Being now anxious to retire, Consuelo left the box, and in one of the
corridors met two masks. One of them said, in a low tone--
"Do not trust the Count de St. Germain."
She fancied that she recognised the voice of Uberto Porporino, her
brother artist, and took him by the sleeve of his domino. She said--
"Who is this count? I do not know him."
The mask did not seem to disguise his voice, which Consuelo at once
recognised as that of young Benda, the melancholy violinist. He took her
other hand, and said, "Distrust adventures and adventurers."
They then passed hastily, as if they were anxious to ask and answer no
questions.
Consuelo was surprised that she had been so easily recognised,
notwithstanding her care to disguise herself. Consequently she hurried
to go. She soon saw that she was watched, and followed by a mask, the
form and bearing of which seemed to denote Von Poelnitz, the director of
the royal theatres, and chamberlain to the king. She had not the least
doubt when he spoke to her, great soever as was his care to change his
voice and tone. He made some idle remarks, to which she did not reply,
for she saw distinctly that he wished to make her talk. She succeeded in
getting rid of him, and went through the ball-room, so as to be able to
give him the slip, in case he should persist in following her. There was
a great crowd, and she had much difficulty in finding the entrance. Just
at that moment she looked around, to be sure that she was not followed,
and was surprised to see Poelnitz talking in the most friendly manner
possible with the red domino, whom she supposed to be the Count de St.
Germain. She was not aware that Poelnitz had known him in France, and
feared some treason on the part of the _adventurer_--not for herself,
but for the princess--the secret of whom she had involuntarily betrayed
to a suspicious character.
When she awoke the next morning, she found a coronet of white roses
hanging above her head, to the crucifix which had belonged to her
mother, and with which she had never parted. She at the same time
observed that the cypress bough, which, since the evening of a certain
triumph at Vienna, when it had been thrown on the stage, had never
ceased to adorn the crucifix, had disappeared. She looked in every
direction for it in vain. It seemed that in substituting for it the
fresh and smiling crown, this sad emblem had intentionally been removed.
Her servant could not tell her how or when the substitution had been
made. She said she had not left the house on the previous evening, and
had admitted no one. She had not observed it when she prepared her
mistress's bed, and had not noticed if the crown was there or not. In a
word, she was so naïvely amazed at the matter, that it was difficult to
suspect her sincerity. This girl had a very unselfish heart, of which
Consuelo had received more than one proof. Her only fault was a great
love of gossip, and making her mistress the confidant of all her
chatterings. She did not on this occasion fail to weary her with a long
story of the most tedious details, though she could give her no
information. She did nothing but comment on the mysterious gallantry of
the chaplet. Consuelo, ere long, was so wearied, that she besought her
not to chatter any more, but to be quiet. When she was alone, she
examined the coronet with the greatest care. The flowers were fresh, as
if they had been gathered an instant before, and as full of perfume as
if it was not mid-winter. Consuelo sighed when she thought such
beautiful roses were at such a season scarcely to be found in any other
place than in a royal residence, and that her maid, perhaps, had good
reasons for not attributing them to the politeness of the king.
"He did not know," said she, "how fond I was of my cypress. Why did he
take it away? It matters not what hand has committed this profanation,
but may it be cursed!" As Porporina cast the chaplet from her, with an
expression of great sadness, she saw a slip of white parchment fall from
it, which she picked up, and on which she read these words, in an
unknown hand:--
"Every noble action merits a recompense, and the only one worthy of
great souls is the homage of hearts that sympathise. Let the cypress
disappear from your bedside, my generous sister, and let these flowers
rest on your brow, if but for a moment. It is your bridal crown--it is
the pledge of your eternal marriage with virtue, and of your admission
into the communion of the true believers."
Consuelo examined these characters with great surprise for a long time,
and her imagination sought in vain to discover some similarity to Count
Albert's writing. In spite of the distrust she entertained of the kind
of initiation to which she was invited--in spite of the revulsion
inspired by the promises of magic, which then was very popular in all
Germany and all philosophical Europe--in spite of the advice her friends
had given her, to be on her guard--the last words of the red domino, and
the expressions of the anonymous note, excited her imagination almost to
the point of downright curiosity, which may rather be called poetic
anxiety. Without knowing why she obeyed the affectionate injunction of
her unknown friends, she placed the coronet on her dishevelled hair, and
fixed her eyes on a glass, as if she expected to see behind her the
unknown apparition.
