维也纳人民因恐惧而瘫痪。沉重的忧郁压垮了所有人的心，最坚强的心似乎也崩溃了。今天，信使从军营赶来，带来了奥地利军队惨败的可怕消息。波拿巴，法兰西共和国的年轻将军，在一年的时间里（1796年），他在波拿巴的整个一生中，赢得了与许多伟大而杰出的战士一样多的战斗和荣耀。意大利阿尔卑斯山和他的军队纵队密密麻麻，奥地利最值得信赖的军事领导人在他面前惊慌失措地逃跑了。洛迪和阿尔科尔的英雄赢得了新的胜利，这些胜利不断缩短了他的军队与受威胁的奥地利首都之间的距离。

查理大公被马塞纳击败，并被赶回菲拉赫。贝尔纳多特已经到达莱巴赫。戈里茨、特里斯特和莱巴赫的城堡已经投降。克拉根福在经历了一场最绝望的斗争后，被迫向征服者敞开大门。劳登和他勇敢的部队已经分散在蒂罗尔地区。博岑向朱伯特将军敞开了大门，他在短暂停留后离开了这座城市，前往与波拿巴会合，波拿巴在他的胜利生涯中，正毫无抵抗地向维也纳挺进。

这就是信使带来的消息，这些消息是精心策划的，目的是在奥地利首都引起恐慌。当宫廷和贵族们在宫殿内部掩饰他们的悲痛和哀伤时，民众则涌上街头，焦急地打听后来的消息，并仍然希望仁慈的上帝也许会放出一线曙光，以拯救他们的生命。就能驱散这种痛苦和绝望的阴郁。

但维也纳笼罩着一层阴影，每个人都显得悲伤和沮丧。突然间，聚集在科尔市场的人群中似乎弥漫着某种新的恐怖情绪。[1]白菜市场。 这黑色的人海仿佛掀起惊涛骇浪，密密麻麻的人影开始来回波动，发出一声凄厉的哀嚎，声音越来越大，最后爆发出可怕的哭声：“皇帝抛弃了我们！皇帝和皇后已经逃离维也纳了！”

当群众以绝望的方式哀悼这一新的不幸时，当他们三五成群地聚集在一起大声评论这一天最后的、最可怕的事件时，突然，匈牙利骠骑兵冲上来，命令人民，以最强行让路，为即将从相邻街道进入市场的马车开出一条通道。

人们被士兵们闪烁的刀剑和严厉的言辞吓倒了，纷纷向后退去，用焦急的表情注视着出现在眼前的奇怪的队伍。

这支队伍由十二辆马车组成，显然不是用来接收活人的，而是用来接收死者遗骸的。又宽又重的轮子上面不是普通的马车箱，而是巨大的铁箱，大得足以装下一口棺材或一具尸体。这些箱子上盖着厚厚的毯子，毯子的四个角上绣着奥地利皇冠。每一辆奇怪的马车都由六匹马拉着，骑师们穿着皇家制服，而皇帝匈牙利侍卫的骠骑兵则在两侧排列整齐。

马匹拖着这些神秘的马车缓慢而沉重地穿过街道。车轮在凹凸不平的路面上滚动，发出沉闷、雷鸣般的声音。这种声音在那些脸色苍白、惊恐万分的观众的耳中和心中回响，就像某种新雷雨的预兆。

这些神秘的马车里到底藏着什么？什么东西被如此小心翼翼地从维也纳带走并如此严密地看管着？每个人都在问这些问题，但只是在自己的内心深处，因为没有人敢用大声的话语或好奇的短语来打断这痛苦而焦虑的沉默。每个人似乎都被骠骑兵们令人生畏的目光所吸引，并被车轮沉闷的隆隆声惊呆了。

但是，当最后一辆马车消失在下一条街上时，当骠骑兵护卫队的最后一名骑兵离开这个地方时，焦急的观众的目光再次转向先前向他们讲话的发言者，并向他们讲述了奥地利的不幸，以及年轻的法国将军波拿巴的辉煌胜利。

“那些马车里装着什么？”人群喊道。 “我们想知道它，我们必须知道它！”

“如果你一定要知道的话，为什么不去问士兵们呢？”人群中一个冷笑的声音喊道。

“是的，是的，”另一个声音说道，“你为什么不走近马车，敲一下箱子呢？——也许魔鬼会跳出来，给你看他漂亮的脸！”

人们没有在意这些嘲讽的言论。痛苦的不确定性、焦虑的兴奋持续不断，每个人都对马车里的东西做出猜测。

一位诚实的裁缝对他的邻居说：“箱子里可能装着帝国祖先的棺材，这些棺材是从 Kapuzinergruft 移走的，目的是为了将他们从法国人手中拯救出来。”这个浪漫的想法立即像雪崩一样滚滚而来。广大的人群。

“他们正在从维也纳运走老皇帝的遗骸！”人群哀嚎起来。 “连坟墓都不再安全了！他们拯救了皇帝的尸体，却抛弃了我们——活着的人！他们把我们抛在敌人的怜悯之下！没有钱逃跑的人都输了！法国人会来杀掉我们所有人！”

“我们不会允许的！”大声喊道。 “我们希望将玛丽亚·特蕾莎和伟大的约瑟夫皇帝的遗骸保留在维也纳。只要他们还活着，他们就爱着首都的人民，他们死后也会保护我们。来吧，弟兄们，来吧；让我们跟随马车——让我们阻止他们并将尸体带回 Kapuzinergruft[2]卷尾猴的地窖“。

“是的，让我们跟踪马车并阻止他们，”人群喊道，当他们不再看到士兵们闪烁的威胁性武器时，他们感到非常勇敢。

然而，突然，这些愤怒的喊叫声被一道强有力的声音打断，命令人们停下来，他们看到一个高大的男人，像猫一样敏捷地爬上了广场中央的铁灯柱。

“住手，住手！”这个人咆哮道，他向人群伸出双臂，仿佛他是一个新的摩西，他想要平息大海的愤怒，让它平静下来。

人群立刻听从了这巨大的声音，所有这些愤怒、焦虑、恐惧的面孔此时都转向了站在他们上方灯柱顶上的说话者。

“别再愚弄自己了，”他说，“别给这些匈牙利人——他们很乐意用德国人的鲜血来平息他们目前的愤怒——一个折断你们骨头的机会。你有权力强迫他们给你看马车和里面的东西吗？即使你带着武器，士兵们也会压倒你，因为一旦战斗爆发，你们中的大多数人都会逃跑，剩下的人会被带到卡拉布斯。不过，我会帮您一个忙，告诉您有关这些马车的所有信息。你想知道吗？

“是的，是的，我们愿意！”人群大声喊道。 “那边安静点！——别吵了！——别哭那么大声！——嘘！——让我们听听马车里有什么。——安静，安静！”

接下来是一片深深的寂静——每个人都屏住呼吸倾听。

“那么，听我说吧。这些马车里装的不是前任皇帝的遗骸，而是现任皇帝的黄金和珠宝。这是那些骠骑兵护送从维也纳到普雷斯堡的国宝，因为政府认为它在这里不再安全。想想我们现在所经历的一切吧！我们的皇室，甚至国宝，都必须逃离维也纳！而我们要承受这一切又是谁的错呢？是谁让这些法国人对我们下手的？是谁让战争及其灾难淹没了整个奥地利？要我告诉你是谁干的吗？”

“是啊，告诉我们，告诉我们！”人群喊道。 “让奥地利陷入战争和苦难、导致皇帝逃亡、把宝藏从维也纳运走的人有祸了！”

演讲者等到人民的怒火再次平息，然后用清晰、响亮、有力的声音说道：“这是我们首相冯图古特男爵的错。他不希望我们与法国人和解。他宁愿毁灭我们所有人，也不愿与法兰西共和国讲和。”

“但我们不想被毁掉！”人群喊道——“我们不想像羊一样被带入混乱的境地。不，不;我们想要和平——与法国和平。图古特总理将使我们与法国实现和平！”

“你最好去告诉这位傲慢的大臣本人，你想要什么。”说话者冷笑道。 “首先迫使他做皇帝甚至我们勇敢的查理大公都想做的事情——强迫无所不能的大臣讲和。”

“我们要去请求他给我们带来和平，”人群中几个声音说道。

“是是是，我们一定会这么做！”其他人喊道。 “来来;让我们都去部长家里，请求他把皇帝和国宝还给我们，并与波拿巴讲和。”

说话的人现在急忙从灯柱上下来。然而，即使双脚踏上人行道，他那高大、魁梧的身材仍然高耸在人群之上。

“来吧，”他用响亮而坚定的语气对旁观者说，“我带你们去部长家里，因为我知道他住在哪里，我们会在那里大声喊叫，掀起一场风暴，直到那位骄傲的绅士屈尊俯就。符合我们的愿望。”

他迅速带路，人群总是很容易被引导，也很灵活，大声喝彩地跟随临时的领导者。只有一个想法，只有一个愿望，激励了所有这些人：他们希望与法国和平，以免波拿巴来到维也纳，像对待许多意大利城市一样，将他们美丽的首都化为灰烬。

他们的首领骄傲地走在不规则游行队伍的最前面。人群继续高喊“与法国和平！”他嘀咕道：“我想我今天已经完成了很多事情。大公会对我所做的感到满意，我们最终可以迫使大臣与法国讲和。”

首相冯·图古特男爵 (Baron von Thugut) 正在内阁中与新任警察部长冯·索劳伯爵 (Count von Saurau) 进行热切磋商。已经出发去匈牙利了。

“好的！好的！”图古特阴险地笑道。 “在匈牙利，两者都足够安全，因为我认为我已经恐吓了匈牙利人，他们将保持非常安静和谦虚。”

“阁下指的是两年前我们在那里发现的阴谋，”索劳伯爵微笑着说道，“而那些可恶的叛徒却将其送上了绞刑架！”

“De Mortuir Nil Nisi Bene！”图古特惊呼道。 “我们对这些出色的叛徒负有许多义务，因为他们使我们能够使匈牙利人屈服，就像两年前在维也纳密谋的叛徒使我们能够对首都人民做同样的事情一样。阴谋被当局发现总是一件好事，因为它为我们提供了一个以身作则的机会，通过阴谋者的血淋淋的脑袋告诉全国：“如此，如此，凡是敢于阴谋反对的人都会受到对待。”政府并反对他们的主人！自从看到断头台上的卫戍部队指挥官赫本斯特雷特和颈手枷上的帝国孩子们的导师里德尔男爵那天起，维也纳人就变得非常谦逊和顺从。自从五名贵族阴谋家在奥芬城堡前的将军大道上被斩首后，匈牙利人也学会了低头。相信我，伯爵，这一天对匈牙利的顺从的贡献比奥地利皇帝给予马扎尔人的所有恩惠和特权还要多。民族总是轻浮无礼的孩子：试图温柔地教育他们的人一定会溺爱他们；试图温柔地教育他们的人一定会溺爱他们；但要在恐惧和战栗中养育他们，他们就会成为安静而顺从的人。出于这个原因，我再次告诉你们，既然这些人已经死了，不要称他们为可恶的叛徒，因为他们对我们非常有用。它们是我们用来惩罚奥地利和匈牙利所有专横的人民的工具，当我们铲除两国出身高贵的叛徒时，对我们来说是幸福的日子。那天，我们正义之剑发挥了崇高的作用，它击倒了一位学者、一位诗人、一位伯爵和一位杰出的主教。唉，可惜他们之中没有王子啊！”

“好吧，也许也能找到一位王子，”索劳伯爵说，“也许他可能会在其他场合进入我们的圈子。阁下是一位熟练的猎人。”

“你对我来说是一个很好的指导。你当场就闻到了这种东西。”图古特伯爵惊呼道，然后爆发出一阵大笑。

索劳伯爵也笑了，他小心翼翼地不让自己暴露出这个笑话对他贵族自尊的伤害是多么残酷。奥地利贵族已经习惯了强大而骄傲的总理的这种侮辱，每个人都知道图古特，一个贫穷的造船厂的儿子，在他的伟大之中，喜欢回忆起他卑微的出身，并通过造船商之子的代理来贬低贵族。

“阁下将允许我立即让自己配得上您对我的赞扬，”警察部长在短暂的停顿后说道。 “我相信我们在这里发现了另一个阴谋。确实，它还只是一个胚胎，但如果我们给它必要的时间，它可能会成长为某种东西。”

“什么事，索罗？”图古特高兴地说——“立刻告诉我那是什么！一个阴谋——一个好的、合理的阴谋？”

“是的，一个最恶毒、最重要的阴谋！这是一场谋害大人性命的阴谋！”

「呸！——就这些了吗？」 “图古特漫不经心地说，语气明显很失望。 “我希望此时你能把一些与那个可憎的法兰西共和国秘密交往的出身高贵的贵族交给我。对于那些热衷于重复共和弑君这三个护身符的人，以及在谈论自由、平等、博爱时欣喜若狂的那些愚蠢的傻瓜来说，这将是一个绝妙的例子。我本想惩罚其中一些疯子，以阻止普遍存在的共和主义热情。但你不但没有这么做，反而对我说这是一个只针对我自己的阴谋！”

“只针对你自己！”怀着极大的愤慨，又数了一遍。 “如果奥地利被剥夺了你的服务，这对她来说并不是最可怕的灾难。你知道我们正站在悬崖边；在国内，约瑟夫皇帝的毫无意义的改革所激起的自由主义和煽动性的欲望仍然盛行，人民只是怀着不情愿和恶意的心情接受阁下为了最好的目的而发起的改革奥地利的利益。另一方面，在国外，血迹斑斑的法兰西共和国煽动男性内容者效仿它自己的恶行。他们希望在这里看到波拿巴将军胜利的旗帜，以便得到他的协助在奥地利建立共和政府。”

“确实如此，”图古特说，“奥地利帝国目前面临着来自内部和外部的巨大危险；必须牢牢地握住缰绳，以便引导国家之船安全地通过浪涛，我相信我是做到这一点的人。你看，伯爵，我并没有低估自己的重要性。我非常清楚奥地利需要我。尽管如此，那些仅仅针对我自己的阴谋和阴谋却让我发笑。让我告诉你，我亲爱的小伯爵，我真的认为我的人没有什么可害怕的，无论是匕首、手枪还是有毒的杯子。伯爵，你相信上帝吗？啊！——你看起来很惊讶，想知道这样的问题怎么会从像我这样的异教徒嘴里说出。是的，是的，我是一个异教徒，我诚实地承认穆罕默德的天堂，在那里你坐在云垫上抽着烟，而美丽的胡里斯正在用玫瑰色的手指挠你的脚底，在我看来，这比基督教的天堂更令人向往，在基督教的天堂里，你永远无所事事地站在全能上帝的宝座前，唱着赞美诗，赞美他的伟大。啊!在君士坦丁堡逗留的快乐日子里，我稍微尝到了穆罕默德天堂的滋味。再次，在玛丽亚·特蕾莎的乏味日子里，我预尝了基督教的天堂！”

“大人指的是哪个上帝？”索罗问道。 “我请求阁下告诉我，因为您的信仰是我的榜样。”

“我相信上帝永远不会徒劳地做任何事情，也不会创造伟人，让他们像苍蝇一样被可怜的猴子压死。这就是为什么我不害怕任何针对我自己的阴谋。上帝创造了我，让我对奥地利有用，成为她抵御革命浪潮和波拿巴将军胜利军团的堡垒。我是上帝的工具，因此只要它需要我，它就会保护我。但如果有一天，它不再需要我，如果它打算让我倒下，那么我所有的预防措施都将毫无意义，而你所有的间谍，我亲爱的伯爵，都将无法阻止刺客的手。”

“那么，你想让我明白，不会对密谋危害阁下生命的罪犯采取任何措施吗？”

“绝不是这样算——事实上，那是对宿命论的夸大。我非常依赖您的智慧和您仆人的警惕性，伯爵。让他们监视那些愚蠢的民众——注意那些假兄弟总是参加我敌人的会议，每当他们告诉你有针对我的阴谋时，为什么，这些罪犯就会被悄悄带走，不会有任何多余的噪音。感谢上帝，我们有堡垒和国家监狱，墙壁太厚，尖叫声或呻吟声无法穿透，没有人能够突破。公众应该尽可能少地了解这些罪犯的命运。对一名未能击中我的刺客进行公开惩罚，只会促使其他十个人在不能更好地击中我的情况下尝试。但罪魁祸首的无声无息的消失，让他们懦弱的灵魂充满了恐惧和沮丧，十个人畏缩不前，只因为他们不知道第十一个同伙是如何赎罪的。囚犯的消失、秘密基地的消失，正是我们所需要的。你必须悄悄地清除你的敌人和对手——看起来好像有什么隐藏的深渊吞没了他们；那么，每个人都会认为有一天这个深渊可能会在他自己的脚下打开，他就会变得谨慎、不安和胆怯。仅靠秘密惩罚的智慧，以及神秘法庭所激发的恐怖，威尼斯就能够将她的存在延长了几个世纪。因为人们相信三巨头的间谍无处不在——而且因为每个人都害怕广场上的两只狮子，所以威尼斯人服从了这些他们不认识的隐形统治者，而他们的复仇之手始终悬在他们身上。”

“然而，现在看来，一只看得见的手，一只铁手，将击走三人无形的手，”索罗伯爵很快说道。 “波拿巴似乎也想将威尼斯纳入他的意大利共和国的范畴。这座城市充满了法国使者，他们通过最雄辩和阴险的呼吁，试图按顺序引起威尼斯人反抗他们的统治者——但是听着！”伯爵突然打断了自己的话说道。 “那是什么？你没听到我们窗下街上的喧闹声吗？”

他停了下来，像牧师一样，将眼睛和耳朵转向窗户。一阵混乱的喧闹声、大声的叫喊声、叫喊声，在下方响起。

两位部长一言不发地从扶手椅上站起来，急忙走到一扇窗户前，从那里可以看到从科尔市场一直延伸到部长宫殿的宽阔街道。在那里可以看到巨大的脑袋、宽阔的肩膀和高举的手臂，兴奋的民众愤怒的吼叫声已经逼近了宫殿的附近。

“看来，这些尊敬的人民代表确实打算来拜访我，”图古特平静地说。 “听听，伙计们如何呼喊我的名字，就像是欢快的啤酒歌曲的副歌！”

“哎呀，这就是一场普通的骚乱！”警察部长愤怒地喊道。 “阁下允许我撤退——”

他匆忙离开窗户，拿走了帽子，但图古特有力的手阻止了他。

“伯爵，你要去哪里？”他微笑着说道。

“致维也纳总督，”索劳说。 “我要问他为何允许这种胡言乱语，并命令他以最简单的方式驱散乌合之众！”

“祈祷，留在这里，”图古特平静地说。 “维也纳总督是一位非常睿智的人，他非常清楚我们应该如何对待人民。哎呀，如果连穷人都不允许向首相提出好的建议，告诉他他们对当前局势的看法，那将是一种无与伦比的暴政。只要给他们这个许可，他们就会相信自己做了一件最英雄的事，在他们看来，他们似乎可以夸耀伟大的自由。真正的政治智慧，我亲爱的小伯爵，命令我们给予人民表面上的自由；因此，我们成功地让他们眼花缭乱，以至于他们没有意识到自己没有任何真正的自由。”

楼下街道上的喧闹声变得更加愤怒。密密麻麻的人群已经把街道完全堵住了，他们急忙涌向大臣府的大门，大臣府的大门已经被小心翼翼的门房锁上了。有力的拳头猛烈地敲击着门，伴随着领导人可怕的音乐，人们嚎叫着，大声喊叫：“我们要见部长！他会给我们平安！和平！和平！”

“啊！我知道这意味着什么！”索罗伯爵咬牙切齿地喊道。 “你们的敌人煽动了这些恶棍。这个党想推翻你我，想不惜一切代价与法国讲和，想让比利时与奥地利保持统一，这个党雇佣了下面的恶棍来制造骚乱。他们想要迫使阁下要么辞职，要么遵从人民的意愿，与法兰西共和国讲和。”

图古特笑了。 “强迫我！”他简洁地说。

就在这时，暴民的喊声比以往任何时候都更大，喊声是——“和平！我们想要和平！”摇动窗户。

与此同时，对前门的猛烈打击更加暴力。

“我确实不能再忍受了！”警察部长完全疯了，惊呼道。 “我不应该静静地听这种愤怒。”

“不，”图古特非常平静地说，“我们不会再听了。这是我的早餐时间，我邀请你做我的客人。走吧，我们去餐厅吧。”

他挽着伯爵的手臂，和他一起去了隔壁的房间。八人的早餐就在这个房间里供应，因为图古特男爵习惯于每天为七位不速之客开放餐桌，而他的亲密熟人以及他特别喜爱的人至少都会拜访部长一次。每周，在他著名的早餐和晚餐时间。

然而今天，部长好奇地扫了一眼，却没有发现任何客人。除了站在椅子后面的八个仆人外，房间里没有人。他们深知主人的严厉和不屈不挠的精神，他们都在原来的位置上，但他们的脸色都很苍白，他们的眼睛带着极度焦虑的表情转向窗户，而窗户就在这时，在雷鸣般的重击下再次颤抖。在前门。

“胆小鬼！”图古特一边嘀咕着，一边走向桌子上端的椅子，示意索罗伯爵在他身边坐下。

然而就在这时，门被匆匆打开，管家脸色苍白，面容扭曲，冲进了房间。

“对不起，阁下，”他说，“但这一次他们肯定是认真的。人们正在冲进前门——铰链开始松动，最晚十五分钟后，恶棍们就会强行闯入！”

“你没有权利关门，”部长说。 “谁命令你这么做的？谁命令你把房子围起来，好像它是一座堡垒一样——好像我们良心不安，害怕人民一样？”

管家一脸愕然，不知道该回答什么。

“立刻下楼去，”牧师继续说道。 “命令门房开门，让大家进来。带人上楼；你们这些脸色苍白、膝盖发抖的无赖们，把两扇折叠门打开，让他们进去，互不伤害。现在就按照我告诉你的去做吧。”

管家痛苦地叹了口气，鞠了一躬，然后匆匆离开了房间。

与此同时，仆人们赶紧打开餐厅和前厅的折叠门。餐桌上的两位先生由此可以看到大楼梯平台的全景，就在第一个房间敞开的门前面。

“现在，热尔曼，”图古特对椅子后面的男仆说，“现在让我们吃早餐吧。亲爱的伯爵，要明智一点，以我为榜样；拿一些果子露。它可以冷却血液，同时又令人精神焕发。喝吧，亲爱的伯爵，喝吧！啊!你看，我的厨师今天为我们准备了一顿正宗的土耳其餐，因为有一只火鸡，是用米饭和辣椒煮的。大维齐尔的首席厨师亲自向我提供了这道精美菜肴的收据，我可以斗胆断言，你可能在维也纳到处寻找这道菜，却找不到像我餐桌上那样精心准备的菜。”

楼梯上传来沉重的脚步声和混乱的声音。

“他们来了，他们还真敢进来！”索罗伯爵气得浑身发抖，说道。 “请原谅，阁下；我钦佩你的英雄气概，但我无法模仿。我不可能坐以待毙，而一群歹徒却胆敢闯入你家！”

“请您原谅，伯爵； “这些人并没有闯入我的房子，但我主动开门接纳了他们。”图古特男爵冷冷地说道。 “至于你的官方职位，我请求你忘掉半个小时，只记得我有幸在我的餐桌上见到你——一位难得的客人。让我求你拿一些那只家禽吧；真的很好吃！”

索劳伯爵长长地叹了口气，拿起日耳曼递给他的一块家禽，放在他面前的银盘上。但正当他准备品尝第一口时，他犹豫了，目光坚定地透过敞开的门往里看。楼梯栏杆上方浮现出几个头发蓬乱、眼神闪烁的脑袋；许多人紧随其后——现在整个人影都清晰可见了，下一刻，二十到三十个看上去狂野的人到达了楼梯平台，在他们身后的楼梯上，一大堆其他的头颅浮出水面。

但大声喊叫、激烈的咒骂和叫喊已经停止了。入侵者对他们所看到的一切事物的贵族外观充满了敬畏，使他们的声音安静下来，甚至是勇敢的演说家，他以前在科尔市场上煽动人们采取暴力行为，并把他们带到了牧师的家——就连他现在也犹豫不决，犹豫不决，站在餐厅门口，向室内投去充满野蛮仇恨和愤怒的目光。

图古特显然没有注意到发生了什么。他的早餐全神贯注，他把全部注意力都集中在一大块火鸡上，他似乎非常喜欢吃火鸡。

索劳伯爵只是假装在吃东西，目光坚定地看着自己的盘子，因为他不想让暴徒们从他的眼中读出他胸中充满的愤怒。

百姓们看到这奇异而出乎意料的一幕，似乎心里不太踏实，顿时像湿毯子一样冷却了他们的热情和英雄气概。他们得意洋洋地闯入宫殿，大声喊叫，确信大臣会颤抖着求饶地出现在他们面前。现在，令他们大吃一惊的是，他们看到他非常平静地坐在早餐桌前！

对于处于这个位置的穷人来说，有一些非常尴尬的事情。他们突然变得非常清醒，甚至感到害怕，许多曾经如此喧闹和胜利地登上楼梯的人现在认为谨慎的做法是尽可能安静地退出。栏杆上方出现的头颅数量不断减少，最坚决、最勇敢的只剩下二十个左右，留在了接待室的门口。

最后，在科尔市场向他们发表讲话的演讲者意识到自己的承诺和向他许诺的奖励，克服了暂时的羞涩，大胆地走进了前厅，其他人受到他的榜样的鼓舞，也跟着他来到了前厅。一次。

图古特男爵此时从盘子里抬起眼来，神态冷漠，扫了一眼那些脚步声吵闹地穿过前厅的男人们。然后转向身后的男仆，大声说道：

“热尔曼，去问问这些先生们想不想见我？同样问问他们，你将有幸向你的主人宣布谁？

当穿着华丽制服的仆人走到他们面前，带着居高临下的微笑，告诉他们他的主人交给他的任务时，男人们无意中听到了这些话，变得更加困惑了。

但现在撤退已经是不可能了，因为他们别无选择，只能用自己所拥有的勇气和勇气武装自己，以便以最恰当的方式履行他们所承担的角色。

“是的，”科尔市场的发言人大声而坚决地说，“我们想见部长；至于我们的名字，我是裁缝公会的温泽尔先生。我的邻居是卡尔鲍姆先生，他也是一名裁缝。其他人可以提及自己的名字，以便这位礼貌的先生向大人回答。”

但其他人都没有答应这个要求。相反，所有人都胆怯地看着一旁，心中升起一丝疑虑，担心如此大声地宣布自己的名字对他们来说可能并非完全没有危险。

热尔曼没有等待最后的结论，而是匆匆回到了主人身边，将自己所听到的事情告诉了主人。

“先生。裁缝公会的文泽尔、裁缝卡尔鲍姆先生和其他先生，无论他们叫什么名字，都欢迎。部长大声说道，但一刻也没有中断他的用餐。

随后，几人便走到了餐厅门口。但说到这里，牧师傲慢而专横的目光让他们突然停了下来。

“我想你已经吃过早饭了吧？”图古特问道。

“是的，我们已经吃过早饭了。”温泽尔先生用粗暴的声音回答道。

“嗯，不幸的是，我没有，所以我请求你让我先吃完早餐，”图古特说，再次攻击他盘子里的火鸡翅膀。

随后是长时间的停顿。男人们极其尴尬地站在门口，牧师严厉的目光吸引了他们，一种最不愉快的忧虑开始占据他们的心头，担心这一幕可能会造成什么后果。闪光的剑刃和瞄准他们胸口的步枪不会让他们感到害怕，而是部长平静、骄傲和令人生畏的形象，以及他吃早餐时的完全冷漠和绝对的安全感。骚乱者目睹了煽动暴徒的全貌，对自己的人身安全深感忧虑。

“我确信宫殿周围隐藏着很多士兵和警察，”文泽尔先生想，“这就是他允许我们进入的原因，也是他现在如此平静和漠不关心的原因；因为他知道我们的宫殿里隐藏着很多士兵和警察。”因为我们一进餐厅，那些漂亮的仆人就会把门反锁，士兵们就会从另一扇门冲出来逮捕我们。”

这些愉快的思考被牧师又一个可怕的目光打断了，这使可怜的文泽尔先生剧烈地颤抖起来。

“现在，先生们，请进；我已经吃完早餐了。”图古特冷静地说。 “我已经准备好并渴望听到你想对我说的话。所以，进来吧，进来吧！”

站在文泽尔先生身后的人向前走去，但裁缝公会成员高大、魁梧的身材却抵挡住了他们，迫使他们站住了。

“不，请阁下原谅，”温泽尔先生说，他下定决心不跨过餐厅致命的门槛，“像我们这样的穷人是不会进入阁下的餐厅的。我们的位置在前厅——我们将在那里等待阁下屈尊聆听我们的讲话。”

这种卑微的语言，这种颤抖的声音，与温泽尔先生在街上所扮演的一位勇敢、直言不讳的人民领袖的气质完全不相符，这让那些曾经如此经历过的人的灵魂感到恐惧和惊愕。贸然跟着他进了王宫。

部长站了起来；他宽阔的肩膀傲然地耸立着，棱角分明的五官上挂着讽刺的微笑。他那蓬乱的白眉毛直到此刻都痉挛性地收缩——这是图古特即使在最令人恼火的情况下也表现出的唯一愤怒的外在症状——当他迈着缓慢而有节奏的步伐接近这些人时，他又放松下来，变得平静和安详。

“好吧，现在告诉我你来这里的目的是什么？我能为你做什么？”图古特问道，他充分意识到了自己的力量。

“我们恳求阁下赐予我们和平。可怜的人们——”

“与谁和平？”部长平静地问道。

“与法国和平相处，阁下——与波拿巴将军和平相处，据说他是一位魔术师，迷惑了所有人，只要他愿意，只要一眼，只要一举手，就能征服所有国家。如果我们不讲和，他也会征服奥地利，来到维也纳，称帝；于是，他将解雇我们自己的明智而善良的大臣，并给我们法国的主人。但我们希望留下我们的皇帝和优秀的大臣，他们像父亲一样照顾我们。这就是我们来到这里的唯一原因——只是恳求大人怜悯穷人，讲和，让皇帝回到维也纳，把国库带回首都。是的，伙计们，这就是我们想要的，不是吗？我们只是祈求阁下赐予我们平安！”

“是的，大人，”人们喊道，“怜悯我们，赐我们平安！”

“好吧，对于和平天使来说，你们闯入我的房子相当粗鲁，”部长严厉地说。 “你们为了获得和平而发动骚乱。”

“只是我们的焦虑让我们如此仓促和浮躁，”温泽尔先生不以为然地说。 “如果我们吓到了您，请您原谅。”

“吓死我了！”图古特以一种极其轻蔑的语气回应道。 “就好像你们是来吓唬我的人一样！我知道你会来，我也知道是谁贿赂你来的。是的，是的，我知道他们给了你很高的报酬，温泽尔先生，因为你煽动了一场骚乱——他们因为你带领一群暴徒闯入我的房子而给了你闪亮的达克特。但他们的金币还能让你再次摆脱困境吗？”

文泽尔先生的脸色变得非常苍白。他尖叫了一声，踉踉跄跄地后退了几步。

“阁下知道——”他说。

“是的，我知道，”图古特严厉地继续说道，“这些人不尊重自己国家的荣誉和尊严，他们愚蠢到相信最好是自愿臣服于法兰西共和国的统治。 ，而不是勇敢地、不屈不挠地抵制弑君者的要求——这些人雇佣你来张开你的大嘴，对你不理解的事情、与你根本无关的事情嚎叫。”

这时，外面传来恐怖的尖叫声和大声的哀求声，夹杂着暴力和威胁的声音，还有军事指挥的声音。

男人们焦急地转过头来，惊愕地发现几分钟前还挤满了人的楼梯现在已经空无一人。

然而，突然，两个人出现在楼梯平台上，他们并没有刻意去减轻骚乱者的恐惧，因为他们穿着可怕而无情的警察的制服，这些警察在图古特的统治下，在维也纳开启了完美的恐怖统治。

两名警官走到前厅门口，迎面而来的是男仆热尔曼，他低声与他们交谈。随后，热尔曼匆匆回到餐厅门口，走了进去，几乎不屑地向那些惊慌失措的暴徒们投去轻蔑的一眼。

“嗯，那是什么？”图古特问道。

“阁下，警察局长通报说，他的人马都驻扎在宫殿的所有门口，阻止任何人出去。此外，他还清理了街道，并驱散了骚乱者。警察局长正在楼下大厅里记下屋内罪犯的姓名，请大人进一步下达命令。”

“啊，他并不怀疑他自己的首长、警察部长在场，”图古特微笑着转向索劳伯爵说道。他退到凸窗里，静静地听着整个过程。

“亲爱的伯爵，您可以允许警察局长到这里来向您汇报吗？”图古特问。

“我请求您给予他这个许可，”伯爵走近他的同事回答道。

热尔曼赶紧回到前厅里的警察身边。

“那我们是什么——？”温泽尔先生胆怯地问道。

“你等着吧！”部长怒吼道。 “撤到那边的角落里去！也许警察局长不会在那儿见到你。”

他们战战兢兢地退到了前厅的一个角落里，连说话都不敢说话，但交换的眼神却暴露了他们内心的痛苦。

与此同时，两位部长也同样走进了接待室，一边等待警察局长到来，一边低声交谈。

几分钟后，维也纳警察局长宽肩挺拔的身影出现了，身着首都人民熟知的官方制服，他们有充分的理由对这种行为感到极度恐惧。可怕的官员。暴徒们看到他，脸色比之前更加苍白。现在，他们认为一切都已失去，并产生了最悲观的预感。

索劳伯爵招手示意酋长进来。后者右手拿着一张纸。

“你的报告，”伯爵相当严厉地说。 “怎么可能发生这种骚乱？那些叛徒袭击大人的宫殿之前，没有人来驱散吗？”

警察局长沉默了，只是焦急地看了图古特男爵一眼。后者微笑着，转向伯爵：

“我请求您，亲爱的伯爵，不要对我们可敬的警察局长生气。我很满意他履行了全部职责。”

“整个房子都被包围了。”酋长急忙补充道。 “没有人能出去，我已经记下了所有罪犯的名字。”

“除了这里的这些，”图古特指着温泽尔先生和他不幸的同伴说，他们试图躲在角落里，但徒劳无功。 “但是这是不必要的，因为他们已经给了我们他们的名字，并告诉我们他们的愿望那么，先生，所有尊贵的人民会议都被困在我的房子里，就像陷入了老鼠夹一样？”

“是的，我们已经全部拿到了，”酋长说。 “现在，我想知道警察部长阁下，该如何处理他们。”

“我恳求您，亲爱的伯爵，”图古特转向索劳伯爵说道，“让我在这件事上按我的方式行事，以热情好客的态度对待这些人。我已经为他们打开了我宫殿的大门，允许他们进入我的面前，如果不让他们再次离开，那就太不慷慨了。不要读酋长手里的名单，但请允许他把它交给我，并命令他从我的房子里撤回他的人，让囚犯在没有骚扰的情况下退休，并以所有的荣誉战争。”

“当然，您的意愿将得到满足，阁下。”伯爵恭敬地鞠了一躬。 “将清单交给首相，下楼去执行阁下的遗愿。”

酋长递交了被抓获的暴徒名单，并以最恭敬的方式向两位政要行礼后离开了房间。

“和我们-？陛下，我们也可以一起去吗？”温泽尔先生胆怯地问道。

“是的，你可以走了，”图古特说。 “但只有一个条件。温泽尔先生，您必须先给我背诵您来到这里时尊贵的人们所嚎叫的歌曲。”

“啊，大人，我只背诵了一首诗！”

“那么，让我们来听一下这节经文吧。出去吧！我告诉你，你不念完就不能离开这个房间。然而，不要害怕；不管发生什么，我向你保证，不会有任何伤害降临到你身上。”

“很好，”文泽尔先生绝望地说。 “我相信这节经文如下：”

“'胜利！胜利！ es siegt die gute Sache！
火鸡之死！
Laut tont der Donner der geechten Sache，
Nach Wien 和 Nach Berlin。”[3]
“胜利！胜利！正义的事业战胜了
暴君的爪牙逃跑了！
正义事业的雷鸣到达维也纳和柏林！”
这首赞美诗当时（1797 年）在所有德国人中普遍传唱。
国家不仅受到大众阶级的欢迎，而且也受到排他性阶级的欢迎。
贵族圈子。在很多回忆录中都可以找到
期。

“确实，这是一首非常好听的歌，”图古特说，“你能告诉我这首歌是谁教你的吗？”

“不，大人，我做不到。除此之外没有人知道。它被印在一张小传单上，在全城流传。每家每户都扔了一本，工人们一大早出发时，在街上发现了它。”

“我亲爱的文泽尔先生，您没有协助传播这首优秀的歌曲吗？”

“我？上帝和圣母禁止！”温泽尔先生惊愕地喊道。 “我只是唱了这首歌，就像我们其他人一样，并且按照我从其他人那里听到的曲调来唱。”

“嗯嗯，你说得对，旋律真好听。这类歌曲一般都有一个特点，就是没有一个词是真的。人们称之为诗歌。现在，你们可以走了，我富有诗意的文泽尔先生，还有你们其他人，人民向我派遣了这一和​​平使命。告诉你们的选民，这一次我将仁慈地满足他们的愿望，并给予他们和平，也就是说，我会让他们离开，而不是把他们送到卡拉布斯，因为他们理所应当。但如果你再次尝试这个游戏，再次骚乱，再次唱那首好歌，你可以放心，你将被带进监狱，并在那里接受最不愉快的教训。现在就走吧！”

他背对着那些瑟瑟发抖的市民，没有注意到他们向他告别时恭敬的鞠躬，于是他们迈着轻柔而匆忙的步伐退却，就像老鼠逃离可怕的狮子的存在一样。

“现在，亲爱的伯爵，我们吃完了早餐，就让我们回到我的内阁吧，因为我相信我们必须解决一些其他问题。”

图古特男爵挽着伯爵的手臂，带他回到内阁。

“我从你的眼神中读到了一个问题，”他微笑着说道。 “我可以知道那是什么吗？”

“嗯，是的，阁下，”索罗伯爵回答道。

“那我问你，这一切意味着什么？为什么你要原谅警察局长，他显然没有尽到自己的职责，而且缺乏警惕性？你为什么放了这些无赖，而不是把他们鞭打致死？”

“伯爵，您当时不在维也纳吗？您因陪同国王陛下前往普雷斯堡而缺席首都，一小时前才返回。我对吗？”

“完全正确，阁下。”

“那么你就不可能知道维也纳此时发生的事情，警察局长也不可能告诉你具体情况。好吧，然后，他来找我，告诉我，针对两位皇帝的叛乱已经计划好了——（我相信你知道，人民很荣幸地称我们为维也纳两位皇帝），并且敌对派系我们将试图推翻我们。大量资金已分发给民众。卡尔·冯·施瓦岑堡亲王本人也发表了一些不检点的言论。简而言之，这个派别讨厌我，因为我不认为煽动性的比利时是奥地利王冠上的无价之宝，也不建议皇帝不惜一切代价保住那个偏远的省份——这个派别讨厌我们俩，因为我们不这样做。加入其热情的赞美诗，以纪念法兰西共和国和共和将军波拿巴——这个派系雇佣了可怜的乌合之众来代表人民，打破我的窗户，并吓唬我，使我准备好并愿意采取其疯狂的政策。昨天警察局长来找我。他向我讲述了整个事件，并宣称他已做好保护我的宫殿的充分准备，并将骚乱消灭在萌芽状态。我恳求他不要做任何类似的事情，而是被动地、专注地看着，直到暴民进入我的宫殿后才来到我的宫殿。我一度非常渴望弄清楚对方的实力、勇气和重要性。人们总是希望了解自己的对手，并尽可能准确地了解他们的能力。此外，这对警方来说是一个绝佳的机会，可以发现偷偷摸摸的煽动者和暴民头目，并记下他们的名字，以便日后惩罚他们，不幸的是，我们欧洲人无法效仿那位神圣的女王的榜样。埃及，左手抓住一千名叛乱分子的尾巴，右手一剑砍下他们一千名叛乱分子的头。不幸的是，我们必须更加谨慎行事。”

“但是这次为什么不把暴徒全部遣散呢？”伯爵郁闷地问道。

“哎呀，不管怎么说，我们都抓住了他们的尾巴，”图古特笑着说，“我们不是已经拿到了名单吗？啊，我亲爱的小伯爵，也许你认为我会慷慨地撕掉这张单子，把碎片扔掉，然后转过头去，就像虔诚的主教在床底下发现了一个凶手，允许他这样做逃跑时，他转过头，以免看到逃亡者的脸，以免将来某个场合认出他？我喜欢认清敌人的面孔，找出他们的名字，据此，我永远、永远不会忘记我在这份名单上读到的名字。”

“但目前，这些无赖逃脱了惩罚，他们将凯旋而归，一旦有其他机会，他们就会重复同样的游戏。”

“哎呀，我看你根本不识人啊！相信我，没有什么比放他们走更让他们害怕的了。他们完全清楚自己的罪孽。一想到我们没有受到任何惩罚，他们就充满了疑虑，他们每时每刻都在颤抖，因为他们期望自己将不得不为自己的罪行受苦。悔恨和恐惧正在折磨着他们，而它们是统治人民的最好工具。天啊，一个只有纯洁而有道德的人组成的国家该怎么办？它将是完全无懈可击的，而它的恶习和缺点恰恰是我们控制它的东西。因此，不要将人民的恶行归咎于人民。我为了他们而爱它，因为通过他们，我成功地将它服从于我的意志。通过诉诸人的美德来对人采取行动的想法简直是荒谬的。你必须依靠他们的过错和罪行，而由于后者，我们今天没有受到惩罚地解雇的所有这些家伙都成为了我们的财产。被释放且未受惩罚的罪犯是一个sbirro——警察只需递给他一把匕首，并告诉他，“砍那里！”他会发动攻击。

“那么，大人认为，连头目都不应该受到惩罚吗？”

“绝不是这样。当然，其中一些人应该受到惩罚，以增加其他人的恐惧。但看在上帝的份上，不要公开审判——不要公开惩罚！文泽尔应该被秘密逮捕并处理掉。让他消失吧——他和其他胆大妄为的头目。让我们把他们关在坚固、厚墙的监狱里，当其他暴徒徒劳地折磨他们沉重的头骨，试图猜测他们的领导人发生了什么事时，我们将通过各种酷刑和手段使后者变得如此柔顺和驯服。死刑的威胁，当我们最终再次释放他们时，他们实际上会相信他们欠我们的债，并出于感激而成为我们手中愿意使用的工具，以我们认为最好的方式使用。”

“永垂不朽，您是一位伟大的政治家，一位睿智的统治者！”索劳伯爵大声说道，他的热情洋溢着由衷的钦佩。 “人们因听从你而变得明智，因服从你而快乐和强大！我完全奉献给你——充满爱意和尊敬——除了你细心而感恩的学生之外，我不想成为任何其他人。”

“做我的朋友吧，”图古特说。 “让我们携手并肩，共同追求事业，时刻牢记共同的目标，不畏艰险，不畏艰险。”

“告诉我我该怎么办。我会像盲人跟随他的向导一样跟随你。”

“好吧，如果你愿意的话，我的朋友，我们将考虑一下在接下来的几个月里我们如何驾驶国家之船，以便让她安全地通过从四面八方威胁她的障碍。在你离开首都的几天里，发生了各种事件，极大地改变了总体状况。当你离开时，我建议皇帝在任何情况下都不要与法国讲和。当时我们指望的是我们派往战场的掷弹兵团，他们在查理大公的指挥下，保卫诺伊马克特的隘口，抵御法军前进的纵队。此外，我们知道法国军队精疲力尽，渴望和平，否则波拿巴将军不会给查理大公写这封信，他在信中要求后者劝说奥地利皇帝缔结和平与法国。根据我们的建议，大公不得不给波拿巴一个回避的答复，并告诉他，如果进行进一步谈判，他将不得不派人前往维也纳寻求新的指示。”

“但是，大人，你坚决不与法国讲和！”

“我就是这样，直到现在我也没有改变主意；但我们经常被迫掩饰我们的真实意图，而且已经发生的事件使得目前和平变得可取。您不必害怕，我亲爱的伯爵——我只是说，目前。在我心里，我永远不会与法国讲和，而我的目标始终如一——有一天为奥地利所遭受的屈辱报仇。永远不要忘记这一点，我的朋友；现在听我说。迟到的快件已经到达。马塞纳在与我们的部队进行了一场血腥的战斗后，占领了弗里萨赫，并于第二天进攻新马克特峡谷中的我们的新掷弹兵团。查理大公亲自率领这些军团，以自己的英雄榜样激发了士兵们的勇气。但他遇到了来自意大利和德国的联合法国军队，在灾难性的一天晚上，大公和他的掷弹兵被迫撤离被胜利的法国占领的诺伊马克特。大公现在要求法国将军在二十四小时内停止敌对行动，以便赢得时间，因为他希望这个喘息时间能让他调动冯·克尔彭将军的军团，然后与他的联合部队力量，再次将敌人击退。但波拿巴这个小将军似乎很有智慧，他拒绝了这个请求，并派出一支分遣纵队攻击冯·克尔彭的军团，使后者与我们的主力部队相距更远。波拿巴本人率领部队一直推进到富登贝格和莱奥本。为了拯救维也纳，大公只剩下一条路了：他必须提出和平建议。”

“他真的这么做了吗？”索罗伯爵气喘吁吁地问道。

“他做到了。他派了我们的两个朋友——梅尔维尔特伯爵和德加洛侯爵——前往波拿巴位于莱奥本的总部，目的是与他展开谈判。”

“是大公陛下授权的吗？”伯爵问道。

“不，我没有，如果它适合我​​，我现在可能会否认它，但它不会——它不会促进我们的利益——而且我只知道一项政策，利益政策。我们应该始终采取那些为我们带来合理收益前景的措施，并放弃那些可能使我们蒙受损失的措施。唯有权力才是无误的、永恒的、神圣的，而权力现在已经决定对法国有利。因此，我们必须屈服，披上和平的外衣，直到我们再次获得足够的力量来重新发动敌对行动。我们必须和平！然而，我们的目标应该是使这种和平尽可能有利于奥地利——”

“你的意思是牺牲法国的利益？”

“呸！——以牺牲德国为代价，我亲爱的小伯爵。德国将赔偿我们因和平可能造成的损失。如果我们在意大利失去任何领土，那么，我们将在德国弥补，仅此而已。”

“但那样的话，就会有另一场关于侵犯神圣德意志帝国权利的可怕呼声。”索劳伯爵微笑着说道； “普鲁士将有新的机会扮演德国祖国的捍卫者。”

“我亲爱的伯爵，别介意普鲁士将沉迷于夸夸其谈的胡言乱语——我们会小心谨慎，以免产生任何结果。普鲁士的头上不再是腓特烈大帝，而是胖乎乎的腓特烈·威廉二世——”

“但是他的生命，”伯爵打断了他的话，“我确信，他的生命只会持续几天，最多几个星期；因为他的胸腔浮肿病，你知道，甚至不尊重国王。”

“当普鲁士失去了她现在的胖国王时，她将会有另一个国王，腓特烈·威廉——一个二十七岁的年轻人，沃利亚吹捧！他与波拿巴将军同年，与这位荣耀已满天下的将军同年出生；但关于普鲁士王位的年轻继承人，除了他有一位最美丽的妻子外，世人还没有听到任何消息。因此，他并不危险，我希望并相信奥地利永远不会缺乏羞辱和制衡这个普鲁士王国——德意志帝国中心的革命分子的力量。然而，现在威胁我们的危险不是来自普鲁士，而是来自法国，特别是来自这位波拿巴将军，他以自己的荣耀和精彩的战斗，激发了人们对革命事业最狂热的热情，并为之高兴。愚蠢的群众如此崇拜他，称他为新的自由救世主。自由，这个令人厌恶的词！就像狼蛛的致命一咬一样，人们会变得愤怒，并导致他们疯狂地跳舞，直到死亡将他们击倒。”

“这个词是波拿巴征服整个意大利的护身符，并将意大利人变成了叛乱分子和反叛者，反对他们的合法主权，”索劳伯爵悲伤地说。

“全意大利？还没有，我的朋友。其中一部分仍然屹立不倒。圣马可的狮子还没有倒下。”

“但他会倒下。他的脚已经开始颤抖了。”

“好吧，那么，我们必须设法以一种让我们有权获得一部分战利品的方式让他倒下。现在，我亲爱的小伯爵，我们已经到了需要我们立即关注的地步了。和约的初步工作已经在莱奥本完成，在和平本身建立起来之前，我们应该奉行这样的政策：和约不仅不会让奥地利遭受严重损失，反而会给它一个增强实力、扩大领土的机会。我们必须关注巴伐利亚——因为只要有有利的机会，巴伐利亚就会而且必须属于我们。如果法国反对并拒绝让我们夺取我们的猎物，那么，我们肯定会重提关于比利时的旧日争吵，这将使她变得心甘情愿和驯服。”

“但是，如果普鲁士支持法国的反对意见，我们该怎么办呢？我们是否也应该让她满意，给她一块德国？”

“相反，我们会尽力从她那里夺取尽可能多的东西；我们要设法羞辱和孤立她，以剥夺她伤害我们的力量。我们将尽力安排我们即将与法国缔结的和平，以便尽可能地使奥地利受益，并尽可能地伤害普鲁士。在北方，我们将通过收购巴伐利亚来扩大领土；在南方，通过吞并威尼斯。”

“吞并威尼斯！”索劳伯爵脱口而出，他对自己所听到的感到非常惊讶。 “但是你刚才不是告诉我威尼斯仍然坚守吗？”

“我们必须让她垮台，亲爱的伯爵；这就是我们现在的伟大任务；因为，我再说一遍，威尼斯将补偿我们在南部边境其他地方的损失。当然，我们应该因为将比利时割让给法国而得到一些实质性的等价物，如果不能是巴伐利亚，那就是威尼斯吧。”

“尽管如此，我还是不明白——”

“亲爱的伯爵，如果我的计划如此容易被理解，那么它们也不会太深奥。大家可能猜到我现在在玩什么游戏；但我手里的牌必须保密，直到我把它们打完为止，否则我就有失去一切的危险。但这次我会让你偷看我的牌，你会帮助我赢得比赛。亲爱的伯爵，威尼斯是我们为之奋斗的赌注，我们希望将她并入奥地利。这要怎样才能实现呢？”

“我承认，阁下，我有限的理解无法回答这个问题，而且我无法想象一个主权独立的国家如何在对其领土没有任何主权要求的情况下成为奥地利的一个省，除非通过一项行动公开暴力。”

“不完全是这样，我亲爱的伯爵。假设我们为威尼斯设置了一个捕鼠器，然后把她像老鼠一样困在里面呢？听我说！我们必须鼓励威尼斯决定公开抵抗洛迪的胜利者，并向法国宣战。”

“啊，阁下，在听说我们最近的失败和法国人的新胜利之后，恐怕胆怯的贵族们不会有足够的勇气去做这件事。”

“恰恰。因此，最重要的是，执政党不应该听到任何消息，而应该相信相反的事实，即我们的军队已经取得了胜利。我的朋友，这项任务就交给你了。请立即派遣一些可靠的特工前往威尼斯和威尼斯领土的其他地区。通知各领主，法国人已经在蒂罗尔和施蒂里亚地区被击败，现在处于最危险的境地。通过其他一些机密信使向亚当·尼佩尔格伯爵传达消息，他率领我们的一些军团占领了靠近威尼斯边境的蒂罗尔南部，威尼斯已准备好崛起并需要他的援助，并命令他前进到最远的距离。维罗纳。威尼斯人将把这一进展视为对我们胜利消息的确认。聪明的小老鼠只会闻到诱饵的味道，而不会看到我们为它们设下的陷阱。他们会冲进去，我们会抓住他们。因为威尼斯的起义现在将被称为对法国的叛乱，法国将尽快惩罚如此可怕的罪行。威尼斯共和国将被法兰西共和国摧毁，然后我们将要求法国割让威尼斯，作为对比利时损失的补偿。”

“以永恒之名！这是一个辉煌的、宏伟的计划！”索罗伯爵感叹道——“这个计划值得某个伟大的政治家策划。这样，我们就能不费一枪，不流一滴血，征服一个新的省份。”

“不。将会流一些血。”图古特平静地说。 “但这不会是奥地利人的鲜血，而是我们煽动武装起义的威尼斯叛乱分子的鲜血。这场流血事件将把他们牢牢地粘在我们身上，因为没有什么水泥比血更坚韧。现在，亲爱的伯爵，您知道并赞同我的计划，我请求您尽快实施这些计划。立即派遣你的特工前往威尼斯和蒂罗尔。我们不能浪费时间，因为莱奥本的预赛只会持续到四月十八日，到那时威尼斯一定已经成为一个成熟的果实，如果没有人去摘它，它就会自发地掉落在地上。”

“一小时内，阁下，我将执行您的命令，我最熟练的间谍和特工将上路。”

“你要派谁去威尼斯领主府？”

“我拥有的最好的机密特工——安东尼·舒尔迈斯特。”

哦，我认识他；他经常为我服务，而且确实非常熟练。但别忘了给他丰厚的报酬，以确保他的忠诚，因为幸运的是，他有一个缺点，使我们很容易控制他。他非常贪婪，并且有一个漂亮的妻子，而且花很多钱。因此，付给他丰厚的报酬，他就会为我们提供良好的服务。现在，再见了，我亲爱的伯爵。我相信我们彼此完全理解，并且知道我们必须做什么。”

“我再次发现，奥地利国家之船掌握在一位懂得如何驾驶和引导她的人手中，这是其他统治者无法比拟的，”索劳伯爵站起身来，拿起帽子说道。

“也许我继承了这种天赋，亲爱的伯爵。我的父亲是一位造船师，他教会了我所有关于船舶管理的知识。另外，我亲爱的，我的。”

他们亲切地握手，索劳伯爵满脸钦佩和喜爱，退出了首相内阁。当前厅里的男仆帮他穿上斗篷时，他的脸上仍然挂着微笑，于是他迅速走下宏伟的大理石楼梯，一小时前，楼梯被民众宽大而笨拙的脚亵渎了。但当马车的门在他身后关上，不再有窥探的眼睛，也不再有倾听的耳朵注视着他时，他的微笑就像变魔术一样消失了，嘴里爆发出野蛮的咒骂。

“傲慢无能！令人反感的无礼行为！”他愤怒地说。 “他认为他可以扮演暴君，对待我们所有人——甚至我自己——比奴隶还糟糕。他竟然敢称我为“他的小伯爵”！他的小伯爵！啊，总有一天我会向这位造船商的儿子证明，小索罗伯爵毕竟是比我们专横自负的首相更伟大的人。但是耐心，耐心！我的一天将会到来。到那一天，我会把小图古特从他的显赫地位上赶下来！”

法国军队逼近，维也纳确实被吓坏了，他们的危险地位使人们非常兴奋，以至于以和平和顺从的性格而闻名的维也纳人公开骚乱——为了唯一的目的然而，迫使全能的总理与法国讲和。查理大公被击败——皇帝逃往匈牙利。

所有这些灾难性的消息都没有打扰甘彭多夫郊区郊区一座小房子里的居民，这座小房子靠近玛丽亚希尔夫线。这座小房子是和平与安宁的完美形象。它矗立在一座小花园的中央，整齐排列的花坛上绽放着春天第一朵娇嫩的花朵。浓密的灌木丛覆盖着房子的白色墙壁，常绿翠绿。晶莹剔透的窗玻璃后面，可以看到像新雪一样洁白耀眼的窗帘，中间是种满茂盛植物的花盆。虽然这座只有两层楼的房子并没有什么特别的地方，但每个人经过时都会带着敬畏和好奇的神情抬头望向窗户，而他只以为自己能在窗玻璃后面发现一个逃亡的人影。他立刻深深地、恭敬地鞠了一躬，脸上洋溢着骄傲而幸福的微笑。

不过，我们再说一遍，这所房子并没有什么特别之处。它的外表朴素而朴素，里面也同样如此。小大厅里一片寂静，地板上铺着新鲜的白沙。一只大斑点猫——真正美丽的动物——躺在离前门不远的柔软的白色垫子上，优雅而温柔地玩弄着坐在窗边热切订婚的女人身上刚刚掉下来的白纱球。在针织中。这个女人，穿着朴素、朴素的衣服，看起来像是家里的仆人，但无论如何，她都是一个充满信心的仆人，正如那一大串钥匙所表明的那样，比如家里的女主人或一位值得信赖的管家会随身携带，挂在她身边。一种安详平静的表情使她那令人肃然起敬的面容显得十分迷人，薄薄的、毫无血色的嘴唇上浮现出优雅的微笑，她把针织品放在腿上，身体前倾，开始观看猫在上面快乐的嬉戏。垫子。突然，寂静被一声响亮而刺耳的尖叫声打破，一个听起来很奇怪的声音用英语说了几句语无伦次的话。与此同时，一扇门被匆匆打开，另一个女人出现了——和我们刚才描述的那个女人一样老，一样慈祥，五官和我们刚才描述的一样温和、安详。然而，她更加精致的外表，漂亮的衣服，漂亮的帽子，扑满粉的发髻，脖子上绕着的大金链子，表明她不是仆人，而是家里的女主人。

然而，女主人和仆人之间的关系似乎特别愉快，因为那位女士的出现并没有使后者打断她与猫的快乐玩耍；她的主人和仆人之间的关系似乎非常愉快。而女主人显然并不认为这有什么奇怪或无礼，而是静静地走向她的仆人。

“凯瑟琳，”她说，“听听那只可恶的鸟，帕普尔，今天又叫起来了。我确信噪音会打扰已经在工作的医生。”

“是的，帕珀尔是个令人难以忍受的麻烦，”凯瑟琳叹了口气。 “我无法理解为什么乐团指挥——我想说的是医生——如此喜欢这只鸟，以及为什么他从英国带来了它。是的，如果帕珀尔会唱歌，在这种情况下，如果卡——我的意思是医生，喜欢上了这只鸟，那就不会奇怪了。但不，帕珀尔只是胡言乱语一些没有好基督徒能够理解的断断续续的话。”

“凯瑟琳，说英语的人都能很好地理解它，”那位女士说，“因为这只鸟会说英语，在这方面，帕珀尔比我们任何一个人都了解得更多。”

“但是帕普尔不会说德语，而且我认为我们的语言，尤其是我们亲爱的维也纳方言，听起来比那可怕的英语好得多。我不知道为什么医生喜欢这种令人厌恶的噪音，也不知道为什么他要忍受鸟儿用这些令人发指的尖叫声扰乱他的安静。”

“我很清楚，凯瑟琳，”医生的妻子带着温柔的微笑说道。 “这只鹦鹉让我的丈夫想起了他去英国的旅程，以及那里给他带来的所有荣耀和荣誉。”

“好吧，就这一点而言，我认为我的主人完全没有必要去英国一趟。”凯瑟琳感叹道。 “他回来时并没有比他离开时更出名的人。英国人无法为他增添光彩，因为当他去那里时，他已经是全世界最著名的人了，如果不是这样，他们以前就不会邀请他来演奏他优美的音乐。他们，否则他们不会知道他是一位如此出色的音乐家。”

“但是他们很高兴见到他，凯瑟琳，我告诉你，他们已经用荣誉完全压倒了他。他们每天都给他举办节日，甚至国王和王后也经常敦促他在英国定居。女王许诺给他在温莎城堡的豪华公寓和丰厚的薪水，而作为回报，我的丈夫除了每天在女王陛下面前表演一个小时左右，或者和她一起唱歌之外，什么也不做。尽管如此，他还是有勇气拒绝国王和王后的绝妙提议，凯瑟琳，你知道他为什么拒绝他们吗？

凯瑟琳对此了如指掌。自从医生从英国回来后的两年里，她经常从她的女主人那里听到这个故事，但她知道这位女士喜欢重复这个故事，她也很喜欢听人们谈论她敬爱的主人的故事。名誉和荣耀，忠实地为他服务了二十多年。于是她带着善意的微笑说道：

“不，确实，我不知道，我无法理解为什么医生对英格兰国王和王后说不。”

“他这样做是为了我，凯瑟琳！”那位女士说道，她那慈祥而苍老的脸上露出了一种喜悦、骄傲的表情，闪烁着美丽和温柔的光彩。 “是的，我告诉你，我丈夫回来只是为了我。 “留在我们身边！”国王对他说。 “你将拥有女王为你提供的一切。你将住在温莎，每天和女王一起唱歌。我亲爱的医生，我不会嫉妒你，因为你是一位优秀而诚实的德国绅士。当国王告诉他这件事时，我的丈夫恭敬地鞠了一躬，回答说：“陛下，能保持这个声誉是我最高的骄傲。”但正因为我是一个诚实的德国人，我必须告诉你，我不能留在这里——我不能永远离开我的国家和我的妻子！”

“‘哦，至此，’国王大声说道，‘我们会派人去接你的妻子。她将和你一起住在温莎。但我丈夫笑着说：“陛下，她永远不会来。”她不会乘小船横渡多瑙河，更不会跨海旅行。因此，我别无选择，只能回到我的小妻子身边。他这样做了，离开了国王、王后、所有贵族贵族和女士们，回到了维也纳，回到了他的小妻子身边。凯瑟琳，你说，他做得不是很好吗？

“当然是这样，”凯瑟琳说。 “事实是，我们的好医生比女王更爱他的妻子，也比英国所有对他很好的出身高贵的人更爱他。此外，他知道这里的人们对待他和那里的人一样尊重，只要他愿意，他就可以每天与皇帝、王子和国家的最高权贵交往。但他并不关心它。事实上，我们的主人太谦虚了；他总是那么安静、谦逊，除非认识他，否则没有人会相信他是一位远近闻名的人。然后，他衣着朴素，却可以用各国君主送给他的钻戒、胸针、华丽的手表和项链来装饰自己。但所有这些美好的东西他都关在办公桌里，并且总是戴着那块旧银表，天知道他已经用了多久了！”

“哎呀，凯瑟琳，那是我送给他的结婚礼物。”善良的妻子自豪地说。 “正是因为这个原因，我丈夫一直戴着它，尽管他的手表更漂亮、更值钱。当我把那块手表送给他时，我们俩都很穷。他是一位年轻的音乐老师，而我是一位理发师的女儿。他住在我父亲家里的一个小房间里，由于经常付不起房租，他每天都给我上钢琴课。但在这些课程中，我不仅学到了音乐，还学会了爱他。他邀请我成为他的妻子，在我们结婚的那天，我给了他那块银表，这就是他一直戴着它的原因，尽管他有更好的手表。对他来说，妻子的礼物比国王和皇帝送给他的东西还要珍贵。”

“但他至少可能会戴一条漂亮的金链子，”凯瑟琳说。 “哎呀，我确信他有不少于十几个。但他从来没有戴过其中一件，甚至有一天，当埃斯特哈齐公主用马车叫他陪他去见皇帝时，他也没有戴过。那次医生只佩戴了一条朴素的蓝色丝带，丝带上绣着他自己的名字。”

“嗯，那条丝带有一个故事。”女主人若有所思地说。 “我的丈夫同样从劳登带来了它，他在他最自豪的日子之一得到了它。我自己也不知道这个故事，因为你知道我的丈夫总是那么谦虚，从不谈论他在劳登的伟大胜利，如果那天他没有戴上这条丝带，我就不会了解到任何关于这条丝带的事情。他陪着公主去见皇帝。啊，凯瑟琳，这是一个非常美丽又感人的故事！”

凯瑟琳根本不知道这个故事。因此，她比平常更加兴奋地要求她的女主人告诉她关于丝带的一切。

医生的妻子爽快地答应了。她在凯瑟琳身边的一张椅子上坐下，带着愉快的微笑看着朝她走来的猫，然后舒服地咕噜咕噜地躺到了裙子的下摆上。

“是的，”她说，“那条丝带的故事很感人，我也不太清楚，凯瑟琳，但我在讲述它的时候不得不流几滴眼泪。那是在劳登，当时我丈夫刚从牛津回来，牛津大学授予他博士学位——”

“是的，是的，我知道，”凯瑟琳嘟哝道，“这就是为什么我们现在不得不称他为博士，这听起来不像我们老师以前的头衔“管弦乐队指挥”那么威严和尊贵。”

“但是凯瑟琳，获得英国音乐博士头衔是一种非常崇高的荣誉。伟大的作曲家亨德尔在英国生活了三十年，却没有获得这一称号，而我的丈夫在授予他这一称号时才刚到那里几个月。那么，他从牛津回来的第二天，就被邀请到一位地位高、富有的绅士家里，这位绅士为他举办了一场盛大的聚会。在场的有很多女士和先生，当我丈夫出现在他们中间时，他们起立鞠躬，就像他是国王一样。当医生回敬一句时，他发现房间里的每一位女士的头发上都系着一条蓝色的丝带，上面用银子绣着他的名字。他的主人在他的外衣饰面上戴着同样名字的银珠，这样他看起来就像是我丈夫的仆人，穿着他的制服。哦，那天肖先生——那是这位先生的名字——给他举办了一个盛大的节日。最后，肖先生请医生送他一份纪念品，医生送给他一个鼻烟盒，是他当天花了几先令买的。当我的丈夫要求女主人（他称她是世界上最美丽的女人）也给他一件纪念品时；肖夫人随即从头上取下丝带递给他。我的丈夫把它贴在嘴唇上，并向她保证他会在最庄严的场合永远佩戴这条丝带。你看，凯瑟琳，他虔诚地信守诺言，因为前几天他被叫到皇宫时戴着这条丝带。但我的故事还没有结束。那次聚会后几天，你的主人打电话给肖先生，后者向他展示了他从我丈夫那里收到的鼻烟盒。它装在一个漂亮的银盒里，盒盖上刻着一把漂亮的七弦琴，上面刻着一段铭文，表明我伟大而杰出的丈夫把这个盒子送给了他。[4]铭文是：“Ex dono celeberrimi Josephi Haydn”。 你喜欢我的故事吗，凯瑟琳？

“噢，真漂亮。”老仆人若有所思地说。 “只是，你所说的那个美丽的肖夫人，让我不太高兴。我确信医生也从她那里得到了这只鹦鹉，因此他非常喜欢这只鸟，尽管它的尖叫声非常可怕，而且无疑经常打扰他的学习。”

“是的，他从肖太太那里得到了这只鸟。”女主人微笑着回答。 “她教帕普尔吹出我丈夫最好的四重奏中的三个曲调，在三四个星期内每天对着小鸟唱歌和吹口哨几个小时，直到帕普尔能够模仿它们；当我丈夫告别她时，她把这只鹦鹉送给了他。”

“但是那只鸟再也不会吹口哨了。我只听帕珀尔做过一次，那是在医生从英国回来后的第二天。” “我知道原因。这只鸟每天在这里听到如此多的音乐，以及医生在钢琴上弹奏的如此多的新旋律，它的头脑变得非常混乱，可怜的帕普尔已经忘记了它的曲调。”

“不过，它并没有忘记它的英文单词。”凯瑟琳低声说道。 “那只鸟一直在尖叫的这句话可能是什么意思？”

“凯瑟琳，美丽的肖夫人教帕普尔发音。我不知道它们的确切含义，但它们的开头是这样的：“不要忘记我，不要忘记我——”天哪！鸟儿又开始尖叫了。我确信今天没有加糖。康拉德在哪里？他应该照顾那只鸟。”

“他已经进城了。医生给了他几项任务。”

“天哪！尖叫声几乎让人无法忍受。去吧，凯瑟琳，给可怜的帕普尔一块糖。”

“我不敢，夫人；我不敢。”它总是用它那可恶的喙攻击我，如果链子不能阻止它攻击我，它就会抓破我的眼睛。”

“我也害怕，”那位女士焦急地说。 “尽管如此，我们不能允许这只鸟继续这样下去。听听它的叫声，就好像它要被烤了一样。这会打扰我丈夫，而且你知道医生正在创作一首新作品。来吧，凯瑟琳，我们必须让那只鸟安静下来。我会把糖给他的。”

“我会带着我的织针，如果它想咬人，我会打它的喙。我们现在就走吧，夫人。”

两个女人大胆地穿过前厅，向小客厅的门口走去，准备开始对付鹦鹉的运动。猫严肃而严肃地跟在他们后面，神情仿佛对谈话非常感兴趣，并认为这可能会极大地帮助他们安抚那只尖叫的鸟。

虽然鹦鹉的叫声让女主人和她的女仆感到不安，但小房子的楼上房间却一片寂静。没有任何声音打破这间布置典雅的小客厅的寂静。就连太阳显然也只敢从窗户里射出几缕隐秘的光线，而风似乎屏住了呼吸，以免摇动毗邻小房间的玻璃窗，这座小房间被房子里的所有住户尊奉为一座神圣的寺庙。艺术。

在这个小房间里，在这座艺术殿堂里，一位绅士显然正在读书，他坐在一张摆满纸张和音乐书籍的桌子旁，靠近一架打开的钢琴。他不再年轻了；相反，只看他那宽阔、布满皱纹的额头上垂下的稀疏白发，以及弯腰驼背的背影，就看出他已是一位年近七十的老人了。但当他把目光从纸上抬起来，当他以一种幸福的热情将目光转向天堂时，那双眼睛里就迸发出永恒的青春之火和光芒四射的喜悦；无论那白发、皱纹的额头、皱纹的脸颊、驼背的身形，都说明了他漫长的岁月，那双眼睛却充满了青春的热情和力量——只是这个白发男子的身体苍老了；在他的灵魂里，他仍然年轻——一个充满热情的想象力、生育力和神经活力的年轻人。

这位具有年轻人的灵魂、心灵和眼睛的可敬的人，就是伟大的作曲家约瑟夫·海顿，他的荣耀即使在当时也已充满整个世界，尽管他还没有写出他最伟大的杰作——“创造”和“季节”。

他今天在“创造”工作。[5]海顿于1797年开始创作《创世记》，并于1798年XNUMX月完成。 这首诗是从英国寄给他的，他的可敬的朋友冯·斯维滕已将其翻译成德文，就摆在他面前。他读了一遍又一遍，渐渐地，文字似乎变成了音乐。渐渐地，他听到了天地欢腾的合唱团的窃窃私语声——起初声音很小，后来越来越响亮，更加崇高和雄伟——天地欢腾的合唱团，将在他的“创造”中回响。

到目前为止，他还没有写过一张纸条。他只是读过这首诗，在读中创作，在内心掂量和尝试那些崇高的旋律，当这些旋律缩减到时间和尺度，并组合成一个和谐的整体时，就会形成他天才的新的不朽作品。就这样读书作曲，年迈的音乐家越来越年轻，眼中迸发的热情越发璀璨，宽阔的额头周围笼罩着灵感的光环，散发着紫色的光泽。他满是皱纹的脸颊上洋溢着欣喜若狂的喜悦。

“是是是，这样就可以了。我一定会成功的！”他突然大声喊道。 “上帝会给我力量完成这项工作；但这必须从他开始——力量和灵感只能来自他！”

约瑟夫·海顿也许并不太清楚自己在做什么，他跪下来，双手合十，双眼明亮地仰望天空，他祈祷道：“哦，主上帝，请赐予我你的祝福和力量，使我能够光荣地并成功地开展这项赞美您和您的创造的工作。将你的圣灵注入到你在我的工作中所说的话语中。通过我对你的生物说话，让我的音乐成为你的语言！”

他停了下来，但仍跪在地上，继续仰望天空。然后他慢慢地站起来，像一个预言家或梦游者一样，睁着眼睛却什么也看不见，他走向钢琴，却不知道自己在做什么。他坐在凳子上，浑然不知；他的手触碰琴键，从中拉出美妙的和弦，但他却没有听到。他只听到成千上万的天使之声在他的胸中吟唱着崇高的赞歌；他只听到对自己长着翅膀的灵魂的赞美，在神圣的狂喜中，灵魂飞翔到永恒和谐的境界。

他从琴键上弹奏出的音乐越来越响；现在它突然爆发出巨大的庆典，然后又在忧郁的抱怨和温柔的低语中消失，然后又爆发出一首雄浑的、雷鸣般的赞歌。

最后，海顿以一段铿锵有力的乐段结束了演讲，然后他以年轻的敏捷从座位上跳了起来。

“那是前奏，”他大声说道，“现在我们要开始工作了。”

他连忙甩掉肩上白色舒适的睡袍，快步走向挂在梳妆台上方的镜子。上厕所的所有东西都准备好了，男仆已经精心安排好了一切。他把镶有蕾丝花边的领带系在脖子上，并以最艺术的方式在镜子前系好领带。然后他套上银丝绒长背心，最后穿上那件镶有闪亮金属纽扣的棕色长尾大衣。他正准备把结婚当天妻子送给他的那块沉甸甸的银表放进背心口袋，这时他的目光落在了那条绣有银丝的蓝色丝带上，这条丝带自从他拜访皇宫以来，一直都在。宫殿，已经躺在了书桌上。

“我会在我的这个节日戴上它，”海顿热情地说，“因为我认为开始一部新作品的那天就是一个节日，我们应该佩戴我们最精致的装饰品来庆祝它。”

他把丝带系在手表上，挂在脖子上，然后把手表放进背心口袋里。

“如果那位美丽的肖夫人现在能看见我，”他低声说道，几乎听不见，“她那双美丽的眼睛将会多么闪闪发光，她天使般的容貌将会焕发出多么神圣的微笑啊！是的，是的，我会记住她的微笑——它会在我的创造的欢欣鼓舞中找到回声。但让我们开始吧——让我们开始吧！”

他快步走向办公桌，却突然停了下来。 “坚持，稍等！”他说； “我真的忘记了最重要的东西——我的戒指。当我看着我美丽的英国朋友的珍贵丝带时，我没有想到我伟大国王的戒指——但它仍然是我工作的护身符。”

他再次回到办公室，打开一个小盒子，从里面取出一枚戒指，戴在手指上。他带着毫不掩饰的钦佩注视着戒指上那颗又大又亮的钻石。

“是的，”他惊呼道，“是的，你是我的护身符，当我看着你时，我仿佛看到了伟大国王的目光在注视着我，将勇气和热情注入我的心中。这也是为什么我的手指上没有戒指就无法工作的原因。[6]海顿向腓特烈大帝献上了六首四重奏，腓特烈大帝送给他一枚珍贵的钻戒以示谢意。海顿每当创作新作品时都会戴着这枚戒指，在他看来，除非戴上这枚戒指，否则他的灵感就会消失。他在很多场合都说过这样的话。 但现在我已经准备好了，打扮得像一位即将走向年轻新娘的新郎。是的，是的，我就是这样。我要去我的新娘那里——去圣塞西莉亚那里！”

当他回到办公桌前时，他的脸色呈现出凝重而严肃的表情。他再次坐在钢琴前，弹奏一首国歌，然后又回到书桌前的座位上，拿起一张乐谱纸，开始写作。他以最快的速度挥舞着笔，一页一页地写满了奇怪的小点和破折号，我们称之为笔记。

海顿在写作时眼睛里闪烁着光芒，脸颊上容光焕发，嘴唇上挂着天堂般的微笑。但他的笔突然停了下来，眉宇间浮现一丝阴云。在他刚刚创作的作品中，有一段可能是转调，令他不高兴，因为他扫了一眼最后几行，摇了摇头。他悲伤地低下头，放下了笔。

“上帝啊，请帮助我——帮助我！”他惊呼一声，连忙抓起桌上一直放着的念珠，“救救我！”他再次咕哝着，一边在房间里匆匆踱步，一边将念珠从手指间滑过，低声念诵万福玛利亚。

他的祈祷似乎达到了预期的效果，他额头上的乌云消失了，他的眼睛里再次闪烁着灵感的热情。他回到座位上，以新的活力继续写下去。现在，一种神圣的平静笼罩在他平静的面容上，并笼罩在他周围安静的小柜子里。

但突然间，这片宁静被下方传来的巨响打破了。传来大声的哀号声，沉重的脚步声登上楼梯。

然而，海顿什么也没听到——他的天才在灵感的王国里飞翔得很远，神圣的和声仍然让他的耳朵着迷。

可现在小客厅的门被人猛地打开，他的妻子脸色惨白，神色焦急地冲了进来。凯瑟琳和上了年纪的男仆康拉德出现在她身后，猫和她的女主人一起溜了进来，鹦鹉发出了最疯狂、最刺耳的尖叫。

海顿沮丧地从座位上站起来，盯着妻子，一句话也说不出来。上班时间被妻子打扰，这对他来说是闻所未闻的事情，所以他很自然地断定一定是发生了不寻常的、非常可怕的事情，而妻子惊恐的神情，仆人苍白的脸色，显然是发生了什么事。告诉他他没有看错。

“哦，丈夫——可怜的、亲爱的丈夫！”他的妻子哭着说：“收拾好你的文件，工作和作曲的时间已经过去了。康拉德从城里带来了最可怕的消息。我们都迷失了！——维也纳迷失了！哦，亲爱的，亲爱的！这太可怕了，我告诉你我都快吓疯了！”

老太太像白杨树叶一样颤抖着，倒在一张扶手椅上。

“天哪，这到底是怎么回事？”海顿问道——“是什么让你如此害怕？康拉德，告诉我有什么消息吗？”

“哦，我亲爱的主人，”康拉德哀嚎着，双手合十，双膝颤抖地走向医生，“我们完了！奥地利迷失了——维也纳迷失了——结果我们也迷失了！军队发来了迟到的电报。啊!我该说什么？——军队？我们不再有军队了——我们的军队完全分散了——查理大公又输掉了一场战斗——老沃尔姆瑟被击退了——而波拿巴将军正在向维也纳挺进。”

“这些确实是令人悲伤的消息，”海顿耸耸肩说道，“但这并不是我们绝望的理由。如果大公战败了——为什么，所有的将军都战败了——”

“波拿巴从来没有失去过一个人，”康拉德深深地叹了口气，回答道，“他赢得了每一场战斗，并吞噬了他想要征服的所有国家。”

“我们必须收拾行李，约瑟夫，”海顿夫人说，“我们必须把我们的钱、我们的盘子、尤其是你的珠宝和小饰品埋起来，这样那些法国强盗和食人者就找不到它们了。来吧，丈夫，让我们赶紧去干活，免得他们来抢走我们的一切。”

“嘘，老婆，嘘！”海顿温和地说，脸上洋溢着温柔的微笑。 “永远不要为我们的一点小事而担心，也不要以为法国人只是为了我仅有的一点金鼻烟盒和戒指而来维也纳。如果他们急于要黄金珠宝，像敌人一样来，他们可能会直接打开国库，拿走他们想要的东西。”

“是的，但他们什么也找不到，”康拉德说。 “国库空了，医生，完全空了。一切都过去了；宝库里没有留下一顶王冠，没有一颗宝石。”

“那么，整个宝藏在哪里呢，你这个傻瓜？”海顿微笑着问道。

“他们已经把它带到普雷斯堡了，主人。我亲眼看到了马车——前面有士兵，后面有士兵。所有的街道、所有的地方都挤满了人，发生了骚乱，哦！如此悲痛，如此哀号！——最后，人们变得绝望了，他们咆哮着，高喊着政府应该讲和，阻止法国人来到维也纳，轰炸这座城市。在绝望中，他们变得非常大胆和勇敢，数千人游行到部长图古特（他们称之为维也纳真正的皇帝）的家，并试图迫使他讲和。

“真是令人悲伤、悲伤的消息！”海顿叹了口气，摇摇头。 “比我想象的还要糟糕。人民暴动叛逆，军队战败，敌人向维也纳进军。但不要绝望——勇气，勇气，孩子们；让我们信赖上帝和我们优秀的皇帝。他们两人永远不会抛弃我们——他们将守护和保护维也纳，决不会让城墙上的一块石头被夺走。”

“啊，老公，你别再指望皇帝了，”他的妻子说道。 “因为这是新闻中最糟糕的部分，表明一切都失去了：皇帝已经离开维也纳。”

“什么！”海顿惊呼道，他的脸气得通红。 “什么，竟敢如此污蔑皇上！当他们遇到危险的时候，他们竟然敢断言皇帝已经抛弃了他的维也纳人？不不，皇帝是一个诚实的人，一个忠诚的王子；他将与他的人民一起度过美好的日子和邪恶的日子。好牧人不会离开他的羊群，好王子不会离开他的人民。”

“但是皇帝抛弃了我们，”康拉德说。 “这确实是真的，主人。整个维也纳都知道这一点，整个维也纳都为此哀悼。皇帝走了，皇后和皇子们也都走了。所有人都离开了，前往普雷斯堡。”

“走了！皇上走了！”海顿悲哀地低声说道，脸颊上突然布满了死一般的苍白。 “哦，可怜的奥地利！可怜的人们！你的皇帝已经抛弃了你——他已经逃离了你！”

他悲伤地低着头，深深的叹息从胸中逸出。

“老公，你现在明白我是对的了吗？”他的妻子问道。 “难道现在不是我们该考虑一下我们的财产、收拾好并掩埋我们的贵重物品了吗？”

“不！”海顿再次抬起头，大声说道。 “现在不是考虑我们自己和照顾我们可怜的财产的时候。皇帝走了——那就意味着皇帝有危险了；因此，作为他忠实的臣民，我们应该为他祈祷，我们所有的思想和愿望都应该献给他的福祉。在危险的时刻，我们不应该胆怯、低头，而是要仰望神，仰望神、信靠神！维也纳人民为何哀叹、绝望？他们应该唱歌、祈祷，以便天上的主神能听到他们的声音——他们应该唱歌、祈祷，我会教他们如何做！”

海顿迈着骄傲的步伐走到钢琴前，双手开始轻轻地弹奏，起初是一种简单的、合唱般的曲调；后来，他的手开始弹奏。但很快旋律就变得更加强劲、更加令人印象深刻。海顿的脸变得容光焕发。他本能地张开嘴唇，用热情而洪亮的声音唱出了他以前从未听过的歌词，这些歌词随着旋律从他的灵魂中自发地涌出。他的嘴唇唱出的是祈祷，同时也是胜利的赞歌——充满了天真和孩子般的虔诚：

“ Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser，
弗兰茨皇帝，
弗朗茨·登·凯撒的朗格
在 des Gluckes hellem 格兰仕！
Ihm erbluhen Lorbeerreiser，
Wo er geht，zum Ehrenkranz！
Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser，
Unsern guten Kaiser Franz！”[7]著名的奥地利赞美诗“上帝保佑皇帝”
弗朗西斯。”

海顿唱歌时，周围一片寂静，当他以坚定而响亮的和声结束时，他转过身来，看到妻子激动不已，双手合十，双眼仰望天空，双膝跪地，老凯瑟琳和康拉德跪在她身后，猫站在他们中间听着音乐，就连下面的鹦鹉也似乎在听新的赞美诗，因为它的尖叫声已经停止了。

海顿的嘴角浮现出一丝喜悦的微笑，使他的脸再次显得年轻而美丽。 “现在，你们三个和我一起唱歌，”他说。 “大声而坚定地歌唱，让上帝听到我们的声音。我会从头开始，你陪我。”

他用力敲击琴键，再次唱道：“上帝保佑弗朗西斯皇帝！”两个女人和老男仆被这简单而优美的旋律所感动，和他一起唱起了温柔而天真的歌词。

“现在，”海顿急切地说，“现在，我会当场写下旋律，然后你就带着它跑给冯·斯维滕议员。他必须在其中添加几节经文。然后我们将尽可能多地复制它——我们将在街上传播它，并在所有公共场所唱它，如果法国人真的来到维也纳，全体人民将用欢呼的赞美诗来迎接他们，”上帝保佑弗朗西斯皇帝！上帝会听到我们的歌，他会被我们的爱所感动，他会把他带回到我们身边，我们善良的弗朗西斯皇帝。”

他坐在办公桌前，以年轻的匆忙写下乐谱。 “那么，”他接着说，“把它拿走，康拉德，把它拿给冯·斯维滕先生；告诉他这是我的皇家赞歌。哦，我相信这对皇上会有用，所以我发誓，我有生之年，每天都会玩它。我的第一个祈祷永远是为皇帝祈祷。”[8]海顿信守诺言，从那时起，他每天都会演奏这首圣歌。这甚至是他生前演奏的最后一首音乐。 26年1809月1807日，他连续演奏了三首赞美诗。必须把他从钢琴上抬到床上，他再也没有离开过。 1855年，当伊夫兰拜访他时，海顿为他演奏了这首赞美诗。然后他在乐器前停留了一会儿，把手放在乐器上，用一位可敬的族长的语气说道：“我每天早上都会演奏这首赞美诗，在逆境时常常从中获得安慰和勇气。我无法控制——我必须每天至少玩一次。每当我这么做的时候，甚至在之后的很长一段时间里，我都会感到非常轻松。”——《181 年伊夫兰戏剧年鉴》，第 XNUMX 页。 XNUMX.

“现在跑吧，康拉德，请冯·斯维滕先生尽快完成这首诗，然后你们，女人，离开我。我感觉到这些想法在我的脑海中燃烧，旋律从我的心中涌出。这首赞美诗激发了我真诚的热情；现在，我将与上帝和我的皇帝一起开始我的创造！但是你们，你们一定不要绝望——每当你们感到沮丧时，唱我的帝国赞美诗，把安慰和勇气注入你们的心中——注入所有唱这首歌的奥地利人的心中。因为我不仅为你们，也为奥地利，唱出了属于全体奥地利人民的赞美诗！”

和平终于要缔结了。三位奥地利全权代表在乌迪内已经呆了几个星期了。奥地利宫廷派了德加洛侯爵与梅尔维尔特伯爵和路易·科本茨伯爵一起，尽管德加洛侯爵是那不勒斯驻维也纳大使，因此并不在帝国服役，但他担任他们的顾问。

波拿巴将军在帕塞里亚诺：伟大的法兰西共和国只授权他与奥地利缔结和平，或者重新开战，只要他认为合适。

法国和德国，甚至是整个欧洲的目光，都集中在德国和意大利边境上的这个小点上，因为那里将决定欧洲近期的未来。在那里，掷骰子，给世界带来和平或战争。

奥地利想要和平；这对她来说是必要的，因为她觉得自己还不够强大，无法参加战争，并且害怕持续失败的危险和损失。但她并不想要和平，cute qui cute；她想从中获得实质性的好处——她打算以牺牲意大利、普鲁士为代价来增强自己的实力——如果需要的话，还可以牺牲德国。

但法国想要什么，或者更确切地说，波拿巴将军想要什么？除了他自己，没有人知道。没有人能从他大理石般的脸上读出他的想法。没有人能从他简洁的话语中解读出他未来的行动。没有人知道波拿巴打算做什么以及他的野心是什么。

与奥地利的谈判已经持续了几个月。几个星期以来，奥地利全权代表和波拿巴将军每天都会在乌迪内和帕塞里亚诺进行长达数小时的会面，但平息工作并没有得出令人满意的结论。奥地利的要求太多，而法国的产量却不够。这些会议常常呈现出激烈的气氛，在辩论中，波拿巴的声音常常雷鸣般，眼中闪烁着愤怒的光芒。但奥地利全权代表并没有被他们所震惊。大酋长眼中的光芒无力地从他们泰然自若的微笑中退却。当他的声音雷鸣般地冲向他们时，他们低下了头，等将军安静下来后，他们又慢慢地抬起头来。

今天，十月十三日，另一次会见将在科本茨尔伯爵的旅馆举行，也许这就是波拿巴将军早上异常早起床的原因。他刚刚上完厕所；协助他的四个仆人刚刚完成任务。像往常一样，波拿巴让他们像孩子一样给他穿衣服、洗澡。[9]“拿破仑皇帝宫廷首席侍从康斯坦回忆录”，卷。 i.，p. 180. 他默默地命令仆人们退开，并喊道：“布里安！”

门立刻被打开，一个身着当时公民服装的高个子年轻人走了进来。波拿巴向他年轻的秘书轻轻点头打招呼，并用手指向桌子。

布里安无声无息地走到办公桌前，坐下来，拿了一支笔和一些白纸，等待将军的口授。

但波拿巴沉默了。他双手背在背上，开始快步走来走去。布里安手里握着笔，随时准备书写，他享受着这种停顿，这种对将军全神贯注的思考，带着真正的喜悦。因为这使他有闲暇去思考波拿巴，研究他的整个外貌，并将意大利征服者的每一个特征、每一个姿态铭刻在他的脑海中。

布里安是波拿巴的老朋友。他们曾一起在军校读书；他们后来在巴黎见面——可怜的年轻中尉波拿巴常常很高兴接受他富有的朋友提供的晚餐。

从那时起才过去了几年，现在波拿巴中尉已经成为一位赫赫有名的将军。而被恐怖分子驱逐的布里安则庆幸地接受了老战友的保护，现在担任了他手下的私人秘书一职。

他以这种身份与波拿巴在一起才两天——这两天他每小时都能见到波拿巴，然而他却带着新的惊喜凝视着这张美妙的面容，他徒劳地试图认出他年轻时的朋友的面容。确实，轮廓和轮廓依然存在，但整张脸却完全不同了。这些特征中没有留下昔日粗心大意、无害的欢闹的痕迹。他的脸色苍白得近乎病态。他的身材不超过中等身高，修长而骨感。乍一看，你似乎看到的是一个毫无力量、注定早死的年轻人。但你观察他的时间越长，他的面容就越显得充满活力和精神，你就越坚定地相信这是一个非凡的存在——一种罕见而奇怪的现象。一旦习惯了他明显的苍白和病态的朴素，旁观者很快就会发现它变成了令人着迷的美丽，就像我们在古董罗马浮雕和旧帝国硬币上欣赏的那样。他那古典而规整的侧脸，似乎就是仿照这些古钱币而生的。他的额头高高的，两侧长着栗色的细发，轮廓分明。他的眼睛是蓝色的，但充满了最美妙的表情，闪烁着火焰，是他火热灵魂的忠实镜子，时而极其温和，时而严厉，甚至严厉。他的嘴唇具有古典的美感——嘴唇形状精致，狭窄且微微压缩，尤其是在愤怒的时候；当他笑的时候，露出两排牙齿，虽然算不上完美，但是却是珍珠白的。他脸上的每一个轮廓、每一个特征都像雕塑家塑造的一样规则。然而，整体上还是有一些丑陋和令人厌恶的东西，为了能够欣赏它，必须首先习惯这个最非凡的存在。只有那双脚和那双洁白的小手实在是太美丽了，立刻就引起了人们最热烈的钦佩，这也许就是波拿巴将军的原因，他的厕所本来就非常简单，但他却在自己的手上戴上了几枚璀璨的钻戒。 。[10]康斯坦回忆录，卷。 i，p。 52

布里安还在全神贯注地思考着他年轻时的朋友，后者突然站在他面前，带着愉快的微笑看着他。

“你为什么用这样的眼神看着我，布里安？”他用唐突而急促的语气问道。

“一般的。自从我上次见到你以来，我只想着你光荣的胜利所赢得的桂冠。”布里安说道。

“啊，你发现我自从上次见到我以来有点改变了，”波拿巴很快回答道。 “确实，我们分开的这些年里发生了很多变化，我很高兴你有很好的品味，能够察觉到这一点，并且在目前的情况下见到我时，观察到一种恰到好处的、微妙的矜持。为此我对你负有义务，从今天起你将成为我的内阁首长，我的第一位私人秘书。”[11]布里安先生回忆录，卷。 1.，第。 33.

布里安起身恭敬地鞠了一躬，向这位年轻将军表示感谢，但波拿巴没有再理睬他，又快步走来走去。他脸上的笑容已经消失，又恢复了坚毅、难以捉摸的表情。

布里安又静静地坐下来等待。但现在他不敢再看波拿巴，将军以前就注意到了。

长时间的停顿后，波拿巴站在桌子旁边一动不动。 “你读过总督府昨天通过他们的间谍博托先生发给我的电讯了吗？”将军突然问道。

“将军，我有！”

“他们是不讲道理的傻瓜，”波拿巴愤怒地喊道，“他们想在卢森堡舒适的沙发上指挥我们的战争，并相信他们沾满墨水的手可以握住将军的指挥棒和笔。他们想从巴黎向我们发起一场新的战争，却不知道我们是否能够承受。他们要求我们与奥地利缔结和平协议，但不要将威尼斯割让给她作为对比利时的补偿。是的，塔列朗太愚蠢了，他要求我再次彻底改变整个意大利，以便意大利人可以驱逐他们的王子，以便自由可以遍及整个半岛。为了给他们自由，他们希望我将第一次战争和革命带入他们之中。这些大嘴无知的巴黎人并不知道，在恢复和平之前，意大利实际上不会属于我们，而督政府即使在和平的第一缕曙光中，也会统治她，从瑞士的山区到海角。卡拉布里亚。到那时，也只有到那时，督政府才能够改变意大利的各个政府，正因为如此，我们必须通过和平条约让奥地利加入我们的事业。一旦她签了字，她就不会再骚扰我们：第一，因为她是我们的盟友；第二，因为她是我们的盟友。主要是因为她会担心我们可能会从她那里收回我们慷慨给予的东西，以赢得她的支持。然而，维也纳的战争党不会屈服，除非希望出现一些反革命——流亡者和皮尔尼茨的外交仍然极其顽强地珍视这个梦想。[12]波拿巴亲口说的。参见“Memoires d'un Homme d'Etat”，卷。四、p. 578. 而督政府这些无理取闹的绅士们想要战争和革命，他们竟敢指责我有自私的动机。啊，我渴望休息，渴望退休——我感到疲惫和厌恶，将第三次递交辞呈，但督政府两次拒绝接受。”

他用一种低沉而急促的声音说出这一切，显然只是在自言自语——唯一一个值得了解他灵魂中最隐秘的想法的人——而且仍然对他能偷听他所说的每一个字感到骄傲的蔑视。他感觉自己好像很孤独，尽管有秘书在场，他也只是自言自语、自言自语。

接下来又是一次长时间的停顿。波拿巴再次迈着快步在房间里踱步。强烈而热烈的感情似乎在他的胸膛中激荡。他的眼睛变得更加有光泽，脸颊泛起难以察觉的红晕，呼吸粗重。仿佛因房间的封闭而感到压抑，想要呼吸新鲜空气，因为他走到窗户前，用力打开了窗户。

他的嘴里流露出惊讶的表情，昨天还披着秋日绚丽色彩的风景，现在却呈现出完全不同的面貌。白霜浓密而闪闪发光，覆盖着树木和青翠的草地。诺里克阿尔卑斯山为地平线戴上了雄伟的花环，在夜间用闪闪发光的雪袍和灿烂的冰冠装饰着自己。

波拿巴长时间地凝视着这出人意料的景象，若有所思。 “真是一个国家啊！”他低声说道：“十月上旬冰雪覆盖！很好！我们必须实现和平！”[13]波拿巴亲口说的。布里安，卷。 1.，第。 313.

他关上窗户，回到办公桌前。

“把军队登记册给我，”他对布里安说，然后在他身边坐下。

布里安将书籍和文件依次放在他面前，波拿巴仔细地阅读和检查它们。

“是的，”他停顿了很长时间才说道，“确实，我有一支近八万人的军队；我必须给他们食物和报酬，但是，在战场上，我不能指望超过六万人。我本应赢得这场战斗，但又损失了两万人，阵亡、受伤和被俘。那么，我该如何抵抗赶赴维也纳援助的奥地利联合军队呢？莱茵河上的军队需要一个多月的时间才能到达支援距离，而在两周内，大雪将堵塞所有道路和山口。因此，我决心实现和平。威尼斯必须为战争和莱茵河边境付出代价。目录和博学的律师可以畅所欲言。[14]波拿巴自己的话。——“Memoires d'un Homme d'Etat”，卷。四、p. 558. 写下来，布里安，我现在将口述我的答复。”

布里安接过他的笔。波拿巴从座位上站起来，双臂抱在胸前，继续在房间里散步，缓慢而清晰地口述，每一个字都像珍珠一样从他的嘴唇上落下，直到渐渐地，他的讲话速度变得越来越快，越来越清晰。在不间断的、炽热的、辉煌的激流中滚滚而去。

“我们今天将签署和平条约，”他用专横的语气说道，“否则就完全中断谈判。和平对我们有利，与奥地利交战则对我们不利；但是与英国的战争为我们的武器开辟了一个广泛的、非常重要的和辉煌的行动领域。”

现在，他向督政府解释了与奥地利签订和平条约以及与英国进行战争的好处，其逻辑性敏锐而精确。他的话语不亚于他的剑锋，又如同加图的话语一样简短、严厉和冷酷。

然后他停顿了一会儿，不是为了整理思绪，而是为了让秘书休息几秒钟，也让自己喘口气。

“让我们继续吧，”过了一会儿，他用热情的声音和火热的眼睛口述道：“如果我的计算有误，那么我的心是纯洁的，我的意图是善意的。我没有听从荣耀、虚荣和野心的劝诱；我只关心国家和政府的福祉。如果他们不赞同我的行动和观点，我就只能退到人群中，穿上辛辛那图斯的木鞋，树立尊重政府、厌恶军事统治的榜样，摧毁了如此多的共和国，消灭了如此多的国家。”[14]波拿巴自己的话。——“Memoires d'un Homme d'Etat”，卷。四、p. 558.

“你说完了吗？”波拿巴长长地吸了一口气问道。

“是的，将军，我就是。”

“那就再拿一张纸吧，我的朋友。我们现在要写信给那只狡猾的狐狸，它通常能察觉到他可能掉进去的每一个洞，而且它的鼻子非常灵敏，可以从远处嗅到每一个危险和每一个有利的地方。但这一次他迷失了方向，并且完全错了。因此，我将为他指明道路。 “致外交部长塔列朗公民。”地址写了吗？”

“是的，将军。”

“好吧，继续。”

波拿巴没有停下来，甚至没有犹豫，口述了下面的信：

“三四个小时后，公民部长，一切都会决定——和平还是战争。我承认，由于赛季已经提前，取得重要成功的前景渺茫，我将尽一切努力实现和平。”

“你对半岛国家知之甚少；他们不应该为他们而杀害四万名法国士兵。我从你的信中看出，你总是毫无根据地争论。你认为自由会给懒惰、迷信、胆怯和堕落的人们留下深刻的印象。”

“你要求我创造奇迹，但我却做不到。自从我来到意大利，这个国家对自由和平等的渴望就不是我的盟友，或者充其量只是一个非常微弱的盟友。任何仅仅在公告和印刷版演讲中提到的好东西都比小说更有价值。”

“希望谈判能够达成有利的结果，我不会就许多显然被误解的问题提供进一步的细节来向你们解释。只有谨慎、睿智、坚定，我们才能实现伟大目标，克服一切障碍；否则我们的一切努力都将是徒劳的。从胜利到毁灭往往只有一步之遥。在非常关键的时刻，我总是注意到，最重要的事情是由无关紧要的事情决定的。”

“急于求成、急于求成是我们民族的特点。如果我们采取明智的政策，只不过是结合和机会计算的结果作为我们行动的基础，我们将长期保持欧洲最伟大的国家和最强大的国家——不，更重要的是，我们将保持平衡如果是上天的旨意，那么在几年之内实现那些伟大的成果并非不可能，而这些伟大的成果也许是热情洋溢、激动人心的想象力所预见的，但这只是一个具有非凡冷静、毅力和谨慎的人能够取得成就，如果——”[16]“国家回忆录”，卷。四、p. 581.

