The two following days were passed in official arrangements, previous
to the execution of certain articles in the treaty, which the Spanish
sovereigns were impatient to have performed. Ripperda spent the
evenings with the Austrian ministers, and Louis at the Princess de
Waradin's. But on the morning of the third day, when he was sitting at
his post, and making minutes of some preliminaries, which the Emperor
demanded, before the actual betrothment of his eldest daughter to
Prince Carlos of Spain; the Empress, who was in her husband's private
cabinet at this discussion, stood over Louis as he wrote; and when he
had finished his memorandums, she said in a low voice,--"My daughter is
now well enough to bear company. You will see her and Otteline in my
drawing-room to-night? and you must impress her as favourably of your
Prince, as you have fixed her governess in behalf of yourself."
Elizabeth turned away; and Louis saw neither the paper that was before
him, nor the royal presence leaving the room. He was lost in the tumult
of his thoughts, till his father, touching his arm, told him the
council was broke up.
When Ripperda received the invitation for the evening, for himself and
his son, he asked permission to include the Count de Patinos in the
proposed honour; as it would gratify King Philip to have the imperial
notice extended in succession to the young grandees in the suite.
"But never to the exclusion of de Montemar," replied the Empress; "I
regard him as my own _eléve_. Do with the rest as you please, Duke; for
you know the pleasure I have in promoting your interest." Ripperda
knew all the avenues to the noble heart of Elizabeth; and he made her a
reply, that lit up her gracious countenance with an emotion direct from
the soul.
Louis walked as in a dream, from the hour in which he was told he
should meet Otteline, to the moment of his going to the palace. The
imperial saloon was full, though not crowded. Having paid his homage
to the Empress, he turned round, as she directed him, while certain
well-known sounds were vibrating on the harp. The object he expected
met his eyes. The instruments of music were in an adjoining apartment,
opened to the saloon by a canopied arch; and Otteline stood there, just
risen from the harp, and attending to something that was addressed to
her by the Archduchess Theresa, who was seated at a harpsichord. She
wore the portrait of her future husband, Prince Carlos, suspended at
her neck; and the timid bride was evidently preparing to sing to the
Emperor her father, who stood near her. Lovely as she was, in the first
morning of her youth; her soft blue eyes turned upwards, with a gaze of
almost infantine attention upon the face of her beautiful instructress;
yet the eye of the beholder could not rest upon the blooming girl. That
beautiful instructress seemed nothing less than a being of a superior
order. She leaned over her like some bright creature of the air,
hovering near her sweet but earthly charge. Louis felt a mist pass over
his memory. The abhorrent words of her lips, which he thought must burn
before him, in accusing characters, for ever, flew at once from their
station; and his heart rose in his bosom, with an impulsive violence
to throw himself at her feet, and forget all the world and himself, in
the rapturous moment of swearing that he loved her. But, if celestial
spirits do indeed surround the path of those who would contend for
heaven; the guardian seraph of Louis, at that moment breathed upon his
dissolving soul, and strengthened it to virtue. With a bitter contempt
of his weakness, he tore his eyes from the dangerous contemplation;
and followed his father and the Empress, to pay his respects to her
Imperial husband.
While the Emperor discoursed with Ripperda, Elizabeth addressed her
favourite.
"Otteline," said she, with a smile, "I hope you will grant as
honourable notice to the Marquis de Montemar, as that with which you
graced the Chevalier de Phaffenberg!"
The Countess looked up, with a blush bright as the tints of Aurora; and
while she sought to meet the eyes of Louis, which were covered with
their "veiled lids;" she softly answered,--"The Marquis de Montemar
is too well convinced of the esteem in which I held the Chevalier de
Phaffenberg, to require that I should encrease my consideration of
him, under any other name."
He bowed in silence. But Her Majesty, seeing the Emperor and Ripperda
walk together into the adjoining room, as she turned to follow them,
added--"De Montemar, I leave you to assist the Countess in selecting a
duet for my daughter to sing."
