"But suppose France should look upon this defection of General York as brought about by the secret orders of your majesty? Suppose Napoleon, in his incessant distrust, and Jerome, in his ardent desire for the possession of Prussia, should, notwithstanding all protestations of your majesty to the contrary, believe in an understanding between York and his king, and therein find a welcome pretext for carrying into effect their infamous schemes, seizing your majesty, and annihilating Prussia?"
"I shall give them such convincing proofs of my sentiments that it will be impossible for them to believe in an understanding between myself and York," exclaimed the king. "Enough! I adhere to my resolution. York must be removed from his command, and General Kleist will be his successor. I shall, besides, address an autograph letter to Murat, the emperor's lieutenant at the head of the army, and express to him my profound indignation at what has occurred, and inform him of the penalty which I am about to inflict on York."
"Very well," said Hardenberg, sighing, "if your majesty so resolves, it must be done; but it should be done in haste—this very hour. Count St. Marsan is waiting for me at his residence, to learn from me the decisions of your majesty before sending off his couriers to the Emperor Napoleon. It will be necessary for us to lay before him the letter which your majesty intends to write to the King of Naples, as well as the formal order in regard to the removal of General York. You ought also at once to name the courier who is to convey your majesty's orders and letters to the two camps in Old Prussia."
"You are right; all this must be done immediately," said the king, seizing his silver bell and ringing. The door opened, and Timm the chamberlain entered. "Go to my aide-de-camp, Major Natzmer," said the king to him. "Inform him that he is to set out immediately on a journey, and should, therefore, quickly prepare. In four hours every thing must be done, and Major Natzmer must then be in my anteroom. Go yourself to him, Timm, and inform him of my orders. This one courier will be sufficient," said the king, turning again to Hardenberg, after Timm had left the room. "Natzmer will first repair to the headquarters of the King of Naples, deliver my letter to him, show him the orders intended for Kleist and York, and then go to the Russian camp in order to deliver these orders to my generals."
"Will your majesty not write also a letter to the Emperor Alexander, begging him to spare your troops, whom Wittgenstein henceforth will consider enemies, and to address a word of consolation and encouragement to the emperor, whose magnanimous heart will bitterly feel this new disappointment?"
"Very well," said the king, after a brief reflection, "I will write such a letter to Alexander, and Natzmer shall himself take it after previously seeing Murat, Wittgenstein, and York."
An hour afterward the king wrote his letters, and Hardenberg drew up the decree removing York from the command of the army. The chancellor of state then left the king's cabinet to repair to the residence of the French ambassador, and inform him of the resolutions of his majesty. The king looked after him long and musingly, and, folding his hands behind him, paced his room. A profound silence reigned around him; the storm of the cold January night swept dense masses of snow against the windows, making them rattle as if spectral hands were tapping at the panes: the wax- tapers on the silver candelabra, standing on the king's desk, had burned low, and their flickering light flashed on the noble portrait of the queen. The king noticed the fitfully illuminated face gazing upon him, as it were, with a quick and repeated greeting; he could not help gently nodding, as if to return the salutation, and then approached the portrait with slow steps.
"Louisa," he said, in a loud, solemn voice, "God has counted your tears, and taken upon Himself the revenge of your wrongs. It was at Piktupobnen where you first met Napoleon, and where the overbearing man bowed your noble head in the dust. At Piktupobnen the Queen of Prussia implored the emperor of the French to spare her country, and grant her lenient terms of peace. It was France now that was waiting for Prussia at the same place, asking Prussia for assistance, and Prussia refused it. Where the disgraceful alliance commenced has been seen its bitter end. God is just; He has counted your tears, and He is preparing your revenge. It began at Piktupobnen."
CHAPTER XVI.
THE DIPLOMATIST.
During an hour Chancellor von Hardenberg, in the cabinet of the French ambassador, Count St. Marsan, conferred in an animated and grave manner as to Prussia's new position, and the guaranties she offered to France for the sincerity of her alliance. Count St. Marsan felt entirely satisfied, after reading the letter which King Frederick William had written to the King of Naples, and the decree removing York from his command. He cordially shook hands with the chancellor, and assured him that this disagreeable affair would not leave the least vestige of distrust; that his august emperor would also feel entirely satisfied of the sincerity of the king's sentiments.
"And you may add that this will also satisfy the emperor of the sincerity of my sentiments toward him," said Hardenberg, smiling. "I know that Napoleon has unfortunately often distrusted me, and has believed me to be animated with feelings hostile to his greatness. Henceforth, however, his majesty will have to admit that I am one of his most reliable and faithful adherents. It was I who prevailed upon the king to stand by France so firmly and constantly. You are aware of it, and I need not conceal it from you, that King Frederick William loves the Emperor Alexander, and would be happy, if circumstances enabled him, to renew his alliance with his friend Alexander. The Emperor of Russia has already stretched out his hand toward him, and is only waiting for Frederick William to grasp it. York's defection was carefully prepared on the part of Russia; it was to be the impulse which should cause the king to take Alexander's hand. And let me tell you, confidentially, he was not only greatly inclined to do so, but even the enthusiasm of those gentlemen of his suite, who, heretofore, had always been ardent adherents of the Emperor of the French, had cooled down since the disasters of the grand army in Russia, and they believed it to be incumbent on them to advise the king to join Russia. But I—I have obtained a victory over them all, and, by my zeal and eloquence, have succeeded in convincing Frederick William that just now a firm maintenance of the alliance with France is most advantageous both to the honor and welfare of Prussia. The king saw the force of my arguments, and the consequence was that he rejected the proposals of Russia, and declared in favor of a faithful continuance of the alliance with France, as is proved by this letter to Murat, and this decree, removing York, which I have drawn up, and which is already signed. France may now confidently count on Prussia, for you see we have passed through our ordeal, and have proved faithful."
"Yes, you have," exclaimed Count St. Marsan, "and the reward and acknowledgment due to your fidelity will soon be conferred on you. The emperor knows full well that the magnanimous and disinterested character of your excellency will not permit him to bestow upon you any other rewards and thanks than those of honor and of the heart. As for the latter, please let me return them to you now in the name of the emperor and of France, and perhaps you will authorize me to inform him that your excellency will consider the grand cross of the Legion of Honor as a sufficient acknowledgment."
"Great Heaven!" exclaimed Hardenberg, with a face radiant with joy, "you have divined the object of my most secret wishes. You have read my mind, and understood my ambition. There is but one order to wear which is a proud honor, and this order has not as yet decorated my breast."
Count St. Marsan bent closer to the ear of the chancellor. "My noble friend," he said, smiling, and in a low voice, "we shall fasten this order to the breast of the chancellor of state on the day when we sign the marriage-contract of the crown prince and a princess of the house of Napoleon."
"Yes," exclaimed Hardenberg, "let it be so. I accept this condition. I shall not claim, nor deem myself worthy of receiving this longed- for order before the day when the Prussian crown prince will be betrothed to an imperial princess of France. To bring about this joyful event will henceforth be for me an affair of the heart, and, moreover, to such an extent that, if this honor should previously be offered me, I would refuse it, because I first wish to deserve it."
"And does your excellency believe that you will have to wait long?" asked Count St. Marsan. "Do you believe that the day when the betrothal will take place is yet remote?"
