The prince received me with politeness which I might almost call
cordial. He had arrived half an hour before, and the journey through
the cold winter's day seemed to have done him good; he looked fresh and
youthful as I had never seen him before, and in his whole bearing there
was such elasticity, such vivacity in his discourse, that I could
scarcely recognize in him the wearied dreamer in the old hunting-lodge
of Rossow. I could not refrain from congratulating him on this change,
which I attributed to his improved health. He seemed pleased to hear
it, and said it was high time for him to have outgrown childish
distempers.
"I have always resolved," he said, "that when the time came, it should
find me a man; and I believe that the time has come. May God long
preserve the life of the prince, my father; but by all human reckoning
his days are numbered. It may justly be demanded of me that an event
which influences the destinies of thousands shall not find me
unprepared."
The prince said these words very earnestly. He had been walking up and
down the room, and stopped before a portrait which represented a young
and very handsome man in a rich and fantastic dress.
"Strange," the prince went on, "that life can play with us thus!
See here; this is the portrait of the prince, my father, in his
twenty-eighth year. He wore that dress at a masked ball at court, and
created an immense _furore_, and the late queen insisted that he should
have his portrait taken in it for her. This is a copy of the original.
Do you not find----"
He suddenly checked himself threw himself into an easy chair, giving me
a sign to be seated, and continued:
"But I did not come to talk with you about myself and my affairs. Your
own have changed very much since we last met. Why sir, you are a great
diplomatist! To let me talk and talk, and make you heaven knows what
well-meant proposals, without indicating by word or look that you were,
so to speak, over the mountain, at the foot of which I thought we both
were standing! How you must have laughed in your sleeve! And poor
Zehren! He pretended to be as much astonished as I was myself. But I
believe he knew perfectly well how things stood, for though I have
always considered him half fool, I have a strong suspicion that he is
whole knave. I should be glad if anybody will take him off my hands; he
is sometimes a real annoyance to me, and yet I do not want to send him
away. I have been thinking that if I buy Zehrendorf from you, I might
make him the bailiff of it, or rent the estate to him; but it has
occurred to me that you might not like that arrangement. Am I right?"
"Your highness," I replied, "Arthur is certainly not the proper
person for such a trust. In his hands all the excellent and most
useful improvements that have been made at such heavy expense,
would go to ruin. I confess that if I believed it to be your serious
intention--instead of being, as I am sure, only the suggestion of your
generous heart--I would even now at the twelfth hour endeavor to retain
Zehrendorf in my father-in-law's possession, greatly as I desire, on
other grounds, to effect a sale of it."
"You are right--it was only an idea," said the prince. "But why do you
accord me this so flattering preference? You know that I have no longer
the same interest in obtaining the property, that I had last spring,
and that in consequence you will find me hard to deal with."
"But easier than Herr von Granow, at all events."
A pleasant smile played about the prince's refined lips.
"You may be right there," he said. "That fellow is a fox, despite his
bulldog-face. He has sounded me once or twice through Zehren and the
justizrath, to find out if I have still any thoughts of buying
Zehrendorf. It seems that he wants to get all competitors out of the
way, to be the only one upon the field, and then at the right moment,
of which the justizrath will no doubt give him the sign, step in and
secure the place for a song. No, sir, you shall not fall into the dirty
hands of that rascal if I can help it."
"I thank your highness," I answered.
"I have to thank you," the prince replied, "that you again give me an
opportunity to discharge an old debt that I owe you. Since you wrote to
me I have reflected much upon your position: indeed I may say that at
no time have you been entirely out of my mind, thanks to the good
friends of your father-in-law. You yourself probably do not know how
much is said about him, and how deeply he is sunk in general
estimation. I am very sorry to say this; and I say it only because I
feel it is due to you as the person nearest concerned, to let you know
what others perhaps have not the courage to tell you, or conceal from
you from malicious motives. The commerzienrath's credit seems to me
greatly shaken; there is talk of immense losses that he has lately
incurred; they say he speculates on 'Change and in all sorts of
hazardous enterprises. I can assure you he is considered half insane
and more than half ruined; though it is true that others maintain the
old man was never clearer-headed than now, and never richer; and that
if he plays the fool and the bankrupt, it is only one of his old
feints, which have always been successful. What is your own opinion?"
