"Should you like to be a queen, Christina?"
This question was addressed by an old man, whose head was bent
carefully over a chess-board, to a young lady who was apparently
rather tired of the lesson she had taken in that interesting game.
"Queen of hearts, do you mean?" answered the girl, patting with the
greatest appearance of fondness a dreadfully ugly little dog that lay
in her lap.
"Queen of hearts," replied the minister, with a smile; "you are that
already, my dear. But have you no other ambition?" he added, tapping
sagaciously the lid of a magnificently ornamented snuff-box, on which
was depicted one of the ugliest monarchs that ever puzzled a
court-painter to make him human.
"Why should my ambition go further?" said Christina. "I have more
subjects already than I know how to govern."
"No doubt--no doubt--I knew very well that you could not avoid having
subjects; but I hope and trust you have had too much sense to receive
their allegiance."
The old man was proud of carrying on the metaphor so well, and of
asking the question so delicately. It was quite evident he had been in
the diplomatic line.
"How can I help it?" enquired the young beauty, passing her hand over
the back of the disgusting little pet, which showed its teeth in a
very uncouth fashion whenever the paternal voice was raised a little
too high. "But, I assure you, I pay no attention to allegiance, which
I consider my right. There is but one person's homage I care for"----
The brow of the Prime Minister of Sweden grew very black, and his face
had something of the benign expression of the growling pug on his
daughter's knee.
"Who is that person, Christina?"
But Christina looked at her father with an alarmed glance, which she
shortly after converted into a smile, and went on in her pleasing
occupation of smoothing the raven down of her favourite, but did not
say a word.
The father, who seemed to be no great judge of pantomime, repeated his
question.
"Who is that person, Christina?"
Christina disdained hypocrisy, and, moreover, was immensely spoiled.
"Who _should_ it be, but your gallant nephew, Adolphus Hesse, dear
father?"
"You haven't had the impudence, I hope, to engage yourself to that
boy?"
"Boy--why he is twenty-one! He is my oldest friend--we learned all our
lessons together. I can't recollect the time we were not engaged, it
is so long since we loved each other!"
"Nonsense! You were brought up together by his mother; it is nothing
but sisterly affection."
"Not at all--not at all!" cried Christina; "it would make me quite
miserable if Adolphus were my brother."
"It is all you must think him, nevertheless. He has no fortune; he has
nothing but his commission; and my generosity is"----
"Immense, my dear father; inexhaustible! And then Adolphus is so
brave--so magnanimous; and, upon my word, when I saw how much he liked
me, and heard him speak so much more delightfully than any body else,
I never thought of asking if he was rich; and you know you love him
yourself, dear father."
Christina neglected the pug in her lap for a moment, and laid her hand
coaxingly on the old man's shoulder.
"But not enough to make him my heir," said the Count, gruffly.
Christina renewed her attentions to the dog.
"He would be your heir notwithstanding," she said, "if I were to die."
There was something in the tone of her voice, or the idea suggested of
her death, that softened the old man. He looked for a long time at the
young and beautiful face of his child; and the shade of uneasiness her
words had raised, disappeared from his brow.
"There is nothing but life there," he said, gently tapping her on the
forehead; "and therefore I must marry you, my girl!"
"And you will make us the happiest couple in the world. Adolphus will
be so grateful," said Christina, her bright eyes sparkling through
tears.
"Who the devil said a word about Adolphus?" said the father, looking
angrily at Christina; but he added immediately in a softer tone, when
he saw the real emotion of his daughter--"Poor girl, you have been
sadly spoiled! You have had too much of your own way, and now you ask
me to do what is impossible. Be a reasonable girl, there's a darling!
and your aunt will present you at court. You will see such grand
things--you will know our gallant young King--only be reasonable!"
"The rude monster!" cried Christina, starting up as if tired of the
conversation. "I have no wish to know him. They say he hates women."
"A calumny, my dear girl; he is very fond of _one_ at all events."
"Is she pretty?"
"And mischievous as yourself."
"As I?" enquired Christina, and fell into a long reverie, while the
Count smiled as if he had made an excellent hit.
"But I have never seen him, papa," she said, awakening all of a
sudden.
"He may have seen you though; and he says"----
"Oh, what does he say? Do tell me what the King says?"
"Poh! What do you want to know about what a rude monster says--that
hates women?" answered the father with another smile of satisfaction.