She was roused from her reverie by a short, distinct ring at the door,
and a servant came to tell her that the Baron Von Buddenbrock had a word
to say to her. This _word_ was pronounced with all the arrogance an
aide-de-camp always assumes when he is no longer under his master's
eyes.
"Signorina," said he, when she had gone into the saloon, "you must go
with me to the king at once. Make haste--the king awaits you."
"I will not wait on the king in slippers and in a _robe-de-chambre_,"
said La Porporina.
"I give you five minutes to dress," said Buddenbrock, taking his watch
from his pocket and pointing to the door of her chamber.
Consuelo was frightened, but having made up her mind to assume all the
dangers and misfortunes which might menace the princess and Trenck,
dressed in less time that had been given her, and went in company with
Buddenbrock, apparently perfectly calm. The aide had seen the king in a
rage, and though he did not know why, when he received an order to bring
the criminal, felt all the royal rage pass into his own heart. When he
found Consuelo so calm, he remembered that his master had a great
passion for this girl. He said that perhaps she might come out the
victor in the contest which was about to begin, and be angry at his
harsh conduct. He therefore thought it best to resume his humility,
remembering he could play the tyrant when her disgrace was certain. He
offered her his hand with an awkward and strange courtesy, to help her
in the carriage he had brought, and looking shrewdly and sharply at her,
as he sat on the front seat opposite her, with his hat in his hand,
said:
"This, signorina, is a magnificent winter's day."
"Certainly, baron," said Consuelo, in a mocking tone. "It is a fine time
to go beyond the walls."
As she spoke thus, Consuelo thought, with truly stoic calmness, that she
was about to pass the rest of the day _en route_ to some fortress.
Buddenbrock, who could not conceive of such heroism, fancied that she
menaced him, in case she triumphed over the stormy trials which awaited
her, with disgrace and imprisonment. He became pale; he attempted to be
agreeable, but could not, and remained thoughtful and discountenanced,
asking himself anxiously what he had done to displease Porporina.
Consuelo was introduced into a cabinet, the rose-colored furniture of
which she had time to see was scratched by the puppies that ran in and
out of it, covered with snuff, and very dirty. The king was not there,
but she heard his voice in the next room, and when he was in a bad humor
his voice was a terrible one. "I tell you I will make an example of this
rabble, which long has been gnawing the bowels of Prussia. I will purge
them!" said he, as he walked with his creaking boots up and down, in the
greatest agitation.
"Your majesty will do reason and Prussia a great service," said the
person to whom he spoke, "but it is no reason why a woman----"
"Yes, Voltaire, it is a reason. You do not know that the worst intrigues
and most infernal machinations originate in their brains?"
"A woman, sire! a woman!"
"Well, why repeat that again? You are fond of women, and have the
misfortune to live under the control of a petticoat, and cannot treat
them like soldiers and slaves when they interfere in serious matters."
"Your majesty cannot think there is anything serious in this affair? You
must use soporifics, and the pump-workers of miracles and adepts of
magic."
"You do not know what you are talking about, M. de Voltaire. What if I
told you poor La Mettrie had been poisoned?"
"So will any one be who eats more than his stomach can contain and
digest. Every indigestion is poison."
"I tell you his gourmandise alone did not kill him. They gave him a
_pâté_, made of an eagle, and told him it was pheasant."
"Well, the Prussian eagle is a deadly bird, but it uses lightning, not
poison."
"Well, spare me your metaphors. I will bet a hundred to one it was
poison. La Mettrie had faith in their extravagances, poor devil, and
told to anyone who would listen, half serious half in jest, that they
had shown him ghosts and devils. They crazed his incredulous and
volatile mind. As, however, after being Trenck's friend, he had
abandoned him, they punished him in their own way, I will now punish
them, and in a way they will not forget. As for those who, under the
cover of their infamous tricks, plot and deceive the vigilance of the
laws----"
Here the king pushed to the door, which had not been entirely shut, and
Consuelo heard no more. After waiting for a quarter of an hour in much
anxiety, she saw Frederick appear. Rage had made him look frightfully
old and ugly, he shut all the doors carefully, without looking at or
speaking to her, and when he again approached, there was something so
perfectly diabolical in his expression that she thought at first he was
about to strangle her. She knew that in his moments of rage, all the
savage instincts of his father returned to him, and that he did not
hesitate to bruise and kick the legs of his public functionaries with
his heavy boots, when he was in a bad humor. La Mettrie used to laugh at
these outrages, and used to assure him that the exercise was good for
the gout, with which the king was prematurely attacked.
