“Shall we not then play marriage?” sounded the nightingale tones at my
side, and I felt her delicate hand rest upon my arm.
“To my latest hour,” I cried, enraptured; and every thing was forgotten
but the exquisite creature before me. We went to the saloon, and took
our places in a quiet niche. In the centre of the apartment they were
playing faro. There stood the doctor losing huge sums, and looking as if
he were cursing his unlucky stars.
Oh heavens! how beautiful she was with her graceful head bent over the
table, her heavenly eyes resting upon the cards, and her features
composed to an expression of thoughtfulness. How could I think of the
miserable game while she was sitting opposite to me? I thought of only
one marriage, and that was with the fair one herself.
She played eagerly, but in her eagerness displayed the most child-like,
guileless soul. When she won—and I always let her win—when my one
hundred-franc pieces slipped over the green cloth toward her, and she
looked at the heap of gold beside her, she clapped her hands like a
child beaming with innocence and simplicity. I was blest; I looked at
her, and lost with the greatest delight—for was not my purse
inexhaustible?
“That is enough for to-night,” said she at last, smiling graciously as
she entrusted the heap of gold to an old servant. “One must not go too
far, even in their favorite enjoyments. To-morrow I hope to give you
your revenge, dear marquis.”
She tripped away to her mother at the faro-table. I was intoxicated with
delight—I was beside myself. She had called me dear marquis, and in a
tone of voice which rung through my soul. In this blissful state I
looked toward the faro-table, but Joannes was no longer there. “He must
have lost all,” I said to myself, “and will trouble me no more with his
Viennese chariots and Andalusian ponies.” I longed for solitude, and
retired to a little room, lighted only by the tapers of the great
saloon. Throwing myself upon an ottoman, I thought upon my love and my
happiness. I compared my present with my former prospects. Poor Gabriel
Mostert! How often hast thou been compelled to wait before great men’s
doors, waiting for the permission, which was necessary, before I could
venture to intrude. And now, when the Marquis della Mostarda appears,
all doors are thrown open, and cringing lackeys attend everywhere to
wait on him—all the treasures of the earth are spread out before him
for his choice. To be sure just now the finger upon which Kate had put
the forget-me-not ring pinched me a little. But why need the marquis
keep a promise which the tradesman had made? The thing was not to be
thought of. Spite of this reasoning, my conscience would not let me
think of the burgomaster’s daughter without a twinge. But I called
Angelica’s image to my aid, and little Kate vanished. “She is an angel
from heaven, this duke’s daughter,” cried I aloud. Just at this moment a
loud, distinct voice in an adjoining dark room enchained my attention.
“Dog, hateful monster!” I heard Doctor Joannes say, “bring me more
money, or the compact which binds me to thee is null and void. Of what
use is it to me if I must stand now, like a naked beggar, by the side of
this Italian, who appears to possess the gold mines of Golconda, and who
loses thousands to the beautiful, avaricious Angelica—and smiles all
the while, as if he were playing for beans. Money! money! or I will
torment thee! I will turn Christian and take thee with me to church.”
Then I heard a suppressed whining. It was evident that Doctor Joannes
was conversing with the dog, of whom I had already heard something in
the saloon. He appeared to understand the poodle tongue, for he
answered, when the dog ceased whining, in increasing rage. “Do you say I
should have bargained with Moloch, if I wished for gold and jewels? That
I cannot compete with the Italian in expense, for he is under some
mighty influence, which has at its command all the treasures of the
world? That you fear he will marry Angelica, and so destroy all my
plans? Dog! cursed monster! Angelica must be mine! Do you dare to fear
where I hope? Wo be to you if my forbearance comes to an end.” Then the
poodle growled more angrily, and whined no more. It seemed as if the
growling in his throat deepened into thunder. But again he was silent,
and the doctor replied scornfully, “Your threats I despise, for you are
my slave. You must serve me until the old fellow in Wiemar has completed
me; it will be a long time before that happens. I shall enjoy life for
many years, and you must fill up my cup of pleasure. I say again,
Angelica must be mine. And money, money I must have, and that to-night.