"But he is a king, papa! What does he say? I am quite anxious to
know."
But the minister of state had gained his object; he had excited
curiosity, and determined not to gratify it. At last he said, as he
rose to quit the apartment--"Let us turn the conversation, Christina;
we have nothing to do with kings, and must content ourselves with
humbler subjects. An officer will sup with us to-night, whom I wish
you very much to please. He has influence with the King; and if you
have any regard for my interest you will receive him well. I intend
him for your husband."
"I won't have him!" cried Christina, running after her father as he
left the room. "I won't have him! If I don't marry Adolphus, I won't
marry at all!"
"Heaven grant it, sweet cousin!" said Adolphus Hesse in _propria
persona_, emerging from behind the window-curtains, where, by some
miraculous concatenation of events, he had found himself ensconced for
the last hour. "'Tis delightful to act the spy, and hear an advocate
so persuasive as you have been, Christina--but the cause is
desperate."
"Who told you, sir, the cause was desperate?" said Christina,
pretending to look offended. "The battle is half gained--my father's
anger disappears in a moment. Now, dear Adolphus, don't sigh--don't
cross your arms--don't look up to the sky with that heroic frown--I
can't bear to groan and be dismal--I want to be gay--to have a
ball--to----We shall have _such_ a ball the day of our wedding,
Adolphus!"
"Your hopes deceive you, dearest Christina. I know your father better
than you do. Ah!" he added, gazing sadly on the beautiful features of
the young girl who looked on him so brightly, "you will never be able
to resist the brilliant offer that will be made you in exchange for
one faithful, loving heart."
"Indeed!" replied Christina, feeling her eyes filling with tears, but
endeavouring at the same time to conceal her emotion under an
affectation of anger, "your opinion of me is not very flattering; and
it is not in very good taste, methinks, to play the despairing lover,
especially after the conversation you so honourably overheard."
"Dry that tear, dear girl!" said Adolphus, "I will believe any thing
you like."
"Why do you make me cry then? Is it only to have the pleasure of
telling me to dry my tears? Or did you think you had some rival; some
splendid cavalier that it was impossible to resist--Count Ericson, for
instance?"
"Oh! as to Ericson I am not at all uneasy. I know you hate him; and
besides he is not much richer than myself; but, dear Christina"----
"Well--go on," said the girl, mocking the lugubrious tone of her
cousin--"what are you sighing again for?"
"Your father is going to bring you a new lover this evening, and poor
Adolphus will be forgotten."
"You deserve it for all your ridiculous suspicions: but you are my
cousin, and I forgive you this once." She looked at him with so sunny
a smile, and so clear and open-hearted a countenance, that it was
impossible to entertain a doubt.
"You love me really, then?" he said--"truly--faithfully?"
"I have told you so a hundred times," replied his cousin. "I am
astonished you are not tired of hearing the same thing over and over
again."
"'Tis so sweet, so new a thing for me," said Adolphus, "and I could
listen to it for ever."
"Well, then, we love each other--that's very clear," said Christina,
with the solemnity of the foreman of a jury delivering a verdict on
the clearest evidence; "but since my father won't let us marry, we
must wait--that is almost as clear as the other."
"And if he never consents?" enquired Adolphus.
"Never!" exclaimed Christina, to whom such an idea seemed never to
have occurred, "can it be possible he will _never_ consent?"
"I fear it is too possible," replied Adolphus, and the shadow fell on
his face again.
"Well," said Christina, after a minute's pause, as if she had come to
a resolution, "we must always stay as we are. Happiness is never
increased by an act of disobedience."
"I think as you do," said the young soldier, admiring her all the more
for the death-blow to his hopes; "and are you happy, quite happy,
Christina?"
"What a question! Don't I see you every day? Isn't every body kind to
me? Is there any thing I want?"
A different answer would have pleased the lover more. He looked at her
for some time in silence--at last, in an altered tone, he said--
"I congratulate you on your prudence, Christina."
"I cannot break my father's heart."
"No, but mine, Christina!"
"Adolphus," said the young beauty solemnly, "if I cannot be your wife
with the consent of my father, I never will marry another. This is all
you can ask; all I can promise."
Filial affection was not quite so strong in Adolphus as in his cousin,
and his face was by no means brightened on hearing this declaration.
