Berlin and Sans-Souci Part 53

In the next room Barbarina leaned over against the door, exhausted by her prayers and tears. "Listen to me, my king," said she, softly.

"In one hour you have broken my will and humbled my pride forever!

From this time onward Barbarina has no will but yours. Command me, then, wholly. Say to me that I am never to dance again, and I swear to you that my foot shall never more step upon the stage; command that all my roles shall be given to the Cochois, I will myself hand them to her and pray her to accept them. You see, my king, that I am no longer proud--no longer ambitious. Have mercy upon me then, sire; open this fearful door; let me look upon your face; let me lie at your feet. Oh, my king, be merciful, be gracious; cast me not away from you!"

The king leaned, agitated and trembling, against the door. Once he raised his arm and laid his hand upon the bolt. Barbarina uttered a joyful cry, for she had heard this movement. But the king withdrew his hand again. All was still; from time to time the king heard a low sigh, a suppressed sob, then silence followed.

Barbarina pleaded no more. She knew and felt it was in vain. Scorn and wounded pride dried the tears which love and despair had caused to flow. She wept no more--her eyes were flaming--she cast wild, angry glances toward the door before which she had lain so long in humble entreaty. Threateningly she raised her arms toward heaven, and her lips murmured unintelligible words of cursing or oaths of vengeance.

"Farewell, King Frederick," she said, at last, in mellow, joyous tones--"farewell! Barbarina leaves you."

She felt that, in uttering these words, the tears had again rushed to her eyes. She shook her head wildly, and closed her eyelids, and pressed her hands firmly upon them, thus forcing back the bitter tears to their source. Then with one wild spring, like an enraged lioness, she sprang to the other door, opened it and rushed out.

Frederick waited some time, then entered the room, which seemed to him to resound with the sighs and prayers of Barbarina. It brought back the memory of joys that were past, and it appeared to him even as the death-chamber of his hopes and happiness. He stepped hastily through the room and bolted the door through which Barbarina had gone out. He wished to be alone. No one should share his solitude-- no one should breathe this air, still perfumed by the sighs of Barbarina. King Frederick looked slowly and sadly around him, then hastened to the door before which Barbarina had knelt. An embroidered handkerchief lay upon the floor. The king raised it; it was wet with tears, and warm and fragrant from contact with her soft, fine hand. He pressed it to his lips and to his burning eyes; then murmured, lightly, "Farewell! a last, long farewell to happiness!"

CHAPTER XV.

THE LAST STRUGGLE FOR POWER.

Restless and anxious the two cavaliers of the king paced the anteroom, turning their eyes constantly toward the door which led into the king's study, and which had not been opened since yesterday morning. For twenty-four hours the king had not left his room. In vain had General Rothenberg and Duke Algarotti prayed for admittance.

The king had not even replied to them; he had, however, called Fredersdorf, and commanded him sternly to admit no one, and not to return himself unless summoned. The king would take no refreshment, would undress himself, required no a.s.sistance, and must not be disturbed in the important work which now occupied him.

This strict seclusion and unaccustomed silence made the king's friends and servants very anxious. With oppressed hearts they stood before the door and listened to every sound from the room. During many hours they heard the regular step of the king as he walked backward and forward; sometimes he uttered a hasty word, then sighed wearily, and nothing more.

Night came upon them. Pale with alarm, Rothenberg asked Algarotti if it was not their duty to force the door and ascertain the condition of his majesty.

"Beware how you take that rash step!" said Fredersdorf, shaking his head. "The king's commands were imperative; he will be alone and undisturbed."

"Have you no suspicion of the cause of his majesty's distress?"

asked Algarotti.

"For some days past the king has been grave and out of humor,"

replied Fredersdorf. "I am inclined to the opinion that his majesty has been angered and wounded by some dear friend."

General Rothenberg bent over and whispered to Algarotti: "Barbarina has wounded him; for some time past she has been sullen and imperious. These haughty and powerful natures have been carrying on an invisible war with each other; they both contend for sovereignty."

"If this is so, I predict confidently that the beautiful Barbarina will be conquered," said Algarotti. "Mankind will always be conquered by Frederick the king, and must submit to him. So soon as Frederick the Great recognizes the fact that the man in him is subjected by the enchanting Barbarina, like Alexander the Great, he will cut the gordian knot, and release himself from even the soft bondage of love."

"I fear that he is strongly bound, and that the gordian knot of love can withstand even the king's sword. Frederick, ordinarily so unapproachable, so inexorable in his authority and self-control, endures with a rare patience the proud, commanding bearing of Barbarina. Even yesterday evening when the king did me the honor to sup with me in the society of the Barbarina, in spite of her peevishness and ever-changing mood, he was the most gallant and attentive of cavaliers."

