AN ERRING METEOR.
In the boudoir of the house in the Ringstrasse, where Lieutenant von
Stielow had repaired after Count Mensdorff's soiree, the same
wonderfully beautiful woman who had received him with such glowing
passion lay stretched upon a couch.
She wore a pearl-grey morning dress with light rose-coloured ribbons,
and a white lace handkerchief surrounded the fine oval of her face, and
nearly concealed her glossy hair.
The morning sun streamed through the window hangings of her very
elegantly furnished room. The reflections that played over her face at
every movement were most becoming to the young lady's extreme
loveliness, and apparently she knew it, for she glanced from time to
time at a round mirror, which was so placed on the opposite wall as to
show nearly the whole of her form, and she was careful not to withdraw
the dark red cushion on which her head lightly rested, from the
softened sunbeams.
Her features did not wear the enchanting expression of softness and
enthusiasm with which she had received Lieutenant von Stielow; an icy
coldness rested on her face, and a look of scorn played round the
beautiful lips, which were slightly parted and showed her white teeth
to be firmly closed.
Before her stood a man of about thirty, dressed with a much greater
adherence to fashion than is usual amongst persons of real distinction.
His features were not ugly, but they were common, and his appearance
betokened a dissipated man of the second or perhaps third rank of
society.
This man, who accorded so ill with the really elegant arrangements of
the boudoir, and still less with the graceful and aesthetic beauty of
the young lady installed there, was her husband, the merchant and
exchange agent, Balzer.
The conjugal tete-a-tete did not appear to be of an agreeable nature,
for the husband's face bore evident traces of anger and scornful irony.
"You know me," he said, in a rough voice, which betrayed too great an
indulgence in stimulants, and nightly dissipation, and in the rude
manner only found amongst uneducated persons, destitute of good
breeding. "You know me and you know I will have my wishes attended to.
I must have twelve hundred gulden, and have them by to-morrow," he
cried, stamping with his foot on the ground.
The young lady played with a bow on her dress; its rosy colour was not
softer nor brighter than her small finger tips, and she replied without
altering her position or looking at her husband, in an almost hissing
voice:--
"Then gamble luckily, or cheat some of the people who trust you with
their business on the Bourse."
"Your sneers are lost upon me," he said, with feigned indifference; "I
believe we may both spare ourselves the trouble of displaying our wit.
I am practical, and above all things a man of business," he added, with
a cruel laugh; "you know our compact, and you know under what
conditions I, your rightful lord and master, shut my eyes to
proceedings to which I might strongly object--if some day it should
please me to do so."
She did not move a muscle, but the slight blush which passed over her
beautiful white brow, showed some inward emotion.
Without in the least modifying her tone, she said coldly:--
"You also know how easy it would be for me to free myself from the
chains with which you threaten me. You must know me well enough to feel
sure that my conversion to Protestantism would not give me a moment's
uneasiness, if I wished to obtain a separation."
"I do not think religious compunctions would ever trouble you," he
said, scornfully.
"Well, then," she said, calmly, without looking up, "I only continue
to endure this heavy chain, because I wish to avoid scandal, and
because I do not wish a creature"--and this she said with unbounded
contempt--"whose name I bear, to fall into the lowest depths of vulgar
crime. These are my only reasons for enduring and maintaining you. Take
care of making the chain heavier than it is. As to what you are pleased
to term our compact, on my side it has been punctually fulfilled. Have
you not regularly received what I promised you?"
"I am not talking about that," replied Herr Balzer, rudely; "I am
saying what I want, to meet unavoidable debts, and I must have twelve
hundred gulden and you must get them for me,--you _can_ do it easily.
Your little Uhlan lieutenant is an inexhaustible gold-mine," he
continued, with a low laugh.
"I am sorry," she replied, coldly, "that you require another
gold-mine."
"You wish to avoid scandal, as you said just now. Eh bien! I will
arrange a fine scandal for you as soon as he comes."
"Such a scandal," she said, smiling, "would cause you to be kicked
down-stairs, neither would you ever receive another kreutzer from me."
He was silent for a moment, her simple logic seemed to make some
impression upon him. But after a short time he came a step or two
nearer to her; a horrible smile played round his mouth, and spiteful
satisfaction shone in his eyes.
"You are right," he said, "such a scandal would be aimless. But since
your dear Herr von Stielow is so ungenerous, I shall take care that you
break with such a sterile friend, and turn to others who bear more of
the golden fruit. Herr von Stielow shall be freed from the sweet chains
in which you hold him captive. I am sorry to give pain, for it seems as
if this little Uhlan had somewhat touched the hitherto icy heart of my
wife. But what must be, must--business first and pleasure afterwards."
