Berlin and Sans-Souci Part 31

"Sire," said he, "your majesty commanded me to summon Baron Swartz; he is here, and waits for your orders."

"Let him enter," said the king; then smiling upon Barbarina, he said, "He comes just in time; we must sign our contract, Swartz shall act as our priest."

He advanced to meet the intendant, and asked for the contract between Barbarina and himself. He read it carefully, and said, "There are only a few things to alter." He stepped to his desk and added a few words to the contract.

"Signora," said he, turning backward, "will you come here for a moment?"

Barbarina, embarra.s.sed and blus.h.i.+ng, drew near. In the back part of the room stood Baron Swartz, watching the king and Barbarina with a sly smile; near him stood Fredersdorf, whose pale and melancholy face was brought out in strong relief by the dark velvet portiere.

"Read this," said the king to Barbarina, pointing to the words he had just written. "Have you read?"

"Yes, sire."

Frederick raised his head, and slightly turning, his glowing glance rested upon Barbarina, who, ashamed and confused, cast her eyes to the ground.

"Will you sign this?"

"I will, sire," said she, almost inaudibly.

"You bind yourself to remain here for three years, and not to marry during that time?" [Footnote: By this contract, Barbarina received an income of seven thousand thalers and five months' liberty during each year; but she was bound not to marry during this term of three years.--SCHNEIDER.]

"I do, sire."

"Take the pen and sign our contract.--Come forward, Swartz, and witness this doc.u.ment.--Fredersdorf, is your seal at hand?"

The contract was ready.

"You will say, 'This is a sad contract,'" said the king, turning to Fredersdorf.

"Yes, sad indeed. The king deals as cruelly with the Barbarina as he has done with his poor secretary. This cold king does not believe in marriage."

"No, no! Fredersdorf, I will prove to you that you are mistaken. I have been told that you are ill because I will not allow you to marry. Now, then, Fredersdorf, I will not be hard-hearted. I have to-day made an innocent sacrifice to my hatred of matrimony. The signora has bound herself not to marry for three years. For her sake, I will be gracious to you: go and marry the woman you love, and when the priest has made you one, you shall take your wife to Paris for the honeymoon, at my cost."

Fredersdorf seized the hand of the king, kissed it, and covered it with his tears. Barbarina gazed at the handsome, glowing face of Frederick with admiration. She understood him fully; she felt that he was happy, and wished all around him to partake of his joy.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE TRAITOR.

Baron von Pollnitz was ill at ease; for three days he had sought relief diligently, but had no alleviation. He found himself in the antediluvian condition of our great forefather Adam, while he loitered away his time in Paradise. Like Adam, Pollnitz had no gold.

Our good baron found this by no means a happy state, and his heart was full of discontent and apprehension; he felt that he was, indeed, unblessed. What would become of him if the king should not be merciful, should not take pity upon his necessities, which he had to-day made known to him in a most touching and eloquent letter. Up to this time he had been waiting in vain for an answer. What should he do if the king should be hard-hearted and cruel? But no, that was impossible; he must consider it a sacred duty to take care of the old and faithful servant of his house, who had been the favored companion of two of Prussia's kings. Pollnitz considered that he belonged to the royal family; he was an adopted member; they could not think slightingly of him, or set him aside.

He had exhausted his means, he had borrowed from Jew and Christian; he had, by his gay narratives and powers of persuasion, drawn large sums of gold from the rich burghers; all his friends held his dishonored drafts; even his own servant had allowed himself to be made a fool of, and had loaned him the savings of many years; and this sum scarcely sufficed to maintain the n.o.ble, dissipated, and great-hearted cavalier a few weeks.

Alas! what sacrifices had he not already made to this insane pa.s.sion for spending money; what humiliation had he not suffered--and all in vain! In vain had he changed his religion three times; he had condescended so far as to pay court to a merchant's daughter; he had even wished to wed the daughter of a tailor, and she had rejected him.

"And yet," said he, as he thought over his past life, "every thing might have gone well, but for this formidable stratagem of the king; this harsh prohibition and penalty as to relieving my necessities which has been trumpeted through the streets--that ruined me; that gave me fearful trouble and torment. That was refined cruelty for which I will one day revenge myself, unless Frederick makes amends.

