CHAPTER IV.
In Pirna Street, which in times of yore was the most elegant street in the small walled city of Dresden, stood Beichling House, once the residence of the unfortunate Chancellor, who was now a prisoner at Königstein. Princess Lubomirska, née Bohun, divorced from her husband, the master of the pantry at Lithuania, and beloved by Augustus II., who, after the birth of her son, the famous Chevalier de Saxe,[[1]] had created her Princess Teschen, had received Beichling House as a reward for the overthrow of the Chancellor, in which she had greatly assisted. And it was in this palace that she always resided, when not living on her estates at Hoyerswerd. But now a change had come. Those first years of passionate love and knightly gallantry, when the beautiful King could not live for a single day without his dear Ursula, and when the charming Princess, then but twenty years of age, galloped forth impatiently to meet her royal lover, were gone; those happy times passed in Warsaw, in travelling through Germany, in splendid balls at Dresden and Leipzic, seemed to have departed for ever.
Ever since that ball at Leipzic, when, to punish the gallantry of Augustus II., who was paying court to the Princess Anhalt-Dessau, the merciless Queen of Prussia, Sophia Caroline, had assembled that monarch's three ex-mistresses, Aurora Königsmark, the Countess Esterle, and Frau Haugwitz, in order to confuse him and Princess Teschen--ever since that ball, although it had ended in the most tender assurances of constancy on the part of the King, Princess Teschen had felt uneasy. She was always thinking that she too might be abandoned by the inconstant Augustin.[[2]] It was true that, despite his secret love affairs, the King always showed great respect and affection for Princess Teschen. She had considerable influence over him, and was very skilful in leading him with golden reins, held by a slender white hand, but still she felt that the King might abandon her at any moment.
Her mirror told her that she still preserved that beauty and freshness of which she took such care; but that beauty and freshness no longer possessed the charm of novelty for the King, and he easily grew weary, and always required something new and fresh to distract him. He enjoyed the conversation of the beautiful Princess; he liked her cleverness in court intrigues, her policy covered by a veil of womanly frivolity, her perfumed perversity, and the skilful manner in which she used the entangled intrigues of others for her own benefit. Augustus used still to visit her for a couple of hours, or more, but had the Queen asked her to-day, as she had on a former occasion, when she intended to leave Dresden, she could not, as she had done then, reply boldly, that as she had come with the King, so would she leave with him. Thus her beautiful blue eyes were veiled by a cloud of sadness, but the softness in those eyes, so full of melancholy, was misleading, for the Princess possessed an iron perseverance when endeavouring to attain a desired object. From day to day her uneasiness increased, she feared every moment to receive an order to leave Dresden, and such an order would separate her from the King for ever.
Outwardly all was still unchanged, she was still respected at court, but she read her approaching downfall in the eyes of the courtiers, and from time to time she noticed ironical smiles, and malicious glances cast in her direction.
The Princess loved Augustus, she loved him passionately, and she had even thought that the volatile King would settle down, and that she would one day become Queen, but these illusions had vanished. She felt now that she was bound to meet the same fate as her lord's former favourites. Disenchanted and disappointed, she occasionally recovered her former gaiety and coquettishness when she desired to please the King, but when in her palace she wept secretly, and promised herself revenge. Letters were now despatched to Radziejowski, Primate of Poland, more frequently than ever. The King, however, was aware of the peril of incurring the Princess's wrath, as she was niece to the first dignitary of the Republic, and he made every effort to persuade her of his continued attachment. But in the meantime she was surrounded by spies, for the King feared her vengeance, even before he had deserved it.
The love of Augustus II. had changed to pure gallantry, its chill could be felt. Princess Teschen still occupied the first place at court, after the Queen; but in the King's heart she was placed on the same level as Her Majesty. The King was indifferent to her.
Her dreams of eternal love had passed like spring clouds--nothing now remained to her but offended pride.
When Princess Lubomirska left her family, visions of the crown had floated before her eyes--but these visions had disappeared, and there remained only the shame of unrealized calculation; the disgraceful situation of a woman without husband or home; a woman paid for momentary transports of love with titles, estates, and gold. The hour of her triumph had been short and fleeting, but the shame would endure for ever.
The Princess Lubomirska could not thus return to Poland.
Poor woman, she was afraid of being abandoned, and hurled headlong from that height on which she now stood hesitating, and wondering what course she should pursue. She was very weary, and she was right in calling herself unhappy, even before she was so in reality.
