Читать книгу The Rocklitz - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 7

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Ferdinand Stürm waited for the young Elector in his pleasant hunting-box at Moritzburg. Windows and doors stood open on the abundant leafage of May, on beds of peonies, bushes of lilac and white thorn. The room was austere, lofty, light, and bare, save for the heads of stags in stucco and in bronze, which hung at intervals round the walls; the plain furniture was fashioned of horn and chestnut.

Count Stürm paced up and down, leaning on his stick; he felt the relief of a man who has passed through a difficult period and is assured of success—and success not far off; yet he anticipated a tedious hour.

The young Prince came to this interview with equal reluctance; he remembered his minister always as a stern, implacable figure, behind a specious smoothness of tone and manner. The young Elector had resolved to be rid of his redoubtable minister, and yet knew that for some time he would not venture on such an extreme; the truth was that he had an indolent disposition and knew little of the arts of government; without Stürm he would have been lost in a maze of place-seekers and intriguers; there was no one to take the minister's place, no one of his international reputation, of his judgment, courage and unscrupulous daring.

'Entering swiftly from the sunshine, Johann Georg greeted the minister with sullenness masked by civility, and with the half-sourly intimation that he wished the interview to be short.

He had returned from hunting and was flushed with exercise and excitement. He was tall, heavy, comely, and would soon be stout; though, in his twenty-second year, his figure was well enough; he was not ill-looking, but the defect of his face was the flatness of his features, the fulness of his lips, the thickness of his chin and neck. In compensation, however, for these defects the Elector was gifted with a pair of bright blue eyes, a fine, florid complexion, and a quantity of rich blond hair of uncommon brightness and profusion. He had been ill-educated and constantly indulged by an invalid, moody mother and an indifferent and sottish father; he concealed his ignorance, however, behind an air of breeding; in Stürm's belief his parts were not despicable, and he might be trained to energy, enterprise and industry.

He wore now a full dark green coat, heavily laced with gold, riding boots, and his brilliant hair in a buckle, and made a robust, gallant and handsome figure enough as he strode up and down the small, light, bright room, which was filled with the sunshine flowing through the thick golden-green beech boughs in from the narrow open windows without.

Indeed, Stürm, who with his invalidish air had taken one of the horn chairs and was resting with his hands crossed on his cane, considered impartially that this heir of the great House of Wettin had something splendid; a Danish mother and grandmother had emphasized the northern qualities of the Saxon stock; in his square, massive build, in his bright fairness, in his full-blooded colouring there was conveyed a sense of power, of a definite personality; not full grown yet, and clear of vice, he gave promise of gigantic stature and uncommon strength; his health was superb; though a gross eater, he was athletic, and neither slothful nor indulgent to himself; he liked the quiet life of a country gentleman, and was expert with horses, dogs, and gardens, was attracted towards agriculture and building; the foundations of his character were simple; when his appetites were appeased and his passions not aroused he would be good-natured, generous, and affectionate; but he was most sensitive as to his own defects, easily stirred to violence, jealous of superiority in others, particularly of his brother Frederic Augustus, who surpassed him in everything and whom he designed to send abroad on the first opportunity.

He was nettled now by the courteous silence of Stürm which he felt masked amusement.

"I am going," he announced, harshly, "immediately to Arnsdorf."

Count Stürm bowed over his cane.

"I shall not seek to impede the journey of your Highness."

"I am glad," returned the Elector, rudely. "I thought it was for that purpose that you came here, eh?"

"I am here, sir, for the purpose of preventing your marriage with the daughter of the House of Neitschütz."

At this the young man became turbulent, angry, almost violent, yet, as Stürm instantly noted, also uneasy. He assured the minister that he wasted his time and his breath, and that he was sorry he had undertaken the fatigue of the journey to Moritzburg on so futile an errand; his passion and pride alike dictated to him a hot resistance.

"I have promised her—we are contracted; her family is as ancient as mine; she is a paragon among women. I will hear nothing against it—nothing!"

He flung out these sentences as he strode up and down the pale, sunny floor.

Leaning against his cane, Stürm rubbed his hands together, and coughed, then sighed wearily at the tedious task which lay before him.