This command Louis could not disobey; and though a quivering fire shot
through all his veins, he was not the less determined to persevere in
the assumption of a coldness which his reason dictated; and which, he
trusted, would so pique the sexual dignity of Otteline, that he should
never be demanded to a second interview. With obedient haste, and
to occupy himself, he began to turn over the music books. The young
Princess took hold of the Countess's arm, and artlessly whispered.--
"Do ask the Marquis de Montemar, whether Prince Carlos is really like
this ugly picture!" Otteline whispered in return:--"I am sure the
Marquis de Montemar will be honoured in replying to Your Highness; and
he will tell you that Prince Carlos is very handsome."
None of this was spoken so low, but that Louis heard it all; and the
Arch-duchess, holding up the jeweled portrait, said to him in a timid
voice:--"Do tell me, if he is so very disagreeable?--I could never
endure to leave my beautiful mamma, and charming governess, to look
always upon so frightful a face as this!"
Louis glanced at the picture; which was, indeed, the portrait of a
plain, but it was a sensible countenance. The ingenuous eyes of the
Princess, turned from it, to those of Louis, with anxious enquiry.
"I never saw the Prince," replied he, "But Your Highness must pardon
me, if I do not think this portrait disagreeable? It expresses a noble
mind; and without such an expression, the finest features in the world
would want the soul of beauty."
Maria Theresa looked earnestly in the face of Louis. She had never done
so before; and then turning her eyes again on the picture, she drew a
deep sigh.
"Come will not Your Highness sing?" asked the Countess, presenting a
duet.
"No," replied she, "I shall go, and beg mamma, to permit you to sing
alone;" then whispering her, as she was leaving her seat, she put her
arm round her neck, and softly said--"Oh, my happy Otteline! He that
you are to marry, has both a handsome and a noble countenance!"
Louis could not escape hearing this; nor seeing the quick pressure with
which the Countess strained her young charge to her breast; who in some
apprehension that she had been overheard, broke away, with a slight
blush tinging her lilly complexion.
He was now alone in the music-room, with her, whose presence he
felt in every nerve. The parting whisper of the Princess; and the
responsive action of the Countess, followed by a fluttering sigh, which
now vibrated in his heart, made him tremble for himself. He knew not
how to fly, and he felt it was perilous to remain. Hastily closing
a music-book, he said with a forced smile, "Since the Arch-duchess
declines singing, my duty here terminates!" and with a hurrying bow, he
started from the instrument.
Otteline was, now, in a no less agitated state than himself. She read
in his averted looks, and haste to leave her, that she was no longer to
consider him as her lover; and, not suspecting the real cause, her own
ambitious views suggested to her, that his father's higher prospects
were the origin of this changed demeanour. Aware that carrying matters
with too lofty a hand had lost her the son of the Marquis Santa Cruz,
she determined on a different mode with that of Ripperda; and while
a large drapery of the curtained arch was yet between him, and the
observation of the company in the saloon, she ventured in rapid but
suppressed accents, to murmur out--"Oh, Marquis, why are you not the
obscure De Phaffenberg?--Then, we should not have met:--or never parted
thus!"
Her voice had arrested him. Her words transfixed his heart. He stood,
but he did not speak. She resumed.--
"It is as I foresaw. My enemies have prevailed!--Your father objects
to my humble birth; and you turn from me, to seek a more illustrious
bride?"
"No Madam," returned Louis, believing himself now called upon to pass
the final sentence upon his relapsing passions; "my father has not yet
spoken to me on the subject. Neither do I seek, or wish, for any other
bride:--For--Oh, Otteline," cried he, turning on her a look, in which
all the contention of his soul was declared; "Where should I find one
so lovely?--One, to whom I could more intensely devote this adoring
heart? But yourself has separated us for ever!"
She turned pale as the pearls which bound her forehead.
"Then it is my enemies!" cried she, "But if they have coupled my name
with Don Ferdinand d'Osorio's, in any tale of slander; believe it as
false as that, which the Electress of Bavaria has published to the ruin
of my fame. You know how I am the victim there! And this is invented,
to put you from making the only restitution that can redeem me to the
envious world!"
