It so happened that, in another room of the same house, and at almost
exactly the same hour, the pleasures of the masquerade in Paradise
formed the subject of conversation.
For some weeks past Rosenbusch had intended to make inquiries
concerning the health of his Russian patroness, who, as he knew, was
confined to her room by a slight injury to her foot. He felt it
incumbent on him to show himself a young man who respected the laws of
politeness and society, although he was a disciple of the liberal arts.
He found the countess in her bedroom, which smelled of Russian leather
and cigarettes. A samovar and an empty champagne bottle stood on the
table by the bed, and all kinds of note-books, portfolios, French
books, and photographs lay about upon the chairs. Nelida reclined upon
the bed, robed in a long silk dressing-gown, with a black point-lace
veil thrown nun-fashion over her dark hair. She looked paler than in
the summer, and, as she extended her white hand to the painter with a
gracious smile, he was forced to admit to himself that she perfectly
understood the art of making as much capital as possible out of her
suffering condition, and of appearing still more interesting in her
enforced quiet than in her usual activity.
She was not alone. The retired singer, who appeared to be regularly
installed as her companion, and who was at the moment engaged in the
back part of the room in poking the fire in the grate, had been sitting
in the chair which was now offered to Rosenbusch.
Opposite the bed, in a low arm-chair, sat a younger lady, whom
Rosenbusch had not seen before, and who immediately attracted his
artistic eye. Was she a married woman or a girl? The countess did not
mention her name. But, although the soft fullness of her figure seemed
rather to indicate the mature woman, the features of the charming face
and the glance of the dark-blue eyes had a soft and dreamy expression
that was altogether maidenly. Then, too, she looked very girlish when,
chancing to look up suddenly from the embroidery on which she was
engaged, she gazed with innocent wonder straight into the face of the
speaker, then opened her lips in a laugh which displayed two rows of
the most beautiful little teeth, and the next instant bent down her
head again as if in confusion, until her thick brown hair fell low over
her forehead.
Rosenbusch, who was smitten at once, would very gladly have drawn a
little nearer to this enchanting stranger. But the countess took
complete possession of him, making him give her a circumstantial
account of his doings and actions, and expressing an unusual interest
in the "Battle of Luetzen," which was now finished. As she was a perfect
mistress of the art of making every one believe that his particular
plans and aims were of more importance to her than anything else,
Rosenbusch did not remark, in the joy of his heart, that, in spite of
her interest in him, she yawned several times, but went on talking
about anything that came into his head--about his labors, his ideas of
art, his friends, and finally about the masked ball in Paradise. He
related, among other things, that Jansen would appear in a genuine
Venetian costume, and his betrothed in a corresponding one, which was
to be exactly copied from a portrait by Paris Bordone, in red velvet
with a little gold embroidery, and which would go marvelously well with
her pale complexion and the dull-gold color of her hair.
While he was giving this description the beautiful stranger let her
embroidery fall in her lap, and fixed her eyes upon the speaker with
the curious expression of a child listening to a fairy tale.
"Such a costume would be exceedingly becoming to you also, madame,"
stammered the painter, who now for the first time addressed a direct
remark to the unknown person.
She laughed absently, sighed, but said nothing.
Nelida exchanged a quick glance with her, and then asked, as if to give
the conversation another turn, what costume Rosenbusch had chosen for
himself. The truth was, he candidly replied, his means did not permit
him to make any very great display; he should put himself into a
Capuchin's cowl, which would go exceedingly well with his beard, and,
since he was always expected on such occasions to deliver some poetical
effusion, he hoped this time to get out of the affair with a regular
Capuchin sermon.
"No doubt you will compose a very talented and witty one," said the
countess. "But wouldn't this costume be exceedingly warm and
uncomfortable if worn long; and will it be easy for you to find a dress
for your partner that will match yours?"
"My dear countess," sighed Rosenbusch, "I am unfortunately in a
position to bear the vow of celibacy much more easily than most of the
brothers of my order. The only partner in whom I could take any
interest--But I won't bore the ladies with my private affairs."
"No, no, don't say that, my dear Herr Rosenbusch. Confess everything
boldly. You will find the most sympathetic appreciation here."
"Well, then, I will tell you. I had engaged a young girl for this ball,
who, I am convinced, would unquestionably have borne off the prize from
all but the beautiful Julie. But her parents--bigoted, narrow-minded
shopkeepers--cannot be persuaded to allow the poor thing this innocent
pleasure. So you will readily understand, ladies, that I would rather
throw myself into the arms of celibacy than take up with the first one
who comes along."
He grew red, and wiped his forehead with his gloved right hand.
Nelida again exchanged a look with the stranger. The singer, too, now
that she felt relieved from the fear of being recognized by Rosenbusch,
had stepped up to the foot of the bed, and seemed to follow the
conversation with especial interest.
