The Dead KingTHE DEAD KING.
THE DEAD KING.
Frederick William had been gazing thoughtfully at the clock. With an effort he suddenly aroused himself. Thehands of that clock proclaimed the cessation of the old and the beginning of the new era—of his era. He must be prepared to meet its requirements. For the second time he approached the corpse. “Where are the king’s decorations?” he demanded of Strützki, the attendant, in whose arms the king had breathed his last.
Hastily drying his eyes, Strützki stepped softly to the little cabinet, and opened it.
“Leave the others,” commanded the king, “and bring me only the ribbon of the Order of the Black Eagle.”
Strützki speedily returned with the designated order. Holding the broad orange ribbon in his hand, the king now turned to the Minister von Herzberg.
“Count,” said he, “bow your head, and receive, at my hands, the last souvenir of the great king who has cast off his mortal frame, in order that he may sojourn with us as an immortal spirit. The ribbon worn by Frederick the Great shall now adorn your breast, in order that the respect and esteem which I entertain for you be made manifest to the world. You will be as true and zealous a friend to me as you were to my great uncle. You will serve me, as you served him, in the capacity of minister of state; and you will be often called on for advice and counsel, Count Herzberg.”
“Your majesty,” murmured Herzberg, his voice tremulous with emotion, “your majesty rewards me beyond my deserts. I have done nothing but my duty, and—”
“Happy is that king,” exclaimed Frederick William, interrupting him, “happy is that king who is surrounded by servants who take no credit to themselves for the good and great which they accomplish, considering that they have done no more than their duty. The obligation to acknowledge their services and show his gratitude, is on this account all the more incumbent upon him; there are very few people on earth who can say of themselves, in this exalted sense, that they have done their duty. But I am a very happy king; I have two such friends at my side on the very threshold of mycareer. You, my dear count, I have already rewarded for your services. Your patent as count shall be made out, and the insignia of the highest order of the Black Eagle presented you. You will still continue to administer the affairs of your foreign bureau. And now, you need rest, my dear count; I know that you have watched a great deal in the last few nights.Au revoir!”
After taking a last lingering look at the royal corpse, Herzberg retired; and King Frederick William turned to the valet, Rietz, who had stood, with his head bowed down, in order to hide the curiosity, and the indifference to the solemnity of the occasion, which were depicted in his countenance.
“And now, my dear Rietz,” said the king, extending his hand to the valet, “now the time has at last come when I can reward you for your faithful services! I appoint you treasurer of my household, and keeper of my strong-box!”[22]
“Ah, your majesty, my beloved king,” sobbed Rietz, as he pressed Frederick William’s hand to his thick, swollen lips, “such grace, such favor, I have not deserved. I thank your majesty, however, from the bottom of my heart, and you shall always find in me a true and faithful servant! Oh, what will my wife say, and how happy she will be, over the new honor you have conferred upon me!”
The king withdrew his hand with a slight shudder, and looked almost timidly in the direction of the corpse, which lay there so grand and still. He did not see the quiet, stealthy glance which the treasurer fastened on his countenance.
If the corpse of the great Frederick had suddenly come to life again—if those closed eyes had opened once more—how withering a glance would they have bestowed upon the wanton valet! But even the corpse of a king hears no more, and the closed eyes open not again!
“Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!”
The king stepped slowly back, but his gaze still rested onthe countenance of the dead. Though closed, those eyes seemed to see into his heart.
“Rietz, send for the sculptor, in Potsdam, in order that a cast of the king’s face may be taken.”
“Your majesty, it shall be attended to immediately.”
He hurried toward the door, but a gesture of his royal master recalled him. Frederick William dreaded being left alone with the great dead and the weeping lackeys! For he well knew that the bodies of the departed were always watched over by the spirits of their ancestors. He knew that the spirits of those who had been dear to the departed in love and friendship, and the spirits of those who were his enemies while they trod the earth in the flesh, were now hovering over the body, and struggling for the possession of King Frederick’s soul, even as they struggled for the soul of Moses. But a short time had elapsed since this had been communicated to him by the spirit of the great philosopher Leibnitz, whom the two believers, Bischofswerder and Wöllner, had conjured up to confirm the statements they had made to the unbelieving prince royal!
Yes, these hostile spirits are struggling over the body for the possession of the soul, and to remain, with this knowledge, alone with the dead and the contending spirits, inspires awe and terror.
“Rietz, my faithful follower, remain,” said the king, almost anxiously. “But no! Call Lieutenant-Colonel Bischofswerder.”
“Your majesty, he has ridden into the city to carry this sad intelligence to the present prince royal, and conduct him here to Sans-Souci.”
“And the Councillor Wöllner?”
“Your majesty, I have dispatched a courier to Berlin to inform him of the king’s death, and he will probably soon be here.”
“Ah, Rietz, you are a faithful and considerate servant. Go before and open the doors. I will repair to the audience-chamber;the court will probably have assembled by this time!”
He waved the royal corpse a final adieu, bowed and walked backward to the door, as if retiring from an audience accorded him by the great Frederick. Profound silence reigned in the chamber for a moment, until Alkmene crept out from under the chair and again howled piteously.
“LE ROI EST MORT! VIVE LE ROI!”
While only two poor servants and a faithful dog remained with the dead king, the new king was receiving the congratulations of his court in the audience-chamber.
The court officials and ministers had already assembled; and now the princes of the royal family were coming in.
Rietz, who had remained in the antechamber, now entered and approached the king. “Your majesty, his royal highness the prince royal and Prince Louis have this moment arrived, and beg permission to tender their congratulations.”
“Conduct the prince to the concert-hall,” said the king, “I will join him there directly.—And Lieutenant-Colonel Bischofswerder?”
“Your majesty, he accompanied the prince royal.”
The king bowed graciously. The word “majesty” sounded like sweet music in his ear, and drowned the wail of grief for the departed.
Bestowing a kindly smile upon the assembled court, the king left the audience-chamber in order to repair to the concert-hall, where the two princes awaited him.
Rietz went in advance, and, as he threw open the door of the concert-hall, cried in a loud voice, “His majesty the king!”
The two princes hastened forward, and pressed their father’s extended hand to their lips.
“I take the liberty of tendering to my royal father my most humble congratulations.” The prince uttered these words in a stiff and declamatory manner, merely repeating them as they had been taught him by his tutor, Professor Behnisch.
“I beg that your majesty will accord me your favor, and I assure my royal father that he will always find in me an affectionate son and his most obedient subject.”
The king’s countenance darkened as he gazed upon the prince, who would one day be his successor. Prince royal! An unpleasant word, truly; a gloomy and constant reminder of approaching death!—the prince royal, who is only waiting to be king, who, like the shadow of death, is ever at the monarch’s side, reminding him of approaching dissolution. To love one’s successor is certainly a hard task; but his existence may, at least, be forgiven, when he is the son of a loved wife, when the father loves his child. But when the prince royal is the fruit of a marriage of convenience, the son of an unloved wife—when the king has another and a cherished son, whose mother he has passionately loved!—Ah, how differently would this son have received his father! He would have thrown himself into his father’s arms, and would have hugged and kissed him.
