Part 45 (1/2)
”He has sworn never to allow you to marry a Russian.”
”Oh, that was long ago,” said she, smiling, ”when Russia was our enemy. Now we are at peace. The b.l.o.o.d.y streams of discord are dried up, and an angel of peace rules over all countries. Even my father will feel his influence, and make peace with you and me.”
Feodor did not answer immediately. He stood thoughtful and contemplative, weighing the necessary and unavoidable, and considering what he should do. One thing only was clear. Neither Elise nor Gotzkowsky must be allowed to suspect on what extraordinary mission his empress had sent him thither. Only when Elise was irrevocably bound to him, when she was his without recall, when Gotzkowsky had given his consent to their union, then would he dare to disclose it to him. It was necessary, above all, to postpone the negotiations about the Russian demands for a day, and therefore he only gave his agents his instructions, and imposed on them silence and inactivity for a day longer. The princ.i.p.al thing, however, was to convince Elise and her father that their union should suffer no delay, because he was only allowed to remain a few hours. He put his arm around Elise's slender waist and pressed her to his heart. ”Listen to me, my beloved; my time has been but sparingly dealt out to me. I have come on with courier horses, so as to allow me more leisure on my return with you. But to-day we must leave, for the army is on the frontier, equipped and ready for war. Only out of special favor did the empress allow me a short leave of absence, to fetch my wife. In her clemency she has done what she was able to do, and I must now obey her orders to return speedily, if I do not wish to bring her anger down upon me. That nothing might prevent or delay us, I have brought a chaplain of our Church with me, to bless our union. You see, my beloved, that every thing is ready, and all that is wanting is the wreath of myrtle in your hair.”
”And the blessing of my father,” she replied solemnly.
Feeder's brow darkened and an angry expression flashed across his countenance. Elise did not perceive it, for, in her n.o.ble forgetfulness of self, she had leaned her head on his breast, and all doubt and distrust were alien to her free and confiding love. The love of a woman is of divine nature; it forgives all, it suffers all; it is as strong in giving as in forgiving. Every woman when she loves is an inspired poetess; the divine frenzy has seized her, and poetic utterances of ecstasy issue from her trembling lips. This poor girl, too, had become inspired. Confidingly happy, she reposed on the breast of the man whom she had never ceased to love, whom she had blest in the midst of her bitterest tears, whom she had prayed for, earnestly entreating G.o.d to have mercy on him.
”Do you go to your father,” said Feodor, after a pause. ”Pray for his consent and his blessing on both of us--I hasten to prepare every thing. Tell your father that my whole life shall be spent in the endeavor to redeem every tear you have shed for me with a smile; that I will love him as a son to whom he has given the dearest treasure of life, his Elise.”
He pressed her to his heart and kissed her forehead. Elise raised her face from his breast, and smiled on him with loving emotion. But he placed his hands over her eyes; he was not callous enough to be able to bear those innocent, yielding, tender looks.
”I must be gone,” he said. ”But this shall be our last separation, and when I return, it shall be to lead you to the altar. In an hour, dearest, you must be ready. At the end of that time, I will come to take you to St. Petersburg, and present you at the empress's court as my bride, the Princess Stratimojeff.”
He looked down at her with an air of triumph, to see what impression his words would have on her. He had expected to prepare a pleasurable surprise for her with the princely t.i.tle--to see her blush with proud satisfaction. But Elise felt neither elevated nor honored by the high rank. What did she care whether Feodor was a prince or a poor officer, so that he only loved her, and would never again forsake her?
She replied, with some surprise, ”Princess Stratimojeff! What does that mean?”
”For three months,” said he with a proud smile, ”I have been Prince Stratimojeff. The empress gave me this t.i.tle. The world calls me prince, but you--you will call me your Feodor?”
”Oh,” said she feelingly, ”my heart called you so when you did not hear me.”
”Well, then, go wind the wreath of myrtle in your hair, and wait for me. In an hour I will return.”
He hastened to the door, but on the threshold he turned to send a farewell greeting to her. Their eyes met and rested on each other, and suddenly a deep, indescribable feeling of grief came over him. It seemed to him as if he would never see her again; as if the threshold once crossed, Elise was lost to him forever. Once again he returned, and folded her pa.s.sionately in his arms, and, completely overpowered by his painful presentiments, he bowed his head on her shoulder, and wept bitterly. He then tore himself loose. ”Farewell!” he cried, but his voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and rough--”farewell! in an hour I will return for you. Be prepared, do not keep me waiting in vain.
Farewell!”
CHAPTER X.
THE MAGISTRACY OF BERLIN.
Gotzkowsky had conquered his proud heart; he had left his house to apply to those whom he had benefited and saved in the days of their need and distress, and who had then avowed him everlasting grat.i.tude.
He resolved now, reluctantly and with deep humiliation, rather to remind them of those days than to ask of them any favors or a.s.sistance beyond the payment of their debts to him.
First he went to the ober-burgomaster, President Kircheisen; to the man whom he had saved from death, who had clung to him, and, when he had found his speech again, had vowed with tears that he would be forever grateful to him, and would bless the arrival of the hour in which he could prove it to him by deeds.
This hour had now arrived, but Herr von Kircheisen did not bless it; on the contrary, he cursed it. He was standing at the window of his ground floor when Gotzkowsky pa.s.sed by. Their eyes met. Gotzkowsky's were clear and penetrating; Kircheisen's were cast down, as he stepped back from the window. He only had time to tell the servants that he was not at home for any one, whoever it might be, when the bell rang, and Gotzkowsky inquired for Herr von Kircheisen.
”Not at home, sir.”
”Not at home! but I saw him just this moment standing at the window.”
”It must have been a mistake, sir. The president has just gone to the Council-chamber.”
”Very well. I will go to the town-hall,” said Gotzkowsky, as he left the house.