CHAPTER LXXIX.
THE MAD COUNTESS.
Count Starhemberg paced his splendid drawing-room in a state of great excitement. Sometimes he murmured broken sentences, then he sighed heavily, and again he seemed to be a prey to fear. Occasionally, his eyes glanced almost reproachfully toward the figure of a young man, who, with folded arms and smiling countenance, stood in the embrasure of a window watching the old man's agitation.
As the clock on the marble mantel struck the hour, the count stopped before his young visitor, and looked searchingly at his mild and effeminate farce.
"The half hour has elapsed, Count Esterhazy," said he, solemnly. "I have told you frankly that my niece, although a beautiful and perchance a good-hearted woman, has a temper which is the terror of my household. She inherits this misfortune from her deceased father, and, unhappily, her lovely and amiable mother did not long survive him. There has been no one, therefore, to control her; and her terrible temper has never been restrained. Do not say to me that I might have conquered it! I have dedicated my whole life to her; and lest she should make another being unhappy, I have remained a bachelor, as you perceive. But I had made a solemn promise to her parents that I would be a father to her, and I have kept my promise. It is not my fault if their child is less amiable than other women. She has an energetic character, and I fear that if she marries, she will find means to tyrannize over her husband. I repeat this to you count, that we may clearly understand each other; and now that the half hour has gone by, do you still urge your suit?"
"Yes, count, I do," replied Esterhazy in a, soft, treble voice. "I repeat to you the offer of my hand to the Countess Margaret Starhemberg."
The count bowed. "I have done my duty, and, being cleared of all responsibility in the affair, I give my consent. You must now try to win hers."
"I would like to see the countess in your presence," said Esterhazy, unmoved.
Count Starhemberg rang the bell, and ordered a servant to bear a request to his niece to join him in the drawing-room.
"The countess would have the honor of joining her uncle immediately," was the answer.
"This promises well," said the old count, looking relieved. "She generally practises her music at this hour; and I am surprised that—"
Just then the sharp tones of an angry female voice were heard without, then the jingling of glasses, then a crash, and the fall of some heavy metallic body.
"That is my niece," said the old man with a shiver. "With that fanfare she usually announces her coming."
Now the door was flung violently open, and a tall, magnificent woman dashed into the room. Her features, marvellously chiselled as those of the antique Venus, would have been irresistible in beauty, if their expression had corresponded to their symmetry—But in her large black eyes glared the fire of ungoverned passion, and her rosy mouth was curled with contempt.
Her tall figure was of exquisite proportions; and her arms, adorned but not hidden by the lace which fell from the short sleeves of her crimson velvet dress, were as fair and beautiful as those of the Venus of Milo.
Count Esterhazy, intoxicated by the sight of her wondrous beauty, withdrew abashed behind the window-curtain, while the countess, graceful as an angry leopardess, bounded through the room, and stood before her uncle.
"Who has annoyed you, my child?" asked he timidly.
"He is an idiot, an awkward animal, and shall be driven from the house with the lash!" cried she. "Just imagine, uncle, that as I was coming hither, I met him in the anteroom with a plateau of cups and glasses. When he saw me, the fool fell to trembling as if he had seen an evil spirit—the plateau shook; and my dear mother's last gift, the goblet from which she had cooled her dying lips, fell to the floor and was broken."
Her voice, at first so loud and angry, was now soft and pathetic, and her eyes glistened with tears. She shook them off impatiently.
"I can well understand, dear child, how much it must have grieved you to lose this precious relic," said her uncle, soothingly.
She blushed as though she had been surprised in a fault.
"Oh, it was not that," said she, pettishly, "it is all the same to me whether the goblet was a relic or not, for I hate sentiment. But I detest such an awkward fool. He never COULD carry any thing without letting it fall."
"Nay, my child, he has often carried you for hours in his arms, and yet he never let you fall."
"Uncle, your jests are insupportable," cried she, stamping with her little satin-slippered foot upon the carpet. "You excuse this gray-headed dunce merely to vex me, and to remind me that I am an orphan without a home."
"But my dear—"
"Peace! I will not be interrupted. If I am tyrannized over in every other way, I will at least claim the right to speak—I wish to say that this old plague shall not remain here another day to torment my life with his nonsense. This time, however, I made him feel the weight of my hand. His face was as red as my dress after it."
"You struck my faithful old Isidor?" cried the count, shocked.
