"Courage, my dear friend," said Madame von Brandt to Count Voss, who stood before her with the most mournful expression, and seemed so lost in grief as to be scarcely aware of the presence of his charming and bewitching Armida.
"I do not understand how you can laugh and be gay, if you love me," he said, sadly.
"I love you truly, and therefore I am gay. We have almost gained our end; soon the suspicions of the world will be lulled, for who would dream that the husband of the young and beautiful Laura von Pannewitz could possibly love the old and ugly Madame von Brandt?"
"You old! you ugly!" cried the young count, indignantly. "It is well that it is you who utter such a blasphemy; if any other did, I should destroy him."
"You would do very wrong, dear count, for that would betray our love to the world. No, no, if any one should speak so to you, you must shrug your shoulders, and say, 'I am not acquainted with Madame von Brandt, I am indifferent whether she is handsome or ugly. She may be as old as Methuselah, it does not concern me."
"Never will I say that, never will I be induced to utter so miserable and dishonorable a falsehood. No, dearest, you cannot demand that. You see your power over me, and treat me most cruelly. You condemned me to be married, and I have obeyed your commands, although my heart was breaking as I made my proposal to the queen. Now I entreat that you will not torture me by demanding that I shall revile and caluminate you. No, no, I pray on my knees that you will be kind and merciful!"
He threw himself on his knees before her, leaning his head upon the divan on which she was sitting.
She placed her hand upon his head and played with his fair hair. "I am not cruel, I am only cautious," she whispered, almost tenderly. "Trust me, Alexander, you must not doubt my boundless love."
"No, no, you do not love me," he sighed; "you are always hard and cruel, you have never granted me the smallest favor, you have never accepted one of my presents."
A slight but scornful smile played upon the lips of this beautiful woman, while the enthusiastic and impassioned young man spake thus. She turned aside her face, that he might not see its expression.
But he thought she was again angry with him. "Ah," he said, despairingly, "you will not allow me even to behold your heavenly countenance; do you wish to drive me to distraction? What have I done to deserve this new torture? Are you so offended because I entreated you to accept a gift from me? Oh, it is so sweet to compel the one we love to think of us; to place a ring upon her finger, and bid her dream of him who loves her when she looks upon it; to bind a chain upon her neck, and whisper, 'You are fettered, my love enchains you, you are mine!' A man can only believe in the affection of his beloved when she condescends to accept something from him."
"And would that give you faith in my love?" she said, in a tender, melting voice, as she turned smilingly toward him.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, "it would increase my faith."
"Well, then, give me some little thing that will remind me of you, that I can wear, as the spaniel wears the collar which bears the name of its master."
She offered him her hand, which he covered with fervent kisses, and then drew from his bosom a large and heavy etui, which he placed in her hands.
"But this contains not merely a ring," she said, reproachfully; "you have deceived me, misused my kindness; instead of presenting me with a small souvenir, with the pride of a king you wish to overwhelm me with your rich gifts. Take back your case, count, I will not look at its contents; I will not behold how far your extravagance and pride have led you; take your treasures, and give me the simple ring that I promised to accept." She stood up, and handed him the etui with the air of an insulted queen, without once glancing at its contents, and only divining their value by the size and weight of the case.
Her poor lover regarded her with a truly despairing expression. "If you desire to destroy me, do it quickly and at once, not slowly, day by day, and hour by hour," he said, almost weeping. "I fulfil your smallest desire, I marry at your command, and you refuse to show me the slightest kindness." He was now really weeping, and turned aside that she might not behold his tears. Then suddenly recovering himself, he said with the boldness of despair: "I will learn from you the use of the word no. If you refuse to accept this case, then I will refuse to marry Mademoiselle von Pannewitz. If you compel me to receive again those miserable stones, I will go at once to the queen, and tell her that I was mistaken, that I cannot and will not marry Mademoiselle von Pannewitz; that I have given up my plan, and am determined to leave Berlin immediately."
"No! no! you must not go! you shall not leave me!" she cried, with every appearance of terror; "give me the case, I will accept it. You must not leave Berlin!"
The young count uttered a cry of delight, and hurried to her side.
"I will accept this etui," she said smiling, "but will not open it while we are together, for fear we might again disagree."
Count Voss was beside himself with joy and gratitude, and vowed he would marry Mademoiselle von Pannewitz that very day, to obtain the kiss which Madame von Brandt had promised him at his wedding.
"Love might perhaps remove mountains," she said, "but it cannot give wings to the tongue of a queen. You have placed your proposals in the hands of her majesty, you selected this lofty lady to sue for you, and now you must wait until it pleases her to make your proposals known to the lady."
"The queen promised to do that to-day. It was necessary for me to make my proposals to her, for the family of Mademoiselle von Pannewitz demanded that I should obtain the consent of the queen to my marriage before I could hope for theirs."
"And Laura, have you obtained her consent?"
"Oh," said the vain count, shrugging his shoulders, "I am certain of that; she is poor and entirely dependent on the proud dowager-queen; I will make her a countess, and insure her freedom; she will live independently upon her estates, and be surrounded with wealth and luxury; she will have every thing but a husband."
"Poor Laura!" said Madame von Brandt, softly. "But you have been with me already too long; it might be remarked, and give rise to suspicion; go, now, I will work for you, and you must work for yourself. Let no difficulties frighten you."
