“Still you have lived for a month with a Russian lady, of whom you are enamoured.”
“And precisely in this month my hatred has increased to an astonishing extent. I despise the Austrians; I am indignant at their weakness, but still I also pity them; and when I see them, as was the case this time, trampled under foot by the Russian barbarians, my German bowels turn, and I feel that the Austrians are my brethren. During the last few days I have frequently met Constantine, the grand-duke, and the other distinguished Russians; and the blind, stupid, and impudent national pride with which they assailed Austria and Germany generally, calling our country a despicable part of earth, where none but traitors and cowards were to be found, cut me to the quick. I know very well that we are at present scarcely allowed to maintain our dignity as Germans; our government has reduced us to so degrading a position; but when we keep in mind what the Russians are, compared with US; when we have mournfully witnessed for two months that they are unable, in spite of the bravery of their troops, to make any headway against the French, and that they have injured rather than improved our condition; when we see those insulting and scorning us who cannot even claim the merit of having saved us, only then we become fully alive to the consciousness of our present degradation and abject misery!” [Footnote: Gentz’s own words—“Correspondence,” pp. 159, 167.]
“God be praised that such are your thoughts!” exclaimed Marianne, “for now I may hope at least that the Countess of Lankoronska, even though every thing should fail here, will not succeed in enticing you to Russia. I am sure, Gentz, you will not accompany her to the cold, distant north.”
“God forbid!” replied Gentz, shuddering. “If every thing should fail, I shall settle somewhere in the southern provinces of Austria, in Carinthia or in the Tyrol, where one may hear the people speak German, and live there with the plants and stars which I know and love, and with God, in some warm nook, no matter what tyrant or proconsul may rule over me. [Footnote: Ibid., p. 167] And now, Marianne, let us part. I do not promise that our meeting will be a joyful one, for I hardly count on any more joyful days, but I say that we will meet at the right hour. And the right hour will be for us only the hour when we shall have reached the goal of our secret league; when we shall have aroused the German people, and when they will rise like a courageous giant whom no one is able to withstand, and who will expel the invader with his hordes from the soil of Germany! Farewell!”
“Farewell,” said Marianne, feelingly. “My friend will always be welcome, and cordial greetings will be in store for him whenever he comes. Remember that, my friend; I say no more ‘my beloved,’ for the Countess of Lankoronska might be jealous!”
“And she might inform Lord Paget of it,” said Gentz, smiling. He then kissed Marianne’s hand, and took his hat and overcoat. “Farewell, Marianne, and do not forget our league and my manuscript.”
“I shall not forget any thing, for I shall not forget you,” she replied, giving him her hand.
Thus, hand in hand, they walked to the door; then they nodded a last silent greeting to each other, and Gentz left the room.
Marianne listened to his steps until they had died away. She then drew a deep breath, and commenced once more slowly pacing the room.
The tapers on the silver chandeliers had burned down very low, and their liquid wax trickled slowly and lazily on the marble table. Whenever Marianne passed them, the draught fanned them to a blaze; then they shed a lurid light on the tall, queenly form in the magnificent dress, and grew dim again when Marianne stepped back into the darker parts of the long room.