suffering bitterly."

Baron Leuchtmar smiled sadly. "May these sufferings steel his heart," he said, "that he may be armed against greater and bitterer trials! Come, Muller, we will to bed, and to sleep."

But, however composedly and resolutely the baron had opposed himself to the suggestions of his soft-hearted colleague, sleep that night forsook his eyes, and ever he heard in imagination the Prince's groans and laments. At times he could hardly repress his longing to get up, to creep to the Prince's door and listen, that he might discover whether he were still awake. But the baron forcibly restrained himself, and finally, as day already began to dawn, he actually fell asleep. He might possibly have slept a few hours, but his servant approached his couch and roused him.