Part 57 (1/2)
And with the true feminine vanity which coquets with death and finds a consolation in being beautiful even in the coffin, she chose for the momentous consultation impending one of the most bewitching negligee costumes in her rich wardrobe. Ample folds of rose-colored _crepe de chine_ were draped over an under-dress of pink plush, which reflected a thousand shades from the deepest rose to the palest flesh color, the whole drapery loosely caught with single grey pearls. How long would she probably possess such garments? She perhaps wore it to-day for the last time. Her trembling hand was icy cold, as she wound a pink ribbon through her curls and fastened it with a pearl clasp.
There she stood, like Aphrodite, risen from the foam of the sea, and--she smiled bitterly--she could not even raise herself from the mire into which a single error had lured her. Then she was again overwhelmed by an unspeakable consciousness of misery, her disgrace, which made all her splendor seem a mockery. She was on the point of stripping off the glittering robe when the duke was announced. It was too late to change.
She hurried into the boudoir to meet him--floating in like a roseate cloud.
”How beautiful!” exclaimed the duke, admiringly; ”you look like a bride! It must be some joyful cause which brought you back here so soon and made you send for me.”
”On the contrary, Duke--a bride of misfortune--a penitent who would fain varnish the ugliness of her guilt in her friend's eyes by outward beauty.”
”H'm! That would be at any rate a useless deed, Madeleine; for beautiful as you are, I do not love you for your beauty's sake. Nor is it for your virtues--you never aspired to be a saint, not even in Ammergau, where you least succeeded! What I love is the whole grand woman with all her faults, who seems to have been created for me, in spite of the obstacles reared between us by temperament and circ.u.mstances. The latter are accidents which may prevent our union, but which cannot deprive me of my share in you, the part which _I_ alone understand, and which I shall love when I see you before me as a white-haired matron, weary of life--perhaps then for the first time.”
Emotion stifled the countess' words. She drew him down upon a chair by her side and sank feebly upon the cus.h.i.+ons of her divan.
”Oh, how cold your hands are!” said the duke, gazing with loving anxiety into her eyes. ”You alarm me. Spite of your rosy glimmer, you are pale as your own pearls. And now pearls in your eyes too?
Madeleine--my poor tortured Madeleine--what has happened?”
”Oh, Duke--help, advise me--or all is lost. The Wildenaus have discovered my secret. Josepha, that half-crazy girl from Ammergau, has betrayed me!”
”So that is her grat.i.tude for the life you saved.” The duke nodded as if by no means surprised. ”It was to be expected from that sort of person. Why did you preserve the fool?”
”I could not let her leap into the water.”
”Perhaps it would have been better! This sham-saint had not even sufficient healthful nature in her to be grateful?”
”Ah, she had reason to hate me, she loved my child more than any earthly thing and reproached me for having neglected it. These people can imagine love only in the fulfillment of lowly duties and physical attendance. That a woman can have no time or understanding of these things, and yet love, is beyond their comprehension.”
”A fine state of affairs, where the servant makes herself the judge of her mistress--nay even discovers in her conduct an excuse for the basest treachery. A plain maid-servant, properly reared by her parents, would have fulfilled her duty to her employers without philosophizing.”
The countess nodded, she was thinking of old Martin.
”But,” the duke continued, ”extra allowance must of course be made for these Ammergau people.”
”We will let her rest; she is dead. Who knows how it happened, or the struggles through which she pa.s.sed?”
”Is she dead?”
”Yes, she died just after the child.”
”Indeed?” said the duke, thoughtfully, in a gentler tone: ”Well, then at least she has atoned. But, my dear Madeleine, this does not undo the disaster. The Wildenaus will at any rate try to make capital out of their knowledge of your secret, and, as the dear cousins are constantly incurring gaming and other debts--especially your red-haired kinsman Fritz--they will not let slip the opportunity of making their honored cousin pay for their discretion the full amount of their notes!”
”Ah, if that were all!”
”That all! What more could there be? I admit that it is unspeakably painful for you to know that your honor and your deepest secrets are in such hands--but how long will it be ere, if it please G.o.d, you will be in a position which will remove you from it all, and I--!”
”Duke--Good Heavens!--It is far worse,” cried the countess, wringing her hands: ”Oh, merciful G.o.d--at last, at last, it must be told. You do not know all, the worst--I had not courage to tell you--are you aware of the purport of my late husband's will?”
”Certainly--it runs that you must restore the property, of which he makes you sole heiress, to the cousins, if you marry again. What of that--do you suppose I ever thought of your millions?” He laughed gayly: ”I flatter myself that my finances will not permit you to feel the withdrawal of your present income when you are my wife.”
”Omnipotent Father!--You do not understand me! This is the moment I have always dreaded--oh, had I only been truthful. Duke, forgive me, pity me, I am the most miserable creature under the sun. I shall not be your wife, but a beggar--for I am married, and the Wildenaus know it through Josepha!”
There are moments when it seems as if the whole world was silent--as if the stars paused in their courses to listen, and we hear nothing save the pulsing of the blood in our ears. It is long ere we perceive any other sound. This was the case with the duke. For a long time he seemed to himself both deaf and blind. Then he heard the low hissing of the gas jets, then heavy breathing, and at last the earth began to turn on its axis again and things resumed their natural relations.