Frederick the Great and His Court Part 33

Madame von Morien with a sigh held out her small hand. "Dear friend,"

said she, in a low voice, "you were right. I should not have come here; I thought myself stronger than I am; I thought my mourning would touch him, and awaken at least his pity."

"Pity!" laughed Madame von Brandt; "men never have pity for women: they wors.h.i.+p or despise them; they place us on an altar or cast us in the dust to be trodden under foot. We must take care, dear Leontine, to build the altar on which they place us so high, that their arms cannot reach us to cast us down."

"You are right; I should have been more prudent, wiser, colder. But what would you? I loved him, and believed in his heart."

"You believed in the heart of a man! Alas! what woman can boast that she ever closed that abyss and always retained the keys?"

"Yes, the heart of man is an abyss," said Madame von Morien; "in the beginning it is covered with flowers, and we believe we are resting in Paradise; but the blossoms wither, and will no longer support us; we fall headlong into the abyss with wounded hearts, to suffer and to die."

Madame von Brandt laid her hand, glittering with jewels, upon the shoulder of her friend, and looked derisively into the poor pale face.

"Dear Morien," said she, "we cannot justly cast all the blame upon the men, when the day comes in which they make themselves free from the bonds of love. The fault is often the woman's. We misuse our power, or do not properly use it. It is not enough to love and to be loved. With love we must also possess the policy of love. This policy is necessary.

The women who do not know how to govern the hearts which love them will soon lose their power. So was it with you, my dear friend; in your love you were too much the woman, too little the politician and diplomatist; and instead of wisely making yourself adored, by your coldness and reserve you yielded too much to your feelings, and have fallen into that abyss in which, poor Leontine, you have for the moment lost your health and strength. But that must not remain the case; you shall rise from this abyss, proud, triumphant, and happy. I offer you my hand; I will sustain you: while you sigh I will think for you; while you weep I will see for you."

Madame von Morien shook her head sadly. "You will only see that he never looks at me--that I am utterly forgotten."

"But when I see that, I will shut my eyes that I may not see it; and when you see it, you must laugh gayly and look the more triumphant.

Dear friend, what has love made of you? Where is your judgment and your coquetry? My G.o.d! you are a young maiden again, and sigh like a child for your first love. However tender we may be, we must not sacrifice all individuality; besides, being a woman you must still be a coquette, and in a corner of your most tender and yielding heart you must ever conceal the tigress, who watches and has her claws ready to tear in pieces those whom you love, if they ever seek to escape from you.

Cease, then, to be the neglected, tear-stained Magdalen, and be again the revengeful, cruel tigress. You have, besides, outside of your love, a glittering aim--a member of the Female Order of Virtue. To wear the cross of modesty upon your chaste breast, what an exalted goal! And you will reach it. I bring you the surest evidence of it; I bring you, as you wished, a letter from the empress, written with her own hand. You see all your conditions are fulfilled. The empress writes to you and a.s.sures you of her favor; she a.s.sures you that the Order of Virtue will soon be established. The king has not separated from his wife, and for this reason you receive a letter from the empress. Now help to bring about the marriage of the Prince Augustus William with the Princess of Brunswick, and you will be an honored member of the Austrian Order of Virtue. Here, take at once this letter of the empress."

Madame von Brandt put her hand in her pocket to get the letter, but turned pale, and said, breathlessly: "My G.o.d! this letter is not in my pocket, and yet I know positively that I placed it there. A short time before I joined you I put my hand in my pocket, and distinctly felt the imperial seal. The letter was there, I know it. What has become of it?

Who has taken it away from me? But no, it is not possible, it cannot be lost! I must have it; it must still be in my pocket."

Trembling with anxiety, with breathless haste Madame von Brandt emptied her pocket, hoping that the luckless letter might be sticking to her gold-embroidered handkerchief, or fastened in the folds of her fan. She did not remember that her anxiety might be observed; and truly no one noticed her, all were occupied with their own pleasures. All around her was movement, life, and merry-making; who would observe her? She searched again in vain, shook her handkerchief, unfolded the large fan; the letter could not be found. An indescribable anxiety overpowered her; had she lost the letter? had it been stolen from her? Suddenly she remembered that while engaged a short time before with Pollnitz she had drawn out her fan; perhaps at the same time the letter had fallen upon the floor, and Pollnitz might have found it, and might now be looking for Madame von Morien in order to restore it. She searched in every direction for Pollnitz.

Madame von Morien had not remarked the anguish of her friend, or had forgotten it. She was again lost in dreams; her eyes fastened on the face of the young king, she envied every lady whose hand he touched in the dance, to whom he addressed a friendly word, or gave a gracious smile. "I see him no more," said she sadly.

"Who?" said Madame von Brandt, once more searching her pocket.

"The king," Morien answered, surprised at the question; "he must have left the saloon; I saw him a few moments since in conversation with Pollnitz."

"With Pollnitz," said she eagerly, and she searched again in every direction for him.

Suddenly Madame von Morien uttered a low cry, and a rosy blush overspread her fair pale face; she had seen the king, their eyes had met; the sharp, observant glance of the king was steadily and sternly fixed upon her.

The king stood in a window corner, half hidden by the long, heavy silk curtains, and gazed ever steadily at the two ladies.

"I see the king," murmured Madame von Morien.

