But oh, my God! can the shrewdest dominican who ever discharged the
functions of grand inquisitor, contend with the wit of three women, when
love, fear and friendship inspire them equally. In vain did Frederick
adopt every manner, by caressing amiability, and by provoking sneers, by
unexpected questions, by feigned indifference, and oblique threats. He
detected nothing. The explanation of the presence of Consuelo in the
apartments of the princess was absolutely in accordance, as Madame von
Kleist and the abbess accounted for it, with that so fortunately
improvised by Porporina. It was the most natural and probable. Trusting
to chance is the best thing one can do. Chance is mute, and cannot
contradict you.
Weary of war, the king yielded, or changed his tactics. He said at
once--
"But I have forgotten, Porporina is in there. My dear sister, since you
are better, let her come in. Her chat will amuse you."
"I wish to sleep," said the princess, who feared some snare.
"Well, wish her good bye, and dismiss her yourself." As he spoke, the
king preceded the baroness, opened the door, and called Porporina.
Instead, however, of bidding her adieu, he brought about a dissertation
on German and Italian music. When that subject was exhausted, he said
suddenly--
"Ah, Signora Porporina, I forgot to tell you something which certainly
will please you. Your friend, the Baron von Trenck, is no longer a
prisoner."
"What Trenck, sire?" asked the young girl, with an artfully imitative
candor. "I know two, and both are prisoners."
"Ah! Trenck, the Pandour, will die at Spelberg. Trenck, the Prussian,
has gotten possession of the key of the fields."
"Well, sire," said Porporina, "for my part, I thank your majesty for
this just and generous act."
"Thank you for the compliment, signora! What think you of the matter, my
dear sister."
"Of whom are you talking now?" said the princess. "I was going to sleep,
and did not hear you."
"I speak of your _protegé_, the handsome Trenck, who escaped over the
walls of Glatz."
"Ah, he was right," said Amelia, with great coolness.
"He was wrong," said the king. "An examination of his case was about to
be made, and he might perhaps have been able to prove himself innocent
of the charges which rest on him. His flight is a confession of his
crime."
"If that be so," said Amelia, "I give him up." She maintained her
calmness.
"Porporina would persist in his defence," said Frederick. "I see it in
her eyes."
"The reason is, that I cannot believe in his guilt," said she.
"Especially when the traitor is a handsome young fellow. Do you know,
sister, that the signora is very intimate with Trenck?"
"I wish her joy," said Amelia, coldly. "If he be a dishonored man, I
advise her to forget him. Now I wish you good day, signora, for I am
much fatigued. I hope you will, in the course of a few days, come to see
me again, to read this music. It seems to me very beautiful."
"You have then resumed your taste for music?" said the king. "I thought
you had entirely abandoned it."
"I am anxious to resume it, and I hope, brother, that you will aid me in
doing so. I am told you have made great progress, and now you will
instruct me."
"We will now take them together from the signora. I will bring her."
"Well. That will be very pleasant to me."
The baroness took Porporina into the ante-chamber, and the latter soon
found herself alone in one of the long corridors, without knowing
whither to direct her steps to get out of the palace, for she did not
remember how she had gotten into it.
The household of the king was as economical as possible, if we do not
use a harsher word, and very few servants were to be met with in the
palace. Porporina met no one from whom she could inquire, and wandered
at hazard through the vast pile.
Reflecting on what had passed, overpowered by fatigue, and having fasted
since the previous day, and feeling much debilitated--as often happens
on such occasions--an unhealthy excitement sustained her physical
powers. Wandering at hazard, and more rapidly than if she had been well,
pursued by a personal idea, which, since the previous day had clung
around her, she completely forgot where she was, went astray, crossed
the galleries, the courts, retraced her steps, went up and down
staircases, met various persons, forgot to ask her way, and at last
found herself at the door of a vast hall, filled with divers confused
objects, at the threshold of which a grave and polished person bowed to
her with much courtesy, and invited her to enter.
Porporina recognised the learned academician, Stoss, keeper of the
cabinet of curiosities and of the castle library. He had often come to
ask her to try precious manuscripts of Protestant music, of the early
days of the Reformation, treasures of caligraphy, with which he had
enriched the royal collection. When he learned that she sought to leave
the castle, he offered at once to accompany her home, but begged her to
glance around the room which contained the treasures committed to his
charge, of which he was very proud. She could not refuse, and at once
took his arm.
Easily amused, as all artists are, she soon took more interest than she
had felt disposed to, and her attention was entirely absorbed by an
article pointed out by the learned professor.