波拿巴突然停了下来，仿佛他即将泄露一个深刻的秘密，而在将其埋藏在自己心中还为时不晚的时候，他停了下来。

“这就够了，”他接着说，“擦掉最后一个字，然后合上信。是什么让你用如此奇怪的眼神看着我，布里安？”

“请原谅，将军，我有一个愿景。我觉得你的头上仿佛燃烧着一朵红火，我相信，如果所有国家、所有的人都能像我刚才看到的那样看到你，他们会再次相信异教神话的寓言，并为朱庇特感到满意雷霆者决定再次降临到我们的人类世界。”

波拿巴笑了，这笑容照亮了他原本严肃而僵硬的脸。

“你是个阿谀奉承者，也是个朝臣。”他开玩笑地说，用力捏着布里安的耳朵，以至于后者在微笑下几乎无法掩饰痛苦的尖叫。 “是的，确实，你是一名普通朝臣，共和国驱逐你做得很好，因为奉承是非常贵族化的行为，有损我们僵硬的共和尊严。把我比作出现在地球上的朱庇特，真是个好主意！那么，你这位博学的学者和奉承者难道不知道，每当朱庇特从奥林匹斯山降临时，他都在追求一场非常世俗且完全不敬虔的冒险吗？你只需告诉我的约瑟芬，我即将为了某个美丽的欧罗巴而化身为一头牛，或者化作一场金雨降临，以获得达那厄的爱情。”

“将军，聪明而有精神的约瑟芬会认为前者是不可能的，因为即使你成功地创造了世界上所有的奇迹，你也永远不可能把自己变成一头牛。”

“什么！一分钟前你还把我和朱庇特相提并论，现在你已经怀疑我能否完成朱庇特所做的事情了！”波拿巴笑着喊道。 “啊，马屁精，你看我已经把你困在你自己的网里了。但我的约瑟芬会相信，我可以把自己变成一场金雨，以赢得达娜厄吗，你这个流氓？”

“是的，将军，但她总是会小心翼翼地扮演达那厄本人。”

“是的，确实，你说得对。”波拿巴回答道，笑得比以前更大声了。 “约瑟芬喜欢金雨，即使雨这么猛烈，她也不会抱怨；因为如果他们把她浸到脖子以下，几个小时之内她就会摆脱掉所有宝贵的洪水。”

“你的妻子像公主一样慷慨大方，所以才会花那么多钱。她用慷慨的双手分散她的慈善事业。”

“是的，约瑟芬有一颗高贵而宽宏的心。”拿破仑惊叹道，他那双蓝色的大眼睛露出温和而温柔的表情。 “她是一个女人，就像我喜欢的女人一样——那么温柔善良，那么童趣俏皮，那么温柔深情，那么热情而古怪！同时她的举止又如此端庄和优雅。啊，你应该看到她在米兰的客厅里接待王子和贵族。我向你保证，我的朋友，波拿巴小将军的妻子看起来和举止都像一位守卫堤坝的女王，她受到了对待和尊重，就好像她是一位女王一样。啊，你真该看看！”

“我确实看到了，将军。来这里之前我在米兰。”

“啊，是的，确实如此。我已经忘记了。你这个幸运的家伙，你见到我妻子的时间比我见到我的时间还多。约瑟芬很漂亮，不是吗？没有哪个年轻女孩能比她更清新、更优雅、更纯真、更可爱。每当我和她在一起时，我都会感到满足、快乐和平静，就像一个在温暖的日子里在一棵美丽的桃金娘树荫下休息的人一样，而每当我远离她时——”

波拿巴停了下来，脸上泛起一丝红晕。这位二十八岁的年轻情人暂时战胜了这位严厉、精于算计的将军，而将军却为此感到羞愧。

“现在不是考虑这些事情的时候，”他几乎愤怒地说。 “现在把信封好，派信使去巴黎。啊，巴黎！但愿上帝能让我再次回到我位于尚特雷恩街的小房子里，独自一人，和约瑟芬在一起快乐！但为了到达那里，我必须首先在这里与奥地利、与德国皇帝讲和。啊，恐怕德国不会因为她的皇帝即将缔结的这个和平条约而感到高兴，因为这个条约她可能会失去莱茵河上一些最辉煌的堡垒。”

“那么威尼斯共和国呢，将军？”

“威尼斯共和国即将消失。”波拿巴皱着眉头喊道。 “威尼斯已经让自己配不上共和国的名字——她即将消失。”

“将军，共和国代表们昨天一整天都在您的接待室里，徒劳地等待接见。”

“今天他们也必须等待，直到我从决定战争还是和平的会议回来。无论哪种情况，威尼斯人都有祸了！布瑞恩，告诉他们等我回来。现在，我的马车。我不能让奥地利全权代表们再等待我的最后通牒。”

奥地利全权代表们正在乌迪内的大阿尔贝​​加等待波拿巴将军。接待他的一切都已准备就绪。餐桌已经摆好了，厨师们只是等待法国酋长的到来，以便为今天的会议开始准备一场盛大的晚宴。

路易·科本茨尔伯爵和德·加洛侯爵正在餐厅里，站在窗前欣赏风景。

“今天很冷，”谈话暂停后科本茨尔伯爵说道。 “就我而言，我喜欢寒冷的天气，因为它让我想起我一生中最难忘的岁月——我在俄罗斯塞米拉米斯宫廷的逗留。但是，侯爵，这种寒冷的天气可能会更明显地让您想起美丽的那不勒斯和南方灿烂的阳光。寒冷的空气一定会让你想家。”

“伯爵，我不知道这种病。”侯爵说道。 “只要能为我的国王和国家服务，我就会感到宾至如归。”

“但是今天，亲爱的侯爵，您必须侍奉一位外国王子。”

“奥地利是我高贵的卡罗琳王后的祖国，”侯爵严肃地说，“皇后是我国王的女儿。因此，奥地利宫廷可以指挥我的全部权力和能力。”

“恐怕今天我们的工作会很辛苦，侯爵。”科本茨尔伯爵阴郁地说。 “这位法国将军确实是最糟糕的无套裤汉。他完全没有高贵、温文尔雅和文雅。”

“我亲爱的伯爵，就我而言，我认为这个波拿巴是一个非常有头脑的人，我相信我们必须高度警惕才能从他那里夺取一些让步。”

“侯爵，您真的相信吗？”伯爵带着难以置信的微笑问道。 “那么，你没看到，那天我把皇帝陛下的亲笔信递给他时，他大理石般的脸是如何发光的？你没看到他读完的时候高兴得脸红吗？哦，我注意到了这一点，在那一刻，我对自己说：“这只共和派熊对伟人的恩惠和友善并非无动于衷。”阿谀奉承是他爱吃的一道菜；因此，我们将用它来喂养他，他将成为我们的，并在不经意间做我们想做的任何事情。伟大的凯瑟琳女皇曾经说过：“驯服熊的最佳方法是甜食，驯服共和主义者的最佳方法是头衔和勋章。”侯爵，你看我要如何向他致敬！今天我让他用我最珍贵的遗物喝了巧克力，这个杯子是伟大的女皇送给我的，你可以看到里面有沙皇的肖像。啊，正是在埃尔米塔什的最后一次节日上，她把装有巧克力的杯子递给了我，为了赋予它真正的价值，她用自己崇高的嘴唇触摸了杯子的边缘，抿了一口巧克力，然后然后允许我在她喝过的地方喝酒。因此，这个杯子是我对圣彼得堡最珍贵的回忆之一，小波拿巴将军可能会因为被允许喝凯瑟琳的杯子而感到非常自豪。是的，是的，我们会给熊吃甜食，但之后他必须按照我们的意愿跳舞。我们不会屈服，但他必须向美国屈服。我们的要求应该尽可能的高！”

“如果绳子拉得太紧，通常会弄断它，”意大利人若有所思地说。 “恐怕波拿巴将军不会同意任何有损法国荣誉和尊严的事情。此外，他还有一个不好的地方——清廉，即使是凯瑟琳皇后的头衔和勋章也无法驯服这个共和主义者。让我们小心翼翼、谨慎行事，算一算。让我们要求多一点，但及时屈服，少一点就知足，以免失去一切。”

“奥地利只能同意扩大其边界、扩大其领土的和平，”科本茨尔急忙喊道。

“你是对的，当然，”德加洛侯爵缓慢地回答道。 “但奥地利不能打算以牺牲法国为代价来增强自己的实力。所谓的德国有什么用呢？让奥地利从她那里拿走她想要的任何东西——一块巴伐利亚，一块普鲁士——我不会关心她是否给法国一块德国，比如莱茵河边境。以天堂的名义，我认为所谓的德意志帝国已经腐朽到足以让我们把它撕成碎片了。”

“你对可怜的德意志帝国太不仁慈了，”科本茨尔伯爵微笑着说，“因为你不是德国人，正因为如此，你似乎更有资格在这件事上担任奥地利全权代表。然而，奇怪而有趣的是，在这些主要关系到德国福祉的谈判中，德国皇帝应该由意大利人代表，而法兰西共和国则由科西嘉人代表！”

“您忽略了，我亲爱的伯爵，”侯爵礼貌地说。 “你是德国皇帝的真正代表，我认为皇帝不可能将德国的利益托付给更好的人。但既然您允许我担任您的顾问，我恳请您记住，奥地利的福祉应该先于德国的福祉。而且——但是听着！一辆马车正在驶近。”

“是波拿巴将军，”科本茨尔伯爵一边说，一边快步走到窗前。 “看看他来时乘坐的华丽马车就知道了。六匹马——包厢里有四个步兵，还有一整队的枪骑兵护送他！你认为这位共和党人对阿谀奉承麻木不仁吗？啊哈！我们会给熊糖果！我们去迎接他吧。”

他挽起侯爵的手臂，两人赶紧去迎接刚刚停在门口的将军。

奥地利全权代表在楼梯中间会见了波拿巴，并护送他到餐厅，宴会厅正在那里等他。

但波拿巴拒绝了这次宴会，尽管科本茨尔伯爵一再提出最紧迫的要求。

“至少带一杯巧克力来暖暖身子吧。”伯爵催促道。 “将军，把它从这个杯子里喝掉吧，如果只是为了增加它在我眼中的价值就好了。凯瑟琳皇后把它给了我，并用它喝了；如果你现在也用这个杯子，我可以夸耀拥有这个世纪最伟大的男人和最伟大的女人喝过的杯子！

“伯爵，我不会喝酒！”波拿巴直率地回答道。 “我与这位帝国梅萨琳娜没有任何共同之处，她的放荡生活同样侮辱了王室和女性的尊严。你看，我是一个头脑坚强的共和党人，只懂得谈生意。因此，让我们立即处理这个问题。”

他不等邀请，就在靠近早餐桌的长沙发上坐下，并迅速示意两位先生在他身边坐下。

“我前天已经通知你我的最后通牒了，”波拿巴冷冷地说。 “你考虑过这一点吗？你愿意接受吗？”

这个直截了当、仓促的问题让两位外交官感到困惑。

“我们将与您一起权衡并考虑可以做什么，”科本茨尔伯爵胆怯地说。 “法国要求太多，提供太少。奥地利准备将比利时割让给法国，并放弃伦巴第，但作为回报，她要求包括曼托瓦在内的威尼斯整个领土。”

“曼图亚必须留在新的南山共和国！”波拿巴激烈地喊道。 “这是我最后通牒的规定之一，伯爵，你似乎已经忘记了。你对莱茵河边境和门茨要塞只字未提，这两处我都声称对法国拥有主权。”

“但是，将军，莱茵河不属于奥地利，门茨驻扎着德国军队。我们不能放弃不属于我们的东西。”

“我不是把威尼斯给你了吗？”波拿巴喊道：“威尼斯，即使在现在，也是一个主权国家，它的代表们正在我的总部等待我的答复！如果德国皇帝愿意的话，他当然有权放弃一座德国堡垒。”

“好吧，奥地利并非不愿意将莱茵河边界割让给法国，”德加洛侯爵说道。 “奥地利非常愿意并准备与法国结成紧密联盟，以抵制普鲁士的野心计划。”

“如果奥地利因与法国达成谅解而获得新领土，她必须确保普鲁士不应该获得这种扩张的权利，”科本茨尔伯爵急忙说道。

德加洛说：“法国和奥地利可能会在一项秘密条约中承诺，不再允许普鲁士进一步扩张，而只是将她以前在莱茵河上的领地归还给她。”

“不离题了，请放心！”波拿巴不耐烦地喊道。 “让我们谈谈我的最后通牒。我以法国的名义向你们提出和平，条件是将莱茵河左岸的领土及其规定的边界（包括门茨）割让给法国，并进一步规定，阿迪杰河构成奥地利之间的边界线而山南共和国、曼图亚则属于后者。你们将比利时割让给法国，但作为回报，我们给你们威尼斯的大陆领地；只有科孚岛和爱奥尼亚群岛将归法国所有，阿迪杰河将成为威尼斯奥地利的边界。”

“我已经告诉过你了，将军，”科本茨尔伯爵带着他最迷人的微笑说道，“我们不能接受最后一个条件。同样，我们必须拥有曼托瓦；作为回报，我们给你 Mentz；我们的边界必须不是阿迪杰河，而是阿达河。”

“啊！我明白了——新的困难，新的诡计！”波拿巴大声喊道，他的眼睛里闪过一丝愤怒的目光看着外交官。

然而，这一愤怒的目光却被伯爵礼貌的微笑所挡开。 “将军，我同样冒昧地通知您我们的最后通牒，”他温和地说，“我很遗憾被迫宣布，除非我们的条件得到接受，否则我将不得不离开这个地方。但在这种情况下，我将要求你对由此造成的数千人的鲜血负责。”

波拿巴跳了起来，眼睛里冒出火焰，嘴唇因愤怒而颤抖。

“你竟然敢威胁我！”他愤怒地喊道。 “你采取了一个又一个的诡计。那你就铁了心要发动战争吗？很好，你就拥有了。”

他急忙伸出手臂，抓起凯瑟琳女皇送给科本茨尔伯爵的珍贵杯子，猛地把它扔到地上，发出一声巨响，杯子摔成了碎片。

“看那边！”他用雷鸣般的声音喊道。 “不到三个月，你们的奥地利君主政体就会像这个杯子一样被打碎。我向你保证。”

他没有再多看两位先生一眼，快步走到门口，离开了房间。

科本茨尔伯爵脸色苍白，充满愤怒和沮丧，盯着珍贵杯子的碎片，长期以来，它一直是他心中的骄傲和喜悦。

“他要走了。”德加洛侯爵低声说道。 “伯爵，我们要放他走吗？”

“那只熊怎么养在这里？”伯爵叹了口气，耸了耸肩问道。

就在这时，前厅里传来波拿巴铿锵有力的声音，喊道：

“勤务兵——快！”

“他在窗外叫。”侯爵低声说道。 “让我们听听他要说什么。”

两位全权代表踮起脚尖走到窗前，小心翼翼地从窗帘后面往外看。他们看到一名法国枪骑兵从下面疾驰而来，在隔壁房间的窗户下停下来敬礼。

他们再次听到波拿巴雷鸣般的声音。 “骑马到查理大公的总部去，”波拿巴喊道。 “代表我告诉他，停战已经结束，敌对行动将从现在开始重新开始。就这些。离开！”

然后他们听到他砰地关上窗户，迈着响亮的脚步穿过前厅。

两位全权代表惊愕地互相看了一眼。 “伯爵，”侯爵低声说道，“听着！他离开并威胁要分裂奥地利。他是兑现他的威胁的人。天哪，我们一定要让他愤怒地离开吗？你被授权这样做了吗？”

“你会尝试命令风暴停止吗？”科本茨尔伯爵问道。

“是的，我会尝试，因为我们不能以这种方式中断谈判并重新开始敌对行动。我们必须安抚这个可怕的战士！”

他冲出房间，匆匆穿过前厅，下楼来到前门。

波拿巴已经上了马车。他的护卫队已经排好队，车夫抓住了缰绳和鞭子，以便给不耐烦的马匹发出出发的信号。

就在这时，德加洛侯爵苍白而谦逊的脸出现在马车门口。波拿巴似乎没有看到他。他靠在靠垫上，阴沉地仰望天空。

“将军，”侯爵恳求道，“请您不要走！”

“侯爵，”波拿巴耸耸肩回答道，“我不适合和敌人待在一起。战争已经宣战了，因为你没有接受我的最后通牒。”

“但是，将军，我冒昧地通知您，奥地利全权代表已决定接受您的最后通牒。”波拿巴大理石般的脸上没有流露出丝毫惊讶和喜悦的情绪。他的大眼睛只是锐利地看了侯爵一眼。

“你毫无托辞、毫无保留地接受了吗？”他慢慢地问道。

“是的，将军，正如您所说的那样。我们准备签署和平条约并接受最后通牒。请再次下车，并与我们一起继续会议。”

“不，先生，”波拿巴说，“没有任何痕迹！我已经上了马车，就不会再回到你身边了。此外，威尼斯共和国的代表正在帕塞里亚诺等我，我相信现在也是我向他们发出最后通牒的时候了。三小时结束后，我请您，侯爵和科本茨尔伯爵前往我位于帕塞里亚诺的总部。在那里我们将考虑条约的各项规定，并商定公开和秘密的条款。”

“但是您忘记了，将军，您的勤务兵已经在前往奥地利总部的路上，以宣布重新开始敌对行动。”

“确实如此，”拿破仑平静地说。 “这里，有两个勤务兵。跟随第一个勤务兵，命令他返回。您看，侯爵，我相信您保证的诚意。那么，三个小时后，我将在帕塞里亚诺等候您，以解决条约的细节。然而，我们将在中立的基础上签署它。你看到地平线上那座高楼了吗？”

“是的，将军，那是坎波福尔米奥那座破败的古堡。”

「那么，就在那个城堡里，签订条约吧。那么三个小时后。到那时，再见。”

他漫不经心地向侯爵点了点头，侯爵在王座脚下，谦逊如臣子，站在马车门口，不断地深深鞠躬，挥舞着羽毛帽。

“向前！”波拿巴大喊一声，马车就开走了，后面跟着一群华丽的随从。波拿巴漫不经心地靠在角落里，偷偷地微笑着，嘀咕道：“这是一场戏剧性的政变，而且显然取得了巨大的成功。他们必须接受我手中的和平作为恩惠。啊，如果他们猜到我自己有多么需要它就好了！但这些人都是迟钝的；他们看不到任何东西。他们没有目标；他们只活一分钟又一分钟，每当他们在路上发现悬崖时，他们就会绊倒，迷失万劫不复。天哪，真正的男人是多么的稀缺啊！意大利有一千八百万人，但我在其中几乎找不到两个人。我想拯救这两个人，但其他人可能会完成他们的命运。威尼斯共和国将从地球上消失——这个残酷嗜血的政府将被消灭。我们将把它作为猎物扔给饥饿的奥地利；但当后者吞噬了她，并在懒洋洋的消化中伸展自己时，我们就该搅动奥地利了。在那之前，与奥地利讲和——讲和！”

三小时后，奥地利和法国之间的条约在坎波福尔米奥古堡签署。根据该条约，法国获得了比利时、莱茵河左岸和蒙特要塞。奥地利获得了威尼斯领土。但在这些已公开的收购中，还添加了秘密文章。在这些秘密条款中，法国承诺，如果普鲁士像奥地利一样要求扩大其领土，法国不会同意。

奥地利皇帝则承诺，即使在拉施塔特与德意志帝国签订条约之前，他也承诺从莱茵河上的所有堡垒中撤出军队——换句话说，交出德国军队。德意志帝国完全归其邻国法国所有。

奥地利扩大了领土，但德国为此付出了鲜血的代价，并最终付出了生命的代价。奥地利已在坎波福尔米奥与法国议和，条约规定德意志帝国也应与法国议和。为此，将在拉施塔特召开一次代表大会。所有德国王子都将派出大使前往该要塞，以便与法兰西共和国的三位代表共同解决帝国的命运。

最高贵的普鲁士宫廷司仪冯·沃斯伯爵夫人正以最兴奋的方式在路易莎王后的客厅里来回踱步。她穿着普通的宫廷服饰——一件黑色长袍，戴着一顶黑纱大帽。她半戴着黑色丝绸手套，白皙的手中握着一把华丽的扇子，她不耐烦地打开和合上扇子，然后又像音乐领袖的指挥棒一样缓慢地上下移动。

如果有人在场观察她，高贵的司仪不会允许自己如此公开地表现出她的不耐烦。然而幸运的是，她很孤独，在这种情况下，即使是宫廷的女主人也可能会觉得可以随意违反礼仪规则，而在其他场合，礼仪规则都是贵族女士最神圣的福音。然而，礼节才是她现在强烈兴奋的动机，为了礼节，她要在路易莎王后的前厅里进行一场战斗。

“机不可失，时不再来！”她低声说道。 “只要腓特烈·威廉和路易莎还只是‘他们的殿下、王储和王妃’，我就可以随意忽视，但现在他们已经登上了王位，我不能再允许他们这样做了。因此，我决心在年轻国王登基的第一天与他交谈[17]脚注：17 年 1797 月 XNUMX 日。 以忠实履行我的责任职责所需的坚决和真诚的方式。”

就在这时，巨大的折叠门被打开，一个身材修长、穿着潇洒制服的年轻人走进了房间。那是年轻的国王腓特烈·威廉三世，他从内宫庭院归来，在那里他接受了君主制将军们的效忠宣誓。

这位二十七岁的国王高贵而年轻的面容严肃而严肃，但从他那双蓝色的大眼睛里却闪烁着他优秀心灵的善良和温柔，他英俊而善良的面容上散发着一种宁静祥和的奇妙精神。同情。

他迈着快速、无声的步伐穿过房间，礼貌地向司仪鞠躬，走到对面的门前。但司仪显然是急于阻止他打开那扇门，走到门前，严肃地对他说道：

“陛下，这是不可能的。我不能允许以这种方式违反礼节，我必须请求陛下非常客气地告诉我您要在这些房间里做什么？”

“好吧，”国王带着愉快的微笑说道，“我今天要做我每天这个时候都会做的事情——我要去拜访我的妻子。”

“给你的妻子！”司仪惊愕地喊道。 “但是，陛下，国王没有妻子！”

“啊！那样的话，国王就太可怜了，”国王微笑着说道，“就我而言，我宁愿放弃我的王冠，也不愿放弃我心爱的妻子。”

“天哪，陛下，您当然有妻子，但我恳求您不要在其他人面前用这个粗俗的名字称呼她陛下。这有违礼节，有损皇室的尊严。”

“我亲爱的伯爵夫人，”年轻的国王严肃地说，“相反，我相信，如果女王陛下仍然是一位真正意义上的女性，那只会增加人们对我们的尊重。” ，我的妻子——对不起，我想说的是女王——就是这样一个女人。现在，我亲爱的伯爵夫人，请允许我去见她。”

“不，”司仪坚决地喊道。 “陛下必须先屈尊听我讲话。我已经在这里等待陛下到来一个小时了，现在您必须仁慈地允许我按照我的职责和官方职位的要求，坦诚而真诚地与您交谈。”

“好吧，我会听你的话，我亲爱的伯爵夫人，”国王叹了口气说。

“陛下，”司仪说道，“在这个值得纪念的日子里，我认为我有责任恳求陛下授予我更加严厉和坚决地执行我职务特权的权力。”

“并臣服于你的权杖之下。我想这就是你想让我做的事吧，亲爱的伯爵夫人？”国王微笑着问道。

“陛下，如果国王和王后自己公然违反礼法，无论如何都无法维护王室的尊严和威严。”

“啊！”国王严厉地喊道：“请不要对王后说一句话，亲爱的司仪！你可以随意指责我，但请让我不再听到对我的路易莎的抱怨！好吧，那么，现在请告诉我，我犯下了哪些新的失职行为。”

“陛下，”伯爵夫人说道，她注意到国王嘴唇上浮现出几乎难以察觉的微笑——“陛下，我看出陛下在嘲笑我；尽管如此，我认为我有责任发出警告。礼仪是崇高而神圣的东西，是君王与臣民之间的神圣之墙。如果那位不幸的王后玛丽·安托瓦内特没有拆掉这堵墙，她的下场也许就不那么悲惨了。”

“啊！伯爵夫人，你真是太过分了；你甚至用断头台来威胁我。”国王善意地喊道。 “确实，我恐怕犯下了大罪。”因此，告诉我你希望看到什么改变，我向你保证，如果我有能力的话，我会满足你的请求。”

“陛下，”女主人用低沉而令人印象深刻的声音恳求道，“让我恳求您在宫殿里少一点父亲和丈夫的身份，多一点国王的身份，至少在其他人在场的时候。经常出现这样的情况：陛下在其他人面前毫不客气地称呼王后为“您”，不仅如此，陛下甚至在向陌生人或仆人谈论王后时，也经常简短地称王后为“我的妻子”。陛下，这一切在太子之家和朴素的家庭中可能会被忽视，但在国王的宫殿中却不能被原谅。”

“那么，”国王微笑着问道，“我的这座房子从昨天起就变成了宫殿？”

“陛下，您该不会是说，您登基后，就留在这简陋的房子里吧？”司仪惊愕地喊道。

“现在真诚地告诉我，我亲爱的伯爵夫人，我们不能留在这所房子里吗？”

“我向陛下保证，这是完全不可能的。国王和王后的宫廷怎么可能在这么小的房子里保持尊严呢？王后的家庭必须大幅增加；此后，我们必须有四位贵妃，四位宫女，以及其他仆人，比例也相同。按照礼仪，陛下也必须扩大自己的家庭。国王必须有两名副官、四名内臣、四名寝宫绅士，还有——”

”国王笑道：“且慢，幸好我家不属司仪之职，不必提及。至于你的其他提议和愿望，我会考虑的，因为我希望你现在就结束了。”

“不，陛下，我不是。我还得提很多其他的事情，今天我必须这样做——我的职责需要它。”司仪郑重地说道。

国王向门口投去渴望的目光。

“好吧，如果你的职责需要的话，你可以继续，”他大声叹了口气说道。

“我必须恳求陛下协助我履行繁重的职责。如果国王和王后本身能够遵守严格而公正的礼仪要求，我就能迫使整个朝廷同样严格遵守这些有益的规则。然而，如今，一种创新精神和不遵守旧有仪式和习俗的精神正在到处蔓延，这种精神深深地折磨着我，我不得不认为这种精神是极其有害的。甚至现在，它已经感染了宫廷里的女士们先生们。而且经常听到陛下，在与女王陛下交谈时，违背礼仪，使用粗俗的德语而不是法语，法语是整个德国法院的语言，他们认为自己拥有说德语的完美权利只要他们愿意。是的，早餐时用德国人的“Guten Morgen！”互相敬礼已成为他们的惯例。[18]参见路德维希·豪塞尔的《德国史》，卷二。 这是一项创新，未经女王陛下的司仪和陛下的司仪同意，任何人都不应允许这种创新。”

“请您原谅，”国王严肃地说，“在这一点上，我与您完全不同。任何礼节都不应该禁止德国绅士或德国女士用母语交谈，发出这样的命令是不自然的，纯粹是做作。为了充分意识到自己的民族尊严，他们应该特别珍惜和热爱自己的语言，而不再屈尊使用一个曾为国王和王后流过鲜血、有着可悲榜样的民族的语言来代替它。现在令所有王座颤抖。但愿上帝让使用德语的习惯在我的宫廷中变得越来越普遍，因为德国人理应像德国人一样感受、思考和说话。如果法兰西共和国想要入侵德国，这也将是抵御法兰西共和国血腥浪潮的最可靠堡垒。现在你知道我的观点了，我亲爱的司仪，如果你的礼仪手册规定所有宫廷官员都应该用法语交谈，我请求你删除那篇文章并在其位置插入以下内容：“普鲁士，作为一个德国人”国家，当然每个人都有说德语的自由。”这也将成为法庭规则，除非有不熟悉德语的人在场。请不要忘记这一点，我亲爱的伯爵夫人，现在，作为那扇门和礼节法律的坚定守护者，我请求您去见女王陛下，并询问她是否有荣幸侍候女王陛下。我谨向女王陛下致以敬意；我相信她会慷慨地满足我的请求。”[19]国王自己的话。——《普鲁士国王的生活》中的人物和历史片段，弗里德里希·威廉三世。 Gesammelt und herausgegeben von B. Fr.艾勒特 (Eylert)，主教，美国西南大学 Th。 ii.，p. 21. 司仪深深鞠了一躬，脸上洋溢着喜悦之色，然后快步走进了隔壁房间。

国王看了她一会儿，脸上带着奇特的微笑。

“她要穿过六间大房间，才能到达路易莎的闺房，”他低声说道：“但这扇门，却是通过小厅和另一间前厅直接通向她。这是通往她的最近的路，我会走的。”

国王不再犹豫，连忙打开侧门，穿过寂静的大厅，穿过狭小的接待室，敲响了那扇厚重帘子的大门。

一道甜美的女声响起：“请进！”国王立即打开了门。一位深切哀悼的女士迎面而来，向他伸出双手。

“哦，我的心告诉我，是你，我最亲爱的！”她惊呼道，她那双灿烂的蓝眼睛注视着他，脸上流露出难以形容的热情温柔。

国王带着梦幻般的微笑看着她，完全被她的样子所吸引。这确实是这位二十岁年轻女王所呈现的迷人而美丽的景象。

她的蓝眼睛闪烁着青春、热情和幸福的光芒。她那精致的嘴唇和成熟的樱桃唇上​​总是挂着甜美的微笑。微微泛红的脸颊两侧，华丽的赤褐色头发呈波浪状垂落下来。高贵清纯的额头高耸在古典规矩的鼻子上，她的身材傲然又迷人，华丽又贞洁，充满了真正的皇家威严，赢得了女人的优雅，与她可爱又青春的气质浑然一体。特征。

“出色地？”女王微笑着问道。 “我亲爱的丈夫，你没有说一句欢迎的话吗？”

“我只想对你说，愿上帝保佑你走上新的道路，愿他在我有生之年保佑你！”国王深受感动，回答道，并温柔地拥抱了他的王后。

她用柔软白皙的手臂环住他的脖子，把头靠在他的肩膀上，脸上带着幸福的微笑。他们就这样靠在彼此的怀里，在难以言喻的喜悦中默默无声，在对永恒不朽的爱的深切意识中庄严地感动。

突然，一声低沉的呼喊打断了他们的幸福美梦，他们有些吃惊地迅速转过身，看到司仪冯·沃斯伯爵夫人站在敞开的门外，阴沉地注视着他们。

国王忍不住笑了。

“你现在明白了吗，我亲爱的伯爵夫人？”他说。 “我和妻子经常见面，没有任何打扰，只要我们愿意，这正是基督徒家庭应该有的样子。但您是一位迷人的司仪，以后我们将称您为“礼仪女士”。[20]国王自己的话。—Vide Eylert，第二部分，第 98 页。 XNUMX. 而且，我会尽量满足你的愿望。”

他善意地向她点了点头，司仪也明白这点头的意思，叹了一口气，退了出去，关上了门。

王后微笑着抬头看着自己的丈夫。

“又是因为礼仪发生争吵吗？”她问。

“是的，而且是一场最严重的争吵，”国王很快回答道。 “司仪要求在进入你的房间之前一定要向你通报我的情况，路易莎。”

“哦，这里总是有人宣布你的到来，”她温柔地喊道。 “我的心总是预示着你的到来——而这个先驱就足够了，它比我们尊贵的司仪的严肃表情更让我高兴。”

“它是我幸福的使者，”国王热情地说，将手臂搭在妻子的肩膀上，轻轻地将她拉到自己的心口。

“你知道我刚才在想什么吗？”短暂的停顿后，女王问道。 “我相信司仪会制定出很多新的规矩，并且给我讲授很多关于女王在礼仪方面的职责。”

“我相信你是对的，”国王微笑着说道。

“但我不相信她是对的！” ”王后大声说道，紧紧依偎在丈夫的怀里，补充道：“告诉我，我的勋爵和国王，这是您第一次以国王的身份来见我，我是否有权问一些问题？拜托你的恩情，并祈求你答应我的请求吗？”

“是的，你有这个权利，我迷人的王后，”国王高兴地说。 “我向你保证，无论你的愿望是什么，都会实现。”

“那么，”王后高兴地说，“我有四个愿望希望你实现。来吧，坐在我身边，在这个小沙发上，用你的手臂搂着我的腰，让我觉得我在你的保护下休息，让我把头靠在你的肩膀上，就像常春藤支撑着自己一样。坚固的橡树的树干。现在听听我的愿望。首先，我希望您允许我在自己的家里毫无拘束地做妻子和母亲，毫无畏惧、不顾礼仪地履行我的神圣职责。你答应这个愿望吗？”

“尽管有所有司仪，但还是最诚挚、最快乐的！”国王回答道。

皇后轻轻点头，微笑道。 “其次，”她继续说道，“我恳求你，我亲爱的丈夫，不要让礼节破坏你对我的感情，并且永远称呼我为‘妻子’，即使是在别人在场的情况下。” ”，而不是“女王陛下”。我最亲爱的朋友，你也同意吗？

国王弯下腰亲吻她美丽的头发。

“路易莎，”他低声说道，“你知道如何读懂我的心，而且，你一如既往地慷慨，祈求我实现我最深切的愿望。是的，路易莎，我们将永远用我们最尊贵的头衔来称呼对方，“丈夫和妻子”。现在，你的第三个愿望，我亲爱的妻子？”

“啊，我对我的第三个愿望有些担心。”女王叹了口气，抬头看着她的丈夫，笑容甜美。 “恐怕你不能同意，而司仪也许是对的，她告诉我礼仪会阻止你遵守它。”

“啊，今天尊贵的司仪也教训过你了吗？”国王笑着问道。

女王点点头。 “她向我传达了‘礼仪手册’中的几个重要部分，”她叹了口气。 “但这一切都不能阻止我向你提及我的第三个愿望。我请求您，我的弗雷德里克，请求国王允许我的丈夫像以前一样朴素而谦虚地生活。让国王在他祖先的大皇宫里举行国家节日——让他在那些宽敞华丽的大厅里接受臣民的参拜和外国王子的来访，让王后在这种场合协助他。但是，一旦履行了这些皇室职责，难道我们就不能像其他所有人一样，在庆祝活动令人疲惫的盛况和辉煌之后回家，在我们亲爱的小家庭圈子中休息吗？让我们不要为了大皇宫而放弃我们心爱的家园！不要让我离开我度过了一生中最幸福、最美好的时光的房子。看，在我这些亲爱的旧房间里，一切都让我想起你，每当我走过它们时，我们的爱和幸福的整个秘密历史再次出现在我眼前。在这里，在这个房间里，我抵达柏林后，我们第一次见面，独自一人，没有目击者。在这里，你把初吻印在了你妻子的嘴唇上，它像天堂般的微笑一样，深深地渗入了我的灵魂，它像我们爱情的小守护天使一样留在了我的心里。从那天起，即使在最幸福的时刻，我也始终对神感到如此虔诚、感恩；每当你亲吻我时，我心中的小天使就在为你祈祷，每当我祈祷时，他就会亲吻你。”

“哦，路易莎，你是我的天使——我的守护天使！”国王热情地喊道。

女王显然没有注意到这种打扰——她完全沉浸在回忆中。 “在这里的这张沙发上，”她说，“我们经常像今天一样热烈拥抱，当我们周围的一切都寂静无声时，我们的心彼此说话的声音就更大，我经常听到你的嘴唇你高贵、纯洁和男子气概的灵魂的最崇高和神圣的启示。隔壁的柜子里，你曾站在窗前，阴沉沮丧；乌云遮住了你的额头，我知道你在你父亲的宫殿里又听到了悲伤的消息。但你从来没有抱怨过，因为你一直是一个孝顺的好儿子，甚至对我你也从未提及过你父亲的缺点。我知道你正在受什么苦，但我也知道，在那个时刻，我有能力驱散你额头上的所有乌云，让你的眼睛里闪烁着喜悦和幸福的光芒。轻轻地靠近你，我用手臂搂住你的脖子，把头靠在你的胸前，然后我低声说了三个只有上帝和我丈夫的耳朵才能听到的词。你听到了他们的声音，发出了一声欢呼，在我知道这是怎么发生之前，我看到你跪在我面前，亲吻我的脚和我的衣服下摆，并给我起一个名字，听起来像天籁般的音乐，让我心潮澎湃，脸颊泛起深深的红晕。我也不知道这是怎么发生的，但我感觉我跪在你身边，我们举起双手向天，感谢上帝赐予我们巨大的幸福，并祈祷他保佑我们我们的孩子，我们还不知道，但已经如此深爱。哦，最后，我自己的弗雷德里克，你还记得在我卧室的那个小时吗？你坐在我的床边，双手合十，祈祷着，然而，在祈祷的过程中，你凝视着我，而我在痛苦中翻滚，但在我的痛苦中却无比幸福，因为我知道，在那个时刻，大自然即将来临。愿上帝将我奉献给我最崇高和神圣的职业，并以我们幸福的明显保证来祝福我们的爱情。重要的时刻即将到来——一层胶片遮住了我的眼睛，我只能看到吉多·雷尼的精美画作上被天使包围的圣母，就在我的床对面。突然，一道耀眼的闪光似乎穿透了我周围的黑暗，寂静的房间里响起了一个我以前从未听过的声音——我孩子的声音。听到那个声音，我看到天使从画中降临，来到我的床边亲吻我，圣母俯身向我微笑，高呼：“身为母亲的妻子有福了！” '我的意识离开了我——我相信我无法形容的幸福让我晕倒了。”

“是的，你晕倒了，亲爱的妻子，”国王轻轻地向她点点头说道。 “但是昏迷并没有驱散你嘴唇上的微笑，也没有驱散你脸上欣喜若狂的表情。你躺在那里，仿佛被喜悦所淹没，并被你的狂喜所迷住。知道你有说不出的幸福，我就没有什么害怕的了——”

“嗯，我很快就醒了。”王后高兴地补充道。 “我没有时间长时间昏迷，因为有一个问题在我心中燃烧。我把目光转向你——你站在房间中央，抱着刚刚放在你怀里的穿着新蕾丝小裙子的婴儿。我的心现在开始像锤子一样在胸中跳动。我看着你，但我的嘴唇不够有力，无法说出这个问题。然而，你很了解我，靠近我的床边，跪下来把婴儿放在我怀里，你用我永远不会忘记的声音说：“路易莎，请为你的儿子祝福！”啊，那一刻我的狂喜仿佛要撕裂我的胸膛。我不得不大声尖叫，否则我就该高兴死了。 '一个儿子！'我哭着说：“我生了儿子了！”我用双臂搂住你和宝贝，我们流下了眼泪——哦，这样的眼泪——”

她停了下来，激动不已，泪流满面。

“啊！”她轻蔑地低声说道：“我很愚蠢——你会嘲笑我的。”

但国王没有笑，因为他的眼睛也湿润了。只是他为自己的泪水感到羞愧，把它们留在了眼里。随后停顿了一下，王后把头靠在丈夫的肩膀上，丈夫用手臂搂住了她的腰。突然，她抬起头，用那双明亮的大眼睛注视着国王深受感动的脸，她问道：“我的腓特烈，我们可以留下我为您生下儿子和王储的房子吗？我们会为了一座宏伟华丽的皇宫而放弃最神圣的回忆吗？”

“不，我们不会。”国王一边说，一边将妻子贴近自己的心。 “不，我们会留在我们的房子里——我们不会离开它。我们的幸福在这里生长、繁盛，也将在这里开花、结果。你的愿望一定会实现；我们将继续以夫妻身份住在这里，如果国王和王后必须举办节日并接待众多宾客，那么他们将前往宫殿履行他们的王室职责，但晚上他们将返回他们的地方幸福的家。”

“哦，我的朋友，我亲爱的朋友，我该如何感谢你呢？”女王大声说道，用双臂环住他的脖子，在他的嘴唇上留下了一个炽热的吻。

“但是现在，亲爱的妻子，让我知道你的第四个愿望，”国王将她抱在怀里说道。 “我希望你最后的愿望是真实的，不仅仅是为了让我高兴，也是为了你自己？”

“哦，我的第四个愿望只与我自己有关。”女王微笑着说道。 “我可以把这件事告诉你，只告诉你一个人，你必须保证保守秘密，并且不能向司仪透露任何一个字。”

“我很乐意答应，亲爱的路易莎。”

“好吧，”王后说着，将丈夫的手放在自己的心口上，用手指轻轻地抚摸着。 “我相信在即将到来的冬天，我们常常必须成为国王和王后。别人给我们节日，我们也得回报别人；国家将向新君主致敬，贵族将向他庄严宣誓效忠。因此，冬天会有很多皇家盛况，但我们的享受却很少。好吧，我不会抱怨，而是尽我最大的努力，荣耀我在你们身边的崇高地位。不过，作为回报，我亲爱的主人和朋友——作为回报，明年夏天，玫瑰花开的时候，你一定要给我一天——一天，专属于我自己的一天；到了那一天，我们会忘记皇室的忧虑，只记得我们是一对幸福的小情侣。当然，我们不会在柏林度过这一天，也不会在帕雷斯度过。但我们会像两只快乐的小鸟一样，飞得很远很远，飞到我在梅克伦堡的家，飞到我早年的天堂——霍亨齐里茨城堡；没有人会知道这件事。在没有事先通知的情况下，我们将到达那里，在孤独的老房子和花园里，我们将演绎一场迷人的小田园诗。那天你只属于我，不属于任何人。到那一天，我就是你的妻子和情人，仅此而已，我将为你提供娱乐和食物。是的，最亲爱的弗雷德里克，我将独自为您准备饭菜，并为您摆好餐桌并切菜。哦，亲爱的，亲爱的朋友；给我这样的一天，这样的田园诗般的幸福吧！”

“我非常高兴地把它送给你和我自己；让我承认，路易莎，我希望冬天已经结束，那个美丽日子的早晨即将来临。”

“谢谢——万分感谢！”女王热情地喊道。 “让僵硬而隆重的日子过去吧，还有偷偷摸摸、阿谀奉承的朝臣和阿谀奉承的熏陶。透过所有的薄雾，我将不断地吸入未来玫瑰的甜香，在僵硬的节日里，我将想起明年夏天黎明那天的田园风光，补偿我宫廷中的所有烦恼和疲劳生活。”

国王将右手放在她的头上，仿佛要祝福她，然后用左手抬起她靠在他胸前的脸。 “你这个可爱、快乐的天使，你真的认为我不理解你吗？”他低声问道。 “你认为我不觉得并且不知道你想给我这种安慰，希望通过这样幸福的一天来安慰我，以度过关心、疲劳和不安的时间吗？哦，我亲爱的路易莎，你不需要这样的安慰，因为上帝本来打算让你成为女王，即使你的地位的重担和忧虑也只会像迷人的精灵一样围绕着你。你始终知道如何找到正确的言语和正确的行为，并且无论你在做什么，圣宠都向你倾注了最迷人的魅力，以吸引所有人的心。另一方面，我又尴尬又不安。我对此再清楚不过了；不幸的童年，种种悲伤和忧虑，使我的内心变得含蓄和羞涩。也许我并不总是缺乏正确的想法，但我常常找不到合适的词来表达我的想法和感受。从今以后，我亲爱的路易莎，经常会出现你必须为我们俩说话的情况。凭借你令人难以抗拒的微笑和和蔼可亲的谈话，你必须赢得人们的心，而只要能赢得他们的头脑，我就满足了。”

“我能赢得他们的心吗？”女王若有所思地问道。 “哦，请帮助我，我最亲爱的朋友。告诉我，我必须做什么才能受到人民的爱戴。”

“保持你原来的样子，路易莎，”国王严肃地说，“永远保持迷人、优雅和纯洁，就像我在生命中最辉煌的两天里看到的那样，就像我内心的眼睛永远看到你一样。哦，我也有一些迷人的回忆，虽然我无法用你的那样迷人而绚丽的语言来讲述它们，但它们却同样清晰地铭刻在我的脑海里，并且像美丽的精灵一样伴随着我。只是在别人面前，他们才像我一样害羞、沉默寡言。”

“让我听听他们的声音，弗雷德里克，”女王恳求道，温柔地将美丽的头靠在丈夫的肩膀上。 “让我们再花一个小时来回忆过去。”

“是的，让我们再花一个小时来回忆过去的时光吧，”国王大声说道，“还有什么比想起你和我第一次见到你时的那个辉煌时刻更吸引我的呢？我要告诉你这一切吗，路易莎？”

“哦，就这样做吧，我亲爱的朋友。你的话对我来说就像一首优美的音乐，听得越多就越喜欢、越理解。那么，说吧，弗雷德里克，说吧。”

“嗯，”国王说，“每当我回顾过去，一切都仿佛笼罩在灰色的薄雾中，只有两颗星星和两道光芒在闪烁。星星是你的眼睛，灯光是我之前提到的两天——我第一次见到你的那一天，以及你到达柏林的那一天。哦，路易莎，我永远不会忘记第一天！我称其为第一天，因为这是我现实生活的第一天。那是在莱茵河战役期间的美因河畔法兰克福。我的父亲国王在我的陪同下，回访了您优秀的父亲梅克伦堡公爵前一天的来访。我们在一个小而朴实的别墅里见面，别墅位于一个大花园之中。两位君主严肃地长时间交谈，我静静地听着。这种沉默或许让我的父亲国王感到不舒服。”

“‘殿下，您觉得怎么样？’他突然问你父亲。 “我们在谈论军事行动的时候，难道我们不允许那位年轻的绅士侍候女士们吗？”一旦我们结束了，我就会请求你给予我同样的特权。”

“公爵爽快地答应了，并叫来在前厅等候的男仆，命令他和我一起去见女士们，并向她们通报我的拜访。要知道，在战争所在地附近，人们很少注意仪式。我跟着男仆，他告诉我女士们在花园里，他带我去了那里。我们走过一条长长的林荫道和几条小路。走在我前面的男仆向四面八方张望，也没有发现女士们的下落。最后，在大道的一个拐弯处，我们看到远处有一个凉亭，里面有一个白色的东西在飘动。”

“‘啊，路易莎公主来了，’男仆转向我说，然后快步向她走去。我缓慢而无精打采地跟着他，当他回来告诉我路易莎公主已经准备好接待我时，我距离玫瑰花坛大约还有二十码。我看到那里有一位年轻女士从座位上站起来，我加快了脚步。突然，我的心开始跳动，这是以前从未有过的，在我看来，仿佛一扇门在我的心中突然打开并使其自由，仿佛我灵魂中有一千个声音在歌唱和呼喊：“她在那里” ！这就是你心目中的女神！越走近，脚步越慢，只见你一身白裙站在凉亭门口，宽松地遮住高贵迷人的身段，清纯甜美的脸上挂着温柔的笑容，金色的发丝垂落下来。你红润的脸颊两边，你的头顶上簇拥着浓郁芬芳的玫瑰花，它们似乎从凉亭里向你俯下身来亲吻你，装饰你，你那圆圆白皙的手臂只被透明的蕾丝袖子遮住了一半， -右手举起至腰部的吹玫瑰花。看到你就在我面前，我相信我已经离开了地球，在我看来，我似乎看到了一位天真而美丽的天使，天堂希望通过他的声音来迎接我。[21]歌德同时看到了年轻的公主，并谈到她“神圣的美丽”。 我终于站在你的面前，完全忘记了向你行礼。我只看了你一眼。我只听见心里那些欢腾的声音，唱着：“这就是你的妻子——你现在和永远爱的妻子！”这不是伤感的感伤，而是一种清晰明确的意识，它像灵感一样，突然让我的眼睛湿润了喜悦的泪水。[22]国王自己的话，参见艾勒特主教的著作，卷。 ii.，p. 22. 哦，路易莎，为什么我不是一个画家，无法在一幅美丽而辉煌的画作中延续那崇高的时刻？但我做不到的，就由别人来尝试吧。真正的艺术家会为我渲染并永恒化那一刻，[23]这幅画后来被完成，现在可以在柏林王宫看到。两个恋人第一次见面的整个记录​​是基于国王亲自与艾勒特主教进行的交流 这样有一天，当我们离开时，我们的儿子可能会抬头看着这幅画并说：“当我父亲第一次见到我的母亲时，她就是这样。”他相信自己看到了一位天使，他没有看错，因为她是他一生的守护天使。”

“哦！你让我脸红——你让我太高兴了，太高兴了！”女王大声说道，用一个灼热的吻合上她丈夫的嘴唇。

“别夸我太多，免得我变得骄傲、霸道。”

国王轻轻摇了摇头。 “只有愚蠢的人、有罪的人和卑鄙的人才会骄傲和专横，”他说。 “但是，路易莎，无论谁在你第一次抵达柏林的那天见过你，都永远不会忘记你优雅、谦虚和可爱的甜美形象。那是一个周日，冬天里天气晴朗，圣诞节前一天，这将成为我一生中最伟大的假期。菩提树下兵工厂门前聚集了一大群人。每个人都急切地想见到你。在离歌剧院不远的林登宫入口处，矗立着一座辉煌的凯旋门，这里有一个由公民组成的委员会和一些小女孩，欢迎您来到柏林。按照宫廷礼仪，我是要在王宫等候您的到来。但我渴望见到你，所以我不能留在那里。我把军斗篷裹得严严实实，帽子拉下来遮住脸，为了不被任何人认出，我走出人群，在一个值得信赖的仆人的协助下，在凯旋门的一根柱子后面找到了一个位置。拱。突然，十万个喉咙里爆发出巨大的欢呼声，成千上万的手臂从窗户和屋顶上挥舞着白色的手帕，钟声响起，炮声隆隆，因为你刚刚跨过勃兰登堡门。你下了马车，带着套房走上菩提树，每一步都充满着最狂野的热情，最后你走进了凯旋门，丝毫不知道我离你有多近，我的心有多热切地向往你。一群身穿白衣、手里拿着桃金娘树枝的小女孩在那儿遇见了你。其中一位手捧香桃木花环，放在绣花垫子上，将花环送给您，并吟诵了一首简单而感人的诗。哦，我什至现在都看到了，你的眼睛是如何发光的，一种深刻的情感如何照亮你的面容，你是如何被你的感情所压倒，弯下腰，将她抱在怀里，亲吻她的眼睛和嘴唇。但在你身后站着的是司仪冯·沃斯伯爵夫人，她因这无与伦比的事件而气得脸色苍白，惊恐得浑身发抖。她急忙想把你拉回来，惊讶中她几乎大声喊道：“天啊！”殿下刚才怎么可以这么做？这违背了良好的教养和礼节！”那些话很刺耳，很不体贴，但心情愉快的时候，你并没有感到受伤，而是安静而欢快地转过身来，天真地、诚实地问道。 '什么！我不能再这样做了吗？[24]艾勒特，卷。二、第 79 页。 哦，路易莎，那一刻，由于你那迷人的问题，我的眼睛湿润了，我情不自禁地冲出人群，把你按在我的心上，天真纯洁地吻着你的眼睛和嘴唇。你亲吻了那个小女孩的那些。”

“看，”国王深吸了一口气，停顿了一下，说道，“那是我一生中最伟大的两天，而你现在问我，你应该做什么才能赢得你的爱人的爱？”各位，我再次回复你们：保持原来的样子，让刻在我心上的这些美丽的照片永远像你们，你们一定会赢得所有人的心。哦，我的路易莎，你的任务很简单，你只需要忠于自己，你只需要跟随你忠实的圣宠同伴，成功永远不会让你失望。然而，我的任务是艰巨的，我不仅要与他人的邪恶图谋、恶意和愚蠢作斗争，而且还要与我自己的经验不足、知识匮乏和优柔寡断作斗争，然而，结果只是来自对我所缺乏的正确认识。”

王后迅速把手放在国王的肩膀上。

“你必须更加自力更生，因为你可以放心地相信自己，”她严肃地说。 “如果你感到绝望，谁还能对自己感到满意呢？如果你的双手退缩，哪个君主有勇气握住权杖？——你的双手，无愧于心，坚韧有力，正如真正男子汉应有的那样！我不懂政治，不敢干涉公共事务，也不敢向你们提出建议；但我知道并感觉到，您将始终以您认为人民的最大利益为指导，并且您永远不会偏离这一方针。伟大的腓特烈的灵魂正在注视着你；他会引导并祝福你！”

国王似乎对这句话感到非常惊讶。

“你能猜出我的想法吗，路易莎？”他问。 “你知道吗，整个早上我的灵魂都和他在一起——我就这样与他交谈，并向自己重复了他有一天在一个伟大而庄严的时刻对我说的每一句话。哦，这确实是一个神圣的时刻，我从来没有对任何人说过这件事，因为每一个字在我看来都是一种亵渎。但你，我高贵的妻子，你只能将我在那重要时刻收到的建议神圣化和神圣化；正如我今天向你们讲述我最辉煌的回忆一样，你们也会听到腓特烈大帝曾经对我说过的话。”

王后赞同地点点头，从他的肩膀上抬起头，双手交叉放在腿上，仿佛要祈祷。

国王停顿了一下，似乎陷入了沉思。

“1785 年，”他接着说道，“在一个晴朗、温暖的夏日，我在无忧宫的花园里见到了国王。那时我还是一个十五岁的年轻人，无忧无虑地在灌木丛中漫步，哼着歌，突然看到国王坐在离日本皇宫不远的大山毛榉树下的长凳上。他独自一人;两只灰狗躺在他的脚边，他手里拿着那根旧手杖，头轻轻地靠在山毛榉树干上。最后一缕夕阳洒在他的脸上，将他那双明亮的眼睛衬托得更加明亮。我满怀敬畏地站在他面前，他带着慈祥的微笑看着我。然后他开始检查我的学习情况，最后他从口袋里掏出一本拉封丹的《寓言》，打开书，让我翻译他给我看的那一页上的寓言。我照做了——但当他后来要表扬我翻译的技巧时，我告诉他，就在昨天，我在老师的监督下翻译了同一个寓言。他的脸上立即绽放出温柔的笑容，温柔地拍着我的脸颊，用他洪亮而柔和的声音对我说：“是的，我亲爱的弗里茨，永远要诚实正直。”永远不要试图让自己看起来不像你——永远比你看起来的更优秀！”我从未忘记过那句叮嘱，我一向憎恶谎言和虚伪。”

女王轻轻地将手放在他的心口上。 “你的眼睛是诚实的，”她说，“你的心也是诚实的。我的弗雷德里克太骄傲、太勇敢，不会说谎。你对你的曾祖说了什么？”

“我？他对我说话——我站在他面前听着。他告诫我要勤奋，永远不要相信自己学得足够多；永远不要停滞不前，而要永远奋斗。然后他就起身，一直和我说话，慢慢地沿着通向花园大门的大道走去。突然他停了下来，拄着拐杖，那双锐利的眼睛深深地注视着我，目光深深地进入了我的内心。 “好吧，弗里茨，”他说，“努力成为一个好人，一个卓越的好人。伟大的事情正在等待着你。我的职业生涯即将结束，我的任务即将完成。我担心我死后事情会变得一团糟。一场不祥的发酵正在各地上演，而君主们，尤其是法国国王，非但没有平息它并消除产生它的原因，不幸的是，他们被迷惑了，煽风点火。下面的群众已经开始移动，当爆炸最终发生时，魔鬼将付出代价。恐怕有一天你自己的处境将是最困难的。因此，武装自己，迎接斗争！——要坚定！——想想我！守护我们的荣誉和荣耀！谨防不公正，但也不允许任何人不公正地对待你！”他又停顿了一下，慢慢地向前走去。我深受感动，也意识到这次采访的重要性，我在心里重复了他所说的每一句话，以便我一生都记住它们。我们现在已经到达了无忧宫大门附近的方尖碑。这里的国王向我伸出左手，举起右手指向方尖碑。 “看它，”他大声而庄严地说。方尖碑又高又细，却在最猛烈的暴风雨中屹立不倒。它对你说：Maforce est ma droiture。顶峰、最高点俯瞰并加冕整体；然而，它并不支撑它，而是由它下面的整个质量支撑，特别是由深深嵌入地球的无形基础支撑。这个支撑的基础是人民的团结。永远站在人民一边，这样他们才会爱你、信任你，因为只有他们才能让你坚强和快乐。”他又审视地看了我一眼，然后向我伸出了手。当我弯下腰去亲吻它时，他在我的额头上留下了一个吻。 “别忘了这个时间，”他和蔼地说，向我点点头。他转身，在灰狗的陪伴下，再次沿着大道缓缓走去。[25]国王自己对艾勒特主教的叙述，在后者的著作中，卷。 i.，p. 466. 我永远不会忘记那个时刻，而且我一生都会记住它。”

“伟大的腓特烈的精神将与你们同在，并永远与你们同在。”女王深受感动地说。

“但愿上帝真是这样！”国王叹了口气。 “我知道自己软弱、经验不足；我需要明智且经验丰富的顾问；我-”

一阵敲门声打断了国王的话，他喊道：“进来吧！”门打开了，法警出现在门槛上。

“谨请陛下原谅我冒险打扰您，”他恭敬地鞠了一躬。 “但我必须请求陛下决定一件最重要的国内事务——一件刻不容缓的事情。”

“嗯，那是什么？”国王说着，站起身来，走向元帅。

“陛下，这是关于皇室餐桌的菜单，我恳请陛下阅读并批准我为此起草的以下文件。”

他谄媚地鞠了一躬，向国王递交了一份文件，国王缓慢而专注地阅读了它。

“什么！”他突然尖锐地问道：“比以前多了两道菜？”

“陛下，”元帅谦虚地回答道，“这是为国王准备的餐桌！”

“你相信自从我成为国王之后，我的肚子就变大了吗？”弗雷德里克·威廉问道。 “不，先生，膳食将保持与以前相同，[26]维德·埃勒特，卷。 i.，p. 18 除非，”他礼貌地转向女王，“除非你想要改变，亲爱的？”

皇后狡猾地摇摇头。 “不，”她带着迷人的微笑说道。 “从昨天开始，我的肚子也没有变大。”

“那么，就不会发生任何变化了。”国王说完，便将元帅打发走了。

当朝臣消失后，他对女王说：“看看他们为改变我们简单朴素的生活方式做出了多大的努力；他们尽可能地奉承我们，甚至试图通过我们的饭菜来奉承我们。”

“然而，至于我们自己，最亲爱的，我们会记住你叔祖父的话，”女王说，“当他们用虚荣和荒谬的要求从四面八方压倒我们时，我们将保持坚定和忠于自己。”

“是的，路易莎，”国王严肃地说，“无论我们的新生活会给我们带来什么，我们都会像以前一样。”

又听见一阵敲门声，一名皇家侍从走了进来。

“冯·科克里茨中校，陛下，请求觐见。”

“啊，是的，时间到了。”国王看着壁炉架上的时钟说道。 “我给他发了话，要他在这个时间来找我。再见，路易莎，我不能让他等待。”

他向妻子鞠了一躬，温柔地将她的手按在嘴唇上，然后转身向门口走去。

那个男仆原本笔直地站在门口等待国王的答复，现在赶紧打开两扇折叠门。

“什么！” ”国王微笑着问道：“我是不是突然变得胖乎乎的，连一扇门都无法出去了？[27]同上，p。 19
（Vide Eylert，第一卷，第 18 页）

女王的目光顺着丈夫高大威严的身材，带着傲然的笑容，抬起美丽明亮的眼睛，神情难以形容，低声说道：“哦，我的丈夫，真是个男人啊！”[28]“噢，曼恩！ mem Mann！”——艾勒特，卷。 ii.，p. 107

国王快速地穿过房间，穿过大厅，将自己的公寓与王后的公寓分开。他刚走进内阁，就打开前厅的门，大声说道：

“请进来吧，我亲爱的科克里茨。”

一个肥胖的小绅士，大约五十岁左右，长着一张和蔼可亲的脸，一双小而活泼的眼睛，显示出一颗善良的心，但没什么能力，宽大的嘴唇，也许从来没有说出过深奥的真理，但肯定是这样的。许多愉快的笑话，立即出现在门槛上。

当他恭敬地鞠躬时，国王向他伸出了手。

“我的朋友，你收到我的信了吗？”他问。

“是的，陛下。我昨天收到了，我研究了一晚上。”

“那你要回答我什么？”国王连忙问道。 “你准备好接受我提供给你的职位了吗？你愿意成为我认真而公正的顾问——我真正而忠实的朋友吗？”

“陛下，”中校叹了口气，“恐怕陛下对我的能力评价太高了。当我读到你真正崇高的信时，我的心颤抖了，我对自己说：‘国王误解了你。为了填补他提供给你的职位，他需要一个具有最高能力和智慧的人。国王已经混淆了你的心与头脑。”是的，陛下，我的心是在正确的地方；它是勇敢的、勇敢的、忠诚的，但我的头脑缺乏智慧和知识。我不是一个有学问的人，陛下。”

“但你是一个具有良好常识和卓越判断力的人，这对我来说比渊博的学问更有价值，”国王惊呼道。 “我已经观察你很多年了，这些长期的观察越来越证实了我的信念，我在你身上拥有一个人，有一天他能够通过他的直率、他准确的判断力、他的坚定为我提供最重要的服务。品格和久经考验的诚实。我完全有权利绝对信任你。我是一个年轻人，对世界还太无知，无法完全依靠自己，也不担心不诚实的人，尽管我采取了最认真的预防措施，但还是会欺骗我。因此，我一定非常欢迎每一个善意的建议，并且我可以期待您提供这样的建议。先生，我祈祷您仍然是我的朋友，不要改变您对我的态度，成为我的顾问。[29]视频“腓特烈·威廉三世致冯·科克里茨中校的一封信”。 科克里兹，你会拒绝我的请求吗？”

“不，”冯·科克里茨先生大声说道。 “如果这就是陛下对我的要求，我可以答应并履行我的承诺。陛下将永远认为我是一个忠诚、忠诚、诚实的仆人。”

“我的要求不止于此，”国王温和地说。 “不仅是一位忠实的仆人，而且是一位忠诚的朋友——一位会提醒我注意我的缺点和错误的朋友。用你关于人类和人性的知识来帮助我。因为没有人比王子更容易在判断他人时犯错误，而且不可能有其他情况。对于一位王子来说，没有人会展现出他的真实性格。每个人都试图了解统治者的弱点和倾向，然后戴上一副最能实现其目的的面具。因此，我希望你们能够不露声色地静静地四处寻找诚实而睿智的人，并找出他们能够以最可信的方式担任哪些职位。”[30]同上。
（参见“腓特烈·威廉三世致冯·科克里茨中校的一封信。”）

“陛下，我会费尽心思去发现这样的人。”冯·科克里茨先生严肃地说。 “然而，在我看来，陛下，幸运的是，您身边有许多能干且优秀的人选，因此不必太远地寻找其他助手。”

“你指的是谁？”国王尖声叫道，眉头微皱。

冯·科克里茨先生飞快地扫了一眼国王的面容，似乎从他阴沉的眉头上读出了他的想法。

“陛下，”他严肃而缓慢地说道，“我无意对部长沃尔纳和他的两位顾问赫尔梅斯和希勒说任何话，也无意对冯·比绍夫斯韦德中将说任何话。”

国王眉间的皱眉已经消失了。他走到办公桌前，抓起一张纸，递给了他的朋友。

“读一下那篇论文，然后告诉我该怎么做。”

“啊，冯·比绍夫斯韦德中将递交了辞呈！”冯·科克里茨先生读完报纸后惊呼道。 “好吧，我必须承认，将军的鼻子非常好，而且他行事也非常谨慎。”

“那么，你相信我无论如何都会解雇他吗？”

“是的，我相信是这样，陛下。”

“你是对的，科克里茨。这个阴郁而偏执的人在普鲁士做了很多恶作剧，而我们国家的天才却在比绍夫斯韦德召唤的灵魂面前蒙上了头，逃走了。噢，我的朋友，我们经历了一段阴暗、灾难性的时期，在这里看到了许多邪灵，并受到它们的折磨。但对此不再多说：我不应该评判过去，因为它不属于我。只有未来是我的；当它反过来成为过去时，上帝保佑它不会评判我！冯·比绍夫斯韦德中将是我可悲的父亲国王的朋友和知己，以这一身份，我必须而且将会向他致敬。我会接受他的辞呈，但给予他丰厚的退休金。”

“这项决议对陛下来说是非常光荣的，”冯·科克里茨先生感慨地说。

“至于沃尔纳部长，”国王皱着眉头说道，“出于对我可悲的父亲对他的偏爱的尊重，我不会立即解雇他，而是让他自己递交辞呈。让他看看他是否能够适应新时代，因为我希望，普鲁士的新时代即将到来——一个宽容、启蒙和真正虔诚的时代，不会仅仅在口头上寻求派别和去教堂，但行善和虔诚。宗教不是教会的产物，但反之亦然。教会是宗教的产物，因此教会应该服从于宗教，而不是试图将自己置于宗教之上。从此，在信仰问题上不再有强迫，一切狂热迫害也都停止。我自己尊重宗教；我虔诚地遵循其神圣的戒律，在任何情况下我都不会成为一个没有宗教信仰的人民的统治者。但我知道，宗教始终必须是内心和个人信念的问题，如果它要弘扬美德和正义，它就不能仅仅受到方法上的限制，而退化为空洞的、轻率的仪式主义。今后在宗教事务中应严格遵守路德教原则，因为它们与我们宗教的精神和创始人完全一致。不需要强制法律来维护国家的真正宗教并增强其对各阶层人民的幸福和道德的有益影响。[31]视频“梅纳尔的普鲁士二十年历史”，第 534 页。 XNUMX. 恐怕沃尔纳部长不能采纳这些原则；如果他是一个诚实的人，他就会递交辞呈。如果他在几周内不这样做，我当然会解雇他。你看，科克里茨，我正在坦诚地、毫无保留地对你说话，就好像你是我真正的朋友一样，我已经把你当作我的顾问了。现在告诉我你想要谈论的人是谁，以及你认为谁有能力并且可靠。”

冯·科克里茨先生的脸上露出了尴尬和焦急的神色，但国王正在等待答案，所以他不能再隐瞒了。

“好吧，陛下，”他有些犹豫地说，“我提到了外交部长冯·豪格维茨先生，我认为他是一个诚实的人，而我同样满意的是，他的第一助手隆巴德是一个诚实的人。业务资质优秀、能力强的人。”

国王点头同意。 “我完全同意你的意见，”他说。冯·豪格维茨部长不仅是一位诚实的人，而且是一位有能力、有技巧的外交家，也是一位经验丰富的政治家。我需要他的经验和知识，而且我相信他是一位优秀的爱国者，因此他可能会继续担任部门负责人。”

冯·科克里茨先生的眼中绽放出一丝喜悦的光芒，但他很快就垂下眼帘，以免泄露自己的感情。

“至于伦巴第，”国王说，“你同样是对的。他是一位优秀、最有能力的人，尽管有点雅各宾主义的色彩。他的法国血统让他感染了各种民主观念。我希望他能摆脱它们，我会协助他这样做，以防他被证明是我所认为的那个人。他的地位太崇高和重要，我不应该认为看到他按照旧的既定规则在社会上占据一席之地是可取的。我想让他申请贵族头衔。我将立即批准该申请。请告诉他这一点。”

冯·科克里茨先生默默地鞠了一躬。

“你还有其他人想推荐给我吗？”国王用询问的目光问道。

“陛下，”科克里茨说，“我不知道还有其他人。但我相信陛下总能找到合适的人选。即使在我的情况下，我相信，陛下也这样做了，因为如果您有一个忠实而忠诚的仆人靠近您，那么对您来说很重要，他对世界上的任何事物都没有如此重视，没有任何事物如此热切地热爱，并且如果我最崇拜他的年轻国王，那么我就是合适的人选，在这方面我不承认任何高人一等。此外，如果陛下在任何时候都应该听到真相是很重要的，那么我又是对的人了，因为我讨厌谎言，因此，我应该如何对陛下撒谎，因为我爱陛下？”

“我相信你，我相信你，”国王拉着中校的手喊道。 “你爱我，而且是个诚实的人；因此，我将永远从你那里听到真相。但你也应该了解有关我本人和我的政府的公众舆论状况，权衡对我和我的顾问的判断，如果你认为它是正确的，那么与你认为公正和有能力的人讨论它理解地谈论此事。在摸清了舆论、熟悉了一切之后，我希望你能把这件事摆在我面前，坚定地、毫无保留地告诉我你的意见。我永远不会质疑你的善意，但总是努力从你的建议中获益。那我现在就直接给你审判一下。您对几周前在伊斯塔特举行的代表大会有何看法？会上德意志帝国将与法国谈判和平条约？”

“陛下，我相信与法国和平相处对我们所有人都有好处，”冯·科克里茨先生热切地说道。 “如果普鲁士与法国发生争执，只会给奥地利提供在巴伐利亚实施其长期图谋的机会，而普鲁士则会在其他地方被占领；为了不受到普鲁士的阻碍，刚刚在坎波福尔米奥与法国缔结了如此有利的和平条约的奥地利将成为法国的盟友，从而加剧其对普鲁士的宿敌。奥地利和普鲁士之间的战争将是不可避免的结果。整个德国将分裂成对我们有利或敌对的党派，这种情况将为法国提供一个机会和借口，对德国实施其掠夺性的计划；我们可能会在西里西亚和巴伐利亚进行战斗，以夺取莱茵河左岸。”

“我完全同意你的意见，”国王大声说道。 “我很高兴发现我的观点与你的观点完全一致。”

冯·科克里茨中校确实很清楚这一点，因为他刚才所说的一切只不过是重复国王作为王储时在他们的秘密谈话中经常对他说的话。但他小心翼翼地没有提醒国王，只是带着感激的微笑鞠了一躬。

“是的，”国王补充道，“像您一样，我相信审慎和健全的政策要求我们与法国保持和平，并与这个国家结成更紧密的联盟。这是我们阻止奥地利实现其扩张计划的唯一途径。对我们来说危险的是奥地利，而不是法国；后者是我们天然的盟友，前者是我们天然的对手。奥地利在德国每前进一步，都会迫使普鲁士后退一步。让奥地利扩大其南部领土，直至意大利，但我决不会允许她将其北部和西部边境进一步扩展到德国。坎波福尔米奥的和平将威尼斯交给了奥地利人，但他们永远无法获得巴伐利亚。普鲁士的特殊任务是劝说法国不允许这样做，正因为如此，我们必须强迫与法国结成更紧密的联盟。亲爱的科克里茨，这就是我对我们未来应该采取的政治路线的看法。国外和平，国内和平！没有剧烈的骚动和抽搐，没有鲁莽的创新和变革。新的机构应该通过其自身的内在力量逐渐从现有的机构中成长起来，因为只有在这种情况下，我们才能确信它们确实已经扎根了。我不会以一个富有创造力和独创性的改革者的身份领导世界，但我将始终不遗余力地采取那些被证明有价值的改革，并逐步改造和完善目前可能存在缺陷和令人反感的机构。在所有这些努力中，我亲爱的科克里茨，你将成为我的顾问和助手。你能答应帮助我吗？”

他诚恳而焦急地看着中校，向他伸出了手。

“我向陛下保证，”冯·科克里茨先生抓住国王的手，严肃地说。

“好吧，”国王说，“有了这个庄严的誓言，你就可以就任你的官职了，我很满意我的选择是明智的。先生，保持你原来的样子，一个正直、诚实的人！就我而言，您永远可以确信我发自内心的感激之情；然而，另一方面，你应该记住，你不仅对我个人有义务，而且我要求你，可以说，以国家的名义，为国家劳动。在未来的某个时候，你将会获得甜蜜的信念和满足感，因为你为国家的福祉做出了不小的贡献，从而赢得了每一位好心爱国者的感激。我相信对于像您这样真正有荣誉感和雄心的人来说，没有比这更甜蜜的奖励了。”[32]韦迪国王致冯·科克里茨中校的信

时间还很早。陶本大街所有窗户的百叶窗都紧紧地关着，只有一栋房子里洋溢着活跃、忙碌的生活。门口停着一辆沉重的旅行客车，一名男仆正在忙着装载大量的箱子、箱子和包裹。一楼的房间里人们非常活跃。勤劳的双手通常忙于收拾东西；将稻草包裹在家具上，然后用麻袋覆盖。镜子和画作被从墙上取下来，放进木箱里，窗帘也被从窗户上取下来，一切都表明，屋里的人不仅要踏上旅程，而且完全是为了给予提高他们以前的生活方式。

情况确实如此，当仆人们在前厅和大厅里充满了准备的喧闹声时，那些为这些忙碌和活动而发生的人却在他们的客厅里，心情严肃而阴郁。

他们有两个人——一位女士，不到二十四岁，一位绅士，大约十二岁。她是一个精致可爱的女人，有着一张苍白而悲伤的脸，而他则是一个精力充沛、粗壮的男人，五官丰满圆润，一双充满活力的大眼睛目前试图表现出严肃和痛苦的样子，但又做不到。她穿着旅行装，而他则穿着优雅的晨礼服。

他们俩沉默了一会儿，站在窗口，或者更确切地说，站在不同的窗口，看着行李箱和包裹被搬到旅行车上。最后，那位女士深深地叹了口气，从窗外转过身来，走向同样退入房间的绅士。

“我相信行李箱都在马车里了，我现在可以出发了，弗雷德里克，”她用低沉而颤抖的声音说道。

他点点头，向她伸出了手。 “你没有生我的气吗，朱莉娅？”他问。

她没有握住他的手，只是抬头看着他，眼里充满了悲伤。 “我不生气，”她说。 “我向上帝祈祷，希望他能原谅你。”

“你也会原谅我吗，朱莉娅？因为我知道我对你犯了严重的罪。我让你流了很多眼泪，让你狼狈不堪，痛苦了两年，这两年给你的未来蒙上了一层灰色的阴影。当你第一次进入这个房间的时候，你是一个脸颊红润、眼睛明亮的天真少女，而现在，当你永远离开这个房间时，你已经是一个心碎、眼神黯淡的可怜、苍白的女人了。”

“一个离婚的妻子，仅此而已。”她低声说道，声音几乎听不见。 “我带着一颗幸福的心来到这里，而现在我带着一颗悲伤的心离开你。我带着快乐的决心和坚定的目标来到这里，让你成为一个幸福的丈夫，但现在我带着痛苦的意识离开你，因为我没有把我如此热切地为自己争取到的幸福赐给你。啊，不得不接受这作为漫长两年的唯一结果，真是非常悲伤和痛苦！”

“是的，这是非常悲伤的，”他叹了口气说。 “但毕竟，这不是我们的错。我们的婚姻生活从一开始就存在不和谐，因此我们之间永远不可能有真正的和谐。这种不和谐——好吧，现在我也可以向你承认这一点——这种不和谐只是因为我从来没有爱过你！

可怜的女士苍白的嘴唇剧烈地抽搐起来。 “那么，你就是个大伪君子，”她低声说道，“因为你的话、你庄严的誓言从来没有让我怀疑过。”

“是的，我是一个伪君子、一个恶棍、一个胆小鬼！”他急躁地喊道。 “他们的劝告、恳求和陈述让我不知所措。他们非常清楚地知道，美丽、富有、备受追捧的女继承人朱莉娅·吉莉已经爱上了我这个贫穷、默默无闻的弗雷德里克·根茨、卑微的军事顾问，以此来奉承我。他们非常清楚地向我描绘了嫁给你后我将获得的胜利，这让你所有其他追求者大为懊恼。奉承让我陶醉，而成功、对他人的胜利则让我充满了最狂野的喜悦。我的父亲谈到了我的债务，我的债权人以诉讼和监禁来威胁我——”

“就这样，”她打断了他——“就这样，你为了你的虚荣心和债务而牺牲了我——你虚假地发誓对我有一种你从未感受过的爱，并接受了我的手。我父亲还清了你的债务，你向我们所有人郑重承诺不再欠下任何新的债务，但你却完全违背了你的承诺。从此以后，你们不再像以前那样挥霍数百块钱，而是挥霍数千块钱，直到我所有的母产都消失了——直到我的父亲怀着强烈的激情背弃了我们，发誓再也见不到我们。债主、债务、尴尬再次出现，而我已经没有钱可以让你摆脱困境，你认为你不欠我更多的尊重，也不需要记住我是你的妻子。我很清楚，你有过很多风流韵事，但你却保持沉默。你收到了情书，不是来自一个你爱上的女人，而是天知道有多少个女人。我意识到了这一点并保持沉默。当你终于无耻到让整个城市都见证你对女演员的热情时——当整个柏林都轻蔑地谈论你的火焰和你因此犯下的愚蠢行为时——那时我就不能再沉默了，我的荣誉和尊严要求我申请离婚。”

“每个人都必须承认你是完全正确的。作为朋友，我无法给你任何其他建议，因为我不会也不能改变我的本性。我无法适应安静而幸福的家庭生活——家庭的幸福令我反感，一种束缚感让我像高贵的骏马第一次感受到它的咬和缰绳一样后仰和俯冲。我无法承受任何枷锁，朱莉娅，即使是像你这样一位优秀而深情的妻子的枷锁。”

“你无法承受任何锁链，”她痛苦地说，“但你却总是被锁链锁住——被你的债务、你的风流韵事和你的轻浮所锁住。哦，听我说——听我说一次。这些话庄严得就像临终前说的一样，因为我们再也见不到对方了。想象一位母亲正在对你说话——一位温柔地爱着你的母亲。因为我向你承认，我仍然爱你，根茨——我的心还无法摆脱你，即使现在我不得不放弃你，我也觉得我将永远温柔地依恋你。哦，真正的爱情是充满希望的，这就是我为什么留在你家的原因，尽管我父亲已经提出离婚。我一直希望你的心能回到我身边——哦，我没想到你从来没有爱过我！——但我的希望落空了，现在我必须走了，因为我们今天就要宣布离婚了，而且荣誉不允许我再留在这里。但既然我要走了，请再听听朋友的警告声音。弗雷德里克·根茨，回头！不再追求轻浮和淫荡的滑路。摆脱快乐和肉欲的束缚。上帝赋予了你高尚的心灵、强大的智力——好好利用你超凡的能力。只要你忠于自己，就能成为上帝所希望的那样伟大和杰出。看，我相信你，虽然你似乎只是为了快乐和享受而活着，但我知道，只要你努力去做，你注定会成就伟大的事情。哦，让我恳求你改变你的路线，从这个放荡和挥霍的漩涡中走出来。闭上你的耳朵，聆听塞壬迷人的歌声，聆听那些在你胸中回响的崇高声音，呼唤你走上荣耀和荣誉的道路。弗雷德里克·根茨，跟随他们吧——做一个男人，不要再在一艘敞开的船上漫无目的地漂流，而是踏上一艘骄傲而光荣的船，掌舵并驾驶它驶向大海。你是驾驶这艘船的人，海洋将服从你，你将满载着财富、荣耀和荣誉进入港口。唯有努力。记住我的话，现在，弗雷德里克·根茨，为了幸福地生活，永远不要记住我！”

她转身，匆匆离开了房间。他一动不动地站了几分钟，出神地凝视着她的背影，而她的话仍然像受启发的预言一样在他耳边回响。但当他听到马车在街上远去时，他吓了一跳，用手捂着颤抖的脸，低声说道：“我深深地冤枉了她；愿上帝原谅我！”

然而，他突然挺直了身子，眼中绽放出强烈的喜悦之光。 “我自由了！”他大声喊道，语气里充满了狂喜。 “是的，我自由了！我的生命和世界又属于我了。所有的女人又都是我的了，丘比特和所有的爱神都会大胆地向我扑来，因为他们不再需要在禁地漫步的丈夫面前隐藏自己，也不再需要在嫉妒的妻子的窥探目光下隐藏自己。生活又是我的了，我会享受它；是的，我喜欢它。我会享受它，就像将芬芳的美酒放在金酒杯中压在我们的嘴唇上，闪闪发光的钻石一样。啊，他们在前厅里敲打得多么厉害啊！他们的每一笔，都是我自由之歌的一个音符。我家的家具都不见了；照片和镜子都不见了——不见了。过去以及所有让我想起过去的事情都将从这些房间中消失。我将拥有新家具——金色和天鹅绒的家具、大威尼斯镜子和精美的画作。哦，我的房间将看起来像王子的房间一样辉煌和宏伟，整个柏林都将谈论弗雷德里克·根茨的辉煌和奢华。我该欠谁的恩？不是为了任何妻子的嫁妆，而是为了我自己——为了我自己，为了我的才华，为了我的天才！哦，至少在这一点上，可怜的朱莉娅不会弄错的。我将获得名誉、荣耀和荣誉；我的名字将成为全欧洲家喻户晓的词；它将在每个内阁中回响；每个部长都可以向我求助，并且——听着！那是什么？”他突然打断了自己的话。 “我真的相信他们在接待室里吵架。”

确实，外面传来激烈的争吵声。突然，门被推开，门槛上出现了一个精力充沛、肩膀宽阔、满脸通红、愤怒的男人。

“好吧，”他转过身来对站在他身后的仆人说道，苦笑着说道，“我告诉你根茨参赞先生在家的时候我说得不对吗？你不肯宣布我的到来，因为你的老师命令你不许接纳我班上的任何访客。但我想被录取。我不会允许自己像个傻瓜一样被带出接待室，而这里的辅导员却舒服地坐在沙发上嘲笑我。”

“你看，我亲爱的维尔纳先生，我既没有坐在沙发上，也没有嘲笑你，”根茨慢慢地靠近他愤怒的访客说道。 “现在让我问你想要我做什么。”

“我想要你做什么？”陌生人冷笑着回答道。 “先生，你很清楚我对你的要求。我要我的钱！我要你过去十二个月欠我的五百美元。我相信你的话和你的名字；我为您提供了我最好的葡萄酒、我精选的香槟和最精致的美食来招待您的晚宴。你善待你的朋友；这没什么问题，但是这件事应该由你承担费用，而不是由我承担。因此我在这里，你必须付钱给我。这是我第一百次，也是最后一次，要我的钱！”

“如果我现在第一百次但不是最后一次告诉你我没有钱呢？”

“那我去陆军部扣你的工资。”

“啊，我亲爱的朋友，你就太晚了，”根茨笑着说道。 “在这一点上，尊敬的房东已经超越了你；他扣了我一整年的工资，我想连我欠他的钱都不够了。”

“但是以d——l的名义，先生，您必须找到其他方法来满足我的要求，因为我告诉您，如果没有拿到钱，我不会离开这个房间。”

“我亲爱的维尔纳先生，请不要喊得那么可怕，”根茨焦急地说。 “我的耳朵很敏感，这样的叫喊让我感到害怕，就像雷雨一样。我很愿意付钱给你，只要给我指出一个方法就可以了！”

“借别人的钱，然后还给我！”

“亲爱的先生，这是我早已用尽的方法。没有人愿意以利息或我的诚实信用来预付我的钱。”

“但是，以上帝的名义，你要怎么付钱给我呢，先生？”

“这正是我还不知道的，但过一段时间我就会知道，而且那个时刻很快就会到来。因为我告诉你，先生，这些羞辱和债务的日子对我来说很快就会结束。我将占据崇高而辉煌的地位；年轻的国王会把它交给我，然后——”

“胡闹！”韦默喊道，打断了他的话。 “在我给你提供了美味佳肴并用我的香槟解渴之后，不要再给我带来如此空洞的希望。”

“亲爱的先生，我并没有独自享受您的欢乐；我的朋友们都帮了我，现在你却要我一个人付全部账单。这违背自然法和政治经济学。”

“先生。参赞，你用你的政治经济学来嘲讽我吗？你对经济了解多少？”

“啊，我很熟悉，而且我那本关于英国金融的书给我带来了名声和荣誉。”

“参赞先生，如果你关心一下自己的财务状况，那对你来说会更好。所有柏林人都知道他们的处境。” “尽管如此，总有一些优秀的人对我给予崇高的信任，相信我会偿还向他们借的钱。维尔纳先生，你是那些优秀的人之一，我永远不会忘记这一点。耐心点，我会给你还本金和利息的。”

“我等不及了，参赞先生。我自己也陷入了最尴尬的境地；我必须在几天之内赎回大额钞票，除非我能这样做，否则我就会迷失，我的整个家庭就会破产，我的名声也会荡然无存。那么我就必须宣布自己无力偿债，并允许人们称我为冒名顶替者和恶棍，负债累累而不知道用什么来偿还。先生，我永远不会遭受这样的痛苦，因此我必须拿到我的钱，在您全额支付我的索赔之前我不会离开这个房间。”

“那样的话，我亲爱的先生，恐怕您将不得不留在这里，遭受与罗得不幸的妻子同样悲惨的命运——”

“先生，请严肃点，因为我在这里的事情非常严肃。五百美元可不是小事；一个人可能会在几天内挥霍掉它们，但它们也可能导致他自杀。付钱给我，先生，付给我；我要我的钱！”

“看在上帝的份上，不要这样喊叫。我已经告诉过你一次，我无法忍受。我很清楚，五百美元是一件严肃的事情，你必须有你的钱。我会尽力，不，我会尽我最大的努力为你争取到它；但你必须保持安静。我向你保证，我会尽我所能，为你争取到这笔钱，但作为回报，你必须答应我安静地回家，并在那里等我给你带来钱。 ”

“你会怎样做？你要怎么拿到钱？你刚才告诉我你借不到任何东西。”

“但是有人可能会给我那可怜的五百美元，而且在我看来也可以。”

“哦，你在笑我。”

“绝不是这样，先生。安静点，让我写封信。我稍后会向您展示地址，从而让您知道我正在等待谁的帮助。”

他快步走到办公桌前，写了几行字，然后将纸放入一个大信封中，密封并指示。

“读一下地址，”他一边说，一边把信拿给维尔纳先生看。

“财政部长、炮兵将军冯·舒伦堡-克纳特伯爵阁下，”维尔纳用犹豫的舌头念道，同时向根茨投来了惊讶而好奇的目光。 “这位是您向其申请这笔钱的那位尊贵的先生。参赞先生？

“是的我的朋友;你必须承认财政部长是向其申请资金的最佳人选。我已写信给阁下说，我今天急需五百美元，请他解除我的尴尬。我请他在上午指定一个时间，我可以去拜访他并拿钱。”

“你真的相信他会给你钱吗？”

“亲爱的先生，我对此深信不疑，为了同样让您满意，我将提出一个建议。陪我的仆人去部长家里，亲自把信带给他，听听他的答复。然后你就向我的仆人重复这句话，然后兴致勃勃地回家，在那里等着我给你拿钱。”

“如果你不来呢？”维尔纳问道。

“那么你提到的最后一个补救办法，自杀，永远对你有效。现在走吧，我亲爱的先生。约翰！约翰！”

男仆打开门的速度很快，表明他的耳朵可能离钥匙孔不远。

“约翰，”根茨说，“陪这位先生去舒伦堡-克纳特部长的家，在门口等待他向你重复的答复。现在，维尔纳先生，再见；你看，我已经尽力了，希望你以后能记住这一点，不要为了几块钱而大吵大闹。老天爷，如果我不比你欠任何人更多的话，我的债主可能会感谢他们的明星——”

“可怜的债主！”维尔纳先生叹了口气，向根茨行了个礼，然后和男仆一起离开了房间，手里拿着这封信，就像拿着战利品一样。

“嗯，我真的很想知道部长是否会给我这笔钱，”根茨低声说道。 “他的答复将向我表明，我昨天委托孟肯写给国王的信是否给我留下了良好的印象，以及我是否最终希望得到晋升和其他好处。天啊，我现在在悲惨的从属地位上日渐消瘦！我能够完成更伟大的事情。我比这些将领、大臣、大使都高高在上，他们如此骄傲，如此霸道，竟敢轻视我，仿佛我是他们的下等人。啊!我不会卑躬屈膝，向他们俯首称臣，奉承他们。我不想被他们抬高，但我会和他们平等。我觉得我是所有这些所谓政治家中最重要和最高的同侪。我不需要他们，但他们需要我。啊，天啊！有人再次敲门，约翰不在家。天哪，要是又是那些吵闹、无礼的债权人就好了！我感谢朱莉娅给我带来的所有这些麻烦。因为她的东西正在被送走，所以家里的每一扇门都是敞开的，每个人都可以轻易地闯入我的房间。是的，是的，我来了。我已经开门了。”

他赶紧走到门口，打开门锁。然而，这一次，外面等候的不是债主，而是一位皇家侍从，恭敬地向军师行礼。

“路易·斐迪南王子殿下，”他说，“请根茨参赞先生明天与他共进晚餐。”

根茨傲慢地点点头。 “我会来的，”他简短地说，然后询问地看着刚刚进入另一个房间的自己的仆人。

“那么，约翰，部长是怎么回答的？”

“阁下请根茨参赞先生在一小时内拜访他。”

“好的！”根茨说道，脸上洋溢着由衷的满足之情。他关上门，走回书房，双手背在背上，开始在房间里踱步。

“一个小时后他就会来接我。”他低声说道。 “因此，我可以得出结论，国王对我的信很满意，我终于开始了新的职业生涯。啊，现在我的头轻松了，我的心自由了；现在我要去上班了。”

他坐在办公桌前，开始飞快地写作。他的面容呈现出严肃的表情，宽阔的额头上闪烁着骄傲而崇高的思想。

他全神贯注于自己的任务，完全忘记了部长邀请他接见的事，他的男仆不得不进来提醒他，拜访阁下的时间即将到来。

“啊！ “我的工作竟然因为这么一件小事而被打扰。”根茨愤怒地放下笔，站了起来。 “好吧，那么，如果必须的话，请把我的礼服外套给我。约翰，我和我去见他阁下。”

一刻钟后，参赞弗雷德里克·根茨走进财政部长舒伦堡-克纳特伯爵的接待室。 “向阁下通报我的到来。”他居高临下地点点头，对侍候的男仆说道，然后快步跟着他来到了大臣书房门口。

“请允许我向阁下通报您的情况，”男仆说道，然后溜到了门廊后面。几分钟后他回来了。

“阁下请根茨先生稍等。阁下还需要处理一些急件，但很快就会准备好接纳根茨先生。”

“很好，我会等，”根茨微微皱着眉头说道，然后他走近房间墙壁上堆放在镀金盒子里的装订精美的书籍。古今文学中最壮丽、最珍贵的作品、最稀有的版本、最精美的插图书籍都集中在这个图书馆里，根茨注意到它时，带着难以掩饰的愤怒。

“这些人可以拥有所有这些宝藏，不，他们已经得到了它们，而且对它们的重视程度如此之低，以至于将它们放在他们的前厅里，”他用粗暴的语气低声说道，完全忘记了仆人在场并且可以偷听每一个字他说。他确实听到了他的话，并靠近根茨回答道：

“参赞先生，请您原谅，阁下并没有低估这些珍宝，而是高度赞赏它们，当装订工交付装订精美的新书时，他总是很高兴。正因如此，大人下令将藏书楼设于此前厅，也能令人心旷神怡，让那些在此等待的先生们也能有一些消磨时间的东西。”

“那么，他们可以把书拿下来读吗？”根茨问道。

男仆显得有些尴尬。 “我相信，”他胆怯地说，“阁下不太同意，因为你看，参赞先生，所有这些漂亮的书都是镀金边的，如果这些书被阅读，镀金边会受到很大的损害。你甚至无法打开这些书而不会对它们造成轻微伤害。”

“我面前这一排书的镀金边缘就像新的一样，完全没有损坏，”根茨严肃地说。

“嗯，这很容易解释。自从装订工把它们带到这里以来，它们就没有受到过打扰。”男仆庄严地说道。 “没有人敢对付他们。”

“大人没有读过这些书吗？”

“上帝禁止！阁下喜欢读书，但他没有时间读太多书。但每当大人经过这个前厅时，他都会在书柜前驻足观看，并时不时地亲手擦拭书本镀金边上的灰尘。”

“确实，对于财政部长来说，这是最光荣的职业，”根茨强调道。 “知道财政部长擦去黄金上的灰尘总是一个很大的安慰。如果阁下同意也尽可能经常为我做这件事，我会非常高兴。但是，我亲爱的朋友，您难道不认为阁下花了很长时间才完成这些信件吗？我在这里等了快半个小时了。”

“我相信阁下很快就会按铃的。”

“敲钟？”根茨不安地问道：“为了谁？”

“为什么，为了我自己，为了通知我录取你，参赞先生。”

“啊，给你的？”根茨问道，深吸了一口气，再次转向书本，以便至少阅读书名来打发时间，因为他不被允许取下并打开其中一本宏伟的书。

时间就这样过去了，根茨在书架附近走来走去，研究书名，等待着。男仆已经退到最远的窗户里，同样也在等待。

突然，大钟开始庄严而缓慢地敲响，向根茨宣告他已经在大人的接待室呆了整整一个小时了。而大人还没有按响门铃。

就在这时，根茨转向男仆，做出了一种愤慨和不耐烦的姿态。

“令我满意的是，阁下完全忘记了我正在前厅等候，”他愤怒地说。 “这封信一定很长，因为我已经来这里一个小时了！所以我必须请您转告部长，我不能再等了，因为我也很忙，必须回到我的书房去。请向阁下说这句话。”

“可是我敢打扰大人吗？”男仆焦急地问道。 “他没有按门铃，先生。”

“好吧，你一定要好心打扰他，告诉他我必须离开，除非他能立即接纳我，”根茨精力充沛地喊道。 “走吧，先生，走吧！”

男仆深深地叹了口气。 “好吧，参赞先生，我会这样做，风险由您承担。”他走到门廊后面，低声说道。很快他就回来了，嘴角挂着一抹恶毒的笑容。

“参赞先生，阁下很遗憾您不能再等了，”他说。 “阁下太忙，不能打扰，请您明天同一时间再打来。”

“这么说，大人将我在接待室关了一个多小时，就将我遣散了？”根茨难以置信地问道。

“阁下正忙着处理意想不到的事情，”男仆耸了耸肩说道。 “因此，参赞先生，阁下请您明天再打电话来。”

根茨瞥了那个男仆一眼，如果他不是铁石心肠的话，他一定会像受到雷击一样浑身颤抖。但作为一个石头人，雷电从他身上一闪而过，没有造成任何伤害。他带着奇特的微笑，帮愤怒的辅导员披上斗篷，礼貌地鞠了一躬，将帽子递给他，然后快步走到门口，给他开门。

就在这时，书房里的大臣猛烈地按响了门铃。男仆迅速打开了大厅的门，礼貌地请根茨出去。然而后者却没有动弹。他匆匆把帽子戴在了头上，现在正戴上手套，神态严肃，仿佛它们是他准备武装自己，准备踏入竞技场的手套。

大臣的钟声比之前更响亮、更猛烈。

“请原谅，参赞先生，”男仆不耐烦地喊道，“阁下在召唤我。离开时请善意地关上门。我必须去见陛下。”

他急忙穿过房间，快步走进大臣的书房。

根茨现在戴上手套，走到门口。他又满怀愤怒地看了一眼接待室，最后把目光定格在墙上书柜里闪闪发光的书籍上。他的脸上突然浮现出一种恶意的喜悦之情。他从门口退了一步，匆匆穿过房间，走到了那些书跟前。他没有任何犹豫，取下一本最大、装饰最华丽的书，把它藏在斗篷下，快步回到门口，带着傲慢和挑衅的神情离开了财政部长的家。

他没有点头，也没有跟任何人打招呼，就匆匆穿过街道回到了自己的家。后者的门口停着两辆巨大的家具马车，里面装满了一半的沙发、扶手椅、桌子和镜子，这些东西以前一直装饰着他的房间，但现在他将和妻子一起失去这些东西。

仆人们还没有搬完家具，他不得不在大厅里停下来让他们过去，那张丝绸大沙发曾经是他自己客厅的主要装饰品。这大大增加了他的愤怒。他做出愤怒的手势，迅速走上楼梯，回到自己的房间。每扇门都敞开着——他踩着响亮的脚步穿过的公寓，空无一人，空无一人，最后他到达了书房门口，他的男仆像忠实的哨兵一样把自己站在那里。根茨默默地示意他打开门，然后走了进去。但当仆人正要跟着他时，他却无声无息却专横地把他拦住，并当着他的面摔上了门。

现在终于只剩下他一个人了。现在再也没有人能看见他、注视他了。现在他可以发出愤怒的叫喊，这叫喊充满了他的胸膛，几乎剥夺了他说话的能力。发出这声呼喊之后，他还可以用其他方法来平息他的愤怒。

他把斗篷和帽子扔到椅子上，用双手从部长的图书馆里抓起那本装帧精美、镀金华丽的书，扔到地板上。

“躺在那儿，骄傲大臣的玩物！”他愤怒地喊道。 “我会像对待他一样对待你。我会虐待你，就像我想虐待他一样。那里！拿着它！和这个！然后！”

他用脚跟踩着这件宏伟的作品，握紧拳头，恐惧地咒骂着。[33]视频“Gallerie von Bildnissen aus Rahel's Umgang”，由 Varnhagen von Ense 编辑，第二卷，第 168 页。

身后传来一阵欢快的大笑声，他一转身，就看到门口站着他的一位朋友，他正一脸光彩地看着他。

“冯·瓜尔蒂里先生，你笑了，我很生气，”根茨大声说道，再次踩在这本昂贵的书上。

“但是，看在上帝的份上，你为什么生气呢？”冯·瓜尔蒂里先生问道。 “你为什么要对你脚下那本宏伟的书进行如此破坏？”

“为什么？好吧，我会告诉你。今天我在舒伦堡-克纳特伯爵的家里​​。他让我在十点钟拜访他，当我在那里时，他让我在他的接待室里站了一个小时，就像他那些华丽的镀金书籍一样，他的男仆告诉我他从来不打开这些书，因为他害怕伤害他们的镀金边缘。”

“你在接待室待了一个小时之后，他才承认你了吗？”

“不。当我在那里待了一个小时后，他通过他的男仆给我传话，说他太忙了，无法接待我，我最好明天再打电话。呸!他想像对待他的那些书一样对待我，但他从不打开这些书；他也不想打开我——我这个人的头脑、知识和信息比他所有的书加起来还要多。他让我在他的接待室等了整整一个小时，然后就打发我走了！”

“那你就允许自己被解雇了？”

“是的，先生，我做到了；但我随身带着他的一本精美的金边书，以便在上面踩踏并虐待它，就像我想虐待他一样。因此！因此！把它踩在我的脚跟下。这对我有好处。这让我松了口气。此时此刻，这是我对这个可怜虫唯一能报的仇了。”[34]根茨自己的话。参见“Rahel's Umgang”，第二卷，第 168 页。 XNUMX.

