Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (76 page)

‘Because she loves you not?’ the Countess cried.  ‘You know she is incapable of such a feeling.’

‘Rather, it was I who was born incapable of inspiring it,’ said Otto.

Madame von Rosen broke into sudden laughter.  ‘Fool,’ she cried, ‘I am in love with you myself!’

‘Ah, madam, you are most compassionate,’ the Prince retorted, smiling.  ‘But this is waste debate.  I know my purpose.  Perhaps, to equal you in frankness, I know and embrace my advantage.  I am not without the spirit of adventure.  I am in a false position — so recognised by public acclamation: do you grudge me, then, my issue?’

‘If your mind is made up, why should I dissuade you?’ said the Countess.  ‘I own, with a bare face, I am the gainer.  Go, you take my heart with you, or more of it than I desire; I shall not sleep at night for thinking of your misery.  But do not be afraid; I would not spoil you, you are such a fool and hero.’

‘Alas! madam,’ cried the Prince, ‘and your unlucky money!  I did amiss to take it, but you are a wonderful persuader.  And I thank God, I can still offer you the fair equivalent.’  He took some papers from the chimney.  ‘Here, madam, are the title-deeds,’ he said; ‘where I am going, they can certainly be of no use to me, and I have now no other hope of making up to you your kindness.  You made the loan without formality, obeying your kind heart.  The parts are somewhat changed; the sun of this Prince of Grünewald is upon the point of setting; and I know you better than to doubt you will once more waive ceremony, and accept the best that he can give you.  If I may look for any pleasure in the coming time, it will be to remember that the peasant is secure, and my most generous friend no loser.’

‘Do you not understand my odious position?’ cried the Countess.  ‘Dear Prince, it is upon your fall that I begin my fortune.’

‘It was the more like you to tempt me to resistance,’ returned Otto.  ‘But this cannot alter our relations; and I must, for the last time, lay my commands upon you in the character of Prince.’  And with his loftiest dignity, he forced the deeds on her acceptance.

‘I hate the very touch of them,’ she cried.

There followed upon this a little silence.  ‘At what time,’ resumed Otto, ‘(if indeed you know) am I to be arrested?’

‘Your Highness, when you please!’ exclaimed the Countess.  ‘Or, if you choose to tear that paper, never!’

‘I would rather it were done quickly,’ said the Prince.  ‘I shall take but time to leave a letter for the Princess.’

‘Well,’ said the Countess, ‘I have advised you to resist; at the same time, if you intend to be dumb before your shearers, I must say that I ought to set about arranging your arrest.  I offered’ — she hesitated — ’I offered to manage it, intending, my dear friend — intending, upon my soul, to be of use to you.  Well, if you will not profit by my goodwill, then be of use to me; and as soon as ever you feel ready, go to the Flying Mercury where we met last night.  It will be none the worse for you; and to make it quite plain, it will be better for the rest of us.’

‘Dear madam, certainly,’ said Otto.  ‘If I am prepared for the chief evil, I shall not quarrel with details.  Go, then, with my best gratitude; and when I have written a few lines of leave-taking, I shall immediately hasten to keep tryst.  To-night I shall not meet so dangerous a cavalier,’ he added, with a smiling gallantry.

As soon as Madame von Rosen was gone, he made a great call upon his self-command.  He was face to face with a miserable passage where, if it were possible, he desired to carry himself with dignity.  As to the main fact, he never swerved or faltered; he had come so heart-sick and so cruelly humiliated from his talk with Gotthold, that he embraced the notion of imprisonment with something bordering on relief.  Here was, at least, a step which he thought blameless; here was a way out of his troubles.  He sat down to write to Seraphina; and his anger blazed.  The tale of his forbearances mounted, in his eyes, to something monstrous; still more monstrous, the coldness, egoism, and cruelty that had required and thus requited them.  The pen which he had taken shook in his hand.  He was amazed to find his resignation fled, but it was gone beyond his recall.  In a few white-hot words, he bade adieu, dubbing desperation by the name of love, and calling his wrath forgiveness; then he cast but one look of leave-taking on the place that had been his for so long and was now to be his no longer; and hurried forth — love’s prisoner — or pride’s.

He took that private passage which he had trodden so often in less momentous hours.  The porter let him out; and the bountiful, cold air of the night and the pure glory of the stars received him on the threshold.  He looked round him, breathing deep of earth’s plain fragrance; he looked up into the great array of heaven, and was quieted.  His little turgid life dwindled to its true proportions; and he saw himself (that great flame-hearted martyr!) stand like a speck under the cool cupola of the night.  Thus he felt his careless injuries already soothed; the live air of out-of-doors, the quiet of the world, as if by their silent music, sobering and dwarfing his emotions.

