For Sceptre and Crown Volume II Part 55

"Then my words have been in vain," she said, sadly, "you do not believe me----"

An angry flash pa.s.sed over his face.

"I believe you," he said, "and I do not want your words, for thank G.o.d!

I know everything. I think this conversation upon the earlier past will come to an end when I give you a proof that I am acquainted with your last proceeding."

And with a quick angry movement he turned to a casket standing upon a console table before a mirror, opened it and held towards her the letter she had sent by her husband to the Countess Frankenstein.

"You see," he said, "I know the way in which you use the souvenirs of the past against the present."

She shrank back, as if struck by lightning. The paleness of death overspread her face--her features were convulsed, her eyes fixed immovably upon the paper.

"I think this will bring our conversation to an end," he said, with a bitter smile.

A deep crimson flush spread over her face, her limbs trembled, burning pa.s.sion shone in her eyes.

"No," she cried in a wild voice, "no, it is not at an end--it shall not be at an end!"

Herr von Stielow slightly shrugged his shoulders.

"It shall not be at an end," she cried in trembling excitement, "because I love you, because I cannot leave you, because you cannot be happy with that woman, to whom you will give your name, but whose cold heart will never feel for you the fiery glow that streams through mine."

"Madam, you go too far," said Stielow, and an expression of repugnance and contempt appeared upon his face.

"You deceive yourself," she said, whilst her lips burned a rich carmine and her feverish eyes lighted up her pale face. "I know how warmly your heart has beaten for me, it cannot be happy in a conventional love, in lukewarm kisses meted out by custom."

He half turned from her.

"You go too far," he said again.

"Hear me, my own, my love," and she sank down at his feet stretching out her arms towards him; "hear me, and do not despise me, I cannot live without you. Give your hand," she cried in a voice full of pa.s.sion, "to that woman, give her your name, but leave me your heart: the time will come when you will long for happiness, then come back to me, to dream, to love; I ask for nothing,--nothing, I will wait humbly, I will live upon the remembrance of the quiet happiness of the past during the long days when I do not see you,--do all that you will,--only love me."

She seized his hand and pressed it to her glowing lips, then her head fell back a little, her half-closed eyes looked at him imploringly, the warm breath from her mouth seemed to surround him with an enchanted atmosphere of love and pa.s.sion.

A slight shudder pa.s.sed through him; he closed his eyes for a moment.

Then he looked at her with calm friendship, and holding her hand firmly he gently raised her.

"Antonia," he said quietly, "I should be unworthy to wear a sword if I gave you any answer but this; let everything be forgotten and forgiven that belongs to the past, no other remembrance will abide with me but that of friendship, and if you need a friend, you will find one in me."

And he let go her hand after pressing it gently.

Was it the tone of his voice, was it the quiet pressure of his hand, that convinced her quick womanly perceptions that she had lost his love for ever? She stood motionless, the pa.s.sionate tears left her eyes, a flash of hatred gleamed in her look, but she hastily concealed it beneath her downcast eyelids.

With a quiet movement she drew down her veil, and said in a voice that retained no traces of its former emotion:

"Farewell; may you be happy!"

She turned to the door.

Stielow accompanied her silently and gravely through the ante-room to the outer door of his apartments, which a servant hurried forwards to open.

She went out with hasty footsteps.

The young man returned and sank into an arm-chair as if exhausted.

"Was it real, or was it acting?" he whispered thoughtfully.

"No matter," he cried after a short consideration, "it does not become me to judge her--may she find happiness!"

And quickly springing up he said, whilst his face cleared up:

"This was the last cloud that threatened to veil my star."

He rang for his servant, made a hasty toilette, and drove in his cab to the house of the Countess Frankenstein.

In the afternoon the most varied life filled the wide alleys of the Prater. Upon the broad turf beneath the trees of this enormous park some of the cavalry regiments recalled to Vienna were still encamped, and the different scenes of camp life were picturesquely displayed.

There stood the horses picketed, as if on actual service, neighing and whinnying with impatience, here lay a circle of soldiers around a smouldering fire, on which, in the field kettle, their meal was cooking; booths were erected in which food and drink, the Vienna sausage, and camp beer, were offered for sale; and the Viennese streamed in and out in countless numbers. Now that the real war was over with its fears and anguish, they liked to gaze here on the last picture of it, which only offered to the eye its romantic charm, and not its dreadful earnest. But the groups of lookers-on were the thickest around an open s.p.a.ce girt in by tall trees, where the brown sons of Hungary were displaying their fantastic national dance--the Czardas. A man played, upon an old violin, one of those peculiar melodies, half wailing, half wild dithyrambic movements, which even when thus executed sounds upon the ear with a strange mysterious charm; the others pursued a peculiar dance, with its strange pantomimic evolutions, sometimes jingling their spurs together, sometimes stamping on the ground with their feet, sometimes twisting the body into strange but always graceful att.i.tudes.

Amongst one of these groups stood old Grois, the comic actor Knaak, and the ever-merry Josephine Gallmeyer.

"Pepi's" beautiful eyes sparkling with fun and mirth attentively followed all the movements of the Czardas. She slightly nodded her head, and beat time with her hand, to the sharply accentuated music.

"Look, old Grois," she then said, turning to her companion, who watched the moving picture with sad and doleful eyes, "those are capital fellows; I should like to choose a sweetheart from amongst them, they please me better than all our _fade_ cavaliers put together."

"Yes," said the old actor gloomily, "there they dance, and when it came to fighting for Austria they let them stay behind, eighty regiments of our glorious cavalry have never been in action; it almost breaks one's heart to think of it all."

"Fie! old blood-thirsty tiger," cried the Gallmeyer; "let us be glad they are still left to dance, and that they have not been under those cursed needle-guns--there would not have been many of them left!"

"Bah! needle-guns!" cried old Grois. "Now it is to be the needle-guns that have done everything; at first everyone said it was the generals'

fault, and now the generals say it was the needle-guns. I hold to it they were right at first, and that if the Prussians had had our generals, their needle-guns would not have helped them much."

"Happy is he who forgets what cannot be mended," cried Fraulein Gallmeyer; "nothing can be done against the Prussians, they surpa.s.s the G.o.ds!"

"Why this sudden admiration for the Prussians?" asked Knaak.

"Well, you know," said the Gallmeyer, "it is true they do surpa.s.s the G.o.ds, for one of our poets who has written such lovely roles for my friend the Wolter says," and here she placed herself in a comically pathetic att.i.tude, and imitating exactly the voice and manner of the great actress of the Burg Theatre, repeated: "'Against folly even the G.o.ds strive in vain!' Well, the Prussians have not striven against folly in vain!" she cried, laughing.

"Pepi," said old Grois in a grave voice, "you can say what you please about me, and the rest of the world; but if you make the misfortunes of my dear Austria the subject of your wit, we shall quarrel!"

"That would be frightful!" cried the Gallmeyer, "for I should then in the end be forced"--and she looked at him with a roguish smile.

"Well, what?" he asked, already pacified.

"To strive in vain with old Grois," she cried, and let just the tip of her tongue appear between her fresh lips, whilst she twirled round on the point of her toe.

"And did I speak sensibly to such a creature?" cried the old actor, half displeased, half laughing.

The Czardas was at an end, and the different groups moved on.