冯·瓜尔蒂里先生哈哈大笑。 “啊！这是一种全新的万民法。”他惊呼道。 “一个非常有趣的万民法。朋友，让我拥抱你；你是一个光荣的人！”

他张开双臂走近根茨，温柔地将他按在他的心上，一直笑着。

根茨无法承受这样的善意和这样的笑声，他突然忘记了愤怒，大声地加入了朋友的欢笑之中。

“你喜欢我报仇吗？”他问。

“啊！这是令人钦佩的；这是一个真正的科西嘉人的复仇！”瓜尔蒂里严肃地说。

“科西嘉人的？”根茨向后退了一步问道。 “这是一个丑陋的比较，先生。我不想与那个科西嘉人波拿巴将军有任何共同之处。我告诉你，我担心有一天人类会成为我们的可怕祸害。”

“而且我很喜欢他！”瓜尔蒂里喊道。 “他是复活的马其顿亚历山大，世界的征服者，世界的主人。他独自阻止了法国的革命浪潮。法国人要感谢他才恢复了国家的秩序和安宁。旺代米艾尔的第十三次战役与洛迪和阿尔科尔的战役一样，都是一次英雄事迹，一次伟大的胜利。”

“也许是这样，”根茨郁闷地说。 “我不是军人，不喜欢战斗和战争。我们德国人关心科西嘉人什么？我们在家做的事情还不够多吗？然而，德国是如此幸福和满足，就像法利赛人一样，她可能会看着共和法国并感叹：“我感谢你，我的上帝，我不像这个人。”

“你是对的，”瓜尔蒂里回答道。 “我们还需要一场革命。在德国，也必须竖起断头台——人头必须落地，死亡必须保留其血腥的收获。”

“安静，我的朋友，安静！”根茨沮丧地后退了一步，说道。 “你来找我只是为了谈论这些可怕的事情，而你很清楚我不喜欢听到任何人提及流血、谋杀和类似的恐怖吗？”

“我只是想尝试一下你，看看你是否还是那个亲爱的、幼稚的胆小鬼。”瓜尔蒂里笑着说道。 “同一个伟大的孩子，有着坚强、男子气概的灵魂，和温柔、软弱、容易感动的童心。现在，请尽快告诉我您对财政部长的要求，然后我将告诉您一些好消息来奖励您。那么，你想要舒伦堡做什么？

“我请求他借给我五百美元，并约定一个时间我可以去取钱。他说十点钟，我去了他家，一小时后，我怀着极大的热情，两手空空地离开了。哦，这是臭名昭著的，这是可怕的！这是-”

就在这时，门开了，仆人走了进来。

“来自阁下。冯·舒伦堡-克纳特将军，”他边说边给根茨递了一个密封的小包裹和一封信。 “送来的仆人已经离开了，他说不需要回复。”

根茨示意仆人退下，然后他赶紧打开包裹。

“十二张五十美元的钞票！”他得意地喊道。 “比我要求的多了一百美元！这确实是非常仁慈的。”

“也许他并没有把它给你，而只是借给你，”瓜尔蒂里微笑着说道。

“借给我吧！”根茨轻蔑地喊道。 “人们不借钱给我，因为他们知道我无力偿还；人们奖励我，先生；他们对我表达了很大的感激之情，但也不会小气到把我想要的东西借给我。”

“部长在信中这么告诉你了吗？”瓜尔蒂里干巴巴地问道。

“啊！那是真实的。我还没有读过这封信，”根茨说道，打开了封条。读着读着，他的脸颊泛起一丝红晕，脸上浮现出羞愧的表情。 “在这里，读一下，”他低声说道，把信递给他的朋友。

瓜尔蒂里接过它，读道如下：

“我亲爱的辅导员，您想见我，我恳求您在十点钟打电话来，尽管我忙于事务，几乎没有空闲时间。正好十点钟我就准备好迎接你了，因为在所有事务上我都是一个非常准时的人。然而，徒劳地等了你半个小时后，我又继续工作了。我必须检查一些非常复杂的账目，并且不能让自己在处理完之后就被打扰。于是我只好让你等一下，等了半个小时，你也像我一样不耐烦了，不愿再呆了，我就传话让你明天再打电话。现在，我已经结束了我的紧急事务，不过，我赶紧答应你的要求。你向我要五百美元；他们来了。不过，我知道你的时间很宝贵，又因为我的原因让你等了半个小时，所以我冒昧地为你今天损失的时间加了一百美元。再见，先生，最后让我表达希望，您很快将再次以您的一部杰出作品为世界和我自己带来欢乐。”

“我相信，”瓜尔蒂里一边说，一边把信还给根茨，“我相信部长想给你一个教训。他让你等待，是为了教你守时的必要性。”

“我不会忘记这个教训。”

“以后你会准时吗？”

“相反。这次我迟到了半个小时，他为此付了我一百美元。从此以后我就晚了一个小时；他会让我等一个小时并付给我两百美元。我相信这是正确的算术。别那么轻蔑地看着我，瓜尔蒂里；这种状况不会持续很长时间；在不久的将来，没有哪位部长敢让我在他的接待室里等候，也不敢付给我如此微薄的、可怜的钱。然后，部长们将在我的接待室等候，如果我接受他们向我提供的数千美元，他们将非常高兴。我已经下定决心，要获得辉煌的职位，从我的脑海中创造财富。”

“我相信你会成功实现你的目标，”瓜尔蒂里说。 “是的，我很高兴你有一个美好的未来。你是德国前所未见的天才，因为你是政治天才，你不妨承认，德国非常缺乏能够像两刃利剑一样挥舞笔，给予致命一击的政治家。全方位并取得胜利。德国已经把目光投向了您，甚至在英国，自从您出版了伯克关于法国大革命的著作的优秀译本以来，您的名字也受到了极大的尊重。您此后发行的政治小册子，创办的优秀政治杂志，都得到了人民的热烈认可，人民群众希望和期待您为国家作出伟大而重要的贡献。就这样吧，我的朋友；勇敢地追求你所踏上的道路，它将成为你的荣耀、尊贵和财富之路。”

根茨几乎愤怒地看着他。

“我希望，”他说，“你不会相信我是一个贪婪的人。我重视金钱，仅仅因为它是获得享受的工具，因为没有它，我们就会成为痛苦、匮乏和痛苦的奴隶。金钱使我们自由，既然人们愿意将自由作为所有国家的宗教，每个人都应该努力赚尽可能多的钱，仅此一点就使他真正自由。可恶的法国大革命将所有原则、所有法律和旧有的制度都推上了断头台，它必须不伤害一种权力——金钱的权力。贵族、神职人员，甚至皇室都不得不在断头台下流血，但金钱从未失去它的力量、影响力和重要性。金钱是一种通用语言，无套裤汉和霍屯督人以及国王、大臣和最美丽的女人都了解它。金钱永远不需要翻译；金钱永远不需要翻译。它不言而喻。你看，我的朋友，这就是我热爱金钱并尽可能多赚钱的原因，不是为了积累金钱，而是因为用它我可以买到世界、爱、荣誉、享受和幸福。但我不是那些在摇篮里发现金钱的人之一，我必须努力获得它并利用上帝在我的大脑中赋予我的资本。先生，我将会这么做，但我向你保证，绝不会以卑鄙无耻的方式。我可能会让人们为我的服务支付大笔金钱，但我永远不会出卖自己；全世界千百万人都无法诱导我写作违背我的原则，但当他们要求我为我的原则写作时，我会要求全世界数以百万计的人！看，我的朋友，这就是我的计划，你可以确信我会实现它。我的本性和信念是一个贵族；因此，我憎恨法国大革命，它的目的是推翻一切贵族，不仅是血统上的贵族，而且是思想上的贵族，因此我发誓要以不知疲倦、不屈不挠的捍卫者的身份反对它，并用我的力量给予它尽可能多的打击。尽我所能，用笔和舌头。因此，我永远不会加入那些总是过于殷勤的德国人现在向科西嘉小个子波拿巴将军唱的赞美诗。无论你如何评价他的英雄主义和天才，我相信他是德国的敌人，因此我保持警惕。”

“所以你不钦佩他的胜利，他的无与伦比的战斗计划，他以一位明智而经验丰富的酋长的冷静来构思这些计划，并以古代英雄的勇敢和无畏来执行这些计划？”

“我很钦佩这一切，但同时，当我想到有一天这个征服一切的人可能会想到入侵和征服德国时，我感到不寒而栗。事实上，我相信他会成功地征服她，因为恐怕我们这边没有能力与他相抗衡的人。啊，我的朋友，为什么我们的一位德国王子不像这位法国将军，这位二十七年的英雄呢？想想看，他并不比我们年轻的国王年长；两人是同一年出生的。”

“你不能计算他的岁月，”瓜尔蒂里喊道，“计算他伟大的日子，他伟大的战斗。全欧洲都热情欢迎他的到来，因为他率领军团为人类最高贵的恩惠——自由、荣誉和正义而战。因此，难怪他到处都是胜利。各地被奴役的民族都希望他能挣脱束缚，给予他们自由。”

“他是上帝派遣给德国王子的祸害，以便他们变得更聪明、更好。他希望迫使他们尊重其臣民对自由和独立的要求，这是他们建立堡垒的唯一途径，以对抗这个不仅用剑而且用思想进行战斗的篡夺者。哦，我希望我们的德国君主能够理解这一切，希望所有有舌头的人都能在他们耳边大声喊出来，唤醒他们骄傲的安全感和迷恋。”

“哎呀，你不是有舌头可以说话，却沉默不语吗？”瓜尔蒂里微笑着问道。

“不，我并没有保持沉默，”根茨热情地喊道。 “我已经履行了作为一个人和公民的职责，并向国王讲述了全部真相。”

“那意味着-”

“这意味着我写信给国王，并不是带着臣民的阿谀奉承，而是作为一个见识了很多、思考了很多、经历了很多的人，并且对一个年轻人说话，呼吁他采取重要行动。并把亿万男人的幸福握在手中。如果我们知道真相而不告诉这样的人，那就是对上帝和人类的犯罪。因为我相信我知道真相，所以我与国王交谈，不是通过一封他今天读到明天就会扔进纸篮的信，而是通过一份印刷的奏折，我将在数以千计的地方分发它。当我听说它在国王手中时，我立即复制了。”

“你相信国王会接受你的这份印刷版奏折吗？”

“我的朋友曼肯参赞已承诺将其交给国王。”

“这样的话他就会接受，因为他对门肯评价很高。但你在奏疏中对国王说了什么？”

“我给了他有关政府事务的中肯建议。”

“建议！我的朋友，国王不喜欢听建议，尤其是自发地向他们提出的建议。您是否仅限于一般性建议？你看，我非常渴望更多地了解你们大胆的事业。给我读一下悼念吧，根茨朋友！”

“啊，这对你来说是一项艰巨的任务，对我来说也是一项艰巨的任务，因为奏疏很长。我在其中用令人印象深刻和热情的话语请求国王——哦，当我写下这些话时我自己也哭了——让他的人民幸福和繁荣。我让他关注我们行政部门的各个部门；首先，关于军事事务——”

“你建议他发动战争？”瓜尔蒂里急忙问道。

“不，我建议他始终武装起来并做好准备，但要维持和平，只要这符合他的荣誉。接下来我就谈谈我们的司法和财政状况。我恳求他不要干涉司法，坚持国家的支出和收入之间保持持续平衡，以免使臣民负担过重，也不要限制商业和工业的发展通过无理取闹的垄断。最后，我请他关注知识分子事务和新闻界。”

“哦，我预料到了，”瓜尔蒂里微笑着说，“如果你有足够的勇气要求胆怯而羞怯的年轻国王给予他的人民新闻自由，我一点也不感到惊讶。”

“是的，这就是我要求他做的，”根茨热情地说。 “你想让我把整个纪念碑读给你听。让我至少读一下我所说的关于新闻自由的内容。你会听吗？

“哦，我非常想听到这个消息，”瓜尔蒂里坐在沙发上说道。

根茨从办公桌上拿出几张纸，在他朋友对面坐下，开始大声朗读：

“在所有厌恶束缚的事物中，没有人像人类的思想那样能够忍受它们。对后者的压迫不仅是有害的，因为它阻碍了善行，而且还因为它助长了恶行。在信仰问题上的强迫可以在沉默中被忽略。它属于那些过时的罪恶，现在，宗教观念彻底崩溃的危险比狂热滥用的危险更大，只有心胸狭隘的胡言乱语者才对它们大肆宣扬。然而，在新闻自由方面却并非如此。被时代事件产生的毫无根据的忧虑所误导，即使是睿智的人也可能会赞成这样一种制度，从其真实的角度来看，这种制度对政府利益的损害比对公民权利的损害更大，甚至其最令人发指的虐待行为。”

“即使抛开所有其他考虑因素，专横而绝对地谴责任何限制新闻界的法律的重要事实是，它不可能得到执行。除非有定期的调查来监督这项法律的执行，否则现在根本不可能执行它。将想法带到公众面前的便利性如此之大，以至于任何旨在限制这种宣传的措施都成为可笑的事情。但如果这些法律无效，它们可能会激怒人民，而这恰恰是它们最危险的特征；他们激怒而不威慑。他们煽动那些他们所针对的人进行抵抗，这种抵抗往往不仅会取得成功，而且会变得光荣和光荣。最糟糕的作品，其真正的价值无法保证两个小时的寿命，却获得了广泛的流通，因为写它们似乎需要一定程度的勇气。最无足轻重的涂鸦者将被视为有思想的人，而最贪婪的作家突然成为“真理的殉道者”。一千只有毒的昆虫，一束真理和真正的睿智就会驱散它们，它们受到为它们创造的可悲的短视的黑暗的青睐，潜入了人们手无寸铁的思想，并将它们的毒液灌输到最后一滴，就像尽管这是一种最精致的禁忌美食。唯一的解药，即更好作家的作品，失去了力量，因为无知的人很容易将有益限制的倡导者误认为是明显不公正和压迫性的限制的捍卫者。”

“因此，让新闻自由成为贵国政府不可动摇的原则，并不是说在这个图书如此丰富的时代，国家或人类对出版或多或少的一千部作品感兴趣，而是因为陛下它太大了，无法与小对手进行不成功的、因而是灾难性的斗争。每个人都应该对具有这种性质的非法行为和文章承担责任，严格负责，但纯粹的观点不应遇到任何其他对手，除了它的对立面，如果它是错误的，则应面对事实。这样的制度永远不会对一个监管良好的国家构成危险，也从未伤害过这样的国家。在它明显变得有害的地方，破坏已经先于它，羞辱和腐烂已经开始了。”[35]16 年 1797 月 XNUMX 日，弗雷德里克·根茨 (Frederick Gentz) 在腓特烈·威廉三世 (Frederick William III) 登基之际，向他致敬。

“出色地？”读完后，根茨脸颊红润，眼睛闪闪发光，问道：“你觉得我对新闻自由的阐述怎么样？难道还不清楚、没有说服力、无法反驳吗？王岂不见吾言有理，而从之吗？”

瓜尔蒂里带着慈悲和温柔的目光看着他的朋友。

“哦，你是一个已经长大的孩子了，”他说。 “你仍然相信乌托邦梦想有可能实现，而且你的信仰是那么诚实，那么有男子气概！你想把一个鞭子强加在一个胆怯、渴望维持和平、不被人注意的年轻国王身上，并告诉他：“用这一鞭子驱除邪灵，驱除谎言，使黎明到来。” ，黑暗就会消失！’——就好像白天不一定会暴露出我们可怜的普鲁士所遭受的所有伤害和溃疡，为此她非常需要黑暗和沉默。”

“什么！你以为国王不会理会我的要求吗？”

“我相信，”瓜尔蒂里耸耸肩说道，“您是一位极具天赋的梦想家，国王是一位相当聪明、相当清醒的年轻绅士，每当他想滑冰时，他都不允许自己被光滑、闪闪发光的表面让他眼花缭乱、着迷，但他首先反复检查冰块，看看它是否足够坚固，可以承受。现在再见了，我可怜的朋友。我来这里是为了祝贺你重获自由，并再次属于高贵且唯一幸福的单身汉阶层。但我没有听到你的欢呼声，而是在你身上发现了一位慈善狂热分子和新闻自由的热心倡导者。”

“但这并不妨碍你祝我快乐地回到单身汉生活，”根茨笑着说道。 “是的，我的朋友，我自由了；生命又是我的了，现在让快乐的火焰重新在我的头顶闭合——让快乐的洪流再次包围我，我将欣喜地投入漩涡，幸福如神！我们必须以适当的方式庆祝我重生的日子；我们必须用起泡的香槟、鹅肝酱和牡蛎来庆祝它；如果我们想为我的妻子流下最后一滴眼泪，那么，我们应该喝一杯基督之泪以纪念她。今晚你一定要来看我，瓜尔蒂里。我将邀请其他几位朋友，如果你能给我们带来难得的乐趣，你可以给我们读一些拉封丹的寓言，没有人能像你一样背诵得这么好。”

“我会这么做的，”瓜尔蒂里说道，并向根茨伸出了手。 “我要给你读一本拉封丹的寓言，其中的前两行雄辩地表达了你过去的全部历史。”

“让我听听这两句话。”

瓜尔铁里捂着头，站在他打开的门前，语气深沉悲怆，声音深沉忧郁：

“两只公鸡和平共处；一个幸存的人，
Et voila la guerreallumec”——

最后点头告别后，他就消失了。根茨笑了。 “确实，他是对的，”他惊呼道。 “婚姻生活就这样结束了。但是，感谢上帝，我的生活已经结束了，而且，我以我所有的希望发誓，我再也不会傻到再结婚了！只要我还活着，我就将保持单身；因为不属于任何女人的人就拥有所有女人。不过，是时候想想今晚的宴会了。但为了举办宴会，我必须先为我的房间采购新家具，而这一次我除了漂亮而昂贵的家具外什么都没有。我该如何得到它？啊，parbleu，我忘了从部长那里收到的六百美元。我将用这笔钱买家具。不，那是非常愚蠢的，因为我非常需要它用于其他目的。我毫不怀疑，家具经销商会愿意信任我，因为我还没有购买过他们的任何东西。不幸的是，对于为我提供晚餐美酒佳肴的他，我不能说太多，而我口袋里只有一百美元。另外五百美元我必须寄给那个吸血鬼、那个无情的债主维尔纳。但我必须这样做吗？啊!真的，我相信这绝对是愚蠢的。那家伙会认为他吓坏了我，一旦我又欠他一张帐单，他就会再次围攻我的门，并在这里引发新的骚乱。不;我会让他知道我并不害怕他，他的无礼行为应该受到惩罚。哦，约翰！约翰！”

门立刻被打开，仆人走了进来。

“约翰，”根茨严肃地说，“立即去找维尔纳先生。告诉他今晚有些朋友要来看我。因此，我希望他今晚给我送来二十四瓶香槟、三大块鹅肝酱、两百只牡蛎，以及晚餐所需的一切。如果他及时、仔细地填写我的订单，他明天可以给我寄一张两百美元的收据，我会付给他钱。但如果一只牡蛎坏了，如果一瓶香槟质量不好，或者如果他敢于拒绝为我提供晚餐，他就不会得到一粒格罗申。你去告诉他，然后尽快回来。”

“与此同时，我会写几张邀请函，”当只剩下根茨时，他说道。 “但我只邀请未婚男子。首先是奥地利公使冯·罗伊斯亲王。这位先生满足于有一个情妇，幸运的是，他没有怀疑美丽的玛丽安·迈尔同时也是我的情妇，所以他是我的好朋友。是的，如果他知道的话——啊！”他打断自己，笑着说：“这将是拉封丹两只公鸡和母鸡寓言的另一个例证。好吧，我现在去写请柬。”

他刚唱完最后一个音符，门就打开了，约翰气喘吁吁地走了进来。

“那么，你看到维尔纳先生了吗？”根茨一边问，一边折起最后一张纸条。

“是的先生。维尔纳先生传话，他将及时、令人满意地提供晚餐，并于今晚将二十四瓶他最好的香槟、三大块鹅肝酱、两百只牡蛎等送到这里，但只有一个条件”。

“什么！这家伙居然敢提出条件？”根茨愤怒地叫道。 “他问什么？”

“先生，他请您在送完您订购的所有东西后，在去吃晚饭之前，请您到接待室待一会儿，维尔纳先生会在那里等您，以便在那里接待您。”他的两百美元。如果你接受这个条件，我会通知他，如果接受，他就会准备晚餐。”

“啊，这简直要把我逼到墙角了，”根茨笑着说道。 “好吧，你回去吧，告诉那个精明的家伙，我接受他的条件。他将在接待室等我，当然，他会发出巨大的声音，以防我让他失望，他可能确信我会来。所以去找他吧，约翰。”

“至于我自己，”根茨穿上斗篷说道，“我要去买价值几千美元的家具；我的房间今后将像王子的房间一样华丽。顺便说一句，我认为我太慷慨了。如果我给维尔纳一百美元，他会满足于这笔钱。”

今天，在富有的银行家伊齐格家里，举行了一场罕见的节日，这几天全柏林都在谈论这个节日，它已经成为人们谈论的话题，街上的人们也不例外，比那些住在富丽堂皇的贵族阶层中的人还要多。今天，他的三个美丽的小女儿即将举行婚礼，这位富有、招摇、慷慨的绅士不遗余力地以尽可能辉煌和隆重的方式庆祝这个节日。柏林的所有制造商都花了几个月的时间来为他的女儿们制作嫁妆，因为他宣布她们应该只穿德国工业产品，而他们的新家居用品中没有一件是法国制造的。因此，他们的衣服和家具上所有华丽的锦缎、天鹅绒和花边都是在柏林工厂编织的。最华丽的亚麻布是从西里西亚订购的，一群女帽匠和女裁缝以最熟练和最艺术的方式为年轻女士的衣柜准备了一切所需的东西。就连盘子和昂贵的珠宝也是由柏林珠宝商制造的，而华丽而精美的彩绘瓷器则是从皇家瓷器工厂购买的。这三件嫁妆如此美丽和昂贵，可以说是家居艺术和家居工业的胜利，因此它们引起了普遍的关注。尽管非常不情愿，伊齐格先生最终还是屈服于朋友们的紧急恳求，允许公众参观他家中陈列着他女儿们嫁妆的房间和大厅。然而，为了不让自己被指责为炫耀，他试图为这次展览赋予有用和慈善的特质。他在这些房间的入口处立了一块牌匾，上面刻着“家庭工业产品展览”；此外，每个游客都必须购买几格罗申的入场券，所得收益将分发给穷人。

大家都争先恐后地来到银行家家里，欣赏“家居工业的产品”。就连女王也带着她的一位贵妇前来观看了这场华丽的展示，在欣赏丝绸和天鹅绒的华丽以及钻石镶嵌的艺术时，她高兴地惊叹道：“我很高兴看到德国真的可以完全脱离法国，用自己的资源来满足她的所有需求！”

女王也许是一时冲动说出这些话，但公众却赋予了这句话特殊的含义和倾向；报纸，舆论机构，不厌其烦地赞扬王室的话，并劝告柏林居民参观银行家家里的爱国展览。

此外，好奇心激发了女士们的热情，而政治情感则促使男性部分出现在展览上。但当人们得知，法国大使馆对柏林人民表现出的热情感到不满，而法国部长甚至敢在王室餐桌上对女王在伊齐格先生家里所说的话大声抱怨时愤怒蔓延开来，参观展览呈现出反对专横的法国的全国示威的特征。现在，一大群观众涌向伊齐格先生的家，快乐、调皮的年轻人很高兴地成群结队地驻扎在法国部长居住的街道上，就在房子前面，以便用法语大声交谈。关于银行家展览的罕见景点，并赞扬这位高贵的爱国者，他不屑于在国外购买他在国内能得到的东西，即使不是更好，也同样好。

然而，展览的成功远远超出了银行家的愿望，当展览继续进行的日子结束时，他很高兴，这样他就可以将好奇的参观者排除在他的房子之外。

但今天房子要向受邀的客人开放，因为今天，正如我们之前所说，伊齐格先生要同时庆祝他三个美丽女儿的婚礼，整个地方都在为婚礼的准备而忙碌。庆祝节日的仪式很恰当。

而男仆和其他仆人则在技艺高超的艺术家的指导下，将客厅和大厅装饰得富丽堂皇。厨房和地窖里一百名忙碌的工人正在准备丰盛的饭菜。当伊齐格先生和妻子对节日的细节进行最后指示时，三位新娘正在自己的房间里秘密聊天。她们都还很年轻，大姐还不到二十一岁。她们非常美丽，她们的美丽是东方女性所特有的引人注目和充满活力的美丽——火红的黑眼睛，光泽的黑发，光泽的橄榄色肤色，以及苗条但发达的身材。他们穿着全套新娘服装；他们裸露的、美丽的圆形手臂和脖子上装饰着钻石和其他宝石。她们高大而充满活力的身材穿着白色的丝绸连衣裙，上面镶着精美的蕾丝。如果有人看到她们充满美丽、优雅和青春的魅力，穿着华丽的服装，头上戴着精致的香桃木王冠，就会相信自己看到了命运最宠爱的三个女儿，她们从来不懂得关心。和悲伤，而幸福却在他们的头上倾盆而下，不间断的阳光。

或许确实如此；也许只是美丽的桃金娘花冠在三位新娘的脸上投下了阴影，而不是她们秘密的想法——她们无言的愿望。

他们刚才聊了一会儿，但现在却停了下来，似乎全神贯注。最后，其中一个人缓缓抬起了那双闪闪发亮的黑眸，目光锐利地扫向了姐妹们。他们感受到了这一眼的魔力影响，同时抬起了眼睛。

“范妮，你为什么这么专注地看着我们？”他们问过。

“我想看看我能否从你的额头上看出真相。”范妮说道。 “或者如果钻石和香桃木王冠掩盖了一切。女孩们，假设我们暂时摘下世人眼中那副闪亮但虚假的面具，向对方展示我们真实而自然的性格吗？我们一直在互相撒谎。我们互相说：‘我很高兴。我不嫉妒你，因为我和你一样幸福。”假设我们现在真正张开双唇，说出我们内心的真相呢？岂不是新颖、原创吗？在我们的未婚夫来带领我们走向祭坛之前，这不是一个消磨这几分钟的好方法吗？看，这是我们最后一次这样在一起——最后一次我们以父亲的名字命名。因此，让我们这一次互相说出我们的真实感受。我们就这样做吗？”

“是啊。”两姐妹惊呼道。 “但是你想让我们告诉你真相是什么？”

“关于我们的心，”范妮严肃地回答。 “艾丝特，你是我们三个人中最年长的。你必须开始。因此，请告诉我们，你是否爱你的未婚夫，以法莲先生？”

艾斯特惊讶地看着她。 “如果我爱他呢？”她问。 “天哪！我该如何去爱他呢？我几乎不认识他。父亲为我挑选了他；这是一场精彩的比赛；我将留在柏林；我将举办盛大的聚会，并以我华丽的生活方式极大地惹恼了那些所谓的“高级自由”的女士们，她们有时敢于对“犹太女人”嗤之以鼻。我不知道我能否爱以法莲；但我们将生活得光鲜亮丽，当我们举办盛大的晚宴时，我们永远不会缺少来自社会最上流阶层的客人。这就是我未来的前景，虽然我不能说我对此感到满意，但我知道别人会认为我的处境是最令人羡慕的，这至少是一件事情。”

“第一次表白！”范妮微笑着说道。 “现在轮到你了，莉迪亚。那么请告诉我们，你爱你未来的丈夫冯·埃斯凯勒斯男爵吗？”

莉迪亚默默地、悲伤地看着她。 “别问我，”她说，“因为你和埃丝特都清楚我不爱他。我曾经有过一个美好的梦想。我看到自己是一位受人爱戴的妻子，身边有一位我所爱的年轻人，他也热烈地爱着我。他是一位艺术家，当他坐在画架前时，他感到自己很富有，很幸福，即使没有钱，因为他有他的天才和他的艺术。当我看着他的画作，以及这位英俊而富有灵感的艺术家本人时，在我看来，地球上只有一条通往幸福的道路：属于那个人，爱他，为他服务，如果必须的话是，和他一起受苦、挨饿。那是一场梦，父亲把我从梦中叫醒，告诉我我要嫁给冯·埃斯凯莱斯男爵，他已经和男爵的父亲达成协议，婚礼将在两周后举行。”

“可怜的莉迪亚！”姐妹们低声说道。

随后停顿了一下。 “那么，”艾丝特问道，“你呢，范妮？你审视我们，却只字不提你自己。我的孩子，你的心呢？您爱您的未婚夫冯·阿恩斯坦男爵（Baron von Arnstein）吗？他是您未来姐夫埃斯凯勒斯（Eskeles）的伴侣？你很安静？你就没有什么话要对我们说吗？”

“我不得不对你说，我们都很可怜，都很不幸，”范妮热情地说。 “是的，尽管我们有财富，有钻石，有辉煌的未来，但还是很可怜，很不幸！我们像货物一样被出售；没有人关心这些商品的人心，但每个人只考虑他能从中获得多少利润。哦，我的姐妹们，我们富有的犹太女人受到的待遇与贫穷的公主一样；我们被卖给出价最高的人。我们还没有必要的坚定、精力和独立性来将自己从这种有辱人格的血肉交易中解放出来。我们低头服从，在爱和幸福的地方，我们的内心充满了骄傲和炫耀，但我们却在财富中挨饿、日渐衰弱。”

“是啊，”莉迪亚叹了口气，“我们连抱怨都不敢！注定要陷入永恒的谎言，我们必须假装我们没有经历过的幸福，以及我们没有感受到的爱。”

“我不会这么做的！”范妮自豪地喊道。 “我屈服于强迫，低下头就够了；但我绝不会堕落到说谎的地步。”

“什么！你要告诉你的丈夫你不爱他吗？”姐妹们问道。

“我不会对我的丈夫说这种话，而是在我的未婚夫一出现时就对他说。”

“但是假设他不想娶一个不爱他的女孩呢？”

“那么中断比赛的是他，而不是我，父亲不能因此责怪我。但是你没有听到大厅里有脚步声吗？这是我的未婚夫。我恳求他在仪式开始前一刻钟到这里，因为我想和他谈谈一件非常严肃的事情。他来了。现在请你到客厅去，在那里等我。我将重新与你会合，也许是独自一人，那样的话我就自由了。然而，也许阿恩斯坦会陪伴我，到那时他就会接受我将提供给他的未来。再见，姐妹们；愿上帝保护我们所有人。”

“愿上帝保护你。”莉迪亚温柔地拥抱着她的妹妹说道。 “你有一个勇敢而坚强的灵魂，我希望我的灵魂也像你一样。”

“这能救你吗，莉迪亚？”范妮尖锐地问道。 “勇气和精力对我们来说是没有用的；尽管我们有抵抗，但我们还是必须屈服并受苦。他来了。”

她轻轻地把姐妹们推向客厅门口，然后去迎接刚进来的未婚夫。

“先生。阿恩斯坦，”范妮伸出手说道，“我感谢你如此迅速地答应了我的要求。”

“商人总是行动敏捷，”年轻男爵礼貌地鞠了一躬说道。

“啊，那你也把这次采访我当成是生意吗？”

“是的，但作为一项最稀有、最精致的商业活动。与一位迷人的年轻女士的会面比与最富有的商业朋友的会面更有价值，即使与后者的采访应该产生百分之一百的利润。”

“啊，我想你是想拍我马屁吧。”范妮一边说，一边仔细地打量着男爵那瘦小的身材和苍白的脸。

他温柔地微笑着鞠了一躬，但没有抬头看她。范妮不禁察觉到他的眉头微微阴沉。

“男爵，”她说，“我恳求你来看我，因为我不想带着灵魂上的谎言走上祭坛。我不会欺骗上帝和你自己，因此我现在坦白而真诚地告诉你，我不爱你，男爵；只有我父亲的意志才能把我的手交给你！”

年轻男爵的脸上没有明显的变化。他看上去既不惊讶也不生气。

“你爱别的男人吗？”他轻声问道。

“不，我不爱任何人！”范妮惊呼道。

“啊，那么，你真是幸运啊。”他阴郁地说。 “带着一颗冷漠的心结婚，比带着一颗破碎的心结婚要容易得多；因为冰冷的心可能会变得温暖，但破碎的心永远不会。”

范妮的目光紧紧地盯着他的面容。

“先生。阿恩斯坦，”她急躁地喊道，“你也不爱我！”

他强迫自己微笑。 “谁能看到你——你，骄傲、光荣的美丽——而不爱上你？”他强调地喊道。

“请不要空洞的奉承，”范妮不耐烦地说。 “哦，你告诉我实话吧！我确信你不爱我！”

“我见到你太晚了，”他悲伤地说。 “如果我早点认识你，我就会热烈地爱你。”

“但现在我已经太晚了——你已经爱上另一个人了吗？”她急忙问道。

“是的，我爱另一个人，”他严肃而严肃地说。 “既然你问我，我就应该告诉你真相。我爱另一个人。”

“尽管如此，你还是想嫁给我吗？”她愤怒地喊道。

“你呢？”他轻声问道。 “你爱我吗？”

“但我已经告诉过你我的心是自由的。我不爱任何人，而你——你为什么不娶你爱的她呢？”

“因为我不能娶她。”

“你为什么不能娶她？”

“因为我父亲反对。他是我们家的一家之主。他命令，我们服从。他反对，因为我爱的小姐很穷。她不会增加我们公司的资本。”

“哦，永远，永远那个冷酷的玛门，那个我们的心被如此无情地牺牲的偶像！”范妮愤怒地叫道。 “为了金钱，我们出卖我们的青春、我们的幸福、我们的爱情。”

“我没有出卖我的爱。我已经牺牲了它。”阿恩斯坦男爵严肃地说。 “为了我们公司的利益，我牺牲了它。但当看到你的可爱和炽热的愤怒中如此迷人和崇高时，我已经完全满意了，我不再值得怜悯，因为我将拥有整个维也纳最美丽和慷慨的妻子。”

“那你真的想嫁给我吗？即使你的心已经属于另一个女人，尽管你知道我不爱你，你也不会断绝婚事吗？”

“我美丽的未婚夫，我们不要互相欺骗，”他微笑着说道。 “这不是婚姻，而是我们将遵循我们父亲的意愿缔结的伙伴关系。在同意这种伙伴关系时，我们只考虑到了我们的命运，而不是我们的心。伊齐格（Itzig）、阿恩斯坦（Arnstein）和埃斯凯勒斯（Eskeles）的家族将比以往任何时候都更加繁荣；属于这些家族的个体是否会枯萎并不重要。因此，亲爱的，让我们屈服于我们的命运吧，因为我们无法逃脱它。如果我终止比赛，对你的幸福有好处吗？你的父亲可能会为你选择另一个丈夫，也许是在波兰或俄罗斯，你会和你的美丽和成就一起被埋葬在世界某个不起眼的角落，而我将带你去维也纳，去伟大的地方。世界剧场——在这个舞台上，你至少不会缺乏胜利和敬意。和我？为什么我要像个傻瓜一样放弃你——你给我带来了比我应得的更多的东西——你的美丽、你的成就和你慷慨的心？啊，我将成为众人羡慕的对象，因为维也纳没有哪个女士值得与你相比。既然我无法拥有我所爱的她，我要感谢上帝，我的父亲为我选择了你。范妮，只有你才是值得同情的，因为我无法为你为我而做出的牺牲提供任何补偿。我配不上你；你在美貌、智力和教育方面都比我强。我是一个商人，仅此而已。但作为回报，我至少可以给予一些东西——财富、荣耀，以及一个响亮的名字，即使在朝廷也是如此。那么，我建议你，作为一个朋友，接受我的手吧——这是一个朋友的手，他会用一生诚实地努力补偿你无法给予你的爱，并确保你的幸福。 ”。

他深情地向她伸出手，年轻的女士慢慢地将她的手放在了他的手上。

“就这样吧！”她郑重地说； “我接受你的手，准备跟随你。我们不会是一对幸福的恋人，而是两个真诚的好朋友。”

“这就是我的要求，”阿恩斯坦温和地说。 “我绝不会以可能冒犯你的温柔、令你反感的自命不凡和要求来骚扰你；我对你们的要求绝不会超出我希望我能应得的——你们的尊重和信任。我决不会接受一个丈夫的痴情假装，要求妻子给予他自己无法给予她的感情和忠诚。在世人眼中我们将是夫妻；但在你的房子内部，你会发现自由和独立。在那里，您将能够满足您所有的奇思妙想和愿望；在那里，每个人都会向你鞠躬并服从你。首先，我自己来做。你将成为我家的骄傲、荣耀和欢乐，并确保我家在社会上享有辉煌的地位。我们将过着王子般的生活，而你将在我的房子里像女王一样统治。这会让你满意吗？你接受我的提议吗？”

“是的，我接受，”范妮双眼放光，大声说道，“我向你保证，维也纳没有其他房子能与我们的房子相媲美。我们将使它成为最好社会的中心，在这个拥抱美丽、智慧和卓越的最杰出代表的圈子中，我们将忘记我们是在没有幸福和爱的情况下团结在一起的。”

“但总有一天，你的心会爱上你，”阿恩斯坦说。 “向我发誓，那天你不会诅咒我，因为那时我将站在你和你的爱人之间。向我发誓，你将永远把我当作你的朋友，你会对我充满信心，并告诉我，当那个不快乐但又如此快乐的时刻到来时，当你的心开始说话时。”

“我向你发誓！”范妮严肃地说。 “我们将永远真诚地对待彼此。因此，我们将永远能够避免不幸，尽管我们可能没有能力获得幸福。现在，我的朋友，来吧，伸出你的手臂，陪我到客厅，他们已经在那里等我们了。现在，我不会再为这一天哭泣和哀悼，因为它给了我一个朋友、一个兄弟！”

她拉着他的胳膊，和他一起去了客厅。当门打开，他们进来时，她的嘴角浮现出温柔的微笑。她带着一种安静满足的神情，看着站在未婚夫身旁、战战兢兢、不耐烦地等待着她的姐妹们。

“没有希望了。”莉迪亚低声说道。 “她也接受了自己的命运，并屈服了。”

“她以我为榜样，”埃丝特想。 “她用自己的财富和社会上的辉煌地位来安慰自己。确实，没有比这更好的安慰了。”

就在这时，门开了，身穿黑袍、头戴无边便帽的拉比出现在门槛上，后面跟着主教和教堂司事。随后是庄严的沉默，当拉比穿过房间向新娘的父母致敬时，所有的人都低着头祈祷。

在那个默默奉献的时刻，没有人注意到拉比进来几秒钟后跨过门槛的一位女士。她身材高大，身材高挑，美丽非凡。她的黑发、闪闪发亮的眼睛、弯曲的鼻子和整个脸型，使她与银行家美丽的女儿范妮·伊齐格有些相似，这表明她同样属于那些分散在全世界的人们。 ，以坚定不移的忠诚和恒心，到处保留着他们的类型和习惯。然而，在更仔细地审视这个迷人的陌生人后，我们发现她显然与范妮或她的姐妹们没有任何相似之处。她的美是一种奇怪而奇特的美，既具有不可抗拒的吸引力，又令人不寒而栗——身材高大，女王般的身材，穿着紫色天鹅绒连衣裙，用金色腰带系在胸下。她的肩膀裸露着，白得耀眼，具有真正古典的形状。她的短貂皮头巾已经从它们身上滑落，优雅地挂在她美丽、圆润的手臂上，华丽的钻石手镯闪闪发光。她的黑发长长的、繁茂的卷发垂落在透明苍白的脸颊两侧，并用几颗大钻石别针扎成一个结。一颗最珍贵的钻石镶嵌在她高高而深思熟虑的额头上。

她看上去就像一位女王一样骄傲、光彩照人，目光中带着一丝傲慢、专横和冷酷，她慢慢地审视着这个大房间。

“告诉我，”阿恩斯坦男爵弯下腰对范妮·伊齐格低声说道，“现在站在门边的那位美丽的女士是谁？”

“哦！” ”范妮高兴地喊道，“她终于来了。我们几乎不敢指望她会到来。这是玛丽安·迈耶。”

“什么！玛丽安·迈尔？”阿恩斯坦男爵问道。 “歌德所爱的这位著名美人——瑞典驻柏林大使伯恩斯坦男爵对她怀有如此炽热的热情，并承受了如此多的痛苦——而现在谁是奥地利公使冯·罗伊斯亲王的情妇？”

“嘘，看在老天爷的份上，嘘！”范妮小声说道。 “她正在向我们走来。”

范妮去见这位美丽的女士。玛丽安轻轻地低下头，以女王般的威严吻了范妮。

“我是来祝贺你和你的姐妹们的，”她用洪亮而优美的女低音说道。 “我想看看你长得有多美，你的未婚夫是否值得拥有你。”

范妮转身示意阿恩斯坦男爵加入他们，但他刚刚和拉比以及犹太教堂的其他官员一起离开。

现在只剩下女士们了，因为仪式即将开始。现在妇女们进来了，她们的职责是大声哀悼，为即将离开父母屋顶跟随丈夫的新娘的命运哭泣。他们在新娘们的脚下铺上昂贵的地毯，而新娘们则坐在聚集的女士们中间的扶手椅上，并在这些地毯上撒上鲜花，她们一边抽泣一边低声念叨着古老的希伯来赞美诗。母亲站在他们身后，嘴唇颤抖，泪眼汪汪地望着天空。门打开了，穿着长袍、白胡子垂在胸前的教堂司事出现了，手里拿着一个白色的坐垫，上面缠着三层华丽的蕾丝面纱。紧随其后的是三位新娘的父亲伊齐格先生。他从垫子上取下面纱，一边低声祈祷，一边把它们放在女儿们的头上，让她们的脸和身体似乎被一层薄薄的薄雾所包围。哀悼的妇女们抽泣着，两滴泪水从深受感动的母亲苍白的脸颊上滚落下来。两个男人无声无息地退了出去，只剩下两位女士了。

但现在，远处传来了童声合唱团甜美、洪亮的童声，令人心潮澎湃。这些声音在房间里回荡是多么迷人啊！他们似乎在呼唤新娘，仿佛被这鼓舞人心的旋律迷住了，慢慢地从座位上站了起来。他们的母亲走近大姐，向她伸出了手。两位大小姐拉着妹妹们的手。其他女士和哀悼的妇女在她们身后成对排列，然后队伍开始朝国歌的诱人音符方向行进。她们就这样穿过各个房间——音乐声越来越近——最后，穿过最后一扇门，女士们走进了一个长长的大厅，大厅里装饰着美丽的鲜花，覆盖着玻璃屋顶，透过玻璃屋顶，可以看到深邃、透明的蔚蓝天空。寒冷的天空。这座大殿的中央，立起一座紫色的华盖，上面挂着金色的流苏。拉比举起双手祈祷，和三位新郎一起站在它的下面。隐藏在鲜花和橘子树后面的歌手合唱团的声音越来越大，随着这欢快的音乐，女士们带领新娘们走向华盖，仪式开始了。

婚礼结束后，新娘头上的头纱被摘掉，她们可以自由地看世界了，整个聚会回到客厅，新娘和新郎接受了朋友们的祝贺。

范妮·迈尔和玛丽安·迈尔正在窗外聊天，距离公司其他人有一段距离。他们挽着手站在那里——范妮穿着白色的婚纱，像一朵光芒四射的百合花，玛丽安穿着紫色的礼服，像无与伦比的花中女王。

“你今天要和你丈夫一起离开柏林吗？”玛丽安问道。

“我们一小时后出发，”范妮叹了口气说。

玛丽安听到了这声叹息。 “你爱你的丈夫吗？”她急忙问道。

“我只见过他两次。”范妮低声说道。

玛丽安的嘴角浮现出讽刺的微笑。 “然后他们就把你卖给他，就像把女奴卖给富有的种植园主一样，”她说。 “这只不过是一场讨价还价和买卖，而你们仍然以此为傲，并把你们在人心中令人厌恶的交易转为美德，并相信你们有权利骄傲地、轻蔑地瞧不起那些拒绝像商品一样被出售的人，他们宁愿放弃自己的爱，也不愿在没有爱的情况下被亵渎。”

“我不夸口没有爱情就结婚了，”范妮温柔地说。 “哦，我应该心甘情愿地放弃财富和荣华——我应该做好准备，和一个我所爱的男人一起生活在贫困和默默无闻中。”

“但我想，首先，老拉比必须让你与这样一个人结合，是吗？否则，尽管你很爱你，你也不会追随他？”玛丽安问道。

“Yes, Marianne, that would be indispensable,” said Fanny, gravely, firmly fixing her large eyes upon her friend. “No woman should defy the moral laws of the world, or if she does, she will always suffer for it. If I loved and could not possess the man of my choice, if I could not belong to him as his wedded wife, I should give him up. The grief would kill me, perhaps, but I should die with the consolation of having remained faithful to virtue—”

“And of having proved false to love!” exclaimed Marianne, scornfully. “Phrases! Nothing but phrases learned by heart, my child, but the world boasts of such phrases, and calls such sentiments moral! Oh, hush! hush! I know what you are going to say, and how you wish to admonish me. I heard very well how contemptuously your husband called me the mistress of the Prince von Reuss. Don’t excuse him, and don’t deny it, for I have heard it. I might reply to it what Madame de Balbi said the other day upon being upbraided with being the mistress of the Royal Prince d’Artois: ‘Le sang des princes ne souille pas!’ But I do not want to excuse myself; on the contrary, all of you shall some day apologize to me. For I tell you, Fanny, I am pursuing my own path and have a peculiar aim steadfastly in view. Oh, it is a great, a glorious aim. I want to see the whole world at my feet; all those ridiculous prejudices of birth, rank, and virtue shall bow to the Jewess, and the Jewess shall become the peer of the most distinguished representatives of society. See, Fanny, that is my plan and my aim, and it is yours too; we are only pursuing it in different ways—YOU, by the side of a man whose wife you are, and to whom you have pledged at the altar love and fidelity WITHOUT feeling them; I, by the side of a man whose friend I am—to whom, it is true, I have not pledged at the altar love and fidelity, but whom I shall faithfully love BECAUSE I have given my heart to him. Let God decide whose is the true morality. The world is on your side and condemns me, but some day I shall hurl back into its teeth all its contempt and scorn, and I shall compel it to bow most humbly to me.”

“And whosoever sees you in your proud, radiant beauty, must feel that you will succeed in accomplishing what you are going to undertake,” said Fanny, bending an admiring glance on the glorious creature by her side.

Marianne nodded gratefully. “Let us pursue our aim,” she said, “for it is one and the same. Both of us have a mission to fulfil, Fanny; we have to avenge the Jewess upon the pride of the Christian women; we have to prove to them that we are their equals in every respect, that we are perhaps better, more accomplished, and talented than all of those haughty Christian women. How often did they neglect and insult us in society! How often did they offensively try to eclipse us! How often did they vex us by their scorn and insolent bearing! We will pay it all back to them; we will scourge them with the scourges with which they have scourged us, and compel them to bow to us!”

“They shall at least consider and treat us as their equals,” said Fanny, gravely. “I am not longing for revenge, but I want to hold my place in society, and to prove to them that I am just as well-bred and aristocratic a lady, and have an equal, nay, a better right to call myself a representative of true nobility; for ours is a more ancient nobility than that of all these Christian aristocrats, and we can count our ancestors farther back into the most remote ages than they—our fathers, the proud Levites, having been high-priests in Solomon’s temple, and the people having treated them as noblemen even at that time. We will remind the Christian ladies of this whenever they talk to us about their own ancestors, who, at best, only date back to the middle ages or to Charlemagne.”

“That is right. I like to hear you talk in this strain,” exclaimed Marianne, joyfully. “I see you will represent us in Vienna in a noble and proud manner, and be an honor to the Jews of Berlin. Oh, I am so glad, Fanny, and I shall always love you for it. And do not forget me either. If it pleases God, I shall some day come to Vienna, and play there a brilliant part. However, we shall never be rivals, but always friends. Will you promise it?”

“I promise it,” said Fanny, giving her soft white hand to her friend. Marianne pressed it warmly.

“I accept your promise and shall remind you of it some day,” she said. “But now farewell, Fanny, for I see your young husband yonder, who would like to speak to you, and yet does not come to us for fear of coming in contact with the mistress of the Prince von Reuss. God bless and protect his virtue, that stands in such nervous fear of being infected! Farewell; don’t forget our oath, and remember me.”

She tenderly embraced her friend and imprinted a glowing kiss upon her forehead, and then quickly turning around, walked across the room. All eyes followed the tall, proud lady with admiring glances, and some whispered, “How beautiful she is! How proud, how glorious!” She took no notice, however; she had so often received the homage of these whispers, that they could no longer gladden her heart. Without saluting any one, her head proudly erect, she crossed the room, drawing her ermine mantilla closely around her shoulders, and deeming every thing around her unworthy of notice.

In the anteroom a footman in gorgeous livery was waiting for her. He hastened down-stairs before her, opened the street door, and rushed out in order to find his mistress’s carriage among the vast number of coaches encumbering both sides of the street, and then bring it to the door.

Marianne stood waiting in the door, stared at by the inquisitive eyes of the large crowd that had gathered in front of the house to see the guests of the wealthy banker Itzig upon their departure from the wedding. Marianne paid no attention whatever to these bystanders. Her large black eyes swept over all those faces before her with an air of utter indifference; she took no interest in any one of them, and their impertinent glances made apparently no impression upon her.

But the crowd took umbrage at her queenly indifference.

“Just see,” the bystanders whispered here and there, “just see the proud Jewess! How she stares at us, as if we were nothing but thin air! What splendid diamonds she has got! Wonder if she is indebted for them to her father’s usury?”

On hearing this question, that was uttered by an old woman in rags, the whole crowd laughed uproariously. Marianne even then took no notice. She only thought that her carriage was a good while coming up, and the supposed slowness of her footman was the sole cause of the frown which now commenced clouding her brow. When the crowd ceased laughing, a woman, a Jewess, in a dirty and ragged dress, stepped forth and placed herself close to Marianne.

“You think she is indebted to her father for those diamonds!” she yelled. “No, I know better, and can tell you all about it. Her father was a good friend of mine, and frequently traded with me when he was still a poor, peddling Jew. He afterward made a great deal of money, while I grew very poor; but he never bought her those diamonds. Just listen to me, and I will tell you what sort of a woman she is who now looks down on us with such a haughty air. She is the Jewess Marianne Meier, the mistress of the old Prince von Reuss!”

“Ah, a mistress!” shouted the crowd, sneeringly. “And she is looking at us as though she were a queen. She wears diamonds in her hair, and wants to hide her shame by dressing in purple velvet. She—”

At that moment the carriage rolled up to the door; the footman obsequiously opened the coach door and hastened to push back the crowd in order to enable Marianne to walk over the carpet spread out on the sidewalk to her carriage.

“We won’t be driven back!” roared the crowd; “we want to see the beautiful mistress—we want to see her close by.”

And laughing, shouting, and jeering, the bystanders crowded closely around Marianne. She walked past them, proud and erect, and did not seem to hear the insulting remarks that were being levelled at her. Only her cheeks had turned even paler than before, and her lips were quivering a little.

Now she had reached her carriage and entered. The footman closed the door, but the mob still crowded around the carriage, and looked through the glass windows, shouting, “Look at her! look at her! What a splendid mistress she is! Hurrah for her! Long live the mistress!”

The coachman whipped the horses, and the carriage commenced moving, but it could make but little headway, the jeering crowd rolling along with it like a huge black wave, and trying to keep it back at every step.

Marianne sat proudly erect in her carriage, staring at the mob with naming and disdainful eyes. Not a tear moistened her eyes; not a word, not a cry issued from her firmly-compressed lips. Even when her carriage, turning around the corner, gained at last a free field and sped away with thundering noise, there was no change whatever in her attitude, or in the expression of her countenance. She soon reached the embassy buildings. The carriage stopped in front of the vestibule, and the footman opened the coach door. Marianne alighted and walked slowly and proudly to the staircase. The footman hastened after her, and when she had just reached the first landing place he stood behind her and whispered;

“I beg your pardon, madame; I was really entirely innocent. Your carriage being the last to arrive, it had to take the hindmost place; that was the reason why it took us so long to get it to the door. I beg your pardon, madame.”

Marianne only turned to him for a moment, bending a single contemptuous glance upon him, and then, without uttering a word, continued ascending the staircase.

The footman paused and looked after the proud lady, whispering with a sigh—

“She will discharge me—she never forgives!”

Marianne had now reached the upper story, and walked down the corridor as slowly and as proudly as ever. Her valet stood at the door, receiving her with a profound bow, while opening the folding door. She crossed gravely and silently the long suite of rooms now opening before her, and finally entered her dressing-room. Her two lady’s maids were waiting for her here in order to assist her in putting on a more comfortable dress.

When they approached their mistress, she made an imperious, repelling gesture.

“Begone!” she said, “begone!”

That was all she said, but it sounded like a scream of rage and pain, and the lady’s maids hastened to obey, or rather to escape. When the door had closed behind them, Marianne rushed toward it and locked it, and drew the heavy curtain over it.

Now she was alone—now nobody could see her, nobody could hear her. With a wild cry she raised her beautiful arms, tore the splendid diadem of brilliants from her hair, and hurled it upon the floor. She then with trembling hands loosened the golden sash from her tapering waist, and the diamond pins from her hair, and threw all these precious trinkets disdainfully upon the floor. And now with her small feet, with her embroidered silken shoes, she furiously stamped on them with flaming eyes, and in her paroxysm of anger slightly opening her lips, so as to show her two rows of peerless teeth which she held firmly pressed together.

Her fine hair, no longer fastened by the diamond pins, had fallen down, and was now floating around her form like a black veil, and closely covered her purple dress. Thus she looked like a goddess of vengeance, so beautiful, so proud, so glorious and terrible—her small hands raised toward heaven, and her feet crushing the jewelry.

“Insulted, scorned!” she murmured. “The meanest woman on the street believes she has a right to despise me—me, the celebrated Marianne Meier—me, at whose feet counts and princes have sighed in vain! And who am I, then, that they should dare to despise me?”

She asked this question with a defiant, burning glance toward heaven, but all at once she commenced trembling, and hung her head humbly and mournfully.

“I am a disgraced woman,” she whispered. “Diamonds and velvet do not hide my shame. I am the prince’s mistress. That’s all!”

“But it shall be so no longer!” she exclaimed, suddenly. “I will put a stop to it. I MUST put a stop to it! This hour has decided my destiny and broken my stubbornness. I thought I could defy the world in MY way. I believed I could laugh at its prejudices; but the world is stronger than I, and therefore I have to submit, and shall hereafter defy it in its own way. And I shall do so most assuredly. I shall do so on the spot.”

Without reflecting any further, she left her chamber and hastened once more through the rooms. Her hair now was waving wildly around her shoulders, and her purple dress, no longer held together by the golden sash, was floating loosely around her form. She took no notice whatever of her dishabille; only one idea, only one purpose filled her heart.

In breathless haste she hurried on, and now quickly opened a last door, through which she entered a room furnished in the most sumptuous and comfortable manner.

At her appearance, so sudden, and evidently unexpected, the elderly gentleman, who had reposed on the silken sofa, arose and turned around with a gesture of displeasure.

On recognizing Marianne, however, a smile overspread his features, and he went to meet her with a pleasant greeting.

“Back already, dearest?” he said, extending his hand toward her.

“Yes, your highness—I am back already,” she said drily and coldly.

The gentleman upon whose features the traces of a life of dissipation were plainly visible, fixed his eyes with an anxious air upon the beautiful lady. He only now noticed her angry mien and the strange dishabille in which she appeared before him.

“Good Heaven, Marianne!” he asked, sharply, “what is the cause of your agitation, of your coldness toward me? What has happened to you?”

“What has happened to me? The most infamous insults have been heaped upon my head!” she exclaimed with quivering lips, an angry blush suffusing her cheeks, “For a quarter of an hour, nay, for an eternity, I was the target of the jeers, the contempt, and the scorn of the rabble that publicly abused me in the most disgraceful manner!”

“Tell me,” exclaimed the old gentleman, “what has occurred, and whose fault it was!”

“Whose fault it was?” she asked, bending a piercing glance upon him. “YOURS, my prince; you alone are to blame for my terrible disgrace and humiliation. For your sake the rabble has reviled me, called me your mistress, and laughed at my diamonds; calling them the reward of my shame! Oh, how many insults, how many mortifications have I not already suffered for your sake—with how many bloody tears have I not cursed this love which attaches me to you, and which I was nevertheless unable to tear from my heart, for it is stronger than myself. But now the cup of bitterness is full to overflowing. My pride cannot hear so much contumely and scorn. Farewell, my prince, my beloved! I must leave you. I cannot stay with you any longer. Shame would kill me. Farewell! Hereafter, no one shall dare to call me a mistress.”

With a last glowing farewell, she turned to the door, but the prince kept her back. “Marianne,” he asked, tenderly, “do you not know that I love you, and that I cannot live without you?”

She looked at him with a fascinating smile. “And I?” she asked, “far from you, shall die of a broken heart; with you, I shall die of shame. I prefer the former. Farewell! No one shall ever dare again to call me by that name.” And her hand touched already the door-knob.

The prince encircled her waist with his arms and drew her back. “I shall not let you go,” he said, ardently. “You are mine, and shall remain so! Oh, why are you so proud and so cold? Why will you not sacrifice your faith to our love? Why do you insist upon remaining a Jewess?”

“Your highness,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, “why do you want me to become a Christian?”

“Why?” he exclaimed. “Because my religion and the laws of my country prevent me from marrying a Jewess.”

“And if I should sacrifice to you the last that has remained to me?” she whispered—“my conscience and my religion.”

“Marianne,” he exclaimed, solemnly, “I repeat to you what I have told you so often already: ‘Become a Christian in order to become my wife.’”

She encircled his neck impetuously with her arms and clung to him with a passionate outburst of tenderness. “I will become a Christian!” she whispered.

“At last! at last!” exclaimed Gentz, in a tone of fervid tenderness, approaching Marianne, who went to meet him with a winning smile. “Do you know, dearest, that you have driven me to despair for a whole week? Not a word, not a message from you! Whenever I came to see you, I was turned away. Always the same terrible reply, ‘Madame is not at home,’ while I felt your nearness in every nerve and vein of mine, and while my throbbing heart was under the magic influence of your presence. And then to be turned away! No reply whatever to my letters, to my ardent prayers to see you only for a quarter of an hour.”

“Oh, you ungrateful man!” she said, smiling, “did I not send for you to-day? Did I not give you this rendezvous quite voluntarily?”

“You knew very well that I should have died if your heart had not softened at last. Oh, heavenly Marianne, what follies despair made me commit already! In order to forget you, I plunged into all sorts of pleasures, I commenced new works, I entered upon fresh love-affairs. But it was all in vain. Amidst those pleasures I was sad; during my working hours my mind was wandering, and in order to impart a semblance of truth and tenderness to my protestations of love, I had to close my eyes and imagine YOU were the lady whom I was addressing-.”

“And then you were successful?” asked Marianne, smiling.

“Yes, then I was successful,” he said, gravely; “but my new lady-love, the beloved of my distraction and despair, did not suspect that I only embraced her so tenderly because I kissed in her the beloved of my heart and of my enthusiasm.”

“And who was the lady whom you call the beloved of your distraction and despair?” asked Marianne.

“Ah, Marianne, you ask me to betray a woman?”

“No, no; I am glad to perceive that you are a discreet cavalier. You shall betray no woman. I will tell you her name. The beloved of your distraction and despair was the most beautiful and charming lady in Berlin—it was the actress Christel Eughaus. Let me compliment you, my friend, on having triumphed with that belle over all those sentimental, lovesick princes, counts, and barons. Indeed, you have improved your week of ‘distraction and despair’ in the most admirable manner.”

“Still, Marianne, I repeat to you, she was merely my sweetheart for the time being, and I merely plunged into this adventure in order to forget you.”

“Then you love me really?” asked Marianne.

“Marianne, I adore you! You know it. Oh, now I may tell you so. Heretofore you repelled me and would not listen to my protestations of love because I was a MARRIED man. Now, however, I have got rid of my ignominious fetters, Marianne; now I am no longer a married man. I am free, and all the women in the world are at liberty to love me. I am as free as a bird in the air!”

“And like a bird you want to flit from one heart to another?”

“No, most beautiful, most glorious Marianne; your heart shall be the cage in which I shall imprison myself.”

“Beware, my friend. What would you say if there was no door in this cage through which you might escape?”

“Oh, if it had a door, I should curse it.”

“Then you love me so boundlessly as to be ready to sacrifice to me the liberty you have scarcely regained?”

“Can you doubt it, Marianne?” asked Gentz, tenderly pressing her beautiful hands to his lips.

“Are you in earnest, my friend?” she said, smiling. “So you offer your hand to me? You want to marry me?”

Gentz started back, and looked at her with a surprised and frightened air. Marianne laughed merrily.

“Ah!” she said, “your face is the most wonderful illustration of Goethe’s poem. You know it, don’t you?” And she recited with ludicrous pathos the following two lines:

“‘Heirathen, Kind, ist wunderlich Wort,
Hor ich’s, mocht ich gleich wieder fort.’”

“Good Heaven, what a profound knowledge of human nature our great Goethe has got, and how proud I am to be allowed to call him a friend of mine—Heirathen, Kind, ist wunderlich Wort.”

“Marianne, you are cruel and unjust, you—”

“And you know the next two lines of the poem?” she interrupted him. “The maiden replied to him:”

“‘Heirathen wir eben,
Das Ubrige wird sich geben.’”

“You mock me,” exclaimed Gentz, smiling, “and yet you know the maiden’s assurance would not prove true in our case, and that there is something rendering such a happiness, the prospect of calling you my wife, an utter impossibility. Unfortunately, you are no Christian, Marianne. Hence I cannot marry you.”[36]Marriages between Christians and Jews were prohibited in the German states at that period.

“And if I were a Christian?” she asked in a sweet, enchanting voice.

He fixed his eyes with a searching glance upon her smiling, charming face.

“What!” he asked, in evident embarrassment. “If you were a Christian? What do you mean, Marianne?”

“I mean, Frederick, that, I have given the highest proof of my love to the man who loves me so ardently, constantly, and faithfully. For his sake I have become a Christian, Yesterday I was baptized. Now, my friend, I ask you once more, I ask you as a Christian woman: Gentz, will you marry me? Answer me honestly and frankly, my friend! Remember that it is ‘the beloved of your heart and of your enthusiasm,’ as you called me yourself a few moments ago, who now stands before you and asks for a reply. Remember that this moment will be decisive for our future—speedily, nay, immediately decisive. For you see I have removed all obstacles. I have become a Christian, and I tell you I am ready to become your wife in the course of the present hour. Once more, then, Gentz, will you marry me?”

He had risen and paced the room in great excitement. Marianne followed him with a lurking glance and a scornful smile, but when he now stepped back to her, she quickly assumed her serious air.

“Marianne,” he said, firmly, “you want to know the truth, and I love you too tenderly to conceal it from you. I will not, must not, cannot marry you. I WILL not, because I am unable to bear once more the fetters of wedded life. I MUST not, because I should make you unhappy and wretched. I CANNOT, while, doing so, I should act perfidiously toward a friend of mine, for you know very well that the Prince von Reuss is my intimate friend.”

“和 I am his mistress. You wished to intimate that to me by your last words, I suppose?”

“I wished to intimate that he loves you boundlessly, and he is a generous, magnanimous man, whose heart would break if any one should take you from him.”

“For the last time, then: you will not marry me?”

“Marianne, I love you too tenderly—I cannot marry you!”

Marianne burst into a fit of laughter. “A strange reason for rejecting my hand, indeed!” she said. “It is so original that in itself it might almost induce me to forgive your refusal. And yet I had counted so firmly and surely upon your love and consent that I had made already the necessary arrangements in order that our wedding might take place to-day. Just look at me, Gentz. Do you not see that I wear a bridal-dress?”

“Your beauty is always a splendid bridal-dress for you, Marianne.”

“Well said! But do you not see a myrtle-wreath, my bridal-wreath, on the table there? Honi soit qui mal y pense! The priest is already waiting for the bride and bridegroom in the small chapel, the candles on the altar are lighted, every thing is ready for the ceremony. Well, we must not make the priest wait any longer. So you decline being the bridegroom at the ceremony? Well, attend it, then, as a witness. Will you do so? Will you assist me as a faithful friend, sign my marriage-contract, and keep my secret?”

“I am ready to give you any proof of my love and friendship,” said Gentz, gravely.

“Well, I counted on you,” exclaimed Marianne, smiling, “and, to tell you the truth, I counted on your refusal to marry me. Come, give me your arm. I will show you the same chapel which the Prince von Reuss has caused to be fitted up here in the building of the Austrian embassy. The servants will see nothing strange in our going there, and I hope, moreover, that we shall meet with no one on our way thither. At the chapel we shall perhaps find Prince Henry—that will be a mere accident, which will surprise no one. Come, assist me in putting on this long black mantilla which will entirely conceal my white silk dress. The myrtle-wreath I shall take under my arm so that no one will see it. And now, come!”

“Yes, let us go,” said Gentz, offering his arm to her. “I see very well that there is a mystification in store for me, but I shall follow you wherever you will take me, to the devil or—”

“Or to church,” she said, smiling. “But hush now, so that no one may hear us.”

They walked silently through the rooms, then down a long corridor, and after descending a narrow secret staircase, they entered a small apartment where three gentlemen were waiting for them.

One of them was a Catholic priest in his vestments, the second the Prince von Reuss, Henry XIII., and the third the first attache of the Austrian embassy.

The prince approached Marianne, and after taking her hand he saluted Gentz in the most cordial manner.

“Every thing is ready,” he said; “come, Marianne, let me place the wreath on your head.”

Marianne took off her mantilla, and, handing the myrtle-wreath to the prince, she bowed her head, and almost knelt down before him. He took the wreath and fastened it in her hair, whereupon he beckoned the attache to hand to him the large casket standing on the table. This casket contained a small prince’s coronet of exquisite workmanship and sparkling with the most precious diamonds.

The prince fastened this coronet over Marianne’s wreath, and the diamonds glistened now like stars over the delicate myrtle-leaves.

“Arise, Marianne,” he then said, loudly. “I have fastened the coronet of your new dignity in your hair; let us now go to the altar.”

Marianne arose. A strange radiance of triumphant joy beamed in her face; a deep flush sufused used her cheeks, generally so pale and transparent; a blissful smile played on her lips. With a proud and sublime glance at Gentz, who was staring at her, speechless and amazed, she took the prince’s arm.

The priest led the way, and from the small room they now entered the chapel of the embassy. On the altar, over which one of Van Dyck’s splendid paintings was hanging, large wax-tapers were burning in costly silver chandeliers. On the carpet in front of the altar two small prie-dieus for Marianne and the prince were placed, and two arm-chairs for the witnesses stood behind them. Opposite the altar, on the other side of the chapel, a sort of choir or balcony with an organ had been fitted up.

But no one was there to play on that organ. All the other chairs and benches were vacant; the ceremony was to be performed secretly and quietly.

Gentz saw and observed every thing as though it were a vision, he could not yet make up his mind that it was a reality; he was confused and almost dismayed, and did not know whether it was owing to his surprise at what was going on, or to his vexation at being so badly duped by Marianne. He believed he was dreaming when he saw Marianne and the prince kneeling on the prie-dieus, Marianne Meier, the Jewess, at the right hand of the high-born nobleman, at the place of honor, only to be occupied by legitimate brides of equal rank; and when he heard the priest, who stood in front of the altar, pronounce solemn words of exhortation and benediction, and finally ask the kneeling bride and bridegroom to vow eternal love and fidelity to each other. Both uttered the solemn “Yes” at the same time, the prince quietly and gravely, Marianne hastily and in a joyful voice. The priest thereupon gave them the benediction, and the ceremony was over. The whole party then returned to the anteroom serving as a sacristy. They silently received the congratulations of the priest and the witnesses. The attache then took a paper from his memorandum-book; it contained the minutes of the ceremony, which he had drawn up already in advance. Marianne and the prince signed it; the witnesses and the priest did the same, the latter adding the church seal to his signature. It was now a perfectly valid certificate of their legitimate marriage, which the prince handed to Marianne, and for which she thanked him with a tender smile.

“You are now my legitimate wife,” said the Prince von Reuss, gravely; “I wish to give you this proof of my love and esteem, and I return my thanks to these gentlemen for having witnessed the ceremony; you might some day stand in need of their testimony. For the time being, however, I have cogent reasons for keeping our marriage secret, and you have promised not to divulge it.”

“And I renew my promise at this sacred place and in the presence of the priest and our witnesses, my dear husband,” said Marianne. “No one shall hear from me a word or even an intimation of what has occurred here. Before the world I shall be obediently and patiently nothing but your mistress until you deem it prudent to acknowledge that I am your wife.”

“I shall do so at no distant day,” said the prince. “And you, gentlemen, will you promise also, will you pledge me your word of honor that you will faithfully keep our secret?”

“We promise it upon our honor!” exclaimed the two gentlemen.

The prince bowed his thanks. “Let us now leave the chapel separately, just as we have come,” he said; “if we should withdraw together, it would excite the attention and curiosity of the servants, some of whom might meet us in the hall. Come, baron, you will accompany me.” He took the attache’s arm, and left the small sacristry with him. “And you will accompany me,” said Marianne, kindly nodding to Gentz.

“And I shall stay here for the purpose of praying for the bride and bridegroom,” muttered the priest, returning to the altar.

Marianne now hastily took the coronet and myrtle-wreath from her hair and concealed both under the black mantilla which Gentz gallantly laid around her shoulders.

They silently reascended the narrow staircase and returned through the corridor to Marianne’s rooms. Upon reaching her boudoir, Marianne doffed her mantilla with an indescribable air of triumphant joy, and laid the coronet and myrtle-wreath on the table.

“Well,” she asked in her sonorous, impressive voice, “what do you say now, my tender Gentz?”

He had taken his hat, and replied with a deep bow: “I have to say that I bow to your sagacity and talents. That was a master-stroke of yours, dearest.”

“Was it not?” she asked, triumphantly. “The Jewess, hitherto despised and ostracized by society, has suddenly become a legitimate princess; she has now the power to avenge all sneers, all derision, all contempt she has had to undergo. Oh, how sweet this revenge will be—how I shall humble all those haughty ladies who dared to despise me, and who will be obliged henceforth to yield the place of honor to me!”

“And will you revenge yourself upon me too, Marianne?” asked Gentz, humbly—“upon me who dared reject your hand? But no, you must always be grateful to me for that refusal of mine. Just imagine I had compelled you to stick to your offer: instead of being a princess, you would now be the unhappy wife of the poor military counsellor, Frederick Gentz.”

Marianne laughed. “You are right,” she said, “I am grateful to you for it. But, my friend, you must not and shall not remain the poor military counsellor Gentz.”

“God knows that that is not my intention either,” exclaimed Gentz, laughing. “God has placed a capital in my head, and you may be sure that I shall know how to invest it at a good rate of interest.”

“But here you will obtain no such interest,” said Marianne, eagerly, “let us speak sensibly about that matter. We have paid our tribute to love and friendship; let us now talk about politics I am authorized—and she who addresess you now is no longer Marianne Meier, but the wife of the Austrian ambassador—I am authorized to make an important offer to you. Come, my friend, sit down in the arm-chair here, and let us hold a diplomatic conference.”

“Yes, let us do so,” said Gentz, smiling, and taking the seat she had indicated to him.

“Friend Gentz, what are your hopes for the future?”

“A ponderous question, but I shall try to answer it as briefly as possible. I am in hopes of earning fame, honor, rank, influence, and a brilliant position by my talents.”

“And you believe you can obtain all that here in Prussia?”

“I hope so,” said Gentz, hesitatingly.

“You have addressed a memorial to the young king; you have urged him to give to his subjects prosperity, happiness, honor, and freedom of the press. How long is it since you sent that memorial to him?”

“Four weeks to-day.”

“Four weeks, and they have not yet rewarded you for your glorious memorial, although the whole Prussian nation hailed it with the most rapturous applause? They have not yet thought of appointing you to a position worthy of your talents? You have not yet been invited to court?”

“Yes, I was invited to court. The queen wished to become acquainted with me. Gualtieri presented me to her, and her majesty said very many kind and flattering things to me.”[37]Varnhagen, “Gallerie von Bildnissen,” etc., vol. ii.

“Words, empty words, my friend! Their actions are more eloquent. The king has not sent for you, the king has not thanked you. The king does not want your advice, and as if to show to yourself, and to all those who have received your letter so enthusiastically, that he intends to pursue his own path and not to listen to such advice, the king, within the last few days, has addressed a decree to the criminal court, peremptorily ordering the prosecuting attorneys to proceed rigorously against the publishers of writings not submitted to or rejected by the censors.”[38]F. Foerster, “Modern History of Prussia,” vol. i., p. 498.

“That cannot be true—that is impossible!” exclaimed Gentz, starting up.

“I pardon your impetuosity in consideration of your just indignation,” said Marianne, smiling. “That I told you the truth, however, you will see in to-morrow’s Gazette, which will contain the royal decree I alluded to. Oh, you know very well the Austrian ambassador has good friends everywhere, who furnish him the latest news, and keep him informed of all such things. You need not hope, therefore, that the young king will make any use of your talents or grant you any favors. Your splendid memorial has offended him instead of winning him; he thought it was altogether too bold. Frederick William the Third is not partial to bold, eccentric acts; he instinctively shrinks back from all violent reforms. The present King of Prussia will not meddle with the great affairs of the world; the King of Prussia wishes to remain neutral amidst the struggle of contending parties. Instead of thinking of war and politics, he devotes his principal attention to the church service and examination of the applicants for holy orders, and yet he is not even courageous enough formally to abolish Wollner’s bigoted edict, and thus to make at least one decisive step forward. Believe me, lukewarmness and timidity will characterize every act of his administration. So you had better go to Austria.”

“And what shall I do in Austria?” asked Gentz, thoughtfully.

“What shall you do there?” exclaimed Marianne, passionately. “You shall serve the fatherland—you shall serve Germany, for Germany is in Austria just as well as in Prussia. Oh, believe me, my friend, only in Austria will you find men strong and bold enough to brave the intolerable despotism of the French. And the leading men there will welcome you most cordially; an appropriate sphere will be allotted to your genius, and the position to which you will be appointed will amply satisfy the aspirations of your ambition. I am officially authorized to make this offer to you, for Austria is well aware that, in the future, she stands in need of men of first-class ability, and she therefore desires to secure your services, which she will reward in a princely manner. Come, my friend, I shall set out to-day with the prince on a journey to Austria. Accompany us—become one of ours!”

“Ours! Are you, then, no longer a daughter of Prussia?”

“I have become a thorough and enthusiastic Austrian, for I worship energy and determination, and these qualities I find only in Austria, in the distinguished man who is holding the helm of her ship of state, Baron Thugut. Come with us; Thugut is anxious to have you about his person; accompany us to him.”

“And what are you going to do in Vienna?” asked Gentz, evasively. “Is it a mere pleasure-trip?”

“If another man should put that question to me, I should reply in the affirmative, but to you I am going to prove by my entire sincerity that I really believe you to be a devoted friend of mine. No, it is no pleasure-trip. I accompany the prince to Vienna because he wants to get there instructions from Baron Thugut and learn what is to be done at Rastadt.”

“Ah, at Rastadt—at the peace congress,” exclaimed Gentz. “The emperor has requested the states of the empire to send plenipotentiaries to Rastadt to negotiate there with France a just and equitable peace. Prussia has already sent there her plenipotentiaries, Count Goertz and Baron Dohm. Oh, I should have liked to accompany them and participate in performing the glorious task to be accomplished there. That congress at Rastadt is the last hope of Germany; if it should fail, all prospects of a regeneration of the empire are gone. That congress will at last give to the nation all it needs: an efficient organization of the empire, a well-regulated administration of justice, protection of German manufactures against British arrogance, and last, but not least, freedom of the press, for which the Germans have been yearning for so many years.”

Marianne burst into a loud fit of laughter. “Oh, you enthusiastic visionary!” she said, “but let us speak softly, for even the walls must not hear what I am now going to tell you.”

She bent over the table, drawing nearer to Gentz, and fixing her large, flaming eyes upon him, she asked in a whisper, “I suppose you love Germany? You would not like to see her devoured by France as Italy was devoured by her? You would not like either to see her go to decay and crumble to pieces from inherent weakness?”

“Oh, I love Germany!” said Gentz, enthusiastically. “All my wishes, all my hopes belong to her. Would to God I could say some day, all my talents, my energy, my perseverance are devoted to my fatherland—to Germany!”

“Well, if you really desire to be useful to Germany,” whispered Marianne, “hasten to Rastadt. If Germany is to be saved at all, it must be done at once. You know the stipulations of the treaty of Campo Formio, I suppose?”

“I only know what every one knows about them.”

“But you do not know the secret article. I will tell you all about it. Listen to me. The secret article accepted by the emperor reads as follows: ‘The emperor pledges himself to withdraw his troops from Mentz, Ehrenbreitstein, Mannheim, Konigstein, and from the German empire in general, twenty days after the ratification of the peace, which has to take place in the course of two months.’”[39]Schlosser’s “History of the Eighteenth Century,” vol. v., p. 43.

“But he thereby delivers the empire to the tender mercies of the enemy,” exclaimed Gentz, in dismay. “Oh, that cannot be! No German could grant and sign such terms without sinking into the earth from shame. That would be contrary to every impulse of patriotism—”

“Nevertheless, that article has been signed and will be carried out to the letter. Make haste, therefore, Germany is calling you; assist her, you have got the strength. Oh, give it to her! Become an Austrian just as Brutus became a servant of the kings; become an Austrian in order to save Germany!”

“Ah, you want to entice me, Delilah!” exclaimed Gentz. “You want to show me a beautiful goal in order to make me walk the tortuous paths which may lead thither! No, Delilah, it is in vain! I shall stay here; I shall not go to Austria, for Austria is the state that is going to betray Germany. Prussia may be able to save her; she stands perhaps in need of my arm, my pen, and my tongue for that purpose. I am a German, but first of all I am a Prussian, and every good patriot ought first to serve his immediate country, and wait until she calls him. I still hope that the king will prove the right man for his responsible position; I still expect that he will succeed in rendering Prussia great and Germany free. I must, therefore, remain a Prussian as yet and be ready to serve my country.”

“Poor enthusiast! You will regret some day having lost your time by indulging in visionary hopes.”

“Well, I will promise, whenever that day comes, whenever Prussia declares that she does not want my services, then I will come to you—then you shall enlist me for Austria, and perhaps I may then still be able to do something for Germany. But until then, leave me here. I swear to you, not a word of what you have just told me here shall be betrayed by my lips; but I cannot serve him who has betrayed Germany.”

“You cannot be induced, then, to accept my offer? You want to stay here? You refuse to accompany me to Vienna, to Rastadt, in order to save what may yet be saved for Germany?”

“If I had an army under my command,” exclaimed Gentz, with flaming eyes, “if I were the King of Prussia, then I should assuredly go to Rastadt, but I should go thither for the purpose of dispersing all those hypocrites, cowards, and scribblers who call themselves statesmen, and of driving those French republicans who put on such disgusting airs, and try to make us believe they had a perfect right to meddle with the domestic affairs of Germany—beyond the Rhine! I should go thither for the purpose of garrisoning the fortresses of the Rhine—which the Emperor of Germany is going to surrender to the tender mercies of the enemy—with my troops, and of defending them against all foes from without or from within. That would be my policy if I were King of Prussia. But being merely the poor military counsellor, Frederick Gentz, and having nothing but some ability and a sharp pen, I shall stay here and wait to see whether or not Prussia will make use of my ability and of my pen. God save Germany and protect her from her physicians who are concocting a fatal draught for her at Rastadt: God save Germany!”

A joyful commotion reigned on the eighth of November, 1797, in the streets and public places of the German fortress of Rastadt. The whole population of the lower classes had gathered in the streets, while the more aristocratic inhabitants appeared at the open windows of their houses in eager expectation of the remarkable event for which not only the people of the whole city, but also the foreign ambassadors, a large number of whom had arrived at Rastadt, were looking with the liveliest symptoms of impatience.

And, indeed, a rare spectacle was in store for them. It was the arrival of General Bonaparte and his wife Josephine that all were waiting for this morning. They were not to arrive together, however, but both were to reach the city by a different route. Josephine, who was expected to arrive first, was coming from Milan by the shortest and most direct route; while Bonaparte had undertaken a more extended journey from Campo Formio through Italy and Switzerland. It was well known already that he had been received everywhere with the most unbounded enthusiasm, and that all nations had hailed him as the Messiah of liberty. There had not been a single city that had not received him with splendid festivities, and honors had been paid to him as though he were not only a triumphant victor, but an exalted ruler, to whom every one was willing to submit. Even free Switzerland had formed no exception. At Geneva the daughters of the first and most distinguished families, clad in the French colors, had presented to him in the name of the city a laurel-wreath. At Berne, his carriage had passed through two lines of handsomely decorated coaches, filled with beautiful und richly adorned ladies, who had hailed him with the jubilant shout of “Long live the pacificator!”

In the same manner the highest honors had been paid to his wife Josephine, who had been treated everywhere with the deference due to a sovereign princess. The news of these splendid receptions had reached Rastadt already; and it was but natural that the authorities and citizens of the fortress did not wish to be outdone, and that they had made extensive arrangements for welcoming the conqueror of Italy in a becoming manner.

A magnificent triumphal arch had been erected in front of the gate through which General Bonaparte was to enter the city, and under it the city fathers, clad in their official robes, were waiting for the victorious hero, in order to conduct him to the house that had been selected for him. In front of this house, situated on the large market-place, a number of young and pretty girls, dressed in white, and carrying baskets with flowers and fruits which they were to lay at the feet of the general’s beautiful wife, had assembled.

At the gate through which Josephine was to arrive, a brilliant cavalcade of horsemen had gathered for the purpose of welcoming the lady of the great French chieftain, and of escorting her as a guard of honor.

Among these cavaliers there were most of the ambassadors from the different parts of Germany, who had met here at Rastadt in order to accomplish the great work of peace. Every sovereign German prince, every elector and independent count had sent his delegates to the southwestern fortress for the purpose of negotiating with the French plenipotentiaries concerning the future destinies of Germany. Even Sweden had sent a representative, who had not appeared so much, however, in order to take care of the interests of Swedish Pomerania, as to play the part of a mediator and reconciler.

All these ambassadors had been allowed to enter Rastadt quietly and entirely unnoticed. The GERMAN city had failed to pay any public honors to these distinguished GERMAN noblemen; but every one hastened to exhibit the greatest deference to the French general—and even the ambassadors deemed it prudent to participate in these demonstrations: only they tried to display, even on this occasion, their accustomed diplomacy, and instead of receiving the victorious chieftain in the capacity of humble vassals, they preferred to present their respects as gallant cavaliers to his beautiful wife and to escort her into the city.

The German ambassadors, therefore, were waiting for Mme. General Bonaparte on their magnificent prancing steeds in front of the gate through which she was to pass. Even old Count Metternich, the delegate of the Emperor of Austria and ruler of the empire, notwithstanding the stiffness of his limbs, had mounted his horse; by his side the other two ambassadors of Austria were halting—Count Lehrbach, the Austrian member of the imperial commission, and Count Louis Cobenzl, who was acting as a delegate for Bohemia and Hungary. Behind old Count Metternich, on a splendid and most fiery charger, a young cavalier of tall figure and rare manly beauty might be seen; it was young Count Clemens Metternich, who was to represent the corporation of the Counts of Westphalia, and to begin his official diplomatic career here at Rastadt under the eye of his aged father. By his side the imposing and grave ambassadors of Prussia made their appearance—Count Goertz, who at the time of the war for the succession in Bavaria had played a part so important for Prussia and so hostile to Austria; and Baron Dohm, no less distinguished as a cavalier, than as a writer. Not far from them the representatives of Bavaria, Saxony, Wurtemberg, and of the whole host of the so-called “Immediates”[40]The noblemen owning territory in the states of secondary princes, but subject only to the authority of the emperor, were called “Immediates.” might be seen, whom the editors and correspondents had joined, that had repaired to Rastadt in the hope of finding there a perfect gold-mine for their greedy pens. But not merely the German diplomatists and the aristocratic young men of Rastadt were waiting here for the arrival of Mme. General Bonaparte; there was also the whole crowd of French singers, actors, and adventurers who had flocked to the Congress of Rastadt for the purpose of amusing the distinguished noblemen and delegates by their vaudevilles, comedies, and gay operas. Finally, there were also the French actresses and ballet-girls, who, dressed in the highest style of fashion, were occupying on one side of the road a long row of splendid carriages. Many of these carriages were decorated on their doors with large coats-of-arms, and a person well versed in heraldry might have easily seen therefrom that these escutcheons indicated some of the noble diplomatists on the other side of the road to be the owners of the carriages. In fact, a very cordial and friendly understanding seemed to prevail between the diplomatists and the ladies of the French theatre. This was not only evident from the German diplomatists having lent their carriages to the French ladies for the day’s reception, but likewise from the ardent, tender, and amorous glances that were being exchanged between them, from their significant smiles, and from their stealthy nods and mute but eloquent greetings.

Suddenly, however, this inimical flirtation was interrupted by the rapid approach of a courier. This was the signal announcing the impending arrival of Josephine Bonaparte. In fact, the heads of four horses were seen already in the distance; they came nearer and nearer, and now the carriage drawn by these horses, and a lady occupying it, could be plainly discerned.

It was a wonderful warm day in November. Josephine, therefore, had caused the top of her carriage to be taken down, and the spectators were able, not merely to behold her face, but to scan most leisurely her whole figure and even her costume. The carriage had approached at full gallop, but now, upon drawing near to the crowd assembled in front of the gate, it slackened its speed, and every one had time and leisure to contemplate the lady enthroned in the carriage. She was no longer in the first bloom of youth; more than thirty years had passed already over her head; they had deprived her complexion of its natural freshness, and left the first slight traces of age upon her pure and noble forehead. But her large dark eyes were beaming still in the imperishable fire of her inward youth, and a sweet and winning smile, illuminating her whole countenance as though a ray of the setting sun had fallen upon it, was playing around her charming lips. Her graceful and elegant figure was wrapped in a closely fitting gown of dark-green velvet, richly trimmed with costly furs, and a small bonnet, likewise trimmed with furs, covered her head, and under this bonnet luxuriant dark ringlets were flowing down, surrounding the beautiful and noble oval of her face with a most becoming frame.

Josephine Bonaparte was still a most attractive and lovely woman, and on beholding her it was easily understood why Bonaparte, although much younger, had been so fascinated by this charming lady and loved her with such passionate tenderness.

The French actors now gave vent to their delight by loud cheers, and rapturously waving their hats, they shouted: “Vive la citoyenne Bonaparte! Vive l’august epouse de l’Italique!”

Josephine nodded eagerly and with affable condescension to the enthusiastic crowd, and slowly passed on. On approaching the diplomatists, she assumed a graver and more erect attitude; she acknowledged the low, respectful obeisances of the cavaliers with the distinguished, careless, and yet polite bearing of a queen, and seemed to have for every one a grateful glance and a kind smile. Every one was satisfied that she had especially noticed and distinguished him, and every one, therefore, felt flattered and elated. From the diplomatists she turned her face for a moment to the other side, toward the ladies seated in the magnificent carriages. But her piercing eye, her delicate womanly instinct told her at a glance that these ladies, in spite of the splendor surrounding them, were no representatives of the aristocracy; she therefore greeted them with a rapid nod, a kind smile, and a graceful wave of her hand, and then averted her head again.

Her carriage now passed through the gate, the cavaliers surrounding it on both sides, and thereby separating the distinguished lady from her attendants, who were following her in four large coaches. These were joined by the carriages of the actresses, by whose sides the heroes of the stage were cantering and exhibiting their horsemanship to the laughing belles with painted cheeks.

It was a long and brilliant procession with which Mme. General Bonaparte made her entrance into Rastadt, and the last of the carriages had not yet reached the gate, when Josephine’s carriage had already arrived on the market-place and halted in front of the house she was to occupy with her husband. Before the footman had had time to alight from the box, Josephine herself had already opened the coach door in order to meet the young ladies who were waiting for her at the door of her house, and to give them a flattering proof of her affability. In polite haste she descended from the carriage and stepped into their midst, tendering her hands to those immediately surrounding her, and whispering grateful words of thanks to them for the beautiful flowers and fruits, and thanking the more distant girls with winning nods and smiling glances. Her manners were aristocratic and withal simple; every gesture of hers, every nod, every wave of her hand was queenly and yet modest, unassuming and entirely devoid of haughtiness, just as it behooved a prominent daughter of the great Republic which had chosen for her motto “Liberte, egalite, fraternite.”

Laden with flowers, and laughing as merrily as a young girl, Josephine finally entered the house; in the hall of the latter the ladies of the French ambassadors, the wives and daughters of Bonnier Reberjot and Jean Debry, were waiting for her. Josephine, who among the young girls just now had been all hilarity, grace, and familiarity, now again assumed the bearing of a distinguished lady, of the consort of General Bonaparte, and received the salutations of the ladies with condescending reserve. She handed, however, to each of the ladies one of her splendid bouquets, and had a pleasant word for every one. On arriving at the door of the rooms destined for her private use, she dismissed the ladies and beckoned her maid to follow her.

“Now, Amelia,” she said hurriedly, as soon as the door had closed behind them—“now let us immediately attend to my wardrobe. I know Bonaparte—he is always impetuous and impatient, and he regularly arrives sooner than he has stated himself. He was to be here at two o’clock, but he will arrive at one o’clock, and it is now almost noon. Have the trunks brought up at once, for it is high time for me to dress.”

Amelia hastened to carry out her mistress’s orders, and Josephine was alone. She hurriedly stepped to the large looking-glass in the bedroom and closely scanned in it her own features.

“Oh, oh! I am growing old,” she muttered after a while. “Bonaparte must love me tenderly, very tenderly, not to notice it, or I must use great skill not to let him see it. Eh bien, nous verrons!”

And she glanced at herself with such a triumphant, charming smile that her features at once seemed to grow younger by ten years. “Oh, he shall find me beautiful—he shall love me,” she whispered, “for I love him so tenderly.”

Just then Amelia entered loaded with bandboxes and cartons, and followed by the servants carrying the heavy trunks. Josephine personally superintended the lowering of the trunks for the purpose of preventing the men from injuring any of those delicate cartons; and when every thing was at last duly arranged, she looked around with the triumphant air of a great general mustering his troops and conceiving the plans for his battle.

“Now lock the door and admit no one, Amelia,” she said, rapidly divesting herself of her travelling-dress. “Within an hour I must be ready to receive the general. But stop! We must first think of Zephyr, who is sick and exhausted. The dear little fellow cannot stand travelling in a coach. He frequently looked at me on the road most dolorously and imploringly, as if he wanted to beseech me to discontinue these eternal travels. Come, Zephyr; come, my dear little fellow.”

On hearing her voice, a small, fat pug-dog, with a morose face and a black nose, arose from the trunk on which he had been lying, and waddled slowly and lazily to his mistress.

“I really believe Zephyr is angry with me,” exclaimed Josephine, laughing heartily. “Just look at him, Amelia—just notice this reserved twinkling of his eyes, this snuffling pug-nose of his, this proudly-erect head that seems to smell roast meat and at the same time to utter invectives! He exactly resembles my friend Tallien when the latter is making love to the ladies. Come, my little Tallien, I will give you some sweetmeats, but in return you must be kind and amiable toward Bonaparte; you must not bark so furiously when he enters; you must not snap at his legs when he gives me a kiss; you must not snarl when he inadvertently steps on your toes. Oh, be gentle, kind, and amiable, my beautiful Zephyr, so as not to exasperate Bonaparte, for you know very well that he does not like dogs, and that he would throw you out of the window rather than suffer you at my feet.”

Patting the dog tenderly, she lifted him upon an arm-chair, and then spread out biscuits and sweetmeats before him, which Zephyr commenced examining with a dignified snuffling of the nose.

“Now, Amelia, we will attend to my toilet,” said Josephine, when she saw that Zephyr condescended to eat some of the biscuits.

Amelia had opened all the trunks and placed a large number of small jars and vials on the dressing-table. Josephine’s beauty stood already in need of some assistance, and the amiable lady was by no means disinclined to resort to cosmetics for this purpose. It is true, the republican customs of the times despised rouge, for the latter had been very fashionable during the reign of the “tyrant” Louis XVI., and Marie Antoinette had greatly patronized this fashion and always painted her cheeks. Nevertheless Josephine found rouge to be an indispensable complement to beauty, and, as public opinion was adverse to it, she kept her use of it profoundly secret. Amelia alone saw and knew it—Amelia alone was a witness to all the little secrets and artifices by which Josephine, the woman of thirty-three years, had to bolster up her beauty. But only the head stood in need of some artificial assistance. The body was as yet youthful, prepossessing, and remarkable for its attractiveness and luxuriant forms, and when Josephine now had finished her task, she was truly a woman of enchanting beauty and loveliness. Her eyes were so radiant and fiery, her smile so sweet and sure of her impending triumph, and the heavy white silk dress closely enveloped her figure, lending an additional charm to its graceful and classical outlines.

“Now, a few jewels,” said Josephine; “give me some diamonds, Amelia; Bonaparte likes brilliant, sparkling trinkets. Come, I will select them myself.”

She took from Amelia’s hands the large case containing all of her caskets, and glanced at them with a smile of great satisfaction.

“Italy is very rich in precious trinkets and rare gems,” she said, with a gentle shake of her head. “When, a few months ago, I came thither from Paris, I had only three caskets, and the jewelry they contained was not very valuable. Now, I count here twenty-four etuis, and they are filled with the choicest trinkets. Just look at these magnificent pearls which the Marquis de Lambertin has given to me. He is an old man, and I could not refuse his princely gift. This casket contains a bracelet which Mancini, the last Doge of Venice, presented to me, and which he assured me was wrought by Benvenuto Cellini for one of his great-great-grandmothers. This splendid set of corals and diamonds was given to me by the city of Genoa when she implored my protection and begged me to intercede with Bonaparte for her. And here—but do you not hear the shouts? What does it mean! Should Bonaparte—”

She did not finish the sentence, but hastened to the window. The market-place, which she was able to overlook from there, was now crowded with people, but the dense masses had not assembled for the purpose of seeing Josephine. All eyes were directed toward yonder street from which constantly fresh and jubilant crowds of people were hurrying toward the market-place, and where tremendous cheers, approaching closer and closer, resounded like the angry roar of the sea. Now some white dots might be discerned in the midst of the surging black mass. They came nearer and grew more distinct; these dots were the heads of white horses. They advanced very slowly, but the cheers made the welkin ring more rapidly and were reechoed by thousands and thousands of voices. Amidst these jubilant cheers the procession drew near, now it turned from the street into the market-place. Josephine, uttering a joyful cry, opened the window and waved her hand, for it was Bonaparte whom the excited masses were cheering.

He sat all alone in an open barouche, drawn by six milk-white horses magnificently caparisoned in a silver harness.[41]“These six horses with their magnificent harness were a gift from the Emperor of Austria, who had presented them to Bonaparte after the peace of Campo Fonnio. Bonaparte had rejected all other offers.”—Bourrienne, vol. 1., p. 389.

Leaning back into the cushions in a careless and fatigued manner, he scarcely seemed to notice the tremendous ovation that was tendered to him. His face looked pale and tired; a cloud had settled on his expansive marble forehead, and when he from time to time bowed his thanks, he did so with a weary and melancholy smile. But it was exactly this cold, tranquil demeanor, this humble reserve, this pale and gloomy countenance that seemed to strike the spectators and fill them with a feeling of strange delight and wondering awe. In this pale, cold, sombre, and imposing face there was scarcely a feature that seemed to belong to a mortal, earth-born being. It seemed as though the spectre of one of the old Roman imperators, as though the shadow of Julius Caesar had taken a seat in that carriage, and allowed the milk-white horses to draw him into the surging bustle and turmoil of life. People were cheering half from astonishment, half from fear; they were shouting, “Long live Bonaparte!” as if they wanted to satisfy themselves that he was really alive, and not merely the image of an antique imperator.

The carriage now stopped in front of the house. Before rising from his seat, Bonaparte raised his eyes hastily to the windows. On seeing Josephine, who stood at the open window, his features became more animated, and a long, fiery flash from his eyes struck her face. But he did not salute her, and the cloud on his brow grew even gloomier than before.

“He is in bad humor and angry,” whispered Josephine, closing the window, “and I am afraid he is angry with me. Good Heaven! what can it be again? What may be the cause of his anger? I am sure I have committed no imprudence—”

Just then the door was hastily opened, and Bonaparte entered.

Bonaparte had scarcely deigned to glance at the French ambassadors and their ladies, who had received him at the foot of the staircase. All his thoughts centred in Josephine. And bowing slightly to the ladies and gentlemen, he had impetuously rushed upstairs and opened the door, satisfied that she would be there and receive him with open arms. When he did not see her, he passed on, pale, with a gloomy face, and resembling an angry lion.

Thus he now rushed into the front room where he found Josephine. Without saluting her, and merely fixing his flashing eyes upon her, he asked in a subdued, angry voice: “Madame, you do not even deem it worth the trouble to salute me! You do not come to meet me!”

“But, Bonaparte, you have given me no time for it,” said Josephine, with a charming smile. “While I thought you were just about to alight from your carriage, you burst already into this room like a thunder-bolt from heaven.”

“Oh, and that has dazzled your eyes so much that you are even unable to salute me?” he asked angrily.

“And you, Bonaparte?” she asked, tenderly. “You do not open your arms to me! You do not welcome me! Instead of pressing me to your heart, you scold me! Oh, come, my friend, let us not pass this first hour in so unpleasant a manner! We have not seen each other for almost two months, and—”

“Ah, madame, then you know that at least,” exclaimed Bonaparte; “then you have not entirely forgotten that you took leave of me two months ago, and that you swore to me at that time eternal love and fidelity, and promised most sacredly to write to me every day. You have not kept your oaths and pledges, madame!”

“But, my friend, I have written to you whenever I was told that a courier would set out for your headquarters.”

“You ought to have sent every day a courier of your own for the purpose of transmitting your letters to me,” exclaimed Bonaparte, wildly stamping his foot, so that the jars and vials on the table rattled violently, while Zephyr jumped down from his arm-chair and commenced snarling. Josephine looked anxiously at him and tried to calm him by her gestures.

Bonaparte continued: “Letters! But those scraps I received from time to time were not even letters. Official bulletins of your health they were, and as cold as ice. Madame, how could you write such letters to me, and moreover only every fourth day? If you really loved me, you would have written every day. But you do not love me any longer; I know it. Your love was but a passing whim. You feel now how ridiculous it would be for you to love a poor man who is nothing but a soldier, and who has to offer nothing to you but a little glory and his love. But I shall banish this love from my heart, should I have to tear my heart with my own teeth.”[42]Bonaparte’s own words.—Vide “Lettres a Josephine. Memoires d’une Contemporaine,” vol. i., p. 853.

“Bonaparte,” exclaimed Josephine, half tenderly, half anxiously, “what have I done that you should be angry with me? Why do you accuse me of indifference, while you know very well that I love you?”

“Ah, it is a very cold love, at all events,” he said, sarcastically. “It is true, I am only your husband, and it is not in accordance with aristocratic manners to love one’s husband; that is mean, vulgar, republican! But I am a republican, and I do not want any wife with the manners and habits of the ANCIEN REGIME. I am your husband, but woe to him who seeks to become my wife’s lover! I would not even need my sword in order to kill him. My eyes alone would crush him![43]Bonaparte’s own words.—Ibid.
(Bonaparte’s own words.—Vide “Lettres a Josephine. Memoires d’une Contemporaine,” vol. i., p. 853.) And I shall know how to find him; and if he should escape to the most remote regions, my arm is a far-reaching one, and I will extend it over the whole world in order to grasp him.”

“But whom do you allude to?” asked Josephine, in dismay.

“Whom?” he exclaimed in a thundering voice. “Ah, madame, you believe I do not know what has occurred? You believe I see and hear nothing when I am no longer with you? Let me compliment you, madame! The handsome aide-de-camp of Leclerc is a conquest which the ladies of Milan must have been jealous of; and Botot, the spy, whom Barras sent after me, passes even at Paris for an Adonis. What do you mean by your familiarities with these two men, madame? You received Adjutant Charles at eleven o’clock in the morning, while you never leave your bed before one o’clock. Oh, that handsome young fellow wanted to tell you how he was yearning for his home in Paris, and what his mother and sister had written to him, I suppose? For that reason so convenient an hour had to be chosen? For that reason he came at eleven o’clock while you were in bed yet. His ardor was so intense, and if he had been compelled to wait until one o’clock, impatience would have burned his soul to ashes!”[44]Bonaparte’s own words.—Vide “Memoires d’un Contemporaine,” vol. ii., p. 80.

“He wanted to set out for Paris precisely at twelve o’clock. That was the only reason why I received him so early, my friend,” said Josephine, gently.

“Oh, then, you do not deny that you have actually received him?” shouted Bonaparte, and his face turned livid. With flaming eyes and uplifted hand, he stepped up close to Josephine. “Madame,” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice, “then you dare to acknowledge that Charles is your lover?”

Before Josephine had time to reply to him Zephyr, who saw him threaten his mistress, furiously pounced upon Bonaparte, barking and howling, showing his teeth, and quite ready to lacerate whom he supposed to be Josephine’s enemy.

“Ah, this accursed dog is here, too, to torment me!” exclaimed Bonaparte, and raising his foot, he stamped with crushing force on the body of the little dog. A single piercing yell was heard; then the blood gushed from Zephyr’s mouth, and the poor beast lay writhing convulsively on the floor.[45]Vide “Rheinischer-Antiquar.,” vol. ii., p. 574.

“Bonaparte, you have killed my dog,” exclaimed Josephine, reproachfully, and bent over the dying animal.

“Yes,” he said, with an air of savage joy, “I have killed your dog, and in the same manner I shall crush every living being that dares to step between you and myself!”

Josephine had taken no notice of his words. She had knelt down by the side of the dog, and tenderly patted his head and writhing limbs till they ceased moving.

“Zephyr is dead,” she said rising. “Poor little fellow, he died because he loved me. Pardon me, general, if I weep for him. But Zephyr was a cherished souvenir from a friend who died only a short while ago. General Hoche had given the dog to me.”

“Hoche?” asked Bonaparte, in some confusion.

“Yes, Lazarus Hoche, who died a few weeks ago. A few days before his death he sent the dog to me while at Milan—Lazarus Hoche who, you know it very well, loved me, and whose hand I rejected because I loved you,” said Josephine, with a noble dignity and calmness, which made a deeper impression upon Bonaparte than the most poignant rebuke would have done.

“And now, general,” she proceeded, “I will reply to your reproaches. I do not say that I shall JUSTIFY myself, because I thereby would acknowledge the justice of your charges, but I will merely answer them. I told you already why I admitted Charles at so early an hour. He was about to set out for Paris, and I wished to intrust to him important and secret letters and other commissions.”

“Why did not you send them by a special courier?” asked Bonaparte, but in a much gentler voice than before.

“Because it would have been dangerous to send my letters to Botot by a courier,” said Josephine, calmly.

“To Botot? Then you admit your familiarities with Botot, too? People did not deceive me, then, when they told me that you received this spy Botot, whom Barras had sent after me, in order to watch me, every morning in your boudoir—that you always sent your maid away as soon as he came, and that your interviews with him frequently lasted for hours?”

“That is quite true; I do not deny it,” said Josephine, proudly.

Bonaparte uttered an oath, and was about to rush at her. But she receded a step, and pointing at the dead dog with a rapid gesture, she said: “General, take care! There is no other dog here for you to kill, and I am only a weak, defenceless woman; it would assuredly not behoove the victor of Arcole to attack me!”

Bonaparte dropped his arm, and, evidently ashamed of himself, stepped back several paces.

“Then you do not deny your intimate intercourse with Botot and Charles?”

“I do not deny that both of them love me, that I know it, and that I have taken advantage of their love. Listen to me, general: I have taken advantage of their love. That is mean and abominable; it is playing in an execrable manner with the most exalted feelings of others, I know it very well, but I did so for your sake, general—I did so in your interest.”

“In my interest?” asked Bonaparte, in surprise.

“Yes, in your interest,” she said. “Now I can tell and confess every thing to you. But as long as Charles and Botot were present, I could not do so, for if you had ceased being jealous—if, warned by myself, you had treated these two men kindly instead of showing your jealous distrust of them by a hostile and surly demeanor, they might have suspected my game and divined my intrigue, and I would have been unable to avail myself any longer of their services.”

“But, for God’s sake, tell me what did you need their services for?”

“Ah, sir, I perceive that you know better how to wield the sword than unravel intrigues,” said Josephine, with a charming smile. “Well, I made use of my two lovers in order to draw their secrets from them. And secrets they had, general, for you know Botot is the most intimate and influential friend of Barras, and Madame Tallien adores Charles, the handsome aide-de-camp. She has no secrets that he is not fully aware of, and she does whatever he wants her to do; and again, whatever she wants to be done, her husband will do—her husband, that excellent Tallien, who with Barras is one of the five directors of our republic.”

“Oh, women, women!” muttered Bonaparte.

Josephine continued: “In this manner, general, I learned every scheme and almost every idea of the Directory; in this manner, through my devoted friends, Botot and Charles, I have succeeded in averting many a foul blow from your own head. For you were menaced, general, and you are menaced still. And what is menacing you? That is your glory and your greatness—it is the jealousy of the five kings of France, who, under the name of directors, are now reigning at the Luxemburg. The Quintumvirate beheld your growing power and glory with terror and wrath, and all endeavors of theirs only aimed at lessening your influence. A favorite way of theirs for carrying out their designs against you was the circulation of false news concerning you. Botot told me that Barras had even hired editors to write against you, and to question your integrity. These editors now published letters purporting to come from Verona, and announcing that Bonaparte was about to proclaim himself dictator. Then, again, they stated in some letter from the frontier, or from a foreign country, that the whole of Lombardy was again on the eve of an insurrection; that the Italians detested the tyranny imposed upon them by the conqueror, and that they were anxious to recall their former sovereigns.”

“Ah, the miserable villains!” exclaimed Bonaparte, gnashing his teeth, “I—”

“Hush, general! listen to my whole reply to your reproaches,” said Josephine, with imperious calmness. “At some other time these hirelings of the press announced in a letter from Turin that an extensive conspiracy was about to break out at Paris; that the Directory was to be overthrown by this conspiracy, and that a dictatorship, at the head of which Bonaparte would be, was to take place. They further circulated the news all over the departments, that the ringleaders of the plot had been arrested and sent to the military commissions for trial; but that the conqueror of Italy had deemed it prudent to avoid arrest by running away.”[46]Le Normand, Memoires, vol. i., p. 267.

“That is a truly infernal web of lies and infamies!” ejaculated Bonaparte, furiously. “But I shall justify myself, I will go to Paris and hurl the calumnies of these miserable Directors back into their teeth!”

“General, there is no necessity for you to descend into the arena in order to defend yourself,” said Josephine, smiling. “Your actions speak for you, and your friends are watching over you. Whenever such an article appeared in the newspapers. Botot forwarded it to me; whenever the Directory sprang a new mine, Botot sent me word of it. And then I enlisted the assistance of my friend Charles, and he had to refute those articles through a journalist who was in my pay, and to foil the mine by means of a counter-mine.”

“Oh, Josephine, how can I thank you for what you have done for me!” exclaimed Bonaparte, enthusiastically. “How—”

“I am not through yet, general,” she interrupted him, coldly. “Those refutations and the true accounts of your glorious deeds found an enthusiastic echo throughout the whole of France, and every one was anxious to see you in the full splendor of your glory, and to do homage to you at Paris. But the jealous Directory calculated in advance how dangerous the splendor of your glory would be to the statesmen of the Republic, and how greatly your return would eclipse the five kings. For that reason they resolved to keep you away from Paris; for that reason exclusively they appointed you first plenipotentiary at the congress about to be opened at Rastadt, and intrusted the task to you to exert yourself here for the conclusion of peace. They wanted to chain the lion and make him feel that he has got a master whom he must obey.”

“But the lion will break the chain, and he will not obey,” exclaimed Bonaparte, angrily. “I shall leave Rastadt on this very day and hasten to Paris.”

“Wait a few days, general,” said Josephine, smiling. “It will be unnecessary for you to take violent steps, my friends Botot and Charles having worked with me for you. Botot alone not being sufficiently powerful, inasmuch as he could influence none but Barras, I sent Charles to his assistance in order to act upon Madame Tallien. And the stratagem was successful. Take this letter which I received only yesterday through a special messenger from Botot—you know Botot’s handwriting, I suppose?”

“是的，我知道。”

“Well, then, satisfy yourself that he has really written it,” said Josephine, drawing a sheet of paper from her memorandum-book and handing it to Bonaparte.

He glanced at it without touching the paper. “Yes, it is Botot’s handwriting,” he murmured.

“Read it, general,” said Josephine.

“I do not want to read it; I believe all you tell me!” he exclaimed, impetuously.

“I shall read it to you,” she said, “for the contents will interest you. Listen therefore: ‘Adored Citoyenne Josephine.—We have reached the goal—we have conquered! The Directory have at length listened to wise remonstrances. They have perceived that they stand in need of a strong and powerful arm to support them, and of a pillar to lean against. They will recall Bonaparte in order that he may become their pillar and arm. In a few days a courier will reach Bonaparte at Rastadt and recall him to Paris.—BOTOT.’ That is all there is in the letter, General; it contains nothing about love, but only speaks of you.”

“I see that I am the happiest of mortals,” exclaimed Bonaparte, joyfully; “for I shall return to Paris, and my beautiful, noble, and adored Josephine will accompany me.”

“No, general,” she said, solemnly, “I shall return to Italy; I shall bury myself in some convent in order to weep there over the short dream of my happiness, and to pray for you. Now I have told you every thing I had to say to you. I have replied to your reproaches. You see that I have meanly profited by the love of these poor men, that I have made a disgraceful use of the most sacred feeling in order to promote your interests. I did so secretly, for I told you already, general, your valorous hand knows better how to wield the sword than to carry on intrigues. A strong grasp of this hand might have easily destroyed the whole artificial web of my plans, and for this reason I was silent. But I counted on your confidence, on your esteem. I perceive now, however, that I do not possess them, and this separates us forever. Unreserved confidence is not only the nourishment that imparts life to friendship, but without it love also pines away and dies.[47]Josephine’s own words.—Vide Le Normand, vol. i., p. 248. Farewell, then, general; I forgive your distrust, but I cannot expose myself any longer to your anger. Farewell!”

She bowed and turned to the door. But Bonaparte followed her, and keeping her back with both hands, he said, in a voice trembling with emotion: “Where are you going, Josephine?”

“I told you already,” she sighed, painfully; “I am going to a convent to weep and pray for you.”

