The eyes of the beautiful maid of honor sparkled, and a soft color suffused itself over her cheeks. “If that were possible,” she cried, in joyous tones—“yes, if I could succeed in delivering the king from this unworthy bondage, if I could make this hateful person harmless, this indeed were an object for which much could be endured.”
“You hate her, then, this Wilhelmine Rietz?”
“And who should not hate her?” asked Julie, passionately. “She is the disgrace of her sex; she heaps dishonor on the head of our noble and genial king; she has caused his wife so many tears, and—”
“And you, too, is it not so?” asked her brother, smiling. “My beautiful Julie, you have betrayed yourself, you are jealous. But one is jealous only when one loves. Do not longer deny it—you love the king.”
“No, no, I do not, I will not love him,” she cried, “for shame would kill me. Oh, my brother, I conjure you, do not demand of me that I deliver myself over to shame! Take pity on me, do not force me to abandon my quiet and peaceful life. I will be contented to remain here in this solitude at the side of the unhappy queen, to pass my days inennuiand loneliness. I am not ambitious, and do not crave splendor; permit me therefore to live in seclusion.”
“No, my dear sister, we cannot permit you to do so,” said the chamberlain, shrugging his shoulders. “If it concerned you alone, you could dispose of yourself as you thought fit. But behind you stands your family—your family, which has been brought down in the world by all sorts of misfortunes, and is far from occupying the position to which it is entitled, and to which I, above all things, wish to see it restored, for I acknowledge that I am ambitious, my dear sister, and I desire to achieve eminence. I am now on the highway to success,and I do not intend that you shall arrest, but rather that you shall promote, my progress. If you reject the king’s addresses, of course the whole family will fall into disfavor, and that would not be agreeable, either to myself or to my dear uncle, the master of ceremonies of the widowed queen. He wishes to become the king’s master of ceremonies, and I wish to become a cabinet minister. Apart from this, the family coffers are sadly in need of replenishment. Our ancestral castle is in a crumbling condition, the forests have been cut down, the land is badly cultivated, and the farmhouses and stables must be rebuilt, for they are only miserable ruins, in which the half-starved cattle find no protection from the weather; and it is your mission to restore the old family Von Voss to its former splendor.”
“By my dishonor, by my criminality!” sighed Julia von Voss. “Oh, my mother, my dear mother, why did you leave me, and fly to heaven from all this degradation! If you were here, you would protect me, and not suffer me to be so cruelly tempted.”
“You remind me of our dear mother at the right time, Julie. Do you remember what she told you on her deathbed?”
“Yes, my brother, I do,” she replied, in a low voice. “She said: ‘You will not be an orphan, for you have your brother to take care of and protect you. I transfer all my rights to him; for the future, he will be the head of the family, and you must love, honor, and obey him as such.’”
“‘I transfer all my rights to him; for the future, he will be the head of the family, and you must love, honor, and obey him as such,’” repeated her brother, in an elevated voice. “Do not forget this, my sister. I, as the head of the family, demand of you that you become the benefactress of your family, of your queen, and of your whole country. A grand and holy task devolves upon you. You are to liberate the land, the queen, and the king himself, from the domination of sin and indecorum. In a word, you are to displace this Rietz and her abominable husband, and inaugurate thereign of virtue and morality in this court. Truly, this is a noble mission, and one well worthy of my beautiful sister.”
“It will not succeed,” said the maid of honor. “The king will never consent to banish this hateful Rietz.”
“The greater would be the honor, if you succeeded in liberating the king from this scandalous woman, the queen from this serpent, and the country from these vampires. Ah, the whole royal family, yes, all Prussia, would bless you, if you could overthrow this Rietz and her self-styled husband!”
“Yes,” said Julie, in a low voice, “it would be a sublime consummation; but I should have to purchase it with my own degradation. And that I will not—cannot do. Brother, my dear brother, be merciful, and do not demand of me what is impossible and horrible. The daughter of my mother can never become a king’s mistress!”
“And who said that you should? Truly, I would be the last to require that of you. No, not the mistress, but the wife of the king. You shall become his wedded wife; and your rightful marriage shall be blessed by a minister of the Reformed Church!”
“But that is impossible!” exclaimed the maid of honor, whose eyes sparkled with joy, against her will, “that cannot be. The queen lives, and she is the king’s wedded wife.”
“Yes, the wedded wife of the right hand,” said her brother, quietly; “but the king, like every other mortal, has two hands; and he has a privilege which other mortals have not—the privilege of wedding a wife on the left hand.”
“Impossible, quite impossible, as long as the wife of the right hand lives!” exclaimed Julie.
“Of that, the consistory of church matters is alone competent to decide,” replied her brother, with composure; “or rather, I expressed myself badly, the consistory has only a deliberative voice; and the decision rests with the king alone, who, in our country, represents the church, and is its head—the evangelical pope. It is his province to say whether such a marriage of the left hand is possible, notwithstanding amarriage of the right hand. Demand it of him; make it a condition. Remember the words which the beautiful Gabrielle said to Henry the Fourth, when he inspected her dwelling, and asked the lady he adored, ‘Which is the way to your chamber?’ ‘Sire,’ she replied, ‘the way to my chamber goes through the church.’ Remember this when you speak to the king.”
“Be assured, I will remember it,” cried Julie, with glowing cheeks, and a proud, joyous smile. “I will make my conditions; and only when the king fulfils them will I be his, and—”
“And, why do you pause, and why is your face crimsoned with blushes all at once? Ah! you hear an equipage rolling up the avenue, and your tender heart says the king, your future husband, is approaching. Yes, my beautiful sister,” continued her brother, as he stepped to the window and looked out; “yes, it is the king. Now prepare yourself, my wise and discreet Julie; prepare to give your royal lover a worthy reception. For, of course, you will receive him? And I may tell—I may tell his majesty that you welcome his visit joyfully?”
“No, oh no,” murmured the maid of honor, with trembling lips. “I am not prepared; I am not composed; I cannot receive the king now!”
“No childishness,” said her brother, severely. “You will have sufficient time to compose yourself. The king must first pay his respects to the widowed queen, and the visit of condolence will last at least a quarter of an hour. I must now leave you; but remember that the fortunes of your family, and of the whole country, are in your hands, and act accordingly!”
He left the room hastily, without awaiting a reply, and went down to the grand audience-chamber, where the courtiers and cavaliers were assembled. The king had already retired with the widowed queen to her library.
On entering the chamber, he immediately walked up to hisintimate acquaintance, Bischofswerder, the newly-created colonel, who had accompanied the king to Schönhausen.
“It will succeed,” said he, in a low voice, “our great ends will be attained; we will conquer our enemies, and secure dominion for ourselves and the invisible fathers. My sister loves the king, but she has been virtuously reared, and would rather renounce the king and her love, than sacrifice her moral principles.”