The count left her slowly, while Madame von Brandt was scarcely able to conceal her impatience to be alone. She looked after him with a contemptuous smile, and murmured to herself: "Vain fool, he deserves to be deceived. But now at last I will see what this precious etui contains." She flew to the table and hastily lifted the cover of the case. A cry of astonishment arose to her lips, and her eyes beamed as clearly and brightly as the diamonds resting upon the satin cushion within. "Ah! this is really a royal present," she whispered, breathlessly, "more than royal, for I am confident King Frederick would never present any woman with such diamonds; but I deserve them for my wonderful acting. This poor count is convinced that I am the noblest, most unselfish, and most loving of women. How well conceived, how wise it was to decline his first gift! I knew that he would replace it with something more costly and elegant, hoping to move me to change my resolution. How my heart bounded with delight when he drew forth this great case! I could scarcely withhold my hands from grasping the costly treasure. I concealed my impatience, and would not open the case in his presence, fearful that he might read my delight in my eyes, and that might have undeceived the poor fool as to my disinterestedness. Truly it was very wise and very diplomatic in me; even Manteuffel could not have acted more discreetly." She bent again over the flashing diamonds, and pressed her burning lips to the cold stones. "Beautiful stones," she whispered tenderly, "your cold kiss animates my whole frame; I love you more than any human being, and when you are upon my neck I will desire no warmer embrace. Welcome, then, beloved, to my house and my bosom. You shall be well cared for, I shall exert myself to provide you with worthy companions; many of your family are lying loosely about in the world, and you doubtless desire the company of your brothers and sisters. I myself share that desire, and will seek to accomplish it by bringing together more and more of your relations; I will invite your cousins, the pearls, and you shall be united. My diamonds and pearls shall have a gayer and more splendid wedding than Count Voss and beautiful Laura von Pannewitz." She laughed aloud in the joy of her heart, then closed the case and locked it carefully in her writing-desk. "And now to the queen-mother," she said; "the train is laid, it is only necessary to apply the match and await the explosion. I must point out to the queen that this marriage of the lovely Laura with Count Voss is necessary to prevent a difficulty in the royal family, I must—EH BIEN! NOUS VERRONS. I hear the voice of the queen; she is taking her promenade, and I must not fail to be present." She took her hat and shawl, and hurried to the garden.
The queen-mother was taking a walk in the garden of Monbijou. She was unusually gay today, and her countenance wore an expression of happiness to which it had long been a stranger. And the queen had good reason to be gay, for she seemed on the point of realizing the proud anticipations she had indulged in for so many weary years. Her son was carrying into execution the promises which he had made on his first visit, and in which she had hardly dared to believe. She had already received the first monthly payment of her income as queen-dowager, which her son had largely increased. New appointments had been made to her court, and it had been placed on a truly royal footing; and yesterday the king had told her that he had already chosen a site for her new palace. Moreover, the homage she received from the entire court, and more especially from the king's favorites, bore evidence to the fact that her influence was considered great, and that much importance was attached to her grace and favor. While Queen Elizabeth was passing her time joylessly at the Castle of Schonhausen, to which she had retired, the entire court was assembling at Monbijou, and hastening to do homage to the queen-mother. Even the young king, who had not yet paid a single visit to his wife at Schonhausen, waited on the queen his mother daily, accompanied by a brilliant suite of cavaliers.[13]
[13] Thiebault, ii., page 84.
The queen Sophia Dorothea had good reason to be gay, and to entertain the happiest anticipations in regard to the future. To-day for the first time she could take her morning walk attended by her brilliant suite, for the last appointments had only been made on the preceding day. When the queen now looked around, and she did so from time to time, she no longer saw the two maids of honor of earlier days walking languidly behind her. Six of the most beautiful ladies, all of the first nobility, had been appointed to the queen's service, and were now engaged in a merry conversation with the four cavaliers in attendance on the queen, who had been selected for this office by the king himself. While conversing with her marshal, Count Rhedern, she could hear the merry laughter of the newly-appointed maid of honor Louise von Schwerin, and the soft, melodious voice of the beautiful Laura von Pannewitz, whose grace and loveliness had even excited the admiration of her husband the king, and for a few weeks thrown him into a state to which he was entirely unaccustomed.[14]
[14] Memoires de Frederique Wilhelmine de Baireuth, vol. ii., p. 308.
The queen, as we have said, was unusually gay, for she had just received a new proof of her own importance, and of the influence she was supposed to exert on the young king her son.
Count Rhedern had solicited the assistance of the queen-mother in a very delicate and important matter, and had requested her to advocate his cause with King Frederick. The count desired to marry, but the permission of the king was still wanting, and would probably be very difficult to obtain, for the count's chosen was unfortunately not of a noble family, but had the misfortune to be the daughter of a Berlin merchant.
"But," said the queen, after this confidential communication, "I do not understand why it is that you wish to marry this girl. I should think the nobility of our kingdom was not so poor in beautiful and marriageable ladies that a Count Rhedern should find it necessary to stoop so low in search of a wife. Look behind you, count, and you will see the loveliest ladies, all of whom are of pure and unblemished descent."
"True, your majesty. These ladies are beautiful, of good birth, young and amiable, but one thing is wanting to make them perfect. Mademoiselle Orguelin is neither beautiful nor of good birth, neither young nor amiable, but she has the one thing which those fairies lack, and for the sake of this one thing I am forced to marry her."
"Count, you speak in riddles, and as it seems to me in riddles of doubtful propriety," said the queen, almost angrily. "What is this one thing which Mademoiselle Orguelin has, and on account of which you are compelled to marry her?"
"Your majesty, this one thing is money."
