Buch lesen: «The Princess Virginia», Seite 8
Tenderly he took her hand and lifted it to his lips; then, when she did not draw it away (because he was to have his chance of explanation) he held it between both his own, as he talked on.
“Dearest one,” he said, “when I first knew I loved you – loved you as I didn’t dream I could love a woman – for your sake and my own, I would have avoided meeting you too often. This I tell you frankly. I didn’t see how, in honor, such a love could end except in despair for me, and sorrow even for you, if you should come to care. Had you and Lady Mowbray stayed on at the hotel in Kronburg, I think I could have held to my resolve. But when Baroness von Lyndal suggested your coming here, my heart leaped up. I said in my mind, ‘At least I shall have the joy of seeing her every day, for a time, without doing anything to darken her future. Afterwards, when she has gone out of my life, I shall have that radiance to remember. And so no harm will be done in the end, except that I shall have to pay, by suffering.’ Still, I had no thought of the future without a parting; I felt that inevitable. And the suffering came hand in hand with the joy, for not a night here at Lyndalberg have I slept. If I had been weak, I should have groaned aloud in the agony of renunciation.
“My rooms open on a lawn. More than once I’ve come out into the darkness, when all the household was sleeping. Some times I have walked to this very spot where you and I stand now – heart to heart for the first time, my darling – asking myself whether there were any way out of the labyrinth. It was not until I brought you here and saw you by my side with the moon rays for a crown, that a flash of blinding light seemed to pierce the clouds. Suddenly I saw all things clearly, and though there will be difficulties, I count them as overcome.”
“Still you haven’t answered my question,” said Virginia in a low, strained voice.
“I’m coming to that now. It was best that you should know first all that’s been troubling my heart and brain during these few, bitter-sweet days which have taught me so much. You know, men who have their place at the head of great nations can’t think first of themselves, or even of those they love better than themselves. If they hope to snatch at personal happiness, they must take the one way open to them, and be thankful.
“Don’t do me the horrible injustice to believe that I wouldn’t be proud to show you to my subjects as their Empress; but instead, I can offer only what men of Royal blood for hundreds of years have offered to women whom they honored as well as loved. You must have heard even in England of what is called a morganatic marriage? It is that I offer you.”
With a cry of pain – the cruel pain of wounded, disappointed love – the Princess tore her hand from his.
“Never!” she exclaimed. “It’s an insult.”
“An insult? No, a thousand times no. I see that even now you don’t understand.”
“I think that I understand very well, too well,” said Virginia, brokenly. The beautiful fairy palace of happiness that she had watched as it grew, lay shattered, destroyed in the moment which ought to have seen its triumphant completion.
“I tell you that you cannot understand, or you wouldn’t say – you wouldn’t dare to say, my love – that I’d insulted you. Don’t you see, don’t you know, that you would be my wife in the sight of all men, as well as in the sight of God.”
“Your wife, you call it!” the Princess gave a harsh little laugh which hurt as tears could not hurt. “You seem to have strange ideas of that word, which has always been sacred to me. A morganatic marriage! That is a mere pretense, an hypocrisy. I would be ‘your wife,’ you say. I would give you all my love, all my life. You, in return, would give me – your left hand. And you know well that, in a country which tolerates such a one-sided travesty of marriage, the laws would hold you free to marry another woman – a Royal woman, whom you could make an Empress – as free as if I had no existence.”
“Great Heaven, that you should speak so!” he broke out. “What if the law did hold me free? Can you dream – do you put me so low as to dream that my heart would hold me free? My soul would be bound to you forever.”
“So you may believe, now. But the knowledge that you could change would be death to me – a death to die daily. Yes, I tell you again, it was an insult to offer a lot so miserable, so contemptible, to a woman you profess to love. How could you do it? If only you had never spoken the hateful words! If only you had left me the ideal I had of you – noble, glorious, above the whole world of men. But after all you are selfish, – cruel. If you had said ‘I love you, yet we must part, for Duty stands between us.’ I could – but no, I can never tell you now what I could have answered if you had said that, instead of breaking my heart.”
Under the fire of her reproach he stood still, his lips tight, his shoulders braced, as if he held his breast open for the knife.
“By Heaven, it is you who are cruel,” he said at last. “How can I make you see your injustice?”
“In no way. There’s nothing more to be said between us two after this, except – good-by.”
“It shall not be good-by.”
“It must. I wish it.”
He had caught her dress as she turned to go, but now he released her. “You wish it? It’s not true that you love me, then?”
“It was true. Everything – everything in my whole life – is changed from this hour. It would be better if I’d never seen you. Good-by.”