The vehemence with which she spoke, and the mention of Don Ferdinand's
name, connected with her own, cast a new and an appalling light upon
the apprehension of her lover. He recollected that Don Ferdinand had
left Vienna, to rid himself from, what his father called, a disgraceful
entanglement of his affections; and to find it possible that Otteline
might have been its object, confounded all his faculties. The broad
appeal to his honour, in the last sentence of her remonstrance, did not
the less convince him, that all was not right, in the tenacity with
which she urged bonds on him, he had shewn himself determined to break.
Braced, therefore, in his resolution, in a collected voice, he briefly
answered.
"No, Madam; I have heard no slanderous tales against you. Until this
moment, I was not aware that Don Ferdinand d'Osorio was even known to
you; and had it been told to me, by any but yourself I should have
spurned the information. My heart alone is your accuser."
The renewed emotion, with which the latter words were uttered, and
even their import, revived the colour of hope upon the cheek of the
Countess. She thought, if his heart alone were her accuser, she had
also an advocate there, that would be too powerful for so unassisted
an adversary. She smiled bewitchingly, for it was through rushing
tears; and laying her hand on his arm, said in a tender and trusting
voice,--"And what does it allege against me?"
Louis did not look towards her. Her touch ran like wild-fire through
his veins; but the sensations which shook him, only rendered him more
desperate to fulfil his resolution; and he exclaimed, "that I did love
you--that I adored you!--that I was grateful, for the regard with which
you honoured me,--I believe I shall carry the scars on my heart, to my
grave:--but, with me, there is a power beyond love--that of virtue!
I would sooner have this heart torn from my body, or all it delights
in, buried from my sight; than purchase their enjoyment, by admitting
one stain on my conscience. When I last saw you, in the conference
with the Chancellor and the Empress, you declared, and proved yourself
of an opposite opinion! You violated the sacredness of a seal; and
you defended that breach of honour, on principles which destroy me to
remember!"
Louis stopped, and covered his bloodless face with his hand.--The
Countess, though paralyzed to the heart, by so unexpected a disclosure,
gathered hope from the pale statue that uttered it. "His frozen virtue,
will relent!" thought she; and clasping his arm, with the warm pressure
of doubting agitation, she tremblingly said, "Oh, de Montemar, is such
the reward of my self-sacrifice. What am I to expect from this exacting
virtue?"
"That I may die,"--replied Louis, with a strong effort; "but that we
meet no more."
This was the axe to the ambitious Otteline; and with a shriek, she
could not restrain, she staggered, and fell prostrate on the floor.
The convulsive cry, and the confused noise of her fall, were heard in
the same moment, in the adjoining saloon. Elizabeth, whose thoughts
were on what was passing between her favourite and the son of her
friend, sprang from her seat, behind the Emperor's chair. Charles
was at quadrille with Ripperda, the Princess de Waradin, and another
lady. Every body started from their respective positions: but no one,
except the young Arch-duchess, durst follow Her Majesty, as she had not
commanded the attendance of any.
The Emperor laid down his cards, and asked what had happened. Ripperda
was not aware that his son was engaged in it, and with perfect
indifference followed the example of the Sovereign, in rising from his
chair. But the Princess de Waradin, who had observed Louis having been
left with the favourite, rather sarcastically replied to the Emperor's
question.
"If Your Majesty will do the Marquis de Montemar the honour of
enquiring of him, he can give every information; as he has been _tête
à tête_ with Countess Altheim, in that room, for some time."
Ripperda knew the character of the favourite; and recollecting
his son's admiration of her; with an alarm he did not allow to be
visible, he requested the Emperor's commands, to assist the Empress's
interference in whatever accident might have happened.
"Certainly," replied he, "and let any body who may be of service, go
with you."
This license sent every-body into the room.
Elizabeth had found Louis, on one knee, by the side of the insensible
Otteline. He was pale, and speechless. And fearing that he might soon
be in the same state with her he ineffectually attempted to raise,
while the young Archduchess clung, weeping, to her lifeless friend,
the Empress turned round at the approaching steps; and the first that
was near her, being Sinzendorff, in a hurrying, but suppressed voice,
she said,--"Chancellor, take care of de Montemar, take him from these
people's eyes."
