Chapter XIII (6)

“I request that my bust shall be placed on a pedestal in the centre of the tower, and turned in the direction of Madame de Kinsky’s portrait, and I beg my father to compose and have engraved on this pedestal some verses describing the happiness I have enjoyed in her society; but they must not contain any praise of myself; under each portrait he will write in verse a description of the person represented.

“XVII.--Arrangements for my household (not copied).

“XVIII.--I bequeath to Madame de Kinsky my good dog Tristan, that he may be taken good care of; he has been treated by me as I was by her, like a good and ever-faithful dog.”

_Note added by the Countess Dietrichstein._--“The body was embalmed, and, considering the circumstances, sent to Bel Œil by mail coach. A Mass was said at the headquarters at Boux, in the presence of all the officers; and orders were given that the last honours should be rendered to his memory on the passage of the coffin through Mons, where he was well known and beloved.

“In order to carry out his wishes as much as possible, the handkerchief will be placed in his coffin; the date he asks for is unfortunately from the 21st of September 1787 to the 14th of September 1792.”

Notwithstanding the mysterious reserve with which the Prince expresses himself, it is difficult not to believe that Madame de Kinsky was the secret object of his deep attachment. On reading his last wishes, so imbued with nobleness, tenderness, and generosity, we wonder how Hélène could have so misunderstood him, and obliged him as it were to transfer his affection to another. Perhaps she was not entirely responsible for their disunion; a mother or a friend like Madame de Rochechouart might have guarded her at the outset from many an imprudent step. It was impossible to expect experience and wisdom in a child of fifteen. During the last two years she had begun to feel how dearly they are purchased.

All this time Hélène had remained alone at Kowalowska. Notwithstanding the imprudences her passion for the Count had led her to commit, she had never for one moment entertained any other idea than that of marriage, though she knew in what light her conduct was judged by the world.

Mortified and discouraged, Hélène was giving herself up to the gloomiest ideas, when she suddenly received the news of her husband’s death. The sudden transition from despair to joy stunned her at first; but soon only one feeling possessed her soul, that of her freedom, and she hurriedly wrote these few lines to the Count:--

“A cannon-ball has carried off Prince Charles. I am free; it is God’s will: _This cannon was loaded from all eternity!_”[113] And absorbed in the selfishness of her passion, she did not for one instant regret the first companion of her life, or shed a tear for the father of her child. His glorious and touching end did not inspire her with an atom of pity.

And then, as if, indeed, death had received from God the mission of removing all possible obstacles to Hélène’s happiness, a few days later the second son of the Countess Anna died of a gangrenous sore throat, before his unhappy mother was able to reach him; and that nothing might be wanting to complete the romance, the Princess heard almost at the same moment of the death of her brother Xavier, leaving her heiress to an income of six hundred thousand livres.[114]

The Count had reached Niemirow in time to see his son, of whom, it must be added, Hélène had taken the utmost care. He wrote in all haste to the Countess Anna to tell her the fatal news, and then in another letter he announced to her Prince Charles’s death, and offered to give her back at once her eldest son, François, in exchange for her consent to their divorce. The unfortunate woman resisted no longer, she only begged that the legal forms should be carefully observed in obtaining the consent of the Court of Rome, hoping that in the interval her husband might return to her before the last step was taken. Directly after his mother’s answer the little Count François, accompanied by his governess and servants, started to meet her.

Without loss of time Hélène wrote to her uncle, whose character she well understood; she told him of her husband’s death, and implored his aid for the settlement of her brother’s affairs; she ended by asking him to see Count Vincent, who would be able to explain many important details difficult to negotiate in writing. She sent this letter to the Prince-Bishop by Major Hoffman, a Polish gentleman attached to the service of the Lord Chamberlain.

The embassy was a complete success. The prelate, calculating that Count Vincent Potocki living would be infinitely more useful to him than the Prince de Ligne dead, wrote to the Count, and begged him to come and see him when he should next go to Warsaw, and in the meanwhile offered to receive his niece at Werky. Hélène sent the following reply:--

_December 1792._

“MY VERY DEAR AND VERY HONOURED UNCLE--It is with the deepest gratitude that I received through Major Hoffman the assurance of your paternal disposition towards me. It has awakened in me the warmest and strongest feelings. Pray receive, my dear uncle, my compliments and my thanks. Many things at present prevent my going to see you as I should wish, but as soon as, by the grace of God, I am able to do so, I shall have the honour of presenting myself in person, and reiterating to you the deep respect with which I have the honour to subscribe myself, my very dear and revered uncle, your very humble and obedient servant and niece,

“HÉLÈNE MASSALSKA,
“Rowager-Princesse de Ligne.”

Then she wrote to the Count Vincent: “I do not advise you to await the arrival of the Prince-Bishop before writing to him, for he is one of those persons who never know when they will start or when they will arrive. You could send a messenger to Werky, who would wait for an answer, which might perhaps hurry on matters; but if the Prince-Bishop could see you, he would do every thing you wish, and we should be happy.”

The Count did not make up his mind to go, and Hélène, fearing his capricious and irresolute character, went to Werky herself. She entreated her uncle to apply to the Pope, so as to hasten the formalities necessary for the divorce, for she was in daily fear that the project on which she had set her heart should fall through.

Everything took place in accordance with the Princess’s wishes, and _three months_ after the death of Prince Charles de Ligne the marriage of Hélène and Count Potocki was celebrated at midnight in the Chapel of the Convent of the Bernadines near Werky. The apparent motive of this secrecy was the Princess’s mourning, as yet too recent to allow of an official wedding; but it must be added that the permission for a divorce had not yet arrived from Rome, and only came three months later. It required all the influence of the Prince-Bishop to obtain a priest that should celebrate the marriage under such conditions.

On entering the Chapel, and at the moment of realising the happiness she so ardently desired, Hélène experienced the deepest emotion, mingled with a vague sense of terror. She knelt beside the Count, and remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the ground, and absorbed in her thoughts. When the Count gave her his hand to lead her to the altar she rose to her feet, but suddenly stopped short, with a fixed and terrified gaze, a prey to the most terrible hallucination. By the flickering light of the wax tapers she fancied she saw three coffins laid across her path, which she would have to step over on her way to the altar. The Count, appalled at Hélène’s terrified look, inquired in a low voice the cause of her alarm; the sound of his voice recalled her to herself, and, chasing away the horrible vision by a strong effort of will, she resolutely ascended the three steps of black marble, which a moment before had presented such a sinister appearance. The bridal pair returned to Werky, and the terrible moment was soon forgotten.

After a prolonged stay in Lithuania, during which the Lord Chamberlain visited his wife’s extensive domains, they both returned to Ukrania, and Hélène triumphantly entered the Count’s abode, whither she had gone in such fear and trembling at the time of his illness. The past and all its sorrows were forgotten, and, radiant with happiness, she wrote to her husband, who was absent for a few days: “To-morrow I shall see you again, and see you still the same, for I do not want you ever to change in the smallest degree: virtues, attractions, wit, faults, caprices, all are precious to me; if you were more perfect, you would no longer be the Vincent for whose sake I should have been guilty of the greatest folly, if kind heaven had not permitted that all should be for the best in the end.”

FOOTNOTES:

[112] These three ladies were sisters.

[113] These were the words Madame de Sévigné used when writing to Bussy Rabutin on the death of Turenne.

[114] Twenty-four thousand pounds.

THE END

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.

_S. & H._