“That means that you want to kill me!” he exclaimed, with flaming eyes. “For you know I cannot live without you. If I had to lose you, your love, your charming person, I would lose every thing rendering life pleasant and desirable for me. Josephine, you are to me a world that is incomprehensible to me, and every day I love you more passionately. Even when I do not see you, my love for you is constantly growing; for absence only destroys small passions; it increases great passions.[48]Bonaparte’s words.—Vide “Memoires d’une Contemporaine,” vol. ii., p. 363. My heart never felt any of the former. It proudly refused to fall in love, but you have filled it with a boundless passion, with an intoxication that seems to be almost degrading. You were always the predominant idea of my soul; your whims even were sacred laws for me. To see you is my highest bliss; you are beautiful and enchanting; your gentle, angelic soul is depicted in your features. Oh, I adore you just as you are; if you had been younger, I should have loved you less intensely. Every thing you do seems virtuous to me; every thing you like seems honorable to me. Glory is only valuable to me inasmuch as it is agreeable to you and flatters your vanity. Your portrait always rests on my heart, and whenever I am far from you, not an hour passes without my looking at it and covering it with kisses.[49]Vide “Correspondance inedite avec Josephine,” Lettre v. The glass broke the other day when I pressed it too violently against my breast. My despair knew no bounds, for love is superstitious, and every thing seems ominous to it. I took it for an announcement of your death, and my eyes knew no sleep, my heart knew no rest, till the courier whom I immediately dispatched to you, had brought me the news that you were well, and that no accident had befallen you.[50]“Memoires sur Napoleon, par Constant,” vol. i.. p. 809. See, woman, woman, such is my love! Will you now tell me again that you wish to leave me?”

“I must, general,” she said, firmly. “Love cannot be lasting without esteem, and you do not esteem me. Your suspicion has dishonored me, and a dishonored and insulted woman cannot be your wife any longer. Farewell!”

She wanted to disengage herself from his hands, but he held her only the more firmly. “Josephine,” he said, in a hollow voice, “listen to me, do not drive me to despair, for it would kill me to lose you. No duty, no title would attach me any longer to earth. Men are so contemptible, life is so wretched—you alone extinguish the ignominy of mankind in my eyes.[51]“Correspondance inedite avec Josephine,” p. 875 Without you there is no hope, no happiness. I love you boundlessly.”

“No, general, you despise me; you do not love me!”

“No, no!” he shouted, wildly stamping his foot. “If you go on in this manner, I shall drop dead at your feet. Do not torment me so dreadfully. Remember what I have often told you: Nature has given to me a strong, decided soul, but it has made you of gauze and lace. You say I do not love. Hear it, then, for the last time. Since you have been away from me, I have not passed a single day without loving you, not a single night without mentally pressing you to my heart. I have not taken a single cup of tea without cursing the glory and ambition separating me from the soul of my life.[52]“Correspondance,” etc., p. 532. Amidst my absorbing occupations—at the head of my troops, on the march and in the field—my heavenly Josephine ever was foremost in my heart. She occupied my mind; she absorbed my thoughts. If I left you with the impetuosity of the Rhone, I only did so in order to return the sooner to your side. If I ran from my bed at night and continued working, I did so for the purpose of accelerating the moment of our reunion. The most beautiful women surrounded me, smiled upon me, gave me hopes of their favor, and tried to please me, but none of them resembled you; none had the gentle and melodious features so deeply imprinted on my heart. I only saw you, only thought of you, and that rendered all of them intolerable to me. I left the most beautiful women in order to throw myself on my couch and sigh, ‘When will my adored wife be again with me?’[53]同上，第。 349。
(“Correspondance,” etc., p. 532.) And if I just now gave way to an ebullition of anger, I only did so because I love you so boundlessly as to be jealous of every glance, of every smile. Forgive me, therefore, Josephine, forgive me for the sake of my infinite love! Tell me that you will think no more of it, and that you will forget and forgive every thing.”

He looked at her anxiously and inquiringly, but Josephine did not reply to his glances. She averted her eyes and remained silent.

“Josephine.” he exclaimed, perfectly beside himself, “make an end of it. Just touch my forehead; it is covered with cold perspiration, and my heart is trembling as it never trembled in battle. Make an end of it; I am utterly exhausted. Oh, Josephine, my dear Josephine, open your arms to me.”

“Well, come then, you dear, cruel husband,” she said, bursting into tears and extending her arms to him.

Bonaparte uttered a joyful cry, pressed her to his heart, and covered her with kisses.

“Now I am sure you have forgiven every thing,” he said, encircling her all the time with his arms. “You forgive my madness, my abominable jealousy?”

“I forgive every thing, Bonaparte, if you will promise not to be jealous again,” she said, with a charming smile.

“I promise never to be jealous again, but to think, whenever you give a rendezvous to another man, that you only do so for my sake, and for the purpose of conspiring for me. Ah, my excellent wife, you have worked bravely for me, and henceforth I know that I can intrust to your keeping my glory and my honor with implicit confidence. Yea, even the helm of the state I would fearlessly intrust to your hands. Pray, therefore, Josephine, pray that your husband may reach the pinnacle of distinction, for in that case I should give you a seat in my council of state and make you mistress of every thing except one point—”[54]Le Normand, vol. i. p. 341.

“And what is that?” asked Josephine, eagerly.

“The only thing I should not intrust to you, Josephine,” he said, laughing, “would be the keys of my treasury; you never would get them, my beautiful prodigal little wife of gauze, lace, diamonds, and pearls!”[55]Ibid., vol. i., p. 342.
(Le Normand, vol. i. p. 341.)

“Ah, then you would deprive me of the right to distribute charities in your name?” she asked, sadly. “Is not that the most precious and sublime duty of the wife of a great man, to conquer Heaven for him by charities while he is conquering earth by his deeds? And you would take from me the means for doing so? Yours is a wild and passionate nature, and I shall often have to heal the wounds that you have inflicted in your outbursts of anger. Happy for me if I should always be able to heal them, and if your anger should be less fatal to men than to my poor little dog, who merely wanted to defend me against your violence.”

“Poor little dog!” said Bonaparte, casting a glance of confusion upon Zephyr. “I greatly regret the occurrence, particularly as the dog was a gift from Hoche. But no lamentations of mine being able to recall Zephyr to life, Josephine, I will immortalize him at all events. He shall not find an unknown grave, like many a hero; no, we will erect to this valiant and intrepid defender of the charming fortress Josephine, a monument which shall relate his exploits to the most remote posterity. Have Zephyr packed up in a box; couriers and convoys of troops will set out to-day for Milan. They shall take the corpse along, and I will issue orders that a monument be erected to your Zephyr in the garden of our villa.[56]Bonaparte kept his word. The little victim of his Jealousy, Zephyr, the dog, was buried in the gardens of Mondeza, near Milan, and a marble monument was erected on his grave.—Le Normand, vol. i., p. 498. But now, Josephine, I must leave you; life, with its stern realities, is calling me. I must go and receive the Austrian ambassadors.”

A motley crowd of gentlemen in uniforms and glittering gala-dresses had filled the anterooms of the French embassy ever since the arrival of General Bonaparte and Josephine. All these high-born representatives of German sovereigns and states hastened to do homage to the French lady and to commend themselves to the benevolence and favor of the victorious general of the republic. But the doors of the general and of his wife were as difficult to open as those of the French ambassadors, Bonnier, Jean Debry, and Roberjot. General Bonaparte had received the Austrian ambassadors, and returned their visit. But nobody else had been admitted to him during the first day. The ambassadors, therefore, flocked the more eagerly on this second day after his arrival to the anterooms of the French ambassadors, for every one wanted to be the first to win for his sovereign and for his state the good-will of the French conqueror. Every one wished to obtain advantages, to avert mischief, and to beg for favors.

Happy were they already who had only succeeded in penetrating into the anterooms of the French embassy, for a good deal of money had to be spent in order to open those doors. In front of them stood the footmen of the ambassadors with grave, stern countenances, refusing to admit any but those who had been previously recommended to them, or who knew now how to gain their favor by substantial rewards.[57]The employes of the French embassy, from the first secretary down to the lowest footman and cook, received handsome gifts at the hands of the German delegates, for every one was anxious to secure the goodwill of the French representatives; and in obedience to the old trick of diplomatists, they tried to gain the favor of the masters by means of that of their servants. The latter made a very handsome thing out of it.—Vide Hausser, vol. ii., p. 163. And when they finally, by means of such persuasive gifts, had succeeded in crossing the threshold of the anteroom, they found there the clerks and secretaries of the French gentlemen, and these men again barred the door of the cabinet occupied by the ambassadors themselves. These clerks and secretaries had to be bribed likewise by solicitations, flatteries, and money; only, instead of satisfying them with silver, as in the case of the doorkeepers, they had to give them heavy gold pieces.

Having finally overcome all these obstacles—having now penetrated into the presence of the French diplomatists—the ambassadors of the German powers met with a haughty reserve instead of the kindness they had hoped for, and with sarcastic sneers in lieu of a warm reception. It was in vain for Germany thus to humble herself and to crouch in the dust. France was too well aware of her victories and superiority, and the servility of the German aristocracy only excited contempt and scorn, which the French gentlemen did not refrain from hurling into the faces of the humble solicitors. The greater the abjectness of the latter, the more overbearing the haughty demeanor of the former, and both gained the firm conviction that France held the happiness and quiet of Germany in her hands, and that France alone had the power to secure to the German princes the possession of their states, to enlarge their dominions, or to deprive them thereof, just as she pleased, and without paying any deference to the wishes of the Germans themselves.

To-day, however, all these distinguished men—the counts and barons of the empire, the bishops and other ecclesiastical dignitaries—had not appeared for the purpose of conquering the favor of the three French stars—to-day a new constellation had arisen on the sky of Rastadt, and they wanted to stare at it—they wanted to admire Bonaparte and Josephine.

But Bonaparte took hardly any notice of the crowd assembled in the anteroom. His hands folded on his back, he was pacing his room, and listening with rapt attention to the accounts the three French ambassadors were giving him concerning the policy they had pursued up to the present time.

“We have done every thing in our power to spread republican notions hereabouts,” said Jean Debry, at the conclusion of his lengthy remarks. “We have sent agents to all of these small German states for the purpose of enlightening the people about their dignity, their rights, and the disgrace of submitting to miserable princes, instead of being free and great under the wholesome influence of republican institutions.”

“We have, moreover, even here, excellent spies among the ambassadors,” said Roberjot, “and through them we have skilfully fanned the flames of that discord which seems to be the bane of Germany. It is true, they hold secret meetings every day in order to agree on a harmonious line of policy, but discord, jealousy, and covetousness always accompany them to those meetings, and they are therefore never able to agree about any thing. Besides, these German noblemen are very talkative, hence we find out all their secrets, and it is an easy task for us to foil every scheme of theirs. Every one of them is anxious to enlarge his possessions; we therefore give them hopes of acquiring new territory at the expense of their neighbors, and thereby greatly increase the discord and confusion prevailing among them. We fill the ambassadors of the secondary princes, and especially those of the ecclesiastical sovereigns, with distrust against the more powerful German states, and intimate to them that the latter are trying to aggrandize themselves at their expense, and that they have asked the consent of France to do so. We inform the first-class governments of the desire of the smaller princes to enlarge their dominions, and caution them against placing implicit trust in their representations. Thus we sow the seeds of discord among these princely hirelings, and endeavor to undermine the thrones of Germany.”

“Germany must throw off all her princes like ripe ulcers,” exclaimed Bonnier, scornfully. “These numerous thrones beyond the Rhine are dangerous and fatal to our sublime and indivisible French Republic—bad examples spoiling good manners. Every throne must disappear from the face of the earth, and freedom and equality must shine throughout the whole world like the sun.”

“You are right,” said Bonaparte, gravely. “It is our duty to disseminate our principles among these Germans, who are living in slavery as yet, and to assist the poor serfs in obtaining their liberty. Germany must become a confederate republic, and discord is the best sword wherewith to attack these princely hirelings. But what does the Swedish ambassador—whose name I noticed on the list of applicants for interviews with myself—here among the representatives of the German princes?”

“He pretends to participate in the congress of peace because Sweden warranted the execution of the treaty of Westphalia,” exclaimed Jean Debry, shrugging his shoulders.

“Bah! that is a most ridiculous pretext,” said Bonnier, gloomily. “This M. Fersen is a royalist. The political part played by this diplomatist at the court of Louis Capet, and afterward continued by him, is only too well known. He now tries to dazzle us by his kindness merely for the purpose of laying a trap for the French Republic.”

“Ah, we shall show to the gentleman that the Republic has got an open eye and a firm hand, and that it discovers and tears all such meshes and traps,” said Bonaparte, impetuously. “But we have done business enough for to-day, and I will go and receive the ambassadors who have been waiting here for a long while in the ante-room.”

He saluted the three gentlemen with a familiar nod, and then repaired to the reception-room, the doors of which were opened at last to admit the German ambassadors.

It was a brilliant crowd now entering in a solemn procession through the opened folding-doors. The ambassadors of every German sovereign were in attendance; only the representatives of Austria and Prussia, whom Bonaparte had received already in a special audience, were absent.

This German peace delegation, which now entered the room to do homage to the French general, was a very large one. There were first the ambassadors of Bavaria and Saxony, of Baden and Wurtemberg, of Hanover and Mecklenburg; then followed the host of the small princes and noblemen, by whose side the ecclesiastical dignitaries, the representatives of the electors and bishops, were walking in.[58]The whole German peace delegation consisted of seventy-nine persons, and all these seventy-nine distinguished men, the ambassadors of emperor, kings, and princes, tried to gain the favor of the ambassadors of France: and the three gentlemen, representing the great Republic, seemed more powerful and influential than all the representatives of Germany.

Bonaparte stood proudly erect in the middle of the room, his gloomy glances inspecting the gentlemen, who now commenced stationing themselves on both sides of the apartment. A master of ceremonies, who had been previously selected for the meetings of the peace congress, now walked solemnly through the ranks and announced in a ringing voice the name, rank, and position of every ambassador.

“His excellency Count Fersen,” he shouted just now, in a solemn manner, “ambassador of his majesty the King of Sweden and Duke of Pomerania.”

Count Fersen had not yet finished his ceremonious obeisance, When Bonaparte rapidly approached him.

“Just tell me, sir,” he exclaimed, bluntly; “what is the name of the minister whom Sweden has now in Paris?”

Count Fersen looked in evident surprise and confusion at the pale face of the general, whose flaming eyes were fixed upon him with an angry expression.

“I do not know,” he faltered, “I am not quite sure—”

“Ah, sir, you know only too well that Sweden has not yet given a successor to M. de Haill,” Bonaparte interrupted him violently, “and that the only ambassador whom she was willing to send had to be rejected by the Directory. You were this ambassador whom the Directory would not tolerate in Paris. Friendly ties have united France and Sweden for a long series of years, and I believe Sweden ought to appreciate and recognize their importance at the present time more than ever. How, then, is the conduct of the court of Stockholm to be explained, that tries to make it its special business to send everywhere, either to Paris or wherever the plenipotentiaries of France may be seen, ministers and ambassadors who must be peculiarly distasteful to every citizen of France?”

“That is certainly not the intention of my court,” exclaimed Count Fersen, hastily.

“That may be,” said Bonaparte, proudly, “but I should like to know if the King of Sweden would remain indifferent in case a French ambassador should try to instigate an insurrection of the people of Stockholm against him! The French Republic cannot permit men, whose connection with the old court of France is a matter of notoriety, to appear in official capacities, and thus to irritate and humble the republican ambassadors, the representatives of the first nation on earth, who, before consulting her policy, knows how to maintain her dignity.”

“I shall immediately set out for Stockholm in order to communicate these views of the conqueror of Italy to my court,” said Count Fersen, pale with shame and mortification.

“Do so, set out at once,” exclaimed Bonaparte, impetuously, “and tell your master, unless he should conclude to pursue a different policy, I will send him some day a skilful diplomatic Gascon who knows how to simplify the machine and make it go less rapidly. King Gustavus will perhaps find out, when it is too late, and at his own expense, that the reins of government must be firmly held in one hand, and the other skilfully wield the sword, while it is yet time. Go, sir, and inform your king of what I have told you!”

Count Fersen made no reply; he merely bowed hastily and silently, and, beckoning his attaches who were standing behind him, he left the room with his suite.[59]This whole scene actually took place, and contains only such words as really were exchanged between Bonaparte and Fersen.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 64. Le Normand, Memoires, vol. i., p. 263.

Bonaparte’s flashing eyes followed him until he had disappeared, and then the general turned once more to the ambassadors.

“I could not suffer a traitor and enemy in our assembly,” he said, in a loud and firm voice. “We are here in order to make peace, while he was secretly anxious for a renewal of war, and was bent upon sowing the evil seeds of discord among us. Let us all endeavor to make peace, gentlemen, to the best of our power. Do not compel me to enter the lists against you, too, for the struggle could not be doubtful between a nation that has just conquered her liberty, and princes who tried to deprive her of it again. If you reject to-day the pacific overtures I shall make to you, I shall impose other conditions to-morrow; but woe unto him among you, who should refuse my mediation; for in that case I should overthrow the whole framework of a false policy, and the thrones standing on a weak foundation would soon break down. I speak to you with the frankness of a soldier and the noble pride of a victorious general; I caution you because I have the welfare of the nations at heart, who more than ever need the blessings of peace. It is now for you to say whether we shall have war or peace, and it will solely depend upon your submissiveness whether France will be able to conclude an honorable peace with her German neighbors, or whether you will compel us to take up arms once more. But in that case woe unto you, for we should retaliate in the most terrible manner on those who would dare to oppose us!”[60]Bonaparte’s own words.—Vide Le Normand, vol. i.. p. 964

He paused and rapidly glanced at the assembled gentlemen. They stood before him with grave and gloomy faces, but none of them were courageous enough to make a dignified reply to the proud and humiliating words of the French general. The ambassadors of Germany received the severe lecture of the representative of France with silent submissiveness.

An imperceptible smile played on Bonaparte’s lips. He saluted the gentlemen with a slight nod and rapidly returned to his own rooms.

Bonaparte had scarcely reached his room and just closed the door, when the opposite door opened, and the entering footman announced, “His excellency Count Louis Cobenzl.” Bonaparte waved his hand and went to meet the count in the anteroom, where he welcomed him with the utmost kindness and courtesy.

The two gentlemen thereupon reentered the room hand in hand, a pleasant smile playing on their lips, while both were assuring each other of their kind intentions, but at the same time secretly entertaining the ardent desire and purpose to divine their mutual thoughts, but to conceal their own schemes. The general, with great politeness, offered the seat of honor on the sofa to the count, and sat down in an arm-chair in front of him. A small round table with writing-materials and paper stood between them, forming as it were the frontier between Austria and France.

“So the ardent desires of Austria are fulfilled now,” said Count Cobenzl, with a sweet smile. “France will no longer oppose us; she will be our friend and ally.”

“France will welcome this new friend and ally of hers,” exclaimed Bonaparte, feelingly, “provided Austria’s intentions are loyal. Ah, my dear count, no protestations now! In politics words prove nothing, deeds every thing. Let Austria, then, prove by her deeds that she really desires to keep up a good understanding with France, and that she has given up forever her hostile attitude toward the republic.”

“But has not Austria given proof of her intentions toward France already?” asked the count, in surprise. “Has not his majesty the emperor declared his willingness to resume diplomatic relations with France, and thereby formally and before the whole world to recognize the French Republic?”

“Sir,” exclaimed Bonaparte, “the French Republic does not humbly solicit to be recognized. She compels hostile states to recognize her, for, like the sun, she sheds her light over the whole globe, and she would pierce the eyes of such as would feign not to see her, rendering them blind for all time to come![61]Bonaparte’s own words.—Vide Constant, vol. i., p. 284. Austria beheld this radiant sun of the republic at Lodi, at Rivoli, Arcole, and Mantua; whence, then, would she derive courage enough to refuse recognizing France? But instead of words, prove to us by your actions that your friendship is honest and sincere.”

“We are ready to do so,” said Count Cobenzl, politely. “Austria is ready to give a public and brilliant proof of her devotion to the great general whose glory is now filling the whole world with astonishment and admiration. His majesty the emperor, in the letter which I had the honor of delivering to you some time ago, told you already in eloquent words how greatly he admired the conqueror of Italy, and how gladly his majesty, if it were in his power, would grant you such favors as would be agreeable to you. But at that time you rejected all such offers, general, and nothing could induce you to accept of what we wished to present to you. It seemed not to have value enough to—”

“Rather say, count, it was all too valuable not to be looked upon as a bribe,” exclaimed Bonaparte. “I was negotiating with you, sword in hand, and it would not have been becoming of me to lay the sword aside in order to fill my hands with your presents.”

“But now, general, now that we have laid the sword aside, that we have made peace, that we have exchanged the ratifications of the treaty—now that you tender your hand to Austria in friendship and peace, you might permit his majesty the Emperor of Austria to deposit something in your friendly hand, that might prove to you how sincerely my august master the emperor is devoted to you.”

“And what does the emperor desire to deposit in my hand?” asked Bonaparte, with a quiet smile.

Count Cobenzl hesitated a little before making a reply. “General,” he then said, “when I see you thus before me in your marble beauty, I am involuntarily reminded of the heroes of Rome and Greece, who have immortalized the glory of their countries, but whom the admiration of posterity had to compensate for the ingratitude of their contemporaries. General, republics never were grateful to their great men, and only too often have they stigmatized their most glorious deeds; for the republics deprecated the greatness of their heroes, because he who distinguished himself, thereby annulled the equality and fraternity of all the citizens. Pericles was banished from Athens, and Julius Caesar was assassinated! General, will modern republics be more grateful than those of antiquity? For my part, I dare say, it is rather doubtful, and the French being descendants of the Romans, I am afraid they will not prove any more grateful than the latter. The emperor, my august master, shares my fears, and as he loves and venerates you, he would like to exalt you so high as to prevent the hands of the political factions from reaching up to you. His majesty therefore proposes to create a principality for you in Germany, and to make you the sovereign ruler of two hundred thousand people, appointing you at the same time a prince of the German empire, and giving you a seat and vote at the imperial diet.[62]Historical.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. V., p. 67. General, do you accept my emperor’s offer?”

“To become the emperor’s vassal?” asked Bonaparte, with an imperceptible smile. “A small prince of the German empire who on solemn occasions might be deemed worthy to present the wash-basin to the emperor, or to be his train bearer, while every king and elector would outrank me. No, my dear count, I do not accept the offer. I sincerely thank the emperor for the interest he takes in my welfare, but I must accept no gifts or favors not coming directly from the French nation, and I shall always be satisfied with the income bestowed upon me by the latter,”[63]Bonaparte’s own reply.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. V., p. 51.

“You reject the emperor’s offer?” asked Cobenzl, mournfully—“you disdain wearing a crown?”

“If the crown should crush the few laurels with which my victories have adorned me, yes; in that case I should prefer to decline the crown in favor of my laurels. And, my dear count, if I had been so anxious for a crown, I might have picked up one of those crowns that fell down at my feet in Italy. But I preferred to crush them under my heels, just as St. George crushed the dragon; and the gold of the crushed crowns, as it behooved a good and dutiful son, I laid down on the altar of the great French Republic. So you see I am not longing for crowns. If I might follow my own inclinations, I should return to the silence and obscurity of my former life, and I should lay my sword aside in order to live only as a peaceable citizen.”

“Oh, general, if you should do so,” exclaimed Cobenzl, “there would soon be men to pick up your sword in order to fight with it against the Republic and to recall the Bourbons to the throne of the lilies.”

A rapid flash from Bonaparte’s eyes struck the count’s face and met his sharp, searching glance.

“Count Cobenzl,” he said, quietly and coldly, “the lilies of France have dropped from their stems, and, being drowned in the blood of the guillotine, they could not be made to bloom again. He would be a poor, short-sighted gardener who would try to draw flowers from seeds dead and devoid of germs. And believe me, we are no such poor, short-sighted gardeners in France. You alluded just now to the ingratitude of republics, and you apprehended lest I might likewise suffer thereby. Let me assure you, however, that even my country’s ingratitude would be dearer to me than the gratitude of a foreign power, and that the crown of thorns, which France may press upon my head, would seem to me more honorable than the coronet with which an enemy of France might adorn my brow. And now, count, a truce to such trifling matters! Let us speak about business affairs. We have signed the ratifications of peace, which are to be laid before the congress; it only remains for us to sign the secret articles which shall be known by none but France and Austria. The main point is the evacuation of Mentz by your troops, so that our army may ocupy the fortress.”

“I am afraid, general, this very point will be a stumbling-block for the members of the congress. They will raise a terrible hue and cry as soon as they learn that we have surrendered Mentz.”

“Let these gentlemen say what they please,” said Bonaparte, contemptuously; “we have called them hither that they may talk, and while they are talking, we shall act!”

“They will say that Austria has sacrificed the welfare and greatness of Germany to her own private interests,” exclaimed Count Cobenzl, anxiously.

“Fools are they who care for what people will say!” replied Bonaparte, shrugging his shoulders. “A prudent man will pursue his path directly toward his aim, and the hum of babblers never disturbs him. Hear, then, my last words: in case the Austrian troops do not leave Mentz within one week, and surrender the fortress to the French forces, the French army will remain in Venice, and I would sooner send the latter city to the bottom of the sea than to let Austria have a single stone of hers. Mentz must be ours, or I tear the treaty, and hostilities will recommence!”

And Bonaparte, with a furious gesture, seized the papers lying on the table and was about to tear them, when Count Cobenzl suddenly jumped up and grasped his hands.

“General,” he said, imploringly, “what are you going to do?”

“What am I going to do?” exclaimed Bonaparte, in a thundering voice, “I am going to tear a treaty of peace, which you merely wanted to sign with words, but not with deeds! Oh, that was the nice little trick of your diplomacy, then! With your prince’s coronet you wanted to dazzle my eyes—with the two hundred thousand subjects you offered me just now, you wanted me to corrupt my soul, and induce me to barter away the honor and greatness of France for the miserable people of a petty German prince! No, sir. I shall not sell my honor at so low a price. I stand here in the name of the French Republic and ask you, the representative of Austria, to fulfil what we have agreed upon at Campo Formic. Mentz must be ours even before our troops leave Venice. If you refuse that, it is a plain infringement of the treaty, and hostilities will be resumed. Now, sir, come to a decision. I am only a soldier, and but a poor diplomatist, for with my sword and with my word I always directly strike at my aim. In short, then, count, will you withdraw your troops from Mentz and from the other fortresses on the Rhine, and surrender Mentz to our army? Yes, or no?”

“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Count Cobenzl, with a sigh, “we will fulfil your wishes—we will withdraw our troops from Mentz and surrender the fortress to the French.”

“When will the surrender take place? As speedily as possible, if you please.”

“On the ninth of December, general.”

“Very well, on the ninth of December. The matter is settled, then.”

“But let there be no solemn ceremonies at the surrender,” said the count, imploringly. “Let our troops withdraw quietly—let your forces occupy the place in the same manner, so that when the delegates of the German empire, assembled in congress in this city, and to whom the Emperor of Germany has solemnly guaranteed the entire integrity and inviolability of the empire, hear the news of the transaction, the latter may be already an accomplished fact, to which every one must submit.”

“Be it so, if that be Austria’s desire,” said Bonaparte, smiling.

“And now we will consider the other secret articles. The Austrian troops retire from the German empire up to the line of the Inn and Lech, occupying hereafter only Austrian territory.”

“Yes, general; in return for all these concessions on our part, the French troops will evacuate on the thirtieth of December the fortresses and territory of Venice, which has been ceded to Austria by the treaty of Campo Formio, and retire behind the line of demarcation.”

“Granted! At the same time the troops of the republic seize the tete-de-pont at Mannheim either by intimidating the isolated garrison, or by making a sudden dash at the position,[64]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat.” The French took the tete-de-pont at Mannheim by assault, on the 15th of January, 1798, the garrison refusing to evacuate it. Mentz surrendered without firing a gun, and during the night of the 28th of December 1797, the French entered this great fortress, which was thereupon annexed to the French Republic and during the continuation of the negotiations here at Rastadt, the French forces leave the left bank of the Rhine and occupy the right bank from Basle to Mentz.”

“Granted,” sighed Count Cobenzl. “Austria yields the frontier of the Rhine to France—that is, by the simultaneous retreat of her own forces she surrenders to the republic the most important points of the German empire, including Ehrenbreitstein. The congress of the states of the German empire will deliberate, therefore, under the direct influence produced by the immediate neighborhood of a French army.”

“In case the delegates of Germany do not like the looks of the French soldiers, they may turn their eyes to the other side, where the Austrian army is encamped on the Danube and on the Lech,” exclaimed Bonaparte. “Thus the delegates will be surrounded by two armies. This fact may interfere a little with the freedom of speech during the session of congress, but it will be advantageous, too, inasmuch as it will induce the delegates to accelerate their labors somewhat, and to finish their task sooner than they would have done under different circumstances.”

“It is true, right in the face of these two armies at least the small German princes will not dare to oppose the German emperor in ceding the entire left bank of the Rhine to France. But it is only just and equitable for us to indemnify them for their losses. In one of our secret articles, therefore, we should acknowledge the obligation of promising compensations to the princes and electors—”

“Yes, let us promise compensations to them,” said Bonaparte, with a tinge of sarcasm. “As to the possessions of Prussia on the left bank of the Rhine, France declares her readiness to give them back to the King of Prussia.”

“But both powers agree not to allow the King of Prussia to acquire any new territory,” exclaimed Count Cobenzl, hastily.

“Yes, that was our agreement at Campo Formio,” said Bonaparte. “Austria’s increase of territory, besides Venice, will consist of Salzburg and a piece of Upper Bavaria. In case she should make further conquests in the adjoining states, France may claim a further aggrandizement on the right bank of the Rhine.”[65]Schlosser’s “History of the Eighteenth Century,” vol. v., p. 43.

“Yes, that was the last secret article of the preliminaries of Campo Formio,” said Cobenzl, sighing.

“Then we have remained entirely faithful to our agreement,” said Bonaparte. “We have not made any alterations whatever in the programme which we agreed upon and deposed in writing at the castle of Campo Formio. It only remains for us to-day to sign these secret articles.”

He took the pen and hastily signed the two documents spread out on the table.

Count Cobenzl signed them also; but his hand was trembling a little while he was writing, and his face was clouded and gloomy. Perhaps he could not help feeling that Austria just now was signing the misery and disgrace of Germany in order to purchase thereby some provinces, and that Austria enlarged her territory at the expense of the empire whose emperor was her own ruler—Francis II. Their business being finished, the two plenipotentiaries rose, and Count Cobenzl withdrew. Bonaparte accompanied him again to the door of the anteroom, and then returned to his cabinet.

A proud, triumphant smile was now playing on his pale, narrow lips, and his eyes were beaming and flashing in an almost sinister manner. Stepping back to the table, he fixed his eyes upon the document with the two signatures.

“The left bank of the Rhine is ours!” he said, heavily laying his hand upon the paper. “But the right bank?”

He shook his head, and folding his arms upon his back, he commenced pacing the room, absorbed in profound reflections. His features had now resumed their marble tranquillity; it was again the apparation of Julius Caesar that was walking up and down there with inaudible steps, and the old thoughts of Julius Caesar, those thoughts for which he had to suffer death, seemed to revive again in Bonaparte’s mind, for at one time he whispered, “A crown for me! A crown in Germany. It would be too small for me! If my hand is to grasp a crown, it must—”

He paused and gazed fixedly at the wall as if he saw the future there, that arose before him in a strange phantasmagoria.

After a long pause, he started and seemed to awake from a dream.

“I believe I will read the letter once more, which I received yesterday by mail,” he murmured, in an almost inaudible tone. “It is a wonderful letter, and I really would like to know who wrote it.”

He drew a folded paper from his bosom and opened it. Stepping into a bay window, he perused the letter with slow, deliberate glances. The bright daylight illuminated his profile and rendered its antique beauty even more conspicuous. Profound silence surrounded him, and nothing was heard hut his soft and slow respiration and the rustling of the paper.

When he had finished it, he commenced perusing it again, but this time he seemed to be anxious to hear what he was reading. He read it, however, in a very low and subdued voice, and amidst the silence surrounding him the words that fell from the lips of the resurrected Caesar sounded like the weird whispers of spirits.

“You have to choose now between so great an alternative,” he read, “that however bold your character may be, you must be uncertain as to the determination you have to come to, if you are to choose between respect and hatred, between glory or disgrace, between exalted power or an abject insignificance, that would lead you to the scaffold, and, finally, between the immortality of a great man, or that of a punished partisan.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Bonaparte, and his voice was now loud and firm. “Ah! I shall never hesitate between such alternatives. I should bear disgrace, abject insignificance, and an utter lack of power? And my hand should not be withered—it should be able yet to grasp a sword and pierce my breast with it?”

He lowered his eyes again and continued reading: “You have to choose between three parts: the first is to return quietly to France and to live there as a plain and unassuming citizen; the second, to return to France at the head of an army and there to become the leader of a party; the third, to establish a great empire in Italy and proclaim yourself king of the peninsula. I advise you to do so, and to grasp the Italian crown with a firm hand.”[66]Sabatier de Castres, living at that time in exile at Hamburg, had written this anonymous letter to Bonaparte.

“He is a fool,” said Bonaparte, “who believes a man might make himself king of Italy and maintain himself on the throne, unless he previously has seized the sovereign power in France,[67]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 69. But no one must hear these thoughts! I will go to Josephine!”

He hastily folded the paper and concealed it again in his bosom. Then stepping to the looking-glass, he closely scanned his face in order to see whether or not it might betray his thoughts; and when he had found it to be as pale and impassive as ever, he turned round and left the room.

Four days had elapsed since Bonaparte’s arrival at Rastadt, and the congress had profited by them in order to give the most brilliant festivals to the French general and his beautiful wife. All those ambassadors, counts, barons, bishops, and diplomatists seemed to have assembled at Rastadt for the sole purpose of giving banquets, tea-parties, and balls; no one thought of attending to business, and all more serious ideas seemed to have been utterly banished, while every one spoke of the gorgeous decorations of the ball-rooms and of the magnificence of the state dinners, where the most enthusiastic toasts were drunk in honor of the victorious French general; and the people seemed most anxious entirely to forget poor, suffering, and patient Germany.

Josephine participated in these festivities with her innate cheerfulness and vivacity. She was the queen of every party; every one was doing homage to her; every one was bent upon flattering her in order to catch an affable word, a pleasant glance from her; and, encouraged by her unvaried kindness, to solicit her intercession with her husband, in whose hands alone the destinies of the German princes and their states now seemed to lie.

But while Josephine’s radiant smiles were delighting every one—while she was promising to all to intercede for them with her husband, Bonaparte’s countenance remained grave and moody, and it was only in a surly mood that he attended the festivals that were given in his honor. His threatening glances had frequently already been fixed upon his wife, and those moody apprehensions, ever alive in his jealous breast, had whispered to him: “Josephine has deceived you again! In order to silence your reproaches, she invented a beautiful story, in which there is not a word of truth, for the letter that was to call you back to Paris does not arrive, and the Directory keeps you here at Rastadt.”

And while he was indulging in such reflections, his features assumed a sinister expression, and his lips muttered: “Woe to Josephine, if she should have deceived me!”

Thus the fourth day had arrived, and the Bavarian ambassador was to give a brilliant soiree. Bonaparte had promised to be present, but he had said to Josephine, in a threatening manner, that he would attend only if the expected courier from Paris did arrive in the course of the day, so that he might profit by the Bavarian ambassador’s party to take leave of all those “fawning and slavish representatives of the German empire.”

But no courier had made his appearance during the whole morning. Bonaparte had retired to his closet and was pacing the room like an angry lion in his cage. All at once, however, the door was hastily opened, and Josephine entered with a radiant face, holding in her uplifted right hand a large sealed letter.

“Bonaparte!” she shouted, in a jubilant voice, “can you guess what I have got here?”

He ran toward her and wanted to seize the letter. But Josephine would not let him have it, and concealed it behind her back. “Stop, my dear sir,” she said. “First you must beg my pardon for the evil thoughts I have read on your forehead during the last few days. Oh, my excellent general, you are a poor sinner, and I really do not know if I am at liberty to grant you absolution and to open the gates of paradise to you.”

“But what have I done, Josephine?” he asked. “Was I not as patient as a lamb? Did I not allow myself to be led like a dancing-bear from festival to festival? Did I not look on with the patience of an angel while every one was making love to you, and while you were lavishing smiles and encouraging, kind glances in all directions?”

“What have you done, Bonaparte?” she retorted gravely. “You inwardly calumniated your Josephine. You accused her in your heart, and day and night the following words were written on your forehead in flaming characters: ‘Josephine has deceived me.’ Do you pretend to deny it, sir?”

“No,” said Bonaparte, “I will not deny any thing, dear, lovely expounder of my heart! I confess my sins, and implore your forgiveness. But now, Josephine, be kind enough not to let me wait any longer. Let me have the letter!”

“Hush, sir! this letter is not directed to you, but to myself,” replied Josephine, smiling.

Bonaparte angrily stamped his foot. “Not to me!” he exclaimed, furiously. “Then is it not from the Directory—it does not call me back from Rastadt?—”

“Hush, Bonaparte!” said Josephine, smiling, “must you always effervesce like the stormy sea that roared around your cradle, you big child? Be quiet now, and let me read the letter to you. Will you let me do so?”

“Yes, I will,” said Bonaparte, hastily. “Read, I implore you, read!”

Josephine made a profound, ceremonious obeisance, and withdrawing her hand with the letter from her back, she unfolded several sheets of paper.

“Here is first a letter from my friend Botot,” she said, “just listen:—‘Citoyenne Generale: The Directory wished to send off to-day a courier with the enclosed dispatches to General Bonaparte. I induced the gentlemen, however, to intrust that dispatch to myself, and to permit me to send it to you instead of the general. It is to yourself chiefly that the general is indebted for the contents of this dispatch from the Directory. It is but just, therefore, Citoyenne, that you should have the pleasure of handing it to him. Do so, Citoyenne, and at the same time beg your husband not to forget your and his friend.—Botot.’ That is my letter Bonaparte, and here, my friend, is the enclosure for yourself. You see, I am devoid of the common weakness of woman, I am not inquisitive, for the seal is not violated, as you may see yourself.”

And with a charming smile she handed the letter to Bonaparte. But he did not take it.

“Break the seal, my Josephine,” he said, profoundly moved. “I want to learn the contents of the letter from your lips. If it should bring me evil tidings, they will sound less harshly when announced by you; is it joyful news, however, your voice will accompany it with the most beautiful music.”

Josephine nodded to him with a tender and grateful glance, and hastily broke the seal.

“Now pray, quick! quick!” said Bonaparte, trembling with impatience.

Josephine read:

“The executive Directory presumes, citizen general, that you have arrived at Rastadt. It is impatient to see and to weigh with you the most important interests of the country. Hence it desires you to bring the exchanged ratifications personally to Paris, and to inform us what dispositions you have taken in regard to the occupation of Mentz by our troops, in order that this event may take place without further delay. It may be, however, that you have forwarded this intelligence to us already by means of a courier or an aide-de-camp; in that case it will be kept secret until your arrival. The journey you are now going to make to Paris will first fulfil the sincere desire of the Directory to manifest to you publicly its most unbounded satisfaction with your conduct and to be the first interpreter of the nation’s gratitude toward you. Besides, it is necessary for you to be fully informed of the government’s views and intentions, and to consider in connection with it the ultimate consequences of the great operations which you will be invited to undertake; so we expect you immediately, citizen general. The executive Directory also desires you to indicate to the returning courier, who is to deliver this dispatch to you, the precise day of your arrival at Paris.”

“In the name of the Directory:”

“Barkas.”

“We shall set out at once!” exclaimed Bonaparte, radiant with joy.

“In order to arrive together with the courier?” asked Josephine, laughing, “and to lose all the triumphs which the grateful country is preparing for you? No, my impatient friend, you will patiently remain to-day by the side of your Josephine and we shall start only to-morrow. Do you promise it?”

“Well, be it so!” he exclaimed, glowing with excitement, “we will set out to-morrow for Paris. My task in Italy is accomplished; if it please God, there will be new work for me at Paris.”

“Your enemies will soon find means to drive you away from the capital, if you should be incautious, and if they should fear lest your presence might become dangerous to themselves. Nothing is more dangerous to small, insignificant souls than a great man. Remember that, my friend, and do not irritate them.”

Bonaparte eagerly grasped her hand. “Believe me,” he said, in a low voice, “as soon as I have reached Paris, I shall know what line of policy I must pursue hereafter. Two years shall not elapse ere the whole ridiculous republican edifice will be overthrown.”[68]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 60. “And then,” exclaimed Josephine, joyfully, “when you have accomplished that—when you stand as a victorious general on the ruins of the republic—you will reestablish the throne over them, I hope?”

“Yes, I will reestablish the throne,”[69]Bonaparte’s own words.—“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 70. said Bonaparte, enthusiastically.

“And your arm will place upon this throne him to whom this throne is due. Oh, my generous and noble friend, what a heavenly day it will be when the King of France by your side makes his solemn entry into Paris, for you will recall the legitimate king, Louis XVIII., from his exile.”

Bonaparte stared at her in amazement. “Do you really believe that?” he asked, with a peculiar smile.

“I have no doubt of it,” she said, innocently. “Bonaparte can do whatever he wishes to do. He has overthrown thrones in Italy, he can reestablish the throne in France. I repeat, Bonaparte can do whatever he wishes to do.”

“And do you know, then, you little fool, do you know what I really wish to do?” he asked. “I wish to be the great regulator of the destinies of Europe, or the first citizen of the globe. I feel that I have the strength to overthrow every thing and to found a new world. The astonished universe shall bow to me and be compelled to submit to my laws. Then I shall make the villains tremble, who wished to keep me away from my country.[70]Le Normand, vol. 1., p. 347. I have made the beginning already, and this miserable government has to call me back to Paris notwithstanding its own secret hostility. Soon it shall be nothing but a tool in my hands, and when I do not need this tool any longer, I shall destroy it. This government of lawyers has oppressed France long enough. It is high time for us to drive it away.”[71]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 70.

“Hush, Bonaparte, for God’s sake, hush!” said Josephine, anxiously. “Let no one here suspect your plans, for we are surrounded in this house by austere and rabid republicans, who, if they had heard your words, would arraign you as a criminal before the Directory. Intrust your plans to no one except myself, Bonaparte. Before the world remain as yet a most enthusiastic republican, and only when the decisive hour has come, throw off your tunic and exhibit your royal uniform!”

Bonaparte smiled, and encircled her neck with his arms.

“Yes, you are right,” he said; “we must be taciturn. We must bury our most secret thoughts in the deepest recesses of our souls, and intrust them to no one, not even to the beloved. But come, Josephine, I owe you my thanks yet for the joyful tidings you have brought me. You must permit me to make you a few little presents in return.”

“Give me your confidence, and I am abundantly rewarded,” said Josephine, tenderly.

“Henceforth I shall never, never distrust you,” he replied, affectionately. “We belong to each other, and no power of earth or heaven is able to separate us. You are mine and I am thine; and what is mine being thine, you must permit me to give you a trinket sent to me to-day by the city of Milan.”

“A trinket?” exclaimed Josephine, with radiant eyes; “let me see it. Is it a beautiful one?”

Bonaparte smiled. “Yes, beautiful in the eyes of those to whom glory seems more precious than diamonds and pearls,” he said, stepping to the table from which he took a small morocco casket. “See,” he said, opening it, “it is a gold medal which the city of Milan has caused to be struck in my honor, and on which it confers upon me the title of ‘The Italian.’”

“Give it to me,” exclaimed Josephine, joyfully—“give it to me, my ‘Italian!’ Let me wear this precious trinket which public favor has bestowed upon you.”

“Public favor,” he said, musingly—“public favor, it is light as zephyr, as fickle as the seasons, it passes away like the latter, and when the north wind moves it, it will disappear.”[72]Le Normand, vol. i., p. 261.

He was silent, but proceeded after a short pause in a less excited manner.

“As to my deeds,” he said, “the pen of history will trace them for our grandchildren. Either I shall have lived for a century, or I shall earn for all my great exploits nothing but silence and oblivion. Who is able to calculate the whims and predilections of history?”[73]Ibid., vol. i, p. 262.
(Le Normand, vol. i., p. 261.)

He paused again, and became absorbed in his reflections.

Josephine did not venture to arouse him from his musing. She fixed her eyes upon the large gold medal, and tried to decipher the inscription.

Bonaparte suddenly raised his head again, and turned his gloomy eyes toward Josephine. “I suppose you know,” he said, “that I have always greatly distinguished the Duke of Litalba among all Milanese, and that I have openly courted his friendship?”

“You have always manifested the greatest kindness for him,” said Josephine, “and he is gratefully devoted to you for what you have done for him.”

“Gratefully!” exclaimed Bonaparte, sarcastically. “There is no gratitude on earth, and the Duke of Litalba is as ungrateful as the rest of mankind. I called him my friend. Do you know how he has paid me for it, and what he has said of me behind my back?”

“Oh, then, they have told you libels and made you angry again by repeating to you the gossip of idle tongues?”

“They shall tell me every thing—I want to know every thing!” retorted Bonaparte, violently. “I must know my friends and my enemies. And I believed Litalba to be my friend, I believed him when he told me, with tears in his eyes, how much he was afflicted by my departure, and how devotedly he loved me. I believed him, and on the same day he said at a public casino, ‘Now at last our city will get rid of this meteor that is able all alone to set fire to the whole of Europe, and to spread the sparks of its revolutionary fire to the most remote corners of the world.’[74]Ibid., vol. I., p. 362.
(Le Normand, vol. i., p. 261.) He dared to call me a meteor, a shining nothing which after lighting up the sky for a short while explodes and dissolves itself into vapor. I shall prove to him and to the whole world that I am more than that, and if I kindle a fire in Europe, it shall be large enough to burn every enemy of mine.”

“Your glory is the fire that will consume your enemies,” said Josephine, eagerly. “You will not reply to their calumnies—your deeds will speak for themselves. Do not heed the voice of slander, my Italian, listen only to the voice of your glory. It will march before you to France like a herald, it will fill all hearts with enthusiasm, and all hearts will hail your arrival with rapturous applause—you, the victorious chieftain, the conqueror of Italy!”

“I will show you the herald I am going to send to-day to France, to be presented there in my name by General Joubert to the Directory,” replied Bonaparte. “It is a herald whose mute language will be even more eloquent than all the hymns of victory with which they may receive me. Wait here for a moment. I shall be back directly.”

He waved his hand to her and hastily left the room. Josephine’s eyes followed him with an expression of tender admiration. “What a bold mind, what a fiery heart!” she said, in a low voice. “Who will stem the bold flight of this mind, who will extinguish the flames of this heart? Who—”

The door opened, and Bonaparte returned, followed by several footmen carrying a rolled-up banner. When they had reached the middle of the room, he took it from them and told them to withdraw. As soon as the door had closed behind them, he rapidly unrolled the banner so that it floated majestically over his head.

“Ah, that is the proud victor of the bridge of Arcole!” exclaimed Josephine, enthusiastically. “Thus you must have looked when you headed the column, rushing into the hail of balls and bullets, and bearing the colors aloft in your right hand! Oh, Bonaparte, how glorious you look under your glorious banner!”

“Do not look at me, but look at the banner,” he said. “Future generations may some day take it for a monument from the fabulous times of antiquity, and yet this monument contains nothing but the truth. The Directory shall hang up this banner in its hall, and if it should try to deny or belittle my deeds, I shall point at the banner which will tell every one what has been accomplished in Italy by the French army and its general.”

Josephine looked in silent admiration at the splendid banner. It was made of the heaviest white satin, trimmed with a broad border of blue and white. Large eagles, embroidered in gold, and decorated with precious stones, filled the corners on both sides; warlike emblems, executed by the most skilful painters, filled the inside of the colored border, and inscriptions in large gold letters covered the centre.

“Read these inscriptions, Josephine,” said Bonaparte imperiously, pointing at them with his uplifted arm. “It is a simple and short history of our campaign in Italy. Read aloud, Josephine; let me hear from your lips the triumphal hymn of my army!”

Josephine seized the gold cord hanging down from the banner and thus kept it straight. Bonaparte, proudly leaning against the gilt flag-staff, which he grasped with both hands, listened smiling and with flashing eyes to Josephine, who read as follows:

“One hundred and fifty thousand prisoners; one hundred and seventy stands of colors; five hundred and fifty siege-guns; six hundred field-pieces; five pontoon parks; nine line-of-battle ships, of sixty-four guns; twelve frigates of thirty-two guns; twelve corvettes; eighteen galleys; armistice with the King of Sardinia; treaty with Genoa; armistice with the Duke of Parma; armistice with the King of Naples; armistice with the Pope; preliminaries of Leoben; treaty of Montebello with the Republic of Genoa; treaty of peace with the emperor at Campo Formio.”

“Liberty restored to the people of Bologna, Ferrara, Modena, Massacarrara, of the Romagna, of Lombardy, Brescia, Bergamo, Mantua, Cremona, Chiavenna, Bormio, and the Valtellino; further, to the people of Genoa, to the vassals of the emperor, to the people of the department of Corcyra, of the Aegean Sea and Ithaca.”

“Sent to Paris all the masterpieces of Michel Angelo, Guercino, Titian, Paul Veronese, Correggio, Albarro, the two Carracci, Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci.”[75]This wonderful banner was hung up in the hall of the Directory while the members of the latter were occupying the Luxemburg. It afterward accompanied the three consuls to the Tuileries, and was preserved there in the large reception-room. It is now in the “Dome des Invalides” in the chapel containing the emperor’s sarcophagus.

“Ah, my friend,” exclaimed Josephine, enthusiastically, “that is a leaf from history which the storms of centuries will never blow away!”

Bonaparte slowly lowered the banner until it almost covered the floor and then he muttered gloomily: “Men are like leaves in the wind; the wind blows the leaves to the ground,[76]荷马 and—but no,” he interrupted himself, “I shall write my name on every rock and every mountain in Europe, and fasten it there with iron-clasps in such a manner that no winds shall blow it away! Oh, footmen! come in, roll up the banner again, and put it back into the case!”

The footmen hastened to obey, and took the banner away. Bonaparte turned again to his wife with a smile.

“I promised you a few presents,” he said. “As yet I have given you only the medals. The best gift I have kept back. Marmont sent me the statue of the Holy Virgin which he removed from Loretto.”

“Then you have not fulfilled my urgent prayers!” said Josephine, reproachfully. “Even the property of the Church and of the Holy Father at Rome have not been safe from the hands of the conquerors!”

“That is the law of war,” said Bonaparte. “Woe to the places which war touches on its bloody path! But you may reassure yourself, Josephine. I have only taken from the Holy Father these superfluous things which he may easily spare. I only took his plate, his jewelry, and diamonds, thus reducing him to the simplicity of the apostles; and I am sure the good old man will thank me for it. I have, moreover, only striven to promote the welfare of his soul by doing so, and the Roman martyrologist some day will add his name to the list of saints.[77]Le Normand, vol. i., p. 243. The jewels and the gold I sent to Paris, together with the statue of the Madonna of Loretto, but I retained a few relics for you, Josephine. See here the most precious one of them all!”

He handed her a small paper, carefully folded up. Josephine hastily opened it and asked, in surprise—“A piece of black woollen cloth! And that is a relic?”

“And a most precious one at that! It is Loretto’s most priceless treasure. It is a piece of the gown of the Virgin Mary, in which she was mourning for the Saviour.[78]Ibid., vol. i., p. 245.
(Le Normand, vol. i., p. 243.) Preserve this relic carefully, dear Josephine, and may it protect you from danger and grief!” Josephine folded up the piece of cloth, and opening a large locket hanging on her neck on a heavy gold chain, she laid the cloth into it, and then closed the locket again.

“That shall be the sanctuary of my relic,” she said. “I shall keep it till I die.”

“Why do you speak of dying?” he exclaimed, almost indignantly. “What have we to do with grim-death? We, to whom life has to fulfil and offer so much! We shall return to Paris, and, if it please God, a great future is awaiting us there!”

“If it please God, a happy future!” said Josephine, fervently. “Oh, Bonaparte, how gladly I shall reenter our dear little house in the Rue Chantereine, where we passed the first happy days of our love!”

“No, Josephine,” he exclaimed, impetuously, “that little house will not be a fitting abode for the conqueror of Italy, I am no longer the poor general who had nothing but his sword. I return rich in glory, and not poor as far as money is concerned. I might have easily appropriated the spoils amounting to many millions; but I disdained the money of spoliation and bribery, and what little money I have got now, was acquired in an honest and chivalrous manner,[79]Bonaparte at St. Helena said to Las Casas that he had brought only three hundred thousand francs from Italy. Bourrienne asserts, however, Bonaparte had brought home no less than three million francs. He adds, however, that this sum was not the fruit of peculation and corruption, Bonaparte having been an incorruptible administrator. But he had discovered the mines of Yorda, and he had an interest in the meat contracts for the army. He wanted to be independent, and knew better than any one else that he could not be independent without money. He said to Bourrienne in regard to it, “I am no Capuchin!”—Memoires de Bourrienne, vol 11., p. 47. It is sufficient, however, to secure a brilliant existence to us. I shall not be satisfied until I live with you in a house corresponding with the splendor of my name. I need a palace, and shall have it decorated with all the stands of colors I have taken in Italy. To you alone, Josephine, to you I intrust the care of designating to me a palace worthy of being offered to me by the nation I have immortalized, and worthy also of a wife whose beauty and grace could only beautify it.[80]Le Normand, vol. i., p. 265. Come, Josephine—come to Paris! Let us select such a palace!”

The prime minister, Baron Thugut, was in his study. It was yet early in the morning, and the minister had just entered his room in order to begin his political task. On the large green table at which Thugut had just sat down, there lay the dispatches and letters delivered by the couriers who had arrived during the night and early in the morning. There were, besides, unfolded documents and decrees, waiting for the minister’s signature, in order to become valid laws. But the minister took no notice whatever of these papers, but first seized the newspapers and other periodicals, which he commenced reading with great eagerness. While he was perusing them, his stern features assumed a still harsher mien, and a gloomy cloud settled on his brow. Suddenly he uttered a wild oath and violently hurling the paper, in which he had been reading, to the floor, he jumped up from his chair.

“Such impudence is altogether intolerable!” he shouted, angrily. “It is high time for me to teach these newspaper scribblers another lesson, and they shall have it! I—”

Just then, the door of the anteroom opened, and a footman entered. He informed his master that the police minister, Count Saurau, wished to see him.

Baron Thugut ordered him to be admitted at once, and went to meet him as soon as he heard him come in.

“You anticipate my wishes, my dear count,” he said. “I was just going to send for you.”

“Your excellency knows that I am always ready to obey your calls,” replied Count Saurau, politely. “I acknowledge your superiority and submit to you as though you were my lord and master; notwithstanding our position in society and in the state service, which is almost an equal one, I willingly permit you to treat me as your disciple and inferior.”

“And I believe that is the wisest course you can pursue, my dear little count,” said Thugut, laughing sarcastically. “It has been good for you to do so, I should think, and so it has been for the whole Austrian ship of state, that has been intrusted to my guidance. Yes, sir, the son of the ship-builder Thunichtgut has shown to you and your fellow-members of the ancient aristocracy that talents and ability are no exclusive privileges of your class, and that a common ship-builder’s son may become prime minister, and that a low-born Thunichtgut may be transformed into a Baron von Thugut. The great Empress Maria Theresa has performed this miracle, and baptized me, and I believe Austria never found fault with her for doing so. The ship-builder’s son has piloted the ship of state tolerably skilfully through the breakers up to the present time, and he shall do so in future too, in spite of all counts and aristocrats. You see, I do not try to conceal my humble descent; nay, I boast of it, and it is therefore quite unnecessary for you to remind me of what I never want to forget!”

“I see that some late occurrence must have excited your excellency’s just anger,” exclaimed Count Saurau.

“And being police minister, you doubtless know all about that occurrence,” said Thugut, sarcastically.

Count Saurau shrugged his shoulders. “I confess I am unable to divine—”

“Then you have not read the papers this morning?” asked Thugut, scornfully. “You have no idea of the infamous attack which an aristocratic newspaper scribbler has dared to make upon me, nay, upon the emperor himself?”

“I confess that I do not understand what your excellency means,” said Count Saurau, anxiously.

“Well, then, listen to me!” exclaimed Thugut, seizing the paper again. “Listen to what I am going to read to you: ‘At a time when the whole Austrian people are longing for peace, when our august Empress Theresia and our dearly beloved Archduke Charles share these sentiments of the people and give expression to them at the feet of the throne and in opposition to those who would deluge our cherished Austria with the miseries and dangers of war—at such a time we fondly look back into the great history of our country and remember what has been accomplished by great and gifted members of our imperial house in former periods for the welfare and tranquillity of Austria; we remember, for instance, that Austria in 1619, like to-day, was threatened by enemies and on the eve of a terrible war, not because the honor and welfare of Austria rendered such a war necessary, but because the ambitious and arrogant minister, Cardinal Clesel, was obstinately opposed to peace, and utterly unmindful of the wishes of the people. He alone, he, the all-powerful minister, was in favor of war; he overwhelmed the weak Emperor Mathias with his demands; and when the latter, owing to the anxiety he had to undergo, was taken sick, he even pursued him with his clamor for war into his sick-room. But then the archdukes, the emperor’s brothers, boldly determined to interfere. They arrested the rascally minister at the emperor’s bedside, and sent him to Castle Ambrass in the Tyrol, where he suffered long imprisonment, a just punishment for his arrogance and for his attempt to involve the country in a war so distasteful to all classes of the people. About half a century later a similar occurrence took place. There was again a minister advocating war in spite of the whole Austrian people. It was in 1673. The minister to whose suggestions the Emperor Leopold lent a willing ear at that time, was Prince Lobkowitz. But the Empress Claudia had compassion on the people, groaning under the heavy yoke of the minister. She alone prevailed upon the emperor by her eloquence and beauty to deprive Prince Lobkowitz suddenly of all his honors and offices and to send him on a common hay-wagon amidst the contemptuous scoffs and jeers of the populace of Vienna to the fortress of Raudnitz, forbidding him under pain of death to inquire about the cause of his punishment.’”[81]Vide Hormayer, “Lebensbilder aus dem Befreiungskriege,” vol. i., p. 321.

“Well,” asked Thugut, when he ceased reading, “what do you think of that?”

“I believe the article contains very idle historical reminiscences,” said Count Saurau, shrugging his shoulders; “these reminiscences, according to my opinion, have no bearing whatever upon our own times.”

“That is, you will not admit their bearing upon our own times, my dear little count; you pretend not to perceive that the whole article is directed against myself; that the object is to exasperate the people against me and to encourage my enemies to treat me in the same manner as Clesel and Lobkowitz were treated. The article alludes to the archdukes who overthrew the minister so obstinately opposed to peace, and to the Empress Claudia who profited by her power over the emperor in order to ruin an all-powerful minister, her enemy. And you pretend not to see that all this is merely referred to for the purpose of encouraging Archduke Charles and the Empress Theresia to act as those have acted? Both are at the head of the peace party; both want peace with France, and in their short-sightedness and stupidity, they are enthusiastic admirers of that French general Bonaparte, whom they call ‘the Italian,’ unmindful of the great probability of his designating himself some day by the sobriquet of ‘the Austrian,’ unless we oppose him energetically and set bounds to his thirst after conquest. They want to get rid of me in the same manner as their predecessors got rid of Cardinal Clesel. But I hold the helm as yet, and do not mean to relinquish it.”

“It would be a terrible misfortune for Austria if your excellency should do so,” said Count Saurau, in his soft, bland voice. “I do not believe that either the Empress Theresa or the Archduke Charles will act in a hostile manner toward you.”

“And if they should do so, I would not tolerate it,” exclaimed Thugut. “My adversaries, whosoever they may be, had better beware of my elephant foot not stamping them into the ground. I hate that boastful, revolutionary France, and to remain at peace with her is equivalent to drawing toward us the ideas of the revolution and of a general convulsion. Short-sighted people will not believe it, and they are my enemies because I am a true friend of Austria. But being a true friend of Austria, I must combat all those who dare oppose and impede me, for in my person they oppose and impede Austria. First of all things, it is necessary for me to get rid of those newspaper editors and scribblers; they are arrogant, insolent fellows who imagine they know every thing and are able to criticise every thing, and who feel called upon to give their opinion about all things and on all occasions because they know how to wield a goose-quill. The best thing we could do would be to suppress all newspapers and periodicals. Shaping the course of politics ourselves, we do not need any newspapers, which after all are nothing but ruminating oxen of what we have eaten and digested already; the people do not understand any thing about it, nor is it necessary that they should. The people have to work, to obey, to pay taxes, and, if necessary, to give up their lives for their sovereign; they need not know any thing further about politics, and if they do, it is generally detrimental to their obedience. Let us drive away, then, that noxious crowd of newspaper writers and pamphleteers who dare enlighten the people by their political trash. Ah, I will teach Count Erlach that it is a little dangerous to become a newspaper editor and to serve up entremets of historical reminiscences to the people of Vienna! I will cram them down his own throat in such a manner as to deprive him—”

“Count Erlach is the author of the article your excellency read to me just now?” asked Count Saurau, in great terror.

“There, his name is affixed to it in large letters,” replied Thugut, contemptuously; “he has not even taken pains to conceal it. We have to return thanks to him for his sincerity, and I hope you will take the trouble of expressing our gratitude to him.”

“What does your excellency want me to do?” asked the police minister, anxiously. “I believe it would not be prudent for us to make much ado about it.”

“Of course not,” said Thugut, laughing. “Do I like to make much ado about any thing, which would only give rise to scandal and idle gossip? Just reflect a while, my dear little count. What did we do, for instance, with the Neapolitan Count Montalban, who became a thorn in our side, and endeavored to gain power over the emperor? Did we accuse him of high treason? Did we prefer any charges against him at all? We merely caused him to disappear, and no one know what had become of the interesting and handsome count. People spoke for three or four days about his mysterious disappearance, and then forgot all about it.[82]Lebensbilder, vol. 1., p. 321. My dear sir, there is nothing like oubliettes and secret prisons. I have often already preached that to you, and you always forget it. Violence! Who will be such a fool as to betray his little secrets by acts of open violence? We happen to stand on the great stage of life, and, like every other stage, there are trap-doors in the floor, through which those will disappear who have performed their parts. Let us, therefore, cause Count Erlach, the political writer, to vanish by means of such a trap-door.”

“I implore your excellency to show indulgence for once,” said Count Saurau, urgently. “Count Erlach is an intimate friend of Archduke Charles, and even the Empress Theresia is attached to him.”

“The greater the necessity for me to get rid of him, and to return my thanks in this manner for the blows they want to deal me by means of their historical reminiscences. This Count Erlach is a very disgusting fellow, at all events; he would like to play the incorruptible Roman and to shine by his virtue. There is nothing more tedious and intolerable than a virtuous man who cannot be got at anywhere. Count Erlach has now given us a chance to get hold of him; let us improve it.” “He has very influential connections, very powerful protectors, your excellency. If he should disappear, they will raise a terrible outcry about it, and make it their special business to seek him, and if they should not find him they will say we had killed him because your excellency was afraid of him.”

“I was afraid of him!” exclaimed Thugut, laughing. “As if I ever had been afraid of any one. Even an earthquake would not be able to frighten me, and, like Fabricius, I should only look around quite slowly for the hidden elephant of Pyrrhus. No, I know no fear, but I want others to feel fear, and for this reason Count Erlach must be disposed of.”

“Very well, let us get rid of him,” replied Count Saurau, “but in a simple manner and before the eyes of the whole public. Believe me for once, your excellency, I know the ground on which we are standing; I know it to be undermined and ready to explode and blow us up. Count Erlach’s disappearance would be the burning match that might bring about the explosion. Let us be cautious, therefore. Let us remove him beyond the frontier, and threaten him with capital punishment in case he ever should dare to reenter Austria, but let us permit him now to leave the country without any injury whatever.”

“Well, be it so. I will let you have your own way, my dear anxious friend. Have Erlach arrested to-day; let two police commissioners transport him beyond the frontier, and threaten him with capital punishment, or with my revenge—which will be the same to him—in case he should return. Let the scribblers and newspapers learn, too, why Count Erlach was exiled. The prudent men among them will be warned by his fate, and hereafter hold their tongues; the stupid and audacious fellows, however, will raise an outcry about the occurrence, and thus give us a chance to get hold of them likewise. The matter is settled, then; the aristocratic newspaper writer will be transported from the country, and that is the end of it.[83]Count Erlach was really transported beyond the Austrian frontier by two police commissioners. Only after Thugut’s overthrow in 1801 was he allowed to return to Austria and Vienna.—Lebensbilder, vol. 1., p. 321. But I shall seek further satisfaction for these articles in the newspapers. Oh, the new Empress Theresia and the archduke shall find out that I am no Clesel or Lobkowitz to be got rid of by means of an intrigue. I shall try to obtain in the course of to-day an order from the emperor, removing the archduke from the command of the army and causing him to retire into private life. He wants peace and repose in so urgent a manner; let him sleep and dream, then, while we are up and doing. I need a resolute and courageous general at the head of the army, a man who hates the French, and not one who is friendly to them. But as for the empress—”

“Your excellency,” interrupted Count Saurau, with a mysterious air, “I called upon you to-day for the purpose of speaking to you about the empress, and of cautioning you against—”

“Cautioning me?” exclaimed Thugut, with proud disdain. “What is the matter, then?”

“You know assuredly that the Empress Theresia has fully recovered from her confinement, and that she has held levees for a whole week already.”

“As if I had not been the first to obtain an audience and to kiss her hand!” exclaimed Thugut, shrugging his shoulders. “The empress,” continued Saurau, “has received the ambassadors also; she even had two interviews already with the minister of the French Republic, General Bernadotte.”

Thugut suddenly became quite attentive, and fixed his small, piercing eyes upon the police minister with an expression of intense suspense.

“Two interviews?” he asked. “And you know what they conferred about in these two interviews?”

“I should be a very poor police minister, and my secret agents would furnish me very unsatisfactory information, if I did not know it.”

“Well, let us hear all about it, my dear count. What did the empress say to Bernadotte?”

“In the first audience General Bernadotte began by reading his official speech to her majesty, and the empress listened to him with a gloomy air. But then they entered upon a less ceremonious conversation, and Bernadotte assured the empress that France entertained no hostile intentions whatever against Naples, her native country. He said he had been authorized by the Directory of the Republic to assure her majesty officially that she need not feel any apprehensions in relation to Naples, France being animated by the most friendly feelings toward that kingdom. The face of the empress lighted up at once, and she replied to the general in very gracious terms, and gave him permission to renew his visits to her majesty whenever he wished to communicate anything to her. He had asked her to grant him this permission.”

“I knew the particulars of this first interview, except the passage referring to this permission,” said Thugut, quietly.

“But this permission precisely is of the highest importance, your excellency, for the empress thereby gives the French minister free access to her rooms. He is at liberty to see her as often as he wishes, to communicate any thing to her. It seems the general has to make many communications to her majesty, for two days after the first audience, that is yesterday, General Bernadotte again repaired to the Hofburg in order to see the empress.”[84]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 485.

“And did she admit him?” asked Thugut.

“Yes, she admitted him, your excellency. This time the general did not confine himself to generalities, but fully unbosomed himself to her majesty. He confessed to the empress that France was very anxious to maintain peace with Naples as well as with Austria; adding, however, that this would be much facilitated by friendly advances, especially on the part of Austria. Austria, instead of pursuing such a policy, was actuated by hostile intentions toward France. When the empress asked for an explanation of these words, Bernadotte was bold enough to present to her a memorial directed against the policy of your excellency, and in which the general said he had taken pains, by order of the Directory, to demonstrate that the policy of Baron Thugut was entirely incompatible with a good understanding between Austria and France, and that, without such an understanding, the fate of Naples could not be but very uncertain.”

“What did the empress reply?” asked Thugut, whose mien did not betray a symptom of excitement or anger.

“Her majesty replied she would read the memorial with the greatest attention, and keep it a profound secret from every one. She added, however, she feared lest, even if the memorial should convince herself of the inexpediency of Baron Thugut’s policy, it might be difficult if not impossible to induce the emperor to take a similar view of the matter—his majesty reposing implicit confidence in his prime minister and being perfectly satisfied of your excellency’s fidelity, honesty, and incorruptibility. After this reply, Bernadotte approached the empress somewhat nearer, and cautiously and searchingly glanced around the room in order to satisfy himself that no one but her majesty could overhear his words. Just then—”

“Well, why do you hesitate?” asked Thugut, hastily.

“My tongue refuses to repeat the calumnies which the French minister has dared to utter.” “Compel your tongue to utter them, and let me hear them,” exclaimed Thugut, sarcastically.

“With your excellency’s leave, then. Bernadotte then almost bent down to the ear of the empress and said to her, whisperingly, the Directory of France were in possession of papers that would compromise Minister Thugut and furnish irrefutable proofs that Minister Thugut was by no means a reliable and honest adviser of his majesty, inasmuch as he was in the pay of foreign powers, England and Russia particularly, who paid him millions for always fanning anew the flames of Austria’s hostility against France. Bernadotte added that these papers were on the way and would arrive at Vienna by the next courier. He asked the empress if she would permit him to hand these papers to her for placing them into the hands of the emperor.”

“And the empress?”

“The empress promised it, and granted a third audience to the minister as soon as he should be in possession of the papers and apply for an interview with her.”[85]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 890.

“Are you through?” asked Thugut, with the greatest composure.

“Not yet, your excellency. It remains for me to tell you that the courier expected by Bemadotte arrived last night at the hotel of the French embassy, and that the minister himself immediately left his couch in order to receive the dispatches in person. Early this morning an extraordinary activity prevailed among the employes of the embassy, and the first attache as well as the secretary of legation left the hotel at a very early hour. The former with a letter from Bernadotte repaired to Laxenburg where the empress, as is well known to your excellency, has been residing with her court for the last few days. After the lapse of an hour, he returned, and brought the general the verbal reply from the empress that her majesty would return to Vienna in order to attend the festival of the volunteers, and would then be ready to grant an immediate audience to the ambassador.”

“And whither did the secretary of legation go?”

“First to one of our most fashionable military tailors,[86]Military tailors are tailors who have the exclusive privilege of furnishing uniforms, etc., to the officers of the army. and then to a dry-goods store. At the tailor’s he ordered a banner, which is to be ready in the course of this evening, and at the dry-goods store he purchased the material required for this banner—blue, white, and red. Now, your excellency, I am through with my report.”

“I confess, my dear count, that I have listened to you with the most intense pleasure and satisfaction, and that I cannot refrain from expressing to you my liveliest admiration for the vigilance and energy of your police, who do not merely unfathom the past and present, but also the future. In three days, then, the ambassador of France will have an interview with the empress?”

“Yes, your excellency, and he will then deliver to her the above mentioned papers.”

“Provided he has got any such papers, my friend! Papers that might compromise me! As if there were any such papers! As if I ever had been so stupid as to intrust secrets to a scrap of paper and to betray to it what every one must not know. He who wants to keep secrets—and I understand that exceedingly well—will intrust them just as little to paper as to human ear. I should burn my own hair did I believe that it had got wind of the ideas of my head. I would really like to see these papers which Bernadotte—”

The sudden appearance of the valet de chambre interrupted the minister. “Your excellency,” he said, “the ambassador of the French Republic, General Bernadotte, would like to see your excellency immediately concerning a very important and urgent affair.”

Thugut exchanged a rapid, smiling glance with the count. “Take the ambassador to the reception-room and tell him that I shall wait on him at once.”

“Well?” he asked, when the valet had withdrawn. “Do you still believe that Bernadotte has got papers that would compromise me? Would he call on me in that case? He doubtless intends telling me his ridiculous story, too, or he wishes to intimidate me by his interviews with the empress, so as to prevail on me to accede to the desires of France and to become more pliable. But he is entirely mistaken. I am neither afraid of his interviews with the empress, nor of Bernadotte’s papers, and shall immovably pursue my own path. If it please God, this path will soon lead me to a point where the battle against those overbearing French may be begun in a very safe and satisfactory manner. Come, my dear count, accompany me to the adjoining room. I shall leave the door ajar that leads into the reception-room, for I want you to be an invisible witness to my interview with the ambassador. Come!”

He quietly took the count’s arm and went with him to the adjoining room. Indicating to him a chair standing not far from the other door, he walked rapidly forward and entered the reception-room.

General Bernadotte, quite a young man, approached him with a stiff and dignified bearing, and there was an expression of bold defiance and undisguised hostility plainly visible on his youthful and handsome features.

Thugut, on his side, had called a smile upon his lips, and his eyes were radiant with affability and mildness.

“I am very glad, general, to see you here at so unexpected an hour,” he said, politely. “Truly, this is a distinction that will cause all of our pretty ladies to be jealous of me, and I am afraid, general, you will still more exasperate the fair sex, who never would grant me their favor, against myself, for I am now assuredly to blame if some of our most beautiful ladies now should vainly wait for your arrival.”

“I am always very punctual in my appointments, your excellency, whether they be armed rencounters or such rendezvous as your excellency has mentioned just now, and, therefore, seems to like especially,” said Bernadotte, gravely. “I call upon your excellency, however, in the name of a lady, too—in the name of the French Republic!”

“And she is, indeed, a very exalted and noble lady, to whom the whole world is bowing reverentially,” said Thugut, smiling.

“In the name of the French Republic and of the French Directory; I would like to inquire of your excellency whether or not it is a fact that a popular festival will be held to-morrow here in Vienna?”

“A popular festival! Ah, my dear general, I should not have thought that the French Republic would take so lively an interest in the popular festivals of the Germans! But I must take the liberty of requesting you, general, to apply with this inquiry to Count Saurau. For it is the duty of the police minister to watch over these innocent amusements and harmless festivals of the people.”

“The celebration I refer to is neither an innocent amusement nor a harmless festival,” exclaimed Bernadotte, hastily; “on the contrary, it is a political demonstration.”

“A political demonstration?” repeated Thugut, in surprise. “By whom? And directed against whom?”

“A political demonstration of Austria against the French Republic,” said the general, gravely. “It is true, your excellency pretends not to know any thing about this festival of the thirteenth of April, but—”

“Permit me, sir,” interrupted Thugut, “is to-morrow the thirteenth of April?”

“Yes, your excellency.”

“Then I must say that I know something about this festival, and that I am able to inform you about it. Yes, general, there will be a popular festival to-morrow.”

“May I inquire for what purpose?”

“All, general, that is very simple. It is just a year to-morrow, on the thirteenth of April, that the whole youth of Vienna, believing the country to be endangered and the capital threatened by the enemy, in their noble patriotism voluntarily joined the army and repaired to the seat of war.[87]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 499. These young volunteers desire to celebrate the anniversary of their enrolment, and the emperor, I believe, has given them permission to do so.”

“I have to beg your excellency to prevail on the emperor to withdraw this permission.”

“A strange request! and why?”

“Because this festival is a demonstration against France, for those warlike preparations last year were directed against France, while Austria has now made peace with our republic. It is easy to comprehend that France will not like this festival of the volunteers.”

“My dear general,” said Thugut, with a sarcastic smile, “does France believe, then, that Austria liked all those festivals celebrated by the French Republic during the last ten years? The festivals of the republican weddings, for instance, or the festival of the Goddess of Reason, or the anniversaries of bloody executions? Or more recently the celebrations of victories, by some of which Austria has lost large tracts of territory? I confess to you that Austria would have greatly liked to see some of those festivals suppressed, but France had not asked our advice, and it would have been arrogant and ridiculous for us to give it without being asked for it, and thus to meddle with the domestic affairs of your country. Hence we silently tolerated your festivals, and pray you to grant us the same toleration.”

“The French Republic will not and must not suffer what is contrary to her interests,” replied Bernadotte, vehemently. “This festival insults us, and I must therefore pray your excellency to prohibit it.” A slight blush mantled the cold, hard features of Baron Thugut, but he quickly suppressed his anger, and seemed again quite careless and unruffled.

“You pray for a thing, general, which it is no longer in our power to grant,” he said, calmly. “The emperor has granted permission for this festival, and how could we refuse the young men of the capital a satisfaction so eagerly sought by them and, besides, so well calculated to nourish and promote the love of the people for their sovereign and for their country? Permit us, like you, to celebrate our patriotic festivals.”

“I must repeat my demand that this festival be prohibited!” said Bernadotte, emphatically.

“Your demand?” asked Thugut, with cutting coldness; “I do not believe that anybody but the emperor and the government has the right in Austria to make demands, and I regret that I am unable to grant your prayer.”

“Your excellency then will really permit this festival of the volunteers to be celebrated to-morrow?”

“Most assuredly. His majesty has given the necessary permission.”

“Well, I beg to inform you that, in case the festival takes place to-morrow, I shall give a festival on my part to-morrow, too.”

“Every one in Austria is at liberty to give festivals, provided they are not contrary to decency, public morals, and good order.”

“Your excellency assumes an insulting tone!” exclaimed Bemadotte, in an excited voice.

“By no means,” said Thugut, quietly. “My words would only be insulting if I wanted to prevent you from giving your festival. I tell you, however, you are welcome to give it. Let your festival compete with ours. We shall see who will be victorious in this competition.”

“So you really want to permit this festival of the volunteers although I tell you that France disapproves of it?”

“Disapproves of it? Then France wants to play the lord and master in those countries, too, which the republican armies have not conquered? Permit me to tell you that Austria does not want to belong to those countries. The festival of the volunteers will take place to-morrow!” “Well, my festival will take place to-morrow, too!”

“Then you doubtless have good reasons, like us, for giving a festival?”

“Of course I have. I shall display to-morrow for the first time at the hotel of the embassy the banner of the French Republic, the tri-color of France, and that event, I believe, deserves being celebrated in a becoming manner.”

“You want to publicly display the French banner?”

“Yes, sir, it will be displayed on my balcony and proudly float in the air, as the tri-color of France is accustomed to do everywhere.”

“I do not know, however, whether or not the Austrian air will accustom itself to the tri-color of France, and I pray you kindly to consider, general, that the enterprise you are going to undertake is something extraordinary and altogether unheard of. No ambassador of any foreign power has ever displayed any mark of distinction on his house, and never has a French minister yet decorated his hotel in such a manner as you now propose to do. That banner of yours would therefore be without any precedent in the history of diplomatic representation.”

“And so would the festival you are going to give before the eyes of the French embassy, and notwithstanding my earnest protest.”

“Let the French embassy close their eyes if they do not want to see our Austrian festivals. How often had we to do so in France and pretend not to see what was highly insulting to us!”

“For the last time, then, you are going to celebrate the festival of the volunteers to-morrow, notwithstanding the protest of France?”

“I do not think that, France ought to protest against matters that do not concern her. You prayed me to prohibit the celebration, and I was unable to grant your prayer; that is all.”

“Very well, your excellency, you may celebrate your festival—I shall celebrate the inauguration of my banner! And now I have the honor to bid your excellency farewell!”

“I hope the inauguration will be a pleasant affair, general. I take the liberty once more to tell you that your banner will create a great sensation. The people of Vienna are stubborn, and I cannot warrant that they will get accustomed to see another banner but the one containing the Austrian colors displayed in the streets of Vienna. Farewell!”

He accompanied the general to the door, and replied to his ceremonious obeisance by a proud, careless nod. He then hastily crossed the reception-room and entered again the adjoining apartment, where the police minister was awaiting him.

“Did you hear it?” asked Thugut, whose features were expressing now the whole anger and rage he had concealed so long. “I have heard every thing,” said Count Saurau. “The impudence of France knows no bounds.”

“But we shall set bounds to it!” exclaimed Thugut, with unusual vehemence. “We will show to this impudent republic that we neither love nor fear her.”

“The festival, then, is really to take place to-morrow?”

“Can you doubt it? It would be incompatible with Austria’s honor to yield now. The youth of Vienna shall have their patriotic festival, and—let the police to-morrow be somewhat more indulgent than usual. Youth sometimes needs a little license. Let the young folks enjoy the utmost liberty all day to-morrow! No supervision to-morrow, no restraints! Let the young people sing their patriotic hymns. He who does not want to hear them may close his ears. Pray let us grant to the good people of Vienna to-morrow a day of entire liberty.”

“But if quarrels and riots should ensue?”

“My dear count, you know very well that no quarrels take place if our police do not interfere; the people love each other and agree perfectly well if we leave them alone and without any supervision. They will be to-morrow too full of patriotism not to be joyful and harmonious. Once more, therefore, no supervision, no restraints! Let the police belong to the people; let all your employes and agents put on civilian’s clothes and mix with the people, not to watch over them, but to share and direct their patriotism.”

“Ah, to direct it!” exclaimed Count Saurau, with the air of a man who just commences guessing a riddle. “But suppose this patriotism in its triumphal march should meet with a stumbling-block or rather with a banner—?”

“Then let it quietly go ahead; genuine patriotism is strong and courageous, and will surmount any obstacle standing in its way. The only question is to inspire it with courage and constantly to fan its enthusiasm. That will be the only task of the police to-morrow.”

“And they will fulfil that task with the utmost cheerfulness. I shall to-morrow—”

“As far as you are concerned,” said Thugut, interrupting him, “it seems to me you will be unfortunately prevented from participating in the patriotic festival to-morrow. You look exceedingly pale and exhausted, my dear count, and if I may take the liberty of giving you a friendly advice, please go to bed and send for your physician.”

“You are right, excellency,” replied Count Saurau, smiling, “I really feel sick and exhausted. It will be best for me, therefore, to keep my bed for a few days, and my well-meaning physician will doubtless give stringent orders not to admit anybody to me and to permit no one to see me on business.”

“As soon as your physician has given such orders,” said Thugut, “send me word and request me to attend temporarily to the duties of your department as long as you are sick.”

“In half an hour you shall receive a letter to that effect. I go in order to send for a physician.”

“One word more, my dear count. What has become of that demagogue, the traitor Wenzel, who headed the riot last year? I then recommended him to your special care.”

“And I let him have it, your excellency. I believe he has entirely lost his fancy for insurrectionary movements; and politics, I trust, are very indifferent to him.”

“I should regret if it were so,” said Thugut, smiling. “I suppose you have got him here in Vienna?”

“Of course; he occupies a splendid half-dark dungeon in our penitentiary.”

“Picking oakum?”

“No; I hear he has often asked for it as a favor. But I had given stringent orders to leave him all alone and without any occupation whatever. That is the best way to silence and punish such political criminals and demagogues.”

“I would like to see this man Wenzel. We shall, perhaps, set him at liberty again,” said Thugut. “Will you order him to be brought here quietly, and without any unnecessary eclat?”

“I shall send him to you, and that shall be my last official business before being taken sick.”

“Be it so, my dear count. Go to bed at once; it is high time.”

They smilingly shook hands, and looked at each other long and significantly.

“It will be a splendid patriotic festival to-morrow,” said Thugut.

“A very patriotic festival, and the inauguration of the banner particularly will be a glorious affair!” exclaimed Count Saurau.

“What a pity that my sickness should prevent me from attending it!”

He saluted the prime minister once more and withdrew. When the door had closed behind him the smile disappeared from Thugut’s features, and a gloomy cloud settled on his brow. Folding his arms on his back, and absorbed in deep thought, he commenced slowly pacing the room. “The interview with the empress must be prevented at all events,” he muttered, after a long pause, “even if all diplomatic relations with France have to be broken off for that purpose. Besides, I must have those papers which he wanted to deliver to the empress; my repose, my safety depends upon it. Oh, I know very well what sort of papers they are with which they are threatening me. They are the letters I had written in cipher to Burton, the English emissary, whom the French Directory a month ago caused to be arrested as a spy and demagogue at Paris, and whose papers were seized at the same time. Those letters, of course, would endanger my position, for there is a receipt among them for a hundred thousand guineas paid to me. What a fool I was to write that receipt! I must get it again, and I am determined to have it!”

A few hours later, an emaciated, pale man was conducted into the room of Prime Minister Baron Thugut. The minister received him with a friendly nod, and looked with a smiling countenance at this sick, downcast, and suffering man, whom he had seen only a year ago so bold and courageous at the head of the misguided rioters.

“You have greatly changed, Mr. Wenzel,” he said, kindly. “The prison air seems not to agree with you.”

Wenzel made no reply, but dropped his head with a profound sigh on his breast.

“Ah, ah, Mr. Wenzel,” said Thugut, smiling, “it seems your eloquence is gone, too.”

“I have formerly spoken too much; hence I am now so taciturn,” muttered the pale man.

“Every thing has its time, speaking as well as silence,” said Thugut. “It is true speaking has rendered you very wretched; it has made you guilty of high treason. Do you know how long you will have to remain in prison?”

“I believe for fifteen years,” said Wenzel, with a shudder.

“Fifteen years! that is half a lifetime. But it does not change such demagogues and politicians as you, sir. As soon as you are released you recommence your seditious work, and you try to make a martyr’s crown of your well-merited punishment. Traitors like you are always incorrigible, and unless they are gagged for life they always cry out anew and stir up insurrection and disorder.”

Wenzel fixed his haggard eyes with a sorrowful expression upon the minister.

“I shall never stir up insurrections again, nor raise my voice in public as I used to do,” he said, gloomily. “I have been cured of it forever, but it was a most sorrowful cure.”

“And it will last a good while yet, Mr. Wenzel.”

“Yes, it will last dreadfully long,” sighed the wretched man.

“Are you married? Have you got any children?”

“Yes, I have a wife and two little girls—two little angels. Ah, if I could only see them once more in my life!”

“Wait yet for fourteen years; you can see them then if they be still alive, and care about having you back.”

“I shall not live fourteen years,” murmured the pale, downcast man. “Well, listen to me, Mr. Wenzel. What would you do if I should set you at liberty?”

“At liberty?” asked the man, almost in terror. “At liberty!” he shouted then, loudly and jubilantly.

“Yes, sir, at liberty! But you must do something in order to deserve it. Will you do so?”

“I will do every thing, every thing I am ordered to do, if I am to be set at liberty, if I am allowed to see my wife and my little girls again!” shouted Wenzel, trembling with delight.

“Suppose I should order you again to become a popular orator and to stir up a nice little riot?”

The gleam of joy disappeared again from Wenzel’s eyes, and he looked almost reproachfully at the minister. “You want to mock me,” he said, mournfully.

“No, my man, I am in good earnest. You shall be a popular orator and leader all day to-morrow. Are you ready for it?”

“No, I have nothing to do with such matters now. I am a good and obedient subject, and only ask to be allowed to live peaceably and quietly.”

Thugut burst into a loud laugh. “Ah, you take me for a tempter, Mr. Wenzel,” he said; “but I am in earnest; and if you will get up for me a splendid riot to-morrow, I will set you at liberty and no one shall interfere with you as long as you render yourself worthy of my indulgence by obedience and an exemplary life. Tell me, therefore, do you want to be released and serve me?”

Wenzel looked inquiringly and with intense suspense at the cold, hard features of the minister, and then, when he had satisfied himself that he had really been in earnest, he rushed forward and kneeling down before Thugut, he shouted, “I will serve you like a slave, like a dog! only set me at liberty, only give me back to my children and my—”

A flood of tears burst from his eyes and choked his voice.

“All right, sir, I believe you,” said Thugut, gravely. “Now rise and listen to what I have to say to you. You will be released tonight. Then go and see your old friends and tell them you had made a journey, and the French had arrested you on the road and kept you imprisoned until you were released in consequence of the measures the Austrian government had taken in your favor. If you dare to utter a single word about your imprisonment here, you are lost, for I hear and learn every thing, and have my spies everywhere, whom I shall instruct to watch you closely.”

“I shall assuredly do whatever you want,” exclaimed Wenzel, trembling.

“You shall complain to your friends about the harsh and cruel treatment you had to suffer at the hands of the French. You shall speak as a good patriot ought to speak.”

“Yes, I shall speak like a good patriot,” said Wenzel, ardently.

“To-morrow you will be with all your friends on the street in order to attend the festival of the volunteers, and to look at the procession. Do you know where the French ambassador lives?”

“Yes, on the Kohlmarkt.”

“You shall do your best to draw the people thither. The French ambassador will display the banner of the French Republic on his balcony to-morrow. Can the people of Vienna tolerate that?”

“No, the people of Vienna cannot tolerate that!” shouted Wenzel.

“You will repeat that to every one—you will exasperate the people against the banner and against the ambassador—you and the crowd will demand loudly and impetuously that the banner be removed.”

“But suppose the ambassador should refuse to remove it?”

“Then you will forcibly enter the house and remove the banner yourselves.”

“But if they shut the doors?”

“Then you will break them open, just as you did here a year ago. And besides, are there no windows—are there no stones, by means of which you may open the windows so nicely?”

“You give us permission to do all that?”

“I order you to do all that. Now listen to your special commission. A few of my agents will always accompany you. As soon as you are in the ambassador’s house, repair at once to his excellency’s study. Pick up all the papers you will find there, and bring them to me. As soon as I see you enter my room with these papers, you will be free forever!”

“I shall bring you the papers,” exclaimed Wenzel, with a radiant face.

“But listen. Betray to a living soul but one single word of what I have said to you, and not only yourself, but your wife and your children will also be lost! My arm is strong enough to catch all of you, and my ear is large enough to hear every thing.”

“I shall be as silent as the grave,” protested Wenzel, eagerly, “I shall only raise my voice in order to speak to the people about our beloved and wise Minister Thugut, and about the miserable, over-bearing French, who dare to hang out publicly the banner of their bloody republic here in our imperial city, in our magnificent Vienna!”

“That is the right talk, my man! Now go and reflect about every thing I have told you, and to-morrow morning call on me again; I shall then give you further instructions. Now go—go to your wife, and keep the whole matter secret.”

“Hurrah! long live our noble prime minister!” shouted Wenzel, jubilantly. “Hurrah, hurrah, I am free!” And he reeled away like a drunken man.

Thugut looked after him with a smile of profound contempt.

“That is the best way to educate the people,” he said. “Truly, if we could only send every Austrian for one year to the penitentiary, we would have none but good and obedient subjects!”

The streets of Vienna were densely crowded on the following day. Every house was beautifully decorated with fresh verdure and festoons of flowers; business was entirely suspended, and the people in their holiday dresses were moving through the streets, jubilant, singing patriotic hymns, and waiting in joyous impatience for the moment when the procession of the volunteers would leave the city hall in order to repair to the Burg, where they were to cheer the emperor. Then they would march through the city, and finally conclude the festival with a banquet and ball, to be held in a public hall that had been handsomely decorated for the occasion.

Not only the people, however, but also the educated and aristocratic classes of Vienna wanted to participate in the patriotic festival. In the open windows there were seen high-born ladies, beautifully dressed, and holding splendid bouquets in their hands, which were to be showered down upon the procession of the volunteers; an endless number of the most splendid carriages, surrounded by dense crowds of pedestrians, were slowly moving through the streets, and in these carriages there were seated the ladies and gentlemen of the aristocracy and of the wealthiest financial circles; they witnessed the popular enthusiasm with smiles of satisfaction and delight.

Only the carriages of the ministers were missing in this gorgeous procession, and it was reported everywhere that two of these gentlemen, Prime Minister Baron von Thugut and Police Minister Count Saurau, had been taken sick, and were confined to their beds, while the other ministers were with the emperor at Laxenburg.

Baron Thugut’s prediction had been verified, therefore; the police minister had really been taken so sick that he had to keep his bed, and that he had requested Baron Thugut by letter to take charge of his department for a few days.

But the prime minister himself had suddenly become quite unwell, and was unable to leave his room! Hence he had not accompanied the other ministers to Laxenburg in order to dine at the emperor’s table. Nay—an unheard of occurrence—he had taken his meals all alone in his study. His footman had received stringent orders to admit no one, and to reply to every applicant for an interview with him, “His excellency was confined to his bed by a raging fever, and all business matters had to be deferred until tomorrow.”

The minister’s condition, however, was not near as bad as that. It was true he had the fever, but it was merely the fever of expectation, impatience, and long suspense. The whole day had passed, and not a single dissonance had disturbed the pure joy of the celebration; not a single violent scene had interrupted the patriotic jubilee. The crowds on the streets and public places constantly increased in numbers, but peace and hilarity reigned everywhere, and the people were singing and laughing everywhere.

This was the reason why the minister’s blood was so feverish, why he could find no rest, and why his cold heart for once pulsated so rapidly. He was pacing his study with long steps, murmuring now and then some incoherent words, and then uneasily stepping to the window in order to survey the street cautiously from behind the curtain, and to observe the surging crowd below.

Just then the large clock on the marble mantelpiece commenced striking. Thugut hastily turned toward it. “Six o’clock, and nothing yet,” he murmured. “I shall put that fellow Wenzel into a subterranean dungeon for life, and dismiss every agent of mine, if nothing—”

He paused and listened. It had seemed to him as though he had heard a soft rap at the hidden door leading to the secret staircase. Yes, it was no mistake; somebody was rapping at it, and seemed to be in great haste.

“At last!” exclaimed Thugut, drawing a deep breath, and he approached with hurried steps the large painting, covering the whole wall and reaching down to the floor. He quickly touched one of the artificial roses on the gilt frame. The painting turned round, and the door became visible behind it in the wall.

The rapping was now plainly heard. Thugut pushed the bolt back and unlocked the door. His confidential secretary, Hubschle, immediately rushed in with a glowing face and in breathless haste.

“Your excellency,” he gasped—“your excellency, the fun has just commenced! They are now pursuing the deer like a pack of infuriated blood-hounds. Oh, oh! they will chase him thoroughly, I should think!”

Thugut cast a glance of gloomy indignation on the versatile little man with the bloated face. “You have been drinking again, Hubschle,” he said; “and I have ordered you to remain sober to-day!”

“Your excellency, I am quite sober,” protested Hubschle. “I assure you I have not drunk any more than what was required by my thirst.”

“Ah, yes; your thirst always requires large quantities,” exclaimed Thugut, laughing. “But speak now rapidly, briefly, and plainly. No circumlocution, no tirades! Tell me the naked truth. What fun has just commenced?”

“The inauguration of the banner, your excellency.”

“Then Bernadotte has hung out his banner, after all?”

“Yes, he has done so. We were just going down the street—quite a jolly crowd it was, by the by. Master Wenzel, a splendid fellow, had just loudly intoned the hymn of ‘God save the Emperor Francis,’ and all the thousands and thousands of voices were joining the choir, as if they intended to serenade the French ambassador, when, suddenly, a balcony door opened, and General Bernadotte, in full uniform came out. He was attended by his whole suite; and several footmen brought out an immense banner, which they attached to the balcony. We had paused right in the middle of our beautiful hymn, and the people were looking up to the balcony, from which the gentlemen had disappeared again, with glances full of surprise and curiosity. But the banner remained there! Suddenly a violent gust touched the banner, which, up to this time, had loosely hung down, and unfolded it entirely. Now we saw the French tri-color proudly floating over our German heads, and on it we read, in large letters of gold—Liberte! Egalite! Fraternite!”[88]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. V. p. 494.

“What impudence!” muttered Thugut.

“You are right, that was the word,” exclaimed Hubschle.

“‘What impudence!’ roared Master Wenzel; and the whole crowd immediately repeated, ‘What impudence! Down with the foreign banner! We are not so stupid as the people of Milan, Venice, and Rome; we do not jubilantly hail the French color; on the contrary, this banner makes us angry. Down with it! It is an insult offered to the emperor, that a foreign flag with such an abominable inscription is floating here. Down with the banner!’”

“Very good, very good, indeed,” said Thugut, smiling. “This man Wenzel is really a practical fellow. Go on, sir.”

“The crowd constantly assumed larger proportions, and the shouts of ‘Down with the banner!’ became every moment more impetuous and threatening. Suddenly a small detachment of soldiers emerged from the adjoining street. The officer in command kindly urged the people to disperse. But it was in vain; the tumult was constantly on the increase. The crowd commenced tearing up the pavement and throwing stones at the windows and at the banner.”

“And the soldiers?”

“They quietly stood aside. But—somebody is rapping at the opposite door! Shall I open it, your excellency?”

“One moment! I first want to turn back the painting. So! Now open the door, Hubschle!”

The private secretary hastened with tottering steps to the door and unlocked it. Thugut’s second private secretary entered. He held a sealed letter in his band.

“Well, Heinle, what’s the matter?” asked Thugut, quietly.

“Your excellency, the French ambassador, General Bernadotte, has sent this letter to your excellency.”

“And what did you reply to the messenger?”

“That your excellency had a raging fever; that the doctor had forbidden us to disturb you, but that I would deliver it to the minister as soon as he felt a little better.”

“That was right. Now go back to your post and guard the door well in order that no one may penetrate into my room. And you, Hubschle, hasten back to the Kohlmarkt and see what is going on there, and what is occurring at the French embassy. But do not drink any more liquor! As soon as this affair is over, I shall give you three days’ leave of absence, when you may drink as much as you please. Go, now, and return soon to tell me all about it.”

“And now,” said Thugut, when he was alone, “I will see what the French ambassador has written to me.”

He opened the letter, and, as if the mere perusal with the eyes were not sufficient for him, he read in a half-loud voice as follows: “The ambassador of the French Republic informs Baron Thugut that at the moment he is penning these lines, a fanatical crowd has been so impudent as to commit a riot in front of his dwelling. The motives that have produced this violent scene cannot be doubtful, inasmuch as several stones already were thrown at the windows of the house occupied by the ambassador. Profoundly offended at so much impudence, he requests Baron Thugut immediately to order an investigation, so that the instigators of the riot may be punished, and that their punishment may teach the others a much-needed lesson. The ambassador of the French Republic has no doubt that his reclamations will meet with the attention which they ought to excite, and that the police, moreover, will be vigilant enough to prevent similar scenes, which could not be renewed without producing the most serious consequences, the ambassador being firmly determined to repel with the utmost energy even the slightest insults, and accordingly much more so, such scandalous attacks. Baron Thugut is further informed that he has reason to complain of the conduct of several agents of the police. Some of them were requested to disperse the rioters, but, instead of fulfilling the ambassador’s orders, they remained cold and idle spectators of the revolting scene.”[89]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 495.

“What overbearing and insulting language this fellow dares to use!” exclaimed Thugut, when he had finished the letter. “One might almost believe he was our lord and master here, and—ah, somebody raps again at the door! Perhaps Hubschle is back already.”

He quickly touched the frame of the painting again, and the door opened. It was really Hubschle, who entered as hastily as before.

“Your excellency, I have just reascended the staircase as rapidly as though I were a cat,” he gasped. “At the street door I learned some fresh news from one of our men, and I returned at once to tell you all about it.”

“Quick, you idle gossip, no unnecessary preface!”

“Your excellency, things are assuming formidable proportions. The riot is constantly on the increase, and grows every minute more threatening. Count Dietrichstein, and Count Fersen, the director of the police, have repaired to General Bernadotte and implored him to remove the banner.”

“The soft-hearted fools!” muttered Thugut.

“But their prayers were fruitless. They preferred them repeatedly, and always were refused. They even went so far as to assure the ambassador, in case he should yield to their request and give them time to calm the people and induce them to leave the place, that the Austrian government would assuredly give him whatever satisfaction he should demand. But General Bernadotte persisted in his refusal—and replied peremptorily, ‘No, the banner remains!’”

“Proceed, proceed!” exclaimed Thugut, impatiently.

“That is all I know, but I shall hasten to collect further news, and then return to your excellency.”

Hubschle disappeared through the secret door, and Thugut replaced the painting before it. “The banner remains!” he exclaimed, laughing scornfully. “We will see how long it will remain! Ah, Heinle is rapping again at the other door. What is it, Heinle?”

“Another dispatch from the French ambassador,” said Heinle, merely pushing his arm with the letter through the door.

“And you have made the same reply?”

“The same reply.”

“Good! Return to your post.”

The arm disappeared again. Thugut opened the second dispatch, and read as before in a half-loud voice: “The ambassador of the French Republic informs Baron Thugut that the fury of the mob is constantly on the increase; already all the window-panes of the dwelling have been shattered by the stones the rioters are incessantly throwing at them; he informs you that the crowd at the present moment numbers no less than three or four thousand men, and that the soldiers whose assistance was invoked, so far from protecting the house of the French embassy, remain impassive spectators of the doings and fury of the rabble, their inactivity encouraging the latter instead of deterring them. The ambassador cannot but believe that this scandalous scene is not merely tolerated, but fostered by the authorities, for nothing whatever is done to put a stop to it. He sees with as much regret as pain that the dignity of the French people is being violated by the insults heaped on the ambassador, who vainly implored the populace to disperse and go home. At the moment the ambassador is writing these lines, the rage of the crowd is strained to such a pitch that the doors have been broken open by means of stones, while the soldiers were quietly looking on. The furious rabble tore the French colors from the balcony with hooks and long poles. The ambassador, who cannot remain any longer in a country where the most sacred laws are disregarded and solemn treaties trampled under foot, therefore asks Baron Thugut to send him his passports in order that he may repair to France with all the attaches of the embassy, unless Baron Thugut should announce at once that the Austrian government has taken no part whatever in the insults heaped upon the French Republic; that it disavows them, on the contrary, in the most formal manner, and that it orders the ringleaders and their accomplices to be arrested and punished in the most summary manner. On this condition alone, and if the Austrian government agrees to restore the French banner and to cause it to be displayed on the balcony of the French embassy by a staff-officer, the ambassador consents to remain in Vienna. Let Baron Thugut remember that these are precious moments, and that he owes the ambassador an immediate and categorical reply to his inquiries.”[90]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 501.

“Well, I believe the good people of Vienna will take it upon themselves to make a categorical reply to General Bernadotte, and to silence the overbearing babbler, no matter how it is done,” exclaimed Thugut, laughing scornfully. “I am really anxious to know how this affair is going to end, and how my brave rioters will chastise the ambassador for his insolence. What, another rap already? Why, you are a genuine postillon d’ amour! Do you bring me another letter?”

“A third dispatch from General Bernadotte,” exclaimed Heinle, outside, pushing his arm with the dispatch again through the door.

Thugut took it and rapidly opened it. “It seems matters are growing more pressing,” he said, smilingly. “Let us read it!”

And he read with an air of great satisfaction:

“The ambassador of the French Republic informs Baron Thugut that the riotous proceedings have lasted five hours already; that no agent of the police has come to his assistance; that the furious rioters have taken possession of a portion of the house and are destroying every thing they can lay their hands on.”

“Aha, my friend Wenzel is looking for the papers in the rooms of the French embassy!” exclaimed Thugut, triumphantly. He then read on.

“The ambassador, the secretaries of legation, the French citizens and officers who are with him, were compelled to retire to a room where they are waiting further developments with the undaunted courage characteristic of the republicans. The ambassador repeats his demand that the necessary passports be sent for him and for all the French who desire to accompany him. The transmission of these passports is the more urgent, as the rioters, who were about to rush into the room where the French were awaiting them, only shrank back when some servants of the French embassy discharged the fire-arms with which they had been provided.”

“Ah, a regular battle, then, has taken place!” shouted Thugut, in great glee. “A siege in grand style! Wonder why Hubschle has not come back yet? But stop! I hear him already. He raps! I am coming, sir! I am opening the door already!”

And Thugut hastened to touch the frame of the painting and to open the door.

It was true, Hubschle, the private secretary, was there, but he did not come alone. Wenzel, soiled with blood, his clothes torn and in the wildest disorder, entered with him, supporting himself on Hubschle’s arm.

“Ah, you bring me there a wounded boar!” said Thugut, morosely.

“A boar who splendidly goaded on the hounds and performed the most astonishing exploits,” said Hubschle, enthusiastically. “He received a gunshot wound in the right arm and fainted. I carried him with the assistance of a few friends to a well, and we poured water on him until he recovered his senses and was able again to participate in the general jubilee.”

