Chapter XIII

Being now anxious to retire, Consuelo left the box, and in one of the corridors met two masks. One of them said, in a low tone--

"Do not trust the Count de St. Germain."

She fancied that she recognised the voice of Uberto Porporino, her brother artist, and took him by the sleeve of his domino. She said--

"Who is this count? I do not know him."

The mask did not seem to disguise his voice, which Consuelo at once recognised as that of young Benda, the melancholy violinist. He took her other hand, and said, "Distrust adventures and adventurers."

They then passed hastily, as if they were anxious to ask and answer no questions.

Consuelo was surprised that she had been so easily recognised, notwithstanding her care to disguise herself. Consequently she hurried to go. She soon saw that she was watched, and followed by a mask, the form and bearing of which seemed to denote Von Poelnitz, the director of the royal theatres, and chamberlain to the king. She had not the least doubt when he spoke to her, great soever as was his care to change his voice and tone. He made some idle remarks, to which she did not reply, for she saw distinctly that he wished to make her talk. She succeeded in getting rid of him, and went through the ball-room, so as to be able to give him the slip, in case he should persist in following her. There was a great crowd, and she had much difficulty in finding the entrance. Just at that moment she looked around, to be sure that she was not followed, and was surprised to see Poelnitz talking in the most friendly manner possible with the red domino, whom she supposed to be the Count de St. Germain. She was not aware that Poelnitz had known him in France, and feared some treason on the part of the _adventurer_--not for herself, but for the princess--the secret of whom she had involuntarily betrayed to a suspicious character.

When she awoke the next morning, she found a coronet of white roses hanging above her head, to the crucifix which had belonged to her mother, and with which she had never parted. She at the same time observed that the cypress bough, which, since the evening of a certain triumph at Vienna, when it had been thrown on the stage, had never ceased to adorn the crucifix, had disappeared. She looked in every direction for it in vain. It seemed that in substituting for it the fresh and smiling crown, this sad emblem had intentionally been removed. Her servant could not tell her how or when the substitution had been made. She said she had not left the house on the previous evening, and had admitted no one. She had not observed it when she prepared her mistress's bed, and had not noticed if the crown was there or not. In a word, she was so naïvely amazed at the matter, that it was difficult to suspect her sincerity. This girl had a very unselfish heart, of which Consuelo had received more than one proof. Her only fault was a great love of gossip, and making her mistress the confidant of all her chatterings. She did not on this occasion fail to weary her with a long story of the most tedious details, though she could give her no information. She did nothing but comment on the mysterious gallantry of the chaplet. Consuelo, ere long, was so wearied, that she besought her not to chatter any more, but to be quiet. When she was alone, she examined the coronet with the greatest care. The flowers were fresh, as if they had been gathered an instant before, and as full of perfume as if it was not mid-winter. Consuelo sighed when she thought such beautiful roses were at such a season scarcely to be found in any other place than in a royal residence, and that her maid, perhaps, had good reasons for not attributing them to the politeness of the king.

"He did not know," said she, "how fond I was of my cypress. Why did he take it away? It matters not what hand has committed this profanation, but may it be cursed!" As Porporina cast the chaplet from her, with an expression of great sadness, she saw a slip of white parchment fall from it, which she picked up, and on which she read these words, in an unknown hand:--

"Every noble action merits a recompense, and the only one worthy of great souls is the homage of hearts that sympathise. Let the cypress disappear from your bedside, my generous sister, and let these flowers rest on your brow, if but for a moment. It is your bridal crown--it is the pledge of your eternal marriage with virtue, and of your admission into the communion of the true believers."

Consuelo examined these characters with great surprise for a long time, and her imagination sought in vain to discover some similarity to Count Albert's writing. In spite of the distrust she entertained of the kind of initiation to which she was invited--in spite of the revulsion inspired by the promises of magic, which then was very popular in all Germany and all philosophical Europe--in spite of the advice her friends had given her, to be on her guard--the last words of the red domino, and the expressions of the anonymous note, excited her imagination almost to the point of downright curiosity, which may rather be called poetic anxiety. Without knowing why she obeyed the affectionate injunction of her unknown friends, she placed the coronet on her dishevelled hair, and fixed her eyes on a glass, as if she expected to see behind her the unknown apparition.