Her slender fingers trembled slightly, but she grasped the ribbons she
held firmly, and for the first time during the conversation she raised
her dark eyes. She flashed a piercing look at her husband; he perceived
it, and smiled triumphantly.
She cast down her eyes again and said with a slight vibration in her
voice:
"You are at liberty to do what you like."
"Of course," he replied, "and I shall act with great prudence and avoid
all scandal. I am sure it will be very interesting to Herr von Stielow
to compare the exercises of style which, he receives from the lady of
his heart, with those she sends at the same time to earlier and absent
friends."
"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. She raised her head from the
crimson cushion and gazed full at her husband.
"I mean," he replied brutally, "that I shall send Herr von Stielow one
of Count Rivero's letters to you, and your answer. Though husbands are
sometimes indifferent to these little eccentricities, lovers are apt to
be more punctilious."
She pressed the rosy nails into her tender hands, and looked
thoughtfully before her for a moment.
"Where are the letters of which you speak?" she asked coldly.
"Quite safe," he replied laconically.
"I do not believe you; how came you by a letter from me to the Count?"
"You were in the act of answering him. His letter and your reply lay on
the table, when you had hastily to receive your dear Stielow, and you
threw your shawl over them. You forgot them, and when I paid my dear
wife a visit, I took them that they might not fall into improper
hands." He said this with a scornful laugh.
"In fact, you stole them?" she said contemptuously.
"We are discussing the seventh commandment, not the eighth," he said
rudely.
"I must pay for my carelessness," she muttered to herself. Then raising
her eyes, with icy coldness she said:--
"You shall have the twelve hundred gulden to-morrow morning in exchange
for the stolen letters."
"I will be here punctually at the same hour to-morrow," he replied in a
satisfied tone. "Has my charming wife any other commands?"
She raised a finger and pointed to the door.
At the same moment a bell was heard.
"Herr von Stielow!" exclaimed the waiting-maid as she entered. The
clatter of a sword was heard in the ante-room.
"A good business and much pleasure!" cried Herr Balzer, as he departed
by a side door.
Scarcely had he left the room, when the young lady's expression changed
as if by magic. All the hard sharp lines, which had caused her face
during her conversation with her husband to look like a beautiful waxen
mask, disappeared, the clenched teeth were parted, and the eyes gained
a magnetic brilliance, which gave them a magical charm.
She half rose and stretched out her arms.
Herr von Stielow, fresh, bold, and elegant as ever, hastened to her; he
seemed for a moment dazzled by her beauty, then he bent over her and
pressed his lips upon her mouth.
She wound her arms around his neck, and breathed rather than said, "My
sweet friend!"
After a long embrace he drew a low chair towards the couch on which she
lay, so that their heads were on the same level. She altered her
position with a slight graceful movement and placed her head upon his
shoulder, then taking his right hand in both her own she pressed it to
her heart. Whilst her gentle snakelike movements took her nearer and
nearer to him, she closed her eyes and murmured:--
"Ah! how happy I am!"
The two beautiful and graceful young creatures formed an exquisite and
poetic picture; with all their trembling passion there was no sign of
vulgar or ignoble feeling,--it seemed a picture of a pure and happy
love.
The face of the beautiful woman showed no trace of the scene she had
just taken part in, in that very room, and no one could have thought,
had they looked at the young man as he pressed his lips against the
perfumed hair of the head resting on his shoulder, that notwithstanding
the enchanted mist that surrounded him, a purer star was shining ever
brighter for his heart.
It was a picture of the present, of a happy fleeting moment, enjoyed
without a thought of what went before, of what must follow.
A deep sigh heaved her breast and trembled through her form as she
leant against her lover.
"Why do you sigh? my sweet Tonia. What happiness is wanting to her who
is created to give happiness?"
"Oh! my beloved," she said, and a second sigh trembled from her lips,
"I am not always so happy as now, when I rest on your breast, and just
before--" she hesitated.
"What happened just before?" he asked, "to make those lovely lips twice
sigh, though formed only for smiles and kisses?"
And he slightly raised her head and pressed his lips to hers.
"My husband was here," she said, sighing the third time.
"Ah!" he said, "and what did the fellow want who calls such a flower
his own, and knows not how to enjoy its fragrance?"
"For him it never shall be fragrant," she said with a vibration in her
voice, which recalled the previous scene. "He tormented me," she
continued, "with reproofs--with jealousy."
She stammered, then she raised the beautiful head from his shoulder,
slipped back a little and replaced it on her crimson cushion, but she
still retained his hand.
