THE ATTACK.
Half an hour later the folding-doors of the reception-room were
thrown open to admit the king, who came without ceremony, and without
attendants, as he was in the habit of doing. Wilhelmine hurried forward
to meet him; her lovely countenance wore a sad expression, and her
beautiful figure was attired in sable mourning-robes. One might have
supposed she had lost her mother or a sister, so mournful was her
manner, so full of sadness was her glance as she slowly raised her eyes
to the king's pale countenance. "My dear master," murmured she, "how
kind your majesty is, to think of me, and honor me with a visit, in
this your hour of sore trial!"
He stroked her soft, shining hair tenderly, and drew her head to his
bosom. "I never forget you, my friend, and the thought of your radiant
eyes and lovely countenance always consoles me when I am troubled with
care or grief, which is unfortunately very often the case."
"Your majesty's grief has been so great to-day! The divine being whom
we all loved and honored has gone from us!"
"Yes," said the king, with a deep-drawn sigh, his expression more
indicative of ennui than of sorrow, "yes, Countess Ingenheim died this
afternoon. But her death did not surprise me; the good countess had
been in very bad health ever since the birth of her son, more than a
year ago, and my physician had long since told me that she had the
consumption, and would not live through the autumn. The poor countess
had been very tearful of late; she wept a great deal when I was with
her, and was constantly reproaching herself. This was unpleasant,
and I visited her but rarely during the last few weeks for fear of
agitating the poor invalid. Moreover, she kept up a pretence of being
well," continued the king, seating himself in the arm-chair, in which
Rietz had been so comfortably installed a few minutes before. "Yes,
she wished to impose on the world with this pretence, as if it were
possible to avoid observing the traces of her terrible disease in her
pale, attenuated countenance! She always held herself erect, went to
all the parties, and even visited the theatre, four days ago. You
remember it, doubtlessly, as you were present?"
"Yes, I remember," murmured Wilhelmine, as she seated herself on a
stool at the king's feet, folded the hands, that contrasted like white
lilies with her flowing black-lace sleeves, on his knees, and gave him
a tender, languishing glance. She knew how effective these glances
were--she knew that she could always bind her lover to herself again
with these invisible toils.
"If poor Julie had but had your eyes and your health!" sighed the
king. "But she was always ailing, and in the end nothing becomes more
disagreeable than a sickly woman. But let us speak of this no longer,
it makes me sad! It is well that my poor Julie has, at last, found a
refuge in the grave from her unceasing remorse and her jealous love."
And thus Frederick took leave of the spirit of the affectionate woman
who had sacrificed all through her love for him. The consciousness that
his love for her had long since died, and that she was nothing more
than a burden to him, had killed her.
Having taken leave of the spirit of his dead love, the king now assumed
a cheerful expression, and this expression was immediately reflected in
Wilhelmine's countenance. She smiled, arose from her stool, threw her
soft, white arms around the king's neck with passionate tenderness, and
exclaimed: "How is it possible to die when one can have the happiness
of living at your side!"
The king drew her to his heart and kissed her. "_You_ will live,
Wilhelmine! You love me too dearly to think of dying of this miserable
feeling of remorse. You have been tried and found true, Wilhelmine,
and nothing can hereafter separate us."
"Nothing, my dear king and master!"
"Nothing, Wilhelmine; not even a new love. The flames of tenderness
that glow in my heart may sometimes flare up and seem to point in other
directions, but they will ever return to you, and never will the altar
grow cold on which the first love-flames burned so brightly in the fair
days of our youth."
"God bless your majesty for these words!" cried Wilhelmine, pressing
the king's hands to her lips.
"Let us have no more of this formality, I pray you," said Frederick
William, wearily. "We are alone, and I am heartily tired of carrying
the royal purple about with me wherever I go. Relieve me of this
burdensome mantle, Wilhelmine, and let us dream that the days of our
youthful happiness have come back to us."
"My Frederick is always young," whispered she; "eternal youth glows
in your heart and is reflected on your noble brow. But I--look at me,
Frederick William! I have grown old, and the unmerciful hand of Time
has been laid ungently on my brow."