“Oh, my dear son Alexander, why are you not my successor? Why must you remain at a distance? why are you not permitted to stand at my side in this great hour? But all this shall be changed! My Alexander shall no longer remain in obscurity—no, he shall not!”
With his two sons the king had only exchanged a few words of ceremony. He responded but coldly to the formal congratulation of the prince royal; and replied with a mute gesture only to the embarrassed and stammering words of Prince Louis.
“And now go, my princes,” said he; “go and look at the body of your great uncle, and impress the solemn scene upon your minds, that you may never forget it!”
“I shall never forget the great king,” said the princeroyal, his countenance expressive of great tenderness and emotion. “No, your majesty, I shall never forget the great Frederick. He was always so gentle and gracious to me; and but a few days ago he spoke to me like a kind father, and that made me feel so proud and happy that I can never forget it, and never cease to be grateful while life lasts.”
The long-repressed tears now rushed from the prince royal’s eyes, and Prince Louis began to weep, too, when he saw his brother’s tears, and murmured: “The great Frederick was also very gracious to me.”
The king turned aside. His sons’ tears were offensive. Who knows whether they will weep when their father also dies?
“Go, my sons, and pay a last tribute of tears to the past, and then turn your thoughts to the joyful realities of the present!”
The two princes bowed ceremoniously, and then left the room, retiring backward, as if in military drill.
The king’s eyes followed them as they left the room, and his countenance darkened. “They are as stiff and awkward as puppets. And yet they have hearts, but not for their father!—Rietz!”
The chamberlain immediately appeared in the doorway, and stood awaiting his master’s commands, his countenance beaming with humility.
“Rietz, go at once and inform my son Alexander of what has taken place! He must go to Charlottenburg with his tutor and await me there! Let him tell his mother that I will take tea with her this evening, and that she may expect me at six o’clock.”
“Will your majesty pass the night in Charlottenburg?” asked the chamberlain, with his eyes cast down and the most innocent expression of countenance.
“I cannot say,” replied the king; “I may go to Berlin, and—”
“Your majesty, perhaps, considers it necessary to pay a visit of condolence to the widowed queen at Schönhausen?”
Rietz had said this in an almost inaudible voice, but the king’s attentive ear caught the words nevertheless, and his countenance beamed with joy.
“Yes, my friend and heart’s interpreter, I will visit the widowed queen at Schönhausen. Take the fastest horse from my stable and ride there to announce my coming.”
“To the widowed queen only, your majesty? To no one else?”
“You ask as if you did not know what my reply would be,” said the king, smiling. “No, you may also present my compliments to the queen’s beautiful maid of honor, Julie von Voss. Request her, in my name, to hold herself in readiness to receive me. I wish to speak with her on matters of great importance. Go, my friend!”
“To speak with her on matters of great importance,” muttered Rietz, after he had left the room. “As if we did not all very well know what he has to say to this beautiful young lady; as if his love for her were not a public secret, well known to the queen, his wife, to the entire court, and to dear Madame Rietz, my wife! Very well, I will first ride to young Alexander, then I will speed to Schönhausen, and finally I will hie me to Madame Rietz in Charlottenburg, to make my report. My dear wife is so generous, and I can dispose of so much money! Life is so pleasant when one has money. And it is all the same who a man is and what he is! If he always has money, a goodly supply in his purse, he is a distinguished man, and is respected by all. Therefore the main thing is to become rich, for the world belongs to the rich; and I am quite willing that the world should belong to me. Oh, I will make the best use of my time; and those who suppose they can fool me by their flattery, and that I can be induced to intercede for them with the king, out of pure goodness of heart, will discover that they have calculated without their host. Money is the word, gentlemen! Pay up, and the influence of the mighty chamberlain shall be exerted in your behalf; but nothing gratis! Death only is gratis! No, I am wrong,”said he, laughing derisively, as he gazed at a company of grenadiers, who were marching up the avenue toward the palace, where they were to be stationed as a guard of honor to the royal corpse. “The funeral costs a great deal of money.”
The grenadiers passed on; and the subdued roll of the drums, which were draped in mourning, died away in the distance, while the winds wafted over from Potsdam the sounds of the tolling bells which proclaimed the king’s death to the awakening city. Rietz hurried off to send the son of the king to his mother in Charlottenburg, and then to ride to Schönhausen and deliver a loving greeting to Frederick William’s new flame. It was still silent and desolate in the chamber of the dead at Sans-Souci. Strützki had once stepped softly out of the room to get some twigs from the elder-tree which stood on the terrace, to keep the flies from the face of the dead king. And now the two lackeys were standing on either side of the chair, fanning away the miserable insects that had dared to light on this countenance since the hand of the artist Death had chiselled it into marble. Nothing was heard but the rustle of the twigs and the humming of the flies, ever returning, as if to mock man’s vain efforts to drive them from what was justly their own.
The doors were softly opened, and the two princes glided in, and noiselessly approached the arm-chair in which Frederick lay, as if fearful of awakening him.
The prince royal looked at the body long and silently, and his countenance was expressive of deep and earnest feeling. “Stand aside, lackeys,” said he, haughtily, “and you, too, my brother, I wish to be alone. I wish to commune awhile with his majesty!”
The lackeys and Prince Louis retired; the former to the door, the latter to the distant window; and now the lad of sixteen was alone with the immortal Frederick.
He knelt down before the body, grasped the cold hand, and gazed on the marble features of the great dead with an expression of intense earnestness and determination.
“My great uncle and king,” murmured he, “I swear to you that I will endeavor to do all that you recently enjoined upon me; and that I will ever strive to do honor to your great name. I swear to you that I will one day be a good and useful king, and endeavor to deserve the affection of the people. My dear uncle, I have a secret in my heart, and I must disclose it before you descend into the grave. It seems to me your sleep will be more peaceful when you learn it: I hate Madame Rietz and her husband. And if she is still living when I become king, I will punish her for her crimes, and will repay her for all the tears which she has caused my dear mother. No one knows of my determination except my mother, who recently told me what sorrow Madame Rietz had occasioned her, and then I was so angry that I wished to go immediately and kill her. But my mother exhorted me to silence and patience, and I promised that I would obey her. But when I am king, I will be no longer silent; then shall come the day of arraignment and punishment. This I swear to you, my dear, my great uncle and king; and this is the secret I longed to disclose. Yes, I will some day avenge my mother. Farewell, my king—sleep in peace! and—” A hand was laid upon his shoulder; he looked up and saw his young cousin Prince Louis, whose approach he had not noticed, standing beside him.
