BOOK III.
I.—NEW PLANS.
"Strange, very strange," muttered Count Adam Schwarzenberg to himself. "The Prince must have set out on his journey four weeks ago, and still no news from Gabriel Nietzel! The journey by sea, it is true, offered no opportunity for any enterprise, and the Electoral Prince had the sublime fancy of choosing the water in preference to the land route, in spite of the severities of this season of the year. But, according to the Prince's scheme of traveling, and according to my own calculations, the Prince must have reached Hamburg full eight days ago, and as he was only to stay there three days, he must already have been journeying five days by land, and yet have I in vain looked for any tidings whatever from Gabriel Nietzel. Could it be possible that this man has dared to disobey me?—could he have carried his folly so far as to sacrifice wife and child rather than execute my commands?"
Gloomily the count's brow wrinkled, as he asked himself this question, and his eyes flamed with fury. With folded arms he walked rapidly to and fro.
"To think that all my plans may be wrecked by the pangs of conscience of a single fool!" he sighed—"to think, that for months, nay, for years, I have been laboring in vain to see the realization of these projects, and that in my highest, proudest aims I am dependent upon a blockhead, who—What is it Daniel? What is your errand?"
"Pardon me, your excellency; some one is without who desires most urgently to speak with you."
"Who is it?—do you know him?"
"No, my lord count, I do not know him, and he will not tell what he wants of your excellency. He says he must speak with your lordship himself, and I must only announce his name. It is Gabriel Nietzel."
"Gabriel Nietzel!" cried the count. "Why did you not tell me so directly, you fool! Bring him in without delay, and take care that no one disturbs us so long as the painter Gabriel Nietzel is with us."
The lackey hurried off, leaving the door open for the painter, whom he fetched in from the first antechamber. Breathlessly, in violent excitement, Count Schwarzenberg looked toward this open door. "It is my future fate that is about to enter," he murmured. "Ah, there he is! There is Gabriel Nietzel!" And in his vehement agitation he rushed forward a few steps to meet the painter, whom he saw approaching through the entrance hall. But forcibly constraining himself to an appearance of moderation and reserve, he stood still and assumed a calm, unimpassioned expression. Gabriel Nietzel entered, and behind him the lackey gently closed the door. The sharp eyes of the count rested inquiringly upon the newcomer, who remained standing near the door with head sunk and humble, melancholy mien. This submissive, contrite silence on the part of the returning painter was sufficiently eloquent to the mind of the count. It told him that Gabriel Nietzel had nothing welcome to communicate. He subdued his rage and proudly threw back his head, as if to shake off, like troublesome insects, all his disappointed hopes.
"Well, you are actually at home again, Master Court Painter!" he cried, in a tone that was well-nigh cheerful.
"Yes, your excellency," whispered Gabriel, with downcast eyes, "here I am again, and report myself forthwith to your excellency."
"To me?" asked Schwarzenberg, affecting astonishment. "Why do you report yourself to me, and what have I to do with you, Sir Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel? You should have gone to the palace, to the Electress, and gladdened her heart with your pleasing intelligence. I doubt not that you are the bearer of glad tidings for her, and come to forewarn her of the Prince's speedy arrival here in safety and good health?"
"I had no wish to go to her highness the Electress," said Gabriel Nietzel humbly. "She knows already, independently of any information from me, that the Electoral Prince is safe and sound. I come to your excellency to excuse myself for the failure of my undertaking, and to beg your pardon."
"I do not understand you at all, Sir Court Painter," replied Count Schwarzenberg, shrugging his shoulders. "I know not what sort of undertaking you had in view, what you have failed in, and what I can have to pardon you for."
"Your excellency!" cried Gabriel with an outburst of grief—"your excellency, I swear that I am innocent, that it has been the result of no ill will, no negligence, but because I really could not find an opportunity for carrying out what—"
"Well, carrying out what?" asked Schwarzenberg, when Gabriel faltered. "What do I care for your unfinished works, your abortive schemes? I only buy finished pictures, and, if they are well executed and successes, I pay for them in kingly style. With daubers, though, and wretched copyists who would pass off copies as originals, I have nothing to do. Speak not to me, then, Sir Court Painter, of your sketches and designs. I ask nothing about them, but only come to me when you have a completed work to exhibit."
