Immediately after the opera, the theatre was laid with a floor, lighted
up and decorated as usual, and the great ball, known in Berlin as the
_redoute_, opened at midnight exactly. The company was tolerably mixed,
for the princess and perhaps the princesses of the blood-royal mingled
with the actors and actresses of all the theatres. Porporina entered
alone, in the disguise of a nun, a costume which enabled her to hide her
neck and shoulders with a veil, and her person with a very thick and
ample dress. She felt that it was absolutely necessary for her to be
completely concealed, to avoid the comments to which her being with
Saint Germain would expose her. She was not sorry to have an opportunity
of testing the penetration of the latter, who had boasted that he could
discover her in any disguise whatever. She had therefore made, without
aid, and without confiding in a servant, this simple and easy dress. She
had gone out alone, dressed in a long pelisse, which she did not lay
aside until she found herself in the centre of the crowd. She had not
made the tour of the room before a circumstance happened that disturbed
her. A mask of her own height, and which seemed to be of her sex, clad
in a nun's robes, exactly like hers, met her frequently, and laughed at
their identity.
"My dear sister," said this nun, "I would wish to know which of us is
the shadow of the other. As it seems, though, you are lighter and more
diaphonous than I, be pleased to touch my hand, that I may know if you
be my twin sister or my shadow."
Consuelo repelled these attacks, and sought to go to her dressing-room,
and either change her costume or make some alteration which might
prevent a mistake. She feared that the count, in spite of all her
precautions, had obtained some inkling of her disguise, and might test
her _sosia_ of the secrets he had referred to on the previous evening.
She had not time, though, to do so, for a monk was already in pursuit,
and took possession of her arm without consulting her. "You cannot avoid
me, my dear sister," said he, "for I am your father confessor, and am
about to tell you your sins. You are the Princess Amelia."
"You are a novice, brother," said Consuelo, disguising her voice, as is
the wont at _bals masqués._ "You know little of your penitents."
"Oh! you need not counterfeit your voice, sister. I do not know whether
you wear the costume of your order or not, but you are Abbess of
Quedlimburgh, and may as well own it to your brother Henry."
Consuelo recognized, indeed, the voice of the prince, who had often
spoken to her, and who had a kind of lisp which was peculiar. To be
satisfied that her _sosia_ was the princess, she continued to refuse to
acknowledge that she was what Prince Henry fancied her. The prince
added, "I saw your costume in the hands of the person who made it, and
as princes can have no secrets, found out for whom it was intended.
Come, let us waste no time in gossiping. You cannot deceive me, my dear
sister, for I do not attach myself to your side for the purpose of
deceiving you. I have something serious to say to you. Come a little
aside with me."
Consuelo suffered the prince to take her aside, having resolved to show
her face rather than thus acquire a knowledge of any family secret. The
first word he spoke to her, when they had gained the box, however, was
of such a character as to fix her attention, and give her a right to
hear what he said.
"Beware how you confide too readily to Poporina," said the prince to his
pretended sister. "I tell you this, not because I doubt either her
discretion or nobleness of heart. The most important persons of _the
order_ pledge themselves for her, and even if you continue to jeer me
about the nature of my sentiments towards her, I will own that I
sympathise with you in relation to her. Both those persons and myself,
however, are of opinion, that you should not compromise yourself with
her, until you are sure of her good disposition. An enterprise which
would take possession in advance of so ardent a disposition as yours,
and a mind justly irritated, as my own, might at first terrify a timid
girl, a stranger beyond doubt to all philosophy and all politics. The
reasons which have influenced you are not of that character which would
produce an impression on a girl in such a different sphere. Confide her
initiation, then, to Trismegistus or to Saint Germain."
"But has not Trismegistus gone?" said Consuelo, who was too complete an
actress not to be able to counterfeit the hoarse and changeable voice of
the Princess Amelia.
"If he has gone, you must be more aware of the fact than I am, for he
has relations with no one but yourself. I do not know him. The Count
Saint Germain appears the most skillful operator, and the person most
familiar with the science which occupies us. He has done his best to
attach this singer to us, and to rescue her from the dangers which
menace her."
"Is she really in danger?" asked Consuelo.
"She will be, if she persists in rejecting the suit of the _marquis._"
"What marquis?" asked Consuelo with astonishment.
"You are out of your wits, sister; I speak of the _Grand Lama_, FRITZ."
"Yes, the Marquis of Brandebourg," said Porporina, seeing that he
referred to the king. "Are you sure, though, that he thinks of her?"