"This marriage is impossible; it will make your Highness ridiculous—not only in the Empire, but in Europe."

The angry young man did not immediately reply to this rebuke. He was sensible—it had often enough been put before him by widely-different people—that this marriage would likely make him laughable in the eyes of his contemporaries, and it was for that reason, and a certain shame and diffidence about his choice, that he had so far held back.

"Permit me," continued Stürm, with ironic deference, "to remind your Highness that you are very young, and that Fräulein von Neitschütz is not the only lady in the world who has a pretty presence and entrancing ways."

"I have decided to marry her; my own affairs are my own affairs and I will keep them within my own decision."

"Your father's wish, though, perhaps not definitely expressed, that you should marry the Margravine of Anspach, and I have ventured to undertake that negotiation."

"She is a widow, thirty years old," retorted the young Prince, furiously; "plain, they say, and quiet. I will not do it. I see what you are about, Count Stürm; you would strengthen the French interest in which you are so deep, binding me more closely to King Louis by this tiresome marriage! I," added the headstrong young man, petulantly, "prefer, if I must serve anybody, to serve the Emperor rather than the King of France. I am tired of hunting and Dresden and I should like to go into the field at the head of my own men—"

"His Imperial Majesty would most gratefully accept your Electoral Highness's services."

"Yes, fighting in the marshes in Hungary," retorted the Prince, rudely, "combating Turks and heathen—that is not my fancy—I wish to go to Flanders. All my interest and inclination are with the Allies. I intend to see Sir William Colt and Count von Spanheim when I return to Dresden."

Stürm grinned.

"I did not come here to discuss that—these points will no doubt come up at their proper turn. What I have to tell you concerns the House of Neitschütz, and the honour of your Highness."

"That will soon be one," retorted the excited young Prince, pausing before the minister and speaking not without dignity. "The lady will be within a few weeks, I hope, the Electress."

"It is impossible," smiled the minister, "that your Highness can so demean yourself. I must speak to you sharply and clearly. These people deceive you; Neitschütz is a man of broken fortunes, of unscrupulous and bitter temper, of no reputation. It is known to all that he has been angling for years for this marriage, inveigling your Highness from your childhood upwards."

At these words the young Prince flushed and moved away uneasily. He replied, however, quickly:

"That may be so—it is nothing to me."

"It surely should be something to your Highness, that this ruined adventurer will be put in charge of your affairs—he and his rakehelly sons who cannot rise above a captain's commission in the Cuirassiers..."

"I shall not advance the family," said the Elector, sullenly, "because I marry their daughter."

He did not himself like Major General von Neitschütz nor his two sons.

Stürm laughed; the words sounded like a futile defiance of an obvious fate.

"You underrate the lady's intelligence, her ambition, and her family affection," he remarked, drily. "Your Highness cannot marry Fräulein von Neitschütz and ignore her family. They will rule in Dresden, while I, no doubt, shall take my ease and make my reflections in the Koenigsberg."

"That is folly, Count," retorted the young man, hotly. "I will be ruled by no one, least of all by my wife. Madelon is meek and beautiful and will not think to cross my wishes."

"No?" remarked the Count, softly, with withered, pursed lips. "It may be as your Highness says, you have a better knowledge of the lady than I can pretend to. But this I do know—the foolish figure that you will cut by such a marriage. All your fellow princes will speak of you as a romantic boy, a simple youth, who has married his childhood's fancy."

The Elector was young enough to be stung by the sneers of this experienced man of the world, young enough to resent his own youth, and to be ashamed of his own generous impulses; but the lure and the thought of Madelon and a precious hidden dream of honour and joy were stronger even than these vexatious embarrassments; he scowled and frowned at Stürm, and added again:

"None of this makes any difference to me."