She was roused from her reverie by a short, distinct ring at the door, and a servant came to tell her that the Baron Von Buddenbrock had a word to say to her. This _word_ was pronounced with all the arrogance an aide-de-camp always assumes when he is no longer under his master's eyes.

"Signorina," said he, when she had gone into the saloon, "you must go with me to the king at once. Make haste--the king awaits you."

"I will not wait on the king in slippers and in a _robe-de-chambre_," said La Porporina.

"I give you five minutes to dress," said Buddenbrock, taking his watch from his pocket and pointing to the door of her chamber.

Consuelo was frightened, but having made up her mind to assume all the dangers and misfortunes which might menace the princess and Trenck, dressed in less time that had been given her, and went in company with Buddenbrock, apparently perfectly calm. The aide had seen the king in a rage, and though he did not know why, when he received an order to bring the criminal, felt all the royal rage pass into his own heart. When he found Consuelo so calm, he remembered that his master had a great passion for this girl. He said that perhaps she might come out the victor in the contest which was about to begin, and be angry at his harsh conduct. He therefore thought it best to resume his humility, remembering he could play the tyrant when her disgrace was certain. He offered her his hand with an awkward and strange courtesy, to help her in the carriage he had brought, and looking shrewdly and sharply at her, as he sat on the front seat opposite her, with his hat in his hand, said:

"This, signorina, is a magnificent winter's day."

"Certainly, baron," said Consuelo, in a mocking tone. "It is a fine time to go beyond the walls."

As she spoke thus, Consuelo thought, with truly stoic calmness, that she was about to pass the rest of the day _en route_ to some fortress. Buddenbrock, who could not conceive of such heroism, fancied that she menaced him, in case she triumphed over the stormy trials which awaited her, with disgrace and imprisonment. He became pale; he attempted to be agreeable, but could not, and remained thoughtful and discountenanced, asking himself anxiously what he had done to displease Porporina.

Consuelo was introduced into a cabinet, the rose-colored furniture of which she had time to see was scratched by the puppies that ran in and out of it, covered with snuff, and very dirty. The king was not there, but she heard his voice in the next room, and when he was in a bad humor his voice was a terrible one. "I tell you I will make an example of this rabble, which long has been gnawing the bowels of Prussia. I will purge them!" said he, as he walked with his creaking boots up and down, in the greatest agitation.

"Your majesty will do reason and Prussia a great service," said the person to whom he spoke, "but it is no reason why a woman----"

"Yes, Voltaire, it is a reason. You do not know that the worst intrigues and most infernal machinations originate in their brains?"

"A woman, sire! a woman!"

"Well, why repeat that again? You are fond of women, and have the misfortune to live under the control of a petticoat, and cannot treat them like soldiers and slaves when they interfere in serious matters."

"Your majesty cannot think there is anything serious in this affair? You must use soporifics, and the pump-workers of miracles and adepts of magic."

"You do not know what you are talking about, M. de Voltaire. What if I told you poor La Mettrie had been poisoned?"

"So will any one be who eats more than his stomach can contain and digest. Every indigestion is poison."

"I tell you his gourmandise alone did not kill him. They gave him a _pâté_, made of an eagle, and told him it was pheasant."

"Well, the Prussian eagle is a deadly bird, but it uses lightning, not poison."

"Well, spare me your metaphors. I will bet a hundred to one it was poison. La Mettrie had faith in their extravagances, poor devil, and told to anyone who would listen, half serious half in jest, that they had shown him ghosts and devils. They crazed his incredulous and volatile mind. As, however, after being Trenck's friend, he had abandoned him, they punished him in their own way, I will now punish them, and in a way they will not forget. As for those who, under the cover of their infamous tricks, plot and deceive the vigilance of the laws----"

Here the king pushed to the door, which had not been entirely shut, and Consuelo heard no more. After waiting for a quarter of an hour in much anxiety, she saw Frederick appear. Rage had made him look frightfully old and ugly, he shut all the doors carefully, without looking at or speaking to her, and when he again approached, there was something so perfectly diabolical in his expression that she thought at first he was about to strangle her. She knew that in his moments of rage, all the savage instincts of his father returned to him, and that he did not hesitate to bruise and kick the legs of his public functionaries with his heavy boots, when he was in a bad humor. La Mettrie used to laugh at these outrages, and used to assure him that the exercise was good for the gout, with which the king was prematurely attacked.

