A German Pompadour Part 5

Wilhelmine looked at him. 'What power do you seek, Mr. Student?' she asked curiously.

'For myself, little! I wish for a sufficiency of money to be able to pursue my studies, that is all. I am a theologian, and shall be a pastor in a few months' time, and the occupation with the uninteresting peasant souls of a country parish is little to my taste.'

Wilhelmine observed him narrowly. This man might prove useful, she reflected, if she should desire a service, and if she were in a position to pay for it. 'Tell me your name,' she said. He told her--Otto Pfahler, and in return he begged her to tell him who she was; but she evaded the question, and asked him concerning the history of Tubingen. There is no being on earth more easy to manage than an historical enthusiast who has seldom the opportunity of expatiating on the legends which he loves; you have but to turn his mind to the past, he will wander off therein, and you need not even listen, provided you have the wit to nod in an interested way at intervals. Pfahler talked on as he accompanied Wilhelmine across the courtyard, and she was able to dismiss him with a bow and a word of thanks for his historic anecdotes, without divulging her ident.i.ty.

When Wilhelmine regained the diligence, she found the horses already harnessed and the driver climbing upon the box. She took her place in the clumsy vehicle and recommenced her journey.

The road from Tubingen to Rottenburg winds through the valley of the Neckar for some ten miles. It is the usual South German high-road, bordered by large fruit-trees; but to Wilhelmine, coming from the bleak northern winter, it seemed as though she had been set down in Fairyland.

The white and pink blossoms of the fruit-trees, the strong high gra.s.s whitened by the luxuriant growth of the cow-parsley, touched here and there with the gold of the giant kingcups, and, as though the Master's palette had been robbed of all its colours to complete this radiant spring picture, the very earth of the vineyards below the fresh green of the vine sprouts shone with the rich red brown of the Wirtemberg soil, which is one more opulent charm added to the beauty of an indescribably lovely spring country. Rottenburg lies in the centre of this valley; the Neckar flows placidly half way round the small town. The diligence rolled over a mediaeval bridge which spans the river, and Wilhelmine found herself at the end of her tedious, rattling journey. She stepped out of the coach and looked about her, expecting to see her brother.

The narrow street was empty, save for several black-gowned figures moving slowly towards an enormous building, which flanked one side of a square or market-place, at the end of the street.

As she stood a moment hesitating, she heard herself addressed from the door of the inn, before which the diligence had halted. Turning she saw a most suave personage bowing and smiling, and imploring her to enter the hostelry. Wilhelmine looked with interest at the man, evidently the innkeeper, yet of so clerical an appearance that she thought he must be a particularly prosperous priest. She entered the inn, and was ordering herself some slight refreshment from her obsequious host when bells from some neighbouring church rang out. The innkeeper crossed his brow and breast with the third finger of his right hand, while with his left hand he piously hid his eyes. He recited some prayers in a mumbling undertone, then crossing himself once more, he turned with an oily smile to Wilhelmine. 'The Angelus,' he said; 'evidently Madame is not of the Faith. Here in Rottenburg we are all members of the true Church. We have had the privilege of having a Jesuit college here these many years.'

Wilhelmine made some appropriate answer, and noted for the first time in her personal experience the truth of a remark of Monsieur Gabriel's, that one of the strengths of the Catholic Church is the semi-clericalising of the laymen who live in or near any religious centre. It flatters the uneducated to feel themselves akin to their spiritual dictators, and it gives them a spurious refinement. Undoubtedly, the host of the Romischer Kaiser was an excellent specimen of this cla.s.s.

Wilhelmine, having partaken of her breakfast, was setting out to walk towards the Neuhaus, where her brother had directed her to appear, when she saw Friedrich Gravenitz coming down the street. He greeted his sister hastily, and explained that the diligence had arrived before the usual hour. He apologised for not having been at the inn to welcome his sister on her arrival, but it struck Wilhelmine that though her brother had gained in polish of manner since he had become a courtier, he had lost the warmth and friendliness which had characterised him in earlier days.

