THE FORCED BRIDAL.
The ceremony was to take place at eleven o'clock. The imperial carriage
of state was at the door; and behind it stood the gilded coaches of
Counts Esterhazy and Starhemberg. The former had been awaiting the
appearance of his bride for two hours; but to all his tender messages
she had curtly replied that she would come when she was ready.
"I fear she will play us some dreadful trick," sighed the old count.
"My dear count," returned Esterhazy, "no man would be so presuming as to
thwart the empress."
"Perhaps not--but my niece has more character than some men."
"What have I done for her to scorn me as she does!" cried the unhappy
little bridegroom.
"You have opposed her, that is all. My niece is an Amazon, and cannot
bear to give up her heart at another's will! Had she been left free, it
might have been otherwise."
"Do you really think she will come to love me?" asked Esterhazy,
surveying his diminutive comeliness in the mirror opposite.
"I am quite sure of it, and so is the emperor. Take courage, then; bear
with her whims for a while; they are nothing but harmless summer
lightnings. Do not heed the storm; think of the flowers that will spring
up to beautify your life, when the showers of her tears shall have
passed away."
"Oh, I will be patient. She shall exhaust herself."
Here the door opened, and the countess's maid entered with a request
that Count Esterhazy would follow her to her lady's apartment.
The count kissed his hand to Count Starhemberg and hurried away. When he
entered the countess's sitting-room, she was standing in all the pride
of her bridal attire, and seemed more transcendently beautiful than
ever. The court-dress, with its long trail, heightened the elegance of
her figure, and the silver-spotted veil, that fell to her feet,
enveloped her like a white evening cloud. But how little did her face
accord with this superb festive dress Her cheek was deadly pale; her
exquisite mouth was writhing with anguish, and her great, glowing eyes
darted glances of fiery hatred.
"You really have the courage to persevere, Count Esterhazy? You will
perpetrate the crime of marriage with me?"
"When a man opens his arms to receive the most enchanting woman that
ever was sent on earth, do you call that a crime?" said Esterhazy,
tenderly.
An impatient shrug was the answer to this attempt at gallantry.
"Have I not told you that you would earn nothing for your reward but my
hatred? In the despair of my heart, have I not told you that I love
another man? Oh, you have come to tell me that you spare me the
sacrifice--have you not? You will not force a helpless girl to marry
you, who does so only to escape a convent--will you? Oh, tell me that
you have summoned manliness enough to resist the empress, and to give me
my freedom!"
"I have summoned manliness enough to resist you; and bearing your anger,
I am resolved to take the bewitching woman to wife whom my generous
empress has selected for me."
"You are a contemptible coward!" cried she.
"I forgive you the epithet, because I am in love," replied he, with a
smile.
"But if you have no pity for me," cried she wildly, "have pity on
yourself. You have seen how I treat my uncle, and yet I love him dearly.
Think what your fate will be, since I hate you immeasurably."
"Ah," said he, "can you expect me to be more merciful to myself than to
you? No, no! I rely upon my love to conquer your hate. It will do so all
in good time."
"As there is a God in heaven, you will rue this hour!" cried Margaret
with mingled defiance and despair.
"Come, countess, come. The empress and her son await us in the
court-chapel."
Margaret shivered, and drew her veil around her. She advanced toward the
door, but as the count was in the act of opening it, she laid her two
hands upon his arm, and held him back. "Have mercy with my soul!" sobbed
she. "It is lost if I become your wife. I have a stormy temper, and
sorrow will expand it into wickedness. I feel that I shall be capable of
crime if you force me to this marriage."
"Gracious Heaven!" cried the count, pettishly, "if you abhor me to such
a degree, why do you not go into a convent?"
"I had resolved to do so, for the convent is less repulsive to me than a
home in your palace; but I could not bring myself to the sacrifice.
No!--Were I to be immured within those convent walls, I should forever
be shut out from the sight of him whom I love. Do you hear this? Do you
hear that I marry you only to be free to see him, to hear his voice, to
catch one glance of his eye as he passes me in the crowd? Oh, you will
not take to wife a woman who meditates such perjury as this! You will
not give your father's name to her who is going to the altar with a lie
upon her lips and a crime upon her soul! Go-tell all this to the
empress. Tell her that you will not disgrace your noble house by a
marriage with me! Oh, Count Esterhazy, be merciful, be merciful!"
"Impossible, countess, impossible; were it even possible for me to belie
you by such language. I shall not see the empress until we stand before
the altar together, and then she will be in her oratorium, far beyond my
reach."
"Yes, yes, you can reject nie at the altar. Oh, see how I humble myself!
I am on my knees before you. Spurn me from you in the face of the whole
world!"
Count Esterhazy looked thoughtful. Unhappily, the countess on her knees
was more beautiful than ever; so that remembering her uncle's words, he
said to himself
"Yes-I will humor her-I must feign to yield."
He stretched out his hands, saying, "Rise, countess. It does not become
a sovereign to kneel before her slave. I have no longer the power to
oppose your will. Before the altar, I will say `No' to the priest's
question, and you shall be free."
The countess uttered a loud cry of joy, and rose to her feet. And as her
pale cheek kindled with hope, and her eyes beamed with happiness, she
was more beautiful than she had ever been in her life before, and Count
Esterhazy exulted over it.
"God bless you!" exclaimed she, with a heavenly smile. "You have earned
my affection now; for my life I vow to love you as a cherished brother.
Come, dear, generous, noble friend, come. Let us hasten to the chapel."
It was she now who opened the door. Count Starhemberg awaited them in
the drawing-room. Margaret flew to meet him, and embracing him, said
"Do I not look like a happy bride now? Come, uncle, come, dear Count
Esterbazy, let us go to our bridal."
