In Pirna Street, which in times of yore was the most elegant street in
the small walled city of Dresden, stood Beichling House, once the
residence of the unfortunate Chancellor, who was now a prisoner at
Koenigstein. Princess Lubomirska, _nee_ Bohun, divorced from her
husband, the master of the pantry at Lithuania, and beloved by Augustus
II., who, after the birth of her son, the famous Chevalier de Saxe,[1]
had created her Princess Teschen, had received Beichling House as a
reward for the overthrow of the Chancellor, in which she had greatly
assisted. And it was in this palace that she always resided, when not
living on her estates at Hoyerswerd. But now a change had come. Those
first years of passionate love and knightly gallantry, when the
beautiful King could not live for a single day without his dear Ursula,
and when the charming Princess, then but twenty years of age, galloped
forth impatiently to meet her royal lover, were gone; those happy times
passed in Warsaw, in travelling through Germany, in splendid balls at
Dresden and Leipzic, seemed to have departed for ever.
[Illustration: The Princess Teschen]
Ever since that ball at Leipzic, when, to punish the gallantry of
Augustus II., who was paying court to the Princess Anhalt-Dessau, the
merciless Queen of Prussia, Sophia Caroline, had assembled that
monarch's three ex-mistresses, Aurora Koenigsmark, the Countess Esterle,
and Frau Haugwitz, in order to confuse him and Princess Teschen--ever
since that ball, although it had ended in the most tender assurances of
constancy on the part of the King, Princess Teschen had felt uneasy.
She was always thinking that she too might be abandoned by the
inconstant Augustin.[2] It was true that, despite his secret love
affairs, the King always showed great respect and affection for
Princess Teschen. She had considerable influence over him, and was very
skilful in leading him with golden reins, held by a slender white hand,
but still she felt that the King might abandon her at any moment.
Her mirror told her that she still preserved that beauty and freshness
of which she took such care; but that beauty and freshness no longer
possessed the charm of novelty for the King, and he easily grew weary,
and always required something new and fresh to distract him. He enjoyed
the conversation of the beautiful Princess; he liked her cleverness in
court intrigues, her policy covered by a veil of womanly frivolity, her
perfumed perversity, and the skilful manner in which she used the
entangled intrigues of others for her own benefit. Augustus used still
to visit her for a couple of hours, or more, but had the Queen asked
her to-day, as she had on a former occasion, when she intended to leave
Dresden, she could not, as she had done then, reply boldly, that as she
had come with the King, so would she leave with him. Thus her beautiful
blue eyes were veiled by a cloud of sadness, but the softness in those
eyes, so full of melancholy, was misleading, for the Princess possessed
an iron perseverance when endeavouring to attain a desired object. From
day to day her uneasiness increased, she feared every moment to receive
an order to leave Dresden, and such an order would separate her from
the King for ever.
Outwardly all was still unchanged, she was still respected at court,
but she read her approaching downfall in the eyes of the courtiers, and
from time to time she noticed ironical smiles, and malicious glances
cast in her direction.
The Princess loved Augustus, she loved him passionately, and she had
even thought that the volatile King would settle down, and that she
would one day become Queen, but these illusions had vanished. She felt
now that she was bound to meet the same fate as her lord's former
favourites. Disenchanted and disappointed, she occasionally recovered
her former gaiety and coquettishness when she desired to please the
King, but when in her palace she wept secretly, and promised herself
revenge. Letters were now despatched to Radziejowski, Primate of
Poland, more frequently than ever. The King, however, was aware of the
peril of incurring the Princess's wrath, as she was niece to the first
dignitary of the Republic, and he made every effort to persuade her of
his continued attachment. But in the meantime she was surrounded by
spies, for the King feared her vengeance, even before he had deserved
it.
The love of Augustus II. had changed to pure gallantry, its chill could
be felt. Princess Teschen still occupied the first place at court,
after the Queen; but in the King's heart she was placed on the same
level as Her Majesty. The King was indifferent to her.
Her dreams of eternal love had passed like spring clouds--nothing now
remained to her but offended pride.
When Princess Lubomirska left her family, visions of the crown had
floated before her eyes--but these visions had disappeared, and there
remained only the shame of unrealized calculation; the disgraceful
situation of a woman without husband or home; a woman paid for
momentary transports of love with titles, estates, and gold. The hour
of her triumph had been short and fleeting, but the shame would endure
for ever.
The Princess Lubomirska could not thus return to Poland.
Poor woman, she was afraid of being abandoned, and hurled headlong from
that height on which she now stood hesitating, and wondering what
course she should pursue. She was very weary, and she was right in
calling herself unhappy, even before she was so in reality.