"I hope not. The crown prince will be confirmed next month, and after his confirmation it will be time to speak of his marriage. I am satisfied that all will turn out well, and conformably to our wishes, provided—"
"Well?" asked St. Marsau, when Hardenberg suddenly paused. "Pray, your excellency, confide in me, and tell me the whole truth. You may rest assured of my most heart-felt gratitude, my entire discretion, and the most unreserved confidence on my part. I beseech you, therefore, to speak out."
"Well, then," said Hardenberg, in a low voice, and with an air of entire sincerity, "I was going to say that every thing would turn out conformably to your wishes, provided the king do not listen to the incessant secret entreaties and insinuations of Russia, and the new Russian party at our court. So long as I remain here, I am afraid of nothing; but if those gentlemen should succeed in persuading the king to leave Berlin, and repair to a city where he would be closer to Russia, then I would really be afraid."
"And your excellency believes that the king might entertain such an intention?" asked Count St. Marsan, in breathless suspense.
Hardenberg shrugged his shoulders. "I do not want to believe it," he said, "but I am almost afraid of it. However, both you and I will be vigilant. But listen, your excellency, the clock is striking two! Two o'clock in the morning! Both of us have yet to send off couriers, and then we may well be allowed to seek an hour's sleep for our exhausted bodies. Good-night, then, my dear count and ally!- -good-night! I hasten to the king to tell him that France will be content with the satisfaction which we offer her, and thereby I shall procure him a quiet and peaceful slumber for the present night."
"Ah, you are in truth a magician, your excellency!" said St. Marsan, gayly, "for you understand both how to take away and give sleep. So long as I am near you, I forget all weariness; and after you have left me I shall, thanks to your words and promises, be able to sleep more quietly than I have done for a long time. You have quieted my soul, and my body therefore will also find rest. Bid me good-night again, for when you say so I will be sure to have it."
"Good-night, then, my dear count," said Hardenberg, shaking hands with his friend, and withdrawing, with a smile, from the room.
This affectionate smile was still playing round the lips of the chancellor when he entered his carriage. But no sooner had its door closed and the carriage was moving, than an expression of gloomy hatred overspread his features. "I hope I have quite succeeded in misleading St. Marsan and arousing his suspicions in regard to the king," he said to himself. "As the king refuses to listen to my warnings and supplications, and does not believe it to be possible that France should dare seize him, it is time to give him some irrefutable proofs. Perhaps he may then make up his mind to leave Berlin. I may sign this longed-for betrothal at some other place, too, and then fasten on my breast the order for which I am longing. In truth," he added, laughing, "it is no fault of mine that dear Count St. Marsan interprets my desire in the way he does. I did not name to him the order I wish to wear. It is no fault of mine that he imagines I wish for the grand cross of the Legion of Honor. To be sure, I wish to obtain an order of honor, but one of a German patriot, and that I can only obtain from the gratitude of my countrymen and impartial history."
The carriage stopped in front of the royal palace, and Hardenberg hastened to the king. Silence reigned in the anteroom; a few sleepy footmen were sitting on the cane chairs beside the door, and scarcely took notice of the arrival of the chancellor, who passed them with soft, hurried steps, and entered the small reception-room. Here, too, all was still, and the two candles on the table, which had burned low, shed but a dim light in the room. The chancellor noticed two figures sitting on both sides of the door leading into the adjoining room, and slowly swinging to and fro, like the pendulum of a clock. He softly approached the two sleepers. "Ah," he whispered, with a smile, "there sleeps Timm, the chamberlain, who is to announce my arrival to the king; and here sleeps Major Natzmer, to whom I want to say a word before he sets out." he laid his hand gently on the major's shoulder. Natzmer jumped up at once and drew himself up in a stiff, military attitude. "You are very prudent in nodding a little now," said Hardenberg, kindly giving him his hand, "for I am afraid you will not find much time for it during the remainder of the night. You are ready to set out immediately, are you not?"
"I am, your excellency."
"And your dispatches, I believe, are ready, too.—My dear Timm," he then said to the chamberlain, "pray announce my arrival to his majesty."
"I believe it is unnecessary," said Timm, with the familiarity of a favorite servant. "His majesty is waiting for your excellency."
"You had better announce my arrival," said Hardenberg, smiling, "for it might be possible that I surprise the king in the same manner as I did these two gentlemen here, and that would be disagreeable."
"That is true," said Timm, hastily approaching the door. "I will immediately announce your excellency."
No sooner had he left the room, than the chancellor laid his hand on the major's arm, and bent over him. "My friend," he said, in a low, hurried voice, "I know you share my views."
"Your excellency knows that I adore you as the statesman who holds the future happiness of Prussia in his hands, and that I abhor the French, who have brought Prussia to the brink of ruin."
"Will you do something to bring her back from this brink?"
"Yes, your excellency, though it cost my life."
"That would be a high price. No; we stand in need of your life and your arm, for Prussia will soon need all her soldiers. What I ask of you is not near so valuable. Listen to me. The king sends you as a courier to Old Prussia. Repair, in the first place, to Murat's headquarters, and deliver the king's letter to him. Go to the Russian headquarters, and call upon Prince Wittgenstein. All I ask of you is to inform Prince Wittgenstein that you are the bearer of two dispatches. Tell him that one is an autograph letter from the king to the Emperor Alexander, and the other a decree removing General York from his command, and ordering him to be put on his trial before a military commission."
"What!" exclaimed Natzmer, in dismay. "Our noble York is to be removed from his command?"
"Yes; the king has resolved to remove and cashier him, because he has gone over with his corps to the Russians."
"York gone over to the Russians!" exclaimed Natzmer, joyously. "And for this wondrously bold step I am to bring him a decree superseding and cashiering him?"
"That is what the king orders you to do, and, of course, you will have to obey. But, I repeat to you, the only thing I ask of you is to inform Prince Wittgenstein what dispatches are in your hands, and what their contents are."
"But suppose the king should not tell me any thing about them?
Suppose their contents, therefore, should be unknown to me?"
"The king himself will communicate the contents to you, and even order you to mention everywhere on the road that you are the bearer of a decree cashiering York, the criminal general. It is of great importance to his majesty that every one, and, above all, France, should learn that he is highly incensed at York's defection, and that—Hush! I hear Timm coming! You will comply with my request?"
"I shall inform Prince Wittgenstein of the contents of my dispatches."
"In that case, I hope York will be safe! Hush!"
The door opened again, and the chamberlain entered. "Your excellency was quite right," he said; "it was well that I announced your arrival. His majesty, like ourselves, had fallen asleep. But now he is awaiting you." He opened the folding-doors, and Hardenberg hastened across the adjoining room to the king's cabinet, to communicate to him the result of his interview with the French ambassador.
An hour afterward Major Natzmer received three dispatches at the hands of the king. The first was a letter to Napoleon's lieutenant at the head of the French army, the King of Naples. In this Frederick William informed Murat that he was filled with the most intense indignation at the step York had taken, and that he had commissioned Major Natzmer to deliver a royal decree to General Kleist, authorizing him to take command of the troops and arrest General York. He declared further in this letter that, as a matter of course, he refused to ratify the convention, and that the Prussian troops, commanded by General Kleist, should be, as they had been heretofore, subject to the orders of the Emperor Napoleon, and his lieutenant, the King of Naples. [Footnote: Droysen's "Life of York," vol. ii., p. 37.] The second dispatch was confidential, to the Emperor Alexander, the contents of which the king had not communicated even to his chancellor of state. The third was, the decree superseding York, and ordering Kleist to take command of the troops. "I think," said the king, after Natzmer had withdrawn, "we have now done every thing to appease Napoleon's wrath, and avert from Prussia all evil consequences. Are you not also of this opinion, M. Chancellor?"