It was so uncommonly proper that it seemed nearly bordering on the
cold and heartless. He tried to hate her; he walked up and down the
room at a tremendous pace, stopping every now and then to take another
glance at the tyrant who had pronounced his doom, and looked as
beautiful as ever. He found it impossible to hate _her_, though we
shall not enquire what were his sentiments towards her worthy
progenitor, Count Ericson, the unknown lover, and even the young
heroic King; for the sagacious reader must now be informed that this
wonderful lovers' quarrel took place in the reign of Charles XII. Our
fear is that he disliked all four. Christina found it very difficult
to preserve the gravity essential to a heroine's appearance when she
saw the long strides and bent brows of her lover. A smile was ready,
on the slightest provocation, to make a dimple in her beautiful cheek,
and all the biting she bestowed on her lips only made them redder and
rosier. Adolphus had no inclination to smile, and could not believe
that any body could see the least temptation to indulge in such a
ridiculous occupation on such a momentous occasion. He was a regular
lover, as Mr Weller would say, and no mistake. He saw in his fair
cousin only a treasure of inestimable price, guarded by two monsters
that made his approaches hopeless--avarice and ambition. How
differently those two young people viewed the same event! Christina,
knowing her power over her father, and unluckily not knowing that
fathers (even though they are prime ministers, and are as
courtier-like as Polonius) have flinty hearts when their interests are
concerned, saw nothing in the present state of affairs to despair
about; and in fact, as we have said already, was nearly committing the
unpardonable crime of laughing at the grimaces of her cousin. He, poor
fellow, knew the world a little better, and perceived in a moment that
the new lover whom the ambitious father was going to present to his
daughter, was some favourite of the king; and he was well aware, that
any one backed by that impetuous monarch, was in a fair way to
success. The king had seen Christina too--and though despising love
himself, was in the habit of rewarding his favourite officers with the
hand of the beauties or heiresses of his court; and when, as in this
instance, the lady chosen was both--how could he doubt that the king
had already resolved that she should be the bride of some lucky rival,
against whose claims it would be impossible to contend? And Christina
standing all the while before him, scarcely able to restrain a laugh!
He was only twenty-one--and not half so steady as his grandfather
would probably have shown himself in the same circumstances, and being
unable to vent his rage on any body else, he poured it all forth upon
himself.
"What a fool I have been!--an ass--a dolt--to have been so blinded!
But I see now--I deserve all I have got! To have been so deceived by
an absurd fit of love--that has lasted all my life, too! But no!--I
shall not repay my uncle's kindness to me by robbing him of his only
child. I shall go at once to my regiment--I may be lucky enough to get
into the way of a cannon--you will think kindly of me when I am gone,
though you are so unk"----
The word died away upon his lips. Large tears filled Christina's eyes,
and all her inclination to smile had disappeared. There was something
either in his looks or the tone of his voice, or the thought of his
being killed, that banished all her gaiety; and in a few minutes the
quarrel was made up--the tears dried in the usual manner--vows
made--hands joined--and resolutions passed and carried with the utmost
unanimity, that no power on earth should keep them from being married.
And a very good resolution it was. The only pity was, that it was not
very likely to be carried into effect. A father, an unknown lover, and
a king, all joined against a poor boy and girl. The odds are very much
against Adolphus and Christina.
Now let us examine the real state of affairs as dispassionately as we
can. The Count Gyllenborg was ambitious, as became a courtier with an
only daughter who was acknowledged on all sides to be the most
beautiful girl in Sweden; and as he was aware of the full value of red
lips and sparkling eyes in the commerce of life, he was determined to
make the most of these perishable commodities while they were at their
best, and the particular make and colour of them were in fashion. The
Count was rich--and with amply sufficient brains, according to the
dictum of one of his predecessors, to govern a kingdom; but he was not
warlike; and Charles, who had lately taken the power into his own
hands, knew nothing of mankind further than that they were made to be
drawn up in opposite lines, and make holes in each other as
scientifically as they could. Count Gyllenborg had a decided objection
to being made a receptacle for lead bullets or steel swords; and was
by no means anxious to murder a single Russian or German, for the sake
of the honour of the thing, or for the good of his country. His power
resting only on his adroitness in civil affairs, was therefore not on
the surest foundation; and a prop to it was accordingly wanted. Such a
prop had never been seen before, with such sunny looks, and such a
happy musical laugh. The looks and the laugh between them, converted
the atmosphere of Stockholm into the climate of Italy; and the
politician, almost without knowing it, began to be thawed into a
father. But the fear of a rival in the King's favour--some gallant
soldier--and dozens of them were reported every week--made him resolve
once more to bring his daughter's beauties into play. The king had
seen her, and, in his boorish way, had expressed his admiration; and
Gyllenborg felt assured, that if he should marry his daughter
according to the King's wishes, his influence would be greater than
ever; and, in fact, that the premiership would be his for life.