"And I see Pollnitz standing near him," said Madame von Brandt, whose eyes had followed the direction of her friend's. She thrust her handkerchief into her pocket and opened her fan in order to hide her reddened face behind it; the king's piercing look filled her with alarm. "Let us walk through the saloons, dear Morien," said she, rising up, "the heat chokes me, and I would gladly search a little for the letter; perhaps it may yet be found."

"What letter?" asked Madame von Morien, indifferently. Her friend stared at her and said:

"My G.o.d! you have not heard one word I have said to you!"

"Oh, yes, that you had a letter to give me from the Empress of Austria."

"Well, and this letter I have lost here in these saloons."

"Some one will find it; and as it is addressed to me, will immediately restore it."

"Dear Morien, I pray you in G.o.d's name do not seem so quiet and indifferent. This is a most important affair. If I did not leave this letter in my room, and have really lost it, we are in danger of being suspected; in fact, in the eyes of the king we will be considered as spies of Austria."

At the name of the king Madame von Morien was attentive and sympathetic.

"But no one can read this letter. Was it sealed?"

"Yes, it was sealed; but, look you, it was sealed with the private seal of the empress, and her name stands around the Austrian arms. Without opening the letter it will be known that it is from the Empress of Austria, and will awaken suspicion. Hear me further; this letter was enveloped in a paper which had no address, but contained some words which will compromise us both if it is known that this letter was addressed to me."

"What was written in this paper?" said Madame von Morien, still looking toward the king, who still stood in the window niche, and kept his eyes fixed upon the two ladies.

"The paper contained only the following words: 'Have the goodness to deliver this letter; you see the empress keeps her word; we must do the same and forget not our promises. A happy marriage is well pleasing in the sight of G.o.d and man; the married woman is adorned, the man crowned with virtue.'"

"And this letter was signed?"

"No, it was not signed; but if it falls into the hands of the king, he will know from whom it comes; he is acquainted with the handwriting of Manteuffel."

"Come! come! let us look to it!" said Madame von Morien, now full of anxiety; "we must find this unfortunate paper; come!"

She took the arm of her friend and walked slowly through the saloons, searching everywhere upon the inlaid floor for something white.

"You are right," said the king, coming from the window and following the ladies with his eyes; "you are right. They are both searching anxiously, and it was surely Madame von Brandt to whom the outer covering of this letter was directed. Let them seek; they will find as little as the eleven thousand virgins found. But now listen, baron, to what I say to you. This whole affair remains a secret known to no one.

Listen well, baron; known to no one! You must forget that you found this letter and gave it to me, or you will believe it to be a dream and nothing more."

"Yes, your majesty," said Pollnitz, smiling; "a dream, such as Eckert dreamed, when he supposed the house in Jager Street to be his, and awaked and found it to belong to your highness!"

"You are a fool!" said the king, smiling; he nodded to Pollnitz and joined the two queens, who had now finished their game of cards and returned to the saloon.

The queen-mother advanced to meet her son, and extended her hand to him; she wished now to carry out her purpose and fulfil the promise given to Duke Rhedern. She did not doubt that the king, who received her with so much reverence and affection, would grant her request, and the court would be again witness to the great influence, and indeed the unbounded power which she had over her son. She stood with the king directly under the chandelier, in the middle of the saloon; near them stood the reigning queen and the princes and princesses of the royal house. It was an interesting picture. It was curious to observe this group, illuminated by the sharp light, the faces so alike and yet so different in expression; blossoms from one stem, and yet so unlike in greatness, form, and feature. The courtiers drew near, and in respectful silence regarded the royal family, who, bathed in a sea of light, were in the midst of them but not of them.

"My son," said the queen, in a clear, silvery voice, "I have a request to make of you." The king kissed his mother's hand.

"Madame, you well know you have no need of entreaty; you have only to command." Sophia smiled proudly.

"I thank your majesty for this a.s.surance! Listen, then, my chamberlain, Duke Rhedern, wishes to marry. I have promised him to obtain your consent."

"If my royal mother is pleased with the choice of her chamberlain, I am, of course, also content; always provided that, the chosen bride of the duke belongs to a n.o.ble family. What is the rank of this bride?"

The queen looked embarra.s.sed, and smiling, said: "She has no rank, your majesty."

The king's brow darkened, "She was not born, then, to be a d.u.c.h.ess.

Your chamberlain would do better to be silent over this folly than to force a refusal from me. I hate misalliances, and will not suffer them at my court."

These loudly spoken and harsh words produced different impressions upon the family circle of the king; some were cast down, others joyful; some cheeks grew pale, and others red. Sophia blushed from pleasure; she was now convinced that the king would not seek a divorce from his wife, in order to form a morganatic marriage with Laura von Pannewitz; and the queen-mother was of too n.o.ble and virtuous a nature herself to believe in the possibility of a mistress at the court of Prussia. The love of the king for the lovely Laura appeared now nothing more than a poetical idyl, which would soon pa.s.s away--nothing more! The words of the king made a painful impression upon Augustus William; his brow clouded, his features a.s.sumed a painful but threatening expression; he was in the act of speaking, and opposing in the name of humanity and love those cruel words of the king, as Elizabeth Christine, who stood near him and observed him with tender sympathy, whispered lightly:

"Be silent, my brother; be considerate."

The prince breathed heavily, and his glance turned for comfort toward the maids of honor. Laura greeted him with her eyes, and then blushed deeply over her own presumption. Strengthened by this tender glance from his beautiful bride, Augustus was able to a.s.sume a calm and indifferent mien.