THE FULFILMENT
NOW began for Wilhelmine a time of strangely mixed and contending
emotions. She loved Eberhard Ludwig with all that fervour and lavish
freshness which we give to our first love; she longed to surrender to his
passion, yet she held back with a modesty of maidenly reserve which her
many jealous enemies ascribed to calculation, or else entirely denied,
alleging that she was a mere adventuress plying her illicit trade
according to her habit. Of a truth, there may have been a shade of
strategy in her virtuous hesitation, for Madame de Ruth, who had returned
to Stuttgart post-haste on hearing of his Highness's advent, constantly
counselled her to hold back. Wilhelmine herself realised that a battle's
importance is generally gauged by its difficulty, and the ultimate
victory more highly prized if hardly won. Sometimes she wondered why she
knew these things, and laughingly she told Madame de Ruth of this.
'Dear child,' said the old woman with her thin, satirical smile, 'we
women come into the world knowing such things; whereas men--poor, beloved
fools!--need experience, philosophy, and the Lord knows what, to teach
them. Alas! by the time they have learned they no longer need their
knowledge, for by that time cruel old age has got them in its grey, dull
clutches.'
Another factor in Wilhelmine's life at that time was the Duke's friend
Baron Forstner, a man of excellent and sterling qualities, but one of
those unfortunate mortals cursed with a lugubrious manner which makes
their goodness seem to be but one more irritating characteristic of a
tiresome personality. Forstner was genuinely devoted to the Duke; he had
been the companion of the Prince's childhood, had shared his studies,
and had followed him on his travels to the various European courts and in
the campaigns where Eberhard Ludwig had so mightily distinguished
himself. How cruel it is that devotion may be so entirely masked by some
wearisome trait, as to turn the whole affection into a source of
irritation to its object! Forstner perpetually reminded his Highness of
his duty.
Now Eberhard Ludwig was possessed of a high regard for that stern code of
life which is called Duty; he had all a soldier's respect for rule, for
obedience, all a gentleman's reverence for honour and truth; yet these
things, as presented by Forstner, were to him odious, and his first
impulse was to go counter to any advice proffered in the drab-coloured
guise of Forstner's counsel, and by his deep, dreary voice.
'L'osseux,' the Bony One, Madame de Ruth dubbed him; and truly the
sobriquet was justified, for the man was so long and thin as to give the
impression of bones strung on strings. He walked in jerks: his flat,
narrow feet posed precisely, the head held forward, like some gaunt bird
seeking with its lengthy beak for any meagre grain which might chance in
its way. Somehow one felt the grain he sought must be meagre. 'The good
God wills that Forstner lives,' said Madame de Ruth, 'and God knows he
lives according to God's rules; but oh! how more than usually tiresome he
makes those rules, poor Bony One!'
Forstner naturally disapproved of Wilhelmine, and the two were for ever
contradicting each other; but she often endeavoured to propitiate him,
for she loathed disapproval, and preferred the open hostility of a real
enemy to the presence of any merely disapproving person. Eberhard Ludwig
suffered intensely in those weeks at Stuttgart; he was fiercely irritable
to Forstner, resenting his comments on Wilhelmine, though he longed
childishly for some appreciation of a new and much-prized toy.
Stafforth, who had returned with the Duke, assisted the intrigue to the
best of his ability by constantly arranging meetings, feasts, picnics in
the forest, music in the evenings, followed by gay suppers. But he
offended Wilhelmine deeply, though she gave no sign thereof, for he
treated the whole situation as an ordinary court intrigue, which indeed
it was, though both people concerned were earnestly and deeply engaged in
the one great love of their lives. Forstner sat like a grim, polite
skeleton at these feasts, and Wilhelmine grew to hate him in those summer
days. Her hatred was destined to wreak a terrible vengeance against him.
Friedrich Grävenitz had also returned to Stuttgart, leaving his wife in
Rottenburg awaiting the birth of their first child.
