Part 53 (1/2)
A fearful silence ensued. No one had the courage to break it. Every one hoped that Marie, through a simulated fainting, would end the painful scene, and give the guests an opportunity to withdraw. No such thoughtfulness for her friends occurred to her.
She turned to the Marquis de Treves, who stood pale and deeply agitated behind her, and burst into a loud laugh.
”How pale you are! Have you taken this comedy for truth? Did you think this theatrical performance was a reality? You have forgotten what I told you a month since in Paris, that I had a native talent for acting.
You would contest the matter with me, and I bet you that I could introduce an impromptu scene in my house, with such artistic skill, that you would be quite deceived.”
”Indeed I do recall it; how could I have forgotten it?” replied the marquis, with the ready tact of the diplomat.
”Have I won?” asked Marie, smiling.
”You have played your role, baroness, like an artiste of consummate talent, and to-morrow I shall have the honor to cancel the debt in your favor.”
”Now, then, give me your arm, marquis, and conduct me to the dancing-room, and you, worthy guests, follow us,” said. Marie, leading the way.
The merry music even was not sufficient to dissipate the awkward oppression, and by midnight the guests had taken leave, and Marie stood under the chandelier, pale and rigid, opposite her husband. He had summoned courage to bewail the terrible scene, weeping and mourning over her cruelty and his shame. Marie, with chilling indifference, regarded him without one visible trace of pity.
”You realized what you were doing when you imposed the scorn of this marriage upon me,” she said. ”I have never deceived you with vain hopes!
You have sown dragons' teeth, and warriors have sprung up to revenge me upon you. Serve yourself of your riches to fight the combatants. See if you can bargain for a quiet conscience as easily as you purchased me!
My soul is free though, and it hovers over you as the spirit of revenge.--Beware!”
She slowly turned and quitted the room. Her diamonds sparkled and blazed in the myriads of lights. The large mirrors reflected the image of a haughty woman, who swept proudly past like a G.o.ddess of revenge!
Ebenstreit stood gazing after her. He had a horror of the lonely still room, so gorgeous and brilliantly illuminated--a shudder crept over him, and he sank, weeping bitterly.
In the little room, the buried happiness of the past, Marie knelt, with outstretched arms, imploring heaven for mercy. ”I thank Thee, Heavenly Father, that I have been permitted to see him again! My sacrifice was not in vain--he lives! He is free, and his mind is clear and bright. I thank Thee that he still loves me. His anger is but love!”
CHAPTER x.x.xVI. THE KING AND THE ROSICRUCIANS.
The joy which Bischofswerder said, reigned in heaven and upon earth over the return of the crown prince to the path of virtue, in having forsaken Wilhelmine Enke, was of but short duration.
The Invisibles and the pious Rosicrucians soon learned that sagacious and cunning woman defied the spirits and abjured the oaths.
Since the night of his communion with the departed, Frederick William had never visited Charlottenburg--never seen the house which contained all that he held most dear; he had returned Wilhelmine's letters unopened, and had even had the courage to refuse himself to the children, who came to see him.
If he had been left to consult his own heart, he would not probably have had sufficient resolution to have done this; Bischofswerder and Woellner never left him for a moment, as they said the Invisible Fathers had commanded them to tarry with the much-loved brother in these first days of trial and temptation, and to elevate and gladden him with edifying conversations and scientific investigations.
The prayers and exhortations were the duty of Woellner, who, besides this, continued his daily discourses upon the administration of government, preparing the prince for the important command of the royal regiments, which they hoped favorable destiny would soon grant him.
The scientific researches were the part of Bischofswerder, and he entered upon his duties with the zeal and pleasure of an inquiring mind, itself hopeful and believing.
In the cabinet arranged in the new palace at Potsdam, the prince and his dear Bischofswerder worked daily, many hours, to discover the great hope of the alchemist--the philosopher's stone. Not finding it, unfortunately, they brewed all sorts of miraculous drinks, which were welcome to the prince as the elixir of eternal youth and constant love.
In the evenings they communed with the spirits of the distinguished departed, which, moved at the earnest prayers of Woellner, and the fervent exhortation of the crown prince, always had the goodness to appear, and witness their satisfaction for their much-loved son, as they called him, for continuing brave and faithful, and not falling into the unholy snares of the seductress.
The crown prince, however, experienced not the least self-contentment.
Each day renewed the yearning for the beloved of his youth and for his children, for which those of his wife were no compensation--neither the silent, awkward Prince Frederick William, nor his crying little brother.
In his dreams he saw Wilhelmine dissolved in tears, calling upon him in most tender accents, and when he awoke, it was to an inconsolable grief.