Louisa of Prussia and Her Times Part 20

When it was concluded, when the veils were removed from the heads of the brides so that they could now look freely into the world, the whole party returned to the parlor, and brides and bridegrooms received the congratulations of their friends.

f.a.n.n.y and Marianne Meier were chatting in a bay-window at some distance from the rest of the company. They were standing there, arm in arm--f.a.n.n.y in her white bridal costume, like a radiant lily, and Marianne in her purple dress, resembling the peerless queen of flowers.

"You are going to leave Berlin to-day with your husband?" asked Marianne.

"We leave in an hour," said f.a.n.n.y, sighing.

Marianne had heard this sigh. "Do you love your husband?" she asked, hastily.

"I have seen him only twice," whispered f.a.n.n.y.

A sarcastic smile played on Marianne's lips. "Then they have simply sold you to him like a slave-girl to a wealthy planter," she said. "It was a mere bargain and sale, and still you boast of it, and pa.s.s your disgusting trade in human hearts for virtue, and believe you have a right to look proudly and contemptuously down upon those who refuse to be sold like goods, and who prefer to give away their love to being desecrated without love."

"I do not boast of having married without love," said f.a.n.n.y, gently.

"Oh, I should willingly give up wealth and splendor--I should be quite ready to live in poverty and obscurity with a man whom I loved."

"But first the old rabbi would have to consecrate your union with such a man, I suppose?--otherwise you would not follow him, notwithstanding your love?" asked Marianne.

"Yes, Marianne, that would be indispensable," said f.a.n.n.y, gravely, firmly fixing her large eyes upon her friend. "No woman should defy the moral laws of the world, or if she does, she will always suffer for it.

If I loved and could not possess the man of my choice, if I could not belong to him as his wedded wife, I should give him up. The grief would kill me, perhaps, but I should die with the consolation of having remained faithful to virtue--"

"And of having proved false to love!" exclaimed Marianne, scornfully.

"Phrases! Nothing but phrases learned by heart, my child, but the world boasts of such phrases, and calls such sentiments moral! Oh, hush! hush!

I know what you are going to say, and how you wish to admonish me. I heard very well how contemptuously your husband called me the mistress of the Prince von Reuss. Don't excuse him, and don't deny it, for I have heard it. I might reply to it what Madame de Balbi said the other day upon being upbraided with being the mistress of the Royal Prince d'Artois: 'Le sang des princes ne souille pas!' But I do not want to excuse myself; on the contrary, all of you shall some day apologize to me. For I tell you, f.a.n.n.y, I am pursuing my own path and have a peculiar aim steadfastly in view. Oh, it is a great, a glorious aim. I want to see the whole world at my feet; all those ridiculous prejudices of birth, rank, and virtue shall bow to the Jewess, and the Jewess shall become the peer of the most distinguished representatives of society.

See, f.a.n.n.y, that is my plan and my aim, and it is yours too; we are only pursuing it in different ways--YOU, by the side of a man whose wife you are, and to whom you have pledged at the altar love and fidelity WITHOUT feeling them; I, by the side of a man whose friend I am--to whom, it is true, I have not pledged at the altar love and fidelity, but whom I shall faithfully love BECAUSE I have given my heart to him. Let G.o.d decide whose is the true morality. The world is on your side and condemns me, but some day I shall hurl back into its teeth all its contempt and scorn, and I shall compel it to bow most humbly to me."

"And whosoever sees you in your proud, radiant beauty, must feel that you will succeed in accomplishing what you are going to undertake," said f.a.n.n.y, bending an admiring glance on the glorious creature by her side.

Marianne nodded gratefully. "Let us pursue our aim," she said, "for it is one and the same. Both of us have a mission to fulfil, f.a.n.n.y; we have to avenge the Jewess upon the pride of the Christian women; we have to prove to them that we are their equals in every respect, that we are perhaps better, more accomplished, and talented than all of those haughty Christian women. How often did they neglect and insult us in society! How often did they offensively try to eclipse us! How often did they vex us by their scorn and insolent bearing! We will pay it all back to them; we will scourge them with the scourges with which they have scourged us, and compel them to bow to us!"