Duchess Johanna Elizabetha continued to reside at the castle, torturing
herself with jealous fears. She appeared before the Duke with eyes
reddened by sleepless nights and bitter tears, and her habitual
dreariness of being was doubled.
Eberhard Ludwig himself, intent upon his love, gave the poor woman scarce
a thought, though when he saw her he noted her tear-stained eyelids and
her woebegone, reproachful ways with an irritation which, though it could
not pierce the studied courtesy of his manner, made itself felt, and
further wounded the unhappy woman. Madame de Stafforth was constantly
with the Duchess, and thus her Highness was perfectly informed of the
Duke's daily visits at the Stafforth house.
The days dragged on, and the heat grew to be almost unbearable. Each day
the sun shone more gloriously, and the Duchess longed for one grey,
overcast day. To her the sun seemed pitiless and cruel, the summer's
amplitude seemed to mock her in her misery.
Each evening, at set of sun, she heard the rattle and rumble of Eberhard
Ludwig's coach, which he drove himself with eight magnificent spirited
horses. True, his Highness never failed to send his consort a courteous
invitation to join the feast at some Jagd Schloss in the forest; but she
invariably refused, alleging that she was weary, that her head ached, or
that she would fain rest, for she guessed that Wilhelmine would be there.
Unrest was in Wilhelmine's heart also. She still held back from giving
herself to Eberhard Ludwig, and the future seemed to her dark and
difficult. She knew she loved his Highness, but both her sincere love and
her indomitable pride revolted at the thought of becoming a mere toy, a
mistress to be thrown aside whenever the Duke's whim dictated. A
thousand times she told herself that this would never happen, that
Eberhard Ludwig loved her with a true and lasting passion, yet a wave of
haughty doubt swept over her and kept her back. One day it was announced
from the castle that her Highness had commanded a famous troupe of
Italian musicians to perform a series of madrigals before the court. The
Duchess caused a summons to be issued to members of the court at
Stuttgart, adding, however, that no foreign visitors could be invited,
the concert being strictly private. This was a direct insult to
Wilhelmine, for she was the only foreign visitor in Stuttgart. Stafforth
announced this news to his Highness, Madame de Ruth, and Wilhelmine as
they sat at supper beneath the beech-tree in the Stafforth garden. A
silence fell upon the party. Madame de Ruth leaned back in her chair,
fanning herself gently; Eberhard Ludwig turned to Wilhelmine, his face
had flushed deeply, and it was with an unsteady voice that he said:
'Mademoiselle, I formally invite you to hear the music to-morrow evening
at my castle of Stuttgart. Her Highness, my honoured wife, will gladly
make an exception in her arrangements for so famous a musician as
yourself.'
'Monseigneur,' broke in Stafforth hurriedly, 'I fear your Highness
cannot----'
Eberhard Ludwig silenced him with a look, and turning to Wilhelmine he
said, almost sternly: 'I await the honour, Mademoiselle, of your answer,
which I shall carry myself to her Highness.'
Wilhelmine rose.
'Monseigneur,' she said, and her voice had a ring which caused Madame de
Ruth to start,--'Monseigneur, I can refuse you nothing. To-morrow I will
do as you desire.' The rich blood mantled to her cheeks. Eberhard Ludwig
caught her hand; raising it to his lips he murmured 'To-morrow!' and
turning quickly left the garden with hasty strides. Wilhelmine walked
away down the garden-path, desiring apparently to commune with herself.
Stafforth remained standing. Observing Madame de Ruth, who was laughing
quietly to herself--
'Madame,' he said angrily, 'I see nothing to laugh at! This will be going
too far. It is an insult to her Highness, and we shall have the whole
court against us! She must _not_ go to this madrigal singing, I tell
you!'
'Dear friend,' Madame answered, 'I am not laughing at that. I laugh
because I see once more that a man may plead till his heart breaks, it is
when a woman sees another woman absolutely denied for her sake, that she
knows she is loved as she approves; _then_ she capitulates and
whispers--to-morrow!' The old woman laughed again.