She felt chilled and saddened, and it was in silence that she walked beside him across the fields from Rottenburg to Madame de Ruth's house. A stout peasant followed them carrying her scanty baggage. Friedrich talked volubly to his unresponsive companion, and though he expressed the hope, with much politeness, that she was not fatigued by her journey, he did not listen to her reply, but plunged into an exact account of his own position at court and of his poverty and difficulties. His sister was weary, and an overpowering sense of loneliness possessed her; she had always known her brother to be an egoist, but a certain spontaneous, easy kindness had masked his self-love when he was in Mecklemburg.

They walked over the field before the house, pa.s.sed through the tree-shaded garden, up the red-tiled garden-path to the side door of the Neuhaus, and Friedrich knocked loudly with the handle of his cane on the panel. Madame de Ruth's peasant servant admitted them, and led the way through the dark corridor to the panelled room, where, three months earlier, it had been decided that Wilhelmine should be summoned to Wirtemberg to help fill her brother's purse.

The sunshine streamed down on the garden without, but the room was chilly, and Wilhelmine shivered a little as she stood waiting for her unknown hostess to appear. It could not be said that Wilhelmine was a timid woman, yet hers was one of those natures which, though ready to attempt many things, shrink unaccountably at any touch of dreariness, and almost dread meeting strangers. She looked at her brother, who stood with his back turned towards the room, gazing out at the sunlit garden. She noted his broad shoulders, the graceful pose of the body, the straight, shapely legs, and the slightness of hip which distinguished him from the usual heavily-built German. There was beauty in his lines, and yet a certain strangeness of proportion in the whole figure which puzzled her for a moment; then she noticed the extreme smallness of his head, and the curious absence of development in the back of the skull, which gave him a well-bred but foolish look. He was quite amiable, and meant kindly towards his sister, yet he was incapable of helping in what was for her a difficult moment; indeed, he added to her feeling of loneliness by his loud talk and patronising air. At length the door opened and Madame de Ruth appeared. She came forward with hands outstretched and a smile of welcome on her kind, ugly face, which became most genial when she saw her guest's undoubted beauty. 'A thousand pardons for keeping you waiting, my dear! I was not dressed, lazy old woman that I am! And how fatigued you must be, dear child; such a journey!--Gravenitz, have you not offered your sister some refreshment? Good Lord! what an idea! What? You say you have been talking? Yes, yes, I warrant you have!' Her sharp eyes had taken in the situation. Madame de Ruth, though she talked, as Zollern said, 'like a book,' had the faculty of talking and observing at the same time. People think that the talkers of the world are so occupied with their own prattle that their eyes remain idle; whereas some of the most practised observers, especially those of the feminine s.e.x, have learned that it is possible to extract more information from others by appearing to impart much, and that a flow of speech masks the observation to a great extent. The garrulous lady saw the brother's pompous att.i.tude; she had caught the tones of his unmodulated voice before she entered, and she noticed immediately the shadow on the girl's face and guessed what the new arrival felt.

Wilhelmine responded readily to Madame de Ruth. Soon the girl felt as though she had known her for years. After a few minutes' conversation the two ladies left the formal living-room, and pa.s.sed up a broad wooden stair to a room on the first floor, where Wilhelmine found her few belongings already set down. It was a pretty room for those days, though we should now consider it but insufficiently furnished. Bare, brown-stained boards, a narrow wooden bedstead, a couple of carved wooden chairs, a large carved cupboard, and a table, on which stood a tiny washing-basin and ewer of beautiful porcelain, completed the appointments. The hostess rattled on cheerfully while Wilhelmine divested herself of the cloak and hood. She realised that Madame de Ruth intended to remain, curious to see the contents of the travelling-basket; but this was precisely what the guest did not desire, for she had no wish to expose the scantiness of her wardrobe to her new friend. She sat down on one of the wooden chairs opposite her hostess, and listened to the voluble talk. Both women knew exactly what the other wanted, and both were equally determined not to be beaten; also both knew that the other knew what they each wanted. It was one of those small feminine conflicts which take place every day. The older woman's tongue ran on, while her sharp eyes noted every shade and change in her guest's face. Wilhelmine answered the many questions frankly enough, but Madame de Ruth observed with satisfaction that she told only such things as all the world might hear. There were no outbursts of girlish confidences, no indiscreet questions; she was mistress of the situation, and if she showed any shyness, it was never either awkward or foolish, but seemed merely a delightful youthful attribute, an added charm. Her hostess felt a deepening interest. This girl would be a more potent factor in the intrigues for which they had destined her than they had dreamed. She watched Wilhelmine as a full-grown tigress might watch the play of a tiger cub, noting the promise of each movement, gauging the strength of the young animal, and calculating the fighting powers which it would develop. At length Madame de Ruth rose, and, drawing Wilhelmine to her, she kissed her affectionately. 'You have a future before you, my dear,'