“I congratulate you, cousin,” said Prince Louis, impressively, “and crave the continuance of your favor, prince royal of Prussia. His majesty the king sent me here to pay my respects to the royal corpse and the prince royal, but I propose to pay my respects to the latter first.”
“No,” said Frederick William, who had slowly arisen from his knees, “that you must not do, cousin Louis. I am not changed, and am no better because of our great king’s death.”
“But more powerful,” said the prince; “you are now prince royal, and the greatest deference should be shown you. Oh, do not look at me so earnestly and angrily, cousin. Youthink I am cold and indifferent; but no, I have only determined not to weep over the body of our dear uncle. My mother tells me we shall also soon die, if we let fall a tear on the countenance of the dead. And yet, Frederick, when I reflect that the good uncle is dead who was always so kind to me, and who was our pride and glory, I cannot help shedding tears in spite of my mother’s injunction. Oh, great Frederick, that you could have remained a few years longer on earth, till that proud eye might have rested on a gallant prince and brave soldier, instead of a foolish lad!”
“But, cousin, how can you speak so disparagingly of yourself, and so far forget your dignity as a prince?”
“Ah, a prince is no better than any one else,” said Prince Louis, shrugging his shoulders, “and while I have the greatest respect for your exalted rank, Mr. Prince Royal, I have none whatever for my own little title; particularly at this moment, when I see that the great Frederick, the hero and king, was only a mortal. Oh, my dear uncle, why did you leave us so soon! You were not yet so old—scarcely seventy-four years, and there are so many who are older. A short time since, as I was coming here to inquire after your health, I saw an old man at the entrance of the park, warming himself in the sun; he sat with folded hands, and prayed aloud. I approached and offered him a piece of money, which he rejected. I then asked him why he prayed and begged, if he did not desire money. ‘I am praying for the sick king,’ said he; ‘I am entreating the sunbeams to warm and invigorate the king’s suffering body, and restore him to new life. The king is so young! he should live much longer. I was a soldier when the king was baptized, and stood near by as a sentinel; and now they say that he must die. That makes me anxious. If so young a man must already die, my turn will soon come; and I so much desire to live a little longer and warm myself in the bright sunshine!’ And the old man of ninety is still sitting in the sunshine; while you, great Frederick, were compelled to die! You have gone to thesun, while we are still groping in darkness, and lamenting your loss, and—”
“Be still, cousin!” murmured the prince royal; “some one is coming! It is the sculptor who is to take a cast of the king’s face. Come, let us go! Come!”
He extended his hand to Prince Louis, to lead him out of the room, but the prince drew back.
He knelt down before the body, and kissed the cold hand which had recently stroked his cheeks affectionately. Frederick had always loved Prince Louis, the son of his brother Ferdinand, and had often prophesied that he would live to accomplish something great and useful.
The young prince thought of this, as he pressed the cold hand to his lips in a last farewell. “I swear to you, my great uncle and king, that I will faithfully strive to fulfil your prophecy, and accomplish something good and useful, and to do honor to the name I bear. Let the kiss which I now press on your hand be the seal of my vow, and my last greeting!”
He arose, and his large dark eyes rested on the body with a lingering, tender look.
“Oh,” sighed he, “why am I not a painter or an artist, that I might sketch this scene!”
“A happy suggestion,” said the prince royal, eagerly. “I am certainly no artist, but I can draw a little nevertheless; and I intend to make for myself a memento of this day.—Mr. Eckstein, I beg you to wait a quarter of an hour, in order that I may make a sketch of this scene.”
The sculptor, who had already approached the body with his apparatus, bowed respectfully, and stepped back. Prince Louis took a pencil and a sheet of paper from the king’s writing-desk, and handed it to his brother the prince royal. The latter commenced to sketch the scene with hurried strokes.[23]His brother stood at his side, looking on; behind the chairwere the two lackeys, and the greyhound’s head protruded from beneath the chair. The sculptor Eckstein had withdrawn to the farthest end of the room. Prince Louis had, however, noiselessly glided into the adjoining concert-room, where the instruments were kept. There were the flutes and violins in their cases, and there stood the magnificent piano, inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, which the king’s hands had so often touched.
The silence of the death-chamber was once more unbroken. The body lay there, so great and sublime in the two-fold majesty of death and renown, and the prince royal was absorbed in his work, when the silence was suddenly broken by subdued tones of plaintive music. These tones came from the concert-room, and filled the chamber of the dead with low and harmonious sighs and lamentations.
Alkmene crept out from under the arm-chair, and trotted slowly into the adjoining chamber, as if to see if her master, whose voice she had not heard since yesterday, had not called to her to come to him at the piano. The greyhound, however, returned to her former position, when she saw that it was another who sat at the piano.
No, it was not the king, but his nephew Louis, who was playing this requiem for the great departed, and tears were trickling down over his handsome and manly young face. Perhaps it was improper to break in upon the stillness of the sacred chamber in this manner. But what cared the young prince for that. He thought only of bringing the great dead a last love-offering, and none was there to prevent him. Etiquette had nothing more to do with the dead king. It had taken up its abode in the neighboring audience-chamber, with the living king. There, all was formality and ceremony. There, decorated excellencies and gold-embroidered uniforms were making profound obeisances. There, respectful congratulations were being made, and gracious smiles accorded by royal lips.
“Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!”
THE FAVORITES.
King Frederick William stepped back into the little audience-chamber, and beckoned to his two friends Bischofswerder and Wöllner to follow him.
He embraced Bischofswerder, and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “My friend, you must never leave me, but always remain at my side.”
“I will follow my royal master,” said Bischofswerder, bowing profoundly, “as a faithful dog follows his master’s footsteps, satisfied if he shall from time to time vouchsafe me a gracious look.”
“I know you, my friend,” said the king. “I know that you are disinterested, that you are not ambitious, and that the things of this world are of but little importance to your noble mind.”
“Let it be my task to provide for your earthly as you have undertaken to provide for my spiritual welfare. My dear Bischofswerder, I appoint you colonel, and this shall be only the step from which you will be rapidly promoted to the rank of general; for you not only war bravely and daringly against visible men, but also against invisible spirits, and it is my holy duty and privilege to reward the brave.”
“Your majesty,” said Bischofswerder, gently, “the only reward I crave is your favor. I desire and solicit nothing more. The honors and dignities which you shower upon me, and of which I am so undeserving, only awaken anxiety by illumining my small merit, and making my unworthiness all the more conspicuous before the world. Nevertheless, I accept with thanks the promotion accorded me by the grace of my king, although I would rather decline the honor, and remain in obscurity in the shadow of your throne. But I dare not, for a higher one has commanded me to submit to your behests, and I must obey.”
“A higher one?” asked the king. “Who is he? Who commands here besides myself?”