“She is, therefore, the more worthy of the high mission to which she has been called by the will of the Invisible,” said Bischofswerder, emphatically. “She shall rescue our loved master and king from the arms of sin, and lead him back to the path of virtue with the hand of love, sanctified and consecrated by these noble ends.”
“But she demands another consecration. The consecration of a lawful marriage. If this can be procured, my sister will always be our obedient and devoted friend, and, through her instrumentality, we—that is, the Invisible—will establish our rule.”
“Her desire is certainly a bold one,” said Bischofswerder. “But we must endeavor to fulfil it. We will speak with our wise friend Wöllner on this subject; and will also lay the noble young lady’s request at the feet of the sublime grand-kophta, and master of the invisible lodge.”
“Is he here, the great grand-kophta?” asked Charles von Voss, eagerly. “Then what the circle-director announced yesterday in the assembly was really true, and the grand-kophta is in our midst.”
“He was with us in that assembly, we were all enveloped in the atmosphere of his glory, but it is only given to the initiated of the first rank, to know when the Invisible is near. Oh, my friend, I pitied you yesterday, while in the assembly; lamented that you should still stand in the antechamber of the temple, and not yet have been permitted to enter the inner sanctuary.”
“But what must I do before I am permitted to enter?”asked Charles von Voss, in imploring tones. “Oh, tell me, my dear, my enviable, my illustrious friend, what must I do to advance myself and become a participant of the inestimable privilege of being permitted to enter the inner sanctuary, and belong to the band of the initiated?”
“You must belong to the band of the believing, the hopeful, and the obedient. You must prove to the Invisible, by unconditional submission, that you are an obedient instrument; and then you will be called!”
“And by what token will I know that such is the case?”
“You will receive a visible sign of the satisfaction of the Invisible. When you and we succeed, with his assistance, in establishing the dominion of the Invisible so firmly that he will rule Prussia; when Rietz and her whole faction of the unbelieving are made harmless and destroyed; when, through your sister’s instrumentality, virtue and propriety once more regulate and sanctify the king’s private life—then, my friend, the Invisible will give you a visible token of his satisfaction, and will make the Chamberlain von Voss, the Minister of State von Voss.”
“Oh, my dear, my mighty friend!” cried the chamberlain joyfully; “I will do all that the superiors desire. I will have no will of my own. I will be an instrument in their hands in order that I may finally—”
“The king!” cried the chamberlain of the day, as he threw open the folding doors of the antechamber. “The king!”
And amid the profound silence of his courtiers, who bowed their proud heads respectfully, King Frederick William entered the audience chamber, on his return from the visit of condolence paid to the mourning widow of Frederick. He cast a quick glance around the chamber, and, observing the Chamberlain von Voss, beckoned him to approach.
In obedience to the king’s command, the chamberlain walked forward. “Well,” said the king in a low voice, “what does your sister say?”
“Your majesty, she said but little to me, but she will have a great deal to say to your majesty.”
“She is then ready to receive me?” said the king, his countenance radiant with joy.
“Your majesty, my sister is awaiting you, and I will conduct you to her, if your majesty will graciously follow.”
“Come,” replied the king, and, without honoring his courtiers with a glance, the king followed the Chamberlain von Voss out of the audience-chamber.
THE ALLIANCE.
Wilhelmine Rietz had passed the whole day in a state of great excitement. King Frederick was dead! Public rumor had communicated this intelligence; it had flown on the wings of the wind from Sans-Souci to Potsdam, from Potsdam to Charlottenburg and Berlin, and thence to all the towns and villages of the Prussian monarchy.
King Frederick the Great was dead! This report was uttered in wailing accents all over the country; and filled the eyes of millions of faithful subjects and admirers of Frederick with tears. This report also conveyed the tidings to the beloved of the prince royal, that she was now the beloved of a king.
But Wilhelmine would have much preferred to hear it from himself; to receive a visible proof that her image still filled the king’s heart, and that the clouds of incense rising around the new monarchy had not dimmed the recollections of the past.
Long hours of anxious expectation passed, and when the clock struck the hour of noon and no messenger had arrived, she was seized with unutterable fear. At last at about two o’clock, her son Alexander arrived at Charlottenburg, with his tutor Mr. Von Chapuis, “at the king’s command,” as thetutor announced. Nor could he give her any further information, for he had not seen the king himself but had received this command from the mouth of the valet, Rietz.
“That is a bad sign, a very bad sign!” murmured Wilhelmine to herself when she was again alone. “He sends my son to a distance, in order to give no offence to his new court at Potsdam. He does not love me; if he did, he would have the courage to defy the prejudices of the world. Ah! he loves me no longer, and henceforth I will be nothing more than the despised, discarded mistress, to be greeted with derisive laughter by every passer-by, and to have cause for congratulation if she can hide her shame in some obscure corner of the earth, where she might escape the scornful looks and stinging words of mankind. But this shall never be; no, I will not be discarded—will not be trodden in the dust. And now, Wilhelmine,” she continued, with sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks, “now prove that you are no weak, no ordinary creature; prove that you possess wisdom, courage and energy. Fight for your existence, for your future, for your love! For I do love him, and I cannot live without him. And I will not live without him!” she cried loudly and emphatically. “He is the father of my children; he is my hope and my future. Without him I am a despised creature; with him I am a lady of distinction, who is flattered and courted in the most devoted manner; and only abused and ridiculed behind her back. But continue to abuse and ridicule me, my triumph will be all the greater, when you must nevertheless bend the knee and do homage to the hated person. I have borne and endured a great deal for the poor prince-royal Frederick William, and now I demand compensation and reward at the hands of the rich King Frederick William. No, I will not be put aside! As long as I live, I will fight for my existence, and fight with the weapons of strategy and force, of intrigue and flattery. Ah, I rejoice in the prospect. Yes, I really rejoice in it! At all events, it will lend an additional charm to life, and be a change and a diversion!”
“The privy-chamberlain and treasurer of the king!” announced the servant, entering the room.
“Who is that?” asked Wilhelmine in astonishment. “I know no such gentleman.”
“I am the gentleman, my dear wife, my adored Wilhelmine,” said Rietz, laughing loudly, as he followed the servant into the room. “In me, my dear wife, you see the privy-chamberlain and treasurer, fresh as a newly-baked loaf from the oven of royal favor.”
“Leave the room, Jean,” said Wilhelmine, who, impelled perhaps by curiosity, gave himself the appearance of being busily occupied in arranging the room.
“No, my dear wife,” said Rietz, beckoning to the servant, “have the goodness to permit Jean to remain a moment until I have given him my orders.—Jean, I am hungry, and feel an irresistible inclination to eat. Bring me something enjoyable, right away—for instance, a goose-liver pie, or a pheasant, or both. You can also bring some caviar and a piece of venison. And then have a bottle of champagne brought up and placed on ice; it is abominably warm to-day, and I need something cooling. Be quick, Jean.”
The servant made no reply, but looked inquiringly at his mistress. Rietz caught this look, and laughed loudly. “I really believe this simpleton entertains the daring idea of not obeying me, his master!”
