Chapter XII

Immediately after the opera, the theatre was laid with a floor, lighted up and decorated as usual, and the great ball, known in Berlin as the _redoute_, opened at midnight exactly. The company was tolerably mixed, for the princess and perhaps the princesses of the blood-royal mingled with the actors and actresses of all the theatres. Porporina entered alone, in the disguise of a nun, a costume which enabled her to hide her neck and shoulders with a veil, and her person with a very thick and ample dress. She felt that it was absolutely necessary for her to be completely concealed, to avoid the comments to which her being with Saint Germain would expose her. She was not sorry to have an opportunity of testing the penetration of the latter, who had boasted that he could discover her in any disguise whatever. She had therefore made, without aid, and without confiding in a servant, this simple and easy dress. She had gone out alone, dressed in a long pelisse, which she did not lay aside until she found herself in the centre of the crowd. She had not made the tour of the room before a circumstance happened that disturbed her. A mask of her own height, and which seemed to be of her sex, clad in a nun's robes, exactly like hers, met her frequently, and laughed at their identity.

"My dear sister," said this nun, "I would wish to know which of us is the shadow of the other. As it seems, though, you are lighter and more diaphonous than I, be pleased to touch my hand, that I may know if you be my twin sister or my shadow."

Consuelo repelled these attacks, and sought to go to her dressing-room, and either change her costume or make some alteration which might prevent a mistake. She feared that the count, in spite of all her precautions, had obtained some inkling of her disguise, and might test her _sosia_ of the secrets he had referred to on the previous evening. She had not time, though, to do so, for a monk was already in pursuit, and took possession of her arm without consulting her. "You cannot avoid me, my dear sister," said he, "for I am your father confessor, and am about to tell you your sins. You are the Princess Amelia."

"You are a novice, brother," said Consuelo, disguising her voice, as is the wont at _bals masqués._ "You know little of your penitents."

"Oh! you need not counterfeit your voice, sister. I do not know whether you wear the costume of your order or not, but you are Abbess of Quedlimburgh, and may as well own it to your brother Henry."

Consuelo recognized, indeed, the voice of the prince, who had often spoken to her, and who had a kind of lisp which was peculiar. To be satisfied that her _sosia_ was the princess, she continued to refuse to acknowledge that she was what Prince Henry fancied her. The prince added, "I saw your costume in the hands of the person who made it, and as princes can have no secrets, found out for whom it was intended. Come, let us waste no time in gossiping. You cannot deceive me, my dear sister, for I do not attach myself to your side for the purpose of deceiving you. I have something serious to say to you. Come a little aside with me."

Consuelo suffered the prince to take her aside, having resolved to show her face rather than thus acquire a knowledge of any family secret. The first word he spoke to her, when they had gained the box, however, was of such a character as to fix her attention, and give her a right to hear what he said.

"Beware how you confide too readily to Poporina," said the prince to his pretended sister. "I tell you this, not because I doubt either her discretion or nobleness of heart. The most important persons of _the order_ pledge themselves for her, and even if you continue to jeer me about the nature of my sentiments towards her, I will own that I sympathise with you in relation to her. Both those persons and myself, however, are of opinion, that you should not compromise yourself with her, until you are sure of her good disposition. An enterprise which would take possession in advance of so ardent a disposition as yours, and a mind justly irritated, as my own, might at first terrify a timid girl, a stranger beyond doubt to all philosophy and all politics. The reasons which have influenced you are not of that character which would produce an impression on a girl in such a different sphere. Confide her initiation, then, to Trismegistus or to Saint Germain."

"But has not Trismegistus gone?" said Consuelo, who was too complete an actress not to be able to counterfeit the hoarse and changeable voice of the Princess Amelia.

"If he has gone, you must be more aware of the fact than I am, for he has relations with no one but yourself. I do not know him. The Count Saint Germain appears the most skillful operator, and the person most familiar with the science which occupies us. He has done his best to attach this singer to us, and to rescue her from the dangers which menace her."

"Is she really in danger?" asked Consuelo.

"She will be, if she persists in rejecting the suit of the _marquis._"

"What marquis?" asked Consuelo with astonishment.

"You are out of your wits, sister; I speak of the _Grand Lama_, FRITZ."

"Yes, the Marquis of Brandebourg," said Porporina, seeing that he referred to the king. "Are you sure, though, that he thinks of her?"

