Читать книгу The Countess of Rudolstadt - George Sand - Страница 10

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"I fancy you are about to speak of him" said the princess, moving the lights, to get a better view of the speaker, and placing her elbows on the table.

"While going down the Moldau, on the Bavarian frontier, we were seized by the recruiting parties of the king, your brother, and were flattered with the smiling hope of becoming, both Haydn and myself, fifer and drummer in the glorious armies of his Majesty."

"You, a drummer!" said the princess with surprise. "Ah! had Von Kleist seen you thus I venture to swear she would have lost her senses. My brother would have made you his page; and heaven knows what ravage you would have made in the hearts of our Court ladies. But what is it you say of Haydn? I know the name, and have recently received music of his, and, I remember, excellent music. He is not the lad you speak of?"

"Excuse me. He is about twenty years old, and does not seem fifteen. He was my travelling companion, and was a sincere and faithful friend. On the edge of a little wood, where our captors halted to breakfast, we escaped. They pursued us, and we ran like hares, until we had the good fortune to overtake a travelling carriage, in which was the handsome and noble Frederick Von Trenck and the ci-devant conqueror, Count Hoditz de Roswald."

"The husband of my aunt, the Margravine of Culmbach?" said the princess. "Another love match, Von Kleist. By the by, that is the only honest and prudent thing my aunt ever did in her life. What kind of a man is this Count Hoditz?"

Consuelo was about to give a minute account of the lord of Roswald, but the princess interrupted her by countless questions about Trenck, the dress he wore, and the minutest details. When Consuelo told her how Trenck had hurried to her defence, how he came near being shot, and had put the brigands to flight, and rescued an unfortunate deserter who was borne in the wagon with his hands and feet bound, she had to begin again to repeat the most trifling words and detail the merest circumstances. The joy and emotion of the princess were intense when she heard that Trenck and Count Hoditz, having taken the two travellers into their coach, the baron had taken no notice of Consuelo, but seemed wrapped in the examination of a portrait he concealed in his bosom—that he sighed, and talked to the count of a mysterious love for an exalted person, who was the origin of the happiness and despair of his life.

When Consuelo was permitted to continue, she said that Count Hoditz, having discovered her sex at Passau, sought to presume on the protection he had granted her, and that she had fled with Haydn and resumed her adventurous travels in a boat which went down the Danube.

At last she told how, playing on the pipe, while Haydn played the violin, they paid for their dinners by making music for the peasants to dance, and at length reached a pleasant priory still disguised, and represented herself as a wandering musician, a Zingara, called Bertoni.

"The prior," said she, "was passionately fond of music, and was besides a man of heart and mind. He conceived for us, for myself especially, a great friendship, and wished even to adopt me, promising me an excellent benefice, if I would but take the minor orders. I began to be tired of manhood, and the tonsure was no more to my taste than the drum. A strange adventure forced me to prolong my abode with my excellent host. A woman travelling by post, was seized with the pains of labor, and gave birth to a daughter, which she abandoned and I persuaded the good canon to adopt it in my place. She was called Angela, from her father's name Anzoleto, and the mother, Corilla, went to Vienna to procure an engagement at the Court Theatre. She did so, and with greater success than I had. The Prince Von Kaunitz presented her to the Empress Maria Theresa as a respectable widow, and I was rejected, as being accused and suspected of being the mistress of Joseph Haydn, who received lessons from Porpora, and lived in the same house with us."

Consuelo described her interview with the great Empress. The princess was anxious to hear of this wonderful woman, the virtue of whom no one at Berlin believed in, and who was said to have as lovers the Prince Von Kaunitz, Doctor Von Switzer and Metastasio.

Consuelo told at length of her reconciliation on account of Angela, with La Corilla, of her début in the principal parts at the Imperial Theatre, on account of the remorse and a generous impulse of her impetuous rival. She then told of the friendship that existed at Vienna between Trenck and herself at the abode of the Ambassador of Venice; and told how she had arranged a method of communicating with him, if the persecution of the King of Prussia made it necessary. She spoke of the piece of music, the sheets of which were to serve as a wrapper and signature to the letters he might send her, as occasion required, for her whom he loved: and told how she had recently been informed, by one of the sheets, of the importance of the cabalistic scroll she had given to the princess. It may be imagined these explanations occupied more time than the rest of the story.

Porporina having told of her departure with the maestro from Venice, and how, in the uniform of a company, and as the Baron Von Kreutz, she had met the King of Prussia at the wonderful Castle of Roswald, she was obliged also to mention the important service she had rendered the monarch before she knew him.

