Part 2 (1/2)
The Queen started up, and went to another part of the room, as if in search of something, but soon came back again:
”He wants to see you and you are _here?_”
”Before I received the letter of my father, I had promised to that _Unknown_ of whom I have been speaking, that nothing should detain me from travelling to Fr**ce, and imploring your a.s.sistance in behalf of my unhappy country.”
”Poor father!” said the Queen, absorbed in melancholy, ”how anxiously will he have expected the arrival of his son--I fancy I see the dying Marquis, how he extends his arms in vain to receive the child of his love--”
”Does your Majesty know my father?” I enquired hastily.
She gazed at me. ”If I know him?---no!---yes---I saw him several times when at the court of my father---But why do you ask this question?”---Without giving me time to reply, she resumed, ”Make haste!
make haste, return to your native country; perhaps he is yet alive---the sight of you will animate him with new strength, he will recover in your arms, and perhaps be restored to health!” The last words she p.r.o.nounced with a visible joyful emotion.
”Shall I leave your Majesty,” I replied ”without having my prayer granted? Is my unhappy country to expect no a.s.sistance from a Queen whose sentiments are so sublime? Is the picture of the best of women to be to me a lasting mark of her favour and displeasure?”
She seemed to meditate, ”It is true,” she said at length, ”we have entirely wandered from your concerns. Did you not tell me that you are haunted every where by an apparition? I too have seen an apparition some time ago. It was the ghost of my departed father, who, at midnight drew the curtains of my bed, and said 'I am very wretched my daughter!
neither prayers nor ma.s.ses will give me relief, while Por****l which we have usurped shall be submitted to the Sp***sh sceptre. O! my daughter, if the least spark of filial love is left in thy bosom, if thou wilt relieve me from unspeakable torments, then make use of all thy interest at this court, in order to support the endeavours of those who, at present, are secretly occupied to deliver Por****l from her oppressors.
A n.o.ble youth will arrive in a few days and implore thy a.s.sistance. He is sent from Heaven; grant his prayer. He has a mole on his left breast, which will be to thee a token of his mission.”
I started up. ”That youth stands before your Majesty,” I exclaimed, uncovering my breast, ”behold here the mole. O! relieve the suffering spirit of your father, relieve my country!”
She seemed to be in a trance, encircling me with her arms, and straining me to her bosom. ”Thy prayer is granted!” she said in a faint accent.---No sooner had the last syllable escaped her lips, when the sound of a little bell was heard in the adjoining apartment. She disengaged herself from my neck and started back, ”Gracious heaven!---”
she exclaimed, pale and trembling, ”the King is returned. Begone! for G.o.d's sake begone!”
I was going to obey her command; the stopped me: ”Never reveal a word of what has happened between ourselves,” she whispered; ”leave the palace and the kingdom as soon as possible: beware of the King, I conjure you!”
I prostrated myself and encircled her knees, shedding tears of anguish; wanted to take leave, but could not utter a single word. The bell in the adjoining apartment was rung a second time; the Queen disengaged herself seized with terror: ”make haste!---flee!---O stay!” she exclaimed when I hastened to the door, ”come back!” She opened her arms to receive me; I flew to her bosom; she imprinted three burning kisses on my lips, and hurried into an adjoining apartment.
I do not recollect how I got out of the room. On the staircase I observed first, that the same lady who had conducted me to the Queen was walking by my side. We returned the same way by which I had entered the palace, and I arrived happily at our hotel in the company of the Count.
After I had communicated to him my success, I went to my apartment in order to give audience to my thoughts; however I was not able to account for the behaviour of the Queen, and my feelings during the whole scene.
Was it love that I felt for the Queen? certainly not; at least, my sentiments for her were quite different from those I entertained for Amelia; was it mere esteem that endeared her so much to me?
impossible!---My heart left me entirely in the dark with respect to that point, as well as my reason. It is true, _one_ particular idea prevailed in my soul, however it appeared to me ridiculous, as soon as I reflected on other circ.u.mstances. The account which the Queen gave me of the apparition of the ghost of her father, completed my confusion. Was it the work of the _Unknown_, and did she really believe she had seen the ghost of her father? in that case the grant of my prayer was perhaps merely the consequence of her love for her father, whom she hoped to release thus from his sufferings; even her tears, embraces, and kisses, were then nothing else but means of alluring me to strain every nerve, in order to bring to a happy conclusion an undertaking, from the execution of which the eternal happiness of her father depended. But perhaps---and that, I thought, was not less possible---has she only invented that apparition in order to prevent me from suspecting the real source of her willingness to grant my prayer, and her confidential and endearing deportment? Even the manner in which she mentioned the mole on my breast, appeared to me an artifice which she might have made use of, rather to a.s.sure herself of the ident.i.ty of my person, than of my mission from above; and this supposition received an additional confirmation, by her singular behaviour, after the discovery.---Thus I was wandering in the mazy labyrinth of conjectures and doubts, till sleep stole upon me by degrees, and shut my heavy eyes.
We left P**is the following night, and directed our road to Sp**n as Hiermanfor had ordered.
I stopped a few days at **cia, a hundred miles from the frontiers of Fr**ce, in order to rest a little from the fatigues of my journey, and received from the bribed surgeon a letter from my father, who informed me he was in a fair way of recovery. This welcome intelligence animated me with new life, and dispelled the gloom which had overcast my mind. We continued our journey without delay, and arrived at ***pala, where we alighted at the princ.i.p.al hotel. The first object that attracted my attention, was a handsome well dressed man, whose features struck me at a great distance, because I fancied I knew them. He was engaged in conversation with a tall thin man, and did not observe me till I was close by him. My sudden appearance seemed to surprize him, and the sight of him produced the same effect upon me, for now I perceived that it was Paleski, Amelia's former valet. He approached me with evident marks of uneasiness, and welcomed me in broken accents. I ordered him to follow me to my apartment. The first question I put to him, was where Amelia resided, and how she was. Paleski lamented it was not in his power to give me the least information on that head. I enquired after the _Unknown_, and he a.s.sured me that he had not seen him since the last scene in the wood. ”However,” said I, ”you still owe me an account of a dreadful accident concerning the _Unknown_, of which you pretended to have been informed on your pilgrimage.” Paleski hesitated a few moments, and then promised to satisfy my curiosity the day following, being prevented by business of great importance from doing it on the spot.
I dismissed him, with the injunction not to forget to come to my apartment in the evening of the next day. He promised it; however I waited in vain for him, for in his room a Capuchin friar came to my hotel, desiring to speak a few words to me in private. I ordered him to be admitted, and was told by him that Paleski had had a quarrel with some young men, who first had intoxicated and then provoked him, and that he had received some mortal wounds, by which he was confined to his bed at the hospital where he desired to see me, in order to disclose to me important secrets. The friar offered to conduct me to the hospital, and I drove thither in anxious expectation.
When I alighted at the gate of the hospital, I met Count Clairval. He seemed to be petrified when he saw me in the company of the friar.
”Whither are you going?” he enquired at length. ”To Paleski, who is on the brink of eternity.” The Count changed colour, and whispered in my ear: ”Don't go, the fellow is infected with a contagious disease.”---”You are mistaken (was my answer) he has been wounded dangerously, as his confessor tells me.” ”I have just come from him,”
the Count resumed with visible uneasiness, ”the fever has deranged his head, and he will tell you a number of foolish things.” ”No matter,”