"Ah, money," said the queen, smiling; "really, it well becomes a cavalier to marry beneath him for the sake of money!"
"Your majesty, it is because I am mindful of the duties which my rank impose on me, and of the demands which a cavalier of my standing should meet, that I have determined to make this misalliance. Your majesty will be indulgent if I dare open before you the skeleton closet, and unveil the concealed misery of my house. The Counts Rhedern are an old and illustrious race. My ancestors were always rich in virtues but poor in gold. Economy seems to have been the one virtue they ever possessed; they were too generous to reject any appeal made to them, and too proud to limit their expenditures to their small income. Outwardly they maintained the pomp suitable to their standing, while they gnawed secretly and unseen at the hard crust of want. Thus from father to son the debts were constantly increasing, and the revenues becoming smaller and smaller. If I do not make an end of this, and sever the Gordian knot like Alexander, instead of attempting the wearisome task of untying it, I shall soon present to the court and nobility the sad spectacle of a Count Rhedern who is compelled to give up his hotel, his equipage, his furniture, and his servants, and live like a beggar."
"Ah, this is really a sad and pressing affair!" exclaimed the queen, sympathizingly, "but are there no heiresses among the nobility, whose fortunes might save you?"
"None, your majesty, who like Mademoiselle Orguelin would bring me a fortune of three millions."
"Three millions! That is a great deal, and I can now perfectly well understand why you are compelled to marry this Orguelin. You have my consent, and I think I can safely promise you that of my son the king. Make your arrangements and fear nothing. I guarantee that the king will not refuse your request."
"After what your majesty has said, I feel assured on this point," exclaimed Count Rhedern, with a sigh.
"How, and you still sigh, count?"
"Your majesty, I need the permission of one other person—the acceptance of the bride. And to this acceptance is appended a condition, the fulfilment of which again depends upon your majesty's kindness."
"Well, truly, this is a strange state of affairs. You speak gravely of your approaching marriage, and as yet are not even engaged. You speak of your bride, but Mademoiselle Orguelin has not yet accepted you, and whether she will or not, you say, depends on me."
"Yes, on your majesty, for this girl, who is as proud of her three millions as if it were the oldest and most illustrious pedigree, consents to be my wife only on the condition that she is acknowledged at court, and has access, as Countess Rhedern, to all court festivities."
"Truly this is a great pretension!" exclaimed the queen, angrily. "A pedlar's daughter who carries arrogance so far as to wish to appear at the court of the King of Prussia! This can never be, and never could I advocate such an innovation: it is destructive, and only calculated to diminish the prestige of the nobility, and to deprive it of its greatest and best privilege—that privilege which entitles it alone to approach royalty. It was this view which prevented me from receiving the so-called Count Neal at my court, although my son the king admits him to his presence, and desires that I also should recognize this count of his creation. But, as a queen and a lady, I can never do this. There must be a rampart between royalty and the low and common world, and a pure and unblemished nobility alone can form this rampart. You see, therefore, my poor count, that I cannot accede to this request."
"Have compassion on me, your majesty. If your majesty will but remember that I am ruined; but I am a beggar if this union does not take place, if I do not marry the three millions of Mademoiselle Orguelin."
"Ah, certainly, I had forgotten that," said the queen, thoughtfully.
"Moreover," continued the count, somewhat encouraged, "this is a different affair altogether, and I do not believe that a principle is here at stake, as was the case with the so-called Count Neal. A man represents himself and his house, and no power on earth can give him better or nobler blood than already flows in his veins. But with a woman it is different. She receives her husband's name and his rank; she becomes blood of his blood, and can in no manner affect his nobility. The sons of Countess Rhedern will still be the Counts Rhedern, although the mother is not of noble birth."
"True," said the queen, "this case is different from that of the adventurer Neal. The rank of her husband would be sufficient to permit us to draw a veil over the obscure birth of this new-made countess."
"And your majesty would then be the noble protectrice of our family," said the count, in a sweet and insinuating tone; "your majesty would not only restore my house to its ancient prestige, but you would retain the three millions of Mademoiselle Orguelin in Prussia; for if I should not be able to fulfil the condition which this lady has made, Mademoiselle Orguelin will marry a rich young Hollander, who is the commercial friend of her father, and has come here for the especial purpose of suing for the hand of his daughter."
"Ah, if that is the case, it becomes almost a duty to give you this girl, in order to prevent her millions from leaving the country," said the queen, smiling. "Be hopeful, count, your wish will be granted, and this little millionnaire, who longs to appear at court, shall have her desire. I will speak with my son on this subject to-day; and you may take it for granted that your request will meet with a favorable response."
And the queen, who was proud and happy to have an opportunity of showing the count how great was her influence with her royal son, graciously permitted him to kiss her hand, and listened well pleased to his exclamations of gratitude and devotion.
She then dismissed him with a gracious inclination of her head, requesting him to inform Madame von Brandt, whose laughing voice could be heard at a short distance, that she desired to see her.
While the count hurried off to execute the commission of his royal mistress, the queen walked on slowly and thoughtfully. Now that she was permitted to be a queen, her woman's nature again made itself felt; she found it quite amusing to have a hand in the love affairs which were going on around her, and to act the part of the beneficent fairy in making smooth the path of true love. Two of the first noblemen of her court had to-day solicited her kind offices in their love affairs, and both demanded of her the reestablishment of the prosperity and splendor of their houses.