“Then it was a jubilee? Mr. Wenzel, tell me all about it.”

“It was a very fine affair,” said Wenzel, gasping. “We had penetrated into the house and were working to the best of our power in the magnificent rooms. The furniture, the looking-glasses, the chandeliers, the carriages in the courtyard, every thing was destroyed, while we were singing and shouting, ‘Long live the emperor! God save the Emperor Francis!’”

“What a splendid Marseillaise that dear, kind-hearted Haydn has composed for us in that hymn,” said Thugut, in a low voice, gleefully rubbing his hands. “And the banner? What has become of the banner?”

“The banner we had previously torn to pieces, and with the shreds we had gone to the Schottenplatz and publicly burned them there amidst the jubilant shouts of the people.”

“Very good. And what else was done in the embassy building?”

“We rushed from room to room. Nothing withstood our fury, and finally we arrived at the room in which the ambassador and his suite had barricaded themselves as in a fortress. It was the ambassador’s study,” said Wenzel, slowly and significantly—“the cabinet in which he kept his papers.”

Thugut nodded gently, and said nothing but “Proceed!”

“I rushed toward the door and encouraged the others to follow me. We succeeded in bursting the door open. At the same moment the besieged fired at us. Three of us dropped wounded; the others ran away.”

“Yes, the miserable rascals always run away as soon as they smell gunpowder,” said Thugut, indignantly. “And you, Mr. Wenzel?”

“I was wounded and had fainted. My comrades carried me out of the house.”

“And the papers?” asked Thugut. “You did not take them?”

“Your excellency, General Bernadotte and the whole retinue of the embassy were in the room in which the ambassador keeps his papers. I would have penetrated into it with my friends if the bullet had not shattered my arm and stretched me down senseless.”

“Yes, indeed, you became entirely senseless,” said Thugut, harshly, “for you even forgot that I only promised to release you provided you should bring the papers of the French ambassador.”

“Your excellency,” shouted Wenzel, in dismay, “I—”

“Silence!” commanded Thugut, in a stern tone; “who has allowed you to speak without being asked?”

At this moment another hasty rap at the door was heard, and Heinle’s arm appeared again in the door.

“Another dispatch from the French ambassador?” asked Thugut.

“No, your excellency, a dispatch from his majesty the emperor.”

Thugut hastily seized the small sealed note and opened it. It contained nothing but the following words:

“The ambassador has received a salutary lesson, and his banner has been destroyed. Let us stop the riot now, and avoid extreme measures. Several regiments must be called out to restore order.”

The minister slowly folded the paper and put it into his pocket. He then rang the bell so violently and loudly, that Heinle and the other servants rushed immediately into the room.

“Open every door—call every footman!” commanded Thugut. “Admit every one who wants to see me. Two mounted messengers shall hold themselves in readiness to forward dispatches. Every one may learn that, in spite of my sickness, I have risen from my couch in order to reestablish tranquillity in the capital.”

He stepped to his desk and rapidly wrote a few words, whereupon he handed the paper to Germain, his valet de chambre.

“Here, Germain, hasten with this note to Count Fersen, the director of police, and take this fellow along. Two footmen may accompany you. You will deliver him to the director of the police and tell him that he is one of the rioters whom my agents have arrested. Request the director to have him placed in a safe prison and to admit none to him but the officers of the criminal court. He is a very dangerous criminal; this is the second time that he has been arrested as a rioter. Well, what is the matter with the fellow? He reels like a drunken man! He has probably drunk too much brandy for the purpose of stimulating his courage.”

“Pardon me, your excellency,” said Hubschle, “the man has fainted.”

“Then carry him away, and take him in a carriage to the director of the police,” said Thugut, indifferently, and he looked on coldly and unfeelingly, while the footman hastily seized the pale, unconscious man and dragged him away.

He returned to his desk and rapidly wrote a few words on a sheet of large, gilt-edged paper, which he then enclosed in an envelope, sealed, and directed.

“A dispatch to the emperor!” he said, handing it to Heinle. “Let a mounted messenger take it immediately to his majesty.”

This dispatch contained the reply to the emperor’s laconic note, and it was almost more laconic than the latter, for it contained only the following words:

“Sire, within an hour order will be reestablished.”

“Now, Hubschle, sit down,” said Thugut, all the others having left the room by his orders. “Collect your five senses, and write what I am going to dictate to you.”

Hubschle sat already at the desk, and waited, pen in hand. Baron Thugut, folding his hands behind his back, slowly paced the room and dictated:

“The minister of foreign affairs has heard with regret of the riotous proceedings referred to in the notes which the ambassador of the French Republic has addressed to him this evening. The minister will report the whole affair to his imperial majesty, and entertains no doubt that the emperor will be very indignant at the occurrence. The ambassador may rest assured that nothing will be left undone in order to ferret out the perpetrators of this outrage, and to punish them with the whole severity of the laws, and with the sincere desire which the Austrian government has always entertained to maintain the friendship so happily established between the two countries.”[91]The French ambassador really left Vienna in consequence of this riot. The emperor vainly tried to pacify him. Bernadotte persisted in his demands. He wanted the Austrian Government to restore the banner and to have it displayed on his balcony by a staff officer. In reply to these repeated demands, Thugut sent him his passports, and the legation left Vienna.—Vide Hauser, “German History,” vol II., p. 180. “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v.

“Well, why do you dare to laugh, Hubschle?” asked Thugut when he took the pen in order to sign the note.

“Your excellency, I am laughing at the many fine words in which this dispatch says: ‘Mr. Ambassador, ask for your passports; you may depart.’”

Thugut smiled. “When you are drunk, Hubschle, you are exceedingly shrewd, and for that reason, I pardon your impertinence. Your rubicund nose has scented the matter correctly. The ambassador has demanded his passports already. But go now. Take this dispatch to the second courier and tell him to carry it immediately to the French embassy. As for yourself, you must hasten to the commander of Vienna, and take this paper to him. You may say to him, ‘The gates are to be closed in order to prevent the populace of the suburbs from reaching the city. The Preiss regiment shall occupy the house of the ambassador and the adjoining streets, and fire at whosoever offers resistance or wants to raise a disturbance.’ Vienna must be perfectly quiet in the course of an hour. Begone!”

Hubschle rushed out, and Thugut remained alone. He slowly and deliberately sat down in an arm-chair, and pondered serenely over the events of the night.

“It is true I have not wholly accomplished my purpose,” he muttered, “but M. Bernadotte will try no longer to injure me. He shall have his passports to-morrow morning.”

Nearly a year had elapsed since the departure of the French ambassador from Vienna, but the rupture of the peace with France, so ardently desired by Minister Thugut, had not yet taken place. A strong party in the emperor’s cabinet had declared against Thugut, and this time obtained a victory over the minister who had been believed to be all-powerful. This party was headed by the empress and Archduke Charles. Thugut, therefore, was compelled to suppress his wrath, and defer his revenge to some later time.

But although the dark clouds of the political thunderstorm had been removed for the time being, they were constantly threatening, like a gloomy spectre on the horizon, casting sinister shadows on every day and on every hour.

The merry people of Vienna, owing to the incessant duration of these gloomy shadows, had become very grave, and loudly and softly denounced Minister Thugut as the author and instigator of all the evils that were menacing Austria. In fact, Baron Thugut was still the all-powerful minister; and as the emperor loved and feared him, the whole court, the whole capital, and the whole empire bowed to him. But while bowing, every one hated him; while obeying, every one cursed him.

Thugut knew it and laughed at it. What did he care for the love and hatred of men? Let them curse him, if they only obeyed him.

And they obeyed him. The machine of state willingly followed the pressure of his hand, and he conducted the helm with a vigorous arm. He directed from his cabinet the destinies of Austria; he skilfully and ingeniously wove there the nets with which, according to his purposes, he wanted to surround friend or foe.

To-day, too, he had worked in his cabinet until evening, and he had only just now dismissed his two private secretaries, Heinle and Hubschle. This was the hour at which Thugut was in the habit of repairing either to the emperor or to his gardens in the Wahringer Street. His valet de chambre, therefore, awaited him in the dressing-room, and his carriage was in readiness below in the court-yard. To-day, however, the minister apparently wished to deviate from his custom, and instead of going to the dressing-room, he violently rang the bell.

“Germain,” he said, to the entering valet de chambre, “no uniform to-day, no gala-dress, but my Turkish garments. Light up the Turkish cabinet, kindle amber in the lamps, and place flowers in the vases. In the course of an hour supper for two persons in the Turkish cabinet. Arrange every thing in a becoming manner.”

Germain bowed silently and withdrew, in order soon to return with the ordered Turkish costume. Thugut silently suffered himself to be clad in the costly Turkish dressing-gown, and in the golden slippers, the wonderful Cashmere shawl to be wrapped around his waist, and the Turkish fez to be placed on his head. Germain then brought a Turkish pipe with a splendidly carved amber tip, and handed it to the minister.

“Now open the door,” said Thugut, laconically. Germain touched the frame of the large painting on the wall, and Thugut stepped through the small door into the hall. With rapid steps he hastened down the hall, and soon stood at its end in front of the narrow wall on which a painting of the Virgin, illuminated by a perpetually burning lamp, was hanging. Thugut again touched an artificial rose on the frame, the painting turned around, and a door became visible behind it.

The minister opened this door, and, crossing the threshold, carefully closed it again.

He now was in his Turkish cabinet; all these beautiful gold brocades on the low sofas, these costly hangings covering the walls, these precious carpets on the floor and on the tables, these silver lamps of strange forms, hanging down from the ceiling, and filled with amber, all these richly gilt vessels arranged along the walls, were delightful reminiscences to Thugut—reminiscences of the happiest period of his life, for he had brought all these things from Constantinople, where he had lived for ten years as Austrian ambassador. Thugut, therefore, never entered this cabinet without a pleasant smile lighting up his hard features, and he only went thither when he wished to permit himself an hour of happiness amidst the perplexing occupations and cares of his official position.

On this occasion, too, as soon as he had crossed the threshold, his face had assumed a mild and gentle expression, and the harsh, repulsive stamp had disappeared from his features. He walked across the room with a smile, and quickly touched a golden knob, fixed in the opposite wall. After a few minutes he repeated this four times. He then raised his eyes to a small silver bell hanging above him in the most remote corner of the wall, and looked at it steadfastly. While he was doing so, a small side door had opened, and Germain, in the rich costume of a servant of the harem, had entered. Thugut had not once looked round toward him; he had not once glanced at the silver vases with the most splendid flowers, which Germain had placed on the marble tables; his nose was apparently indifferent to the sweet perfumes of the amber which Germain had kindled in the silver lamps, and which was filling the room with fragrant bluish clouds. He only looked at the small bell, and seemed to expect a signal from it in breathless suspense. But Germain had long since finished the decoration of the room and withdrawn again, and yet the bell was silent. A cloud passed over Thugut’s brow, and the smile disappeared from his lips.

“She was not there, perhaps, and consequently did not hear my signal,” he murmured. “I will ring the bell once more.”

He stretched out his hand toward the golden knob in the wall, when suddenly a clear, pure sound was heard. It was the small bell that had been rung.

Thugut’s countenance lighted up in the sunshine of happiness, and he looked up to the bell again in silent suspense. For a few minutes it hung motionless again, but then it resounded quickly three times in succession. “In thirty minutes she will be here,” whispered Thugut, with a happy smile. “Let us await her, then.”

He approached the small table on which he had laid his pipe, and near which Germain had placed a small silver vessel with burning amber. With the bearing and calmness of a genuine Turk he lighted his pipe and then sat down on the low square sofa. Crossing his legs, supporting his right elbow on the cushions of gold brocade, in a half-reclining attitude, Thugut now abandoned himself to his dreams and to the sweet enjoyment of smoking. He was soon surrounded by a blue cloud from which his black eyes were glistening and glancing up to the large clock on the mantelpiece.

On seeing now that the thirty minutes had elapsed, Thugut rose with youthful vivacity, and laid his pipe aside. He then approached the large and strangely formed arm-chair, standing immediately under the silver bell. When he had vigorously pushed back the arm-chair, a small door became visible behind it. Thugut opened it and placed himself by it in a listening position.

Suddenly it seemed to him as though he heard a slight noise in the distance. It came nearer, and now there appeared in the aperture of the door a lady of wonderful loveliness and surpassing beauty. The eye could behold nothing more charming than this head with its light-brown ringlets, surrounding the face as if by a ring of glory, and contrasting so strangely with the large black eyes, which were sparkling in the fire of youth and passion. Her enchanting lips were of the deepest red, and a delicate blush, like the beautiful tint of the large purple shell, mantled the cheeks. Her nose, of the purest Roman style, was slightly curved, and her expansive forehead imparted a noble and serious air to the charming youthful face. The beholder saw in these eyes, ardor and passion; on this forehead, thought and energetic resolutions; and on this swelling mouth, archness, overflowing spirits, and wit. And the figure of this lovely woman was in full harmony with her ravishing head. She was petite, delicate, and ethereal, like a sylph, and yet her form was well developed and beautiful; if she had been somewhat taller, she might have been compared with Juno.

She remained standing in the door, and with her flaming eyes glanced over the room; then she fixed them on Thugut, and burst into a loud and merry laugh.

“Ah, ah, that is the song of my bulbul, the ringing voice of my oriental nightingale,” exclaimed Thugut, drawing the laughing lady with gentle force into the room and pushing the arm-chair again before the closed door. “Now tell me, my bulbul, why do you laugh?”

“Must I not laugh?” she exclaimed, in a clear and sonorous voice. “Is not this a surprise as if it were a scene from the Arabian Nights? You told me six months ago you were going to have a passage made, by which one might go unseen from my rooms in the Burg to your apartments in the chancery of state. I had no doubt of the truth of what you told me, for fortunately the chancery of state is close to the Burg, and there are enough secret staircases and doors here as well as there. I was, therefore, by no means surprised when one day, in the silence of the night, I heard soft hammering at the wall of my bedroom, and suddenly beheld a hole in the wall, which, in the course of a few hours, had been transformed into a door with an arm-chair before it, just like that one there; in the next night, a locksmith made his appearance and hung up a small silver bell in my room, concealing it behind a lamp; and yesterday you whispered to me: ‘Await the signal to-morrow! I have to talk to you about important affairs.’ I therefore waited with all the impatience of curiosity; at last the bell resounded six times; I answered the signal and hastened through the narrow halls and ascended the never suspected small staircase, perfectly satisfied that I was going to a diplomatic conference. And what do I find? A little Turkish paradise, and in it a pacha—”

“Who was yearning only for his charming houri in order to be entirely in paradise,” said Thugut, interrupting her. “Every thing has its time, my Victoria, state affairs as well as happiness.”

“The question only is, my cold-hearted friend, whether you prefer state affairs or happiness,” she replied, smilingly threatening him with her finger.

“Happiness, if you bring it to me, Victoria!” he exclaimed, pressing the beautiful woman impetuously against his bosom.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and looked up to him with an air of arch enthusiasm. “Are you happy now?” she asked, in a low voice.

He only replied by means of glowing kisses and whispered words of intense passion into her ear. She did not resist him; she listened with smiling satisfaction to his whispers, and a deeper blush mantled her cheeks.

“Ah, I like to hear you talk thus,” she said, when Thugut paused; “it delights me to sip the honey of oriental poetry from the lips of my wild bear. Even the Belvederian Apollo is not as beautiful as you in your genial and wondrous ugliness when you are talking about love.”

Thugut laughed. “Then you think I am very ugly, Victoria?” he asked.

“Yes, so ugly that your ugliness in my eyes is transformed into the most inconceivable beauty,” she said, passing her rosy fingers across his dark and bronzed face. “Sometimes, my friend, when I see you in the imperial halls, with your strange smile and your grave bearing, I believe it is the god of darkness himself whom I behold there, and who has descended upon earth in order to catch in person a few human souls that he is very anxious to have in his power. Ah, I would not have you an iota more handsome, nor a single year younger. I like your demoniacal ugliness; and the infernal ardor, hidden under the snow of your hair, truly delights me. To be beloved by young men with the fickle straw-fire of passion is a very common thing; but when an old man loves as intensely as a youth, when he always illuminates the beloved with the glory of a fire that he has snatched from hell, ah! that is something enchanting and divine! Love me, therefore, in your own way, my beautiful, ugly prince of darkness!”

“I love you in my own way, my charming angel, whom nobody believes to be a demon,” said Thugut, laughing. “I feel precisely like you, my beautiful Victoria; I love you twice as ardently, because I penetrated your true nature; because, when you are smiling upon others, I alone perceive the serpent, while others only behold the roses, and because I alone know this angelic figure to conceal the soul of a demon. Thus we love each other because we belong to each other, Victoria; you call me the prince of darkness, and you are assuredly the crown-princess of hell. After my death you will occupy my throne.”

“Then it is in hell just as in Austria?” asked Victoria. “The women are not excluded from the throne.”

“Well, sometimes it really seems to me as though it were in Austria as it ought to be in hell, and as though the small devils of stupidity, folly, and ignorance, had chosen Austria for their particular play-ground.”

“Let us expel them, then, my friend,” exclaimed Victoria; “I should think that we were powerful enough to accomplish that.”

“Will you assist me in expelling them?” asked Thugut, quickly.

“How can you ask me?” she said, reproachfully. “So you have forgotten every thing? Our whole past is buried under the dust of your ministerial documents?”

“No, I have forgotten nothing!” exclaimed Thugut, almost enthusiastically. “I remember everything. Oh, how often, Victoria, do I see you in my dreams, just as I saw you for the first time! Do you yet remember when it was?”

“It was in the camp in front of Giurgewo.”

“Yes, in the camp in front of Giurgewo, at the time that the Turks surprised our trenches.[92]在1790中。 All of our officers completely lost their senses; the general-in-chief, Prince Coburg, rode off in the most cowardly manner; and Count Thun had been killed, while General Anfsess was dangerously wounded. Oh, it was a terrible day; terror and dismay spread through the whole camp. A wild panic seized the soldiers, they fled in all directions; every one was shouting, howling, and trembling for his own miserable existence. I had just gone to headquarters, and I may say that I was the only one who did not tremble, for nature has not imparted fear to me. I witnessed the growing confusion with dismay, when I suddenly beheld a woman, an angel, who appeared with dishevelled hair, and eyes flashing with anger, addressing the soldiers and admonishing them in glowing words to do their duty. No, what she said were no words, it was a torrent of enthusiasm, bursting from her lips like heavenly flames. And the soldiers listened in amazement; the stragglers rallied round their colors, the cowards were ashamed, and the trembling and downcast took heart again when they heard the ringing, bold words of the beautiful woman. Reason obtained its sway; they were able once more to hear and consider what we said to them, and thanks to you and to myself, the ignominious rout was transformed into an orderly and quiet retreat. Both of us saved every thing that was yet to be saved. Ah, it is a funny thing that all the soldiers in the large camp had lost their wits, and that only a civilian and a woman kept theirs.[93]Vide “Kaiser Franz und Metternich: Ein Fragment,” p. 83. On that day, in my enthusiasm, I vowed eternal friendship to you.”

“We vowed it to each other!” exclaimed Victoria.

“And we have kept our vows. I sent you to Vienna with a recommendation to my friend, Count Colloredo, and he honored my recommendation. He introduced you to the court; he related your heroic deed to the emperor, and the whole court did homage to the intrepid heroine of Giurgewo. Your bold husband, the handsome captain of hussars, Charles de Poutet, having been killed in Belgium at the assault upon Aldenhoven, I came to you and renewed my vow of eternal fidelity and friendship. Did I keep my word?”

“You did. Thanks to you and to Colloredo, I have become the friend of the empress, and the AJA of her first-born daughter, the Archduchess Maria Louisa. But, on obtaining this position, I renewed to you, too, my vow of eternal friendship and eternal fidelity. Did I not also keep my word?”

“You did. Thanks to you and to Colloredo, I have become prime minister and ruler of Austria!”

“And now, my friend, a question. Did you invent this Turkish cabinet, the secret staircases and halls, and the mysterious language of the bells, for the sole purpose of relating to me here the history of our past feelings toward each other?”

“No, Victoria, in order to build here the edifice of our future. Here, in this secret cabinet, we will lay the foundation of it, and draw up the plans. Victoria, I stand in need of your assistance—will you refuse it to me?”

“Stretch out your hand with the sceptre, my god of darkness, command, and I shall obey!” said Victoria, gliding down on the sofa, crossing her arms on her breast, and looking up to Thugut with languishing eyes.

He sat down by her side, and laid his hand over her eyes.

“Do not look at me so charmingly as to make my blood rush like fire through my veins,” he said. “Let us first speak of business affairs, and then we will forget every thing in draughts of fiery sherbet. So listen to me, Victoria, be a little less of the enchanting angel now, and a little more of the malicious demon.”

“Is there a minister to overthrow, a powerful man to be trampled under foot?” asked Victoria, her black eyes flashing like dagger-points. “Have we got an enemy whom we want to lead across the PONTE DEI SOSPIRI to an eternal prison? Speak quickly, my friend; I am waiting for the music of your words.”

“There are two enemies for you to fathom,” said Thugut, slowly.

“To fathom! Is that all? A little spying, nothing further?”

“But some bloodshed might attend that spying.”

“I like blood, it has such a beautiful purple color,” said Victoria, laughing. “Who are the two enemies I am to fathom?”

“France and Prussia!”

“Oh, you are joking.”

“No, I am in sober earnest. France and Prussia are the two enemies whose innermost thoughts you are to fathom.”

“But France and Prussia are not here in Vienna.”

“No, not here in Vienna, but they are at the fortress of Rastadt.”

“我不明白你的意思，我的朋友。”

“Listen to me, and you will understand me. You know that I hate France, and that I abhor the peace we were compelled to conclude with her. France is a hydra, whose head we must cut off, or by whom we must allow ourselves to be devoured. I am in favor of cutting off her head.”

“So am I!” exclaimed Victoria, laughing. “Have you got a sword sharp enough to cut off the hydra’s head? Then give it to me—I will behead her.”

“The hydra believes she has a sword with which she might kill me. Listen to me. I was once in my life foolish enough to sign a paper which might prove dangerous to me in case it should be submitted to the emperor. This paper is in the hands of France.”

“France has got a large hand. Which of her fingers holds the paper?”

“A year ago, the paper was in Bernadotte’s hands, and he had already applied for an interview with the empress, in order to deliver to her the paper, which she had promised to hand to the emperor. I learned it in time, and sent out a few friends to bring the papers out of his own rooms.”

“Ah. I understand. It was on the day of the festival of the volunteers, and of the inauguration of the French banner.”

“Yes, it was on that day. The coup was not entirely successful; we gave Bernadotte a good lesson—we compelled him to leave Vienna, but he took these papers along.”

“And where is Bernadotte?”

“At Rastadt, where he attends the sessions of the congress as the military plenipotentiary of France.”

“I shall go there, too, as your plenipotentiary, my friend!” exclaimed Victoria, smiling. “But, in order to obtain the papers, we shall not make an assault upon his house; we shall only assail his heart, and that I shall open a breach there large enough to let the dangerous papers pass through it, I hope my skill will warrant—”

“Your skill and your beauty,” said Thugut, interrupting her. “But I believe my beautiful Victoria will not have to assail Bernadotte, but another man. Bernadotte took warning from that scene in his house; he understands very well that the possession of those papers is dangerous, and he has, therefore, transferred the danger to other shoulders. He has intrusted another man with the papers.”

“Whom? If it be a man of flesh and blood name him, and I shall make the assault upon him,” said Victoria.

“It is doubtless one of the three ambassadors of the French Republic, and I have reason to believe that it is the haughty and impudent Bonnier. It was he at least who spoke to Count Cobenzl about certain papers that might become dangerous to me, and who inquired stealthily if Cobenzl would feel inclined to deliver them to the emperor.”

“Let me depart, my friend; I must have the papers,” said Victoria, rising.

“Ah, how beautiful you are in your impetuosity!” exclaimed Thugut, smiling; “but we are not through yet with our conference, dear Victoria. For the sole purpose of obtaining those miserable papers, I should not beg my angel to unfold his demon’s wings and to assist me. If my interests alone were at stake, I should allow fate to take its course, and leave every thing to its decision. But the interests of Austria are equally at stake; and I do not say this in the sense in which my great predecessor, Prince Kaunitz, used to say: ‘He who attacks me, attacks Austria, for Austria cannot exist without me. She would fall down if my strong hand did not hold her.’ No, I know very well that no man is indispensable; that we are only machines in the hands of fate, and that, as soon as one of these machines is worn out and unnecessary, fate casts it aside and substitutes a new one. But the state is something more exalted and important than a mere individual; in order to defend it, we must collect our whole energy, our whole ability, and it is a matter of indifference if, by doing so, we endanger some human lives and shed some blood. There is an abundance of human lives in the world, and the blood that has been shed is restored in the course of a few hours. Victoria, you shall not merely assist me; you shall aid the state too, and make an effort for its welfare.”

“Only he who dares wins!” exclaimed Victoria, with a fascinating smile. “Tell me what I am to do, my friend.”

“To be fascinating, to avail yourself of the power of your charms, that is all. To tame a bear, in order to draw his secrets from him.”

“In what forest shall I find this bear?”

“At Rastadt, and his name is Roberjot, or Bonnier, or Debry, for aught I know. Try all three of them. One of them at least will have a heart capable of falling in love, and eyes to admire your beauty. Chain that man to your triumphal car, fathom him, try to become his confidante, and sift his secrets.”

“For a special purpose, or only in general?”

“For a special purpose. I have reason to believe that France is deceiving us, and that, while seeking an alliance with us, and assuring us every day of her friendship, she is secretly plotting against us.”

“Plotting with whom?”

“With Prussia, Austria’s mortal enemy. France has promised us not to grant any further aggrandizement to Prussia. I am satisfied that she has secretly made similar promises to Prussia in relation to us, and that she is trying as eagerly, and by means of as many assurances, to obtain the alliance of Prussia, as that of Austria.”

“It is, however, of the highest importance for us to know what France may have promised to Prussia, and how far the negotiations between the two powers have gone. To fathom this, either by amicable or violent means, by shrewdness or by compulsion, by bribery or by threats, will be your task, my heavenly demon.”

“It is a beautiful task, because it is a difficult one,” said Victoria, proudly. “It is a matter of life and death, this duel I am to fight with one of those French bears.”

“But my beautiful Victoria shall not lack seconds to furnish her weapons, and to do every thing she wants them to do.”

“Who are my seconds?”

“Count Lehrbach and Colonel Barbaczy.”

“Ah, Barbaczy, whose acquaintance we made at Giurgewo?”

“The same. A bold, intrepid man, who is not afraid of anybody—neither of God nor of the devil.”

“Lehrbach and Barbaczy, your two bloodhounds,” said Victoria, musingly. “If they are to be my seconds, I am afraid the duel will not merely remain a spiritual one, and not merely hearts will be wounded. I am afraid real blood will be shed, and there will be carnal wounds.”

“I must have the papers!” exclaimed Thugut, “either by means of cunning or by measures of open violence, do you understand? And as to the wounds and blood, I wish with all my heart to give these impudent republican fellows who are putting on such airs at Rastadt, as though they were masters of Germany, a sound and bloody lesson, and thus give France an unmistakable proof of our opinion.”

“Good, my dear Satan, I shall assist you in performing this little infernal comedy. Two weighty questions, however, remain to be asked. On what pretext shall I ask my imperial mistress to grant me leave of absence?”

“Have you not got a sister, who is married to a rich country gentleman, in the grand-duchy of Baden, and who informed you yesterday that she had been suddenly taken dangerously ill?”

“I have a sister!” exclaimed Victoria, laughing. “I who never knew a paternal roof, or family—I who dropped upon earth like a ripe peach-blossom, and would have been crushed there, if my handsome and generous Charles de Poutet had not accidentally passed by while the wind was driving me along, and if he chivalrously had not picked me up and placed me in his button-hole. I never knew my family—I was an orphan since my earliest childhood. No, my friend, I have no sister.”

“Oh, try to recollect, Victoria; it is your sister who has called you to her death-bed, and for whose sake the empress will give you leave of absence.”

“Ah, vraiment, I recollect now! Of course, I must go and see my sister. The good, dear sister—how she will long to see me again in order to recover from her sickness! Oh, I must repair to my sister—nothing must detain me here. The kind-hearted empress will not refuse me leave of absence, for I have to fulfil a sacred duty. Family ties are more sacred than any other.”

“Ah, you are really a most affectionate sister; the empress will readily grant you leave of absence, and you will set out to-morrow evening. I shall provide fresh horses for you at every station, and I shall send you to-morrow morning a comfortable travelling-coach. Your first question, then, is answered. Now for the second.”

“Yes, my friend, I will briefly state my second question. After accomplishing my task, after chivalrously fighting my duel, and conquering the papers, what will be my reward?”

“Your reward will be the only one I dare offer to a beautiful young widow,” said Thugut, with a diabolical smile. “A husband who will bestow upon you a distinguished name, who will strengthen your position at court, and who will one day bequeath to you a princely inheritance.”

“What!” exclaimed Victoria, joyfully, “you will marry me, my friend?”

“I?” asked Thugut, almost in terror. “Who spoke of me? Am I able to offer you wealth and a distinguished name? My fortune would be too insignificant for your pin-money, and although the ship-builder’s son has acquired quite a distinguished name, he lacks the dust of ten dead ancestors. I am my own ancestor, and my pedigree contains but my own name. No, Victoria, I have something better in store for you. I shall make you the wife of the minister, Count Colloredo. He is a member of the old aristocracy, and his wife will outrank at court all the ladies of the ministers and of the lower nobility. He is, moreover, very wealthy, and a favorite of the emperor. I shall give him to understand that he loves you ardently, and that he would pine away if you should reject him. The dear count does not like to hear people talk about pining away and dying, and he will consider himself saved if you accept him and allow him to grow young again in your arms. To induce him to marry you, and to direct him correctly, let me alone for that. On the day on which you bring me the papers, even if they should be somewhat blood-stained, on that day I shall have the honor to lead you to the altar, and greet you by the name of Countess Colloredo.”

“The scheme is good and feasible,” said Victoria, musingly, “and yet I do not like it altogether. To be frank with you, my friend, if you really believe that I ought to marry again, why will not YOU marry me? What shall I do with the childish, conceited, and proud Count Colloredo, who is already seventy years of age? Why cannot I have my god of darkness? Thugut, I ask you, why do not you want to marry me?”

Thugut replied to the flaming glance of the charming lady by a loud laugh.

“I marry you? Ah, my heavenly demon! that would be very imprudent, for in that case I should have to require you to lead a devout and chaste life, and to keep my name unsullied.”

“Ah, you insult me,” exclaimed Victoria, feelingly. “You want to insinuate that I am unworthy of being your wife.”

“You are worthy of being much more, dearest, for you are a demon of love; but my wife ought only to be a matron of chastity.”

“Oh, how tiresome!” sighed Victoria.

“Yes, how tiresome!” repeated Thugut. “And our own heavenly liaison, the last romantic dream of my life, would it not also be broken off if you were to become my wife? Why would we then stand in need of secrecy—of hidden staircases and doors, and of this Turkish cabinet?—inasmuch as I should have the right to enter your rooms before the eyes of the whole world. Besides, we would be unable to be useful to each other. My wife, of course, would have to side with me and defend me everywhere, while, in case you are married to another man, you are at liberty to act for me and to favor me. I could not promote the interests of my wife at court; I could not speak of her in terms of praise to the empress, and recommend that fresh honors and distinctions be conferred upon her. My wife, therefore, would remain the aja of the little Archduchess Maria Louisa, while my influence will be able to secure to the Countess Victoria Colloredo the position of a first lady of honor of the duchess.”

“First lady of honor!” exclaimed Victoria, joyfully, and with glowing cheeks. “You are right, my friend, it is better for me to marry Count Colloredo. Colloredo has great power over the emperor; I have great power over the empress, and shall have the same power over Colloredo. But I am again under your control, and thus you will rule us all, and rule Austria, for I shall always remain your faithful servant and friend.”

“Women’s oaths are as fitful as the wind, they are as fleeting as the clouds,” said Thugut, shrugging his shoulders. “But I believe you, Victoria, for you are no woman like other women. If I were ever to discover that you had deceived me, I should take a terrible revenge!”

“What sort of revenge, my friend?” asked Victoria, embracing him smilingly and tenderly.

“I know but one punishment for a faithless woman,” said Thugut, “and if I envy any thing, my friend, Sultan Mustapha, is able to do it, it is his power of publicly inflicting this punishment. A faithless woman is drowned in a sack, that is all. She is placed in a sack—gagged, of course, so as to be unable to scream—and in the dead of night she is rowed out into the sea, which silently opens its waves in order to receive the silent victim. I have witnessed this romantic spectacle three times in Constantinople, and it always filled me with delight. It is so noiseless, so simple, and yet so significant! It is true we have no sea here, but we have the Danube, and there is room in it for many faithless women. Beware, therefore, Victoria! But now a truce to business and politics. Now, my demon, unfold your angel wings, and let me pass an hour with you in paradise. Will you do me the honor, Countess Colloredo in spe, to take supper with me here?”

“Here?” said Victoria, looking around wonderingly. “Where is the supper-table?”

“You will see it directly.”

Thugut stooped and vigorously pressed a golden knob, fixed in the floor, close to the sofa. Immediately a creaking and rattling noise was heard; the floor opened, and a large aperture became visible. After a few minutes a table, covered with the most luxurious dishes and sparkling wines, and glittering with silver and crystal, slowly and majestically arose.

“Splendid!” shouted Victoria, dancing like a fairy around the magic table—“splendid! The prince of darkness commands, hell opens, and by the fire, over which the souls of the wicked are roasting, the most savory dishes have been prepared for Satan! But first swear to me, my friend, that this pheasant is filled with truffles, and not with human souls.”

“My dear Victoria,” replied Thugut, laughing, “human souls have only too often the same fate as truffles—hogs discover them! Come, I drink this glass of sherbet to the health of the Countess Colloredo in spe.!”

The congress of Rastadt had been in session for nearly two years. For nearly two years the German ambassadors had been quarrelling with France about the ancient boundaries of the empire, and had been quarrelling among each other about a few strips of land, a few privileges which one state demanded, while another would not grant.

It was a sorrowful and humiliating spectacle this congress of Rastadt presented to the world, and all Germany was looking on with feelings of pain and shame, while France pointed at it with scornful laughter, and exclaimed:

“It is not France that destroys and dissolves Germany, but Germany is annihilating herself. She is dissolving away, owing to her own weakness, and the dissensions of her rulers will kill her!”

Yes, indeed, Germany bore the germ of death and dissolution in her sick, lacerated breast, and the first symptoms of putrefaction already made their appearance. These first symptoms were the envy, jealousy, and hatred the rulers of Germany felt toward each other, and the malicious joy with which one saw another die, without pitying his torments, and only mindful of the fact that he would be the dying state’s heir.

The first section of Germany which succumbed under these circumstances, embraced the bishoprics and ecclesiastical states. They exhibited most of all the corruption and putrefaction of German affairs. Hence, such German states as expected to be benefited by their dissolution, voted for secularization, while such as were threatened with losses voted against it. A new apple of discord had been thrown into the German empire; the last spark of German unity was gone, and two hostile parties, bitterly menacing each other, were formed. Austria loudly raised her voice against the secularization of the ecclesiastical possessions, because she could derive no benefit from it; while Prussia declared in favor of secularization, because she believed she would be able to aggrandize her territory in consequence; and the secondary princes demanded the dissolution of the bishoprics even more urgently than Prussia, because they knew that a portion of those dominions would fall to their own share.

Covetousness caused the German princes to overlook all other interests, and to act contrary to all correct principles; covetousness caused them first to shake the decaying ancient German empire; covetousness caused them to destroy the old political organization of the country, and German hands were the first to tear down the edifice of the imperial constitution.

The German ambassadors at Rastadt forgot, therefore, the original object of their mission; they had come thither to secure the continued existence of the German empire, and to protect Germany from the encroachments of France, and now they were threatening the German empire themselves. They had come thither to establish the boundaries of Germany, and now they were attacking the boundaries of the single sections and states of the empire themselves.

No wonder that France sought to profit by these dissensions of the Germans among each other; no wonder that she thought she might seize a piece of Germany, too, seeing, as she did, that the German states were quarrelling among themselves about the division of the spoils. France, therefore, advanced her troops farther on the right bank of the Rhine, and claimed the fortresses of Kehl, Ehrenbreitstein, and Castel.

This fresh and unparalleled exaction silenced the domestic quarrels among the Germans for a moment, and all voices united to protest loudly and solemnly against the new demand of the French Republic.

But the French replied to the solemn protests of the German ambassadors at Rastadt by cold sneers and violent threats. Ehrenbreitstein not being surrendered to them after the first summons, they blockaded the fortress, levied contributions on the right bank of the Rhine, and declared the possessions of the nobility to be forfeited to the French Republic.[94]Vide Hausser’s “History of Germany.” vol. ii., p. 201. The German ambassadors at Rastadt complaining of these oppressive proceedings, the French declared, “the magnanimity of the French had exceeded all expectations. They were able to take every thing, and they had contented themselves with very little.”

The congress had met at Rastadt in order to conclude peace, but so far the negotiations had produced nothing but exasperation and a strong probability of ultimate war. The arrogance and scornful bearing of France became every day more intolerable, and the desire of Austria became proportionately more evident to punish France for her insolence, and to take revenge for the numerous and galling insults she had heaped upon Germany. Prussia hesitated to join Austria, and to declare in favor of open hostilities against France; she deemed such a war injurious to her particular interests, and desired to maintain peace; the secondary German states, however, allowed themselves to be intimidated by the threats of France to devour all of them, and they were quite willing to expose Germany to further humiliations, provided that their own petty existence should not be endangered.

The work of pacification, therefore, made no progress whatever, but only became a disgrace to Germany, and the congress of Rastadt was nothing but a symptom of the disease of which Germany was soon to perish. Germany seemed destined to die, like an aged and decrepit man, of her own weakness and exhaustion.

This weakness was every day on the increase. In January, 1799, Ehrenbreitstein succumbed, and the French occupied the fortress.

Still the peace commissioners remained in session at Rastadt, and continued their negotiations with the French, who just now had again perfidiously violated the treaties, and appropriated German possessions.

If the German ambassadors, perhaps, were lost to all sense of honor and of their disgraceful position, the representatives of France were fully conscious of their dignity. They treated the ambassadors of Germany in the most scornful manner; they dared haughtily and arrogantly to meddle with the domestic affairs of Germany; they constantly trumped up new claims in the most overbearing attitude, and in their habitual imperious tone, and the representatives of the German empire scarcely dared to refuse their exactions even in the most timid manner.

Only one of the three French ambassadors, for the last few weeks, had been less supercilious than his colleagues; he had participated less than formerly in the affairs of the German congress, and while Roberjot and Jean Debry were raising their arrogant and haughty voices in every session of congress, Bonnier kept aloof. He even held no further intercourse with his own countrymen; and his tall and imposing figure, with the proud and gloomy countenance, was seen no longer every night as heretofore in the drawing-rooms of the wives of Roberjot and Debry. He kept aloof from society as he kept aloof from the congress, and the French ladies smilingly whispered to each other that something strange, something unheard of, had happened to the austere republican. To the man who heretofore had proudly resisted the blandishments of beautiful women, they said he had fallen in love with that wondrously lovely and strange lady who had been at Rastadt for the last few weeks, but who was living in such seclusion that the public had only occasionally got a sight of her. No one knew who this strange lady was, and what she wanted at Rastadt; she had paid visits to no one, and left her card nowhere. She had arrived only attended by a footman and a lady’s maid; but in advance, a brilliant suite of rooms and a box at the theatre had been retained for her. In this box every night the beautiful strange lady was seen closely veiled, and the gloomy pale face of Bonnier had been repeatedly beheld by her side.

Victoria de Poutet, therefore, had accomplished her purpose; she had tamed one of the French bears, and surrounded him with the magic nets of her beauty. She was the mysterious strange lady whose appearance had created so great a sensation in the drawing-rooms of Rastadt for the last few weeks; she was the lady whom Bonnier was following as though he were her shadow.

She had come to him as a refugee, as a persecuted woman, with tears in her eyes. She had told him a tragic story of Thugut’s tyranny and wanton lust. Because she had refused to submit to the voluptuous desires of the Austrian minister, he had sworn to ruin her, and his love had turned into furious hatred. She further stated the minister had threatened her with the confiscation of her property, with imprisonment, death, and disgrace, and she had only succeeded by her courage and cunning in saving herself and in escaping from Austria. Now she came to Bonnier to invoke the protection and assistance of generous France, and to flee from the rude violence of a German minister to the chivalrous aegis of the French Republic.

How beautiful she was in her tears, with the mournful smile on her swelling lips! But how much more beautiful when a deep blush mantled her cheeks, and when her large dark eyes were sparkling in the glow of revenge and anger!

For Victoria de Poutet did not only want protection—she also sought revenge—revenge on that tyrant Thugut, who had dared to threaten her innocence and virtue, and to assail her honor and happiness. She was not only persecuted—she was also insulted, and she wished to chastise the Austrian minister for these insults. Bonnier was to lend her his assistance for this purpose. He was to procure means for her to overthrow Thugut.

How eloquently and enthusiastically did she speak to Bonnier about her misfortunes, her anger, and her thirst of revenge! How much truthfulness there was depicted in her face—what a demoniacal ardor in her eyes; how much energy in her whole bearing, so indicative of bold determination and of an indomitable spirit!

Bonnier gazed at her in wondering delight, in timid awe. He who had hated women because they were so weak, so peevish, and insignificant, now saw before him a woman with the energy of a hatred such as he had scarcely known himself, with the enthusiasm of a revengefulness that shrank back from no dangers and no obstacles. Under this delicate, ethereal female form there was concealed the spirit and firm will of a man; bold thoughts were written on her forehead, and an enchanting smile was playing on her full lips. While Bonnier was listening to the dithyrambics of her hatred and revenge, love glided into his own heart; she had fascinated him by her revengeful hymns as others fascinate by their love-songs.

Victoria was conscious of her triumph; her eagle eye had watched every motion, every step of this innocent lamb she was going to strangle; she had seen him fall into the glittering nets she had spread out for him; she knew that he was a captive in her meshes without being aware of it himself.

Her bearing now underwent a change; she was no longer merely a woman thirsting for revenge, but also a tender, loving woman; she was no longer merely filled with hatred, but she also seemed susceptible of gentler emotions; she lowered her eyes before Bonnier’s ardent glances and blushed. To his timid and faltering protestations of love she replied by subdued sighs, and by a dreamy smile; and when Bonnier at length dared to approach her with a bold confession of his passion—when he was on his knees before her, all aglow with love and enthusiasm, Victoria bent over him with a sweet smile, and whispered: “Give me the papers that are to ruin Thugut; surrender that vile man to my revenge, and my love, my life are yours!”

Bonnier looked up to her with a triumphant smile. “You are mine, then, Victoria,” he said, “for you shall have those papers! I surrender that infamous and treacherous man to your revenge!”

She stretched out her hands toward him with a cry of boundless joy. “Give me the papers,” she exclaimed; “give them to me, and I will thank you as only love is able to thank!”

Bonnier looked a long while at her, and his face, usually so gloomy, was now radiant with happiness and delight.

“To-morrow, my charming fairy,” he said, “to-morrow you shall have the papers which are to open hell to your enemy, and heaven to your enraptured friend. But you must give me also a proof of your confidence and love; you must come to me and call in person for the papers. I give you the highest proof of my love by delivering to you documents that do not belong to me, but to the republic. Then give me likewise the highest proof of your love. Come to me!”

She cast a long and glowing glance on him. “I shall come!” she whispered.

And Victoria kept her word. Early on the following morning a closely-veiled lady was seen to glide into the castle of Rastadt, where the three French ambassadors were living at that time. Bonnier received her in person at the foot of the wide staircase, and gave her his arm in order to conduct her to the rooms occupied by himself. They exchanged not a word with each other, but walked silently through the sumptuous apartments and finally entered Bonnier’s study.

“We are at the goal—here I bid you welcome, my fairy queen!” exclaimed Bonnier. “Remove now these odious veils. Let me now at length see your beautiful features!”

He violently tore off her black veils, and Victoria suffered it smilingly, and looked at him with a wondrous air of joy and happiness.

“Are you content now?” she asked, in her superb, sonorous voice. “Has the proud lord of creation now prepared a new and satisfactory triumph for himself? The poor slave whom he loves must come to him and beg him for love and happiness!”

She had crossed her hands on her breast, and half kneeling down before Bonnier, she looked up to him with a fascinating mixture of archness and passion.

Bonnier lifted her up and wanted to imprint a kiss upon her lips, but she violently pushed him back.

“No,” she said, “let us be sensible as long as we can. First we must attend to our business.”

“Business!” exclaimed Bonnier. “What have we to do with business? Leave business to the diplomatists and their clerks. Why should lips so charming and beautiful pronounce this cold and dismal word?”

“If I spoke of business, I meant revenge,” said Victoria, fervently. “Give me the papers, Bonnier—the papers that are to ruin Thugut!”

Bonnier took her head between his hands and looked at her with flaming eyes.

“Then you hate him still? You still desire to take revenge on him?” he asked.

“Yes, I hate him!” she exclaimed, “and the happiest day of my life will be the one on which I see him hurled down from his proud eminence, and sneaking alone, miserable, and despised into obscurity.”

“One might, indeed, really believe that she is in earnest, and that truth alone could utter such words,” muttered Bonnier, who constantly held her head in his hands, and thus gazed at her. “Swear to me, Victoria, swear to me by what is most sacred to you, that you hate Thugut, and that you desire to ruin him!”

“I swear it by what is most sacred to me,” she said, solemnly; “I swear it by your love!”

“That is the best and most unequivocal oath, and I will believe you,” said Bonnier, laughing.

“Then you will now give me those papers?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, bluntly, “I will give them to you. Come, my angel, you are right? let us first speak of business matters. There, sit down here at my desk. Oh, henceforth this spot will be sacred to me, for your heavenly person has consecrated it. Let me sit down here by your side, and thus we will lay our dispatches before each other, like two good and conscientious diplomatists. Look here! this portfolio contains your revenge and your satisfaction. This portfolio contains the papers proving that Thugut has received large sums of money from Russia and England for the purpose of instigating the Emperor of Austria against France, and that his pretended patriotic indignation is after all nothing but the paid role of a comedian. I have abstracted this portfolio from the archives of our embassy. Do you understand me, Victoria? I have stolen it for you!”

“Let me see the papers!” exclaimed Victoria, trembling with impatience.

Bonnier opened the portfolio and drew a paper from it. But on looking at it, a dark cloud passed over his face, and he shook his head indignantly.

“What a miserable fool I was to make such a mistake!” he ejaculated angrily. “I have taken the wrong portfolio. This one does not contain the papers you are looking for.”

“That is,” said Victoria, with cutting coldness—“that is, you have intentionally deceived me. You decoyed me hither under false pretences. You told me a story about important papers that were in your possession, and with which you were to intrust me for the purpose of gratifying my revenge. And now when I come to you, nobly trusting your chivalrous word, now it turns out that you have deceived me, and that those important papers do not exist at all.”

“Ah, believe me there are papers here perhaps even more important than the documents you are looking for,” said Bonnier, shrugging his shoulders. “Believe me, Baron Thugut would give many thousands if he could get hold of the papers contained in this portfolio. They are, perhaps, even more important than those other documents.”

A flash burst forth from Victoria’s eyes, and the angry air disappeared at once from her features. She turned to Bonnier with a fascinating smile.

“What sort of papers are those?” she asked.

“Papers that do not interest you, my charming fairy,” he said, smilingly; “for what have love and revenge to do with the negotiations of diplomacy? This portfolio contains only diplomatic documents, only the secret correspondence between ourselves and the Prussian government, and the negotiations concerning an alliance between France and Prussia—that is all. They do not interest you, my beautiful Victoria, but Thugut would gladly purchase these papers for those which you are so anxious to obtain.”

Victoria’s eyes were fixed on the portfolio with a glowing expression, and her hand was involuntarily approaching it. Bonnier saw it, and a peculiar smile overspread his gloomy face for a moment.

“Happy for me,” he said, “that I discovered my mistake before giving you the portfolio. The loss of these papers would have compromised me irretrievably. But you are silent, Victoria—you do not utter a word. Then you do not yet believe in the truthfulness of my words? I swear to you, my fascinating sorceress, it was a mere mistake—I only seized the wrong portfolio.”

“Do not swear, but convince me,” said Victoria. “Go and fetch the other portfolio.”

“And I should leave you here all alone so long?” he asked, tenderly. “I should be such a prodigal as to squander these precious minutes during which I am permitted to be by your side!”

Victoria rose and looked at him with flaming, imperious eyes.

“Fetch the papers,” she shouted, “or I leave you this very moment, and you shall never see me again!”

“That is a word by which you would drive me even into the jaws of hell!” said Bonnier, ardently. “Wait for me here, Victoria—I am going for the papers.”

He greeted her with a rapid nod, and placing the portfolio under his arm, he hastily walked to the door. Here he turned around toward her and his eyes met hers steadfastly fixed upon him. He kissed his hand to her, and while doing so, the portfolio softly glided from under his arm and fell upon the floor. Bonnier took no notice of it; his whole attention was riveted on the beautiful lady. But she saw it, and her eyes sparkled with delight.

“Return as soon as possible,” she said, with an enchanting smile, and Bonnier left the room. She anxiously looked after him until the door had closed, and then she listened to the sound of his footsteps. Now the latter were no longer audible, and every thing about her was silent.

Victoria did not stir; she only swept with her large eyes searchingly over the whole room; she fixed them upon every curtain, upon every piece of furniture. But nothing was there to arouse her suspicions; a profound stillness reigned around her.

Now she rose slowly from her seat and made a few steps forward. The rustling of her heavy silk dress alone interrupted the silence.

She paused again and listened, and her eyes fixed themselves longingly upon the portfolio lying at the door. Why were not her eyes endowed with the power of a loadstone? Why were they not able to attract the portfolio to her?

The portfolio lay there quietly and immovably; Victoria vainly stretched out her hands toward it—she was unable to reach it.

Once more she impetuously glanced round the room; then she bounded forward like a lioness rushing toward her prey.

She grasped the portfolio and raised it with a triumphant smile. Her small hands quickly plunged into it and drew forth the papers. There were but a few letters, and besides several closely written pages. Victoria did not take time to look at them; she rapidly pushed the papers into the pocket of her dress, and arranged the folds of the latter so as to conceal the contents of her pocket. She then closed the portfolio and replaced it on the floor, precisely on the spot where Bonnier had dropped it.

Her purpose was accomplished! How her face was glowing with delight! How deep a blush was burning on her cheeks! How her eyes were sparkling with diabolic exultation!

With light, inaudible steps she now crossed the room again, and resumed her seat at the desk. And it was fortunate that she had done so, for steps were approaching in the adjoining room; the door opened, and Bonnier entered.

Bonnier paused for a moment on the threshold, fixing his eyes on Victoria, who greeted him with a sweet, fascinating smile. But the smile disappeared from her lips when she beheld the threatening angry glance with which he was staring at her, and the air of gloomy indignation depicted on his countenance. She might be mistaken, however, and perhaps it was merely the anguish of her conscience which made her tremble.

“And you bring me the papers, my beloved friend?” asked Victoria, with an air of fascinating kindness.

“Yes,” said Bonnier, still remaining on the threshold, “I bring you the papers. But just look what a fool love has made of me! For your sake, I forgot the portfolio with those other papers, and dropped it on the floor there. Do you now perceive your power over me? For I believe I told you that the loss of those papers would ruin me irretrievably.”

“Yes, you told me so,” said Victoria, smiling.

“And yet I forgot them here!” exclaimed Bonnier, stooping to pick them up. But Victoria immediately rose and hastened to him.

“To punish you for your carelessness, you shall now leave the portfolio on the floor,” she said, smiling; “nor shall you think of it again as long as I am with you. Tell me, will that be too hard for you?”

She bent her beautiful face over him, and with flaming glances looked deeply into his eyes.

Bonnier dropped the portfolio again and smiled.

“It may lie there,” he said; “it has performed its part anyhow. And now, I suppose, we will talk again about our business?”

“Yes, we will,” replied Victoria. “Give me the papers.”

“No, madame; no one gives up such important papers without witnesses,” said Bonnier. “Permit me therefore to call my witnesses.”

He hastily turned to the door and pushed it open.

“Come in, gentlemen!” he shouted, and his two colleagues, Roberjot and Debry, immediately appeared on the threshold. Without greeting Victoria, merely eyeing her with cold, contemptuous glances, the two gentlemen entered and walked directly to the desk. Bonnier locked the door and put the key into his pocket.

Victoria saw it, and a slight pallor overspread her rosy face for a moment.

“Will you tell me, sir, what all this means?” she asked, in a threatening voice.

“You will learn it directly,” said Bonnier. “Please sit down again in your arm-chair, for we are going to resume our diplomatic negotiations. You, gentlemen, take seats on both sides of the lady; I shall sit down opposite her, and at the slightest motion she makes, either to jump out of the window there, or to interrupt us by an exclamation, I shall shoot her as sure as my name is Bonnier!”

He drew a pistol from his bosom and cocked it. “I command you to be silent and not to interrupt us,” he said, turning to Victoria. “The pistol is loaded, and, unless you respect my orders, I will most certainly inflict upon you the punishment you have deserved; I shall take your life like that of any other spy who has been caught in a hostile camp.”

He dropped his right hand with the pistol on the table, and then turned to the two gentlemen, who had listened to him in gloomy silence.

“Yes, my friends,” he said, throwing back his head in order to shake away his long black hair, surrounding his face like a mane—“now, my friends, I beg you to listen to my justification. You have latterly believed me to be a fool, a prodigal son of the republic, who, for the sake of a miserable love-affair with a flirt, neglected the most sacred interests of his country. You shall see and acknowledge now that, while I seemed to be lost, I was only working for the welfare and glory of our great republic, and that this woman with her beautiful mask did not make me forget for a single moment my duties to my country. These papers contain my justification—these papers, madame, with which you hoped to revenge yourself. Pardon me, my fairy queen, I have made another mistake, and again brought a wrong portfolio; these are not the documents either which you would like to obtain. Perhaps they are after all in the portfolio lying on the floor there!”

He looked at Victoria with a scornful smile; she fixed her large eyes steadfastly upon him; not a muscle of her face was twitching—not the slightest anxiety or fear was depicted on her features.

Bonnier opened the portfolio and drew the papers from it.

“I shall only briefly state to you the contents of those papers,” he said, “you may afterward peruse them at leisure. This first paper is a letter I received by a courier from Vienna, without knowing who sent it to me. The letter only contains the following words:”

“‘Be on your guard. A very dangerous spy will be sent to you—a lady who is the most intimate friend of a distinguished statesman. Receive her well, and let no one see these lines. It will promote the welfare of France.’”

“As a matter of course, I said nothing about it, not even to you, my friends; I was silent, and waited for further developments. Two days later I received this second paper. It was a note from a lady, who wrote to me that she had just arrived at Rastadt, and was very anxious to see me, but under the seal of the most profound secrecy. I followed the invitation, and repaired to the designated house. I found there this lady, who introduced herself to me as Madame Victoria de Poutet; and if you now look at her you will comprehend why that refined half-Turk Thugut, as well as the mad rake Count Lehrbach, are both in love with her, for she is more beautiful than the loveliest odalisque and the most fascinating Phryne!”

The three men fixed their eyes upon Victoria, and ogled her with an impudent leer. Victoria sat erect and immovable, and even her eye-lashes did not move; she apparently did not see the glances fixed upon her; nor even heard what Bonnier had said about her, for her countenance remained calm and almost smiling.

Bonnier continued: “The lady told me a very pretty little story, the particulars of which I shall not relate to you. In short, Thugut had attacked her innocence and her honor—her innocence and her honor, do not forget that!—and she wanted to revenge herself upon him. She asked me to lend her my assistance for this purpose. I feigned to believe every thing she told me, and promised to protect her.”

“This third paper here I found on my desk on returning home from my visit to the lady. A stranger had delivered it. It was written by the same man who had addressed the first letter to me. It read as follows: ‘A romance is to be played with you; let them proceed without interfering with their doings. The fascination of beauty is very powerful, and the lady is going to fascinate you, for the purpose of obtaining important papers from you. Pretend to be fascinated, and you will penetrate the intrigue.’”

“The advice was good, and I followed it. I feigned to be fascinated; I played the enthusiastic lover of this lady; and although I doubtless acted my part in a very clumsy manner, she was kind enough to believe me; for she is well aware that no one is able to withstand the power of her beauty. But in order to perform my ROLE in a really truthful manner, not only Madame de Poutet, but also all Rastadt, had to be convinced of my ardent love for her, for Victoria is very shrewd; Thugut has educated a worthy pupil in her. Hence I had to wear the mask of my love everywhere, even before you, my friends. I had to make up my mind to pass for a fool until I was able to prove to you that I was a man of sense; I had to wear MY mask until I was able to tear this woman’s mask from her face. Oh, I assure you, it is not an easy task to be this lady’s lover! She demands a great deal of courting, a great deal of ardor, a great deal of passion; she has got very warm blood herself, and, if I am not mistaken, she is a great-granddaughter of that beautiful Roman lady, Messalina.”

Now, for the first time, a slight tremor pervaded Victoria’s frame, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks. But this lasted only a moment, and then she sat again quite erect and immovable.

“In spite of the difficulty of your task, you have played your part in a masterly manner,” said Jean Debry, in a rude and stern voice. “All of us believed you were in love, and this modern Messalina certainly did not doubt it, either.”

“No, she did not doubt it,” said Bonnier, with a disdainful smile. “She surrounded herself with spies, who had to watch me, but fortunately I knew them, and did not betray myself.”

“How did you know them?” asked Roberjot.

“My unknown correspondent pointed them out to me. He had given up his incognito, and came to me, satisfying me of his identity by writing a few lines, which proved him to be the author of the two previous letters. He offered for a brilliant compensation to assist me in unravelling the intrigue, and I promised him five thousand francs. He was one of our most astute and skilful spies, and he wanted this affair to be his masterpiece, in order to obtain from me a recommendation to General Bonaparte, who has just returned from Egypt. I shall give him to-day the promised sum and the recommendation, for he has honestly earned both, and faithfully assisted me in unmasking this woman.[95]This spy was the famous Schulmeister, afterward Bonaparte’s most adroit and intrepid spy. He boasted of the role he had played at Kastadt, and which had brought him double pay; first from Count Lehrbach, whom he had informed that there were important papers in the hands of the French, and then from the French ambassadors, whom he had cautioned against Count Lehrbach, and given the advice to burn their papers and to be on their guard. I received every morning a written report from him about every thing Madame Poutet had done during the previous day. All these reports are in this portfolio, and you will examine them, my friends. You will see from them that Madame Victoria, who had come to me in order to revenge herself upon Thugut, nevertheless kept up a good understanding with his most intimate friend, Count Lehrbach, for every night, as soon as I had left Victoria, the noble count repaired to her house and spent several hours with her, although Victoria had assured me Count Lehrbach did not even suspect her presence at Rastadt. However, there was a possibility that my spy was deceiving me just as well as he had deceived Madame de Poutet. In order to ascertain that, I informed Victoria one evening that a courier would set out for Paris in the morning, and forward to the Directory papers of the highest importance, concerning an alliance with Russia. We sent a courier to Paris in the morning, but not far from Rastadt he was arrested by Austrian hussars, robbed of his papers, and taken to the headquarters of the Austrian Colonel Barbaczy, at Gernsbach, although our courier was provided with a French passport and an official badge, enabling him fully to prove that he was in our service.”[96]历史的。

“This was an unheard-of violation of international law, for which we have vainly sought redress,” said Jean Debry, gloomily.

“These German cowards are not even courageous enough to acknowledge their own acts. They deny having robbed our courier, but they cannot deny having imprisoned him, contrary to international law.”

“Just as little as Victoria can deny that she was the person who had informed Lehrbach and Barbaczy of the courier’s departure,” said Bonnier; “for, fifteen minutes before setting out, the courier himself did not know any thing about his mission; and the dispatches, of course, were of the most harmless description. But my pretty lady-bird there had gone into the trap I had set for her, and I kept her in it without her knowing any thing about it. She was quite unsuspecting, and, thanks to my talents as a comedian, and to my love, I finally found out the real purpose of her visit to Rastadt. Yesterday I promised her to deliver to her to-day the papers that endanger Thugut’s position at the head of the Austrian government, and prove him to be a hireling of England. In the evening Count Lehrbach sent a courier to Vienna; then we retaliated, caused the courier to be arrested and took his papers from him. He had, however, only a small note, addressed to Minister Thugut. Here it is. It contains only the following words:”

‘I shall get the papers to-morrow.’

‘VICTORIA.’

“But these words were written by the beautiful hand of the same lady who latterly had penned so many tender love-letters to myself. I had promised her those papers if she would call for them to-day, and you see, my friends, that she has come. But I desired to know if this really was the only object for which Baron Thugut had sent his most beautiful and sagacious agent to Rastadt, or if there were not some secondary objects at the bottom of this mission. I therefore resolved to ascertain this to-day. My astute spy had told me that Madame de Poutet was also anxious to get hold of some other important papers. I therefore feigned to-day to have abstracted the wrong papers and to have brought here a portfolio containing our correspondence with the Prussian minister and documents in relation to an alliance between France and Prussia. I told my fair friend that the loss of these papers would ruin me irretrievably, and yet I was such a love-sick fool as to drop the portfolio with the papers while engaged in tenderly kissing my hand to my dulcinea. Look, gentlemen, the portfolio is yet lying on the floor, but the papers are no longer in it. They are carefully concealed in Madame Victoria’s pocket. Oh, it was a very pretty scene, when she stole them. I watched her through a small hole which I had bored through the door this morning, and through which I could plainly see every motion of my beautiful Victoria. Yes, my beautiful Victoria stole the papers, although she knew that this loss would seriously embarrass me. However, my friends, it will be unnecessary for the republic to punish me for this theft Madame de Poutet has committed, for the papers she has got in her pocket are nothing but the faithful diary of my daily intercourse with Victoria de Poutet. I have carefully noted in it every conversation I had with her, and every favor she granted to me, and I have no objection whatever to this diary being transmitted to Minister Thugut. If he is not jealous, he will not complain of it. And now I am through with my justification, and I ask you, did I not act as a good and faithful son of the republic should? Have I done my duty? Will the country be content with me?”

“Yes,” said Roberjot, solemnly, “you have acted as a good and faithful son of the republic. You have intrepidly followed the enemy who had approached you on secret paths, into his hiding-places, and you have skilfully exposed the perfidious intrigues he had carried on against France. You have done your duty.”

“Yes, the republic will thank you for your zeal,” exclaimed Jean Debry; “you have run great risks for her sake. For a beautiful, voluptuous, and intriguing woman is even more dangerous than a venomous serpent. Like St. Anthony, you have withstood the temptress by praying to our holy mother, the great French Republic! Yes, the country will be content with you.”

“I thank you, my friends,” said Bonnier, with a happy smile; “I now stand again before you with a clear conscience, and without a blush of shame on my cheeks. You have accepted my atonement. As for this woman, we will inflict no further punishment on her. She was only a tool in Thugut’s hands; that was all. This hour has punished her sufficiently, and our profound contempt shall be the only penalty she will take away with her.”

“Yes, our profound contempt shall be the penalty she will take with her,” exclaimed Roberjot and Jean Debry at the same time.

“There is nothing more disgraceful under the sun than a woman who sells her charms,” said Roberjot.

“There is nothing more dreadful and dishonorable than an ambitious and heartless wanton!” added Jean Debry, in a voice of profound disdain.

“Victoria de Poutet,” said Bonnier, throwing the pistol aside, “every thing between us was a comedy, even this pistol, the pretended bullet of which frightened and silenced you. It was not loaded. The comedy is now at an end, and there remains nothing for you but to go to your stage-manager and to tell him that you utterly failed in performing your part. You may go now; nothing further detains you here.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Victoria, in a perfectly calm and sonorous voice; “you forget that you put the key of the door into your pocket; go, therefore, and unlock it.”

She pointed at the door with an imperious gesture, and Bonnier went to unlock it. Victoria, remaining still erect and calm in her arm-chair, looked at him while he was doing so, and only when Bonnier had opened the door and returned to the table, she rose slowly from her seat.

Now she stood there, drawing herself up to her full height, her face glowing with indignation, a deep blush mantling her cheeks, a disdainful smile playing on the slightly parted lips, the expansive white forehead deeply wrinkled, as cold as marble, and yet concealing under this marble surface a torrent of molten lava, which, as soon as it should burst forth, could not but produce death and destruction. Hers was now a diabolic beauty, and when she turned her eyes toward the three republicans, they glistened like dagger-points.

“I have to make but a brief reply to M. Bonnier’s long speech,” she said, proudly and calmly. “This is my answer: I shall obtain those papers in spite of you, and I shall revenge myself for this hour! To your last high-sounding sentences, I answer by another sentence: there is nothing more dangerous than an irritated and insulted woman, for she will revenge herself and imbrue her hands in the blood of those who have insulted her. Roberjot, Bonnier, and Debry, you have insulted me, and I tell you I shall revenge myself. Before three times three days have passed, you will have atoned with your blood for this hour, and may God have mercy on your poor souls!”

She greeted all of them with a haughty nod, and slowly turning around, she proudly crossed the room. The three men looked at her with pale and gloomy faces, and a slight shudder pervaded for a moment the hearts of the republicans, usually so bold and undaunted.

“She looked like an evil demon predicting our future!” murmured Roberjot.

“She will fulfil her word; she will try to assassinate us,” said Bonnier. “Did you not see it? Her eyes were moist; no tears were glistening in them, however, only the venom she will discharge at us. Let us be on our guard!”

“Yes, let us beware of the serpent’s venom!” exclaimed Jean Debry, with gloomy energy—“let us beware, and most of all, let us be men who cannot be intimidated by the furious threats of a woman.”

But Jean Debry knew neither the energy nor the power of this woman whose threats he despised. He did not know that, her anger once aroused, she would not rest until she had taken her revenge. Late in the evening of that day, when all Rastadt was sleeping, Victoria received in her house her two powerful assistants, Count Lehrbach and Colonel Barbaczy, the latter having been invited by a mounted messenger to come to her from Gernsbach.

A long and portentous conference these three persons held in the course of that night, during which they consulted about the best way to punish the French ambassadors, and to take from them the papers which Thugut wished to obtain. “We must have those papers at any price,” exclaimed Victoria, with flashing eyes.

“Oh, it will only cost a little blood!” shouted Count Lehrbach, in a hollow voice, and laughing hoarsely. “These overbearing French have trampled us under foot for two long years, and tormented us by pricking us with pins. Now we will also trample them under foot and prick them, and if our pins are longer than theirs, who will complain?”

“Thugut wants those papers, and he has forgiven us in advance if they should be a little blood-stained,” said Victoria, looking up smilingly to old Colonel Barbaczy, who, with his hands folded on his back, his large shaggy eyebrows gloomily contracted, was slowly pacing the room.

“Barbaczy! Barbaczy!” he muttered, in a low voice, “what will the world say of your old head?”[97]Barbaczy’s own words.—Vide “Uteransoher Lodiacus.” Edited by Theod. Mundt, 1835. Third number, p. 208

“The world will not grudge these hot-blooded French a little blood-letting, and it will praise your surgical skill, my dear Barbaczy,” exclaimed Lehrbach, laughing. “The responsibility, besides, does not fall on your shoulders. Who will blame you if your hot-blooded hussars commit some excesses-some highway robberies? You do not order them to assassinate anybody; you only order them to take the papers from the ambassadors, and only to use force if it cannot be helped.”

“I shall send fifty hussars to the city to-morrow,” said Barbaczy, thoughtfully. “They shall encamp in front of the Ettlinger Gate, so that no one, whosoever it may be, will be able to cross the bridges connecting the city with the suburbs without passing through their ranks.”

Victoria approached him, and laying her hands on his shoulders, she looked up to him with a fascinating smile.

“And you will send some of your most intrepid hussars to Lehrbach and to me, that we may tell the brave men what rewards are in store for them if they perform their duly in a satisfactory manner? No, my beautiful god of war, do not shake your silvery locks BO wildly—do not threaten me with your frowning brow! Think of Gurgewo, my friend! Do you remember what you swore to me at that time in the trenches when I dressed with my own hands the wound for which you were indebted to a Turkish sabre? Do you remember that you swore to me at that time you would reciprocate my service as soon as it was in your power?”

“I know it, and I am ready to fulfil my oath,” said Barbaczy, heaving a sigh.

“Well, my friend, all I ask is this: send to-morrow six of your bravest and wildest hussars to my house, and order them faithfully to carry out what Count Lehrbach and I shall tell them.”

“The hussars shall halt at your door to-morrow morning at nine o’clock,” said Barbaczy, resolutely.

“And I will admit them!” exclaimed Victoria, smiling. “You will be here, Count Lehrbach, I suppose?”

“I shall be here in order to listen to the wise lessons which the goddess Victoria will teach the sons of Mars,” replied Lehrbach, fixing his small, squinting eyes with an admiring air on Victoria’s beautiful face. “You will need no other means but your smiles and your beauty in order to inspire those brave soldiers with the most dauntless heroism. Who would not be willing to shed a little French blood, if your lips should promise him a reward?”

“And what reward are you going to promise to the soldier?” asked Barbaczy, turning to Madame de Poutet. “What are you going to ask them to do?”

“Only to seize all the papers of the ambassadors,” said Victoria.

“And to examine their bodies if any papers should be concealed there,” added Count Lehrbach, laughing.

“And their reward shall be that the hussars will be allowed to look for some other spoils,” said Victoria.

“Highway robbery and murder, then,” sighed Barbaczy, “and perpetrated by soldiers of my regiment! Highway robbery and murder!”

“Fie, what ugly words those are! and who thinks of murder?” exclaimed Victoria. “Did we Germans die, then, of the numerous kicks and blows which the French have given us for the last few years? We will only return those kicks and blows, and the French will assuredly not be so thin-skinned as to die of them on the spot.”

“Do as you please,” sighed Barbaczy. “Count Lehrbach has the right to issue orders to myself and to my troops, and I owe you the fulfilment of my oath. My hussars will occupy the city to-morrow, and I shall order the French ambassadors to depart forthwith. What is to be done after their departure you may settle with the hussars I shall send to you. I shall take no notice of it.”

“And that is a very wise resolution of yours, colonel,” said Lehrbach. “‘To know too much gives us the headache,’ says our gracious emperor, whenever he returns the dispatches to Baron Thugut without having read them. Send us, then, your hussars to-morrow, and whatever may happen, colonel, we shall not betray each other.”

“No, we shall not betray each other!” repeated Victoria and Barbaczy, with uplifted hands.

“To-morrow, then!” said Victoria. “Now, good-night, gentlemen!”

Early on the next day a strange and exciting report pervaded the city of Rastadt. Austrian regiments were encamped all round the city, and Sczekler hussars held all the gates. This was the report which filled with astonishment and terror all those who were not initiated into the secrets of the political situation, and who were not familiar with the condition of the negotiations between France and Germany. For, by surrounding the city with troops, in spite of the presence of the French ambassadors, Austria openly violated the treaty stipulating that, until the congress had adjourned sine die, neither German nor French troops should approach the city within a circuit of three German miles.

It was reported, too—what the ambassadors as yet remaining in Rastadt had carefully concealed up to this time—that the imperial ambassador, Count Metternich, had quietly left the city several days before, and that the peace commissioners of the empire had the day previous suspended their official functions.

Congress had then dissolved; the peace commissioners of France and Germany had been in session for two years without accomplishing their task, and the situation looked as ominous and warlike as ever.

Every one resolved to depart; every trunk was being packed, every carriage drawn forth from its shed. The French actors and ballet-dancers had fled from Rastadt several weeks before at the first rude blast of the approaching storm, like rats leaving a sinking ship. The sounds of joy and mirth had died away, and everywhere only grave and gloomy words were heard, only sorrowful and downcast faces met.

Every one, as we stated above, was preparing to set out, and the French ambassadors, too, were going to leave Rastadt to-day, the twenty-eighth of April. Their carriages were ready for them early in the morning in the courtyard of the castle, when, all at once, some footmen of the embassy, with pale, frightened faces, rushed into the castle and reported that Austrian hussars were posted at the gates and refused to allow any one to leave or enter the city. Even the commander of Rastadt, an officer of the Duke of Baden, had not been permitted by the hussars to ride out of the gate. He had been compelled to return to his headquarters.[98]Historical.—Vide “Geheime Geschichte der Rastatter Friedensverhandlungen in Verbinduog mit den Staatshandeln dieser Zeit.” Von einem Schweizer, part vi.

“But we will not allow them to prevent us from leaving Rastadt,” said Roberjot, resolutely. “They will not dare to interfere with the departure of the representatives of the French Republic!”

“The republic would take bloody revenge for such an outrage, and these Germans are afraid of the anger of the republic!” exclaimed Jean Debry, haughtily.

Bonnier violently shook his black mane, and a gloomy cloud settled on his brow.

“Barbaczy’s hussars are encamped in front of the gates, and Victoria de Poutet last night had another interview with Lehrbach and Barbaczy,” he said. “If, like both of you, I had a wife and children with me, I should not dare to depart without further guaranties.”

At this moment the door opened, and a footman handed Roberjot a letter that had just arrived from the Prussian ambassador, Count Goertz.

Roberjot opened the letter and glanced over it. “The guaranties you referred to, Bonnier, will soon be here,” he said, smiling. “It seems the German ambassadors are sharing your apprehensions. They have drawn up a joint letter to Colonel Barbaczy, requiring him to give them a written pledge that there would be no interference with the free departure of the French ambassadors, and that the safety of the latter would not be endangered. Count Goertz, therefore, requests us not to set out until a written reply has been made to the letter of the ambassadors. Shall we delay our departure until then?”

“We will,” said Bonnier; “you will not derogate from your republican dignity by consulting the safety of your wives and children. I may say that, inasmuch as I have to take care of no one but myself, and as I know that no care would be of any avail in my case.”

“What do you mean, my friend?” asked Jean Debry.

“I mean that I shall die to-day,” said Bonnier, solemnly.

Roberjot turned pale. “Hush,” he whispered; “let us say nothing about this matter to the women. My wife had a bad dream last night; she saw me weltering in my gore and covered with wounds, and she asserts that her dreams are always fulfilled.”

“Roberjot, Bonnier, and Debry, may God have mercy on your poor souls!” muttered Bonnier, in a low voice.

“I do not believe in dreams!” said Jean Debry, with a loud, forced laugh, “and besides, my wife has had no bad dream whatever, and not been warned by fate. Come, let us go to our ladies who are already clad in their travelling-dresses. Let us tell them that we shall, perhaps, be compelled to wait a few hours.”

But several hours elapsed, and the messenger the German ambassadors had sent to Colonel Barbaczy’s headquarters did not return. Nearly all of the German ambassadors made their appearance at the castle in order to express to the representatives of the French republic their astonishment and profound indignation at this disrespectful delay, and to implore them not to set out until the message had arrived.

The French ambassadors themselves were undecided and gloomy; their ladies were pacing the rooms with sad faces and tearful eyes. Every one was in the most painful and anxious state of mind. The whole day passed in this manner, and night set in when finally the messenger whom the ambassadors had sent to Colonel Barbaczy, returned to Rastadt. But he did not bring the expected written reply of the colonel. In its place, an Austrian officer of hussars made his appearance; he repaired to the Prussian Count Goertz, at whose house the other ambassadors were assembled, and brought him a verbal reply from Count Barbaczy. The colonel excused himself for not sending a written answer, stating that a pressure of business prevented him from so doing. He at the same time assured the count and the ambassadors that the French ministers could safely depart, and that he would give them twenty-four hours for this purpose.[99]Vide Dohm, nach seinem Wollen und Handeln, von Cronau, p. 600.

The officer brought, however, an autograph letter from Barbaczy to the French ministers, and he repaired to the castle in order to deliver it to them.

This letter from Barbaczy contained the following lines:

“Ministers: You will understand that no French citizens can be tolerated within the positions occupied by the Austrian forces. You will not be surprised, therefore, that I am obliged to request you, ministers, to leave Rastadt within twenty-four hours.”

“Barbaczy, Colonel.”

“Gernsbach, April 28, 1799.”[100]Dohm preserved a copy of this letter.—Ibid.
(Vide Dohm, nach seinem Wollen und Handeln, von Cronau, p. 600.)

“Well, what are we to do?” asked Roberjot, when the officer had left them.

“We will set out,” said Jean Debry, impetuously.

“Yes, we will set out,” exclaimed his beautiful young wife, encircling him with her arms. “The air here, it seems to me, smells of blood and murder; and every minute’s delay redoubles our danger.”

“Poor wife, did they infect you, too, already with their evil forebodings and dreams?” said Jean Debry, tenderly pressing his wife to his heart. “God forbid that they should endanger a single hair of your dear, beautiful head! I am not afraid for myself, but for the sake of my wife and of my two little daughters. For you and for our friends here I would like to choose the best and most prudent course.”

“Let us set out,” said Madame Roberjot; “the terrible dream last night was intended to give us warning. Death threatens us if we remain here any longer. Oh, my husband, I love nothing on earth but you alone; you are my love and my happiness! I would die of a broken heart if I should lose you! But no, no, not lose! We live and die together. He who kills you must also take my life!”

“They shall not kill us, my beloved,” said Roberjot, feelingly; “life, I trust, has many joys yet in store for us, and we will return to our country in order to seek them there. Bonnier, you alone are silent. Do not you believe also that we ought to set out to-night?”

Bonnier started up from his gloomy reverie. “Let us set out,” he said, “we must boldly confront the terrors from which we cannot escape. Let us set out.”

“Be it so!” shouted Roberjot and Jean Debry. “The republic will protect her faithful sons!”

“And may God protect us in His infinite mercy,” exclaimed Madame Roberjot, falling on her knees.

And Jean Debry’s wife knelt down by her side, drawing her little girls down with her.

“Let us pray, my children, for your father, for ourselves, and for our friends,” she said, folding the children’s hands.

While the women were praying, the men issued their last orders to the servants and to the postilions.

At length every thing was in readiness, and if they really wished to set out, it had to be done at once.

Roberjot and Jean Debry approached softly and with deep emotion their wives, who were kneeling and praying still, and raised them tenderly.

“Now be strong and courageous—be wives worthy of your husbands,” they whispered. “Dry your tears and come! The carriages are waiting for us. Come, come, France is waiting for us!”

“Or the grave!” muttered Bonnier, who accompanied the others to the courtyard where the carriages were standing.

The ambassadors with their wives and attendants had finally taken seats in the carriages. Roberjot and his wife occupied the first carriage; Bonnier, the second; Jean Debry with his wife and daughters, the third; in the fourth, fifth, and sixth were the secretaries of legation, the clerks and servants of the ambassadors.

The last coach-door was closed; a profound momentary silence succeeded the noise and turmoil that had prevailed up to this time. Then the loud, ringing voice of Roberjot asked from the first carriage, “All ready?”

“All ready!” was the reply from the other carriages.

“Then let us start,” shouted Roberjot, and his carriage immediately commenced moving. The other five carriages followed slowly and heavily.

The night was chilly and dark. The sky was covered with heavy clouds. Not the faintest trace of the moon, not a star was visible. In order that they might not lose their way, and see the bridge across the Rhine, a man, bearing a torch, had to precede the carriages. But the gale moved the flame so violently that it now seemed near going out, and then again flared up and cast a glare over the long procession of the carriages. Then every thing once more became dark and gloomy and ominously still.

The torch-bearer, preceding the foremost carriage, vigorously marched ahead on the road. All at once it seemed to him as though black figures were emerging from both sides of the highway and softly flitting past him. But assuredly he must have been mistaken; it could not have been any thing but the shadows of the trees standing on both sides of the road.

No, now he saw it again, quite plainly. The shadows were horsemen, softly riding along on both sides of the highway. He raised his torch and looked at the horsemen. There was quite a cavalcade of them. Now they crossed the ditch and took position across the road, thus preventing the carriages from passing on. The torch-bearer stood still and turned around in order to shout to the postilions to halt. But only an inarticulated, shrill cry escaped from his throat, for at the same moment two of the horsemen galloped up and struck at him with their flashing swords. He parried the strokes with his torch, his only weapon, so that one of the swords did not hit him at all, while the other only slightly touched his shoulder.

“What is the matter?” shouted Roberjot, in an angry voice, from the first carriage.

The horsemen seized the arms of the torch-bearer and dragged him toward the carriage. “Light!” they shouted to him, and quite a squad of merry horsemen was now coming up behind them. When they dashed past the torch, the frightened torch-bearer was able to see their wild, bearded faces, their flashing eyes, and the silver lace on their uniforms.

The torch betrayed the secret of the night, and caused the Sczekler hussars of Barbaczy’s regiment to be recognized.

They now surrounded the first carriage, shouting furiously, and shattering the windows with their sabres.

“Minister Roberjot! Are you Minister Roberjot?” asked a dozen wild, howling voices.

Roberjot’s grave and threatening face, illuminated by the glare of the torch, appeared immediately in the aperture of the window. “Yes, I am Roberjot,” he said, loudly; “I am the ambassador of France, and here is the passport furnished me by the ambassador of the Elector of Mentz.”

He exhibited the paper, but the hussars took no notice of it; four vigorous arms dragged Roberjot from the carriage, and before he had time to stretch out his hand toward his pistols, the sabres of the hussars fell down upon his head and shoulders.

A terrible yell was heard, but it was not Roberjot who had uttered it; it was his wife, who appeared with pale and distorted features in the coach door, hastening to her beloved husband, to save him or to die with him.

But two stout arms kept her back—the arms of the valet de chambre who, perceiving that his master was hopelessly lost, wanted to protect at least his mistress from the murderous sabres of the hussars.

“Let me go, let me go; I will die with him!” she cried; but the faithful servant would not loosen his hold, and, unable to reach her husband, she had to witness his assassination by the hussars, who cut him with their sabres until he lay weltering in his gore.

“He is dead!” shrieked his wife, and her wail aroused Roberjot once more from his stupor. He opened his eyes and looked once more at his wife.

“Sauvez! sauvez!” he shouted, in a voice full of anguish. “Oh!—”

“What! not dead yet?” roared the hussars, and they struck him again.

Now he was dying. That loud, awful death-rattle was his last life-struggle. The valet de chambre in order to prevent her from hearing that awful sound, with his hands closed the ears of his mistress, who, petrified with horror, was looking at her dying husband.

But she did not hear it; she had fainted in the servant’s arms. At this moment a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and the wild, bearded face of a hussar stared at him.

“Footman?” asked the hussar, in his broken Hungarian dialect. “Yes, footman!” said the valet de chambre, in broken German.

The hussar smilingly patted his shoulder, and, with his other hand, pulled the watch from his vest-pocket, kindly saying to him, “Footman, stay here. No harm will befall him!” He then bent forward, and with a quick grasp, tore the watch and chain from the neck of Roberjot’s fainting wife.

His task was now accomplished, and he galloped to the second carriage, to which the other hussars had just dragged the torch-bearer, and which they had completely surrounded.

“Bonnier, alight!” howled the hussars, furiously—“Bonnier, alight!”

“Here I am!” said Bonnier, opening the coach door; “here—” They did not give him time to finish the sentence. They dragged him from the carriage, and struck him numerous blows amidst loud laughter and yells. Bonnier did not defend himself; he did not parry a single one of their strokes; without uttering a cry or a groan, he sank to the ground. His dying lips only whispered a single word. That word was, “Victoria!”

The six hussars who crowded around him now stopped in their murderous work. They saw that Bonnier was dead—really dead—and that their task was accomplished. Now commenced the appropriation of the spoils, the reward that had been promised to them. Four of them rushed toward the carriage in order to search it and to take out all papers, valuables, and trunks; the two others searched and undressed the warm corpse of Bonnier with practised hands.

Then the six hussars rushed after their comrades toward the third carriage—toward Jean Debry. But the others had already outstripped them. They had dragged Debry, his wife, and his daughters from the carriage; they were robbing and searching the lady and the children, and cutting Jean Debry with their sabres.

He dropped to the ground; his respiration ceased, and a convulsive shudder passed through the bloody figure, and then it lay cold and motionless in the road.

“Dead! dead!” shouted the hussars, triumphantly. “The three men are killed; now for the spoils! The carriages are ours, with every thing in them! Come, let us search the fourth carriage. We will kill no more; we will only seize the spoils!”

And all were shouting and exulting, “Ho for the spoils! for the spoils! Every thing is ours!” And the wild crowd rushed forward, and Jean Debry lay motionless, a bleeding corpse by the side of the carriage.

Profound darkness enveloped the scene of horror and carnage. The torch had gone out; no human eye beheld the corpses with their gaping wounds. The ladies had been taken into the carriages by their servants; the hussars were engaged in plundering the three remaining carriages, the inmates of which, however, forewarned in time by the shrieks and groans that had reached them from the scene of Roberjot’s assassination, had left and fled across the marshy meadows to the wall of the castle garden. Climbing over it and hastening through the garden, they reached the city and spread everywhere the terrible tidings of the assassination of the ambassadors.

As soon as the report of the dreadful occurrence had been circulated, a dense crowd gathered in the streets of Rastadt, and for the first time for two years the ambassadors of all the German powers were animated by one and the same idea, and acting in concord and harmony. They repaired in a solemn procession to the Ettlinger gate, headed by Count Goertz and Baron Dohm; the others followed in pairs, Count Lehrbach, the Austrian ambassador, being the only one who had not joined the procession. But the guard at the gate refused to let them pass, and when they had finally succeeded, after long and tedious negotiations, in being permitted to leave the city, they were met outside of the gate by the Austrian Captain Burkhard and his hussars.

Count Goertz went to meet him with intrepid courage. “Did you hear that an infamous murder has been perpetrated on the French ambassadors not far from the city?”

“I have heard of it,” said the captain, shrugging his shoulders.

“And what steps have you taken in order to save the unfortunate victims, if possible?”

“I have sent an officer and two hussars for the purpose of ascertaining the particulars.”

“That is not sufficient, sir!” exclaimed Count Goertz. “You must do more than that, you must strain every nerve on this occasion, for this is not an ordinary murder, but your honor, sir, is at stake, as well as the honor of your monarch and the honor of the German nation!”

“The honor of the German nation is at stake,” shouted the ambassadors, unanimously. “Our honor has been sullied by the assassination!”

But the captain remained cold and indifferent. “It is a deplorable misunderstanding,” he said. “It is true, the patrols were going the rounds at night, and such things may occur at this time. The French ministers should not have set out by night. The crime has been committed, and who is to blame for it? It was not done by anybody’s order.”[101]The literal reply of Captain Burkhard.—Vide “Report of the German Ambassadors concerning the Assassination of the French Ministers near Rastadt.”

“Who would deem it possible that such an outrage should have been committed by order of any commanding officer?” exclaimed Count Goertz, indignantly.

“Ah, yes, an outrage indeed!” said Burkhard, shrugging his shoulders. “A few ambassadors have been killed. A few of our generals, too, were killed during the last few years.”[102]同上。
(The literal reply of Captain Burkhard.—Vide “Report of the German Ambassadors concerning the Assassination of the French Ministers near Rastadt.”)

Count Goertz turned to the other ambassadors with an air of profound indignation. “You see,” he said, “we need not hope for much assistance here; let us seek it elsewhere. Let some of us repair in person to Colonel Barbaczy’s headquarters at Gernsbach, while the rest of us will go to the spot where the murders were committed. If the captain here declines giving us an escort for that purpose, we shall repair thither without one; and if we should lose our lives by so doing, Germany will know how to avenge us!”

“I will give you an escort,” said Burkhard, somewhat abashed by the energetic bearing of the count.

While the ambassadors were negotiating with the captain at the Ettlinger gate, the hussars were incessantly engaged in plundering the six carriages. After finishing the first three carriages, they ordered the ladies and servants to reenter them and to await quietly and silently what further would be done in relation to them. No one dared to offer any resistance—no one was strong enough to oppose them. Dismay had perfectly paralyzed and stupefied all of them. Madame Debry lay in her carriage with open, tearless eyes, and neither the lamentations nor the kisses of her daughters were able to arouse her from her stupor. Madame Roberjot was wringing her hands, and amidst heart-rending sobs she was wailing all the time, “They have hacked him to pieces before my eyes!”[103]“I ls l’ont hache devant mes yeux!”—Lodiacus, vol. iii., p. 195.

No one paid any attention to the corpses lying with their gaping wounds in the adjoining ditch. Night alone covered them with its black pall; night alone saw that Jean Debry all at once commenced stirring slightly, that he opened his eyes and raised his head in order to find out what was going on around him. With the courage of despair he had been playing the role of a motionless corpse as long as the hussars were in his neighborhood; and now that he no longer heard any noise in his vicinity, it was time for him to think of saving himself.

He remained in a sitting position in the ditch and listened. His head was so heavy that he had not sufficient strength to hold it erect, it dropped again upon his breast; from a burning, painful wound the blood was running over his face into his mouth, and it was the only cooling draught for his parched lips. He wanted to raise his arm in order to close this wound and to stanch the blood, but the arm fell down by his side, heavy and lame, and he then felt that it was likewise severely injured.

And yet, bleeding and hacked as he was, he was alive, and it was time for him to think of preserving his life. For over yonder, in the carriage, there resounded the wail of his children, and the lamentations of his servants. His wife’s voice, however, he did not hear. Was she not there? Had she also been assassinated?

He dared not inquire for her at this moment. He had to save himself, and he was determined to do it.

He arose slowly, and heedless of the pain it caused him. Every thing around him remained silent. No one had seen him rise; night with its black pall protected him. It protected him now as he walked a few steps toward the forest, closely adjoining the highway. At length he reached the forest, and the shades of darkness and of the woods covered the tall, black form that now disappeared in the thicket.

But his enemies might be lurking for him in this thicket. Every step forward might involve him in fresh dangers. Exhausted and in despair, Jean Debry supported his tottering body against a tree, the sturdy trunk of which he encircled with his arms. This tree was now his only protector, the only friend on whom he could rely. To this tree alone he determined to intrust his life.

Heedless of his wounded arm and the racking pains of his other injuries, Jean Debry climbed the knotty trunk; seizing a large branch, he raised himself from bough to bough. A few birds, aroused from their slumbers, arose from the foliage and flitted away. Jean Debry followed them with his eyes, and whispered, “You will not betray me!”

On the highest bough, in the densest foliage, he sat down, gasping with exhaustion, and groaning with pain. In his utter prostration after the extraordinary effort he had just made, he leaned his head against the trunk of the tree, the dense branches of which closely enveloped him, and gave a roof to his head and a resting-place to his feet.

“Here I am safe—here no one will look for me!” he muttered, and he fell asleep, prostrated by his sufferings and loss of blood.

Night with its dark mantle covered him up and fanned his feverish brow with its cooling air: the foliage of the tree laid itself soft and fresh around his burning cheeks, and delightful dreams descended from heaven to comfort this poor, tormented human soul.

After several hours of invigorating sleep, Jean Debry was awakened, not, however, by the rude hands of men, but heaven itself aroused him by the torrents of a heavy shower.

Oh, how refreshing were these cold drops for his parched lips! How gently did this soft and tepid water wash the blood and dust from his wounds! How delightfully did it bathe his poor benumbed limbs!

He felt greatly invigorated, and courageously determined to make further efforts for the preservation of his life. He slowly glided down from the tree and stood once more on the ground.

The shower was constantly on the increase, and the rain became now, at daybreak, Jean Debry’s protector. When men forsake their poor, tormented fellow-beings, Nature takes pity on them and encircles them with her saving and protecting maternal arms.

The rain protected Jean Debry; it washed the dust and blood from his garments, and made him resemble the other men who had gathered in a large crowd on the road, not far from where he emerged from the forest. All of them were looking with pale faces and expressions of unbounded horror at some objects lying in their midst. What was it that rendered this crowd, generally so noisy and turbulent, to-day so silent and grave?

Jean Debry penetrated further into their midst, and he discovered now with a shudder what riveted the attention of the vast gathering on the road.

He beheld the bloody and mutilated corpses of his two friends—the dead bodies of Roberjot and Bonnier.

Jean Debry closely compressed his lips in order to keep back the cry that forced itself from his breast; with the whole energy of his will he suppressed the tears that started from his eyes, and he turned away in order to return to Rastadt.

The rain protected Jean Debry. The rain had driven the soldiers at the gate into the guard-room, and the sentinel into the sentry-box. No one took any notice of this wet and dripping man when he entered the gate.

He quietly walked up the street, directly toward the house inhabited by Count Goertz, the Prussian ambassador. He entered the house with firm steps, and hastened into the anteroom which, as he formerly used to do, he wanted to cross in order to walk to the count’s room without sending in his name.

But the footmen kept him back; they refused to admit this pale man with the lacerated face and tattered clothes to their master’s private room.

“Don’t you know me any longer, my friends?” he asked, sadly. “Am I so disfigured that no one of you is able to recognize Jean Debry?”

The footmen now recognized his voice, and the valet de chambre hastened to open the door of the count’s study, and to shout, in a loud voice, “His excellency, the French ambassador Debry!”

Count Goertz uttered a joyful cry, and hastily rose from the sofa on which, exhausted by the efforts of the terrible night, he had sought a little rest.

Jean Debry entered the room. He made a truly lamentable appearance as he approached the count, and fixed his dimmed, bloodshot eyes upon him with an expression of unutterable anguish.

“Are my wife and children safe?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Yes, they are safe!” exclaimed the count.

And Jean Debry, the austere republican, the scoffing infidel, Jean Debry fell upon his knees! Lifting up his arms toward heaven, his eyes filled with tears, he exclaimed: “Divine Providence, if I have hitherto refused to acknowledge thy benefits, oh, forgive me!”[104]He exclaimed: “Divine providence, si j’ai meconnu tes bien faits jusqu’ici, pardonne!”—Lodiacus, iii., p. 195.

“And punish those who have perpetrated this horrible crime!” added Count Goertz, folding his hands, and uttering a fervent prayer. “O God, reveal the authors of this misdeed; let us find those who have committed this outrage, lest it may remain a bloody stigma on the fame of our country! Have mercy on poor Germany, on whose brow this mark of infamy is now burning, and who will be obliged to pour out rivers of her best blood in order to atone for this crime, and to clear her sullied honor! Have mercy on all of us, and give us courage to bravo the storms which this horrible event will assuredly call down! Have mercy, O God; punish only the assassins, but not our native land!”

This prayer of Count Goertz was not fulfilled. The real instigators of the murder were never detected and punished, although the Austrian court, in a public manifesto to the German nation, promised a searching investigation of the whole affair, and a rigorous chastisement of the assassins. But the investigation was but a very superficial proceeding, and its results were never published. The Sczekler hussars publicly sold, on the following day, the watches, snuff-boxes, and valuables they had stolen from the French ambassadors. Some of them even acknowledged openly that they had perpetrated the murder, at the instigation of their officers. But nobody thought of arresting them, or calling them to account for their crime. It is true, after a while some of them were imprisoned and tried. But the proceedings instituted against them were never published, although the Austrian court had expressly promised to lay the minutes of the commission trying the prisoners, and the results of the whole investigation, before the public. In reality, however, the Austrian authorities tried to hush up the whole affair, so that the world might forget it. And it was forgotten, and remained unpunished. In diplomatic circles, however, the real instigators of the outrage were well known. “It was,” says the author of the “Memoirs of a German Statesman” (Count Schlitz), “it was a man who, owing to his exalted position, played a very prominent part at Rastadt; not a very noble one, however. He was actuated by vindictiveness, and he was determined to seize the most secret papers of the ambassadors at any price. The general archives, however, had been forwarded to Strasburg several days before. He had found willing tools in the brutal hussars. These wretches believed that what a man of high standing asked them to do was agreeable to the will of their imperial master. Baseness is easily able to mislead stupidity, and soldiers thus became the assassins of unarmed men, who stood under the sacred protection of international law.”

The excitement and indignation produced by this horrible crime were general throughout Europe, and every one recognized in it the bloody seeds of a time of horrors and untold evils; every one was satisfied that France would take bloody revenge for the assassination of her ambassadors. In fact, as soon as the tidings from Rastadt penetrated beyond the Rhine, there arose throughout the whole of France a terrible cry of rage and revenge. The intelligence reached Mentz in the evening, when the theatre was densely crowded. The commander ordered the news to be read from the stage, and the furious public shouted, “Vengeance! vengeance! et la mort aux Allemands!”[105]“Vengeance! vengeance! and death to the Germans!”

In Paris, solemn obsequies were performed for the murdered ambassadors. The seats which Bonnier and Roberjot had formerly occupied in the hall of the Corps Legislatif were covered with their bloody garments. When the roll was called and their names were read, the president rose and replied solemnly: “Assassinated at Rastadt!” The clerks then exclaimed: “May their blood be brought home to the authors of their murder!”

Count Haugwitz, the Prussian minister of foreign affairs, had just returned from a journey he had made with the young king to Westphalia. In his dusty travelling-costume, and notwithstanding his exhaustion after the fatigues of the trip, as soon as he had entered his study, he had hastily written two letters, and then handed them to his footman, ordering him to forward them at once to their address, to the ambassadors of Prussia and England. Only then he had thrown himself on his bed, but issued strict orders to awaken him as soon as the two ambassadors had entered the house.

Scarcely an hour had elapsed when the footman awakened the count, informing him that the two ambassadors had just arrived at the same time, and were waiting for him in the small reception-room.

The minister hastily rose from his couch, and without devoting a single glance to his toilet and to his somewhat dishevelled wig, he crossed his study and entered the reception-room, where Lord Grenville and Count Panin were waiting for him.

“Gentlemen,” said the count after a hurried bow, “be kind enough to look at my toilet, and then I hope you will excuse me for daring to request you to call upon me, instead of coming to you as I ought to have done. But you see I have not even doffed my travelling habit, and it would not have behooved me to call on you in such a costume; but the intelligence I desire to communicate is of such importance that I wished to lose no time in order to lay it before you, and hence I took the liberty of inviting you to see me.”

“As far as I am concerned, I willingly accepted your invitation,” said Lord Grenville, deliberately, “for in times like these we can well afford to disregard the requirements of etiquette.”

“That I was no less eager to follow your call,” said Count Panin, with a courteous smile, “you have seen from the fact that I arrived at the same time with the distinguished ambassador of Great Britain. But now, gentlemen, a truce to compliments; let us come to the point directly, and without any further circumlocution. For the six months that I have been here at Berlin, in order to negotiate with Prussia about the coalition question, I have been so incessantly put off with empty phrases, that I am heartily tired of that diet and long for more substantial food.”

“Your longing will be gratified to-day, Count Panin,” said Count Haugwitz, with a proud smile, inviting the gentlemen, by a polite gesture, to take seats on the sofa, while he sat down in an arm-chair opposite them. “Yes, you will find to-day a good and nourishing diet, and I hope you will be content with the cook who has prepared it for you. I may say that I am that cook, and believe me, gentlemen, the task of preparing that food for you has not been a very easy one.”

“You have induced the King of Prussia at length to join the coalition, and to enter into an alliance with Russia, England, and Austria against the French Republic?” asked Count Panin, joyfully.

“You have told his majesty that England is ready to pay large subsidies as soon as Prussia leads her army into the field against France?” asked Lord Grenville.

“Gentlemen,” said Count Haugwitz, in a slightly sarcastic tone, “I feel greatly flattered by your impetuous inquiries, for they prove to me how highly you value an alliance with Prussia. Permit me, however, to communicate to you quietly and composedly the whole course of negotiations. You know that I had the honor of accompanying my royal master on his trip to our Westphalian possessions, where his majesty was going to review an army of sixty thousand men.”

“It would have been better to send these sixty thousand men directly into the field, instead of losing time by useless parades,” muttered Count Panin.

The minister seemed not to have heard the words, and continued: “His majesty established his headquarters at Peterhagen, and there we were informed that Archduke Charles of Austria was holding the Rhine against Bernadotte and Jourdan, and that the imperial army, under the command of Kray, in Italy, had been victorious, too; it is true, however, the Russian auxiliary army, under Field-Marshal Suwarrow, had greatly facilitated Kray’s successful operations. This intelligence did not fail to make a powerful impression upon my young king, and I confess upon myself too. Hitherto, you know, I had always opposed to a war against France, and I had deemed it most expedient for Prussia to avoid hostilities against the republic. But the brilliant achievements of Russia and Austria in Italy, and the victories of Archduke Charles on the Rhine, seem to prove at length that the lucky star of France is paling, and that it would be advantageous for Prussia openly to join the adversaries of the republic in their attack.”

“A very bold and magnanimous resolution,” said Count Panin, with a sarcastic smile.

“A resolution influenced somewhat by the British subsidies I have promised to Prussia, I suppose?” asked Lord Grenville.

“Let me finish my statement, gentlemen,” said Count Haugwitz, courteously. “The king, undecided as to the course he ought to pursue, assembled at Paterhagen a council of war, our great commander, Ferdinand, duke of Brunswick, of course, having been invited to be present. His majesty requested us to state honestly and sincerely whether we were in favor of war or peace with France. The duke of Brunswick was, of course, the first speaker who replied to the king; he voted for war. He gave his reasons in a fiery and energetic speech, and demonstrated to the king that at a time when England was about to send an army to Holland, an advance into Holland by our own army would be highly successful. For my part, I unconditionally assented to the duke’s opinion, and Baron Kockeritz declaring for it likewise, the king did not hesitate any longer, but took a great and bold resolution. He ordered the Duke of Brunswick to draw up a memorial, stating in extenso why Prussia ought to participate in the war against France, and to send in at the same time a detailed plan of the campaign. He instructed me to return forthwith to Berlin, and while he would continue his journey to Wesel, to hasten to the capital for the purpose of informing you, gentlemen, that the king will join the coalition, and of settling with you the particulars—”

At this moment the door of the reception-room was hastily opened, and the first secretary of the minister made his appearance.

“Pardon me, your excellency, for disturbing you,” he said, handing a sealed letter to the count, “but a courier has just arrived from the king’s headquarters with an autograph letter from his majesty. He had orders to deliver this letter immediately to your excellency, because it contained intelligence of the highest importance.”

“Tell the courier that the orders of his majesty have been carried out,” said Count Haugwitz; “and you, gentlemen, I am sure you will permit me to open this letter from my king in your presence. It may contain some important particulars in relation to our new alliance.”

The two gentlemen assured him of their consent, and Count Haugwitz opened the letter. When he commenced reading it, his face was as unruffled as ever, but his features gradually assumed a graver expression, and the smile disappeared from his lips.

The two ambassadors, who were closely watching the count’s countenance, could not fail to notice this rapid change in his features, and their faces now assumed likewise a gloomier air.

Count Haugwitz, however, seemed unable to master the contents of the royal letter; he constantly read it anew, as though he were seeking in its words for a hidden and mysterious meaning. He was so absorbed in the perusal of the letter that he had apparently become entirely oblivious of the presence of the two gentlemen, until a slight coughing of the English ambassador aroused him from his musing.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said, hastily, and in evident embarrassment; “this letter contains some intelligence which greatly astonishes me.”

