Berlin and Sans-Souci Part 65

"Alas, princess, do not dare to rely upon so false a hope! Never will the king consent that you shall be happy beneath your royal rank!"

"Tell me now, Ernestine," said Amelia, with a smile, "is not the reigning Margravine of Baireuth as high in rank as I am?"

"Yes, your highness," said Ernestine, with surprise, "for the reigning Margravine of Baireuth is your exalted sister."

"I do not speak of her, but of the widow of the former margrave. She has also reigned. Well, she has just married the young Duke Hobitz.

The king told me this yesterday, with a merry laugh. The little d.u.c.h.ess of Hobitz is his aunt, and I am his sister!"

"If the king had had power to control his aunt, as he has to control his sister, he would not have allowed this marriage."

Amelia heard, but she did not believe. With hasty steps and sparkling eyes she walked backward and forward in her room; then, after a long pause, she drew near her friend, and laying her hands upon her shoulders, she said: "You are a good soul and a faithful friend; you have ever had a patient and willing ear for all my complaints. Only think now how charming it will be when I come to tell you of my great happiness. And now, Ernestine, come, you must go over my part with me once more, and then arrange my toilet. I will be lovely this evening, in order to please the king. I will play like an artiste in order to touch his cold heart. If I act my part with such truth and burning eloquence that he is forced to weep over the sorrows of the wretched and loving woman whom I represent, will not his heart be softened, will he not take pity upon my blasted life? The tragic part I play will lend me words of fire to depict my own agony. Come, then, Ernestine, come! I must act well my tragedy--I must win the heart of my king!"

The princess kept her word; she played with power and genius. Words of pa.s.sion and of pain flowed like a stream of lava from her lips; her oaths of faith and eternal constancy, her wild entreaties, her resignation, her despair, were not the high-flown, pompous phrases of the tragedian, but truth in its omnipotence. It was living pa.s.sion, it was breathing agony; and, with fast-flowing tears, with the pallor of death, she told her tale of love; and in that vast saloon, glittering with jewels, filled with the high-born, the brave, the beautiful, nothing was heard but long-drawn sighs and choking sobs.

Queen Elizabeth Christine forgot all etiquette in the remembrance of her own sad fate so powerfully recalled. She covered her face with her hands, and bitter tears fell over her slender fingers. The queen-mother, surprised at her own emotion, whispered lightly that it was very warm, and while fanning herself she sought to dry her secret tears unnoticed.

Even the king was moved; his eyes were misty, and indescribable melancholy played upon his lips. Voltaire was wild with rapture; he hung upon every movement, every glance of Amelia. Words of glowing praise, thanks, admiration flowed from his lips. He met the princess behind the scenes, and forgetting all else he cried out, with enthusiasm: "You are worthy to be an actress, and to play in Voltaire's tragedies!"

The princess smiled and pa.s.sed on silently--what cared she for Voltaire's praise? She knew that she had gained her object, and that the king's heart was softened. This knowledge made her bright and brave; and when at the close of the drama the king came forward, embraced her with warmth, and thanked her in fond arid tender words for the rich enjoyment of the evening, due not only to the great poet Voltaire, but also to the genius of his sister, she reminded him smilingly that she had a favor to ask.

"I pray you, my sister," said Frederick, gayly, "ask something right royal from me this evening--I am in the mood to grant all your wishes."

Amelia looked at him pleadingly. "Sire," said she, "appoint an hour to-morrow morning in which I may come to you and make known my request. Remember, your majesty has promised to grant it in advance."

The king's face was slightly clouded. "This is, indeed, a happy coincidence," said he. "It was my intention to ask an interview with you to-morrow, and now you come forward voluntarily to meet my wishes. At ten in the morning I shall be with you, and I also have something to ask."

"I will then await you at ten o'clock, and make known my request."

"And when I have granted it, my sister, it will be your part to fulfil my wishes also."

CHAPTER VI.

A WOMAN'S HEART.

The Princess Amelia lay the whole of the following night, with wide- open eyes and loudly-heating heart, pale and breathless upon her couch. No soft slumber soothed her feverish-glowing brow; no sweet dream of hope dissipated the frightful pictures drawn by her tortured fantasy.

"What is it?" said she, again and again--"what is it that the king will ask of me? what new mysterious horror rises up threateningly before me, and casts a shadow upon my future?"

She brought every word, every act of the previous day in review before her mind. Suddenly she recalled the sad and sympathetic glance of her maid of honor; the light insinuations, the half- uttered words which seemed to convey a hidden meaning.

"Ernestine knows something that she will not tell me," cried Amelia.

At this thought her brow was covered with cold perspiration, and her limbs s.h.i.+vered as if with ague. She reached out her hand to ring for Fraulein von Haak; then suddenly withdrew it, ashamed of her own impatience. "Why should I wish to know that which I cannot change? I know that a misfortune threatens me. I will meet it with a clear brow and a bold heart."

Amelia lay motionless till the morning. When she rose from her bed, her features wore an expression of inexorable resolve. Her eyes flashed as boldly, as daringly as her royal brother Frederick's when upon the battle-field. She dressed herself carefully and tastefully, advanced to meet her ladies with a gracious greeting, and chattered calmly and cheerfully with them on indifferent subjects. At last she was left alone with Fraulein von Haak. She stepped in front of her, and looked in her eyes long and searchingly.