she said, and her fine smile lit her face. 'You have bewitched me, and you will bewitch others of more importance. Now, dress. We dine at three o'clock, and the Duke of Zollern will be with us.'

The Duke of Zollern was seated at Madame de Ruth's right hand; Monsieur de Stafforth, Oberhofmarshall of the court of Wirtemberg, was at her left; Madame Friedrich de Gravenitz sat beside the Duke to his right; beside her was the Freiherr von Reischach, a gentleman famous for his fine courtliness and his experience in war and love; Friedrich Gravenitz sat next to him, and then came Wilhelmine seated between her brother and Monsieur de Stafforth, opposite her hostess and the Duke of Zollern.

Madame de Ruth sat with her back turned towards the light; she knew the value of shadow to an ageing face, and always declared that the glare hurt her eyes, though, G.o.d knows, these were neither weak nor easily dazzled. The Duke of Zollern, too, liked to have the light behind him.

'It is fitting for the old to turn their backs to the sunshine,' he had remarked as they took their places at the table, 'for, indeed, the light of youth is behind us, shining, alas! on the paths we have already traversed. For the young--let the sunshine lie before them, making their youth still more fair--if possible.' And he had bowed in his inimitable way to Wilhelmine, who delighted in this courteous speech, though she was perfectly aware that he and Madame de Ruth had placed her in the full light in order to study her the better. Of a truth, Wilhelmine looked wonderfully lovely that afternoon. Her luxuriant hair, innocent of powder, was piled high on her head, and turned back from off her white brow; the glow of perfect health was in her cheeks, and her strange magnetic eyes were softened by shyness. She had fashioned herself a bodice out of the feast-day kerchiefs which Mecklemburg peasant women wear; cutting off the flowered borders, she had joined them together and made a deep hem which she had sewn on her dark blue linen skirt. The corsage was cut down at the back, and the front she had cut out in a deep V shape, showing her creamy neck and the gentle rise of her breast. A poor garment indeed, but the kerchiefs had been carefully collected, and were all of the same delicate pink colour, and she had further softened the lines round the contour of her neck by a folded white kerchief. At her bosom she had fastened a spray of apple-blossom, and the petals leaning against her white skin were not more delicate, more divinely young than her breast. She looked like a blossom herself as the sunlight touched her, and the men round the dinner-table gazed so eagerly at her, that she knew she must be more beautiful than the ladies of the court, albeit their gowns were of silk.

No dinner could be dull if Madame de Ruth was there; and Zollern, with his courtly grace and witty talk, was a host in himself. Reischach was silent, but his openly admiring looks at Wilhelmine pleased her more than the phrases of a talkative gallant. As for Gravenitz, he talked loudly, according to his wont, paying but little heed to the random answers of Monsieur de Stafforth, who like Reischach was occupied with Wilhelmine.

But, unlike Reischach, Stafforth's admiration, though not so open, had that touch of coa.r.s.eness which is so often the mark of the bourgeois'

approval. Madame de Gravenitz, it was evident, entirely disapproved of Wilhelmine. She was a pretty, colourless devotee, and she felt her sister-in-law's beauty and obvious fascination to be almost indecorous.

