The Youth of the Great Elector Part 50

He took the little golden whistle, lying on the table beside the bell, and gave a loud, shrill call with it. Immediately the door opened and a lackey appeared.

"Why have you kept me waiting?" asked the count imperiously. "Did you not hear the bell?"

"Yes, your excellency," replied the lackey, with reverential mien, "I heard ringing. It was the beadle, giving notice that two women were to be put in the pillory on the fish market for committing twenty thefts between them!"

"Stupid fool! It was I who rang!" cried the count. "Did I not yesterday notify you through the majordomo that I should no longer call you with a whistle, but with a bell?"

"It is true, your excellency, and I beg your pardon for forgetting it,"

replied the lackey humbly.

"Mark it for all time to come," commanded the count. "Go now and tell my son, Count John Adolphus, that I wish to speak with him, and request him to come to me."

The lackey bowed obsequiously and left the apartment. He paused behind the closed door, and with defiant, angry countenance, shook his clinched fist.

"You will no longer call us by a whistle," he muttered wrathfully, "and yet you whistle for your parrot and your dogs. But that is quite too good for your servants and lackeys, and they must now listen for that sheep bell. Tinkle and ring for us, will you, as if you were the beadle and we good-for-nothing folks to be put in the pillory? Ah me! every day the rich and high become more haughty, and the poor and lowly must every day put up with more! We had hoped, indeed, that other times would come, and that the young Elector would shove that old tyrant of a Stadtholder aside, and oust him from his dignities and offices. But Count Adam von Schwarzenberg retains his place, and the only change for us is that he rings for us instead of whistling as of old. We must just submit, and when he rings obey his orders as if he whistled."

With a deep sigh and melancholy air the lackey now walked off to execute his lord's commands, and summon Count John Adolphus to his father. This young gentleman made haste to obey the call.

"My son," cried the Stadtholder, himself opening his cabinet door, "I recognized your step and came to meet you."

"You have something very urgent to say to me then, since you have so anxiously expected me?" asked John Adolphus, pressing his father's hand to his lips.

"Yes, much that is urgent," replied the Stadtholder. "The young Elector's envoy has arrived, and brought me a first missive from him."

"Good news?" asked his son hurriedly.

"Yes, good news. The Elector confirms me in all my offices and dignities.

I remain Stadtholder in the Mark, Director of the War Department--in short, what I am, whence follows as a matter of course that the Elector Frederick remains what his father was--my obedient servant. My son, the power has not fallen from my hand, and your heritage remains."

"I a.s.sure you, my gracious father, I have but little desire to enter upon this heritage of mine," cried young Count Adolphus, shrugging his shoulders. "May I long remain what I am now, the son of the Stadtholder in the Mark, the coadjutor of the Grand Master of the Order of St. John."

"I thank you, Adolphus, for this kind and friendly wish," said Count Adam, giving his hand to his son. "It proves to me that you love your old father, and that delights me. Truly, man is a wonderful creature, not being able to live for himself alone, but always longing for some sympathetic heart on which to lean. I have at last made the discovery that I have a heart."

"And I," said Count Adolphus, laughing--"I have just discovered that I no longer have a heart."

"Or rather, you are sick at heart, are you not?" inquired his father quickly. "My son, you have avoided me of late--you have turned from me, you no longer confide in me."

"I have nothing to confide, most revered sir," replied Count Adolphus, smiling. "I lead a merry, harmless life, and care for nothing."

"For nothing?" repeated the count. "Not even for the Princess Charlotte Louise?"

Count Adolphus slightly shuddered, and his cheeks paled a little, but he carelessly shook his head, and continued to smile.

"My son," continued his father, "I ask you to-day, as I did two years ago, on what terms are you with the Princess Charlotte Louise? During all this time you have invariably eluded my efforts to converse on the subject. I indulged you, for I know my prudent, cautious son, and waited for him to give me his confidence voluntarily. Hitherto, however, I have but waited in vain, so that I am compelled to take the initiative, and sue for your confidence. Give it to me, Adolphus, tell me whether you love the Princess Charlotte Louise."

"Wherefore?" asked Count Adolphus. "How would it profit you?"

"Me? Not at all, but perhaps it may profit you to tell me the truth. The lofty hopes we once indulged in have come to naught, destiny has not willed their fruition. We have been disappointed in our hope of seeing George William's daughter become his heiress, and exalt her husband into an Elector of Brandenburg. Frederick William is Elector, he has entered upon his father's estates to their full extent. But the Princess Charlotte Louise is still unmarried, and has remained so because she loves you and is waiting for you."