"Your excellency will not understand me," said Gabriel, while drops of agony trickled from his cold brow.
"No," proudly retorted the count, "it is for you to understand me, Sir Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel. Were you not sent to The Hague to complete your studies there? Why have you returned home so soon?"
"Because I was homesick, most gracious sir—because I longed inexpressibly after my child, my wife!"
The painter ventured to lift his eyes with earnest anxiety and entreaty to the face of the count, but Schwarzenberg's glance remained cold.
"Ah, you have a wife?" he asked, with indifference. "You left her behind and went alone to The Hague?"
"Yes, I went there quite alone, because I had a great and important work to accomplish there; but before I had even stretched my canvas and sketched the outlines, an unexpected hindrance interposed which annihilated all my plans."
"What sort of hindrance?" asked the count carelessly, while he played with the heavy golden chain about his neck, to which was attached the portrait of the Elector set in brilliants. "What sort of hindrance?"
"The Electoral Prince, to whom the Electress had recommended me, and who received me into the number of his attendants, suddenly and unexpectedly determined to take his departure from The Hague, and straightway carried his resolution into effect. He himself, together with Baron von Marwitz, Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun, secretary Müller, and his chamberlain repaired forthwith to Amsterdam, in order to take ship there. He, however, ordered his majordomo and myself to break up his household, to pack up his books and paintings, and to journey with them by land to Berlin. I ventured to protest against this, and even preferred the request to be permitted to accompany the Electoral Prince upon his sea voyage; this, however, Baron Leuchtmar refused, and nobody was allowed to speak with the Electoral Prince himself. Up to the time of his departure he remained shut up in his chamber, and only left it to get into the carriage which conveyed him to Amsterdam. There, as was known, lay a passenger vessel ready to sail for Hamburg, and in this the Electoral Prince took passage."
"And you did not see the Electoral Prince at all before he set out?"
"Oh, your excellency, I had ranged myself along with all his other household officers at the side of his traveling carriage, and the Prince very condescendingly held out his hand to me, yes, he even tried to smile. 'Gabriel Nietzel,' he said, 'make all speed to reach Berlin right soon. I shall desire my mother to allow you to enter my special service, and then you shall paint for me many a pretty picture. Until then, farewell!' He once more nodded kindly to me, and jumped into the carriage."
"That is the only time that you have spoken at all to the Electoral
Prince?"
"No, your honor, on the very day of my arrival I had an audience with him, and the Electoral Prince was highly delighted to receive news from home. I must tell him everything in detail, and since, with your gracious permission, I claimed to side with your lordship's opponents, the Electoral Prince immediately became very confidential and affectionate to me, receiving me into his house and retinue, and promising to present me at the courts of the Stadtholder and the Queen of Bohemia."
"How came it, then, that the Prince so immediately afterward suddenly took the resolution to depart?"
"Most gracious sir, four-and-twenty hours after myself the Chamberlain von
Marwitz arrived at The Hague, and had a long conversation with the
Electoral Prince. Immediately after that the Electoral Prince gave orders
for departure, and three hours later had already left The Hague."
"Now it seems, therefore, that Baron von Marwitz is a very persuasive speaker, who well understood how to move the Electoral Prince's heart, and to lead him back to obedience to his father and—myself. I shall therefore prove my gratitude to Herr von Marwitz. I like very much to have my orders and commissions executed punctiliously and exactly, and this Herr von Marwitz has done, for I had bidden him to leave no means untried whereby the Electoral Prince might be induced to leave Holland."
A crushing glance from his large gray eyes as he uttered these words fell full upon Gabriel Nietzel's pale and contrite face, making his heart quake with undefined dread.
"Your honor is very angry with me?" he asked faintly.
"You?" exclaimed the count in astonishment. "Why should I be angry with you? What have I to do with you? I only know you as the painter Nietzel, who sold me a copy for a good original, and whom I could therefore have condemned to the gallows as a falsifier and cheat. But you know I have forgiven you, and let your copy be valued as an original. I even went further in my magnanimous forgiveness; I had even intrusted you with commissions for Holland, where you were to visit the picture galleries in order to make copies. You have not executed my commissions, for you have returned home too soon. That is all, and therefore all connection between us is dissolved. Farewell, Mr. Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel; you are dismissed!"
