He thought he had wounded her delicacy and her love, and with encreased
agitation, he exclaimed, "Despise my weakness, my apparent indecision,
but do not doubt my heart! do not doubt the honour, that would sooner
immolate that heart's dearest wishes, than make them all its own by a
breach of positive duty."
What was now passing in her mind, he could only guess, by the quick
heaving of her bosom; for she covered her face with one hand, while
she attempted to shake off the fond grasp with which he clung to the
other.
"You do doubt me?" cried he.
"You are mysterious; and I have no alternative."
"Oh," repeated he, "does the friend of the Empress Elizabeth, the
confident of statesmen! does she doubt the honour of mystery?"
The Countess smiled, and no longer struggling to release her hand,
turned on him a look of perfect re-assurance. But what she would have
said, the enchanted heart of Louis could only translate by its own
vivid imaginations; for the door of the interior apartment opened, and
the Empress and her counsellor reappeared.
The Countess, in a beautiful disorder of smiles and blushes, moved
forward to meet Her Majesty; and Louis, bowing to her advancing step,
remained where his Circe had left him. The Empress entered, as she
had departed, full of animation; and without appearing to observe that
any thing particular had passed between her favourite and the young
secretary, she proceeded to speak of the letters she had just been
reading; one from the Queen of Spain, and the other from Ripperda
himself. She turned to Louis with a peculiar smile; "Chevalier," said
she, "I must be your patroness with this great man. If you have any
suit to proffer, trust it with me."
Louis coloured deeper than the scarlet on her robe; but did not trust
his eyes towards the Countess. The Empress resumed the discourse to
Sinzendorff; narrating her first acquaintance with Ripperda, when he
came a widower to her father's court, on a mission from the States
General. She expatiated on the amplitude of his character; adding, that
it was a sure proof of the King of Spain's own talents, that he knew so
well how to distinguish, and to appropriate the genius of such a man
as the Duke de Ripperda.
For the first time in his life, Louis heard the praises of his father,
as the whirring of an indistinct sound. Absorbed by the new emotions
which laboured in his heart, he had no eyes but for the tremulous form,
no ears but for the low quick sighs of his enrapturing Otteline. He had
no thoughts but of wonder, how he could ever have paused for a moment
in believing her, all perfect in mind, as well as in body; in feeling
her, all sweet devoted love, as she was all resistless loveliness.
"Ah," said he to himself, "Ignatius might see her unmoved; but my
father, who has loved excellence in woman's form, has only to see her,
to bless the happy destiny of his son!"
The Empress, by a side glance, read his soul in his eyes, and stealing
a pressure of congratulation on the arm of the Countess; with apparent
unconcern, turned to Sinzendorff, and exclaimed: "but, Chancellor,
before we part for the night, I must not forget to mention what might
have been a notable discovery, had not this happy promptitude in
Ripperda's arrival put all beyond the power of manoeuvre. Otteline,
shew the Chancellor the letter."
The Countess took an open letter from a locked casket on the table, and
put it into his hand.
"Read it aloud, for general benefit," said the Empress, "there is
nothing more improving to politicians, than the _faux pas_ of a rival."
The Chancellor looked towards the door.
"Shoot the bolt, Chevalier de Phaffenberg," cried the Empress, "His
Excellency seems to suspect treachery in the vestibule."
Louis obeyed, and returning to the side of Sinzendorff, as the pointing
hand of Her Majesty commanded, His Excellency began to read. The
superscription was to Madame la Comtesse Altenstein, and the contents
as follows:--
"Apprise the fair head of so many faithful members, that the power
which threatens our existence is now so gorged with its various prey,
as to have fallen asleep. It dreams of empire; and talks its secrets
to a darkness full of eyes, and in a solitude of more observation than
the ear of Dionysius. To night, I will bring a good account of _one at
least_, of its mining emissaries; while a sure train is laid under the
feet of _the rest_."
When the Chancellor ceased reading, and was examining the hand-writing,
Louis thought of the caution he had received the preceding evening.
Dreading a similar attack might way-lay Ignatius next morning in his
journey to meet the ambassador, (when the faithful Jesuit would be
attended by no stronger guard than the unweaponed arm of Martini,) his
anxious pupil, full of alarm, abruptly asked the date of the letter.