"That I was very curious to know," said the Baroness Von Kleist. "Poelnitz, who loves to talk, told me that his majesty at supper said that his friendship for the beautiful Porporina had more serious causes than a mere love affair."

"What I did was very simple. I used the ascendancy I had over an unfortunate fanatic to keep him from murdering the king. Karl, the poor Bohemian giant, whom Trenck had rescued from the recruiting party when he liberated me, had entered the service of Count Hoditz. He had known the king, and wished to be revenged for the death of his wife and child, who died of want and sorrow, just after his second arrest. Fortunately, he had not forgotten that I had been a party to his rescue, and had contributed something to his wife's assistance. He let me persuade and take the gun from him. The king, who was concealed hard by, as he afterwards told me, heard all, and, lest the assassin should have a return of fury, took a different road from the one he had intended. The king was on horseback, with no one but Bruddenbrock. It is, then, very possible that a good shot like Karl, whom I had thrice seen shoot a pigeon from the top of a mast, during the entertainment given by Count Hoditz, would not have missed."

"God knows," said the princess in a dreamy manner, "what changes this misfortune would have effected in European politics, and in individual destinies. Now, dear Rudolstadt, I think I know the rest of your story, until the death of Count Albert. At Prague you met his uncle, the baron, who took you to the Giant's Castle, to see him die of phthisis, and to marry him just before he breathed his last. You had not made up your mind to love him?"

"Alas! madame, I loved him too late, and have been cruelly punished for hesitation, and passion for the stage. Forced by my master, Porpora, to appear at Vienna, deceived in relation to Albert's indisposition, for his last letters had been intercepted, I suffered myself to be led astray by the glitter of the stage; and, in conclusion, while waiting for an engagement at Berlin, appeared with perfect madness at Vienna."

"And with glory" said the princess. "We know that."

"Miserable and fatal glory," said Consuelo. "One thing your highness does not know; it is that Albert came secretly to Vienna and saw me play. Following every step like a mysterious shadow, he heard me say, behind the scenes to Joseph Haydn, that I could not abandon my art without serious regret, yet I loved Albert. I swear before God, that within my heart, I knew that it was more impossible to renounce him than my profession, and wrote to him to say so. Porpora, who looked on this love as a chimera and madness, had intercepted and burned my letters. I found Albert in a rapid consumption; I gave him my hand, but could not restore him to life. I saw him lying in state, clad as a noble of yore, beautiful in the embrace of death, with his brow pure as that of the pardoning angel—but I could not follow him to the grave. I left him in the lighted chapel of the Giants' Castle, watched over by Zdenko, the poor mad prophet, who gave me his hand with a smile, and rejoiced at the tranquil slumber of his friend. He, at least, more pious and respectful than I, placed him in the tomb of his fathers, without being aware that he would never again leave that bed of repose. I was hurried away by Porpora, a devoted, yet stern friend, with a paternal yet inflexible heart, who shouted to me over the very tomb of my husband—'On Saturday next, you will make your début in Les Virtuoses Ridicules.'"

"Strange, indeed, are the vicissitudes of an artist's life," said the princess, wiping away a tear. Porporina, as she concluded her story, sobbed aloud. "You do not tell me, my dear Consuelo, the greatest honor of your life, and which, when Supperville mentioned, filled me with admiration. Not to distress the old canoness, and not to forfeit your romantic disinterestedness, you abandoned your title, your dower, and your name. You requested Supperville and Porpora, the only witnesses of your marriage, to keep it a secret, and came hither poor as before, and remained a Zingarella."

"And an artiste," said Consuelo, "that is to say independent, virgin and dead to all sentiment of love, such as Porpora always represented the ideal type of the muses. My terrible master carried his point, and at last I consented to what he struggled for. I do not think that I am happier, nor that I am better. Since I love no longer, and feel no longer capable of loving, I feel no longer the fire and inspiration of the stage. This icy atmosphere, and this courtly air precipitates me into the deepest distress. The absence of Porpora, the despair in which I am, and the will of the king, who prolongs my engagement, contrary to my wishes. May I not confess this, madame, to you?"

"I might have guessed it, poor thing—all thought you proud of the kind of preference with which the king honors you; but like myself, you are his slave and prisoner,—in the same condition as his family favorites, soldiers, pages and puppies. Alas! for the glitter of royalty, the glories of the princely crown; how nauseous are they, to those whose life is exhausted in furnishing them with rays of light. But, dear Consuelo, you have yet other things to tell me, which are not those that interest me least. I expect from your sincerity, that you will tell me on what terms you are with my brother, and I will induce you to do so by my own frankness. Thinking that you were his mistress, and flattering myself that you could obtain Trenck's pardon from him, I sought you out, to place the matter in your hands. Now, thank heaven! we have no need of that, and I shall be pleased to love you for yourself. I think you can tell me all without compromising yourself, especially as the affairs of my brother do not seem far advanced from me."