Great preparations accordingly were made for the reception of the
powerful stranger, the announcement of whose appearance at supper had
spread such dismay in the hearts of the two lovers. Christina knew
almost instinctively her father's plan, and determined to counteract
it. She felt sure that the officer for whom she was destined, and whom
she had been ordered to receive so particularly, was one of the new
favourites of the warlike king; some leader of a forlorn-hope, created
colonel on the field of battle; some young general fresh from some
heroic achievement, that had endeared him to his chief; but whoever it
was, she was resolved to show him that the crown of Sweden was a very
limited monarchy in regard to its female subjects, and that she would
have nobody for her husband--neither count, nor colonel, nor
general--but only her cousin Adolphus, lieutenant in the Dalecarlian
hussars. Notwithstanding this resolution, it is astonishing what a
time she stayed before the glass--how often she tried different
coloured roses in her hair--how carefully she fitted on her new
Parisian robes, and, in short, did every thing in her power to look
her very best. What did all this arise from? She wished to show this
young favourite, whoever he might be, that she was really as beautiful
as people had told him; she wished to convince him that her smile was
as sweet, her teeth as white, her eyes as captivating, her figure as
superb, as he had heard them described--and then she wished to show
him that all these--smiles--eyes--teeth--figure, were given, along
with the heart that made them truly valuable, to another! and that
other no favourite of a king--nor even of a minister, but only of a
young girl of eighteen.
Radiant with beauty, and conscious of the sensation she was certain to
create, she entered the magnificent apartment where supper was
prepared--a supper splendid and costly enough to have satisfied a
whole army of epicures, though only intended for her father, the
stranger, and herself; and if you, oh reader! had been there, you
would have thought Christina lovely enough to have excited the
admiration of a whole court instead of an old man--and that, too, her
father--and a young one, and that none other, to Christina's infinite
disgust, than the very Count Ericson whose acquaintance she had
already made, and whom she infinitely and unappeasably disliked. He
was the most awkward, stupid-looking young man she ever saw, and had
furnished her with a butt for her malicious pleasantries ever since
she had known him. He rose to lead her to her seat. "How different
from Adolphus! If he is no better performer in the battle-field than
at the supper-table, the King must be very ill off for soldiers. What
can papa mean by asking such a horrid being to his house? I am certain
I shall laugh outright if I look again at his silly grey eyes and long
yellow hair, as ragged as a pony's mane."
Such were Christina's thoughts, while she bit her lips to hide if
possible her inclination to be angry, and to laugh at the same time. And
in truth her dislike of the Count did not exaggerate the ridiculousness
of the appearance of the tall ungainly figure--large-boned and
stiff-backed--that now stood before her--with a nose so absurdly
aquiline that it would have done for a caricature--coarse-skinned
cheeks, and a stare of military impudence that shocked and nearly
frightened the high-bred, elegant-looking beauty on whom it was fixed.
And yet this individual, such as we have described, had been fixed on by
the higher powers for her husband--was this night to be treated as her
accepted lover, and, in short, had been closeted for hours every day
with her father--settling all the preliminaries of course--for the last
six weeks. Christina looked once more at the insolent stare of the
triumphant soldier, and made a vow to die rather than speak to him--that
is, in the affirmative.