"Yesterday morning," replied Sinzendorff, folding up the paper, "and
since we cannot count the loss of any of our members, we must conclude
this doughty champion, whoever he may be, has failed in his pledge to
the lady to whom he has devoted his sword."
"Or rather his dagger!" replied the Empress, "we have found they do
not challenge with fairer weapons. But now, let us vote thanks to the
vigilant hand that intercepted this bungling piece of treason; and pass
to a pleasanter subject. My Otteline found the fairy favour!"
"And by what kind dispensation?" enquired the Chancellor, as with a bow
of acquiescence to the Empress, he returned the letter to her friend.
"While I was at the Luxemburg, a whole bundle of letters collected
themselves in this drawer," replied the Countess, putting her hand upon
a part of the table, in which was an aperture to receive and to hold in
safety all that might arrive during her absence; "and only returning
to-day, I had not time to examine my correspondence till about an hour
or two ago, while I was waiting for the Empress. In turning them over,
I saw this directed, as you see, to the Electress's Lady of the Key.
I know that she is the repository of her mistress's secrets; and it
was possible this letter might contain some of them. I thought the
hand-writing was that of the envious Count Stalhberg. Accident had
conducted it to me," added the beautiful Otteline with an exulting
smile; "and I would not throw away my fortune:--I broke the seal."
At the last sentence, Louis sprang back from the spot on which he
stood, as if he had trod on a serpent. The resounding of the floor
under his recoiling feet, turned all eyes upon him.
"Monsieur Phaffenberg!" cried the Chancellor, in a voice of reproof;
"you forget in whose presence you are?"
Louis put his hand to his forehead, as he strove to recover his
appalled senses. He turned to the Empress: "I have no words in which to
beg Your Majesty's forgiveness for this! But such irritability shall
never offend again!"
"You are ill then?" enquired Elizabeth, with more graciousness than
accorded with the brow of the Chancellor.
"I was," replied Louis, smiling ghastily, "but I am perfectly well
now. And if His Excellency can pardon the interruption, I beg he will
proceed."
The statesman's frowns had not been those of displeasure at the young
secretary's revulsionary indecorum. He had seen enough between the
Empress and her favourite, to convince him that, whoever that young
man was, they intended he should be the duped successor of the late
infatuated Count Altheim. All knew that the Countess's object was to
intrude herself again into the society, which had rejected her as an
usurper, because she had conducted herself like a tyrant; and that her
only means were by another illustrious marriage. Sinzendorff cherished
an Austrian's pride against the pretensions of the ignoble Otteline;
whom he knew to be as little elevated in mind, as in birth; though
she had ambition enough to overtop the crown of her mistress. He felt
resentment against the Empress, for such pertinacity in thrusting her
haughty favourite into the ranks of Austrian nobility; he despised the
favourite herself; and fully comprehending the recent extraordinary
action and words of her meditated victim, he determined to let him
see a little deeper into the character of his scheming mistress. When
Louis hastily uttered his apology, Sinzendorff bowed; and receiving
a nod from the Empress, to proceed in his remarks, he turned to the
Countess; whose investigating eyes were fixed on the suddenly pale and
averted face of her lover.
"And so Madam," resumed the Chancellor, with a slight smile and bend of
his head; "you made the _Lady of the Key_ relinquish her trust, _vi et
armis_?"
"I did," replied the favourite, recalling herself with an air of
dignity; "and, finding what you have just read, I saw that mischief
had been intended, and might be again devised against some of the
Empress's agents; and when Her Majesty honoured me with her presence
this evening, I ventured to suggest to her the expediency of shewing
the paper to you."
"You have done warily, Madam!" replied Sinzendorff.
"Admirably!" exclaimed the Empress. "It is always wisdom to learn
what have been the intentions of an enemy, even after he has lost the
battle."
Elizabeth concluded with an observation on the promptitude of
affection; "It acts, while mere prudence only decides."
