Frederick the Great and His Court Part 54

It was in truth Queen Sophia Dorothea, who had dismissed her attendants and come alone to the conservatory at this unusual hour.

This was the time at which the queen's maids of honor were not on service, and were at liberty to do as they pleased. The queen had been in the habit of reposing at this time, but to-day she could not find rest; annoyed at her sleeplessness, she had arisen, and in walking up and down had stepped to the window and looked dreamily down into the still and desolate garden. Then it was that she thought she saw a female figure pa.s.sing hurriedly down the avenue. It must have been one of her maids of honor; and although the queen had not recognized her, she was convinced that it was none other than Laura von Pannewitz, and that she was now going to a rendezvous with her unknown lover, whom the queen had hitherto vainly endeavored to discover. The queen called her waiting-maids to her a.s.sistance, and putting on her furs and hood, she told them she felt a desire to take a solitary walk in the garden, and that none of her attendants should be called, with which she hurried into the garden, following the same path which the veiled lady had taken. She followed the foot-tracks in the snow to the conservatory, and entered without hesitation, determined to discover the secret of her maid of honor, and to punish her.

It was fortunate for the poor lovers that the increasing corpulence of the queen and her swollen right foot rendered her advance rather slow, so that when she at last reached the lower end of the conservatory she found no one there but her son Augustus William, whose embarra.s.sed and constrained reception of herself convinced the queen that her appearance was not only a surprise, but also a disagreeable one. She therefore demanded of him with severity the cause of his unexpected and unusual visit to her conservatory; and when Augustus William smilingly replied--

"That he had awaited here the queen's awakening, in order that he might pay his visit--"

The queen asked abruptly: "And who, my son, helped to dispel the ennui of this tedious waiting?"

"No one, my dear mother," said the prince; but he did not dare to meet his mother's penetrating glance.

"No one?" repeated she; "but I heard you speaking on entering the conservatory."

"You know, your majesty, that I have inherited the habit of speaking aloud to myself from my father," replied the prince, with a constrained smile.

"The king my husband did not cease speaking when I made his appearance," exclaimed the queen, angrily; "he had no secrets to hide from me."

"The thoughts of my royal father were grand, and worthy of the sympathy of Queen Sophia Dorothea," said the prince, bowing low.

"G.o.d forbid that the thoughts of his son should be of another and less worthy character!" exclaimed the queen. "My sons should, at least, be too proud to soil their lips with an untruth; and if they have the courage to do wrong, they should also find courage to acknowledge it."

"I do not understand you, my dear mother;" and meeting her penetrating glance with quiet composure, he continued, "I am conscious of no wrong, and consequently have none to acknowledge."

"This is an a.s.surance which deserves to be unmasked," exclaimed the queen, who could no longer suppress her anger. "You must know, prince, that I am not to be deceived by your seeming candor and youthful arrogance. I know that you were not alone, for I myself saw the lady coming here who kept you company while awaiting me, and I followed her to this house."

"Then it seems that your majesty has followed a fata morgana," said the prince, with a forced smile; "for, as you see, I am alone, and no one else is present in the conservatory."

But even while speaking, the prince glanced involuntarily toward the grotto which concealed his secret.

The Queen Sophia Dorothea caught this glance, and divined its meaning.

"There is no one in the saloon, and it now remains to examine the grotto," said she, stepping forward hastily.

The prince seized her hand, and endeavored to hold her back.

"I conjure you, mother, do not go too far in your suspicion and your examinations. Remember that your suspicion wounds me."

The queen gave him a proud, angry glance.

"I am here on my own property," said she, withdrawing her hand, "and no one shall oppose my will."

"Well, then, madame, follow your inclination," said the prince, with a resolute air; "I wished to spare you an annoyance. Let discord and sorrow come over us, if your majesty will have it so; and as you are inexorable, you will also find me firm and resolute. Examine the grotto, if you will."

He offered her his arm and conducted her to the grotto. Sophia Dorothea felt disarmed by her son's resolute bearing, and she was almost convinced that she had done him injustice, and that no one was concealed in the grotto. With a benignant smile she had turned to her son, to say a few soothing words, when she heard a low rustle among the shrubbery, and saw something white flitting through the foliage.

"And you say, my son, that I was deceived by a fata morgana" exclaimed the queen, hurrying forward with outstretched arm. "Come, my young lady, and save us and yourself the shame of drawing you forcibly from your hiding-place."

The queen had not been mistaken. Something moved among the shrubbery, and now a female figure stepped forth and threw herself at the feet of the queen.

"Pardon, your majesty, pardon! I am innocent of any intention to intrude on your majesty's privacy. I had fallen asleep in this grotto, and awoke when it was too late to escape, as your majesty was already at the entrance of the conservatory. In this manner I have been an involuntary witness of your conversation. This is my whole fault."

