Part 20 (1/2)
THE FIRST RENDEZVOUS.
The night was dark and still; so dark in the garden of Monbijou, that the keenest eye could not detect the forms of the two men who slipped stealthily among the trees; so still, that the slightest contact of their clothing with the motionless leaves, and the slightest footstep in the sand could be heard. But, happily, there was none to listen; unchallenged and unseen, the two m.u.f.fled figures entered the avenue, at the end of which stood the little palace, the summer residence of the queen-mother. Here they rested for a moment, and cast a searching glance at the building, which stood also dark and silent before them.
”No light in the windows of the queen-mother,” whispered one; ”all asleep.”
”Yes, all asleep, we have nothing to fear; let us go onward.” The last speaker made a few hasty steps forward, but his companion seized him hastily by the arm, and held him hack.
”You forget, my young Hotspur, that we must wait for the signal.
Still! still! do not stamp so impatiently with your feet; you need not shake yourself like a young lion. He who goes upon such adventures must, above all things, be self-possessed, cautious, and cool. Believe me, I have had a long range of experience, and in this species of love adventure I think I might possibly rival the famous King Charles the Second, of England.”
”But here there is no question of love adventure, Baron Pollnitz,”
said his companion impatiently, almost fiercely.
”Not of love adventure, Baron Trenck! well, may I dare to ask what is the question?”
”A true--an eternal love!”
”Ah! a true, an eternal love,” repeated Pollnitz, with a dry, mocking laugh. ”All honor to this true love, which, with all the reasons for its justification, and all the pathos of its heavenly source, glides stealthily to the royal palace, and hides itself under the shadow of the silent night. My good young sentimentalist, remember I am not a novice like yourself; I am an old fogy, and call things by their right names. Every pa.s.sion is a true and eternal love, and every loved one is an angel of virtue, beauty, and purity, until we weary of the adventure, and seek a new distraction.”
”You are a hopeless infidel,” said Trenck, angrily; ”truly he who has changed his faith as often as you have, has no religion--not even the religion of love. But look! a light is shown, and the window is opened; that is the signal.”
”You are right, that is the signal. Let us go,” whispered Pollnitz; and he stepped hastily after the young officer.
And now they stood before the window on the ground floor, where the light had been seen for a moment. The window was half open.
”We have arrived,” said Trenck, breathing heavily; ”now, dear Pollnitz, farewell; it cannot certainly be your intention to go farther. The princess commissioned you to accompany me to the castle, but she did not intend you should enter with me. You must understand this. You boast that you are rich in experience, and will therefore readily comprehend that the presence of a third party is abhorrent to lovers. I know that you are too amiable to make your friends wretched. Farewell, Baron Pollnitz.”
Trenck was in the act of springing into the window, but the strong arm of the master of ceremonies held him back.
”Let me enter first,” said he, ”and give me a little a.s.sistance.
Your sophistical exposition of the words of our princess is entirely thrown away. She said to me, 'At eleven o'clock I will expect you and the Baron von Trenck in my room.' That is certainly explicit--as it appears to me, and needs no explanation. Lend me your arm.”
With a heavy sigh, Trenck gave the required a.s.sistance, and then sprang lightly into the room.
”Give me your hand, and follow cautiously,” said Pollnitz. ”I know every step of the way, and can guard you against all possible accidents. I have tried this path often in former years, particularly when Peter the Great and his wife, with twenty ladies of her suite, occupied this wing of the castle.”
”Hus.h.!.+” said Trenck; ”we have reached the top--onward, silently.
”Give me your hand, I will lead you.”
Carefully, silently, and on tip-toe, they pa.s.sed through the dark corridor, and reached the door, through which a light s.h.i.+mmered.
They tapped lightly upon the door, which was immediately opened. The confidential chambermaid of the princess came forward to meet them, and nodded to them silently to follow her; they pa.s.sed through several rooms; at last she paused, and said, earnestly: ”This is the boudoir of the princess; enter--you are expected.”
With a hasty movement, Trenck opened the door--this door which separated him from his first love, his only hope of happiness. He entered that dimly-lighted room, toward which his weary, longing eyes had been often turned almost hopelessly. His heart beat stormily, his breathing was irregular, he thought he might die of rapture; he feared that in the wild agitation of the moment he might utter a cry, indicative as much of suffering as of joy.
There, upon the divan, sat the Princess Amelia. The hanging lamp lighted her face, which was fair and colorless. She tried to rise and advance to meet him, but she had no power; she extended both her hands, and murmured a few unintelligible words.
Frederick von Trenck's heart read her meaning; he rushed forward and covered her hands with his kisses and his tears; he fell upon his knees, and murmured words of rapture, of glowing thanks, of blessed joy--words which filled the trembling heart of Amelia with delight.