Part 27 (1/2)
”Faithful hearts are rare,” said the king. ”I have met this blue- eyed daughter of Heaven but seldom upon my path, and it is perhaps for this reason that her grandeur and her beauty are so enchanting to me. Farewell, sir abbot, and greet the brother Anastasius for me.”
”Will not your majesty allow me to accompany you to the city?”
”No, it is better that I go on foot. In a quarter of an hour, I shall be there; my carriage and my guard await me, and I wish no one to be acquainted with the adventures of this day. It remains a secret between us for the present.”
Frederick greeted him once more, and then stepped lightly onward toward the city. The coach of the abbot returned slowly to the cloister.
The king had advanced but a short distance, when the sound of an approaching horse met his car. He stood still and looked down the highway. This time the Austrian uniform did not meet his eye; he recognized in the distance the Prussian colors, and as the horse approached nearer, he marked the uniform of a young officer of his life-guard. Before Frederick found time for surprise, the rider had reached him, checked his horse with a strong hand, sprang from the saddle, bowed profoundly before the king, and reached him the reins.
”Will not your majesty do me the favor to mount my horse?” said Trenck, calm and unembarra.s.sed, and without alluding by word or smile to the adventure of the day.
The king looked at him searchingly. ”From whence come you?” said he sternly.
”From Glatz, where the pandours carried me as a prisoner, and delivered me to Colonel Trenck.”
”You were then a prisoner, and were released without ransom?”
”Colonel Trenck laughed merrily when his pandours delivered me to him, and declared I was the King of Prussia.”
”Colonel Trenck knows you?”
”Sire, I saw him often in my father's house.”
”Go on: he recognized you, then?”
”He knew me, and said laughingly, he had sent to take Frederick, King of Prussia, and not Frederick von Trenck, prisoner. I was free, I might go where I wished, and as I could not go on foot, he presented me with one of his best horses; and now I am here, will not your majesty do me the honor to mount this horse?”
”I mount no Austrian horse,” said the king in a harsh tone.
The young officer fixed his glance for one moment, with an expression of regret upon the proud and n.o.ble animal, who with dilating nostrils, flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and impatient stamping of the fore-feet, stood by his side, arching gracefully his finely-formed and muscular throat. But this expression of regret soon vanished. He let go the bridle and bowing to the king he said, ”I am at your majesty's command.”
The king glanced backward at the n.o.ble steed, who, slender and graceful and swift as a gazelle, was in a moment so far distant as to be no larger than a flying eagle. He then advanced toward Frankenstein: both were silent; neither gave another thought to the gallant horse, who, riderless and guided by instinct alone, was far on the way to Glatz. Once before they reached the city, the king turned and fixed his eyes upon the open, youthful, and handsome face of Trenck.
”I believe it would be better for you if this colonel of pandours were not your relation,” said the king thoughtfully; ”there can no good come to you from this source, but only evil.”
Frederick von Trenck turned pale. ”Does your majesty command that I shall change my name?”
”No,” said the king after a moment's reflection. ”The name is a holy inheritance which is handed down from our fathers, and it should not be lightly cast away. But be careful, be careful in every particular. Understand my words, and think upon my warning, Baron von Trenck.”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LEVEE OF A DANCER.
In Behren Street, which was at that time one of the most recherche and beautiful streets of Berlin, order and quiet generally reigned.
To-day, however, an extraordinary activity prevailed in this aristocratic locality; splendid equipages and gallant riders, followed by their attendants, dashed by; all seemed to have the same object; all drew up before the large and elegant mansion which had for some time been the centre of attraction to all the courtly cavaliers of the Prussian capital. Some of the royal princes, the young Duke of Wurtemberg, counts, amba.s.sadors, and generals, were to-day entreating an audience.
Who dwelt in this house? What distinguished person was honored by all these marks of consideration? Why was every face thoughtful and earnest? Was this a funeral, and was this general gloom the expression of the heart's despair at the thought of the loved and lost? Perhaps the case was not quite so hopeless. It might be that a prince or other eminent person was dangerously ill! ”It must be a man,” as no woman was seen in this grand cavalcade. But how account for those rare and perfumed flowers? Does a man visit his sick friend with bouquets of roses and violets and orange-blossoms? with rare and costly southern fruits in baskets of gold and silver? This would indeed be a strange custom!
But no! In this house dwelt neither prince nor statesman, only a woman. How strange that only men were there to manifest their sympathy! In this pitiful and dreary world a woman who has made a name for herself by her own beauty and talent is never acknowledged by other women. Those who owe their rank to their fathers and husbands, are proud of this accidental favor of fate; they consider themselves as the chosen accomplices and judges of morals and virtue, and cast out from their circles all those who dare to elevate themselves above mediocrity. In this house dwelt an artiste- -the wors.h.i.+pped prima donna, the Signora Barbarina!