"It only remains to send a special envoy to Napoleon himself and assure him of your majesty's profound indignation," said Hardenberg, gloomily. "The proud emperor, perhaps, expects such a proof of the fidelity of your majesty."
The king cast a quick and searching glance on the gloomy countenance of the chancellor, and then gazed for some time musingly. "You are right," he said, after a pause; "I must send a special envoy to Paris. When it is necessary to appease a bloodthirsty tiger, no means should be left untried. I myself will write to Napoleon and assure him that I will faithfully adhere to the alliance. Prince Hatzfeld will depart with this letter for Paris early in the morning."
"Your majesty will then have done every thing to satisfy the French of the sincerity of your friendly intentions toward them, but I am afraid they do not care to be satisfied."
"You believe, then, seriously that the French are menacing me?" asked the king, with a contemptuous smile.
"I am convinced of it, your majesty."
"But what do you believe, then? What are you afraid of?"
"As I said before, I am afraid they will dare abduct the sacred person of your majesty, and I beseech you to be on your guard; never leave your palace alone and unarmed; never go into the street without being attended by an armed escort."
"Ah," said the king, with a sad smile, "do not the French always see to it that I am attended by an escort? Am I not always surrounded by their spies and eavesdroppers?"
"If your majesty is aware of this, why do you not yield to my entreaties? Why do you not leave Berlin?"
"Perhaps to go to Potsdam? Shall I be less watched there by the spies? Shall I there be less a prisoner?"
"No, your majesty ought to leave Berlin in order to deliver yourself at one blow, and thoroughly, from this intolerable espionage. Your majesty ought to make up your mind to go to Breslau. There you would be nearer your army; there your faithful subjects and followers would rally round you, and the Emperor Alexander perhaps would soon come thither. At all events, your majesty would there be secure from the French spies, and your adherents would be delivered from their anxiety for the personal safety of your majesty."
"To Breslau!" exclaimed the king, anxiously. "That is impossible!— that would be pouring oil into the fire—that would be to advance on the path into which York has entered."
"It would be another step toward the deliverance of your majesty, the salvation of the country, and the annihilation of the tyrant!" said Hardenberg, raising his voice.
The king made no reply; he stepped to the window, and, turning his back to the chancellor, looked out musingly into the night. Hardenberg looked now at him, and then on the queen's portrait. Suddenly his features grew milder, and an indescribable, imploring expression was to be seen in his eyes. "Help me, queen," he whispered, in a fervid tone. "Direct his heart, guardian angel of Prussia; render it strong and firm, and—"
The king turned again to the chancellor and approached him. "I cannot comply with your request," said Frederick William, "for, if I should go to Breslau, it would be equivalent to a declaration of war, and we are, unfortunately, not in a position to justify that. I must not rashly plunge myself and my country into a danger which probably would bring about our utter ruin. But I pledge you my word that, if your apprehensions should really be verified—if I really obtain proofs that my person and liberty are menaced, I shall then deem it incumbent on me to escape from this danger, and remove the seat of government to a safer place—perhaps Breslau."
"Is your majesty in earnest?" exclaimed Hardenberg, joyously. "You really intend, after having satisfied yourself that dangers are threatening you here, to leave Berlin and place yourself beyond the reach of the French?"
"I pledge you my word of honor that such is my intention," said the king, solemnly. "And now, enough! I believe both of us need a few hours' rest. In the course of the forenoon I will write the letter which Prince Hatzfeld is to take to Paris. Good-night, M. Chancellor!"
"Drive me home as fast as your horses can run," shouted Hardenberg to his coachman, on entering his carriage.
"We shall be there in five minutes," muttered the coachman, whipping his horses into a gallop.
Precisely five minutes afterward the carriage stopped in front of the chancellor's residence, and a well-dressed young man, hastily pushing aside the footman, opened the coach door.
"Ah, is it you, my dear Richard?" said Hardenberg, surprised. "Why have you not yet gone to bed?"
"Because I could not sleep while your excellency had not returned," said the young man, assisting the minister in alighting. "It is nearly four o'clock; the whole house was greatly alarmed."
"Well, and what were you afraid of, you dear fools?" asked
Hardenberg, smilingly, while ascending the staircase.
"That your enemies had found means to kidnap you, and that the French had resorted to such an outrage to get rid of their most dangerous and powerful adversary."
"Ah, you big children!" exclaimed Hardenberg, laughing. "How could you give way to such senseless apprehensions while I was supping in a friendly way at the house of the French marshal?"
"Just for that reason, your excellency," said Richard, smiling. "We may know well how to get into a mouse-trap, but we do not know how to get out again. A panic prevailed among your servants, and the footmen had already made up their minds to arm themselves, go to the house of Marshal Augereau, and forcibly deliver your excellency."
"I was lucky, therefore, in escaping from such ridicule," said Hardenberg, gravely. "A minister who is taken home by his servants vi et armis, because he takes the liberty not to return at an early hour—what a splendid farce that would be! Pray be kind enough to tell my servants that their anxiety was very foolish. The greatest cordiality prevails between myself and the French gentlemen, and never before has there been such a friendly understanding between France and Prussia. My servants should always remember that, and commit no follies."
He intentionally said this in so loud a tone that the two footmen who preceded him with lights, as well as the two servants who followed, heard and understood every word he uttered. Hardenberg knew, therefore, that all his servants, fifteen minutes afterward, would be informed of the new entente cordials between Prussia and France; that all Berlin would be aware of it on the following day, and that he would thus have attained his object.
"Your excellency will not yet retire?" asked Richard, when the minister, instead of going down the corridor to his bedroom, now halted at the door of his cabinet.
"No, M. Private Secretary," said Hardenberg, smiling. "As you are still awake, and apparently not sleepy, let us hold a little business conference. Come!"
No sooner had the servants put the lights on the table and left the room, than the face of the chancellor suddenly assumed a grave air. Ordering, with an imperious wave of his hand, his private secretary to be silent, he hastened to his desk and quickly wrote a few lines. "Richard," he said, casting the pen aside, and turning his head toward the young man, who witnessed his mysterious proceedings in great surprise, "Richard, come here!"
The young man hastened to him, and when Hardenberg gave him his hand, with a kind smile, Richard stooped down and pressed a tender kiss on it.
"Ah, lips as glowing as yours are, should kiss only beautiful girls," said Hardenberg, smiling.
"But these lips like better to kiss the hand of my benefactor, my protector," exclaimed the young man, "the kind hand of the man who extricated me from poverty, distress, and despair; who caused me to be fed, educated, and instructed; and who (until I myself, by his liberal kindness, was enabled to discharge this sacred duty) secured to my poor sick mother an existence free from cares."
"Do not allude to these trifles," said Hardenberg, carelessly. "Tell me, rather, do you regard me with respect and love?"
"Indescribably, your excellency; with the tenderness of a son, with the devotedness and fidelity of an old servant."