I felt that the prince's kind advances to me deserved to be met with
all sincerity, and so I stated to him in detail, as well as I could,
the singular position in which I found myself placed with the
commerzienrath, the subterfuges, equivocations and concealments of
which he had been guilty to me; that I believed that while he was not
yet the ruined man his enemies declared him to be, if he kept on in
this way he would of necessity ruin himself sooner or later.
The prince listened to me attentively, here and there interposing
questions which, if they indicated no great familiarity with business,
showed a clear understanding and rapid comprehension. We had come back
to the original point, the sale of Zehrendorf, and had already agreed
upon the principal conditions, when the old white-headed servant, whom
I had already seen at Rossow, entered and standing by the door gave his
master a sign.
"Ah," said the prince, "is it already so late? That is unfortunate. I
have to go to the theatre: her Royal Highness the Princess, my
patroness, who was informed of my arrival, has sent me word that she
wishes to speak with me a moment, in her box, and learn the state of
the prince, my father. But perhaps we can combine the useful with the
agreeable. I should like to know how soon I can command the requisite
funds, and Henzel"--this was the prince's banker--"will be at the
theatre also. I know that the great Mæcenas of all singers and
actors--actresses and ballet-girls not forgotten--never misses a first
representation. I shall find an opportunity to speak with him. The best
thing would be for you to come too: we might then arrange all the
preliminaries this evening, and have a draft of the conveyance made
to-morrow morning by my solicitor. Will you come?"
"I have the evening at my disposal," I said.
"A proud word for a young husband!" said the prince, laughing. "But why
not bring your wife along? I have long desired the pleasure of making
her acquaintance. I could not do it at Rossow, for I had pledged myself
not to go more than a mile from the castle. Well, what do you say? You
seem to hesitate and look confused. Sir, those old times are past: you
need never more feel any hesitation in presenting Prince Prora to a
virtuous lady!"
"I have not the least doubt of that, your highness," I replied; "but my
wife--I really do not know----"
"Ah, indeed!" said the prince. "I understand. Well, you can see. _Au
revoir_, then, and bring your lady if possible."
The prince gave me his hand as we parted. I had neither said yes or no,
because I did not wish to accept his suggestion, and of course could
not with any show of reason decline it off-hand.
"But what a miserable thing it is when a man does not know whether to
say yes or no," I said to myself, as I went through the darkening
streets to my not very distant lodging; "a thing to which I am not yet
used, and must not learn to be." And while I thus spoke, I was on the
point of crossing the street to a corner where I saw by the light of a
streetlamp a play-bill pasted up, but I checked myself. "No, no," I
muttered, "you must not give your cowardice a respite; for cowardice it
is, and nothing else."
So I reached home, where Hermine was expecting me with impatience. I
had told her of my appointment with the prince, but not of its object,
not reflecting that this concealment of an affair which was about to be
decided at once, could only increase her secret uneasiness. I perceived
this as I caught her eyes bent anxiously upon me. Should I not now tell
her at once all that I had hitherto so carefully concealed from her? A
confusion that embarrassed my reason, and a fear that seemed to weigh
down my heart, suddenly seized me, I wished to free myself from this
painful embarrassment, as one strives to escape from a room in which he
feels himself suffocating; and as in such a case he takes the first
mode of escape that offers, though it be a leap through a window, I
said, as if reciting a lesson:
"The prince wishes to see me at the theatre; he has a communication to
make to me which can not well be postponed until to-morrow. He
expressed the wish that you would accompany me, if you can. He has been
very kind to me, and I feel myself under great obligations to him. I
should be glad to show him an attention, if you have no objection."