Almost without consciousness, Louis obeyed the impulse of Sinzendorff's
arm, and soon found himself withdrawn from the gaze of strangers.
The Chancellor had led him, without speaking, across a passage that
opened from the music-room, into the Imperial library. When he saw his
agitated companion throw himself into a seat, and cover his face with
his clasped hands, the worthy statesman laid his hand on his shoulder
while he broke silence.
"Marquis, will you tell me frankly? Do you love the Countess Altheim?"
The friendly tone in which this was asked, recalled Louis in some
measure to himself; and without altering his position, for he shrunk
from shewing the weakness that might be discovered in his countenance,
he answered. "I do love her, more than I could have thought it
possible, after a full conviction that she can no longer be conducive
to my happiness! Oh, my lord, you were present at the scene which
decided my fate. What she then avowed, convinced me that she and I must
never be united: I have just dared to tell her so.--But the situation
to which it reduced her, severs my soul from my body."
"Virtuous young man," cried Sinzendorff, "let it not sever your
principle from your soul! You are formed for better things than an
intriguing woman's slave. Hear what I am now going to say to you! But
as you are worthy the confidence I place in you; and as a breach of it
would ruin me with the Imperial family; you must not discover, even
to your father, that the facts I am going to state have been learnt
from me. When I have told them, examine into their truth, and act on
the result. Know then, that the woman, who causes you this emotion,
is unworthy of a single regret from a mind like yours. Could you be
satisfied with beauty alone, I acknowledge it is there in amplest
perfection; but she is without one feminine feeling, wholly abandoned
to ambition, and careless by what means she raises herself to the
point of her hopes. At the age of sixteen she married one of the
worst characters in the Imperial court, to be elevated to the rank of
nobility. When a widow, she attempted the affections of several noble
strangers, who, however, were too wary to be taken in her toils; but
at last she entangled the passions of my sister's son, Don Ferdinand
d'Osorio; and wrought him to the most extravagant excesses, while her
own selfish aim was only to perpetuate her rank. This, his father told
me; but he interfered, and the young man recovered his senses. Her
next trial was on yourself! And I solemnly assure you, that from the
first of your appearance in this palace, she knew that you were not
the Chevalier de Phaffenberg. And, though I doubt not, she prefers
your youth and graces, to the age and decrepitude of the dotard to
whom she first sold her duty as a wife; I know her well, and can aver,
that she has no value for the superiority of your mental qualities.
Do not mislead yourself, de Montemar, by investing her with your own
feelings. It is not the loss of yourself that caused the situation in
which you left her; but the loss of an illustrious husband:--the loss
of one, who would have re-introduced her to the circle which her pride
insulted, and the members of which, dread, while they despise her. My
dear Marquis, excepting the infatuated Empress, she has not one friend
in Vienna!"
"She warned me, that she had enemies," replied Louis, in an interrupted
voice, "but with me, her worst enemy is herself. Chancellor, I am
grateful for what you have said, and you shall find by my fidelity,
that I am so. But not even all these charges could have weighed against
the pleadings of my heart in her favour, had I not been present that
fatal evening in the _boudoir_."
"A man of your principles," replied Sinzendorf, "ought rather to regard
it as a providential evening!--If they be principles, you will abide
by them; and I shall see you free, honoured, and happy. If they be no
more than sentiment, (which is common with youth!) they will evaporate
in her first sighs, and I shall soon have to congratulate her as
Marchioness de Montemar. In that case, I will forget all that I have
said, since I cannot disbelieve it."
Louis felt the force, and the friendship, of this admonition.
"Your Excellency shall never have reason to forget the generous
interest you have taken in my happiness. And, in apology for this
emotion, you must accept the excuse of one, young as myself, (but, oh,
on how enviable an occasion!) _my body trembles at the purpose of my
soul_."
"Could I believe, that she did not love me, my task would have less of
torture!" This last thought, was in his mind, though he did not utter
it; and before the Chancellor could proceed with the commendation
this resolution merited, a page appeared at the door, to inform them
the Emperor had dismissed the company; and that the Duke de Ripperda
awaited the Marquis in the vestibule.