The palace in Pirna Street was, as usual, full of courtiers, beautiful
ladies, and gallant cavaliers. The King especially favoured the latter,
for he hoped that one among them might take off his hands that heart
which now oppressed him by its too lachrymose affection.
The Princess's tears made Augustus the Strong very impatient, he never
wept himself, and greatly disliked to see her weep. Moreover, it
annoyed him that where he came seeking for distraction, he met with
nothing but endless reproaches.
The Princess also employed her spies. She knew the King's every
movement, and every word he uttered was reported to her. She spied on
him jealously. She knew all the details of that orgie at which Hoym had
first been made drunk, and then compelled to send to Laubegast for his
beautiful wife. And now, uneasy and feverish, she was wondering whether
she should accept the challenge, and go to the Queen's ball, or whether
she should contemptuously ignore the gauntlet that had been thrown to
her.
Towards eleven o'clock in the morning she was informed that the
Countess Hoym had arrived. No one had seen her as yet; none knew her;
none could describe her. All agreed, however, that she was beautiful,
that she was born in 1680, and that she was therefore the same age as
Princess Lubomirska; but none could predict the amount of danger to be
expected from her beauty.
All kinds of stories were repeated. Pitiless Kyan was reported to have
said, "It is no matter whether she is beautiful; it will be sufficient
if she is unlike the Princess."
And Princess Teschen was only too well aware that the Countess's beauty
would not be the principal consideration with the King; it would be the
pleasure of a new sensation.
She had fewer visitors than usual this morning, for all were busy
rushing hither and thither through the city, carrying and gathering the
news.
Some said that the King, according to his usual custom when he cared
about the splendour of a ball, was carefully preparing the programme
himself, and that he was already very impatient for the result of the
wager between Fuerstenberg and Hoym. Others said that Fraulein Hulchen
and Countess Reuss were intriguing together, their object being to
entangle Countess Hoym in their nets, and thus assure themselves of her
favour.
Countess Vitzthum assured every one that her sister-in-law's beauty
would eclipse that of all the court beauties.
The Princess sent out for tidings, received the reports of those who
still remained faithful to her, wept, and gave herself up to despair.
Thrice had she succeeded in retaining her hold over the King when he
had wished to break with her, but now it seemed as though her last hour
had really come. She wrung her hands--suddenly a strange thought took
possession of her mind--she glanced at the clock. Hoym's house was not
far distant. She whispered something to her attendant, then, muffling
her face in a thick veil, she quietly descended the stairs, and entered
the vestibule. A litter was in readiness, she entered it, then, instead
of carrying her through the street, the two bearers, to whom the
servant had given whispered instructions, went along in the rear of the
gardens. A door in Hoym's garden was opened by some one, the Princess
alighted from her litter, and, after a hasty glance around her, hurried
up the stairs, and entered the Count's house. A young man in the
antechamber opened the door to her, Lubomirska hastened down a dark
corridor, and rapped at a door that had been pointed out to her.
She had to wait some time before it was opened, and even then it seemed
as though the servant who opened only wished to see who was outside,
for she would not have allowed the Princess to enter, had not that lady
placed a few ducats in her hand. Then Princess Teschen pushed open the
door, and entered.
Anna Hoym was walking across the room, at the moment the veiled lady
appeared on the threshold. Surprised at the sight of an unexpected
visitor, she drew back with an angry frown.
Pulling off her veil, Lubomirska gazed inquisitively at the Countess;
then her lips trembled, she grew deadly pale, staggered and fainted.
Anna and the servant hastened to her assistance, and between them they
raised the unconscious lady.
Her swoon, however, did not last long. Suddenly she sprang up like a
madwoman, and gazed on her rival with dilated eyes; then she silently
made a sign that she desired the servant to leave the room.
The two ladies were accordingly left alone.
This strange occurrence filled Countess Hoym with uneasiness. After
long years spent in the quiet of the country, the new and feverish life
that had now begun for her startled and surprised her.
Lubomirska extended her white, cold, trembling hand towards the
Countess.
"Forgive me," she said, in feeble tones, "I wanted to see and warn you.
The voice of duty compelled me to come hither."
Anna remained silent, gazing curiously at her extraordinary visitor.
