Part 33 (2/2)
”Professor Jager, an excellent scholar, and a friend of our house; Mrs.
Jager, a lady whose poetical talent deserves encouragement.”
The prince bowed to each one of the persons presented--even to the last-mentioned, which made quite a sensation--with the same dignity and courtesy, and gave the signal to sit down by choosing himself a seat by Anna Maria on an easy-chair.
During this long salutation those who had not known the prince before had an opportunity to study his outward appearance. His was a Herculean form, calculated to impress a professional boxer forcibly, and to create a sensation in a circus, dressed up as an athlete; but for ordinary life was, perhaps, a little too large. Upon the large, powerful body, whose height was in full harmony with the breadth of the shoulders and the magnificent chest, there was set a head more angular than round, covered all over with short, curling black hair, and firmly resting upon a neck which looked too short for the size of the head.
The features of the face corresponded with the whole. The brow was low and straight, the eyes of bright darkness but small, and apparently still further reduced in size by the heavy eyelids with their dark lashes. The nose as well as the thick lips were somewhat protruding. A beard, thicker and blacker than the hair on the head, covered the cheeks and the upper lip. The chin alone, shaved smooth, in military style, was the energetic base of this energetic face. Taken all in all, the a.s.sertion made by Hortense that the prince looked like a Mongolian agreed as little with the reality as Emily's judgment that he was strikingly handsome. Nevertheless, the whole was a far too striking individuality and too full of character to be called plain, even if the strict rules of ideal beauty were not all observed. A physiognomist would in vain have looked for ideal qualities of any kind in the face of the prince, but he would have discovered, in return, a most energetic, powerful will; and, perhaps, if he had examined carefully, a boundless pride, which slept with open eyes behind the mask, like a lion behind the bars of his cage, and could be roused by a mere nothing.
The prince wore the simple uniform of the regiment in garrison in Grunwald, but the two decorations on his breast--a small cross set in diamonds, probably Russian; and the order of the Blue Falcon of the second cla.s.s, with crossed swords--proved abundantly that he was a man whose importance was great, aside from epaulet and sword-knot.
Anna Maria treated her great guest with a distinction corresponding fully with this higher mystical importance, which was only revealed to the profane eye by the awe-inspiring sparkling of the diamonds. It was this that caused the modest silence into which Barnewitz and Cloten had fallen since his arrival; the coquetry with which Hortense and Clotilde tried to attract his attention, and the embarra.s.sment of the author of the fragments and the poetess, who had a vague impression that they were more than superfluous in this most n.o.ble company, and yet did not dare to rise from their seats and to go away. The prince and the baroness at first kept up the conversation alone, until Hortense succeeded in wedging in a casual remark, expressed in excellent French, and thus to obtain the word to the great annoyance of Emily, who had to leave her adversary in the undisturbed enjoyment of this triumph, as she spoke French but imperfectly, and was hardly able to follow the rapid utterance of her rival. Hortense, who knew Emily's weak point, carried her malice so far as to turn round to her continually with a ”_qu'en dites--vous, chere amie? N'est ce pas, Emilie?_” and to force her in this way to reply in a manner which might be clever in spirit but was very imperfect in form. Any one who could have noticed the intense delight with which Hortense enjoyed her triumph over her adversary would have been compelled to acknowledge that even malice has its moments of happiness. The delight, however, became almost too great to be borne, when at last the prince hardly noticed Emily any longer, and gave himself up entirely to the charm of Hortense's amusing conversation.
Emily, however, was far too frivolous and too bold to lose her good humor at once, because of such a momentary defeat. The prince was not to her taste, although she had before praised him in order to annoy her rival; and if he did not choose to speak German to her, as he had done the night before, he might leave it alone. Emily played with her beaux as a trifling child plays with its dolls; it was utterly indifferent to her whether she broke the head of one, or the other fell into the water; she felt it only when one of her favorite dolls and she had occasionally, for the sake of variety, one that she overwhelmed with caresses and kisses--was not willing to be tender to her and to return her affection. Oswald had been such a favorite, but cold, desperately cold doll for her. She might have married him and become his faithful wife if he had belonged to the same circles in which she lived--at least her fancy represented it to her as possible in dreamy hours--but now she was Baroness Cloten, and then--what did it matter to her? Was she not handsome and young, and ten times cleverer than her foolish husband with his everlasting ”upon honor!” and ”divine!” Why will foolish men marry clever and handsome young wives, especially when these wives have a fondness for fancies brighter than the dull gray of actual life? Are the wives to be blamed in such cases if they go their own way, which is sometimes so narrow and dark that virtue and honor, the faithful companions of good wives, are lost by the way?
Emily Cloten had been watching the whole time for an opportunity to enter into conversation with Mrs. Jager, who, she suspected, might be able to give her some news about Oswald, whom she had not seen again since the night before. She availed herself, therefore, of the favorable moment when the prince was speaking to the baroness and Hortense, and the baron to the reverend gentleman, in order to inquire of Primula about ”that young man who was tutor at Grenwitz last summer--Fels, I think, or Rock, or Stein, or whatever his name was--since a friend of hers was in need of a teacher.” Emily was not mistaken; Primula could give her all information about Mr. Stein--”not Fels, although he has a heart like the poet's hero, Felsenfest; not Rock, although he towers like a rock above all men”--as the enthusiastic poetess added warmly. He called nearly every day, she said (Oswald had been there once); he was like a member of the family, and as truly united with her in warm friends.h.i.+p as in their common aspirations. ”Excelsior!” She did not think, however, Oswald would just now accept such a position, as he was ”suffering in the dull bonds of a school,” but she would mention to him the offer.