But thoughts of affirmatives and negatives did not seem to enter
Count Ericson's head--his grammatical education having probably been
neglected. He stood gaping at his prey as a tiger may be supposed to
cast insinuating looks upon a lamb, and made every now and then an
attempt to conceal either his awkwardness, or satisfaction, or both,
in immense fits of laughter, which formed the accompaniment of all
the remarks--and they were nearly as heavy as himself--with which he
favoured the company. Christina, on her part, if she had given way
to the dictates of her indignation, would have also favoured the
company with a few remarks, that in all probability would have put a
stop to the laughter of the lover, and choked her old father by
making a fish-bone stick in his throat. She was angry for twenty
reasons, one of them was having wasted a moment over her toilette to
receive such a visitor as Count Ericson; another was her father
having dared to offer her hand to such an uncouth wooer and
intolerable bore; and the principal one of all, was his having
rejected his own nephew--undoubtedly the handsomest of Dalecarlian
hussars--in favour of such a vulgar, ugly individual. The subject of
these flattering considerations seemed to feel at last that he ought
to say something to the young beauty, on whose pouting lip had
gathered something which was very different indeed from a smile, and
yet nearly as captivating. He accordingly turned his large light
eyes from his plate for a moment, and with a mouth still filled with
a leg and wing of a capercailzie, enquired--
"What do you think of Alexander the Great, madam?"
This was too much. Even her rage disappeared, and she burst into a
loud laugh at the serious face of the querist.
"I never think of Alexander the Great at all," she said. "I only
recollect, that when I was reading his history, I could hardly make
out whether he was most of a fool or a madman."
Ericson swallowed the leg and the wing of the capercailzie without any
further mastication, and launched out in a torrent of admiration of
the most prodigious courage the world had ever seen.
"If he had been as prodigiously wise," replied Christina, "as he was
prodigiously courageous, he would have learned to govern himself
before he attempted to govern the world."
Ericson blushed from chin to forehead with vexation, and answered in
an offended tone--
"How can a woman enter into the fever of noble thoughts that impels a
brave man to rush into the midst of dangers, and leads him to despise
life and all its petty enjoyments to gain undying fame?"
"No, indeed," she replied, "I have no fever, and have no sympathy with
destroyers. Oh, if I wished for fame, I should try to gain it by
gathering round me the blessings of all who saw me! Yes, father," she
went on, paying no regard to the signs and winks of the agonized Count
Gyllenborg, "I would rather that countless thousands should live to
bless me, than that they should die in heaping curses on my name!
Men-killers--though you dignify them with the name of heroes--are
atrocious. Let us speak of them, my lord, no more, unless to pray
heaven to rid the earth of such monsters."
A feather of the smallest of birds would have knocked down the Prime
Minister of Sweden; and Count Ericson appeared, from his stupefied
look, to have gone through the process already--the difficulty was to
lift him up again.
"Come, Count," cried the Minister, filling up Ericson's glass with
champagne, "to Alexander's glory!"
"With all my heart," cried Ericson, moistening his rage with the
delicious sparkler. "Come, fair savage," he added, addressing
Christina, and touching her glass with such force that it fell in a
thousand pieces on the table--"to Alexander's glory!"
"I have no wish to drink to such a toast," replied Christina, more
offended than ever; "I can't endure those scourges of human kind who
hide the skin of the tiger beneath the royal robe."
"The girl is mad!" exclaimed the astonished father, who seemed to
begin to be slightly alarmed at the flashes of indignation that burst
from Count Ericson's wild-looking eyes. "Don't mind what such a silly
thing says; she does it only to show her cleverness. What does she
know of war or warriors? She cares for nothing yet but her puppy-dog.
She pats it all day, and lets it bite her pretty little hand. Such a
hand it is to refuse a pledge to Alexander!"
The politician was on the right track; for such a pretty hand was not
in Sweden--nor probably in Denmark either--and the cunning old
minister took it between his finger and thumb, and placed it almost on
the lip of the irate young worshipper of glory; if it did not actually
touch the lip it went very near it, and distinctly moved one or two of
the most prominent tufts of the stout yellow mustache. "The little
goose," pursued the respectable sire, "to pretend to have an opinion
on any subject except the colour of a riband. Upon my honour, I
believe she presumes to be a critic of warriors, because she plays a
good game of chess. It is one of her accomplishments, Count; and if
you will take a little of the conceit out of her, you will confer an
infinite obligation on both of us."
Saying this, he lifted with his own ministerial fingers a small table
from a corner of the room, and placed it in front of the youthful
couple, with the men all ready laid out. Ericson's eyes sparkled at
the sight of his favourite game; and he determined to display his
utmost skill, and teach his antagonist a few secrets of the art of
(mimic) war. But determinations, as has been remarked by several
sages, past and present, are sometimes vain. Nothing, one would think,
could be so likely to restore a man's self-possession as a quiet game
of chess--an occupation as efficacious in soothing the savage breast
as music itself. But Ericson seemed still agitated from the
contradictions he had encountered from the free-spoken Christina, and
threw a little more politeness into his manner than he had hitherto
vouchsafed to show, when he invited her to be his adversary in a game.
