"She goes too far, and this cannot end well," said he, as he got into his carriage. "I shall be forced to make her commit some fault, that discipline may subdue her fiery courage. Yet I had rather dazzle and govern her by the influence I exert over so many others. I must succeed, if I am prudent, and the trouble both irritates and excites me. We will see. One thing is sure, she must not go now, to boast that she has told me the truth with impunity. No: when she goes, she must either be crushed or conquered."
And then the king, who, as may well be believed, had many other things on his mind, opened a book to avoid losing five minutes in careless thought, and got out of his carriage without remembering the state of mind in which he entered it.
Porporina, weary and unhappy, was anxious much longer about the danger of her situation. She blamed herself much with not having insisted on going, and with having tacitly consented to remain. She was roused from her meditation, however, by the reception of money and letters which Madame Von Kleist sent through her to the Count de Saint Germain.
All this was for Trenck, and Consuelo became responsible for it. She was also to play the part of his mistress, as a means of concealing the secret of the Abbess of Quedlimburgh. Thus she saw herself in a dangerous and annoying position, especially as she did not feel greatly at ease in relation to the fidelity of the mysterious beings with whom she was associated, and who seemed determined to involve themselves in her own secrets. She then began to prepare a disguise for the opera ball, a rendezvous for which she had made with the Count de St. Germain. All this time, she said to herself she stood on the brink of an abyss.
[CHAPTER XII]
Immediately after the opera, the theatre was laid with a floor, lighted up and decorated as usual, and the great ball, known in Berlin as the redoute, opened at midnight exactly. The company was tolerably mixed, for the princess and perhaps the princesses of the blood-royal mingled with the actors and actresses of all the theatres. Porporina entered alone, in the disguise of a nun, a costume which enabled her to hide her neck and shoulders with a veil, and her person with a very thick and ample dress. She felt that it was absolutely necessary for her to be completely concealed, to avoid the comments to which her being with Saint Germain would expose her. She was not sorry to have an opportunity of testing the penetration of the latter, who had boasted that he could discover her in any disguise whatever. She had therefore made, without aid, and without confiding in a servant, this simple and easy dress. She had gone out alone, dressed in a long pelisse, which she did not lay aside until she found herself in the centre of the crowd. She had not made the tour of the room before a circumstance happened that disturbed her. A mask of her own height, and which seemed to be of her sex, clad in a nun's robes, exactly like hers, met her frequently, and laughed at their identity.
"My dear sister," said this nun, "I would wish to know which of us is the shadow of the other. As it seems, though, you are lighter and more diaphonous than I, be pleased to touch my hand, that I may know if you be my twin sister or my shadow."
Consuelo repelled these attacks, and sought to go to her dressing-room, and either change her costume or make some alteration which might prevent a mistake. She feared that the count, in spite of all her precautions, had obtained some inkling of her disguise, and might test her sosia of the secrets he had referred to on the previous evening. She had not time, though, to do so, for a monk was already in pursuit, and took possession of her arm without consulting her. "You cannot avoid me, my dear sister," said he, "for I am your father confessor, and am about to tell you your sins. You are the Princess Amelia."
"You are a novice, brother," said Consuelo, disguising her voice, as is the wont at bals masqués. "You know little of your penitents."