Old Fritz and the New Era Part 51

Into the simple, quiet room, at the baroness's request, Trude opened the door, saying, "Here we can be alone."

Marie pointed silently to the second door, and the old woman nodded: "That is it," said she. "I have done every thing as you directed. After you left, they sent me the furniture of your little garret-room, which I have arranged exactly as it stood there."

As Marie opened the door and found herself in the small room, so like the one where she had made flowers, given lessons, consoled by her only friend, Trude, her pride and reserve vanished. Sinking upon her knees, as if crushed, she gave way to her long-pent-up grief in one cry of anguish, clinging to Trude, and weeping bitterly.

"Here I am, my faithful nurse, returned to you more wretched and miserable than when I left: then, I felt that I could scorn the world, and now I despise myself. Oh, Trude, they have caused my wretchedness, they have made me selfish and unkind. I was contented until now, and rejoiced in my misery, and triumphantly thought of the time when I was wont to bewail my broken heart and lost soul. Once more with you, and surrounded with the souvenirs of my girlhood, I feel a horror of myself, and could sink in shame and contrition. I have become as bad as they are. Can you forgive the hard-hearted daughter who banished her own mother from her house? I felt that I could not endure her presence, and feared that an inveterate rancor and hate would overpower me, and that I should curse her."

"She deserves it, my poor child," whispered Trude, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "She has just told you that she never loved you, and in this painful scene she thought only of bargaining and making money. G.o.d has heard her and forgiven you as I do, and I beg and implore Him to punish those who have made you so wretched, and that He will have no mercy upon them, as they have shown none to you. It breaks my heart to see you so changed, and I can hardly believe this cold, haughty lady is my Marie. In your tears I recognize you, and I bless G.o.d that you can weep; your grief proves to me that you are yet the child of my heart."

"Oh Trude, you know not how I have longed to see you; it was my only consolation in these painful years. When I doubted every human being, then I thought of you, and was comforted and sustained."

"And was there no one else to think of, my child?"

"Yes," she gently murmured, "I thought of him. Tell me all you know about him, and hide nothing from me in this hour."

"I thought you would ask me, and I went to Director Ged.i.c.ke yesterday, to inform myself."

"What did you hear? Tell me the most important. Does he live? Is he restored to health?"

"He lives, but, for one year, he was so wretched that he could not teach; now he is better. Herr Ged.i.c.ke went himself to Spandau, immediately after the wedding, and brought him back with him, relating as forbearingly and carefully as possible the circ.u.mstances of your marriage, and of your sacrificing yourself for him alone."

"How did he receive it? What did he say?"

"Nothing. His eyes were fixed, and his lips uttered not a sound. This lasted for weeks, and suddenly he became excited, enraged, and they were obliged to bind him to keep him from injuring himself."

"Tell me no more," cried Marie, shuddering. "I thought myself stronger, nay, heartless, and yet it seems as if a hand of iron were tearing, rending my soul!"

"That is well," said Trude, gently; "you must awaken from this hardened indifference; giving way to your grief in tears will soften your heart, and it will again be penetrated with the love of G.o.d and mankind. I will tell you every thing; you ought to know how poor, dear Moritz suffered.

After he vented his rage he became melancholy, and withdrew to Halle in solitude, living in a hay-loft. His favorite books and an old piano were his only companions; no one presumed to intrude him, and they even conveyed his food secretly to him, shoving it through a door. He talked aloud to himself for hours long, and at night sang so touchingly, accompanying himself upon the piano, that those who listened wept."

Marie wept also--scalding tears trickled through her fingers as she lay upon the floor.

Trude continued: "Moritz lived in this way one year; his friends knew how he was suffering, and they proved in their deeds how much they loved and esteemed him. The teachers at the Gymnasium divided his hours of instruction among them, that he should not forfeit his place and lose his salary. Even the king showed great sympathy for him, sending to inquire for him. Herr Ged.i.c.ke visited him frequently at Halle; and once when about to mount the ladder to the hay-loft he met Moritz descending, carefully dressed, in a reasonable, gentle mood, and then he returned with him to Berlin. There was great rejoicing in the college over his return, and they feted him, witnessing so much love for him that it was really touching. He has been promoted to professor, and at the express command of the king he teaches the young Prince Frederick William in Latin and Greek. Oh, he is so much esteemed and--"

"And is married I hope," murmured Marie. "Is he not happily married, Trude?"

"No. Herr Ged.i.c.ke says he could marry a wealthy girl, for he is a great favorite, and is invited into the most distinguished society. He repels every one, and has become a woman-hater."

"He hates them--does that mean that he hates me?"

"Yes, he thoroughly scorns and despises you; so much so that Herr Ged.i.c.ke says you should know of it, and keep out of his way. He has sworn to publicly show his contempt for you, and therefore his friends wish you to be apprised of it, and not encounter him in society."

"It is well, I thank you," said Marie, rising; "I will act accordingly.

Kiss me once more, my dear mother, and let me repose my weary head upon your bosom. Ah, Trude, what a sorrow life is!"

"You will yet learn to love it again, Marie."