Madame de Ruth chattered as usual, though at moments she paused to whisper a comment to Zollern, who answered in a low voice by some subtle irony which caused the lady much amus.e.m.e.nt. The dinner was very long, and it was with relief that Wilhelmine saw her hostess rise from the table.

'Coffee in the garden, mes amis! and then Mademoiselle de Gravenitz shall sing to us. There is a clavichord in the panelled room, and we will leave the garden door open in order to hear the music. Come, Marie! what a gloomy face! Why must the pious be gloomy? Lord, girl! forget your sins for once, or you will exhaust the stock, and then there will be nothing to repent of. Think, my dear,' she said, turning to Wilhelmine, 'your sister-in-law is a saint. O Monseigneur, you shake a finger at me! Brook?

Who talks of brooks? Ah, well, I talk too much!--well, well!--An account on the Last Day of my words? I pity the angel who adds up the sum! But come, coffee! and a moment's silence, my friends!'

They all laughed. Madame de Ruth's vivacity was infectious; and even Marie Gravenitz was smiling, as the party pa.s.sed through the living-room and into the garden. They went down the red-tiled path, and, turning to the left, came to a stone bench before which, on a square table, the servant had placed the coffee and seven tiny porcelain cups. Madame de Ruth busied herself preparing the coffee for her guests, and Zollern watched her, seated near on the bench. Marie Gravenitz walked a short distance away, her demure figure harmonising well with the peace of the formal garden; Gravenitz leaned against the back of the bench and looked with complacency at the good brown coffee, which his hostess was pouring into the little cups. Coffee was expensive, and being regarded as a great luxury, was only dispensed in very small quant.i.ties. Reischach and Monsieur de Stafforth were dallying with Wilhelmine, who stood listening to their compliments with a smile on her lips.

'Mademoiselle,' Stafforth was saying, 'the court will rejoice in your presence. We crave for youth--more still, we crave for beauty! His Highness will welcome you, though, I trow, Madame the d.u.c.h.ess may not prove so gracious! But when will you come to Stuttgart? It will be my privilege to herald your arrival.'

'Monsieur, I am guided by my brother in these matters. He is my protector, as is fitting,' she said, a trifle haughtily. Monsieur de Stafforth's obsequious, yet patronising tone displeased her, and somehow she desired him to know that her brother stood at her side in the world.

'Mademoiselle is right,' said Reischach shortly, 'these things will be arranged. The coffee waits you, Monsieur; it would be a pity should your portion get cold.' He spoke lightly, but Wilhelmine recognised the man of breeding in the covert hint to Stafforth. It pleased her, and she smiled at him. Stafforth, for his part, apparently paid no heed to the rebuff, though Wilhelmine surprised an ugly glance and a faint deepening of the hue of his coa.r.s.ely chiselled, handsome face. At this moment Madame de Ruth called them, and they gathered round the table. They drank their coffee, listening to a highly coloured story of the wars which Friedrich Gravenitz was recounting. His Grace the Duke of Marlborough, the hero thereof, a sorry figure, as the reluctant victim of a lady of Ingolstadt, whose advances he refused, trembling lest his haughty Sarah should hear of it and give him a sound rating on his return to England. The anecdote was broad, to say the least, and sure it did not lose in the telling. 'A great captain, but sorely afraid of his lady!' finished Gravenitz with a loud laugh.

'It is the privilege of the truly brave to tremble before beauty and gentleness,' said Zollern sharply.

'The prerogative of fools to set them at naught,' he added in a low voice to Madame de Ruth. There was a pause. Gravenitz himself, who should have been uncomfortable, seemed to notice nothing, but the rest of the company felt the moment to be one of difficulty. Stafforth offered his arm to Wilhelmine and proposed a short stroll through the garden to the orchard; and the girl, glad to escape the spectacle of her brother's swaggering tactlessness, accepted, and they walked away together beneath the tender green of the beech-trees.