"I am happy to meet Your Majesty's, and His Excellency's approbation;"
returned the Countess, glancing by a sidelong look at the abstracted
countenance of her lover.--"They add an incontrovertible sanction to my
principle, that real love is a dictating sentiment, whence there is no
appeal. It is omnipotent, or it is nothing. My Sovereign and my husband
(the last word was uttered tremulously) should be alike the arbiters of
my actions, and of my life!"
"And of your honour, too, Madam!" said the Chancellor, with a biting
smile.
Astonished at the manner of this question, and jealous of any implied
censure before the man to whom all her attractions were then directed;
for a moment she suffered the blaze of anger to escape her eyes: Louis
caught the flash in its passage to the statesman, and, like a blighting
lightning, it shot into his soul. Drawing herself up with an air of
proud resentment:--"My honour, Sir," said she, "is consecrated to my
friends; and ill would it serve them, could it be made the slave of
their enemies. Besides," added she, with a scornful smile; "stratagems
are as notoriously fair in the cabinet as in the field!"
"Were we not, all, sooner or later, of your creed, Madam;" returned
the Chancellor, with a bow, "we should make sorry figures in either
contest! and therefore you will pardon an old practitioner, putting a
young disciple a little on the defensive? But while we approve this
dexterous act of diplomacy; to prevent awkward consequences from
enquiries about detention, &c. we must consider how to dispose of the
letter!"
"Give it me, my honest Chancellor," said the Empress, taking it from
his hand, and not very well pleased with his manner to her favourite;
"dead men tell no tales!" and with the words, she lighted the letter at
a candle, and threw the flaming embers into the fender of an incense
stove that stood near.
Louis listened, and gazed, and wondered. Listened and gazed on the
woman so lately transcendantly lovely in his eyes; wondered, that her
voice had ever sounded sweetly in his ear; that her face could ever
have appeared otherwise than harsh and repelling!--Appalled at what he
now witnessed from her, and from them all three; and at the idea of how
he might, a few minutes before, have pledged his faith, beyond recall,
to one of such abhorrent principles; he inwardly blessed the caution
of Ignatius:--and, as he continued for some time to stand more like an
automaton than a living being; he heard no more of the conversation,
till the Empress dismissed the council; and whispered to him at
parting--"To-morrow, your rank will be declared; so, for the last time,
adieu Chevalier de Phaffenberg!"
Louis put her hand mechanically to his lips, and withdrew, without
casting another glance at his so lately worshipped Otteline.
Sinzendorff was satisfied with what he had done towards opening the
eyes of this ingenuous young man; and, without committing himself by
making a remark on what had passed, he wished him a good night at the
door of the gallery.
Louis ran through the other passages; as if, by the swiftness of
motion, he could fly the thoughts which clung like harpies to his
heart. The palace clock struck one; and the extinguishers of the lights
which illumined the avenues to the various apartments, were appearing
in every direction, and rapidly involving the whole in the sombre hue
that suits the hour of rest. He passed through the grand quadrangle to
the portal, at which he had ordered his carriage to be in waiting. At
the moment he put out his hand to open its door, he was seized in the
strong grasp of some person. He could not see by what sort of a man,
the night being profoundly dark, and the lamps over the great gates
too distant to cast more than a gleam, sufficient to shew where the
carriage stood. Before he could make even an attempt for extrication,
the person whispered in his ear,--"On your life, do not return to the
Chateau to-night. It's porch is filled with your father's enemies."
Ere Louis could reply, his arms were released, and he was alone. But
it was the faithful heart of Wharton which had beat against his; it
was his well-known accents which had announced this second warning!
Louis looked around, and listened.--He could see nothing but his dingy
vehicle; hear nothing, but the champing of his horses' bits, as they
impatiently awaited his arrival.
"Coachman," said he, as he threw himself into the carriage; "drive to
the Vien, and there I will give you further orders."
The fatal letter, that dissolved the bright vision of love which a
few hours before revelled in his breast, had proved the stability
of friendship; for it corroborated the timely caution of Wharton's
warning epistle: and therefore Louis could not doubt, (had it been
possible for him to doubt any thing from Wharton,) the veracity of
his present information. Before he cast a second thought on the use
he ought to make of it, he could not refrain from comparing the
steady disinterestedness of his much calumniated friend, with what
they who disesteemed him would have foretold of his conduct in such
circumstances.