The palace in Pirna Street was, as usual, full of courtiers, beautiful ladies, and gallant cavaliers. The King especially favoured the latter, for he hoped that one among them might take off his hands that heart which now oppressed him by its too lachrymose affection.
The Princess's tears made Augustus the Strong very impatient, he never wept himself, and greatly disliked to see her weep. Moreover, it annoyed him that where he came seeking for distraction, he met with nothing but endless reproaches.
The Princess also employed her spies. She knew the King's every movement, and every word he uttered was reported to her. She spied on him jealously. She knew all the details of that orgie at which Hoym had first been made drunk, and then compelled to send to Laubegast for his beautiful wife. And now, uneasy and feverish, she was wondering whether she should accept the challenge, and go to the Queen's ball, or whether she should contemptuously ignore the gauntlet that had been thrown to her.
Towards eleven o'clock in the morning she was informed that the Countess Hoym had arrived. No one had seen her as yet; none knew her; none could describe her. All agreed, however, that she was beautiful, that she was born in 1680, and that she was therefore the same age as Princess Lubomirska; but none could predict the amount of danger to be expected from her beauty.
All kinds of stories were repeated. Pitiless Kyan was reported to have said, "It is no matter whether she is beautiful; it will be sufficient if she is unlike the Princess."
And Princess Teschen was only too well aware that the Countess's beauty would not be the principal consideration with the King; it would be the pleasure of a new sensation.
She had fewer visitors than usual this morning, for all were busy rushing hither and thither through the city, carrying and gathering the news.
Some said that the King, according to his usual custom when he cared about the splendour of a ball, was carefully preparing the programme himself, and that he was already very impatient for the result of the wager between Fürstenberg and Hoym. Others said that Fraulein Hulchen and Countess Reuss were intriguing together, their object being to entangle Countess Hoym in their nets, and thus assure themselves of her favour.
Countess Vitzthum assured every one that her sister-in-law's beauty would eclipse that of all the court beauties.
The Princess sent out for tidings, received the reports of those who still remained faithful to her, wept, and gave herself up to despair. Thrice had she succeeded in retaining her hold over the King when he had wished to break with her, but now it seemed as though her last hour had really come. She wrung her hands--suddenly a strange thought took possession of her mind--she glanced at the clock. Hoym's house was not far distant. She whispered something to her attendant, then, muffling her face in a thick veil, she quietly descended the stairs, and entered the vestibule. A litter was in readiness, she entered it, then, instead of carrying her through the street, the two bearers, to whom the servant had given whispered instructions, went along in the rear of the gardens. A door in Hoym's garden was opened by some one, the Princess alighted from her litter, and, after a hasty glance around her, hurried up the stairs, and entered the Count's house. A young man in the antechamber opened the door to her, Lubomirska hastened down a dark corridor, and rapped at a door that had been pointed out to her.
She had to wait some time before it was opened, and even then it seemed as though the servant who opened only wished to see who was outside, for she would not have allowed the Princess to enter, had not that lady placed a few ducats in her hand. Then Princess Teschen pushed open the door, and entered.
Anna Hoym was walking across the room, at the moment the veiled lady appeared on the threshold. Surprised at the sight of an unexpected visitor, she drew back with an angry frown.
Pulling off her veil, Lubomirska gazed inquisitively at the Countess; then her lips trembled, she grew deadly pale, staggered and fainted.
Anna and the servant hastened to her assistance, and between them they raised the unconscious lady.
Her swoon, however, did not last long. Suddenly she sprang up like a madwoman, and gazed on her rival with dilated eyes; then she silently made a sign that she desired the servant to leave the room.
The two ladies were accordingly left alone.
This strange occurrence filled Countess Hoym with uneasiness. After long years spent in the quiet of the country, the new and feverish life that had now begun for her startled and surprised her.
Lubomirska extended her white, cold, trembling hand towards the Countess.
"Forgive me," she said, in feeble tones, "I wanted to see and warn you. The voice of duty compelled me to come hither."
Anna remained silent, gazing curiously at her extraordinary visitor.
"Yes, look at me!" continued the Princess. "You are beginning the life which for me is ended. Once I was as you are, innocent, happy, quiet, and respected, living at peace with my conscience and my God. I had my husband's princely title, and, better than all, I had an unsullied name. Then there came a crowned monarch, and he took all this from me with his smile. His sceptre and crown he laid at my feet; he gave me his heart. I followed him. Look at me. To-day I have nothing. The name I have is borrowed, my heart is broken, my happiness is gone for ever; instead, the mark of shame is on my forehead; my soul is full of bitterness, the future is dark and threatening, and I am tormented with cares for my child. I have no one in this world to whom I can turn. My relations would disown me; those who yesterday crawled at my feet, will forget me to-morrow. He! He! will push me aside like a stranger."
