Louisa of Prussia and Her Times Part 19

f.a.n.n.y could not help perceiving that his brow was slightly clouded.

"Baron," she said, "I have begged you to come and see me, because I do not want to go to the altar with a lie on my soul. I will not deceive G.o.d and yourself, and therefore I now tell you, frankly and sincerely, I do not love you, baron; only my father's will gives my hand to you!"

There was no perceptible change in the young baron's face. He seemed neither surprised nor offended.

"Do you love another man?" he asked quietly.

"No, I love no one!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y.

"Ah, then, you are fortunate indeed," he said, gloomily. "It is by far easier to marry with a cold heart, than to do so with a broken one; for the cold heart may grow warm, but the broken one never."

f.a.n.n.y's eyes were fixed steadfastly on his features.

"Mr. Arnstein," she exclaimed, impetuously, "you do not love me either!"

He forced himself to smile. "Who could see you--you, the proud, glorious beauty--without falling in love with you?" he exclaimed, emphatically.

"Pray, no empty flatteries," said f.a.n.n.y, impatiently. "Oh, tell me the truth! I am sure you do not love me!"

"I saw you too late," he said, mournfully; "if I had known you sooner, I should have loved you pa.s.sionately."

"But now I am too late--and have you already loved another?" she asked, hastily.

"Yes, I love another," he said, gravely and solemnly. "As you ask me, I ought to tell you the truth. I love another."

"Nevertheless, you want to marry me?" she exclaimed, angrily.

"And you?" he asked, gently. "Do you love me?"

"But I told you already my heart is free. I love no one, while you--why don't you marry her whom you love?"

"Because I cannot marry her."

"Why cannot you marry her?"

"Because my father is opposed to it. He is the chief of our house and family. He commands, and we obey. He is opposed to it because the young lady whom I love is poor. She would not increase the capital of our firm."

"Oh, eternally, eternally that cold mammon, that idol to whom our hearts are sacrificed so ruthlessly!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, indignantly. "For money we sell our youth, our happiness, and our love."

"I have not sold my love. I have sacrificed it," said Baron Arnstein, gravely; "I have sacrificed it to the interests of our firm. But in seeing you so charming and sublime in your loveliness and glowing indignation, I am fully satisfied already that I am no longer to be pitied, for I shall have the most beautiful and generous wife in all Vienna."

"Then you really want to marry me? You will not break off the match, although your heart belongs to another woman, and although you know that I do not love you?"

"My beautiful betrothed, let us not deceive each other," he said, smiling; "it is not a marriage, but a partners.h.i.+p we are going to conclude in obedience to the wishes of our fathers. In agreeing upon this partners.h.i.+p only our fortunes, but not our hearts, were thought of.

The houses of Itzig, Arnstein, and Eskeles will flourish more than ever; whether the individuals belonging to these houses will wither is of no importance. Let us therefore submit to our fate, my dear, for we cannot escape from it. Would it be conducive to your happiness if I should break off the match? Your father would probably select another husband for you, perhaps in Poland or in Russia, and you would be buried with all the treasures of your beauty and accomplishments in some obscure corner of the world, while I shall take you to Vienna, to the great theatre of the world--upon a stage where you will at least not lack triumphs and homage. And I? Why should I be such a stupid fool as to give you up--you who bring to me much more than I deserve--your beauty, your accomplishments, and your generous heart? Ah, I shall be the target of general envy, for there is no lady in Vienna worthy of being compared with you. As I cannot possess her whom I love, I may thank G.o.d that my father has selected you for me. You alone are to be pitied, f.a.n.n.y, for I cannot offer you any compensation for the sacrifices you are about to make in my favor. I am unworthy of you; you are my superior in beauty, intellect, and education. I am a business man, that is all. But in return I have at least something to give--wealth, splendor, and a name that has a good sound, even at the imperial court. Let me, then, advise you as a friend to accept my hand--it is the hand of a friend who, during his whole life, will honestly strive to compensate you for not being able to give his love to you and to secure your happiness."

He feelingly extended his hand to her, and the young lady slowly laid hers upon it.

"Be it so!" she said, solemnly; "I accept your hand and am ready to follow you. We shall not be a pair of happy lovers, but two good and sincere friends."

"That is all I ask," said Arnstein, gently. "Never shall I molest you with pretensions and demands that might offend your delicacy and be repugnant to your heart; never shall I ask more of you than what I hope I shall be able to deserve--your esteem and your confidence. Never shall I entertain the infatuated pretensions of a husband demanding from his wife an affection and fidelity he is himself unable to offer her. In the eyes of the world we shall be man and wife; but in the interior of your house you will find liberty and independence. There you will be able to gratify all your whims and wishes; there every one will bow to you and obey you. First of all, I shall do so myself. You shall be the pride, the glory and joy of my house, and secure to it a brilliant position in society. We shall live in princely style, and you shall rule as a queen in my house. Will that satisfy you? Do you accept my proposition?"

"Yes, I accept it," exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, with radiant eyes, "and I a.s.sure you no other house in Vienna shall equal ours. We will make it a centre of the best society, and in the midst of this circle which is to embrace the most eminent representatives of beauty, intellect, and distinction, we will forget that we are united without happiness and without love."

"But there will be a day when your heart will love," said Arnstein.

"Swear to me that you will not curse me on that day because I shall then stand between you and your love. Swear to me that you will always regard me as your friend, that you will have confidence in me, and tell me when that unhappy and yet so happy hour will strike, when your heart begins to speak."