"Yes," cried he, "generous Wharton! in spite of all, thou wilt fasten
my soul to thee; for all thy links are honourable! Oh, what had I to
do with love? with women's smiles and sorceries? Why should I give up
my soul to lie in the lap of effeminate sensibilities, when I had such
a friend as this, to occupy my whole heart with noble sympathies? with
manly aspirations? with devotion to virtue alone? I detest myself for
my weakness; for my entrapped vanity! For though I saw her beautiful,
and thought her charming; though I was astonished at such marvellous
beauty, yet it never touched my heart, till she smiled upon me,--and
looked.--I will not think how she looked," cried he, striking his
forehead, "else the devil that she conjured within me, will undo me
again! Oh, woman! syren woman! from the first thou wert a tempter--a
creature to try the virtue of man--to make him feel his bonds to
earth!--while friendship, divine union of soul to soul, asserts to his
immortal spirit, its derivation from heaven!"
Louis was wrapped in these reflections when the coachman stopped, and
demanded further orders.
"I will get out here," replied he, "and you may go to the College
stables."
When the man obeyed, and Louis found himself alone in the street, he
knew it was not far from one of the gates which led to the suburbs.
Notwithstanding the danger which menaced his approaching the Chateau,
not to return to it to-night, was what he could not reconcile to
his sense of the trust reposed in him. It would be abandoning its
repository of state secrets to the depredators; should they, on
missing him this second time, resolve on entering the house itself.
Its situation was perfectly lonesome; and he could not suppose that
persons, so well informed of his movements, could be ignorant that
it contained no other domestics than Gerard, and, lately, his wife.
To leave it to these unwary guardians, when danger was so near, he
believed would be as distinct a desertion of his duty, as to deliver
every paper it contained, into the hands of his father's enemies.
On these grounds, he thought it right to proceed immediately to the
Chateau; but not by a path likely to be invested by the persons planted
to way-lay him. When through the gate, he considered a minute which
would be the securest circuit; and then determined on a sweep by the
river, to the back of the mansion. By this means, he thought he should
unite all that prudence could demand, with his resolution not to allow
the assailants any advantage from an undue care of himself. The way
through the hinder premises of the desolate street of St. Xavier,
was intricate and bewildering. The place having been destroyed by a
ravaging fire, was totally deserted; and Louis trod the devious alleys
without meeting a living soul of whom he could ask a direction to the
water-side. The absolute silence assured him of safety so far; and he
continued to grope his way over the mouldering piles.
When he emerged into the open part of the suburbs, the feeble light
of the stars, being no longer traversed by the deep shadows of close
buildings, afforded him sufficient guidance. The waters of the Danube
glimmered at some distance on his right; while the murky line which
clouded his view to the left, informed him he was within sight of the
avenue which led direct to the ambush he must avoid. He kept on towards
the river; and, having reached its banks, turned along the margin to
the path that led to the Chateau. After half an hour's walk, he entered
on the woodland, which declined from the garden-wall to the Danube; and
when he arrived at the wall itself, he found it a rampart of stupendous
height, and quite perpendicular. But he who had climbed the beetling
rocks of Northumberland, and gazed around from their eagle summits with
the careless eye of security, had no difficulty in surmounting a few
feet more or less of any structure raised by man. The old crumbling
stones made a breach wherever he placed his ascending foot; but he soon
gained the top; and jumping down into the garden, (for on that side the
wall was merely a parapet), ran swiftly through the grass-grown walks
to the terrace before the house.
He found the door open. He entered; but closing it after him, pushed
the strong bolts into their guard; and then felt his way through the
midnight darkness of the passages to the kitchen, where he expected
to find Gerard on the watch for his return. The honest German was
asleep in a huge wooden chair, by the side of a large half-burnt log,
now extinguished; and a lamp, almost reduced to its last drop of oil,
flickered on the table, near an unlighted candle and a flambeau.