"Ah, she plays to-night then!" said Hermine, her lips quivering and
brows contracting darkly.
"What is that to me--what is that to us, Hermine?"
I opened my arms, and my wife lay upon my breast. The whole long
pent-up passion burst forth at once: she sobbed, she laughed, and
cried: "Yes, yes, what is that to us? what is that to us?"
Her sweet face that lately had looked so pale and often so sad, now
beamed with life and happiness: I thought I had never seen her so
beautiful.
"You will create a _furore_," I said, playfully.
"So I mean," she answered. "There is no art in being fair when one is
so happy."
And she threw herself again into my arms, and then hastened into her
dressing-room, from which she presently returned in a simple charming
toilet, such as she well knew how to make.
"Do you think I can let the prince see me so?" she asked, archly.
"Yes; any king in the world!"
"Even when----?"
"Even when----!"
The distance to the theatre was short, yet in this short drive I had
time to tell her everything that had passed between the prince and
myself; the negotiations about Zehrendorf, and the causes which
rendered the sale necessary. And the fair creature agreed contentedly
to everything. Ah, the doctor was indeed right when he said: "A young
husband can tell his young wife everything;" but I was also right that
he must choose a fitting opportunity.
We reached the theatre. The prince had told me that there would be
places in his box for us, and it was well that it was so, for the house
was full. A new piece was played, the work of a young poet who had a
considerable reputation at that time, a conversation-piece, in which
Constance had no part, as I convinced myself by a glance at the
play-bill. It was not yet late, but pit and galleries were already
filled, and the boxes were filling up. The prince was not there yet,
and only appeared towards the close of the overture, accompanied by an
officer of high rank, whom he presented as his cousin, Count
Schlachtensee. He looked exceedingly handsome and distinguished in
evening dress, with a blue ribbon around his neck, to which was
attached the star of some foreign order set in brilliants; and
exhibited the most perfect and engaging courtesy towards Hermine, to
whom he apologized for his late arrival, and then seated himself beside
her, conversing very pleasantly for a few moments, until he perceived
that the royal princess who had summoned his attendance, had entered
her box, when he left us.
Lieutenant-colonel Count Schlachtensee, when his cousin had departed,
seemed not quite to know what to do, until he hit upon the happy idea
of offering me his opera-glass, which I politely declined. So he
applied it to his own eyes, fixing it upon a box opposite to us so long
that I involuntarily turned my own looks in the same direction.
Directly fronting us was a lady who at the moment had her head turned
to a gentleman sitting behind her, but in whom I at the first glance
recognized Constance. I do not know what effect this discovery would
have had upon me, had I not just before had that precious understanding
with Hermine: even as it was my heart beat violently as I observed that
my wife also turned her glass in that direction; but I breathed freely,
and murmured a "thank heaven!" from the bottom of my heart, when she
lowered her glass again, and looked at me with an indescribable arch
smile. As the curtain rose she fixed her attention upon the stage
without ever casting another glance at the woman whose form had no
doubt floated lately often enough through her melancholy reveries.
Constance on the other hand seemed to take less interest in what was
going on upon the stage. I observed her glass fixed almost constantly
upon us when she was not engaged in conversation with her companion,
who had now taken his seat by her side, and in whom I recognized the
actor Von Sommer, who went by the name of Lenz, or else turned to a
couple of younger gentlemen, in elegant dress and of aristocratic,
though foreign appearance--two Wallachian noblemen as I afterwards
learned--who were behind her chair, and evidently belonged to the
party. It was plain that they were talking of us, and in no friendly
manner; and I thought that more than once I perceived the pale face of
Herr Lenz contract with a bitter smile, while the others, who kept
their glasses steadily levelled at us, sometimes laughed openly.