"Will you give me a proof of it?"
"I will, your excellency, and should you demand my heart's blood, I would willingly spill it for you!"
"Listen to me, then! In five minutes you must be on horseback and ride at a gallop, night and day, until you reach the Russian camp."
"In three days," said Richard, gravely, "but the journey will kill my horse."
"I will give you two horses for him, provided you arrive sooner than Major Natzmer at the headquarters of Prince Wittgenstein, commander- in-chief of the Russian troops!"
"Has Natzmer left Berlin already?"
"Yes, about an hour since, and you know that he is considered the most dashing and reckless horseman among all our officers. He has, moreover, another advantage. He will ride through the French camp, and will thence go to the Russian array, which is in the rear of it; but you must ride around the French camp, and go by way of Gumbinnen, unnoticed by the French, to the Russian headquarters. But the main point is, that you arrive there sooner than Major Natzmer."
"I will arrive there sooner. Your excellency knows that I have often been in Konigsberg and its surroundings; I know all the by-ways and short cuts, and am, moreover, a good horseman."
"I know all that. I presume, therefore, that you will be with Wittgenstein before Natzmer reaches him. But you will tell no one that it is I who sent you. It is your task to find means to speak to him alone. But wait—I will give you your credentials. Take this ring. General Wittgenstein knows it; he has often seen it on my finger, and he is familiar with my coat-of-arms. Send him this ring by his aide-de-camp, and he will admit you."
"He will admit me, should I have to shoot down the sentinels."
"As soon as you are face to face with the general, deliver to him this little note, which I have penned. Read it, and then I will direct and seal it." He handed the paper to the young man. "Read it aloud," he said.
"In one or two hours Major Natzmer will arrive at the headquarters of your excellency, and beg leave to pass through the Russian camp in order to repair to General York. If your excellency should grant his request, and allow him to reach York's headquarters, the hopes of Prussian patriots would be annihilated at one fell swoop. But if York remains at the head of his troops, so enthusiastically attached to him—if the whole nation and the whole corps may from this fact derive the hope that York acted in compliance with the secret instructions of his king, then we may hope for a speedy change in our affairs. The fate and the future of Prussia therefore lie in the hands of noble General Wittgenstein."
"Now read over the letter twice for yourself," said Hardenberg, "that you may engrave it on your memory. For in case you should happen to lose the letter, or if it should be stolen from you, you must verbally repeat its contents to Prince Wittgenstein."
"I shall not lose it, and no one can steal it from me, for I shall carry it in my heart. I have nothing further to do than to deliver this letter to him?"
"You have to say yet to the general a few words which I dare not intrust to paper, but only to your memory. You will say to him: 'Every thing is ready, and the period of procrastination and hesitation is drawing to a close. In a few days the king will leave Berlin, where he was in danger of being arrested by the French, and repair to Breslau. At Breslau he will issue a manifesto to his people and call them to arms.' Hush, young man, hush! no joyous exclamations, no transports! You must set out! It is high time! Beware of the bullets of the French, and the thievish hands of the Russians! You must reach Wittgenstein sooner than Natzmer does; do not forget that!"
"I shall not. Farewell, your excellency!"
"Farewell, my young friend. For a week at least, then, I shall not see your dear face greeting me every morning in my cabinet. You must indemnify me for it."
"In what way, your excellency?"
"You must embrace me, my young friend," exclaimed Hardenberg, stretching out his arms toward the young man.
"Oh, how kind, how generous you are!" exclaimed Richard, encircling the minister with his arms, and then reverentially kissing his shoulders and his hands.
"Now, your excellency," he said, rising quickly, "now I am ready to brave all dangers. Farewell!" He waved his hand again to the minister, and left the room.
"He will outstrip Natzmer," said Hardenberg, gazing after him; "it is an arrow of love which I have discharged, and it will not miss its aim. And now let us see how it is about the other arrow of love, which mes chers amis mes ennemis would like to discharge at me!" He rang the bell. Conrad, his faithful old footman, entered the room.
"Has there no note come for me?" asked Hardenberg.
"Yes, there has, your excellency," said Conrad, in a low and anxious tone. "Two letters, your excellency."
"Give them to me."
Conrad cast a searching glance over the room; he then drew two tiny, neatly-folded letters from his bosom and handed them to the minister. "She herself was here," he whispered, "and seemed very sad when I told her his excellency was not at home, and at first she refused to believe what I said. Only when I swore to her it was true, she gave me the first note. She returned afterward and brought the second letter."
"But why do you tell me all this in so mysterious and timid a manner? Are you afraid lest some one has concealed himself, and plays the eavesdropper?"
"Not that exactly, your excellency," whispered Conrad; "but—the walls might have ears!" He pointed furtively at the ceiling of the room.
"Ah, we are here under my wife's bedroom," said Hardenberg, laughing. "You are afraid lest she should be awake, and overhear our words through the floor of her room."
"Madame von Hardenberg sees, hears, and divines every thing," said
Conrad, with an air of dismay.
"It is true," muttered Hardenberg to himself, "her jealousy gives her a thousand eyes, and the events of her own life have familiarized her with all sorts of cabals and intrigues. In this way she succeeded in becoming my wife and in bearing my name before the world. But, no matter! I am not afraid of her Argus eyes, nor shall she prevent me from pursuing my own path, and adorning my dreary private life with a flower or two of pleasure."
"I believe and fear, your excellency," whispered Conrad, "Madame von Hardenberg has found out that the young lady was here, and that I received these letters from her."
"What makes you believe so?"
"Madame von Hardenberg sent for me at eleven o'clock tonight, and asked me when your excellency would return, and whither you had gone. When I told her I could not inform her, because I did not know, she was pleased to box my ears and threaten that she would before long turn me out of the house."
"These are, indeed, very valid reasons for your suppositions," said Hardenberg, smiling. "But do not be alarmed. I know how to protect you from being turned out, and as to having your ears boxed, it is no insult, by the soft little hands of a lady. Any other news?"
"Yes, your excellency, the physician of the young lady was here at a late hour in the evening, in order to tell me that she had again fallen asleep, and, before doing so, had announced she would be clairvoyant at eight o'clock in the morning."
"At eight o'clock!" exclaimed Hardenberg. "Do you hear, Conrad?—I must be there at eight o'clock. That is to say, you must awaken me at seven o'clock."
"But, your excellency, you will then have slept scarcely two hours," said Conrad, sadly.
"My old friend," said Hardenberg, "shall we not have time enough for sleeping in our graves? Let us be awake here on earth as long as possible. You will awaken me at seven o'clock. And now, come and assist me in retiring."
Fifteen minutes afterward Hardenberg was in bed. A neat little table, with a night-lamp burning on a golden plate, was standing at his bedside. Before falling asleep, the chancellor read the two notes which Conrad had delivered to him. "Protestations of love!" he whispered, smiling and folding them up. "Protestations of love—that is to say, falsehoods. But I must confess that this arrow, which mes chers amis mes ennemis have discharged at me, is at least very finely feathered and very attractive. At eight o'clock in the morning, then! Well, I shall see whether I do not succeed in playing my hostile friends a little trick, and in returning the arrow to their own breast."
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CLAIRVOYANTE.
