"When I returned to the castle with Albert, who had not dreamed of defending himself from my suspicions, whom think you I found there?"
"Anzoleto!"
"He presented himself as my brother, and waited for me. I do not know how he had learned en route that I was living there, and was to marry Albert. But it was talked of in the country long before anything was determined. Whether from mortification, a remnant of love, or the love of evil, he had suddenly returned with the intention of breaking off this marriage. He did all he could to succeed, using prayers, tears, persuasion, and threats. Apparently I was unmoved, but in my coward heart I was troubled, and I felt I was no longer mistress of myself. By means of the falsehood by which he had obtained admission, and which I did not dare to contradict, though I had never spoken to Albert of this brother, he remained all day at the castle. The old count made us at night sing Venetian airs. These melodies of my adopted country awoke all the recollections of my infancy, of my fine dreams, pure love, and past happiness. I felt that I yet loved, but not the person I should, and had promised to love. Anzoleto conjured me in a low tone to receive him at night in my room, and threatened to come at any hazard or danger to him or to me. I had ever been a sister to him, and under the purest professions he concealed his plan. He would submit to my decision; he was going at dawn, but wished to bid me farewell. I fancied that he wished to make trouble and slander in the castle, that he proposed to make a terrible scene with Albert, and that I would be disgraced. I took a desperate resolution and executed it. At midnight I packed up in a small bundle all the clothing I required—I wrote a note for Albert—took what money I had, and (par parenthèse) forgot half of it. I left my room, mounted the hired horse Anzoleto had ridden, paid his guide to aid me, crossed the draw-bridge, and went to the neighboring city. I had never been on horseback before, and galloped four leagues. I then sent back the guide, and, pretending that I would await Anzoleto on the road to Prague, gave him false intelligence as to where my brother would find me. I set out for Vienna, and at dawn was alone, on foot, without resources, in an unknown country, and walking rapidly as possible, to escape from two passions, apparently each equally unfortunate. I must, however, say that after a few hours the phantom of the perfidious Anzoleto was effaced from my mind, never to return, while the pure image of my Albert, like an ægis and promise of the future, cheered me amid the dangers of my route."
"Why did you go to Vienna rather than Venice?"
"My maestro had gone thither, having been brought by our ambassador to replenish his broken fortune, and recover his ancient fame, which had begun to grow pale before the success of luckier innovators. Luckily, I met an excellent youth, already a musician of talent, who, in passing through the Boehmer-wald, had heard of me, and had determined to ask my recommendation and good offices in his behalf, with Porpora. We went together to Vienna on foot—suffered much from fatigue, but were always gay, always friends and brothers. I became especially fond of him, because he did not dream of making love to me, and it did not enter into my mind that he would do so. I disguised myself as a boy, and played the part so well that all kinds of pleasant mistakes occurred. One, however, came near being unfortunate to both of us. I will pass the others in silence—not to shorten my story—and will mention this only because I know it will interest your highness more than the rest of my narrative."
[6]The adventures of Consuelo having passed from the reader's mind, the author has thought it best to make a "resume" of them. Persons whose memory will recall a long romance, will find this chapter wearisome, and they may therefore skip it.
[7]Notre Dame de la Consolation.
[8]To run Bohemia.
[9]Gormanice, Schreckenstein.