"She has made me wait," cried the young count, with a sudden outburst of pa.s.sion. "She kept me standing and waiting two hours before a locked door, and never, while I live, never, shall I forget the shame, the torture, and degradation of those two hours of vain expectation. Oh, father, see what power you have over me! I swore then that no human being should ever hear of the insult put upon me by that haughty Prince's daughter, and yet I am confessing it to you now. Pity me not, say nothing, nothing at all, for each word but aggravates my pain and makes my heart swell with indignation and grief. Oh, I loved her, trusted her, I dreamed of a proud and brilliant future, which I should owe to her! And she played her part in such masterly style, her countenance wearing a look of such innocence and candor! O father! I loved her, and I, the experienced man of the world, allowed myself to be deceived by that young girl, who knew nothing of the world, and was yet such an accomplished hypocrite! Think not that I was a mere idle c.o.xcomb, arrogantly basing his expectations upon his wishes. No, she deceived me, she disappointed me! You should have seen her at that _fete_ which you gave to the Electoral Prince. How tenderly she leaned upon my arm, as we walked through the greenhouse, with what glowing cheeks, with what a blissful smile did she listen to my protestations of love, with what amiable bashfulness did she respond to them! She even antic.i.p.ated my boldest hopes and desires, and when I ventured to ask for a rendezvous, not only consented to it, but gave me a proof that she would have granted it without waiting for me to seek one. There, in the greenhouse, she pressed a little note into my hand, which stated clearly and distinctly that she appointed ten o'clock of the following evening for a rendezvous with me at the castle. And yet all was falsehood and deceit--all only invented for the purpose of punishing the presumptuous fool who had dared to lift his eyes to the proud Princess! Oh, how she laughed perhaps, and mocked me with her sister, mother, and brother, while I stood below before the locked door and waited, finally being obliged to slink away, burying my rage and despair in my heart! I fancy her spying from a neighboring window, watching me, and enjoying my confusion as I stood there knocking at a bolted door, having at last to go off silent and bowed down. It makes me furious to think of this, and yet continually the idea haunts me, leaving me no rest, until the remembrance of these two dreadful hours becomes absolute torture. O father! why have you wrenched this secret from my heart?--why have you persuaded me to tell you, what I have not even revealed to my father confessor?"

"I am glad, my son, that I have succeeded in opening this secret," said the count quietly. "I say opening, for like a festering sore it has rankled in your bosom, and believe me, Adolphus, since it has been opened, you will experience relief and your heart will heal. It has befallen many another man to be caught in the snares of a coquette, and to have a few costly illusions dispelled. But consider, my son, each illusion lost is an experience gained, and experience is cheaply bought with the dreams of the heart. Experience, you know, brings knowledge of the world, and knowledge of the world forms the diplomatist and statesman. You are already, my son, no despicable statesman, and you will some day play a great game, even though you are not the Electoral Princess's husband.

For the rest I can give you one comforting a.s.surance, and relieve your mind of an oppressive consciousness. In order to do this I have allowed you to vent your rage, and listened with attentive ear to your pa.s.sionate complaints. My consolation is this: you have never loved the Princess Charlotte Louise--that is to say, never loved her with your heart, but only with your vanity and ambition. It was very flattering to you to be loved by a Princess, and ambition whispered to you that through your wife you might become reigning Elector, if the Electoral Prince were only put out of the way by fate or some other obliging hand. There was surely some prospect of this, and you know how exultingly we both looked forward to such a future. But we made shipwreck of those plans, and now it is too late to build them anew. However, let us not mourn over the past, but forget it. This hour has witnessed your last lament over your dead past.

Its knell has been rung, let us both now doom it to oblivion. I have retained one thing in my memory, however, and that is the note which the incautious Princess gave you that evening in the greenhouse. Do you still possess it?"

"Yes, I still possess it, and as often as I look at it my heart is like to burst with indignation and wrath!"

"On the contrary, Adolphus, you ought to rejoice whenever you look at it, for you can turn this little note into a formidable weapon against the Electoral house. With this note you can some day force the young Elector to make you my successor, confirm you in the rank of Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, or even, if you still wish it, make you the husband of his sister Charlotte Louise. Ah! my son, a note in which the Elector's sister invites you to a rendezvous by night is worth more to you, indeed, than if you could go out against your enemy with an army, for an army might be vanquished, but in this _billet-doux_ of the Princess each stroke of her hand becomes a soldier fighting with invincible armor."