The queen, as before said, felt flattered by these demands, and was in her most gracious humor when Madame von Brandt made her appearance. Their conversation was at first on indifferent subjects, but Madame von Brandt knew very well why the queen honored her with this interview, and kept the match in readiness to fire the train with which she had undermined the happiness and love of poor Laura von Pannewitz.
"Do you know," asked the queen suddenly, "that we have a pair of lovers at my court?"
"A pair of lovers!" repeated Madame von Brandt, and so apparent was the alarm and astonishment depicted in her countenance that the queen was startled.
"Is this, then, so astonishing?" asked the queen, smiling. "You express so much alarm that one might suppose we were living in a convent, where it is a crime to speak of love and marriage. Or were you only a little annoyed at not having heard of this love affair?"
"Your majesty," said Madame von Brandt, "I knew all about this affair, but had no idea that you had any knowledge of it."
"Certainly you must have known it, as Mademoiselle von Pannewitz is your friend, and has very naturally made you her confidant."
"Yes, I have been her confidant in this unhappy and unfortunate love," said Madame von Brandt, with a sigh; "but I can assure your majesty that I have left no arguments, no prayers, and even no threats untried to induce this poor young girl to renounce her sad and unfortunate love."
"Well, you might have saved yourself this trouble," said the queen, smiling; "for this love is not, as you say, a sad and unfortunate one, but a happy one! Count Voss came to me this morning as a suitor for the hand of Mademoiselle von Pannewitz."
"Poor, unhappy Laura!" sighed Madame von Brandt.
"How!" exclaimed the queen, "you still pity her, when I assure you that hers is not an unhappy, but a happy love, reciprocated by Count Voss, who is a suitor for her hand?"
"But what has Count Voss to do with Laura's love?" asked Madame von Brandt, with such well-acted astonishment that the unsuspecting queen might very well be deceived.
"Truly this is a strange question," exclaimed the queen. "You have just told me that Mademoiselle von Pannewitz entertains an unfortunate attachment for Count Voss; and when I inform you that so far from hers being an unfortunate attachment, it is returned by Count Voss, who is at this moment a suitor for her hand, you ask, with an air of astonishment, 'What has Count Voss to do with Laura's love?'"
"Pardon me, your majesty, I did not say that my poor friend loved Count Voss."
"How!" exclaimed the queen, impatiently; "it is then not Count Voss? Pray, who has inspired her with this unfortunate love? Who is he? Do you know his name?"
"Your majesty, I know him; but I have vowed on the Bible never to mention his name."
"It was very inconsiderate in you to make such a vow," exclaimed the queen, impatiently.
"Your majesty, she who demanded it of me was my friend, and in view of her sorrow and tears I could not refuse a request by the fulfilment of which she would at least have the sad consolation of pouring out her sorrow and anguish into the bosom of a true and discreet friend. But the very friendship I entertain for her makes it my bounden duty to implore your majesty to sustain the offer of Count Voss with all the means at your command, and, if necessary, even to compel my poor Laura to marry him."
"How! You say she loves another, and still desire that I should compel her to marry Count Voss?"
"Your majesty, there is no other means of averting evil from the head of my dear Laura; no other means of preserving two noble hearts from the misery their unfortunate passions might produce. Laura is a noble and virtuous girl, but she loves, and would not long be able to withstand the passionate entreaties of her lover; she would hear no voice but that of him she loves."
"This love is then returned?" asked the queen.
"Oh, your majesty, Laura's maidenly pride would preserve her from an unrequited love."
"And still you call this love an unfortunate one?"
"I call it so because there are insurmountable obstacles in its way; an abyss lies between these lovers, across which they can never clasp hands. In order to be united they would have to precipitate themselves into its depths! Every word of love which these unfortunates utter is a crime—is high treason."
"High treason!" exclaimed the queen, whose eyes sparkled with anger. "Ah, I understand you now. This proud, arrogant girl raises her eyes to a height to which a princess of the blood alone can aspire. In her presumption this girl thinks to play the role of a La Valliere or a Maintenon. Yes, I now comprehend every thing—her pallor, her sighs, her melancholy, and her blushes, when I told her I expected the king and his court here to-day. Yes, it must be so. Mademoiselle von Pannewitz loves the—"
"Your majesty," exclaimed Madame von Brandt, imploringly, "have the goodness not to mention the name. I should have to deny it, and that would be an offence to your majesty; but if I should acknowledge it, I would be false to my vow and my friendship. In your penetration, your majesty has divined what I hardly dared indicate, and my noble queen now comprehends why an early marriage with Count Voss would be the best means of preserving the happiness of two noble hearts."
"Mademoiselle von Pannewitz will have to make up her mind to become the bride of Count Voss within the hour!" exclaimed the queen, imperiously. "Woe to her if in her arrogance she should refuse to give up a love against which the whole force of my royal authority shall be brought to bear."
"May your majesty follow the suggestions of your wisdom in all things! I only request that your majesty will graciously conceal from poor Laura that you discovered her unhappy secret through me."
"I promise you that," said the queen, who, forgetful of her royal dignity, in her angry impatience turned around and advanced hastily toward her suite, who, on her approach, remained standing in a respectful attitude.
At this moment a lacquey, dressed in the royal livery, was seen advancing from the palace; he approached the maid of honor then on duty, Mademoiselle von Pannewitz, and whispered a few words in her ear.
Hurrying forward, this young lady informed the queen that her majesty the reigning queen had just arrived, and desired to know if her majesty would receive her. The queen did not reply immediately. She looked scornfully at the young girl who stood before her, humbly and submissively, with downcast eyes, and although she did not look up at the queen, she seemed to feel her withering and scornful glances, for she blushed deeply, and an anxious expression was depicted on her countenance.