"I swear it to you!" said f.a.n.n.y, gravely. "We will always be sincere toward each other. Thus we shall always be able to avert wretchedness, although it may not be in our power to secure happiness. And now, my friend, come, give me your arm and accompany me to the parlor where they are already waiting for us. Now, I shall no longer weep and mourn over this day, for it has given to me a friend, a brother!"

She took his arm and went with him to the parlor. A gentle smile was playing on her lips when the door was opened and they entered. With an air of quiet content she looked at her sisters, who were standing by the side of their betrothed, and had been waiting for her with trembling impatience.

"There is no hope left," murmured Lydia; "she accepts her fate, too, and submits."

"She follows my example," thought Esther; "she consoles herself with her wealth and brilliant position in society. Indeed, there is no better consolation than that."

At that moment the door opened, and the rabbi in his black robe, a skull-cap on his head, appeared on the threshold, followed by the precentor and s.e.xton. Solemn silence ensued, and all heads were lowered in prayer while the rabbi was crossing the room in order to salute the parents of the brides.

CHAPTER XVI.

MARIANNE MEIER.

At that moment of silent devotion, no one took any notice of a lady who crossed the threshold a few seconds after the rabbi had entered. She was a tall, superb creature of wonderful beauty. Her black hair, her glowing eyes, her finely-curved nose, the whole shape of her face imparted to her some resemblance to f.a.n.n.y Itzig, the banker's beautiful daughter, and indicated that she belonged likewise to the people who, scattered over the whole world, have with unshaken fidelity and constancy preserved everywhere their type and habits. And yet, upon examining the charming stranger somewhat more closely, it became evident that she bore no resemblance either to f.a.n.n.y or to her sisters. Hers was a strange and peculiar style of beauty, irresistibly attractive and chilling at the same time--a tall, queenly figure, wrapped in a purple velvet dress, fastened under her bosom by a golden sash. Her shoulders, dazzling white, and of a truly cla.s.sical shape, were bare; her short ermine mantilla had slipped from them and hung gracefully on her beautiful, well-rounded arms, on which magnificent diamond bracelets were glittering. Her black hair fell down in long, luxuriant ringlets on both sides of her transparent, pale cheeks, and was fastened in a knot by means of several large diamond pins. A diamond of the most precious brilliants crowned her high and thoughtful forehead.

She looked as proud and glorious as a queen, and there was something haughty, imperious, and cold in the glance with which she now slowly and searchingly surveyed the large room.

"Tell me," whispered Baron Arnstein, bending over f.a.n.n.y Itzig, "who is the beautiful lady now standing near the door?"

"Oh!" exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, joyfully, "she has come after all. We scarcely dared to hope for her arrival. It is Marianne Meier."

"What! Marianne Meier?" asked Baron Arnstein. "The celebrated beauty whom Goethe has loved--for whom the Swedish amba.s.sador at Berlin, Baron Bernstein, has entertained so glowing a pa.s.sion, and suffered so much--and who is now the mistress of the Austrian minister, the Prince von Reuss?"

"Hush, for Heaven's sake, hus.h.!.+" whispered f.a.n.n.y. "She is coming toward us."

And f.a.n.n.y went to meet the beautiful lady. Marianne gently inclined her head and kissed f.a.n.n.y with the dignified bearing of a queen.

"I have come to congratulate you and your sisters," she said, in a sonorous, magnificent alto voice. "I wanted to see how beautiful you looked, and whether your betrothed was worthy of possessing you or not."

f.a.n.n.y turned round to beckon Baron Arnstein to join them, but he had just left with the rabbi and the other officers of the synagogue.

The ladies were now alone, for the ceremony was about to begin. And now the women entered, whose duty it was to raise loud lamentations and weep over the fate of the brides who were about to leave the parental roof and to follow their husbands. They spread costly carpets at the feet of the brides, who were sitting on armchairs among the a.s.sembled ladies, and strewing flowers on these carpets, they muttered, sobbing and weeping, ancient Hebrew hymns. The mother stood behind them with trembling lips, and, raising her tearful eyes toward heaven. The door was opened, and the s.e.xton in a long robe, his white beard flowing down on his breast, appeared, carrying in his hand a white cus.h.i.+on with three splendid lace veils. He was followed by Mr. Itzig, the father of the three brides. Taking the veils from the cus.h.i.+on, and muttering prayers all the while, he laid them on the heads of his daughters so that their faces and bodies seemed to be surrounded by a thin and airy mist. And the mourning-women sobbed, and two tears rolled over the pale cheeks of the deeply-moved mother. The two men withdrew silently, and the ladies were alone again.

But now, in the distance, the heart-stirring sounds of a choir of sweet, sonorous children's voices were heard. How charming did these voices reecho through the room! They seemed to call the brides, and, as if fascinated by the inspiring melody, they slowly rose from their seats.

Their mother approached the eldest sister and offered her hand to her.

Two of the eldest ladies took the hands of the younger sisters. The other ladies and the mourning-women formed in pairs behind them, and then the procession commenced moving in the direction of the inviting notes of the anthem. Thus they crossed the rooms--nearer and nearer came the music--and finally, on pa.s.sing through the last door, the ladies stepped into a long hall, beautifully decorated with flowers and covered with a gla.s.s roof through which appeared the deep, transparent azure of the wintry sky. In the centre of this hall there arose a purple canopy with golden ta.s.sels. The rabbi, praying and with uplifted hands, was standing under it with the three bridegrooms. The choir of the singers, hidden behind flowers and orange-trees, grew louder and louder, and to this jubilant music the ladies conducted the brides to the canopy, and the ceremony commenced.