For some time past the inhabitants of Berlin had paid a great deal of attention to the doings of Doctor Binder, and told each other wonderful stories of the new medical system of this strange physician. He treated his patients in an entirely novel way, and performed his cures in a manner bordering strongly on the romantic and miraculous. He neither felt the pulse of his sick friends, nor did he examine their tongue; he only gazed on them for a minute with his sombre, flaming eyes, and the patients then felt as if fascinated by them. Their pain ceased, their blood burned less ardently, and an indescribable feeling pervaded their body for a moment. When the doctor perceived this, he would raise both his hands, and with the palms softly and repeatedly stroke his subject's face. Then the sufferer's cheeks colored; a wondrous, long-forgotten smile played round the lips which, for many months, had opened only to utter prayers, or sighs and complaints; the dimmed eyes began to brighten, and fixed themselves with a radiant expression on the face of the doctor, whose steadfast, piercing glances seemed to penetrate the sick one's countenance, and reach down into his soul, in order to divine, in its innermost recesses, his most secret feelings and thoughts. By and by a sweet peace pervaded the soul of the patient; his aching limbs relaxed; he folded his hands, which had hitherto moved convulsively and restively on the counterpane; the eyes, which had steadfastly rested on the face of the wonderful physician, closed gradually, and soon his long and regular breathings indicated that he had at length found the slumber which, during his sickness, he had so long sought and yearned for.
It is true, the patient awoke after a time, and his sufferings returned; the end of his slumber was often accompanied by painful convulsions, an indescribable feeling of depression, and the most profound sadness, but Dr. Binder was present; his eyes exorcised the patient's pain, his hands quieted the quivering limbs, and chased away the tears, and the sufferer fell again into a sweet and refreshing slumber. This lulling the patient to sleep, this fascinating gaze, and laying on of hands, were the only medicines which the doctor administered, and by which he succeeded in freeing them from their sufferings and diseases. People related the most wonderful cures which he had performed; they spoke of persons who had been blind ever since their birth, and whom he had caused to see—of deaf-mutes, to whom he had given the power of speech and hearing after a few days' treatment—of lame men, who suddenly, after being touched by the doctor's hands, had thrown away their crutches, and walked freely and easily.
But the public's attention was particularly riveted by the case of a young girl who had been for some time past under Dr. Binder's treatment. She had come from a distant city to seek a cure at the hands of the famous physician and pupil of Mesmer. A bad cold had brought about a paralysis of all her limbs; she was unable to move her hands and feet, and had for months lain on her bed as motionless, rigid, and dumb, as a marble statue. Her parents had, in the anguish of their heart, at length applied to Dr. Binder. The doctor received her into his house. He publicly invited all the physicians of Berlin to visit his patient, to examine her condition, and to satisfy themselves of the efficacy of his cure, he also requested the public to watch the progress of it, and to come to his house at the hours when he lulled his patient to sleep. The physicians had disdainfully refused to have any thing to do with the "quack doctor," who pretended to cure diseases without medicines; but the public appeared the more eagerly.
And this public enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing that the motionless form of the young girl, who at first had lain on the bed as rigid as stone, very slowly commenced to move. It was seen that, a few days afterward, she raised her right hand, and, shortly after, her right foot; gradually life and motion were restored to her limbs, and at length, at a truly solemn hour, the young girl, at the doctor's loudly-uttered command, arose from her couch and paced the room with firm and steady steps. It is true she uttered a piercing cry, and fell at the feet of the doctor, her limbs quivering as though she were seized with convulsion, but gradually she grew more quiet; a peaceful expression beamed from her features, and she commenced talking in a tone of joyous enthusiasm. She spoke of the wonderful world on which she was gazing with her inward eyes, of the visions which burst on her soul, and her lips whispered strange prophecies. This condition of the patient repeatedly occurred every day, and with unfailing regularity followed every "crisis."
The young woman had become a clairvoyante; and it was a truly wonderful fact that she, who, according to the statements of her relatives, had never cared for politics or public affairs, and to whom it was entirely indifferent whether Napoleon or any other sovereign ruled Germany, suddenly, in her clairvoyant state, devoted her whole attention to political questions, and that she had, as it were, become a prophetess of the destinies of states.
It was not very strange, therefore, that this phenomenon excited even the attention of statesmen, and that they too went to see the clairvoyante in her political ecstasy, and to put to her questions on public affairs, which she answered always with truly wonderful tact, and with the most profound insight into all such questions.
Among those who took an interest in her was the chancellor of state, Minister von Hardenberg. Curiosity had at first induced him to call upon her; then her clever and piquant remarks struck him as something very strange, and at last he became a regular visitor. Of late, at his special request, the room of the patient, during her crises and clairvoyant trances, had been shut against all other visitors, and only the chancellor and the physician were present.
The young woman, who, during her trances, regularly announced at what hour of the following day she would relapse into this condition, had predicted that she would awake from her magnetic slumber at eight o'clock in the morning, and would then be in a state of clairvoyance. This hour had not yet arrived; the clock which stood in her room on the bureau under the looking-glass indicated that about ten minutes were still wanting to the stated time. A profound silence reigned in the room of the young patient. The physician sat reading on a high-backed chair at her bedside—his book contained the history and revelations of Swedenborg, the great Swedish ghost-seer. From time to time, however, he turned his large, flashing eyes toward the young woman, and seemed to watch her slumber with searching glances.
The patient was motionless and rigid. A white, neat negligee enveloped her slender figure, which was stretched out on the bed without being covered with a counterpane. Her small, beautifully- shaped hands were folded on her breast, her head was thrown back sideways, and rested on a pillow of crimson velvet, which contrasted strangely with her pale face, and black hair, that overhung her marble cheeks in long tresses. The clock was striking eight. The doctor cast a quick glance on the patient, and then slowly closed his book. She began to stir and opened her lips, from which issued a long, painful sigh. At this moment there was heard the roll of a carriage on the street. The noise ceased, the carriage seemed to stop in front of the house. The clairvoyante shuddered, and joy kindled her countenance. "He is coming! he is coming!" she said, in a deep, melodious voice. "I see him ascending the staircase. He is pale and exhausted, and his eyes are dim, for he has slept but little. Government affairs have kept him awake. Oh, now I am well, for there he is!"
In fact, the door softly opened, and the chancellor cautiously entered. By a quick wave of his hand, he ordered the doctor not to meet him, and then approached the bed softly and on tiptoe.
The young woman did not change her position; her eyelashes did not quiver, nor did she open her eyes, and yet she seemed to see Hardenberg, for she said in a mournful and tremulous voice: "Well, doctor, was I not right? Just see how pale he looks, and how the sweet smile with which he formerly used to come to us is to-day very faintly playing round his lips like a little will-o'-the-wisp! But I told you already he has slept only two hours; he had to be so long minister of state as to find scarcely two hours' rest for the poor, exhausted man."
The physician cast an inquiring glance on the chancellor. Hardenberg nodded smilingly. "You are right. Frederica," he said. "I was minister of state all day long yesterday."
"No, no," she exclaimed, "not all the day. At the commencement of Marshal Augereau's supper you were merry, and succeeded in forgetting your onerous business; and had not the secretary of Count St. Marsan made his appearance and brought the dispatches, you would have finished your pheasant's wing with good appetite and in the best of spirits."
The minister's face assumed an air of astonishment, and almost of terror. "Ah," he said, "it seems you were present at that supper?"