'Well, Madame!' replied Stafforth, 'you will see what this "to-morrow"
means!'
* * * * *
The Italian musicians were grouped together at one end of her Highness's
own reception-room in the castle of Stuttgart. The invited audience was
small, for only such ladies and gentlemen as were actually obliged, by
the holding of important court charges, remained in the town during the
hot summer months; thus it had been deemed more fitting for the madrigals
to be performed in the castle itself instead of in the fine hall of the
Lusthaus where the court festivities usually took place. Her Highness's
reception-room gave out on to the Renaissance gallery of the inner
courtyard. The room was hung with sombre tapestries heavy with the dust
of centuries; a number of waxen tapers flamed in silver candlesticks;
rows of seats were arranged in a half-circle behind the high gilt chairs
placed for his Highness Eberhard Ludwig and his consort her Highness
Johanna Elizabetha.
The musicians turned over the leaves of the manuscript music on the desks
before them; sometimes the sound of a violin chord, struck to prove its
correctness, broke on the air. The swish of silken skirts on the wooden
floor of the gallery without announced the advent of the first guests,
and gradually the room was filled by richly clad ladies and finely
attired gentlemen.
The appointed hour was long passed for the music's commencement, but
neither the Duke nor the Duchess had left their apartments, and the
courtiers whispered that their Highnesses were closeted together, and
that angry voices had been heard by one of the pages attendant in the
antehall. The clock of the Stiftskirche tolled out nine strokes, and the
courtiers murmured angrily that they had been waiting an entire hour.
At length the door leading to her Highness's apartment was flung open,
and Monsieur de Gemmingen, Controller of the Duchess's household,
appeared, bowing deeply as Johanna Elizabetha entered, followed by Madame
de Stafforth, who was in attendance on her Highness in the absence of
Mademoiselle de Münsingen, the lady-in-waiting. The audience rose to
greet the Duchess, and at that moment his Highness Eberhard Ludwig
appeared from another door followed by Oberhofmarshall Stafforth,
Reischach, and other gentlemen of the suite.
Her Highness bowed to right and left. Her face was deadly white and her
eyes swollen with weeping; even her usual colourless amiability seemed to
have deserted her, for, after the generally inclusive salute to the
entire company, she swept towards her gilded chair without a word of
direct greeting to any individual. Eberhard Ludwig, on the contrary,
assumed an air of gaiety, as with his habitual grace of manner he passed
down the lines of guests, finding a courteous word for each and all. Yet
the courtiers remarked that his Highness's face was flushed, and that his
eyes held a glitter of angry defiance; but he gave no other sign of
disturbance, and did not respond to Stafforth's whispered inquiry if his
Highness had heard news of serious import.
Johanna Elizabetha summoned the Oberhofmarshall and desired him to
command the musicians to commence, and the courtiers watched how Eberhard
Ludwig, seating himself beside her Highness, seemed to fix his mind upon
the music. It was a matter of comment that Monsieur and Madame de
Stafforth were present at the concert without their guest Mademoiselle de
Grävenitz; and the well informed, delighted with their superior
knowledge, whispered that the decree 'No Foreigners' was levelled at this
lady alone. Under cover of the music the audience gossiped in whispers,
while they noted the Duchess Johanna Elizabetha's demeanour with
interest.
Her Highness sat beside the Duke in that attitude which, translated from
court to market-place parlance, would have been 'turning her back upon
him'; in more polite circles this attitude becomes a mere inclination of
the shoulder. It is less satisfactory to the offended, though certainly
not less abashing to the offender, than the ruder, more frankly human
market-place manner. And it seemed as though his Highness felt it to be
so, for he repeatedly endeavoured to address his spouse over this
battlemented shoulder; but her Highness answered shortly, if at all, and
the shoulder became each time more aggressively pointed.