"The manner in which you speak of this matter, madame, makes me shudder," replied Consuelo, growing pale. "Eight days ago I heard it whispered around me, that the king, our master, entertained a serious passion for me, his sad and trembling subject. Up to that time I had never conceived anything possible between him and me, but a pleasant conversation, benevolent on his side, and respectful on mine, he exhibits a friendship and gratitude which was too great for the simple part I had played at Roswald. There is a gulf, though, between that and love, which I hope he will never pass."

"I think differently. He is impetuous, talkative and familiar with you; he talks to you as to a boy, and passes your hand to his brow and to his lips. He effects in the presence of his friends—and for some days this has been the case—to be less in love with you than he is. This all proves that he is likely to become so. I know it, and warn you, that ere long you will be called on to decide. What will you do? If you resist, you are lost; if you yield that will still be the case. If this be so, what will you do?"

"Neither, madame. Like his recruits, I will desert."

"That is not easy, and I do not wish you to do so, having become very fond of you; and I think I would put the recruiters on your tracks rather than you should escape. Well, we will find a way. The case is grave, and demands consideration. Tell me all that has passed since Albert's death."

"Some strange and inexplicable things amid a monotonous and moody life. I will tell you what they are, and your highness perhaps will aid me in understanding them."

"I will try, on condition that you will call me Amelia, as you did just now. It is not yet midnight, and I do not wish to be highnessed until day."

Porporina resumed her story thus:

"I have already told to Madame Von Kleist, when she first did me the honor of coming to my house, that I was separated from Porpora on the frontier of Prussia, as I was coming from Bohemia. Even now, I am ignorant, whether his passport was not regular, or if the king had caused us to be preceded by one of those orders, the rapidity of which is a prodigy, to exclude Porpora from his territories. This idea, perhaps wrong, at first suggested itself to me, for I remembered the brusque lightness and scowling sincerity with which the maestro defended Trenck, and blamed the king, when Frederick, at supper at Count Hoditz's, where he had represented himself as the Baron Von Kreutz, and told us himself of Trenck's treason and confinement at Glatz."

"Indeed! then the Maestro Porpora displeased the king in talking of Trenck?"

"The king never mentioned it to me, and I feared to remind him of it. It is certain, that in spite of my prayers, and his majesty's promises, Porpora has not been recalled."

"And he never will be," said Amelia, "for the king forgets nothing, and never pardons frankness when it wounds his self-love. The Solomon of the north hates and persecutes whoever doubts the infallibility of his opinions; his arrest is but a gross feint, and an odious pretext to get rid of an enemy. Weep, then, if you wish, my dear, for you will never see Porpora at Berlin."

"In spite of my chagrin at his absence, I do not wish, madame, to see him here, and I will take no steps to induce the king to pardon him. I received a letter from him this morning, in which he announces that an opera of his had been received at the imperial theatre at Vienna. After a thousand disappointments he has attained his purpose, and his pieces are about to be studied: I prefer, therefore, to go to him, than to bring him hither. I am afraid, though, I shall not be at more liberty to go hence, than I was to come."

"What say you?"

"At the frontier, when I saw that my master was forced to return I wished to accompany him and give up my engagement at Berlin. I was so indignant at the brutality and apparent bad faith of such a reception, that to pay the penalty I would have lived by the sweat of my brow rather than enter a country so despotically ruled. At the first exhibition of my intentions I was ordered by the officer to get into the post-chaise, which was ready in the twinkling of an eye; and as I saw myself surrounded by soldiers determined to use constraint, I embraced my master with tears, and resolved to suffer myself to be taken to Berlin, which, crushed with grief and fatigue, I reached at midnight. I was set down near the palace, not far from the opera in a handsome house belonging to the king, in which I was absolutely alone. I found servants at my orders, and supper all ready. I have learned that Von Poelnitz had been directed to prepare every thing for my arrival. I was scarcely installed when the Baron Von Kreutz sent to know if I was visible. I hastened to receive him, being anxious to complain of Porpora's treatment, and to ask reparation. I pretended not to know that Frederick II. was the Baron Von Kreutz. I appeared to be ignorant of it. The deserter, Karl, in confiding his plan to murder him, to me, had not mentioned his name, but had spoken of him as a superior Prussian officer, and I had learned who it was from the lips of Count Hoditz, after the king had left Roswald. He came in with a smiling and affable air, which I had not seen during his incognito. Under his false name, and in a foreign country, he had been much annoyed. At Berlin he seemed to have regained all the majesty of his character—that is, the benevolent kindness and generous mildness which sometimes decks his omnipotence. He came to me with his hand extended, and asked if I remembered to have met him.