"Certainly I was, for my soul is accompanying you all the time, and my soul is the eye of my body. I see all you do, and know all your thoughts."
"Well, then," said Hardenberg, smiling, "tell me what you saw last night. Look backward, Frederica, and tell me where I was, and what I did."
"Then you doubt my words?" she asked, reproachfully. "You want to see whether I am able to tell you the truth? You know that it makes my eyes ache to look backward, and that my spirit soars with easier flight into the future than the past!"
"Do so nevertheless, Frederica," said Hardenberg, imperiously. "I wish you to do so!" He laid his hand upon her arm, and the contact made her start as an electric shock.
"I will obey," she whispered, in an humble tone. "I see you sitting at the table of Marshal Augereau. You are in excellent spirits; you are just telling the marshal that the betrothed of the crown prince with a princess of the house of Napoleon will take place before long; Count Narbonne is complaining of the political conversations with which you are spicing the supper in too piquant a manner; dispatches arrive and disturb your mirth."
"From whom do these dispatches come?" asked Hardenberg.
"From Marshal Macdonald, who addressed them to the French ambassador, Count St. Marsan."
"Do you know their contents?"
"I am reading them. There is, in the first place, a letter from
General York—"
"Hush!" interrupted Hardenberg; "we will speak of that hereafter; do not allude to it now. Tell me what else I did last night."
"After reading the dispatches, you hastened to the king to inform him of the dreadful news. Scarcely had you been with him for a few minutes, when a courier from General York arrived and delivered dispatches concerning the same subject to which the others had referred. After a protracted interview with the king, you went to the French ambassador, and informed him of the sentiments and resolutions of his majesty. The count declared himself satisfied with what you told him, and you then hastened back to the king. You there met Major Natzmer, whom the king intended to dispatch as a courier to Murat and General York. You entered the king's room and had another protracted interview with him. Thereupon you returned to your residence."
"With whom did I speak there first of all?"
The clairvoyante was silent for a moment. "I do not see it," she said, "the night is so dark."
"Open your eyes until you see!"
"Ah, I see now!" she exclaimed. "Your excellency spoke with old Conrad. He accompanied you to your bedroom and handed you two letters."
"She is right," muttered the chancellor, loudly enough to be heard by the young woman and the physician. "Yes, she is right; it is all precisely as she says." He then asked aloud: "Did I speak with any one else than Conrad?"
"No," she said; "I do not see anybody else. Conrad told you that I would open the eyes of my soul and see at eight o'clock this morning. You ordered him to awaken you at seven o'clock, and went to bed."
"What did I do before falling asleep?"
"You read the two little notes," she said, with a coy smile.
The chancellor turned his eyes toward the physician, who witnessed this scene in silent and solemn earnestness. "Doctor Binder," he said, "all that this young lady told me just now is strictly true. All my doubts are henceforth dispelled, and from this hour I am one of the believers. No; I say this is no deception, no imposition; it is a mystery of nature, which I am unable to explain, but in which I am compelled to believe. It is given to this young lady to look with the eyes of her soul into the past, as well as into the future, and to perceive and penetrate the most secret things. I believe in her, and shall henceforth allow myself to be directed and instructed by her revelations. I thank you for having brought this wonderful girl to my notice, and you may always count on my heart-felt gratitude."
"Belief in the high art of my science and doctrines is the only gratitude I am yearning for, and my only desire is not to be prevented from healing poor patients and making suffering humanity happy by my holy science."
"No one shall be allowed to prevent you from doing so as long as I am minister, I pledge you my word," said Hardenberg, gravely. "Take heart, therefore, and do not be afraid. I am your disciple, and at the same time your protector. But now grant me a request: I should like to put to our charming seer yet a few questions in regard to last night's events. She shall, in her inspired and prophetic prescience, give me her advice and tell me what course I must pursue; but, in doing so, I shall have to allude to state secrets, and to speak of affairs which no one is allowed to know but the king and his ministers, and—"
"I pray your excellency to permit me to leave you alone with our young seer," interrupted Doctor Binder, with a polite smile. "I have to see several patients, and my presence is required at the 'Hall of Crises' below, for my two young assistants are scarcely able to restrain our female patients when the crisis sets in."
"Go, then, to your patients," said Hardenberg; "I shall stay here with our clairvoyante until she awakes."
"If your excellency needs any thing," said the doctor, approaching the door, "it will only be necessary for you to ring the bell; the nurse is in the reception-room, and will immediately call my assistants."
He bowed to Hardenberg, bent once more with a searching glance over the couch of his patient, drew with his hands a few circles over her head, and left the room with noiseless steps. The chancellor and the clairvoyante were alone.
CHAPTER XVIII.
AN ADVENTURESS.
When the physician left the room, the chancellor returned to the bedside of the young woman; her position was the same, and her eyes were still closed. She did not see, therefore, the sarcastic smile with which Hardenberg looked down upon her, or the proud, triumphant expression that was beaming from his eyes. Hers were closed, and, notwithstanding her clairvoyance, she saw nothing, nor did Hardenberg's voice betray to her aught of the expression of his countenance or the character of his thoughts.
"Frederica," he said, in his soft, gentle voice, "speak to me now, my seer; be my prophetess now, and let me see the future. Tell me what I must do in order to reconcile all these dissensions, and harmonize all these clashing interests. On which side is justice, prosperity, and peace?"
"On the side of the great man whose gigantic strength has lifted the world out of its hinges, and given it a new aspect," she said, gravely. "Stand faithfully by the alliance with France, unless you wish the crown to fall from the head of your king, and Prussia to be divided into two provinces, one annexed to the kingdom of Westphalia, and the other to the duchy of Warsaw."
"But will France then still have power to do so?" asked Hardenberg; "is not France herself on the brink of the abyss into which she has hurled all states, princes, and crowns?"
"France is as powerful to-day as she ever was," responded the seer. "New armies at the beck of Napoleon will spring from the ground, his military chests will be filled with new millions, and the invincible chieftain will lead his legions to new victories. Woe then to Prussia if she proves faithless—woe to her, if, in insensate infatuation, she turns her back upon France, and allows herself to listen to the insinuations and promises by which Russia is trying to gain her over to her side! Russia herself is weak and exhausted; she will be unable to afford Prussia any adequate support. Be on your guard! Russia has always been a perfidious ally; she has always crushed the hand of her allies in her grasp, while seemingly giving a pledge of her good faith. France alone is offering to Prussia substantial guaranties of peace; Napoleon alone must remain the protector of Prussia. Banish, therefore, the insidious thoughts that are troubling your soul; try no longer to dissuade the king from adhering to the alliance. Do not try to persuade him to approve York's defection! He is a traitor, whose head must fall; for such is the decree of the laws of war. To approve his defection is to throw down the gauntlet to France, and annihilate Prussia!"
"You have played your part to perfection!" exclaimed Hardenberg, laughing. "Please accept my sincere congratulations, my dear child; the greatest actress in the world could not perform her role any better than you have done to-day, and ever since I became acquainted with you."
At the first words of the chancellor, the clairvoyante gave a violent start; a tremor pervaded her whole frame, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks for a moment; but all this quickly passed away, and now she was again as rigid and motionless as she was before.