"But, if I beat you?" she said ominously, holding up one of the fair
fingers to which his attention had been so particularly called, and
implying by the question, if you get angry when I only refuse your
toast, won't you eat me if I am the winner at chess? "But, if I beat
you?" she said.
"That will not be the only occasion on which you will have triumphed
over me, you--you"----He seemed greatly at a loss for a word, and
concluded his speech with--"beauty!" This expression, which was, no
doubt, intended for the most complimentary he could find, was
accompanied with a look of admiration so long, so broad, and so
impudent, that she blushed, and a squeeze of her hand so hard, so
rough, and so continued, that she screamed. She threw a glance of
inexpressible disdain on the insolent wooer, and looked for protection
to her father; but that venerable individual was at that moment so
sound asleep on one of the sofas at the other end of the room, that no
noise whatever could have awakened him. Ericson seemed totally unmoved
by all the contempt she could express in her looks, and probably
thought he was in a thriving condition, from the fact (somewhat
unusual) of his being looked at at all. She lost her temper
altogether. She covered her cheek, which was flushed with anger, with
the little hand that was reddened with pain, and resolved to play her
worst to spite her ill-mannered antagonist. But all her attempts at
bad play were useless. The board shook beneath the immense hands of
Ericson, who was in a tremendous state of agitation, and hardly knew
the pieces. He pushed then hither and thither--made his knights slide
along with the episcopal propriety of bishops, and made his bishops
caracole across the squares with the unseemly elasticity of knights.
His game got into such confusion, that Christina could not avoid
winning, and at last--enjoying the victory she had determined not to
win--she cried out, with a voice of triumph, "Check to the king by the
queen."
"Cruel girl!" exclaimed the Count, dashing his hand among the pieces
with an energy that scattered them all upon the floor. "Haven't you
been anxious to make the king your prisoner?"
"But there is nothing to hinder him from saving himself," answered
Christina, looking round once more to her father, who, however,
pursued his slumber with the utmost assiduity and had apparently a
very agreeable dream, for a smile was evident at the corners of his
mouth. "It is impossible to place the board as it was," she continued,
trying to gather up the pieces, and place castles, knights, and pawns
in their proper position again.
"Don't try it--don't try it," cried Ericson, losing all command of
himself, and pushing the board away from him, till it spun over with
all its men on the carpet. "The game is over--you have given me check,
and mated me!" And in a moment, as if ashamed of the influence
exercised over him by so very unwarlike an individual as a little girl
of eighteen, he hurried from the room, stumbling over his enormous
sword, which got, somehow or other, between his legs, and cursing his
awkwardness and the absurd excess of admiration which caused it.
"That man will surely never come here again," said Christina to her
father, as he entered the room an hour after the incidents of the
chess-board; for the obsequious minister had followed Ericson in his
rapid retreat, and now returned radiant with joy, as if his guest had
been the most fascinating of men.
"Not come here again!" chuckled the father. "That's all you know about
it. He is dying with impatience to return, and is angry with himself
for having wasted the two precious hours of your society in the way he
did. He never had two such happy hours in his life."
"Happy! is that what he calls happiness?" answered Christina, opening
her eyes in amazement. "I don't know what his notions may be--but
mine----oh, father!" she cried, emboldened by the smile she saw on the
old man's countenance, "you are only trying me; say you are only
proving my constancy, by persuading me that such a being as that has
any wish to please me. He is more in love with Alexander the Great
than with me; and he is quite right, for he has a far better chance of
a return."
"An enthusiasm excusable, my dear, in a young warrior of twenty years
of age, whose savage ambition it will be your delightful task to tame.
He is in a terrible state of agitation--a most flattering thing, let
me tell you, to a young gipsy like you--and you must humour him a
little, and not break out quite so fiercely, you minx; and yet you
managed very well, too. A fine fellow, Ericson, though a little wild;
rich, powerful, nobly born--what can you wish for better?"
"My cousin," answered Christina, with a bluntness that astonished the
advocate of Ericson's claims; "my cousin Adolphus, and no other. He is
braver than this savage; and as to nobility, he is as nobly born as my
own right honourable papa, and that is high enough for me."
