CHAPTER XVITHE SIELENBURG PARTY
Elderly ladies of the Austrian aristocracy have no great inclination for traveling. While for a hundred years it has been the fashion in England to make a tour on the Continent, and while in the days of mail-coaches, noblewomen, young and old, were accustomed to accompany their spouses to Switzerland and to Italy, to Paris and to the German baths, the ladies of the Austrian nobility have only reluctantly quitted their castles in order to journey to other countries. Since traveling has been made so easy and expeditious, especially since automobiles came into fashion, the younger feminine element of the higher Austrian circles have ventured to make trips into distant lands. But even at the time of the Rose-Week, there were among the elder aristocratic women some who had never before set foot outside the boundaries of the Empire. Among these was the Countess Adele Schollendorf. But, nevertheless, one fine June morning the old lady, accompanied by her cousin Albertine, started for Lucerne. Two cavaliers also made up the party: Cousin Coriolan and Baron Ludwig Malhof.
The motive of the expedition was curiosity. Count Sielen’s sister had become quite estranged from her grand-niece since the latter had begun to appear on the public platform. The affair was too distastefulto her—it cut entirely across all her prejudices. Franka had, indeed, lost nothing in reputation and respect by her action—on the contrary; but the old countess could not be reconciled to it. She did not go so far as to indulge in open reproach and rupture, being restrained by the fact that she was indebted to Franka’s generosity for her home at the Sielenburg and the considerable revenues accruing from this property; but she had renounced all personal intercourse, which was the easier, because Franka, on her part, took no pains to maintain it. For no money in the world would the Countess Adele have consented to attend the young girl’s lecture in Vienna. A connection—a person with the Sielen blood in her veins—on the platform, speaking in favor of the emancipation of women! Horrible! But when one day Baron Malhof brought the news that Franka Garlett had been invited to take her place with the greatest celebrities of the day at the Rose-Week celebration,—and he described the Toker Rose-Week with enthusiasm, having himself been present at one,—the old countess’s curiosity was awakened: “I should like to see it,” she exclaimed.
“Then let us go there,” proposed Malhof. And he argued so eloquently that the countess decided to take the journey—the first she had ever made out of her own country. There, so far away, she might, indeed, endure to see Franka on the platform; only at home, among all her relatives and acquaintances, it would have been too painful. But there—“there” being somewhat confused in her mind with the antipodes—onewas, so to speak,incognito. Albertine consented to accompany her cousin, although the expedition seemed to her very portentous and adventurous; but, possibly, she might have the opportunity of telling this Franka, who had so unceremoniously slipped out from under her influence, a few verities which would redound to her advantage.
Cousin Coriolan joined the party from the purpose of studying into the “humbug.” ... Toker was a fool, and the whole affair was a piece of modern sham. Baron Malhof, widely experienced, offered his services as marshal for the journey: to engage lodgings, to see to the luggage, to act ascicerone, and in general to superintend all the details of the trip. But when he suggested making the journey to Lucerne in an airship, Countess Adele protested with horror.
They arrived the evening before the exercises were to begin; they had enjoyed a good night’s sleep, and were now sitting at their breakfast-coffee in the dining-room. They were glancing through the newspaper, to find what announcements were made about the coming performances: but all they found were the list of Toker’s guests, and the statement that the same motto should serve for all the addresses: “When thoughts will soar....”
“I am curious to know what that means,” muttered Coriolan; “probably a kind of preaching about all sorts of high-flying, so-called Ideals. It may be very edifying, but not very exciting.”
“As far as I can judge of you, my dear Coriolan,”said Malhof, “you would be neither excited nor edified by the things which are to be heard here. Just as the American and the operatic host which he has invited are the representatives of the latest and boldest ideas, so you....”
Countess Adele interrupted: “Well, if Franka’s emancipation absurdities are to be called soaring.... This honey is famous—taste it, Baron Malhof; and this crisp-toasted bread ... it seems to me the Swiss are used to an abundant breakfast.”
“Kipfelare best with coffee,” remarked Albertine ecstatically.
Coriolan nodded assent. “ButGugelhupfhas some claim upon us,” he added.
“We have wandered far from high-soaring thoughts again,” remarked Baron Malhof.
Countess Adele spread some more honey on her toast. “I’m curious to see how Franka looks....”
“Probably prettier than ever—she is a ravishing creature....”
“What fire, Baron Malhof!”
“Yes, I confess, Fräulein Garlett was my last flame.... Oh, not a very creditable story, as far as I was concerned. I tried to—well, never mind what I tried—but she gave me a pretty rebuff. As to emancipation, as you keep saying, Countess, nothing of that could be seen in her. A virtuous maiden of the old-fashioned model....”
“Excuse me, but in order to resist you....”
“One need not be so very virtuous—were you going to say, Madam? That is true, but the circumstances under which I was repulsed, and theway in which she did it, certainly indicated the much-praised ‘fundamental principles.’”