“I hope it will not interfere with the accession of Prussia to the coalition?” said Panin, fixing his eyes upon the countenance of the minister.

“Not at all,” said Count Haugwitz, quickly and smilingly. “The extraordinary news is this: his majesty the king will reach Berlin within this hour, and orders me to repair to him at once.”

“The king returns to Berlin!” exclaimed Count Panin.

“And did not your excellency tell us just now that the king had set out for Wesel?” asked Lord Grenville, with his usual stoical equanimity.

“I informed you, gentlemen, of what occurred two weeks ago,” said Count Haugwitz, shrugging his shoulders.

“What! Two weeks ago? Nevertheless, your excellency has just arrived at Berlin, and are wearing yet your travelling-habit?”

“That is very true. I left Minden two weeks ago, but the impassable condition of the roads compelled me to travel with snail-like slowness. My carriage every day stuck in an ocean of mire, so that I had to send for men from the adjoining villages in order to set it going again. The axle-tree broke twice, and I was obliged to remain several day in the most forsaken little country towns until I succeeded in getting my carriage repaired.”

“The king seems to have found better roads,” said Count Panin, with a lurking glance. “The journey to Wesel has been a very rapid one, at all events.”

“The king, it seems, has given up that journey and concluded on the road to return to the capital,” said Count Haugwitz, in an embarrassed manner.

“It would be very deplorable if the king should as rapidly change his mind in relation to his other resolutions!” exclaimed Lord Grenville.

“Your excellency does not fear, then, lest this sudden return of the king should have any connection with our plans?” asked Panin. “The king has authorized you to negotiate with the English ambassador, Sir Thomas Grenville, and with myself, the representative of the Emperor Paul, of Russia, about forming an alliance for the purpose of driving the rapacious, revolutionary, and bloodthirsty French Republic beyond the Rhine, and restoring tranquillity to menaced Europe?”

“It is true the king gave me such authority two weeks ago,” said Count Haugwitz, uneasily, “and I doubt not for a single moment that his majesty is now adhering to this opinion. But you comprehend, gentlemen, that I must now hasten to wait on the returning king, in order to receive further instructions from him.”

“That means, Count Haugwitz, that you have invited us to call on you in order to tell us that we may go again?” asked Panin, frowning.

“I am in despair, gentlemen, at this unfortunate coincidence,” said Count Haugwitz, anxiously. “It is, however, impossible for me now to enter into further explanations. I must repair immediately to the palace, and I humbly beg your pardon for this unexpected interruption of our conference.”

“I accept your apology as sincerely as it was offered, and have the honor to bid you farewell,” said Panin, bowing and turning toward the door.

Count Haugwitz hastened to accompany him. When he arrived at the door, and was about to leave the room, Count Panin turned around once more.

“Count Haugwitz,” he said, in a blunt voice, “be kind enough to call the attention of the king to the fact that my imperial master, who is very fond of resolute men and measures, prefers an open and resolute enemy to a neutral and irresolute friend. He who wants to be no one’s enemy and everybody’s friend, will soon find out that he has no friends whatever, and that no one thanks him for not committing himself in any direction. It is better after all to have a neighbor with whom we are living in open enmity, than one on whose assistance we are never able to depend, and who, whenever we are at war with a third power, contents himself with doing nothing at all and assisting no one. Be kind enough to say that to his majesty.”

He bowed haughtily, and entered the anteroom with a sullen face.

Count Haugwitz turned around and met the stern, cold glance of the English ambassador, who was also approaching the door with slow and measured steps.

“Count Haugwitz,” said Lord Grenville quietly, “I have the honor to tell you that, in case the King of Prussia will not now, distinctly and unmistakably, declare his intention of joining the coalition between Russia, Austria, and England, we shall use the subsidies we had promised to pay to Prussia for an army of twenty-five thousand men, in some other way. Besides, I beg you to remind his majesty of the words of his great ancestor, the Elector Frederick William. That brave and great sovereign said: ‘I have learned already what it means to be neutral. One may have obtained the best terms, and, in spite of them, will be badly treated. Hence I have sworn never to be neutral again, and it would hurt my conscience to act in a different manner.’[106]Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 281. I have the honor, count, to bid you farewell.”

And Lord Grenville passed the count with a stiff bow, and disappeared in the door of the anteroom.

Count Haugwitz heaved a profound sigh, and wiped off the perspiration pearling in large drops on his brow. He then took the king’s letter from his side-pocket and perused it once more. “It is the king’s handwriting,” he said, shaking his head, “and it is also his peculiar laconic style.” And, as if to satisfy himself by hearing the contents of the letter, he read aloud:

“Do not enter into any negotiations with the ambassadors of Russia and Great Britain. We will hold another council of war. I am on my way to Berlin. Within an hour after receipt of these lines, I shall expect to see you in my cabinet. Yours, affectionately,”

“Frederick William.”

“Yes, yes, the king has written that,” said Haugwitz, folding the letter; “I must hastily dress, therefore, and repair to the palace. I am anxious to know whence this new wind is blowing, and who has succeeded in persuading the king to change his mind. Should my old friend, Kockeritz, after all, be favorable to France? It would have been better for him to inform me confidentially, and we might have easily agreed; for I am by no means hostile to France, and I am quite ready to vote for peace, if there be a chance to maintain it. Or should the young king really have come to this conclusion without being influenced by anybody? Why, that would be a dangerous innovation! We should take quick and decisive steps against it. Well, we will see! I will go and dress.”

The king, with his wonted punctuality, had reached Berlin precisely at the specified time, and when Count Haugwitz arrived at the palace he was immediately conducted to the king, who was waiting for him in his cabinet.

Count Haugwitz exchanged a rapid glance with Baron Kockeritz, who was standing in a bay window, and then approached the king, who was pacing the room with slow steps and a gloomy air.

He nodded to the minister, and silently continued his promenade across the room for some time after his arrival. He then stepped to his desk, which was covered with papers and documents, and sitting down on a plain cane chair in front of it, he invited the gentlemen to take seats by his side.

“The courier reached you in time, I suppose?” he said, turning to Count Haugwitz.

“Your majesty, your royal letter reached me while holding a conference with the ambassadors of Russia and Great Britain, and just when I was about to inform them of your majesty’s resolution to join the coalition.”

“You had not done so, then?” asked the king, hastily. “It was your first conference, then?”

“Yes, your majesty, it was our first conference. I invited the ambassadors immediately after my return to call on me.”

“It took you, then, two weeks to travel from Minden to Berlin!”

“Yes, your majesty, two weeks.”

“And yet these gentlemen are in favor of an advance of the army!” exclaimed the king, vehemently. “Yes, if all of my soldiers were encamped directly on the frontier of Holland and had their base of supplies there! But in order to send a sufficient army to Holland, I should have to withdraw a portion of my soldiers from the provinces of Silesia and Prussia. They would have to march across Westphalia, across the same Westphalia where it took you with your carriage two weeks to travel from Minden to Berlin. And my soldiers have no other carriages but their feet. They would stick in that dreadful mire by hundreds and thousands; they would perish there of hunger, and that march would cost me more men than a great, decisive battle. I had given you my word that I would join the coalition, Count Haugwitz; I had even authorized you to negotiate with the ambassadors of Russia and Great Britain, but on the road to Wesel I was obliged to change my mind. Ask Baron Kockeritz what we had to suffer on the first day of our journey, and how far we had got after twelve hours’ travelling.”

“Yes, indeed, it was a terrible trip,” said General von Kockeritz, heaving a sigh. “In spite of the precautions of the coachman, his majesty’s carriage was upset five times in a single day, and finally it stuck so firmly in the mud that we had to send for assistance to the neighboring villages in order to set it going once more. We were twelve hours on the road, and made only three German miles during that time.”

“And we had to stop over night in a miserable village, where we scarcely found a bed to rest our bruised and worn-out limbs,” said the king, indignantly. “And I should expose my army to such fatigues and sufferings! I should, heedless of all consideration of humanity, and solely in obedience to political expediency, suffer them to perish in those endless marshes, that would destroy the artillery and the horses of the cavalry. And all that for what purpose? In order to drag Prussia violently into a war which might be avoided by prudence and by a sagacious reserve; in order to hasten to the assistance of other powers not even threatened by France, and only in return to draw upon ourselves her wrath and enmity!”

“But at the same time the sympathies of all Europe,” said General von Kockeritz, eagerly. “Your majesty has permitted me to speak my mind at all times openly and honestly, and I must therefore persist in what I previously said to you. Now or never is the time for Prussia to give up her neutrality, and to assume a decided attitude. France has placed herself in antagonism with all law and order, and with all treaties consecrated by centuries of faithful observance; she is threatening all monarchies and dynasties, and is trying to win over the nations to her republican ideas. And at the head of this French Republic there is a young general, whose glory is filling the whole world, who has attached victory to his colors, and who intoxicates the nations by his republican phrases of liberty and fraternity, so that, in their mad joy, they overturn thrones, expel their sovereigns, and awake them from their ecstasy under the republican yoke of France. Your majesty, I believe it to be the duty of every prince to preserve his people from such errors, and, jointly with his people, to raise a bulwark against the evil designs of France. Austria and Russia have already begun this holy task; their heroic armies have driven back on all sides the hosts of the overbearing French, who have been compelled to abandon their conquests in Italy and Switzerland. If your majesty should join England, occupy Holland, restore that country to its legitimate sovereign, and menace the northern frontier of France, while Austria is menacing her southern frontier, the arrogance of the republic would be tamed, the overflowing torrent would be forced back into its natural bed, and Europe would have at last peace and tranquillity.”

“First of all, every one ought to think of himself,” said the king, sharply. “Prussia has hitherto enjoyed peace and tranquillity, and I believe it to be my principal task to preserve these blessings to my country. I am no ruler hankering after glory and honors; I do not want to make any conquests, nor to acquire any new territory, but I will content myself with the humble renown of having fulfilled my duties as a ruler to the best of my ability, and according to the dictates of my conviction, as the father and friend of my people. Hence I have not dared to identify my name with that of my great ancestor, Frederick the Second, and call myself Frederick the Third, for a name imposes obligations, and I know very well that I am no hero and genius, like Frederick the Great. I assumed, therefore, the name of Frederick William, as the successor of my peaceable father, Frederick William the Second. It is true, Frederick William the Second has waged a war against France, but precisely that war has satisfied me that a war with France may involve Prussia in the greatest dangers and calamities. I participated in the campaign of 1792, gentlemen, and I must honestly confess that I feel little inclination to resume a war which, at best, will only produce sacrifices for us, and no reward whatever.”

“There is a reward, however, your majesty,” said Count Haugwitz, solemnly. “It is the preservation of the thrones, and of monarchical principles. We cannot fail to perceive that the thrones are being menaced, and those republics of America, France, and Italy are teaching the nations very dangerous lessons—the lessons of self-government and popular sovereignty. That insatiable General Bonaparte has attached these two words to his colors, and if the princes do not combat him with united strength, and try to take those colors from him, he will soon carry them into the midst of all nations, who will rapturously hail him, and desire to follow the example of France.”

“I have no fears for myself,” said the king, calmly; “but even if I should be so unfortunate as to be obliged to doubt the love and fidelity of my people, the thought of my personal safety and of the fate of my dynasty ought not to exert a decisive influence upon my resolutions concerning the welfare of my country. I told you before, I want to be the father of my country; a good father always thinks first of the welfare of his children, and tries to promote it; only when he has succeeded in doing so he thinks of himself.”

“A good father ought to strive, first of all, to preserve himself to his children,” exclaimed Count Haugwitz. “An orphan people is as unfortunate as are orphan children. Your people need you, sire; they need a wise and gentle hand to direct them.”

“And yet you want to put the sword in my hand, and that I should lead my people to war and carnage,” said the king.

“In order to make peace bloom forth from war and carnage,” said Count Haugwitz, gravely. “The bloody monster of war is stalking now through the whole world, and, as it cannot be avoided, it is better to attack it, and to confront it in a bold manner. Russia, Austria, and England are ready to do so, and they stretch out their hands toward you. Refuse to grasp them, and, for the doubtful and dangerous friendship of France, you will have gained three powerful enemies.”

“And if I grasp their hands I shall not advance the interests of Prussia by shedding the blood of my people, but only those of Austria and Russia,” replied the king. “If France should be greatly weakened, or even entirely annihilated, serious dangers would arise for Prussia, for Austria and Russia would unite in that case, for the purpose of menacing our own security. They would easily and quickly find compensations for themselves, and Austria especially would profit by the losses of France; for she would recover the Netherlands, which Prussia is to conquer now by the blood of her soldiers, and acquire, perhaps, even Bavaria. But what compensation would fall to the share of Prussia? Or do you believe, perhaps, Austria, from a feeling of gratitude toward us, would cede to Prussia a portion of her former hereditary possessions in the Netherlands? No, no—no war with France! Let Russia and Austria fight alone; they are strong enough for it. I say all this after mature deliberation, and this is not only my opinion, but also that of distinguished and experienced generals. General von Tempelhof, too, is of my opinion, and confirmed it in a memorial which I asked him to draw up for me.”

“Your majesty requested the Duke of Brunswick, also, to write a memorial on the intended coalition against France,” said General von Kockeritz, hastily. “On our arrival I received this memorial and read it, according to your majesty’s orders. The duke persists in the opinion that it is necessary for the honor, glory, and safety of Prussia to join the coalition, and to oppose France in a determined manner. Your majesty, I must confess that I share the view maintained by the duke.”

“So do I!” exclaimed Count Haugwitz, “and so do all your subjects. Sire, your whole people ardently desire to chastise this arrogant France, and to sweep these hosts of Jacobins from the soil of Germany. Oh, my king and lord, only make a trial, only raise your voice and call upon the people to rally around your standards, and to wage war against France! You will see them rally enthusiastically around the Prussian eagles and fervently bless their courageous king. And when you begin this struggle, sire, you and your army will have a formidable, an invincible ally. That ally is PUBLIC OPINION, sire! Public opinion requires this war, and public opinion is no longer something dumb and creeping in the dark, but something that has a voice, and that raises it in ringing, thundering notes in the newspaper and magazine. One of these voices spoke a few weeks ago in the Political Journal, as follows: ‘Can our monarch abandon the German empire? Can he look on quietly while France is making preparations for attacking Prussia as soon as her turn shall come? It is only necessary for us to think of Italy, Switzerland, and Holland in order to appreciate the friendship of France.’[107]“Political Journal.” Berlin, 1798. This voice has re-echoed throughout Prussia, and everyone is looking up to the throne of your majesty anxiously and hopefully; every one is satisfied that you will draw the sword for the honor and rights of Germany. Sire, at this moment I am nothing but the voice of your people, and therefore I implore your majesty to take a bold and manful resolution. Draw the sword for Prussia’s honor and Germany’s safety.”

“I implore your majesty likewise to do so,” exclaimed General von Kockeritz. “I dare to implore your majesty, in the name of your people. Oh, sire, take a bold and manly resolution! Draw the sword for Prussia’s honor and Germany’s safety.”

The king had risen and paced the room with violent steps. His features, usually so quiet and gentle, were not uneasy and agitated; a gloomy cloud covered his brow, and a painful expression trembled on his lips. He seemed to carry on a violent and desperate inward struggle, and his breath issued painfully and gaspingly from his breast. Finally, after a long pause, he approached the two gentlemen who had risen and were looking at him with evident anxiety.

“I am unable to refute all these reasons,” said the king, sighing, “but an inward voice tells me that I ought not to break my word, and commence hostilities. If the welfare of the state requires it, however, I shall join the coalition, but only on condition that the Austrians attack Mentz in force, take the fortress by assault, and thereby cover the left flank of my base of operations.[108]The king’s own words.—Vide “Memoiren zur Geschichte des Preuss. Staats.” By Col. Massenbach. Vol iii., p. 88. And now we will close our consultation for to-day. Go, Count Haugwitz, and resume your negotiations with the ambassadors of Russia and Great Britain. As for you, General von Kockeritz, I beg you to bring me the memorial of the Duke of Brunswick, and then you may return to your house and take some rest, of which you doubtless stand greatly in need after the fatigues you have undergone.”

He greeted the gentlemen with a hasty nod and turned his back to them, without paying any attention to the deep and reverential bows with which the minister and the general withdrew toward the door.

When the two gentlemen had reached the anteroom, they satisfied themselves by a rapid glance that they were alone, and that nobody was able to hear them.

“He was quite angry,” whispered General von Kockeritz; “he only yielded with the utmost reluctance; and, believe me, my friend, the king will never forgive us this victory we have obtained over him; it may produce the worst results and endanger our whole position.”

“It is true,” said Count Haugwitz, sighing, “the king dismissed us in a more abrupt and harsh manner than ever before. It would have been better for us to yield, and let the king have his own way. Who knows but he is right, and an alliance with France, perhaps, would be more advantageous than this coalition with Austria and Russia? It startles me somewhat that Austria should be so anxious to obtain the accession of Prussia to the coalition, for Austria certainly would feel no inclination to propose any alliance that might prove profitable to Prussia. It may be best for Prussia, after all, to side with France.”

“But public opinion would execrate such an alliance,” said General von Kockeritz, sighing. “Public opinion—”

“My dear friend,” interrupted Count Haugwitz, angrily, “public opinion is like the wind, changing its direction every day. Success alone influences and decides public opinion, and if France should vanquish the three powers, the same public opinion which now urges us to join the coalition would condemn us. Public opinion should not induce us to endanger our position and our power over the king for its sake. And I tell you, I am uneasy about this matter. The king was greatly irritated; he seemed angry with us, because he felt that he is not entirely free and independent, and that he has granted us some power over his decisions.”

“We should yield even now,” said General von Kockeritz, anxiously. “We should confess to the king that his reasons have convinced us, that we have been mistaken—”

“So that he would feel with twofold force that not his own free will, but our altered opinion, decided his action?” asked the minister. “No, we must give the king a chance to decide the whole question by his own untrammelled authority, and to prove that he alone is the ruler of Prussia’s destinies. You can give him the best opportunity for so doing, for you have a pretext to return to him at once. Did not the king order you to bring him the memorial of the Duke of Brunswick?”

“Good Heaven! that is true; the king is waiting for the memorial!” exclaimed the general, in terror. “In my anxiety, I even forgot his orders.”

“Hasten, my friend, to bring it at once to him,” said Count Haugwitz, “and with your leave I shall take a little rest in the room which the king has been kind enough to assign to you here in the palace. He will perhaps countermand the instructions he has just given me.”

A few minutes afterward General von Kockeritz, with the memorial in his hands, reentered the cabinet of the king, who was still slowly pacing the room, without noticing the arrival of his adviser.

“Your majesty,” said the general, timidly, “here is the memorial of Ferdinand, duke of Brunswick.”

“Just lay it on my desk there,” said the king, continuing his promenade.

General von Kockeritz stepped to the desk and placed the memorial on it. Just at that moment the king had arrived at the desk too, and paused in front of the general. He fixed a long and mournful glance upon him and slowly shook his head.

“You have deserted me also,” said the king, sighing. “You may be right, gentlemen. I have yielded to your more profound sagacity for the time being, but an inward voice tells me that it is wrong to break the peace because France at the present time is being threatened on all sides, and because her armies have been defeated.”

“Your majesty alone has to decide the whole question,” said Kockeritz, solemnly. “Your conviction is our law, and we submit in dutiful obedience to your majesty’s more profound sagacity. It is for you to command, and for us to obey.”

A sudden gleam beamed in the eyes of the king, and a deeper blush mantled his cheeks. The general saw it, and comprehended it very well.

“Moreover,” he added, with downcast eyes and with an air of confusion, “moreover, I have to make a confession to your majesty in my own name and in that of Count Haugwitz. While trying to win your majesty by our arguments for the war and for the coalition, it has happened to us that we were converted by the arguments your majesty adduced against the war and against the coalition, and that your majesty convinced us of the fallacy of our opinion. It is, perhaps, very humiliating to admit that our conviction has veered around so suddenly, but your majesty’s convincing eloquence—”

“No, not my poor eloquence, but the truth has convinced you,” exclaimed the king, joyfully, “and I thank you for having the truly manly and noble courage to admit that you were mistaken and have changed your mind. I am grateful to Count Haugwitz, too, and I shall never forget this generous and highly honorable confession of yours. It is a new proof for me that you are faithful and reliable friends and servants of mine, men who are not ashamed of acknowledging an error, and who care more for the welfare of the state than for carrying their own point. I therefore withdraw my previous instructions. I shall not join the coalition. Hasten to Haugwitz, my friend. Tell him to go forthwith to the Russian ambassador and inform him that my army will not assist the forces of the coalition, and that I shall take no part whatever in the war against France. Haugwitz is to say the same to the English ambassador, and to inform him that I shall not claim the subsidy of six million dollars, which England offered to pay me for my auxiliary army. Six million dollars! I believe General Tempelhof was right when he said the siege of a second-rate fortress would cost a million dollars, and in Holland we should have to take more than ten fortresses from the stubborn and intrepid French. This would cost as more than ten million dollars, and, moreover, we should have to use up the powder and ammunition destined for our own defence. Those six million dollars that England would pay me would not cover our outlay; I should be obliged to add four million dollars more, and to shed the blood of my brave and excellent soldiers without obtaining, perhaps, even the slightest advantage for Prussia. Hasten, general, to communicate my fixed and irrevocable resolution to Count Haugwitz. Prussia remains neutral, and takes no part whatever in the war against France!”

“I hasten to carry out your majesty’s orders,” exclaimed General von Kockeritz, walking toward the door, “and I know that Count Haugwitz will submit to the royal decision with the same joyful humility and obedience as myself.”

The king’s eyes followed him with an expression of genuine emotion.

“He is a faithful and honest friend,” he said, “and that is, indeed, a rare boon for a king. Ah, I have succeeded, then, in averting this bloody thunder-cloud, once more from Prussia, and I shall preserve the blessings of peace to my people. And now, I believe, I may claim some credit for the manner in which I have managed this delicate affair, and repose a little from the cares of government. I will go to Louisa—her sight and the smiles of my children will reward me for having done my duty as a king.”

The Prince von Reuss, Henry XIV., Austrian ambassador at Berlin, had died an hour ago. A painful disease had confined him to his bed for weeks, and Marianne Meier had nursed him during this time with the greatest love and devotion. She had never left his bedside, and no one except herself, the physicians, and a few servants had been permitted to enter the sick-room. The brothers and nephews of the prince, who had come to Berlin in order to see their dying relative once more, had vainly solicited this favor. The physicians had told them that the suffering prince was unable to bear any excitement, there being great danger that immediate death would be the consequence of a scene between them.

The prince, moreover, had sent his trusted valet de chambre to his brother, and informed him, even if he were entirely well, he would not accept the visits of a brother who had shown him so little fraternal love, and caused him so much grief by opposing his faithful and beloved friend Marianne Meier in the most offensive and insulting manner.

The distinguished relatives of the prince, therefore, had to content themselves with watching his palace from afar, and with bribing a few of his servants to transmit to them hourly reports about the condition of the patient.

And now Prince Henry XIV. was dead, and his brother was his successor and heir, the prince having left no legitimate offspring. It was universally believed that he had never been married, and that his immense fortune, his estates and titles, would devolve on his brother. It is true there was still that mistress of his, fair Marianne Meier, to whom the prince, in his sentimental infatuation, had paid the honors of a legitimate wife. But, of course, she had no claims whatever to the inheritance; it would be an act of generosity to leave her in possession of the costly presents the prince had made to her, and to pay her a small pension.

The prince had hardly closed his eyes, therefore, and the doctors had just pronounced him dead, when his brother, now Prince Henry XV., accompanied by a few lawyers, entered the palace of the deceased in order to take possession of his property, and to have the necessary seals applied to the doors. However, to give himself at least a semblance of brotherly love, the prince desired first to repair to the death-room, and to take a last leave of the deceased. But in the anteroom he met the two footmen of his brother, who dared to stop his passage, telling him that no one was allowed to enter.

“And who dares to issue such orders?” asked the prince, without stopping a moment.

“Madame has done so,” said the first valet de chambre. “Madame wants to be alone with the remains of her husband.”

The prince shrugged his shoulders, and, followed by the legal gentlemen, he walked to the door, which he vainly tried to open.

“I believe that woman has locked the door,” said the prince, angrily.

“Yes, sir, madame has locked the door,” said the valet de chambre; “she does not want to be disturbed in her grief by mere visits of condolence.”

“Well, let us leave her, then, to her grief,” exclaimed the prince, with a sarcastic smile. “Come, gentlemen, let us attend to our business. Let us take an inventory of the furniture in the several rooms and then seal them. You may be our guide, valet.”

But the valet de chambre shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Pardon me, sir, that is impossible. His highness, our late prince and master, several days ago, when he felt that his end was drawing near, caused every room to be locked and sealed by the first attache of the legation in the presence of all the members of the embassy. The keys to all the rooms, however, were handed by order of the prince to madame, his wife.”

The new prince, Henry XV., turned somewhat uneasily to the legal gentlemen.

“Have we a right to open the doors forcibly?”

“No, that would be contrary to law,” said one of the lawyers, in a low voice. “The late prince has doubtless left some directions in relation to this matter and intrusted them to the officers of the legation. Your highness ought to apply to those gentlemen.”

“Is the first attache of the legation, Baron Werdern, in the palace?” said the prince to the valet de chambre.

“No, your highness, he has just gone out with a few other gentlemen of the legation to request the attendance of two officers of the law, that the will may be opened and read in their presence.”

“My brother has made a will, then?” asked the prince, in a somewhat frightened tone.

“Yes, your highness, and he laid it, in the presence of every member of the legation, of two officers of the law, and of every servant, three days ago, in a strong box, the key of which he handed to the officers of the law, when the box was deposited in the archives of the legation.”

“And why did Baron Werdern go now for the officers of the law?”

“In order to request their attendance in the palace, the late prince having left the verbal order that his will should be opened two hours after his death. The baron was going to invite your highness likewise to be present.”

“Well, let us wait here for the arrival of the gentlemen,” said Prince Henry XV., shrugging his shoulders. “It seems a little strange to me, however, that I must wait here in the anteroom like a supplicant. Go and announce my visit to madame!”

The valet de chambre bowed and left the room. The prince called the two lawyers to his side. “What do you think of this whole matter?” he asked, in a low voice.

The two representatives of the law shrugged their shoulders.

“Your highness, every thing seems to have been done here legally. We must wait for the return of the gentlemen and for the opening of the will.”

The valet de chambre now reentered the room, and approached the prince. “Madame sends her respects to the prince, and begs him to excuse her inability to admit her brother-in-law just now, as she is dressing at the present moment. She will have the honor to salute her gracious brother-in-law at the ceremony.”

“Does that woman call myself her gracious brother-in-law?” asked the prince, with an air of the most profound contempt, turning his back to the valet de chambre. “We will wait here, then, gentlemen,” he added, turning to the lawyers. “It seems that woman intends to take a petty revenge at this moment for the contempt with which I have always treated her. I shall know, however, how to chastise her for it, and—”

“Hush, your highness,” whispered one of the lawyers, “they are coming!”

In fact, the large folding-doors were opened at that moment, and on a catafalque, hung with black cloth, the remains of the prince were lying in state; on both sides of the catafalque large tapers were burning in heavy silver chandeliers.

Prince Henry, awed by this solemn scene, walked forward, and the grave countenance of his brother, with whom he had lived so long in discord, and whom he had not seen for many years, filled his heart with uneasiness and dismay.

He approached the room, followed by the legal gentlemen, with hesitating, noiseless steps. On the threshold of the door there now appeared the first attache of the legation, Baron Werdern, who, bowing deeply, invited the prince whisperingly to come in.

The prince walked in, and on crossing the threshold, it seemed to him as if his brother’s corpse had moved, and as if his half-opened eyes were fixed upon him with a threatening expression.

The prince averted his eyes from the corpse in dismay and saluted the gentlemen standing around a table covered with black cloth. Two large chandeliers, with burning tapers, a strong box, and writing-materials, had been placed upon this table; on one side, two arm-chairs, likewise covered with black cloth, were to be seen.

The baron conducted the prince to one of these arm-chairs, and invited him to sit down. Prince Henry did so, and then looked anxiously at the officers of the law, who were standing at the table in their black robes, and behind whom were assembled all the members of the legation, the physicians, and the servants of the late prince.

A long pause ensued. Then, all at once, the folding-doors opened, and the prince’s steward appeared on the threshold.

“Her highness the Princess Dowager von Reuss,” he said, in a loud, solemn voice, and Marianne’s tall, imposing form entered the room. She was clad in a black dress with a long train; a black veil, fastened above her head on a diadem, surrounded her noble figure like a dark cloud, and in this cloud beamed her expansive, thoughtful forehead, and her large flaming eyes sparkled. Her features were breathing the most profound and majestic tranquillity; and when she now saluted the gentlemen with a condescending nod, her whole bearing was so impressive and distinguished that even Prince Henry was unable to remain indifferent, and he rose respectfully from his arm-chair.

Marianne, however, paid no attention to him, but approached the remains of her husband. With inimitable grace she knelt down on one side of the catafalque. The priest who had entered with her knelt down on the other.

Both of them muttered fervent prayers for the deceased. Marianne then arose, and, bending over the corpse, imprinted a long kiss upon the forehead of her departed husband.

“Farewell, my husband!” she said, in her full, melodious voice, and then turned around and stepped toward the table. “Without deigning to glance at the prince, she sat down in the arm-chair.”

“I request the officers of the law now to open the strong box,” she said, in an almost imperious voice.

One of the officers handed the key to Baron Werdern; the latter opened the strong box, and took from it a sealed paper, which he gave to the officer.

“Do you recognize the paper as the same yourself locked in this strong box?” she asked. “Is it the same which his highness the late Prince von Reuss, Henry XIV., handed to you?”

“Yes, it is the same,” said the two officers; “it is the will of the late prince.”

“And you know that his highness ordered us to open it immediately after his death, and to promulgate its contents. Proceed, therefore, according to the instructions of the deceased.”

One of the officers broke the seal, and now that he unfolded the paper, Marianne turned her head toward the prince, and fixed her burning eyes piercingly upon his countenance.

The officer commenced reading the will. First came the preamble, to be found in every will, and then the officer read in a louder voice, as follows:

“In preparing to appear before the throne of the Lord, I feel especially called upon to return my most heart-felt thanks, in this public manner, to my wife, Princess Marianne, nee Meier, for the constancy, love, and devotion which she has shown to me during our whole married life, and for the surpassing patience and self-abnegation with which she nursed me during my last sickness. I deem myself especially obliged to make this acknowledgment, inasmuch as my wife, in her true love for me, has suffered many undeserved aspersions and insults, because, in accordance with my wishes, she kept our marriage secret, and in consequence had to bear the sneers of evil-disposed persons, and the insults of malicious enemies. But she is my lawful wife before God and man, and she is fully entitled to assume the name of a Princess Dowager von Reuss. I hereby expressly authorize her to do so, and, by removing the secret that has been observed during my life in relation to our marriage, I authorize my wife to assume the title and rank due to her, and hereby command my brother, as well as his sons and the other members of my family, to pay to the Princess Dowager von Reuss, nee Meier, the respect and deference due to her as the widow of the late head of the family, and to which she is justly entitled by her virtue, her blameless conduct, her respectability, beauty, and amiability. The Princess Dowager von Reuss is further authorized to let her servants wear the livery and color of my house, to display the coat-of-arms of the princes von Reuss on her carriages, and to enjoy the full privileges of her rank. If my brother Henry, the heir of my titles, should have any doubts as to her rights in this regard, the officer reading my will is requested to ask him whether or not he desires to obtain further evidence in relation to the legitimacy of my marriage.”

“Does your highness require any further evidence?” asked the officer, interrupting the reading of the will.

“I do,” said the prince, who had listened to the reading of the will with a pale and gloomy mien.

“Here is that evidence,” said the priest, beckoning the sexton, who stood on the threshold of the door. The latter approached the priest, and handed him a large volume bound in black morocco.

“It is the church register, in which I have entered all the marriages, christenings, and funeral masses performed in the chapel of the Austrian embassy,” said the priest. “On this page you find the minutes of the marriage of the Prince von Reuss, Henry XIV., and Miss Marianne Meier. The ceremony took place two years ago. I have baptized the princess myself, and thereby received her into the pale of the holy Catholic Church, and I have likewise performed the rite of marriage on the occasion referred to. I hereby certify that the princess is the lawful wife of the late prince, as is testified by the minutes entered on the church register. The marriage was performed in the chapel, and in the presence of witnesses, who have signed the minutes, like myself.”

“I witnessed the marriage,” said Baron Werdern, “and so did the military counsellor Gentz, who, if your highness should desire further testimony, will be ready to corroborate our statements.”

“No,” said the prince, gloomily, “I require no further testimony. I am fully satisfied of the truth of your statements, and will now pay my respects to my sister-in-law, the Princess Dowager von Reuss, nee Meier.”

He bowed, with a sarcastic smile, which, for a moment, caused the blood to rush to Marianne’s pale cheeks, and then carelessly leaned back into his arm-chair.

“Be kind enough to proceed,” he said, turning to the officer. The latter took up the will again and read its several sections and clauses. The prince bequeathed his palace, with every thing in it, to his wife Marianne, and likewise his carriages, his horses, and the family diamonds he had inherited from his mother. The remainder of his considerable property he left to his brother, asking him to agree with the Princess Marianne on a pension corresponding with her rank and position in society. Then followed some legacies and pensions for the old servants of his household, a few gifts to the poor, and last the appropriation of a sum for which a mass was to be read on every anniversary of his death, for the peace of his soul. The ceremony was over. The officers of the law and the members of the embassy had left the death-room, and on a sign from Marianne the servants had also withdrawn.

The prince had exchanged a few words in a low voice with his two lawyers, whereupon they likewise had left the room. No one except the brother and the wife of the deceased remained now in this gloomy room, illuminated by the flickering tapers. Marianne, however, seemed to take no notice of the presence of her brother-in-law; she had approached the corpse again, and gazed at it with the most profound emotion.

“I thank you, Henry,” she said, loudly and solemnly. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart; you have given back to me my honor; you have revenged me upon your haughty relatives, and upon the sneering world.”

“Do not thank him, respected sister-in-law, for he has left you poor,” said the prince, approaching her, and contemplating her with a freezing smile. “My brother has made you a princess, it is true, but he has not given you the means to live as a princess. He has bequeathed to you this palace, with its costly furniture; he has bequeathed to you his carriages and diamonds; but a palace and furniture are no estates, and in order to keep carriages one has to feed men and horses. It is true, you can sell the palace and the diamonds, and obtain for them several hundred thousand florins. That sum would be amply sufficient for a person leading a retired life, but it is very little for one who desires to keep up a princely household, and to live in the style becoming a lady of your beauty and social position. My brother has foreseen all this, and he indirectly gave us a chance to come to an understanding, by asking me to agree with you on a pension to be paid you. Hence I ask you, how much do you demand? How high will be the sum for which you will sell me your mourning veil, your name, and your title of princess dowager? For you doubtless anticipate, madame, that I do not propose to acknowledge you publicly as my sister-in-law, and to receive a—Marianne Meier among the members of my family. Tell me your price, therefore, madame.”

Marianne looked at him with flaming eyes, a deep blush of anger mantling her cheeks. “Prince von Reuss,” she said, proudly, “you will have to permit the world to call me your sister-in-law. I am your sister-in-law, and I shall prove to the world and to you that it is unnecessary to have been born under a princely canopy in order to live, think, and act like a princess. My husband has rewarded me in this hour for years of suffering and humiliation. Do you believe that my reward is for sale for vile money? And if you should offer me millions, I should reject them if, in return, I were to lead a nameless, disreputable, and obscure existence. I will sooner die of starvation as a Princess Dowager von Reuss than live in opulence as Marianne Meier. This is my last word; and now, sir, begone! Do not desecrate this room by your cold and egotistic thoughts, and by your heartless calculations! Honor the repose of the dead and the grief of the living. Begone!”

She proudly turned away from him, and bent once more over the corpse. While she was doing so her black veil, with a gentle rustle, fell down over her face and wrapped her, as well as the corpse, as in a dark mist, so that the two forms seemed to melt into one.

The prince felt a shudder pervading his frame, and the presence of the corpse embarrassed him.

“I will not disturb you now in your grief, madame,” he said; “I hope your tears will flow less copiously as soon as the funeral is over, and I shall then send my lawyer, for the purpose of treating further with you.”

He bowed, and hastened to the door. She seemed neither to have heard his words, nor to have noticed that he was withdrawing. She was still bending over the remains of her husband, the black cloud surrounding her and the corpse.

“News from France!” exclaimed Counsellor Gentz, entering Marianne’s boudoir in breathless haste. “Do you already know what has occurred? Did you hear, Marianne, how France has closed the eighteenth century?”

Marianne looked up into the face of her friend, with a gentle and peculiar smile. “That must have been exciting intelligence,” she said. “inasmuch as it was even able to arouse the dreamer, Frederick Gentz, from his political sleep, and to cause him to take interest again in the affairs of the world. Well, let us hear the news; what has occurred in France?”

“General Bonaparte has overthrown the Directory, and dispersed the Council of Five Hundred.”

“And you call that news?” asked Marianne, shrugging her shoulders. “You tell me there the history of the ninth and tenth of November, or, as the French republicans say, of the eighteenth and nineteenth of Brumaire. And you believe that I have not yet heard of it to-day, on the twenty-sixth of December? My friend Gentz, Bonaparte’s deeds need not more than a month in order to penetrate through the world; they soar aloft with eagle-wings, and the whole world beholds them, because they darken the horizon of the whole world.”

“But you have only heard the preamble of my news,” ejaculated Gentz, impatiently. “I have no doubt that you know the history of the eighteenth of Brumaire, and that you are aware that France, on that day, placed herself under the rule of three consuls, one of whom was General Bonaparte.”

“The other two consuls are Sieyes and Dacos,” interrupted Marianne. “I know that, and I know, too, that Lucien, Bonaparte’s brother, president of the Legislative Assembly, upon receiving the oath of office of the three consuls, said to them. ‘The greatest nation on earth intrusts you with its destinies; the welfare of thirty millions of men, the preservation of order at home, and the reestablishment of peace abroad, are your task. Three months from to-day public opinion will expect to hear from you how you have accomplished it.’”[109]“Histoire du Consulat et de l’Empire,” par A. Theirs, vol. i., p. 16.

“Well, M. Bonaparte did not make public opinion wait so long,” said Gentz; “or rather, he asserts public opinion had not given him time to wait so long, and that it was public opinion itself that called upon him to proclaim himself sovereign of France.”

“Sovereign of France?” asked Marianne, in surprise. “Bonaparte has made himself king?”

“Yes, king, but under another name; he has caused himself to be elected consul for ten years! Ah, he will know how to shorten these ten years, just as he knew how to shorten those three months!”

“And this report is reliable?” asked Marianne, musingly.

“Perfectly so. Bonaparte was elected first consul on the twenty-fifth of December, and on the same day the new constitution was promulgated throughout France. That is a very fine Christmas present which France has made to the world! A box filled with dragon’s teeth, from which armed hosts will spring up. It is true the first consul now pretends to be very anxious to restore peace to Europe. He has sent special ambassadors to all courts, with profuse assurances of his friendship and pacific intentions, and he sent them off even previous to his election, in order to announce the news of the latter to the foreign courts on the same day on which he was proclaimed first consul at Paris. Such a peace-messenger of the general has arrived at Berlin; he has brought us the strange and startling news.”

“What is the name of this peace-messenger of the modern god of war?” asked Marianne.

“He sent his adjutant, General Duroc; the latter reached Berlin yesterday, and appeared even to-day as the petted guest of our court, at the great soiree of the queen. Oh, my friend, my stupid German heart trembled with anger when I saw the kind and flattering attentions that were paid to this Frenchman, while German gentlemen of genius, merit, and ability were kept in the background, neither the king nor the queen seeming to take any notice of their presence! There were Count Hardenberg and the noble President of Westphalia, Baron Stein; they stood neglected in a bay window, and looked sadly at the royal couple, who treated the Frenchman in the midst of the court in the most distinguished manner; there were Blucher and Gneisenau, overlooked by everybody, although their uniforms were no less brilliant than that of the French envoy; and there was finally Frederick Gentz, myself, who had only appeared at this court festival owing to the special desire and order of the queen, and whose presence she had entirely forgotten, although Gualtieri reminded her of it at least three times, and told her that I was there, and had only come because the queen had expressly ordered it so. But what did her beautiful majesty care that a German writer was vainly waiting for a smile of her affability, and a gracious nod of her lovely head? The French envoy was by far more important than all of us. For the sake of the Frenchman, even ‘Madame Etiquette,’ the Countess von Voss, mistress of ceremonies, had been silenced, and the plain adjutant of the first consul was received with as much distinction as if he were a minister plenipotentiary, while he only came as the simple agent for a private individual. They asked him to tell them about the battle of the Pyramids, about the battles of Mount Tabor and Aboukir, and the whole court listened to him with a suspense as though Bonaparte’s adjutant were preaching a new gospel. Whenever he paused in his narrative, the queen, with her fascinating smile, constantly addressed new questions to him, and praised the achievements of General Bonaparte as though he were the Messiah sent into the world to deliver it from the evils of war! In short, he had a perfect success; and at last, by means of an adroit trick, he managed to render it as magnificent as possible. The queen told General Duroc of our German customs, and informed him that this was the day on which the Germans everywhere made presents to each other, and that gifts were laid under Christmas-trees, adorned with burning tapers. At that moment Duroc turned to the king, and said, with his intolerable French amiability: ‘Sire, if this is the day of universal presents in Germany, I believe I will be courageous enough to-day to ask your majesty for a present in the name of the first consul, General Bonaparte, if your majesty will permit me to do so.’ The king, of course, gave him the desired permission, and Duroc continued: ‘Sire, the present for which I am to ask your majesty, in the name of the first consul, is a bust of your great ancestor, Frederick the Second. The first consul recently examined the statues in the Diana Gallery at the Tuileries; there were the statues of Caesar and Brutus, of Coriolanus and Cicero, of Louis XIV. and Charles V., but the first consul did not see the statue of Frederick the Great, and he deems the collection of the heroes of ancient and modern times incomplete as long as it does not embrace the name of Frederick the Great. [110]历史的。

“Very adroit, indeed,” said Marianne, smiling; “these republicans seem to be excellent courtiers.”

“Yes, very adroit!” exclaimed Gentz; “the whole court was in ecstasy at this tremendous flattery, at this compliment paid by the great republic to little Prussia; but I could not stand it any longer in those halls, and in the presence of these fawning Germans, and I hastened away in order to unbosom to you my rage, my indignation, and my grief. Oh, my fair friend, what is to become of Germany, and what will be the end of all these troubles? Ruin is staring us in the face, and we do not see it; we are rushing toward the precipice, and must fall a prey to France, to this wolf in sheep’s clothing, which will caress and pet us until it will be able to devour us!”

“I like to hear you talk in this strain,” said Marianne, joyfully. “That is again the friend of my heart, who is now talking to me. Listen to me. I have to communicate news to you, too, and you must not be surprised if I reply to your important political intelligence by a reference to my petty personal interests. But there is a connection between them, and you will see it by and by. Listen, then, to the news concerning myself.”

“Yes, Marianne,” said Gentz, kneeling down before her, and leaning his head upon her knees, “yes, tell me about yourself, my beautiful fairy queen; lull my political pains a little by the magic song which is flowing from your red lips like a fresh source of love. Oh, my charming princess, now that I am looking up into your radiant face, I feel a burning shame that I should have desecrated the delightful moments I passed by your side by such trivial complaints about the misery of German politics. What have we to do with politics? What do we care if Germany is going to be ruined? Apres nous le deluge! Let us enjoy the bliss of the fleeting hour!”

Marianne played smilingly with her slender fingers, covered with sparkling diamond rings, in his hair, and looked upon him with a wondrous air.

“Enthusiast!” she said; “now an ardent politician, then an impassioned lover, and ready at all hours to exchange one role for the other! Will you not listen to my news? My quarrel with my dear brother-in-law, Henry XV., is ended; we have come to an agreement.”

“And I hope my sagacious and prudent Marianne has subdued her proud and bold heart this time, and had a little regard for her advantage,” replied Gentz. “A woman as beautiful and radiant as Marianne Meier needs no empty aristocratic title, for your beauty makes you the queen of the world; but you need wealth in order to add power to your beauty, and to adorn it with a cloak glittering with gold and purple. Well, my queen, are you again Marianne Meier and a millionaire besides?”

“What a fool!” she exclaimed, proudly, “what a fool you are to believe I would crawl back into the Jews’ quarter and expose myself to the sneers of my enviable friends! No, my friend, money and beauty are insufficient for those who desire to play a role in the world; they stand in need of rank and titles, too, for these are the magic words opening to us the doors of royal palaces, and placing us on a par with the privileged and inacessible. I, for one, want to play my role in the world; hence I must have a distinguished title. It is true I also stand in need of wealth, and by means of a skilful arrangement I have secured both. The mote in my Jewish eye appearing to my aristocratic relatives like a very large beam, I have yielded and renounced the title of a Princess von Reuss; but, in spite of that, I remain a princess and retain the title of highness. The prince, my brother-in-law, has given me a splendid estate in fee-simple, the annual revenues of which amount to no less than twenty thousand dollars; in return, however, I surrender to him the family diamonds, this palace, the carriages with the coat-of-arms of the Reuss family, the horses and liveries, and last, the name and title of a Princess Dowager von Reuss.”

“And now, like all the fairies in the children’s books, you are a wondrous child without name and rank, but showering with your snowy hands golden suns and glittering stars upon mankind?”

“No, I am no nameless woman now, but I adopt the name of my estate of Eibenberg, and from this day forward I shall be the Princess Marianne of Eibenberg, the Emperor of Germany himself having recognized my new title. The documents, signed by the emperor himself, are on the table there. The prince brought them to me to-day as a Christmas-present. Now, my friend, my real life is to commence; I have acquired wealth and a distinguished name. The poor Jewess, the daughter of the Ghetto, has moved into the palace of the aristocracy and become a princess.”

“And I will be the first to do you homage as though you were my princess and queen!” exclaimed Gentz, “the first who will call himself your vassal. Come, my princess, let me place the sweet yoke upon my neck; let my forehead touch the ground on which you are walking; place your foot upon my neck, so that I may feel the sweet burden of your rule.”

And bending down his head until his brow touched the floor, he placed her tiny foot, encased in a beautiful silken shoe, upon his neck. Marianne did not interfere with him, but looked down on him with a proud, triumphant smile.

“You lie at my feet, Frederick Gentz,” she said, “nevertheless I will lift you up to me; you shall stand by my side, my equal, famous and great as you ought to be, owing to your genius! But a truce to tender trifling, my friend; both of us have to accomplish great purposes, and our thoughts and actions should be grave and stern. Come, rise from your knees, my vassal; you shall be a prince by my side, and we will rule the world together.”

She withdrew her foot from his neck, but Gentz seized it with both hands and kissed it. He then quickly rose from his knees, and drew himself up to his full height, looking at her sternly and almost angrily.

“You have often told me that you loved me,” he said, “but it was a lie; you do not understand love, your heart is cold and your senses are silent, only your pride speaks.”

“It is possible that you are right,” she replied, “but, in that case, I love you with my pride and with my mind, and that is worth something, at all events. I want to see you honored, famous, and influential; is not that also love?”

“No, it is a mockery!” ejaculated Gentz, mournfully. “It is malice, for you see I am a poor, despised man, without money, without fame, without rank; a miserable military counsellor, outranked by every private counsellor, and persecuted day by day by my creditors, as if they were vultures following a poor dove whose wings have been clipped.”

“But your wings shall grow again, so that you may escape from the vultures!” exclaimed Marianne, “and that you may soar, eagle-like, above the miseries of the world, and exercise a commanding influence over it. The time of dreams and expectations is over, the time for action has come for all energetic and able minds. Two years ago I asked you, as I do to-day, if you would not devote your services to Austria, and if you would not seek for fame and happiness in that country, in which your genius would be appreciated and rewarded. Do you remember what you replied to me at that time?”

“Yes, I remember,” said Gentz, with a sarcastic smile; “I was foolish enough to reject your offers, and to declare that I would stay here at Berlin, and see if my native country would not need my abilities and my services, and if our rulers here would not avail themselves of my talents and of my pen. And thus I have lost, again, two years of my life, and only my debts have increased, but not my fame.”

“Because you were an enthusiast, and expected to be appreciated in Prussia; believing this good king (who would like to make his people happy and prosperous, but who timidly shrinks back from all energetic resolutions) would be very grateful to you for exhorting him to grant freedom of the press to his subjects, and, in general, to introduce liberty and equality in his states. Do you still believe that Frederick William the Third will do so?”

“No, he will not,” replied Gentz, mournfully; “no, this king does not understand the present age, and instead of being a step in advance of it, he will always remain a step behind it, and thus involve Prussia in untold misery and suffering. I have hoped and waited long enough; the time of patience and idleness is now over, and I therefore renounce, to-day, at the end of the eighteenth century, my native state, in order to become a citizen and son of a larger fatherland. I cease to be a Prussian, in order to become a German; and Prussia having no desire to avail herself of my abilites, I am going to see whether or not Germany has any use for them. My beautiful Marianne, you shall be the priestess who receives the oath which I make on the altar of the fatherland: ‘I swear to devote all my powers and talents to Germany; I swear to be a faithful and untiring son to my great fatherland!’”

“I have heard your oath, Frederick Gentz, and I accept it in the name of Germany,” said Marianne, solemnly. “You shall be the champion of the honor and rights of Germany; your weapon, however, shall not be the sword, but the pen.”

“But where will the lists be opened to my tournament?” asked Gentz, musingly.

“In Austria,” replied Marianne, quickly; “the Emperor of Germany is expecting you, the son of Germany; the Emperor of Germany is calling you to serve and promote the interests of your fatherland. I am authorized to tell you that. The new Austrian envoy, Count Stadion, has requested me to do so; he has asked me to win you for Austria, that is, for Germany. For, believe me, the welfare of Germany is nowadays consulted in Austria, and not in Prussia!”

“No, not in Prussia!” exclaimed Gentz, mournfully. “Our government shuts its eyes in order not to behold the terrors which are rushing toward us with irresistible force, and will soon, like an avalanche, roll over Germany and annihilate us all, unless we skilfully calculate the danger, and raise sufficient bulwarks against it. They admire Bonaparte here, and only behold a hero, while I scent a tyrant—a tyrant who wants to subjugate us by his revolutionary liberty and his Jacobin’s cap, which is but a crown in another shape. I hate Bonaparte, for I hate the revolution which, notwithstanding its phrases of liberty and equality, is but a bloody despotism that does not even grant freedom of opinion to the citizen, and drags such ideas as are distasteful to it upon the scaffold. I hate the revolution, I hate Bonaparte, and I hate every form of tyranny, and shall oppose it as long as I live!”

“And I shall be a faithful squire by your side, and sharpen the bolts which you are going to hurl at the enemy,” said Marianne, with fervent enthusiasm. “We are both going to Vienna, in order to serve Germany. In Vienna a new century and a new country will open their arms to us. Thanks to my title, to my rank, and to my connections, every door will be open to us there, and the Jewess, Marianne Meier, princess of Eibenberg, will not even find the apartments of the emperor and empress closed; on the contrary, their imperial majesties will receive me as an honored and welcome guest, for I am a princess by the act of the emperor, and the friend of the empress; Victoria de Poutet Colloredo is also my friend. And whithersoever I go, you shall go, too, my friend, and the doors that will open to me shall not be closed to you. My rank opens them to me, and your genius opens them to you. Come, let us be faithful allies; let us swear to support each other firmly and immovably, and to walk together step by step.”

“Oh, my noble and generous friend,” exclaimed Gentz, sadly, “how delicately you try to veil your protection! In such an alliance, I am unable to offer you any compensation, for I should find all doors closed if you should not open them to me. I have neither rank, money, nor friends at court!”

“Well, let me protect you now, and at some later period you will protect me,” said Marianne. “Let us swear to pursue our path together.”

“I swear it by all that is sacred to me!” exclaimed Gentz. “I swear that I will remain faithful to you and to Germany for my whole life. I swear that I will follow you everywhere; that I will serve you wherever and whenever I can, and to love you to my last breath.”

“The alliance is closed,” said Marianne, solemnly, “Henceforth, we will fight jointly, and pursue our goal together. It is our own greatness, and the greatness of Germany. The country is in danger—let us see if we cannot contribute something to its preservation, and if it does not need our hands and our heads in order to weather the storm. If we should be able, while assisting the country, to pick up a few laurels, titles, decorations, and treasures for ourselves, we would be fools not to avail ourselves of the opportunity.”

“Yes, you are right,” said Gentz, smiling, “we would be fools not to do so; and you are right, too, as to the perils of the country. Germany is in danger. The new century will dawn upon her with a bloody morning sun, and it will arouse us from our sleep by a terrific cannonade. But as for ourselves, we will not wait until the roar of the strife awakens us; we will be up and doing now and work on the lightning-rod with which we will meet the approaching thunderstorm, in order that its bolts may glance off harmlessly and not destroy Germany. I will be an untiring warrior in the great struggle against the revolution, and my pen, which is my sword, shall never be idle in the strife. From this hour I cease to be the insignificant Prussian counsellor, Frederick Gentz; from this hour I will strive to become the great political writer of Germany. May the genius of Germany be with me in my endeavors!”

“Amen!” said Marianne, fervently. “May the genius of Germany bless us and the new century. Amen!”

The minister, Baron Thugut, was pacing his cabinet in an excited manner. His face, usually so cold and immovable, was painfully agitated to-day; his shaggy white eyebrows were closely contracted, and his eyes were casting angry glances on the dispatch which he had just thrown on his desk, and which a courier from General Melas, in Lombardy, had brought to him a few minutes ago.

“Another battle lost!” he muttered; “another laurel-wreath placed on the defiant head of General Bonaparte! This man will make me mad yet by his impudent good luck. It is dreadful only to think that he was already defeated at Marengo[111]The battle of Marengo was fought on the 14th of June, 1800.—so surely defeated that General Melas issued orders for the pursuit of the enemy, and rode to Alessandria to take his supper in the most comfortable manner. That fellow Melas is a jackass, who only scented the roast meat which he was going to have for supper, but not General Desaix, who arrived with his troops in time to snatch victory from our grasp, and to inflict a most terrible defeat upon our triumphant army. All of our generals are short-sighted fools, from that ridiculously-over-rated Archduke Charles down to General Schwarzenberg, and whatever the names of these gentlemen may be—these gentlemen with the golden epaulets, and decorated breasts, and empty heads—I have no confidence in a single one of them. At the moment of danger as well as of victory they regularly lose their senses, and thereby turn our victories into defeats; while they render our checks in the same way only more disastrous and decisive. I am entirely opposed to placing any more archdukes at the head of our armies. Fortunately, I have succeeded in getting rid of Archduke Charles, and I hope that Archduke John, too, will be badly beaten at no distant period, so that we may remove him, like his brother, from his position at the head of his troops. It will never do. Well—” he interrupted himself in his soliloquy, casting an angry glance on his private secretary, Hudlitz, who was just entering the room—“well, why do you disturb me without being called for?”

“Pardon me, your excellency,” said Hudlitz, humbly, “but your excellency had instructed me to inform you immediately of the arrival of the custodian of the imperial library, whom your excellency had sent for.”

“And he is there now?” asked Thugut.

“Yes, your excellency, Mr. Muller, the aulic councillor and custodian of the imperial library is waiting in the anteroom.”

“Admit him, then,” said Thugut, waving his hand toward the door.

Hudlitz limped out, and a few minutes later the announced visitor appeared on the threshold of the door. He was a little, slender man, with a stooping form, which had not been bent, however, by the burden of years, but by the burden of learning, of night-watches and untiring studies. His head, covered with a pig-tail wig, according to the fashion of that period, was slightly bent forward. His expansive forehead was indicative of the philosophical turn of his mind; his large eyes were beaming with deep feeling; his pleasing, yet not handsome features, were expressive to an almost touching degree, of infinite gentleness and benevolence, and a winning smile was playing constantly on his thin lips.

This smile, however, disappeared now that he felt the small, piercing eyes of the minister resting upon his countenance. Hat in hand, and without uttering a word, he remained standing at the door; he only raised his head a little, and his eyes were fixed on the minister with a calm and proud expression.

“You are the aulic councillor, Johannes Muller?” asked Thugut, after a short pause, in a somewhat harsh voice.

“Yes, I am Johannes Muller,” said the latter, and the smile had already returned to his lips. “I thank your excellency for this salutary question.”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” asked Thugut, wonderingly. “Why do you call my question salutary?”

“Because it involves a good lesson, your excellency, and because it informs me that they are wrong who, from motives of mistaken benevolence, would persuade me that I was a well-known person, and that everybody in Vienna was familiar with my name. It is always wholesome for an author to be reminded from time to time of his insignificance and littleness, for it preserves him from giving way to pride, and pride is always the first symptom of mental retrogradation.”

Thugut fixed his eyes with a sullen air on the countenance of the savant. “Do you want to give me a lesson?” he asked, angrily.

“By no means, your excellency,” said Johannes Muller, calmly; “I only wished to mention the reason why I was grateful to you for your question. And now I trust your excellency will permit me the question—to what am I indebted for the honor of being called to your excellency?”

“Well, I wished to make your acquaintance, Mr. Aulic Councillor,” said Thugut. “I wished no longer to remain the only inhabitant of Vienna who had not seen the illustrious historian of Switzerland and the author of the ‘Furstenbund.’[112]“The League of the Princes,” one of the celebrated works of Johannes von Muller. You see, sir, I know your works at least, even though I did not know your person.”

“And your excellency did not lose any thing by not knowing the latter, for it is a person that is not worth the trouble to become acquainted with. We men of learning are less able to speak with our tongues than with our pens, and our desk alone is our rostrum.”

“And there you are a powerful and most impressive orator, Mr. Aulic Councillor!” exclaimed Thugut, in a tone of unaffected and cordial praise.

An air of joyful surprise overspread the gentle face of Johannes Muller, and he cast a glance of heart-felt gratitude on the minister.

Thugut noticed this glance. “You are surprised that I am able to appreciate your merits so correctly and yet suffered years to elapse without inviting you to call on me? I am a poor man, overburdened with business and harassed with the dry details of my administration, and the direction of political affairs leaves me no leisure to be devoted to literature.”

“At least not to German literature,” said Muller, quickly; “but every one knows your excellency to be a profound connoisseur of oriental languages; and it is well known, too, that you devote a great deal of attention to them, notwithstanding the immense burden of business constantly weighing you down.”

Thugut smiled, and his harsh features assumed a milder expression. Johannes Muller, without intending it perhaps, had touched the chord that sounded most sweetly to Thugut’s ears; he had flattered him by referring to his profound oriental studies.

“Well,” he said, “you see I am taking likewise a lively interest in German literature, for I invited you to come and see me; and you are a German author, and one of the most illustrious at that. Now, sir, let us speak frankly and without circumlocution, as two men of science ought to do. Let us mutually forget our titles and official positions, and chat confidentially with each other. Come, my dear sir, let us sit down in these two arm-chairs and talk like two German gentlemen; that is, frankly and sincerely. Nobody is here to hear us, and I give you my word of honor nobody shall learn a word of what we are going to say to each other. Perfect irresponsibility and impunity for every thing that will be spoken during this interview. Are you content with this, and will you promise me to open your mind freely to me?”

“I promise it, your excellency, and shall reply truthfully and fearlessly to whatever questions you may address to me, provided I am able to tell you the truth.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Thugut, shrugging his shoulders. “Every thing has two sides, and both are true according to the stand-point from which one is looking at them. You have two sides yourself, sir, and they are contrasting very strangely with each other. You are a native of Switzerland, and yet you depict the Hapsburg princes in your works with more genuine enthusiasm than any of our Austrian historians. You are a republican, and yet you are serving a monarchy, the forms of which seem to agree with you exceedingly well. You belong to the orthodox reformed church, and yet you have written ‘The Voyages of the Popes,’ and ‘The Letters of Two Catholic Prelates.’ You are a friend of justice, and yet you have even discovered good and praiseworthy qualities in that tyrannous King of France, Louis XI. Now tell me, sir, which is your true side, and what you really are?”

“I am a man,” said Johannes Muller, gently; “I commit errors and have my failings like all men, my heart is vacillating, but not my head. With my head I am standing above all parties, and above all individual feelings; hence I am able to write ‘The Voyages of the Popes,’ and ‘The Letters of Two Catholic Prelates,’ although, as your excellency stated, I am a member of the orthodox reformed church; and hence I am able to praise the Hapsburgs and serve a monarchy, although I am a republican. But my heart does not stand above the contending parties; my heart loves mankind, and takes pity on their failings; hence it is able to discover praiseworthy qualities even in Louis XI. of France, for in the BAD king, it constantly follows the vestiges of the man whom nature created good and humane.”

“Those are the views of Jean Jacques Rousseau!” exclaimed Thugut, contemptuously; “but these views are inapplicable to the world and to practical life; he who desires to derive advantages from men, first, of all things, must avail himself of their bad qualities and flatter them. To hold intercourse with perfectly virtuous men is tedious and unprofitable; fortunately, however, there are very few of them. I should have no use whatever for such patterns of virtue, and, instead of admiring them, I should try to annihilate them. He who is to be a welcome tool for me, must either have a stain by which I may catch him at the slightest symptom of disobedience, like an insect tied to a string, and draw him back to me, or he must be so narrow-minded and ignorant as not to understand me fully, and to be unable to divine and penetrate my hidden thoughts and intentions.”[113]Thugut’s own words.—Vide Hormayer, “Lebensbilder aus dein Befreiungskrieg,” voi. i., p. 322.

“In that case I must hope never to be a welcome tool of your excellency,” said Muller, gravely.

“Are you so sure of your virtue? Are you unconscious of any stain on your character?”

“If principles be virtue, yes; in that case I am sure of my virtue,” said Muller, calmly. “I shall never be unfaithful to my principles, and I hope never to have a stain on my conscience.”

“Who is able to say that?” exclaimed Thugut, laughing; “many a one has become a murderer, who was unwilling to tread on a worm, and many a one has become a perjurer, who protested solemnly that he would never utter a lie. But a truce to philosophical discussions. I like to go directly at my aim, and to utter my thoughts clearly and precisely. Listen, then, to me, and learn what I want you to do. You are a great mind, an illustrious historian, a very learned man, and you are pining away among the shelves of your imperial library. The greatest historian of the century is nothing but the custodian of a library, and is subordinate to a chief whom he must obey, although the latter is mentally a pigmy compared with him. Such a position is unworthy of your eminent abilities, or tell me, do you feel contented with it?”

Johannes Muller smiled sadly. “Who is able to say that he feels contented?” he asked. “I am, perhaps, a bad custodian, and that may be the reason why the prefect of the Imperial Library, Baron Fenish, is not on good terms with me, and profits by every opportunity to mortify me. A German savant never was an independent man, for he generally lacks the most indispensable requisite for an independent position: he generally lacks wealth.”

“Then you are poor?” asked Thugut, with flashing eyes.

“I have no other means than my salary. The Muses will adorn a man, but they will not feed him.”

“I will deliver you from your subordinate position,” said Thugut, hastily; “you shall be independent, free, and rich. You are a fool to bury yourself, with your glory and with your pen, in the dust of old books. Life and history are calling, and offering you their metal tablets to write thereon. Write, then; write the history of our times; render yourself an organ of the age; assist us, by your writings, in preserving the government and law and order. Defend, with your ringing voice, the actions of the government against the aspersions of this would-be wise, noisy, and miserable people, and you shall have a brilliant position and an annual salary of four thousand florins. You are silent? You are right; consider well what I am proposing to you. I offer you a brilliant position. I will make you the great historian of our times. It affords you always so much pleasure to praise and commend; well, sir, praise and commend what we are doing. Assist me, at least, in mystifying our contemporaries and posterity a little, and I will reward you in the most liberal manner. A good title, a large salary, and we will, moreover, pay your debts.”

“Ah! your excellency knows that I have debts, and you believe that to be the string by which you may draw me to you like an insect?” asked Muller, smiling. “To become the historian of our times is an honorable and welcome offer, and I confess to your excellency that I have already finished many a chapter of it in my head, and that I have devoted a great deal of attention to the special history of Austria. It would be agreeable to me if your excellency would permit me to recite to you a few passages from the history of Austria, as I have elaborated it in my head. This will be the best way for your excellency to obtain the conviction whether I am really able to fill so brilliant a position as your excellency has offered me, and whether my services deserve so liberal a salary.”

“Well, sir, let me hear a few passages from your ‘History of Austria.’ I am very anxious to listen to them.”

“And your excellency remembers the promise that there is to be irresponsibility and impunity for whatever will be said during this interview?”

“I do, sir, and I swear that your words shall never be repeated to any one, and that I shall only remember them when I have to reward you for them. I swear, besides, that I will quietly and patiently listen to you until you have concluded.”

“I thank your excellency,” said Johannes Muller, bowing gracefully. “I should like to recite to your excellency now a chapter that I desire to write on the literature of Austria. I turn my eyes back to the days of Maria Theresa and Joseph the Second. Both of them were lovers of literature, art, and science, which both of them promoted and fostered. Joseph expelled darkness from his states and uttered the great words, ‘The mind shall be free!’ And the mind became free. It became active and exalted in every art; the poets raised their voices; the learned sent the results of their studies into the world, and labored powerfully for the advancement and enlightenment of the people. The mind tore down the barriers that stupid fear had raised between Austria and the other German states, and the great poets who had lately arisen in Germany now became, also, the poets and property of Austria. Austria called Lessing and Klopstock HER poets; like the rest of Germany, she enthusiastically admired Schiller’s ‘Robbers,’ and wept over ‘Werther’s Sorrows;’ she was delighted with the poetry of Wieland; she learned to love the clear and noble mind of Herder, and the writings of Jean Paul admonished her to learn and to reflect. It was a glorious period, your excellency, for a young nation had arisen in Austria, and it was drawing its nourishment from the breasts of a young literature.”

“And sucking from these breasts the revolutionary spirit, and the arrogance of independent thinkers,” interrupted Thugut, rudely.

Johannes Muller seemed not to have heard him, and continued: “Joseph the Second died; scarcely a decade has passed, and what has this decade made of Austria? The mind has been chained again; the censor with his scissors has taken his stand again by the side of the Austrian boundary-post; and the wall severing Austria from Germany has been recreated. Every thing now has become again suspicious; even the national spirit of the Austrian, even his hatred of foreign oppression, and his hostility to foreign encroachments. In this hatred itself the government sees the possibility of a rising, and a spirit of opposition, for it sees that the people are no longer asleep, but awake and thinking, and thought in itself is even now an opposition. Every manifestation of enthusiasm for a man who has spoken of the freedom and independence of Germany is looked upon with suspicion, and the noblest men are being proscribed and banished, merely because the people love them, and hope and expect great things from them. The people, according to the wishes of government, shall do nothing but sleep, obey, and be silent; the people shall manifest no enthusiasm for any thing; the people shall love nothing, desire nothing, think nothing; the people shall have no heroes, to whom they are attached; for the glory of the heroes might eclipse the emperor, and the shouts of love sound like shouts of insurrection.”

“You refer to the Archdukes Charles and John,” said Thugut, quietly. “It is true, I have removed Archduke Charles from his command, for his popularity with the army and people is very great, and would have become dangerous to the emperor. We must conquer through tools, and not through heroes; the latter are very unpleasant to deal with, for they do not gratefully receive their reward as a favor, but they impudently claim and take it as a right. The imperial throne must be surrounded by heroes, but these heroes must never eclipse the imperial throne. Pardon this note to your chapter, and proceed.”

“The heroes of the sword are cast aside,” continued Johannes Muller, “but neither the heroes of thought nor the heroes of literature are spared. The government tries to disgrace and insult literature, because it is unable to assassinate it entirely; it drags literature into the caves of unworthy censors, and mutilates its most beautiful limbs and destroys the most magnificent splendor of its ideas. The government is AFRAID of the mind; hence it desires to kill IT. A government, however, may commit many mistakes, but it never ought to show that it is afraid, fear exposing it to ridicule. And if we ought not to weep over the persecutions which the apprehensions of the government have caused to be instituted against literature, we ought to laugh at them. Whole volumes of the most sublime works of Gibbon, Robertson, Hume, and other great historians have been prohibited; and there is not one of our German poets—neither Goethe, nor Schiller, nor Herder, nor Wieland, nor Lessing, nor Jean Paul—whose works are not ostracized in German Austria. Fear and a bad conscience scent everywhere allusions, references, and hints. Hence history is banished from the stage; for the history of the past constantly points with a menacing finger at the sore spots of the present. Shakespeare’s ‘King Lear’ has been prohibited, because the public might believe princes would lose their heads if weighed down by misfortunes. ‘Hamlet,’ ‘Richard the Third,’ and ‘Macbeth’ must not be performed, because people might get accustomed to the dethronement and assassination of emperors and kings. Schiller’s ‘Mary Stuart’ is looked upon as an allusion to Marie Antoinette; ‘Wallenstein’ and ‘Tell’ are ostracized, because they might provoke revolutions and military mutinies. The ‘Merchant of Venice’ must not be performed, because it might give rise to riotous proceedings against the Jews; and in Schiller’s ‘Love and Intrigue,’ President de Kalb has been transformed into a plebeian vicedomus, in order to maintain the respect due to the nobility and to the government functionaries. It is true, it is permitted to represent villains and impostors on the stage, but they must never be noblemen; and if men of ideal character are to be brought upon the stage, they must be either princes, counts, or police-directors. For even more sacred than the dignity of the highest classes is the holy police, the great guardian of the government, the great spy watching the people, who are being deprived of every thing; to whom every intellectual enjoyment, every free manifestation of their enthusiasm is forbidden, and who are yet required to deem themselves happy, and that they shall be faithfully attached to their government! If the government enslaves the people, it must expect that these slaves will lose all sense of honor and justice, and willingly sell themselves to him who holds out to them the most glittering offers, and knows best how to tempt them by golden promises!—I am through, your excellency,” said Johannes Muller, drawing a deep breath; “I have recited to you my whole chapter on the literature of Austria, and I thank you for having listened to me so patiently. Now it is for your excellency alone to decide whether you deem me worthy of filling the honorable position you have offered.

Thugut looked with an air of pride and disdain into his glowing face.

“My dear sir,” he said, after a long pause—“my dear sir, I was mistaken in you, for I believed you to have a clear head and a strong mind, and I perceive now that you are nothing but a weak enthusiast, dreaming of ideal fancies which one day will turn out entirely differently; to become spectres, from which you will shrink back in dismay. You will not always remain the enthusiastic admirer of freedom as at present; and the proud republican will one day, perhaps, be transformed into the obedient servant of a tyrant. You assured me quite haughtily that you had no stain on your conscience; let me tell you, sir, that there is a stain on your character, and I should have profited by it—you are vain. I should not have tried to bribe you with money, but with flattery, and I had been successful. I had too good an opinion of you, however. I believed you had a vigorous mind, capable of comprehending what is necessary and useful, and of preferring the practical and advantageous to the ideal. Although a native of Switzerland, you are a genuine German dreamer, and I hate dreamers. Go, sir, remain custodian of the Imperial Library and complete your catalogues, but never imagine that you will be able with your weak hand to stem the wheel of history and of political affairs; the wheel would only destroy your hand and what little glory you have obtained, and hurl you aside like a crushed dog. Farewell!”

He turned his back upon Johannes Muller, and placed himself at the window until the soft noise of the closing door told him that the historian had left him.

“What a fool!” he said. Then, turning around again—“a genuine German fool! Wanted to lecture me—ME!”

And, amused by the idea, Thugut burst into loud laughter. He then rang the bell violently, and as soon as the valet de chambre made his appearance he ordered him to get the carriage ready for him.

Fifteen minutes later the minister left the chancery of state for the purpose of repairing, as was his custom every evening, to his garden in the Wahringer Street. The streets through which he had to pass were crowded with citizens, who were talking with ill-concealed rage about the fresh defeat of the Austrians at Marengo, and were loudly calling out that Minister Thugut was alone to blame for Austria’s misfortunes, and that he was the only obstacle that prevented the emperor from making peace. And the people surrounded the well-known carriage of the minister with constantly-increasing exasperation, and cried in a constantly louder and more menacing tone: “We do not want war! We want peace! peace!”

Thugut was leaning back comfortably on the cushions of his carriage. He seemed not to hear the shouts of the people, and not to deem them worthy of the slightest notice. Only when the tumult increased in violence, and when the incensed people commenced hurling stones and mud at his carriage, the minister rose for a moment in order to look out with an air of profound disdain. He then leaned back on his seat, and muttered, with a glance of indescribable contempt:

“Canaille!”[114]Hormayer’s “Lebensbilder,” vol. i., p. 230.

Tidings of fresh defeats had reached Vienna; more disasters had befallen the army, and the great victory of Marengo had been followed, on the 3rd of December, 1800, by the battle of Hohenlinden, in which Moreau defeated the Austrians under Archduke John. Even Thugut, the immovable and constant prime minister, felt alarmed at so many calamities, and he was generally in a gloomy and spiteful humor.

He felt that there was a power stronger than his will, and this feeling maddened him with anger. He was sitting at his desk, with a clouded brow and closely compressed lips, his sullen eyes fixed on the papers before him, which a courier, just arrived from the headquarters of the army, had delivered to him. They contained evil tidings; they informed him of the immense losses of the Austrians, and of the insolence of the victorious French general, who had only granted the Austrian application for an armistice on condition that the fortresses of Ulm, Ingolstadt and Philipsburg be surrendered to him; and these humiliating terms had been complied with in order to gain time and to concentrate a new army. For Thugut’s stubbornness had not been broken yet, and he still obstinately refused to conclude the peace so urgently desired by the whole Austrian people, nay, by the emperor himself.

“No, no, no peace!” he muttered, when he had perused the dispatches. “We will fight on, even though we should be buried under the ruins of Austria! I hate that revolutionary France, and I shall never condescend to extend my hand to it for the purpose of making peace. We will fight on, and no one shall dare to talk to me about peace!”

A low rap at the door leading to the reception-room interrupted his soliloquy, and when he had harshly called out, “Come in,” his valet de chambre appeared in the door.

“Your excellency,” he said, timidly, “Counts Colloredo, Saurau, and Lehrbach have just arrived, and desire to obtain an interview with your excellency.”

Not a muscle moved in Thugut’s face to betray his surprise, and he ordered the servant in a perfectly calm voice to admit the gentlemen immediately. He then hastily walked to the door for the purpose of meeting them. They entered a few minutes later: first, Count Colloredo, minister of the imperial household; next, Count Saurau, minister of police; and last, Count Lehrbach, minister without portfolio. Thugut surveyed the three dignitaries with a single searching glance. He perceived that good-natured Count Colloredo looked rather frightened; that the ferocious eyes of Count Lehrbach were glistening like those of a tiger just about to lacerate his victim: and that Count Saurau, that diplomatist generally so impenetrable, permitted a triumphant smile to play on his lips. With the sure tact which Thugut never lost sight of, he saw from the various miens of these three gentlemen what had occasioned their call upon him, and his mind was made up at once.

He received them, however, with a pleasant salutation, and took the hand of Count Colloredo in order to conduct him to an armchair. Colloredo’s hand was cold and trembling, and Thugut said to himself, “he is charged with a very disagreeable message for me, and he is afraid to deliver it.”

“Your excellency is doubtless astonished to see us disturb you at so unexpected an hour,” said Count Colloredo, in a tremulous voice, when the four gentlemen had taken seats.

“No, I am not astonished,” said Thugut, calmly. “You, gentlemen, on the contrary, have only anticipated my wishes. I was just about to invite you to see me for the purpose of holding a consultation, very disastrous tidings having arrived from the headquarters of our army. We have lost a battle at Hohenlinden—Archduke John has been defeated.”

“And Moreau has already crossed the Inn and is now advancing upon Vienna,” said Count Lehrbach, with a sneer. “You have made some terrible mistakes in your hopes of victory, minister.”

“Yes, indeed, you have made some terrible mistakes, my dear little baron,” said Count Saurau, laying particular stress on the last words.

Thugut fixed a laughing look on him. “Why,” he said, “how tender we are to-day, and how big your beak has grown, my dear little count! You seem but slightly afflicted by the misfortunes of the empire, for your face is as radiant as that of a young cock that has just driven a rival from its dunghill. But it must have been a very stupid old cock that has condescended to fight with you. Now, my dear Count Colloredo, let us talk about business. We have been defeated at Hohenlinden, and Moreau is advancing upon Vienna. These are two facts that cannot be disputed. But we shall recover from these blows; we shall send a fresh army against Moreau, and it will avenge our previous disasters.”

“However, your excellency, that is a mere hope, and we may be disappointed again,” replied Colloredo, anxiously. “The emperor, my gracious master, has lost faith in our victories, unless we should have an able and tried general at the head of our forces—a general equally trusted by the army and the nation.”

“Let us, then, place such a general at the head of the army,” said Thugut, calmly; “let us immediately appoint Archduke Charles commander-in-chief of the Austrian forces.”

“Ah, I am glad that you consent to it,” exclaimed Colloredo, joyfully, “for the emperor has just instructed me to go to his distinguished brother and to request him in the name of his majesty to resume the command-in-chief.”

“Well, he will accept it,” said Thugut, smiling, “for commanding and ruling always is a very agreeable occupation; and many a one would be ready and willing to betray his benefactor and friend, if he thereby could acquire power and distinction. Are you not, too, of this opinion, my dear little Count Saurau? Ah, you do not know how tenderly I am devoted to you. You are the puppet which I have raised and fostered, and which I wanted to transform into a man according to my own views. I am not to blame if you have not become a man, but always remained only a machine to be directed by another hand. Beware, my dear, of ever falling into unskilful or bad hands, for then you would be lost, notwithstanding your elasticity and pliability. But you have got a worthy friend there at your side, noble, excellent Count Lehrbach. Do you know, my dear Count Lehrbach, that there are evil-disposed persons who often tried to prejudice me against you, who wanted to insinuate you were a rival of mine, and were notoriously anxious to supplant me and to become prime minister in my place? Truly, these anxious men actually went so far as to caution me against you.”

“And did not your excellency make any reply to them?” asked Count Lehrbach, laughing.

“Parbleu, you ask me whether I have made a reply to them or not?” said Thugut. “I have always replied to those warning voices: ‘I need not break Count Lehrbach’s neck; he will attend to that himself. I like to push a man forward whom I am able to hang at any time.’”[115]Thugut’s own words.—Hormayer’s “Lebensbilder,” vol. i., p. 882.

“But you have not taken into consideration that the man whom you are pushing forward might reach back and afford you the same pleasure which you had in store for him,” exclaimed Lehrbach, laughing boisterously.

“Yes, that is true,” said Thugut, artlessly; “I ought to have been afraid of you, after all, and to perceive that you have got a nail in your head on which one may be hanged very comfortably. But, my friends, we detain Count Colloredo by our jokes, and you are aware that he must hasten to the archduke in order to beg him to become our commander-in-chief and to sign a treaty of peace with France. For I believe we will make peace at all events.”

“We shall make peace provided we fulfil the conditions which Bonaparte has exacted,” said Count Colloredo, timidly.

“Ah, he has exacted conditions, and these conditions have been addressed to the emperor and not to myself?” asked Thugut.

“The dispatches were addressed to me, the minister of the imperial household,” said Count Colloredo, modestly. “The first of these conditions is that Austria and France make peace without letting England participate in the negotiations.”

“And the second condition is beaming already on Count Lehrbach’s forehead,” said Thugut, calmly. “Bonaparte demands that I shall withdraw from the cabinet, as my dismissal would be to him a guaranty of the pacific intentions of Austria,[116]Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 324. Am I mistaken?”

“You are not; but the emperor, gratefully acknowledging the long and important services your excellency has rendered to the state, will not fulfil this condition and incur the semblance of ingratitude.”

“Austria and my emperor require a sacrifice of me, and I am ready to make it,” said Thugut, solemnly. “I shall write immediately to his majesty the emperor and request him to permit me to withdraw from the service of the state without delay.”

Count Colloredo sighed mournfully; Count Saurau smiled, and Count Lehrbach laughed in Thugut’s face with the mien of a hyena.

“And do you know who will be your successor?” asked the latter.

“My dear sir, I shall have no successor, only a miserable imitator, and you will be that imitator,” said Thugut, proudly. “But I give you my word that this task will not be intrusted to you for a long while. I shall now draw up my request to the emperor, and I beg you, gentlemen, to deliver it to his majesty.”

Without saying another word he went to his desk, hastily wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper, which he then sealed and directed. “Count Colloredo,” he said, “be kind enough to hand this letter to the emperor.”

Count Colloredo took it with one hand, and with the other he drew a sealed letter from his bosom.

“And here, your excellency,” he said—“here I have the honor to present to you his majesty’s reply. The emperor, fully cognizant of your noble and devoted patriotism, was satisfied in advance that you would be ready to sacrifice yourself on the altar of the country, and, however grievous the resolution, he was determined to accept the sacrifice. The emperor grants your withdrawal from the service of the state; and Count Louis Cobenzl, who is to set out within a few hours for Luneville, in order to open there the peace conference with the brother of the First Consul, Joseph Bonaparte, will take along the official announcement of this change in the imperial cabinet. Count Lehrbach, I have the honor to present to you, in the name of the emperor, this letter, by which his majesty appoints you minister of the interior.”

He handed to Count Lehrbach a letter, which the latter hastily opened and glanced over with greedy eyes.

“And you, my dear little Count Saurau?” asked Thugut, compassionately. “Have they not granted you any share whatever in the spoils?”

“Yes, they have; I have received the honorable commission to communicate to the good people of Vienna the joyful news that Baron Thugut has been dismissed,” said Count Saurau; “and I shall now withdraw in order to fulfil this commission.”

He nodded sneeringly to Thugut, bowed respectfully to Count Colloredo, and left the minister’s cabinet.

“I am avenged,” he muttered, while crossing the anteroom; “henceforward the shipbuilder’s son will call me no longer his ‘dear little count.’”

“And I shall withdraw, too,” said Count Lehrbach, with a scornful smile. “I shall withdraw in order to make all necessary preparations, so that my furniture and horses can be brought here tomorrow to the building of the chancery of state. For I suppose, Baron Thugut, you will move out of this house in the course of to-day?”

“Yes, I shall, and you will withdraw now, sir,” said Thugut, dismissing the count with a haughty wave of his hand. Count Lehrbach went out laughing, and Count Colloredo remained alone with Thugut.

“And you,” asked Thugut, “do not you wish to take leave of me by telling me something that might hurt my feelings?”

“I have to tell you a great many things, but nothing that will hurt your feelings,” said Colloredo, gently. “First of all things, I must beg you not to deprive me of your friendship and advice, but to assist me as heretofore. I need your advice and your help more than ever, and shall do nothing without previously ascertaining your will.”

“The emperor will not permit it,” said Thugut, gloomily. “He will require you to break off all intercourse with me.”

“On the contrary,” whispered Colloredo, “the emperor desires you always to assist him and myself by your counsels. The emperor desires you to be kind enough to call every day upon me in order to consider with me the affairs of the day, and there, accidentally of course, you will meet his majesty, who wants to obtain the advice of your experience and wisdom. You will remain minister, but incognito.”

A flash of joy burst forth from Thugut’s eyes, but he quickly suppressed it again.

“And shall I meet in your house sometimes your wife, the beautiful Countess Victoria?” he asked.

“Victoria implores you, through my mouth, to trust her and never to doubt of her friendship. I beg you to receive the same assurance as far as I am concerned. You have rendered both of us so happy, my dear baron; you were the mediator of a marriage in which both of us, Victoria as well as myself, have found the highest bliss on earth, and never shall we cease to be grateful to you for it; nor shall we ever be able or willing to do without your advice and assistance. You are our head, we are your arms, and the head commanding the arms, we shall always obey you. Victoria implores you to tell her any thing you desire, so that she may give you forthwith a proof of her willingness to serve you. She has charged me to ask you to do so as a proof of your friendship.”

“Well,” said Thugut, laughing, “I accept your offer, as well as that of your beautiful wife Victoria. Count Lehrbach has been appointed minister and he wants even to move to-morrow into the chancery of state. We will let him move in early in the morning, but, in the course of the day, the emperor will do well to send him his dismissal, for Count Lehrbach is unworthy of being his majesty’s minister of state. His hand is stained with the blood which was shed at Rastadt, and a minister’s hand must be clean.”

“But whom shall we appoint minister in Lehrbach’s place?”

“Count Louis Cobenzl, for his name will offer the best guaranty of our pacific intentions toward France.”

“But Count Cobenzl is to go to Luneville to attend the peace conference.”

“Let him do so, and until his return let Count Trautmannsdorf temporarily discharge the duties of his office.”

“Ah, that is true, that is a splendid idea!” exclaimed Count Colloredo, joyfully. “You are a very sagacious and prudent statesman, and I shall hasten to lay your advice before the emperor. You may rest assured that every thing shall be done in accordance with your wishes. Lehrbach remains minister until to-morrow at noon; he then receives his dismissal, Count Louis Cobenzl will be appointed his successor, and Count Trautmannsdorf will temporarily discharge the duties of the office until Cobenzl’s return from Luneville. Shall it be done in this manner?”

“Yes, it shall,” said Thugut, almost sternly.

“But this does not fulfil Victoria’s prayer,” said the count, anxiously. “I am able to attend to these matters, but Victoria also wants to give you a proof of her friendship.”

“Well, I ask her to prepare a little joke for me and you,” replied Thugut. “Count Lehrbach will move early to-morrow morning with his whole furniture into the chancery of state. I beg Victoria to bring it about that he must move out to-morrow evening with his whole furniture, like a martin found in the dove-cote.”[117]Thugut’s wishes were fulfilled. Count Lehrbach lost on the very next day his scarcely-obtained portfolio, and he was compelled to remove the furniture which, in rude haste he had sent to the chancery of state in the morning, in the course of the same evening.—Vide Hormayer’s “Lebensbilder,” vol. i., p. 330.

“Ah, that will be a splendid joke,” said Count Colloredo, laughing, “and my dear Victoria will be happy to afford you this little satisfaction. I am able to predict that Count Lehrbach will be compelled to move out to-morrow evening. But now, my dearest friend. I must hasten to Archduke Charles, who, as you are aware, is pouting on one of his estates. I shall at once repair thither, and be absent from Vienna for two days. Meantime, you will take care of Victoria as a faithful friend.”

“I shall take care of her if the countess will permit me to do so,” said Thugut, smiling, and accompanying Count Colloredo to the door.

His eyes followed him for a long while with an expression of haughty disdain.

“The fools remain,” he said, “and I must go. But no, I shall not go! Let the world believe me to be a dismissed minister, I remain minister after all. I shall rule through my creatures, Colloredo and Victoria. I remain minister until I shall be tired of all these miserable intrigues, and retire in order to live for myself.”[118]Thugut really withdrew definitely from the political stage, but secretly he retained his full power and authority, and Victoria de Poutet-Colloredo, the influential friend of the Empress Theresia, constantly remained his faithful adherent and confidante. All Vienna, however, was highly elated by the dismissal of Thugut, who had so long ruled the empire in the most arbitrary manner. An instance of his system is the fact that; on his withdrawal from the cabinet, there were found one hundred and seventy unopened dispatches and more than two thousand unopened letters. Thugut only perused what he believed to be worth the trouble of being read, and to the remainder he paid no attention whatever.—“Lebensbilder,” vol. i., p. 327.

The young Baroness Fanny von Arnstein had just finished her morning toilet and stepped from her dressing-room into her boudoir, in order to take her chocolate there, solitary and alone as ever. With a gentle sigh she glided into the arm-chair, and instead of drinking the chocolate placed before her in a silver breakfast set on the table, she leaned her head against the back of her chair and dreamily looked up to the ceiling. Her bosom heaved profound sighs from time to time, and the ideas which were moving her heart and her soul ever and anon caused a deeper blush to mantle her cheeks; but it quickly disappeared again, and was followed by an even more striking pallor.

She was suddenly startled from her musings by a soft, timid rap at the door leading to the reception-room.

“Good Heaven!” she whispered, “I hope he will not dare to come to me so early, and without being announced.”

The rapping at the door was renewed. “I cannot, will not receive him,” she muttered; “it will be better not to be alone with him any more. I will bolt the door and make no reply whatever.”

She glided with soft steps across the room to the door, and was just about to bolt it, when the rapping resounded for the third time, and a modest female voice asked:

“Are you there, baroness, and may I walk in?”

“Ah, it is only my maid,” whispered the baroness, drawing a deep breath, as though an oppressive burden were removed from her breast, and she opened the door herself.

“Well, Fanchon,” she asked, in her gentle, winning voice, “what do you want?”

“Pardon me, baroness,” said the maid, casting an inquisitive look around the room, “the baron sent for me just now; he asked me if you had risen already and entered your boudoir, and when I replied in the affirmative, the baron gave me a message for you, with the express order, however, not to deliver it until you had taken your chocolate and finished your breakfast. I see now that I must not yet deliver it; the breakfast is still on the table just as it was brought in.”

“Take it away; I do not want to eat any thing,” said the baroness, hastily. “And now Fanchon, tell me your errand.”

Fanchon approached the table, and while she seized the silver salver, she cast a glance of tender anxiety on her pale, beautiful mistress.

“You are eating nothing at all, baroness,” she said, timidly; “for a week already I have had to remove the breakfast every morning in the same manner; you never tasted a morsel of it, and the valet de chambre says that you hardly eat any thing at the dinner-table either; you will be taken ill, baroness, if you go on in this manner, and—”

“Never mind, dear Fanchon,” her mistress interrupted her with a gentle smile, “I have hardly any appetite, it is true, but I do not feel unwell, nor do I want to be taken ill. Let us say no more about it, and tell me the message the baron intrusted to you.”

“The baron wished me to ask you if you would permit him to pay you immediately a visit, and if you would receive him here in your boudoir.”

The baroness started, and an air of surprise overspread her features. “Tell the baron that he will be welcome, and that I am waiting for him,” she said then, calmly. But so soon as Fanchon had withdrawn, she whispered: “What is the meaning of all this? What is the reason of this unusual visit? Oh, my knees are trembling, and my heart is beating so violently, as though it wanted to burst. Why? What have I done, then? Am I a criminal, who is afraid to appear before her judge?”

She sank back into her arm-chair and covered her blushing face with her hands. “No,” she said, after a long pause, raising her head again, “no, I am no criminal, and my conscience is guiltless. I am able to raise my eyes freely to my husband and to my God. So far, I have honestly struggled against my own heart, and I shall struggle on in the same manner. I—ah! he is coming,” she interrupted herself when she heard steps in the adjoining room, and her eyes were fixed with an expression of anxious suspense on the door.

The latter opened, and her husband, Baron Arnstein, entered. His face was pale, and indicative of deep emotion; nevertheless, he saluted his wife with a kind smile, and bent down in order to kiss her hand, which she had silently given to him.

“I suppose you expected me?” he asked. “You knew, even before I sent Fanchon to you, that I should come and see you at the present hour?”

Fanny looked at him inquiringly, and in surprise. “I confess,” she said, in an embarrassed tone, “that I did not anticipate your visit by any means until Fanchon announced it to me, and I only mention it to apologize for the dishabille in which you find me.”

“Ah, you did not expect me, then?” exclaimed the baron, mournfully. “You have forgotten every thing? You did not remember that this is the anniversary of our wedding, and that five years have elapsed since that time?”

“Indeed,” whispered Fanny, in confusion, “I did not know that this was the day.”

“You felt its burden day after day, and it seemed to you, therefore, as though that ill-starred day were being renewed for you all the year round,” exclaimed the baron, sadly. “Pardon my impetuosity and my complaints,” he continued, when he saw that she turned pale and averted her face. “I will be gentle, and you shall have no reason to complain of me. But as you have forgotten the agreement which we made five years ago, permit me to remind you of it.”

He took a chair, and, sitting down opposite her, fixed a long, melancholy look upon her. “When I led you to the altar five years ago to-day,” he said, feelingly, “you were, perhaps, less beautiful than now, less brilliant, less majestic; but you were in better and less despondent spirits, although you were about to marry a man who was entirely indifferent to you.”

“Oh, I did not say that you were indifferent to me,” said Fanny, in a low voice; “only I did not know you, and, therefore, did not love you.”

“You see that want of acquaintance was not the only reason,” he said, with a bitter smile, “for now, I believe, you know me, and yet you do not love me. But let us speak of what brought me here to-day—of the past. You know that, before our marriage, you afforded me the happiness of a long and confidential interview, that you permitted me to look down into the depths of your pure and noble soul, that you unveiled to me your innocent heart, that did not yet exhibit either scars or wounds, nor even an image, a souvenir, and allowed me to be your brother and your friend, as you would not accept me as a lover and husband. Before the world, however, I became your husband, and took you to Vienna, to my house, of which you were to be the mistress and queen. The whole house was gayly decorated, and all the rooms were opened, for your arrival was to be celebrated by a ball. Only one door was locked; it was the door of this cabinet. I conducted you hither and said to you, ‘This is your sanctuary, and no one shall enter it without your permission. In this boudoir you are not the Baroness Arnstein, not my wife; but here you are Fanny Itzig, the free and unshackled young girl, who is mistress of her will and affections. I shall never dare myself, without being expressly authorized by you, to enter this room; and when I shall be allowed to do so, I shall only come as a cavalier, who has the honor to pay a polite visit to a beautiful lady, to whom he is not connected in any manner whatever. Before the world I am your husband, but not in this room. Hence I shall never permit myself to ask what you are doing in this room, whom you are receiving here; for here you are only responsible to God and yourself.’ Do you now remember that I said this to you at that time?”

“我做。”

“I told you further that I begged you to continue with me one day here in this room the confidential conversation which we held before our marriage. I begged you to fix a period of five years for this purpose and, during this time, to examine your heart and to see whether life at my side was at least a tolerable burden, or whether you wished to shake it off. I asked you to promise me that I might enter this room on the fifth anniversary of our wedding-day, for the purpose of settling then with you our future mode of living. You were kind enough to grant my prayer, and to promise what I asked. Do you remember it?”

“I do,” said Fanny, blushing; “I must confess, however, that I did not regard those words in so grave a light as to consider them as a formal obligation on your part. You would have been every day a welcome guest in this room, and it was unnecessary for you to wait for a particular day in accordance with an agreement made five years ago.”

“Your answer is an evasive one,” said the baron, sadly. “I implore you, let us now again speak as frankly and honestly as we did five years ago to-day! Will you grant my prayer?”

“I will,” replied Fanny, eagerly; “and I am going to prove immediately that I am in earnest. You alluded a few minutes ago to our past, and asked me wonderingly if I had forgotten that interview on our wedding-day. I remember it so well, however, that I must direct your attention to the fact that you have forgotten the principal portion of what we said to each other at that time, or rather that, in your generous delicacy, and with that magnanimous kindness which you alone may boast of, you have intentionally omitted that portion of it. You remembered that I told you I did not love you, but you forgot that you then asked me if I loved another man. I replied to you that I loved no one, and never shall I forget the mournful voice in which you then said, ‘It is by far easier to marry with a cold heart than to do so with a broken heart; for the cold heart may grow warm, but the broken heart—never!’ Oh, do not excuse yourself,” she continued, with greater warmth; “do not take me for so conceited and narrow-minded a being that I should have regarded those words of yours as an insult offered to me! It was, at the best, but a pang that I felt.”

“A pang?” asked the baron, in surprise; and he fixed his dark eyes, with a wondrously impassioned expression, on the face of his beautiful wife.

“Yes, I felt a pang,” she exclaimed, vividly, “for, on hearing your words, which evidently issued from the depths of your soul, on witnessing your unaffected and passionate grief, your courageous self-abnegation, I felt that your heart had received a wound which never would close again, and that you never would faithlessly turn from your first love to a second one.”

“Oh, my God,” murmured the baron, and he averted his face in order not to let her see the blush suddenly mantling it.

Fanny did not notice it, and continued: “But this dead love of yours laid itself like the cold hand of a corpse upon my breast and doomed it to everlasting coldness. With the consciousness that you never would love me, I had to cease striving for it, and give up the hope of seeing, perhaps, one day my heart awake in love for you, and the wondrous flower of a tenderness after marriage unfold itself, the gradual budding of which had been denied to us by the arbitrary action of our parents, who had not consulted our wishes, but only our fortunes. I became your wife with the full conviction that I should have to lead a life cold, dreary, and devoid of love, and that I could not be for you but an everlasting burden, a chain, an obstacle. My pride, that was revolting against it, told me that I should be able to bear this life in a dignified manner, but that I never ought to make even an attempt to break through this barrier which your love for another had erected between us, and which you tried to raise as high as possible.”

“I!” exclaimed the baron, sadly.

“Yes, you,” she said, gravely. “Or did you believe, perhaps, I did not comprehend your rigorous reserve toward me? I did not understand that you were wrapping around your aversion to me but a delicate veil? You conducted me to this room and told me that you never would enter it, and that you would only come here when specially invited by myself to do so. Well, sir, you managed very skilfully to conceal your intention never to be alone with me, and to lead an entirely separate life from me under this phrase, for you knew very well that my pride never would permit me to invite you here against your will.”

“Oh, is it possible that I should have been misunderstood in this manner?” sighed the baron, but in so low a voice that Fanny did not hear him.

“You further told me,” she continued, eagerly, “that I should only bear the name of your wife before the world, but not in this room where I was always to be Fanny Itzig. You were kind enough to give to this moral divorce, which you pronounced in this manner, the semblance as though YOU were the losing party, and as though you were only actuated by motives of delicacy toward me. I understood it all, however, and when you left this room after that conversation, sir, I sank down on my knees and implored God that He might remain with me in this loneliness to which you had doomed me, and I implored my pride to sustain and support me, and I swore to my maidenly honor that I would preserve it unsullied and sacred to my end.”

“Oh, good Heaven!” groaned the baron, tottering backward like a man suddenly seized with vertigo.

Fanny, in her own glowing excitement, did not notice it.

“And thus I commenced my new life,” she said, “a life of splendor and magnificence; it was glittering without, but dreary within, and in the midst of our most brilliant circles I constantly felt lonely; surrounded by hundreds who called themselves friends of our house, I was always alone—I, the wife of your reception-room, the disowned of my boudoir! Oh, it is true I have obtained many triumphs; I have seen this haughty world, that only received me hesitatingly, at last bow to me; the Jewess has become the centre of society, and no one on entering our house believes any longer that he is conferring a favor upon us, but, on the contrary, receiving one from us. It is the TON now to visit our house; we are being overwhelmed with invitations, with flattering attentions. But tell me, sir, is all this a compensation for the happiness which we are lacking and which we never will obtain? Oh, is it not sad to think that both of us, so young, so capable of enjoying happiness, should already be doomed to eternal resignation and eternal loneliness? Is it not horrible to see us, and ought not God Himself to pity us, if from the splendor of His starry heavens He should look down for a moment into our gloomy breasts? I bear in it a cold, frozen heart, and you a coffin. Oh, sir, do not laugh at me because you see tears in my eyes—it is only Fanny Itzig who is weeping; Baroness von Arnstein will receive your guests to-night in your saloons with a smiling face, and no one will believe that her eyes also know how to weep. But here, here in my widow-room, here in my nun’s cell, I may be permitted to weep over you and me, who have been chained together with infrangible fetters, of which both of us feel the burden and oppression with equal bitterness and wrath. May God forgive our parents for having sacrificed our hearts on the altar of THEIR God, who is Mammon; I shall ever hate them for it; I shall never forgive them, for they who knew life must have known that there is nothing more unhappy, more miserable, and more deplorable than a wife who does not love her husband, is not beloved by him.”

“Is not beloved by him!” repeated the baron, approaching his wife who, like a broken reed, had sunk down on a chair, and seizing her hand, he said: “You say that I do not love you, Fanny! Do you know my heart, then? Have you deemed it worth while only a single time to fix your proud eyes on my poor heart? Did you ever show me a symptom of sympathy when I was sick, a trace of compassion when you saw me suffering? But no, you did not even see that I was suffering, or that I was sad. Your proud, cold glance always glided past me; it saw me rarely, it never sought me! What can you know, then, about my heart, and what would you care if I should tell you now that there is no longer a coffin in it, that it has awoke to a new life, and—”

“Baron!” exclaimed Fanny, rising quickly and proudly, “will you, perhaps, carry your magnanimity and delicacy so far as to make me a declaration of love? Did I express myself in my imprudent impetuosity so incorrectly as to make you believe I was anxious even now to gain your love, and that I was complaining of not having obtained it? Do you believe me to be an humble mendicant, to whom in your generosity you want to throw the morsel of a declaration of love? I thank you, sir, I am not hungry, and do not want this morsel. Let us at least be truthful and sincere toward each other, and the truth is, we do not love each other and shall never do so. Let us never try to feign what we never shall feel. And if you now should offer me your love I should have to reject it, for I am accustomed to a freezing temperature; and I should fare like the natives of Siberia, I should die if I were to live in a warmer zone. Both of us are living in Siberia; well, then, as we cannot expect roses to bloom for us, let us try at least to catch sables for ourselves. The sable, moreover, is an animal highly valued by the whole world. People will envy our sable furs, for they know them to be costly; they would laugh at us if we should adorn our heads with roses, for roses are not costly by any means, they are common, and every peasant-girl may adorn herself with them.”

“You are joking,” said the baron, mournfully, “and yet there are tears glistening in your eyes. However, your will shall be sacred to me. I shall never dare to speak to you again about my heart. But let us speak about you and your future. The five years of our agreement have elapsed, and I am here to confer with you about your future. Tell me frankly and honestly, Fanny, do you wish to be divorced from me?”

She started and fixed a long and searching look on her husband.

“Your father died a year ago,” she said, musingly, “you are now the chief of the firm; no one has a right to command any longer what you are to do, and being free now, you may offer your hand to her whom you love, I suppose?”

The baron uttered a shriek, and a death-like pallor overspread his face. “Have I deserved to be thus deeply despised by you?” he ejaculated.

Fanny quickly gave him her hand. “Pardon me,” she said, cordially. “I have pained you quite unintentionally; the grief of this hour has rendered me cruel. No, I do not believe that you, merely for your own sake, addressed this question to me; I know, on the contrary, that you entertain for me the sympathy of a brother, of a friend, and I am satisfied that your question had my happiness in view as well as yours.”

“Well,” he said, with the semblance of perfect calmness, “let me repeat my question, then: do you want to be divorced from me?”

Fanny slowly shook her head. “Why?” she asked, sadly. “I repeat to you what I told you once already; we are living in Siberia—let us remain there. We are accustomed to a freezing temperature; we might die, perhaps, in a warmer zone.”