“Excuse me, sir,” murmured the servant, timidly, “but my services were engaged by this lady.”
“Yes, certainly; but you well know, you rascal, that I am the master, and that this lady is my wife, and—”
“Enough,” interrupted Wilhelmine, gravely. “Set the table in the dining-room, Jean, and be quick!”
“Well spoken, Wilhelmine; let me kiss you for it, my treasure!” cried Rietz, walking with extended arms toward his wife, while the servant was opening the door. But the door had scarcely closed when he let his arms fall, and recoiled timidly from Wilhelmine, who stood before him with flashing eyes.
“Sir,” said she, her voice trembling with anger; “sir, I forbid you to take such liberties, and use such familiar language in the presence of my servant.”
“But, madame,” replied Rietz, smiling, “it is only in the presence of your servant that I can use such language; and it seems to me that it suits my rôle very well. I have the honor to figure before the world as your husband, consequently I should play my rôle respectably before men, and prove that we are a happy and contented pair. The wickedness and malice of mankind are great; and if men should observe that I spoke to you with less tenderness, your enemies would certainly spread the report, that we were living together unhappily.”
“I must inform you, sir, that I have no desire whatever to jest,” cried Wilhelmine, impatiently. “Have the goodness to be serious. Now, that we are alone, I beg that you will not attempt to keep up the absurd farce of our so-called marriage.”
“And bad enough it is for me that it is only a farce,” sighed Rietz, impressively. “I would—”
The angry look which Wilhelmine bestowed upon him, repressed his words, and he quickly assumed a melancholy, submissive manner. “I am silent, madame, I am silent,” said he, bowing profoundly, and with an air of deep pathos. “I am your most submissive servant, nothing else; and, having now paid my homage to the sun, I will retire, as its splendor has dazzled my eyes.”
He crossed his arms before his breast, bowed to the earth before his mistress, as the slaves do in the east, and then arose and walked rapidly toward the door.
“Where are you going, sir?” asked Wilhelmine. “Why do you not remain here?”
“I cannot, mistress,” said he, humbly. “The Moor has done his duty! The Moor can go! So it reads at least in Frederick Schiller’s new piece, the one given at the theatre a short time ago.”
“But you have not yet done your duty,” said Wilhelmine,smiling involuntarily. “You have not yet delivered your message.”
“What message?” asked Rietz, with a pretence of astonishment.
“His majesty’s message. For he it was, undoubtedly, who sent you here.”
“You are right,” said Rietz, with an air of indifference. “Yes, that is true. I had forgotten it. Good heavens! I have received so many commissions to-day, and been sent to so many ladies, that I forget the one in the other. I am now playing a very important rôle. I am the Figaro of my master Almaviva—the Figaro who has to help his master in carrying off his beautiful cousin. You know the piece, of course, the delightfully good-for-nothing piece, that created such a furor in France, and consequently here with us also?”
“Yes, I do, Rietz; and I beg you not to stretch me on the rack with your drollery! What did the king say? What messages did he entrust to you?”
“Oh, madame! You cannot require of me that I should betray Count Almaviva’s confidence, and impart to you the messages entrusted to me?” cried Figaro Rietz, with noble indignation. “I have only to impart that which concerns my beautiful Susanna; and that is, his majesty is coming here this evening, and his rooms are to be held in readiness. He will first take tea, and then adjourn to the little laboratory to do some little cooking and brewing.”
Wilhelmine’s countenance, before bright and animated, darkened as the privy-chamberlain uttered these last words.
“The king intends to work in the laboratory? Then he is not coming alone?”
“He is coming alone, but I expect his assistants and teachers, the two great heroes of the invisible lodge, will follow at a later hour, in order to make a little ‘hocus pocus’ for his majesty—that is, I expressed myself badly—I wished to say, in order to work with his majesty in the secret sciences.Yes, the two great luminaries are coming, and if I could be permitted to give you my advice—but no, so wise and enlightened a lady as yourself can have no need of the advice of so foolish and ridiculous a fellow as I am. I am therefore silent, and will now retire, in order to strengthen my body at least, as my mind is of so hopelessly weak a constitution, that all endeavors in that direction would be thrown away. My gracious queen, I beg that you will now kindly dismiss me!” He made a ceremonious bow, and then retired towards the door, walking backwards.
“Rietz, remain!” commanded Wilhelmine, imperiously.
“Impossible, my queen. My message is delivered; and the Moor not only can, but will go.”
“Remain, Rietz; I beg you to do so,” said Wilhelmine, advancing a step nearer.
“When the stomach commands,” said Rietz, shrugging his shoulders, “the entreaties of the most beautiful of women are of no avail.”
“Well, then go and eat,” cried Wilhelmine, impatiently. “And when you have done eating, come back to my room!”
“Nor can I do that, my queen. I must then ride to Potsdam, where, by the king’s command, I am to hold a secret and important conference with her majesty, the queen, that is, with her majesty of the right hand. I must, therefore, hoist anchor and sail again as soon as I have eaten, and—”
“Well then,” said Wilhelmine, with determination, “I will accompany you to the dining-room, and we will converse while you are eating.”
“Bravo! bravo! That was what I desired!” cried Rietz, laughing. “The servants shall see in how heavenly an understanding we live together; and how careful my wife is not to lose her husband’s society for a moment. Give me your arm, madam, and lead me to the dining-room.”
With a forced smile she took his arm, and permitted him to conduct her through the parlor to the dining-room. Jean had served up all manner of delicacies on a little table, andwas now occupied, at the sideboard, in breaking ice for the champagne.
“Put a bottle of Rhine wine on the ice, too, Jean,” cried Rietz, imperiously, as he seated himself comfortably in the chair, leaving his “wife” to find one for herself and bring it up to the table, at which he had already made an assault on a truffle-pie. “Magnificent!” said he, after eating a few morsels, “I must tell you, my dearest Wilhelmine, there is nothing better than a truffle-pie!”
Wilhelmine turned impatiently to the servant, who was turning the wine in the freezer: “You can now go, Jean, the gentleman will wait on himself.”
“And my champagne!” exclaimed Rietz. But, with an imperious gesture, Wilhelmine dismissed the servant.
“Now we are alone,” said Wilhelmine. “Now you can speak. You wished to give me your advice.”
“Madam,” rejoined Rietz, as he carried a savory morsel to his mouth; “madam, at this moment I can advise you to do but one thing, and that is, to try this truffle-pie, it is truly magnificent!”
“You are cruel,” cried Wilhelmine, “you torture me!”
“Say rather, madam, that you are cruel,” said Rietz, rising from the table to go after the champagne. “It is truly cruel to compel a man to arise, in the midst of the delights of the table, and wait on himself! Champagne loses its flavor when one has to pour it out himself!”
“I will wait on you, sir!” cried Wilhelmine, rising with vivacity, and taking the bottle in her hands.