“Don’t you approve of them?”
“I never have, most gracious Countess.”
“I know, I know; you have the reputation of having been a genuine Don Juan. However, as far as Franka is concerned, she seems to have kept her head. In spite of this adventurous life—this gallivanting about and making speeches, nothing discreditable has ever been charged against her.”
“So much the worse for her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if one hears nothing bad about a young woman, it means that nothing pleasant has happened to her.”
“You are a terrible man! Albertine, we ought never to have trusted ourselves to his escort!”
The old maid did not understand the joke. “Why not?” she asked earnestly. “He is certainly a very respectable gentleman. But do you know, Baron Malhof, I should like to give you one piece of advice: you ought not to comb your back hair over your bald spot. Excuse my frankness; but it is not at all becoming to you.”
The baron nervously and awkwardly moved his hand over the place to which such invidious attention had been called. “Good Heavens! One does the best one can....”
“Oh, you, with your everlasting frankness,” exclaimed the countess reprovingly.
Coriolan went on reading his newspaper. “Hereamong the names of the Rose comedians stands that of a Herr Helmer; wasn’t that fool Jew, who was Eduard’s last secretary, named Helmer?”
“Yes, that was his name,” replied Countess Adele. “But he wasn’t a Jew.”
“Well, his maternal grandmother was Jewish, and that is pretty much the same thing.”
“So was our common ancestor Adam,” said Malhof angrily. “Especially here, in this free and democratic Switzerland, you should not assume that tone. Here one must not brag too much of race and rank.”
A wrathful scowl contracted the brows of the haughty aristocrat. “I certainly shall speak my mind. Democracy does not impose on me. Besides, here, in Switzerland there are a few very good old families, even if they don’t have titles. For instance, there are the Hallwyls; only recently I subscribed for their coat of arms for my collection; ... and then, in our own country, thank God, the nobility still means something—it is the mainstay of the throne, the support of the faith—what do I care for Switzerland?”
“I beg of you, Coriolan, do not lose your temper,” said the Countess Adele soothingly, “and don’t talk so loud. What were we just speaking about? Oh, yes, that Helmer ... I wonder if it is the same man?”
Malhof signified with a nod that he was: “He has become a famous poet and has been a frequent visitor at the Garlett palace.”
“So-o-!” exclaimed the countess. “That is certainlynot safe. The young man was in love with Franka. That is the reason Eduard dismissed him. And he has become so famous since?”
“It certainly does not take much to make a person famous nowadays,” remarked Coriolan. “No longer are there any more classical poets. And as to fame—that is something that belongs only to great men, great field-marshals and statesmen. Prince Eugene, Wallenstein, Metternich, the Archduke Karl, Radetzky—those are names haloed with glory. No such are to be found in this list.”
“Don’t you count great poets also?” asked Malhof.
“Well, the classics, as far as I am concerned—Goethe and Schiller.”
“With the best will in the world, Mr. Toker could not invite them. But who knows whether there may not be a future Schiller or Goethe among the guests?”
Coriolan shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “n this wretched age of ours there are no more great men—either poets or heroes. All these suspicious elements, this Socialism and Freemasonry must be cleaned out once and for all. Authority must be set up again and the people must have religion. Perhaps it will be better after the next war—such a steel bath is mighty wholesome....”
“Can’t you leave off discussing politics, cousin?” sighed the countess. “Fortunately, nothing is said now about war.”
“Do you think so? This proves that you read nothing in the newspapers except gossip and thesociety news, and not the political part; otherwise you would know that war is coming, and very soon, too. Do you imagine we shall much longer endure the gibes of the mischief-makers on the other side of the Adriatic, and don’t you know how in the Balkans they are only waiting their opportunity to found a Great Servia? Austria will come out of a war with such an increase of power that it will be able to settle its internal affairs on a satisfactory basis. And in the rest of Europe? The tension is everywhere so great—who knows but before this so-called Rose-Week shall end, the canister will begin to rattle somewhere?”
“There, now! that will do,” cried the old countess. “You are a horrible bird of evil omen! It isn’t true, is it, Malhof, that things are so bad?”
“I am no prophet. I grant that we are standing on volcanic ground, but I believe that it will be a revolution sooner than a war. It must come to a financial crash if things go on as they are—to strikes, general strikes—how do I know?—or to an open revolt.... But let us talk of other things. Let us hope that everything will come out all right.Après nous le déluge!In the mean time, ladies, I propose that in half an hour we set forth to have a little glimpse of Lucerne. I will immediately order a carriage. First of all, I will take you past the buildings of the Rose-Palace. You must see how fairylike it all is. Even two years ago, when I was here, it was dazzling in its magnificence. Since then I understand Mr. Toker has introduced still further embellishments and surprises. I have already procuredthe entrance cards for the opening exercises this evening. This forenoon we will spend in exploring Lucerne. But Coriolan, you must take an oath that you will not say another word about politics as long as we are on our pleasure trip.”