"This drum, which at first does not seem at all peculiar, and which, I
am inclined to think, is an apocryphal monument, now enjoys the greatest
celebrity. It is certain that the sonorous portion of this instrument is
the human skin, as you may observe by the appearance of the marks of the
nipples. This trophy, which was taken from Prague, by his majesty, at
the termination of the late glorious war, is, they say, the skin of John
Ziska, of the Cup, the famous chief of the great rebellion of the
Hussites in the fifteenth century. It is said that he bequeathed this
relic to his brothers in arms, promising that victory would be where it
was. The Bohemians say, the sound of this terrible drum put their
enemies to flight, that it evoked the shadows of their dead chiefs to
fight for the holy cause, and a thousand other prodigies.
Notwithstanding, however, the illumination of the brilliant age of
reason in which we live, condemns all such superstitions to contempt. M.
d'Enfant, preacher to her majesty the queen mother, and author of an
admirable history of the Hussites, affirms that John Ziska was buried
with his skin, and consequently--It seems to me, signora, that you grow
pale. Do you feel indisposed, or does the sight of this strange object
offend you? This Ziska was a great criminal, and a ferocious rebel."
"Possibly, sir," said Porporina. "I have lived in Bohemia, and have
heard he was a very great man. His memory is yet as much revered as was
Louis XIV. in France. He is looked on as the savior of his country."
"Alas! that country was badly saved," said M. Stoss, with a smile, "and
were I even now to beat on the sonorous breast of its liberator, I could
not evoke even his spirit, shamefully captive in the palace of the
conqueror of his sons." As he spoke thus pedantically, the admirable
Herr Stoss tapped the drum with his lingers, and the instrument produced
a harsh, sinister sound, like that of those instruments when they are
beaten in the dead march. The wise keeper was suddenly interrupted in
this profane amusement by a piercing cry of Porporina, who cast herself
in his arms, and placed her face on his shoulder, like a child terrified
at some strange object.
The grave Herr Stoss looked around to discover the cause of this sudden
terror, and saw at the door of the room a person for whom he entertained
no sentiment but disdain. He would have waved his hand for the person to
withdraw, but it had passed away before Porporina, who held on to him,
allowed him liberty of motion.
"Indeed, signora," said he, leading her to a chair, in which she sank,
trembling and overpowered, "I cannot understand what is the matter with
you. I have seen nothing which should cause such emotion as you seem to
feel."
"You have seen nothing? You have seen no one?" said Porporina, with a
voice overpowered with excitement. "There, at that door, did you not see
a man pause and look at me with terrible expression?"
"I saw distinctly enough a man who often wanders in the castle, and who
would willingly assume the frightful air you speak of. I own, however,
that he alarms me but very slightly, for I am not one of his dupes."
"You saw him? Ah, sir! then he was really there! I did not dream! My
God! what may that mean!"
"That by virtue of the special protection of our amiable and august
princess, who rather laughs at his folly than believes in it, he has
come into the castle, and gone to the apartments of her royal highness."
"But who is he? What is his name?"
"Are you ignorant of it? Why, then, were you afraid?"
"For heaven's sake tell me who he is?"
"But----That is Trismagistus, the sorcerer of the Princess Amelia! He is
one of those charlatans whose business it is to predict the future,
reveal hidden treasures, make gold, and who have a thousand other
talents which, previous to the glorious reign of Frederick the Great,
were much the fashion. You have heard it said, signora, that the Abbess
of Quedlimburgh had a passion for them?"
"Yes, yes, monsieur. I know that from curiosity she studies magic."
"Oh, certainly. How can we suppose that a princess so enlightened and
educated can be really interested in such extravagances?"
"But, sir, do you know this man?"
"Oh, for a long time. During the last four years, we have seen him here
every six or eight months. As he is very peaceable, and is never
involved in intrigues, his majesty, who is unwilling to deprive his
dearest sister of any innocent amusement, tolerates his presence in the
city, and even permits him free ingress into the palace. He does not
abuse it, and does not exercise his pretended science in this country
for any person but her highness. M. de Golowin protects and is
responsible for him. That is all I can say about him. Why, signora, have
you so much interest in him?"
"All this does not at all interest me; and that you may not think me
mad, I must tell you that man bears a striking resemblance to a person
who was and is dear to me. I may be in error, however. Death does not
sunder the bonds of affection, sir. Do you not think so?"
"The sentiment you express, Signora Porporina, is noble, and worthy of a
person of your merit. You are, however, very much excited, and can
scarcely maintain yourself on your feet. Permit me to accompany you
home."