"Yes, look at me!" continued the Princess. "You are beginning the life
which for me is ended. Once I was as you are, innocent, happy, quiet,
and respected, living at peace with my conscience and my God. I had my
husband's princely title, and, better than all, I had an unsullied
name. Then there came a crowned monarch, and he took all this from me
with his smile. His sceptre and crown he laid at my feet; he gave me
his heart. I followed him. Look at me. To-day I have nothing. The name
I have is borrowed, my heart is broken, my happiness is gone for ever;
instead, the mark of shame is on my forehead; my soul is full of
bitterness, the future is dark and threatening, and I am tormented with
cares for my child. I have no one in this world to whom I can turn. My
relations would disown me; those who yesterday crawled at my feet, will
forget me to-morrow. He! He! will push me aside like a stranger."
Anna blushed.
"Madam!" she exclaimed. "Why do you foresee a danger for me that I
cannot see myself? I do not understand your words. Who are you?"
"Yesterday, I was almost a Queen, but I know not what I am to-day,"
replied the Princess.
"But I do not wish for any crown," said Anna, "there is not one that
does not burn the forehead. Why do you apply these threats to me?"
"Warnings, not threats," interrupted Lubomirska. "Forgive me, a crown
is approaching your brow, the people have given it you in advance. I
desire to show you its thorns."
"You are mistaken," replied the Countess calmly. "I shall not stretch
forth my hands for any crown. I am too proud. Be calm."
Teschen sank on the sofa, her head drooped, and she began to weep. Her
heart-breaking sobs aroused Countess Hoym's pity, and she approached
her sympathetically.
"Everything that has happened to me to-day is so mysterious," said she.
"Who are you?"
"Teschen," murmured the Princess softly, raising her eyes as she spoke.
"You have heard of me, and you can guess why they have brought you
here. A fresh face is necessary for their weary lord."
Anna uttered an indignant cry.
"Villains!" exclaimed she. "Then they would traffic with us, as though
we were slaves--and we--"
"We are their victims."
"No! I will never be their victim," interrupted the Countess; "I am so
proud that I would endure any misery, rather than surfer such
humiliation."
Teschen looked at her, and sighed.
"If it is not you, it will be another," she replied. "My hour has come.
But if you are strong enough, I beseech you, avenge us all. Spurn him.
Show him the contempt you feel for him. His actions cry to God for
vengeance."
She replaced her veil, shook hands silently, then with the hasty
exclamation, "You are warned, defend yourself!" she hurried from the
room, leaving the Countess speechless.
Before she had recovered herself, the Princess had disappeared.
The same man who admitted her was waiting on the stairs. She re-entered
her litter, and, whilst drawing the curtains, noticed a young officer
with a pale face looking anxiously into her eyes.
The young man's features were noble, aristocratic, and expressive of
courage and energy, but at that moment they were distorted by grief and
indignation. He seemed unable to believe his eyes. He approached the
litter.
"Princess Ursula!" said he, in a voice broken by emotion, "can I
believe my eyes? I beseech you, tell me the whole truth, then I will
mount my steed, ride away, and never return. Princess! I am mad with
love, while you--"
"It is quite true that you are mad," said the Princess brusquely, "and
you are blind as well, or you would see that I am coming from Hoym's
house, and with him I could not possibly be in love."
She grasped his hand.
"Come with me, I will not release you until I have explained
everything. I do not wish you to accuse me unjustly--that would be too
much! I could not survive that!"
The Princess, her beautiful eyes full of tears, looked so eloquently at
the young man, as she uttered these words, that all traces of sorrow
disappeared from his face.
Obedient to her commands, he followed the litter; when it stopped, he
helped her to alight, and together they entered the palace. Tired and
broken in spirit, the Princess sank on the sofa, and motioned to the
young man to seat himself by her side.
"Prince, you behold me angry and indignant. I have just returned from
visiting her whom my horrible enemies have brought here, that the King
may have the distraction of a new face; whom they have brought here to
drive me away, and to overthrow my influence with the King. Have you
heard about Countess Hoym?"
"No," replied the young man, who was Prince Ludwig von Wuertemberg. "I
have only heard them laughing at poor Hoym, whom they made drunk, so
that they might compel him to show his wife."
"Yes," exclaimed the Princess with animation, "they well knew how to
arouse Augustus's curiosity. But I have seen her; she is beautiful, and
she is dangerous."
"So much the better!" cried the Prince, springing from his seat. "Then
you will be free!"
Teschen blushed, and looked inquiringly at the young man--there was a
moment's silence, then she stretched out her hands towards him. He
seized them, kissed them with fervour, and was still holding them, when
a little woman, who bore some likeness to the Princess, rushed into the
room, laughing maliciously.
It was difficult to guess how old she was, for she had one of those
faces which, never being fresh, do not grow old for a long time. Her
sharp, grey, malicious eyes were full of animation, her lips wore an
ironical smile, whilst her features bespoke her a feverish gossip and
an unbearable intriguante. She was dressed with the greatest care; had
a dainty figure, and small feet. She clapped her hands in delight when
Prince von Wuertemberg withdrew his lips from the Princess's hand.