The musicians meanwhile performed a series of madrigals accompanied by
viole d'amore, violins, and viole da gamba. The candles flickered in the
draught from the open windows. Madame de Ruth sat resignedly beside
Monseigneur de Zollern, whose fine head had dropped forward on his
breast. He was asleep; and Madame de Ruth realised, with a sigh, that her
beloved had grown old; that her youth had vanished too, and even the joy
of observing the tragi-comedy of human nature palled for her at that
moment, and she felt herself to be old and lonely. At length the music
ceased, and was followed by that insolent, half-hearted applause which it
is the privilege of the truly cultured audience to offer to musicians or
actors.
Her Highness intimated her approval, and desired the performers to rest a
little after their exertions. At this moment a door, directly to the left
of her Highness's seat, was flung open, and a bewildering vision of
beauty stood framed in the doorway. It was Wilhelmine von Grävenitz, the
expressly excluded foreign visitor. Johanna Elizabetha threw a glance
towards this apparition and hastily averted her eyes, her face flaming
from throat to brow.
His Highness half rose from his seat, but sinking back he endeavoured to
attract the Duchess's attention to the late arrival, who stood on the
threshold awaiting her Highness's greeting, without which it was
impossible for her to join the court circle, as having entered by the
wrong door, she must of necessity pass the Duchess in order to gain the
ranks of the audience. There was a moment of intense embarrassment;
Wilhelmine was as firmly fixed to her place in the doorway as though
nails had been fastened through her satin-slippered feet to the boards
beneath; for etiquette forbade her to advance without her Highness's
greeting, and fear of ridicule barred her way back through the door. The
Duchess remained immovable, her eyes upon the group of musicians; the
Duke endeavoured nervously to draw her Highness's attention to
Wilhelmine; the audience had fallen into one of those painful silences,
with which an assembly invariably adds to the awkward moments of social
life. Partly it is that curiosity rules all men and most women; partly
that, however cultured and refined the individuals may be, a _mass_ of
human beings is like some wild animal--awkward, ungainly, horribly cruel,
ready to gloat over the discomfiture of friend or foe.
The flickering of the candles in the silver candlesticks seemed to become
a noisy flaring, and through the large room the falling of a waxen flake
on the polished table rang out distinctly; the string of a violin broke,
and it sounded like a pistol-shot in the stillness. Her Highness remained
unmoved, with eyes fixed upon the musicians. The tension was almost
intolerable. The victory seemed to belong to the stern hostess, and yet
it was upon Wilhelmine standing in the doorway that every eye was fixed.
She stood perfectly motionless, one hand upon the lintel of the door, the
other holding her fan; her head was poised imperiously, chin tilted as
when she sang; her lips were parted in a half-smile, and her eyes were
fixed upon her Highness with her strange compelling look. Was the Duchess
victorious? surely not--the homage of the whole company was to the beauty
of the woman on the threshold.
At length the Duke, in desperation, boldly touched her Highness's
shoulder. 'Your Highness has not observed your Highness's newly appointed
lady-in-waiting!'
He spoke so clearly that the audience heard each carefully pronounced
syllable.
'Your Highness will remember summoning Mademoiselle de Grävenitz to
attend upon your Highness this evening for the first time in her new
capacity?'
Johanna Elizabetha turned. For a tick of the clock she deliberately
measured her adversary with her protuberant eyes, then slowly she bent
her head in formal greeting. Wilhelmine stepped forward, then sank to the
ground in the elaborate court courtesy; rising, she walked a few steps,
and again swept her Highness the usual obeisance, and calmly assumed her
appointed place as lady-in-waiting behind the Duchess's chair.
The musicians recommenced to play; her Highness stared stonily before
her; the Duke leaned back drumming with nervous fingers on the gilt arm
of his chair; the audience murmured together conjectures and remarks.