Rietz nodded complacently. “That is right. That is piquant, and will season my repast. The almighty queen of the left hand waits on her submissive husband of the left hand. The mistress becomes the slave, the slave the master! This is a charming riddle, is it not? But I tell you, madame, it is not the last riddle we will propound! Oh, very many riddles will now be propounded; and some people would be very happy if they could find the right solution.”
“You wished to give me good advice concerning the two favorites,” said Wilhelmine, with a smile, that cost her proud heart much humiliation. “Speak, therefore, my dear Rietz! Give me your advice!”
Rietz held his glass up to the light, and gazed smilingly at the rising bubbles. “That reminds me of my old friend, the burgomaster of Stargard, the dear place of my nativity. The good Burgomaster Funk, was a true child of Pomerania, who despised High-German, and would have spoken Low-German, even with the king. Speaking Low-German, and eating dinner was his passion. And I have often thought, when I saw him sitting at the dinner-table, with so reverent and pious a countenance, that the old gentleman fancied himself in church, administering the sacrament as a priest. He applied himself with such heavenly tranquillity to the delights of the table, permitting nothing in the world to disturb him while so engaged.”
“But I cannot comprehend what the recollections of your happy youth have to do with the advice you desired to give.”
“You will soon do so, my queen,” said Rietz, slowly emptying his glass. “And yet permit me to dwell a little longer on the recollections of my dear old master. For you must know that this good old gentleman was my master; under him I learned the arts of a valet, writer, and confidant, and all the little artifices and stratagems by which a valet makes himself his master’s factotum. Truly the king is greatly indebted to the burgomaster; without him he would never have been the possessor of so excellent a factotum as the privy-chamberlain and treasurer Rietz. At the same time, I learned from my master how to become a gourmand; learned what precious knowledge, and how much practical study, were necessary to educate a man up to this sublime standard, and entitle him to the proud appellation of gourmand. My old master, who deservedly bore this title, inculcated in me the most beautiful and strict principles. In the midst of our conversation, and while the old gentleman was digesting,slowly imbibing his delicious mocha, and blowing clouds of smoke from his long pipe, it sometimes occurred that some one of the burghers of the little city would come, in his necessity, to his burgomaster to obtain advice or assistance. Then you should have seen his anger and rage. He would strike the table with his fist, and cry furiously: ‘Vat, I give advice! After dinner, and for noting!’”
“Ah,” exclaimed Wilhelmine, “now I begin to understand!”
“That is fortunate, indeed,” said Rietz, laughing; and he held out his empty glass to Wilhelmine that she might fill it. “Then you begin to understand that the phrase ‘after dinner, and for nothing,’ is very beautiful and appropriate?”
“Yes, and I will give you a proof of it at once! Sir, what do you ask for your good advice?”
“Bravo, bravo!” cried Rietz. “Well sung, my prima donna! Now we shall understand each other; and with your permission we will proceed to talk seriously. Madame, will you form an offensive and defensive alliance with me? Do not reply yet! I have no desire whatever that you should buy the cat in the bag; first hear what I have to say, and then make up your mind. We are now at the beginning of a new era; and to most men the future is as a book written in mysterious and illegible characters. But I think I can decipher it, and I will tell you what it contains. I read in this book that Prussia is now governed by a king who can do anything but govern himself, and who is like soft wax in the hands of those who know how to manage him.”
“How dare you speak so disrespectfully of your king?” cried Wilhelmine.
“Madame,” said Rietz, shrugging his shoulders, “give yourself no trouble! To his valet and to his mistress—pardon me for this word, my queen—the greatest king is but an ordinary man; and when we two are alone, we need stand on no ceremony. The king, I say, will be ruled over. And the only question is, by whom? The question is, shall the valet and the mistress rule over the happy and prosperous kingdomof Prussia, or shall they leave this difficult but remunerative business to the Rosicrucians, to the Invisible Fathers, and to their visible sons, Bischofswerder and Wöllner.”
“If they do that,” cried Wilhelmine, with vivacity, “the mistress and the valet will be lost, they will be banished.”
“That is also my opinion,” said Rietz. “These dear Rosicrucians dread our influence. They know that we are both too wise to believe in the hocus pocus, and that it sometimes affords us pleasure to enlighten the king’s mind on the subject of these mysterious fellows and their jugglery. I, for my part, hate these pious hypocrites, these wise fools. It is as impossible for me to live together with them in friendship, as it is for the honest dog and sneaking cat to sojourn harmoniously in one kennel. And I account it one of my greatest pleasures when I can sometimes give them a good blow, and tear out a piece of their sheepskin, in order to show the king that a wolf is disguised in sheep’s clothing.”
“I feel exactly as you do on this subject,” cried Wilhelmine, laughing. “I find it impossible to accept their offers of friendship. They have frequently attempted to make me their ally, but I wish to have nothing to do with the Invisible Fathers of the inner temple; I prefer the visible sons in the outer halls, for we, at least, know what they are!”
“You are a divine woman,” cried the chamberlain, in delight. “If you were not my wife I should certainly fall in love with you. It is fortunate, however, that you are my wife, for lovers are blind, and it behooves us both to keep our eyes open to avoid being caught in the snares which will be laid for us in great plenty by our pious fowlers. ‘They or we;’ this will be the watchword throughout the glorious reign of our king. The Pharisees and Rosicrucians, or—may I pronounce the word, my enchantress?”
“Yes, my friend, pronounce the word!”
“Well, then! The watchword is: ‘The Pharisees and Rosicrucians, or the libertines and mistresses!’ I cast my lot with the latter party, for with them good dinners and brilliantfêtes are the order of the day. With them pleasure reigns, and joy is queen.”
“I am with you, my friend. Death and destruction to the Pharisees and Rosicrucians!”
“Long live the libertines and mistresses! They shall rule over Prussia! They shall guide the ship of state; and we, Wilhelmine Enke, we two will be the leaders and masters of this merry band! We will fight with each other and for each other; and the Pharisees and Rosicrucians are, and shall ever be, our common enemies! Give me your hand on this, my queen!”
“Here is my hand. Yes, the Pharisees and Rosicrucians are, and shall ever be, our common enemies!”
“You will aid me, and I you! We will protect and watch over each other. Our interests are identical, what furthers yours furthers mine. You, my beautiful Wilhelmine, are ambitious, and are not contented with my well-sounding name. You aim higher, and I do not blame you, for a crown would become you well, although it were only the crown of a countess.”
“That would suffice,” said Wilhelmine, smiling. “And you, my friend, what do you aspire to?”
“I am a very modest man, and decorations and titles have no charms for me. I do not wish ever to become more than I now am; but that, my queen, I would like to remain. I have no desire to be dispossessed of my situation; on the contrary, I desire to make of it a right warm and comfortable nest.”
“And I will procure you the necessary down,” cried Wilhelmine, laughing.