"Perhaps," said the countess, smiling--"perhaps I may be able to
provide you with a substitute, who will in some degree make good your
loss. A moment before you came in we were saying how cruel it was of
Fate to keep me here in my room at the very time of the carnival! It is
true my dancing days are past. But my dear friend here, Madame--Madame
von St.-Aubain, a good German, by-the-way, in spite of her name-- Only
think, my principal object in inviting her to see me at this time was
in order that I might show her our Munich carnival, and now she is
forced to sit here at the side of my bed and practise the Christian
virtues of patience and charity! To be sure, if she could only find a
knight to whom I dared trust her with a good conscience--"
"O countess!" interrupted Rosenbusch, springing up enthusiastically,
"are you really in earnest? Madame would not scorn to--"
"You are very good, sir," lisped the stranger, in a soft, pleasing
voice, which completed the conquest of our friend's heart. "It is true
that it is my greatest wish to catch a stolen glimpse of the life that
goes on in this artists' world, about whose festivals I have heard so
much. But I am too timid to venture into a perfectly strange circle,
even under the most chivalrous protection, when, as you say, masks for
the face are prohibited."
"I understand you perfectly, madame!" cried Rosenbusch,
enthusiastically. "It is the custom to attribute such wild things to us
artists that a lady belonging to high society might well be terrified
by them. But you shall see yourself that we are better than our
reputation. Allow me to make a proposal. I will provide you with a
monk's dress similar to my own. In order to remain unrecognized you
have only to pull the cowl over your head; and if, in addition to this,
you should fasten on some white eyebrows and a beard of the same color,
you could observe all that was going on as securely as if you were
behind a curtain or in a dark theatre-box, without anyone having a
suspicion how much grace and beauty--excuse these bold compliments--is
hidden behind this plain disguise. The only possible suspicion that
could arise would be that I led on my arm that young girl--that
obedient daughter of cruel parents, who had secretly managed to escape
from her cage."
The stranger stood up, approached the bed, and, bending over the
countess, exchanged a few low words with her. In motion she appeared
even more attractive than in repose. Rosenbusch, who was completely
carried away, could not take his eye from this beautiful yet delicate
figure, and awaited with beating heart the result of the secret
consultation.
At last she turned to him again, fixed her soft eyes on his face, as if
she wanted to convince herself once more that she might put confidence
in him, and then said:
"I will really venture to do it, sir, but only under two conditions:
that you will not betray to any of your friends, even by a syllable,
that the mask at your side is a stranger, and not the person for whom
they will all take her; and that, further, you will take me out of the
company and see me to my carriage as soon as I ask you to. You need not
fear," she continued, slyly smiling, "that I will trouble you long. But
I really can't resist the desire to see so many celebrated artists
together, to admire their costumes and the beautiful women they will
bring with them. The best way will be for you to go without me, and
when the festivities are well under way--say about eleven o'clock--I
will be in the carriage at the garden-gate, where you will be so good
as to meet me. Do you agree to this, and will you give me your word
that you will strictly adhere to these conditions?"
Rosenbusch, before whose fancy very different visions of splendor were
floating, and who was secretly convinced that he would succeed in
persuading the beautiful stranger to lay aside her disguise and shine
with him in Paradise the moment the festive spirit of the ball seized
upon her, very wisely refrained from making any objections to this
plan, and solemnly promised everything that was asked of him. He agreed
to bring the costume and all the other requisites to the hotel on the
day before the festival, for the countess insisted upon dressing her
friend in the monk's cowl with her own hands; and then he took leave in
no slight state of excitement over his unexpected good fortune.
On the stairs he suddenly recollected Stephanopulos, and his relation
to the Russian lady. For a moment it struck him as rather strange that
the countess, since she seemed so anxious to introduce her friend to
Paradise, had not made use of this cavalier, inasmuch as she personally
could not avail herself of his escort.
"Perhaps," thought he, complacently stroking his beard, "she is jealous
in regard to this young sinner and Don Juan, and doesn't care about
trusting this charming woman to his charge. It is possible also that
the lady herself may have expressed an aversion for this Greek
adventurer. At all events, I seem to be more agreeable to her. A
confoundedly charming little woman! I wonder where her husband keeps
himself? or possibly she is a widow. If that were the case--"
He did not finish the sentence, even in his thoughts, for some one came
down the steps behind him, and he immediately recognized the old baron
whom he had seen out at Rossel's villa. But what had happened to the
merry old gentleman that made him answer the artist's greeting so
mechanically, and pass him, as he stood waiting on the stairs, with a
wild look, as if he had been an utter stranger?
Rosenbusch followed him, shaking his head. "What devilish short
memories these aristocrats have!" he growled. "If this Madame von
St.-Aubain is made of the same stuff, I confess I should have a jollier
time with Nanny. However, it can't be helped; that is one of the
disadvantages of moving in the highest circles. In Rome one must do as
the Romans do."
He threw his cloak in picturesque folds about his historical velvet
jacket, and stepped forth into the snow with the joyful mien of a
conqueror. His only sorrow was that he couldn't go at once to Angelica
and tell her what a brilliant conquest he had made.