Old Fritz and the New Era Part 58

Drawing a sealed packet from his coat-pocket, he handed it to the baroness with a low bow, saying: "I would draw your attention to the fact once more, dear madam, that I have abided by the price named by yourself, in making this sale, although I am still of the opinion that it is below its value."

"The sum is sufficient for my wants, and I rated its value according as it is taxed."

"There are a hundred thousand dollars in bills of exchange, payable at the French emba.s.sy at any moment," said the marquis.

"I thank you, sir, for this proof of friendly attention; and as it may be the last time we meet, I would a.s.sure you that I shall always remember your many and thoughtful kindnesses."

"You speak, baroness, as if you would forsake the circle of which you are the brightest ornament."

"No, the friends will forsake me," she replied, with a peculiar smile.

"Ere an hour shall pa.s.s not one of all these numerous guests will remain here.--Ah, there comes the decision! See there, marquis!"

The usher announced "Banker Splittgerber." The old man entered followed by two men of not very presentable appearance, and whose toilet was but little in keeping with the brilliantly-decorated room and the aristocratic guests.

Never heeding the sneers nor contemptuous smiles, the faithful book-keeper wound his way, through the crowd of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by the two men, up to Ebenstreit, who, with instinctive politeness, had placed himself near Marie.

"Gentlemen," said Splittgerber, in a loud voice, "this is Baron Ebenstreit von Leuthen, princ.i.p.al of the banking-house Ludwig."

The two gentlemen approached, one of them saying, "They sent us here from your office."

"This is not the place for business," replied Ebenstreit. "Follow me!"

"No, gentlemen, remain here," cried Marie. "Our guests present are such intimate, devoted friends that we have nothing to conceal from them; but on the contrary, I am convinced they will only be too happy of the occasion to prove their friendship, of which they have so often a.s.sured us.--These gentlemen demand the payment of a bill of exchange for eighty thousand dollars. Take my portfolio, Ebenstreit; there is a pencil in it. Go around and make a collection; undoubtedly the entire sum will be soon noted down."

Ebenstreit approached the Baron von Frankenstein, saying: "Pardon me if I recall to your memory the sum of one thousand louis d'ors, due for four black horses three months since."

"My dear sir," cried the baron, "this is a strange manner to collect one's debts. We were invited to a feast, and a pistol is pointed at us, demanding our debts to be cancelled!"

"How strange! How ridiculous!" heard one here and there among the guests, as they, with one accord, pressed toward the door to make their exit, which they found fastened.

"Remain," cried Marie, with stately dignity. "I wish you honored guests to be witness of this scene in the hour of justification, as you were also present at the one when one of the n.o.blest and best of men cursed me.--Banker Splittgerber, take these bills of exchange for one hundred thousand dollars. Pay these gentlemen, and devote the remainder to the other debts as far as it will go."

As the three men withdrew by a side-drier, Marie exclaimed: "I will now explain to you that Baron von Leuthen is ruined--poor as a beggar when he will not work."

"Marie," cried Ebenstreit, terrified, rushing toward her, and seizing her by the arm. "Marie--"

She threw off his hand from her in anger. "Do not touch me, sir, and do not presume either to address me with any endearments. You have yourself said that our marriage was not a veritable one, but was like the union of a.s.sociates in business, and now I would inform you it is dissolved: the one is a bankrupt; the other a woman whom you cursed, and who reclaims of you four years of shame and degradation. You wonder at my speaking thus, but you do not know this man, my friends."

As she spoke, a door opened at the farther end of the room, and Trude entered in her simple dress, followed by Philip Moritz. Un.o.bserved the two glided behind the charming grotto which had been arranged with flowers and wreaths in one of the niches. Every eye was turned upon the pale, stately beauty, erect in the centre of the room.

"Stay here, for no one can see us," whispered Trude. "I could not bear to have you leave Berlin without hearing the justification of my dear Marie, and may G.o.d pardon me for letting you come here unbeknown to her!

