Part 35 (1/2)
”And will you permit me to ask one more bold question? If you did succeed in winning her again, what would be her fate?”
Ottmar drew back a step in astonishment and looked doubtfully at Ottilie. Should he tell her? was she strong enough to hear it? should he confess the resolution which, during months of agony and exhausting struggle, had obtained such a powerful influence over him that it governed his whole character and conduct?
”Would you make Cornelia Erwing your wife?”
”Your Highness!”
”If this is the case, I am ready, on my own responsibility, to tell you her present residence.”
”n.o.ble, royal soul!” murmured Ottmar, involuntarily. ”Well, then, yes.
Learn what no one else respects, that I, whom you have so often reproached for my heartlessness, am subdued by a pa.s.sion stronger than my selfishness, stronger than everything, for I feel I could give up my life rather than this girl, who has become so great a necessity to my mind and heart. For weeks a letter imploring her hand has been lying in my portfolio, but I can find no means of sending it to her, and am almost in despair. Have compa.s.sion upon me. If you--ever”--he hesitated--”ever felt for any one what I now feel for this cruel girl, you will know how heavily I am punished.”
Ottilie would gladly have extended her hand to him; but etiquette must not be offended in the prince's presence. She turned, so that the rest of the company could not see her face, and looked at Heinrich with an inexpressibly loving expression. The old melancholy, yet happy, smile played around her lips, while tear after tear rolled down her pale cheeks.
”You see, my dear, dear friend, I can really do something for you.
Cornelia is now living Rome, and as soon as the company have been dismissed I will send you her address.”
”Oh, G.o.d, how do I deserve the favor of such a woman? Your Highness, how shall I thank you?”
”Make Cornelia Erwing happy; this is the best grat.i.tude I can ask, for it will be the warrant of your own welfare.”
”Ah, if I might fall at your feet and kiss the hem of your garments!
No, you are no creature of earth!”
Ottilie involuntarily pressed her hand upon her heart, and thought, ”Who knows how soon he may be right!”
”Do you believe I can succeed in moving the heart of this wonderful, resolute girl?” asked _Heinrich_.
”Certainly, for I am sure Cornelia still loves you.”
”Did she tell you so in her letter?”
”No; but I know how you were beloved, and therefore cannot be forgotten. Besides, she only wrote to me once that I might know what had become of her, if I should send for her and hear she had gone away.
She lamented that an unfortunate misunderstanding compelled her to part from you, and begged me to preserve the strictest silence in regard to her residence that you might not be able to take any steps to shake this resolution, which was necessary for the sake of both. I gave the promise and said nothing; but now I should think it wrong if I did not contribute, as far as I am able, to reunite two such hearts. I had long doubted whether any such woman as you need existed; but I recognized Cornelia as the person whom, in imagination, I had destined for you; therefore she must belong to you. Do you remember the evening I predicted that you would feel a new, great love? It has now entered your heart, and, by the goodness of G.o.d, I am permitted to show you the way to the woman in whom the happiness of your life will bloom. My prophecy is fulfilled, my mission to watch over your salvation completed.” Tears again glittered in her eyes as she uttered the words, ”May blessing and peace be with you both! Farewell.”
As soon as the prince saw Ottilie's farewell bow, he approached _Heinrich_, and, after doing the honors to the company a short time longer, the n.o.ble pair withdrew. The prince supported his wife with a strong arm, for she tottered as she left the room.
Ottmar had scarcely reached home when Ottilie's groom of the chambers brought him a sealed envelope. It contained Cornelia's address, written with an unsteady hand.
_Heinrich_ immediately sent a proposal of marriage to Cornelia, overflowing with the ardor of unrestrained pa.s.sion and the most sincere, humble repentance. Great as was his sense of what he had lost in her, it was equaled by his self-accusation, his impetuous pleading for her pardon, her hand; and the whole letter bore the impress of spiritual purification and bitter, heart-felt remorse. A few days after Cornelia's answer arrived.
”Rome, February, 18--.
”You ask for my hand, Heinrich. I have read the words with tears of grateful surprise. You bear a beautiful and n.o.ble testimony, both to yourself and me; and in spirit I fall upon my knees before you, and implore your pardon for the reproaches and upbraidings hurled at your dear head on that terrible evening of our parting. Your letter reveals all the wealth of your deep heart, and shows me that you undervalued yourself when you wished to commit a deed so unworthy of you. Forgive me that I too then believed you worse than you are. I thank G.o.d for the merciful kindness with which he restored my only treasure, esteem for you; for nothing humiliates a woman more deeply than to feel affection for a man she must despise. I frankly confess, Heinrich, that I could not cease to love you, even for a moment, that I was torn by the most torturing struggle between heart and my consciousness of right. Now, since I have, received your letter and know you deserve my love, I am once more at peace with myself. I write this that you may not think me prompted by anger or bitterness when I refuse your hand. My eyes grow dim at the sight of these cruel words, the fingers that guide the pen are paralyzed; I must pause a moment and collect my thoughts.
”I cannot become your wife after what has pa.s.sed between us,--I dare not. You have wounded my womanly honor too deeply, shown with too little consideration what a great sacrifice you would make if you raised me to the position of your wife, for me to be able to reconcile my conscience or my pride to its acceptance. I cannot belong to a man who found me in a station so far below him that he thought he could degrade me to the lowest ignominy; although a n.o.bler emotion or an unconquerable affection afterwards leads him to atone for the wrong. I should always fear that, according to the opinions you have often declared, you would consider your marriage with me a mesalliance.
Besides, you have described my position as the plebeian wife of Count Ottmar too clearly and distinctly for me not to shrink from the picture with dread and horror; while even if I could myself suffer the humiliations the pride of your aristocratic circle would prepare, I could not bear that you, as my husband, should be compelled to share them with me; for even if your love at first helped you to endure them, they would only too soon stifle it. There would be a perpetual conflict between your heart and the prejudices the world in which you live has stamped upon you. This must banish peace from your breast, and sooner or later make you as miserable as before. Love would yield, and prejudice conquer, for society would neglect no opportunity of bringing new and painful proofs of the justice of its views before your eyes, and then what would be left me in return for all the humiliations I had suffered? Your scorn! Oh, I was foolish ever to permit myself to be so blinded as to believe that happiness for yourself or me could ever be expected to result from a marriage with Count Ottmar! The extent of my folly you first taught me to know in that hour of agony. Do not rebuke the application I have made of your lessons as exaggerated. It might, perhaps, be so in regard to a man who stood further above the views and demands of a narrow-minded circle than you. But with you, Heinrich, it is the direct result of your whole character. You are far too much fettered by the ideas of those who surround you, cling too closely to the false l.u.s.tre of brilliant positions, accidental aristocratic prerogatives, and personal distinction, to long retain your love for a woman who would constantly inflict the most painful wounds upon your aristocratic vanity. Believe me, love has no worse enemy than doubt of the equality of its chosen object; and even if you thought me worthy of you in intellect, the inferiority of my birth, and the want of esteem shown by society, would weigh heavily against me. You must become another man for me to accept your hand; and--forgive me if I am harsh--your letter gave me no proof of this, although it revealed a depth of feeling for which, since our separation, I had not given you credit. But you are and will remain the minister, Count Ottmar, the court favorite; I can only make him unhappy, as he would me. If you were once more yourself, Heinrich von Ottmar, my Heinrich, who has nothing in common with that unprincipled aristocracy,--if you openly acknowledged what I taught you, what I believe requisite to true manly dignity and greatness,--then, then you should learn how I love you.