La Mettrie would never again either make the king laugh, or laugh at him. Young, active, fat, and hearty, he had died two days before from excesses at the table; and I know not what dark fancy suggested to the king the idea of attributing his death, now to the machinations of the Jesuits, and then again to the fashionable sorcerers. The king himself, though not aware of it, was under the influence of the vague and puerile terror of the occult sciences, with which all Germany was then inspired.

"Listen to me," said he to Consuelo, with a piercing glance. "You are unmasked. You are lost, and there is but one way to save yourself--that is, to make a full, free and unreserved confession."

As Consuelo did not reply, he said--

"Down, wretch, down on your knees!"--(he pointed to the floor)--"you cannot make such a confession standing! Your brow should be in the dust. On your knees, or I will not hear you!"

"As I have nothing to tell you," said Consuelo, in an icy tone, "you have nothing to hear. As for kneeling, you can never make me do so."

The king at first felt inclined to knock Consuelo down and trample on her. She looked mechanically towards Frederick's hands, which were extended towards her, and fancied she saw his nails grow longer, as those of cats do when about to spring on their prey. The royal claws, however, were soon contracted; amid all his littlenesses, having too much grandeur of soul not to admire courage in others.

"Unfortunate girl," said he, with an expression of pity, "they have succeeded in making a fanatic of you. Listen to me. Time is precious. You yet may ransom your life. In five minutes it will he too late. Use them well, and decide on telling me all, or prepare to die."

"I am prepared," said Consuelo, indignant at the menace, which she thought he would not execute, and used only to frighten her.

"Be silent and think," said the king, placing himself at his desk, and opening a book, with an affectation of calmness, which did not hide a deep and painful emotion.

Consuelo, while she remembered that the Baron Von Buddenbrock had aped the king grotesquely, by giving her, with watch in hand, five minutes to dress herself, she took advantage of the time to reflect on the line of conduct she should pursue. She saw that what she should most avoid was the shrewd and penetrating cross-examination with which the king would entrap her, as in a web. Who can flatter and trick a criminal judge like Frederick? She was in danger of falling into the snare, and ruining the princess instead of saving her. She then took the generous resolution of not seeking to justify herself, but of asking of what she was accused, and irritating the judge, so that he award an unreasonable and unjust sentence, _ab irato._ Ten minutes passed thus, without the king's looking up from his book. Perhaps he wished to give her time to change her mind. Perhaps he had been absorbed by his book.

"Have you determined?" said he, at last, putting down his book crossing his legs, and leaning his elbows on the table.

"I have nothing to determine on, being under the power of violence and injustice; I have only to submit."

"Do you charge me with violence and injustice?"

"If not yourself, it is the absolute power you exercise, which corrupts your soul, and leads your justice astray."

"Very well. Then you establish yourself as a judge of my conduct, and forget you have but a few moments left to save yourself from death."

"You have no right to take my life, for I am not your subject. If you violate the law of nations, so much the worse for you. For my own part, I had rather die than live one day longer under your laws."

"You confess your hatred frankly," said the king, who appeared to penetrate Consuelo's design, and who was about to foil it by putting on an air of _sang-froid_ and contempt. "I see that you have been to a good school, and the _rôle_ of Spartan virgin, which you play so well, is a great evidence against your accomplices. It reveals their conduct more completely than you think. You are not acquainted with the law of nations and of men. Any sovereign can destroy all in his states who conspire against him."

"I a conspirator!" said Consuelo, carried away by the feeling of conscious truth, and too indignant to vindicate herself. She shrugged her shoulders, turned her back on the king, and without knowing what she was doing, seemed about to go away.

"Where are you going?" said the king, struck by her air of candor.

"To the prison!--to the scaffold!--to any place you please!--provided you do not make me listen to this absurd accusation!"