"You are right, most gracious father," said Count Adolphus, with a sinister expression of face. "The day may come when I shall march out these soldiers against the faithless Princess and her whole house! I hate her, I hate them all, and my whole heart longs for revenge, and--"

"Your excellency," said a chamberlain, approaching hastily--"your excellency, a courier from Konigsberg has just arrived, and is the bearer of this dispatch from the Elector."

The Stadtholder took the proffered packet, and by a hurried sign dismissed the chamberlain.

"A courier from Konigsberg," he said, with a slight shaking of the head, as he examined the great sealed envelope which he held in his hand. "A writing from the Electoral Government Office, when Schulenburg was just with me this very day, the bearer of verbal communications! I do not understand it!"

"The best plan would be, most revered father, to open the letter!" cried Count Adolphus briskly. "You will then see what news it contains."

The Stadtholder made no answer, but tore off the cover and drew forth the inner paper. Slowly he unfolded this, and read.

His son had involuntarily advanced a few steps nearer, and watched his father's countenance with the impatience of suspense. He saw him turn pale, his brow darken, and his lips become firmly compressed.

"The letter contains bad news?" he said breathlessly.

"Not merely bad but astonishing news," replied the count, with forced composure. "The Elector here makes several requirements of me, and not directly, but through his private secretary Gotz."

"What presumption!" exclaimed his son pa.s.sionately.

"How can that little Elector dare to forward a writ of chancery to you, the mighty and influential Stadtholder in the Mark, instead of addressing his desires and requests to you privately in his own handwriting?"

"It shows at all events a little negligence and want of formality,"

replied his father thoughtfully, "although the Elector may certainly plead as his excuse the many claims upon his time. For the same reason he only gave Schulenburg verbal messages for me."

"And may I ask what the Elector demands of your grace? Or is this an indiscretion on my part?"

"No, my son, you shall learn it. In the first place, the Elector requires me to send unopened to him at Konigsberg all letters arriving here addressed to him, and not to open and answer them in his name as. .h.i.therto.

The Elector further desires me to conclude no act of government without having previously called together the privy council. In the third place, the Elector directs me forthwith to require of all the governors and officers of the forts an oath of allegiance to himself. He lastly asks, if I can make it convenient to come to Prussia, that we may confer together, and that he may have the benefit of my aid and advice."

"And what answer will your grace return to these demands?"

"As regards the first requirement, I shall reply that the Elector's will is law, and that all writings shall be henceforth forwarded to him unopened. As to the second demand, I shall represent that it is now simply impossible to gratify, since only a single member of the old privy council is yet alive. As to binding the officers and commandants by oath to their duty," continued the count slowly, "I shall but require a token of their disposition to fulfill existing engagements. And lastly, as the Elector wishes it, I can hardly refuse him my advice; so that I will go to him in Prussia."

"No," cried Count Adolphus impatiently, "no, father, you shall not. You shall not accept this artfully contrived invitation. You dare not go to Prussia. My G.o.d, sir, are your usually keen and penetrating eyes so blinded that they can not see what is so very palpable? Do you really not perceive that the Elector only wants to entice you away, in order to get you in his power, in order noiselessly and quietly to put you out of the way? Ostensibly you are to go to Konigsberg to advise the young, inexperienced Elector. That is the pretext, the sand which they would scatter in the eyes of yourself, your friends, the Emperor, yea, all Germany, so that no one can see what is going on, or by any possibility guess what will happen. You may set out for Konigsberg, but you will never get there; you will meet with an accident on the way--either your carriage will be overset and you fatally injured, or robbers fall upon you in the woods and murder you. However it may be, only as a dead man will you arrive at Konigsberg, and the Elector will have nothing further to do than to decree your magnificent obsequies!"

"Ah, my son!" cried the Stadtholder, smiling, "you go too far. Never will the Elector resort to such expedients. He is too pious and good a Christian for that!"

"Father, are not you, too, a good, pious Christian, and yet--Believe me, the Elector has forgotten nothing. He remembers the man found under his bed once, with a murderous weapon in his hand and much gold in his pocket.

He remembers the sickness which so suddenly seized him two years ago at the banquet which you had prepared for him. _Then_ you invited him, _now_ he invites you, and if sickness seizes you, you will probably not have the good fortune to recover as he did."