Wilhelmine was almost as motionless as her Highness; her eyes were fixed
upon the musicians, and her face was inscrutable. The concert came to an
end, and the Duchess rose; she turned towards Madame de Stafforth,
summoning her as lady-in-waiting-extraordinary to accompany her, thereby
entirely ignoring Wilhelmine, the newly appointed lady-in-waiting, whose
office it should have been to attend her Highness. After saluting her
guests collectively by one sweeping courtesy, Johanna Elizabetha walked
towards her apartments. Eberhard Ludwig made a movement forward as though
to stay the Duchess; but he stopped short, and turned to Wilhelmine, who
was standing behind the Duchess's empty chair, uncertain whether to
follow her Highness or no.
'Mademoiselle de Grävenitz,' he said, 'the Duchess is evidently
indisposed, and thus will not be present at the supper this evening,
therefore I take it your services as lady-in-waiting will be dispensed
with. May I have the honour of leading you to supper?' and he offered
Wilhelmine his hand in the graceful fashion of those days. The last thing
her Highness Johanna Elizabetha saw, as once more she paused to bow from
the doorway to her guests, was the Duke leading her new lady-in-waiting
towards the supper-room.
* * * * *
The Duchess Johanna Elizabetha's guests were leaving the castle: a
constant stream of coaches drew up, one by one, in the courtyard, and
having taken up their owners rumbled away through the heavy archway and
across the moat towards the town. Only Oberhofmarshall Stafforth, Madame
de Ruth, his Grace of Zollern, and Friedrich Grävenitz lingered in the
supper-room by his Highness's command. Stafforth was anxious and silent;
Zollern sleepy; the voluble Madame de Ruth was talking rapidly, with the
evident intention of making the scene appear unimportant to the flunkeys
in attendance. Friedrich Grävenitz said nothing, but looked pompous, and
drank ostentatiously with rounded forearm, showing off his fine muscles,
in spite of the fact that no one paid any heed to him. He had been
invaluable during supper itself, for he had roared out stories, under
cover of whose noise those who had real things to discuss had been
enabled to talk, while the outsiders imagined that his Highness's circle
listened to the Kammerjunker. But now he had been silenced by a
peremptory word from the Duke, and he was thus relegated to the position
of onlooker, though, in truth, he evidently believed all eyes to be upon
him, for he looked sulkily self-conscious and perfectly foolish.
At one of the windows stood Eberhard Ludwig, beside him Wilhelmine. They
were speaking together in an undertone. Madame de Ruth sometimes cast an
anxious glance towards them. She wished the conversation would end;
already the servants must have made comment upon so long an interview,
and though the opinion of menials was a matter of little importance, the
wily dame did not desire Wilhelmine's business to become the talk of the
town until the intrigue was fully developed.
'Monseigneur,' she whispered to Monsieur de Zollern, 'this must end.
Believe me, her Highness has many virtue-loving spies who will report to
her with the exaggeration of the respectable foul-minded, and we shall be
accused of having had a nocturnal carousal.'
Monsieur de Zollern rose and hobbled across to the pair at the window. He
had just reached them when the door opened, and Baron Forstner appeared
on the threshold.
'Ah! Serenissimus!' exclaimed Zollern, 'that is indeed an excellent
story! Your Highness must pardon an old invalid if he retires with the
memory of that witty tale in his mind as a bonne bouche.' He bowed and
took his leave, while Forstner, who had arrived on the scene hoping to
find the lovers alone together, was entirely put off the scent;
Zollern's quick ruse having made it appear as though the conversation had
been general.
The company now took leave, Zollern offering Forstner a seat in his
coach, which was accepted; thus the 'Representative of all the virtues'
(another of Madame de Ruth's names for 'L'osseux') was safely removed
from the scene, leaving Kammerjunker Grävenitz to attend his Highness.