“Your majesty, the spirits of the great dead—the Invisible, whose power is greater than that of all the visible, however great and mighty they may be!”
The king had asked this question with a proud and haughty glance; suddenly his manner altered, his countenance assumed an humble, penitent look, his head sank down upon his breast, and he folded his hands as if in prayer. “I am a sinner and a criminal,” he murmured. “In the pride of my new dignity I forgot my superiors; and the little visible creature dared to consider himself the equal of the Invisible! I now repent, beg for mercy, and am ready to yield obedience to my superiors.—They have then spoken to you again, these superior beings? They have imparted to you their wishes?”
“Your majesty,” said Bischofswerder, in a mysterious whisper, “while sleeping last night, I was suddenly awakened by a wondrous radiance, and I sprang from my bed, believing that fire had broken out and enveloped my room in flames; but I felt that a gentle hand forced me back, and I now saw that the light which had terrified me came from a luminous countenance, which stood out in bold relief amid the surrounding darkness. The eyes of this countenance shone like two heavenly stars, shedding a soft light upon me. With a celestial smile on its lips, the spirit spoke to me: ‘Your heart is humble and guileless. You have no craving after earthly honors, and are not attracted by grandeur and riches; but I command you to arise from your humility, and no longer to withdraw yourself from earthly honors, for those whom the Invisible love must also be recognized and elevated by the visible, that their favor be made manifest before men. You will be advanced to-morrow, and on the ensuing day you will receive a second advancement; and what your king offers you must accept. This is the will of the Invisible.’ And after this wonderful spirit had spoken it vanished, and all was again enveloped in darkness. I, however, lit a candle,in order that I might have tangible proof, on arising the next morning, that this had been no dream; I wrote down on a sheet of paper the last words the spirit had spoken, and the hour at which it appeared. Your majesty, I have brought this paper with me to show it to my king. Here it is!”
The king took the writing, and read in a low voice: “You will be advanced to-morrow, and on the ensuing day you will receive a second advancement; and what the king offers you must accept. This is the will of the Invisible. Command of the radiant spirit, given in the night between the sixteenth and seventeenth of August, at twenty minutes past two.”
“The hour at which the king died,” exclaimed Frederick William, with astonishment, “and the hour at which I also suddenly awoke! Wonderful, wonderful indeed!”
“Your majesty, for those endowed with intuition there are no wonders,” said Bischofswerder, quietly, “and your majesty belongs to this number.”
“But only in a very slight degree,” sighed the king. “I am still groping in the twilight; my eyes are yet dazzled by the splendor of the Invisible.”
“But your majesty will advance steadily toward the source of light; and if the Invisible will permit me to conduct you into the holy temple of infinite knowledge, I will esteem it the greatest earthly blessing!”
“Yes,” cried the king, in ecstasy; “yes, my friend, you shall conduct me; and, at the side of him upon whom this light has been shed, I will walk in safety over the slippery paths of life. Nothing can astonish me in the future, for the paper I hold in my hand is a miracle, and an evidence that the Invisible is omnipresent and omniscient. At the same moment in which King Frederick died I awoke with a cry, and at the same time the spirit announced to you that you would be advanced by your king—by me, who at that moment became king! My friend, I beg you to give me this paper, this evidence of the presence of the Invisible.”
Bischofswerder bowed profoundly. “All that the king’sconsecrating hand touches becomes his property, as I am his with all that is mine!”
“I thank you, colonel, I thank you. Ascend the step to honor which this day offers, and let it be my care that the prophecy for the ensuing day be also fulfilled. And now,” continued the king, turning to Wöllner, who had stood with folded hands, his head bowed down, during this conversation; “and now, as to you, Councillor Wöllner, you are also deserving of thanks and reward.”
“Far more deserving than I, poor unworthy man,” exclaimed Bischofswerder; “for Chrysophorus, the effulgent, belongs to the chosen, and is the favorite of the Invisible. If your majesty empties the plenteous horn of your favor on the head of Chrysophorus, no drop will be lost, but all will fall on good and fertile soil.”
The king greeted the noble, disinterested friend with a kindly smile, and then laid his hand gently on Wöllner’s shoulder.
“Thus I will sustain myself on you, Wöllner, and as I now lay my right hand on you, so will I make you my right hand, as I make Bischofswerder my head, to think for me. You too shall be my head and my hand.”
“But your heart, sire?” asked Wöllner, in his earnest and solemn voice. “Your heart you must be yourself, and no other human being must be your heart but the king himself.”
Frederick William smiled. “My heart, that am I—I the king, but also I the man; and the head and hand which act for me, must also permit the heart to act, as it will and can! Councillor Wöllner, has the Invisible announced nothing to you? have you alone passed the night in quiet slumber?”
“Your majesty,” replied Wöllner, with an air of self-reproach, “I have received no message from the Invisible; I must honor the truth, and acknowledge that I have rarely enjoyed such peaceful and unbroken slumber as in the past night.”
“He slept the sleep of the just,” said Bischofswerder, “and the spirits kept watch at the door of our Chrysophorus.”
“Well, then, I will announce to you what the spirits did not announce,” exclaimed the king, with vivacity, “Wöllner, I appoint you Privy Councillor of the Finances, and, at the same time, Intendant of the Royal Bureau of Construction.”
“Oh, your majesty,” cried Wöllner, his little gray eyes sparkling with joy, “that is more than I deserve, almost more than I can accept. I do not consider myself worthy of such high distinction; and this favor far exceeds my merit. And yet, notwithstanding the high honor my king has conferred upon me, I still dare prefer a request; one, however, which does not spring from any bold desire of my own, but one which the command of the Invisible compels me to utter. I am not actuated by earthly motives, but I must obey the behests of the spirits.”
“What is this request, my dear privy councillor of the finances?” asked the king, with a smile. “I give you my royal word that your first request shall be granted.”
“Your majesty, my request is only this: Give me your favor, your confidence, and your esteem, as long as I live.”
“This I promise you, but as a matter of course I should have been compelled to do so, although you had not asked me. This, therefore, we cannot consider a compliance with your request. Speak, Wöllner, and prefer your other request.”
“Well, then, your majesty, I beg to be permitted to arrange King Frederick’s papers, and prepare this literary legacy for the press.”
“I commission you not only to do so,” said the king, “but, in order to remove all impediments and facilitate your labors, I make you a present of these papers, to have and to hold as your own property. You may print or suppress portions of them, as seems best to you. I make this one condition, however, that you do not destroy the king’s writings, manuscripts, and papers, after you have examined and had then printed as your insight and judgment shall direct; but that you deposit them in the royal archives, set apart for the preservation of such documents.”