"Yes, I did," replied she, looking defiantly into her uncle's mild face. "I beat him well, and then I threw the whole waiter of cups and glasses upon the floor. Have you any fault to find with that, my sympathizing uncle?"
"None, none," said the old man. "If it gave you pleasure to break the glasses, we will go out and buy others."
"WE! No, indeed, we shall not. Isidor shall pay for them from his wages. It was his fault that I was obliged to break them, and no one shall suffer for it except himself. I claim that as an act of bare justice to myself. "
"But, my dear countess—"
She stamped her foot again. "Great God! have you no object in life except that of contradicting and ill-treating me?"
The count sighed and approached the door. She heard him, and an exulting smile lit up her beautiful, stormy face.
"Well, as you will not tell him, I shall do it myself. Yes—I shall do it myself. Do you hear, uncle? You shall not say a word to him."
"I will say nothing, Margaret. Will you now allow me to speak of other things? Is your vehemence—"
"UNCLE!"
"In your just displeasure, you have overlooked the fact that we are not alone."
He pointed to the window where, half hidden by the heavy silk drapery, stood Count Frank Esterhazy. The countess followed her uncle's glance, and as she became aware of the visitor's presence, burst into a merry laugh.
"Do not be frightened, young man," said she then; "you may come out from your corner. I am not a cat, and I don't devour mice. Ah, you have heard our discussion? What a pity you are not a dramatic poet, you have had such an opportunity for depicting a foolish old guardian and his spirited ward!"
"Unfortunately, I am not a poet," said the young count, coming forward and bowing to the floor. "If I were, I could write to-day a hundred sonnets to the eyes of the majestic Hera whose anger heightens her wonderful beauty."
"Uncle," said the countess, suddenly assuming a stately and court-like demeanor, "be so good as to present me this young stranger, who pays such insipid compliments."
"My dear niece, let me introduce Count Frank Esterhazy, a nobleman just returned from Italy, who is in high favor with the empress."
"The latter is no recommendation, uncle, for am I not also a favorite with the empress? Have you not often told me so, when the empress was humbling me with some of her tyrannical condescension?"
"Certainly, my child, I have said so."
"Then you see that it is not necessary to be estimable for one to gain the empress's good-will. For my part, I wish she loved me less, for then she would spare me some of the long sermons with which she edifies me, when I happen to appear at court."
"That, probably, is the reason you appear so seldom," said Count
Esterhazy. "I have heard your absence complained of."
"By her majesty?" asked Count Starhemberg.
"No, your excellency, by the emperor."
"What did he say?"
"Dare I repeat his words?" asked Esterhazy, appealing to the countess.
She bowed her head, and leaned against the back of an arm-chair.
"I was yesterday at the empress's reception. The emperor was so kind as to do the honors of the court to me. He pointed out the several beauties of Vienna, who were all strangers to me—'But,' said he, 'the most beautiful woman in Austria I cannot show you, for she is not here. The Countess Margaret von Starhemberg has the beauty of Juno and Venus united.'"
The countess said nothing; she stood with downcast eyes. Her cheek had paled, and her lips were firmly compressed together. Suddenly she rallied and said, with a careless laugh
"I wager that the empress and her ladies made some amiable commentary on the emperor's words. Come, tell me, what said the empress?"
"If you command me, countess, I will tell you. The empress added, with a sigh, 'It is true, she is as beautiful as a goddess, but it is Eris whom she resembles."'
"Very witty!" exclaimed the countess, with a sneer.
"And the emperor?" inquired the uncle.
"The emperor frowned at the ladies, who began to laugh. 'Your majesty may be right,' said he, 'but Grecian mythology has forgotten to say whether the fierce goddess was ever vanquished by love. Love tames the most turbulent of women."'
The countess uttered a sharp cry, and caught with both her hands at the back of the arm-chair. Her eyes closed, and a deadly paleness overspread her countenance. Her uncle hastened to put his arm around her, inquiring tenderly, "Dearest child, what ails you?"
She leaned for a while upon his shoulder; then raising her head while deep blushes crimsoned her cheeks, she said, haughtily: "It is nothing. A sudden faintness to which I am subject." With an inclination of the head to Count Esterhazy, she continued
"You will be so good as not to mention this weakness of mine. It is purely physical, and I hope to conquer it in time. I am rejoiced to think that I have verified the words of the empress and have appeared before you to-day as an Eris. I suppose you came hither to see me out of curiosity."