Louis lighted the candle; and hesitated a moment, whether he should
awaken Gerard to accompany him to the examination it was proper to
make, or leave him quiet, till he had seen whether the ambuscade were
still in the porch. Thinking it most prudent to go alone, he took
the candle and proceeded to the hall, where he left his light in an
obscure corner, and then without noise opened the great door. With
his pistol in his hand, he crossed the court-yard, and drew near the
gates; but the wood of which they were constructed being very deep and
studded with iron, he listened in vain for a sound from the other side.
Judging that it was their thickness which prevented his hearing some
sign of the intended assailants, and wishing to assure Ignatius that he
had obtained sensible proof of the veracity of this second warning, he
determined to seek further.
He felt his way up the rough stonework of the piers of the arch, and
clambering over it, planted himself behind the great stone scutcheon
of the Phaffenberg arms, which crested its architrave. He strained his
eyes downwards, but could perceive nothing through the double night of
a moonless sky, and the obscuring umbrage of the trees. He thought
he heard a low murmur, as of whispering voices beneath; but he could
not be sure that it was not the wind in the branches. He leaned over
to make closer observation, and had nearly been precipitated into the
midst of his enemies; for a part of the ancient stonework gave way, and
fell with a clattering noise upon the pavement in front of the porch.
Louis had caught by the iron supports of what remained, and so was
saved from too well informing himself of who were below.
The effects of the accident gave him immediate notice of what he
had escaped. Some of the heavy fragments had fallen upon one of the
eves-droppers, whose consequent curses were instant and loud. Other
voices of like import, with wonder how it had happened, were mingled
with commands from one person for caution and silence. Louis wanted
no more to satisfy him, that but for the generous zeal of Wharton, he
might now himself have been lying a wounded wretch under the daggers
of these men. The ruffian who had been knocked down by the fall of the
escutcheon, seemed to be much hurt; for as his companions attempted
to raise him, Louis could distinctly hear him utter the most direful
imprecations against the Sieur Ignatius and the devils in league with
him. The former commanding voice replied in a more conciliatory tone,
"Come, come Spitzberg, this is only a little artillery from the owls!
Don't mind a graze, man; you shall pinion the gallant, in revenge for
these bruises; for I will wait here till sun-rise, rather than again be
baffled by his lucky star."
"I'll pinion him with a witness;" grumbled the fellow, "and make him
confess his heart's blood!"
"Silence, then," reiterated his commander. The order was almost
instantly obeyed; and Louis thinking, after this injunction, he could
learn no more, with a similar caution to that he had observed in
advancing, retreated over the gateway, and descended safely into the
court.
Though he saw no symptoms of an attack on the house, he did not neglect
to make the hall-door perfectly secure, before he took up his candle
to return to the kitchen, and dismiss his vigilant attendant to rest.
He found the lamp burnt out, and Gerard still fast asleep. A rousing
shake of the shoulder, however soon made him start from his seat; and
when his half-opened eyes perceived the object of his watchfulness
standing by his side, he could hardly believe he was not dreaming yet.
Louis bid him go to bed, and he would tell him in the morning how he
had let himself in. Gerard gaped, and stretched his arms, glared at his
young master, and said it was very odd! He had double-locked and bolted
the gates. But his Honour was a scholar of the Sieur Ignatius; and so
he would rather hear no more about it. "Well then, good night!" said
Louis, with a smile; "and since you can explain the matter to your own
satisfaction, it is sufficient for me. Only keep true to your professed
practice, and be sure that all the doors and windows are locked and
barred before you go to rest."
"I saw that before I fell asleep, Sir."
"Then who drew the bolts of the door on the terrace?"
"Nobody comes into the house that way," replied Gerard, pouring oil
into his lamp.
"I did," returned Louis.
The worthy German looked more astonished at this information, than he
had seemed to be when he suspected the learned secretary had passed
through the key-hole, by some of the occult arts of Ignatius; who his
wife had long persuaded her credulous husband to believe, was nothing
short of a wicked necromancer.
Louis followed the sluggish steps of his attendant to every door that
opened from the house; and being satisfied that all were safe, he bade
Gerard good-night, who mumbled out the same, without casting a thought
on the unusual caution of his master. Louis proceeded to the room which
contained all the state-manuscripts that were yet under his care; and
feeling no sleep in his eyes, or in his wishes, he laid his pistols on
the table, and prepared to watch and to meditate until morning.