Part 58 (1/2)
The king scarcely ever looked up from the ill.u.s.trated papers that lay before him, but the queen was affable and kindly toward all who took part in the conversation. She felt grateful to every one who spoke, for something had happened to her which she had really not desired. She was, even now, as ignorant of the false construction which might be put upon her motive in selecting ”Emilia Galotti,” as she was of having intended to break the cup. It was evident that the king's mind was agitated, for he frequently pa.s.sed his hand over his brows as if to smooth them, and it was his wont to indulge in this movement whenever he felt it necessary to repress his excitement. His first thought had been: Is she really ignorant that the play has, for many years, been a forbidden one? Perhaps she is, for those who measure life by their own feelings have no sense for historic data. But suddenly a thought occurred to him--and he again stroked his eyebrows--it is an intrigue, and she is capable of it. She means to lay a trap _a la_ Hamlet, in order to see what effect the play will have upon us. But no, thought he to himself, in that case, she would be obliged to surprise us, and that's not her way. But anger and violence and a rebuking conscience struggled within him. His persistent devotion to the ill.u.s.trated journals made it seem as if, while in the midst of the company, he had withdrawn into a private box. The king had never before, while in his private circle, read so uninterruptedly. It had been his wont to look now at this, and now at another picture, and to hand it to others for notice or comparison. But, on this evening, he read and yet knew not what he read. He would gladly have caught Irma's eye, and felt happy when he heard her expressing herself so unconstrainedly. He admired her, and would gladly have looked round to her, but dared not even smile approval of her words. He had left Schnabeldorf's remarks unanswered, and must, therefore, seem not to have heard Irma's.
The queen arose. All stood up with a sense of relief, for every one had felt opposed, although the evening had proven a cheerful one. Before withdrawing, the queen made Schnabelsdorf happy by telling him how grateful they ought to feel toward him, since he was always able to introduce such charming subjects of conversation. Then, addressing the intendant, she said in a voice louder than was her wont:
”If it is any trouble to study 'Emilia Galotti'--”
”Oh, no, Your Majesty.”
”I mean if the time's too short.”
”There's ample time,” replied the intendant. He had already determined how he would cast the play, and intended to try the novel experiment of using the costume of the last century.
”I think,” said the queen, while her voice a.s.sumed an expression which was foreign to it, ”that you might give us 'Nathan the Wise' or 'Minna von Barnhelm,' if you think they can be produced more effectively.”
”Let it be as it is,” exclaimed the king, suddenly. ”Let 'Emilia Galotti' be the play, and have the bills read: 'By royal command.'”
The king offered his arm to the queen, and, accompanied by her, withdrew. The rest of the company bowed low and soon afterward separated for the night. Those who lived without the palace got into their carriages; the rest retired to their apartments, and, although indifferent and unimportant topics had but recently engaged them, every one was busied with his own thoughts on one and the same subject.
Irma dismissed her maid as soon as possible; then, taking up a dust-covered volume of Lessing, she opened and closed the book several times in order to shake off the dust, and, at one sitting, read the whole of ”Emilia Galotti.”
She did not fall asleep until near morning, and, when she awoke, hardly knew where she was. The open book still lay before her; the lights had gone out of themselves, for she had forgotten to put them out, and the air in her apartment was close and almost stifling.
At about the same time that Irma awoke, bitter tears were being shed in the theater. The intendant had a.s.signed ”Emilia Galotti” to a new cast, had taken the _role_ of Emilia from the leading actress, who had looked upon the part as hers in perpetuity, and had given it to a more youthful performer. The _role_ of Claudia had been a.s.signed to the elder actress, who sat weeping behind a side-scene, exclaiming; ”Pearls mean tears, but tears do not mean pearls.” The intendant, though generally kind and amiable, was unrelenting.
But Baum was far more unhappy than the dissatisfied actress. For she was still permitted to take part in the performance, while he, on account of the mishap with the cup, was no longer allowed to remain near their majesties. He deplored his misfortune to Walpurga, and she begged the queen that Baum might again be restored to favor. On the second evening, the queen inquired if the lackey Baum was ill. He was saved. Full of grat.i.tude, he went to Walpurga and said:
”I'll never forget you for this: you've served me for life.”
”I'm glad I've been able, for once, to do you a favor.”
”I'll repay you some time or other, depend upon it.”
Baum hurriedly withdrew, for Irma entered the room. The king came in soon afterward. He was about to speak French with Irma, but she begged him not to do so, saying:
”Simplicity is very susceptible.”
”And so-called good-nature,” replied the king, ”is often full of malice and intrigue. Weakness all at once fancies itself obliged to be very strong.”
”We must be gentle for all that,” replied Irma. Although they had spoken German before Walpurga, she had not understood a word of what they said.
”I admire the power of my spy,” said the king, ”and confess that I bow to her, in all humility. I would never have believed such greatness possible.”
Irma nodded gently, and replied: ”The hero is Hettore Gonzaga, but the true Emilia Galotti loves him with a power which is worthy of him.”
”And the true Hettore is neither dilettante nor weakling, and needs no Marinelli.”
The relation born of shame and pa.s.sion received added strength through the cunning and intriguing opposition of the queen, for the choice of the proscribed play was regarded as part of a well-considered plan. It was like a breath of wind, which, instead of extinguis.h.i.+ng the flame, fans it. Deep within their hearts, lurked the self-extenuating plea that the queen was not the pure angel she pretended to be.
”I am firmly convinced,” said the king, ”that Hippocrates conjured the fatal crystal cup into Nausikaa's hand.”