Part 52 (1/2)
”How could there be? This Greppi never went to the rendezvous. He quitted Ma.s.sa during the night, and has never since been heard of. In this, I own to you, he was not like _him._” And, as she said the words, the tears swam in her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. ”May I ask you how you learned all this?” ”From Wahnsdorf; on his return, in a week or two, he told me all. Ida, at first, would not believe it; but how could she discredit what was plain and palpable? Greppi was gone. All the inquiries of the police were in vain as to his route; none could guess how he had escaped.”
”And this account was given you--you yourself--by Wahnsdorf?” repeated the Princess.
”Yes, to myself. Why should he have concealed it?” ”And now he is to marry Ida?” said the Princess, half musingly, to herself.
”We hope, with _your_ aid, that it may be so. The family difficulties are great; Wahnsdorf s rank is not ours; but he persists in saying that to your management nothing is impossible.”
”His opinion is too flattering,” said the Princess, with a cold gravity of manner.
”But you surely will not refuse us your a.s.sistance?” ”You may count upon me even for more than you ask,” said the Princess, rising. ”How late it is! day is breaking already!” And so, with a tender embrace, they parted.
CHAPTER XLIII. MADAME DE SABBLOUKOFF IN THE MORNING
Madame de Sabloukoff inhabited ”the grand apartment” of the Hotel d'Italie, which is the handsomest quarter of the great hotel of Florence. The same suite which had once the distinguished honor of receiving a Czar and a King of Prussia, and Heaven knows how many lesser potentates! was now devoted to one who, though not of the small number of the elect-in-purple, was yet, in her way, what politicians calls a ”puissance.”
As in the drama a vast number of agencies are required for the due performance of a piece, so, on the greater stage of life, many of the chief motive powers rarely are known to the public eye. The Princess was of this number. She was behind the scenes, in more than one sense, and had her share in the great events of her time.
While her beauty lasted, she had traded on the great capital of attractions which were unsurpa.s.sed in Europe. As the perishable flower faded, she, with prudential foresight, laid up a treasure in secret knowledge of people and their acts, which made her dreaded and feared where she was once admired and flattered. Perhaps--it is by no means improbable--she preferred this latter tribute to the former.
Although the strong sunlight was tempered by the closed jalousies and the drawn muslin curtains, she sat with her back to the window, so that her features were but dimly visible in the darkened atmosphere of the room. There was something of coquetry in this; but there was more,--there was a dash of semi-secrecy in the air of gloom and stillness around, which gave to each visitor who presented himself,--and she received but one at a time,--an impression of being admitted to an audience of confidence and trust. The mute-like servant who waited in the corridor without, and who drew back a ma.s.sive curtain on your entrance, also aided the delusion, imparting to the interview a character of mysterious solemnity.
Through that solemn portal there had pa.s.sed, in and out, during the morning, various dignitaries of the land, ministers and envoys, and grand ”charges” of the Court. The embroidered key of the Chamberlain and the purple stockings of a Nuncio had come and gone; and now there was a Brief pause, for the groom in waiting had informed the crowd in the antechamber that the Princess could receive no more. Then there was a hurried scrawling of great names in a large book, a shower of visiting-cards, and all was over; the fine equipages of fine people dashed off, and the courtyard of the hotel was empty.
The large clock on the mantelpiece struck three, and Madame de Sabloukoff compared the time with her watch, and by a movement of impatience showed a feeling of displeasure. She was not accustomed to have her appointments lightly treated, and he for whom she had fixed an hour was now thirty minutes behind his time. She had been known to resent such unpunctuality, and she looked as though she might do so again. ”I remember the day when his grand-uncle descended from his carriage to speak to me,” muttered she; ”and that same grand-uncle was an emperor.”
Perhaps the chance reflection of her image in the large gla.s.s before her somewhat embittered the recollection, for her features flushed, and as suddenly grew pale again. It may have been that her mind went rapidly back to a period when her fascination was a despotism that even the highest and the haughtiest obeyed. ”Too true,” said she, speaking to herself, ”time has dealt heavily with us all. But _they_ are no more what they once were than am I. Their old compact of mutual a.s.sistance is crumbling away under the pressure of new rivalries and new pretensions.
Kings and Kaisers will soon be like bygone beauties. I wonder will they bear their altered fortune as heroically?” It is but just to say that her tremulous accents and quivering lip bore little evidence of the heroism she spoke of.
She rang the bell violently, and as the servant entered she said, but in a voice of perfect unconcern,--
”When the Count von Wahnsdorf calls, you will tell him that I am engaged, but will receive him to-morrow--”
”And why not to-day, charming Princess?” said a young man, entering hastily, and whose graceful but somewhat haughty air set off to every advantage his splendid Hungarian costume. ”Why not now?” said he, stooping to kiss her hand with respectful gallantry. She motioned to the servant to withdraw, and they were alone.
”You are not over exact in keeping an appointment, monsieur,” said she, stiffly. ”It is somewhat cruel to remind me that my claims in this respect have grown antiquated.”
”I fancied myself the soul of punctuality, my dear Princess,” said he, adjusting the embroidered pelisse he wore over his shoulder. ”You mentioned four as the hour--”
”I said three o'clock,” replied she, coldly.
”Three, or four, or even five,--what does it signify?” said he, carelessly. ”We have not either of us, I suspect, much occupation to engage us; and if I have interfered with your other plans--if you have plans--A thousand pardons!” cried he, suddenly, as the deep color of her face and her flas.h.i.+ng eye warned him that he had gone too far; ”but the fact is, I was detained at the riding-school. They have sent me some young horses from the Banat, and I went over to look at them.”
”The Count de Wahnsdorf knows that he need make no apologies to Madame de Sabloukoff,” said she, calmly; ”but it were just as graceful, perhaps, to affect them. My dear Count,” continued she, but in a tone perfectly free from all touch of irritation, ”I have asked to see and speak with you on matters purely your own--”
”You want to dissuade me from this marriage,” said he, interrupting; ”but I fancy that I have already listened to everything that can be urged on that affair. If you have any argument other than the old one about misalliance and the rest of it, I 'll hear it patiently; though I tell you beforehand that I should like to learn that a connection with an imperial house had some advantage besides that of a continual barrier to one's wishes.”
”I understand,” said she, quietly, ”that you named the terms on which you would abandon this project,--is it not so?”
”Who told _you_ that?” cried he, angrily. ”Is this another specimen of the delicacy with which ministers treat a person of my station?”