"I read it in your face, Ernestine, but I entreat you do not make it known in words unless my knowledge of the facts would diminish my danger."

Ernestine shook her head sadly. "No," said she, "your royal highness has no power over the misfortune that threatens you. You are a princess, and must be obedient to the will of the king."

"Good!" said Amelia, "we will see if my brother has power to subdue my will. Now, Ernestine, leave me; I am expecting the king."

Scarcely had her maid withdrawn, when the door of the anteroom was opened, and the king was announced. The princess advanced to meet him smilingly, but, as the king embraced her and pressed a kiss upon her brow, she shuddered and looked up at him searchingly. She read nothing in his face but the most heart-felt kindliness and love.

"If he makes me miserable, it is at least not his intention to do so," thought she.--"Now, my brother, we are alone," said the princess, taking a place near the king upon the divan. "And now allow me to make known my request at once--remember you have promised to grant it."

The king looked with a piercing glance at the sweet face now trembling with excitement and impatience. "Amelia," said he, "have you no tender word of greeting, of warm home-love to say to me? Do you not know that five years have pa.s.sed since we have seen each other alone, and enjoyed that loving and confidential intercourse which becomes brothers and sisters?"

"I know," said Amelia sadly, "these five years are written on my countenance, and if they have not left wrinkles on my brow, they have pierced my heart with many sorrows, and left their shadows there! Look at me, my brother--am I the same sister Amelia?"

"No," said the king, "no! You are pallid--your cheeks are hollow.

But it is strange--I see this now for the first time. You have been an image of youth, beauty, and grace up to this hour. The fatigue of yesterday has exhausted you--that is all."

"No, my brother, you find me pallid and hollow-eyed today, because you see me without rouge. I have to-day for the first time laid aside the mask of rosy youth, and the smiling indifference of manner with which I conceal my face and my heart from the world. You shall see me to-day as I really am; you shall know what I have suffered.

Perhaps then you will be more willing to fulfil my request? Listen, my brother, I--"

The king laid his hand softly upon her shoulder. "Stop, Amelia; since I look upon you, I fear you will ask me something not in my power to grant."

"You have given me your promise, sire."

"I will not withdraw it; but I ask you to hear my prayer before you speak. Perhaps it may exert an influence--may modify your request. I allow myself, therefore, in consideration of your own interest, solely to beg that I may speak first."

"You are king, sire, and have only to command," said Amelia, coldly.

The king fixed a clear and piercing glance for one moment upon his sister, then stood up, and, a.s.suming an earnest and thoughtful mien, he said: "I stand now before you, princess, not as a king, but as the amba.s.sador of a king. Princess Amelia, through me the King of Denmark asks your hand; he wishes to wed you, and I have given my consent. Your approval alone is wanting, and I think you will not refuse it."

The princess listened with silent and intrepid composure; not a muscle of her face trembled; her features did not lose for one moment their expression of quiet resolve.

"Have you finished, sire?" said she, indifferently.

"I have finished, and I await your reply."

"Before I answer, allow me to make known my own request. Perhaps what I may say may modify your wishes. You will, at least, know if it is proper for me to accept the hand of the King of Denmark. Does your majesty allow me to speak?"

"Speak," said the king, seating himself near her.

After a short pause, Amelia said, in an earnest, solemn voice: "Sire, I pray for pardon for the Baron Frederick von Trenck."

Yielding to an involuntary agitation, she glided from the divan upon her knees, and raising her clasped hands entreatingly toward her brother, she repeated: "Sire, I pray for pardon for Baron Frederick von Trenck!"

The king sprang up, dashed back the hands of his sister violently, and rushed hastily backward and forward in the room.

Amelia, ashamed of her own humility, rose quickly from her knees, and, as if to convince herself of her own daring and resolution, she stepped immediately in front of the king, and said, in a loud, firm voice for the third time: "Sire, I pray for pardon for Baron Frederick von Trenck. He is wretched because he is banished from his home; he is in despair because he receives no justice from the courts of law, it being well known that he has no protector to demand his rights. He is poor and almost hopeless because the courts have refused him the inheritance of his cousin, the captain of the pandours whose enemies have accused him since his death, only while they l.u.s.ted for his millions. His vast estate has been confiscated, under the pretence that it was unlawfully acquired. But these accusations have not been established; and yet, now that he is dead, they refuse to give up this fortune to the rightful heir, Frederick von Trenck. Sire, I pray that you will regard the interests of your subject. Be graciously pleased to grant him the favor of your intercession. Help him, by one powerful word, to obtain possession of his rights. Ah, sire, you see well how modest, how faint-hearted I have become. I ask no longer for happiness! I beg for gold, and I think, sire, we owe him this pitiful reparation for a life's happiness trodden under foot."

Frederick by a mighty effort succeeded in overcoming his rage. He was outwardly as calm as his sister; but both concealed under this cool, indifferent exterior a strong energy, an unfaltering purpose.

They were quiet because they were inflexible.