”Perhaps you had better not say anything,” said Emily, after a short meditation. ”You know Mr. Stein--how could I forget the name--did not leave our circle in perfect harmony. He might reject the offer at once, if it came to him in that way. Could you not--how shall we manage it?--yes! that's the way! Could you not arrange it so, my dear Mrs.
Jager, that I should meet him at your house as if by mere chance? I have long since desired to see the table on which the author of the 'Cornflowers' composes her beautiful poems.”
”You overwhelm me with your kindness,” cried Primula. ”I can only say with Zeus at the distribution of the gifts of the earth: if you really wish to enter my lowly hut, as often as you come it shall be open to you. Shall we say day after to-morrow, at seven?”
”That will suit me exactly,” said Emily.
Emily had given herself so completely to this interesting conversation that her husband had to remind her of the intended breaking up of the company. The prince had risen; the others had followed his example.
”_Madame_,” said the prince, ”_jai l'honneur_”--the word died on his lips, for he saw in the large mirror before him the form of a marvellously beautiful girl who had suddenly entered the room without being announced by the servant. He turned round almost frightened, and stepped aside, with a low bow, to make room for the young lady, who went up to the baroness. The young lady was Helen Grenwitz.
Her appearance here was unexpected by all except the baron and the baroness, and surprised and interested each one in his own way. The prince, who saw her now for the first time, was the only one who knew nothing of the difficulties in the family; the others had discussed the Grenwitz catastrophe for weeks with great zeal and vast ingenuity in all directions, and as Helen had thus been the common topic of conversation, this first meeting of mother and daughter was therefore to them all a most attractive scene. But if they had expected anything extraordinary they were doomed to disappointment. The baron, to be sure, showed some emotion as he rose to meet Helen and to kiss her brow, but mother and daughter met with courteous coldness, which furnished little food for the curiosity and thirst for scandal of the a.s.sembly, ready as they were to notice every gesture, and to treasure up every word.
”Ah, good-day, my dear child,” said the baroness, in French, kissing Helen likewise on her forehead, but very lightly. ”You come just in time. Permit me, _mon prince_, to present my daughter, Helen--His Highness, Prince Waldenberg, my child, the most recent as well as the most brilliant acquisition for our society.”
Helen returned the low bow of the prince, apparently not dazzled by his high rank and his imposing appearance, and then turned to Emily Cloten, who welcomed her most heartily. Emily's sharp eyes had not failed to observe the impression which Helen's startling beauty had produced on the prince. Let the prince admire whom he pleased, so Hortense lost her triumph!
”Oh, how nice!” she cried, embracing Helen, ”that you show yourself at last. I was coming to see you soon; we have a whole world to tell each other.” And she seized her friend by both hands and drew her aside a few steps, so as to be able to say to her: ”Look, the prince is done for, _totalement_ done for! He does not take is black eyes off you for an instant! If you want him, I'll let you have him. He dances beautifully, but he is not my _genre_. Encourage him a little; it annoys the Barnewitz fearfully. Just think, the old coquette still wants to play her part, although she has now to paint even her veins blue, and last night remained twice without a partner! How do you like the She Bear? _Apropos_, have you heard anything of Oswald Stein? I shall never forget that evening at your house! We came too late with our warning, but he pulled through beautifully. Even Arthur says he acted like a perfect gentleman. Don't turn round, the prince is coming this way. He no doubt wants to secure the first waltz for tomorrow.”
Emily's cunning had guessed right. The prince had really, while keeping up a conversation with the baroness, looked incessantly at Helen, and had been so absent in his answers that one could easily see his thoughts were elsewhere. Suddenly he interrupted a brilliant sentence of Anna Maria's by asking whether there would be dancing to-morrow, and whether he might be allowed to ask Fraulein von Grenwitz to keep him a dance? When both questions had been answered with a gracious ”_Mais oui, monseigneur!_” he approached the two ladies with a bow.
”I beg pardon,” he said in German, ”if I interrupt the ladies in an interesting conversation; but I cannot leave without having made an effort to secure a dance for to-morrow. May I hope, madame? May I have the honor, Miss Helen?”
The madame and the miss had the goodness to grant the prince's request, and his highness left with a haste which clearly showed that nothing had kept him so long but the accomplishment of this important task.
The departure of his highness was a signal for the other company, who had been waiting for it to go likewise, to the great satisfaction of coachmen and servants in the street below, who began to be as impatient as the horses.
The carriages had rolled away. The reception-rooms were once more empty; only the baron and the baroness remained, for the two Clotens had taken Helen in their carriage; the interrupted dialogue might have been resumed. But it was not done. The old gentleman felt too tired, and Anna Maria began to look in an entirely new light upon the question whether Helen should remain at the boarding-school or not? For about ten minutes ago the thought had suddenly entered her mind that it might, after all, be wiser to be reconciled to her daughter, who had at least as much prospect as any other young lady, and probably more, to become Princess of Waldenberg Malikowsky, Countess of Letbus.
CHAPTER III.
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