The king looked at Wilhelmine, and could find no evidence of this in
the fresh, smiling countenance of his enchantress. He listened to her
siren voice, and its music soothed his soul and dissipated all care
and sorrow. As the hand of the clock neared the tenth hour, and while
Wilhelmine was engaged in a charming _tête-à-tête_ with the king over a
delightful supper of savory dishes and choice wines, the smiling siren
told him of the danger that threatened her, of the new intrigue of her
enemies at court, and of their determination to incite a mob to attack
her palace.
"There can be nothing in all this," said the king, smiling; "this story
has only been concocted to alarm you. If your enemies had formed any
such plan, my superintendent of police would certainly have heard of
it, and have taken measures to prevent it."
Wilhelmine inclined her rosy lips to the king's ear, and narrated in
low accents what Rietz had told her concerning the order issued by the
Rosicrucians.
The king started with surprise and alarm. "No," said he, "this is
impossible; Bischofswerder and Wöllner are my most faithful friends;
they will never undertake to harm you, for they know that you are
dear to me, and that your presence is necessary to my peace and
contentment--yes, I may even say to my happiness!"
"It is for this very reason that they desire to effect my banishment.
They hope to gain unbounded control over you, by driving from your side
the only being who dares to tell you the truth, and who loves in you
the dear, noble man, and not the king! My disinterested love for you,
Frederick William, is in their eyes a crime, and they accuse me of
having committed another crime, for the purpose of tearing me from your
heart and treading me under foot like a noxious weed!"
"They shall not succeed!" protested Frederick William. "But I cannot
believe that--" The king ceased speaking; at this moment a deafening
roar, as of the sea when lashed to fury by the storm, was heard in the
street; it came nearer and nearer, and then the windows of the palace
shook with the fierce cries: "Murderess! Poisoner! Curses upon the
murderess!"
Wilhelmine, an air of perfect serenity on her countenance, remained
seated at the king's feet, but he turned pale and looked toward the
window in dismay. "You perceive, my master," said she, with an air of
perfect indifference, "you perceive that these are the exact words
agreed upon in the Rosicrucian assembly this morning. This is the
war-cry of my enemies."
"Murderess! Poisoner!" resounded again upon the night air. "Curses upon
the murderess!"
"I knew they would dare to make this attack," murmured Wilhelmine,
still smiling. "Had I felt guilty, I would have fled or have solicited
protection of my king. But I wished your majesty to see how far my
enemies would go in their malignity--what cruel measures they would
take to effect my banishment."
"You have done well," said the king, earnestly; "you have acted like a
heroine, and never--"
He was interrupted by a loud crash, and something hissed through the
broken window. With a loud, piercing cry, Wilhelmine threw herself over
the king's person and clasped him in a close embrace, as if determined
to protect him against the whole world.
"They may murder me, but they shall not harm a hair of your dear head,
my beloved!"
These words, uttered in loud, exulting tones, sounded in the king's ear
like an inspiring hymn of love, and he never forgot them.
The stone had fallen to the floor, with a loud noise, but no second
one followed it. Curses still resounded from below, but the mob seemed
nevertheless to have been alarmed by their own boldness, and hesitated
before commencing a new attack.
Wilhelmine now released the king from her protecting embrace, and with
gentle force compelled him to rise from his chair.
"Come, my beloved, danger threatens you here! They will soon make
another attack."
"Wilhelmine," said he, with emotion, "give me that stone."
As she stooped to pick up the stone that lay at her feet, the black
lace shawl fell to the floor, disclosing a purple stripe on her
snow-white shoulder.
"You are wounded, Wilhelmine, you are wounded!" cried the king, in
dismay. She had arisen in the mean while, and now handed him the stone,
with her siren smile.
"It is nothing, my king; the dear people's cannon-ball merely grazed my
shoulder. To be sure, it hurts a little, but my arms are not broken."
"And it was for me that you received this wound!" said the king, in
deep emotion. "You shielded and protected me with your fair form.
Wilhelmine, I will never forget this; this stone shall be a lasting
memorial of your love and heroic devotion!"
For the second time a loud crash was heard, and now the stones came
flying through the broken windows in quick succession. At this moment
several lackeys, pale with fright, rushed into the room to report that
the populace were endeavoring to batter down the doors of the palace,
and that these were already giving way.