Hardenberg's eyes were fixed on her. "You do not desire to understand me, Frederica," he said. "Well, then, I will speak somewhat more lucidly. Will you permit me to ask two additional questions?"
"You know very well that I must reply when your soul commands me to do so," said the young woman, in a perfectly calm voice, "for your soul has power over mine, and I must obey it."
"Well, then—my first question: did I really, last night, on returning to my residence, speak with no one but old Conrad? Was no one but he in my room until I went to bed? Look sharp, open the eyes of your soul as wide as you can, and then reply!"
"I see," she said, after a pause; "but I see that you were alone with Conrad, and with the thoughts of a lady who loves you."
"I am very glad that you tell me so," said Hardenberg, calmly, "for I understand from it that my enemies, who are furnishing you with correct reports as to all my doings, have yet remained ignorant of an affair in which I was engaged last night. For there really was another person with me, and your patrons would give a great deal to find out what instructions I gave to that person. Now, as to my second question; but I hope you hear my words, ma toute belle, and have not yet passed from an unnatural sleep into a natural one!"
"I hear you, and I am ready to answer if your soul commands me."
"Well, then," said Hardenberg, bending over her, and fixing his piercing eyes upon her countenance, "my question is this: How much do your protectors give you for playing the part which you performed before me?"
A pause ensued. Suddenly the clairvoyante opened her eyes, gazing with an indescribable expression on the face of the minister still bending over her.
"They give me nothing," she said, in a firm, sonorous voice, "but the hope of acquiring a brilliant position in the future."
"You confess, then, that you have played a considerable farce?" asked Chancellor von Hardenberg, smiling.
"I confess that I have played my part very badly, and that your eagle eye is able to penetrate every thing. I confess that I adore you for having unmasked me," she exclaimed, quickly encircling Hardenberg's neck with her arms, drawing his head down to her, and pressing a glowing kiss on his lips. Then, still keeping her arms around his neck, she raised herself from the couch, and leaned for a moment against the manly form of the chancellor.
Disengaging herself from him, she jumped from the bed to the floor, and, spreading out her arms, and throwing back her head, she exclaimed in a jubilant voice: "I am free! I need no longer play my irksome role! Oh, I am free!"
Leaping into the middle of the room, as light-footed as a sylph, and fascinating as one of the graces, she began to dance, raising her feet and moving her arms in a slow, measured mariner, at the outset; but, turning more rapidly, with more passionate movement and increasing ardor, her countenance grew more glowing and animated. Her large black eyes flashed fire—an air of wild, bacchantic ecstasy pervaded her whole appearance, her cheeks were burning, her beautiful red lips were half opened, and revealed her ivory teeth, and her uplifted arms (from which the wide sleeves of her negligee had fallen back to the shoulders) were of the most charming contour. Concluding her dance, she glided breathless and with panting bosom toward Hardenberg, who had sunk into the easy-chair, and was looking on with wondering eyes. Bursting into loud, melodious laughter, she sat at his feet, and, pressing her glowing face against his knees, looked searchingly and suppliantly into his eyes.
"You are angry with me," she said; "oh, pardon me, but I had first to give vent to my exultation. Now I will be quite sensible."
"And what do you call sensible, then?" asked Hardenberg, who, under the power of the woman's glances, vainly tried to impart to his countenance an air of gravity and sternness.
"I call it sensible to reply honestly to the questions your excellency will put to me now," she said, in a caressing tone.
"Well, then, let us see whether you are really sensible or not," said Hardenberg. "In the first place, please rise."
She shook her head slowly. "No," she said, "I will remain at your feet until you have heard my confession and granted me absolution."
"And suppose I refuse to grant you absolution?"
"Then I shall die at your feet!"
"Ah, it is not so easy to die."
"It is easy to die when one wants to, and has such a friend as this is," she exclaimed, drawing from her hair one of the two long silver pins with which her heavy black tresses were partially fastened.
"Strange girl!" murmured Hardenberg, surprised, while she was looking up to him with radiant eyes, and a smile playing on her lips.
"Will you ask me now?" she then said, gently and almost humbly. "I am lying here at your feet as if you were my confessor, and I am longing with trembling impatience for my absolution."
"Well, then, tell me, in the first place, who you are."
"Who am I?" she asked. "A cheat, who, by intrigues, cabals, and cunning, tried to attain the object she yearned for so intensely, namely, to lie at the feet of a noble and eminent man, as she is doing now, and to tell him that she loves him. Who am I? An adventuress, who has gone out into the world to seek her fortune; to play, if possible, a prominent part; to acquire a distinguished name, and to obtain riches, power, and influence. Who am I? A diver, who has plunged with reckless audacity into the foaming sea, to find at its bottom either pearls or a grave."
"But, my child," said Hardenberg, "do you not know that the divers, when plunging into the sea to seek pearls, always gird a safety-rope around their waist for the purpose of being drawn to the surface whenever they are in danger of drowning?"
"The man who loves me will be my safety-rope and draw me up," she said, gravely.
Hardenberg laughed. "In truth," he said, "I must admire your sincerity and naivete. You must be very courageous to utter such truths about yourself."
"Certainly, it would have been easier to play the virtuous, forsaken, and unfortunate girl," she said, with a contemptuous smile. "It would have been less troublesome to throw myself at your feet, bathed in a flood of tears, and to say, 'Oh, have mercy upon me! Free me from this unworthy role which has been forced upon me! Save me from the torture of being compelled to dissimulate, to lie, and to cheat. Virtue dwells in my heart, innocence and truth are upon my lips. I have been forced to play a part that dishonors me. Have mercy upon me, save me from the snares threatening me!'" While saying so, she imparted to her features precisely the expression that was adapted to her words; she had spoken in a tremulous, suppliant voice, with folded hands and tearful eyes.
"Poor child," exclaimed Hardenberg, surprised, "you weep, you are deeply moved! Ah, now at last you show me your true face, now you cause me to see the poor, innocent, and unfortunate child that you really are!"
She shook away her tears and burst into laughter. "No," she exclaimed, "I have only proved to you that I would be able to play the virtuous and innocent girl to perfection, and that I might, perhaps, thereby succeed in touching your noble heart. But you have commanded me to tell you the truth, and I have pledged you my word to do so. I tell you, then, I am no persecuted, virtuous girl, no innocent angel; I am a woman, carrying a heaven and a hell in her bosom; I can be an angel, if happiness and love favor me; I will be a demon, if fate be hostile to me. Yes," she exclaimed, jumping up and pacing the room in great agitation, "there are hours and days when I myself believe that I am a demon, an angel hurled down from heaven, and doomed to walk the earth on account of some crime. There are hours when heavenly recollections fill my imagination, when an indescribable, blissful yearning is, as it were, enveloping me in a veil—when there are resounding in my heart the sweetest and most enchanting notes of sacred words and devout prayers, and when it seems to me as though I were sitting in the midst of radiant angels, surrounded by luminous clouds, at the feet of God, His breath upon my cheek, and looking down with compassionate, merciful love upon the world, lying at an unfathomable distance under my feet. And then I say to myself: 'You have reviled and slandered yourself; you are, after all, a good angel; God is with you, and prayer, love, and innocence, are in your heart.' Then it suddenly seems to me as if my heart were rent, and I heard loud, scornful laughter. I fall from my heaven; I look around and behold men, with their bittersweet faces, smiling on, and lying to each other; I see all their duplicity and their infamy; I laugh at my own transports and swear never to be human with humanity, but a demon with demons—to cheat as they cheat, to lie, and win from them as much happiness, honor, and wealth, as I can with some mimic talent, a cool and sharp mind, a pretty figure, and an ugly face."