When she got home, Porporina went to bed, and remained for several days
tormented by fever and great nervous excitement. At the expiration of
that time she received a note from Madame von Kleist, who asked her to
come at eight in the evening to her, when there was to be music. The
music was a mere pretext to get her again into the palace. They went by
dark passages to the princess's rooms, and they found her in a charming
dress, though her apartment was scarcely lighted, and all the persons
who belonged to her service had been dismissed, under the pretext of
indisposition. She received Porporina with a thousand caresses, and,
passing her arm familiarly through hers, led her to a pretty circular
room, lighted up with fifty lights, in which a delicious supper was
tastefully served. The French _rococo_ at that time had not been
introduced into the Prussian court. There was at that time an
affectation of deep contempt for the court of France, and all sought to
imitate the traditions of Louis XIV., for whom Frederick, who secretly
aped him, professed the most boundless admiration. The Princess Amelia,
however, was dressed in the latest fashion, and though more chastely
dressed than Madame de Pompadour, was not less brilliantly. The Baroness
von Kleist was also dressed as brilliantly as possible, though the table
was set with only three covers, and was without a single servant!
"You are amazed at our little _fête_," said the princess, laughing.
"Well, you will be yet more so, when you know that we three will sup
together and will serve ourselves, as Von Kleist and I have already
prepared everything. We set the table, lit the candles, and never were
so amused. For the first time in my life, I dressed my hair and made my
toilet, and it was never done better, at least in my opinion. We are
going to amuse ourselves incognito. The king sleeps at Potsdam, the
queen is at Charlottembourg, my sisters are with the queen mother at
Montbijou, my brothers are I know not where, and none but ourselves are
in the palace. I voted myself sick, and resolved to make use of the
opportunity to live a little, and _fête_ you two (the only persons whom
I can trust) on the escape of Trenck. We will, then, drink champagne to
his health, and one of us must get tipsy. The others can keep the
secret. Ah! the philosophic suppers of Frederick will be eclipsed by the
splendor of this one!"
They sat down, and the princess appeared under a new aspect to the
Porporina. She was good, kind, natural, joyous, beautiful as an angel,
and, in a word, adorable as she had been in the first days of her youth.
She seemed to float in pure, generous, disinterested bliss. Her lover
was flying from her, she knew not if she would ever see him, yet this
radiant being rejoiced at his flight.
"Ah! how happy I am between you," said she to her confidants, who formed
with herself the most perfect trio of profane coquetry ever concealed
from the eyes of man. "I am as free as Trenck. I feel as good as he is
and always was. It seemed to me that the fortress of Glatz pressed on my
soul at night, and swept over me like a nightmare. I was cold in my
eider-bed when I thought of him on the damp pavement of the dark prison.
I did not live. I could enjoy nothing. Ah! dear Porporina! imagine my
horror, when I said, 'All this he suffers for me! My fatal love has cast
him into a living tomb!' This idea changed my food into poison, like the
gall of the harpies. Pour me out some champagne. Ah! it seems to me like
ambrosia! The lights are smiling! the flowers smell sweetly! the dishes
are delicate, and Von Kleist and yourself are beautiful as angels! Yes:
I see, I hear, I breathe! I have been restored to life, from the statue,
the carcass I was! Here, drink with me to the health of Trenck! and then
to the health of the friend who escaped with him! Afterwards, we will
drink to the kind keepers who let him fly! and then to my brother
Frederick, who could not help it! No bitter thought shall trouble us
this holiday. I have no animosity against anyone. I think I love the
king. Here! 'To the health of the king!' Porporina! '_Vive le Roi!_'"
What chiefly enhanced the pleasure which the poor princess conferred on
her two friends was the simplicity of her manners to the party. When her
turn came, she left the table and changed the plates, carved for
herself, and served her companions with the most infantine gaiety.
"Ah! if I was not born to a life of equality," said she "love, at least,
has taught me what it is; and the misfortune of my position has made me
appreciate the folly of the prejudices of rank and birth. My sisters are
not like me. My sister of Anspach would place her head on the block,
rather than bow it to a non-reigning highness. My sister of Bareith, who
talks logic and philosophy with M. de Voltaire, would scratch out the
eyes of any duchess who had an inch more silk in her train than herself.
The reason is, you see, they never loved. They will pass their lives in
the pneumatic machine they call their rank. They will die embalmed in
majesty like mummies. They will not have known great griefs, as I have;
but, in all their lives of etiquette and gala, they will never have had
a quarter of an hour of freedom such as I enjoy now! You must, my dears,
make the _fête_ complete, and _tutoy_ each other. I wish to be Amelia!
not your highness! Plain Amelia! Ah! Von Kleist, you look as if you were
about to refuse me! The unhealthy air of the court has spoiled you. You,
Porporina, though an actress, seem a child of nature!"
"Yes, dear Amelia, I will do all I can to oblige you," said Porporina,
laughing.
"Oh, heaven! did you but know how I love to be _tutoyed_ and hear myself
called Amelia! 'Amelia!' How well _he_ pronounced that name! It seemed
to me then to be the most beautiful name in the world, the softest ever
woman bore; at least, when he pronounced it."