He haughtily motioned to the door, turned his back upon the painter, and slowly traversed the apartment. But Gabriel Nietzel did not go. There he stood as if rooted to the spot, and stared fixedly at the count, who walked to and fro, as if lost in thought, and seemed to be wholly unconscious that the painter had dared still to remain in his presence. After a long pause his eye fell quite accidentally on the spot where Gabriel Nietzel stood, and he started as if in sudden terror.
"Why, you still here?" he asked. "You dare to brave me? To terrify me with your dull, pale face? Have you grown deaf, Mr. Court Painter? Did you not hear me dismiss you?"
"I heard, but your honor knows that I can not go. Your lordship well knows that from your lips I await the sentence which is to seal my whole future fate, and that I will not leave this room until I have received this."
"How? You will not leave this room. You will stay although I have bidden you go? Very well, then, I shall call my servants and have you put out."
And already the count's hand was stretched forth to take his silver whistle. But Gabriel Nietzel dared to grasp this hand and hold it firmly between both his own.
"Pity, gracious sir, pity!" he pleaded. "Drive me from your presence, take from me the pension you most condescendingly insured to me; I feel that I am indeed undeserving of your favor and graciousness. Only, for pity's sake, for humanity's sake, restore to me my own—give me my wife and child!"
"What have I to do with your wife and child?" asked Count Schwarzenberg angrily. "Have you handed them over to me? Am I the chief of an asylum for deserted women and children?"
"My wife, Sir Count, give me back my wife!" cried Gabriel Nietzel, sinking down upon his knees.
"I know nothing about her, I have never seen her," said the count.
"You do know about her, your excellency! You took her and my dear, precious child under your protection when I went to The Hague. You had my wife and child carried to, Spandow, and gave them an abode within your palace there."
"Now I see plainly that you speak like a deranged man, Master Gabriel Nietzel," cried the count passionately. "Collect your faculties, man, or I shall immediately have you arrested and sent to a madhouse. I repeat, collect your faculties, and utter not such palpably idle tales. Very likely that I should have taken your wife and child into my keeping. Bethink yourself, Master Gabriel Nietzel, be rational, and remember that you are happily unincumbered and a free bachelor!"
"No, no, I am not free!" shrieked Gabriel Nietzel. "I have a wife, I have a child, and see them again I must! Deliver them up to me, Sir Count. I beseech you by all that is sacred—deliver them up to me! I must have my wife and boy again!"
"Well then, go and look for them," said Schwarzenberg composedly "Apply to the police, and furnish them with a description of both their persons. Show your marriage license and your child's certificate of baptism, that every one may be convinced of the truth of your deposition. Then write a description of your wife, or, as you are a painter, draw a likeness of her, publish her name and family, call upon her relatives to render you their assistance, and in that way, if you really have a wife, you will in the end succeed in discovering her."
"Sir Count, you well know that I can not do so," groaned Gabriel Nietzel. "You well know that I am a poor, ruined man, entirely in your power. I beseech you, have mercy upon me! Restore to me my wife and child, and I will do all that you require of me. Give me back my wife, and I swear to you that I will do here what I was to have done on the journey. I swear to you that I will make good what I missed, that I—"
"I do not believe your oaths, Gabriel Nietzel," interposed the count. "You are liberal with your oaths and promises, but come short in deeds, in performances. Nobody will pay for a picture before he has seen it, or at least a sketch of the same. Therefore take yourself off, devise a plan, sketch your outline, and bring it to me. If it pleases me, and is practicable, if I see that you are zealous and well disposed, then will I gladly aid you in its execution and pay you in princely style. That is my last word, Master Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel, and now go, and do not show your face here again until you can show me that sketch. You have understood me, have you not, Master Gabriel Nietzel? I bespeak a picture, and you are to furnish me with a sketch of it; then, as you are in want, I shall gladly pay you for it in advance."
"Yes, I have understood your lordship," said Gabriel Nietzel, heaving a deep sigh. "I know a subject for the painting you have ordered, and will make a sketch of it. You shall not have to wait long for it."