She took Esterhazy's arm, and be placed her in the carriage. The old
count followed, in speechless wonder.
At the door of the chapel, they were met by the empress's first lady of
honor, who conducted the bride to the altar. The emperor walked by the
side of Count Esterhazy. The face of the countess was radiant with
happiness, and all who saw her confessed that she was lovely beyond all
description.
And now the ceremonial began. The priest turned to Count Esterhazy and
asked him if he took the Countess Maragret von Starhemberg for his
wedded wife--to love, honor, and cherish her until death should them
divide.
There was a pause, and Margaret looked with a bright smile at the face
of her bridegroom. But the eyes of the spectators were fixed upon him in
astonishment, and the brow of the empress grew stormy.
"Will you take this woman for your wedded wife?" repeated the priest.
"I will," said Esterhazy, in a loud firm voice.
A cry escaped from the lips of Margaret. She was so faint that she
reeled and would have fallen, but for the friendly support of an arm
that sustained her, and the witching tones of a voice that whispered:
"Poor girl, remember that a cloister awaits you." She recognized the
voice of the emperor; and overcoming her weakness, the courage of
despair came to her help.
She raised herself from Joseph's arms and taking the vinaigrette that
was tendered her by the lady of honor, she inhaled its reviving aroma;
then she looked at the priest.
He continued, and repeated his solemn question to her. Etiquette
required that before she answered, she should have the sanction of the
empress. The countess turned, with a low inclination, to the lady of
honor, who, in her turn, courtesied deeply to the empress.
Maria Theresa bowed acquiescence, and the bride, having thanked her with
another courtesy, turned once more to the priest and said, "Yes."
The ceremony was over, and the young couple received the
congratulations of the court. Even the empress herself descended
from the oratorium to meet them.
"I have chosen a very excellent husband for you," said she, smiling,
"and I have no doubt you will be a very happy woman." "It must be so, of
course, your majesty," replied the bride; "for had your majesty not
ascertained that this marriage had been made in heaven, you would not
have ordered it on earth, I presume." Maria Theresa darted a look of
anger at the countess, and turning her back upon such presumption,
offered her good wishes to the count.
"What did you say, to irritate the empress so?" whispered Joseph to the
bride.
Margaret repeated her words. "That was a bold answer," said he.
"Has your majesty ever taken me for a coward? I think I have shown
preter-human courage this day."
"What! Because you have married Count Esterhazy? Believe me, you will be
the happiest of tyrants, and he the humblest of your slaves."
"I will show him that slaves deserve the lash!" cried she, with a look
of hatred at her husband, who came forward to conduct her to the palace,
where the marriage guests were now to be received.
The festivities of the day over, the empress's lady of honor conducted
the countess to her new home. It was the duty of this lady to assist the
bride in removing her rich wedding-dress, and assuming the costly
neglige which lay ready prepared for her on a lounge in her magnificent
dressing-room.
But the countess imperiously refused to change her dress. "Have the
goodness," said she, "to say to her majesty, that you conducted me to my
dressing-room. You can say further," added she, hearing the door open,
"that you left me with Count Esterhazy."
She pointed to the count, who entered, greeting the ladies with a
respectful bow.
"I will leave you, then," said the lady, kissing Marearet's forehead.
"May Heaven bless you!"
Count Esterhazy was now alone with his wife. With a radiant smile and
both hands outstretched, he came toward her.
"Welcome to my house, beautiful Margaret! From this hour you reign
supreme in the palace of the Esterhazys."
The countess stepped back. "Do not dare to touch my hand. A gulf yawns
between us; and if you attempt to bridge it, I will throw you, headlong,
into its fiery abyss."
"What gulf? Point it out to me, that I may bridge it with my love,"
cried Esterhazy.
"The gulf of my contempt," said she, coldly. "You are a coward and a
liar. You have deceived a woman who trusted herself to your honor; and
God in heaven, who would not hear my prayers, God shall be the witness
of my vengeance. Oh, you shall repent from this hour to come, that ever
you called me wife! I scorn to be a liar like you, and I tell you to
beware. I will revenge myself for this accursed treachery."
"I do not fear your revenge, for you have a noble heart. The day will
come when I shall be forgiven for my deception. Heaven is always clement
toward the repentant sinner; and you are my heaven, Margaret. I await
the day of mercy."
"Such mercy as Heaven has shown to me, I shall show to you," cried she.
"And now, sir, leave this room. I have nothing more to say to you."
"What, Margaret!" said Esterhazy, with an incredulous smile, "you would
deny me the sweet right of visiting your room? Chide, if you will; but
be not so cruel. Let me have the first kiss--"
As he attempted to put his arms around her, Margaret uttered a fearful
cry. Freeing herself with such violence that Esterhazy reeled backward
with the shock, she exclaimed:
"You are worse than a coward, for you would take advantage of rights
which my hatred has annulled forever."
"But, Margaret, my wife--"
"Count Esterhazy," said Margaret slowly, "I forbid you ever to use that
word in this room. Before the world I must endure the humiliation of
being called your wife; but once over the threshold of my own room, I am
Margaret Starhemberg, and you shall never know me as any other Margaret.
Now go!"
She pointed to the door; and as the count looked into her face, where
passion was so condensed that it almost resembled tranquillity, he had
not the hardihood to persist. He felt that he had gained his first and
last victory.
As soon as he had passed the door, Margaret locked and bolted it; then,
alone with the supreme anguish that had been crushed for these long,
long hours, she fell upon her knees, and wept until the morning-star
looked down upon her agony.