For Sceptre and Crown Volume I Part 22

"He was angry with me," she replied, without raising her eyes, "about my dressmaker's bill, and positively refused his a.s.sistance; and," she said with animation, "such troubles torment me so, these things suit neither my head nor my heart--where one thought alone, one feeling reigns."

"Only one word more," cried he cheerfully, "the amount of the wretched bill, that so presumptuously seeks to share with me this lovely head, this sweetest heart."

"Two thousand gulden," she whispered.

"What economy!" he cried; "yet your perfect beauty does not need the aid of dress. I humbly beg to be allowed to chase this cloud from the bright eyes I love."

And he kissed her on both eyes.

She hastily pressed her lips on his hand.

"That I must receive, always receive!" she cried. "Oh! that I were a queen, and you poor and unknown, that I might shed rays of splendour and happiness over you, and, preferring you among a thousand, might draw you up the golden steps of my throne!"

She had risen, and she now sat with a really royal dignity. Her eyes shone with dark fire, and as she slightly raised her hand, a man had sworn that at a sign from that fair hand, armies would march and a thousand courtiers kneel in the dust. Then she cast down her eyes and said in gentle melting tones,--

"I have nothing to give but my love!"

"And more I do not wish for, from my queen!" he cried, rising from his low chair and sinking on his knees, whilst looking up at her with glowing eyes.

She took his head in both her hands and pressed a long kiss upon his brow.

Suddenly the sound of a bell rang through the room.

A noise was heard in the ante-room.

The servant entered hastily, and cried, more as if giving an alarm than making an announcement: "The Count Rivero!"

The young lady rose hastily. Roughly and vehemently she pushed Herr von Stielow back into his chair.

Her face was very pale.

Stielow looked at her with amazement.

"Decline this ill-timed visit," he whispered.

"It is an old acquaintance, whom I have not seen for a long time," she said in a constrained voice, "it is--"

Before she could conclude, the _portiere_ of the anteroom was pushed aside and a tall distinguished-looking man of about five-and-thirty entered; his dress was dark in colour, his face was n.o.ble, with regular features and the clear pale complexion of the South, his large dark eyes were surpa.s.sed in depth of colour only by the blackness of his short hair and moustache.

Count Rivero approached the young lady of the house with the quiet self-possession of a perfect man of the world, whilst his dark eyes shone with a warmer glow.

She offered him her hand, he took it and pressed it to his lips for a longer time than politeness alone required.

This did not escape Herr von Stielow, whose astonishment began to partake of mistrust.

"From a sudden change in my affairs, I am able quite suddenly and unexpectedly to return here much sooner than I expected, and to have the pleasure of again meeting my friends in Vienna. My first greeting naturally is to you, fair lady, the loveliest flower in the wreath of my recollections of Vienna."

He again pressed to his lips the tender hand he had retained in his own, and he then seated himself in an arm-chair, whilst, with a slight bow to Herr von Stielow, he cast a look of enquiry at the lady.

She had completely recovered from the disquiet and painful surprise which the count's arrival had caused. Her eyes were bright, her lips smiled, and a faint rosy tinge was seen on her cheeks. In a light graceful way she said:

"Ah! gentlemen, you are strangers. Herr von Stielow--the rest is told by his uniform--a worthy member of our jeunesse doree, who was just in the act of telling me the latest news of the fashionable world; Count Rivero, a traveller, a man of learning, a diplomat--according to his whim--he has just come from Rome, and will tell me all about the carnival, or the catacombs, I know not to which scene his heart may have inclined him."

The two gentlemen bowed, Count Rivero coldly, but with the perfect politeness of a man of the world, Herr von Stielow with scarcely concealed dislike.

"My heart," said the count, turning with a smile to the young lady, "has neither the superabundant mirth of the carnival, nor is it yet ripe for the catacombs, but my fair friend loves always to ascribe to me extremes."

"You have not been in Vienna for some time, count?" asked Herr von Stielow coldly.

"My affairs have kept me in Rome for a year," replied the count, "and I thought I should have stayed there still longer, but necessary business has recalled me here. And I am thankful to necessity," he added, glancing at the lady, "for leading me back to my friends in beautiful merry Vienna."

She threw a rapid glance at Herr von Stielow who sat biting his moustache, and her lips trembled slightly. Then she said laughingly:

"And what will you tell me of, count, since neither the carnival nor the catacombs have interested you?"

"Of the beautiful antique statues," he replied, "those pictures in marble a thousand years old, yet offering us the image of living youth."

"In Vienna you will find no taste for the antique," said Herr von Stielow, in a voice which caused the count to look up in surprise, "the world here does not care for the past, but holds only to the present."

"The world is wrong," said the count coldly, a proud smile playing around his mouth, "the past has depth, the present is shallow."

Herr von Stielow frowned. The lady gave him an imploring look but he did not perceive it.

"The past is often tedious," said the officer shortly.

The count appeared to find his manner disagreeable, he answered curtly, "And the present often very dull."

Herr von Stielow's eyes flashed.

The count rose.

"My beautiful friend," he said, "I am rejoiced to find you so blooming and unchanged. I will see you again soon, and I hope I may find a time when we can talk undisturbed, and I can tell you of Rome and the past without fearing to be tedious."

He kissed her hand, bowed almost imperceptibly to Herr von Stielow, and left the room.

Herr von Stielow sprang up, seized his cap, and prepared to follow him.

The young lady caught his hand and cried: "Karl, I implore you to hear me!" He tore his hand away with an impatient movement, and hurried after the count.

She looked after him with staring eyes and outstretched hands.

She seemed to wish to follow him, but she stood still, her hands sank slowly, and her head drooped on her breast. So she remained for some moments, and the only sound was her sobbing breath.

"That has occurred which I hoped to avoid," she said to herself in a low voice, "I can do nothing, I cannot interfere, without making the evil worse. They will fight--and how will it end? Shall I lose them both? The count is needful---needful for the future of which I dream--he loves me not; oh! no--but he requires me for his plans, I feel that, and through him I can reach what I thirst after--power, influence, rule. And this young officer, what can he be to me, what can he offer me? he is rich," she whispered, "but what is that? and yet, and yet," she cried aloud, "would I could tightly grasp him, cling to his beautiful head, and draw him back from danger."

"Antonia, Antonia!" she said, suddenly growing cold and hard as she raised her head, "your heart is not dead, you are about to be a slave!"

She shook her head as if to dispel a dream. A look of defiance came to her lips, she drew up her slender form, and her eyes were widely opened in flaming energy.