Anna blushed.
"Madam!" she exclaimed. "Why do you foresee a danger for me that I cannot see myself? I do not understand your words. Who are you?"
"Yesterday, I was almost a Queen, but I know not what I am to-day," replied the Princess.
"But I do not wish for any crown," said Anna, "there is not one that does not burn the forehead. Why do you apply these threats to me?"
"Warnings, not threats," interrupted Lubomirska. "Forgive me, a crown is approaching your brow, the people have given it you in advance. I desire to show you its thorns."
"You are mistaken," replied the Countess calmly. "I shall not stretch forth my hands for any crown. I am too proud. Be calm."
Teschen sank on the sofa, her head drooped, and she began to weep. Her heart-breaking sobs aroused Countess Hoym's pity, and she approached her sympathetically.
"Everything that has happened to me to-day is so mysterious," said she. "Who are you?"
"Teschen," murmured the Princess softly, raising her eyes as she spoke. "You have heard of me, and you can guess why they have brought you here. A fresh face is necessary for their weary lord."
Anna uttered an indignant cry.
"Villains!" exclaimed she. "Then they would traffic with us, as though we were slaves--and we--"
"We are their victims."
"No! I will never be their victim," interrupted the Countess; "I am so proud that I would endure any misery, rather than surfer such humiliation."
Teschen looked at her, and sighed.
"If it is not you, it will be another," she replied. "My hour has come. But if you are strong enough, I beseech you, avenge us all. Spurn him. Show him the contempt you feel for him. His actions cry to God for vengeance."
She replaced her veil, shook hands silently, then with the hasty exclamation, "You are warned, defend yourself!" she hurried from the room, leaving the Countess speechless.
Before she had recovered herself, the Princess had disappeared.
The same man who admitted her was waiting on the stairs. She re-entered her litter, and, whilst drawing the curtains, noticed a young officer with a pale face looking anxiously into her eyes.
The young man's features were noble, aristocratic, and expressive of courage and energy, but at that moment they were distorted by grief and indignation. He seemed unable to believe his eyes. He approached the litter.
"Princess Ursula!" said he, in a voice broken by emotion, "can I believe my eyes? I beseech you, tell me the whole truth, then I will mount my steed, ride away, and never return. Princess! I am mad with love, while you--"
"It is quite true that you are mad," said the Princess brusquely, "and you are blind as well, or you would see that I am coming from Hoym's house, and with him I could not possibly be in love."
She grasped his hand.
"Come with me, I will not release you until I have explained everything. I do not wish you to accuse me unjustly--that would be too much! I could not survive that!"
The Princess, her beautiful eyes full of tears, looked so eloquently at the young man, as she uttered these words, that all traces of sorrow disappeared from his face.
Obedient to her commands, he followed the litter; when it stopped, he helped her to alight, and together they entered the palace. Tired and broken in spirit, the Princess sank on the sofa, and motioned to the young man to seat himself by her side.
"Prince, you behold me angry and indignant. I have just returned from visiting her whom my horrible enemies have brought here, that the King may have the distraction of a new face; whom they have brought here to drive me away, and to overthrow my influence with the King. Have you heard about Countess Hoym?"
"No," replied the young man, who was Prince Ludwig von Würtemberg. "I have only heard them laughing at poor Hoym, whom they made drunk, so that they might compel him to show his wife."
"Yes," exclaimed the Princess with animation, "they well knew how to arouse Augustus's curiosity. But I have seen her; she is beautiful, and she is dangerous."
"So much the better!" cried the Prince, springing from his seat. "Then you will be free!"
Teschen blushed, and looked inquiringly at the young man--there was a moment's silence, then she stretched out her hands towards him. He seized them, kissed them with fervour, and was still holding them, when a little woman, who bore some likeness to the Princess, rushed into the room, laughing maliciously.
It was difficult to guess how old she was, for she had one of those faces which, never being fresh, do not grow old for a long time. Her sharp, grey, malicious eyes were full of animation, her lips wore an ironical smile, whilst her features bespoke her a feverish gossip and an unbearable intriguante. She was dressed with the greatest care; had a dainty figure, and small feet. She clapped her hands in delight when Prince von Würtemberg withdrew his lips from the Princess's hand.