"I will not say he loves her, but he is jealous of her. Besides, you
must he aware, by making her your confidant, you compromise her. Well, I
know nothing of this, nor will I. For heaven's sake be prudent, and let
not _our friends_ fancy that you are actuated by any other sentiment
than that of political liberty. We have determined to adopt your
Countess de Rudolstadt. When she is initiated, and bound by oaths,
promises and threats, you will expose yourself to no danger with her.
Until then, I implore you, do not see her, and do not talk to her of our
affairs. Besides, remain no longer in this hall, where you are out of
place, and to which the _Grand Lama_ will certainly know you came. Let
me take you to the door, for I can go no farther. I am thought to be
under arrest at Potsdam; and some eyes pierce even an iron mask."
Just then some one knocked at the door of the box, and as the prince did
not open it at first, repeated the tap. "That is a very impertinent
person who insists on coming into a box in which there is a lady," said
the prince, showing his bearded mask at the window of the box. A red
domino, with ruddy face, the appearance of which was terrible, appeared
and said with a strange gesture, "_It rains._" This news made a great
impression on the prince. "Should I go or stay?" said he to the red
mask.
"You must find a nun exactly like this, who is amid the crowd. I will
take care of this lady," added he, speaking to Consuelo, and going into
the box, which the prince opened anxiously. The prince left without
saying another word to Consuelo.
"Why," said the new comer to Porporina, as he took a seat in the back of
the box, "did you take a disguise exactly like the princess's? Thus you
might expose yourself to a fatal mistake. I see neither your prudence
nor your devotion."
"If my costume be like that of another person," said Consuelo, now fully
on her guard, "I do not know it."
"I fancied this was a carnival joke arranged between you. Since chance
alone has brought it about, let us abandon the matter, and talk no more
of the princess."
"But, if any one be in danger, it does not appear to be the part of
those who talk of devotion, to stand with folded arms."
"The person who has just left us, will, beyond doubt, watch over this
august madcap. Certainly, you cannot be ignorant that the thing
interests others than ourselves, for the person has also made love to
you."
"You are mistaken, sir. I know that person no more than I do you.
Moreover, your language is that neither of a friend nor of one who
jests. Permit me to return to the hall."
"Suffer me, in the first place, to ask you for a pocket book you are
instructed to give me."
"Not so--I have nothing of the kind."
"Very well. That is the language you should use. It is thrown away on
me, however, for I am the Count de Saint Germain."
"That makes no difference."
"If I were to take off my mask, you would not know me, never having seen
my features except in the dark. Here, however, is my letter of credit."
The red domino gave Consuelo a sheet of music, on which was written a
testimonial she could not mistake. She gave him the pocket book, not
without trembling, and took care to add, "Take notice of what I have
said, I am charged with no message for you; I alone send these letters
and funds to the person you know of."
"Then you are Trenck's mistress?"
Terrified at the painful falsehood required from her, Consuelo was
silent.
"Tell me, madame," said the red domino; "the baron does not deny that he
receives letters and aid from a person who loves him. Are you his
mistress?"
"I am that person," said Consuelo, "and I am as much wounded as I am
surprised at your questions. Cannot I be the baron's friend, without
exposing myself to the brutal expressions and outrageous suspicions you
dare to use to me?"
"The state of things is too important for us to stop at words. Listen:
you charge me with a task which endangers and exposes me to troubles of
more than one kind. Perhaps there may be some political plot, and with
that I will have naught to do. I have given my word to the friends of
Trenck, to aid him in a love matter. Let us understand; I did not
promise to aid his _friendship._ The latter phrase is too vague, and
makes me uneasy. I know you incapable of falsehood; and if you do not
tell me positively that Trenck is your lover, and enable me to tell
Albert of Rudolstadt----"
"For heaven's sake, sir, do not torture me thus. Albert is dead."
"As men think, I know he is dead; but to you and me he continues alive."
"If you mean in a religious and symbolic sense, it is true; but, if in a
material point of view----"
"Let us not argue the matter. A veil covers your mind; but it will soon
be lifted. What it concerns me now to know, is your position in relation
to Trenck. If he is your lover, I will take charge of this commission,
on which it is probable that his life depends, for he is without means.
If you refuse to answer, I cannot be your messenger."
"Well," said Consuelo, "he is my lover. Take the pocket-book, and hasten
to send it to him."
"That will do," said M. de St. Germain, taking the package; "noble and
generous girl, let me confess my admiration and respect. This is merely
a test to which I wished to subject your devotion and abnegation. Go: I
know that from a generous sentiment you have told what was untrue, and
that you are holily faithful to your husband. I am aware that the
Princess Amelia, while she makes use of me, disdains to grant me her
confidence, and toils to divest herself, of the tyranny of the Grand
Lama, all the time that she plays the part of the dignified princess.
