Frederick the Great and His Court Part 19

She wished to consider and develop her plans in undisturbed quiet. She felt that Austria was again prepared to throw obstacles in the way of her favorite project--an English marriage for one of her children. She wished to sharpen her weapons, and marshal her forces for the approaching combat.

For a few hours, therefore, the maids of honor were free to follow their own inclinations, to amuse themselves as they thought fit.

Laura von Pannewitz had declined accompanying the other ladies in their drive. Her heart required solitude and rest. For her it was a rare and great pleasure to listen in undisturbed quiet to the sweet voices which whispered in her heart, and suffused her whole being with delight.

It was so sweet to dream of him--to recall his words, his smiles, his sighs; all those little shades and signs which seemed so unimportant to the careless, but which convey so much to the loving observer!

He had written to her yesterday, and she--she had had the cruel courage to return his letter unopened. But she had first pressed it to her lips and to her heart with streaming eyes, and had then fallen on her knees to pray to G.o.d, and to implore him to give her strength and courage to overcome her heart, to renounce his love.

Since then an entire day had pa.s.sed, and she had not seen him, had heard nothing of him. Oh, he must be sad and very angry with her; he wished never to see her again. And because he was angry, and wished to hold himself aloof from her, he, the loving and attentive son, had even neglected to pay the accustomed morning visit to his royal mother, which he had never before omitted.

Her heart beating hurriedly, and weeping with anguish, Laura had been standing before her window curtain awaiting him, and had prayed to G.o.d that she might see him, or at least hear his voice in the distance. But the prince did not arrive, and now the time had pa.s.sed at which he was accustomed to come. The queen had already retired to her study, and would admit no one.

Laura could, therefore, no longer hope to see the prince Augustus William on this day. As she thought of this, she felt as if a sword had pierced her bosom, and despair took possession of her heart. She threw herself on her knees, wrung her hands, and prayed to G.o.d, not for strength and courage to renounce him as before, but for a little suns.h.i.+ne on her sad and sorrowful love. Terrified at her own prayer, she had then arisen from her knees, and had hurried to the room of Madame von Brandt, to take refuge from her own thoughts and sorrows in the bosom of a friend.

But her friend was not there, and she was told that Madame von Brandt had gone down into the garden. Laura took her hat and shawl, and sought her. As she walked down the shady avenue, her glowing cheeks and burning eyes were cooled by the gentle breeze wafted over from the river Spree, and she felt soothed; something like peace stole into her heart. Laura had forgotten that she had come to the garden to seek her friend; she felt only that the calm and peace of nature had quieted her heart; that solitude whispered to her soul in a voice of consolation and of hope. Hurriedly she pa.s.sed on to the denser and more solitary part of the garden, where she could give herself up to dreams of him whose image still filled her heart, although she had vainly endeavored to banish it.

She now entered the conservatory at the foot of the garden, which had been converted into a beautiful and charming saloon, for the exclusive use of the queen and her maids of honor. There were artificial arbors of blooming myrtle and orange, in which luxurious little sofas invited to repose; grottoes of stone had been constructed, in the crevices of which rare mountain plants were growing. There were little fountains which murmured and flashed pleasantly, and diffused an agreeable coolness throughout the atmosphere. Laura seated herself in one of the arbors, which was covered with myrtle, and, in a reclining position, her head resting on the trunk of an aged laurel-tree, which formed part of the framework of the arbor, she closed her eyes that she might see nothing but him.

It was a lovely picture, the beautiful and n.o.ble countenance of this young girl, enclosed as it were in a frame of living myrtle; her delicate but full and maidenly figure reclining against the trunk of the tree, to which the chaste and timid love of a virgin had once given life. She also was a Daphne, fleeing from her own desires, fleeing from the sweetly-alluring voice of her lover, who, to her, was the G.o.d of beauty and of grace, the G.o.d of learning and the arts--her Apollo, whom she adored and believed in, whom she feared, and from whom she fled like Daphne, because she loved him. For a woman flees only from him whom she loves; she fears him only who is dangerous, not because his words of tenderness and flattery are alluring, but because her own heart pleads for him.