La Mettrie would never again either make the king laugh, or laugh at
him. Young, active, fat, and hearty, he had died two days before from
excesses at the table; and I know not what dark fancy suggested to the
king the idea of attributing his death, now to the machinations of the
Jesuits, and then again to the fashionable sorcerers. The king himself,
though not aware of it, was under the influence of the vague and puerile
terror of the occult sciences, with which all Germany was then inspired.
"Listen to me," said he to Consuelo, with a piercing glance. "You are
unmasked. You are lost, and there is but one way to save yourself--that
is, to make a full, free and unreserved confession."
As Consuelo did not reply, he said--
"Down, wretch, down on your knees!"--(he pointed to the floor)--"you
cannot make such a confession standing! Your brow should be in the dust.
On your knees, or I will not hear you!"
"As I have nothing to tell you," said Consuelo, in an icy tone, "you
have nothing to hear. As for kneeling, you can never make me do so."
The king at first felt inclined to knock Consuelo down and trample on
her. She looked mechanically towards Frederick's hands, which were
extended towards her, and fancied she saw his nails grow longer, as
those of cats do when about to spring on their prey. The royal claws,
however, were soon contracted; amid all his littlenesses, having too
much grandeur of soul not to admire courage in others.
"Unfortunate girl," said he, with an expression of pity, "they have
succeeded in making a fanatic of you. Listen to me. Time is precious.
You yet may ransom your life. In five minutes it will he too late. Use
them well, and decide on telling me all, or prepare to die."
"I am prepared," said Consuelo, indignant at the menace, which she
thought he would not execute, and used only to frighten her.
"Be silent and think," said the king, placing himself at his desk, and
opening a book, with an affectation of calmness, which did not hide a
deep and painful emotion.
Consuelo, while she remembered that the Baron Von Buddenbrock had aped
the king grotesquely, by giving her, with watch in hand, five minutes to
dress herself, she took advantage of the time to reflect on the line of
conduct she should pursue. She saw that what she should most avoid was
the shrewd and penetrating cross-examination with which the king would
entrap her, as in a web. Who can flatter and trick a criminal judge like
Frederick? She was in danger of falling into the snare, and ruining the
princess instead of saving her. She then took the generous resolution of
not seeking to justify herself, but of asking of what she was accused,
and irritating the judge, so that he award an unreasonable and unjust
sentence, _ab irato._ Ten minutes passed thus, without the king's
looking up from his book. Perhaps he wished to give her time to change
her mind. Perhaps he had been absorbed by his book.
"Have you determined?" said he, at last, putting down his book crossing
his legs, and leaning his elbows on the table.
"I have nothing to determine on, being under the power of violence and
injustice; I have only to submit."
"Do you charge me with violence and injustice?"
"If not yourself, it is the absolute power you exercise, which corrupts
your soul, and leads your justice astray."
"Very well. Then you establish yourself as a judge of my conduct, and
forget you have but a few moments left to save yourself from death."
"You have no right to take my life, for I am not your subject. If you
violate the law of nations, so much the worse for you. For my own part,
I had rather die than live one day longer under your laws."
"You confess your hatred frankly," said the king, who appeared to
penetrate Consuelo's design, and who was about to foil it by putting on
an air of _sang-froid_ and contempt. "I see that you have been to a good
school, and the _rôle_ of Spartan virgin, which you play so well, is a
great evidence against your accomplices. It reveals their conduct more
completely than you think. You are not acquainted with the law of
nations and of men. Any sovereign can destroy all in his states who
conspire against him."
"I a conspirator!" said Consuelo, carried away by the feeling of
conscious truth, and too indignant to vindicate herself. She shrugged
her shoulders, turned her back on the king, and without knowing what she
was doing, seemed about to go away.
"Where are you going?" said the king, struck by her air of candor.
"To the prison!--to the scaffold!--to any place you please!--provided
you do not make me listen to this absurd accusation!"