"I will not say he loves her, but he is jealous of her. Besides, you must he aware, by making her your confidant, you compromise her. Well, I know nothing of this, nor will I. For heaven's sake be prudent, and let not _our friends_ fancy that you are actuated by any other sentiment than that of political liberty. We have determined to adopt your Countess de Rudolstadt. When she is initiated, and bound by oaths, promises and threats, you will expose yourself to no danger with her. Until then, I implore you, do not see her, and do not talk to her of our affairs. Besides, remain no longer in this hall, where you are out of place, and to which the _Grand Lama_ will certainly know you came. Let me take you to the door, for I can go no farther. I am thought to be under arrest at Potsdam; and some eyes pierce even an iron mask."

Just then some one knocked at the door of the box, and as the prince did not open it at first, repeated the tap. "That is a very impertinent person who insists on coming into a box in which there is a lady," said the prince, showing his bearded mask at the window of the box. A red domino, with ruddy face, the appearance of which was terrible, appeared and said with a strange gesture, "_It rains._" This news made a great impression on the prince. "Should I go or stay?" said he to the red mask.

"You must find a nun exactly like this, who is amid the crowd. I will take care of this lady," added he, speaking to Consuelo, and going into the box, which the prince opened anxiously. The prince left without saying another word to Consuelo.

"Why," said the new comer to Porporina, as he took a seat in the back of the box, "did you take a disguise exactly like the princess's? Thus you might expose yourself to a fatal mistake. I see neither your prudence nor your devotion."

"If my costume be like that of another person," said Consuelo, now fully on her guard, "I do not know it."

"I fancied this was a carnival joke arranged between you. Since chance alone has brought it about, let us abandon the matter, and talk no more of the princess."

"But, if any one be in danger, it does not appear to be the part of those who talk of devotion, to stand with folded arms."

"The person who has just left us, will, beyond doubt, watch over this august madcap. Certainly, you cannot be ignorant that the thing interests others than ourselves, for the person has also made love to you."

"You are mistaken, sir. I know that person no more than I do you. Moreover, your language is that neither of a friend nor of one who jests. Permit me to return to the hall."

"Suffer me, in the first place, to ask you for a pocket book you are instructed to give me."

"Not so--I have nothing of the kind."

"Very well. That is the language you should use. It is thrown away on me, however, for I am the Count de Saint Germain."

"That makes no difference."

"If I were to take off my mask, you would not know me, never having seen my features except in the dark. Here, however, is my letter of credit."

The red domino gave Consuelo a sheet of music, on which was written a testimonial she could not mistake. She gave him the pocket book, not without trembling, and took care to add, "Take notice of what I have said, I am charged with no message for you; I alone send these letters and funds to the person you know of."

"Then you are Trenck's mistress?"

Terrified at the painful falsehood required from her, Consuelo was silent.

"Tell me, madame," said the red domino; "the baron does not deny that he receives letters and aid from a person who loves him. Are you his mistress?"

"I am that person," said Consuelo, "and I am as much wounded as I am surprised at your questions. Cannot I be the baron's friend, without exposing myself to the brutal expressions and outrageous suspicions you dare to use to me?"

"The state of things is too important for us to stop at words. Listen: you charge me with a task which endangers and exposes me to troubles of more than one kind. Perhaps there may be some political plot, and with that I will have naught to do. I have given my word to the friends of Trenck, to aid him in a love matter. Let us understand; I did not promise to aid his _friendship._ The latter phrase is too vague, and makes me uneasy. I know you incapable of falsehood; and if you do not tell me positively that Trenck is your lover, and enable me to tell Albert of Rudolstadt----"

"For heaven's sake, sir, do not torture me thus. Albert is dead."

"As men think, I know he is dead; but to you and me he continues alive."

"If you mean in a religious and symbolic sense, it is true; but, if in a material point of view----"

"Let us not argue the matter. A veil covers your mind; but it will soon be lifted. What it concerns me now to know, is your position in relation to Trenck. If he is your lover, I will take charge of this commission, on which it is probable that his life depends, for he is without means. If you refuse to answer, I cannot be your messenger."

"Well," said Consuelo, "he is my lover. Take the pocket-book, and hasten to send it to him."