The queen observed that the blushing Laura was wonderfully beautiful, and in her passionate anger could have trodden her under foot for this presumptuous and treasonable beauty. She felt that it was impossible longer to remain silent, longer to defer the decision. The queen's anger fairly flamed within her, and threatened to break forth; she was now a passionate, reckless woman, nothing more; and she was guided by her passion and the power of her angry pride alone.
"I am going to receive her majesty," said Sophia Dorothea, with trembling lips. "Her majesty has presented herself unceremoniously, and I shall therefore receive her without ceremony. All of you will remain here except Mademoiselle von Pannewitz, who will accompany me."
The greeting of the two queens was over; the inquiries of politeness and etiquette had been exchanged; Sophia had offered Queen Elizabeth her hand and conducted her into the small saloon, where she was in the habit of receiving her family.
The door leading to the conservatory was open, and the two maids of honor could be seen within, standing with Laura, and asking questions in a low tone, to which she replied almost inaudibly. She felt that the decisive hour of her destiny was at hand, and she prayed that God would strengthen her for the coming trial. She trembled not for herself, but for her lover; for his dear sake she was determined to bear the worst, and bravely meet the shock; she would not yield, she would not die, for he would perish with her; in her heart of hearts, she renewed the oath of eternal love and eternal faith she had taken, and nerved herself for persecution and endurance. Suddenly she heard the harsh voice of the queen calling her name; she looked up, and saw her standing in the door.
"I beg the maids of honor to join the ladies in the garden; you, mademoiselle, will remain here; I have a few words to say to you."
The ladies bowed and left the conservatory. Laura remained alone; she stood with folded hands in the middle of the room; her cheek was deadly pale, her lips trembled, but her eyes were bright, and filled with a heroic and dreamy excitement. As Sophia called her name, Laura laid her hand upon her heart, as if to suppress its stormy beating, and with her head bowed meekly upon her breast she advanced submissively at the call of her mistress. At the door of the second saloon she remained standing, and awaited the further commands of the queen. As Sophia did not speak, Laura raised her eyes and looked timidly at the two queens, who were seated on a sofa opposite the door; they were both gazing at her, the queen-mother severely, with a proud and derisive smile, but Queen Elizabeth regarded with unutterable pity this poor girl, who reminded her of a broken lily.
"Mademoiselle von Pannewitz," said Sophia, after a long silence, "I have a matter of great importance to communicate to you, and as it admits of no delay, her majesty has allowed me to speak to you in her presence. Listen attentively, and weigh well my words. I have treated you with affectionate kindness; you have always found in me a friend and mother. I therefore require of you unconditional and silent obedience—an obedience that as your queen and mistress I have a right to demand. You are of a noble but poor family, and your parents cannot support you in the style suitable to your birth. I have adopted you, and will now establish for you a future which will be both splendid and happy. A rich and gallant cavalier has proposed for your hand, and as it is a most fitting and advantageous offer, I have accepted it for you, and promised your consent."
The queen ceased and looked piercingly at the young girl, who was still leaning against the door, silent and dejected. This dumb submission, this weak resignation revolted the queen; instead of softening her anger, she took this silence for defiance, this humility for stubbornness.
"You are not at all anxious, it appears, to learn the name of your future husband," she said, sharply; "perhaps the rapture of joy binds your tongue, and prevents you from thanking me for my motherly care."
"Pardon, your majesty," said Laura, raising her soft eyes to the harsh and severe countenance of the queen; "it was not joy that closed my lips, but reverence for your majesty; I feel no joy."
"You feel no joy!" cried the queen, with the cruel rage of the lion who seizes his prey and tears it in pieces when there is none to deliver. "Well, then, you will marry without joy, that is decided; and as you are too far above all womanly weakness to appear curious, I shall be obliged to name the happy man whose loving bride you are soon to be, that you make no mistakes, and perhaps, in the tenderness of your heart, render another than your appointed husband happy in your embraces." Laura uttered a low cry of anguish, and her cheeks, colorless until now, were dyed red with shame.
"Have pity, your majesty," murmured Elizabeth Christine, laying her hand softly on the shoulder of the queen; "see how the poor girl suffers."
Sophia shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. "Nonsense! do we not all suffer? have not I suffered? Is there a woman on God's earth whose heart is not half melted away with hot and unavailing tears?"
"It is true," said Elizabeth; "we have but one exclusive privilege—to weep and to endure."
The queen-mother turned again to Laura, who had checked her tears, but was still standing bowed down, and trembling before her.
"Well," said Sophia, "it still does not suit you to inquire the name of your lover, then I shall name him; mark well my words: it is Count Voss who has chosen you for his wife, and to him alone you have now to direct your heart and your tenderness."
Laura now raised her eyes and fixed them steadily upon this cruel mistress; her glance was no longer soft and pleading, but determined. The imperious manner of the queen, instead of intimidating the pale and gentle girl, awakened her to the consciousness of her own dignity. "Majesty," she said, with cool decision, "love is not given by command, it cannot be bestowed arbitrarily."
"By that you mean to affirm that you do not, and cannot love Count Voss," said the queen, suppressing her fury with difficulty.
"Yes, your majesty. I do not, I cannot love Count Voss."
"Well, then," cried Sophia, "you will marry him without love, and that speedily!"