"They shall at least consider and treat us as their equals," said f.a.n.n.y, gravely. "I am not longing for revenge, but I want to hold my place in society, and to prove to them that I am just as well-bred and aristocratic a lady, and have an equal, nay, a better right to call myself a representative of true n.o.bility; for ours is a more ancient n.o.bility than that of all these Christian aristocrats, and we can count our ancestors farther back into the most remote ages than they--our fathers, the proud Levites, having been high-priests in Solomon's temple, and the people having treated them as n.o.blemen even at that time. We will remind the Christian ladies of this whenever they talk to us about their own ancestors, who, at best, only date back to the middle ages or to Charlemagne."

"That is right. I like to hear you talk in this strain," exclaimed Marianne, joyfully. "I see you will represent us in Vienna in a n.o.ble and proud manner, and be an honor to the Jews of Berlin. Oh, I am so glad, f.a.n.n.y, and I shall always love you for it. And do not forget me either. If it pleases G.o.d, I shall some day come to Vienna, and play there a brilliant part. However, we shall never be rivals, but always friends. Will you promise it?"

"I promise it," said f.a.n.n.y, giving her soft white hand to her friend.

Marianne pressed it warmly.

"I accept your promise and shall remind you of it some day," she said.

"But now farewell, f.a.n.n.y, for I see your young husband yonder, who would like to speak to you, and yet does not come to us for fear of coming in contact with the mistress of the Prince von Reuss. G.o.d bless and protect his virtue, that stands in such nervous fear of being infected!

Farewell; don't forget our oath, and remember me."

She tenderly embraced her friend and imprinted a glowing kiss upon her forehead, and then quickly turning around, walked across the room.

All eyes followed the tall, proud lady with admiring glances, and some whispered, "How beautiful she is! How proud, how glorious!" She took no notice, however; she had so often received the homage of these whispers, that they could no longer gladden her heart. Without saluting any one, her head proudly erect, she crossed the room, drawing her ermine mantilla closely around her shoulders, and deeming every thing around her unworthy of notice.

In the anteroom a footman in gorgeous livery was waiting for her. He hastened down-stairs before her, opened the street door, and rushed out in order to find his mistress's carriage among the vast number of coaches enc.u.mbering both sides of the street, and then bring it to the door.

Marianne stood waiting in the door, stared at by the inquisitive eyes of the large crowd that had gathered in front of the house to see the guests of the wealthy banker Itzig upon their departure from the wedding. Marianne paid no attention whatever to these bystanders. Her large black eyes swept over all those faces before her with an air of utter indifference; she took no interest in any one of them, and their impertinent glances made apparently no impression upon her.

But the crowd took umbrage at her queenly indifference.

"Just see," the bystanders whispered here and there, "just see the proud Jewess! How she stares at us, as if we were nothing but thin air! What splendid diamonds she has got! Wonder if she is indebted for them to her father's usury?"

On hearing this question, that was uttered by an old woman in rags, the whole crowd laughed uproariously. Marianne even then took no notice.

She only thought that her carriage was a good while coming up, and the supposed slowness of her footman was the sole cause of the frown which now commenced clouding her brow. When the crowd ceased laughing, a woman, a Jewess, in a dirty and ragged dress, stepped forth and placed herself close to Marianne.

"You think she is indebted to her father for those diamonds!" she yelled. "No, I know better, and can tell you all about it. Her father was a good friend of mine, and frequently traded with me when he was still a poor, peddling Jew. He afterward made a great deal of money, while I grew very poor; but he never bought her those diamonds. Just listen to me, and I will tell you what sort of a woman she is who now looks down on us with such a haughty air. She is the Jewess Marianne Meier, the mistress of the old Prince von Reuss!"

"Ah, a mistress!" shouted the crowd, sneeringly. "And she is looking at us as though she were a queen. She wears diamonds in her hair, and wants to hide her shame by dressing in purple velvet. She--"

At that moment the carriage rolled up to the door; the footman obsequiously opened the coach door and hastened to push back the crowd in order to enable Marianne to walk over the carpet spread out on the sidewalk to her carriage.