"The world is before you," urged Stürm, in a persuasive tone, "your Highness has seen nothing and been nowhere. You talk of war, of going abroad; that surely will come your way. You can choose then among many women—all of them I dare promise your Highness as seductive as this little Saxon girl. Your marriage will be one of policy—fidelity is not asked of you. The Electress will know her place, she will not interfere either with your business or your pleasures; she will, however, preserve your dignity and your dynasty. She will not intrigue, she will not have hungry relations to disgrace your court, she will not shame and harass you with flaunting extravagant behaviour—"

"Neither will Madelon," exclaimed the Elector, startled into familiar speech. "What should make you think, sir, that Madelon would shame me?"

"Her character, her face, the manner in which she has been trained, the manner of woman she is, sir, the manner of woman she has been taught to be."

Stürm made a fine gesture towards the young man who stared at him with an angry and baffled expression.

"Forgive me, sir, for I must go beyond the point of delicacy. Are you sure you have a firm hold on this lady's affections? Are you convinced that, young as she is, she has not already cast her eye on some other man?"

A name sprang at once to the Elector's mind, it was with difficulty he kept it from his lips—General de Haverbeck.

The minister did not scruple to speak that name.

"The lady has been, when in Dresden, very familiar with her cousin, General de Haverbeck; he is something of her cast of mind and something of her stern ambition—they are both bold and handsome and intelligent."

Stürm spoke these words as if to imply that the Elector had none of these qualities.

"I believe they understand each other; it is known that he has twice asked for her hand, only lack of fortune stands between them. Take care, sir, it is not because you do not lack fortune that you have found such grace with the lady."

"Haverbeck," frowned the Elector, sullenly, "I never liked. Send him back to Hungary, let him attach himself to the Imperial Court; I do not want him in Dresden. She has never spoken of him to me...she warned me of you...she told me she knew you would do all you could to poison me against her..."

"Ah," thought Stürm, "as clever as that—I might have known." Earnestly and with force he said aloud:

"I do entreat your Highness to forgo this lady, I will not conceal from you that her family being so ancient, her father, with all his faults, having so high a pride, you can never have her if you do not marry her, but such a marriage would be fatal—not only to yourself, but to Saxony."

The Elector was moved, exasperated, and troubled. He walked up and down the sunny floor, his hands clasped behind his full coat skirts. He pulled with his short white teeth at his full underlip, his wide nostrils distended, and the blood showed in his hot blue eyes. But he did not give way, and Stürm secretly respected him for the defiance he made and his fierce resistance to all worldly argument and consideration; Stürm had scarcely expected so stern a front.

Not without a certain pity for a bold youth exalted by his first passion did the minister bring the three letters from the inner pocket of his coat; this was almost as unpleasant as the interview with the two women the other day; he already felt exhausted.

"Captain Casimir von Neitschütz," he explained, deliberately, "has been lately in considerable difficulties. In his embarrassment he turned to a certain woman, a Baroness Fani von Ilten, who acts as a moneylender's agent. When desperately pressed he tried to negotiate a further loan, and she asked for some guarantee, and he gave her these."

Count Stürm did not hold out the letters, but kept them above his cane and looked on the floor.

The Elector paused in his striding and stared—first at the three papers, and then at Stürm's narrow, pale and impassive face shadowed by the frizzled wig.

"Captain Casimir von Neitschütz and his brother, Captain Clement, and their father have repeatedly said and boasted and spread it up and down that the daughter is to marry your Electoral Highness. On this assertion they have borrowed money, evaded debts, and put on an arrogant pride which has rendered them intolerable to their neighbours and companions. Fani von Ilten, however, is a shrewd hand at many games; mere words were not enough for her. Captain von Neitschütz, upon pressure, had the incredible effrontery and the extraordinary impudence to give her these letters, which I now, with pain, hand to your Highness."

The Elector snatched and read Madelon's first letter, round which still clung that faint scent of honey-clover, the fading knot of melilot on her desk.

"There is nothing in this," he said, hoarsely. "It is only as she might express herself to a brother who had been harrowing and tormenting her."

He spoke uneasily, even without conviction, and even as the words left his lips, his eyes darkening behind the thick pale lashes, he fell to the second letter—his own—the clumsy, ill-expressed love-letter, written with all his deep sincerity and simple passion.

"How did this come into the possession of the woman you speak of?" he demanded, towering over the shrinking figure of the minister.