She maintains her own part and does not disdain to expose you, a poor
helpless girl, (as the public say,) to an eternal misfortune; yes, to
the greatest of sorrows, that of impeding the brilliant resurrection of
your husband, and detaining him in the torment of doubt and despair.
Fortunately, between the soul of Albert and yourself a chain of
invisible bands extends, uniting the spirit that toils on earth and in
sunlight, with that which struggles in the unknown world, in the shadow
of mystery, and far from vulgar humanity."
This strange language astonished Consuelo, though she had made up her
mind not to put any faith in the captious declamations of pretended
prophets. "Explain yourself, count," said she, in a tone of studious
calmness and coldness. "I know that Albert's earthly career has not
finished on earth, and that his soul has not been crushed by the breath
of death. The connection, however, between him and me is covered by a
veil which my own death alone can remove, even if God please to permit
us to enjoy a vague memory of our previous existence. This is a
mysterious point, and it is in the power of no one to assist the
celestial influence which, in a new life, unites those who in another
sphere have loved. What would you have me believe by saying that certain
sympathies watch over me for the purpose of bringing this union about?"
"I can speak of myself only, having known," said M. de St. Germain,
"Albert from all time, as well when I served in the Hussite war, against
Sigismond, as later in the war of thirty years, when----"
"I know that you claim to be able to recall all your anterior life, and
Albert, also, had that unfortunate impression. Thank God, I never
suspected his sincerity, but this faith was so linked to a kind of mad
exaltation, that I never believed in the reality of this exceptional,
and perhaps inadmissible power. Excuse me from listening to your strange
fancies on this matter. I know that many people, excited by frivolous
curiosities, would now wish to be in my place, and would receive, with a
smile of encouragement and feigned credulity, the wonderful stories you
tell so admirably. I cannot act, except when it is my duty, and am not
amused at what you call your reveries. They recall to my mind those
which terrified and alarmed me so much in the Count of Rudolstadt. Keep
them for persons who participate in them. On no account would I deceive
you by pretending to believe; even if those reveries recalled no sorrow,
I would not laugh at you. Be pleased, then, to answer my questions,
without seeking to lead my judgment astray by words of vague and
indefinite meaning. To assist you in becoming frank, I will tell you
that I am aware you have vague and mysterious views about me. You are to
initiate me in I know not what fearful secret, and persons of high rank
expect you to impart to me the first principles of I know not what
occult science."
"Persons of high rank, countess, sometimes make great mistakes," said
St. Germain, with great calmness. "I thank you for the frankness with
which you have spoken to me, and will not touch on matters which you
will not understand. I will only say, then, there is an occult science
in which I take an interest, and in which I am aided by superior lights.
There is nothing supernatural in it, for it is purely and simply that of
the human heart--or, if you like the term better--a deeper acquaintance
with human life in the most secret springs of its action and resources.
To prove to you that I am not a vain boaster, I will tell you what has
passed in your life, since you left Count Rudolstadt; that is, if you
will permit me?"
"I do--for on that point I am sure you cannot deceive me."
"Well, you love, for the first time in your life; you love completely
and truly. Well, the person you thus love with tears of repentance--for
you did not love him a year ago--this person, the absence of whom is
bitter to you, and whose disappearance has discolored your life and
disenchanted your future, is not Baron Von Trenck, for whom you
entertained no feeling but gratitude and great sympathy; neither is it
Joseph Haydn, who is but a young brother in Apollo; nor is it King
Frederick, who both frightens and terrifies you; it is not the handsome
Anzoleto, whom you can no longer esteem--but the one you saw on the bed
of death, with all the ornaments which the pride of nobles place even on
the tomb of the dead--Albert of Rudolstadt."
Consuelo for an instant was astonished at this revelation of her secret
thoughts, by a man whom she did not know. Remembering that she had
unveiled her life, and exposed her most utter secrets on the previous
night to the Princess Amelia, and knowing from what Prince Henry had
said, that the princess had mysterious affiliation with that society, a
principal member of which the Count de St. Germain was, she ceased to be
surprised, and told the latter that there was nothing strange in his
being acquainted with matters she had owned to an indiscreet friend.
"You speak of the Abbess of Quedlimburg. Well, will you believe in my
word of honor?" said the count.
"I have no reason to doubt it," said Porporina.
"I pledge it to you," said the count, "that the princess has not spoken
a word to me of you, for I have not been able to exchange a word either
with her or with Madame Von Kleist."
