"More firmly than your head sticks to your shoulders."
[10]Sophia Wilhelmina. She used the signature of "Sister Guillemette," in her correspondence with Voltaire.
[CHAPTER XVII]
Von Poelnitz hated Porporina sufficiently to take this opportunity to avenge himself. He, however, did not, his conduct being cowardly in the extreme; he had not sufficient strength of mind to injure any but those who yielded to him. As soon as he was alone, he became timid, and one might say, experienced an involuntary respect for those whom he could not deceive. He had been even known to detach himself from those who flattered his vices, and to follow, like a whipped hound, those who trampled on him. Was this a feeling of weakness, or the memory of a less degraded youth? It would be pleasant to think, that in the most degraded souls, something appeals to our better instincts, which yet remain, though oppressed and existing in suffering and remorse alone. Von Poelnitz had long attached himself to Prince Henry, and feigning to participate in his sorrows, had induced him to complain of the king's bad treatment: these conversations he repeated to Frederick, filling them with venom, as a means of increasing the anger of the latter. Poelnitz did this dirty work for the very pleasure of mischief; for, in fact he did not hate the prince, being incapable of the passion. He hated no one but the king, who dishonored him every day, without making him rich. Poelnitz loved trickery for its own sake. To deceive, was a flattering triumph in his eyes. He felt, besides, a real pleasure in speaking and causing others to speak ill of the king, and when he repeated all these slanders to the king, he had an interval of pleasure at being able to play his master the same trick, by concealing the pleasure he took in laughing at him, betraying and revealing his vicious and ridiculous points to his enemies. Both parties, therefore, he considered his dupes, and this life of intrigue in which he fomented hatred, without knowing precisely why, had a secret attraction.
The consequence, however, was, that Henry discovered, that as often as he suffered his ill-humor to appear before the complaisant baron, in the course of a few hours he found the king more offended and outrageous than ever. If he complained before Von Poelnitz of having been twenty-four hours in arrest, on the next day he had twice the confinement awarded him. This prince, as frank as brave, as confiding as Frederick was suspicious, finally arrived at a correct appreciation of the character of the miserable baron. Instead of managing him prudently, he had overpowered him with indignation. Since that time, Poelnitz humbled himself to the ground and never had offended him. He seemed, even, in the depth of his heart, to love him as much as he was capable of loving any one. He warmed with admiration when he spoke of him, and these testimonials of respect appeared so strange that all were astonished at such an incomprehensible whim in such a man.
The fact is, Von Poelnitz, finding the prince more generous and a thousand times more tolerant than Frederick, would have preferred him as a master; having a vague presentiment or rather a guess, as the king had, that a mysterious conspiracy was spun around the prince, the threads of which he wished to hold, so that he might know whether success was so certain that he might join it. It was then for his own interests that he sought to ingratiate himself with Consuelo, and ascertain its secrets. Had she revealed the little she knew, he would not have disclosed it to the king, unless Frederick had given him a great deal of money. Frederick was too economical, however, to purchase the services of great scoundrels.
Poelnitz had ascertained something of this mystery from the Count de Saint Germain. He had spoken so positively, so boldly of the king, that this skillful adventurer had not sufficiently distrusted him. Let us say, en passant, that in this adventurer's character there was something of enthusiasm and folly: that though he was a charlatan and even Jesuitical in many respects, there was a foundation for the entire man, a fanatical conviction which presented singular contrasts, and induced him to perpetrate many errors.
In conveying Consuelo back to the fortress, having somewhat familiarized himself with the contempt she had exhibited, he conducted himself with great naïveté towards her. He confessed to her, voluntarily, that he was ignorant of everything, that all he had said about the plans of the prince, in relation to foreign powers, was but a gratuitous commentary on the whimsical conduct and secret association of the prince and his sister with suspicious characters.
"This commentary does no honor to your lordship's sincerity," said Consuelo, "and, perhaps, should not be boasted of."