"You are very angry," said the king, with a sardonic laugh. "Do you wish
to know why? You come here with the intention of playing the Roman
before me, and your comedy has been cut down into a mere interlude.
Nothing is so mortifying, especially to an actress, as not to be able to
play her part effectively."
Consuelo, scorning to reply, folded her arms and looked so fixedly at
the king that he was disconcerted. To stifle the rage which burned
within him, he was forced to break silence, and resume his bitter
mockery, hoping that in this way he would irritate the accused, and that
to defend herself she would lose her reserve and distrust.
"Yes," said he, as if in reply to the silent language of her proud face.
"I know well enough you have been made to think I was in love with you,
and that you could brave me with impunity. All this would be very
amusing, were it not that persons on whom I place a higher estimate were
not the cause of the affair. Vain of playing a great part, you forgot
that subaltern confidants are always sacrificed by those who employ
them. I cannot, therefore, punish them, for they are too near to me for
it to be possible to chastise them, except by the contemplation of your
suffering. It is for you to see if you can undergo this misfortune for
persons who have betrayed your interests, and have on your ambitious and
indiscreet zeal thrown all the suffering."
"Sire," said Consuelo, "I do not know what you mean. The manner,
however, in which you speak of confidants, makes me shudder for you!"
"Why!"
"Because you make me think that when you were the first victim of
tyranny, you would have surrendered Major Katt to a paternal
inquisition."
The king became pale as death. All are aware that after an attempted
flight to England, when young, he had witnessed the decapitation of his
confidant. When in prison, he had been taken and held by force at a
window, and made to see his friend's blood run on the scaffold. This
horrible scene, of which he was innocent as possible, made a terrible
impression on him. It is the fate of princes to follow the example of
despotism, even when they have suffered most by it. The mind of
Frederick from misfortune became moody; and after a youth passed in
prison and chains, he ascended the throne imbued with the principles and
prejudices of absolute authority. No reproach could be so severe as that
which Consuelo addressed to him, when she thus recalled his early
misfortunes, and made him aware of his present injustice. His very heart
was grieved, but the effect it worked was as little beneficial to his
hardened soul as the punishment of Katt had been in other days. He rose
and said, "You may retire," at the same time ringing the bell, and
during the few seconds which intervened before his call was answered,
opened his book again, and pretended to be interested by it. A nervous
tremor shook his hand, however, and made the leaves rustle as he turned
them.
A valet entered. The king waved his hand, and Consuelo went into another
room. One of the king's leverets, that had watched Consuelo, and had not
ceased to wag its tail and gambol around her, as if to challenge a
caress, followed her. The king, who had a paternal feeling only for
these animals, was obliged to call Mopsula back, just as she was passing
the door with Consuelo. The king had the mania, not altogether
irrational perhaps, of attributing to these animals an instinctive
perception of the feelings of those who approached them. He became
suspicious of persons whom he saw his dogs dislike, and liked those whom
they fawned on willingly. In spite of his mental agitation, the marked
sympathy of Mopsula had not escaped him; and when the pet returned to
him with an expression of sadness, he knocked, on the table and said to
himself as he thought of Consuelo, "Yet she was not badly disposed to
me."
"Has your majesty asked for me?" said Buddenbrock, as he appeared at
another door.
"No," said the king, who was offended at the anxiety with which the
courtier came to pounce on his prey. "Go away. I will ring for you."
Mortified at being treated like a valet, Buddenbrock left; and during
the few moments the king passed in meditation, Consuelo was retained in
the Gobelin-hall. At length the bell was heard, and the aide-de-camp did
not because of his mortification delay to hasten to the king. The king
appeared somewhat softened and communicative.
"Buddenbrock," said he, "that girl is an admirable character. At Rome
she would have deserved a triumph--a car with eight horses, and a
chaplet of oak leaves. Have a post-chaise prepared, take her yourself
out of the city, and send her under a good escort to Spandau, to be
confined as a state prisoner--not with the largest allowance of liberty.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, sire."
"One minute. Get into the carriage with her to pass through the city,
and frighten her by your conversation. It will be well to make her think
she is to be delivered to the executioner, and flogged as people were in
my father's time. Remember, however, while you talk thus, you must not
disturb a hair of her head; and put on your glove when you give her your
hand. Go: and learn, when you admire her stoical devotion, how you
should act to those who honor you with their confidence. It will do you
no harm."