Laura raised her head passionately; her eye met the queen's, but this time not humbly, not timidly, but decisively. From this moment, Sophia Dorothea was to her no longer a queen, but a cruel, unfeeling woman, who was trampling upon her soul and binding it in chains.
"Pardon, your majesty, as I have said that I do not love Count Voss, it follows of course that I will never marry him."
The queen sprang from her seat as if bitten by a poisonous reptile. "Not marry him!" she shrieked; "but I say you shall marry him! yes, if you have to be dragged with violence to the altar!"
"Then at the altar I will say no!" cried Laura von Pannewitz, raising her young face, beaming with courage and enthusiasm, toward heaven.
The queen uttered a wild cry and sprang forward; the lion was about to seize upon its prey and tear it to pieces, but Elizabeth Christine laid her hand upon the raised arm of the queen and held her back. "Majesty," she said, "what would you do? you would not force this poor girl to marry against her will; she does not love Count Voss, and she is right to refuse him."
"Ha! you defend her?" cried Sophia, brought to extremities by the resistance of the queen; "you have then no presentiment why she refuses the hand of Count Voss; you do not comprehend that when a poor dependent maid of honor refuses to marry a rich and noble cavalier, it is because she believes she has secured her future in another direction—because in the haughtiness of her vain, infatuated heart, she hopes through her beauty and well-acted coquetry to secure for herself a more brilliant lot. But, mark me! however charming and alluring that prospect may appear outwardly, even in its success there would be found nothing but infamy! She can never have the madness to believe that any priest in this land would dare to bind with the blessings of the Holy Church a love so boldly impudent, so traitorous; she can never hope to set her foot where only the lawful wife of a king can stand—where the sister of the king of England has stood! yes, where she still stands, and from whence she is resolved to repulse this miserable coquette, who hopes to conquer a throne through her shameless allurements."
Laura uttered a piercing scream, and with hands raised to heaven, she exclaimed, "My God! my God! can I bear this and live?"
The queen broke into a wild, mocking laugh. Elizabeth Christine looked, questioningly, at this scene, which she did not comprehend, but which touched her heart by its tragic power.
"It is a hard and cruel accusation which your majesty is bringing against this young girl; let us hope that Laura will know how to defend herself."
"Defend herself! look at her! look how my words have crushed her! how her proud, aspiring soul is checked! Believe me, Elizabeth, she, whom you so generously pity, understands my words better than your majesty; and she knows well of what I accuse her; but you, my daughter, shall know also; you have a right to know."
"Mercy! your majesty, mercy!" cried Laura, falling upon her knees and raising her arms pleadingly toward the queen; "speak no more! humble me no further! Do not betray my secret, which in your mouth becomes a denunciation! Let me remain even on the brink of the precipice, where you have dragged me! that is appalling, but cast me not down! So low and dust-trodden a creature is no longer worthy of the honor of approaching your majesty, I see that, and beg humbly for my dismissal, not as your majesty supposes, to lead an independent and happy, if still a shameful life, but to flee to some corner of the world, where alone and unseen I may weep over the beautiful and innocent dreams of my life, from which your majesty has awakened me so cruelly."
She was wonderfully beautiful in this position; those raised arms, that noble, transparently pale, tear-stained countenance. Sophia Dorothea saw it, and it made her feel more bitter, more cruel.
"Ah, she dares to reproach me," she cried, contemptuously; "she still has a slight consciousness of her shame; she trembles to hear what she did not tremble to do! Listen, my daughter, you that have for her so warm, so pitiful a heart; you who, when I have spoken, will detest and curse her as I do, and as you are entitled to do. Believe me, Elizabeth, I know all your suffering, all your sorrow; I know the secret history of your noble, proud, and silent heart. Ask that girl there of your grief and misery; ask her the reason of your lonely, tearful nights; demand of her your broken happiness, your crushed hopes; demand of her your husband's love, your soul's peace. Mademoiselle von Pannewitz can return them all to you, as she has taken them from you, for she is the mistress of the king."
"Mistress of the king!" said Elizabeth, with a painful cry, while Laura let her hands glide from her face, and looked at the queen with an astonished expression.
"Yes," repeated Sophia Dorothea, whose hot blood rushed so violently through her veins that her voice faltered, and she was scarcely able to retain an appearance of self-control; "yes, she is the mistress of the king, and therefore refuses to marry Count Voss! But patience, patience, she shall not triumph! and if she dares to love my son, the son of the queen, King Frederick of Prussia, I will remind her of Dorris Ritter, who loved him, and was beloved by him! This Dorris was flogged through the streets of Berlin, and cast out from amongst men."
Laura uttered so loud and fearful a cry that even the queen-mother was startled, and for a moment touched with pity for the poor, broken-hearted girl who lay at her feet, like a poor, wounded gazelle in the convulsive agonies of death.
But she would not give way to this pity; would not betray a weakness, of which she was ashamed. Taking the hand of the young queen and casting a look of disdain at Laura, she said, "Come, my daughter, we will no longer bear the presence of this person, whose tears, I hope, spring from repentance and acknowledgment of her offence; may she obtain our pardon by resolving to-day, of her own free will, and without forcing us to harsher measures, to accept the hand of Count Voss; come, my daughter."
The two queens stepped to the door. Sophia threw it open violently, and passed immediately into the boudoir, but Elizabeth did not follow her. She looked back at the poor sobbing girl lying upon the floor. The pale and noble face touched her womanly heart.
"Pardon, your majesty, if I do not follow immediately; I should like to say a few words to Mademoiselle von Pannewitz; I think I have a right to do so."