"It is a fine subject," said Schwarzenberg quietly. "We might call it the murder of Julius Cæsar."
"No, it is the execution of the Emperor Conrad III—the execution and murder of the last Hohen-Hohenstaufen," sobbed the painter, while tears fell in clear streams from his eyes.
"I believe another paroxysm of insanity has seized you," said the count contemptuously. "How can any one weep merely because he will represent a tragic scene? What is the last of the Hohenstaufens to you? You depict his death, and if the painting is a success I shall reward you handsomely for it, give you a splendid income, and then you can go to Italy, the home of all artists, to spend the remainder of your life there in pleasure and freedom."
"It shall be just as your excellency says," sighed Gabriel. "Only, your excellency, only be so gracious as to give me back my wife and child."
"I said so, your paroxysm of madness is coming on afresh!" cried Schwarzenberg, shrugging his shoulders. "Man, are you really beside yourself?—have you lost your senses? Do you demand your wife and child of me, of Count Adam von Schwarzenberg, the Stadtholder in the Mark? Go away with your follies. Be off, so that you can make your sketch, and when you come back, and it is good, you will perhaps find me inclined to answer all your silly questions for you!"
"Sir Count, oh, for God's sake, let me at least see my Rebecca once more!"
"Rebecca! your wife's name is Rebecca? Why, that really sounds as if she were a Jewess. And you say that she is your wife? Ah, repeat that again, then name the priest who celebrated your nuptials and united a Christian to a Jewess! By ——! I shall bring this evildoer to a strict account, and he shall be degraded from his office as a criminal and blot upon the Church, for he has sinned against God, the Church, and his Sovereign! Gabriel Nietzel, name the priest who married you to a Jewess!"
"I can not name him," murmured Nietzel, almost inaudibly. "Sir Count, I will be obedient and diligent in your service. I am a wretched sinner, and must expiate my crime. I shall do penance, too, and will be nothing more than a tool in your hands. Only have mercy upon me. Let me at least see my wife and child, if I may not speak to them! I only wish to see them, in order to gain courage and strength for my difficult and dangerous undertaking."
The count reflected for a moment, his eyes fastened upon Gabriel Nietzel's countenance, whose imploring, anxious expression seemed to touch him.
"I have in my house at Spandow," he said, after a long pause, "a beautiful painting by Albrecht Dürer. It was, unfortunately, a little injured in the transportation, and you shall restore it for me. To-morrow morning repair to Spandow, and ask for me. I shall be there, and will myself put the painting in your charge. Perhaps you will see there another painting besides, which will please you, and which, perhaps, is not unknown to you."
Gabriel Nietzel took the count's proffered hand, and with joyful impatience pressed it to his lips. "Sir Count, I will be your servant, your slave, your creature. I will damn my soul for you and suffer the torture of perpetual flames if you will only give back to me my wife and child!"
"Master Court Painter," said Schwarzenberg, parodying his words, "I shall make you a rich and distinguished man. I shall send you to Italy, and you will enjoy the heavenly fires of the Italian sky, if you will only bring me the sketch ordered, and prove to me that you are in earnest as to its execution."
Gabriel Nietzel laughed aloud in the joy of his heart.
"Your highness shall not have long to wait. I will very soon have the sketch at your excellency's disposal."
"We shall see," said the count, with a slight nod of his head. "And now that we have understood one another, and you have somewhat recovered your reason, now for the last time I tell you, you are dismissed!"
Gabriel Nietzel bowed low, and strode through the apartment toward the door of entrance, reverentially going backward that he might not turn his back upon the high-born, all-powerful count. He had almost reached the door, when it was opened and a valet appeared, who announced in a loud voice:
"His honor Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg!"
"My son!" exclaimed the count. "He has returned? Where is he? Where?"
"His honor has just gone to his apartments to divest himself of his traveling clothes, but with your highness's permission he will be here in a few minutes."
"Tell the count, that I expect him with impatience," cried the father. The valet hurried out, and Gabriel Nietzel was in the act of following him, when Schwarzenberg called him back.
"Do not go out that way now," he said; "my son is coming, and it is not worth while for him to see you. Go through yonder door. It leads to a corridor, and there you will find a small staircase by which you can descend to the court. Go!"