Part 68 (1/2)
The landlord of the Grand Hotel of the Four Nations at Reisenburg was somewhat consoled for the sudden departure of his distinguished guest by selling the plenipotentiary a travelling carriage lately taken for a doubtful bill from a gambling Russian General at a large profit. In this convenient vehicle, in the course of a couple of hours after his arrival in the city, was Mr. Vivian Grey borne through the gate of the Allies.
Essper George, who had reached the hotel about half an hour after his master, followed behind the carriage on his hack, leading Max. The Courier cleared the road before, and expedited the arrival of the special Envoy of the Grand Duke of Reisenburg at the point of his destination by ordering the horses, clearing the barriers, and paying the postilions in advance. Vivian had never travelled before with such style and speed.
Our hero covered himself up with his cloak and drew his travelling cap over his eyes, though it was one of the hottest days of this singularly hot autumn. Entranced in a reverie, the only figure that occurred to his mind was the young Archd.u.c.h.ess, and the only sounds that dwelt on his ear were the words of Beckendorff: but neither to the person of the first nor to the voice of the second did he annex any definite idea.
After some hours' travelling, which to Vivian seemed both an age and a minute, he was roused from his stupor by the door of his caleche being opened. He shook himself as a man does who has awakened from a benumbing and heavy sleep, although his eyes were the whole time wide open. The disturbing intruder was his courier, who, bowing, with his hat in hand, informed his Excellency that he was now on the frontier of Reisenburg; regretting that he was under the necessity of quitting his Excellency, he begged to present him with his pa.s.sport. ”It is made out for Vienna,”
continued the messenger. ”A private pa.s.s, sir, of the Prime Minister, and will ent.i.tle you to the greatest consideration.”
The carriage was soon again advancing rapidly to the next post-house, when, after they had proceeded about half a mile, Essper George calling loudly from behind, the drivers suddenly stopped. Just as Vivian, to whose tortured mind the rapid movement of the carriage was some relief, for it produced an excitement which prevented thought, was about to inquire the cause of this stoppage. Essper George rode up to the caleche.
”Kind sir!” said he, with a peculiar look, ”I have a packet for you.”
”A packet! from whom? speak! give it me!”
”Hus.h.!.+ softly, good master. Here am I about to commit rank treason for your sake, and a hasty word is the only reward of my rashness.”
”Nay, nay, good Essper, try me not now!”
”I will not, kind sir! but the truth is, I could not give you the packet while that double-faced knave was with us, or even while he was in sight. 'In good truth,' as Master Rodolph was wont to say--!”
”But of this packet?”
”'Fairly and softly,' good sir! as Hunsdrich the porter said when I would have drunk the mulled wine, while he was on the cold staircase--”
”Essper! do you mean to enrage me?”
”'By St. Hubert!' as that worthy gentleman the Grand Marshal was in the habit of swearing, I--”
”This is too much; what are the idle sayings of these people to me?”
”Nay, nay, kind sir! they do but show that each of us has his own way of telling a story, and that he who would hear a tale must let the teller's breath come out of his own nostrils.”
”Well, Essper, speak on! Stranger things have happened to me than to be reproved by my own servant.”
”Nay, kind master! say not a bitter word to me because you have slipped out of a sc.r.a.pe with your head on your shoulders. The packet is from Mr.
Beckendorff's daughter.”
”Ah! why did you not give it me before?”
”Why do I give it you now? Because I am a fool; that is why. What! you wanted it when that double-faced scoundrel was watching every eyelash of yours as it moved from the breath of a fly? a fellow who can see as well at the back of his head as from his face. I should like to poke out his front eyes, to put him on an equality with the rest of mankind. He it was who let the old gentleman know of your visit this morning, and I suspect that he has been nearer your limbs of late than you have imagined. Every dog has his day, and the oldest pig must look for the knife! The Devil was once cheated on Sunday, and I have been too sharp for Puss in boots and his mouse-trap! Prowling about the Forest Councillor's house, I saw your new servant, sir, gallop in, and his old master soon gallop out. I was off as quick as they, but was obliged to leave my horse within two miles of the house, and then trust to my legs.
I crept through the shrubs like a land tortoise; but, of course, too late to warn you. However, I was in for the death, and making signs to the young lady, who directly saw that I was a friend; bless her! she is as quick as a partridge; I left you to settle it with papa, and, after all, did that which I suppose you intended, sir, to do yourself; made my way into the young lady's bedchamber.”
”Hold your tongue, sir! and give me the packet.”
”There it is, and now we will go on; but we must stay an hour at the next post, if your honour pleases not to sleep there; for both Max and my own hack have had a sharp day's work.”
Vivian tore open the packet. It contained a long letter, written on the night of her return to Beckendorff's; she had stayed up the whole night writing. It was to have been forwarded to Vivian, in case of their not being able to meet. In the enclosure were a few hurried lines, written since the catastrophe. They were these: ”May this safely reach you! Can you ever forgive me? The enclosed, you will see, was intended for you, in case of our not meeting. It antic.i.p.ated sorrow; yet what were its antic.i.p.ations to our reality!”
The Archd.u.c.h.ess' letter was evidently written under the influence of agitated feelings. We omit it; because, as the mystery of her character is now explained, a great portion of her communication would be irrelevant to our tale. She spoke of her exalted station as a woman, that station which so many women envy, in a spirit of agonising bitterness. A royal princess is only the most flattered of state victims. She is a political sacrifice, by which enraged Governments are appeased, wavering allies conciliated and ancient amities confirmed.