‘Well, I forgive her,’ he said.  ‘If it be of any use to her, I forgive.’

And with brisk steps he crossed the garden, issued upon the Park, and came to the Flying Mercury.  A dark figure moved forward from the shadow of the pedestal.

‘I have to ask your pardon, sir,’ a voice observed, ‘but if I am right in taking you for the Prince, I was given to understand that you would be prepared to meet me.’

‘Herr Gordon, I believe?’ said Otto.

‘Herr Oberst Gordon,’ replied that officer.  ‘This is rather a ticklish business for a man to be embarked in; and to find that all is to go pleasantly is a great relief to me.  The carriage is at hand; shall I have the honour of following your Highness?’

‘Colonel,’ said the Prince, ‘I have now come to that happy moment of my life when I have orders to receive but none to give.’

‘A most philosophical remark,’ returned the Colonel.  ‘Begad, a very pertinent remark! it might be Plutarch.  I am not a drop’s blood to your Highness, or indeed to any one in this principality; or else I should dislike my orders.  But as it is, and since there is nothing unnatural or unbecoming on my side, and your Highness takes it in good part, I begin to believe we may have a capital time together, sir — a capital time.  For a gaoler is only a fellow-captive.’

‘May I inquire, Herr Gordon,’ asked Otto, ‘what led you to accept this dangerous and I would fain hope thankless office?’

‘Very natural, I am sure,’ replied the officer of fortune.  ‘My pay is, in the meanwhile, doubled.’

‘Well, sir, I will not presume to criticise,’ returned the Prince.  ‘And I perceive the carriage.’

Sure enough, at the intersection of two alleys of the Park, a coach and four, conspicuous by its lanterns, stood in waiting.  And a little way off about a score of lancers were drawn up under the shadow of the trees.

CHAPTER XIII — PROVIDENCE VON ROSEN: ACT THE THIRD
SHE ENLIGHTENS SERAPHINA

When Madame von Rosen left the Prince, she hurried straight to Colonel Gordon; and not content with directing the arrangements, she had herself accompanied the soldier of fortune to the Flying Mercury.  The Colonel gave her his arm, and the talk between this pair of conspirators ran high and lively.  The Countess, indeed, was in a whirl of pleasure and excitement; her tongue stumbled upon laughter, her eyes shone, the colour that was usually wanting now perfected her face.  It would have taken little more to bring Gordon to her feet — or so, at least, she believed, disdaining the idea.

Hidden among some lilac bushes, she enjoyed the great decorum of the arrest, and heard the dialogue of the two men die away along the path.  Soon after, the rolling of a carriage and the beat of hoofs arose in the still air of the night, and passed speedily farther and fainter into silence.  The Prince was gone.

Madame von Rosen consulted her watch.  She had still, she thought, time enough for the tit-bit of her evening; and hurrying to the palace, winged by the fear of Gondremark’s arrival, she sent her name and a pressing request for a reception to the Princess Seraphina.  As the Countess von Rosen unqualified, she was sure to be refused; but as an emissary of the Baron’s, for so she chose to style herself, she gained immediate entry.

The Princess sat alone at table, making a feint of dining.  Her cheeks were mottled, her eyes heavy; she had neither slept nor eaten; even her dress had been neglected.  In short, she was out of health, out of looks, out of heart, and hag-ridden by her conscience.  The Countess drew a swift comparison, and shone brighter in beauty.

‘You come, madam,
de la part de Monsieur le Baron
,’ drawled the Princess.  ‘Be seated!  What have you to say?’

‘To say?’ repeated Madame von Rosen, ‘O, much to say!  Much to say that I would rather not, and much to leave unsaid that I would rather say.  For I am like St. Paul, your Highness, and always wish to do the things I should not.  Well! to be categorical — that is the word? — I took the Prince your order.  He could not credit his senses.  “Ah,” he cried “dear Madame von Rosen, it is not possible — it cannot be I must hear it from your lips.  My wife is a poor girl misled, she is only silly, she is not cruel.”  “
Mon Prince
,” said I, “a girl — and therefore cruel; youth kills flies.” — He had such pain to understand it!’

‘Madame von Rosen,’ said the Princess, in most steadfast tones, but with a rose of anger in her face, ‘who sent you here, and for what purpose?  Tell your errand.’