The orchard was an enchanted spot, such a marvel of blossom overhead, like rose-tinted foam, while under foot the gra.s.s was full of spring flowers, the cow-parsley sending up a delicious faint fragrance, mingled with the smell of the earth wet from the night's rain. Stafforth found a stack of orchard poles, and dragging from beneath the heap the dryest of them, he arranged a resting-place for Wilhelmine. They sat down, and he recounted stories of court life in general and of Stuttgart in particular. He portrayed the d.u.c.h.ess Johanna Elizabetha, a Princess of Baden-Durlach by birth. He told of her good qualities, but also of her dullness; of her eternal jealousy of her husband, Eberhard Ludwig, Duke of Wirtemberg; of how the Duke sought entertainment with other ladies, but that the reign of each was short-lived, for the Duke really had a faithful soul and returned to his excellent, wearisome spouse. How a Madame de Geyling was queen of the present hour; that she was a foolish woman with a bad temper, who offended the courtiers and rated the Duke; of how the court expected an imminent change of affection, but that no one could imagine who the new favourite would be. He told her that the Duke was a brilliant soldier, the friend and companion-in-arms of his Grace of Marlborough, a polished courtier too, the finest dancer of his day, and a very Phaeton with horses. Withal a man of learning and refinement, a pa.s.sionate lover of music, a dreamer and a child of Nature, who loved to wander alone in the beautiful Wirtemberg forests, and often in the summer would stay in the woods all night, sleeping upon the soft, brown carpet of last year's leaves. Stafforth spoke of the perpetual intrigues of the Romish priests to convert the Duke and gain the country back to the Catholic Church; he told her stories of the French invasion of Wirtemberg, and how it was feared that the French would return to the attack, and that therefore the Duke was occupied in Stuttgart gathering a new army, though he masked those preparations by a series of brilliant court gaieties. 'There is to be a magnificent feast in a few weeks' time at Stuttgart, theatricals, a banquet, a stag-hunt, and a grand ball. Will you honour my wife and me by accepting our hospitality for that time?

Your brother has rooms in the quarters set apart for the Kammerjunkers; Madame de Ruth also has but a small apartment in the castle, not large enough to entertain a guest. But I have a house with ample accommodation, and it would give me much pleasure if you would come. Madame de Stafforth too,' he added as an afterthought.

Wilhelmine accepted. She felt that this was no sudden proposition but an organised scheme, probably of Madame de Ruth's.

'You must play a part in the theatricals, Mademoiselle. The rehearsals begin next week; will you come then?'

'Let us go and consult Madame de Ruth,' she replied, rising.

They rejoined the group round the table, and Stafforth made his proposal as though it were a new idea which had come to him. Madame de Ruth feigned surprise; Gravenitz played the part of the grateful brother; Zollern acclaimed the notion as excellent. Wherefore all this comedy?

thought Wilhelmine, for she realised that her programme had been fixed by these schemers, and that this was merely the first act. She looked round: ah, yes, Reischach! he was the audience for this play-acting. He was intended to remain ignorant. Wilhelmine smiled; she was in the presence of three practised intriguers--Zollern, Madame de Ruth, Stafforth. She herself was to be a tool, as her brother already was. Well, let their scheme carry her as far as it could; afterwards, she promised herself to go onward aided by her own ingenuity alone, once she knew her ground. At present she was not sure at whom the plot was aimed, though she had a suspicion that it was the Duke himself whom she was designed to capture, in order to further some unknown plans of her three protectors. She did not count her brother; she recognised him as a mere p.a.w.n in the game.

'Mademoiselle to take part in the theatricals?' Madame de Ruth was saying; 'delightful! but which part? You must sing, my dear. Your brother says your voice is wonderful! Let us hear you now. Come, mes amis!

music!' Reischach led the newcomer to the clavichord in the panelled room, and the company gathered near the garden-door to listen.