"'Yes, baron,' said I, 'and I remember that you offered and promised me your good offices at Berlin, should I need them.' I then told him with vivacity what had taken place on the frontier, and asked if he could not forward to the king, his illustrious master, a demand for reparation for the outrage and the constraint to which I had been subjected.

"'Reparation?' said the king, smiling maliciously, 'that all! Would Signor Porpora call the King of Prussia out? Signorina Porporina, perhaps, would require him to kneel to her.'

"This jeer increased my ill-humor. 'Your majesty may add irony to what I have already suffered, but I had rather thank than fear you.'

"The king shook his arm rudely. 'Ah!' said he, 'you play a sharp game.' As he spoke he fixed his penetrating eyes on mine: 'I thought you simple and full of honesty; yet you know me at Roswald.'"

"'No, sire, I did not know you then. Would that I did not know you now.'

"'I cannot say so much,' said he, mildly, 'for had it not been for you, I would have remained in some ditch at Roswald. Victories furnish no ægis against assassination, and I will never forget that if the fate of Prussia yet be in my hands, I owe it to a kind heart, opposed to all plots. Your ill temper, then, dear Porporina, will not make me ungrateful. Be calm, I beg you, and tell me what you complain of, for, as yet, I know nothing about it.'

"Whether the king really knew nothing, or the police had discovered something informal in the passport of Porpora, I know not. He listened with great attention to my story, and told me afterwards, with the calmness of a judge, who is unwilling to speak unadvisedly, 'I will examine all this, and tell you about it. I shall be much surprised, if, without good cause, my officers have annoyed a traveller. There must be some mistake; I will find out, and if any one has exceeded his orders he shall be punished.'

"'Sire, that is not what I ask; I wish Porpora recalled.'

"'I promise you he shall be. Now be less sombre, and tell me frankly how you discovered my incognito.'

"I then spoke freely with the king, and found him so kind and amiable, so agreeable, that I forgot all the prejudices I entertained against him. I admired his brilliant and judicious mind, his easy and benevolent manners, which I had not remarked in Maria Theresa, and finally the delicacy of his sentiments about all things on which his conversation touched. 'Hear me,' said he, taking up his hat to go, 'I have a piece of friendly advice to give you on this, the very day of your arrival here. It is, not to speak of the service you have rendered me, nor of this visit. Though it be very honorable and natural that I should hasten to thank you, the fact would give rise to a very false idea of the friendly relations I wish to maintain with you. All would think you anxious of that position, known in court language as the king's favorite. Some would distrust, and others be jealous of you. The least inconvenience would be to attract to you all who had petitions, the channel of which they would expect you to be. As you would certainly have the good sense not to play this part, you would be the complete object of their enmity.'

"'I promise your majesty to act as you have ordered me.'

"'I give you no orders, Consuelo,' said he, 'but rely on your prudence and correctness. At the first glance I saw you had a pure and noble soul, and because I wished to make you the fine pearl of my department of the arts, I ordered from the remotest part of Siberia that a carriage should be provided for you as soon as you came to my frontier. It was not my fault that you were placed in a kind of travelling prison, and separated from your protector. Until he be restored to you I will replace him, if you find me worthy of the confidence and attachment you bore him.'

"I own, my dear Amelia, that I was keenly sensible of this paternal language and delicate attention. Something of pride, perhaps, mingled with it, and tears came to my eyes when the king, as he left me gave me his hand. I had to kiss it, as doubtless duty required; but as I am making a confession, I will say at the time I felt terrified and paralyzed. It seemed to me that his majesty flattered and cajoled my self-esteem, to prevent my telling what had passed at Roswald, as likely to produce in some minds an impression injurious to his policy. It also occurred to me that he was afraid of being ridiculed for feeling grateful for my services. At once, too, I recalled the terrible military régime of Prussia, of which Trenck had minutely informed me—the ferocity of the recruiters—the misfortunes of Karl—the captivity of the noble Trenck, which I attributed to his having rescued the poor soldier—the cries of another soldier I had seen beaten that morning, as I passed through a village—and all that despotism which was the force and glory of Frederick the Great. I could not hate him personally—but I saw in him an absolute master, the natural enemy of those pure minds which do not see the necessity of inhuman laws, and cannot penetrate the secrets of empires."