"It was given her, as I have explained," muttered Stürm, "by Captain Casimir von Neitschütz—it came to him from his sister, in the third letter which I must entreat your Highness to read."

Stürm coughed nervously behind his hand; the room, though so airy, seemed oppressive; he hated those dark masks of stags with sharp horns, disliked even the sunlight, broken by the shadow of the beech leaves beyond the window; he looked no higher than the strong, well-shaped hands of Johann Georg, holding the three letters; he marked the twist of the braiding on the deep cuffs, the fall of the lace round the strong wrists; two of the letters fluttered to the ground.

Stürm had countersigned many a death warrant, but had never so definitely felt he was slaying something as he felt now; not the body but the soul of a human being was he destroying; in killing this pure and exalted love he felt, cynic as he was, that he was doing a frightful action...a strange sensation! He wiped his forehead and turned aside his head so as not to gaze at the young man as he read those words which must pull down many a rapturous expectation...

Stürm tried to think of the peace of nature...the park was very fair outside the window, the sunshine very serene in the green leaves of the beech trees, the pleasant glades opening to a violet horizon; it was very fair without...this was a boy's early love, nothing serious, after all; he would forget...

Johann Georg read Madelon's letter through twice.

Château Arnsdorf,

April 30th, 1692.

My brother Casimir,

Do not continue to importune us. Have I not already made clear to you the desperation of our immediate circumstances? How can you doubt that I shall marry the Elector? Do you not know me and him? I have his oaths, his promises, his vows—what is he but a fond and silly youth, my inferior in mind, in education and character? I send you his last letter. There are others more vehement. We continue to press him to visit Arnsdorf, it is certain he will come, and when he is here he will not leave it till we are married. Cease to harass us with your lamentations and complaints. Have I not also need of fortitude and patience? Burn this, even as you read it.

Your affectionate sister,

Madelon.

The first bitter and desperate emotion he had ever known in all his spoiled and easy life overwhelmed the youth as he read. He showed great self-control. He examined the letter to be certain that it was not forged or copied. He took two or three others, worn from being perpetually in a case next his heart, from his pocket, and compared them, and satisfied himself that this was Madelon's hand, nay, it was more than Madelon's hand, it was Madelon's heart, and Madelon's soul...

Count Stürm turned, biting his finger and, with lowered head, yet contrived to glance at the Elector.

"This boy will make a man," he thought, with approval.

Johann Georg did not rage or storm, did not threaten or lament. He put up the letters, and paced to and fro the sunny, light, faintly shadowed floor in silence, his hands again clasped behind the heavy skirts of his green, laced coat.

Stürm noticed that his young face had a contorted, almost a bruised, look. His blood appeared to have congested with shock, and Stürm, remembering how his father had died, feared that he might fall into a fit or seizure.

"I am sorry I had to go to such extremes," he muttered, with regret for his brutal action; "it was better that your Highness should see those letters now—than afterwards."

Johann Georg halted and made one or two efforts to speak. His thick lips and gold eyebrows twitched.

"How did you get to know of this?" he stammered, at last, in thick unnatural tones.

To give him time to recover that composure for which he was so valiantly striving, Stürm made many words of his answer.

"I have had, in the interests of your Highness, these two young Neitschütz watched; I have known of their difficulties and the company they keep, the way they were using your name and that of their sister to help themselves. I have tracked them to the establishment kept by this woman, and had them watched there by a spy of mine, one Strattmann. Well, as your Highness will guess, I got hold of the woman, and bought the letters. I could hardly have credited that they would have been so dishonourable and imprudent, but this Casimir is a profligate fool—"

"She has been laughing at me," whispered Johann Georg, as if that was the heart of all the horror for him. "She has been amusing herself, eh?"

"She meant it to be a profitable amusement."

He deliberately and carefully, despite his cool pity, added one more stab at the lacerated heart of Johann Georg.

"I have heard it stated by these same rascal brothers that she has a strong fancy for General de Haverbeck, and that once she were Electress, he would not spend much time in Hungary..."

"Ah," cried the Elector, on a heavy sigh.

"These women," urged Stürm, "are like that, sir; as you grow older, you will know it."