“Very well, but it must be eider-down, my love, for that is the softest. I love the exquisite and the excellent; I am a gourmand in all things. If there is one thing I could wish for, it would be that my whole life might consist of one long dinner, and I remain sitting at the savory, richly-laden table, until compelled to leave it for the grave. I am notambitious, nor am I miserly; but money I must have, much money. In order to lead a comfortable and agreeable life one must have money, a great deal of money, an immense quantity of money. My motto is, therefore, ‘My whole life one good dinner, and—after dinner, no advice for nothing!’”
“I consider this a wise motto, and, although I cannot make it my own, I will always respect it as yours, and act in accordance with it in your interest.”
“That will be very agreeable,” said Rietz. “I will then be able to realize my ideal.”
“And in what does your ideal consist, if I may ask the question?”
“My ideal is a house of my own, elegantly and luxuriously furnished, attentive and deferential servants, an exquisite cook, and the most choice dinners, with four covers always ready for agreeable, gay, and influential guests, who must be selected each day. Do you know, my queen, what is essential to the realization of my ideal? In the first place, the king must give me a house just large enough to make me a comfortable dwelling. I know of such a house. It stands at the entrance of the park of Sans-Souci. It has only five chambers, a parlor, a cellar, a kitchen, and several servants’ rooms. That is just the house for a modest man like myself; and I wish to have it. And then rich clients are required, petitioners for decorations and titles, who come to me for counsel, supposing the king’s confidential chamberlain can gratify their longings, if they only cajole him and show him some attentions. For instance, if this nice new house were mine, I would furnish one room only, and that sparingly, letting all the others stand empty. I would then show my visitors my dear little house, and it would be strange, indeed, if it were not soon handsomely furnished. To accomplish this, nothing is wanted but your assistance, my gracious wife and queen.”
“And in what manner shall I assist you, my dear philosopher?”
“In this manner, my adored: by sending the suitors whocome to you, to me—that is, those suitors who desire decorations, titles, or a noble coat-of-arms; for with politics I will have nothing to do. I only speculate on the foolishness of mankind. Therefore, let it be well understood, you are to send the foolish to me with their petitions—to tell them that decorations and titles are my specialty, and that I alone can effect anything with the king in such matters. In doing this, you not only send me clients who furnish my house, but you also enhance my respectability. You make an important person of me, to whom great deference must be shown, and who must be courted and flattered. The natural consequence will be, that I will have humble and devoted servants, and be able to secure agreeable and influential guests for my dinners. For I need scarcely inform you, that it would afford me no entertainment whatever simply to fill empty stomachs at my table. On the contrary, I desire to have guests to whom eating is a science, and who do not regard a good pasty merely as an article of food, but rather as a superior enjoyment. Will you help me to attain all this?”
“Yes, I will, my friend. But now tell me what services you propose to render in return!”
“I will be your obedient servant, your sincere and discreet friend, and your ally in life and death. When diplomatists and politicians apply to me for my good offices, I will refer them to you. I will always have your interests at heart. If Bischofswerder and Wöllner should ever succeed in poisoning the king’s mind against you, or in depriving you of his favor, I will lend a helping hand in thrusting these pious lights into the shade, where they belong. You can depend on me in all things. I will represent your interests, as if they were my own, and as if I had the honor to be in reality what I, unfortunately, only appear to be, the husband of the beautiful and amiable Wilhelmine Rietz. But truly, the name sounds bad, and I will assist you in exchanging it for a longer and more harmonious one. The name Rietz is just long and good enough for me. It fits me snugly, like a comfortable, well-worndressing-gown; and I prefer it to a court-dress. But for you, my fair one, we must certainly procure the title of a baroness or countess. Moreover, as your disinterestedness and improvidence in money matters is well known to me, I will also consider it my sacred duty to look after your interests in this particular, and call the king’s attention to your necessities from time to time. For instance, you might require a handsome palace in Berlin, or a larger villa here in Charlottenburg, or a magnificent set of jewelry, or an increase of income.”
“Ah, my friend, I will be very thankful for all this,” said Wilhelmine, with a bewitching smile. “But what is of paramount importance is, that the king should continue to love me, or at least that he should never reject my love or discard me. I love him. He is the father of my children; he was the lover of my youth; and I can swear that I have never loved another besides him. Even my worst enemies cannot say of me that I was ever untrue to the love of my youth, or that I ever had any liaison, except the one with the poor prince royal, for whom I suffered want, rather than listen to the addresses of rich and influential admirers.”
“That is true,” said Rietz, with an air of perfect gravity; “they can make you no reproaches. Your life has been altogether irreproachable; and thechronique scandaleusehas had nothing to report concerning you.”
“You are mocking me,” sighed Wilhelmine. “Your words are well understood. You wish to say that my whole life has been one impropriety, and that I am the legitimate prey of thechronique scandaleuse. Oh, do not deny it, you are perfectly right. I am an outcast from society; and yet it cannot be said of me, that I, like so many highly-respectable ladies, have sold my heart and hand for an advantageous marriage settlement. I only followed the dictates of my heart and my love; and the world punishes me by erecting a barrier between me and good society. But I have no intention of submitting to this any longer. Why should theking’s beloved stand without the barrier, while many a countess, who has sold herself, and married an unloved man for his title and his wealth, and to whom faith is but an empty fancy, stands within on consecrated ground. This barrier shall crumble before me, and I will be received within the circle of this so-called good and exclusive society. To their hatred and contempt, I am quite indifferent, but they shall at least seem to esteem and respect me. They shall not leave me in perfect solitude in the midst of the world, as if I lived on a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe, and had great reason to be thankful when the king sometimes took the rôle of Friday and kept me company. I will be received in society; I will be the head of society; I will have parlors, where not only artists and men of intellect assemble, but to which the ladies of the best society must also come. This is my ambition; this is my dream of happiness. I will have a social position in defiance of all these so-called exclusive circles. Whenever I meet these people, and see them turn aside to avoid me with a contemptuous smile, I say to myself: ‘Only wait, ye proud, ye virtuous! you shall yet fill Wilhelmine Rietz’s parlors, and form the background of the brilliant picture of her power and magnificence. Only wait, ye noble gentlemen, you shall yet dance attendance in Wilhelmine Rietz’s antechamber! Only wait, ye heroines of virtue, you shall one day walk arm in arm with Wilhelmine Rietz, and accord her the place of honor on your right hand!’ You see I have consoled myself with these thoughts of the future for many years. But the future has now become the present, and the longed-for time has at last arrived when Wilhelmine Rietz will compel society to unbolt its portals and permit her to enter. Will you assist me in this matter?”
“I shall be delighted to do so,” said Rietz, laughing. “I will be the locksmith, who furnishes the keys to open these doors with, and if keys will not suffice, he will provide picklocks and crowbars. But, enter you shall. It will be a difficult undertaking, to be sure, but it will amuse me all themore, on that account, to assist you, and help to pull down the pride of these arrogant people. Ah, I hate these people, and it will afford me immense satisfaction to see them compelled to humble themselves before you, and fawn and flatter in spite of their reluctance! Yes, I will help you to ascend this mountain, but I do not desire to rise with you, I prefer to remain below in the valley, and earn an honest livelihood, as the good old proverb says.”