Laura was still sitting in the arbor, in a dreamy reverie. His image filled her thoughts; her love was prayer, her prayer love. Her hands lay folded in her lap; a sweet, dreamy smile played about her lips, and from under her closed eyelids a few tears were slowly rolling down her soft, rosy cheeks. She had been praying to G.o.d to give her strength to conquer her own heart, and to bear, without murmuring and without betraying herself, the sorrow, the anger, and even the indifference of the prince. Still she felt that her heart would break if he should desert and forget her. An alluring voice whispered that it would be a more blissful end to die, after an hour of ecstatic and intoxicating happiness, than to renounce his love, and still die.

But the chaste Laura did not wish to hear this voice; she would drown it with her prayers; and still, even while she prayed, she thought how great and sublime a happiness it would be to kiss the lips of her beloved, to whisper in his ear the long-concealed, long-buried secret of her love. And then his kiss still on her lips, and in the suns.h.i.+ne of his eyes, to fall down and die!--exchanging heaven for heaven; redeeming bliss with bliss. And sweeter dreams and more painful fantasies came over her; heavier and heavier sank her eyelids; a weight of sorrow rested on her heart, and made it weary unto death; until at the last, like the disciples on the Mount, she slept for very sorrow.

The silence was profound. Suddenly stealthy footsteps could be heard, and the figure of a man appeared at the entrance of the grotto.

Cautiously he stepped forward, and cast an inquiring glance through the trailing vines which overhung the grotto, to the young girl who still slumbered, reclining on the trunk of the laurel-tree. It was Fritz Wendel, the gardener of Rheinsberg. Queen Sophia Dorothea had desired to have her greenhouses and flower-beds arranged in the style of those at Rheinsberg. And, by command of the young king, several of the most expert gardeners of Rheinsberg had been sent to Berlin to superintend this arrangement in the garden of Monbijou. Fortune had favored the young gardener, and had again brought him near her he loved. For the little maid of honor, Louise von Schwerin, was not only the favorite of Queen Elizabeth, but Queen Sophia Dorothea also loved this saucy and sprightly young girl, who, because she was a child, and as such was excusable, was allowed to break in upon court etiquette with her merry laughter, and to introduce an element of freshness and vivacity into the stiff forms of court life. Moreover, by her thoughtless and presumptuous behavior at Rheinsberg, she had lost favor with the young couple who now reigned in Prussia. Queen Elizabeth could not forget that it was through Louise she had learned the name of her happy rival.

And the king was angry with her, because, through her, the secret of his verses to Madame von Morien had been discovered. Louise von Schwerin was rarely with Queen Elizabeth. Sophia Dorothea, however, kept this young girl near her person for whole days. Her childish ways amused the queen, and her merry pranks drove the stiff and formal mistress of ceremonies, and the grave and stately cavaliers and ladies of the court, to despair. And the little maid of honor came to the queen willingly, for Monbijou had for her a great charm since the handsome gardener, Fritz Wendel, had been there. The romance with this young man had not yet come to an end; this secret little love affair had a peculiar charm for the young girl; and as no other admirer had been found for the little Louise, she for the present was very well pleased with the adoration of the young gardener, to whom she was not the "little Louise," but the bewitching fairy, the beautiful G.o.ddess.

It was Fritz Wendel who appeared at the entrance of the grotto, and looked anxiously toward the sleeping Laura. He had been occupied in arranging the plants and flowers in this conservatory, which had been confided to his especial care. As the queen never entered the garden at this time, this hour had been set apart for his labors.

In the midst of his occupation he was interrupted by the entrance of Laura von Pannewitz, and had hastily retired to the grotto, intending to remain concealed until the lady should have left the conservatory.

From his hiding-place, concealed by the dense Indian vines, he could see the myrtle arbor in which the beautiful Laura reposed; and now, seeing that she slept, he advanced slowly and cautiously from the grotto. He listened attentively to her slow and regular breathing--yes, she really slept; he might therefore stealthily leave the saloon.

"Ah, if it were she!" he murmured; "if it were she! I would not leave here so quietly. I would find courage to fall down at her feet and to clasp her to my arms, while pressing my lips to hers, to suppress her cry of terror. But this lady," said he, almost disdainfully, turning to the sleeping Laura, "is so little like her--that she is--"

The words died on his lips, and he hastily retreated to the entrance of the grotto. He thought he heard footsteps approaching the conservatory.

The door of the vestibule creaked on its hinges, and again--Fritz Wendel slipped hastily into the grotto, and concealed himself behind the dense vines.