“Or your heart might exult, perhaps, with happiness and delight,” said the baron, and now HIS eyes were fixed inquiringly upon her face. “You called me just now your friend, you admitted that I felt for you the sympathy of a brother; well, then, let me speak to you as your brother and friend. Do not reject the offer of a divorce so quickly, Fanny, for I tell you now I shall never renew it, and if you do not give me up to-day, you are chained to me forever, for I shall never be capable again of a courage so cruel against myself. Consider the offer well, therefore. Think of your youth, your beauty, and your inward loneliness. Remember that your heart is yearning for love and pining away in its dreary solitude. And now look around, Fanny; see how many of the most distinguished and eminent cavaliers are surrounding you, and longing for a glance, for a smile from you. See by how many you are being loved and adored, and then ask yourself whether or not among all these cavaliers no one would be able to conquer your heart if it were free? For I know your chaste virtue; I know that, although chained to an unbeloved husband, you never would prove faithless to him and avow love to another so long as you were not free. Imagine, then, you were free, and then ask your heart if it will not decide for one of your many adorers.”

“No, no,” she said, deprecatingly, “I cannot imagine a state of affairs that does not exist; as I am not free, I must not entertain the thoughts of a free woman.”

Her husband approached her, and seizing her hand, looked at her in a most touching and imploring manner.

“Then you have forgotten that five years ago, on our wedding-day, you promised me always to trust me?” he asked. “You have forgotten that you took an oath that you would tell me so soon as your heart had declared for another man?”

Fanny could not bear his look, and lowered her eyes.

“It has not declared for another man, and, therefore, I have nothing to confide to you,” she said, in a low voice.

The baron constantly held her hand in his own, and his eyes were still fixed on her face.

“Let us consider the matter together,” he said. “Permit me to review your cavaliers and admirers, and to examine with you if there is not one among them whom you may deem worthy of your love.”

“What!” ejaculated Fanny, having recourse to an outburst of merriment in order to conceal her embarrassment, “you want to make me a Portia, and perform with me a scene from the ‘Merchant of Venice?’”

“Yes, you are Portia, and I will play the role of your confidant,” said Baron Arnstein, smiling. “Well, let us begin our review. First, there is Count Palfy, a member of the old nobility, of the most faultless manners, young, rich, full of ardent love for—”

“For your dinner-parties and the rare dishes that do not cost him any thing,” interrupted Fanny. “He is an epicure, who prefers dining at other people’s tables because he is too stingy to pay for the Indian birds’-nests which he relishes greatly. As for myself, he never admires me until after dinner, for so soon as his stomach is at rest his heart awakes and craves for food; and his heart is a gourmand, too—it believes love to be a dish; voila tout!”

“Next, there is the handsome Marchese Pallafredo,” said her husband, smiling.

“He loves me because he has been told that I speak excellent and pure German, and because he wants me to teach him how to speak German. He takes me for a grammar, by means of which he may become familiar with our language without any special effort.”

“Then there is Count Esterhazy, one of our most brilliant cavaliers; you must not accuse him of stinginess, for he is just the reverse, a spendthrift, squandering his money with full hands; nor must you charge him with being an epicure, for he scarcely eats any thing at all at our dinner-parties, and does not know what he is eating, his eyes being constantly riveted on you, and his thoughts being occupied exclusively with you.”

“It is true, he admires me,” said Fanny, calmly, “but only a few months ago he was as ardent an adorer of my sister Eskeles, and before he was enamoured of her, he was enthusiastically in love with Countess Victoria Colloredo. He loves every woman who is fashionable in society for the time being, and his heart changes as rapidly as the fashions.”

“Besides, there is the prebendary, Baron Weichs,” said her husband; “a gentleman of great ability, a savant, and withal a cavalier, a—”

“Oh, pray do not speak of him!” exclaimed Fanny, with an air of horror. “His love is revolting to me, and fills me with shame and dismay. Whenever he approaches me my heart shrinks back as if from a venomous serpent, and a feeling of disgust pervades my whole being, although I am unable to account for it. There is something in his glances that is offensive to me; and although he has never dared to address me otherwise than in the most respectful and reserved manner, his conversation always makes me feel as though I were standing under a thunder-cloud from which the lightning might burst forth at any moment to shatter me. As you say, he is a man of ability, but he is a bad man; he is passionately fond of the ladies, but he does not respect them.”

“And he does not even deserve mentioning here,” said the baron, smiling, “for, even though you were free already, the prebendary never could enjoy the happiness of becoming your husband, and I know that your heart is too chaste to love a man who is unable to offer you his hand. Let us, then, look for such a man among the other cavaliers. There is, for instance, Prince Charles, of Lichtenstein, the most amiable, genial, and handsome of your admirers; a young prince who is neither haughty nor proud, neither prodigal nor stingy; who neither makes love to all ladies so soon as they become fashionable as does Count Esterhazy, nor wants to learn German from you, as does the Marchese Pallafredo; a young man as beautiful as Apollo, as brave as Mars, modest notwithstanding his learning, and affable and courteous notwithstanding his high birth. Well, Fanny, you do not interrupt me? Your sharp tongue, that was able to condemn all the others, has no such sentence for the Prince von Lichtenstein. You suffer me to praise him. Then you assent to my words?”

“I can neither contradict you nor assent to your words,” said Fanny, with a forced smile; “I do not know the prince sufficiently to judge him. He has been at Vienna but a very few months—”

“But he has been a daily visitor in our house during that period,” said her husband, interrupting her, “and he is constantly seen at your side. All Vienna knows that the prince is deeply enamoured of you, and he does not conceal it by any means, not even from myself. A few days ago, when he was so unfortunate as not to find you at home, because you were presiding over a meeting of your benevolent society, he met me all alone in the reception-room. Suddenly, in the midst of a desultory conversation, he paused, embraced me passionately, and exclaimed: ‘Be not so kind, so courteous, and gentle toward me, for I hate you, I detest you—because I hate every thing keeping me back from her; I detest every thing that prevents me from joining HER! Forgive my love for her and my hatred toward you; I feel both in spite of myself. If you were not her husband, I should love you like a friend, but that accursed word renders you a mortal enemy of mine. And still I bow to you in humility—still I implore you to be generous; do not banish me from your house, from HER, for I should die if I were not allowed to see her every day!’”

Fanny had listened to him with blushing cheeks and in breathless suspense. Her whole soul was speaking from the looks which she fixed on her husband, and with which she seemed to drink every word, like sweet nectar, from his lips.

“And what did you reply to him?” she asked, in a dry and husky voice, when the baron was silent.

“I replied to him that you alone had to decide who should appear at our parties, and that every one whom you had invited would be welcome to me. I further told him that his admiration for you did not astonish me at all, and that I would readily forgive his hatred, for—”

The baron paused all at once and looked at his wife with a surprised and inquiring glance. She had started in sudden terror; a deep blush was burning on her cheeks, and her eyes, which had assumed a rapturous and enthusiastic expression, turned toward the door.

The baron’s eyes followed her glance, and he heard now a slight noise at the door.

“I believe somebody has knocked at the door,” he said, fixing his piercing eyes on his wife. She raised her head and whispered, “Yes, I believe so.”

“And it is the second time already,” said the baron, calmly. “Will you not permit the stranger to walk in?”

“I do not know,” she said, in great embarrassment, “I—”

Suddenly the door opened, and a young man appeared on the threshold.

“Ah, the Prince von Lichtenstein,” said the baron, and he went with perfect calmness and politeness to meet the prince who, evidently in great surprise, remained standing in the door, and was staring gloomily at the strange and unexpected group.

“Come in, my dear sir,” said the baron, quietly; “the baroness will be very grateful to you for coming here just at this moment and interrupting our conversation, for it referred to dry business matters. I laid a few old accounts, that had been running for five years, before the baroness, and she gave me a receipt for them, that was all. Our interview, moreover, was at an end, and you need not fear to have disturbed us. Permit me, therefore, to withdraw, for you know very well that, in the forenoon, I am nothing but a banker, a business man, and have to attend to the affairs of our firm.”

He bowed simultaneously to the prince and to his wife, and left the room, as smiling, calm, and unconcerned as ever. Only when the door had closed behind him, when he had satisfied himself by a rapid glance through the reception-room that nobody was there, the smile disappeared from his lips, and his features assumed an air of profound melancholy.

“She loves him,” he muttered; “yes, she loves him! Her hand trembled in mine when I pronounced his name, and oh! how radiant she looked when she heard him come! Yes, she loves him, and I?—I will go to my counting-house!” he said, with a smile that was to veil the tears in his eyes.

The baron had no sooner closed the door of the boudoir when the young Prince von Lichtenstein hastened to Fanny, and, impetuously seizing her hand, looked at her with a passionate and angry air.

“You did that for the purpose of giving me pain, I suppose?” he asked, with quivering lips. “You wished to prove to me that you did not confer any special favor upon me; Yesterday you were kind enough to assure me that no man ever had set foot into this room, and that I should be the first to whom it would be opened today; and I was such a conceited fool as to believe your beatifying words, and I rush hither as early as is permitted by decency and respect, and yet I do not find you alone.”

“It was my husband who was here,” said Fanny, almost deprecatingly.

“It was a man,” he ejaculated, impetuously, “and you had given me the solemn assurance that this door had never yet opened to any man. Oh, I had implored you on my knees, and with tearful eyes, to allow me to see you here to-day; it seemed to me as though the gates of paradise were to be at last opened to me; no sleep came into my eyes all night, the consciousness of my approaching bliss kept me awake; it was over me like a smiling cherub, and I was dreaming with open eyes. And now that the lazy, snail-like time has elapsed, now that I have arrived here, I find in my heaven, at the side of my cherub, a calculating machine, desecrating my paradise by vile accounts—”

“Pray do not go on in this manner,” interrupted Fanny, sternly. “You found my husband here, and that, of course, dissolves the whole poetry of your words into plain prose, for she, whom in your enthusiastic strain you styled your cherub, is simply the wife of this noble and excellent man, whom you were free to compare with a calculating machine.”

“You are angry with me!” exclaimed the young prince, disconsolately. “You make no allowance for my grief, my disappointment, yea, my confusion! You have punished me so rudely for my presumption, and will not even permit my heart to bridle up and give utterance to its wrath.”

“I did not know that you were presumptuous toward me, and could not think, therefore, of inflicting punishment on you,” said Fanny; “but I know that you have no right to insult the man whose name I bear.”

“You want to drive me to despair, then!” retorted the prince, wildly stamping on the floor. “It is not sufficient, then, that you let me find your husband here, you must even praise him before me! I will tell you why I was presumptuous. I was presumptuous inasmuch as I believed it to be a favor granted to me exclusively to enter this room, and you have punished me for this presumption by proving to me that this door opens to others, too, although you assured me yesterday that the contrary was the case.”

“Then you question my word?” asked Fanny.

“Oh,” he said, impetuously, “you do not question what you see with your own eyes.”

“And, inasmuch as you have satisfied yourself of my duplicity with your own eyes, as you have seen that every one is at liberty to enter this room, and as you consequently cannot take any interest in prolonging your stay here, I would advise you to leave immediately,” said Fanny, gravely.

“You show me the door? You turn me out!” exclaimed the prince, despairingly. “Oh, have mercy on me! No, do not turn away from me! Look at me, read in my face the despair filling my soul. What, you still avert your head? I beseech you just grant me one glance; only tell me by the faintest smile that you will forgive me, and I will obey your orders, I will go, even if it should be only for the purpose of dying, not here before your eyes, but outside, on the threshold of your door.”

“Ah, as if it were so easy to die!” ejaculated Fanny, turning her face toward the prince.

“You look at me—you have forgiven me, then!” exclaimed the young man, and impetuously kneeling down before her, he seized her hands and pressed them to his lips.

“Rise, sir, pray rise,” said the baroness; “consider that somebody might come in. You know now that everybody is permitted to enter this room.”

“No, no. I know that nobody is permitted to enter here!” he exclaimed, fervently; “I know that this room is a sanctuary which no uninitiated person ever entered; I know that this is the sacred cell in which your virgin heart exhaled its prayers and complaints, and which is only known to God; I know that no man’s foot ever crossed this threshold, and I remain on my knees as if before a saint, to whom I confess my sins, and whom I implore to grant me absolution. Will you forgive me?”

“I will,” she said, smilingly, bending over him; “I will, if it were only to induce you to rise from your knees. And as you now perceive and regret your mistake, I will tell you the truth. It was an accident that the baron entered this room to-day, and it was the first time, too, since we were married. Nor did he come here, as he said, in delicate self-derision, for the purpose of settling accounts with me, but in order to fulfil a promise which he gave me five years ago, and which, I confess to my shame, I had forgotten, so that, instead of expecting my husband, I permitted you to come to me.”

“I thank you for your kind words, which heal all the wounds of my heart like a soothing balm,” replied the prince. “Oh, now I feel well again, and strong enough to conquer you in spite of the resistance of the whole world.”

“And do you know, then, whether you will be able to conquer me in spite of my resistance?” asked Fanny, smiling.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, “I know it, for in true love there is a strength that will subdue and surmount all obstacles. And I love you truly; you know it, you are satisfied of it. You know that I love you; every breath, every look, every tremulous note of my voice tells you so. But you? do you love me? Oh, I implore you, at length have mercy on me. Speak one word of pity, of sympathy I Let me read it at least in your eyes, if your lips are too austere to utter it. I have come to-day with the firm determination to receive at your hands my bliss or my doom. The torment of this incertitude kills me. Fanny, tell me, do you love me?”

Fanny did not answer at once; she stood before him, her head lowered, a prey to conflicting emotions, but she felt the ardent looks which were resting on her, and her heart trembled with secret delight. She made an effort, however, to overcome her feelings, and, raising her head, she fixed her eyes with a gentle yet mournful expression upon the young man, who, breathless and pale with anxiety, was waiting for her reply.

“You ask me if I love you,” she said, in a low but firm voice; “you put that question to me, and yet you are standing now on the same spot on which my husband stood fifteen minutes ago and also asked me a question. I must not answer your question, for I am a married woman, and I have taken an oath at the altar to keep my faith to my husband, and I have to keep it, inasmuch as my heart has no love to give him. But I will, nevertheless, give you a proof of the great confidence I am reposing in you. I will tell you why my husband came to see me to-day, and what was the question which he addressed to me. Hush, do not interrupt me; do not tell me that my conversations with the baron have no interest for you. Listen to me. The baron came to me because the five years, which we had ourselves fixed for that purpose, had elapsed to-day, and because he wanted to ask me whether I wished to remain his wife, or whether I wanted to be divorced from him.”

“And what did you reply?” asked the prince, breathlessly.

“I replied to him as I replied to you a little while ago: ‘I have taken an oath at the altar to keep my faith to my husband, and I have to keep it, inasmuch as my heart has no love to give to him.’”

“Ah, you told him that you did not love him?” asked the prince, drawing a deep breath. “And after this confession he felt that he ought no longer to oppose your divorce, for his heart is generous and delicate, and consequently he cannot desire to chain a wife to himself who tells him that during the five years of her married life she has not learned to love him. Oh, Fanny, how indescribably happy you render me by this disclosure. Then you will be free, your hands will not be manacled any longer.”

“I did not tell you the reply I made to my husband when he left it to me again to say whether I would be divorced from him or not,” said Fanny, with a mournful smile. “I replied to him that every thing should remain as heretofore; that I did not want to inflict the disgrace of a divorce upon him and upon myself, and that we would and ought to bear these shackles which, without mutual love, we had imposed upon each other in a dignified, faithful, and honest manner until our death.”

“That is impossible!” exclaimed the prince. “You could not, you ought not to have been so cruel against yourself, against the baron, and also against me. And even though you may have uttered these words of doom on the spur of that exciting moment, you will take them back again after sober and mature reflection. Oh, say that you will do so, say that you will be free; free, so that I may kneel down before you and implore you to give to me this hand, no longer burdened by any fetters; to become my wife, and to permit me to try if my boundless, adoring love will succeed in conferring upon you that happiness of which none are worthier than you. Oh, speak, Fanny, say that you will be free, and consent to become my wife!”

“Your wife!” said Fanny, lugubriously. “You forget that what separates me from you is not only my husband, but also my religion. The Jewess can never become the wife of the Prince von Lichtenstein.”

“You will cast off the semblance of a religion which in reality is yours no longer,” said the prince. “You have ceased to be a Jewess, owing to your education, to your habits, and to your views of life. Leave, then, the halls of the temple in which your God is no longer dwelling, and enter the great church which has redeemed mankind, and which is now to redeem you. Become a convert to the Christian religion, which is the religion of love.”

“Never!” exclaimed the baroness, firmly and decidedly—“never will I abandon my religion and prove recreant to my faith, to which my family and my tribe have faithfully adhered for thousands of years. The curse of my parents and ancestors would pursue the renegade daughter of our tribe and cling like a sinister night-bird to the roof of the house into which the faithless daughter of Judah, the baptized Jewess, would move in order to obtain that happiness she is yearning for. Never—But what is that?” interrupting herself all at once; “what is the matter in the adjoining room?”

Two voices, one of them angrily quarrelling with the other, which replied in a deprecating manner, were heard in the adjoining room.

“I tell you the baroness is at home, and receives visitors!” exclaimed the violent and threatening voice.

“And I assure you that the baroness is not at home, and cannot, therefore, receive any visitors,” replied the deprecating voice.

“It is Baron Weichs, the proud prebendary, who wants to play the master here as he does everywhere else,” said the prince, disdainfully.

“And my steward refuses to admit him, because I have given orders that no more visitors shall be received to-day,” whispered Fanny.

The face of the young prince became radiant with delight. He seized Fanny’s hands and pressed them impetuously to his lips, whispering, “I thank you, Fanny, I thank you!”

Meantime the voice in the reception-room became more violent and threatening, “I know that the baroness is at home,” it shouted, “and I ask you once more to announce my visit to her!”

“But you know, sir,” said the gentle voice of the steward, “that the baroness, when she is at home, is always at this hour in the reception-room, and receives her visitors here without any previous announcement.”

“That only proves that the baroness receives her visitors in another room to-day,” shouted the voice of Baron Weichs. “I know positively that there is a visitor with the baroness at this very moment. Go, then, and announce my visit. It remains for the baroness to turn me away, and I shall know then that the baroness prefers to remain alone with the gentleman who is with her at the present time.”

“Ah, this prebendary, it seems, is growing impudent,” exclaimed the prince, with flashing eyes, walking toward the door.

The baroness seized his hand and kept him back. “Pay no attention to him,” she said, imploringly; “let my steward settle this quarrel with that insolent man. Just listen! he is even now begging him quite politely, yet decidedly, to leave the room.”

“And that fellow is shameless enough to decline doing so,” said the prince. “Oh, hear his scornful laughter! This laughter is an insult, for which he ought to be chastised.”

And as if the words of the prince were to be followed immediately by the deed, a third voice was heard now in the reception-room. It asked in a proud and angry tone, “What is the matter here? And who permits himself to shout so indecently in the reception-room of the baroness?”

“Ah, it is my husband,” whispered Fanny, with an air of great relief. “He will show that overbearing Baron Weichs the door, and I shall get rid of him forever.”

“He has already dared, then, to importune you?” asked the prince, turning his threatening eyes toward the door. “Oh, I will release you from further molestation by this madman, for I tell you the gentle words of your husband will not be able to do so. Baron Weichs is not the man to lend a willing ear to sensible remonstrances or to the requirements of propriety and decency. He has graduated at the high-school of libertinism, and any resistance whatever provokes him to a passionate struggle in which he shrinks from no manifestation of his utter recklessness. Well, am I not right? Does he not even dare to defy your husband? Just listen!”

“I regret not to be able to comply with your request to leave this room,” shouted now the voice of the prebendary, Baron Weichs. “You said yourself just now, baron, that we were in the reception-room of the baroness; accordingly, you are not the master here, but merely a visitor like the rest of us. Consequently, you have no right to show anybody the door, particularly as you do not even know whether you belong to the privileged visitors of the lady, or whether the baroness will admit you.”

“I shall take no notice of the unbecoming and insulting portion of your remarks, baron,” said the calm voice of Baron Arnstein; “I only intend at this moment to protect my wife against insult and molestation. Now it is insulting assuredly that a cavalier, after being told that the lady to whom he wishes to pay his respects is either not at home or will not receive any visitors, should refuse to withdraw, and insist upon being admitted. I hope the prebendary, Baron Weichs, after listening to this explanation, will be kind enough to leave the reception-room.”

“I regret that I cannot fulfil this hope,” said the sneering voice of the prebendary. “I am now here with the full conviction that I shall never be able to reenter this reception-room; hence I am determined not to shrink back from any thing and not to be turned away in so disgraceful a manner. I know that the baroness is at home, and I came hither in order to satisfy myself whether the common report is really true that the baroness, who has always treated me with so much virtuous rigor and discouraging coldness, is more indulgent and less inexorable toward another, and whether I have really a more fortunate rival!”

“I hope that I am this more fortunate rival,” said Baron Arnstein, gently.

“Oh, no, sir,” exclaimed the prebendary, laughing scornfully. “A husband
never is the rival of his wife’s admirers. If you were with your wife
and turned me away, I should not object to it at all, and I should wait
for a better chance. But what keeps me here is the fact that another
admirer of hers is with her, that she has given orders to admit nobody
else, and that you, more kind-hearted than myself, seem to believe that
the baroness is not at home.”

“This impudence surpasses belief,” exclaimed the prince, in great
恼怒。

“Yes,” said Fanny, gloomily, “the Christian prebendary gives full vent to his disdain for the Jewish banker. It always affords a great satisfaction to Christian love to humble the Jew and to trample him in the dust. And the Jew is accustomed to being trampled upon in this manner. My husband, too, gives proof of this enviable quality of our tribe. Just listen how calm and humble his voice remains, all the while every tone of the other is highly insulting to him!”

“He shall not insult him any longer,” said the prince, ardently; “I will—but what is that? Did he not mention my name?”

And he went closer to the door, in order to listen in breathless suspense.

“And I repeat to you, baron,” said the voice of the prebendary, sneeringly, “your wife is at home, and the young Prince von Lichtenstein is with her. I saw him leave his palace and followed him; half an hour ago, I saw him enter your house, and I went into the coffee-house opposite for the purpose of making my observations. I know, therefore, positively, that the prince has not yet left your house. As he is not with you, he is with your wife, and this being the usual hour for the baroness to receive morning calls, I have just as good a right as anybody else to expect that she will admit me.”

“And suppose I tell you that she will not admit you to-day?”

“Then I shall conclude that the baroness is in her boudoir with the Prince von Lichtenstein, and that she does not want to be disturbed,” shouted the voice of the prebendary. “Yes, sir; in that case I shall equally lament my fate and yours, for both of us are deceived and deprived of sweet hopes. Both of us will have a more fortunate rival in this petty prince—in this conceited young dandy, who even now believes he is a perfect Adonis, and carries his ludicrous presumption so far as to believe that he can outstrip men of ability and merit by his miserable little title and by his boyish face—”

“Why is it necessary for you to shout all this so loudly?” asked the anxious voice of the baron.

“Ah, then you believe that he can hear me?” asked the voice of the prebendary, triumphantly. “Then he is quite close to us? Well, I will shout it louder than before: this little Prince Charles von Lichtenstein is a conceited boy, who deserves to be chastised!”

The prince rushed toward the door, pale, with quivering lips and sparkling eyes. But the baroness encircled his arm with her hands and kept him back.

“You will not go,” she whispered. “You will not disgrace me so as to prove to him by your appearance that he was right, and that you were with me while I refused to admit him.”

“But do you not hear that he insults me?” asked the young prince, trying to disengage himself from her hands.

“Why do you listen to other voices when you are with me?” she said, reproachfully. “What do you care for the opinion of that man, whom I abhor from the bottom of my heart, and whom people only tolerate in their saloons because they are afraid of his anger and his slanderous tongue? Oh, do not listen to what he says, my friend! You are here with me, and I have yet to tell you many things. But you do not heed my words! Your eyes are constantly fixed on the door. Oh, sir, look at me, listen to what I have to say to you. I believe I still owe you a reply, do I not? Well, I will now reply to the question which you have so often put to me, and to which I have heretofore only answered by silence!”

“Oh, not now, not now!” muttered the prince.

“Yes, I will tell you now what has been so long burning in my soul as a sweet secret,” whispered Fanny, constantly endeavoring to draw him away from the door. “You have often asked me if I loved you, and my heart made the reply which my lips were afraid to pronounce. But now I will confess it to you: yes, I love you; my whole soul belongs to you! I have secretly longed for the hour when I might at last confess this to you, when my heart would exult in pronouncing the sweet words, ‘I love you!’ Good Heaven! you hear it, and yet you remain silent—you avert your face? Do you despise me now because I, the married woman, confess to you that I love you? Is your silence to tell me that you do not love me any longer?”

He knelt down before her and kissed her dress and her hands. “I love you boundlessly,” he said with panting breath; “you are to me the quintessence of all happiness, virtue, and beauty. I shall love you to the last hour of my life!”

“If Prince Charles von Lichtenstein should be near,” shouted the voice of the prebendary, close to the door, “if he should be able to hear my words, I want him to hear that I pronounce him a coward, a fool, and impostor—a coward, because he silently suffers himself to be insulted—”

The prince, unable to restrain his feelings any longer, rushed forward and impetuously pushing back the baroness, who still endeavored to detain him, he violently opened the door.

“No,” he shouted, in a threatening and angry voice. “No, Prince Charles von Lichtenstein does not allow himself to be insulted with impunity, and he asks satisfaction for every insult offered to him!”

“Ah!” exclaimed the prebendary, turning with a wild, triumphant laugh to Baron Arnstein, “did I not tell you that the prince was concealed in your house?”

“Concealed!” ejaculated the prince, approaching his adversary with eyes sparkling with rage. “Repeat that word if you dare!”

“I shall do so,” said the prebendary, with defiant coolness. “You were concealed in this house, for nobody knew of your presence, neither the steward nor the baron. You had crept into the house like a thief intending to steal valuables, and this, indeed, was your intention, too; however, you did not want to purloin the diamonds of the fair baroness, but—”

“I forbid you to mention the name of the baroness!” exclaimed the prince, proudly.

“And I implore you not to compromise the baroness by connecting her with your quarrel,” whispered Baron Arnstein in the prince’s ear; then turning to the prebendary, whose eyes were fixed on the prince with a threatening and defiant expression, he said:

“You are mistaken, sir; Prince Charles von Lichtenstein did not come here in a stealthy manner. He wished to pay a visit to the baroness, and the latter, as you know, being absent from home, the prince did me the honor to converse with me in that room, when we were interrupted all at once by the noise which you were pleased to make in the reception-room here.”

“And being in that room, you were pleased to enter the reception-room through THIS door,” said the prebendary, sneeringly, pointing to the two opposite doors. “But why did not the prince accompany you? It would have been so natural for one friend of the baroness to greet the other!”

“I did not come because I heard that YOU were there,” said the prince, disdainfully, “and because I am in the habit of avoiding any contact with your person.”

“Ah, you are jealous of me, then?” asked the prebendary. “Why is my person so distasteful to you that you should always escape from me?”

“I escape from no one, not even from venomous serpents, nor from an individual like you,” said the prince, haughtily. “I avoided you, however, because I dislike your nose. Do you hear, my impertinent little prebendary? I dislike your nose, and I demand that you never let me see it again!”

“Ah, I understand,” replied the prebendary, laughing. “In order to spare the feelings of the fair baroness, and not to injure her reputation. Pardon me, for, in spite of your prohibition, I am constantly compelled to defer to this amiable lady. You wish to give another direction to our quarrel, and my innocent nose is to be the BETE DE SOUFFRANCE. But you shall not entrap me in this manner, prince; and you, my dear Baron Arnstein, can you allow us to continue the quarrel which we commenced about your lady, now about my nose, and to conceal, as it were, the fair Baroness Arnstein behind it?”

“Baroness Arnstein has no reason whatever to conceal herself,” said the baron, coldly and proudly. “As she was not the cause of this quarrel, I do not know why you are constantly dragging her name into it. You behaved here in so unbecoming a manner, that I had to come to the assistance of my steward. You were then pleased to utter insults against the Prince von Lichtenstein in his absence, and being in the adjoining room and overhearing your offensive remarks, he came to call you to account for them.”

“And to tell you that I dislike your nose, and that I must take the liberty to amputate its impertinent tip with my sword,” exclaimed the prince, pulling the prebendary’s nose.

It was now the prebendary’s turn to grow pale, while his eyes flashed with anger. “You dare to insult me?” he asked menacingly.

“Yes, I confess that is exactly my intention!” replied the prince, laughing.

“Ah, you will have to give me satisfaction for this insult!” shouted the prebendary.

“With the greatest pleasure,” said the prince. “This is not the place, however, to continue this conversation. Come, sir, let us leave this house together in order to make the necessary arrangements—”

At this moment the folding-doors of the anteroom were opened, and the voice of the steward shouted: “The baroness!”

An exclamation of surprise escaped from the lips of the three gentlemen, and their eyes turned toward the door, the threshold of which Fanny Arnstein was crossing at that moment. She seemed just to have returned home; her tall form was still wrapped in a long Turkish shawl, embroidered with gold; a charming little bonnet, adorned with flowers and plumes, covered her head, and in her hand she held one of those large costly fans, adorned with precious stones, which were in use at that time in the place of parasols. She greeted the gentlemen with a winning smile; not the slightest tinge of care or uneasiness was visible in her merry face; not the faintest glimmer of a tear darkened the lustre of her large black eyes.

“Gentlemen will please accept my apology for making them wait, although this is the hour when I am in the habit of receiving visitors,” said the baroness, in a perfectly careless manner. “But I hope my husband has taken my place in the mean time and told you that I had to preside over a meeting of our Hebrew Benevolent Society, and you will acknowledge that that was a duty which I ought not to have failed to fulfil. Ah, you smile, Baron Weichs; you must explain to me what is the meaning of this smile, if you wish to intimate thereby, perhaps, that there are no important duties at all for us ladies to perform. Come, gentlemen, let us sit down and hear in what manner Baron Weichs will be able to defend his smile. Sit down here on my right side, prince, and you, Baron Weichs, on my left, and my husband may take a seat opposite us and play the role of an arbiter.”

“I regret that I cannot comply any longer with your amiable invitation,” said the prebendary, gloomily. “You have made me wait too long, baroness; my time has now expired, and I must withdraw. I suppose you will accompany me, Prince Lichtenstein?”

“Yes, I shall accompany you,” said the prince, “for unfortunately my time has also expired, and I must go.”

“Oh, no,” exclaimed the baroness, smiling, “you must stay here, prince. I dare not prevent the prebendary from attending to his important affairs, but you, prince, have no such pretext for leaving me; I therefore order you to remain and to tell me all about yesterday’s concert at the imperial palace.”

“I regret exceedingly that I am unable to obey your orders,” said the prince, mournfully. “But I must go. You just said, dear lady, that an important duty had kept you away from home; well, it is an important duty that calls me away from here; hence I cannot stay. Farewell, and permit me to kiss your hand before leaving you.”

She gave him her hand, which was as cold as ice and trembled violently when he took it. He pressed his glowing lips upon this hand and looked up to her. Their eyes met in a last, tender glance; the prince then rose and turned toward the prebendary, who was conversing with Baron Arnstein in a low and excited tone.

“Come, sir, let us go,” he said, impetuously, and walked toward the door.

“Yes, let us go,” repeated the prebendary, and bowing profoundly to the baroness, he turned around and followed the prince.

Fanny, who was evidently a prey to the most excruciating anguish, followed them with her distended, terrified eyes. When the door closed behind them, she hastily laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder, and looked at him with an air of unutterable terror.

“They will fight a duel?” she asked.

“I am afraid so,” said the baron, gloomily.

The baroness uttered a shriek, and after tottering back a few steps, she fell senseless to the floor. Early on the following morning, four men with grave faces and gloomy eyes stood in the thicket of a forest not far from Vienna.

Two of them were just about divesting themselves of their heavy coats, embroidered with gold, in order to meet in mortal combat, their bare breasts only protected by their fine cambric shirts. These two men were Prince Charles von Lichtenstein and the prebendary, Baron Weichs.

The other two gentlemen were engaged in loading the pistols and counting off the steps; they were Baron Arnstein and Count Palfy, the seconds of the two duellists. When they had performed this mournful task, they approached the two adversaries in order to make a last effort to bring about a reconciliation.

“I implore you in my own name,” whispered Baron Arnstein in the ear of the Prince von Lichtenstein—“I implore you in the name of my wife, if a reconciliation should be possible, accept it, and avoid by all means so deplorable an event. Remember that the honor of a lady is compromised so easily and irretrievably, and that my wife would never forgive herself if she should become, perhaps, the innocent cause of your death.”

“Nobody will find out that we fight a duel for her sake,” said the prince. “My honor requires me to give that impertinent fellow a well-deserved lesson, and he shall have it!”

Count Palfy, the prebendary’s second, approached them. “If your highness should be willing to ask Baron Weichs to excuse your conduct on yesterday, the baron would be ready to accept your apology and to withdraw his challenge.”

“I have no apology to offer,” exclaimed the prince, loudly, “and I am unwilling to prevent the duel from taking its course. I told the prebendary that I disliked his nose, and that I wished to amputate its impertinent tip. Well, I am now here to perform this operation, and if you please, let us at once proceed to business.”

“Yes, let us do so,” shouted the prebendary. “Give us the pistols, gentlemen, and then the signal. When you clap for the third time, we shall shoot simultaneously. Pray for your poor soul, Prince von Lichtenstein, for I am a dead shot at one hundred yards, and our distance will only be twenty paces.”

The prince made no reply, but took the pistol which his second handed to him. “If I should fall,” he whispered to him, “take my last greetings to your wife, and tell her that I died with her name on my lips!”

“If I should fall,” said the prebendary to his second, in an undertone, but loud enough for his opponent to hear every word he said, “tell the dear city of Vienna and my friends that I have fought a duel with Prince Lichtenstein because he was my rival with the beautiful Baroness Arnstein, and that I have died with the conviction that he was the lover of the fair lady.”

A pause ensued. The seconds conducted the two gentlemen to their designated places and then stood back, in order to give the fatal signals.

When they clapped for the first time, the two duellists raised the hand with the pistol, fixing their angry and threatening eyes on each other.

Then followed the second, the third signal.

Two shots were fired at the same time.

The prebendary stood firmly and calmly where he had discharged his weapon, the same defiant smile playing on his lips, and the same threatening expression beaming in his eyes.

Prince Charles von Lichtenstein lay on the ground, reddening the earth with the blood which was rushing from his breast. When Baron Arnstein bent over him, he raised his eyes with a last look toward him. “Take her my last love-greetings,” he breathed, in a scarcely audible voice. “Tell her that I—”

His voice gave way, and with the last awful death-rattle a stream of blood poured from his mouth.

“Hasten to save yourself,” shouted Count Palfy to the prebendary, who had been looking at the dying man from his stand-point with cold, inquisitive glances. “Flee, for you have killed the prince; he has already ceased to breathe. Flee! In the shrubbery below you will find my carriage, which will convey you rapidly to the next post-station.”

“He is dead and I am alive!” said the prebendary, quietly. “It would not have been worth while to die for the sake of a woman because she has got another lover. It is much wiser in such cases to kill the rival, and thus to remove the obstacle separating us from the woman. But I shall not escape; on the contrary, I shall go to the emperor myself, and inform him of what has occurred here. We are living in times of war and carnage, and a soul more or less is, therefore, of no great importance. Inasmuch as the emperor constantly sends hundreds of thousands of his innocent and harmless subjects to fight duels with enemies of whom they do not even know why they are their enemies, he will deem it but a matter of course that two of his subjects, who know very well why they are enemies, should fight a duel, and hence I am sure that his majesty will forgive me. Brave and intrepid men are not sent to the fortress. I shall not flee!”

Three days had passed since that unfortunate event. Early on this, the third day, the corpse of the prince had been conveyed to the tomb of his family; a large and brilliant funeral procession had accompanied the coffin; even the carriages of the emperor, the archdukes, and high dignitaries of the state had participated in the procession, and the Viennese, who for three days had spoken of nothing else but the tragic end of the young and handsome Prince Charles von Lichtenstein, derived some satisfaction from the conviction that they were sharing the sympathy of the imperial family for the deceased; thousands of them consequently joined the procession and accompanied the coffin.

But this manifestation of sympathy did not seem sufficient to the good-hearted and hot-blooded people. They did not merely wish to show their love for the deceased; they also wanted to manifest their hatred against the man who had slain him; and, on their return from the funeral, the people rushed to the Kohlmarkt and gathered with loud shouts and savage threats in front of the house of the prebendary, Baron Weichs.

It was reported that the prebendary, whom the people charged with having assassinated Prince Lichtenstein, was constantly in Vienna; and as this fact seemed to indicate that the emperor did not intend to punish his misdeed, the people wanted to take it upon themselves to chastise him, or to give him at least a proof of the public hatred.

“Smash the murderer’s windows!” shouted the people, who were constantly reenforced by fresh crowds appearing on the Kohlmarkt. And, passing from threats to deeds, hundreds and hundreds of busy hands tore up the pavement in order to hurl the stones at the house and windows of the prebendary. And the rattling of the windows, the loud noise of the stones glancing off on the walls, increased the rage and exasperation of the people. Soon they were no longer contented with doing this, but wished to get hold of the malefactor himself, and to punish him for his crime. The crowd rushed with wild clamor toward the closed street-door of the baron’s house; one among them quickly climbed on the shoulders of another, in order to tear down the coat-of-arms of the prebendary, fixed over the entrance, and thundering applause greeted him when he had accomplished his purpose. The infuriated men then commenced striking at the door itself, which offered, however, to all attacks, a firm and unyielding resistance.

Suddenly a stern, imperious voice shouted: “Stop! Stand back! stand back!”

The people turned around in terror, and discovered only then that a carriage, surrounded and followed by twenty mounted policemen, was approaching from the alley on which the principal door of the prebendary’s house was situated. This carriage, with its sinister escort, could make but slow headway through the dense mass of the people, who looked inquisitively through the lowered windows into the interior of the coach. Every one was able to recognize the three gentlemen who were seated in the carriage, and who were none other than the prebendary, Baron Weichs, and two of the best known and most feared high functionaries of the police. The baron’s face was pale and gloomy, but the defiant, impudent smile was still playing on his thin lips. He looked, with an air of boundless contempt, at the crowd surging around his carriage and staring at him as if it wished to read in his pale features the sentence that had been pronounced against him.

“How inquisitive is the populace!” said the prebendary, disdainfully. “They are so anxious to find out whether I am now being conveyed to the place of execution, which would be a most welcome spectacle for them. You ought to have mercy on this amiable rabble, gentlemen, and inform them of the evil tidings that I have unfortunately not been sentenced to be hanged on the gallows, nor to be broken on the wheel, but only to be imprisoned in a fortress for ten years, which I shall pass at the beautiful citadel of Komorn.”

The two officers only replied to him by silently nodding, and the carriage passed on. But some compassionate and talkative police agent had informed the people that the emperor had sentenced the prebendary, Baron Weichs, to ten years’ imprisonment in a fortress, and that he was at this moment on his way to Komorn. The people received this intelligence with jubilant shouts, and dispersed through the city in order to inform their friends and acquaintances of the welcome news, and then to go home, well satisfied with the day’s amusements and diversions.

And the waves of life closed over the lamentable event, and carried it down into the abyss of oblivion. A few days passed by, and another occurrence caused the colloquies concerning the duel of Prince Lichtenstein and what had brought it about to cease, as some new subject of conversation took its place.

One heart alone did not console itself so rapidly; one soul alone bewailed him on comfortless days and restless nights, and paid to him the tribute of tears and sighs. Since that last meeting with the prince, Fanny Arnstein had not left her cabinet again; its doors had been closed against everybody, and she had wept and sighed there during these three days, without taking a morsel of food.

Vainly had her husband often come to her door in order to implore her to open it at last, and to take some nourishment. Fanny had never answered him; and if he had not, constantly and stealthily returning to her door at night, heard her low sobs and half-loud wailing, he would have believed that grief had killed her, and that love had intended to unite her in heaven with him to whom her heart belonged, as they had been so hopelessly separated on earth.

To-day, after the prince’s funeral, the baron again entered the reception-room adjoining his wife’s cabinet, but this time he did not come alone. A lady, whose face was covered with a large black veil, accompanied him, and walked at his side to the constantly closed door.

The baron knocked at this door, and begged his wife, in words of heart-felt sympathy, to open it to him.

There was no reply; not a word was heard from the unhappy baroness.

“You see, your highness,” whispered the baron, turning to the veiled lady, “it is as I told you. All prayers are in vain; she does not leave her room; she will die of grief.”

“No, she will not die,” said the lady, “she is young, and youth survives all grief. Let me try if I cannot induce her to admit us.”

And she knocked at the door with bold fingers, and exclaimed: “Pray, Fanny, open the door, and let me come in. It is I, Princess Eibenberg; it is I, your friend, Marianne Meier; I want to see my dear Fanny Itzig.”

Every thing remained silent; nothing stirred behind that locked door. Marianne removed her veil, and showed her proud, pale countenance to the baron.

“Baron,” she said, gravely, “at this hour I forgive you the insult and contempt you hurled at me five years ago on your wedding-day. Fate has avenged me and punished you cruelly, for I see that you have suffered a great deal during the last three days. My heart does not bear you any ill-will now, and I will try to restore your beautiful and unhappy wife to you, and to console her. But I must request you to leave this room. I know a charm, by which I shall decoy Fanny from that room; but in order to do so I must be alone, and nobody, save herself, must be able to hear me.”

“Very well, I will go,” said the baron, mournfully. “But permit me first to ask you to do me a favor. My request will prove to you the confidence I repose in you. Please do not tell Fanny that you saw me sad and deeply moved; do not intimate any thing to her about my own grief.”

“She will perceive herself, from your pale face and hollow cheeks, poor baron!” exclaimed Marianne.

“No, she is not accustomed to look at me attentively; it will escape her,” said the baron, sadly, “and I would not have it appear as though I were suffering by her grief, which I deem but natural and just. I beg you, therefore, to say nothing about me.”

“I shall fulfil your wish,” said Marianne. “Fanny will, perhaps, thank you one day for the delicacy with which you are now behaving toward her. But go now, so that I may call her.”

The baron left the room, and Marianne returned to the door. “Fanny,” she said, “come to me, or open the door and let me walk in. I have to deliver to you a message and a letter from Prince Charles von Lichtenstein.”

Now a low cry from the cabinet was heard; the bolt was drawn back, the door opened, and Baroness Arnstein appeared on the threshold. Her face was as pale as marble; her eyes, reddened by weeping, lay deeply in their orbits; her black, dishevelled hair fell down on her back like a long mourning veil. She was still beautiful and lovely, but hers was now the beauty of a Magdalen.

“You bring me a message from him?” she asked, in a low, tremulous voice, and with tearful eyes.

“Yes, Fanny,” said Marianne, scarcely able to overcome her own emotion, “I bring you his last love-greetings. He believed that he would fall, and on that fatal morning, before repairing to the duelling-grounds, he paid me a visit. We had long been acquainted and intimate; both of us had a great, common goal in view; both of us were pursuing the same paths; this was the origin of our acquaintance. He knew, too, that I had been a friend of yours from your childhood, and he therefore intrusted to me his last message to you. Here, Fanny, this small box contains all the little souvenirs and love-tokens which he has received from you, and which he deemed much too precious to destroy or to take into his grave; hence he requests you to preserve them. They consist of withered flowers which you once gave him, of a ribbon which you lost, of a few notes which you wrote to him, and from which the malicious and slanderous world might perceive the harmless and innocent character of your intercourse, and, last, of your miniature, painted by the prince himself, from memory. This casket the prince requests you to accept as his legacy. It is a set of pearls, an heirloom of his family, which his dying mother once gave to him in order to adorn with it his bride on his wedding-day. The prince sends it to you and implores you to wear it as a souvenir from him, because you were the bride of his heart. And here, Fanny, here is a letter from him, the last lines he ever wrote, and they are addressed to you.”

The baroness uttered a cry of joy; seizing the paper with passionate violence, she pressed it to her lips, and knelt down with it.

“I thank Thee, my God, I thank Thee!” she murmured, in a low voice. “Thou hast sent me this consolation! Thou dost not want me to die of despair!”

And now, still remaining on her knees, she slowly unfolded the paper and read this last glowing farewell, this last tender protestation of his love, with which the prince took leave of her.

Marianne stood, with folded arms, in a bay window, watching her friend with grave, sympathetic eyes, and beheld the pallor and blushes which appeared in quick succession on her cheeks, the impetuous heaving of her bosom, the tremor of her whole frame, and the tears pouring down like rivers from Fanny’s eyes on the paper, with a mingled feeling of pity and astonishment.

“It must be beautiful to be able to love in such a manner,” she thought. “Beautiful, too, to be able to suffer thus. Enviable the women living with their hearts and deriving from them alone their happiness and grief. Such a lot has not fallen to MY share, and I am almost afraid that I do not love any thing but myself. My life is concentrated in my head, and my blood only rushes from the latter to my heart. Who is more to be pitied, Fanny with the grief of her love, or I, who will never know such a grief? But she has wept now, and her tears might finally cause me to weep, too, and to awaken my love. That must not be, however. One who has to pursue great plans, like myself, must keep a cool head and a cold heart.”

And she approached with quick steps the baroness, who was yet on her knees, reading and re-reading the farewell letter of the prince.

“Rise from your knees, Fanny,” she said, almost imperiously. “You have paid the tribute of your tears to the departed friend, you have wept for him for three days; now bury the past in your heart and think of your future, my poor girl.”

“My future?” said Fanny, permitting her friend to raise her gently. “My future is broken and darkened forever, and there is a cloud on my name, which will never leave it. Oh, why is there no convent for the Jewess, no lonely cell whither she might take refuge, with her unhappiness and disgrace?”

“Do as I have done,” said Marianne; “let the whole world be your convent, and your reception-room the cell in which you do penance, by compelling men to kneel before you and adore you, instead of kneeling yourself, and mortifying your flesh. Lay your unhappiness and your disgrace like a halo around your head, and boldly meet the world with open eyes and a proud mien. If you were poor and nameless I should seriously advise you to become a Catholic, and to take refuge in a convent. But you are rich; you bear a distinguished, aristocratic name; your husband is able to give sumptuous dinner-parties; consequently people will pardon his wife for having become the heroine of an unfortunate romance, and they will take good care not to turn their backs on nor to point their fingers at you; and whenever you pass them in the street, not to laugh scornfully and tell your history in an audible voice. I, my child, formerly had to bear such contumely and humiliation, and I took a solemn oath at that time that I would revenge myself upon this world, which believed it had a right to despise me—that I would revenge myself by becoming its equal. And I have fulfilled my oath; I am now a princess and a highness. The proud world that once scorned me now bows to me; the most virtuous and aristocratic ladies do not deem it derogatory to their dignity to appear in my reception-room; the most distinguished princes and cavaliers court the friendship and favor of the Princess von Eibenberg, nee Marianne Meier. Follow my example, therefore, Fanny; brave the world, appear in your reception-room with serene calmness and ease; give even more sumptuous dinner-parties than heretofore, and the small cloud now darkening your name will pass by unnoticed. People will come at first from motives of curiosity, in order to see how you bear your affliction and how you behave under the eclat produced by the deplorable occurrence; next they will come because your dinners are so very excellent, and because this and that princess or countess, this and that prince, minister, or general, do not disdain to appear in your reception-room, and thus the whole affair will gradually be forgotten.”

“But my heart will not forget it,” said the baroness, mournfully; “my heart will never cease to weep for him, and when my heart is weeping, my eyes will not laugh. You have had the courage to conceal your tears under a smile, and not to suffer your head to be weighed down by the disgrace and contumely which they tried to heap on it. I shall have the courage not to conceal my tears, and to walk about, bending my head under the disgrace and contumely which have undeservedly fallen to my share. If I were guiltier, I should be able, perhaps, to brave the world; but having to mourn, not over a guilty action, but only over a misfortune, I shall weep! Let the world condemn me for it; I shall not hear its judgment, for I shall retire into solitude.”

“Oh, you foolish woman!” exclaimed Marianne, fervently.

“Yes, foolish, because you believe already at the beginning of your life that you are done with it. My child, the human heart is much too weak to be able to bear such a grief for many years. It gradually grows tired of it and finally drops it, and perceives then all at once that it is quite empty. Tedium, with its long spider-legs, will then creep over you and draw its dusty network around and no one will tear away this network, because nobody will be there to do this salutary service, for you will have driven people away from your side and preferred loneliness to their society. Beware of solitude, or rather learn to be alone in the midst of the world, but not in the privacy of your deserted boudoir. You have to fulfil a beautiful and grand mission here in Vienna. You have to emancipate the Jews—in a manner, however, different from the course I have pursued. I have proved to the foolish world that a Jewess may very well be a princess and worthily represent her exalted rank, notwithstanding her oriental blood and curved nose; but in order to be able to prove it to the world, I had to give up my religion and to desert my people. It is your mission to finish the work I have commenced, and to secure to the Jews a distinguished and undisputed place in society. You shall be the mediator between the aristocracy of blood and of pedigree and the aristocracy of money—the mediator between the Christians and the Jews. You shall give to the Jews here in Vienna a position such as they are justly entitled to: free, respected, and emancipated from the degrading yoke of prejudices. Such is your mission. Go and fulfil it!”

“You are right, Marianne,” replied Fanny, with glowing enthusiasm. “I will fulfil the mission, for it is a grand and sacred one, and it will comfort and strengthen my heart. The happiness of my life is gone forever; but I may, perhaps, be happy in my unhappiness, and I will now try to become so by consoling the unhappy, by assisting the suffering, and by giving an asylum to the disowned and proscribed. To dry tears, to distribute alms, and to scatter joy and happiness around me—that shall be the balm with which I will heal the wounds of my heart. You are right; I will not retire from the world, but I will compel it to respect me; I will not flee with my grief into solitude, but I will remain with it in the midst of society, a comfort to all sufferers, a refuge to all needing my assistance!”[119]Fanny von Arnstein kept her word. Her house became the centre of the most distinguished intellectual life; her hands were always open and ready to scatter charities and to spread blessings. She did not, however, give merely with her hands, but also with her heart, and only thereby she became a true benefactress; for she added to her gifts that pity and sagacity which know how to appreciate the true sort of relief. To many people she secured lasting happiness; to many she opened the road to wealth, and to some she gave sums which, in themselves, were equivalent to an independent fortune. Her hospitality equalled her benevolence, and she exercised it with rare amiability and to a remarkable extent. Every day numerous guests were received in her house in the city as well as in her villa, where they enjoyed the advantages of the most attractive, enlightened, and distinguished society.

“That is right! I like to hear you talk thus,” exclaimed Marianne, embracing her friend, and tenderly pressing her to her heart. “Now my fears for you are gone, and I may bid you farewell with a reassured and comforted heart. My travelling-coach is waiting for me, and I shall set out in the course of the present hour.”

“And where are you going?” asked Fanny, sympathetically.

“That is a secret—a profound political secret,” said Marianne, smiling; “but I will confide it to you as a proof of my love. I go to Paris for the purpose of delivering to the first consul a letter from the poor Count de Provence, whom the royalists, and consequently myself, also call King Louis the Eighteenth of France. That, Fanny, is the legacy Prince Charles von Lichtenstein has bequeathed to ME. Through him I became acquainted with some of those noble emigres who preferred to give up their country and their possessions, and to wander about foreign lands without a home, instead of proving faithless to their king, and of obeying that despotic republic and the tyrant who now lays his iron hand upon France. It was the Prince von Lichtenstein who, two weeks ago, brought the Duke d’Enghien to me, and initiated me into the great plans of the unfortunate Bourbons.”

“The Duke d’Enghien was here in Vienna?” asked Fanny, in surprise.

“Yes, he was here; he kept himself concealed in the palace of your friend Lichtenstein, and only his devoted adherents knew where he was. The prince belonged to his most enthusiastic followers and friends. Oh, what plans those two fiery young men conceived in the safe asylum of my reception-room! what great things did they expect from the future for the cause of the Bourbons and for France! You ought to have see Prince Charles von Lichtenstein in such hours, Fanny; then you would have really understood and boundlessly loved him. His cheeks, then, were glowing with noble impetuosity; his eyes flashed fire, and sublime words of soul-stirring eloquence dropped from his lips. Never has an enemy been hated more ardently than he hated Bonaparte, the first consul; never has a cause been more passionately adhered to than the cause of his unhappy fatherland and that of the exiled Bourbons. If the Count de Provence could boast of a hundred such defenders as was the Prince von Lichtenstein, he would have reconstructed the throne of the fleur-de-lis within a week in Paris. Dry your tears, Fanny, for you are not most to be pitied. You only lost a lover, but the Bourbons lost a champion and Germany a true and valorous son; these two are more to be pitied than you. You may find a hundred other lovers, if such should be your desire, but the Bourbons have but few champions, and the number of the true and noble sons of Germany is constantly on the decrease.”

“And he said nothing to me about his plans and hopes?” exclaimed Fanny, reproachfully. “He never made me suspect that—”

“That he had not only a heart for love, but also for politics and for the cause of the fatherland!” interrupted Marianne, smiling. “My child, he loved with his heart; hence, so long as he was with you, all the schemes of his head were silent. Still he knew that the beloved of his heart was able and worthy, too, to be the friend of his head; and when he took leave of me, he instructed me to initiate you into all his plans, and to let you participate in his hopes. Fanny, your friend greets you through my mouth; he wishes to transfer his love and his hatred, now that he has left us forever to yourself. As he was a faithful son of his German fatherland, you shall be its faithful daughter and guardian, and watch over the welfare of your country, and devote yourself to its service with your whole strength. As he was an inexorable enemy of that new, blood-stained France and of her dictator, you shall forswear all connection with that country, which soon will pour its torrents of blood and fire over our own unhappy fatherland. You shall do whatever will serve and be useful to the fatherland, and you shall abhor, persecute, and combat every menace to subjugate Germany. Your house shall be open to all German patriots; it shall be closed against all enemies of Germany, no matter whether they are Germans or French, or to whatever nation they may belong. Such, Fanny, is the legacy which Prince Charles von Lichtenstein, the noble German patriot, has bequeathed to you with his love, and which is to comfort and strengthen you in your grief.”

“I accept this legacy,” exclaimed Fanny, radiant with enthusiasm. “Yes, I accept this legacy and will fulfil it faithfully! To Germany I will transfer the love which I once devoted to him; I will love and honor him in each of our German brethren. Like him, I will hate the enemies of Germany, and never shall my house be opened to them—never shall they cross its threshold as welcome guests! As I cannot be a happy wife, I will try to be a faithful daughter of my country, to love its friends faithfully, and to hate its enemies bitterly!”

“That is right,” said Marianne, joyfully. “Now you have received your best consolation, and the grief of your love will be transformed into deeds of love. The blessing of your departed friend will be with you, and the love of your fatherland will reward you for what you will do for it. And you shall assist our despised and down-trodden Jews, too, by proving to those who scorn us and contemptuously treat us as aliens, that we feel like natives and children of the country in which we were born, and that we do not seek for our Jerusalem in the distant Orient, but in the fatherland we share with all other Germans. Let us prove to these Christians that we also are good patriots, and that we love our fatherland like them, and are ready to make any sacrifice which it may require from us.”

“Yes, I will prove that I am a good patriot as he was a good patriot,” said Fanny, enthusiastically. “I will hate whatever he hated; I will love whatever he loved!”

“Amen!” exclaimed Marianne, solemnly. “And now, farewell, Fanny. I go to fulfil the legacy which Prince von Lichtenstein has bequeathed to me. He had taken it upon himself to deliver this letter to Bonaparte, and to see what the Bourbons have to expect from him, and whether Bonaparte is a Monk or a Cromwell. I fear the latter. The Bourbons and Lichtenstein hoped for the former. They believed he would be the Monk of the restoration, and he had only placed himself so near the throne in order to restore the latter to Louis XVIII., as Monk had done in relation to Charles II. Well, we shall see! I will go now and deliver the letter which Prince Lichtenstein has intrusted to me. Farewell, Fanny, and remember your legacy!”

“I shall remember it as long as I live,” said Fanny, fervently. “And as I never shall forget my love, I shall never forget my fatherland either. Both shall live indissolubly united in my heart!”[120]The history of Baroness Arnstein and the tragic end of Prince Charles von Lichtenstein do not belong to romance, but to reality, and created a great sensation at that time. Every one in Vienna knew that love for Baroness Arnstein had been the cause of the duel and of the death of the Prince von Lichtenstein, but every one knew also that Fanny von Arnstein was not to blame for this event; hence the sympathy and compassion felt for the unhappy lady were universal. The imperial court and the city took pains to do homage to her and to manifest their respect for her. But Baroness Arnstein was not to be consoled by such proofs of public sympathy; the affliction which had befallen her was too terrible, and she did not endeavor to conceal her grief. She caused the cabinet in which he had seen her on the day preceding his death to be hung in black like a death-room; all the souvenirs and every thing reminding her of him were preserved in this room. She spent there every anniversary of his death in deep mourning, and at other times she frequently retired thither to pray for him. Except herself no one was ever permitted to enter this cabinet, consecrated as an altar for the religion of her reminiscences.—Vide Varnhagen von Ense’s Miscellanies, vol. i., p. 112.

“Then you have seen and conversed with our poor, unhappy king?” said Madame Bonaparte to the beautiful and richly-dressed lady who was sitting on the sofa at her side, and who was none other than the Princess Marianne von Eibenberg.

“Yes, madame, I have often had the good fortune to converse long with him,” said the princess, heaving a sigh. “I passed a few weeks in his neighborhood, and touched by his resignation, his unfaltering patience, and calm greatness, I offered him my mediation; I wished to be the messenger whom the poor unfortunate would send out in order to see whether the shores of his country will never again be visible to him, and whether the great and intrepid pilot who is now steering the ship of France with so firm a hand has no room left for the poor shipwrecked man. The Count de Provence accepted my services; he gave me a letter which I was to deliver to the First Consul himself, and I set out for Paris provided with numerous and most satisfactory recommendations. All these recommendations, however, were useless; even the intercession of Minister Talleyrand was in vain; the First Consul refused to grant me an audience.”

“He had been told, perhaps, how beautiful and charming a messenger had been this time sent to him by the Count de Provence,” said Josephine, smiling, “and he was, therefore, afraid of you, madame. For Bonaparte, the most intrepid hero in battle, is quite timid and bashful in the presence of beautiful ladies, and not having the strength to withstand your smiles and prayers, he evades you and refuses to see you.”

“Oh, madame,” exclaimed the princess, quickly, “if the First Consul is unable to resist the smiles of the most beautiful lady, I predict to you an even more brilliant future; for in that case he will lay the whole world at your feet to do you homage. He who has remained at the side of Josephine a hero and a man of iron will, need not fear the beauty of any other woman.”

“You know how to flatter,” said Josephine, smiling. “You forget, however, that we are in a republic here, and that there is no court with courtiers in the Tuileries, but merely the humble household of a citizen and general, which, I trust, will soon give way to the splendor of royalty.”

“Do you believe so, madame?” asked the princess, eagerly. “Do you believe that the hopes which the Count de Provence has built on the noble and grand spirit of General Bonaparte are not illusory? Oh, let us be frank and sincere toward each other, for I know you sympathize with the sufferings of the royal family, and the terrible misfortunes of the august exiles find an echo in your heart. Hence, when I did not succeed in obtaining an interview with the First Consul, and in delivering my letter to him in person, I applied to you, and the Count de Provence himself authorized me to do so. ‘If Bonaparte refuses to hear you,’ he said, ‘go to Josephine. Bring her the greetings of the Count de Provence; remind her of the happy days of Versailles, where, as Viscountess de Beauharnais, she was always welcome at the court of my lamented brother. Ask her if she still remembers how often we joked and laughed together at that time. Ask her whether my present misfortunes shall last forever, or whether she, who holds my destiny in her hand, will restore me to mirth and joy.’”

“Oh!” exclaimed Josephine, bursting into tears, “if I held his destiny in my hand, he would not have to wait long for his throne and for happiness. I should be the first to jubilantly welcome him to France, the first to joyously leave these Tuileries, this royal palace, the grandeur of which frightens me, and in the walls of which it always seems to me as though I were a criminal adorning herself with stolen property, and stretching out her hands toward the holy of holies. And yet I am innocent of this outrage; my conscience is clear, and I am able to say that King Louis XVIII. has no more devoted, faithful, and obedient subject than the wife of the First Consul of France.”

“The king knows it, and depends on you,” said the princess. “Bonaparte’s heart is in your hands; you alone are able to move it.”

“But do I know, then, whether he has yet a heart or not?” exclaimed Josephine, passionately. “Do I know, then, if he loves any thing but his glory? Man cannot serve two gods, and his god is glory. He soars aloft with the glance of an eagle, and the radiance of the sun does not dazzle him. Where will he finally rest and build his aerie? I do not know. As yet no rock has been too lofty for him, no summit too steep and sufficiently near the sun. I follow his flight with anxious eyes, but I am unable to restrain him. I can only pray for him, for myself, and for the unhappy king; I can only pray that the bold eagle may not finally conclude that the vacant throne will be an aerie worthy of himself, and occupy it.”

“But you believe that he will do so?” asked the princess, quickly.

“Oh, my dear,” replied Josephine, with a melancholy smile, “no one is able to know at the present time, nay, even to conjecture, what Bonaparte will do; no one, not even myself. His mind is impenetrable, and he only speaks of what he has done, not of what he is going to do. His plans lie inscrutable and silent in his breast, and nobody can boast that he is aware of them. He knows that I am a royalist at heart, and he often mocks me for it, but more frequently he is angry with me on this account. Since the French people have elected him First Consul for life, I see him tremble and frown whenever I dare to mention our exiled king, and to call him our master. He has strictly ordered me to receive no stranger unless he has given me permission to do so, and all friends of mine, whom he knew to be enthusiastic royalists, have already been banished by him. I must feign to forget all I owe to friendship and gratitude, and yet all those cherished reminiscences will never be effaced from my heart. But I must obey my master; for Bonaparte is no longer only my husband, but he is also my master. Thus impeded in all her inclinations, the wife of the First Consul must swallow her grief and seem ungrateful, although she is not. State it to those who believe my fate to be an enviable one; state it to the Count de Provence, who deems my influence greater than it really is. He is, and always remains for me, the legitimate king of France, and I call God to witness that I do not long for the crown which is his legitimate property. I call God to witness that I have improved every opportunity to promote the interests of the Count de Provence, and that I have always taken pains to remind Bonaparte of his duty to his legitimate king. But my success has been insignificant, and to-day for the first time since a long while I dare again to entertain a glimmer of hope. Bonaparte knew that I wanted to receive you to-day, and he did not forbid it, although he had already been informed that the Princess von Eibenberg was highly esteemed as a devoted friend at the court of Coblentz, that she had made a journey to Mitau for the express purpose of seeing the Count de Provence, that she had been sent by the latter with letters and messages to Paris, and that the Duke d’Enghien, who some time ago had secretly been at Vienna, had been every day at your house.”

“What! The First Consul is aware of all that?” asked Marianne, wonderingly.

“His spies serve him well,” said Josephine, heaving a sigh, “and Bonaparte has got spies everywhere, even here in the Tuileries, here in my own rooms—and I should not wonder if he should learn even within the next quarter of an hour what we have conversed about here, although it may have seemed to us as though we were alone.”

“But if the First Consul learns that the Count de Provence wants to avail himself of my services for the purpose of promoting his interests here in Paris, and if he has, nevertheless, permitted you to receive me, it seems to me a favorable symptom,” said Marianne Eibenberg, musingly.

“Of course, he has some object in view in permitting it,” replied Josephine, sighing, “but who knows what? I am unable to fathom his intentions; I content myself with loving him, admiring him, and endeavoring cautiously to lead him back to the path of duty. But hush!” she interrupted herself all at once, “I hear steps in the small corridor. It is Bonaparte! He comes hither. He will see that I have wept, and he will be angry with me!”

And after breathing into her handkerchief in anxious haste, Josephine pressed it against her eyes, and whispered tremblingly, “Can it be seen that I have wept?”

Marianne was about replying to her, when quick steps were heard in the adjoining room. “He is coming,” whispered Josephine, and she rose from the sofa for the purpose of going to meet her husband. He just opened the door by a quick pressure of his hand and appeared on the threshold. His eyes swept with a quick glance over the room and seemed to pierce every corner; a slight cloud covered his expansive marble forehead; his thin lips were firmly compressed, and did not show the faintest tinge of a smile.

“Ah, I did not know that there was a visitor with you, Josephine,” he said, bowing to Marianne, who returned his salutation by a deep and reverential obeisance, and then fixed her large dark eyes upon him with an air of admiration.

“My friend,” said Josephine, with a fascinating smile, “the Princess von Eibenberg has been recommended to me by persons of the highest distinction, and I confess that I am very grateful to those who gave me an opportunity to make the acquaintance of this beautiful and agreeable lady. It is true, I hear that the princess is a native of Germany, but she has got the heart of a Frenchwoman, and speaks our language better than many of the ladies whom I hear here in the Tuileries.”

“Ah, she doubtless speaks that language of ancient France, which always pleases you so well,” exclaimed Bonaparte; and now there appeared on his finely formed lips a smile, illuminating and beautifying his face like sunshine. “I suppose, madame,” he said, suddenly turning to Marianne, “you have come hither in order to bring to my dear Josephine greetings from a cavalier of that ancient France which has forever fallen to ruins?”

“No, general,” said Marianne, whose radiant eyes were constantly and fearlessly fixed on Bonaparte—“no, general, I have come hither in order to admire the New France, and never shall I be able to thank Madame Bonaparte sufficiently for the happiness she has procured me at this moment. It is the first time in my life that I have been able to see a great man, a hero!”

“And yet you were in Loudon and Mitau and there saw the Counts d’Artois and Provence,” replied Bonaparte, sitting down in an arm-chair by Marianne’s side, and requesting the ladies by a wave of his hand to resume their seats on the sofa.

“And in Loudon, in Mitau, in Coblentz, everywhere they admire the hero who has risen like a new sun with the young century!” said Marianne, with irresistible grace.

“Those gentlemen of ancient France spoke of me, then?” asked Bonaparte. “You see, madame, I speak without circumlocution. I am nothing but a good soldier, and always strike directly at my aim. I have been told that you have come hither as an emissary of the Bourbons, and I confess to you that to-day for the first time I feel grateful to those gentlemen, for they have made a very beautiful selection. The emissaries sent hither heretofore were less beautiful and less amiable. Those Bourbons know the foibles of the male heart better than anybody else, and they want to fascinate me in order to seduce me afterward the more surely.”

“Pardon me, general, they were not so bold as that,” said the princess, smiling. “Let me say that I am not gifted with the magic power of Armida, nor are you with the sentimental weakness of Rinaldo.”

“You do not deem me worthy to be compared with Rinaldo?” asked Bonaparte, casting so glowing a glance on the fair emissary that Josephine almost regretted having brought this fascinating beauty in contact with her husband.

“I do not deem Rinaldo worthy to be compared with Bonaparte,” said the princess, with a charming smile. “Rinaldo did not conquer any countries; he did not cross the bridge of Arcole, holding aloft the waving colors; he did not see the pyramids of Egypt; he did not conquer at Marengo!”

“Ah, madame, you seem to have a good memory,” exclaimed Bonaparte, merrily, “and you do not only know ancient France, but are also quite familiar with her recent history.”

“General, it is owing to you that the history of France is that of the whole world, and that the victories of France signify the defeat of the remainder of Europe. But you have brought about an even greater miracle, for those whom you have vanquished do not hate you for it, but they admire you, and while cursing their own misfortune, they are astonished at your heroism and surpassing greatness as a military chieftain. There is no one who does not share this feeling of admiration, and there is no one who entertains it in a livelier manner than the two men who have reason to complain most of France, and who do so least!”

“Ah, you skilfully return to the charge,” exclaimed Bonaparte, smiling. “You would make a good general: you make a short cut on the field of flattery and so reach the more rapidly the straight road on which you want to meet the Counts de Provence and Artois in order to praise them before me.”

“No, Bonaparte,” said Josephine, hastily, “the princess, on the contrary, wishes to tell you how those gentlemen praise you, and with how much admiration they speak of you.—Oh, pray, madame, repeat to Bonaparte what the Count d’Artois told you the other day, and mention the honors and distinctions he would like to confer on my husband.”

“Well, I should really like to know the honors and distinctions which that little emigre, M. de Bourbon, is able to confer on the First Consul of France,” said Bonaparte, with a sarcastic smile. “Tell me, madame, what did the Count d’Artois say, and what that statement of yours is that has filled the ambitious heart of Madame Bonaparte with so much delight?”

“Oh, you want to mock me, my friend,” said Josephine, reproachfully.

“By no means, I am in dead earnest, and should like to know what the pretenders did say about me. State to us, then, madame, with your seductive voice, the tempting promises of the Bourbons.”

“General, there was no talk of promises, but of the admiration the Count d’Artois felt for you,” said Marianne, almost timidly, and with downcast eyes. “We conversed about politics in general, and Madame de Guiche, in her charming innocence, took the liberty to ask the Count d’Artois how the First Consul of France might be rewarded in case he should restore the Bourbons.”

“Ah, you conversed about this favorite theme of the emigres, about the restoration question!” said Bonaparte, shrugging his shoulders. “And what did the prince reply?”

“The Count d’Artois replied: ‘In the first place, we should appoint the first consul Connetable of France, if that would be agreeable to him. But we should not believe that that would be a sufficient reward; we should erect on the Place du Carrousel a lofty and magnificent column to be surmounted by a statue of Bonaparte crowning the Bourbons!’”[121]Las Cases, “Memorial de Sainte-Helene,” vol. i., p. 337.

“Is not that a beautiful and sublime idea?” exclaimed Josephine, joyfully, while the princess searchingly fixed her eyes on Bonaparte’s face.

“Yes,” he said, calmly, “it is a very sublime idea; but what did you reply, Josephine, when this was communicated to you?”

“What did I reply?” asked Josephine. “Good Heaven! what should I have replied?”

“Well,” said Bonaparte, whose face now assumed a grave, stern expression, “you might have replied, for instance, that the pedestal of this beautiful column would have to be the corpse of the First Consul.”[122]Bonaparte’s own words.—Ibid., vol. ii., p. 337.
(Las Cases, “Memorial de Sainte-Helene,” vol. i., p. 337.)

“Oh, Bonaparte, what a dreadful idea that is!” exclaimed Josephine, in dismay—“dreadful and withal untrue, for did not the Count d’Artois say the Bourbons would appoint you Connetable of France?”

“Yes, just as Charles II. of England conferred the title of duke on Monk. I am no Monk, nor am I a Cromwell. I have not injured a single hair on the head of the Bourbons, and my hand has not been stained by a drop of the blood of the unfortunate king who had to atone for the sins of his predecessors. He had ruined France, I saved her; and the example of Monk teaches me to be cautious, for the English people had confided in him, and he gave them a king who made them unhappy and oppressed them for twenty years, and finally caused a new revolution; I want to preserve France from the horrors of a new revolution, hence I do not want to become another Monk.”

“And who should dare to compare you with Monk or Cromwell, general?” exclaimed Marianne. “If there is a man worthy to be compared with the first consul of France, it is only the great Washington, the liberator of America.”

“Ah, you think so because we are both presiding over a republic,” replied Bonaparte, with a sarcastic smile. “As I do not want to be a Monk, it is hoped that I shall be a Washington. Words cost nothing, and those who utter them so easily do not consider whether the circumstances of the two nations, the time and occasion may be as well compared with each other as those two names. If I were in America, it would be my highest glory to be another Washington, and I should deserve but little credit for it, after all, for I do not see how one could reasonably pursue there any other course. But if Washington had been in France, with its convulsions within and an invasion from abroad, I should not have deemed it advisable for him to be himself; if he had insisted upon remaining himself, he would have been an idol, and only prolonged the misfortunes of France instead of saving the country.”

“You confess, then, that France ought not to remain a republic?” asked Josephine, joyfully. “You want to restore the monarchy?”

“Wait for the things to come,” said Bonaparte, gravely. “To ask me prematurely to do things incompatible with the present state of affairs would be foolish; if I should announce or promise them it would look like charlatanry and boasting, and I am not addicted to either.”

“But you give us hopes, at least, that you will do so one day, when the time has come, I suppose, my friend?” said Josephine, tenderly. “You will not let this beautiful lady depart from Paris without a kind and comforting reply? She will not have entered the Tuileries, the house of the kings, in order to be obliged to inform on her return those to whom it justly belongs that there is no longer any room for them under the roof which their fathers have built. I am sure, Bonaparte, you will not send such a reply to the legitimate King of France from HIS OWN rooms.”

Josephine, glowing with excitement, had risen from her seat; stepping close up to Bonaparte, she encircled his neck with her beautiful arms, and laid her charming head on his shoulder.

“Oh, Josephine, what are you doing?” ejaculated Bonaparte, angrily. “Will not the princess tell the Count de Provence that the Tuileries are now inhabited by a downright bourgeois and hen-pecked husband, who treats his wife sentimentally even in the presence of other persons, and in return for her caresses has always to comply with her wishes? And shall we not be laughed at, my child?”

“I should like to see the Titan who would dare to laugh at the First Consul!” exclaimed Marianne, eagerly. “You would do like Jove; you would hurl down the audacious scoffer into the abyss with a flash from your eyes.”

Bonaparte fixed so long and glowing a look on the princess that Marianne blushed, while the jealous heart of Josephine began to ache.

“Bonaparte, state the reply you are going to make to the Count de Provence,” she said, anxious to withdraw his attention from the contemplation of this fascinating beauty.

“A reply?” asked Bonaparte. “What shall I reply to?”

“General, to this letter, which the Count de Provence has intrusted to me, and which I have solemnly pledged myself to deliver to you personally,” said Marianne, handing Bonaparte a sealed paper, with an imploring glance.

Bonaparte did not take it at once, but looked sternly at the two ladies who stood before him, turning their beautiful and deeply moved faces toward him with an air of supplication.

“It is a perfect conspiracy, then, ladies? A complete surprise of the fortress?” he asked. “You want to compel me forcibly to open the gates of my eyes to you? Do you not know, then, Josephine, that I have sworn not to accept any letters from the Pretender, in order not to be obliged to make a harsh reply to him?”

“Keep your oath, then,” said Josephine, smiling; “do not accept the letter, but permit me to do so, and let me read the contents of the letter to you.”

“Oh, women, women!” exclaimed Bonaparte, smiling. “They are born sophists, and I believe they would be able to outwit the devil himself! Well, I will comply with your request; take the letter and read it to me.”

Josephine uttered a joyful cry, and took the letter from Marianne’s hands. While she broke the seal and unfolded the paper, Bonaparte had risen from his arm-chair, and commenced slowly pacing the room. He knew, perhaps, that Marianne’s eyes were fixed upon him with a searching expression, and her glances were disagreeable to him.

Josephine read as follows:

“Men like you, sir, never inspire suspicion and uneasiness, whatever their conduct may be. You have accepted the exalted position which the French people offered to you, and I am grateful to you for so doing. You know better than anybody else how much strength and power are required to secure the happiness of a great nation. Save France from her own fury, and you will have fulfilled the foremost and greatest desire of my heart; restore her king to her, and future generations will bless your memory. But you hesitate very long to give my throne back to me, and I almost fear you will allow the opportunity to pass by unimproved. Hasten, therefore, and designate the positions you desire for yourself and for your friends. You will always be too indispensable to the state for me ever to be able to discharge the obligations of my ancestors and my own, even by means of the most influential positions. My character, as well as motives of sound policy, will induce me to pursue a liberal course. We are able to secure the happiness of France. I say we, for you cannot secure the happiness of France without me, and I cannot do any thing for France without you. General, Europe has fixed her eyes on you, and immortal glory awaits you.”[123]This letter is historical.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., p. 393.

“Always the same strain,” muttered Bonaparte, “always the story of the column surmounted by the statue of the First Consul crowning the Bourbons, while his bleeding corpse is to be the foundation of the column!”

“He is reflecting,” whispered Josephine to the princess. “That shows, at least, that he has not yet made up his mind to reject the offer of the Count de Provence.”

At this moment Bonaparte turned toward the two ladies and approached them rapidly.

“Are you authorized to receive my reply?” he asked, turning his gloomy eyes toward the princess.

“I shall feel happy and honored by any message you may be pleased to intrust to me,” said Marianne.

Bonaparte nodded to her.

“Will you permit me to write a letter here, Josephine?” he asked. Instead of making a reply, Josephine hastened to her desk, in order to take out some paper, to draw a chair to the table, and then to hand the pen to Bonaparte, with a fascinating smile. When he commenced writing, she supported herself in breathless suspense on the back of his arm-chair and looked over the Consul’s shoulder, while the Princess von Eibenberg, standing not far from them, looked at both with sparkling eyes.

Bonaparte hastily wrote a few lines, threw the pen aside, and turning around to Josephine, he handed her the letter.

“There, read it,” he said, “and read it aloud, so that the beautiful emissary of your M. de Bourbon may learn my reply, and know the contents of the message she is to deliver to him.”

Josephine took the paper, and read, in a tremulous voice, frequently interrupted by her sighs:

“I have received the letter of your royal highness; I have constantly felt a lively sympathy for you and for the misfortunes of your family. But your royal highness must not think of coming to France; you would have to pass over a hundred thousand corpses before reaching it. In other respects, I shall constantly take pains to do whatever will be calculated to alleviate your condition and to make you forget your misfortunes.”

“Well, Josephine, you are silent?” asked Bonaparte, when she ceased reading. “You are dissatisfied with my letter? And you, too, madame, have a dark shadow on your beautiful face! How could you expect another answer from me?”

“General, I believe the royal princes really hoped for another answer,” said Marianne, heaving a sigh.

“And what justified such a hope?” asked Bonaparte, sternly “What have I done to give rise to such chimeras?”

“General, the favorable answer you gave to Prussia—”

“Ah!” said Bonaparte, shrugging his shoulders, “the wind is blowing in that direction, then? Prussia asked me if she would cause us any trouble by tolerating the French princes within her boundaries. I replied in the negative; and when Prussia went further and asked whether we should feel offended or not, if she paid an annual pension to the Bourbons, I permitted even that on condition that the princes remained quiet and did not carry on any intrigues. They believed, then, that because I suffered distressed persons to be relieved and an asylum to be granted to the homeless, I should be ready, also, to make the beggars masters again, and to lay France at the feet of the exiles!”

“Bonaparte, your words are very harsh and very unjust,” exclaimed Josephine, sadly.

“They may be harsh, but they are true,” he said, sternly. “I will not permit them to entertain any illusions concerning myself; hence I have spoken so long and plainly. It would be harsh and cruel to hold out hopes to the Bourbons which I shall never fulfil. France is lost to them, and they will never recover her. State that to the princes who have sent you to me, madame. Let the Bourbons be on their guard, for France is wide awake and keeps her eyes and ears open. I am willing to forgive that little Duke d’Enghien for not considering me a great general, and for criticising my exploits, but I should neither forgive him nor either of his uncles in case they should try to trouble France with their senseless schemes. I know that the Bourbons have long been trying to find means and ways to reconquer the sceptre of St. Louis. So long as their schemes are floating in the air like cobwebs, I forgive them; but if they intend to act, let them weigh the consequences! He who menaces France is a traitor, whatever may be his name, and traitors will be punished to the full extent of the law. State that to the Bourbons, madame; state it especially to the Duke d’Enghien. And now be kind enough to deliver my reply to the Count de Provence. When do you intend to start?”

“In a few days, general.”

“Oh, that will not do. That poor Count de Provence will be eager to get a reply,” said Bonaparte, “and it would be very cruel not to transmit it to him as soon as possible. You especially will not wish to make him wait, and I therefore advise you to set out to-day, within the next hour! I shall issue orders that horses be kept in readiness for you; and in order that you may not be detained anywhere, I shall instruct two officers to escort you to the frontier. Hasten, therefore, madame; in half an hour everything will be ready for your departure.”

He nodded to her, and left the room.

The two ladies were alone again and looked at each other with mournful eyes. Marianne’s face was pale; a gloomy fire was burning in her eyes, and a contemptuous smile was visible on her lips. Josephine seemed greatly embarrassed, and her gentle eyes were filled with tears.

“I am to be transported beyond the frontier like a criminal!” ejaculated Marianne at last, in a voice trembling with anger. “I am to be treated like a dangerous intriguer, and yet I have only delivered a letter which had been intrusted to me by the king.”

“Forgive him,” said Josephine, imploringly. “He has been prejudiced against you, and the numerous plots and conspiracies, which have already been discovered, cause him to deem rigorous precautions altogether indispensable. But I beg you especially not to be angry with me, and pray beseech the Count de Provence not to hold me responsible for the deplorable message you are to deliver to him. I have opened my heart to you, and you know it to be filled with the most faithful devotion and with the most reverential affection for the unfortunate prince, but I am not strong enough to change his fate; I—”

Just then the door opened; M. de Bourrienne, chief of the cabinet of the First Consul, made his appearance and approached the princess with a respectful bow.

“Madame,” he said, “the First Consul sends you word that every thing is ready for your departure, and he has instructed me to conduct you to your carriage.”

Josephine uttered a groan, and, sinking down on a chair, she covered her face with her handkerchief in order to conceal her tears.

Marianne had now recovered her proud and calm bearing, and a bold and defiant smile played again on her lips. She approached Josephine with soft and quiet steps.

“Farewell, madame,” she said. “I shall faithfully report to the Count de Provence every thing I have seen and heard here, and he will venerate and pity you as I shall always do. May the First Consul never regret what he is doing now, and may he not be obliged one day to leave France in the same manner as he compels me to depart from Paris! Come, sir, accompany me, as it cannot be helped!”

And drawing herself up to her full height and as proud as a queen, Marianne, princess of Eibenberg, walked toward the door.

Josephine followed her with her tearful eyes, which she then raised to heaven. “Oh, my God, my God,” she whispered, “ordain it in Thy mercy that my worst forebodings may not be fulfilled! Guide Bonaparte’s heart and prevent him from going on in his ambition, from stretching out his hand for the crown of the Bourbons, and from staining his glory with the blood of—Oh, Thou knowest my fears; Thou knowest what I mean, and what my lips dare not utter. Protect Bonaparte, and guide his heart!”

A Post-chaise, drawn by four horses, had just driven up to the hotel of The German Emperor, the first and most renowned inn in the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main. The porter rang the door-bell as loudly and impetuously as he only used to do on the arrival of aristocratic and wealthy guests. Hence the waiters rushed to the door in the greatest haste, and even the portly and well-dressed landlord did not deem it derogatory to his dignity to leave the dining-room, for the purpose of welcoming the stranger in the post-chaise, drawn by the four horses.

In this post-chaise he perceived a gentleman of prepossessing and jovial appearance, and with a handsome and tolerably youthful face. His large blue eyes looked gayly and boldly into the world; a genial smile was playing on his broad and rather sensual-looking lips; and his voice was clear, strong, and sonorous.

“May I find here with you comfortable rooms, and, above all, a good supper?” he asked the landlord, who, pushing aside his waiters and the stranger’s footman, stepped up to the carriage, in order to open the door.

“Sir,” replied the landlord, proudly, “The German Emperor is noted for its good rooms and excellent table!”

The stranger laughed merrily. “Truly,” he said, gayly, “these are splendid prospects for Germany. If The German Emperor furnishes good rooms and an excellent table, I am sure Germany would be unreasonable to ask for any thing else! Well, my dear landlord, give me, then, good rooms and a supper.”

“Do you want rooms on the first or on the second floor?” asked the landlord, respectfully walking behind the stranger, who had just entered the hall.

“Of course, on the first floor; Heaven forbid that I should have to climb two flights of stairs!” replied the stranger. “I like to live in comfortable and elegant rooms. Give me, therefore, three fine rooms on the first floor.”

“Three rooms!” said the landlord, hesitatingly. “I must observe to you, sir, that all the rooms on the first floor have been reserved for the Duke of Baden, who will arrive here to-morrow or day after to-morrow, and stop at The German Emperor, like all princes coming to our city. I do not know if I can spare three rooms.”

“Oh, you surely can, as the duke will only arrive to-morrow or day after to-morrow, while I am here to-day,” said the stranger.

“Give me the rooms you had intended for the duke; then I shall be sure to get good ones, and I shall take them at the same price you will charge him.”

The landlord bowed respectfully, and snatched the silver candle-stick from the hand of the head-waiter, in order to have the honor of conducting the stranger up-stairs to his rooms. The waiters, who had stood on both sides of the hall in respectful silence, now hastily rushed toward the post-chaise, in order to assist the stranger’s footman in unloading the trunks and packages belonging to his master.

“As far as the supper is concerned, pray imagine I were the expected Duke of Baden, and make your arrangements accordingly,” said the stranger, ascending the staircase. “I particularly enjoy a good supper. If you have any pheasants to serve up to me, I shall be content with them; only see to it that they be well larded with truffles.”

And his voice died away in the large corridor which he was now walking down, preceded by the landlord, in order to take possession of the best rooms in the hotel.

The waiters were engaged in unloading the trunks, and improved this opportunity to inquire of the stranger’s footman, clad in a rich livery, the rank, name, and title of his master.

He told them the gentleman had just arrived from Loudon, where he had been living for a year; he was now on his way to Vienna, and would leave Frankfort on the following day.

“This trunk is very heavy,” said one of the waiters, vainly trying to lift from the carriage a small trunk, mounted with strips of brass, and covered with yellow nails.

“I should think so,” said the footman, proudly. “This trunk contains my master’s money and jewelry. There are at least twelve gold watches, set with diamonds, and as many snuff-boxes. The Queen of England sent to my master on the day of our departure a magnificent snuff-box, adorned with the portrait of her majesty, and richly set with diamonds: and the snuff-box, moreover, was entirely filled with gold pieces. Come, take hold of the trunk on that side; I shall do so on this, and we will take it directly up to my master’s rooms.”

Just as they entered the hall with their precious load, another carriage drove up to the door. But this time it was only a miserable, rickety old basket-chaise, drawn by two lean jades with lowered heads and heaving bellies.

The porter, therefore, did not deem it worth while to ring the bell for this forlorn-looking vehicle; but he contented himself with leisurely putting his hands into his pockets, sauntering down to the chaise, and casting a disdainful glance into its interior.

There was also a single gentleman in it, but his appearance was less prepossessing and indicative of liberality than that of the former stranger. The new-comer was a little gentleman, with a pale face and a sickly form. His mien was grave and care-worn; his dark eyes were gloomy and stern; his expansive forehead was thoughtful and clouded.

“May I have a room in your hotel?” he asked, in a clear, ringing voice.

“Certainly, sir, as nice and elegant as you may desire,” said the porter, condescendingly.

“I do not require it to be nice and elegant,” replied the stranger. “Only a small room with a comfortable bed; that is all I care for.”

“It is at your disposal, sir,” said the porter; and beckoning the youngest waiter to assist the stranger in alighting, he added: “Take the gentleman to one of the smaller rooms on the first floor.”

“Oh, no,” said the stranger, “I do not ask for a room on the first floor; I shall be satisfied with one on the second floor. Be kind enough to pay my fare to the coachman; he gets ten florins. You may put it down on my bill.”

“And will you give me no drink-money?” asked the coachman, angrily. “The gentleman will assuredly not refuse me drink-money after a three days’ journey?”

“My friend, I did not agree to pay you any thing but those ten florins,” said the stranger. “I will comply with your demand, however, for you have been an excellent driver.”

He handed half a florin to the coachman, and entered the hotel with measured steps.

“Do you want supper?” asked the waiter, conducting him upstairs.

“Yes, if you please,” said the stranger; “but no expensive supper, merely a cup of tea and some bread and meat.”

“A poor devil!” muttered the porter, shrugging his shoulders disdainfully, and following the stranger with his eyes. “A very poor devil! only a room on the second floor; tea and bread and meat for supper! He must be a savant, a professor, or something of that sort.”

Meantime the footman and the waiter had carried the heavy trunk, with the gold and other valuables, up-stairs to the rooms of the stranger on the first floor. These rooms were really furnished in the most sumptuous manner, and worthy to be inhabited by guests of princely rank. Heavy silk and gold hangings covered the walls; blinds of costly velvet, fringed with gold, veiled the high arched windows; precious Turkish carpets adorned the floor; gilt furniture, carved in the most artistic manner and covered with velvet cushions, added to the splendor and beauty of the rooms.

The stranger lay on one of the magnificent sofas when the trunk with his valuables was brought in. He ordered the footman with a wave of his hand to place the trunk before him on the marble table, wrought by some Florentine artisan, and then he leisurely stretched out his legs again on the velvet sofa.

Scarcely had the door closed again behind the footman and the waiter, however, when he hastily rose, and drawing the trunk toward him, opened it with a small key fastened to his watch-chain.

“I believe I will now at length add up my riches,” he said to himself. “The time of the golden rain, I am afraid is over, at least for the present; for, in Germany, an author and savant is never taken for a Danae, and no one wants to be a Jove and lavish a golden rain upon him. The practical English, who are more sagacious in every respect, know, too, how to appreciate a writer of merit, and pay him better for his works. Thank God I was in England! Let us see now how much we have got.”

He plunged his hands into the small trunk and drew them forth filled with gold pieces.

“How well that sounds!” he said, throwing the gold pieces on the table, and constantly adding new ones to them. “There is no music of the spheres to be compared with this sound, and no view is more charming than the aspect of this pile of gold. How many tender love-glances, how many sumptuous dinners, how many protestations of friendship and love-pledges, how many festivals and pleasures do not flash forth from those gold pieces, as though they were an enchanted mine! As a good general, I will count my troops, and thus enable myself to draw up the plans of my battles.”

A long pause ensued. Nothing was heard but the music of the gold pieces, which the traveller arranged in long rows on the marble table, and the figures which he muttered, while his countenance grew every moment more radiant.

“Five hundred guineas!” he exclaimed joyfully; “that sum is equivalent to three thousand three hundred and thirty-three dollars in Prussian money; there are, besides, two thousand-pound notes in my wallet, amounting to over thirteen thousand dollars, which, together with my guineas, will amount to over sixteen thousand dollars cash. Oh, now I am a rich man! I no longer need deny to myself any wish, any enjoyment. I can enjoy life, and I WILL enjoy it. As a stream of enjoyment and delight my days shall roll along, and to enjoyment glory shall be added, and throughout all Germany my voice shall resound; in all cabinets it shall reecho, and to the destinies of nations it shall point out their channel and direction. For great things I am called, and great things will I accomplish. I will not allow myself to be used by these lords of the earth as a journeyman, to whom the masters assign work for scanty pay. Their equal and peer, I will stand by their side, and they shall recognize it as a favor which they cannot weigh up with gold, if I take the word for them and their interests, and win battles for them with my pen.”

There was a gentle knock at the door, and quickly he threw his silken handkerchief over the gold pieces and papers, and closed the cover of his casket before he gave permission to enter.

It was only a few waiters, who carried a well-spread table, in the midst of which a splendid pheasant stretched its brownish, shining limbs, and filled the whole room with the odor of the truffles with which it was stuffed. By its side shone, in crystal bottles, the most precious Rhine wine, looking like liquid gold, and a silent, still undisclosed pie gave a presentiment of a piquant enjoyment.

The traveller sipped the several odors with smiling comfort, and took his place at the table with the full confidence that he would be able to fill the next half hour of his life with enjoyment and to advantage.

In this confidence he was not disappointed, and when he finally rose from the table, on which nothing but bones had remained of the pheasant, and nothing but the bare crust of the pie, his countenance beamed with satisfaction and delight.

The waiters made haste to remove the table, and the head waiter made his appearance with the large hotel register, in which he asked the traveller to enter his name.

He was ready for it, and already took the pen to write his name, when suddenly he uttered a cry of surprise, and excitedly pointed with his finger to the last written line of the book.

“Is this gentleman still in your hotel, or has he already left?” he asked, hastily.

“No, your honor, this gentleman arrived only an hour ago, and he will stay here to-night.” said the head waiter.

“Oh, what a surprise,” said the traveller, starting up. “Come, please to conduct me at once to this gentleman.”

And, with impatient haste, he ran to the door, which the head waiter opened to him. But upon the threshold he suddenly stopped and seemed to pause.

“Pray wait for me here in this hall; I shall follow you immediately,” he said, as he returned to his room, closed its door, and hastened to the table in order to put his gold and his papers into the casket and to lock it.

In the mean while, the traveller in the small room of the second floor had finished his frugal meal, and was now occupied with making up his account and entering the little travelling expenses of the last few days into his diary.

“It is after all an expensive journey,” he muttered to himself; “I shall hardly have a few hundred florins left on my arrival at Berlin. It is true the first quarter of my salary will at once be paid to me, but one-half of it I have already assigned to my creditors, and the other half will scarcely suffice to furnish decently a few rooms. Oh, how much are those to be envied, the freedom and cheerfulness of whose minds are never disturbed by financial troubles!”

A loud knock at the door interrupted him; he hastened to put back his money into his pocket-book, when the door was hastily opened and the stranger of the first story appeared in it with a smiling countenance.

“Frederick Gentz!” exclaimed the owner of the room, in joyful surprise.

“Johannes Muller!” smilingly exclaimed the other, running up to him with outstretched arms, and tenderly embracing the little man, the great historian. “What good fortune for me, my friend, that I put up at this hotel, where I was to have the pleasure of meeting you! Accidentally I found in the hotel register your name, and at once I rushed to welcome you.”

“And by coming you afford to my heart a true joy,” tenderly said Johannes Muller, “for nothing can afford a greater joy than the unexpected meeting with a beloved and esteemed friend, and you know you are both to me.”

“I only know that you are both to me!” exclaimed Gentz. “I only know that during my present journey I am indebted to you for the most precious hours, for the most sublime enjoyments. I had taken along for my reading your work on the ‘Furstenbund’ (‘Alliance of Princes’). I wished to see whether this book which, on its first appearance, so powerfully affected me, would still have the same effect upon me after an interval of twenty years. The world since then has been transformed and changed, I myself not less; and I was well aware how far my views on many most important topics would differ from yours. This, indeed, I found to be the case, and yet the whole reading was for me an uninterrupted current of delight and admiration. For four weeks I read in my leisure hours nothing but this book, and I felt my mind consecrated, strengthened, and nerved again for every thing great and good.”

“If you say this,” exclaimed Muller, “I have not labored in vain, although a German author feels sometimes tempted to believe that all his labors, all his writing and thinking were useless efforts, and nothing but seed scattered upon barren and sterile soil, and unable to bear fruit. Oh, my friend, what unfortunate days of humiliation and disgrace are still in store for Germany! But let us not talk of this now, but of you. Come, let us seat ourselves side by side upon this divan. And now tell me of your successes and your glory. The report of it has reached me, and I have learned with unenvying delight with what enthusiasm the whole literary and political world of England has received you, and how the court, the ministers, and the aristocracy of Loudon have celebrated the great German writer and politician.”

“It is true I have met in Loudon with much kindness and a flattering reception,” said Gentz, smilingly. “You know a German writer must go abroad if he lays claim to recognition and reward, for, as the proverb says, ‘The prophet is not without honor, save in his own country.’ I had, therefore, to go to England in order to secure for my voice, which until then was little heeded, some authority even in Germany.”

“And now, when you have so eminently succeeded in this, you return I hope forever to Germany?”

“It almost seems so. I follow a call of the Austrian minister, Cobenzl, and have been appointed in Vienna as Aulic councillor, with a salary of four thousand florins.”

“And in which ministry will you work?”

“Not in any particular one. I have been engaged for extraordinary services exclusively, with no other obligation than, as Minister von Cobenzl expressly writes, to work by my writings for the maintenance of the government, of morals, and order.”

A smile stole over the delicate features of Muller.

“Exactly the same words which the Minister von Thugut said to me two years ago. And you have had the courage to accept the position?”

“Yes, I have accepted it, because I hope thus to render a service to the fatherland, and to be of advantage to it. I have forever east off my Prussianism, and shall henceforth become an Austrian with body and soul.”

“How wonderful are the dispensations of fate! for I must reply to you that I have cast off forever my Austrianism, and shall henceforth become a Prussian with body and soul.”

“Ah, you go to Prussia! You leave the Austrian service?”

“Yes, forever. I follow a call to Berlin.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Gentz, “I have not the courage to complain that I have to do without you in Vienna, for fate in its wisdom has disposed of both of us, and it will make us available for the great, sublime cause of Germany. Being both stationed at one place, our efforts could not be so far reaching, so powerful, and therefore fate sets you up in the north of Germany, and me in the south, in order that our voices may resound hither and thither throughout Germany, and awaken all minds and kindle all energies for the one grand aim, the delivery and the honor of Germany.”

“You still believe, then, in the honor of Germany and the possibility of its delivery,” Muller inquired, with a sigh.

“Yes. I still believe in it,” Gentz exclaimed, with enthusiasm; “but to that end many things must yet be done, many things must be aimed at and changed. Above all, two things are necessary. In the first place, the old enmity between Austria and Prussia must disappear, and both must firmly unite with each other and with England against France. It is this which I in Vienna and you in Berlin must never lose sight of—which we must aim at with all the power of our spirit and of our eloquence; for it is one of the last measures which are left for maintaining the independence of Europe and for averting the deluge of evils which break forth more terribly every day. From the moment when Austria and Prussia shall stand upon one line and move in one direction, there will be nowhere in Germany particular interests. All the greater and lesser princes would at once and without hesitation place themselves under the wings of this powerful alliance—the well-disposed cheerfully and out of conviction, and the unpatriotic ones through fear. So much of the constitution as has been rescued from this last shipwreck, would be safe for the duration of this alliance; and so much of it as must be altered, would be altered according to the principles of justice and of the common weal, and not according to the disgraceful demands of French and Russian land agents.”

“You are right,” exclaimed Johannes Muller; “a close alliance of Austria and Prussia is necessary, and only through it, and through it alone, the maintenance of the European equilibrium is possible, but for the present we must lean on the power of Russia and the resources of England.”

“No, no,” Gentz exclaimed, vehemently; “no communion with Russia! Russia is a friend who can never be trusted, for whenever it shall be her advantage she will at any moment be ready to become the most bitter enemy of her friends. But really we have had a striking and terrible example, of this when the Emperor Paul suddenly separated from Germany and England in order to ally himself with France. But the union of France and Russia is the most threatening and terrible combination for the whole remainder of Europe. Of all the wounds which during the last ten years have been inflicted upon the old political system, and in particular upon the independence of Germany, those which were caused by the temporary agreement between France and Russia were the deepest and most incurable. If this comet should rise a second time over our heads, the world will go up in flames. What is to resist the combined power of these two colossuses unless the united weight and the united bulk of Germany hinders their embrace? The western colossus has long since broken through its old barriers; all the outposts are in its power, all the fortresses which do not belong to it are dismantled, all the points of military defence are outflanked. From Switzerland and Italy, from the peaks of the conquered Alps, it may irresistibly pounce upon the centime of the Austrian monarchy and invade the exposed provinces of the undefended Prussian kingdom. And now let it please Providence to elevate upon the Russian throne a prince full of ambition and thirst of conquest, and the subjugation of Germany, the dissolution of all the empires still existing, a double universal monarchy would, under the present circumstances, be the next consequence; and if the present system, or rather the present hopeless languor should continue for several more years, this must sooner or later be the inevitable destiny of Germany.”

“There is now for Germany only one enemy,” Johannes Muller said, vehemently, “and this enemy is France—is Bonaparte! A new crisis approaches; of this I am convinced. Bonaparte will not be satisfied with the title and the office of a First Consul for life; he will place a crown upon his head, and threateningly oppose himself with his sceptre to all monarchies, and they will either have to humble themselves before him or to unite against him. Therefore, no other, no possible future enemy, should be thought of at this time, but only the universal foe and his government, so incompatible with general tranquillity. Let all the hatred of the nation be poured down on him, and on him alone, by everywhere spreading the conviction that nothing interferes with the preservation of peace throughout the world but his existence.”[124]Muller’s own words.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., p. 58. “There is something else I would wish for Germany,” said Gentz, musingly. “I will now reveal to you my innermost thoughts, my friend, for I am satisfied that our meeting here was a dispensation of fate. Providence has decreed that we, the intellectual champions of Germany, should agree here on the plans of our campaign and concert measures for our joint action. Therefore, you shall descend with me into the depths of my heart and see the result to which I have been led by many years’ reflection concerning the causes and progress of the great convulsions of our day, and by my own grief at the political decay of Germany. The result is the firm belief that it would be by far better for Germany to be united into one state. Oh, do not look at me in so surprised and angry a manner! I know very well, and I have reflected a great deal about it, how salutary an influence has been exerted by the dismemberment of Germany on the free development of the individual faculties; I acknowledge that, considered individually, we might very probably not have reached, in a great and centralized monarchy, the proud and glorious eminence we are occupying at the present time, and so far, as a nation, after all, only consists of individuals, I am unable to perceive exactly how ours, without anarchy, could have acquired the distinction which it might boast of if it were a nation! But whenever I think that it is no nation—whenever I think that France and England, with greatly inferior faculties and means, have grown up to that true totality of human life—to that true nationality which nothing is able to destroy—whenever I think and feel that foreigners, on whom we may look down from our exalted stand-point, in matters of politics, trample on our necks, and are allowed to treat us as though we were their servants, all consolations derived from our grand and magnificent individuality vanish and leave me alone with my grief.[125]Gentz’s own words.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., p. 20. I am free to confess to you that I have already gone so far on the road of those mournful reflections as to consider it very doubtful whether the whole history of Germany was ever treated from a correct point of view. I know but too well that the princes of the house of Austria seldom, if ever, deserved to be the rulers of Germany; but I do not believe that there are any reasons why we should exalt at the discomfiture of their plans. It is a matter of great indifference to me whether a Hapsburg, Bavarian, Hohenzollern, or Hohenstaufen succeed in bringing the empire under one hat; I only place myself on an Austrian stand-point because that house has the best prospects and is under the highest obligations to accomplish the unity of Germany. Now you know my innermost thoughts; criticise and correct them, my friend!”

“I will neither criticise nor correct them,” said Muller, offering his hand to Gentz with a tender glance; “I will only exchange views with you. I imagine, therefore, at this moment, we were pacing, as we did a year ago, previous to your journey to England, the splendid hall of the imperial library, where the sixteen statues of the Hapsburg emperors reminded us of their era. Before which of them will we place ourselves and say: ‘What a pity that you, wise and noble prince, are not the sole ruler of Germany; you were worthy, indeed, that the moral and political welfare of the whole nation should be left to the decision of your will, and that every thing should be submitted to your power!’”

“It is true,” muttered Gentz, mournfully; “in the history of Germany there is no emperor, king, or prince to whom we might or should talk in this manner.”