“And will become a rich man in the valley, while I will, perhaps, be struggling with debts and creditors on the heights above!”
“Yes,” said Rietz, “there will certainly be struggles, and struggles of every variety. As for your debts, I will undertake to have them all paid; and in the future your income will be so considerably increased that you will no longer be under the necessity of making debts. But what I cannot take upon myself, unaided, is the struggle with your beautiful and high-born rival. That is woman’s work; there, fists are of no avail, and delicate fingers can manipulate needles with far greater efficiency.”
“You speak of my rival, the beautiful Julie von Voss.”
“Yes, my adorable, I speak of her, and I will now prove to you that I am your friend. And I will tell what I have no right to tell. The privy-chamberlain breaks the inviolable seal of office. But what can I do? are you not my wife? And in the end, the most discreet man in the world can keep no secret from his wife! Now, listen!” And in a low, suppressed voice, as if fearing the walls might hear, he told her of his mission to Schönhausen, of the king’s messages, and of his conversation with the beautiful maid of honor.
Wilhelmine listened with pallid cheeks and quivering lips, only interrupting him from time to time with a brief question, or an angry or threatening cry.
THE CONDITIONS.
While this was occurring in the dining-room, Jean sat in the antechamber, holding himself in readiness to answer his mistress’s bell, if it should ring. But no bell rang, and all was so still, the air so warm and sultry in the little chamber, and the soft twilight had so tranquillizing an effect, that Jean could no longer resist the temptation to close his eyes, and indulge in his dreams of the future. And perhaps he was dreaming, when a tall figure, completely enveloped in a black mantle, stood before him, laid his hand on his shoulder, and pronounced his name in a low voice. Perhaps it was only a dream when he saw this, and heard the veiled figure utter these words in a low voice:
“You belong to the third circle of the Invisible lodge?”
And he replied—whether in a dream or in reality, he was himself not perfectly satisfied—“Yes, I belong to that circle.”
Furthermore, the veiled figure said: “You were sent here with orders to make an exact report of all that occurs, to the circle director, and to submit to his will, in all things. Do you bear this in mind?”
“I am the obedient servant of the Invisible,” replied Jean, respectfully. “I will never forget my oath; if I did, punishment would overtake, and the just anger of the Invisible destroy me.”
“Did the circle-director show you the symbol of the brotherhood?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Behold the symbol,” said the veiled figure, and for a moment a little triangular plate of metal shone in his open hand.
“I see it,” replied Jean, rising, “and I know by this triangle that a brother of the higher degrees stands before me;I therefore salute you with reverence, brother superior.” He bowed profoundly, but the veiled figure merely nodded in return.
“Do you know the sign by which the master of the order, the grand kophta is recognized?” said he, in low and piercing tones.
“I do,” replied Jean, his voice almost inaudible, from inward agitation.
The veiled figure thrust forth his hand from under the concealing mantle, and a large solitaire sparkled on his finger. “See, this is the sign,” said he.
Jean uttered a cry of astonishment, and sank on his knees. “Command me, almighty one,” he murmured, “your slave has no will but yours.”
“Arise, and be my guide,” commanded the veiled figure, and Jean stood up immediately.
“Where shall I lead, my exalted master?”
“Conduct me to the little room adjoining the laboratory of the present king, but by such a way that no human eye shall see, and no human ear hear me.”
“Then, I must first beg permission,” said Jean, hurrying towards the door, “to assure myself that no one is in the hall.”
But the veiled figure followed, and held him back. “Why go that way?” he asked. “Why through the hall, when we can go through the door in the wall into the little passage that leads to the secret staircase?”
“That is true; I had forgotten that,” said Jean, trembling, and looking with surprise and terror at his superior, who was so well acquainted with this strange house that he knew the secret doors and staircases.
“As my master pleases; here is the door.” He pressed a small, almost imperceptible knob in the wall, and a little door sprang open.
“Go before, and lead me,” said the veiled figure, pushing Jean through the entrance. “We must walk softly, and without uttering a word; the passage runs by the dining-room,where your mistress is conversing with the king’s privy-chamberlain, and we might be heard. I will, therefore, give you my command here. You will lead me through the passage and down the staircase. With the key which you carry, you will then open the door and let me into the laboratory. You will then lock the door again, take the key from the lock, and hurry back to the antechamber. You will observe the most profound silence in regard to what has occurred; and, if life and your eternal welfare are dear to you, you will betray having seen me by neither word, look, nor gesture.”
“Exalted master,” whispered Jean, “I am nothing more than your slave and creature, and I know that my life is but dust in your hands. I fear the Invisible, and I adore you in your sublimity. Graciously permit me to embrace your feet, that the touch may impart to me eternal health and strength.”
And he knelt down and kissed the feet of the veiled figure with impassioned tenderness.
The veiled figure bowed down to him and said: “Grace will be shed upon you; you are a good and obedient servant. At the next assembly you will learn that you have been elevated a degree, and have come a step nearer to the inner halls of the temple. Be silent, no word of thanks, but arise and conduct me!”
Jean arose and stepped forward, the veiled figure following him, and conducted him, as he had been directed, to the laboratory; he let him in, closed and locked the door again, and returned hastily to the antechamber.
Had this all really happened, or had Jean only been dreaming? He asked himself this question, and looked inquiringly and anxiously around in the little chamber. He was entirely alone; the secret door was closed. No one was with him, all was still around him, and profound silence seemed to reign in the dining-room also. Jean stepped softly to the door and listened. He could now hear a subdued murmur, and could even distinguish the voices of his mistress and the privy-chamberlain. They seemed to be conversing eagerly; butthey spoke in such low tones that it was impossible for Jean to understand a single word.
And they were really engaged in a very earnest conversation; in a conversation which absorbed Wilhelmine’s attention wholly. Rietz had not only related his interview with the maid of honor, but had also given her a faithful account of the king’s visit to Schönhausen, and of the conversation between Charles von Voss and his sister, in which he persuaded her to receive the king.
“How do you know this?” asked Wilhelmine, with a shrug of her shoulders. “I imagine it could have needed no persuasion, that this young lady would have done so willingly enough.”
“There you are in error, my beautiful countess; I know better, because I listened to the whole conversation between the maid of honor and her brother.”
“How? You were present?”
“Not exactly present, but I heard it, nevertheless. The doors of the dilapidated old castle in Schönhausen are full of cracks and crannies, and if you get near enough you can see and hear very readily.”
“And you were near the door of the maid of honor’s chamber?”
“So near that a sheet of paper could hardly have been slipped in between us.”
“And there was no one there to order the bold eavesdropper to leave?”