"Before," she said, "when he used to reproach me, and act Othello,
because this or that gentleman looked at me too often, or another had
smiled when he saw me, I was quite indifferent; I despised it all, and
answered without my heart beating faster, or my eyes being cast down,
but now," she added, tears coming to the eyes she rested on him, and
the rosy ribbons on her breast rising and falling quickly from her
emotion, "now I tremble; I wish to hide my eyes with a thick veil; my
heart beats fast, as the blood throbs through my veins, for--"
Again she threw herself into his arms, leant her head as if exhausted
on his breast and whispered,
"For now I love!"
He bent over her and pressed her to himself.
"And do you repent it?"
"No," she replied passionately; "but it humbles me when I remember that
he is still my husband, on whom I am dependent--dependent," she
stammered, in a low voice, "in all material things; and he makes me
feel this dependence--feel it bitterly."
"And why," he interrupted, "should you be dependent upon him? Why
remember such dependence for a moment? Have you not a friend, a slave,
who would be too happy if you would but tell him what you want, all
that you wish?"
"Ah! I want so little; but he denies me everything!" she said.
"Poor Tonia!" he cried; "is it possible those lips have ever framed a
wish in vain?"
He put her hand to his lips.
"What was it, what did he deny you?"
"Oh!" she cried sadly, "that I should profane the sweet hours of our
love--leave it--it is already forgotten!" and she sighed again.
"It cannot be forgotten until you have told me. I beg you, if you love
me, tell me what vexes you, that this melancholy may all be driven
away."
"He was angry with me," she replied, without raising her eyes, "about
my dressmaker's bill, and positively refused his assistance; and," she
said with animation, "such troubles torment me so, these things suit
neither my head nor my heart--where one thought alone, one feeling
reigns."
"Only one word more," cried he cheerfully, "the amount of the wretched
bill, that so presumptuously seeks to share with me this lovely head,
this sweetest heart."
"Two thousand gulden," she whispered.
"What economy!" he cried; "yet your perfect beauty does not need the
aid of dress. I humbly beg to be allowed to chase this cloud from the
bright eyes I love."
And he kissed her on both eyes.
She hastily pressed her lips on his hand.
"That I must receive, always receive!" she cried. "Oh! that I were a
queen, and you poor and unknown, that I might shed rays of splendour
and happiness over you, and, preferring you among a thousand, might
draw you up the golden steps of my throne!"
She had risen, and she now sat with a really royal dignity. Her eyes
shone with dark fire, and as she slightly raised her hand, a man had
sworn that at a sign from that fair hand, armies would march and a
thousand courtiers kneel in the dust. Then she cast down her eyes and
said in gentle melting tones,--
"I have nothing to give but my love!"
"And more I do not wish for, from my queen!" he cried, rising from his
low chair and sinking on his knees, whilst looking up at her with
glowing eyes.
She took his head in both her hands and pressed a long kiss upon his
brow.
Suddenly the sound of a bell rang through the room.
A noise was heard in the ante-room.
The servant entered hastily, and cried, more as if giving an alarm than
making an announcement: "The Count Rivero!"
The young lady rose hastily. Roughly and vehemently she pushed Herr von
Stielow back into his chair.
Her face was very pale.
Stielow looked at her with amazement.
"Decline this ill-timed visit," he whispered.
"It is an old acquaintance, whom I have not seen for a long time," she
said in a constrained voice, "it is--"
Before she could conclude, the _portiere_ of the anteroom was pushed
aside and a tall distinguished-looking man of about five-and-thirty
entered; his dress was dark in colour, his face was noble, with regular
features and the clear pale complexion of the South, his large dark
eyes were surpassed in depth of colour only by the blackness of his
short hair and moustache.
Count Rivero approached the young lady of the house with the quiet
self-possession of a perfect man of the world, whilst his dark eyes
shone with a warmer glow.
She offered him her hand, he took it and pressed it to his lips for a
longer time than politeness alone required.
This did not escape Herr von Stielow, whose astonishment began to
partake of mistrust.
"From a sudden change in my affairs, I am able quite suddenly and
unexpectedly to return here much sooner than I expected, and to have
the pleasure of again meeting my friends in Vienna. My first greeting
naturally is to you, fair lady, the loveliest flower in the wreath of
my recollections of Vienna."
He again pressed to his lips the tender hand he had retained in his
own, and he then seated himself in an arm-chair, whilst, with a slight
bow to Herr von Stielow, he cast a look of enquiry at the lady.
She had completely recovered from the disquiet and painful surprise
which the count's arrival had caused. Her eyes were bright, her lips
smiled, and a faint rosy tinge was seen on her cheeks. In a light
graceful way she said:
"Ah! gentlemen, you are strangers. Herr von Stielow--the rest is told
by his uniform--a worthy member of our jeunesse doree, who was just in
the act of telling me the latest news of the fashionable world; Count
Rivero, a traveller, a man of learning, a diplomat--according to his
whim--he has just come from Rome, and will tell me all about the
carnival, or the catacombs, I know not to which scene his heart may
have inclined him."