My old friend may never complete me, or I may turn Christian; and in
either case you are balked of my poor soul!”
The dog replied by a tolerably distinct growling.
“Steal, steal—always steal,” replied the doctor, peevishly. “There is
something so vulgar in it. Why do you not steal for me, and have it
ready for me when I want it. You think stealing is something so purely
human that hell itself can have no part in it. But I care not, and will
be off with you again for booty. But not from the merchant’s safe or the
miser’s chest shall the money come to-night; take me to the treasury of
the Emperor of China; there, perhaps, I may find something worth the
stealing.”
An icy shudder ran through me. It was beyond a doubt I was in the
vicinity of a horrible magician and his _famulus_. There was a strange
rustling in the room; something flew out of the open door, the windows
clattered, and a violent wind blew suddenly without. Something impelled
me to go into the room. The air was hot and sulphurous, the high
folding-doors were open, and on the distant horizon I saw a meteor which
vanished in an instant. Half-senseless, I staggered out again. Strange
thoughts rushed through my mind. I seemed to have known this doctor and
his dog before, and to recollect walking and rioting with them in
Frankfort on the Main. But such ridiculous fancies I banished quickly
from my mind. “I shall have to deal with him,” said I to myself; “but he
can do me no harm, for if the worst comes to the worst, my cap can
easily rescue me.”
Satisfied with this reflection, I entered the eating saloon. The
trumpets had already announced that supper waited, and the duchess led
the fairest of the fair to me, that I might conduct her to the table.
How can I describe those moments of bliss! What were the English oysters
and Steinberg wine to me? I valued them not at all; I said nothing, but
gazed upon her, while in silver tones she revealed to me her whole
child-like soul. The dear child was, as is the case with all innocent
children—all wishes. She wished for several dresses of the finest and
broadest Brabant lace, for a set of Oriental pearls, and for diamonds of
larger size and purer water than those she was then wearing. Then
followed a multitude of fashionable trifles, and sweetmeats, which last
appeared particularly attractive to the lovely girl. I noted down every
thing in my memory, and resolved that all should be presented to her at
dinner the next day.
Doctor Joannes did not appear at table. It seemed to disturb the
duchess, who made many inquiries concerning him, but could learn nothing
satisfactory.
I thought it best to guard with diligent secrecy the fact that he had
gone to China upon a light-fingered errand. In his absence I was
relieved and happy. I might have been the star of the evening, and
should have made many excellent observations upon men and manners, had I
not infinitely preferred to listen to my gracious princess, who appeared
well pleased at not being interrupted in her prattle.
Thus the moments flew by, and the hour for departure arrived. I was in
no little embarrassment; richly dressed servants began to announce to
the various guests the arrival of their equipages. How could I sustain
the dignity of the Marquis della Mostarda? What could I do but retire to
some obscure corner, and wish myself in my gloomy lodgings on the
Bosphorus. But it was not so to be. A stately Moor, more brilliantly
appareled than the rest, approached me, and, as my servant, announced
that my vehicle was waiting. I took leave with the utmost dignity of my
princely entertainers, who declared that they should certainty expect me
the next day at noon, to accompany them on a drive to San Solario—the
duke’s château. These, their last words, were accompanied by a heavenly
smile from the princess.
In a state of perfect bliss I descended the marble steps, and saw by the
torchlight a magnificent chariot and two footmen in waiting. The Moor
assisted me to enter, and the horses, which might well vie with the
doctor’s Andalusian ponies, flew through the streets of Rio Janeiro. We
stopped before a stately mansion, my hotel, as an inward voice assured
me. Footmen stood ready to receive me, and chamberlains to attend me to
my sleeping apartment. In short, I should have fallen from one state of
bewilderment into another, had I not been perfectly conscious of my
position as fortune’s favorite. I slept under a silken coverlet, upon
eider down. But my dreams were excessively stupid, not of the charming
Angelica, as I had hoped, but of Van Delpt and Fleury, with their
nonsensical William Benkels and Henri Quatre, and of little Kate, with
her vulgar burgomaster papa.