“Yes, there was a human being in the little dressing-room in which I stood, but this human being made no opposition whatever to my listening at the door, for the simple reason that I had paid well for the privilege. The young lady’s chambermaid loves money, and is of a speculative disposition. She wishes to open a millinery establishment, and for that money is necessary; and she takes it whenever she can get it. I pay her in my gracious master’s name for singing the king’s praise in her mistress’s ear; and I pay her in my own namefor reporting to me the result of this singing, and permitting me to listen at the door when there is anything to be heard. To be sure, it cost me a considerable sum yesterday. This shrewd little kitten made me pay her twice: once for the conversation between the maid of honor and her brother, and the second time for the conversation between the king and the maid of honor.”
Wilhelmine sprang up, and an exclamation of astonishment escaped her lips. “You have listened to the conversation between the king and the maid of honor, and now tell me of it for the first time. I conjure you, Rietz, my dear Rietz, my best friend, tell me of it. Speak—what did the king say, and what did she reply?”
“After dinner, and for nothing?” asked Rietz, as he stretched himself comfortably, poured the last few drops of champagne into his glass and carried it slowly to his lips.
“Speak, my dear Rietz. Say what I shall do. What will you have?”
“The little love of a house at the entrance of the park of Sans-Souci. It was built on speculation; that is to say, I had it built, hoping that the old king would be dead, and our Frederick William seated on the throne by the time of its completion. My hope is now realized, and I ask you, my adorable wife, will you use your influence to persuade the king to give me this house as a reward for my long and faithful services?”
“I will do so; I will storm the king with entreaties to give you this house.”
“Then it is as good as mine already, and I thank my noble patroness. And now that I am paid in advance, I will impart to you the substance of that important conversation—that is, you will certainly not require me to repeat the king’s protestations of love and vows of eternal fidelity.”
“No, I do not require that of you,” sighed Wilhelmine, with trembling lips; “that I can readily imagine. It can only have been a repetition of what he told me. Out upon men! They are a perfidious and faithless race!”
“Yes, they imbibe these qualities with their mother’s milk; and King Frederick William also is only the son of his mother. Therefore, nothing of the king’s protestations of love, and the noble indignation and conflict between love and virtue on the part of the young lady. To the king’s intense gratification the young lady finally admitted, with many tears and sighs, that she would love him if he were not, unfortunately, already married, and if Madame Rietz were not in existence. If the king were no better than a poor nobleman, the young lady would esteem it perfect bliss to become his. She would joyfully undergo hardships and suffer want at his side; but she was not willing to occupy a position that would expose her to scorn and contempt. She could not cause the noble queen additional sorrow and pain; and finally, it would be quite impossible to tolerate a despised and hated rival like Wilhelmine Rietz at her side. But—good heavens! what is the matter with you? You turn pale, and wail and moan fearfully! Poor woman, if you are so sensitive, I must of course be silent.”
“It is nothing—nothing at all,” murmured Wilhelmine. “It was only a momentary pang, and it is now past. Speak on, I am quite composed. Speak! What did the king reply?”
“He begged her to name the conditions on which she could consent to be his; and the beautiful and wise maid of honor stated her conditions, assuring him that they were irrevocable—her ultimatum, as the diplomatists say. And truly these conditions were ridiculous. I almost burst out laughing when I heard them.”
“And what were they? I pray you tell me,” murmured Wilhelmine, clasping her hands tightly together to keep them from trembling.
“There were three conditions, and the maid of honor swore by the memory of her mother, who had died of grief caused by her love for the king’s father, Prince August William, that she would neither see his majesty nor speak with him until he had promised to fulfil her conditions; and, that ifhe could or would not fulfil them, the young lady would leave the court forever, and retire into the deepest seclusion.”
“She is cunning; oh, she is very cunning,” murmured Wilhelmine, clasping her hands yet more firmly together. “And her three conditions?”
“Are as follows: firstly, the young lady exacts of the king that she be married formally and rightfully to his left hand, by a Protestant minister; secondly, she demands that, above all things, the consent of the queen, the wife of the right hand, be first obtained; and thirdly, and finally, she demands that Wilhelmine Rietz, together with her two children, be banished, and that an estate be given her in Lithuania, and she be compelled to remain there and never return to Berlin or Potsdam.”
“And the king?” cried Wilhelmine, in piercing accents.
“The king stipulated for four weeks’ time in which to consider the matter, kissed the proud lady’s hand, and retired. Now, my queen, you know all, and it is also time for me to retire. I must ride to Potsdam at the king’s command, and confer with the queen as to the conditions on which she would give her consent to this absurd marriage. But I cannot comprehend you, my beauty! You look as mournful as if you were on the point of starting for Lithuania already, and as if it were another than you who sways the king’s heart and soul. I, for my part, place implicit confidence in your power, and am satisfied that the king will never give you up or desert you. Would I otherwise have courted your alliance? Would I have based my hopes of obtaining the little house at Sans-Souci on your intercession? No, my beauty; you are, and will remain, queen, in spite of all the wives of the right and the left hand. Only you must not be discouraged, and must not look so sad. For you well know that our good master cannot abide mournful faces, and invariably runs away from weeping women.”
“It is true; you are right,” said Wilhelmine. “I will wreathe my face in smiles. I will laugh.”
And she burst out into a loud and vibrating peal of laughter, in which Rietz heartily joined.
“That is right,” he cried; “now I admire you! You look like a lioness defending her young. That is right, my beauty! ‘He who trusts in God, and strikes out boldly around him, will never come to grief,’ my good old burgomaster Herr Funk used to say. Strike boldly, my queen, deal out heavy blows, and we shall never come to grief, and all will yet be well. And now, my charming wife, I must take leave of you, as I hear a carriage driving up that I wager brings no other than his majesty. It is not necessary that he should still find me here. I will, therefore, slip out of the back door and beat a retreat through the garden. Addio, carissima, addio!”
He bowed respectfully, threw her a kiss with the tips of his fingers, opened a window, and sprang out upon the terrace, from which a small stairway led down into the garden.
Wilhelmine frowned, and cast an angry look in the direction he had taken. “How degraded a soul! how base a character!” she murmured; “but yet I must cling to him, and be very friendly with him. He is my only support, my only friend; for without him I would be lost! And I will not be lost! I will maintain my position; while I live, I will bravely battle for it!”
“The king!” cried Jean, throwing the door open. “His majesty has arrived, and awaits my lady in her parlor.”
“I am coming,” said Wilhelmine, calmly. “Hurry down into the park, and tell my son and daughter that their father is here. They are down on the river; they must come at once to greet his majesty.”
NEW LOVE.
The king advanced to meet Wilhelmine with a gentle smile; and when, after a formal obeisance, she congratulated him in cold and ceremonious terms, Frederick William burstout into laughter, caught her in his arms, and pressed a kiss on her brow.
Wilhelmine trembled, and tears rushed to her eyes. She felt like clasping him in her arms and conjuring him, with tender reproaches and passionate words of love, not to abandon her, and not to drive herself and his children out into the cold world. But she repressed her emotion—she knew the king could not endure sad faces, and always fled from a woman in tears.