“Your commands shall be obeyed in every particular,” said Wöllner, respectfully, “and that no doubts may arise on this subject, I beg this favor of your majesty, that you make out a written order to the effect that all the papers of the deceased king (whom I unhappily cannot call the blessed, because he lived in unbelief and darkness) be transferred to me by the two privy cabinet councillors of the late king; they taking a receipt for the exact number of sheets counted out to me, and my written obligation to return each and every one of them. And I will certainly make haste to accomplish my task, for the Invisible has commanded me to complete the great work with which I have been intrusted without delay.”
“And are you permitted to acquaint me with the object of this great work, my friend?” asked the king.
“Yes your majesty, I am not only permitted, but am commanded to do so! I am to impart to you the reasons why I solicit the papers of the deceased king, and why I desire to have them printed. The object is, that the eyes of your majesty’s subjects may be opened, and they be brought to the knowledge that he, whom freethinkers and unbelievers called a shining light, was a mocker at all religion, and an atheist who scoffed at all that was holy, and did homage to himself, the idol of renown and heathenish poetry, only. The Invisible has commanded me to unveil the scoffing mind of the unbelieving king, and make manifest to the world that such a one may never hope to enter heaven and participate in bliss. Listen, my dear king and master,” continued Wöllner, in an elevated voice, as the roll of drums announced the approach of a body of troops; “listen to those drums proclaiming the dawn of a new day! Hail the day which gives to millions of misguided men a leader and a guide, destined to lead them back to the right path; and to rear aloft the holy cross which his predecessor trod under foot! Hail to your people, Frederick William, for you have come to rebuild the Church of God! Hail to thee, thou favorite of the Invisible! hail, Frederick William!”
And with a cry of enthusiasm, Bischofswerder repeated the words, “Hail to thee, thou favorite of the Invisible! hail, Frederick William!”
The king had listened to Wöllner with downcast eyes, and the joyful acclamations of his two friends seemed only to have given him disquiet and anxiety.
“I am an unworthy sinner,” murmured the king, in a penitent voice, “and if you do not take pity on me and intercede for me with the Invisible, I am a lost man. I implore you both to sustain me with a helping hand, that I may not fall to the ground.”
“The Invisible has commanded us to stay at your side and devote our lives to your welfare,” said Wöllner, solemnly.
“And even if he had not,” cried Bischofswerder, feelingly, “my own heart would have prompted me to do so, for I am my king’s alone, and am ready to shed my blood for him. Tell us, therefore, what we are to do, and what is required to restore peace to your soul.”
“Say, to my heart, my faithful friend,” cried the king, “for it is my heart that needs peace. I love, love with glowing passion. And yet I have sworn in the holy lodge of the Invisible to dedicate my life to virtue. Oh, tell me, tell me, my friends, how can I keep my vow without giving my heart the death-blow! Do not let me sink in despair, but take pity on me. I feel sick and miserable; the torment of love and the conflict with duty rob me of all strength and courage. Oh, help me, help me! You, my friend Bischofswerder, let me drink once more of the elixir of life, which the great magician, Cagliostro, intrusted you with; give me once more life, health, and happiness!”
“Your majesty knows,” replied Bischofswerder, “that I gave you the last drop of the precious elixir, given me by the great magician, to infuse new life and health into my veins, when the hour of death should draw near. I joyfully delivered myself over to death in order that my king might have new life; and I now learn, with the greatest sorrow, that it was notsufficient to accomplish its object. But what I would never do for myself, I will now do for my king. I will entreat the Invisible to impart to me the secret of the preparation of this elixir of life; I will address my thoughts to this magician with all the strength of my soul, and conjure him to appear and instruct me how to concoct the elixir of life for my king and master.”
“Ah,” sighed the king, sadly, “if it is necessary that the magician should appear here, personally, in order to impart to you this wonderful secret, my wish will probably never be gratified, for Cagliostro is at present, as my ambassador yesterday informed me, in London; and the believers are pouring into that city, from all parts of Europe, to see the sublime martyr, who languished in a French prison, on account of the unhappy necklace affair, until his innocence was proved, when he was restored to liberty, on condition that he should leave France at once and never recross its boundaries. Cagliostro then went to London, where he is now receiving the homage of his admirers; and there he expects to remain, as he informed our ambassador. How can your prayers and entreaties have sufficient power to call the magician here from so great a distance? His sublime spirit is united with the body, and is subject to finite laws.”
“No, my king,” replied Bischofswerder, quietly, “the sublime magician, Cagliostro is uncontrolled by these laws. The miraculous power of his spirit governs the body, and it must obey his behests. I read in your soul that you are in doubt, my king, and that you do not believe in the dominion of the spirit. But your majesty must learn to do so, for in this belief only are safety and eternal health to be found for you and for us all. I will invoke the Invisible in the coming night; and, if my prayer be heard, the magician of the North will appear in our midst this very night, to give ear to my entreaties.”
“If this should occur,” cried the king, “I am forever converted to this belief, and nothing can hereafter make mewaver in my trust and confidence in you, my Bischofswerder!”
“It will occur,” said Bischofswerder, quietly. “I beg that your majesty will call Chrysophorus and myself to your chamber at the next midnight hour, in order that we may invoke the Invisible in your presence.”
“At the next midnight hour?” repeated the king, in confusion. Bischofswerder’s quick, piercing glance seemed to read the king’s inmost thoughts in his embarrassed manner.
“I know,” said he, after a pause, “that your majesty intended to pass this night in Charlottenburg with your children and their mother; and if your majesty commands, we will meet there at the midnight hour.”
“Do so, my friends,” said the king, hastily, “I will await you in Charlottenburg, at the appointed time, although I scarcely believe you will come; and doubt, very much, whether Bischofswerder’s incantations will have power to call the great magician to my assistance. Oh, I am greatly in need of help. If you are really my friends, and if the Invisible has anointed your eyes with the rays of knowledge, you also must know what torments my soul is undergoing!”
“And we do know,” said Bischofswerder. “It has been announced to us.”
“And we do know,” repeated Wöllner, “the Invisible has commanded me to implore his dearest son, King Frederick William, not to burden his conscience with new sin, but to renounce the passion which is burning in his heart.”
“I cannot, no, I cannot!” exclaimed Frederick William; and with a cry of anguish he buried his face in his hands.
His two confidants exchanged a rapid glance; and Bischofswerder, as if answering an unspoken but well-understood question of Wöllner’s, shook his head dissentingly. He then stooped down to the lamenting, moaning king.
“Your majesty,” whispered he, “to-night we will also ask the Invisible if he will not have indulgence with the king’slove; and permit the beautiful Fräulein von Voss to become the wife of the man she loves?”
“Oh, if this could be brought about!” cried the king, throwing his arms around his friend’s neck, “I could be the happiest of mortals, and would gladly resign to you my whole kingdom to dispose of it as you see fit. Give me the woman I love, and I will give you my royal authority!”
Again the two confidants exchanged rapid glances, and Wöllner bowed his head in assent.