Wilhelmine ran her fingers over the keyboard. The instrument was old, and though the notes rang true, they were faint and jingly. A lesser artist might have endeavoured to amplify the chords, but Wilhelmine played her accompaniment in thin arpeggios, making the clavichord sound like a stringed instrument, and achieving a charming effect. She sang a gay little sixteenth-century song, such a one as perchance Chastelard may have sung to Marie of Scots in their happy days in France--a light melody, with a sudden change to the minor in the refrain, like a sigh following laughter. Wilhelmine's hearers, who had expected a beautiful, untrained voice from this provincial lady, listened in unfeigned surprise, and when the song was ended they crowded round her with expressions of delight.

'We have found a pearl!' declared Madame de Ruth. 'Stafforth, what is this play which they are going to act at Stuttgart? Who sings in it?

Madame de Geyling?--of course! Well, and after?--no one? Well, then, Mademoiselle shall sing! Let it come as a surprise!'

Reischach approached.

'Monsieur de Reischach, I count you in our plot! We want our new friend to make a sensation in Stuttgart. We can rely on your discretion? Let her come as a surprise, I beg you! Remember that the lute of Orpheus itself could not have charmed the beasts had they been warned to expect too much.'

Reischach bowed. 'No word from me, Madame, to warn--the beasts!'

Madame de Ruth laughed. 'Do not apply my allegory literally,' she said.

The company broke up; the Duke of Zollern's coach was at the door. Also Monsieur de Stafforth took his leave, for he intended to ride to Stuttgart that evening.

As Zollern bade farewell to his hostess, she whispered, 'She will do admirably! she will go far.'

'Too far, perhaps, Madame,' he answered; 'too far for all our calculations, and for many people's comfort!'

CHAPTER V

THE PLAY-ACTING

AT eight of the clock on the evening of 15th May 1706, the main street of Stuttgart was crowded with a stream of coaches and foot-pa.s.sengers. The cries of the running footmen: 'Make way there for his Highness the Duke of Zollern!' 'Room for the high and n.o.bly born Freifrau von Geyling!'

'Let pa.s.s the coach of the gracious Countess Gemmingen!' 'Ho, there! for the Witgenstein's coach!' mixed with the comments of the rabble of sightseers, and the retorts of the substantial burghers who were piloting their wives and daughters through the mob. All these wayfarers were bound for the great dancing-hall in the l.u.s.thaus, whither they were bidden by Serenissimus, the magnificent Duke Eberhard Ludwig of Wirtemberg, who had commanded a brilliant ball as commencement of a series of festivities.

There was to be a grand hunt in the Red Wood, and finally court theatricals in his Highness's own playhouse. The beautiful castle gardens were illuminated with a myriad coloured lamps in the trees; the rose-garden had become an enchanted bower, with little lanterns twinkling in each rose-bush, and the fountain in the centre was so lit up with varied lights that the spray a.s.sumed a thousand hues. Hidden bands of musicians played in the garden, and, in fact, it was said that Stuttgart would never have witnessed such a brilliant festival. The Duke had travelled in many lands--to France, where the court had been so gay and fine before its King Louis XIV. became a death-fearing, trembling bigot, dragging out the last years of a dissipated life in terrified prayers.

Poor Roi Soleil, become the creature of his mistress, Madame la Marquise de Maintenon! Still, though Eberhard Ludwig had not been in time to witness this first splendour, he had been able to learn in France of how fine feasts should be ordered. He had been in England too, though he could not have seen much there in the dull days of William of Na.s.sau, or of good, ponderous Queen Anne; yet all travel teaches, and evidently the Duke had learnt its pleasant lesson well.

Wilhelmine sat in Monsieur de Stafforth's fine coach with Madame de Stafforth--a gentle, silent lady, whom Stafforth had chosen for her n.o.ble birth and yielding ways. She was perfectly unimportant; Stafforth never considered her, and the only person who was known to notice her was her Highness Johanna Elizabetha, who was, indeed, something akin to her in nature. Madame de Stafforth sat meekly on the back seat of her husband's splendid coach, leaving the place of honour on the front seat to her husband and his guest, rewarded sufficiently for her diffidence by a smile which her handsome lord threw her, as he lay back on the yellow satin cushions of his over-decorated coach.