She had the courage to smile, and seem to be gay; and her countenance bore no trace of disquiet or anxiety. She conversed with perfect composure and indifference, as if no change had taken or ever could take place in their relations to each other.
Frederick William’s joyousness had at first been assumed, to hide his embarrassment; and he felt greatly relieved by Wilhelmine’s manner. He abandoned himself wholly to the charming society of the beautiful and agreeable friend, who had always so well understood how to enliven him and banish all care from his breast. And when the two children entered the parlor, and his favorite Alexander, a boy of ten years of age, ran forward, looked wonderingly at his papa king, and then threw his arms tenderly around his neck, and kissed and hugged him, regardless of his royalty; when the lovely daughter, in the bloom of sixteen summers, the charming image of her young mother, walked forward, and seated herself on one of his knees opposite her brother, who sat on the other; and when the still beautiful mother stepped up to this group, her eyes beaming and her face wreathed in smiles, and clasped father and children in one embrace, a feeling of infinite comfort filled Frederick William’s breast, and tears rushed to his eyes.
He gently pushed the two children from his knees, and arose. “Go down into the garden, my pets, and wait for me in the rose-pavilion, when we will watch the sun set. But now go, as I have something to say to your mother.”
“But nothing unpleasant, I hope, papa?” said Alexander, anxiously. “You have nothing to say to my mamma that will make her sad?”
“And if I had,” asked Frederick William, smiling, “what would you do to prevent it?”
“If you had,” replied the boy, with a bold and defiant expression, “I know very well what I would do. I would not go away. I would remain here, even if my papa ordered me to go. But for this once I could not be obedient, although I should be scolded for it.”
“And what effect would your remaining here have, Alexander?” asked the king.
“It would have this effect, your majesty,” replied the boy, gravely. “My dear mamma would then hear nothing that would make her feel sad, or perhaps even make her cry.”
“But if I should tell her something in your presence that would make her feel sad?”
“That you will not do, papa!” cried Alexander, erecting himself proudly. “No, while I am here you will certainly not make my mamma sad; for you know that I would cry too, if my mamma cried, and you certainly could not bear to see your poor little son and his mamma weeping bitterly.”
“You love your mamma very much, I suppose?”
“Yes,” exclaimed the boy, throwing his arms around his mother’s neck, and laying his curly head on her bosom; “yes, I love my mamma very dearly; and my heart almost breaks when I see her cry. And she cries very often now, and—”
“Go, Alexander,” said his mother, interrupting him. “You see your sister is an obedient daughter, and has already obeyed her father’s command. Follow her now, my son; learn from your sister to obey your father without murmuring.”
“Yes, my son, follow your sister,” said the king, gently. “Fear nothing, my boy, I have no intention of making your mother feel sad.”
“Then I will go, papa,” cried Alexander, as he pressed hisfather’s hand tenderly to his lips. He then skipped joyfully out of the room.
The king followed the handsome boy, with an affectionate look, until the door closed behind him. He then turned to Wilhelmine, who met his gaze with a gentle smile. “Wilhelmine, I have entered on a new life to-day. The poor prince royal, who was harassed with debt, has become a rich and mighty king. A young king’s first and most sacred duty is to prove his gratitude to those who were his loving and faithful friends, while he was yet prince royal. And therefore, Wilhelmine, you were my first thought; therefore am I come to you to prove that I have a grateful heart, and can never forget the past. You have undergone hardships, and suffered want for me; the hour of reward has now come. Impart to me all your wishes freely, and without reservation, and I swear to you that they shall be fulfilled. Will you have a name, a proud title? will you have jewelry or treasures? will you have a magnificent landed estate? Speak out, tell me what you desire, for I have come to reward you, and I am king.”
She looked at him proudly, with sparkling eyes. “You have come to reward me,” said she, “and you are king. What care I for your royalty! The king has not the power to grant my wishes!”
“What is it, then, that you wish?” he asked, in embarrassment.
“I wish what the king cannot, what only the man can grant. I wish you to love me as dearly as the prince royal loved me. I crave no riches and no treasures, no titles and no estates. When we swore that we would love and be true to each other until death, you did not dare to think that you would some day reward me for my love. When we exchanged our vows of love and fidelity, written with our blood, this was the marriage contract of our hearts, and this contract consisted of but one paragraph. It only secured to each of us the love and fidelity of the other as a dower. Let me retainthis dower, Frederick William; keep your treasures, titles, and estates, for your favorites and flatterers. Such things are good enough for them, but not for me—not for the mother of your children! Leave me in possession of my dower of your love and fidelity!”
Frederick lowered his eyes in confusion, and did not seem to see her stretch out her arms imploringly. He turned away and walked slowly to and fro.
Wilhelmine’s arms sank down, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “The decisive hour has come,” said she to herself. “It shall find me armed and prepared for the struggle!”
Suddenly the king stopped in front of her, and a ray of determination beamed in his genial, handsome countenance. “Wilhelmine,” said he, “I stand on the threshold of a great and sublime future. I will not act a lie at such a time. Between us there must be perfect and entire truth. Are you ready to hear it?”
“I am ready,” said she, gravely. “Truth and death are preferable to life and falsehood.”
“Come, Wilhelmine,” continued the king, extending his hand. “Let us seat ourselves on the sofa, where we have so often conversed in earnestness and sincerity. Let us converse in the same spirit to-day, and open our hearts to each other in honest sincerity.” He conducted her to the sofa, and seated himself at her side. She laid her head on his shoulder, and subdued sobs escaped her breast.
“Do not speak yet,” she whispered. “Let me rest a moment, and think of the beautiful past, now that your future looks so bright. I have not the courage to look at the future. It seems to me that I am like those unhappy beings, of whom Dante narrates, that they walk onward with their faces turned backward, and that they cannot see what is coming, but only that which has been and which lies behind them. Ah, like them I see only what has been. I see us two, young, happy, and joyous, for the star of our youthful love shone over us. I see you at my side as my teacher, instructing me, and endeavoringto cultivate my mind.—Frederick, do you remember the Italian lessons you gave me? With you I read Dante, you explained to me this awful picture of the reversed faces. Shall I now experience through you the dreadful reality of what you then explained in the poem? Shall I shudder at the aspect of the future, and only live on that which is past and gone? Tell me, Frederick, can it be true, can it be possible? Does love, with all its happiness and bliss, then really lie only behind us, and no longer before us? But no, no, do say so!” she cried, imploringly, as she saw that he was about to speak; “let us be still and dream on for a moment, as we are now on the threshold of a new era, as you say.” She ceased speaking, and buried her head in Frederick William’s bosom. He laid his hand on her neck and pressed her to his heart. A long pause ensued. A last ray of the setting sun shone in through the window, and illumined with its golden light the head of the poor woman who clung trembling to her lover’s bosom.