The queen listened with astonishment, while the prince regarded with consternation the kneeling girl who had been found here in the place of his Laura.

"This is not the voice of Mademoiselle von Pannewitz," said the queen, as she pa.s.sed out into the light, and commanded the kneeling figure to follow her, that she might see her face. The lady arose and stepped forward. "Louise von Schwerin!" exclaimed the queen and the prince at the same time, while the little maid of honor folded her hands imploringly, and said, with an expression of childish innocence:

"O your majesty, have compa.s.sion with me! Yesterday's ball made me so very tired; and as your majesty was sleeping, I thought I would come here and sleep a little too, although I had not forgotten that your majesty was not pleased to have us visit this conservatory alone."

Sophia Dorothea did not honor her with a glance; her eyes rested on her son with an expression of severity and scorn.

"Really, I had a better opinion of you," said she. "It is no great achievement to mislead a child, and one that is altogether unworthy of a royal prince."

"My mother," exclaimed the prince, indignantly, "you do not believe--"

"I believe what I see," said the queen, interrupting him. "Have done with your a.s.surances of innocence, and bow to the truth, which has judged you in spite of your denial. And you, my young lady, will accompany me, and submit to my commands in silence, and without excuses. Come, and a.s.sume a cheerful and unconstrained air, if you please. I do not wish my court to hear of this scandal, and to read your guilt in your terrified countenance. I shall take care that you do not betray your guilt in words. Come."

The prince looked after them with an expression of confusion and astonishment. "Well, no matter how this riddle is solved," murmured he, after the queen had left the conservatory with her maid of honor, "Laura is safe at all events, and in a week we will flee."

CHAPTER XV.

THE COUNTERMINE.

Three days had slowly pa.s.sed by, and Fritz Wendel waited in vain for a sign or message from his beloved. He groped his way every day through the subterranean alley to the grotto, and stood every night under her window, hoping in vain for a signal or soft whisper from her.

The windows were always curtained and motionless, and no one could give the unhappy gardener any news of the poor Louise von Schwerin, who was closely confined in her room, and confided to the special guard of a faithful chambermaid.

The queen told her ladies that Louise was suffering from an infectious disease; the queen's physician confirmed this opinion, and cautioned the ladies of the court against any communication with the poor invalid. No special command was therefore necessary to keep the maids of honor away from the prisoner; she was utterly neglected, and her old companions pa.s.sed her door with flying steps. But the queen, as it appeared, did not fear this contagion; she was seen to enter the sick girl's room every day, and to remain a long time. The tender sympathy of the queen excited the admiration of the whole court, and no one guessed what torturing anxiety oppressed the heart of the poor prisoner whenever the queen entered the room; no one heard the stern, hard, threatening words of Sophia; no one supposed that she came, not to nurse the sick girl, but to overwhelm her with reproaches.

Louise withstood all the menaces and upbraidings of the queen bravely; she had the courage to appear unembarra.s.sed, and, except to reiterate her innocence, to remain perfectly silent. She knew well that she could not betray Laura without compromising herself; she knew that if the queen discovered the mysterious flight of Laura, she would, at the same time, be informed of her love affair with the poor gardener, and of their secret a.s.signations. Louise feared that she would be made laughable and ridiculous by this exposure, and this fear made her resolute and decided, and enabled her to bear her weary imprisonment patiently. "I cannot be held a prisoner for ever," she said to herself.

"If I confess nothing, the queen must at last be convinced of my innocence, and set me at liberty."

But Fritz Wendel was less patient than his cunning Louise. He could no longer support this torture; and as the fourth day brought no intelligence, and no trace of Louise, he was determined to dare the worst, and, like Alexander, to cut the gordian knot which he could not untie. With bold decision he entered the castle and demanded to speak with the king, stating that he had important discoveries to make known.

The king received him instantly, and at Fritz Wendel's request dismissed his adjutants.

"Now we are without witnesses, speak," said the king.

"I know a secret, your majesty, which concerns the honour and the future of the royal family; and you will graciously pardon me when I say I will not sell this secret except for a great price."

The king's eyes rested upon the impudent face of Fritz Wendel with a dangerous expression. "Name your price," said he, "but think well. If your secret is not worth the price you demand, you may perhaps pay for it with your head, certainly with your liberty."

"My secret is of the greatest value, for it will save the dynasty of the Hohenzollerns," said Fritz Wendel, boldly; "but I will sell it to your majesty--I will disclose it only after you have graciously promised me my price."

"Before I do that I must know your conditions," said the king, with difficulty subduing his rage.