"Save yourself, my king, flee from this palace!" cried Wilhelmine.
"Permit my butler to lead you through the garden to the little gate
that opens into Behren Street; from there your majesty will be able to
return to your palace in safety."
"And you, my dearest?" asked the king.
"And I," said she, with heroic composure, "I will await my enemies;
if they kill me I can die with the proud consciousness that I have
saved the life of my king, and that he, at least, is convinced of my
innocence!"
Another shower of stones succeeded, and the parlor was now a scene
of fearful confusion. While fierce curses upon the head of the
murderess, and denunciations of the poisoner, resounded from the
street below, chairs, mirrors, vases, and marble tables, were being
broken and scattered in every direction by the stones that poured in
through the windows in an uninterrupted shower. In the midst of this
din and clatter Wilhelmine's voice could be heard from time to time,
conjuring the king to fly, or at least to repair with her to one of the
apartments in the rear of the palace.
But the king remained firm; and issued his commands to the trembling
servants, in a loud voice. He ordered them to close the inner shutters,
and they did as he bade them. Creeping timidly on their hands and knees
to the windows, they withdrew the bolts and closed the shutters with a
sudden jerk. The king now ordered one of the lackeys to hasten through
the garden to the office of his superintendent of police, to acquaint
him with the state of affairs, and to request him to disperse the
insurrectionary populace. After this messenger had been despatched, and
now that the stones were falling harmlessly from the closed shutters,
the king dismissed the servants who were present. He was now once more
alone with the beloved of his youth.
"Wilhelmine," said he, "I can never forget your heroism and devotion.
You shall have complete satisfaction for the insults offered you
to-day, and those who sought your destruction shall bend the knee
before you."
Half an hour later all was still, and the stones were no longer flying
against the windows. The chief of police had made a requisition on the
military authorities for a body of troops, and the populace had fled in
terror from the threatening muskets and glittering sabres.
The king had taken his departure in the carriage that had been ordered
to await him in Behren Street. He had, however, taken the stone with
him that had struck Wilhelmine's shoulder. On taking leave he kissed
her tenderly, and told her to await him in her palace at twelve o'clock
on the following day, when she should receive the promised satisfaction.
Wilhelmine was now alone; with a proud, triumphant smile, she walked
to and fro in the parlor, seeming to enjoy the scene of confusion and
destruction. At times, when her foot touched one of the stones, she
would laugh, push it aside, and exclaim: "Thus you shall all be thrust
aside, my enemies! I will walk over you all, and the stones which you
have hurled at me shall serve as a stairway for my ascent!--I have
managed well," said she, continuing to walk restlessly to and fro.
"I have opened the king's eyes to the malignity and cunning of his
friends, and have shown my enemies that I am not afraid of, and scorn
to fly from them. Messrs. Von Bischofswerder and Wöllner will soon come
to the conclusion that they will be worsted in this conflict, and had
better seek to form an alliance with their formidable enemy!"
As she continued walking amid the surrounding stones and ruins, the
blood trickled slowly down her shoulder; and this, with her glittering
eyes, gave her once more the appearance of a tigress--of a wounded
tigress meditating revenge.
Wilhelmine was now interrupted in her train of thought by a noise in
the street that sounded like the distant roll of thunder. She opened
one of the shutters, behind which nothing remained of the window but
the frame, and looked out into the night, and down into the broad
street of the linden-trees, now entirely deserted. But the noise grew
louder and louder, and the street seemed to be faintly illumined in the
distance. This light soon became a broad glare; and then Wilhelmine saw
that it was a funeral procession. She saw a number of dark, shrouded
figures bearing gleaming torches, and then a long funeral car, drawn
by four black horses. A coffin lay on this car. Its silver ornaments
shone brightly in the reflection of the torches; a coronet at the head
of the coffin glittered as though bathed in the dawning light of a new
day. Torch-bearers followed the funeral car, and then came a number of
closed carriages. It was the funeral procession of Countess Julie von
Ingenheim, conveying the corpse to the estate of the family Von Voss,
to deposit it in the ancestral vaults. Wilhelmine stood at the window
and saw this ghostly procession glide by in the stillness of the night.