"And you think the king has not seen the signora since that time?"

"I do not know; let us ask the guard."

The gentlemen ascertained from the guard that Barbarina had left the king's room in the morning, deadly pale, and with her eyes inflamed by weeping.

"You see that I was right," said Algarotti; "this love-affair has reached a crisis."

"In which I fear the king will come to grief," said Rothenberg.

"Believe me, his majesty loves Barbarina most tenderly."

"Not the king! the man loves Barbarina. But listen! did you not hear a noise?"

"Yes, the low tone of a flute," said Fredersdorf. "Let us approach the door."

Lightly and cautiously they stepped to the door, behind which the king had carried on this fierce battle with himself, a battle in which he had shed his heart's best blood. Again they heard the sound of the flute: it trembled on the air like the last sigh of love and happiness; sometimes it seemed like the stormy utterance of a strong soul in extremest anguish, then melted softly away in sighs and tears. Never in the king's gayest and brightest days had he played with such masterly skill as now in this hour of anguish. The pain, the love, the doubt, the longing which swelled his heart, found utterance in this mournful adagio. Greatly moved, the three friends listened breathlessly to this wondrous development of genius. The king completed the music with a note of profound suffering.

Algarotti bowed to Rothenberg. "Friend," said he, "that was the last song of the dying swan."

"G.o.d grant that it was the last song of love, not the death-song of the king's heart! When a man tears love forcibly from his heart, I am sure he tears away also a piece of the heart in which it was rooted."

"Can we not think of something to console him? Let us go in the morning to Barbarina; perhaps we may learn from her what has happened."

"Think you we can do nothing more to-day to withdraw the king from his painful solitude?"

"I think the king is a warrior and a hero, and will be able to conquer himself."

While the king, in solitude, strengthened only by his genius, struggled with his love, Barbarina, with all the pa.s.sion of her stormy nature, endured inexpressible torture. She was not alone--her sister was with her, mingled her tears with hers, and whispered sweet words of hope.

"The king will return to you; your beauty holds him captive with invisible but magic bonds. Your grace and fascinations will live in his memory, will smile upon him, and lure him back humble and conquered to your feet."

Barbarina shook her head sadly. "I have lost him. The eagle has burst the weak bonds with which I had bound his wings; now he is free, he will again unfold them, and rise up conquering and to conquer in the blue vaults of heaven. In the rapturous enjoyment of liberty he will forget how happy he was in captivity. No, no; I have lost him forever!"

She clasped her hands over her face, and wept bitterly. Then, as if roused to extremity by some agonizing thought, she sprang from her seat; her eyes were flashing, her cheeks crimson.

"Oh, to think that he abandoned me; that I was true to him; that a man lives who deserted Barbarina! That is a shame, a humiliation, of which I will die--yes, surely die!"

"But this man was, at least, a king," said her sister, in hesitating tones.

Barbarina shook her head fiercely, and her rich black hair fell about her face in wild disorder.

"What is it to me that he is a king? His sceptre is not so powerful as that of Barbarina. My realm extends over the universe, wherever men have eyes to see and hearts to feel emotion. That this man is a king does not lessen my shame, or make my degradation less bitter.

Barbarina is deserted, forsaken, spurned, and yet lives. She is not crushed and ground to death by this dishonor. But, as I live, I will take vengeance, vengeance for this monstrous wrong--this murder of my heart!"

So, in the midst of wild prayers, and tears, and oaths of vengeance, the day declined; long after, Barbarina yielded to the tender entreaties of Marietta, and stretched herself upon her couch. She buried her head in the pillows, and during the weary hours of the night she wept bitterly.

With pale cheeks and weary eyes she rose on the following morning.

She was still profoundly sad, but no longer hopeless. Her vanity, her rare beauty, in whose magic power she still believed, whispered golden words of comfort, of encouragement; she was now convinced that the king could not give her up. "He spurned me yesterday, to- day he will implore me to forgive him." She was not surprised when her servant announced Duke Algarotti and General Rothenberg.

"Look you," said she, turning to her sister, "you see my heart judged rightly. The king sends his two most confidential friends to conduct me to him. Oh, my G.o.d, grant that this poor heart, which has borne such agony, may not now break from excess of happiness! I shall see him again, and his beautiful, loving eyes will melt out of my heart even the remembrance of the terrible glance with which he looked upon me yesterday. Farewell, sister; farewell--I go to the king."

"But not so; not in this negligee; not with this hair in wild disorder," said Marietta, holding her back.

"Yes, even as I am," said Barbarina. "For his sake I have torn my hair; for his sake my eyes are red; my sad, pale face speaks eloquently of my despair, and will awaken his repentance."