Читать книгу The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II - Lever Charles James - Страница 6

Kate Dalton’s was a heavy heart as, seated beside her new friend, she whirled along the road to Vienna. The scenery possessed every attraction of historic interest and beauty. The season was the glorious one of an Italian spring. There were ancient cities, whose very names were like spells to memory. There were the spots of earth that Genius has consecrated to immortality. There were the scenes where Poetry caught its inspiration, and around which, even yet, the mind-created images of fancy seem to linger, all to interest, charm, and amuse her, and yet she passed them without pleasure, almost without notice.

The splendid equipage in which she travelled, the hundred appliances of ease and luxury around her, the obsequious, almost servile devotion of her attendants, recalled but one stern fact, – that she had sold herself for all these things; that for them she had bartered her warm affections, – her love of father and sister and brother, – the ties of home and of kindred, even to the Faith at whose altar she had bent her knees in infancy. She had given all for greatness.

In all her castle-buildings of a future, her own family bad formed figures in the picture. To render her poor father happy; to surround his old age with the comforts he pined after; to open to dear Nelly sources of enjoyment in the pursuit she loved; to afford Frank the means of associating with his comrades of rank, to mix in that society for which he longed, – these were her objects, and for them she was willing to pay dearly. But now she was not to witness the happiness of those she loved. Already the hard conditions of her contract were to be imposed. Banishment first, then Isolation; who could say what after?

Her travelling-companion was scarcely well calculated to smooth down the difficulties of this conflict in her mind. Madame de Heidendorf was the very reverse of Lady Hester. Without the slightest pretension to good looks herself, she assumed to despise everything like beauty in others, constantly associating its possession with the vanity of weak intellects; she threw a kind of ridicule over these “poor, pretty things,” as she loved to call them, which actually seemed to make beauty and folly convertible terms. Political intrigue, or, to speak more fairly, mischief-making in state affairs, was her great and only passion. By dint of time, patience, considerable cunning, and a very keen insight into character, she had succeeded in obtaining the intimacy of many of the first statesmen of Europe. Many had trusted her with the conduct of little matters which the dignity of diplomacy could not stoop to. She had negotiated several little transactions, opened the way to reconciliations, smoothed the road to briberies, and allayed the petty qualms of struggling morality, where any other than a feminine influence would have been coarse and indelicate.

As a good monarchist, she was always well received at the Austrian Court, and in St. Petersburg was accustomed to be treated with peculiar honor.

By what amount of compensation, or in what shape administered, Midchekoff had secured her present services, this true history is unable to record; but that Kate was eminently fortunate, drawing such a prize in the lottery of life as to enter the world under her auspices, were facts that she dwelt upon without ceasing.

Frankness and candor are very charming things. They are the very soul of true friendship, and the spirit of all affectionate interest; but they can be made very disagreeable elements of mere acquaintanceship. Such was Madame de Heidendorf s. She freely told Kate, that of all the great Midchekoff’s unaccountable freaks, his intended marriage with herself was the very strangest; and that to unite his vast fortune and high position with mere beauty was something almost incredible. There was a landgravine of Hohenhôckingen, an Archduchess, a main gauche of the Austrian house itself; there was a granddaughter of the Empress Catherine, with any of whom she could easily have opened negotiations for him, – all of them alliances rich in political influences. Indeed, there was another party, – she was not at liberty to mention the name; and though, to be sure, she was “blind and almost idiotic,” a union with her would eventually have made him a “Serene Highness.” “So you see, my dear,” said she, in winding up, “what you have cost him! Not,” added she, after a few seconds’ pause, – “not but I have known such marriages turn out remarkably well. There was that Prince Adalbert of Bohemia, who married the singing woman, – what’s her name? – that young creature that made such a sensation at the ‘Scala,’ – ’ La Biondina’ they called her. Well, it is true, he only lived with her during the Carnival; but there she is now, with her handsome house in the Bastey, and the prettiest equipage in the Prater. I know several similar cases. The Archduke Max and Prince Ravitzkay, – though, perhaps, not him; for I believe he sent that poor thing away to the mines.”

“His wife – to the mines!” gasped Kate, in terror.

“Don’t be frightened, my dear child,” said Madame, smiling; “be a good girl, and you shall have everything you like. Meanwhile, try and unlearn all those gaucheries you picked up with that strange Lady Hester. It was a shocking school of manners, – all those eccentric, out-of-the-way people, who lounged in and lounged out, talking of nothing but each other, utterly ignorant of the great interests that are at stake in Europe at this moment Try, therefore, and forget that silly coterie altogether. When we arrive at Vienna, you will be presented to the Archduchess Louisa.”

