“My mother watched it all, and said nothing. Day after day I saw her with the same unyielding face, set like a mask, but she would not speak to me on the subject, even when I appealed to her. She would neither encourage me in my liking for King Otto Georg, nor dissuade me from it. It was grandmamma of Weldart who counselled me in the matter. She called me into her room one evening when the King had danced with me several times, and I was so happy that I could scarcely keep myself from dancing then. Grandmamma called me to sit upon a low stool beside her, and took my chin in her hand. ‘So!’ she said. ‘Do you know what a little bird has just whispered to me, Nestchen? It said that the good King wishes to take my little mountain wild-flower back to Thracia with him. How would a crown look on this little head?’ I was frightened at first, and said I was so happy as I was that I did not wish to be married and go away. ‘Pschutt!’ said grandmamma, ‘little girls must be married. Do you want to be like your Aunt Amalie?’ She knew that I had always a dread of Aunt Amalie, and that to become a canoness was the last thing I desired; and she went on, ‘I know perfectly well that the very idea of making a choice is an absurdity. Who could hesitate between the life of a canoness and that of a Queen? Your father might have just as well presented his Majesty to you without any fuss as your future husband, but they do things differently nowadays. But at any rate, when the King speaks to you, be sure to say how greatly you appreciate the honour he is offering you, and remind him how young and inexperienced you are.’ That was all, you see, Ottilie. It was taken for granted that I should accept the King, and positively I did not realise that there was any alternative open to me.”
“And he proposed to you soon after?”
“The very next day; and I did as I was told, and accepted him. They gave me no time to regret my choice. The wedding was hurried on, and the interval was filled with a whirl of gaiety. I was kissed, and blessed, and praised, and congratulated, and petted until I began to think that I was doing something great. Then there were all my new clothes, and the jewellery, and the wedding-presents, and the addresses of congratulation—something new and delightful offered itself for every hour of the day. The King attended me everywhere, brought me presents continually, gratified every wish I could express. I had no time to think, but if I had thought, I should have decided that I was perfectly happy.”
“But I thought you said that you regarded your marriage as a sacrifice made for the sake of your house, or of your order, or something of the kind?”
“That was afterwards; I am coming to it now. It was the night before the wedding; I had been trying on my crown and jewels for the morrow. Some of my cousins thought the crown was too heavy for my head, but I laughed. ‘Who finds a crown too heavy?’ I said, and we gave back the jewels to the proper official to be kept safe for the night, and then I went to bed. In the middle of the night I was awakened by some one’s coming into the room with a light, and I saw my mother standing with her back to me and looking at my wedding-dress, which was spread out upon the couch. Presently she took it up and turned it about, handling it so roughly that I was horrified. ‘Oh, mamma, mamma, you will spoil my dress!’ I cried out. She turned and came towards me with such a terrible face that I crouched down among the pillows in actual fear. ‘I would tear it to shreds, or burn it to ashes, if that would have the slightest effect in preventing this marriage!’ she said. I could only look at her, trembling, and she went on, ‘Foolish child! do you imagine that the King loves you? He loathes the very idea of marriage, and is merely driven to it by his advisers for the sake of securing the succession. He is false through and through, and as wicked as he is false. You think it is hardship which makes him look so old? The last war in which he served was that of 1870: it is the wicked pleasures of the life he has led which have aged him.’ ‘Oh, mamma, what has he done?’ I sobbed. ‘Never mind,’ she replied; ‘it is enough for you to know that he is not fit to touch your hand.’ I got out of bed, shivering with cold and terror. ‘You have come to save me, mamma,’ I said; ‘you want me to run away. I am ready. You were right in thinking that I would do anything to avoid marrying such a man.’ She looked at me in astonishment. ‘Get back into bed, Ernestine, and don’t talk nonsense,’ she said. ‘Do you think you are living in a romance? It is your destiny to make this marriage; all princesses go through the same experience. I suffered it myself, but I had no one to warn me beforehand. I had to find out everything—all the falseness and horror of it—but at least I have spared you that pain.’ ‘You can’t mean to say that you will sacrifice me to this man, mamma?’ I said; ‘what have I done, that you should be so cruel?’ ‘You have been born a princess,’ she answered; ‘that is enough. One must pay for being great.’ ‘But what good can my misery do to any one?’ I cried. ‘None,’ she said; ‘but it is that to which you were born. You are fulfilling your destiny, you are avoiding a scandal, you are obeying the traditions of your house. Where a low-born girl might flinch, a Princess of Weldart must go on to the bitter end. Noblesse oblige.’ She stood looking at me again as I lay and sobbed, and then said sharply, ‘But don’t let me see you hugging your chains. You have been warned, and there is no excuse for further blindness. It is your husband’s place to suffer as well as yours.’ Then she went away, and left me in the dark.”
“It was infamous!” cried the Princess hotly. “If your mother’s own married life had been miserable, she might at least have allowed you the chance of doing better.”
“You must not say that. I am convinced that the strain of watching the preparations which she could not interrupt had told upon her mind for the time, and made her persuade herself that she was doing the kindest thing in warning me of what lay before me. I think that perhaps she had expected me to perceive the truth by some intuition, and rebel against my fate, and that she was disappointed by my satisfaction with it. But you know as well as I do that she could not have been actuated by malevolence.”
“Her kindness was most cruel, then. But tell me what followed.”
“I shuddered and sobbed myself to sleep when she was gone. In the morning my cousins exclaimed at my looks when they came to wake me. I told them that I had had bad dreams, and all the time they were helping me to dress they were disputing whether it was a good or a bad omen. My mother came in several times, and altered the draping of my train, or suggested to the hairdresser a slight rearrangement of my crown or my myrtle-blossoms, which would improve the general effect. She would not allow me to speak to her, and I could scarcely believe that her visit in the night was not a dream. I tried to catch her eye—to give her an imploring glance—but she met me with a cold hard look that offered me no sympathy. When I was quite ready, grandmamma came in to see me before starting for the chapel. My cousins were giving the finishing touches to their own dresses in another room, and for the moment we were practically alone. I seized the opportunity. ‘Grandmamma,’ I said, clasping my hands, ‘save me, I entreat you. I do not want to marry the King. The very thought terrifies me.’ She looked at me keenly, and said in her hardest voice, ‘What has terrified you, Ernestine? Who has been calumniating your bridegroom to you?’ I dared not betray my mother, and all that I could do was to falter out that I was frightened, and could not the ceremony be put off? Then she laughed and pinched my cheek, and said playfully, ‘Foolish little wild-flower! of course it is frightened at the thought of being transplanted into the great world. I should think very poorly of you, little one, if you could part without a tremor from a home and parents such as yours. But remember, say nothing to any one else of this, for they might not make allowances for you as I can.’ ‘Grandmamma!’ I cried, springing towards her as she gathered up her train to leave the room, ‘It is not that——’ But she turned and said, ‘Whatever it is, Ernestine, you are too late now,’ and went out. I heard her say to Aunt Amalie at the door, ‘It is a good thing that the King is so much preoccupied with this affair of the Mortimer’s precedence, or he would notice that something was wrong. The silly child looks like a ghost.’ I knew the name of the secretary Mortimer. I had seen him constantly in attendance on the King, and heard of the difficulties as to precedence which had sprung up between him and my cousin Sigismund’s Hercynian officers; but I realised now that he had come between me and my last hope of safety, and that is only an image of what he has done ever since.”
“Good!” cried the Princess; “I also hate him. But go on.”