The queen-mother experienced a cruel pleasure at these words.
"Oh, my daughter, even your forbearance is exhausted, and you feel that forgiveness is impossible; yes, speak to her, and let her feel the whole weight of your righteous indignation. Words of reproach and accusation from your gentle lips will have a crushing power. But no delay—you know the king will soon be here."
The queen closed the door. She wished to hear nothing that passed between Elizabeth and Laura; she needed rest, in order to receive the king with composure.
The young queen, the reigning queen, as she was called, was now alone with Laura von Pannewitz. She was for a moment speechless; strange, tempestuous feelings burned in the bosom of this gentle woman; she felt all the torments of rage and jealousy, and the humiliation of unrequited love.
Leaning against the wall, she looked frowningly at Laura, who was kneeling before her, wringing her hands and weeping piteously. How could a woman weep who could call that happiness her own—to possess which Elizabeth would cheerfully give years of her life? She had at last found the rival for whom she was despised; the destroyer of her happiness; the envied woman loved by Frederick!
As she saw this woman bathed in tears at her feet, an exulting joy for one moment filled her heart. But this violent emotion soon disappeared. Elizabeth was too true and noble a woman to give herself up long to such resentment. She felt, indeed, a melancholy pleasure in knowing that it was not coldness of heart, but love for another, which estranged the king from her; in the midst of her wild grief she was still just; and she acknowledged that this woman, whom the king loved, was more charming and more beautiful than herself.
The love Elizabeth bore her husband was so unselfish, so resigned, so magnanimous, that she felt grateful to the woman who could impart a happiness to the king it had never been in her power to bestow.
With a truly noble expression she approached the maid of honor, who, unconscious of the queen's presence, was still lying on the floor and weeping bitterly.
"Arise, Laura," said Elizabeth, gently. "How can a woman loved by the king be sad, or shed tears?"
Laura's hands fell slowly from her face; she checked her tears and looked piteously at the queen. "God, then, has heard my prayers," she said; "He does not wish your majesty to despise and condemn me; He permits me to clear myself before you!"
"Clear yourself," said Elizabeth. "Oh, believe me, in my eyes you need no justification. You are young, gay, beautiful, and witty; you have the rare art of conversation; you are cheerful and spirited. This has attracted Frederick; for this he loves you; in saying this, all is said. It is impossible for a woman to resist his love. I forgive you freely, fully. I have but one prayer to make you: resolve all your duties into one; fill your soul with one thought, make the king happy! This is all. I have nothing more to say; farewell!"
She was going, but Laura held her back. "Oh, your majesty," she cried imploringly, "listen to me! do not leave me under this cruel misconception—these insulting suppositions. Do not think I am so degenerate, so base, so entirely without womanly feeling, as not to feel myself amenable to the laws of the land and of the Church. Oh, believe me, the husband of my queen is sacred in my eyes! and even if I were so unhappy as to love the king, otherwise than as a true, devoted subject, I would rather die than cast one shadow on the happiness of your majesty. Unhappy and guilty as I am, I am no criminal. His majesty never distinguished me by word or look. I honored him, I revered him, and nothing more."
"Alas!" said the queen, "you are faint-hearted enough to deny him. You have not the courage to be proud of his love; you must, indeed, feel guilty."
"My God! my God!" cried Laura, passionately, "she does not believe me!"
"No, I do not believe you, Laura. I saw how you trembled and paled when the queen charged you with your love to her son, but I did not hear you justify yourself."
"Alas, alas!" murmured Laura, in so low a voice as not to be heard by the queen, "I did not know her majesty was speaking of her son Frederick."
"Deny it no longer," said Elizabeth; "acknowledge his love, for which all women will envy you, and for which I forgive you."
"Do not believe what the queen-mother told you!" cried Laura, passionately; "I have done you no wrong, I have no pardon to ask!"
"And I," said Elizabeth—"I make no reproaches; I do not wail and weep; I do not pass my nights, as the queen said, sleeplessly and in tears; I do not mourn over my lost happiness. I am content; I accept my fate—that is, if the king is happy. But if, perchance, this is not so, if you do not make his happiness your supreme object, then, Laura, I take back the forgiveness so freely given, and I envy you in my heart. Farewell."
"No, no, you must not, you shall not go! believe my words! have some pity, some mercy on me! O Heavenly Father, I have suffered enough without this! It needed not these frightful accusations to punish me for a love which, though unwise, yes, mad, is not criminal. As truly as God reigns, it is not the king I love. You turn away, you do not believe me still! Oh, your majesty." She stopped, her whole frame trembled—she had heard her lover's voice; God had sent him to deliver her, to clear her from these disgraceful suspicions.
The door opened, and Prince Augustus William entered; his countenance was gay and careless, he had come to see the queen-mother, and had been directed to this saloon. Already sportive and jesting words were on his lips, when he perceived this strange scene; Laura on her knees, pale and trembling, before the proud queen, who left her disdainfully in her humble position. It was a sight that the proud lover could not endure. The hot blood of the Hohenzollerns was raging. Forgetful of all consequences, he sprung to her side, raised her from the floor and clasped her to his heart. Then, trembling with anger, he turned to the queen. "What does this mean? Why were you in that position? Why were you weeping, Laura? You on your knees, my Laura! You, who are so innocent, so pure, that the whole world should kneel before and worship you! And you, Madame," turning to Elizabeth, "how can you allow this angel to throw herself in the dust before you? How dare you wound her? What did you say to bring anguish to her heart and flood her face with tears? Madame, I demand an answer! I demand it in the name of honor, justice, and love. Laura is my bride, it is my right to defend her."