Ha! there comes a royal messenger. He stops at my door. G.o.d be thanked! The king answers my letter; that is to say, the king sends me money."

Pollnitz could scarcely restrain himself from rus.h.i.+ng out to receive the messenger; his dignity, perhaps, would not have sufficed to hold him back, but the thought of the considerable douceur he would be expected to pay moderated his impatience. At last his servant came and handed him a letter.

"I hope," said the baron, gravely, "I hope you rewarded the king's messenger handsomely?"

"No, sir, I gave him nothing."

"Nothing!" cried he angrily. "And you dare to say this to my face!

you do not tremble lest I dismiss you instantly from my service?

you, and such as you are, cast shame upon our race! I, a baron of the realm, and grand master of ceremonies, allow a royal messenger who brings me a letter to go from my door unrewarded! a.s.s, if you had no money, why did you not come to me? why did you not call upon me for several ducats?"

"If your grace will give me the money, I will run after the messenger. I know where to find him; he has gone to General Rothenberg's."

"Leave the room, scoundrel, and spare me your folly!"

Pollnitz raised his arm to strike, but the lackey fled and left him alone with his golden dreams of the future.

He hastily broke the seal and opened the letter. "Not from the king, but from Fredersdorf," he murmured impatiently. As he read, his brow grew darker, and his lips breathed words of cursing and scorn.

"Refused!" said he pa.s.sionately, as he read to the end, and cast the letter angrily to the floor. "Refused! The king has no money for me!

The king needs all his gold for war, which is now about to be declared; and, if I wish to convince myself that this is true, I must go to-night, at eleven o'clock, to the middle door of the castle, and there I will see that the king has no money. A curious proposition, indeed! I would rather go to discover that he had money, than that he had it not. If he had it, I would find a means to supply myself. At all events, I will go. A curious rendezvous indeed--a midnight a.s.signation between a bankrupt baron and an empty purse! A tragedy might grow out of it. But if Frederick has really no money, I must seek elsewhere. I will make a last attempt--I will go to Trenck."

The trusty baron made his toilet and hastened to Trenck's apartments. The young officer had lately taken a beautiful suite of rooms. He had his reception-rooms adorned with costly furniture and rare works of art. He had an antechamber, in which two richly- liveried servants waited to receive his orders. He had a stable and four splendid horses of the Arabian breed, and two orderlies to attend to them! From what quarter did Trenck obtain the money for all this livery? This was an open question with which the comrades of the young lieutenant were exercised; it gave them much cause for thought, and some of them were not satisfied with thinking; these thoughts took form, some of their words reached the ears of Trenck, and must have been considered by him very objectionable. He challenged the speaker to fight with the sword, and disabled him effectually from speaking afterward. [Footnote: Frederick von Trenck's Memoires.] Trenck was at dinner, and, contrary to custom, alone; he received Pollnitz most graciously, and the baron took a seat willingly at the table.

"I did not come to dine with you, but to complain of you," said Pollnitz, cutting up the grouse with great adroitness and putting the best part upon his plate.

"You come to complain of me?" repeated Trenck, a little embarra.s.sed.

"I have given you no cause for displeasure, dear friend."

"Yes, you have given me good cause, even while I am your best friend! Why have you withdrawn your confidence from me? Why do I no longer accompany you on that most romantic midnight moonlight path to virtue? Why am I no longer watchman and duenna when you and your lady call upon the moon and stars to witness your love? Why am I set aside?"

"I can only say to all this that I go no more upon the balcony."

"That is to say--"

"That is to say that my stars are quenched and my sun has set in clouds. I am, even as you are, set aside."

Pollnitz gazed at Trenck with so sharp and cunning an eye that the young man was confused and looked down. The baron laughed merrily.

"Dear Trenck," said he, "a lie shows in your face like a spot on the smooth skin of a rosy apple. You are too young to understand lying, and I am too old to be deceived by it. Another point: will you make me believe that this luxury which surrounds you is maintained with your lieutenant's pay?"

"You forget that my father has left me his property of Sherlock, and that I have rented it for eight hundred thalers!"

"I am too good an accountant not to know that this sum would scarcely suffice for your horses and servants."

"Well, perhaps you are right; for the rest I may thank my gracious king. During the course of this year he has presented me with three hundred Fredericks d'or; and now you know the source of my revenue and will not think so meanly of me as to suppose that--"