Both Bischofswerder and Woellner hastened to avail themselves of the
commanding “adieu,” and quit the royal presence. Without, the carriage
was ready to reconvey them to the new palace. They were so exhausted
that neither of them uttered a word, the last injunctions of the king
ringing in their ears.
Silently they alighted upon arriving, but as the footman came out to
meet them they asked, simultaneously, if his royal highness had dined.
“His highness is not here, having departed immediately after the two
gentlemen, and is not yet returned,” he answered.
“You may serve us something to eat as quickly as possible in the
little dining-room. Let it be ready in a quarter of an hour,” commanded
Bischofswerder.
“Now that we are alone, what do you think of this affair?” asked
Woellner.
“I cannot vouchsafe a reply until I have eaten a pheasant’s wing, and
drunken my champagne,” replied Bischofswerder.
He kept his word, preserving a solemn silence until a good half of the
bird had disappeared, and many glasses of iced champagne.
Then Bischofswerder leaned back in his comfortable armchair with
infinite ease, whilst his friend occupied himself with the most pious
zeal with the pheasant, rejoicing at this revelation of the Invisibles.
Bischofswerder let him enjoy it, and ordered the footman to serve the
dessert and withdraw.
“Now I am prepared to reply to you, my dear friend, that we are alone. I
believe the king would have sent us to Spandau at once if we had opposed
his free-thinking opinions.”
“I am convinced of it,” sighed Woellner, eyeing the remains of the bird
with a melancholy glance. “We shall have much to endure for the holy
cause which we serve.”
“That is to say, we will have much to suffer if we, in fanatical
indiscretion, do not submit to circumstances,” said Bischofswerder.
“You cannot traduce the sublime Fathers!” cried Woellner;--“for the
body’s security, we cannot endanger the salvation of our souls, and,
like Peter, deny our master.”
“No, my much-loved and noble friend. But we must be wise as serpents,
and our duty to the holy order is to preserve its useful tools that they
may not be lost. You will agree with me in this?”
“Indeed, I do admit it,” replied Wollner, pathetically.
“Further, you will acknowledge that we are very useful, and I might say
indispensable tools of the Sublime Order of the Rosicrucians and the
Invisible Fathers of the Order of Jesus? It is our task to secure an
abiding-place to the proscribed and, cursed, to plough and sow the
field, which will yield good fruit for humanity entire, and particularly
our order, when the crown prince ascends the throne. We will here erect
a kingdom of the future, and it is all-important to lay so secure a
corner-stone in the heart of his highness that nothing can shake or
dislodge it. Who could perfect this work if we were not here? Who would
dare to undertake the difficult task if we should fail? Who would
carry on a secret and continued warfare with this artful and powerful
seductress if we were conquered?”
“No one would do it,” sighed Woellner, “no one would sacrifice
themselves like Samson for this Delilah.”
“We will together be the Samson,” replied Bischofswerder, drawing
a glass of sparkling champagne. “We will be the Samson which the
Philistines drove out, but this woman shall not practise the arts of
Delilah upon us in putting our eyes out or cutting off our hair. Against
two Samsons the most artful and beautiful Delilah is not wary enough;
and if we cannot conquer her, we must resort to other means.”
“What may they be, dear brother?”
“We must compromise the matter.”
Woellner sprang up, and a flush of anger or from champagne overspread
his face “Compromise with the sinful creature!” he cried, impetuously.
“Make peace with the seductress, who leads the prince from the path of
virtue!”
“Yes, we must be on friendly terms with this woman, who could greatly
injure us as an enemy, and aid us infinitely as a friend. This is my
intention, and I am the more convinced that we must accept this middle
course, as she is protected by the king.”
“Because he knows from his spies that she mingles with the Illuminati
and the Freemasons, and that she is our opponent,” said Woellner.
“The more the reason, my noble zealot, to win her friendship, who will
have validity and power until the crown prince reigns, and this old
godless freethinker of a king is in his gravel Then Prussia will
commence a new era, and we shall be lords, and guide the machine of
state. For such lofty aims one ought to be ready to compromise with his
Satanic majesty even. Then why not with this little she-devil, whose
power is fading every year with her youth and beauty?”
“It is quite true, we should be mindful of the device of our Invisible
Fathers. The end sanctifies the means,” sighed Woellner.
“I believe it to be indispensable, and you will grant that I am right.
Do you not see that the prince has availed himself of our absence to go
there, and has not yet returned?”
“What!” shrieked Woellner, clasping his hands--“you do not mean that--”
“That Rinaldo has returned to the enchanted garden of Armida.”
“Oh, let us hasten to release him at once, and revue his soul from
perdition!” cried Woellner, springing up.
“On the contrary, let us await him here without a word of reproach upon
his return. This will touch his tender heart which we must work upon,
if we would get him into our power, for to us he must belong. Fill
our glasses with the sparkling wine, and drink to the contract with
Wilhelmine Enke.”
Just as merrily they quaffed the champagne in the little cosy
dining-room at Charlottenburg, where the prince and Wilhelmine were
rejoicing over a reconciliation, no one being present but the two
children. Their joyous laugh and innocent jests delighted the father,
and the beaming eyes, sweet smile, and witty conversation of his
favorite, filled his heart with pleasure.
Not a word of reproach escaped her, but exultant and joyous she hastened
with outstretched arms to meet him, kissing away all his attempts to
implore pardon, and thanking him that he had returned to her.