She remained there until it had disappeared in the distance, and all
was again silent. When she stepped back her countenance was radiant
with a proud, triumphant smile. "She is dead!" said she, in low tones;
"the coronet now glitters on her coffin _only_. I still live, and a
coronet will yet glitter on my brow. A long time may elapse before
I attain this coveted gem; but this wound on my shoulder may work
wonders. I can afford to wait, for I--I do not intend to die. I will
outlive you all--you who dare contend with me for the king's heart. Our
love is sealed with blood, but the vows which he made to you were cast
upon the wind!"
On the following day, the king repaired to Madame Rietz's palace at
the appointed hour. He came with a brilliant suite; all his ministers
and courtiers, and even his son, the Prince Royal Frederick William,
accompanied him. The young prince had come in obedience to his father's
command, but a dark frown rested on his countenance as he walked
through the glittering apartments. When he met the mistress of all this
magnificence, and when the king himself introduced her to his son as
his dear friend, a glance of contemptuous anger shot from the usually
mild eyes of the prince royal upon the countenance of the smiling
friend.
She felt the meaning of this glance; it pierced her heart like a
dagger; and a voice seemed to whisper in her ear: "This youth will
destroy you! Beware of him, for he is the avenging angel destined to
punish you!"
But she suppressed her terror, smiled, and listened to the king, who
was narrating the occurrences of the riot of the day before, and
pointing to the stones which, at the king's express command, had been
allowed to remain where they had fallen.
"It was an insurrection," said the king--"an insurrection of the
populace, that now fancies itself sovereign, and would so gladly play
the master and ruler, and dictate terms to its king. I hate this rabble
and all those who make it subservient to their ends--who use its rude
fists to execute their own plans--and never will I pardon or take into
favor such rebels and traitors."
As the king concluded, he fastened an angry glance on Bischofswerder
and Wöllner, the covert meaning of which these worthies seemed to have
divined, for they cast their eyes down and looked abashed.
The king now turned to Wilhelmine, raised the lace shawl from her
shoulder with a gentle hand, and pointed to the wound which she had
received the day before.
"Look at this, gentlemen! Madame Rietz received this wound while
interposing her own body to protect her king; the stone that inflicted
this wound would, but for her devotion and heroism, have struck me in
the face. My son, you see before you the protectress of your father;
kiss her hand and thank her! And you, too, gentlemen, all of you, thank
the heroic woman who shielded your king from danger."
This was indeed a glorious satisfaction! Wilhelmine's ambitious heart
exulted with joy as she stood there like a queen, her hand extended to
be kissed by a prince royal, by generals, ministers, and courtiers,
whose words of thanks were unceasingly resounding in her ear. But there
was one drop of bitterness in all this honey; and the warning voice
again whispered, "Beware of the prince royal, for he is the avenging
angel destined to punish you!"
The prince royal had given her a second threatening glance when he
stooped to kiss her hand, at the king's command; and she alone knew
that his lips had not touched her hand.
The king had looked on with a smile while his ministers and courtiers
were doing homage to his "protectress." He now turned to the portrait
of his favorite son, Count von der Mark. His boy's soft, mild eyes
seemed to gaze down on his father.
"My son," said the king, in a loud, agitated voice, "I swear to your
blessed spirit, surely in our midst in this hour, I swear that I will
reward the mother you so tenderly loved, for all the affection which
she lavished upon my boy, and that I will never forget her devotion
in risking her own life to preserve mine. My son, I swear to you that
I will be grateful to the preserver of my life while I live, and that
her enemies shall never succeed in lowering her in my high estimation.
My son, in witness of this my solemn vow, I kiss the wound which your
noble mother received in my defence!"
Frederick William stooped and kissed the wound on Wilhelmine's shoulder.
It was a grand, an impressive moment, and Wilhelmine's ambitious heart
exulted. Visions of a brilliant future arose before her soul, and,
as she stooped to kiss the king's hand, she vowed that these visions
should be realized!
But, when she raised her head, she shuddered. She had again encountered
the prince royal's glance. The dagger pierced her heart for the third
time, and the warning voice in her soul whispered for the third time:
"Beware of the prince royal! He is the avenging angel destined to
punish you!"