“Nor is that the cause of our misfortunes,” said Muller; “the want of one ruler has not produced them, and it is not so bad that we have not got but one neck, and cannot consequently be struck down at one blow. The fault, on the contrary, is our own. If we had a single great man, even though he were neither an emperor nor a king, if he were only a Maurice of Saxony, a Stadtholder of Holland, he would attract the nation in times of danger and distress; it would rally around him and he would stand above it. That we have not such a man is owing to our deplorable system of education, and to the wrong direction which our mode of thinking has taken. Every thing with us has fallen asleep, and we are in a condition of almost hopeless stagnation. The old poetry of fatherland, honor, and heroism, seems to be almost extinct among us; we are asleep, and do not even dream. In order to recover our senses, a conceited tyrant, who will mock us while plundering our pockets, is an indispensable necessity. Providence, perhaps, has destined Bonaparte to become the tyrant who is to awaken Germany from its slumber by means of cruelties; he is, perhaps, to revive among the Germans love of honor, liberty, and country; he is, perhaps, to be the scourge that is to torture us, so that we may overcome our indolence, and that our true national spirit may be aroused. I hope the tyrant will accomplish this, and deliver Germany. God knows I would not like to serve him, but to the liberators of the world I should willingly devote my ideas and my feelings, nay, my blood.[126]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., pp. 39, 40. Then let us hope, wait, and prepare. Let us not occupy ourselves with Germany as it might be, perhaps, in its unity, but with Germany as it CAN be with its confederate system. The Germans are not qualified, like the English or French, to live in a single great state. The climate, their organization, that miserable beer, the insignificant participation in the commerce of the world, prevent it; the somewhat phlegmatic body of the state must have an independent life in each of its parts; the circulation issuing from a single head would be too imperceptible. We must be satisfied with the glory which a Joseph, a Frederick the Great, and the enthusiasm of the whole people gave to us, and if the next struggle should terminate successfully, will give to us to the greatest extent.[127]Ibid., vol. vii., p. 46.
(“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., pp. 39, 40.) We must struggle on for the welfare of the entire people, and the individuals should unite into one great harmonious whole. Like myself, you consider concord between Austria and Prussia at present the only remedy for the ills of Germany; let us, therefore, strive for it, let us direct our whole strength to this point, to this goal.”

“Yes, let us do so!” exclaimed Gentz, enthusiastically. “We are both destined and able to be the champions of Germany; let us fulfil our task. No matter how much greater, how much more exalted and brilliant your name may be than mine, for my part I am proud enough to believe that I have certain talents which ought to unite our political efforts. Hence, you cannot and must not reject and neglect me; you must accept the hand which I offer you for this great and holy compact, for the welfare of Germany. We must keep up an active and uninterrupted correspondence with each other, and freely and unreservedly communicate to each other our views about the great questions of the day. It seems to me wise, necessary, and truly patriotic that such men as we should hold timely consultations with each other as to what should be done, and how, where, and by whom it should be done. The wholesome influence we may exert, stationed by fate as one of us is in Berlin, and the other in Vienna, by faithfully uniting our efforts, will be truly incalculable. Now say, my friend, will you conclude such a covenant with me? Shall we unite in our active love for Germany in our active hatred against France?”

“Yes, we will!” exclaimed Johannes Muller, solemnly. “I truly love and venerate you; I will struggle with you incessantly until we have reached our common noble goal. Here is my hand, my friend; its grasp shall be the consecration of our covenant. Perhaps you do not know me very intimately, but we must believe in each other. All our studies, all our intellectual strength, our connections, our friendships, every thing shall be devoted to that one great object, for the sake of which alone, so long as it may yet be accomplished, life is not to be disdained.”[128]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. vii., p. 40.

“Yes, be it so,” said Gentz, joyfully. “The covenant is concluded, and may God bless it for the welfare of Germany!”

A new era had dawned for France! On the eighteenth of May, 1804, she had changed her title and commenced a new epoch of her existence.

On the eighteenth of May, 1804, the French Republic had ceased to exist, for on that day Bonaparte, the First Consul, had become Napoleon, the first Emperor of France. There was no more talk of liberty, equality, and fraternity. France had again a master—a master who was firmly determined to transform the proud republicans into obedient subjects, and to restore law and order if necessary by means of tyranny. Woe to those who wanted to remember old republican France under the new state of affairs; woe to those who called Napoleon Bonaparte the assassin of the republic, and wished to punish him for his criminal conduct! George Cadoudal and Pichegru had to atone with their lives for such audacious attempts, and Moreau, Bonaparte’s great rival, was banished from his country.

Woe to those, too, who hoped that the old royal throne of the fleur-de-lis would take the place of the dying republic! the royalists as well as the republicans were punished as traitors to their country, and the Duke d’Enghien was executed in the ditch of Vincennes because he had dared to approach the frontier of his country. Sentence of death had been passed upon him without a trial, without judgment and law; and even the tears and prayers of Josephine had been unable to soften Bonaparte’s heart. The son of the Bourbons had to die the death of a traitor, that the son of the Corsican lawyer might become Emperor of France.

Europe was no longer strong enough to punish this bloody deed; it was not even courageous enough to denounce it and to ask the First Consul, Bonaparte, by virtue of what right he had ordered his soldiers in the midst of peace to enter a German state in order to arrest there the guest of a German prince like a common felon, and to have him executed for a crime which was never proved against him. The sense of honor and justice seemed entirely extinct in Germany, and the princes and people of Germany were solely actuated by the all-absorbing fear lest powerful France might assume a hostile attitude toward them.

Not a voice, therefore, was raised in Germany in favor of the Duke d’Enghien, and against a violation of the German territory, directly conflicting with the existing treaties and the tenets of international law. The German Diet, upon whom it was incumbent to maintain the honor and rights of all the German states, received the news of this bloody deed in silence, and were only too glad that none of the members of the empire arose in order to complain of the proceedings of France. It was deemed most prudent to pass over the matter, and to accept what could not be helped as an accomplished fact.

But from this lazy quiet they were suddenly startled by the warnings of Russia and Sweden, who, having warranted the maintenance of the constitution of the German empire, now raised their voices, and loudly and emphatically pointed out “the danger which would arise for every single German state if Germany should allow measures to be taken which threatened her quiet and safety, and if deeds of violence should be deemed admissible or be passed over without being duly denounced.”[129]Vide Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 518.

A sudden panic seized the German Diet, for these Russian and Swedish voices rendered further silence out of the question. The Diet were, therefore, compelled to speak out, to complain, and to demand an apology and redress, for Russia and Sweden required it, by virtue of their relation to the empire; foreign powers required the German Diet, much to its dismay, to maintain and defend the honor of Germany.

But the Diet dared not listen to them, for France asked them to be silent; it threatened to consider any word of censure as a declaration of war. The ministers of the German princes, greatly embarrassed by their position between those equally imperious parties, found a way not to irritate either, and to maintain their silence and impartiality; they DESERTED! That is to say, the German Diet, suddenly, and long before the usual time, took a recess, a long recess, and when the latter had at length expired, the unpleasant affair was not taken up, and the Diet considered a more important question of the day.[130]同上，第。 525。
(Vide Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 518.) This more important question was to congratulate France on having elected an emperor, who, as the Austrian minister said, at a meeting of the Diet, “was so precious to all Europe, and by whose accession to the throne his colleagues could only feel honored.”

The Diet had been silent about the assassination of the Duke d’Enghien, but they spoke out and proffered their congratulations when Bonaparte had become emperor, and they pretended to be glad to hail him as the founder of a new dynasty.

Napoleon Bonaparte, therefore, had now attained his object; he had reestablished the throne in France; he had placed a crown on his head. More fortunate than Caesar, he had met with no Brutus at the steps of his throne, but had ascended it without being hindered, amidst the acclamations of France, which called him her emperor; amidst the acclamations of Italy, which called him her king, and had willingly cast aside her title of Cisalpine Republic in order to become the kingdom of Lombardy, and to adorn Napoleon at Milan with the iron crown of the old Lombard sovereigns.

Napoleon had just returned to France from this coronation at Milan, and repaired to the vast camp at Boulogne, where an army comprising a hundred and fifty thousand infantry and ninety thousand cavalry, eager for the fray, were waiting for the word of Napoleon which was to call them forth to new struggles and new victories.

The immense rows of the soldiers’ tents extended far across the plain and along the sea-shore, and in the centre of this city of tents, on the spot where lately the traces of a camp of Julius Caesar had been discovered, there arose the emperor’s tent, looking out on the ocean, on the shore of which the ships and gunboats of France were moored, while the immense forest of the masts and flags of the British fleet was to be seen in the distance.

But this forest of British masts did not frighten the French army; the soldiers, as well as the sailors, were eager for the fray, and looked with fiery impatience for the moment when the emperor would at length raise his voice and utter the longed-for words: “On to England! Let us vanquish England as we have vanquished the whole of Europe!”

No one doubted that the emperor purposed to utter these words, and that this camp of Boulogne, this fleet manned with soldiers and bristling with guns, were solely intended against England, the hereditary foe of France.

The emperor, however, hesitated to utter those decisive words. He distributed among the soldiers the first crosses of the Legion of Honor; he drilled the troops; he accepted the festivals and balls which the city of Boulogne gave in his honor; he stood for hours on the sea-shore or on the tower of his barrack, and with his spy-glass looked out on the sea and over to the English ships; but his lips did not open to utter the decisive words; the schemes which filled his breast and clouded his brow were a secret, the solution of which was looked for with equal impatience by his generals and by his soldiers.

It was a delightful morning; a cool breeze swept from the sea through the tents of the camp, and, after the preceding spell of debilitating hot weather, exerted a most refreshing and invigorating effect upon the languishing soldiers. The sun which had scorched every thing for the last few days, was to-day gently veiled by small, whitish clouds, which, far on the horizon, seemed to arise, like swans, from the sea toward the sky, and to hasten with outspread wings toward the sun.

The emperor, whom the warm weather of the last few days had prevented from riding out, ordered his horse to be brought to him. He wished to make a trip to the neighboring villages, but no one was to accompany him except Roustan, his colored servant.

In front of the emperor’s barrack there stood, however, all the generals and staff-officers, all the old comrades of Napoleon, the men who had shared his campaigns and his glory, who had joyfully recognized the great chieftain as their emperor and master, and who wished to do him homage to-day, as they were in the habit of doing every morning so soon as he left his barrack. Napoleon, however, saluted them to-day only with a silent wave of his hand and an affable smile. He seemed pensive and absorbed, and no one dared to disturb him by a sound, by a word. Amid the solemn stillness of this brilliant gathering, the emperor walked to his horse, who, less timid and respectful than the men, greeted his master with a loud neigh and a nodding of the head, and commenced impatiently stamping on the ground.[131]Napoleon’s favorite horse, who always manifested in this manner his delight on seeing his illustrious master.—Constant, vol. ii., p. 81.

The emperor took the bridle which Roustan handed to him and vaulted into the saddle. He raised his sparkling eye toward the sky and then lowered it to the sea with its rocking ships.

“I will review the fleet to-day,” said the emperor, turning to his adjutant-general. “Let orders be issued to the ships forming the closing line to change position, for I will hold the review in the open sea. I shall return in two hours; let every thing be in readiness at that time.”

He set spurs to his horse and galloped away, followed by Roustan. His generals dispersed in order to return to their barracks. The adjutant-general, however, hastened to Admiral Bruix for the purpose of delivering the orders of the emperor to him.

The admiral listened to him silently and attentively; and then he raised his eyes to the sky and scanned it long and searchingly.

“It is impossible,” he said, shrugging his shoulders; “the orders of the emperor cannot be carried out to-day; the review cannot take place. We shall have a storm to-day, which will prevent the ships from leaving their moorings.”

“Admiral,” said the adjutant, respectfully, “I have delivered the orders of the emperor to you; I have informed you that the emperor wishes that every thing should be ready for the review on his return, within two hours. Now you know very well that the wish of the emperor is always equivalent to an order, and you will make your preparations accordingly.”

“In two hours I shall have the honor personally to state to his majesty the reasons why I was unable to comply with his orders,” said Admiral Bruix, with his wonted composure and coolness.

Precisely two hours later the emperor returned from his ride. The generals and staff-officers, the whole, brilliant suite of the emperor, stood again in front of his barrack, in order to receive the returning sovereign.

Napoleon greeted them with a pleasant smile; the ride seemed to have agreed with him; the cloud had disappeared from his brow; his cheeks, generally so pale, were suffused with a faint blush, and his flaming eyes bad a kind glance for every one.

He dismounted with graceful ease, and stepped with kind salutations into the circle of the generals.

“Well, Leclerc, is every thing ready for the review?” he asked his adjutant.

General Leclerc approached him respectfully. “Sire,” he said, “Admiral Bruix, to whom I delivered the orders of your majesty, replied to me that the review could not take place to-day because there would be a storm.”

The emperor frowned, and an angry flash from his eyes met the face of the adjutant.

“I must have misunderstood you, sir.” he said. “What did the admiral reply when you delivered my orders to him?”

“Sire, he said it was impossible to carry them out, for a storm was drawing near, and he could not think of ordering the ships to leave their moorings.”

The emperor stamped violently his foot. “Let Admiral Bruix be called hither at once!” he exclaimed, in a thundering voice, and two orderlies immediately left the circle and hastened away.

Several minutes elapsed; Napoleon, his arms folded, his threatening eyes steadfastly turned toward the side on which the admiral would make his appearance, still stood in front of his barrack, in the midst of his suite. His eagle eye now discovered the admiral in the distance, who had just left his boat and stepped ashore. No longer able to suppress his impatience and anger, Napoleon hastened forward to meet the admiral, while the gentlemen of his staff followed him in a long and silent procession.

The emperor and the admiral now stood face to face. Napoleon’s eyes flashed fire.

“Admiral,” exclaimed the emperor, in an angry voice, “why did not you carry out my orders?”

The admiral met Napoleon’s wrathful glance in a calm though respectful manner. “Sire,” he said, “a terrible storm is drawing near. Your majesty can see it just as well as I. Do you want to endanger unnecessarily the lives of so many brave men?”

And as if Nature wanted to confirm the words of the admiral, the distant roll of thunder was heard, and the atmosphere commenced growing dark.

Napoleon, however, seemed not to see it, or the calm voice of the admiral and the rolling thunder, perhaps, excited his pride to an even more obstinate resistance.

“Admiral,” he replied, sternly, “I have issued my orders. I ask you once more why did not you carry them out? The consequences concern only myself. Obey, therefore!”

“Sire,” he said, solemnly, “I shall not obey!”

“Sir, you are an impudent fellow!” ejaculated Napoleon, and, advancing a step toward the admiral, he menacingly raised the hand in which he still held his riding-whip.

Admiral Bruix drew back a step and laid his hand on his sword. A terrible pause ensued. The emperor still stood there, the riding-whip in his uplifted hand, fixing his flaming, angry eyes on the admiral, who maintained his threatening, manly attitude, and, with his hand on his sword, awaited the emperor’s attack. The generals and staff-officers, pale with dismay, formed a circle around them.

The emperor suddenly dropped his riding-whip; Admiral Bruix immediately withdrew his hand from his sword, and, taking off his hat, he awaited the end of the dreadful scene in profound silence.

“Rear-Admiral Magou,” said the emperor, calling one of the gentlemen of his suite, “cause the movements I had ordered to be carried out at once: As for you,” he continued, slowly turning his eyes toward the admiral, “you will leave Boulogne within twenty-four hours and retire to Holland. Begone!”

He turned around hastily and walked toward his barrack. Admiral Bruix looked after him with an aggrieved air, and then turned also around in order to go. While walking through the crowd of generals and staff-officers, he offered his hand to his friends and acquaintances in order to take leave of them; but few of them, however, saw it, and shook hands with him; most of them had averted their eyes from the admiral, whom the sun of imperial favor did not illuminate any longer, and who consequently was so entirely cast in the shade, that they were unable to perceive him.

Rear-Admiral Magou had in the mean time carried out the orders of the emperor. The ships which before had been at anchor near the outlet of the harbor, keeping it entirely closed, had moved farther into the sea, while the other vessels in the harbor were going out.

But Admiral Bruix’s prediction began already to be fulfilled; the sky was covered with black clouds from which lightning was bursting forth in rapid succession. The thunder of the heavens drowned the roar of the sea, which arose like a huge, black monster, hissing and howling, and fell back again from its height, covered with foam, and opened abysses into which the ships seemed to sink in order to be hurled up again by the next wave. The storm, with its dismal yells, attacked the masts and broke them as though they were straws, and lashed the ships, which had already left the harbor, out into the sea, to certain ruin, to certain death.

The emperor had left his barrack and hurried down to the beach with rapid steps. With folded arms and lowered head, gloomy and musing, he walked up and down in the storm. He was suddenly aroused from his meditations by loud screams, by exclamations of terror and dismay.

Twenty gunboats, which the rear-admiral had already caused to be manned with sailors and soldiers, had been driven ashore by the storm, and the waves which swept over them with thundering noise menaced the crews with certain death. Their cries for help, their shrieks and supplications were distinctly heard and reechoed by the wails and lamentations of the masses that had hastened to the beach in order to witness the storm and the calamities of the shipwreck. The emperor looked at his generals and staff-officers who surrounded him, dumbfounded with horror; he saw that no one had the courage or deemed it feasible to assist the poor drowning men. All at once the gloomy air vanished from his face, it became radiant with enthusiasm; the emperor was transformed once more into a hero, daring every thing, and shrinking back from no danger.

He immediately entered one of the life-boats and pushing back the arms of those who wished to detain him, he exclaimed in an almost jubilant voice: “Let me go, let me go! We must assist those unhappy men!”

But his frail bark was speedily filled with water; the waves swept over it with a wild roar, and covered the whole form of the emperor with foaming, hissing spray. He still kept himself erect by dint of almost superhuman efforts; but now another even more terrible wave approached and swept, thundering and with so much violence over the bark, that the emperor, reeling and losing his equilibrium, was about falling overboard, when his generals dragged him from the boat and took him ashore. He followed them unhesitatingly, stunned as he was by the wave, and as he stepped ashore, a flash burst forth from the cloud; a majestic thunder-clap followed; the howling storm tore the hat from the emperor’s head and carried it, as if on invisible wings, high into the air and then far out into the sea where the waves seemed to receive it with roars of exultation, driving it down to their foaming depth.

But the courageous example given by the emperor had exerted an electric effect on the masses which heretofore had apparently been stupefied with horror. Every one now felt and recognized it to be his sacred duty to make efforts for the rescue of the unfortunate men who were still struggling with the waves and shouting for help; officers, soldiers, sailors, and citizens, all rushed into the life-boats or plunged into the sea in order to swim up to the drowning men and save them in time from a watery grave.

But the sea was not willing to surrender many of its victims. It wanted, perhaps, to prove its superior divine majesty to the imperial ruler which had defied it, and punish him for his presumption.

Only a few were rescued, for the storm did not abate during the whole day; it lashed up the sea into waves mountain-high, or opened abysses frightful to behold. Night finally descended on the angry waters and spread its black pall over the scene of death and despair.

In the morning the beach was covered with hundreds of corpses which the sea had thrown ashore. An enormous crowd thronged the shore; every one came to look with fainting heart and loud lamentations among the mute, pale corpses for a husband, a friend, or a brother; shrieks and wails filled the air and even penetrated to the emperor’s barracks.

He had not slept during the whole night; he had been pacing his rooms, restless, with a gloomy air and pale cheeks: now, early in the morning, he once more hastened down to the beach. Thousands of persons, however, had preceded him thither. When they beheld the emperor they stepped gloomily aside; they did not receive him, as heretofore, with loud exultation and joyful acclamations; they looked at him with a reproachful air, and then turned their eyes in mute eloquence to the corpses lying in the sand.

The emperor was unable to bear the silence of the crowd and the sight of these corpses; pale and shuddering, he turned away and walked back to his barrack slowly and with lowered head. But he did not fail to hear the murmurs of the crowd which had only been silent so long as it had seen his face, and which, now that he had turned away, gave free vent to its grief and indignation.

The emperor heard painful sighs when he reached his barrack, and sent immediately for Roustan, in order to give him secret instructions. Thanks to these instructions, Roustan’s agents hastened all day through the city of Boulogne and through the camp for the purpose of distributing money in the name of the emperor wherever persons were lamenting and weeping, or where gloomy glances and mourners were to be met with, thus allaying their grief by means of the shining magic metal which heals all wounds and dries all tears.

The emperor, however, had still a more effectual charm for allaying the indignation of the crowd, or at least for stirring up again the jubilant enthusiasm of his soldiers.

Telegraphic dispatches of the highest importance had reached the camp; courier after courier had followed them. The emperor assembled all his generals in the council-chamber of his barrack, and when they left it, after a consultation of several hours, the rumor spread through the camp that the emperor would now at length utter those longed-for words and lead his army to new struggles, to new victories.

These joyful tidings spread like wildfire among the troops; every one hailed them with a radiant face and merry glances. Every one saw himself on the eve of fresh honors and spoils, and only asked whither the victorious course of the emperor would be directed this time—whether to England, which constantly seemed to menace France with its forest of masts, or whether to Austria, whose hostile friendship might have been distrusted.

The emperor had not yet spoken the decisive words to any member of his suite, but he had sent for the grand-marshal of the palace and ordered him to hold every thing in readiness for his departure; to settle all accounts and bills against the emperor, and to beware on this occasion of not paying too much to any one.

On the day after receiving these orders, the grand-marshal, without being announced, appeared before the emperor, who was in the council-chamber of his barrack, engaged in studying attentively the maps spread out on the large table before him.

Napoleon only looked up for a moment, and then continued to stick pins into the maps, thus designating the route which his army was to take.

“Well, Duroc,” he asked, “is every thing ready for our departure? Have all bills been paid?”

“Sire, they are all paid except one, and I must dare to disturb your majesty in relation to this one bill.”

“I suppose it is very high and fraudulent?” asked the emperor, hastily. With these words he rose and approached the grand-marshal.

“Sire,” said the latter, “I do not know whether it is fraudulent or not, but it is very high. It is the bill of Military Intendant Sordi, who built this barrack, and to whom its fitting up had been intrusted.”

“Well, how much does he charge for it?” asked Napoleon.

“Sire, he asks fifty thousand francs.”

“Fifty thousand francs!” exclaimed Napoleon, almost in terror. “I hope you have not paid this impudent bill?”

“No, sire, I have not; on the contrary, I requested M. Sordi to reduce the sum.”

“And he has done so, of course?” exclaimed Napoleon, gloomily. “Just like these men. They ask us to confide in them, and yet they try on every occasion to cheat us. How much did he deduct from his bill?”

“Nothing at all, sire. M. Sordi asserts that he did not charge too much for a single article; he was unable, therefore, to make even the slightest deduction.”

“And so you have paid the bill?”

“No, sire, I said that I could not pay it until your majesty had given me express orders to do so.”

“Well done,” said the emperor, nodding to him. “Send word to the military intendant that I want to see him immediately. I wish to talk to him myself.”

The grand-marshal withdrew, and Napoleon returned to his maps. He continued to mark them with long rows of pins, and to draw circles and straight lines on them.

“If the Austrians are bold enough to advance,” he said to himself, in a low voice, “I shall beat them in the open field; should they remain stationary and wait for me to attack them, I shall inflict upon them a crushing defeat at Ulm. It is time for me to make these overbearing Germans feel the whole weight of my wrath, and, as they have spurned my friendship, to crush them by my enmity. That little Emperor of Austria dares to menace me; I shall prove to him that menacing me is bringing about one’s own ruin. I shall assemble my forces here in this plain, and here—”

“Sire, the military intendant, M. de Sordi, whom your majesty has ordered to appear before you,” said the emperor’s aide-de-camp, opening the door of the council-chamber.

“Let him come in,” ejaculated Napoleon, without averting his eyes from the map.

The aide-de-camp retired, and the tall, powerful form of Intendant Sordi appeared in the door. His face was pale, but calm; his features indicated boldness and a fixed purpose; he was evidently conscious of the importance of the present moment, and felt that it would decide his whole future.

The emperor continued scanning his maps. M. de Sordi stood at the door, waiting for the emperor to address him. When he saw that the latter tarried very long, he advanced a step, and, as if accidentally, pushed against the chair standing at his side.

The noise aroused Napoleon from his meditation, and reminded him of the person he had sent for.

He therefore hastily turned around to him. “Sir,” he said, “you have spent a great deal too much money for the decoration of this miserable barrack; yes, indeed, a great deal too much. Fifty thousand francs! What do you mean, sir? That is frightful; I shall not pay that sum!”

M. de Sordi met the flaming glances of the emperor with smiling calmness.

“Sire,” he said, lifting up his hand and pointing at the ceiling, “I may truthfully say that the clouds of gold brocade adorning the ceiling of this room, and surrounding the propitious star of your majesty, have cost alone not less than twenty-five thousand francs. Had I consulted, however, the hearts of your subjects, the imperial eagle, which now again will crush the enemies of France and of your throne, would have spread out its wings amidst the most magnificent and precious diamonds.”[132]The ceiling of the room was decorated with golden clouds, amidst which, on a blue ground, was an eagle, holding a thunderbolt, and pointing it at a star, the star of the emperor.—Constant, vol. i., p. 246.

Napoleon smiled. “Very well,” he said; “you believe the hearts of my subjects to be very prodigal. I am not, however, and I repeat to you I shall not pay that sum now. But as you tell me that this eagle, which costs so much money, will crush the Austrians, you will doubtless wait until it has done so, and then I will pay your bill with the rix-dollars of the Emperor of Germany and the Fredericks d’or of the King of Prussia.”[133]Napoleon’s own words.—Constant, vol. i., p. 246.

He dismissed him smilingly with a wave of his hand, and returned to his maps.

A few hours later Napoleon, followed by all his generals and adjutants, repaired to the camp. Ascending a small mound, specially prepared for the occasion, he surveyed with radiant eyes the surging, motley, and brilliant sea of soldiers who surrounded him on all sides, and who greeted his appearance with thundering shouts of exultation.

A wave of his hand commanded them to be still, and, as if fascinated by a magician’s wand, the roaring masses grew dumb, and profound silence ensued. Amidst this silence, Napoleon raised his clear, ringing-voice, and its sonorous notes swept like eagle-wings over the sea of soldiers.

“Brave soldiers of the camp of Boulogne,” he said, “you will not go to England. The gold of the English government has seduced the Emperor of Austria, and he has again declared war against France. His army has crossed the line of demarcation assigned to it, and inundated Bavaria. Soldiers, fresh laurels are awaiting you beyond the Rhine; let us hasten to vanquish once more enemies whom we have already vanquished. On to Germany!”[134]Napoleon’s own words.—Constant, vol. i., p. 282.

“On to Germany!” shouted the soldiers, jubilantly. “On to Germany!” was repeated from mouth to mouth, and even the sea seemed to roar with delight and its waves, thundering against the beach, to shout, “On to Germany!”

The Emperor of France with his army had crossed the boundaries of Germany. He had come to assist his ally, the Elector of Bavaria, against the Austrians who had invaded Bavaria; not, however, in order to menace Bavaria, but, as an autograph letter from the Emperor Francis to the elector expressly stated, to secure a more extended and better protected position.

The Elector of Bavaria, Maximilian Joseph, had declared, in a submissive letter to the Austrian emperor, that he was perfectly willing to let the Austrian regiments encamp within his dominions. “I pledge my word as a sovereign to your majesty.” he had written to the Emperor of Germany, “that I shall not hinder the operations of your army in any manner whatever, and if, what is improbable, however, your majesty should be obliged to retreat with your army, I promise and swear that I shall remain quiet and support your projects in every respect. But I implore your majesty on my knees to permit me graciously to maintain the strictest neutrality. It is a father, driven to despair by anguish and care, who implores your majesty’s mercy in favor of his child. My son is just now travelling in southern France. If I should be obliged to send my troops into the field against France my son would be lost, and the fate of the Duke d’Enghien would be in store for him, too; if I should, however, remain quietly and peaceably in my states, I should gain time for my son to return from France.”[135]“Memoires sur l’Intereor du Palais de Napoleon,” by De Bausset, vol. i., p. 59.

But on the same day, and with the same pen, on which the ink with which he had written to the Emperor of Germany was not yet dry, the elector had also written to the Emperor of France and informed him “that he was ready to place himself under his protection, that he would be proud to become the ally of France, and that he would thenceforward lay himself and his army at the feet of the great and august Emperor of France.”

And the courier who was to deliver the letter with the sacred pledges of neutrality to the Emperor of Germany, had not yet reached Vienna when the Elector of Bavaria secretly fled from Munich to Wurzburg, where his army of twenty-five thousand men was waiting for him.

He sent his army, commanded by General Deroy, to meet the Emperor of the French; it was not to attack him as the enemy of Germany, but to hail him as an ally and to place itself under his direction. He then issued a proclamation.

“We have separated from Austria,” he said, “from Austria, who wanted to ensnare and annihilate us by her perfidious schemes, and to compel us to fight at her side for foreign interests; from Austria, the hereditary foe of our house and of our independence, who is just now going to make another attempt to devour Bavaria, and degrade her to the position of an Austrian province. But the Emperor of the French, Bavaria’s natural ally, hastened to the rescue with his brave warriors, in order to avenge you; your sons will soon fight at the side of men accustomed to victory; soon, soon the day of retribution will be at hand.”[136]Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 611.

Thanks to the hatred of the Germans against their German brethren, thanks to the hatred of the Bavarians against the Austrians, this proclamation had been received with joyful acclamations throughout the whole state, and Bavaria felt proud and happy that she should fight under the Emperor of the French, her “natural ally,” against the Emperor of Germany.

The French army was drawn up in line in the plain near Nordlingen, in order to solemnly receive its German auxiliaries. They were the first German troops that Napoleon had gained over to his side, and therefore he wished to welcome them pompously and with all honors. Amidst the jubilant notes of all the bands of the French army, amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the French soldiers, the Bavarians marched into the French camp. The emperor, in full uniform, surrounded by all his generals, welcomed General Deroy and the Bavarian officers; accompanied by a wave of his sword, he said to them:

“I have placed myself at the head of my army in order to deliver your country, for the house of Austria intends to annihilate your independence. You will follow the example of your ancestors, who constantly preserved that independence and political existence which are the first blessings of a nation. I know your valor, and am sure that I shall be able after the first battle to say to your sovereign and to my people, that you are worthy to fight in the ranks of the grand army.”

The Bavarian soldiers hailed this proud address with the same exultation with which the Bavarian people had received the proclamation of the elector; and never had the French soldiers manifested greater enthusiasm for their chieftain and emperor than did these German soldiers, the first German auxiliaries of the emperor.

Napoleon received their jubilant shouts with a gracious smile.

“Duroc,” he said, turning to his friend and comrade, who was riding at his side—“Duroc, listen to what I am going to say to you. The Germans are not good patriots; they are capable of loving the conqueror of their country just as well as their legitimate sovereign. Even at the time of Julius Caesar there was no harmony among the Germans; and while Arminius opposed the Romans heroically, Segestes declared in favor of them. If, as a modern Julius Caesar, I should wish to conquer Germany, I believe I should find there no Arminius, but certainly many Segesteses.”

“But, perhaps, a few Thusneldas, sire,” said Duroc, laughing; “and your majesty knows full well that it was Thusnelda, after all, who filled her husband with so undying a hatred against the Romans.”

“And the son of Thusnelda became a prisoner of the Romans!” exclaimed Napoleon; “he became a miserable slave of the Romans, and preferred a life of humiliation and disgrace to an honorable death. The Germans are great talkers; they are always ready to fight with their tongues for the honor of their country, but they do not like to die for it. But who are the Thusneldas with whom you threatened me? Did you allude to Queen Caroline of Naples, the daughter of Maria Theresa?”

“Oh, no, sire; she is no longer a German, but an Italian intriguer—a—”

“She is, as I told her own ambassador in Milan, a modern Athalia, a daughter of Jezebel,” said Napoleon, interrupting him vehemently. “But patience, patience, I shall punish her for her bitter hatred and intrigues.”

“Sire, it was in your power to receive ardent love at the hands of Queen Caroline, instead of her hatred, which is, perhaps, nothing but concealed love. I suppose your majesty knows what the queen said only a few years ago to the French minister?”

“No, I do not, or perhaps I have only forgotten it,” replied Napoleon, carelessly. “Did she want to make a postillon d’amour of him?”

“Nearly so, sire. She told him she would willingly travel four hundred leagues in order to see General Bonaparte. She added that you were the only great man in the world, and none but idiots were seated at the present time on all the thrones of Europe.”[137]Queen Caroline actually said this to the French minister.

“A very flattering remark for her husband and for her nephew, the Emperor of Austria,” said Napoleon. “She referred, however, only to those who are seated on thrones, but the tender queen has been able to discover a few real men by the side of her husband’s throne. I have never hankered after becoming the rival of Acton and Nelson. I do not like passionate and ambitious women. They must be gentle and charming like Josephine if they are to please me.”

“I wish the empress were here and able to hear your words,” exclaimed Duroc.

“Does she again doubt my constancy?” asked Napoleon, quickly. “Have my brothers again frightened her by threats of a divorce? Let her be reassured, I do not think of a separation from her, and all the Thusneldas of Germany cannot become dangerous to me. But you have not yet told me the names of those Thusneldas. Let me hear them.”

“Sire, first there is the beautiful Queen of Prussia. She is said to be a bitter enemy of France.”

“Yes, a bitter enemy of MINE!” exclaimed Napoleon, with a gloomy and threatening glance; “a short-sighted woman, who does not see that she will ruin her good-natured, weak, and irresolute husband if she carries him along with her on this path of hostility and hatred. She will repent one day having scorned my friendship, for, if she succeeds in gaining her husband over to an alliance with Russia, I shall be inexorable, and mercilessly trample the whole vacillating and fickle Prussia in the dust. And do you still know of another Thusnelda?”

“Yes, sire; it is the wife of the Elector Frederick of Wurtemberg, who is also said to have filled her husband with ardent hatred against France, and with fervent patriotism for Germany. The elector and electress are reported to have taken a solemn oath in the presence of their whole court never to bow or submit to France, and never to prove recreant to the interests of Germany.”

“I shall compel them to believe that the interests of Germany require them to bow to France and to become our allies!” exclaimed Napoleon, proudly. “The electress of Wurtemberg is a daughter of George the Third of England, a daughter of my mortal enemy; hence, she shall bow to me or feel my power and my wrath. The time for hesitation and procrastination is over. I want to have my friends at my side and my enemies opposite me. Let the German princes choose whether they will go with France against Austria, their common despot, or whether, like Austria, they wished to be conquered by France! We shall see which side Wurtemberg will espouse, for Ney is already with his corps on the road to Stuttgart, and in the course of a few days I shall pay a visit to the elector and electress at their own palace.”

And a few days later Napoleon really kept his word: he paid a visit to the elector and electress at Louisburg, after Ney had compelled the government of Wurtemberg to open the gates of Stuttgart to his troops.

The elector received the emperor at the foot of the palace staircase, where only an hour ago he had assured his courtiers he would not receive the upstart Napoleon as an equal and shake hands with him; but as Napoleon now saluted him with a kind nod, and gave him his hand, the elector bowed so deeply and respectfully that it almost looked as if he wished to kiss the small, white, imperial hand which he had seized so joyfully and reverentially.[138]“Memoirs of General de Wolzogen,” p. 24.

The electress, who entered at the side of her husband, received the emperor in the large and brilliant throne-room of the palace. Her face was pale and gloomy when she bowed ceremoniously to the hereditary foe of her house, and not the faintest tinge of a smile was to be seen on her lips when she replied to the emperor’s address.

Napoleon’s face, however, was strangely mild and winning to-day, and yet radiant with dignity and grandeur. It was the face of a conqueror who does not intend to treat those whom he has subjugated with arrogance and rigor, but desires to win their affection by gentleness and love. Hence, his eyes had only mild and kind glances, and on his finely-formed lips there was playing that smile which the Empress Josephine said was the sunbeam of his face, and irresistible to any woman.

Nor was the electress able to withstand this smile and this kind bearing of Napoleon. She had expected to find in the emperor an ardent enemy of her native England, and he now paid a glowing and eloquent tribute to the English, to their country, to their institutions and character. Napoleon had been described to her as a barbarian, taking interest only in warfare and every thing connected with it; and now she found him to be an admirer of the English poets, and heard him expatiate enthusiastically on Ossian, some of whose most magnificent verses he recited to her in a French translation.

The stern features of the electress gradually began to relax; the smile gradually returned to her lips, and she bent her proud head more graciously to the “upstart” Napoleon.

“Oh, sire!” she exclaimed, joyfully, and for the first time she did not avoid addressing him with the title due to his rank—“oh, sire, he who admires the English poets so enthusiastically cannot possibly be an enemy of England!”

“I am not by any means,” said Napoleon, smiling; “I know no enmity whatever; peace is the sole aim of my efforts, and I believe Fate has sent me to mankind for the purpose of establishing eternal peace. It is true, I have to conquer peace by wars and commotions, but I shall conquer it, and you, princess, you and your husband must help me to do so. I intrust to your hands a noble task, which the high-minded and proud daughter of England is worthy of, and the German elector will not hinder the noble endeavors of his wife, especially as the honor and welfare of Germany are at stake.”

“I am ready and willing to do for Germany what I can, and whatever your majesty may command me to do,” exclaimed the elector. “Will your majesty now tell me what I must do?”

“You must conclude an alliance with France, in order to save Germany,” said the emperor, almost sternly.

“Sire, I have not the power to conclude such an alliance—I am unable to do so,” said the elector, sighing.

“Your state can if you cannot,” said Napoleon, quickly.

“But the representatives of my people will not consent.”

“I shall protect you against these representatives of your people. You will tell them, besides, that you have saved Wurtemberg by becoming my ally. For he who is not for me is against me, and I shall annihilate those who are against me, and their states shall fall to ruin. Those, however, who are for me I shall elevate, and it seems to me I see already a royal crown on the noble brow of the electress. I suppose,” asked Napoleon, turning again with a smile toward the electress, “your royal highness would not be dissatisfied if you should become the queen of your people; it would be agreeable to you to be called ‘your majesty,’ and if it were only because it would remind you in so pleasant a manner of your royal parents who are addressed with the same title?”

“Oh, sire,” exclaimed the electress, with radiant eyes, and unable to conceal her joy—“oh, sire, you are right, it would remind me most pleasantly of my paternal home and of England.”

“But would not a royal crown crush my state which is too small for it?” asked the elector.

“Well, we shall enlarge it so as to render it able and worthy to support a royal crown,” exclaimed Napoleon, hastily. “I believe I shall have the power and opportunity to bestow on my ally, the elector of Wurtemberg, some aggrandizements in Germany to compensate and reward him for the auxiliaries which he is to furnish to me. Besides, your task is a truly grand one. You shall assist me in subduing Austria, that arrogant Austria which would like to treat all Germany as her property, and who considers all German princes as her servants and vassals.”

“You are right,” said the elector, vehemently; “Austria constantly endeavors to meddle with my prerogatives in an unbecoming and arrogant manner. She would like to degrade us to the position of vassals who must always be ready to obey their emperor, but who, when they are themselves in danger, never can count on the assistance and support of their emperor.”

“Let us, then, dispel Austria’s illusion as though she were your master,” said Napoleon, smiling. “Become my ally, and believe me, we shall have the power to teach the Emperor of Austria to respect the KING of Wurtemberg, my ally. Will you be my ally for that purpose? Will you assist me, as a German prince, in delivering Germany from the yoke Austria has laid around her neck?”

“Sire, I am ready to save Germany with my life-blood!” exclaimed the elector, “and as your majesty has come to deliver Germany from Austria, it would be a crime for any German prince to withhold his assistance from you. Hence, I accept your alliance. Here is my hand! I shall stand by you with my troops and with my honor!”[139]The whole account of this interview is strictly historical. Vide “Memoirs of General de Wolzogen,” and Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii. p. 613. The Elector of Wurtemberg became the third German ally of the French emperor, the Electors of Bavaria and Baden having preceded him. He furnished ten thousand German troops to Napoleon.

The queen sat at the piano, practising one of Reichardt’s new songs which her singing-teacher, the royal concert-master and composer, Himmel, had just brought to her. The queen wore a most brilliant costume, which, however, seemed calculated less for her silent cabinet and for the music-teacher than for a great gala-day and an aristocratic assembly at court. A white satin dress, inter-woven with golden flowers, and closely fitting, according to the fashion of that period, surrounded her noble figure. Her splendid white arms were bare, and her wrists were adorned with two bracelets of gold and precious stones. Her neck and shoulders, showing the noble lines and forms of a Venus of Melos, were uncovered like her arms, and adorned only with jewelry. Her hair, surrounding a forehead of classical beauty in waving masses, was fastened behind in a Grecian knot holding the golden diadem, set with diamonds, which arose on the queen’s head.[140]A portrait, representing the queen precisely in this costume, may be seen at the royal palace in Berlin. A gentle blush mantled her cheeks, and a smile of melancholy and tenderness trembled on her purple lips. She had her hands on the keys, and her eyes were fixed on the music-book before her; but she had suddenly ceased singing in the middle of the piece, and her voice had died away in a long sigh.

Mr. Himmel, the concert-master, stood behind her; he was a man more than forty years of age, with a broad, full face, beaming with health, and a tall and slender form which would have been more fitting for the head of an Apollo than for this head, which reminded the beholder of a buffalo rather than of a god.

When the queen paused, a joyful smile overspread his features, which had hitherto been gloomy and ill at ease. “Your majesty pauses?” he asked, hastily. “Well, I wish your majesty joy of it. That Mr. Reichardt, of Halle, is too sentimental and arrogant a composer, and never should I have dared to lay these new pieces of his before your majesty if you had not asked me to bring you every thing written by Reichardt. Well, you have seen it now; it displeases your majesty, and I am glad of it, for—”

“For,” said the queen, gently interrupting him, “for the great composer Himmel is again jealous of the great composer Reichardt. Is it not so?”

She raised her dark-blue eyes at this question to Himmel’s face, and he saw to his dismay that there were tears in those eyes.

“What!” he asked in terror, “your majesty has wept?”

She nodded in the affirmative, smiling gently. “Yes,” she said, after a pause, “I have wept, and hence I could not continue singing. Do not scold me, do not be angry with me, my dear and stern teacher. This song has moved me profoundly; it is so simple and yet so touching, that it must have come out of the depths of a truly noble heart.”

Mr. Himmel replied only with a low sigh and an almost inaudible murmur, which the queen, however, understood very well.

“Perhaps,” she said, trying gently to heal the jealous pangs of the composer, “perhaps I was so deeply moved by the words rather than by the music; these words are so beautiful that it seems to me Goethe never wrote any thing more beautiful.”

And bending over the music-book, she read in an undertone:

“Wer nie sein Brod mit Thranen ass,
Wer nie die kummervollen Nachte
Auf seinem Bette einsam sass,
Der kennt euch nicht, Ihr himmlischen Machte!”[141]“He who never ate his bread with tears,
He who never, through nights of affliction,
Sat on his lonely bed,
He does not know you, powers of heaven!”

“Say yourself, Mr. Himmel, is not that beautiful and touching?” she asked, looking up again to her teacher.

“Beautiful and touching for those who have wept much and suffered much,” said Himmel, harshly; “but I cannot conceive why these words should touch your majesty, whose whole life has hitherto illuminated the world like an uninterrupted sunny spring morning.”

“Hitherto,” repeated the queen, musingly, “yes, hitherto, indeed, my life was a sunny spring morning, but who is able to fathom what clouds may soon appear on the horizon, and how cloudy and gloomy the evening may be? This song reechoes in my soul like a melancholy foreboding, and clings to its wings as if it wanted to paralyze their flight. ‘He who never ate his bread with tears,’ ah, how mournful it sounds, and what a long story of suffering is contained in these few words!”

The queen paused, and two tears, glistening more beautifully than the diamonds of her golden diadem, slowly ran down her cheeks.

Concert-master Himmel was not courageous enough to interrupt the silence of the queen, or, may be, he had not listened very attentively to her words, and his thoughts perhaps were fixed on matters of an entirely different character, for his air was absent and gloomy; his eyes glanced around the room, but returned continually to the lovely form of the queen.

Suddenly Louisa seemed to arouse herself violently from her gloomy meditation, and after hastily wiping the tears from her eyes she forced herself to smile.

“It is not good to give way to melancholy forebodings,” she said, “particularly in the presence of a stern teacher. We must improve our time in a more useful manner, for time is a very precious thing; and if I had not judiciously profited by my short leisure to-day, I should not have had a single hour to spare for my teacher, for there will be a reception in the palace to-night, and I must previously give audience to several visitors. I have, therefore, made my evening toilet in the afternoon, and thereby gained time to take my dear singing-lesson. But now let us study, so that your pupil may redound to your honor.”

“Oh, your majesty,” ejaculated Himmel, “my honor and my happiness!”

“Hush, hush,” said Louisa, interrupting him, with an enchanting smile, “no flattery! no court-phrases! Here I am not the queen, nor are you my devoted subject; I am nothing but an obedient pupil, and you are my rigorous master, who has a right to scold and grumble whenever I sing incorrectly, and who very frequently avails himself of this privilege. Do not apologize for it, but go on in the same manner, for I will then only learn the more.”

“Your majesty sings like an angel,” murmured Himmel, whose eyes were fixed steadfastly on the queen.

“Well, as far as that is concerned, you are a competent judge,” exclaimed Lousia, laughing, “for being Himmel (heaven), you must know how the angels sing, and your opinion cannot be disputed. The angels, then, sing incorrectly, like your obedient pupil? Let the angels do so, but not your pupil. Come, Mr. Himmel, sit down. It does not behoove the maestro to stand at the side of his pupil. Sit down.”

She pointed with a graceful wave of her hand at the chair standing at her side, and Mr. Himmel, complying with her order, sat down. His glances returned involuntarily to the queen, whose beauty only now burst on his short-sighted eyes, and whom he believed he had never seen so lovely, so fascinating and graceful. Her beautiful face seemed to him like that of a fairy queen, and her wonderful shoulders, her superb, dazzling neck, which he had never seen unveiled and so very near, appeared to him like the bust of a goddess, moulded by Phidias from living marble.

“Well, let us commence,” said the queen, calmly. “Pray play the melody in the treble and let me play the accompaniment a few times; I shall then be better able to sing the song.”

She commenced eagerly playing the prelude, while a deeper blush mantled her cheeks. It was Himmel’s turn now to begin with the melody; his eyes, however, were not fixed on the music, but on the queen, and hence he blundered sadly.

“Well?” asked the queen, looking at him in charming confusion. “You do not play correctly.”

“Yes, I have blundered, your majesty,” said Himmel, gloomily; “I have blundered, for I am only a man after all, and cannot look into the sun without having a coup de soleil. Your majesty, I have had such a coup de soleil, and you see I have lost my reason in consequence.”

With these words he bent over the queen and imprinted a glowing kiss on her shoulders; then he hastily rose, took his hat, and rushed out of the room.[142]历史的

The queen’s eyes followed him with an air of surprise and embarrassment; then she burst into ringing, charming laughter.

“Ah,” she said, “if that austere ‘Madame Etiquette,’ the mistress of ceremonies, should have seen that, she would have either died with horror, or her wrath would have crushed the criminal. I believe I will confess the terrible crime to her. Oh, my dear mistress of ceremonies! my dear mistress of ceremonies!” she cried.

The door of the adjoining room opened immediately, and the Countess von Voss made her appearance.

“Your majesty has called me,” she said, and, after looking around the room, she cast a glance of surprise on the clock.

“Ah, my dear countess, you are surprised that Mr. Himmel, my singing-master, has already left, although the hour has only half expired?” asked the queen, merrily.

“Your majesty,” said the countess, sighing, “I really ought no longer to be surprised at any thing, nor wonder at any violation of etiquette, for such things, unfortunately, occur every day and every hour. Your majesty knows, moreover, that this Mr. Himmel is altogether distasteful to me.”

“And why?” asked the queen, gayly.

“Your majesty, because it is contrary to etiquette for a queen to take lessons, and to have a teacher.”

“What!” exclaimed Louisa. “According to etiquette, then, a queen is not permitted to learn any thing after ascending the throne?”

“No, your majesty, for it is entirely unbecoming that one of your subjects should become the teacher of his queen, and that anybody should be permitted and dare to censure her.”

“Well, do not you do so very often, my dear countess?” asked the queen, good-naturedly.

“I dare not censure the queen, but merely to defend and maintain etiquette, as my duty and official position require me to do. But a queen who takes lessons must descend from her throne so long as her teacher is with her; must renounce her exalted position, and obey instead of commanding. In such a case, therefore, etiquette is altogether out of the question.”

“You are right,” said Louisa, merrily. “Mr. Himmel, the concert-master, at least, entirely coincides with you, and he takes no notice whatever of etiquette. Shall I confess to you, my dear countess, why Mr. Himmel has run away to-day half an hour before the regular time?”

“Run away?” asked the mistress of ceremonies, in dismay. “He has dared to run away in the presence of your majesty?”

“Yes, he has dared to do so, but previously he has dared to do something a great deal worse. He has—but, dear countess, sit down; you might turn giddy.”

“Oh no, your majesty, permit me to stand. Your majesty was going to communicate graciously to me what Mr. Himmel—this teacher of a queen is not even a nobleman—has dared to do in the presence of your majesty.”

“Well, listen to me,” said the queen, smiling; and bending down closely to the ear of the countess, she whispered: “He has kissed my shoulder!”

The mistress of ceremonies uttered a piercing cry and tottered back in dismay.

“Kissed!” she faltered.

“Yes, kissed,” sighed the queen; “I really believe it is still to be seen.”

She walked with light, swinging steps to the large looking-glass, and looked at her shoulder with a charming, child-like smile.

“Yes, that small red spot there is Mr. Himmel’s crime!” she said. “Tell me what punishment he has deserved, countess.”

“That is a question for the courts alone to decide,” said the mistress of ceremonies, solemnly; “for we shall bring the occurrence, of course, at once to their notice. Orders should be issued immediately to arrest him, and his punishment should be as unparalleled as was his offence. Your majesty will permit me to repair at once to the king in order—“.

“No, my dear mistress of ceremonies,” said the queen, who was still standing in front of the looking glass and contemplating her own form, not with the contented looks of a conceited woman, but with the calm, stern eyes of a critic examining a work of art—“no, my dear mistress of ceremonies, we shall take good care not to raise a hue and cry about it. And Mr. Himmel is not so culpable, after all, as he seems to be.”

“What! Your majesty intends to defend him?”

“Not to defend, but to excuse him, my dear countess. He was at my side as my dear old teacher, and I was to him not a queen, but a pupil; and, moreover, a pupil with very beautiful shoulders. My dear countess, I am really more culpable than poor Himmel, for, if the queen becomes a pupil, she must remember that her teacher is a man, and she must not treat him merely as an automaton instructing her. The only judge who is able to decide this matter is my husband, the king. He shall pronounce judgment on it, and if he permits Mr. Himmel to come back, I shall go on with my singing-lessons. However,” added the queen, smiling, and blushing delicately, “in future I shall wrap a shawl around my shoulders. And now, my dear countess, pray let us not mention this little affair to anybody. I shall submit it to the king and ask him to decide it.”

“I shall be silent because your majesty orders me to keep the occurrence secret,” sighed the countess. “But it is unheard-of, it is dreadful. It is rank treason, and the offended royal majesty will forgive without punishing.”

“Oh, yes, I will!” exclaimed the queen, joyfully. “Forgiving without punishing, is not that the most sacred and sublime power of a queen; is it not the most brilliant gem in our crown? How miserable and deplorable would monarchs be if God had not conferred the right of mercy upon them! We stand ourselves so much in need of mercy and forbearance, for we commit errors and faults like other mortals, and yet we judge and punish like gods. Let us be merciful, therefore, that we may be judged mercifully.”

The door of the anteroom opened at this moment, and the chamberlain-in-waiting entered.

“Your majesty,” he said, “Prince Louis Ferdinand and Minister von Hardenberg beg leave to wait on your majesty.”

“I expected these gentlemen at this hour,” said the queen, glancing at the clock; “let them come in, therefore. And you, my dear countess, farewell.”

“Your majesty orders me to withdraw?” asked the mistress of ceremonies, hesitatingly, “Etiquette requires that the queen should give her audiences only in the presence of her mistress of ceremonies, or of one of her ladies of honor.”

“My dear countess,” said the queen, with a slight tinge of impatience, “I am not going to give any audience, but merely to receive a friendly visit from my royal cousin and his friend; as I know it is their intention to communicate to me matters which no one except myself can hear, I shall receive them alone. Hence be so kind as to withdraw.”

“His royal highness Prince Louis Ferdinand and his excellency Minister von Hardenberg!” shouted the footman, opening the folding-doors.

The queen nodded a parting greeting to the mistress of ceremonies, and advanced a few steps to meet the visitors, while the countess, heaving mournful sighs, disappeared through the side-door.

Prince Louis Ferdinand, a nephew of Frederick the Great, and Minister von Hardenberg, were at that time the most popular men in Prussia, because they were known to be the leaders of the party which at the court of Berlin considered the accession of Prussia to the coalition of Russia, England, and Austria, as the only means to save the country, while Minister von Haugwitz, Lombard, the first secretary of foreign affairs, and General Kockeritz, constantly renewed their efforts to win the king to an alliance with France.

Prince Ferdinand, a fine looking young man, scarcely thirty years of age, in his brilliant uniform, in which his tall and noble form presented a very imposing appearance, and in which he looked like the incarnation of an heroic warrior, was consequently the special favorite of the soldiers, who told the most astonishing and incredible stories about his intrepidity and hardihood. He was, besides, the favorite of the ladies, who called him the best-looking and most amiable man in the whole monarchy; and, with amiable indulgence, attributed his many adventures and acts of inconstancy, his wild and dissipated life, his extravagance and numerous debts, to the genius of the prince. He was, indeed, an extraordinary man, one of those on whose brow Providence has imprinted the stamp of genius,—not to their own good, but to their misfortune, and who either miserably perish by their genius, or constantly inflict with it the most painful wounds upon others.

Minister von Hardenberg, who now, after a long struggle, had succeeded in overcoming the influence of Minister von Haugwitz, and, with him, that of the French party, was one of those rare and extraordinary statesmen who have made diplomacy not a business, but the task of their whole life, and who have devoted to it all the strength, all the thoughts and feelings of their soul. A native of Hanover, and receiving rapid promotion at the hands of the government of that country, he had, nevertheless, soon entered the service of the Duke of Brunswick, who had charged him, after the death of Frederick the Great, to take the king’s will, which had been deposited in the ducal archives at Brunswick, to Berlin.[143]“Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. i., p. 202. King Frederick William the Second, who was so sagacious as to perceive and appreciate the diplomatic talents of the young ambassador, had induced him to enter his service, and intrusted to him the difficult mission of negotiating the annexation of Baireuth to Prussia, of settling the claims of the margrave, of paying the crushing burden of the debts of Baireuth as speedily as possible, and of restoring the country, which had suffered so much, to its former prosperity and content. Afterward he had been appointed minister of state and war in Prussia, and since that time he had always displayed the greatest activity and zeal in serving Prussia according to the dictates of his honest conviction, but at the same time also to guard the interests of the great fatherland, the interests of Germany. The influence of France, above all, seemed to him to endanger these interests; hence he believed it to be specially incumbent upon him to preserve at least Prussia from this noxious influence and to push her over to the other side, to the side of the coalition, than to allow her to be devoured, like a poor little bird, by the French basilisk. These endeavors, which kept up a continual conflict between him and the special favorites and confidants of the king, Haugwitz and Kockeritz, had gained him the love and esteem of all Prussian patriots, and secured him an extraordinary popularity. These two favorites of the Prussian people now entered the queen’s cabinet.

Louisa replied to the familiar and friendly—rather than respectful—greeting of the prince with a smile and a nod, and received the respectful bow of the minister with the calm and proud dignity of a queen.

“Well, my merry and reckless cousin,” she said, turning to the prince, “are there again some sins to be confessed, some neglects of discipline to be hushed up, some tears to be dried, and the mercy of the king to be implored for the extravagant freaks of our genius? And is it for that reason that you have brought along so eloquent an advocate and attorney?”

“No, your majesty,” said the prince, heaving a sigh, “this time, unfortunately, I have to confess to you no merry freaks and agreeable sins, and I am afraid I am about to become a steady man, and to turn my back on all extravagant pranks. Hence, the minister has not accompanied me this time in order to defend me and to implore the gracious intercession of my royal cousin, but we have come for the purpose of repeating to your majesty Prussia’s cry of anguish and distress, and of beseeching you to assist us in saving her from the ruin on the verge of which she is tottering at the present time!”

The queen looked alternately at the prince and at the minister with grave, wondering eyes. “It is a political conference, then, you wish to hold with me?” she asked; and when the two gentlemen made no reply, she continued more rapidly and in a slightly agitated voice—“in that case, gentlemen, I must request you to leave me, for I am no politician, and I do not aspire to the role of a political intriguer. I am the wife of the reigning king, but not a reigning queen; my sole endeavor is to render the king a happy husband at home, and to cause him to forget at my side politics and the vexations of his official position.”

“I am afraid, your majesty,” said Minister von Hardenberg, solemnly—“I am afraid the time for such an idol on the throne is past; and instead of causing the king to forget the vexations of his position, it will now be the great task of your majesty to bear them with him.”

“And we have come to beg my noble and magnanimous cousin to do so,” exclaimed the prince, enthusiastically. “We have come to implore your assistance and cooperation in the name of Prussia, in the name of all German patriots, and in the name of your children!”

“In the name of my children?” ejaculated the queen, turning pale. “Speak! speak! what has happened? what calamity threatens my children? I decline listening to you as a queen, but I will do so as a mother, who anxiously desires to secure the happiness of her children. What evils, what calamities do you refer to?”

“The independence, nay, perhaps the whole existence of Prussia, is menaced,” said Minister von Hardenberg, solemnly. “We have to choose whether Prussia is to be an isolated state, shunned by everybody, and despised by everybody—a state which France will be able to devour with impunity and amid the jeers of the whole world, as she has devoured Italy, Holland, and the left bank of the Rhine—or whether Prussia will preserve her power, her independence, and her honor, by not staving off a division any longer, but meeting her friends as well as her enemies with open visor, and by assuming at length an active and resolute attitude instead of the vacillating and hesitating course she has so long pursued!”

“We ought to oppose the Emperor of France in a manly manner,” exclaimed the prince, energetically. “If we do not interfere with his proceedings, he will soon be our master as he is of all those who call themselves his allies, and who are really nothing but his slaves. My heart kindles with rage when I now see all Germany trembling with fear before this son of a Corsican lawyer, this tyrant who assassinated the noble and innocent Duke d’Enghien, and who, not contenting himself with chaining France, would like to catch the whole world in his imperial mantle so as to fatten its golden bees on it. And he will succeed in doing so, unless we resist him, for his word is now already the law of half the world, and this emperor carries out whatever he wants to do. Truly, if he should feel some day a hankering for a dish of princes’ ears, I should no longer deem my own ears safe, nor those of your young princes either!”[144]Prince Louis Ferdinand said this to the queen.—Vide “Rahel and her Friends,” vol. i.

The queen did not smile at this jest which the prince had uttered in an angry voice, but she turned once more with a grave and anxious air to the minister.

“Tell me, has any thing occurred?” she asked. “Has there been a change in the political situation?”

“Yes, your majesty,” replied the minister, “there has been a change in the political situation; the Emperor Napoleon has dared to violate our neutrality, and if Prussia should not now demand satisfaction she either loses her honor, or she places herself before the whole world as the ally of France, and defies thereby the open hostility of Austria, Russia, and England.”

“You dare to say that Prussia’s honor has been attacked, and to doubt that the king will hold the offender responsible for such an outrage?” exclaimed the queen, with flashing eyes. “The king, who is the incarnation of honor, will not permit even the shadow of a stain to fall on Prussia’s honor; in generous anger he will hurl back the insolent hand that will dare to shake the palladium of our honor.”

“Oh, if you think and speak thus,” said the prince, enthusiastically, “I have no longer any fears, but consider Prussia as saved already from the dangers now menacing her. As I see your majesty now, in your wondrous beauty, with those eyes reflecting your inward heaven, with this face so radiant with enthusiasm, you seem to be the genius whom Providence has sent to Prussia to guard and protect her, and to guide her on the right path and to the right goal. O, queen! fulfil the mission which Providence has intrusted to you; follow your noble and sacred vocation; be the genius of Prussia; and impart to the vacillating and timid, firm, manly courage and energetic resolution! Queen, I implore you, on my knees, have pity on Prussia, have pity on your children: be the genius of Prussia!”

And quite beside himself, his eyes filled with tears, his lips quivering with emotion, the prince knelt down before the queen and raised his folded hands imploringly to her.

“Your majesty, permit me also to bend my knees before you,” said Minister von Hardenberg, solemnly, “to adore and worship you as the genius of Prussia, from whom we expect our salvation, our peace, and our honor! Oh, queen, you alone have the power to touch the heart of the king and to remove the doubts of his noble and honorable mind; you alone will be able to accomplish what neither our arguments nor our supplications could bring about; you alone will be able to elevate the vacillation of your husband to the strength of high-spirited and courageous resolution!”

“No, not a word against the king!” exclaimed the queen, almost sternly. “Let no one dare to assert that the king lacks manly determination and vigorous courage. If he is hesitating when you would wish to act, it is because he looks into the future more prudently and sagaciously than you, while you only think of the present time; it is because he weighs and calculates the consequences, while you only care for the action of the moment. But arise, gentlemen: let us not perform a sentimental scene at a time when it is of the highest importance to be prudent and to reflect. Let us converse, therefore, gravely and soberly; explain to me what has happened, and what danger is menacing Prussia and my children. I comply now with your wish; let us hold a political conference. Let us sit down, then, and commence.”

She took a seat on the sofa, and invited the gentlemen to sit down on the two chairs opposite her.

“Now tell me what has occurred, and what has changed the political situation. Minister von Hardenberg, pray give me a full and plain account of the state of our political affairs, for I have already told you that I never meddle with politics, and do not know much about them; indeed I have been too happy, and my life too much absorbed by my happiness, to have made it necessary for me to think of politics. But I see very well that the time of quiet happiness is over now! Let us, then, speak of politics. You said, a few minutes ago, Prussia had been insulted by France?”

“Yes, your majesty, Prussia has been insulted. Her most sacred right, her neutrality, has been violated,” replied Hardenberg. “The king, in his generous endeavor to preserve the blessings of peace to his people, intended to maintain a strict neutrality amid all these wars and storms agitating the world, and the friend and ally of no party and no power, to rely exclusively on his own strength. He wanted to wait, to mediate, and conciliate, but not to attack, act, and decide. There may be times when such a role is a weighty and dignified one—may secure the peace of the world; but it always depends on those between whom one wishes to act as a neutral mediator. One may remain neutral between men of honor, between princes, to whom their word is sacred, and who do not dare to violate treaties, but not between those to whom their word is sacred only so long as their own advantage requires it, and who do not violate treaties only so long as they do not interfere with their selfish plans. It is a principle of neutrality not to open one’s territory to either of the contending powers, and this principle has always been strictly observed. When Russia, now that she is going to send her troops for the second time to Germany for the purpose of assisting the Austrians, informed the king that she would march these troops through Southern Prussia and Silesia, the king deemed this information equivalent to a declaration of war, and his majesty immediately ordered the whole army to be placed on the war footing. We should now be at war with Russia, if the Emperor Alexander had not sent on the day after the first dispatch had arrived here, another dispatch to the king, in which he apologized, and declared that he had been too rash in making the above-named demand.[145]Vide Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. 11., p. 635. “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. viii., p. 474. But this step of Russia, this mere threat of violation of our neutrality, had sufficed to induce Prussia to place her army on the war footing, and to do so AGAINST the coalition of Austria, Russia, and England. A cry of horror resounded throughout Germany when the people heard of this first step by which Prussia seemed to declare publicly FOR France and AGAINST the coalition, and this cry was reechoed abroad, of which the conduct of the King of Sweden gave us a striking proof. Your majesty is aware that this king, through his ambassador, M. de Bernstorf, returned to his majesty the King of Prussia the order of the Black Eagle which he had received from the late lamented king, accompanying it by an insulting letter in which he stated, that ‘he could not wear an order which the king had recently also sent to Monsieur Bonaparte.’”

“And on the same day that this offensive return of the highest Prussian order took place,” exclaimed Prince Louis Ferdinand, with a harsh, angry laugh, “on the same day the King of Prussia received from the Emperor of France the grand cordon and seven other grand crosses of the Legion of Honor to be distributed among the princes and ministers. And not only did we receive these seven orders, but in return for them we sent seven orders of the Black Eagle to Paris.”[146]Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 76.

“But you forget to add that the king returned on the same day the Scraphine order to the King of Sweden, and recalled his ambassador, so that we are now in a state of war with Sweden,” said the queen, eagerly.

“Oh, my royal cousin, you betray your secrets,” exclaimed the prince, joyfully, “you wanted us to believe that your majesty did not care at all for politics, and now you know the most minute details so accurately.”

“I take a lively interest in every occurrence which grieves the heart of my husband,” said the queen; “and that event made a very painful impression upon him.”

“Oh, your majesty, it was only a prelude to other mortifications and insults which we shall have to suffer if the king will not avenge them,” said Hardenberg, energetically. “It has been said that Prussia was siding with France merely because she would not grant Russia a passage through her neutral territory, and because she placed her army in a menacing position against Russia. But what would the world say if it should learn what has now occurred?”

“Well, what has occurred?” asked the queen, breathlessly.

“The Emperor of France has carried out what Russia only threatened to do. The Emperor of France, without applying for permission, has marched a portion of his army, commanded by Bernadotte, through Prussian territory. He has marched his troops, contrary to treaties and to international law, through Prussian Franconia, Anspach, and Baireuth.”

The queen uttered a cry of surprise, and her cheeks turned pale. “Does the king already know it?” she asked.

“He has known it since yesterday,” said Hardenberg, gravely. “We kept the matter secret, because we would only lay it before the public together with the decision of his majesty.”

“And has the king come already to a decision?” asked the queen.

“He has, your majesty,” said Hardenberg, solemnly. “When Russia threatened to violate our territory, we placed our army on the war footing, and it is still in arms. Now that France dares to do what Russia only threatened to do, we do not turn our arms against her in order to avenge the insult, but we take our pen and write and ask France to explain her startling proceedings. It is true we threaten, but do not strike!”

“No, we do not strike!” exclaimed the prince, laughing scornfully; “we mobilize our army against our natural friends and allies, but we do not draw the sword against our natural enemies and adversaries. The army of Frederick the Great is ready for war, and yet it remains idle and looks on quietly while the insatiable conqueror is penetrating farther and farther into the heart of Germany; while he is scattering broadcast the seeds of treachery, discord, and mischief; while he is persuading the German princes to turn traitors to Germany; while he is poisoning and corrupting the hearts of the people and degrading their characters to such an extent, that the sense of fidelity, honesty, and constancy will soon become extinct in Germany, and all the Germans will be nothing but a horde of slaves, who will be happy if this tyrant does not apply the lash too often to their backs, and who will kiss his feet, so that he may step at least mildly and gently on their necks! If the tyrant should succeed now in humiliating Austria, who alone has been courageous enough to oppose him; if Napoleon should defeat the Austrian army, Germany would be lost and become nothing but a French province like Italy and Holland: all the German princes would lay their crowns at the feet of Napoleon, and be glad if he should suffer them only as governors in their former states, or leave them at least their empty titles after depriving them of their possessions!”

“No, no,” exclaimed the queen, “we must not, we shall not permit that! Prussia is ready to maintain the honor of Germany; Prussia will rise like a hero accustomed to victory; she will drive the invader from her territory, and compel him, with arms in her hands, to keep the peace, if she is unable to obtain it with her pen. You are right, the time of neutrality and hesitation is past, and henceforth we must act. I shall no longer remain neutral, I shall act too. You have appealed to the mother and wife and shown her the danger threatening her children and her husband; you have reminded the daughter of Germany of the horrors menacing her fatherland; you have pointed out to the Queen of Prussia the evils impending over her people; the mother, the wife, and the queen has heard and understood you. The time of neutrality is past; we must move the heart of the best and most magnanimous king by our prayers and remonstrances, in order that he may listen to us, and no longer to the insinuations and flatteries of his enemies, so that he may discern his friends as well as his enemies. The king is hesitating only because, in generous self-abnegation, he prefers the happiness of his people to his own wishes and to the gratification of his own desires. A soldier by nature and predilection, he compels himself to be a peaceable ruler, because he believes it is necessary for the happiness of his people. Let us prove to him that his subjects refuse to accept this generous sacrifice, and that they are joyfully ready to remove the stains from their honor with their heart’s blood. Let public opinion speak out and come to our assistance. I say, ‘to OUR assistance,’ for henceforth I shall side with you, I shall be a member of your party, and a determined and outspoken enemy of France!”

“May God bless your majesty for these words!” said Hardenberg, deeply moved; “I am once again in hopes that Prussia will be saved, for she has now won an ally who brings more to her than armies and arms, and who places the enthusiasm and indomitable determination of a great chieftain at the head of our people.”

“And with this chieftain at our head we shall vanquish every French army,” exclaimed Prince Louis, enthusiastically, “with this chieftain at our head we shall triumphantly march against the enemy, and one idea, one sentiment will animate all of us: Queen Louisa is watching and praying for us! Oh, my queen, would that that blessed day of battle could dawn for us! Command the sun of that day to rise and to shine into all Prussian hearts, and to fire them with patriotism so as to shrink back no longer from death and wounds, but only from dishonor and degradation! Oh, my blood burns like fire in my veins; it would like to burst forth in a fiery torrent and drown and burn every Frenchman. Queen, have mercy on me—let the solemn day when I may shed my blood for the fatherland dawn without delay!”

“Live and labor for the fatherland!” said the queen, with flaming eyes, and her face radiant with enthusiasm. “It is not the most exalted and difficult task to die an heroic death for a great idea, but it is even more noble and difficult to nourish and preserve this idea in the gloomy days of adversity, and not to abandon it and give it up in a period of affliction, but to remain its guardian and priest, even though fate may seem to reject it and to humiliate us with it. Now that I am entering a new life-path, I say to you, from the bottom of my heart, we will struggle for the honor, liberty, and independence of Prussia and Germany, but we will be determined, too, not only to die for these ideas, but also to suffer and bear affliction for them. Oh, it seems to me as though I were looking at this moment into the future, and as though I did see there much misery and distress in store for us, many storms and thunder-clouds!”

“But the sun is hidden behind the thunder-clouds, and when the thunder has died away it will shine again,” said Hardenberg.

“And it will then shine on the heads of my husband and of my children!” exclaimed the queen, raising her radiant eyes to heaven. “Above all, it will shine on the Prussian people from the face of their adored Queen Louisa,” said the prince.

The queen smiled sadly. “Let us not speak of the sun, but of the thunder-clouds preceding it. They are gathering around us; let us see how we can break through them. You may count on my earnest assistance. My husband and my children are in danger, I feel and see it. France is the enemy menacing them. Henceforward we will oppose this enemy with open visor. I promise it to you in the name of Prussia, in the name of my husband, and of my children. Here, take my hand; we will stand by each other, and struggle together against France for the honor and glory of Prussia. You will fight with your sword and with your pen, and I shall do so with my word and my love. May the people support us, may God bless us!”

“May God bless us!” repeated the prince and the minister, reverentially kissing the queen’s hands.

“And now, gentlemen, go,” said the queen, after a short pause “Let us not desecrate this solemn moment by any additional words. Every thing for Prussia! Let that be our watchword! and so I bid you farewell for to-day. Every thing for Prussia!”

“Every thing for Prussia!” repeated the two gentlemen, taking leave of the queen.

Louisa sent a long, melancholy look after them; then she turned hastily around and crossed the room with rapid steps; the sudden draught produced by her quick passage blew the music-paper from the piano to the floor; it fell exactly at the queen’s feet.

She picked it up; it was the song she had sung an hour ago. A painful smile played on the lips of the queen, and raising her eyes sadly to heaven, she whispered, in a low voice:

“Oh, my God, grant that this may not be an omen, and that I may not be compelled to eat my bread with tears, and to weep through nights of affliction! But if it must be, O God, give me strength to bear my misfortunes uncomplainingly, and to be a comfort to my husband, a mother to my children!”

The wishes of the queen had rapidly been fulfilled; public opinion had declared in Berlin with rare energy and emphasis against France, and the people had received the news of the violation of Prussia’s neutrality with a unanimous cry of rage and horror. The inhabitants of Berlin, usually so peaceable and addicted to pleasure, seemed all at once transformed into heroes grave and eager for war, who no longer knew any other aim than to avenge as speedily as possible the insult offered to them, and to call France to account for the outrage she had committed against Prussia.

“War! war!” That was the word of jubilee and supplication now resounding on every street, and in every house; like one exulting prayer of the whole nation, it rose to the windows of the royal palace, and seemed to rap gently at them, so that the king might open them and let it penetrate into his heart.

The people spoke everywhere of this one great affair; they asked each other, in conversation: “Shall we take up arms? Shall we declare war against France?”

Those who answered these questions in the negative were treated in the most contemptuous manner; the people turned their backs on them, with angry glances and threatening murmurs: to those, however, who replied in the affirmative, they offered their hands joyfully and greeted them as friends and allies.

Minister von Haugwitz was known to be an adherent of the French and an opponent of the war; the people rushed to his house and broke his windows, shouting loudly and angrily, “We do not want peace! Let all the French and friends of the French perish!”

Minister von Hardenberg, on the other hand, was hailed by the people with the most enthusiastic applause wherever he made his appearance; and on their return from the house of Minister von Haugwitz, they hurried to Hardenberg’s humble residence in order to cheer him and to shout, “War! war! We want war with France!”

Not only the people in the streets, however, but also the best classes of the public participated in this general enthusiasm, and did not hesitate to give vent to it in public. Even the royal functionaries found suddenly sufficient energy to show themselves as German patriots, and it was certainly not unintentional that “Wallenstein’s Camp,” by Schiller, was to be performed at the Royal Theatre during those days of general excitement.

Everybody wished to attend this performance; all Berlin rushed to the Royal Theatre, and the fortunate persons who had succeeded in obtaining tickets were envied by the thousands unable to gain admission. The theatre was crowded; the pit was a surging sea, the gallery was filled to suffocation, and in the boxes of the first and second tiers the aristocratic, elegant, educated, and learned world of all Berlin seemed to have met. All faces were glowing, all lips were smiling, all eyes were sparkling; every one was aware that this was to be a political demonstration, and every one was happy and proud to participate in it.

When Prince Louis Ferdinand made his appearance in the small royal proscenium-box, all eyes turned immediately toward him, and when he bent forward from his box, and seemed to greet the audience with his merry eyes and winning smile, there arose a storm of applause as though a favorite singer had just concluded an aria di bravura and received the thanks of the enraptured listeners. Suddenly, however, the loud applause died away, perhaps because the prince had waved his hands as if he wished to calm this roaring sea—perhaps because the attention of the audience was attracted by somebody else. The eyes of the crowd turned from the prince toward an adjoining box. Four gentlemen, in brilliant uniforms, had just entered it; but these uniforms were not those of the Prussian army, and the broad ribbons which these gentlemen wore across their breasts, were not the ribbons of Prussian orders. The newcomers, who had entered the box, were the members of the French embassy—General Lefevre, with his attaches, and General Duroc, whom Napoleon had recently again sent to Berlin in order to strengthen the friendly relations of France and Prussia. It was certainly a mere accident that Prince Louis Ferdinand, just at the moment when these gentlemen intended to salute him, turned to the opposite side, and did not see and acknowledge their greetings; it was certainly a mere accident that the audience, which had just now shouted and applauded jubilantly, all at once commenced hissing loudly.

The members of the French embassy took good care not to refer this hissing to themselves; they took their seats quietly near the balustrade of the box, and seemed to take no notice of the loud murmurs and the threatening glances of the audience.

The band now struck up the overture. It was a skilfully arranged medley of well-known popular war-songs, interlarded with the Dessauer and Hohenfriedberger march, as if the enthusiasm of the audience were to be carried to the highest pitch by brilliant reminiscences of the heroic deeds and imperishable glory of Prussia.

All at once a joyful murmur spread through the pit, the boxes, and the gallery. “The king, the queen!” whispered everybody, and all those hundreds of faces turned toward the small proscenium-box which the royal couple had just entered.

The queen, radiantly beautiful, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, greeted the audience with an enchanting smile; the king, whose brow seemed unusually gloomy and clouded, cast only a hesitating and anxious glance over the house, and then withdrew behind the crimson curtain of the box.

The stage-curtain rose; the performance commenced. The audience followed it with the most ardent sympathy; every word referring to the liberty and independence of Germany, was hailed with thunders of applause, and jubilant shouts resounded at every allusion to foreign tyranny and despotism. The actors had now reached the last part of the piece, the merry, soul-stirring horseman’s song concluding the whole. “WOHLAUF, KAMERADEN AUF’S PFER, AUF’S PFERD!” sang the chorus on the stage, and the audience followed every verse, every line, with breathless attention. All at once people looked in great surprise at each other, and then listened with the utmost suspense to the singers, who had added to the merry horseman’s song a verse which had not been heard heretofore. And when the last words of this verse had died away, the whole audience shouted and roared, “DA CAPO! DA CAPO!” In the pit, in the boxes, in the gallery, in short, every one rose to their feet, and all eyes again turned to the box in which the members of the French embassy were seated, and thus, standing, in a jubilant tone and with threatening glances, the whole audience joined the chorus of the actors on the stage; for they knew already the words of the additional verse by heart, and sang in a thundering voice:

“Wohlauf, Kameraden, zur Schlacht, zum Krieg,
In’s Feld, in die Freibeit gezogen.
Zur blutigeu Schlacht, zum rachenden Sieg
Uber den, der uns Freundsehaft gelogen!
Und Tod und Verderhen dem falschen Mann,
Der treulos den Frieden brechen kann!”[147]“On, comrades, to battle, to war—let us march into the field and fight for liberty! To bloody battle, to avenging victory over him who has lied friendship to us! And death and destruction to the false man who has perfidiously broken the peace!”

This whole scene is strictly in accordance with history; and the additional verse, if not literally the same, renders at least the sentiment of the lines which were sung on that memorable evening.—Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. viii., p. 496, and “Napoleon; a Memoir,” by—, vol. ii., p. 73.

And the audience repeated once more the last two lines

“Und Tod und Verderben dem falschen Mann, Der treulos den Frieden brechen kann!”

All eyes then turned to the royal box. The king was still hidden behind the small curtain. The queen had risen. Folding her hands, as if praying, she had raised her eyes to heaven, and two tears ran slowly down her cheeks.

Prince Louis Ferdinand bent toward Minister von Hardenberg, who had just entered his box. “Do you see the queen?” he said, in a low voice. “Does she not look really like a genius praying for Prussia?”

“Ah, and, perhaps, weeping for Prussia!” whispered Hardenberg—“But let us not give way now to gloomy anticipations. I am the bearer of good and unexpected news. Listen to me. The king and the queen will rise in a few minutes in order to leave the box, and who knows whether the audience will be patient and calm enough to witness the whole ballet, which is just commencing? I see some of my agents already below in the pit, where they have made their appearance in order to circulate my news.”

“I beseech your excellency, be here your own agent, and communicate the news to me.”

Minister Hardenberg bent closer to the prince’s ear. “I suppose you know that, thanks to the influence of the queen, I have induced the king to sign a tolerably warlike and threatening note to the Emperor of the French?”

“But will this note really be forwarded to Napoleon?”

“It has already been forwarded. But I had sent also a messenger to the Emperor of Russia with a copy of this note, and the emperor, it seems, has understood my mission, for—But, just look, my prophecy commences being fulfilled. The king and the queen rise and leave their box; and notice, too, the migration beginning in the pit, and among the occupants of the orchestra-stalls. The beautiful ballet-girls will soon dance before empty benches.”

“But do not let me die with curiosity, your excellency. Tell me at length what has occurred.”

“A surprise, prince. The Emperor Alexander will reach Berlin within an hour!”

“Are you not jesting? Do you speak in earnest?”

“In dead earnest, prince. The emperor comprehends that the favorable hour must be improved, and he comes in order to conquer the friendship of Frederick William, and to overcome his indecision, so that they may then vanquish the French invader with their united forces. The emperor is a very sagacious man, and being half a German, he knows doubtless the German proverb, ‘Strike while the iron is hot.’ Our noble queen, with both of us and our excellent people, will help the emperor to strike the iron. Look, the people commence striking already. They rush from the theatre in order to receive the Emperor Alexander at the gate, and to cheer him while he is riding to the palace. Let us follow the example of the people of Berlin. Let us go to receive the Emperor Alexander—if it please God, our ally—at the gate.”[148]The Emperor Alexander arrived in Berlin quite unexpectedly on October 23, 1805; the courier who had announced his arrival had reached the Prussian capital only a few hours previously.

Hardenberg’s predictions were to be fulfilled this time. Thanks to the powerful allies who were fighting for his policy and for Prussia, the king summoned up sufficient courage to take a decisive resolution. Those allies of Hardenberg and Prussia were now not only the queen, Prince Louis Ferdinand, and public opinion, but they were joined by the Emperor Alexander, who had arrived from Poland, and the Archduke Anthony, whom the Emperor of Austria had sent to Berlin at the same time for the purpose of winning the friendship of the king. But still another ally suddenly and unexpectedly entered the lists for Hardenberg’s policy and for the coalition, and this ally was the good fortune and genius of Napoleon.

Dreadful tidings reached Berlin simultaneously with the arrival of Archduke Anthony. Napoleon had gained another victory; he had defeated the Austrians at Ulm;[149]1805 年 10 月 20 日 twenty-three thousand Austrians had laid down their arms at the feet of the Emperor of the French, and then started as prisoners of war for France. Surrounded by a brilliant staff, Napoleon made the humiliated, vanquished Austrians file off before him, between the French army, which was drawn up in two lines. When they laid down their arms, and when this flashing pile rose higher and higher, Napoleon’s face, which, amidst the hail of bullets and the dangers of the battle, had preserved its marble, antique calmness, became radiant, as if lighted up by a sunbeam, and he turned with a gracious smile toward the Austrian generals and officers, who approached him humbly and with lowered heads, in order to thank him for giving them permission to return to Austria, and for not compelling them to accompany their soldiers as prisoners of war to France.

But this smile disappeared rapidly from the emperor’s countenance, which now became threatening and angry. In a voice rolling like thunder over the heads of the humiliated Austrians, the emperor said: “It is a misfortune that men so brave as you, whose names are honorably mentioned wherever you have fought, should now become the victims of the stupidities of a cabinet which only dreams of senseless schemes, and does not hesitate to endanger the dignity of the state and of the nation. It was an unheard-of proceeding to seize me by the throat without a declaration of war; but it is a crime against one’s own people to bring about a foreign invasion; it is betraying Europe, to draw Asiatic hordes into our combats. Instead of attacking me without any good reason whatever, the Austrian cabinet ought to have united with me for the purpose of expelling the Russian army from Germany. This alliance of your cabinet is something unheard of in history; it cannot be the work of the statesmen of your nation; it is, in short, the alliance of the dogs and shepherds with the wolf against the sheep. Had France succumbed in this struggle, you would have speedily perceived the mistake you have committed.”[150]“Memoires du Duc de Rovigo,” vol. 11., p. 159.

Such were the tidings which Archduke Anthony had brought with him from Vienna; such was the new ally Hardenberg had won for his policy and for Prussia.

This new victory, this new conquest Napoleon had made in Germany, loomed up before the king as a danger which menaced himself, and compelled him to take up arms for his own defence. The threatening and defiant language of the French emperor sounded truly revolting to the heart of the German king, and instead of being intimidated by this new and unparalleled triumph, by this threatening language Napoleon had made use of, he was only provoked to offer him resistance; he perceived all at once that he could only be the servant and slave of this powerful man, or his enemy, and that Napoleon never would tolerate any one as an equal at his side. What were those three German princes who had found three crowns on the battle-field of Ulm? Those new Kings of Wurtemberg and Bavaria, that Grand-duke of Baden, were only vassals and servants of the Emperor of France, who had first given, and then PERMITTED them to wear these crowns.

King Frederick William needed no such crown. A genius stood at his side and breathed with a heavenly smile into his ear: “It is better to die in an honorable struggle for freedom than to live in splendor and magnificence, but with a stain on your honor.”

And the king listened to the voice of his genius: he listened to the voice of his minister, who implored him to defend the integrity of his state for the sake of the honor and welfare of Prussia and Germany; he listened to the voice of his people, who demanded war loudly and ardently; he listened to the voice of the Emperor Alexander, who vowed to him eternal love and eternal friendship; he listened, finally, to the voice of his own heart, which was the heart of a true German, and felt deeply the insult offered to him.

King Frederick William listened to all these voices, and resolved at length on war against France.

On the 3d of November the Emperor Alexander and King Frederick William signed at Potsdam a SECRET treaty, by which Prussia agreed to intervene between Napoleon and the allies. By virtue of this treaty Prussia was to summon the Emperor of the French to reestablish the former treaties, and to restore the former state of affairs; that is to say, to give up almost all his conquests, to indemnify Sardinia, to recognize the independence of Naples, of the German empire, of Holland, of Switzerland, and to separate the crown of Italy from that of France. If France should not consent to these conditions, Prussia agreed to ally herself openly and unreservedly with the coalition, and take the field with an army of 180,000 men. A Prussian negotiator was to lay these conditions before the Emperor Napoleon, and the term at which Prussia should be obliged to act should expire four weeks after the date of the treaty.[151]Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 652.

The king, who, in his kindness, was anxious to indemnify Minister von Haugwitz for the coldness with which he had been latterly treated, and for his broken windows, had commissioned him to deliver a copy of the treaty of Potsdam to Napoleon, and to negotiate with him. Haugwitz, therefore, left Berlin in order to repair to the emperor’s headquarters. It is true, he did not know exactly where to find them, but he was satisfied that Napoleon would take care to make his whereabouts known to him by fresh deeds of heroism and victories, and Count Haugwitz, therefore, set out.

According to the wishes of the King of Prussia, the treaty of Potsdam, for some time at least, was to be kept secret; only those immediately concerned should be informed of its contents, but not the public generally, and no one was to suspect that Prussia had at length given up her policy of neutrality.

This secrecy, however, was distasteful to the Emperor Alexander; moreover, it made Minister von Hardenberg fear lest the king, at the decisive moment, might be once more gained over to his former favorite policy of neutrality by the French party at court. It would be wise, therefore, to force the king so far forward as to render it impossible for him to recede, and to betray so much of the secret of the concluded alliance as was required to fasten the king to it.

Hence, the emperor, at the hour of his departure for Austria, requested the Queen and King of Prussia to accompany him to the grave of Frederick the Great. At midnight, on the 5th of November, they repaired, therefore, to the garrison church at Potsdam, the lower vault of which contains the coffin of the great king. A single torch-bearer accompanied the three august visitors, whose steps resounded solemnly in the silent, gloomy halls.

Arriving at the king’s coffin, the emperor knelt down; his face, lighted up by the glare of the torch, was radiant with enthusiasm. On the other side of the dark vault stood the king and the queen, both with folded hands; the king with a gloomy and reserved air, the queen with her eyes turned to heaven, and her face beaming with pious emotion and joy.

Alexander, still remaining on his knees, now raised his folded hands toward heaven. “At the grave of the most heroic king,” he said in a loud and solemn voice—“at the grave of Frederick the Great, I swear to my ally, the King of Prussia, an oath of everlasting love and constancy; I swear an oath of everlasting constancy and love to the sacred cause which has united us for the most exalted purpose. Never shall my constancy waver; never shall my love grow cold! I swear it!”

He kissed the coffin and rose from his knees; his eyes, glistening with tears, then turned toward the king, as he said:

“It is your turn now, my brother, to swear the oath.”

The king hesitated.

The queen laid her hand gently on his shoulder, and bent her beautiful face so close to him that he felt her breath, like the kiss of an angel, on his cheek.

“Swear the oath, my friend, my beloved,” she whispered; “swear to be faithful to the holy alliance against the French tyrant; swear everlasting constancy and love to our noble ally.”

The king hesitated no longer; he raised his head resolutely and approached the coffin. Laying his hand upon it, he repeated in a grave and calm voice the words which the queen had uttered before, and which she now whispered with trembling lips.

All three then grasped each other’s hands over the coffin; thus they stood a long while, deeply moved and silent.

All at once this silence was interrupted by the loud, ringing notes of the church clock, announcing the first hour of the new day. The sounds died away, and the chime of the bells now commenced playing in clear and sweet notes the old German hymn, “Ueb immer Treu und Redlichkeit, bis an dein kuhles Grab!”[152]Holty’s beautiful hymn, “Be honest and faithful until they lay thee in thy cool grave.”

The king inclined his head, as if in silent prayer; an almost imperceptible, strange smile overspread the noble features of the emperor. The queen, however, glowing with enthusiasm, exclaimed:

“God and the spirit of Frederick the Great give us the motto of our alliance: ‘Ueb immer Treu und Redlichkeit, bis an dein kuhles Grab!’ Let us remember it as long as we live!”

“Let us remember it,” repeated the two sovereigns, with a firm, manly grasp. They looked at each other, and with their eyes bade each other a last farewell.

Then they turned silently away and left the royal vault.

Five minutes later, the Emperor Alexander of Russia was on his way to Olmutz, in order to join there the Emperor Francis of Austria, who had fled thither from Napoleon and his victorious army.

At Olmutz the plan for the campaign of the third coalition against Napoleon was to be agreed upon.

It was in the last days of November, 1805. After the victory of Ulm, the Emperor Napoleon had established his headquarters in Brunn, where he seemed to wait for his adversaries to attack him. There was no longer one enemy opposed to him; he had no longer to cope with Austria alone, but also with Russia, whose emperor was now at Olmutz with the Emperor of Austria, for the purpose of agreeing with him on the plan of operations by which Napoleon was to be defeated. The Russian army had already formed a junction with the Austrian forces, and even the Russian life-guards, the elite of their army, had left Russia in order to accompany their emperor to the great decisive battle.

But Napoleon had likewise brought his guards along, and these splendid troops were impatient and eager to fight the last decisive battle with the Austrians and with “the hordes of the Russian barbarians.”

Napoleon, however, still hesitated; his plans apparently had not been matured, and he seemed undecided whether to advance still further or to content himself with the victories he had already obtained.

This last alternative was urged on him by his generals, who believed the victory of Ulm to be so brilliant a triumph that the French army might repose on its laurels, instead of drawing the sword once more.

Napoleon, however, did not assent to these views of his generals.

“If we had to cope only with the Austrians we might be satisfied, but there are the Russians, too, and it will be necessary for us to send them home. We must give them their passports.”

Greatly elated at this idea, the emperor ordered his horse to be brought to him.

“We will examine the country a little,” he said to his generals; “accompany me, gentlemen.”

And surrounded by his brilliant staff, consisting of the most illustrious and victorious officers of his army, the emperor rode out far into the plain between Brunn and Vichau, crowned all around with hills and mountains. His bold, searching glances surveyed the country in every direction; not a height, not a tree, not a ravine, escaped his attention; he examined every thing, and seemed to engrave them on his soul. It was near nightfall when he returned with his generals from this long ride to his headquarters. He had all day been taciturn and absorbed, and none of his generals had been permitted to participate in his plans and observations. He had only sometimes directed their attention by a laconic word or by a wave of his hand to some peculiarity of the landscape, and the generals had received these words and gestures like the mysterious hints of an oracle, with the most respectful attention, in order to weigh them in their minds, and to indelibly engrave them in their memory. On his arrival at the door of his headquarters, the emperor turned his pale, grave face once more to the plain which they had just left.

“Gentlemen,” he said, in a loud voice, “study that part of the country as closely as possible; you will have to play a role in it within a few days. General Suchet, on the left side of your division there is an isolated mound, commanding your entire front. Cause fourteen cannon to be placed on it in the course of the present night.”[153]Napoleon’s own words. Vide “Memoires du Duc de Rovigo,” vol. ii., p. 169. He nodded to the gentlemen and entered his cabinet.

He paced his room for a long while with folded arms, compressed lips, and a gloomy air.

“I need a few days more,” he muttered. “If they should attack me now, quickly and resolutely, I must succumb; if they give me three days’ time, however, I shall defeat them.”

When he then stooped musingly before his desk, he suddenly noticed the papers lying on it.

“Ah,” he said, hastily seizing a large, sealed letter, “a courier, who has brought dispatches in my absence! From the minister of the navy—news from the fleet!”

He broke the seal hurriedly and unfolded the paper. While reading it his mien became still more gloomy; a cloud of anger settled on his expansive brow, and his cheeks, which had hitherto only been pale, turned livid.

The glance which he now cast toward heaven would have reminded the spectator of the Titans who dared to hurl their missiles even at the Sovereign Deity; the words muttered by his quivering lips were an angry oath.

With this oath he crumpled up the paper in his hand, threw it down and stamped on it; then, as if ashamed of his own violence, he sank down on a chair, and laid his hands slowly, and with a deep sigh, on his trembling, pale face. The modern Titan had now found out for the first time that there was a God enthroned in heaven more powerful than himself; for the first time an invisible hand had stopped him in his hitherto victorious course.

The paper he had just trampled under foot announced to him the first great defeat, the first check his grand schemes had met with.

The French fleet had been completely beaten and almost annihilated by the English at Trafalgar.[154]十月21，1806。 England, the only enemy who had constantly opposed Napoleon in a menacing and fearless manner, detested England had gained a magnificent triumph. She had destroyed the whole naval power of France, and won a brilliant victory; a victory which humiliated France and overwhelmed her with disgrace. It is true it was a dearly-bought victory for England, for Nelson, her greatest naval hero, had paid for his immortal triumph with his life. The French admiral, Villeneuve, who was defeated at Trafalgar, had not even been lucky and wise enough to expiate his ignominy by his death; he had fallen, a despairing prisoner, into the hands of the English, and served as a living trophy to the triumphant conqueror’s.[155]Admiral Villeneuve was released by the English government. Napoleon banished him to Rennes, where he committed suicide on the 26th of April, 1806, by piercing his heart with a pin.

Such were the terrible tidings which Napoleon had just received; it was the first thunderbolt which the God of heaven had hurled down upon the powerful Titan.

But the Titan did not feel crushed by it; the thunderbolt only served to fan the fire in his breast.

He rose from his seat, and his eyes flashed with anger.

“I cannot be everywhere,” he said, aloud, “but my enemies shall soon find out that I am here, and I shall know how to avenge the disgrace of Trafalgar by a brilliant victory.”[156]Napoleon’s own words.

The door behind him opened at this moment, and the chief of the imperial cabinet, M. de Bourrienne, entered.

“Sire,” he said, “the two Austrian envoys, Count de Giulay and Count Stadion, have returned, and beg your majesty to grant them an audience.”

“So late at night!” exclaimed the emperor. “Why did they not come in the daytime?”

“They pretend to have been detained by the impassable state of the roads, but assert to be able to lay before your majesty some highly important intelligence, which would seem entirely calculated to bring about the conclusion of peace so longed for by Austria.”

“Let the gentlemen come in,” said the emperor, after a short reflection, and he placed his foot again on the crumpled paper, as if he wished to choke the secret of its contents, so that it might not betray itself to the Austrians. Bourrienne had gone out, and the two Austrian envoys, Count Giulay and Count Stadion, now appeared on the threshold.

“You return to me,” said the emperor, hastily, to them; “my conditions have been accepted, then? I told you I should not negotiate separately with Austria, but that I should require Russia to participate in the negotiations, and to be included in the treaty of peace on which we might agree. You come, then, in the name of the Emperors of Austria and Russia?”

“No, sire,” said Count Stadion, respectfully, “we come only in the name of Austria.”

“The emperor, our august master,” began Count Giulay—but Napoleon interrupted him quickly.

“I shall listen to you only if you are authorized to speak in the name of the two emperors,” said Napoleon. “I already told you so yesterday, and I do not see what should induce me to-day to change my mind. The state of affairs is precisely the same.”

“Pardon me, sire, it is not,” said Count Giulay, firmly.

The emperor fixed a piercing glance on him, as if he wished to read in the innermost recesses of his heart.

“And why is it not the same?” he asked, while his eye slowly turned toward the foot, under which he concealed the sinister dispatch.

“Your majesty was yesterday pleased to say that Austria, although she might boast of the active support of Russia, could never count on the assistance of Prussia, and that Prussia’s neutrality was as useful to France as Russia’s active support to Austria.”

“Why do you repeat the words I uttered yesterday?” asked the emperor, impetuously.

“Sire, because Prussia is no longer neutral,” said Count Stadion, solemnly.

“Because Prussia is ready to become, like Russia and England, the active ally of Austria,” added Count Giulay.

Napoleon’s flashing, gloomy eyes looked alternately at the two Austrian envoys.

“How did you obtain that information?” he asked at last.

“Sire, from his majesty the Emperor of Russia. He has concluded a treaty with the king at Potsdam, by which Frederick William III. declares his readiness to participate in the campaign and to assist Austria, unless your majesty should condescend to accept the conditions which the King of Prussia is to propose as mediator between the coalition and France.”

“Ah, the King of Prussia is going to propose conditions to me?” exclaimed Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you know those conditions?”

“The King of Prussia will propose to your majesty to surrender the crown of Italy, not to disturb the princes of Italy in their possessions and independence, to recognize the independence of the German empire, of Holland, of Switzerland, to—”

“Enough!” said Napoleon, impatiently. “The Emperor Alexander has taken the liberty to tell you a story, and your credulity must have greatly delighted him. Can you seriously believe that the King of Prussia would in his infatuation go so far as to hope that I should accept propositions of so ridiculous a description? Truly, even if I were a vanquished and humiliated emperor, I should stab myself with my own sword rather than submit to such a disgrace. It seems I have not yet engraved my name deeply enough into the marble tablets of history, and I shall prove to these overbearing princes, who believe their legitimacy to be the Gorgon’s head they only need show in order to crush me—I shall prove to them WHO I AM, AND TO WHOM the future belongs, whether to THEM or to ME! However, it is unnecessary to say so much about things which do not exist.”

“Sire, the treaty of Potsdam DOES exist,” said Count Stadion. “The envoy whom the King of Prussia has sent off to lay its stiputions before your majesty would have reached your headquarters already if he had travelled as rapidly as the Emperor Alexander, who left Potsdam simultaneously with him.”

“Well, let him come; I shall see, then, whether you have told me a story or not,” replied Napoleon. “If the King of Prussia has dared to do this, by God, I will pay him for it![157]Napoleon’s own words.—Vide Hormayer. vol. i., and Hausser’s “History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 680. But this does not change my resolutions and plans in any respect. I shall enter into negotiations with Austria only on condition that Russia participates in them. State it to those who have sent you, and now farewell.”

He nodded to the two gentlemen, and turning his back to them, stepped to the window. Only when a slight jarring of the door told him that they had withdrawn, the emperor turned around and commenced again, his hands folded behind his back, slowly pacing the room.

He then stopped before the large table in the middle of the room, and unrolled one of the maps lying on it. It was a map of southern Germany. After spreading it on the table, the emperor commenced marking it with pins, the variously-colored heads of which designated the different armies of the Russians, Austrians, and French.

The emperor was engaged all night in this task, in studying the map, and in measuring and calculating the distances some of his troops would have to march before reaching the field of action. The wax-candles in the silver chandelier burned down, but he did not notice it; the fire in the fireplace had gone out, but he did not feel it; the door of his cabinet was softly opened from time to time, and the pale face of his vale de chambre Constant, who was evidently exhausted with long waking, appeared, but the emperor did not heed it. His soul was concentrated on one idea, on one aim, viz., to pursue the glorious course of his victories, to humiliate Germany as he had humiliated Italy, and to drown the echoes of Trafalgar by a brilliant triumph.

Morning was already dawning, when Napoleon at length rose from the table and commenced again slowly pacing the room.

“Time, time!” he said, “I only need three days for moving up the third corps, which is already on the march from Bohemia. Time! And yet I must gain a great and brilliant victory before Prussia allies herself openly with Austria and Russia against France. If I should not succeed in doing so, the army of my enemies would be increased by one hundred and fifty thousand men. Hence,” he said, after a pause, quite merrily and hopefully, “hence, I must succeed.”

He returned to the map and pointed his finger at it.

“The Austrians are over there at Olmutz,” he said, quickly. “Here, the Russian guards; there, the united corps of Kutusof and Buxhowden; farther on, the vanguard under Prince Bagration. If they should advance now rapidly, resolutely, directly toward my front, the odds would be too overwhelming; if they should tarry, or if I should succeed in causing them to hesitate until I have got my Bohemian corps in line, I should defeat them. Let us try it, therefore; let us feign inactivity and timidity, so that they may not become active. Cunning is the best ally of a general; let us try to deceive them.”

He went to his desk, and taking some gilt-edged paper, commenced writing rapidly.

Fifteen minutes later an orderly requested General Savary to repair to the emperor’s cabinet.

Napoleon received the general with a kindly smile, but he was silent, and looked almost irresolutely at the letter he held in his hand. Suddenly, however, he seemed to come to a firm resolution, and handing the letter to Savary, he said: “Take this letter to Olmutz; deliver it to the Emperor of Russia, and tell him that, having learned that he had arrived at the headquarters of his army, I had sent you to welcome him in my name. If he should converse with you, and put questions to you, you know the replies that should be made under such circumstances. Go.”[158]Napoleon’s own words.—Vide “Memoires du Duc de Rovigo,” vol. ii., p. 171.

“And now,” said the emperor, when Savary had left him, “now we will sleep a little. Constant!”

The door opened immediately, and the VALET DE CHAMBRE entered.

“Ah, I am afraid you have had a bad night of it,” said the emperor, kindly.

“Sire, your majesty has again been awake all the night long, and—”

“And consequently,” said Napoleon, interrupting him—“consequently you have been awake, too. Well, console yourself; we shall soon have more quiet nights; console yourself, and do not report me to the Empress Josephine when we have returned to Paris. My dear Josephine hates nothing so much as sleepless nights.”

“Sire, the empress is right; she ought to hate them,” said Constant, respectfully. “Your majesty, taking no rest whatever in the daytime, needs repose at least in the night. Your majesty sleeps too little.”

“By doing so I am better off than the sluggards, inasmuch as my life does not only consist of days, but also of nights,” replied Napoleon, good-humoredly. “I shall have lived eighty years then in the space of forty. But be quiet, Constant, I will now comply with your wishes and sleep.”

Constant hastened to open the door leading to the bedroom.

“Oh, no,” said the emperor, “if I say I will sleep, I do not mean that I will go to bed. Beds are, on the whole, only good for old women and gouty old men. When I was second lieutenant, I once made the experiment not to go to bed for six months, but to sleep on the floor or on a chair, and it agreed very well with me. Give me the handkerchief for my head, and my coat, Constant.”

Constant hurried with a sigh to the bedroom in order to fetch the articles Napoleon had ordered; and while he was wrapping the silken handkerchief around the emperor’s head, and assisted him in putting on his gray, well-lined, and comfortable cloth-coat instead of the uniform, the emperor softly whistled and hummed an air.

He then snugly stretched himself in his arm-chair, and kindly nodding to Constant, he said: “As soon as General Savary has returned, let him come in.”

Constant softly glided into the anteroom. He met there some of his acquaintances.

“I have important news for you, gentlemen,” he said. “We shall fight a battle in two or three days.”

“Did the emperor tell you so?”

“No, he is not in the habit of speaking of such things. But during the night-toilet he whistled Marlborough’s air, and he does so only when there is to be a battle.”[159]“Memoires de Constant,” vol. iv., p. 109.