“And I shall see dear – dear Frank!” burst out Kate, with an irrepressible delight.

“And who is Frank, Madame?” said the other, proudly drawing herself up.

“My brother, – my only brother, – who is in the Austrian service.”

“Is he on the Emperor’s staff?”

“I know nothing of his position, only that he is a cadet.”

“A cadet, child! Why, do you know that that means a common soldier, – a creature that mounts with a musket, or carries a bread-bag over its shoulder through the streets in a fatigue-jacket?”

“I care nothing for all that. He may be all you say, and twice as humble, but he is my brother Frank still, – the playfellow with whom I passed the day when – when I was happy – as I shall never be again! – the fond, kind brother, whom we were all so proud of.”

An expression of scornful compassion on Madame de Heidendorf ‘s features at once stopped Kate, and she covered her face with her hands to hide her shame.

“Madame la Princesse,” began the Countess, – for whenever she peculiarly desired to impress Kate with her duties, she always prefaced the lesson by her new title, – “the past must be forgotten, or you will find yourself totally unable to compete with the difficulties of your station. There is but one way to make the Prince’s mésalliance pardonable, which is by as seldom as possible parading its details. If, then, you insist upon seeing your brother during our stay at Vienna, it must be in secret you said something, I think, of an old field-marshal, – a connection?”

“My father’s uncle, Madame.”

“Very true. Well, your brother can come with some letter or message from him; or if Nina, your maid, has no objection, he might pass for a lover of hers.”

“Madame!” cried Kate, indignantly.

“I said, if Nina made no objection,” said Madame de Heidendorf, as though answering the indignant exclamation. “But these are matters of my consideration, Madame, – at least, if I understand the spirit of the Prince’s instructions.”

Some such scene as this, usually closing with a similar peroration, formed the conversation of the road; and hour by hour Kate’s courage fell lower, as she contemplated all that her elevation had cost her. And what a mockery was it, after all! It was true that she journeyed in a carriage with all the emblazonry of royalty; that a group of uncovered lackeys attended her as she descended; that she was ever addressed by a proud title; a respectful, submissive devotion surrounding her at every instant But, amid all this, there was not one look, one word of kindness; nothing of interest or sympathy with her solitary grandeur. It mattered little that the bars of her cell were of gold; it was a prison still.

With what eagerness did she turn from the present, with all its splendor, to think of her former life, when, wandering among the hills of Baden she had listened to little Hans, or watched dear Nelly, as the first gleams of her intentions began to manifest themselves on a sculptured group. With what rapture had she heard passages that seemed akin to something she had felt but could not express! How had she loved the changeful effects of light and shade on a landscape where every tree or rock or cliff was familiar to her! Oh, if she could but be back again, hopeful, ardent, and trusting, as she once was! Oh, if the brief past could be but a dream, and she were once more beside her father and Nelly, knowing nothing of that world which, in so short a space, had revealed so much before her! Even to those who so lately had supplied the place of family to her, all were gone, and she was utterly alone.

She did not dare to think of George Onslow. It seemed to her like a treason to recall his memory; and if his image did rise at times before her fancy, a burning blush would cover her cheek, and a sense of shame would send a throb like agony through her heart. The plans and projects for her future life she heard of without interest; a vague and confused impression of a long journey, halting here and there to be presented to certain great and distinguished persons, and finally of her arrival at St. Petersburg, were all that she knew. That the Prince was to join her there, and then, with the Emperor’s permission, return with her to the south of Europe, – such were the outlines of a career over which a sinking heart threw a gloomy shadow.

Madame de Heidendorf was too occupied with her own thoughts to notice this despondency; besides that, she was incessantly teaching Kate some one requisite or other of that rigid etiquette which prevailed in the society she was about to enter; the precise titles by which she was to address this or that personage; how many courtesies to give here, how many reverences there, – little educational exercises that were always accompanied by some warning admonition of their importance to one who, like herself, had never seen anything like good society, and whose breaches of good breeding would be certain of being severely commented on.

“Think of the Prince, Madame,” she would say; “think of what he will suffer when they repeat any of your transgressions. I am afraid there are many humiliations in store for him. And what a step to take at such a moment, with these horrible Socialist doctrines abroad, – these levelling theories of equality, and so forth. I hope his Majesty the Emperor will pardon him; I hope he will forgive you.”

This was a favorite speech of hers, and so often repeated that Kate at last began to look on herself as a great criminal, and even speculated on what destiny should befall her if the Emperor proved unmerciful.

These were sorry resources to shorten the weariness on a Journey, and Kate felt a throb of pleasure – the first she had experienced – when the towers of St. Stephen, in the far distance, announced the approach to Vienna.