"That will do," said M. de St. Germain, taking the package; "noble and generous girl, let me confess my admiration and respect. This is merely a test to which I wished to subject your devotion and abnegation. Go: I know that from a generous sentiment you have told what was untrue, and that you are holily faithful to your husband. I am aware that the Princess Amelia, while she makes use of me, disdains to grant me her confidence, and toils to divest herself, of the tyranny of the Grand Lama, all the time that she plays the part of the dignified princess. She maintains her own part and does not disdain to expose you, a poor helpless girl, (as the public say,) to an eternal misfortune; yes, to the greatest of sorrows, that of impeding the brilliant resurrection of your husband, and detaining him in the torment of doubt and despair. Fortunately, between the soul of Albert and yourself a chain of invisible bands extends, uniting the spirit that toils on earth and in sunlight, with that which struggles in the unknown world, in the shadow of mystery, and far from vulgar humanity."

This strange language astonished Consuelo, though she had made up her mind not to put any faith in the captious declamations of pretended prophets. "Explain yourself, count," said she, in a tone of studious calmness and coldness. "I know that Albert's earthly career has not finished on earth, and that his soul has not been crushed by the breath of death. The connection, however, between him and me is covered by a veil which my own death alone can remove, even if God please to permit us to enjoy a vague memory of our previous existence. This is a mysterious point, and it is in the power of no one to assist the celestial influence which, in a new life, unites those who in another sphere have loved. What would you have me believe by saying that certain sympathies watch over me for the purpose of bringing this union about?"

"I can speak of myself only, having known," said M. de St. Germain, "Albert from all time, as well when I served in the Hussite war, against Sigismond, as later in the war of thirty years, when----"

"I know that you claim to be able to recall all your anterior life, and Albert, also, had that unfortunate impression. Thank God, I never suspected his sincerity, but this faith was so linked to a kind of mad exaltation, that I never believed in the reality of this exceptional, and perhaps inadmissible power. Excuse me from listening to your strange fancies on this matter. I know that many people, excited by frivolous curiosities, would now wish to be in my place, and would receive, with a smile of encouragement and feigned credulity, the wonderful stories you tell so admirably. I cannot act, except when it is my duty, and am not amused at what you call your reveries. They recall to my mind those which terrified and alarmed me so much in the Count of Rudolstadt. Keep them for persons who participate in them. On no account would I deceive you by pretending to believe; even if those reveries recalled no sorrow, I would not laugh at you. Be pleased, then, to answer my questions, without seeking to lead my judgment astray by words of vague and indefinite meaning. To assist you in becoming frank, I will tell you that I am aware you have vague and mysterious views about me. You are to initiate me in I know not what fearful secret, and persons of high rank expect you to impart to me the first principles of I know not what occult science."

"Persons of high rank, countess, sometimes make great mistakes," said St. Germain, with great calmness. "I thank you for the frankness with which you have spoken to me, and will not touch on matters which you will not understand. I will only say, then, there is an occult science in which I take an interest, and in which I am aided by superior lights. There is nothing supernatural in it, for it is purely and simply that of the human heart--or, if you like the term better--a deeper acquaintance with human life in the most secret springs of its action and resources. To prove to you that I am not a vain boaster, I will tell you what has passed in your life, since you left Count Rudolstadt; that is, if you will permit me?"

"I do--for on that point I am sure you cannot deceive me."

"Well, you love, for the first time in your life; you love completely and truly. Well, the person you thus love with tears of repentance--for you did not love him a year ago--this person, the absence of whom is bitter to you, and whose disappearance has discolored your life and disenchanted your future, is not Baron Von Trenck, for whom you entertained no feeling but gratitude and great sympathy; neither is it Joseph Haydn, who is but a young brother in Apollo; nor is it King Frederick, who both frightens and terrifies you; it is not the handsome Anzoleto, whom you can no longer esteem--but the one you saw on the bed of death, with all the ornaments which the pride of nobles place even on the tomb of the dead--Albert of Rudolstadt."

Consuelo for an instant was astonished at this revelation of her secret thoughts, by a man whom she did not know. Remembering that she had unveiled her life, and exposed her most utter secrets on the previous night to the Princess Amelia, and knowing from what Prince Henry had said, that the princess had mysterious affiliation with that society, a principal member of which the Count de St. Germain was, she ceased to be surprised, and told the latter that there was nothing strange in his being acquainted with matters she had owned to an indiscreet friend.

"You speak of the Abbess of Quedlimburg. Well, will you believe in my word of honor?" said the count.

"I have no reason to doubt it," said Porporina.

"I pledge it to you," said the count, "that the princess has not spoken a word to me of you, for I have not been able to exchange a word either with her or with Madame Von Kleist."