“We will entreat the Invisible to-night,” said Bischofswerder—“and I hope that he will grant what your majesty desires.”
“But, if so, certain conditions will be exacted, and penance enjoined,” said Wöllner.
“I am ready to consent to all his demands, and to do all he enjoins, if he will only give me this heavenly woman.”
THE MAID OF HONOR.
No intelligence of the demise of the great king had as yet arrived at the palace of Schönhausen, the residence of Queen Elizabeth Christine, Frederick’s wife. It was still early in the morning, and the queen, who was in the habit of sending a special courier to Potsdam every day, to inquire after the king’s health, was now writing the customary morning letter to her husband.
She had just finished the letter, and was folding the sheet, when the door of the adjoining chamber was opened, and a tall and remarkably beautiful young lady appeared on the threshold. Her rich, light, and unpowdered hair fell in a profusion of little locks around her high-arched brow. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were of a clear, luminous blue, her delicately-curved nose gave her countenance an aristocraticexpression; and from her slightly-pouting crimson lips, when she smiled, all the little Cupids of love and youth seemed to send their arrows into the hearts of the admirers of the lovely maid of honor, Julie von Voss. Her tall and slender figure showed the delicate outline and the rich fulness which we admire in the statues of Venus, and there was, at the same time, something of the dignified, severe, and chaste Juno in her whole appearance—something unapproachable, that demanded deference, and kept her worshippers at a distance, after they had been attracted by her alluring beauty.
The queen greeted her maid of honor, who bowed profoundly, with a gentle smile. “You have come for my letter, have you not, my child? The courier is waiting?”
“No, your majesty,” replied the maid of honor, in a somewhat solemn voice. “No, it is not a question of dispatching a courier, but of receiving one who begs to be permitted to see you. The valet of your royal nephew Frederick William is in the antechamber, and desires to be admitted to your presence.”
The queen arose from her sofa with a vivacity unusual in one of her age. “The valet of my nephew?” said Elizabeth Christine, with quivering lips—“and do you know what brings him here?”
“He will impart his mission to your majesty only,” replied the maid of honor; and when the queen sank back on the sofa, and told her in faltering tones to admit the courier, she threw the door open, and summoned the valet with a proud wave of the hand. And straightway the broad, colossal figure of the royal privy chamberlain Rietz appeared on the threshold. With a smile on his thick lips, and his little gray eyes fixed intently on the pale old lady, who stared at him with an expression of breathless anxiety, the chamberlain entered, and walked across the wide room to the queen’s sofa with the greatest composure, although she had expressed no desire that he should do so.
“Your majesty,” said he, without waiting permission tospeak, “I have been sent by his majesty King Frederick William—”
The queen interrupted him with a cry of anguish. “By King Frederick William!” she repeated, in faltering tones. “He is then dead?”
“Yes,” replied Rietz, inclining his head slightly. “Yes, King Frederick died last night; and he who was heretofore Prince of Prussia is now King of Prussia. His majesty sends the widowed queen his most gracious and devoted greeting; and orders me to inform her majesty that he will arrive here during the day to pay her a visit of condolence.”
The queen paid no attention to the chamberlain’s words; of all that he had spoken, she heard but this, that her husband, that Frederick the Great, was dead, that the man she had loved with such fidelity and resignation for the last fifty years was no longer among the living.
“He is dead! Oh, my God, he is dead!” she cried, in piercing accents. “How can life continue, how can the world exist, now that Frederick is no more! What is to become of unhappy Prussia, when the great king no longer reigns; what can it be without his wisdom and strength, and his enlightened mind?”
“Your majesty forgets that the king has a glorious successor,” remarked Rietz, with cynical indifference.
A dark frown gathered on the brow of the maid of honor, Julie von Voss, when the chamberlain uttered these impertinent words; and she glanced haughtily at his broad, self-complacent countenance.
“Leave the room,” said she, waving her hand imperiously toward the door; “wait in the antechamber till you are called to receive her majesty’s reply and commands.”
The chamberlain’s countenance flushed with anger, but he quickly suppressed all outward manifestation of feeling, and assumed an humble and respectful manner.
“Your grace commands,” said he, “and I am her zealous and obedient servant, ever ready to do her bidding. Andherein I know that I am only fulfilling the desire of my royal master, who—”
“Leave the room at once!” cried the maid of honor, her cheeks flushing with anger.
“No,” said the queen, awakening from her sad reverie; “no, let good Rietz remain, dear Julie. He must tell me of the great dead. I must know how he died, and how his last hours passed.—Speak, Rietz, tell me.”
The chamberlain described the king’s last hours in so ready and adroit a manner, managing to introduce the person of the new king so cleverly into his narrative, and accompanying his remarks with such intelligent and significant looks at the maid of honor, that she blushingly avoided his glances, and pressed her lips firmly together, as if to suppress the angry and resentful words her rosy lips longed to utter.
“I left his majesty King Frederick William in the death-chamber,” said Rietz, as he finished his narrative. “But, even in the depth of his grief for his royal uncle, he thought of the living whom he loves so dearly, and commanded me to hasten to Schönhausen, to announce that he intended to gratify the longings of his heart by coming here, and that—”
“Will not your majesty dismiss the messenger?” interrupted the maid of honor in an angry voice.
“Yes, he may go,” murmured Elizabeth Christine. “Tell the king my nephew that I await him, and feel highly honored by the consideration shown me.”
“Your majesty, love and admiration draw him to Schönhausen,” observed Rietz. “I can assure you of this, for the king confides every thing to me, and often calls me his—”
“Figaro,” added the maid of honor, with a contemptuous curl of her proud lips.
“His friend,” continued Rietz, without, as it seemed, having heard this cutting word. “I have the honor to know all my master’s heart-secrets, and—”
“To be the husband of Wilhelmine Enke,” exclaimed themaid of honor, passionately. “Your majesty, will you not dismiss the messenger?”
“You may go, Rietz,” said the queen, gently. But Rietz still hesitated, and fastened his gaze upon the young lady, with a smiling expression.
“Your majesty,” said she, “I believe he is waiting for a gratuity; and we will not be rid of him until he receives it.”
Rietz broke out into loud laughter, regardless of the presence of the mourning and weeping queen. “This is comical,” he cried. “This I will relate to his majesty; it will amuse him to learn that this young lady offers his privy chamberlain and treasurer a gratuity. He will consider it quite bewitching on her part, for his majesty finds every thing she does bewitching. But I am not waiting for a gratuity, but for permission to deliver to Mademoiselle von Voss the messages which his majesty intrusted to me for her grace, and I therefore beg the young lady—”
“Go out of the room, and wait in the antechamber until I send for you!” said the maid of honor, imperiously.
“And will you soon do so?” asked Rietz, with unruffled composure. “I take the liberty to remark, that I have other commissions to execute for his majesty, and therefore I ask whether you will soon call me?”