"No Countess Margaret, the purport of my visit was any thing but curiosity. I come, with the sanction of your guardian, to offer you my hand."
The black eyes of the countess darted fire at the smiling suitor.
"You do not answer me," said he blandly. "I say that I have won the consent of your uncle, and respectfully solicit yours. It shall be the study of my life to make you happy, and, perhaps, at some future day, my untiring devotion may win a return of my love. Speak, then, countess; say that you will be my wife."
"Never, never!" cried she, stretching forth her arms as though to ward away some threatening evil. "I shall never be the wife of any man. I was not made for marriage, I cannot bow my will before that of any other fellow-mortal."
"I shall not require you to do so," replied the count, as though he had now removed every objection. "You will be in my house as you are here, absolute mistress of all things, and I shall claim nothing but the right of being your humblest and most devoted servant."
"Unhappily for you, you know not what you claim," exclaimed the countess angrily. "Ask my uncle, ask his household, and they will tell you that I am a tyrant, changing my will twenty times an hour; hating to-day the thing I shall love to-morrow. You would aspire to be my husband, would you? Have you no friends to warn you of the reefs upon which you are running that poor little crazy bark of yours? Why the very people, as they see me pass, tell of my frantic doings; and every child in Vienna knows that I beat my servants, rage about my uncle's house like the foul fiend, and dash through the streets on horseback like the Wild Huntsman."
"'Love tames the wildest hearts,' so says the emperor."
Margaret started, and darted a fiery glance at his tranquil face.
"But I do not love you, I tell you; and it is useless to say another word on the subject."
"Nay," said the count, taking her hand, "it is not useless. I beseech you, do not deny my suit."
At this moment the door opened, and a servant came in with a golden tray, on which lay a letter.
"From her majesty the empress," said the servant, handing it to Count Starhemberg. The count took the letter and went into the embrasure of the window, while the servant retired noiselessly.
"Countess Margaret," said Count Esterhazy, in an imploring voice, "once more I entreat you to accept me as your husband."
She looked at him with withering contempt. "Have I not told you," cried she, passionately, "that I do not love you? A man of honor ceases to importune a woman after such an avowal."
"A man of spirit never gives up; he perseveres, in the hope that sooner or later, he will reach his goal. No man has the right to expect that he will obtain a treasure without trouble."
"Cant! miserable cant!" And the great glowing eyes that were looking with such scorn at the alight figure of the count, encountered their own image in the glass before which they both were standing.
"Look!" cried she, pointing to the mirror, "yonder reflection gives its answer to your suit. Do you see that tall woman, whose head towers above the blond mannikin that stands beside her? Look at her black hair, her fiery eyes, and resolute bearing! And now look at the little fair-haired puppet, that resembles a man about as much as do the statuettes on my toilet-table. Ah, sir count, if you were the woman and I the man there might be marriage between us! But as it is, you would die of my violence, or I of your insipidity. So, excuse me."
She made a deep courtesy and turned to leave the room. But she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and looking back, she saw her uncle gazing at her with a face of great anxiety.
"My child," said he, in a faltering voice, "do not send Count Esterhazy so rudely away. He is rich, noble, and distinguished, and in every way worthy of my lovely niece. Do not refuse him, Margaret."
"The count has recovered from his stupid delusion, uncle; I have told him how impossible it is for me to accept his hand."
"But, my poor child, you must try to love him. You dare not reject his offer."
"What! I dare not reject whom I please!" cried she, in a voice shrill with passion.
"No, you dare not. The empress commands you to accept the hand of Count Esterhazy. Here is the note I have at this moment received from her majesty."
Margaret tore the paper savagely from her uncle's hand. With staring eyes she read its contents, while her whole body trembled violently, and her lips were bloody with the efforts she was making to suppress a scream.
At last she gave it back. "Read it," said she, hoarsely; "the letters swim before my eyes."
The count took the note and read:
"Dear Count Starhemberg: It is my desire that your niece, the Countess Margaret, shall become the wife of some honorable man. In this way she may hope to conquer her ungovernable temper, and become a reasonable woman. I have heard that Count Esterhazy intends to become her suitor, and I command her to accept his hand. She has led a life of wild independence, and it is time she were tamed by the cares, duties, and responsibilities of matrimony. I am both her empress and godmother, and I use my double right for her good. The marriage shall take place in one week, or she goes into a convent. That is my ultimatum. "I remain yours with sentiments of esteem, "MARIA THERESA."