"Go, go," said the courtier, a little puzzled by the openness of his
daughter's confession, and kissing her forehead at the same time; "go
to bed, my girl, and pray for your father's advancement."
Christina, like a dutiful child, prayed as she was told for her
father's success and happiness, and then added a petition of her own,
shorter, perhaps, but quite as sincere, for her cousin Adolphus. If
she added one for herself, it was a work of supererogation, for she
felt that in praying for the happiness of her lover, she was not
unmindful of her own.
For some days after the supper recorded above, she was too happy
tormenting the very object of all these aspirations, to trouble her
head about the awkward and ill-mannered protege of her father, whom
she hated with as much cordiality as the most jealous of rivals could
desire. But of course she was extremely careful to let no glimpse of
this unchristian feeling towards Count Ericson be perceptible to the
person who would have rejoiced in it so much. In fact, she carried her
philanthropy to such a pitch, that she never mentioned any of the bad
qualities of her new admirer, and Adolphus very naturally concluded
that she felt as she spoke on the interesting subject. So, all of a
sudden, Adolphus, who was prouder than Christina, perhaps because he
was poorer, would not condescend to be made a fool of, as he
magnanimously thought it, any longer. He had the immense satisfaction
of staying away from the house for nearly half a week, and then, when
he did pay a visit, he was almost as cold as the formal piece of
diplomacy in the bag-wig and ruffles whom he called his uncle; and a
great deal stiffer than the beautiful piece of pique, in silk gown and
white satin corset, whom he called his cousin. Christina was dismayed
at the sudden change--Adolphus never spoke to her, seldom looked at
her, and evidently left the coast clear--so she thought--for the rich
and powerful rival her father had so strongly supported. After much
thinking, some sulkiness, and a good many fits of crying, Christina
resolved, as the best way of recovering her own peace of mind, and the
love of her cousin Adolphus, to put an end in a very decided manner to
the pretensions of the Count. One day, accordingly, she watched her
opportunity, and followed with anxious eyes her father's retreat from
the room, under pretence of some important despatches to be sent off.
She found herself alone with the object of her dislike--and only
waited for a beginning to the conversation, that she might astonish
his weak mind with the severity of her invectives. In fact, she had
determined, according to the vulgar phrase, to tell him a bit of her
mind--and a very small bit of it, she was well aware, would be
sufficient to satisfy Count Ericson of the condition of all the rest.
But the lover was in a contemplative mood, and stood as silent as a
milestone, and looking almost as animated and profound. She sighed,
she coughed, she drops her handkerchief. All wouldn't do--the
milestone took no notice--Christina at last grew angry, and could
contain herself no longer.
"I dreamt of you last night," she said by way of a beginning. "I hope
in future you will leave my sleep undisturbed by your presumptuous
presence. It is bad enough to be forced to see you when one is awake."
"And I, also, had a dream," replied Ericson, starting from his
reverie, confused and only having heard the first part of the somewhat
fierce attack. "I dreamt that you looked at me with a smile, a long,
long look, so sweet, so winning. It was a happy dream!"
"It was a false one," she said, with tremendous bitterness. "I know
better where to direct my smiles, whether I am awake or asleep."
"And how did I appear to you?" asked the Count, presenting a splendid
specimen in his astonished look of the state of mind called "the
dumfoundered" by some learned philosophers, and by others "the
flabbergasted."
"You appeared to me like the nightmare! frightful and unsupportable as
you do to me now," was the answer, accompanied with the look and
manner that showed she was a judge of nightmares, and thought him a
very unfavourable specimen of the animal.
"Ill-natured little tyrant!" cried Ericson, rushing to her, "teach me
how you would have me love you, and I will do everything you ask!" In
a moment he had seized her in his arms, and imprinted a kiss of
prodigious violence on her cheek, which was redder than fire with rage
and surprise!
But the assault did not go unpunished. The might of Samson woke in
that insulted bosom, and lent such incredible weight to the blow that
fell on the aggressor's ear, that it took him a long time to believe
that the thump proceeded from the beautiful little hand he had so
often admired; or, in short, from any thing but a twenty-four pounder.
He rubbed the wounded organ with astonishing assiduity for some time.
At last he said, in a very calm and measured voice,
"Your father has deceived me, young lady. He led me to believe you did
not receive my visits with indifference."