“You have nothing to ask, but only to obey,” said the young lady, proudly.
Rietz shrugged his shoulders; bowed profoundly to the queen, who was wholly occupied with her grief, and had heard nothing of this conversation, and then left the room with a firm step.
“She is very proud, very haughty,” growled Rietz in a low voice, as he threw himself into a chair in the antechamber with such violence, that it cracked beneath him. “That she is, and it will require much trouble to tame her. But she shall be tamed nevertheless; and the day will come when I can repay her abuse with interest. Figaro she called me. I know very well what that means; my French education hasnot been thrown away. Yes, yes, Figaro! I understand! The ever-complaisant servant of Count Almaviva, and the negotiator in the affair with the beautiful Rosine. Oh, my young lady, take care! I am the Figaro, to-day, helping to capture the fair Rosine, in order to deliver her over to Count Almaviva. But I, too, have my beautiful Susanna; and some day, when Almaviva wearies of his divine Rosine, he will turn again to my Susanna; and you will then be thrown in the background. Figaro! Ah, my lovely maid of honor, I will give you cause to remember having called me this name! I will speak to my wife about this matter before the day is over!”
FIGARO.
While Rietz was sitting in the antechamber, in an angry and resentful frame of mind, the maid of honor was still at the queen’s side, endeavoring to console her with tender words and entreaties.
“After all, your majesty is but suffering an imaginary loss,” said the maid of honor finally, after she had exhausted all other grounds of consolation. “For you, all will be just as it was before, as it has been for many years; and it should be all the same to your majesty whether the king has died, or is still remaining in Sans-Souci, for you were widely separated in either case.”
“But I was always with him in thought,” lamented Elizabeth Christine. “I knew that he lived, that we breathed the same air, that the ray of sunshine which warmed me, fell also on his dear, noble head. I knew that the eyes of the country were directed toward Sans-Souci; and that the great king’s every word found an echo throughout all Europe. It did me good, and was my consolation for all other wants, that this great hero and king, who was worshipped and admired by theworld, sometimes thought of his poor wife, in his infinite goodness, and sometimes shed a ray of light on her dark and solitary life. I was permitted to be at his side on every New-Year’s-Day, and hold with him the grand court-reception. And I always looked forward to this event with rejoicing throughout the entire year, for he was ever the first to congratulate me, although in silence; and then he looked at me so kindly and mildly with his wondrous eyes, that my heart overflowed with happiness and bliss.”
“But he never spoke to your majesty, the cruel, unfeeling king!” said the maid of honor, shrugging her shoulders.
“Do not abuse him,” said the queen, warmly. “He was not cruel, not unfeeling. For if he had been so, he would have sundered the tie which bound him to the unloved woman who had been forced upon him when he became king. But he was mild and gentle; he tolerated me, and I was permitted to love him and call myself his, although he was never mine. Instead of banishing me, as he might have done, he endured me, and accorded me the royal honors due his wife. True, I have not often seen him, and have very rarely spoken to him; but yet I heard and knew of him, and he never permitted my birthday to pass without writing me a letter of congratulation. Once, however—once he went so far in his goodness as to hold the New-Year’s reception here in Schönhausen, because an accident which happened to my foot prevented my coming to Berlin. Oh, I shall never forget that day, for it was the only time the king visited me here; and since then it seems to me that the sun has never set, but still gilds the apartments through which Frederick had wandered. On that day,” continued the queen, with a sad smile, absorbed in her recollections of the past, “on that day, something occurred which astonished the court, and was talked of in all Berlin. The king, who, on similar occasions in the city, had only looked at and saluted me from a distance, walked up to my side, extended his hand, and inquired after my health in the most kind and feeling manner. I wasso confused and bewildered by this unexpected happiness, that I almost fainted. My heart beat wildly, and I found no strength to utter a single word in reply, that is, if my tears were not an answer.[24]But since that day the king has never spoken to me. The words, however, which he then uttered have always resounded in my ear like sweet music, and will lull me to sleep in the hour of death.”
“Oh,” exclaimed the maid of honor, in astonishment and indignation, “how can it be possible to love in such a manner?”
The queen, who had entirely forgotten that she was not speaking to herself, and that another listened to her plaintive wail, raised her head quickly, her blue eyes sparkling as if she had been but seventeen instead of seventy years old.
“How could it be possible not to love in such a manner, when one loved Frederick the Great?” said she, proudly. “I had made this love my life, my religion, my hope of immortality. I gave to this love my whole soul, my every thought and feeling; and it gave me, in return, joyful resignation and the strength to endure. Without this, my great, my beautiful love, I would have perished in the solitude and desolation of my being; but from it my life derived its support, its enthusiasm, and its perpetual youth. Years have whitened my hair and wrinkled my countenance, but in the poor, miserable body, in the breast of this old woman, throbs the heart of a young girl; and it bears me on with its youthful love, through and beyond all time and trouble, to those heights where I will once more behold him, and where he will, perhaps, requite the love he here despised. Love never grows old; when the heart is filled with it, years vanish like fleeting dreams, and it encircles mortality with the halo of undying youth! Therefore it must not surprise you, Julie, that the old woman you see before you can speak of her love. It was the love of my youth, and still makes me young. And now go, my child, and leave me alone with my recollections, and the great dead! I have much to say to him that God onlymay hear! Go, my child, and if, at some future day, you should love and suffer, think of this hour!”
She greeted the young lady with a gentle wave of the hand, and as the maid of honor left the room she saw the queen fall on her knees.
Slowly, and with her head bowed down, Julie von Voss walked through the adjoining rooms to her own apartments. “I will never love like this, and consequently never suffer like this,” said she to herself. “I cannot comprehend how one can lose and forget one’s self so completely in another, particularly when this other person does not love as ardently—as ardently as I am loved by—”
She stopped and blushed, and a slight tremor ran through her being. “I should like to know whether he loves me as passionately as this woman has loved her husband, whether—But,” exclaimed she, interrupting her train of thought, “I had entirely forgotten that his valet is waiting to deliver a message.”
Immediately on entering her parlor, she rang the bell, and ordered her chambermaid to show the valet, Rietz, who was waiting in the queen’s antechamber, up to her apartments at once. She then walked slowly to and fro; she sighed profoundly, and her lips whispered in low tones, “I do not love him! No, I do not love him; and yet I will no longer be able to resist him, for they are all against me; even my own relatives are ready to sacrifice me. That they may become great, I am to be trodden in the dust; and that they may live in honor, I am to live in shame! But I will not!” she cried, in a loud voice; and she stood proudly erect, and held up her beautiful head. “No, I will not live in shame; every respectable woman shall not have the right to point the finger of scorn at me, and place me in the same category with the brazen-faced wife of the abominable Rietz! They shall not have the right to call Julie von Voss the king’s mistress! No, they shall not, and—”
“The king’s privy chamberlain,” announced the maid, and behind her Rietz walked into the parlor.