At first the prince gave himself up to the joy of the reunion with his
beloved Wilhelmine sad children; but now, as the first outburst had
passed, the quiet, happy dinner being finished, and they had returned
to the sitting-room, a tinge of melancholy earnestness overshadowed his
amiable face.
Wilhelmine threw her arms gently around his neck as she sat beside him
upon the divan, and looked up to him with a tender questioning glance.
“Your thoughts are veiled, dearest; will you not confide to me that
which lies concealed there?”
“Ah, Wilhelmine, it is a mourning veil, and hides the sorrow of
renunciation.”
“I do not understand you, Frederick,” she smilingly replied. “Who could
compel you to an abnegation which would cause you grief?”
“Listen to me, Wilhelmine, and understand that I am suffering from
circumstances--an oath taken in the pressure of the moment. Try to
comprehend me, my dear child.”
Drawing her closer to him, he faithfully related to her the night of the
communion of the spirits, and his consequent oath.
“Is that all, my dear?” she replied, smiling, as he finished.
“What do you mean?” he asked, astonished.
“Nothing more than I would know if you have only sworn to renounce
Wilhelmine Enke!”
“What could I have done more prejudicial to you?” he cried, not a little
irritated.
“Surely you could not injure or grieve me more, and therefore I am not
a little surprised that the pious Fathers could so carelessly word their
oaths. You have sworn to renounce your affection to and separate from
Wilhelmine Enke; so it follows that the Invisibles only demand that you
give up my name, not myself, and that is easily changed, and my dear
prince will not become a perjurer.”
“I do not quite understand you; but I perceive by the arch expression
of your face that you have conceived a lucky escape for your unhappy
Frederick William. Explain to me, dearest, your meaning.”
“I must change my name by marrying some one!” she whispered.
“Marry! and I give you to another? I will never consent to that,” he
cried, alarmed.
“Not to a husband, only a name,” said she. “These Rosicrucians are such
extraordinarily virtuous and pure beings, loving you so infinitely and
disinterestedly, that it grieves them that my love for you does not shun
the light, and throw over itself the mantle of hypocritical virtue!
We will yield to the zealous purity of the Rosicrucians,” continued
Wilhelmine, her eyes sparkling, “and wrap this Wilhelmine Enke in a
mantle of virtue by giving her a husband; and then, when she walks out
with her children the passers-by will not have to blush with shame,
and cry, ‘There goes the miss with her children!’ I have conceived and
planned during this long and painful separation, and I am resolved to
submit humbly to the pious Fathers, who are so zealously watchful for
the salvation of your soul and my good fame.”
“That is to say, you are determined to snap your fingers at them!
Your plan is a good one, but you will find no one to aid you in a sham
marriage!”
“I have already found one,” whispered Wilhelmine, smiling. “Your valet
de chambre Rietz is willing to stand with me in a sham marriage.”
“My body-servant!”
“Yes, Frederick William! You will confess that I am not ambitious, and
only consent to it to secure our happiness from the persecution of
these virtuous men. Here is the contract,” said she, drawing from her
dress-pocket a paper, which she unfolded. “He promises to give me his
name, and regard me as a stranger always, for the sum of four hundred
thalers annually, with the promise of promotion to confidential
servant when the noble crown prince shall ascend the throne. [Footnote:
Historical.--See F. Forster, “Latest Prussian History,” vol. 1., p. 74]
Will you sign it?”
“I will do any thing that will grant me your affection, in spite of my
unhappy oath. Give me the paper. I will sign it. When is the wedding?”
“The moment that you, my dear lord and master, have inscribed your
name,” said Wilhelmine, handing him the pen, and pointing to the paper.
The prince wrote the desired signature, quickly throwing the pen across
the room, shouting, “Long live Wilhelmine Rietz, who has rescued me from
perjury and sin! Come to my arms, outstretched to press to my heart the
most beautiful, most intelligent, and most diplomatic of women!”
Two days later it was related in Berlin that Wilhelmine Enke had married
the princely valet de chambre Rietz, the crown prince being present at
the ceremony, which took place at a small village near Potsdam.
Under the head of marriages, the Berlin newspapers announced “Wilhelmine
Enke to Carl Rietz.”
“Ah, my Rosicrucians,” cried Wilhelmine, laughingly, as she read this
notice, a mischievous triumph sparkling in her eyes; “ah, my heroes in
virtue, for once you are outwitted, and I am victorious! I would like
to witness their surprise. How they will laugh and swear over it! The
favorite of a prince married to a valet de chambre! Wait until the
prince becomes a king, then Wilhelmine Rietz will develop into a
beautiful butterfly, and the wife of the valet de chambre will become
a countess--nay, a princess. The Great Kophta has promised it, and
he shall keep his word. I wear his ring, which sparkles and glistens,
although the jeweller declares the diamond has been exchanged for a
false stone. No matter, if it only shines like the real one. Every thing
earthly is deception, falsehood, and glitter. Every one is storming and
pressing on in savage eagerness toward fortune, honor, and fame! I will
have my part in it. The storm and pressure of the world rage in my own
heart. The fire of ambition is lighted in my soul, and the insatiable
thirst for fortune consumes me. Blaze and burn until the day that
Frederick William ascends the throne; then the low-born daughter of
the trumpeter will become the high-born countess. The false stone will
change to the sparkling diamond and Cagliostro shall then serve me.”