Listen, and pray to Him to forgive you the great injustice that you have done her. Be quiet, that no one may see you, and Marie be angry with her old Trude."

"Yes," continued Marie, with chilling contempt, "you should know this man before whom you have all bowed, pressed the hand, and called your friend, because he was rich, and, thanks to his wealth alone, became a t.i.tled man--a baron, buying the hand of a poor but n.o.ble maiden, whom he knew despised him, and pa.s.sionately loved another, having sworn eternal constancy to him. I am that young girl. I begged, nay implored him, not to pursue me, but he was void of pity, mocked my tears, and said he could buy my love, and my heart would at last be touched by the influence of his wealth. I should have preferred to die, but Fate ordered that the one I loved, by my fault, should by imprisonment atone our brief dream of bliss. I could only save him by accepting this man; these were the conditions. I became his wife before the world, and took my oath in his presence to revenge myself, and after four years I shall accomplish it. I have spent his money, and of the rich man made a beggar. G.o.d be praised, I can now revenge myself in freeing myself!"

"Free yourself? It is not true! You are my wife still," replied Ebenstreit, alarmed.

A radiant smile flitted over Marie's face as she defied Ebenstreit with the law of the Great Frederick, who had decided that every unhappy couple without offspring could separate by their own free will and consent, having signed a paper to that effect.

"Is that the paper which you have made me sign?" cried Ebenstreit, alarmed.

"Yes, drawn up by my notary, and both of our names are signed to it."

"It is a fraud!" cried Ebenstreit. "I will protest against it."

"Do it, and you will find it a vain effort. I promised to pay your debt if you would put your name to the doc.u.ment then placed before you, which you did. Ask the Marquis Treves how I paid your debts: he will answer you that he has given me the money."

"I had the honor to pay to the baroness one hundred thousand dollars, as she rightly informs you."

"Yes," continued Marie, "the marquis is the present possessor of this house and all that it contains--furniture, statues, and pictures; also the equipages and silver. To my mother I sent my diamonds, costly laces, and dresses, to indemnify her for the annuity which Herr von Ebenstreit settled upon her as purchase-money which he cannot pay, now that he is ruined."

"Marquis," cried Ebenstreit, pale with anger, "have you really bought this house and its contents?"

"I have done so, and the one hundred thousand dollars the baroness has paid over to Herr Splittgerber."

"Oh! I am ruined," groaned Ebenstreit--"I am lost!" and, covering his face with his hands, he rushed from the room.

Marie gazed at him with a sad expression, saying: "Ladies and gentlemen, you now know to whom this house belongs. You can no longer say that I am the daughter whom the late General von Leuthen sold to a rich man. I am free!"

At this moment a side-door opened, and Frau von Leuthen was heard saying to old Trude: "Let me in! it is in vain to hold me back. I will have an explanation from my daughter, and learn what all this means." As she pushed herself into the room, she exclaimed: "Ah, it is a fete day!

There is the baroness in all her glory and splendor. She is not crazed, as I feared this morning, when she sent me all her ornaments and fine dresses and laces, with a note, sealed with black, inscribed upon it, 'Will Of the Baroness Ebenstreit von Leuthen.' I opened it, and read: 'I give to my mother my precious ornaments, laces, and dresses, to secure to her the pension which she has lost.--Marie. 'I came here to learn if my daughter were dead, and what the conclusion of this lost pension may be, and I find--"

"You find the confirmation of all that I wrote to you," replied Marie, coldly. "Baron Ebenstreit von Leuthen is ruined. I have secured to you, in the sum which my jewels and laces will bring you, the annuity, so that you have not lost the money promised you for your daughter, and the marriage you have arranged has at least borne good fruit to you."