"If I thought that I could sink so low, I would kill myself this very hour. I know myself better, and only for revenge do I live. Hush! say nothing more. Look at me! I am cursed, and there in those gaudy rooms in my purgatory; here is my paradise, and here the wicked demon may dare to change into the sad, wretched wife, who mourns the happy days already flown, and weeps the inconsolable future. Oft will I come here in the night when those sleep who think me so proud and happy, and you alone shall behold me as I am. Now I must back to purgatory.--Farewell!"

A half hour later a splendid carriage drove from the house of Herr Ebenstreit von Leuthen. The people upon the street stood in wondering admiration of the beautiful Arab horses with the costly silver-mounted harness, and sought to catch a glimpse of the occupants of the carriage, an insignificant, meagre, blond-haired man, who appeared like a servant beside the lovely pale wife, though proud and indifferent, who kept her eyes fixed steadily before her.

The cha.s.seur, with his waving plumes, sat upon the box beside the rich-liveried coachman.

As the married couple returned from their drive, having left their cards at the most distinguished houses in Berlin, the baroness handed the list of guests to be invited to the baron to examine. He glanced hastily over it, a.s.suring her that every thing should be directed as she desired, deferring all to her superior knowledge. Suddenly he seemed confused, even frightened. "What is the matter? What were you about to remark?"

asked Marie, indifferently.

"I was in error. I have, without doubt, read it wrong. I beg pardon for a foolish blunder, but will you tell me this name?"

Marie bent forward to look at the paper which her husband handed her, and, pointing with her finger, read "Professor Philip Moritz."

"Do you intend to invite him?" asked Ebenstreit, quite alarmed.

"Why should I not? He belongs to the circle of friends and acquaintances, and it is natural that I should include him. Moreover, there is not a little gossip, and it is necessary to silence it. If you are not of my opinion, strike out the name."

"Not at all, dearest. On the contrary, you are perfectly right, and I admire you for it."

"Then give the list to the butler, for it is quite time that the invitations were given out."

CHAPTER x.x.xV. THE CURSE.

The evening of the soiree had arrived. In quick succession drove the carriages up the broad entrance to the mansion of Herr Ebenstreit, The curious street public pressed in compact ma.s.ses near the gate to peep in, or at least catch a fugitive glance of the ladies alighting from their carriages, who were received by the butler at the foot of the carpeted steps. A host of gold-bespangled footmen lined the entrance upon each side, which was ornamented with the most exquisite hot-house plants, filling the air with perfume.

Two tall, stately footmen, with broad gold shoulder-bands and large gilt batons, stood at the door of the anteroom, which was brilliantly illuminated with chandeliers and side-lights, reflected in the numerous mirrors. The anteroom led into the reception-room by wide folding-doors, where the names were given to the usher, who announced them in a stentorian voice in the drawing-room. There stood the Baron von Ebenstreit to receive the guests, all smiles, and with bustling a.s.siduity accompany them to the adjoining drawing-room to present them to the baroness.

Among the select company were conspicuous the most distinguished names of the aristocracy. Generals and staff-officers, countesses and baronesses were crowded together, with the ladies of the financial world, near ministers and counsellors in this gorgeous saloon, which was the delight and admiration of the envious, and excited the tongues of the slanderous. Those acquainted gathered in the window-niches and cosy corners, maliciously criticising the motley crowd, and eminently consoled with the sure prospect of the ruin of the late banker, surrounding himself with such unbecoming splendor and luxury, the bad taste of his arrogant, overdressed, and extravagant wife.

"Have you noticed her parure of diamonds?" whispered the Countess Moltke to Fran von Morien. "If they are real, then she wears an estate upon her shoulders."

"The family estate of Von Leuthen," laughingly replied Frau von Morien.

"You know, I suppose, that the father of General von Leuthen was a brick-burner, and he may have succeeded in changing a few bricks into diamonds."

"You are wicked, sweet one," replied the countess, smiling. "One must acknowledge that her toilet is charming. I have never seen its equal.

The gold lace over the rose-colored satin is superb."

"Yes, and the mingling of straw feathers, diamonds, flowers, lace, and birds is truly ridiculous in her head-dress."

"It must have been copied exactly from the one which the Queen Marie Antoinette wore at the ball at Versailles a fortnight since. The baroness was present at this court ball with her greyhound of a husband, and created quite a sensation with her costly recherchee toilet, as the French amba.s.sador told us yesterday."

"Certainly not by her manner," said Frau von Morien. "She is insupportably arrogant and self-sufficient. What do you think of this pretentious manner of announcing our names as if we were at an auction where they sold t.i.tles?"

"It is a very good French custom," remarked the countess. "But it does not become a lady of doubtful n.o.bility and uncertain position, to introduce foreign customs here. She should leave this to others, and modestly accept those already in use by us."

"One remarks the puffed-up parvenue," whispered Frau von Morien. "Every thing smells of the varnish upon the newly-painted coat-of-arms."

"Hush, my friend! I there comes the baroness leaning upon the arm of the French amba.s.sador. She is indeed imposing in appearance, and one could mistake her for a queen."