On the threshold of the saloon stood a young man, who looked searchingly around. His tall and graceful figure was clad in the uniform of the guards, which displayed his well-knit form to great advantage. The star on his breast, and the c.r.a.pe which he wore on his arm, announced a prince of the royal house; his beautifully-formed and handsome features wore an expression of almost effeminate tenderness.

The glance of his large blue eyes was so soft and mild, that those who observed him long, were involuntarily touched with an inexplicable feeling of pity for this n.o.ble-looking youth. His broad brow showed so much spirit and determination that it was evident he was not always gentle and yielding, but had the courage and strength to follow his own will if necessary.

It was Prince Augustus William, the favorite of the deceased king, on whose account the elder brother Frederick had suffered so much, because the king had endeavored to establish the former as his successor to the throne in the place of his first-born.[11]

[11] Dr. Fred. Busching, page 172.

But the prince's inclinations were not in accordance with the wishes of his father; Augustus William desired no throne, no earthly power; in his retiring modesty he disliked all public display; the t.i.tle of royal highness had no charm for him, and with the indifference of a true philosopher he looked down upon the splendor and magnificence of earthly glory.

In his brother Frederick, the disdain of outward pomp might be attributed to his superior mind and strength of understanding; while Augustus William was actuated by a depth of feeling, a pa.s.sionate and ardent sensitiveness. He had come to pay the queen, his mother, the customary morning visit, but when told she had desired that no one should be admitted to her presence, he was not willing that an exception should be made in his favor. "He had time to wait," he said, "and should be announced and called up from the garden only when the queen was again at leisure."

After giving this order he had gone down into the garden, where a lover's instinct had conducted him to the conservatory, in which, to him, the most beautiful of all flowers, the lovely Laura von Pannewitz, reposed. He did not dream of finding her there, supposing she had accompanied the other ladies on their drive; he had sought this building that he might pa.s.s a few moments in undisturbed quiet--that he might think of her and the unrequited love which he had vainly endeavored to tear from his heart.

It was therefore not her he sought when, on entering the conservatory, he looked searchingly around. He only wished to know that he was alone, that no one observed him. But suddenly he started, and a deep red suffused his countenance. He saw the beautiful sleeper in the arbor. In the first ecstasy of his delight he was on the point of throwing himself at her feet, and awakening her with his kisses. He started forward--but then hesitated, and stood still, an expression of deep melancholy pervading his features.

"She will not welcome me," murmured he, "she will repel me as she did my letter yesterday. She does not love me, and would never forgive me if I should desecrate her pure lips with mine." He bowed his head and sighed. "But I love her," said he, after a long pause, "and will at least look at and adore her, as the Catholics wors.h.i.+p the Virgin Mary."

And with a beaming smile, which illumined his whole countenance, the prince slowly and noiselessly stepped forward.

"Well," murmured Fritz Wendel in his hiding-place, "I have some curiosity to know what the prince has to say to this sleeping beauty; but, nevertheless, I would give a year of my life if I could slip away un.o.bserved, for if the prince discovers me here I am lost!"

He retired to that part of the grotto where the foliage was thickest, still however securing a place from which he could observe all that took place in the myrtle arbor.

CHAPTER III.

PRINCE AUGUSTUS WILLIAM.

The prince entered the myrtle arbor, and, perceiving the lovely sleeper, he approached her with a joyful countenance.

"Madonna, my Madonna, let me pray to you, let me look at you," he murmured. "Listen to my pleadings, and let a ray of your love sink into my heart." Laura moved in her sleep, and uttered a few indistinct words. The prince kneeled motionless before her, and watched all her movements. The dreams that visited her were not bright; Laura moaned and sighed in her sleep; her countenance a.s.sumed an expression so sad and painful that the eyes of the prince filled with tears. "She is suffering," he murmured; "why should she suffer? what is it that causes my beloved to sigh?" Suddenly she opened her eyes, arose, and fastened her astonished and half-dreamy gaze upon the prince, who with folded hands was still kneeling before her, and gazing on her with tender, pleading eyes. A trembling seized her whole being, as the ocean trembles when touched by the first ray of the sun. A sweet, blissful astonishment was painted on every feature. "Am I still dreaming?" she murmured, pa.s.sing her hand across her brow, and pus.h.i.+ng aside her long dark hair--"am I still dreaming?"