Whether it was the too conspicuous interest which the beautiful actress
and her party took in the lady in the opposite box, or whether it was
Hermine's charming appearance, the public, between the acts, followed
the example set them, and their unpleasant curiosity increased still
further when the prince returned and resumed his place by Hermine.
Persons stood up in the pit to see better: they looked from Hermine to
Constance and from Constance to Hermine, and evidently instituted very
interesting comparisons between the two, both beautiful, though with
beauty so widely different. No doubt the prince had observed Constance,
but in vain did I secretly watch his face for any mark of the
impression which this unexpected and unfortunate meeting must have made
upon him. Not in vain had he moved from his early youth in circles
where it is the first law to keep the features under perfect control.
He laughed and jested in the most natural and easy manner with Hermine,
named to her various distinguished persons in the proscenium-boxes whom
he knew, turned to speak with his cousin and myself, and behaved as if
altogether he was enjoying himself greatly.
This scene was repeated in the second _entr'acte_, but this time a
chamberlain of the princess came to our box, charged by her to learn
from the prince the name of the lady whose beauty and grace, as he
said, had charmed her highness.
The prince told us this, laughing, as the stately gentleman left us,
and said it was not unlikely that her highness might summon us to her
box, and that I should hold myself in readiness for a councillor's
title, or the order of the fourth class.
I confess that though I did not altogether believe this peril so
imminent, a feeling ever more strongly impressed me that some serious
disaster was close at hand, as if floating in the hot atmosphere of the
place. I also thought that I perceived that the heat, animated
conversation, and the fact that she was the object of general
observation, had too much excited Hermine, so after exchanging a look
with her, at the conclusion of the third act, I begged to take leave of
the prince, especially as the banker Henzel had not arrived, and thus
nothing could be done in the matter of our business. The prince rose at
once and offered Hermine his arm to conduct her into the lobby, into
which a great crowd was now pressing from all the box-doors, out of the
intolerably hot theatre.
There was a good deal of crowding, and we were soon separated from the
prince, who had taken leave of Hermine at the moment when Constance
pressed by me on the arm of Herr Lenz, and followed by the two
Wallachians. She saluted me in a manner that masked a stinging mockery
under a show of great cordiality: but the pale face of her companion
was turned towards us for a moment, and his eyes, which appeared to be
looking for some one, had a fixed and ominous expression. He pushed on
through the crowd as rapidly as he could with the lady, towards the
place where I had last seen the prince. Other persons then came between
us, and I lost sight of the party; Hermine, who was busy taking care of
her dress, had luckily not seen Constance; and she now asked me to help
her to get out as quickly as possible. We had descended the stair a few
steps, when suddenly there was a tumult behind us in the lobby. Hermine
stood still, and leaned half-fainting upon my arm; and during this
delay, the tumult became louder. There was a buzz of many voices
speaking at once, and then loud words, apparently from persons in
authority who were striving to restore order. A gentleman came hurrying
past me, and I stopped him:
"What is the matter?"
"Prince Prora has just been most outrageously insulted by Lenz the
actor!"
The gentleman hurried on.
I looked at Hermine: she had not heard it, she had fainted. I carried
her down the stairs, placed her in a carriage and drove home, where she
arrived in a rather weak state, but otherwise completely restored. I
must not be uneasy about her, she said; and she had had a delightful
evening, for which she thanked me a thousand times. And now she would
go to bed, and I must positively go back to the theatre, that the
prince should not think she kept me tied to her apron-string.
I pretended to yield to her wishes, and promised to go back. But in
reality I had already determined to do this if possible. Suppose it
were true, what the gentleman on the steps had told me! and how could I
doubt it? Then the disaster which I had felt impending in the sultry
atmosphere of the theatre, had come to pass. I remembered the scene in
the Zehrendorf wood, so many years before, and how the boy preferred to
die, to receiving a blow from my hands, of which there would have been
no witness but the moon. Would the man feel differently? Would he not
risk everything to avenge an insult offered him, the Prince of Prora,
before the eyes of a crowd of spectators?