A BALL IN THE ILLUMINATED CAVE.
The grand ball was appointed to take place at Schloss Hohenstein, on the
night before the day fixed for the wedding. The Count had placed the
carrying out of the fête in the hands of Cunigunda, at her urgent
request, and certainly she had more than fulfilled the high expectations
already raised. The uneven ground had been boarded over, and lamps of
every hue illuminated the brilliant roof and columns, formed of the
white and pink incrustations from the roof which, meeting those rising
up from the ground, produced a variety of graceful forms, resembling
Corinthian pillars and Gothic arches. Behind one large stalactite lights
were placed, and being transparent, it shone with a pale pink light,
producing a beautiful and magical effect. Garlands of flowers formed a
boundary in some places; in others distant vistas, illuminated by chains
of coloured lamps, stretched as far, apparently, as the eye could reach;
in others curtains of tapestry, or of Aubusson carpets, closed up
cavernous depths, which, if left unscreened, would have spoiled the
composition, and produced a feeling of desolation.
It was truly a scene of enchantment, a bit of fairyland, a realization
of some of the most graceful dreams of German imagination, such as De la
Motte Fouqué loved to paint, and by which he has entranced grown-up
children of all nations.
Some of the distant vistas were bordered with what appeared like strings
of brilliant emeralds; others with rubies or sapphires; and they were
strung in festoons, with a larger light, that resembled a diamond, as a
centre brooch.
In fact, the effect was like splendid necklaces of precious stones, set
in every kind of graceful device. Some appeared to culminate in a
fanciful and intricate pattern, beneath which seats, covered with
velvets of different colours, were placed. From these more open, and, as
it were, public seats, others placed in shade, and only partly
illumined, might be discerned in the background. These Cunigunda called
“Conversationen-sitzen,” and pointed them out to many a young
pair as they passed up and down the broader walks, while her
maliciously-speaking eyes seemed to say, “Those are flirting-places.”
In some of these seats the light was shaded by a trellis-work of
fragrant flowers, which produced a kind of chequered shade, and emitted
the most delicious perfumes.
Certainly that night there seemed to be something almost magical in
Cunigunda’s dazzling beauty. She was dressed in a kind of silvery
tissue, which formed a brilliant contrast to her jet-black hair and
star-like eyes. A wreath of white water-lilies crowned her head, and
drooping down her shoulders, was interwoven with the tresses of her
black hair. Except when speaking, her eyes were generally downcast, her
long black eyelashes resting on cheeks delicately tinted with
rose-colour. Then, when she spoke, the sudden flash with which she
looked up, and, as it were, fixed the beholder, was as startling as an
electric shock.
She is a person who makes you feel her presence, whether you will or
not.
My mother said she often felt as if she were looking at some awful
conflagration, yet could not take her eyes away from her. And I myself
have felt her glances on my face smiting like a blast from a furnace,
and her words and voice continuing to vibrate in my ear long after she
had ceased to speak.
She was, in fact, a creature of stronger vitality than ever I saw
before, added to the power of an unscrupulous will, and a chameleon-like
manifestation of good and evil.
Towards the end of the evening, my mother caught a momentary expression
on Cunigunda’s face as the two _fiancés_ passed close to her, and felt
convinced that she was determined to make Count Rossi, although he was
to be married on the morrow, dance the next dance that night. A few
minutes afterwards, Cunigunda went up to the bridegroom (as he is called
in Germany even before the ceremony takes place), and with a playful
“One dance with me, Count, this last night, and Dorina will be our
_vis-à-vis_,” she carried him off triumphantly.
It was getting late, and some of the lamps in the remoter avenues, which
were smaller than the rest, had begun to fail. It was after the galop,
and numerous couples were pacing along the avenues, or sought in their
comparative retirement a pleasant place for rest amid the flowery
bowers. My mother was standing near the centre column; the dance was
ended; Dorina and her partner passed close to her, and Cunigunda, who,
with Count Rossi, came by at that moment, said to Dorina’s partner that
they should go to the end of yonder emerald-lighted avenue for the most
beautiful _coup-d’œil_ of the ball-room, adding that she and Count Rossi
had just come from thence, and when she had seen them move in the
direction pointed out, she suddenly turned to her partner and said, “I
am dying with thirst--cannot you get me a _verre d’eau sucré_?”
My mother, who admired the fête extremely, and wished, also, to enjoy
the sight of it from what Cunigunda asserted to be the most beautiful
_point de vue_, determined to follow Dorina and her partner, who had
walked slowly in that direction, when she saw that the further end of
the chain of emerald lamps was gradually becoming quite extinguished,
and that even where she was, some were beginning to flicker and fade
away.