"Yes, you are dreaming," murmured Prince Augustus, seizing her hands and pressing them to his lips, "you are dreaming, Madonna, let me dream with you, and be forever blessed. Oh! withdraw not your hand, be not angry, let us still dream for one blessed moment." But she hastily set her hands free and arose from her seat; grandly and proudly she stood before him, and her flas.h.i.+ng eyes rested with a severe and reproachful expression upon the still kneeling prince.

"Arise, my prince; it is not proper that the brother of the king should kneel before me; arise, and have the kindness to inform me what circ.u.mstances procured me the rare and unsolicited favor of being sought by your royal highness. But no, I divine it; you owe me no explanation; the queen has asked for me, and your highness was so gracious as to seek for the tardy servant, who is sleeping while her mistress calls; allow me to hasten to her." Laura, feeling her strength failing, and suppressing with pain the tears that sprang from her heart to her eyes, endeavored to pa.s.s the prince.

But he held her back; the timidity that had so often made him appear shy and embarra.s.sed had vanished; he felt that at this moment he faced his destiny, and that his future depended upon the result of this interview. "No," he said earnestly, "the queen did not call you, she does not need you; remain, therefore, mademoiselle, and grant me a few moments of your time." His solemn voice and determined expression made her tremble, but still entranced; her soul bowed in humility and fear before him. She had always seen him humble and pleading, always submissive and obedient; now his glance was commanding, his voice imperious; and she, who had been able to withstand the entreaties of a lover, found no courage to resist the angry and commanding man.

"Remain," he repeated; "be seated, and allow me to speak to you honestly and truly."

Laura seated herself obediently and tremblingly; the prince stood before her, and looked at her with a sad smile.

"Yesterday you returned my letter unopened, but now you must hear me, Laura; I wish it, and no woman can withstand the strong will of the man who loves her."

Laura trembled and grew pale; she feared that if at this moment he bade her forsake all, cast away, and trample under foot her honor, her reputation, her innocence and pure conscience, she would obey him as a true and humble slave, and follow and serve him her whole life.

"Yes, you shall hear me; I will know my fate--know if you really despise my great and devoted love, if you are without pity, without sympathy for my suffering, my struggles and despair. I should think that true, genuine love would, like the music of Orpheus, have power to animate stones and flowers, and my love cannot even move the heart of a n.o.ble, feeling girl. What is the reason? why do you fly from me? Is it, Laura, because you deem me unworthy of your love? because your heart feels no emotion for me? are you cold and severe because you hold me for a bold beggar, who longs for the treasure belonging to another, whom you despise because he begs for what should be the free gift of your heart? Or has your heart never been touched by love? If this is so, Laura, and my love has not the power to awaken your heart, then do not speak, but let me leave you quietly. I will try to bear my misery or die; I shall have no one but myself to reproach, for G.o.d has denied me the power of winning love. But if this is not the reason of your coldness, if we are only separated by the vain prejudices of rank and birth, O Laura, I entreat you, if this is all that separate us, speak one single word of comfort, of hope, one single low word, and I will conquer the whole world, break down all prejudices and laws, and cast them from me. I will be as great and strong as Hercules, to clear the way, and make it smooth for our love. I will present you to the world as my betrothed, and before G.o.d and my king call you my wife. Speak, Laura, is it so? Do you fly from me because of this star upon my breast--because I am called a royal prince? I implore you, tell me, is it so? if not, if you cast me from you because you do not love me, say nothing and I will go away for ever."

A long, painful silence ensued. The prince watched the pained, frightened countenance of the young girl, who sat before him with bowed head, pale and motionless.

"It is decided," he sighed, after a long pause; "farewell, I accept my destiny, you have spoken my sentence; may your heart never accuse you of cruelty!" He bowed low before her, then turned and walked across the saloon.

Laura had remained motionless; she now raised her head; she followed him with a glance that, had he seen it, would have brought him back to her--a look that spoke more than words or protestations.

The prince had reached the door once more; he turned, their looks met, and a trembling delight took possession of her whole being; forgetting all danger, she longingly extended her arms toward him, and murmured his name.

With a cry of delight he sprang to her side, and folded her with impa.s.sioned tenderness in his arms. Laura concealed her tear-stained face upon his breast, and murmured, "G.o.d sees my heart, He knows how long I have prayed and struggled; may He be more merciful, more compa.s.sionate than man! I shall be cast off, despised; let it be, I shall think of this hour, and be happy."

"No one shall dare to insult you," he said proudly; "from this hour you are my affianced, and some day I shall present you to the world as my wife."