"We won't be driven back!" roared the crowd; "we want to see the beautiful mistress--we want to see her close by."

And laughing, shouting, and jeering, the bystanders crowded closely around Marianne. She walked past them, proud and erect, and did not seem to hear the insulting remarks that were being levelled at her. Only her cheeks had turned even paler than before, and her lips were quivering a little.

Now she had reached her carriage and entered. The footman closed the door, but the mob still crowded around the carriage, and looked through the gla.s.s windows, shouting, "Look at her! look at her! What a splendid mistress she is! Hurrah for her! Long live the mistress!"

The coachman whipped the horses, and the carriage commenced moving, but it could make but little headway, the jeering crowd rolling along with it like a huge black wave, and trying to keep it back at every step.

Marianne sat proudly erect in her carriage, staring at the mob with naming and disdainful eyes. Not a tear moistened her eyes; not a word, not a cry issued from her firmly-compressed lips. Even when her carriage, turning around the corner, gained at last a free field and sped away with thundering noise, there was no change whatever in her att.i.tude, or in the expression of her countenance. She soon reached the emba.s.sy buildings. The carriage stopped in front of the vestibule, and the footman opened the coach door. Marianne alighted and walked slowly and proudly to the staircase. The footman hastened after her, and when she had just reached the first landing place he stood behind her and whispered;

"I beg your pardon, madame; I was really entirely innocent. Your carriage being the last to arrive, it had to take the hindmost place; that was the reason why it took us so long to get it to the door. I beg your pardon, madame."

Marianne only turned to him for a moment, bending a single contemptuous glance upon him, and then, without uttering a word, continued ascending the staircase.

The footman paused and looked after the proud lady, whispering with a sigh--

"She will discharge me--she never forgives!"

Marianne had now reached the upper story, and walked down the corridor as slowly and as proudly as ever. Her valet stood at the door, receiving her with a profound bow, while opening the folding door. She crossed gravely and silently the long suite of rooms now opening before her, and finally entered her dressing-room. Her two lady's maids were waiting for her here in order to a.s.sist her in putting on a more comfortable dress.

When they approached their mistress, she made an imperious, repelling gesture.

"Begone!" she said, "begone!"

That was all she said, but it sounded like a scream of rage and pain, and the lady's maids hastened to obey, or rather to escape. When the door had closed behind them, Marianne rushed toward it and locked it, and drew the heavy curtain over it.

Now she was alone--now n.o.body could see her, n.o.body could hear her. With a wild cry she raised her beautiful arms, tore the splendid diadem of brilliants from her hair, and hurled it upon the floor. She then with trembling hands loosened the golden sash from her tapering waist, and the diamond pins from her hair, and threw all these precious trinkets disdainfully upon the floor. And now with her small feet, with her embroidered silken shoes, she furiously stamped on them with flaming eyes, and in her paroxysm of anger slightly opening her lips, so as to show her two rows of peerless teeth which she held firmly pressed together.

Her fine hair, no longer fastened by the diamond pins, had fallen down, and was now floating around her form like a black veil, and closely covered her purple dress. Thus she looked like a G.o.ddess of vengeance, so beautiful, so proud, so glorious and terrible--her small hands raised toward heaven, and her feet crushing the jewelry.

"Insulted, scorned!" she murmured. "The meanest woman on the street believes she has a right to despise me--me, the celebrated Marianne Meier--me, at whose feet counts and princes have sighed in vain! And who am I, then, that they should dare to despise me?"

She asked this question with a defiant, burning glance toward heaven, but all at once she commenced trembling, and hung her head humbly and mournfully.

"I am a disgraced woman," she whispered. "Diamonds and velvet do not hide my shame. I am the prince's mistress. That's all!"

"But it shall be so no longer!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "I will put a stop to it. I MUST put a stop to it! This hour has decided my destiny and broken my stubbornness. I thought I could defy the world in MY way.

I believed I could laugh at its prejudices; but the world is stronger than I, and therefore I have to submit, and shall hereafter defy it in its own way. And I shall do so most a.s.suredly. I shall do so on the spot."