CHAPTER XI
THE MAN WHO WAITED
She ran from him, along the moonlit path. One step he took as if to follow and keep her, but checked himself and let her go. Only his eyes went with her, and in them there was more of pain than anger, though never before in all his life, perhaps, had he been thwarted in any strong desire. Passion urged him forward, but pride held him back; for Leopold was a proud man, and to have his love thrown in his face, was to receive an icy douche with the blood at fever heat.
For this girl’s sake he had in a few days changed the habits of a lifetime. Pride, reserve, self-control, the wish not only to appear, but to be a man, above the frailties of common men, the ambition to be placed, and worthily placed, on a pedestal by his subjects; all these he had thrown away for Helen Mowbray.
He was too just a man not to admit that, if one of his Royal cousins of younger branches, had contemplated such folly as this, he would have done his best to nip that folly while it was in bud. “He jests at scars who never felt a wound”; and until Leopold had learned by his own unlooked-for experience what love can mean, what men will do for love while the sweet madness is on them, he would have been utterly unable to understand the state of mind.
A cousin inclined to act as he was now bent on acting, would but a month ago have found all the Emperor’s influence, even force perhaps, brought to bear in restraining him. Leopold saw the change in himself, was startled and shamed by it; nevertheless he would have persevered, trampling down every obstacle that rose in his way, if only the girl had seen things with his eyes.
She had accused him of insulting her, not stopping to consider that, even to make her morganatically his wife, he must give great cause for complaint not only to his ministers but to his people. For he was expected to marry a girl of Royal blood, that the country might have an heir. If Helen Mowbray had accepted the position he offered her, he could never have broken her heart by making another marriage.
Not only would it be difficult in these days to find a Princess willing to tolerate such a rival, but it would have been impossible for him to desecrate the bond between himself and the one adored woman.
This being the case, with Helen Mowbray as his morganatic wife, there could be no direct heir to the throne. At his death, the son of his uncle, the Archduke Joseph, would succeed; and during his life the popularity which was dear to him would be hopelessly forfeited. Rhaetia would never forgive him for selfishly preferring his own private happiness to the good of the nation.
He could fancy how old Iron Heart von Breitstein would present this point of view to him, with fierce eloquence, temples throbbing like the ticking of a watch, eyes netted with bloodshot veins. But on the other hand he could picture himself standing calmly to face the storm, steadfast in his own indomitable will, happy with love to uphold him.
But now, the will which had borne him through life in a triumphal march, had been powerless against that of this young girl. She would have none of him. A woman whose face was her fortune, whose place in life was hardly as high as the first step of a throne, had refused – an Emperor.
Hardly could Leopold believe the thing that had happened to him. He had spoken of doubting that he had won her love; and he had doubted. But he had allowed himself to hope, because he had confidence in his Star, and because, perhaps, it had scarcely been known in the annals of history that an Emperor’s suit should be repulsed.
Besides, he had loved the girl so passionately, that it seemed she could not remain cold. And he hoped still that, when she had passed a long night in reflection, in thinking over the situation, perhaps taking counsel with that comparatively commonplace yet practical little lady, her mother, she might be ready to change her mind.
For the first few moments after the stinging rebuff he had endured, Leopold felt that, if she did, it would be her turn to suffer, for he could never humble himself to implore for the second time. But, as he stood in the soft stillness of the night, gazing towards the lights of the house, thoughts of Virginia – her youth, her sweetness, her beauty dimmed with grief, – overwhelmed him. Could he have reached her, he would have fallen on his knees, and kissed her gown.
By and by a vast tenderness breathed its calm over the thwarted passion in his breast, and plans to win her back came whispering in his ear. He would write a letter and send it to her room. But no; perhaps it would be wise to give her a longer interval for reflection and – it might be – regret. To-morrow he would see her and show all the depths of that great love which she had thought to throw away. She could not go on withstanding him forever; and now that he had burned his boats behind him, he would never think of turning back. He would persevere till she should yield.
Meanwhile Virginia had hurried blindly toward the house, and it was instinct rather than intention that led her to the open window of the music room, by which she had come out.
Tears burned her eyelids, but they did not fall until she stood once more in the room where she and Leopold had been happy together. There she had sat at the piano, and he had bent over her, love in his eyes – honest love, she had thought, her heart full of thanksgiving. How little she had guessed then the humiliation in store for her, and the end of all her hopes! How could she bear her pain, and how could she go on living out her life?
She paused in the window niche, looking into the room through a mist of tears, and a sob choked her. “Cruel – cruel,” she whispered. “What agony – what an insult!”
Then, dashing away her tears, she pushed back the dark curtain, and would have passed on into the room, had not the quick gesture brought her arm into contact with the buttons and gold braid on a man’s breast.
Instantly she realized that some one was hiding there – some one dressed in a military coat; and her first impulse was for flight – anything to escape, unrecognized. But on second thoughts she changed her mind.
