HEART-STRUGGLES.
The week of delay which the empress had granted to the Countess Margaret
had passed away, and the eve of her bridal had dawned. During those
eight eventful days the countess had been more fitful than ever, and her
uncle's household had suffered accordingly.
"She will take her life," whispered the servants among themselves, as
each day, like a pale spectre, she glided through the house, to mount
her wild Arabian. The two footmen who accompanied her on these
occasions, told how she galloped so madly that they could scarcely keep
pace with her; and then suddenly checked her horse, and with her head
bent over its neck, remained motionless and wept.
Once the emperor had surprised her in tears, and when she became aware
of his presence, she started off on a mad run and left him far behind.
This occurred twice; but the third time the emperor came upon her so
quickly, that before she had time to fly, he had grasped her rein. The
footmen declared that they had never heard such a cry as she gave; and
they thought that the emperor would be highly offended. But he only
laughed, and said:
"Now, countess, you are my prisoner; and I shall not allow my beautiful
Amazon to go, until she has told me why we never see her at court."
The countess turned so pale that her servants thought she would fall
from her horse, and the emperor cried out: "Good Heaven! what is the
matter with you?"
She broke into a loud laugh, and striking her horse with the whip, tried
to gallop off again. But the emperor put spurs to his horse, and the two
dashed on together. Neck and neck they ran; the countess lashing her
Arabian until he made wild leaps into the air, the emperor urging his
Barb with whip and spur, until his flanks were white with foam. At last
he came so near, that he made a grasp at her rein and caught it,
exclaiming, with a merry laugh:
"Caught again!"
The countess turned around with eyes that darted lightning.
"Why do you laugh so immoderately?" said she.
"Because we are enacting such a delightfully comic scene. But do not
look so angry; your bright eyes are on fire, and they make a man's heart
boil over. Answer my question, and I restore you to freedom. Why do you
shun me, and why do you never come to court?"
Now the pale cheeks flushed, and the voice was subdued until its tones
were like plaintive music. "Sire, I do not visit the court, because I am
a poor, unhappy creature, unfitted for society, and because no one
misses me there."
"And why do you fly from me as if I were Lucifer, the son of the
morning?"
"Ah, your majesty, grief flies from the light of day, and seeks the
cover of friendly night! And now, free my horse, if you would not have
me fall dead at your feet!"
Again she turned pale, and trembled from head to foot. When the emperor
saw this, he loosed her rein, and bowing to her saddle bow, galloped
away--out of sight. The countess turned her horse's head, and went
slowly home.
All this Count Starhemberg learned from the footmen, for never a word
had his niece spoken to him since the unhappy day of Count Esterhazy's
visit. To say the truth, the old man was not sorry that her sorrow had
taken the shape of taciturnity; for her pale cheeks and glaring eyes
affrighted him; and he hugged himself close in his short-lived security,
as each day she declined to appear at table, and was served in the
solitude of her own room. She was served; but her food returned
untouched. Neither did she seem to sleep; for at all times of the night
she could be heard pacing her room. Then she would sit for hours before
her piano; and, although her playing and singing had been equally
renowned, her uncle had never suspected the genius that had lain
concealed in the touch of her hands and the sound of her voice. It was
no longer the "fierce countess," whose dashing execution had distanced
all gentler rivals; it was a timid maiden, whose first love was finding
utterance in entrancing melody. On the night following her last
encounter with the emperor, the music became more passionate in its
character. It was less tender, but far more sad; and often it ceased,
because the musician stopped to weep.
Her uncle heard her sob, and following the impulse of his affection and
compassion, he opened the room, and came softly in. He called her, and
she raised her head. The light from the wax-candles that stood on the
harpsichord fell directly upon her face, which was bedewed with tears.
Her uncle's entrance seemed neither to have surprised nor irritated her.
With an expression of indescribable woe she merely murmured
"See, uncle, to what the empress has reduced me."
Her uncle took her in his arms, and, like a weary child, she leaned her
head upon his shoulder. Suddenly she started, and disengaging herself,
she stood before him, and took his hands in hers.
"Oh, is it inevitable? Must I bow my head like a slave to this marriage,
while my heart proclaims an eternal NO!"
The old count wiped his eyes. "I fear there is no hope, my child. I have
done all that I could."
"What have you done?"
"I first appealed to Count Esterhazy; but he declared himself to be too
intoxicated by your beauty to resign you. I then tried to interest some
of our friends at court; but no one dared to intercede for my darling.
The empress has received a severe blow in the expulsion of the Jesuits,
and no one has the courage to come between her and her mania for
match-making. I then appealed to her majesty myself; but in vain. Her
only answer was this: 'You were to marry the count, or go into a
convent.' She added, that to-morrow every thing would be prepared in the
court chapel for your marriage; that she, herself, would honor you by
giving you away; and that, if you did not come punctually, when the
imperial state coach was sent for you, she would have you taken instead
to a convent."
"Is that all?" asked she, with a painful blush.
"No, Margaret. I saw the emperor also."
"What said he?" asked the countess, in a hoarse voice, pressing so
heavily upon the old man's shoulder, that he could scarcely stand under
the weight of her hands. "Word for word, tell me what he said."
"I will tell you. The emperor said: 'Dear count, no one would serve you
sooner than I. But as regards her mania for marrying people, the empress
is inflexible. And, indeed, it seems to me that she has chosen admirably
for your beautiful niece. Count Esterhazy is young, handsome, immensely
rich, and a favorite at court. You will see, dear count, that she will
end by making him an affectionate and obedient wife; for a young girl's
hate is very often nothing but concealed love. Those were the emperor's
words, my dear. I protested against his interpretation of your dislike
to Count Esterhazy--but in vain."
To this, Margaret replied not a word. Her hands had gradually fallen
from her uncle's shoulders, until they hung listless at her side. Her
graceful head was bowed down by the sharp stroke of the humiliation
which had just stricken her, and her whole attitude was that of hopeless
disconsolation.
After a few moments she threw back her head with wild defiance. "He will
find that he is a false prophet," exclaimed she, with a laugh of scorn.
"I promise him that."
"But, my dear girl--" began Count Starhemberg. "Will you, too, insult me
with prophecies of my future obedience to this fine young man? Do you,
too, wish to prove to me that I am a fortunate--"
"My child, I wish nothing of the sort."
"Then what means the 'but'? Does it mean that I am to be consoled by the
splendor that is to attend this--execution? Does it mean that my
maidenly blushes--the blushes that betray my secret love--are to be
hidden by a veil of priceless lace? Does it mean that the chains, with
which your peerless empress will fetter my arms, are to be of gold,
secured with diamonds? Have you taken care to provide the myrtle-wreath,
the emblem of love, wherewith to deck the bride's bow? O God! O God! May
some imperial daughter of this woman suffer worse than death for this!"
The count shuddered, and left the room. He had not dared to say that, in
truth, her bridal-dress was all that she had described. It had all been
chosen. The rich robe, the costly veil, the golden bracelets, the
glittering diamonds, even the myrtle-wreath, the emblem of the humble as
well as the high-born bride--all were there, awaiting the morrow.