"Yet, sir, you have communicated with her at least indirectly."

"As far as I am concerned, my communication has gone no farther than sending Trenck's letters, and receiving hers by a third party. You see her confidence in me does not go very far, since she thinks I am ignorant of the interest I take in our fugitive. She is only foolish, as all tyrannical persons become, when they are oppressed. The servants of truth have expected much from her, and have granted her their protection. Heaven grant they may never repent of it."

"You judge an interesting and unfortunate princess harshly, sir count, and perhaps know no great deal of her affairs. I am ignorant of them."

"Do not tell a useless falsehood, Consuelo. You supped with her last night, and I can describe all the details to you." The count then told her of every circumstance, even what the princess and Madame Von Kleist said, the dresses they wore, the very bill of fare, their meeting the _balayeuse_, etc. Neither did he pause there, but also told our heroine of the king's visit, what had been said, of his shaking the cane over her head, the threats and repentance of Consuelo, even their gestures and the expression of their faces, as clearly as if he had been present. He concluded, "My honest and generous child, you did very wrong to suffer yourself to be won by this return to friendship and kindness on the part of the king. You will repent of it. The royal tiger will make you feel his nails, unless you accept a more honest and respectable protection--one true, paternal, and all-powerful, which will not be restrained by the narrow limits of the Marquisate of Brandebourg, but will hover over the whole surface of the globe, and would accompany you to the deserts of the new world."

"I know of no being but God, who can extend such a protection, and will care for so insignificant a being as I am. If I be in danger here, in Him do I put my trust. I would have no confidence in any other care the means and motives of which I would be ignorant."

"Distrust ill becomes great souls," said the count. "Because Madame de Rudolstadt is one of those thus gifted, she has a right to the protection of God's true servants. For that reason is protection offered to you. The means are immense, and differ both in power and right from those possessed by kings and princes, as much as God in his sublimity differs from the most glorious despots. If you love and confide in divine justice, you are bound to recognise its action in good and intelligent men, who, here below, are the ministers of his will, and protectors of his supreme law. To redress crime, to protect the weak, to repress tyranny, to encourage and reward virtue, to preserve the sacred deposit of honor, has from all time been the mission of an illustrious phalanx of venerable men, who, from the beginning of time, have been perpetuated to our days. Look at the gross and inhuman laws which rule nations, look at human prejudice and error, see everywhere the monstrous traces of barbarism. How can you conceive that in a land so badly ruled by perfidious governments, all learning and true principles can be repressed? Such is the case, and we are able to find spotless lilies, pure flowers, hearts like your own, like Albert's, expanding and blooming amid the filth of earth. Think you they can preserve their perfume, avoid the unclean bite of reptiles, and resist the storm, if they be not sustained and preserved by friendly hands? Think you that Albert, that sublime man, stranger to all vulgar baseness, so superior to humanity that the uninitiated thought him mad, exhausted all his greatness and faith on himself? Think you he was an isolated fact in the universe, and contributed nothing to the hearth of sympathy and hope? You yourself--think you that you would have been what you are, had not the divine efflatus been received from Albert? How, separated from him, cast in a sphere unworthy of you, exposed to every peril, every danger, everything calculated to lead you astray, an actress, the confidante of an imprudent and enamored princess, the reputed mistress of a debauched, icy, and selfish monarch, do you expect to maintain the spotless purity of your primitive candor, if the mysterious wings of the archangels be not extended over you? Take care, Consuelo; not in yourself alone will you find the strength you need. The prudence of which you boast will be easily foiled by the ruses of the spirits of darkness, which wander around your virginial pillow. Learn, then, to respect the holy army, the invisible soldiery, armed with faith, which already forms a rampart around you. You are asked for neither engagements nor services; you are ordered only to be docile and confident when you are aware of the unexpected effects of their benevolent adoption. I have told you enough. You will reflect maturely on my words, and when the time shall come, you will see wonders accomplished around you. Then remember that all is possible to those who believe and work together, to those who are equal and free; yes, nothing is impossible to them who recognise merit--and if yours were so elevated as to deserve this great reward, know that they could resuscitate Albert, and restore him to you."

Having thus spoken, in a tone which seemed animated by conviction and enthusiasm, the red domino left Consuelo without waiting for a reply. He bowed to her before he left the box, where she remained for some momeuts, motionless and a prey to strange reveries.