"Now, now," said Laura, clinging wildly to her lover, "she will no longer believe that I love her husband."
"Your bride!" said the queen, with a sad sweet smile; "how young and trusting you are, my brother, to believe in the possibility of such a marriage."
"She will be my wife!" cried he passionately; "I swear it, and as truly as there is a God in Heaven I will keep my oath! I have courage to dare all dangers, to trample under foot all obstacles. I do not shun the world's verdict or the king's power. My love is pure and honest, it has no need to hide and veil itself; it shall stand out boldly before God, the king, and the whole world! Go, then—go, Madame, and repeat my words to the king; betray a love which chance, undoubtedly, revealed to you. It was, I suppose, the knowledge of this love which led you to wound and outrage this noble woman."
"It is true," said the queen, gently; "I did her injustice—I doubted her words, her protestations; but Laura knows that this offence was involuntary, it all arose from a mistake of the dowager-queen."
"How! my mother knows of our love!" said the prince, in amazement.
"No, she is convinced that Laura von Pannewitz loves and is beloved by the king; for this reason she heaped reproaches upon her, and commanded her to marry Count Voss, who has just proposed for her hand."
The prince clasped Laura more firmly. "Ah, they would tear you from me; but my arms will hold you and my breast will shield you, my darling. Do not tremble, do not weep, my Laura; arm in arm we will go to the king. I will lead you before my mother and the court, and tell them that you are my betrothed—that I have sworn to be true to you, and will never break my oath."
"Stop—be silent, for God's sake!" said Elizabeth; "do not let your mother hear you—do not let the king know your sad, perilous secret. If he knows it you are lost."
"Your majesty does not then intend to make known what you have heard," said the prince. "Have you the courage to conceal a secret from your husband?"
"Ah!" said the queen, with a sigh, "my life, thoughts, and feelings are a secret to him; I will but add this new mystery to the rest. Guard this secret, which will in the end bring you pain and sorrow. Be cautious, be prudent. Let the dowager queen still think that it is the king whom Laura loves, she will be less watchful of you. But now listen to my request; never speak to me of this love that chance revealed, and which I will seek to forget from this moment; never remind me of an engagement which in the eyes of the king and your mother would be unpardonable and punishable, and of which it would be my duty to inform them. As long as you are happy—that will be as long as your love is under the protection of secrecy—I will see nothing, know nothing. But when disaster and ruin break over you, then come to me; then you, my brother, shall find in me a fond, sympathizing sister, and you, poor, wretched girl, will find a friend who will open her arms to you, and will weep with you over your lost happiness."
"Oh, my queen!" cried Laura, pressing her hand to her lips; "how noble, how generous you are!"
Elizabeth drew the poor trembling girl to her heart and kissed her pale brow. "For those who weep and suffer there is no difference of rank, a strong bond of human sympathy unites them. I am for you, not the queen, but the sister who understands and shares your griefs. When you weary of hidden agony and solitary weeping come to me at Schonhausen; you will find there no gayeties, no worldly distractions, but a silent shady garden, in which I sometimes seem to hear God's voice comforting and consoling me. Here you can weep unnoticed, and find a friend who will not weary you with questions."
"I thank you, and I will come. Ah! I know I shall soon need this comfort, my happiness will die an early death!"
"And may I also come, my noble sister?" said the prince.
"Yes," said Elizabeth, smiling, "you may also come, but only when Laura is not with me. I now entreat you, for your own safety, to close this conversation. Dry your eyes, Laura, and try to smile, then go to the garden and call my maids of honor; and you, brother, come with me to the queen-mother, who is in her boudoir."
"No!" said the prince, fiercely; "I cannot see her now, I could not control myself. I could not seem quiet and indifferent while I am suffering such tortures."
"My brother," said the queen, "we princes have not the right to show how we suffer; it is the duty of all in our station to veil our feelings with a smile. Come, the queen, who is indignant and angry, will yet receive us with a smile; and we, who are so sorrowful, will also smile. Come."
"One word more to Laura," said the prince; and leading the young girl, who was endeavoring to suppress her emotion, to another part of the room, he threw his arm around her slender form, and pressed a kiss upon her fair cheek. "Laura, my darling, do you remember your oath? Will you be true and firm? Will my mother's threats and commands find you strong and brave? You will not falter? You will not accept the hand of Count Voss? You will let no earthly power tear you from me? They can kill me, Laura, but I cannot be untrue to myself or to you!" Augustus laid his hand upon her beautiful head; the whole history of her pure and holy love was written in the look and smile with which she answered him. "Do you remember that you promised to meet me in the garden?"
"I remember," said she, blushing.
"Laura, in a few days we will be separated. The king wishes to make an excursion incognito—he has ordered me to accompany him; I must obey."
"Oh, my God! they will take you from me! I shall never see you again!"
"We will meet again," said he encouragingly. "But you must grant me the comfort of seeing you once more before my departure, otherwise I shall not have the courage to leave you. The day for our journey is not yet determined; when it is fixed I will come to inform my mother of it in your presence. The evening before I will be in the conservatory and await you; will I wait in vain?"
"No," whispered Laura, "I will be there;" and as if fleeing from her own words, she hurried to the garden.
Prince Augustus William looked for his sister-in-law to accompany her to the queen; but she had withdrawn, she did not wish to witness their parting. Seeing this, the prince was on the point of following Laura to the garden, when the beating of drums was heard from without.