Not liking the idea of darkness in those intricate passages, she said to
some young ladies near her that she was thinking of returning to the
central hall, when suddenly a fearful shriek from the now obscure end of
the emerald avenue struck upon her ear. Another and another followed.
People, my mother among them, hurried towards the spot; and then,
finding themselves impeded by the increasing darkness, some rushed back
to seize wax candles or torches, or whatever could be got, to light them
on the way. At that moment Cunigunda came up, with a face of real or
feigned alarm, and cried out,
“Mein Gott! wo ist Dorina?”
“Why, why--where is she?” asked several voices; and Cunigunda said,
“I saw her last going down the emerald avenue with the _bello Inglese_.”
A scene of the most frightful confusion and consternation followed,
which can be more easily imagined than described. Search was made in
every direction with torches and such other lights as could be taken
from brackets, into all the known alleys and intricacies of the cave.
Except in the long alleys, which had been boarded over, not only was the
ground uneven, but deep fissures and chasms occasionally appeared, into
which a false step might precipitate anyone to a great depth. As soon,
however, as more torches were brought by the Graf’s order, he and Count
Rossi went in different directions, while they sent others into all the
known alleys and intricacies of the cave.
Some of the guests had, in traversing the alleys, fallen a considerable
depth, and were much hurt; but no trace of Dorina or her English
partner could be discovered. Soon all the brilliant illuminations in the
cave went out, and only a few torches were left to throw a dim light on
the terrible scene.
My mother saw that Cunigunda was ringing her hands in dismay, but she
clung to one of her recent partners, imploring him not to leave her, or
she would be sure to fall into some of the dreadful depths. My mother
saw that the crowd rather impeded than otherwise the search for the
missing couple, and suggested that the best plan would be for all the
guests to leave the cave, and endeavour to send down more people with
torches.
Cunigunda caught at the idea, and implored my mother to go with her. She
said that Dorina’s old nurse would be in dreadful anxiety, and she
might be of use to her.
No one thought of going to bed that night, and although nearly all the
guests had left the cave, they remained in the Banqueting Hall, which
was not far from its entrance, in order to obtain the first
intelligence, when those parties who were searching should return.
Towards morning the Graf and his brother (Cunigunda’s father) returned,
muddy, wet, and bruised, but their search had been unsuccessful; and the
Graf was now determined to proceed to the cave of Adelsberg, with which,
it was said, there was a communication from those under the Castle, and
cause search to be made in every direction there. He had left some
servants with torches in different parts underneath; and the Count
Rossi was still searching in another direction.
The Graf von Hohenstein took a compass with him, in order to ascertain
the south-eastern direction, in case they found avenues from one set of
caves to the other, and sent down a party to start from the caves
underneath, and, if possible, meet those coming from the Adelsberg
caves.
Just as the miserable father was leaving the Castle on this, his most
uncertain expedition, one of the gardeners rushed into the hall, and
said he feared that their search would be useless, because he was now
sure that the two persons he had seen pass along the South Terrace walk
in the moonlight, just before midnight, were the Gräfinn Dorina and the
Englishman. They were walking quietly towards the stables. On being
asked whether he saw their faces, and was sure it was the Gräfinn, he
said he could not tell; but that when he heard she could not be found
anywhere, he thought it might be possible.
“Still,” he said, “it seemed so unlikely the Gräfinn should be going
towards the stables at that time of night, he would not have thought of
mentioning it, if the Countess Cunigunda’s maid had not also said she
saw them from her window, and was certain that the lady she saw was the
Gräfinn Dorina, and had on a pink dress and white veil or cloak.”
Messengers were now sent in all directions to inquire of the country
people whether anyone had been seen that night riding away from the
Castle. But still the Graf von Hohenstein proceeded to Adelsberg,
because it seemed to be the general impression that his daughter had
been seen entering the emerald avenue, not long before those fearful
cries were heard, which caused such alarm among the company.
Count Rossi had not yet returned from his search in the cave, but as the
Graf von Hohenstein had met him twice in the course of their search, and
Jägers were stationed at intervals, with torches, in the principal
passages, they did not fear for his safety; and the distracted lover had
declared his intention never to give up the search till he had found
Dorina.
On the departure of the Graf von Hohenstein for Adelsberg, his brother
returned to the cave, and the old steward wisely sent refreshments down
for the Count, and all those who were determined to prolong their
search; also restoratives for the Gräfinn, if they were so fortunate as
to find her alive. But as fourteen hours had now passed since she
disappeared, few among the anxious throng could venture to indulge a
hope that, if she were really in the cave, she could be alive.