“Poor Figaro has been compelled to wait a long time, my lady,” said he, with a mocking smile. “You have treated Figaro’s master, who longs for an answer, very cruelly.”
“I did not ask your opinion of my conduct,” said the maid of honor, haughtily. “You are the king’s messenger; speak, therefore, and execute his majesty’s commands.”
“Ah, this is not a question of commands, but of entreaties only—the king’s entreaties. His majesty begs that he may be permitted to see you after he has paid his visit of condolence to the widowed queen.”
“Etiquette requires that I shall be present when her majesty, the widowed queen, receives his visit. And if his majesty desires to speak with me, I beg that he will graciously avail himself of that opportunity.”
“Ah, but that will not answer,” said Rietz, with a smile. “When his majesty expresses a desire to visit my lady here in her own apartments, he probably has something to say, not intended for the ears of other ladies. Perhaps his majesty wishes to speak with my lady about the widowed queen and her condition, and to ask your advice as to the proper arrangement of her household. I believe the king intends to place it on a far better footing, for he spoke a few days since with real indignation of the paltry salary received by Queen Elizabeth Christine’s maids of honor—hardly sufficient to give them a decent support. The king will consider himself in duty bound to raise the salaries of these ladies; and you would certainly confer a great pleasure on his majesty by making known to him the amount you desire, and command for yourself. And you must not hesitate to mention a very considerable sum, for his majesty is generous, and will be happy to fulfil your wishes. It would, perhaps, be well for my lady to give me some hints in advance, in order that I may prepare his majesty. I shall be inexpressibly happy if my lady will permit me to be her most devoted servant, and it might also be of great advantage to her, for all Berlin and Potsdam—yes, all Prussia, knows that I am the king’s factotum.”
“Did his majesty commission you to utter all these impertinences?” asked Julie, coldly.
“How so,—impertinences?” asked Rietz, bewildered by the proud and inconsiderate manner of the lady, who regarded him, the almighty factotum, so contemptuously. “I have not, I certainly did not—”
“Silence! I listened to you out of respect for the king. And now, out of respect for myself, I command you to leave the room immediately. I will ask his majesty if he authorized his valet to tell me any thing else than that the king intended to honor me with a visit. Go!”
She proudly turned her back on the chamberlain, and walked through the room. She felt that she was suddenly held back. It was Rietz, who had caught hold of her dress, and he now sank on his knees, and looked up to her imploringly.
“Forgiveness, my lady, forgiveness! I have surely expressed myself badly, for otherwise my lady could not desire to leave the most devoted of her servants in anger. I only intended to say, that—”
“That you are the wedded husband of Wilhelmine Enke,” cried the young lady with a mocking peal of laughter; and she withdrew her garment as violently as if a venomous serpent had touched it. She then left the room, still laughing, and without even once looking at the kneeling chamberlain.
Rietz arose from his knees; and his countenance, before all smiles, now assumed a dark and malignant expression. He shook his fist threateningly toward the door through which she had left the room, and his lips muttered imprecations. And now he smiled grimly. “Yes,” said he, “I am Wilhelmine Enke’s husband, and that will be your ruin at some future day! Threaten and mock me as you please; you are, nevertheless, nothing better than the bird that flies into the net to eat the alluring red berries placed there to entice it to inevitable destruction. The net is set, the red berries are scattered around; and you will not resist the temptation, mycharming bird; you will be caught, and will perish!” And, laughing maliciously, he turned and left the room.
The maid of honor, Julie von Voss, had not heard his malignant words, and yet her heart was filled with anxiety and tormenting disquiet; and when the door opened, and her brother, the royal chamberlain, Charles von Voss, entered, she cried out in terror, and sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands.
“But, Julie,” said her brother, angrily, “what does this childishness mean—what is the matter? Why does my presence terrify you?”
“I do not know,” said she, “but when you appeared in the doorway, just now, it seemed to me that I saw the tempter coming to allure me to sin and shame!”
“Very flattering, indeed,” observed her brother, “but there may be something in it. Only you forget to add that the tempter intends to offer you a world. What did Satan say to Christ when he had led Him up a mountain and showed Him the world at His feet? ‘This will I give Thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me.’ Julie, I also come to offer you a part of the world; to lay a kingdom, a crown, and a king at your feet.”
“Have you seen the king? Has he spoken with you?” asked Julie, breathlessly.
“He sends me in advance, aspostillon d’amour, and will soon be here himself.”
“I will not see him,” cried the maid of honor, stretching out both hands as if to ward off his approach. “No, never! He shall not visit me; I will lock my door, and not open it until he has gone, until he ceases to pursue and torment me!”
“My dear,” said he, quietly, “I have come to speak with you seriously. You must now come to some decision; or rather, you must decide to do that which your family, which reason, policy, ambition, and pride counsel. You have bound the king in your toils with admirable ingenuity, and I congratulate you. No lion-tamer can tame the king of thedesert more skilfully, and with greater success, than you have tamed your royal lion, who follows your footsteps like a lamb. This taming has been going on for three years, and your cruelty has only had the effect of making him more tender and affectionate. But there are limits to every thing, my discreet sister; and if the rope is drawn too tightly, it breaks.”
“If it would only do so!” cried Julie, despairingly. “That is exactly my desire, my object. Oh, my brother, you and all my cruel relatives deceive yourselves about me; and what you consider the finesse of coquetry, is only the true and open expression of my feelings! For three years the king has pursued me with his love, and for three years I have met his advances with coldness and indifference. In every manner, by word, look, and gesture, have I given him to understand that his love was annoying, and his attentions offensive. Oh, that I could fly from this unendurable, fearful love, to the uttermost ends of the world! But I cannot go, for I am poor, and have not the means to live elsewhere, and free myself from the terrible fetters in which you are all endeavoring to bind me!”
“And besides, my dear sister, acknowledge that your own heart persuades you to remain. You love the king?”
“No,” she cried, passionately, “no, I do not love him, although I must admit that I have seen no man I liked better. But I do not love him; my heart beats no quicker when he approaches, my soul does not long for him when he is at a distance; and at times, when the king is at my side, a terrible feeling of anxiety creeps over me, and I wish to flee, and cry out to the whole world—‘Rescue me, rescue me from the king!’ No, I do not love the king; and if I meet his advances coldly, it is not from policy, but because my heart prompts me to do so. Therefore, renounce all thought of winning me over to your plans. I will not become the associate of Wilhelmine Enke!”
“And truly you shall not,” said her brother, earnestly. “On the contrary, my beautiful and discreet sister, you shalldisplace this unworthy person; you shall become the benefactress of Prussia, and, through you, virtue and morality shall once more stand in good repute at the court of our young and amiable king.”