Whoever it was had in all probability hidden himself for the purpose of spying, and was already aware that Miss Mowbray had rushed into the house weeping, after a tête-a-tête with the Emperor in the garden. Perhaps he had even caught a word or two of her sobbing ejaculation. No, she must not run away, and leave the outcome of this affair to chance. She must see with whom she had to deal, that she might know what was best to do.
She had taken a step into the room, but quick as light she turned, pulled away the screen of curtain and faced Captain von Breitstein.
It was a trying moment for him, and the girl’s look stripped him of all his light audacity. She had come to the window by a different path from the one he had watched, therefore she had taken him unawares, before he had time to escape, as he had planned. He was caught fairly, and must save himself as best he could without preparation.
If her reproach forestalled his excuse, he was lost. He must step into the breach at whatever risk. No time to weigh words; he must let loose the first that sprang to his lips.
“I see what you think of me,” he said. “I see you think I was watching you. I swear I wasn’t, though I knew you were in the garden with – the Emperor. Wait – you must listen. You must hear my justification. I was sent to this room to fetch you. For your sake, how could I go back and say you had disappeared – together? I looked out into the garden and saw you – with him. I saw from your manner that – he had made you suffer. I was half mad with rage, guessing – guessing something which one word you let drop as you came in, told me had happened. He is my sovereign, but – he has insulted you. Let me be your knight, as in days of old. Let me defend you, for I love you. I waited here to tell you this, as you came, so that, if you would, we might announce an engagement – ”
If Virginia’s eyes had been daggers, he would have fallen at her feet, pierced to the heart. For one long second she looked at him without speaking, her face eloquent. Then she went by him with the proud bearing of a queen.
Egon was stricken dumb. Dully he watched her move across the room to a door which led into a corridor. He heard the whisper of her satin dress, and saw the changing lights and shadows on its creamy folds, under the crystal chandeliers; he saw the white reflection, like a spirit, mirrored deep under the polished surface of the floor.
Never had she been more beautiful; but she was beautiful in his eyes no longer. He had hurt her pride; but she had stabbed his vanity; and to wound Egon von Breitstein’s vanity was to strike at his life. He hated the girl, hated her so sharply that his nerves ached with the intensity of his hatred; and the only relief he could have would be through reprisal.
He had not been able to deceive her. She knew that he had been spying, and it was fortunate for his future, he realized already, that she had broken with the Emperor. He must do all he could, and do it quickly, to prevent a reconciliation, lest she should work him injury.
As for his hastily stammered proposal, it was a good thing that the girl had not taken him at his word, for the Chancellor had not given him permission to speak, and if she had accepted him, he might have had to wriggle out of his engagement. Still, he could not forgive her scorn of him.
“Lorenz shall help me to pay her for this!” he said furiously to himself, too angry to mourn over lost hopes, lost opportunities. “He will know how to punish her. And between us she shall suffer.”
CHAPTER XII
“THE EMPEROR WILL UNDERSTAND”
It was for refuge that the Princess fled to her own room.
A boudoir shared by the Grand Duchess adjoined it, and entering there, to her dismay the girl saw her mother lying on a sofa, attended by Ernestine, the French maid.
Virginia’s heart sank. She had supposed the Grand Duchess to be in the white drawing-room with the Baroness, and the other guests of the house. Now there was no hope that she might be left alone and unquestioned. And the girl had longed to be alone.
“At last!” exclaimed a faint voice from the sofa. “I thought you would never come.”
The Princess stared, half-dazed, unable yet to tear her mind from her private griefs. “Are you ill, Mother?” she stammered. “Had you sent for me?”
“I came very near fainting in the drawing-room,” the Grand Duchess answered. “Ernestine, you may leave us now.”
The French woman went out noiselessly.
Still Virginia did not speak. Could it be that there had been another spy, beside Egon von Breitstein, and that her mother already knew how the castle of cards had fallen? Was it the news of defeat which had prostrated her?
“Have you – did any one tell you?” the girl faltered.
“I’ve had a telegram – a horrible telegram. Oh, Virginia, I am not young, as you are. I am too old to endure all this. I think you should not have subjected me to it.”
The Grand Duchess’s voice was plaintive, and pried among the girl’s sick nerves, like hot wire.
“What do you mean, dear? I don’t understand,” she said, dully. “I’m so sorry you are ill. If it’s my fault in any way, I – ”
Her mother pointed toward a writing table. “The telegram is there,” she murmured. “It is too distressing – too humiliating.”
Virginia picked up a crumpled telegraph form and began to read the message, which was dated London and written in English. “Some one making inquiries here about the Mowbrays. Beg to advise you to explain all at once, or leave Kronburg, to avoid almost certain complications. Lambert.”
Lady Lambert was the wife of the ex-Ambassador to the Court of Rhaetia from Great Britain.
The Princess finished in silence.