"Bravo! Bravissimo!" she screeched. "I see that my sister has secured military protection for her retreat; for it seems to me that the moment has arrived when we shall have to retreat from the King's heart and court."
The speaker was the Princess's own sister, and married to the Baron von Glassenapp.
"My dear sister, I have not seen you for a long time," prattled on the little lady, "but at the moment of peril, I always appear. Teschen, do you know that Hoym's wife has arrived? I saw her when she was at Dresden during the King's absence, and I then foretold that, like the beautiful Helen of Troy, she would bring misfortune to some one. She is beautiful as an angel, and dark, which for a blonde like Teschen, is always dangerous. She is animated, witty, malicious, and proud as a Queen. Your power is ended."
She laughed.
"Well, you still have a chance of princely titles," she continued, not allowing any one an opportunity to put in a word. "I was only able to catch a poor Pomeranian Baron--but you got Lubomirska, you have Teschen, and for provision you are trying to get Von Würtemberg."
The Prince stood blushing and angry. Teschen lowered her eyes, and murmured through her set teeth,--
"I could have a fourth, if I wished."
"I will tell you his name, if you like," interrupted the Baroness, and, running up to her sister, she put her mouth to her ear, saying,--
"The Prince Alexander Sobieski, is it not? But he will not marry, while Ludwig will. Try and hold him."
The Princess turned from her sister in disgust, and the Baroness looked in the mirrors, flitted about the room, all the while keeping an eye on the couple, at whom she laughed dreadfully.
"If you are clever, Teschen, you may still come out of this crisis triumphant. Hoym's wife is a simpleton; she will disgust the King; she will attract him at first by her beauty, but she will repulse him with her pride; after her, Teschen will appear dear and sweet. Well, one must forgive the King's fancy. Such men have great sorrows, and great privileges. Only I am sorry," she continued, "that every one is tearing you to pieces already. The Countesses Reuss and Hulchen are offering sacrifices to the new goddess, while Fürstenberg and even brother-in-law Vitzthum are ready to supplant Hoym. Poor Hoym, when his wife leaves him, I would marry him, if it were not for my duties. But the old libertine never cared for me."
Here Prince Ludwig rose to take his leave, and the way in which Princess Ursula shook hands with him did not escape the notice of the Baroness, who bowed to him distantly.
There was silence for a few moments after the sisters were left alone.
"You must not take it so tragically," began the Baroness, "any one could have foreseen that this would happen sooner or later. The King is tired of a blonde, you have a principality, you have estates in Hoyerswerd; you have millions, diamonds, a palace; you are still young, still beautiful; and there is Prince Ludwig, who is ready to marry you. I tell you frankly, I would gladly exchange my lot for yours, and I would give you Schulemberg in addition."
"But I loved him," interrupted the Princess, weeping bitterly.
"But that is all over," rejoined the Baroness, "I know that you were both in love with each other, for a whole year at the least, during which time the King betrayed you secretly, at least, ten times, and you repaid him in the same coin."
"Sister!" exclaimed the Princess indignantly.
"Well, then, you did not. But during that time you were able to obtain for yourself the love of the Prince von Würtemberg. I am called malicious and wicked, but I should not have been able to do it. I only found Schulemberg after I had been bitten by Glassenapp."
She laughed a little, and then continued,--
"Listen, Kings have a custom, when taking leave of their favourites, to ask for the return of the diamonds they have given. I warn you, therefore, to put yours in a safe place."
She looked at her sister, who apparently did not hear what she was saying.
"Are you going to the ball?" she inquired.
"The ball?" repeated the Princess, thoughtfully. "Yes; I must go to the ball. I shall go dressed in mourning, and without any jewels; but tell me, will a black robe be becoming to me?"
The Baroness laughed.
"Undoubtedly!" she replied. "Mourning is becoming to every one. But if you think that by doing this you will soften the hearts of Augustus and his courtiers, you are mistaken; they will all laugh at you; they do not like tragedies."
"What will be, will be!" replied the Princess. "I shall go in mourning. I will appear before him like a silent ghost."
"And as Countess Hoym will be merry and fresh, you will also disappear like a ghost. Believe me, the past can never be recalled."
She looked at the clock.
"It is late already! I shall see you again at the ball--I shall be there, but I shall be in the background, like a spectator who applauds the actors. Good-bye!"