At this flick at his youthfulness and folly the anguish of the young man became intolerable; he put the back of his hand to his face with a childish gesture. Yet, to the admiration of the minister, he contrived to bear himself bravely.

"Leave it to me," he whispered, "I will deal with it. You may tell Colt and Spanheim that I will not meet them. As for the marriage with the Margravine, put it through, I suppose, I'll sign your contract...send off your proxies, eh, why not? I should thank you, but that must be later...I'll see that woman, Frau von Ilten...I'd like to hear...for myself."

His love, his first love, the love that he was lost in...

Stürm pitied him, and tried to remember some far-off day when he might have been hurt through a woman; indeed, he could remember none such; yet his subtle understanding of the human mind and the human heart made him capable of sympathizing now with the youth he had tormented.

"Absolve me, sir," he sighed, quietly, "from doing this for my own purpose; it was for Saxony and your Highness, too. These vultures and harpies that crowd round the courts of Princes need someone like myself to keep them away, sir."

Johann Georg did not hear; his shocked mind was going back over the years of his long knowledge of Madelon—all her ways, her smiles, and talks, and companionship, her sympathy, her interest, her understanding—all false, all assumed, for the mean end of ambition...Now his strained heart urged him to swift and desperate conclusions; he saw her as completely false and vile; yet he had not plumbed the depth of his pain, he was but on the verge of uncomprehended miseries.

"Am I not his superior in everything?" So she knew that, she who had so adroitly endeavoured to raise him in his own esteem. He fumbled at the folds of lawn round his neck; Stürm, who knew him to be so petulant, so violent, was amazed by the courage with which he took this blow.

She had laughed at him, he thought, with bitter torment, with her brothers, with Delphicus de Haverbeck, who, on every count, excelled him...Stürm had just said she was talked of with Haverbeck...she had been revealed so sharply, as so detestable, that he could believe anything of her; still with his fingers in his cravat he glared down at Stürm.

"Has Haverbeck been her lover?" he asked, hotly.

"Her lover." Stürm was surprised by this. He did not know, he had the worst opinion of the woman, her father and her brothers; yet he had not thought of this, but the youth's jealousy might be well founded.

He knew Haverbeck loved her...it was odd that he had evaded the marriage when put within his grasp, perhaps because no marriage was needed?

Stürm did not know; but it suited him that the Elector should think vilely of Madelon von Neitschütz.

"Possibly, she has an ardent temperament, and he has been successful with the women and in the field...I suppose they would be very attractive to each other."

The Elector shuddered; he put away the three letters with the others and fastened his pocket-flap over them. He pulled open the folds of lace and muslin on his throat; but it was not this that choked him, that made him feel all air was denied him, and that a weight lay on his heart, restricting its beating.

"Get forward my marriage with the Margravine," he muttered. "As for me, I shall go to Arnsdorf—they are expecting me."

"After this, sir, you will go to Arnsdorf?"

"Yes."

"Because you must see her again?" exclaimed Stürm, disappointed, alarmed.

"I do not know," muttered Johann Georg, thickly. "They must be punished. This cannot pass. I'll see that woman. Who sold the letters. I want to hear—more."

"You will but torment yourself, sir," protested Stürm, but not ill pleased; the youth would, he knew, hear from those two hellcats what would inflame him to fury against the House of Neitschütz.

"I'll go to Arnsdorf." Johann Georg, so young, so brave, struggled on with his sentences. "I'll tell them myself what I have found out."

Stürm reflected, sharply, that this would be well enough, this visit would be their final defeat, his final release. The old man rose, discreetly, wearily, thinking with relief of the ease of his carriage and the quiet of the seven miles' drive to Dresden.

Johann Georg did not observe his departure, nor hear his leave-taking; he remained standing in the light, sunny room, rapt in his pain, heavy, splendid, still; there was a taste like verjuice in his mouth; far away, dim, there eluded him the fairy shape of a delicate girl who admired, who loved, him; far away and soon lost completely; slurred by darknesses of gross perjury, of sly treachery, of foul, sneering plots, of grinning, lascivious intrigues.