Gradually, the princess carried her joy to such an excess, that she
forgot herself, and attended only to her guests. In this strife for
equality, she became so happy and kind that she divested herself of the
stern egotism which had been developed by passion and suffering. She
ceased entirely to speak of herself, nor seemed even to claim merit for
simplicity and amiability. She questioned the Baroness Von Kleist about
her family, her situation and sentiments, more closely than she had done
since she had been absorbed by her own sorrows. She was anxious to know
the artist's life, to hear of the emotions of the theatre, the ideas and
affections of Porporina. She inspired confidence into others from the
abundance of her own heart, and took exquisite delight in reading their
souls, and most in seeing in those beings, so unlike herself, a similar
essence--as meritorious in the eyes of God, as richly gifted by nature,
as important on earth as she had ever thought she was, in relation to
others.
The ingenuous answers and sympathetic expansion of Porporina, filled her
with respect mingled with surprise.
"You seem to me an angel! You!--an actress!--you speak and think more
nobly than any crowned head I know! Listen to me! I have conceived an
affection for you almost amounting to devotion. You must grant me your
heart, Porporina. You must open to me your heart. Tell me of your
life--your birth, your education, your amours, your misfortunes--of your
very errors. They must certainly be noble ones, like those which I bear,
not on my conscience, but in the sanctuary of my heart. It is eleven
o'clock, and we have the night before us. Our orgie is nearly over, for
we only gossip, and I see the second bottle of champagne will be
neglected. Will you tell me your story, as I have asked you to do? It
seems to me that the knowledge of your heart will be new and unknown to
me, and will instruct me in the true duties of life better than all the
reflections I have ever made. I feel myself capable of hearing and of
listening to you. Will you satisfy me?"
"With all my heart, madame," said Porporina.
"Why, 'madame?' whom do you call 'madame?'" said the princess, gaily,
interrupting her.
"I mean, my dear Amelia," said Porporina, "that I would do so willingly,
if there were not in the history of my life an important and almost
formidable secret, on which so much hangs, that no desire, no prompting
of my heart, can induce me to reveal!"
"Well, my dear child, I know your secret! and if I did not speak of it
at the commencement of the supper, it was in consequence of a feeling of
discretion, which my friendship for you now enables me to dispense
with."
"You know my secret!" said Porporina, petrified with surprise. "Pardon
me, madame; but that seems impossible!"
"You still continue to address me as highness. Can you doubt?"
"Excuse me, Amelia. But you cannot know my secret, unless you have
really an understanding with Cagliostro, as is said."
"I have heard your adventure with Cagliostro spoken of, and I am dying
with curiosity to learn its details. Curiosity, however, does not
influence me this evening, but friendship, as I have sincerely told you.
To encourage you, I will say, frankly, that since this morning have I
learned that Consuelo Porporina may, if she pleases, legally assume the
title of Countess of Rudolstadt!"
"In heaven's name, madame! who could tell you?"
"My dear Rudolstadt, you do not know that my sister, the Margravine of
Bareith, is here?"
"Yes."
"With her is her physician, Supperville."
"I see he has broken his word--his oath! He has said----?"
"Calm yourself. He has spoken only to me. I do not see, however, why you
should be afraid to make known a matter which is so honorable to your
character and can hurt no one. The Rudolstadts are extinct, with the
exception of an old canoness, who ere long will rejoin her brothers in
the tomb. We have, it is true, princes of Rudolstadt in Saxony, who are
your near relations, being cousins german, and who are proud of their
name. If my brother were to sustain you, they would not dare to protest:
unless you prefer to be called Porporina, which is more glorious and
more pleasant to the ear."
"That is really my intention," said the singer. "I wish, however, to
know how Supperville came to tell you this. When I know it, and when my
conscience is no longer bound by my oath, I promise to tell you the
details."
"Thus it is," said the princess:--"One of my women was sick, and I sent
to ask Supperville, who was, I learned, in the palace, to come to see
her. Supperville is a man of mind, and I knew him when he resided here.
This made me talk to him. Chance directed the conversation to music, the
opera, and, consequently, to yourself. I spoke of you so highly, that,
whether to please me or from conviction, he surpassed even me, and
extolled you to the clouds. I was pleased, and observed a kind of
affectation, which made me entertain a presentiment of some romantic
interest in you, and a grandeur of soul superior even to what I had
presumed. I urged him strongly, and he seemed to like to be besought, I
must say, in justification. Finally, after having made me promise not to
betray him, he told me of your marriage on the death bed of the Count of
Rudolstadt, and of your generous renunciation of every right and
advantage accruing from it. You see, my dear, you may now tell me the
rest, for I promised never to betray you."
"This being the case," said Consuelo, after a moment of silence, "though
the story will awaken the most painful emotions, especially since my
sojourn at Berlin, I will repay the interest of your highness--I mean,
my dear Amelia--with confidence."