“Isn’t it hideous?” asked the Grand Duchess. “To think that you and I should have deliberately placed ourselves in such a position! We are to run away, like detected adventuresses, unless – unless you are now ready to tell the Emperor all.”
“No,” said Virginia, hopelessly.
“What! Not yet? Oh, my dear, then you must bring matters to a crisis – instantly – to-night even. It’s evident that some enemy – perhaps some jealous person – has been at work behind our backs. It is for you to turn the tables upon him, and there isn’t an hour to waste. From the first, you meant to make some dramatic revelation. Now, the time has come.”
“Ah, I meant – I meant!” echoed Virginia, with a sob breaking the ice in her voice. “Nothing has turned out as I meant. You were right, dear; I was wrong. We ought never to have come to Rhaetia.”
The Grand Duchess grew paler than before. She had been vaguely distressed. Now, she was sharply alarmed. If Virginia admitted that this great adventure should never have been undertaken, then indeed the earth must be quaking under their feet.
“Ought not – to have come?” she repeated, piteously. “What dreadful thing has happened?”
The Princess stood with bent head. “It’s hard to tell,” she said, “harder, almost, than anything I ever had to do. But it must be done. Everything’s at an end, dear.”
“What – you’ve told him, and he has refused to forgive?”
“He knows nothing.”
“For Heaven’s sake, don’t keep me in suspense.”
Virginia’s lips were dry. “He asked me to be his wife,” she said. “Oh, wait – wait! Don’t look happy. You don’t understand, and I didn’t, at first. He had to explain and – he put the thing as little offensively as he could. Oh, Mother, he thinks me only good enough to be his morganatic wife!”
The storm had burst at last, and the Princess fell on her knees by the sofa where, burying her face in her mother’s lap, she sobbed as if parting with her youth.
There had always been mental and temperamental barriers between the Dresden china lady and her daughter; but they loved each other, and never had the girl been so dear to her mother as now. The Grand Duchess thought of the summer day when Virginia had knelt beside her, saying, “We are going to have an adventure, you and I.”
Alas, the adventure was over, and summer and hope were dead. Tears trembled in the mother’s eyes. Poor little Virginia, so young, so inexperienced, and, in spite of her self-will and recklessness, so sweet and loving withal!
“But, dear, but, you are making the worst of things,” the Grand Duchess said soothingly, her hand on the girl’s bright hair. “Why, instead of crying you ought to be smiling, I think. Leopold must love you desperately, or he would never have proposed marriage – even morganatic marriage. Just at first, the idea must have shocked you – knowing who you are. But remember, if you were Miss Mowbray, it would have been a triumph. Many women of high position have married Royalty morganatically, and every one has respected them. You seem to forget that the Emperor knows you only as Helen Mowbray.”
“He ought to have known that Helen Mowbray was not the girl to consent – no, not more easily than Virginia of Baumenburg-Drippe. He should have understood without telling, that to a girl with Anglo-Saxon blood in her veins such an offer would be like a blow over the heart.”
“How should he understand? He is Rhaetian. His point of view – ”
“His point of view to me is terrible. Oh, Mother, it’s useless to argue. Everything is spoiled. Of course if he knew I was Princess Virginia, he would be sorry for what he had proposed, even if he thought I’d brought it on myself. But then, it would be too late. Don’t you understand, I valued his love because it was given to me, not the Princess? If he said, ‘Now I know you, I can offer my right hand instead of my left, to you as my wife,’ that would not be the same thing at all. No, there’s nothing left but to go home; and the Emperor of Rhaetia must be told that Virginia of Baumenburg-Drippe has decided not to marry. That will be our one revenge – but a pitiful one, since he’ll never know that the Princess who refuses his right hand and the Helen Mowbray who wouldn’t take his left, are one and the same. Oh Mother, I did love him so! Let us get out of this hateful house as soon as we can.”
The Grand Duchess knew her daughter, and abandoned hope. “Yes, if you will not forgive him; we must go at once, and save our dignity if we can,” she said. “The telegram will give us our excuse. I told the Baroness I had received bad news, and she asked permission to knock at my door before going to bed, and inquire how I was feeling. She may come at any moment. We must say that the telegram recalls us immediately to England.”
“Listen!” whispered Virginia. “I think there’s some one at the door now.”
Baroness von Lyndal stood aghast on hearing that she was to be deserted early in the morning by the bright, particular star of her house party – after the Emperor. She begged that Lady Mowbray would reconsider; that she would wire to England, instead of going, or at all events that she would wait for one day more, until Leopold’s visit to Schloss Lyndalberg should be over.
In her anxiety, she even failed in tact, when she found arguments useless. “But the Emperor?” she objected. “If you go off early in the morning, before he or any one comes down, what will he think, what will he say at being cheated out of his au revoir?”
The Grand Duchess hesitated; but Virginia answered firmly “I said good-by to him to-night. The Emperor – will understand.”