"You are very angry," said the king, with a sardonic laugh. "Do you wish to know why? You come here with the intention of playing the Roman before me, and your comedy has been cut down into a mere interlude. Nothing is so mortifying, especially to an actress, as not to be able to play her part effectively."

Consuelo, scorning to reply, folded her arms and looked so fixedly at the king that he was disconcerted. To stifle the rage which burned within him, he was forced to break silence, and resume his bitter mockery, hoping that in this way he would irritate the accused, and that to defend herself she would lose her reserve and distrust.

"Yes," said he, as if in reply to the silent language of her proud face. "I know well enough you have been made to think I was in love with you, and that you could brave me with impunity. All this would be very amusing, were it not that persons on whom I place a higher estimate were not the cause of the affair. Vain of playing a great part, you forgot that subaltern confidants are always sacrificed by those who employ them. I cannot, therefore, punish them, for they are too near to me for it to be possible to chastise them, except by the contemplation of your suffering. It is for you to see if you can undergo this misfortune for persons who have betrayed your interests, and have on your ambitious and indiscreet zeal thrown all the suffering."

"Sire," said Consuelo, "I do not know what you mean. The manner, however, in which you speak of confidants, makes me shudder for you!"

"Why!"

"Because you make me think that when you were the first victim of tyranny, you would have surrendered Major Katt to a paternal inquisition."

The king became pale as death. All are aware that after an attempted flight to England, when young, he had witnessed the decapitation of his confidant. When in prison, he had been taken and held by force at a window, and made to see his friend's blood run on the scaffold. This horrible scene, of which he was innocent as possible, made a terrible impression on him. It is the fate of princes to follow the example of despotism, even when they have suffered most by it. The mind of Frederick from misfortune became moody; and after a youth passed in prison and chains, he ascended the throne imbued with the principles and prejudices of absolute authority. No reproach could be so severe as that which Consuelo addressed to him, when she thus recalled his early misfortunes, and made him aware of his present injustice. His very heart was grieved, but the effect it worked was as little beneficial to his hardened soul as the punishment of Katt had been in other days. He rose and said, "You may retire," at the same time ringing the bell, and during the few seconds which intervened before his call was answered, opened his book again, and pretended to be interested by it. A nervous tremor shook his hand, however, and made the leaves rustle as he turned them.

A valet entered. The king waved his hand, and Consuelo went into another room. One of the king's leverets, that had watched Consuelo, and had not ceased to wag its tail and gambol around her, as if to challenge a caress, followed her. The king, who had a paternal feeling only for these animals, was obliged to call Mopsula back, just as she was passing the door with Consuelo. The king had the mania, not altogether irrational perhaps, of attributing to these animals an instinctive perception of the feelings of those who approached them. He became suspicious of persons whom he saw his dogs dislike, and liked those whom they fawned on willingly. In spite of his mental agitation, the marked sympathy of Mopsula had not escaped him; and when the pet returned to him with an expression of sadness, he knocked, on the table and said to himself as he thought of Consuelo, "Yet she was not badly disposed to me."

"Has your majesty asked for me?" said Buddenbrock, as he appeared at another door.

"No," said the king, who was offended at the anxiety with which the courtier came to pounce on his prey. "Go away. I will ring for you."

Mortified at being treated like a valet, Buddenbrock left; and during the few moments the king passed in meditation, Consuelo was retained in the Gobelin-hall. At length the bell was heard, and the aide-de-camp did not because of his mortification delay to hasten to the king. The king appeared somewhat softened and communicative.

"Buddenbrock," said he, "that girl is an admirable character. At Rome she would have deserved a triumph--a car with eight horses, and a chaplet of oak leaves. Have a post-chaise prepared, take her yourself out of the city, and send her under a good escort to Spandau, to be confined as a state prisoner--not with the largest allowance of liberty. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sire."

"One minute. Get into the carriage with her to pass through the city, and frighten her by your conversation. It will be well to make her think she is to be delivered to the executioner, and flogged as people were in my father's time. Remember, however, while you talk thus, you must not disturb a hair of her head; and put on your glove when you give her your hand. Go: and learn, when you admire her stoical devotion, how you should act to those who honor you with their confidence. It will do you no harm."