"My father knows nothing about things of that kind," replied
Christina, still flaming with indignation, "or he never would have let
such an ill-mannered monster into his house. But he was right in
saying I did not receive your visits with indifference; your visits,
Count Ericson, can never be indifferent to me, and"----
What more she would have said, it is impossible to discover, for she
was interrupted by the sudden entrance of her cousin, who only heard
her last words, and started back at what he considered so open a
declaration of her attachment.
"Who are you, sir?" asked Ericson in an angry tone, and with such an
assumption of superiority, that Christina's hand tingled to give him a
mark of regard on his other ear.
"A soldier," answered Adolphus, drawing his sword from its sheath and
instead of directing it against his rival, laying it haughtily on the
table. "A soldier who has bled for his country, and would be happy,"
he added, "to die for it."
"Say you so?" said Ericson, "then we are friends." He held out his
hand.
"We are rivals," replied Adolphus, drawing back.
"Christina loves you, then?" enquired the Count.
"She has told me so; and I was foolish enough to believe her. It is
now your turn to trust to the truth of a heartless woman.--She has
told you you are not an object of indifference to her, and I resign my
pretensions in your favour."
"In whose favour?" cried Christina, trembling; while tears sprang to
her eyes.
"The King's!" replied Adolphus, retiring sorrowfully.
Christina sank on a seat, and covered her face with her hands.
"Stay," cried Charles the Twelfth in a voice of thunder; "stay, I
command you."
The young man obeyed; biting his lip to conceal his emotion, till the
blood came.
"I have seen you," said the King, "but not in this house."
"It was shut against me by my uncle when you were expected," said
Adolphus.
"And yet I have seen you somewhere. What is your name?"
"Adolphus Hesse; the son of a brave officer who died fighting for you,
and leaving me his misfortunes and the tears of his widow."
"Who told you I was not Count Ericson?"
"My eyes. I know you well."
"And I recollect you also," said Charles, advancing to the young man
with a manner very different from that which characterized him in his
intercourse with the softer sex. "Where did you get that scar on the
left temple?"
"At Nerva, sire, where we tamed the pride of the Russians."
"True, true!" cried Charles, his nostrils dilated as if he snuffed up
the carnage of the battle. "You need but this as your passport," he
continued, placing his finger on the wound, "to ask me any favour, ay,
even to measure swords with you, as I daresay you would be delighted
to do in so noble a quarrel as the present; for on the day of that
glorious fight, I learned, like you, the duty of a soldier, and the
true dignity of a brave man. By the balls that rattled about our heads
so playfully, give me your hand, brother, for we were baptized
together in fire!"
Charles appeared to Christina, at this time, quite a different man
addressing his fellow soldier, from what he had done upsetting the
chess-board. Curiosity had dried her eyes, and she lost not a word of
the conversation. The King turned to her with a smile.
"By my sword, Christina! I am but a poor wooer; one movement of your
hand," and he touched his ear playfully as he spoke, "has banished all
the silly thoughts that in a most traitorous manner had taken my heart
prisoner. Speak, then, as forcibly as you act. Do you love this brave
soldier?"
"Yes, sire."
"Who hinders the marriage?"
"The courtship of Count Ericson, with which my father perpetually
threatens me."
"O ho!" thought Charles, "I see how it is. The King must console
himself with the kiss, and pass the blow on the ear to the minister.
Christina," he added aloud, "your father refuses to give you to the
man you love; but he'll do it now, for _it is my will_. You'll
confess, I am sure that if I was your nightmare as a lover, I am not
your enemy as king."
"I confess it on my knees;" replied the humble beauty, taking her
place beside her cousin, who knelt to his sovereign. While Charles
joined the hands of the youthful pair, he imprinted a kiss on the fair
brow of Christina; the last he ever bestowed on woman.
"Your Majesty pardons me then?" enquired the trembling girl. "If I had
known it was the King, I would not have hit so hard."
That same evening Count Gyllenborg signed a contract of marriage, to
which the name of Count Ericson was not appended, though it was
witnessed by Charles the Twelfth; and in a few days afterwards, the
old politician presided at the wedding dinner, and, by royal command,
did the honours so nobly, and appeared so well pleased on the
occasion, that nobody suspected that he had ever had higher dreams of
ambition than to see his daughter happy; and if such had been his
object, all Sweden knew that in bestowing her on her cousin he was
eminently successful.