Madame de Ruth retired to her rooms in the castle. Stafforth escorted
Wilhelmine to his coach, which waited to convey her to the house in the
Graben. As he bowed gallantly over her hand he felt her fingers press a
paper into his palm. She must have penned it ere she came to the concert,
he reflected, for she could have found no opportunity for writing since.
When he reached the deserted corridor outside the antehall, where two
tall gentlemen-at-arms guarded the door of his Highness's sleeping
apartment, he held the missive up to the light of one of the flickering
wall-lamps: 'For his Highness's own hand alone,' he read.
'Ah----!' he murmured. Passing through the antehall, he gained admission
to Eberhard Ludwig's apartment.
'Stafforth, my friend!' cried the Duke, when the Oberhofmarshall
appeared, 'this is much courtesy,--you attend me with zeal!' and he
laughed gaily.
Stafforth looked fixedly at him; he wished to convey to his Highness his
desire to speak with him alone; but Friedrich Grävenitz also,
unfortunately, had this impression, and being at once the most suspicious
and the most tactless of mortals, he had evidently made up his mind to
remain in attendance, as was indeed officially correct, though it was
usual for the subordinate official to retire courteously when a person
holding a superior court charge was present at the Duke's disrobing. It
was impossible for Stafforth to give his Highness Wilhelmine's missive in
her brother's presence, for the conspirators had long discovered that
Friedrich Grävenitz either lost his temper and blustered, if he felt
himself excluded from full knowledge of anything concerning his sister's
affairs; or else, were he taken into their confidence, he compromised the
situation by some gross tactlessness the which he himself considered, and
represented, to be a master-stroke of diplomacy.
After some moments' conversation, Stafforth hit on a plan. He walked
across the room and leaned out of the open window. 'What a glorious
night!' he exclaimed. 'Ah, Monseigneur! I understand your Highness's love
for the silent woods at night; even here, in the town, the summer night
is full of mysterious poetry! Grävenitz, if his Highness permit you, come
and look at the beauty of the far-off stars. You also have a vein of
poetry in your soldier-nature.' This being exactly what Friedrich
Grävenitz entirely lacked, it flattered him extremely to be credited with
the quality. He craved his Highness's permission to look at the glorious
night scenery, and repairing to the window leaned out beside Stafforth.
The Oberhofmarshall immediately pressed close against him and encircled
his shoulders with one arm, holding the dupe firmly away from the
interior of the room; meanwhile Stafforth's other arm was round his own
back, with Wilhelmine's letter held out in that hand towards the Duke. He
remained thus expatiating on the beauty of the night, till he felt the
Duke withdraw the missive from him. Having assured himself by hearing a
faint rustle of paper that Eberhard Ludwig had read the missive, he
finished his oration, and removed his strong arm from Grävenitz's
shoulder.
Now it was the Duke who leaned out of the window. 'O Stafforth!' he
cried, 'the night is too beautiful to sleep through! Gentlemen, I invite
you to hunt with me to-morrow at break of day! We will meet at the edge
of the Rothwald and follow the stag. Till dawn, then, farewell! I shall
wander in the wood till then.'
His Highness dismissed Stafforth and Grävenitz. As the door closed upon
the two courtiers, Eberhard Ludwig snatched a crumpled paper from his
breast. It was the Duchess Johanna Elizabetha's formal command to her
guests to appear at her private concert of madrigals:--
'Le Chambellan de
Son Altesse
MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE WIRTEMBERG
a l'honneur d'inviter Madame de Stafforth ce Lundi
25 Juin à 8 heures du soir.
Je regrette de ne pas pouvoir inviter des voyageurs étrangers.--J. E.'
Signed and annotated, you will see, by her Highness's own hand. Beneath
which, in strong, manlike characters, was written--
'Ce soir à onzes heures.--PHILOMÈLE.'
And it is a matter of history that his Highness Eberhard Ludwig of
Wirtemberg did _not_ keep his tryst at dawn with Oberhofmarshall
Stafforth and Friedrich Grävenitz in the Rothwald.