‘O, madam, I believe you understand me very well,’ returned von Rosen.  ‘I have not your philosophy.  I wear my heart upon my sleeve, excuse the indecency!  It is a very little one,’ she laughed, ‘and I so often change the sleeve!’

‘Am I to understand the Prince has been arrested?’ asked the Princess, rising.

‘While you sat there dining!’ cried the Countess, still nonchalantly seated.

‘You have discharged your errand,’ was the reply; ‘I will not detain you.’

‘O no, madam,’ said the Countess, ‘with your permission, I have not yet done.  I have borne much this evening in your service.  I have suffered.  I was made to suffer in your service.’  She unfolded her fan as she spoke.  Quick as her pulses beat, the fan waved languidly.  She betrayed her emotion only by the brightness of her eyes and face, and by the almost insolent triumph with which she looked down upon the Princess.  There were old scores of rivalry between them in more than one field; so at least von Rosen felt; and now she was to have her hour of victory in them all.

‘You are no servant, Madame von Rosen, of mine,’ said Seraphina.

‘No, madam, indeed,’ returned the Countess; ‘but we both serve the same person, as you know — or if you do not, then I have the pleasure of informing you.  Your conduct is so light — so light,’ she repeated, the fan wavering higher like a butterfly, ‘that perhaps you do not truly understand.’  The Countess rolled her fan together, laid it in her lap, and rose to a less languorous position.  ‘Indeed,’ she continued, ‘I should be sorry to see any young woman in your situation.  You began with every advantage — birth, a suitable marriage — quite pretty too — and see what you have come to!  My poor girl, to think of it!  But there is nothing that does so much harm,’ observed the Countess finely, ‘as giddiness of mind.’  And she once more unfurled the fan, and approvingly fanned herself.

‘I will no longer permit you to forget yourself,’ cried Seraphina.  ‘I think you are mad.’

‘Not mad,’ returned von Rosen.  ‘Sane enough to know you dare not break with me to-night, and to profit by the knowledge.  I left my poor, pretty Prince Charming crying his eyes out for a wooden doll.  My heart is soft; I love my pretty Prince; you will never understand it, but I long to give my Prince his doll, dry his poor eyes, and send him off happy.  O, you immature fool!’ the Countess cried, rising to her feet, and pointing at the Princess the closed fan that now began to tremble in her hand.  ‘O wooden doll!’ she cried, ‘have you a heart, or blood, of any nature?  This is a man, child — a man who loves you.  O, it will not happen twice! it is not common; beautiful and clever women look in vain for it.  And you, you pitiful schoolgirl, tread this jewel under foot! you, stupid with your vanity!  Before you try to govern kingdoms, you should first be able to behave yourself at home; home is the woman’s kingdom.’  She paused and laughed a little, strangely to hear and look upon.  ‘I will tell you one of the things,’ she said, ‘that were to stay unspoken.  Von Rosen is a better women than you, my Princess, though you will never have the pain of understanding it; and when I took the Prince your order, and looked upon his face, my soul was melted — O, I am frank — here, within my arms, I offered him repose!’  She advanced a step superbly as she spoke, with outstretched arms; and Seraphina shrank.  ‘Do not be alarmed!’ the Countess cried; ‘I am not offering that hermitage to you; in all the world there is but one who wants to, and him you have dismissed!  “If it will give her pleasure I should wear the martyr’s crown,” he cried, “I will embrace the thorns.”  I tell you — I am quite frank — I put the order in his power and begged him to resist.  You, who have betrayed your husband, may betray me to Gondremark; my Prince would betray no one.  Understand it plainly,’ she cried, ‘‘tis of his pure forbearance that you sit there; he had the power — I gave it him — to change the parts; and he refused, and went to prison in your place.’

The Princess spoke with some distress.  ‘Your violence shocks me and pains me,’ she began, ‘but I cannot be angry with what at least does honour to the mistaken kindness of your heart: it was right for me to know this.  I will condescend to tell you.  It was with deep regret that I was driven to this step.  I admire in many ways the Prince — I admit his amiability.  It was our great misfortune, it was perhaps somewhat of my fault, that we were so unsuited to each other; but I have a regard, a sincere regard, for all his qualities.  As a private person I should think as you do.  It is difficult, I know, to make allowances for state considerations.  I have only with deep reluctance obeyed the call of a superior duty; and so soon as I dare do it for the safety of the state, I promise you the Prince shall be released.  Many in my situation would have resented your freedoms.  I am not’ — and she looked for a moment rather piteously upon the Countess — ’I am not altogether so inhuman as you think.’