"Yet, sir, you have communicated with her at least indirectly."
"As far as I am concerned, my communication has gone no farther than
sending Trenck's letters, and receiving hers by a third party. You see
her confidence in me does not go very far, since she thinks I am
ignorant of the interest I take in our fugitive. She is only foolish, as
all tyrannical persons become, when they are oppressed. The servants of
truth have expected much from her, and have granted her their
protection. Heaven grant they may never repent of it."
"You judge an interesting and unfortunate princess harshly, sir count,
and perhaps know no great deal of her affairs. I am ignorant of them."
"Do not tell a useless falsehood, Consuelo. You supped with her last
night, and I can describe all the details to you." The count then told
her of every circumstance, even what the princess and Madame Von Kleist
said, the dresses they wore, the very bill of fare, their meeting the
_balayeuse_, etc. Neither did he pause there, but also told our heroine
of the king's visit, what had been said, of his shaking the cane over
her head, the threats and repentance of Consuelo, even their gestures
and the expression of their faces, as clearly as if he had been present.
He concluded, "My honest and generous child, you did very wrong to
suffer yourself to be won by this return to friendship and kindness on
the part of the king. You will repent of it. The royal tiger will make
you feel his nails, unless you accept a more honest and respectable
protection--one true, paternal, and all-powerful, which will not be
restrained by the narrow limits of the Marquisate of Brandebourg, but
will hover over the whole surface of the globe, and would accompany you
to the deserts of the new world."
"I know of no being but God, who can extend such a protection, and will
care for so insignificant a being as I am. If I be in danger here, in
Him do I put my trust. I would have no confidence in any other care the
means and motives of which I would be ignorant."
"Distrust ill becomes great souls," said the count. "Because Madame de
Rudolstadt is one of those thus gifted, she has a right to the
protection of God's true servants. For that reason is protection offered
to you. The means are immense, and differ both in power and right from
those possessed by kings and princes, as much as God in his sublimity
differs from the most glorious despots. If you love and confide in
divine justice, you are bound to recognise its action in good and
intelligent men, who, here below, are the ministers of his will, and
protectors of his supreme law. To redress crime, to protect the weak, to
repress tyranny, to encourage and reward virtue, to preserve the sacred
deposit of honor, has from all time been the mission of an illustrious
phalanx of venerable men, who, from the beginning of time, have been
perpetuated to our days. Look at the gross and inhuman laws which rule
nations, look at human prejudice and error, see everywhere the monstrous
traces of barbarism. How can you conceive that in a land so badly ruled
by perfidious governments, all learning and true principles can be
repressed? Such is the case, and we are able to find spotless lilies,
pure flowers, hearts like your own, like Albert's, expanding and
blooming amid the filth of earth. Think you they can preserve their
perfume, avoid the unclean bite of reptiles, and resist the storm, if
they be not sustained and preserved by friendly hands? Think you that
Albert, that sublime man, stranger to all vulgar baseness, so superior
to humanity that the uninitiated thought him mad, exhausted all his
greatness and faith on himself? Think you he was an isolated fact in the
universe, and contributed nothing to the hearth of sympathy and hope?
You yourself--think you that you would have been what you are, had not
the divine efflatus been received from Albert? How, separated from him,
cast in a sphere unworthy of you, exposed to every peril, every danger,
everything calculated to lead you astray, an actress, the confidante of
an imprudent and enamored princess, the reputed mistress of a debauched,
icy, and selfish monarch, do you expect to maintain the spotless purity
of your primitive candor, if the mysterious wings of the archangels be
not extended over you? Take care, Consuelo; not in yourself alone will
you find the strength you need. The prudence of which you boast will be
easily foiled by the ruses of the spirits of darkness, which wander
around your virginial pillow. Learn, then, to respect the holy army, the
invisible soldiery, armed with faith, which already forms a rampart
around you. You are asked for neither engagements nor services; you are
ordered only to be docile and confident when you are aware of the
unexpected effects of their benevolent adoption. I have told you enough.
You will reflect maturely on my words, and when the time shall come, you
will see wonders accomplished around you. Then remember that all is
possible to those who believe and work together, to those who are equal
and free; yes, nothing is impossible to them who recognise merit--and if
yours were so elevated as to deserve this great reward, know that they
could resuscitate Albert, and restore him to you."
Having thus spoken, in a tone which seemed animated by conviction and
enthusiasm, the red domino left Consuelo without waiting for a reply. He
bowed to her before he left the box, where she remained for some
momeuts, motionless and a prey to strange reveries.