"Bravo! Bravissimo!" she screeched. "I see that my sister has secured
military protection for her retreat; for it seems to me that the moment
has arrived when we shall have to retreat from the King's heart and
court."
The speaker was the Princess's own sister, and married to the Baron von
Glassenapp.
"My dear sister, I have not seen you for a long time," prattled on the
little lady, "but at the moment of peril, I always appear. Teschen, do
you know that Hoym's wife has arrived? I saw her when she was at
Dresden during the King's absence, and I then foretold that, like the
beautiful Helen of Troy, she would bring misfortune to some one. She is
beautiful as an angel, and dark, which for a blonde like Teschen, is
always dangerous. She is animated, witty, malicious, and proud as a
Queen. Your power is ended."
She laughed.
"Well, you still have a chance of princely titles," she continued, not
allowing any one an opportunity to put in a word. "I was only able to
catch a poor Pomeranian Baron--but you got Lubomirska, you have
Teschen, and for provision you are trying to get Von Wuertemberg."
The Prince stood blushing and angry. Teschen lowered her eyes, and
murmured through her set teeth,--
"I could have a fourth, if I wished."
"I will tell you his name, if you like," interrupted the Baroness, and,
running up to her sister, she put her mouth to her ear, saying,--
"The Prince Alexander Sobieski, is it not? But he will not marry, while
Ludwig will. Try and hold him."
The Princess turned from her sister in disgust, and the Baroness looked
in the mirrors, flitted about the room, all the while keeping an eye on
the couple, at whom she laughed dreadfully.
"If you are clever, Teschen, you may still come out of this crisis
triumphant. Hoym's wife is a simpleton; she will disgust the King;
she will attract him at first by her beauty, but she will repulse him
with her pride; after her, Teschen will appear dear and sweet. Well,
one must forgive the King's fancy. Such men have great sorrows, and
great privileges. Only I am sorry," she continued, "that every one is
tearing you to pieces already. The Countesses Reuss and Hulchen are
offering sacrifices to the new goddess, while Fuerstenberg and even
brother-in-law Vitzthum are ready to supplant Hoym. Poor Hoym, when his
wife leaves him, I would marry him, if it were not for my duties. But
the old libertine never cared for me."
Here Prince Ludwig rose to take his leave, and the way in which
Princess Ursula shook hands with him did not escape the notice of the
Baroness, who bowed to him distantly.
There was silence for a few moments after the sisters were left alone.
"You must not take it so tragically," began the Baroness, "any one
could have foreseen that this would happen sooner or later. The King is
tired of a blonde, you have a principality, you have estates in
Hoyerswerd; you have millions, diamonds, a palace; you are still young,
still beautiful; and there is Prince Ludwig, who is ready to marry you.
I tell you frankly, I would gladly exchange my lot for yours, and I
would give you Schulemberg in addition."
"But I loved him," interrupted the Princess, weeping bitterly.
"But that is all over," rejoined the Baroness, "I know that you were
both in love with each other, for a whole year at the least, during
which time the King betrayed you secretly, at least, ten times, and you
repaid him in the same coin."
"Sister!" exclaimed the Princess indignantly.
"Well, then, you did not. But during that time you were able to obtain
for yourself the love of the Prince von Wuertemberg. I am called
malicious and wicked, but I should not have been able to do it. I only
found Schulemberg after I had been bitten by Glassenapp."
She laughed a little, and then continued,--
"Listen, Kings have a custom, when taking leave of their favourites, to
ask for the return of the diamonds they have given. I warn you,
therefore, to put yours in a safe place."
She looked at her sister, who apparently did not hear what she was
saying.
"Are you going to the ball?" she inquired.
"The ball?" repeated the Princess, thoughtfully. "Yes; I must go to the
ball. I shall go dressed in mourning, and without any jewels; but tell
me, will a black robe be becoming to me?"
The Baroness laughed.
"Undoubtedly!" she replied. "Mourning is becoming to every one. But if
you think that by doing this you will soften the hearts of Augustus and
his courtiers, you are mistaken; they will all laugh at you; they do
not like tragedies."
"What will be, will be!" replied the Princess. "I shall go in mourning.
I will appear before him like a silent ghost."
"And as Countess Hoym will be merry and fresh, you will also disappear
like a ghost. Believe me, the past can never be recalled."
She looked at the clock.
"It is late already! I shall see you again at the ball--I shall be
there, but I shall be in the background, like a spectator who applauds
the actors. Good-bye!"