“What is the use? You know well enough that no miracle happened to save me. In the chapel, when they put my hand into that of the King, I fainted where I stood. They said that it was owing to the weight of my dress and jewels; but it was through sheer horror. They revived me in some way, and the service was finished. At the wedding banquet I was so dazed by the strong restoratives they had given me, that I could only sit silent and look straight before me; but I still remember the dreadful smile on my mother’s face when the Emperor Sigismund, in proposing the health of the bridal pair, said that my parents could give me with absolute confidence and joy to the amiable and chivalrous monarch who had been his father’s comrade on many a battlefield. I suppose that my cousins took me up-stairs, and changed my wedding-gown for my travelling-dress; but I don’t remember it. I only know that the day was getting darker and darker when we started for the Lustschloss, although it was only three in the afternoon. There was some talk of our waiting until the storm was over; but we had only about five miles to go, and they thought we should arrive before the rain came on; so we drove out through the decorated streets into the gathering blackness. The King said something kind and reassuring to me; but I did not understand, and could only stare at him stupidly. He thought I was overdone, or affected by the weather, and advised me to lean back and try to sleep a little; but I could not. As I sat looking out, there came a great flash of lightning, and almost immediately we were in the midst of the most tremendous thunderstorm I ever saw. Presently Count Mortimer, who had been riding with the other attendants, came to the window of the carriage and suggested that we should take refuge in an inn close at hand, as the horses were alarmed by the lightning. We did as he advised; and the passing through the rain from the carriage to the house seemed to remove the paralysis from my mind. I felt myself awake again; and the moment I was alone with the King, I threw myself at his feet, and implored him with tears to allow me to return to my mother. I don’t know what I said, or what wild promises I made him; but I know I caught at his sword and entreated him to kill me if he would not let me go. He must have been utterly amazed, for I saw him look round helplessly (I suppose he wished to consult Count Mortimer), but he raised me up and led me to a chair, and entreated me to sit down. Then he took another chair beside me, and begged me to listen to him. He said that if he had had the faintest idea that the marriage was disagreeable to me, he would never have proposed it; that he felt he was far too old for me, but that my kindness to him had encouraged him to hope that he might succeed in making me happy. He could only ask my forgiveness for the suffering he had caused me, and promised to do all that he could to lighten it. But (and he was very firm in this) it was too late now to undo what had been done. To allow me to return home would be to inflict a deadly and most undeserved slight on my family and on all the royal personages who had been present at the wedding, besides bringing very injurious suspicions on myself. We were bound together now; let us both resolve to make the best of it. He comforted me so kindly and so delicately that my terror began to diminish, and I reflected that death would soon release me from my troubles, since no one could live long in such misery. You see what a baby I was, Ottilie; I thought one could die when one wished.”
“Forgive my saying so, Ernestine, but you had no excuse for quarrelling with a husband who could speak to you so gently after the outburst of loathing to which you had treated him.”
“One excuse you know; it was Count Mortimer. Sometimes I think I had another, but you shall hear. I became partially reconciled to my lot when I realised that there was no escaping it, and the King left no effort untried to comfort me and keep me contented. We left the Lustschloss—I was glad of it, for it was horrible to have continual visits from all my relations, spying, remarking, criticising, trying to find out how the slave they had just sold got on with her master—and came to Thracia, where every one was prepared to welcome me with the greatest delight and kindness. Not a wish that I could express was ungratified, and new pleasures were suggested every day. I was beginning to look back with shame upon my fears on the wedding-day, when in some way everything went wrong once more. When we had been married rather more than a month, I received a letter from my mother, written evidently in great excitement. ‘At last,’ she said, ‘I have torn off the mask which, for your sake, I have worn so long. Your father and I have come to a definite agreement to separate, and I have bidden farewell to Weldart for ever. I am now a wanderer, unless my daughter will offer me a shelter for the remainder of my miserable life.’ What could I do, Ottilie? I ran sobbing to the King and showed him the letter, demanding that he should join his entreaties with mine to induce my mother to come to us at once. He consented, but without enthusiasm, as it seemed to me, and came to me about half an hour later, when I was writing my letter in transports of grief and indignation.”
“Ah, he had been consulting Count Mortimer, I suppose?”
“Undoubtedly. ‘You are entreating your mother to pay us a visit, little one?’ he said. ‘Not a visit,’ I answered in astonishment; ‘I am inviting her to make her home with us.’ ‘We must not be too precipitate,’ he said, ‘for this climate may not suit her, or she may not care for our ways, and yet she might feel a delicacy in telling us that she would prefer to move. I think, Liebchen, that it will be well to ask her simply on a visit at first. A visit can always be extended, but it is not so easy to break off an established custom.’ ‘But that is nothing,’ I said; ‘it is a home that I wish to offer her, for she is homeless. She might go to any number of places on a visit.’ ‘Have you thought that this will mean an absolute rupture of relations with your father and grandmother?’ he asked. ‘I don’t care about them!’ I cried; ‘I want my mother. We were never separated before, and you cannot tell how lonely I have been without her. I shall die if you will not let her come.’ The sight of my tears moved him, and he told me to do as I pleased——”
“It was a great pity,” said the Princess.
“Ottilie!” cried the Queen resentfully, “it is evident that you do not know that my mother has been almost my only comfort all these years. If she disturbed the tranquillity in which we were living, it was merely because she saw it was a fool’s paradise. On the very evening of her arrival, when we were alone together, she said to me, ‘So you are hugging your chains, as I foresaw you would do!’ I asked her how this could be, and she replied, ‘It is simple enough. You are the King’s slave, and he is the slave of the Mortimer.’ She would not say any more, but I saw the truth of her words. It flashed upon me all at once that Count Mortimer directed the whole course of our lives. It was he who suggested all our plans, who encouraged the King to accompany me on all occasions, who kept him continually up to the mark, if I may say so. It flashed upon me also why he did this. He knew my wretched story, knew the way in which I had been bought and sold—nay, he had probably taken a chief part himself in making the bargain, and he wished to see the prisoner content with her captivity. If I could be brought to seem happy there would be the less likelihood of scandal, and the more chance of his appearing a skilled diplomatist. From that moment I hated him. I resolved to thwart his schemes, and I did so. I refused to accept his suggestions; I did not welcome the King’s company when he offered it. I made it very clear that any plan in which Count Mortimer’s influence could be traced was displeasing to me.”
“Foolish child!” cried her cousin; “was there no one to warn you?”
“I was frightened myself sometimes when I saw that I was alienating the King from myself instead of from Count Mortimer, but that made me only the more determined to succeed. I tried tears and reproaches, and entreaties and ridicule, but my husband was not to be moved. He told me plainly that I was seeking to banish the man who could do most to smooth my path, and was most willing to do it. When I persisted, he said that Count Mortimer was indispensable to him, and that he never went wrong except when he was too lazy or too soft-hearted to follow his advice. I knew what he meant; but I would not cease from my attempts, although they only tended to make the King spend less time in my society, and more in that of Count Mortimer. So the time dragged on until Michael was born, and then I determined, as my mother advised me, to make one great effort to oust my enemy. The King was delighted with his son, and became once more as kind to me as he had been at first. On the day of the christening, when he was sitting alone with the baby and me after the ceremony, I appealed to him suddenly to dismiss Count Mortimer. In his first astonishment he refused point-blank, and left me in displeasure. I was determined not to yield, for I could not bear that he should be able to comfort himself with the society of his friend when I was angry with him. If Count Mortimer were gone, my mother and I should find it much more easy to deal with the King.”
“In other words, he would be at your mercy? Oh, Ernestine, I must say it, what a little fool you were!”