"You are a cruel, ungrateful child," cried the mother. "I have long known it, and rejected you from my heart, and from all shame I will yet protect the name you bear. I have just seen a sign in the Friedrich-stra.s.se, 'Flower manufactory of Marie von Leuthen.' What does this mean? Terrified, I stared speechless at these fearful words, and at the busy workmen preparing the house."

"I will explain it to you," cried Marie, with radiant mien. "I have again become the flower-maker, and beg your favor, Countess von Moltke, Frau von Morien, and all the other ladies. I am free, and no longer the wife of a hated husband--no longer the distinguished and wealthy woman.

All delusion and mockery have vanished. The costly dress and jewels that I now wear I will cast of from me as the last souvenir of the past."

Unclasping the diamond necklace and bracelets, she handed them to her mother, saying: "Take them, and also this dress, the last finery I possess." She unloosed the band, and the long white satin train fell at her feet. Emerging from it as from a silvery cloud, she stood before them in a simple white dress, as she was clothed in her girlhood. "Take them all," she joyfully cried. "Take them, mother, it is all past. I am now myself again. Farewell, witnesses of this scene! I now quit your circle; and you, my mother, I forgive you; may the thoughts of your unhappy child never trouble you, waking or sleeping; may you forget that your daughter lives, and is wretched. Revenge has not softened my grief, or removed your curse from my head!"

"I will lift it off your brow, Marie!" cried Moritz, suddenly appearing from the window-niche, with beaming face and outstretched arms, approaching Marie, whom surprised and alarmed, retreated. "Oh, n.o.ble, courageous woman, forgive me that I have been an unbidden witness to this scene, though by this means I now clearly recognize your strength of mind, and elevation of soul, and the wrong that I have committed in doubting and cursing you during these four years of gloom and despair. I bow before you, Marie, and implore you, upon my knees, to forgive me all the cruel, harsh words that I have uttered--that I have dared as a wretched fool to doubt you in this long night of despair. The day is dawning again upon us; a new sun will yet cheer us with its rays. Do not turn from me, but look at me, and grant me forgiveness.--My dear friend and father, speak for me, for you know what I have suffered. Beg of her to forgive me."

"Marie," said the venerable old man, approaching her, gently putting his arm around her, "G.o.d has willed that you, my poor, long-tried child, should pa.s.s through a season of extreme sorrow. You are now released, and all that belonged to you has vanished!"

As he spoke, he signed to the guests to withdraw. Many had already escaped the painful scene by the side-door. Marie was now alone in the magnificent apartment, with Herr Ged.i.c.ke and Moritz. She still stood, with concealed face, in the centre of the room.

"Oh, Marie," implored Moritz, "hide not your dear face from me! Read in mine the deep grief of the past and the bliss of the future. I thank G.o.d that this unnatural union is severed, and that you are free. Be courageous to the end!" Moritz impetuously drew her hand away, revealing her tearful countenance, as her head sank upon his shoulder. "Can you not forgive me, Marie?" he cried, with deep emotion. "We have both wandered through a waste of grief, and now approach life radiant with happiness. Oh, speak to me, Marie; can you not love me and forgive me?"

She gazed into his eyes, and in their depths read that which gradually softened her hardened features, and caused a smile to play upon her lip.

"I love you dearly, devotedly; let this be our parting word. Go forth into the world, Moritz; my affection will follow you whithersoever you wander, and my soul will be true to you through all eternity, though we are forever separated. The poor wife, with her dismal retrospections, must not cast a shadow upon your future. Go, my beloved--Italy awaits you, and art will console you!"

"Follow me, dear Marie; only by your side am I happy. You are free and independent," cried Moritz.

"Oh, father," cried Marie, leaning upon the venerable old man, "explain to him that I am still the wife of that hated man!"

"She is right, Philip; do not urge her further. She must first be legally separated, and this weary heart must have time to recover its wonted calm. Go to Italy, and confide your future and happiness to my care. Marie has lost a mother, but she shall find a father in me. I will watch over her until your return."