"You are amazed at our little fête," said the princess, laughing. "Well, you will be yet more so, when you know that we three will sup together and will serve ourselves, as Von Kleist and I have already prepared everything. We set the table, lit the candles, and never were so amused. For the first time in my life, I dressed my hair and made my toilet, and it was never done better, at least in my opinion. We are going to amuse ourselves incognito. The king sleeps at Potsdam, the queen is at Charlottembourg, my sisters are with the queen mother at Montbijou, my brothers are I know not where, and none but ourselves are in the palace. I voted myself sick, and resolved to make use of the opportunity to live a little, and fête you two (the only persons whom I can trust) on the escape of Trenck. We will, then, drink champagne to his health, and one of us must get tipsy. The others can keep the secret. Ah! the philosophic suppers of Frederick will be eclipsed by the splendor of this one!"
They sat down, and the princess appeared under a new aspect to the Porporina. She was good, kind, natural, joyous, beautiful as an angel, and, in a word, adorable as she had been in the first days of her youth. She seemed to float in pure, generous, disinterested bliss. Her lover was flying from her, she knew not if she would ever see him, yet this radiant being rejoiced at his flight.
"Ah! how happy I am between you," said she to her confidants, who formed with herself the most perfect trio of profane coquetry ever concealed from the eyes of man. "I am as free as Trenck. I feel as good as he is and always was. It seemed to me that the fortress of Glatz pressed on my soul at night, and swept over me like a nightmare. I was cold in my eider-bed when I thought of him on the damp pavement of the dark prison. I did not live. I could enjoy nothing. Ah! dear Porporina! imagine my horror, when I said, 'All this he suffers for me! My fatal love has cast him into a living tomb!' This idea changed my food into poison, like the gall of the harpies. Pour me out some champagne. Ah! it seems to me like ambrosia! The lights are smiling! the flowers smell sweetly! the dishes are delicate, and Von Kleist and yourself are beautiful as angels! Yes: I see, I hear, I breathe! I have been restored to life, from the statue, the carcass I was! Here, drink with me to the health of Trenck! and then to the health of the friend who escaped with him! Afterwards, we will drink to the kind keepers who let him fly! and then to my brother Frederick, who could not help it! No bitter thought shall trouble us this holiday. I have no animosity against anyone. I think I love the king. Here! 'To the health of the king!' Porporina! 'Vive le Roi!'"
What chiefly enhanced the pleasure which the poor princess conferred on her two friends was the simplicity of her manners to the party. When her turn came, she left the table and changed the plates, carved for herself, and served her companions with the most infantine gaiety.
"Ah! if I was not born to a life of equality," said she "love, at least, has taught me what it is; and the misfortune of my position has made me appreciate the folly of the prejudices of rank and birth. My sisters are not like me. My sister of Anspach would place her head on the block, rather than bow it to a non-reigning highness. My sister of Bareith, who talks logic and philosophy with M. de Voltaire, would scratch out the eyes of any duchess who had an inch more silk in her train than herself. The reason is, you see, they never loved. They will pass their lives in the pneumatic machine they call their rank. They will die embalmed in majesty like mummies. They will not have known great griefs, as I have; but, in all their lives of etiquette and gala, they will never have had a quarter of an hour of freedom such as I enjoy now! You must, my dears, make the fête complete, and tutoy each other. I wish to be Amelia! not your highness! Plain Amelia! Ah! Von Kleist, you look as if you were about to refuse me! The unhealthy air of the court has spoiled you. You, Porporina, though an actress, seem a child of nature!"
"Yes, dear Amelia, I will do all I can to oblige you," said Porporina, laughing.
"Oh, heaven! did you but know how I love to be tutoyed and hear myself called Amelia! 'Amelia!' How well he pronounced that name! It seemed to me then to be the most beautiful name in the world, the softest ever woman bore; at least, when he pronounced it."
Gradually, the princess carried her joy to such an excess, that she forgot herself, and attended only to her guests. In this strife for equality, she became so happy and kind that she divested herself of the stern egotism which had been developed by passion and suffering. She ceased entirely to speak of herself, nor seemed even to claim merit for simplicity and amiability. She questioned the Baroness Von Kleist about her family, her situation and sentiments, more closely than she had done since she had been absorbed by her own sorrows. She was anxious to know the artist's life, to hear of the emotions of the theatre, the ideas and affections of Porporina. She inspired confidence into others from the abundance of her own heart, and took exquisite delight in reading their souls, and most in seeing in those beings, so unlike herself, a similar essence—as meritorious in the eyes of God, as richly gifted by nature, as important on earth as she had ever thought she was, in relation to others.
The ingenuous answers and sympathetic expansion of Porporina, filled her with respect mingled with surprise.
"You seem to me an angel! You!—an actress!—you speak and think more nobly than any crowned head I know! Listen to me! I have conceived an affection for you almost amounting to devotion. You must grant me your heart, Porporina. You must open to me your heart. Tell me of your life—your birth, your education, your amours, your misfortunes—of your very errors. They must certainly be noble ones, like those which I bear, not on my conscience, but in the sanctuary of my heart. It is eleven o'clock, and we have the night before us. Our orgie is nearly over, for we only gossip, and I see the second bottle of champagne will be neglected. Will you tell me your story, as I have asked you to do? It seems to me that the knowledge of your heart will be new and unknown to me, and will instruct me in the true duties of life better than all the reflections I have ever made. I feel myself capable of hearing and of listening to you. Will you satisfy me?"