"Ah, you are slandering yourself," exclaimed Hardenberg, smiling.
"You have no ugly face."
She hastened to the looking-glass, and gazed on herself with searching glances. "Yes," she said, "I am really ugly. My mouth is too large, my lips too full, my face is angular and by no means prepossessing, my nose is vulgar, my forehead too low and too wide, these bushy eyebrows become rather a grenadier than a young lady, and these large black eyes look like a couple of sentinels, which, with sharp glances, have to watch the rabble of nose, mouth, ear, and cheek, lest one should try to escape from disgust at the ugliness of the others. But I do not regret my want of beauty, for it is uncommon and piquant, and I can imagine that a gifted, eminent man, who is tired of the pretty faces of so-called virtuous women, may feel attracted by my ugliness. Beauty at least always becomes tiresome, for it treats you at once to all that it is and has, but ugliness excites your curiosity more and more from day to day, for, at certain moments, it may be transformed into beauty!"
"Your own case shows that," said Hardenberg, "for, although you call yourself ugly, there is a fascinating beauty in your whole appearance."
She gazed on him with a long and radiant look. "You are a great man, a genius, and you are, therefore, able to understand me. I will tell you my history now, that you may at last grant me the blessing of your forgiveness."
"Well, tell me your history," exclaimed Hardenberg. "Come, Frederica, sit down by my side here on the couch on which you have so often reposed as a modern Pythia, and proclaimed to me the oracles which your mysterious priest had whispered to you. Now you are no priestess uttering equivocal wisdom, but a young woman telling the truth, and making me listen to the revelations of her heart."
"A young woman," she repeated, sighing and reclining on the bed close to the easy-chair on which Hardenberg was sitting. "Am I young, then? It seems to me sometimes as though I were old—so old as no longer to have any illusions, any hopes or wishes; as though I were the 'Wandering Jew' who has been travelling through the world so many centuries, seeking perpetually for the rest which he can nowhere find. But still you are right; I am young, for I am only twenty years old.".
"And who are your parents? Where do they live?"
"Who are my parents?" she asked, laughing. "My father was a holy man, a high-priest in the temple of Time. It depended on him when men were to awake or sleep, eat or work. It was his will that regulated rendezvous and weddings, parties and arrests, and he had no other master than the sun. He allowed the sun alone to guide him, and still he was no Persian!"
"But he was a watchmaker?" asked Hardenberg, smiling.
"Yes, he was a watchmaker, and, thanks to him, the whole town where he lived knew exactly what time it was. Only my mother did not know it. She believed herself to be a great lady, although she was only a poor watchmaker's wife, but was unable to efface the recollections of her youth. She was the daughter of a French marquis, who, after gambling away his whole fortune at the court of Louis XV., had emigrated with his young wife and daughter to Berlin, in order to seek another fortune at the court of Frederick the Great. But Frederick the Great had already become somewhat distrustful of the roving marquises and counts whom France sent to Berlin. Marquis de Barbasson, my worthy grandfather, received, therefore, no office and no money, and a time of distress set in, such as he would previously have deemed utterly unlikely to befall the descendant of his ancestors. He left Berlin with his family, to make his living somewhere else as a teacher of languages. He travelled from one place to another, and arrived at length at a small town called New Brandenburg. There he remained, for his feet were weary, and his poor wife was sick and tired of life. Well, Madame la Marquise de Barbasson died, and the marquis taught the young ladies of New Brandenburg how to conjugate avoir and etre; his daughter assisted him, and, as she was very pretty, she taught many a young man how to conjugate aimer. But who would have thought of marrying the daughter of a French adventurer, who, it is true, styled himself marquis, but was as poor as a beggar! He was unable long to bear the privations and humiliations of his life; he fled from his creditors, and perhaps also from his remorse, by committing suicide; and his daughter, who was twenty years of age at that time, remained alone, and without any other inheritance than the debts of her father. One of the principal creditors of the marquis was the proprietor of the house in which father and daughter had lived for three years without paying rent, or refunding the small sums he had lent to them. This proprietor was a young watchmaker, named Hahn, an excellent young man, who had given the family of the French marquis not only his money, but his heart. He loved the young Marquise de Barbasson, unfortunate, or, if you prefer, fortunate man! for his courtship was successful. Now, after the death of the old marquis, he played the part of an importunate creditor, and told her she had the alternative of paying or marrying him. The young Marquise de Barbasson married him, and then paid the poor watchmaker in a manner which was not very pleasant to him. She never forgave him for having reduced her to the humble position of a watchmaker's wife, and found it disgusting to be obliged to call herself Hahn, after having so long borne the aristocratic name of Barbasson. However that might be, she was his wife, and I have the honor to represent in my humble person the legitimate daughter of Hahn, the watchmaker, and the Marquise de Barbasson."
"And I must confess that you are representing your mother and your father in a highly becoming manner," said Hardenberg. "You have the bearing and the savoir vivre of a French marquise, and from your oracular sayings I have seen that you are as familiar with the time as a watchmaker is. But I can imagine that the descent of your parents produced many a discord in your life."
"Say rather that my whole life was a discord," she exclaimed, vehemently, "and that I have lived in an unending conflict between my head and my heart, my reality and my imagination. Oh, how often, when lying in dreary loneliness, in the shade of an oak on the shore of the charming lake near the small town in which we lived—how often did I utter loud cries of anguish, and say to the billows that washed the shore with a low, murmuring sound: 'I am a French marquise; there is aristocratic blood in my veins; it is my vocation to shine at the courts of kings, and to see counts and princes at my feet!' Yet none but the waves of the lake believed my words; men treated me never as a Marquise de Barbasson, but only as little Frederica Hahn, daughter of a poor watchmaker. I felt this as a personal insult, and at many a bitter hour it seemed to me as though, like my mother, I hated my poor father because he had robbed us of our brilliant name and our nobility. My father bore my whims patiently, for he loved me, and I believe he loved nothing on earth better than his daughter. He saw that I was pining away in the wearisome loneliness of our dull life; he knew that ambition was burning in my heart like a torrent of fire, and he wept with me and begged my pardon for being a poor watchmaker, and no nobleman. He did all he could to make amends for this wrong; he treated me not as his daughter, but as his superior; and, although we were scarcely in easy circumstances, he surrounded me with all comforts becoming an aristocratic young lady. I had my servants, my own room, a tolerably fashionable toilet, a piano, a small library; and my father was proud of being able to have me instructed by the best and most expensive teachers, and of hearing that I was their most industrious and talented pupil. But what good did all this do me? I remained what I was—Frederica IIahn, the watchmaker's daughter—and the blood of the Barbassons revolted against my position in life; and the marquises and viscounts, my distinguished ancestors, appeared to my inward eye, and seemed to beckon me and call me to the proud castles which had formerly belonged to our family. But how should I get thither?—how escape from my small native town?—how rid myself of the burden of my name and my birth? That was the question which put my brain night and day on the rack, and to which my intellect was unable to make a satisfactory reply. An accident, however, came to my assistance."