The two gentlemen bowed, Count Rivero coldly, but with the perfect
politeness of a man of the world, Herr von Stielow with scarcely
concealed dislike.
"My heart," said the count, turning with a smile to the young lady,
"has neither the superabundant mirth of the carnival, nor is it yet
ripe for the catacombs, but my fair friend loves always to ascribe to
me extremes."
"You have not been in Vienna for some time, count?" asked Herr von
Stielow coldly.
"My affairs have kept me in Rome for a year," replied the count, "and I
thought I should have stayed there still longer, but necessary business
has recalled me here. And I am thankful to necessity," he added,
glancing at the lady, "for leading me back to my friends in beautiful
merry Vienna."
She threw a rapid glance at Herr von Stielow who sat biting his
moustache, and her lips trembled slightly. Then she said laughingly:
"And what will you tell me of, count, since neither the carnival nor
the catacombs have interested you?"
"Of the beautiful antique statues," he replied, "those pictures in
marble a thousand years old, yet offering us the image of living
youth."
"In Vienna you will find no taste for the antique," said Herr von
Stielow, in a voice which caused the count to look up in surprise, "the
world here does not care for the past, but holds only to the present."
"The world is wrong," said the count coldly, a proud smile playing
around his mouth, "the past has depth, the present is shallow."
Herr von Stielow frowned. The lady gave him an imploring look but he
did not perceive it.
"The past is often tedious," said the officer shortly.
The count appeared to find his manner disagreeable, he answered curtly,
"And the present often very dull."
Herr von Stielow's eyes flashed.
The count rose.
"My beautiful friend," he said, "I am rejoiced to find you so blooming
and unchanged. I will see you again soon, and I hope I may find a time
when we can talk undisturbed, and I can tell you of Rome and the past
without fearing to be tedious."
He kissed her hand, bowed almost imperceptibly to Herr von Stielow, and
left the room.
Herr von Stielow sprang up, seized his cap, and prepared to follow him.
The young lady caught his hand and cried: "Karl, I implore you to hear
me!" He tore his hand away with an impatient movement, and hurried
after the count.
She looked after him with staring eyes and outstretched hands.
She seemed to wish to follow him, but she stood still, her hands sank
slowly, and her head drooped on her breast. So she remained for some
moments, and the only sound was her sobbing breath.
"That has occurred which I hoped to avoid," she said to herself in a
low voice, "I can do nothing, I cannot interfere, without making the
evil worse. They will fight--and how will it end? Shall I lose them
both? The count is needful---needful for the future of which I
dream--he loves me not; oh! no--but he requires me for his plans, I
feel that, and through him I can reach what I thirst after--power,
influence, rule. And this young officer, what can he be to me, what can
he offer me? he is rich," she whispered, "but what is that? and yet,
and yet," she cried aloud, "would I could tightly grasp him, cling to
his beautiful head, and draw him back from danger."
"Antonia, Antonia!" she said, suddenly growing cold and hard as she
raised her head, "your heart is not dead, you are about to be a slave!"
She shook her head as if to dispel a dream. A look of defiance came to
her lips, she drew up her slender form, and her eyes were widely opened
in flaming energy.
"No!" she cried, "no, I will not be a slave, not even to my own heart.
I will rule--rule--rule," she repeated, her voice growing lower and
lower, but firmer and more determined.
Suddenly the violent constraint gave way, her limbs failed and she sank
upon her couch, her lovely hands were crossed upon her breast, her head
fell languidly upon the cushion, and whilst her eyes were veiled with
tears, she whispered with trembling lips:
"Oh, he was so beautiful!"
And she seemed to sink into dreamy unconsciousness.
Herr von Stielow overtook the count as he was going down the steps.
"I did not answer your last remark, count," he said, "because my reply
would not have been seemly in a lady's presence. You appear to wish to
lecture me, and my name as well as the uniform I wear, ought to tell
you, that I will be lectured by no one, at least not by strangers."
The count stood still.
"It seems, sir," he said, "that you wish to quarrel with me."
"And if I do?" cried the young officer boiling over.
"You are much mistaken," replied the count.
"I cannot be mistaken in punishing insolence," cried the young officer,
who grew more excited from the count's calmness.
"Very well, sir," said the latter, "I believe we had better cease
talking, and leave further arrangements to our seconds."
"I like haste and punctuality in these matters," cried Herr von
Stielow.
He handed the count a card.
"I shall wait at home for your second."
"I have nothing to prevent my settling the affair at once," said the
count.
And bowing coldly they parted.