On the Heights Part 50

"May I ask why?"

Irma was about to withdraw, but the king said:

"Stay, Countess; the matter is one which has been brought to an issue by the case of your friend Emma." Turning to the queen, he added: "Has our countess told you of the terrible fate of her friend?"

"She has; and when I think of it, I feel as if I were standing on the edge of a precipice."

Strangely enough, the king had, thus far, neither spoken to Irma about the matter, nor alluded to her letter. Irma had had so much to engage her mind since her return, that Emma's troubles had almost escaped her memory.

"Our friend," began the king, "has informed me of the affair, and I appreciate her delicacy in refraining from pressing the subject. In matters of state, we have no right to allow personal feelings to affect us. Nevertheless, one of our greatest pleasures is to find that our friends cherish our honor as their own."

Irma looked down. He added:

"Although a prince owes thanks to his friends, for informing him of what is going on, no influence, not even the best, should affect his decision."

Irma did not dare to raise her eyes.

"The matter stands thus," continued the king. "We have provisionally suspended the right to receive new nuns, and now the ministers desire me, at the next meeting of the estates, to consent to the introduction of a law by which the convent of Frauenworth is to be definitively placed upon the extinct list. They hope by this and additional measures, to be enabled to make a stand against the constantly increasing strength of the opposition."

The king looked at Irma while he said this, and she inquired:

"And has Your Majesty approved the draft of the law?"

"Not yet. I have no special feeling in favor of keeping up the convents, but I don't find it so easy a matter to lay the axe to a tree which is the growth of centuries. It is the special duty of royalty to establish and foster inst.i.tutions that are to endure longer than a generation or even a century, and a convent--What do you think of it, Mathilde?"

"I think that a woman who has lost all, should not be prevented from devoting herself to solitude and prayer. But perhaps I ought not express an opinion on the subject. My youthful impressions, or rather instruction, in regard to convent life, may not always have been correct. It seems to me that woman alone should have the right to determine as to the continuance of a convent. What do you think of it, Countess Irma? You were educated at a convent, and Emma is your friend."

"Yes," said Irma, "I was with my friend at Frauenworth, where she desires to live, or rather to die; for life there is a daily waiting for death. It seems terrible to me, too, to think of making what may perhaps be only a pa.s.sing mood, the irrevocable law of one's life, or a fate from which there can be no escape. And yet many other holy inst.i.tutions are just the same. I can now see what an exalted and difficult vocation it is to be a king. I frankly confess that if I were now called upon to decide this matter, or to suggest a law upon the subject, I could not arrive at a decision. Now, more than ever before, do I realize that we women were not born to rule."

Irma's voice, although usually so clear and firm, was now veiled and trembling. She was standing on a pinnacle where she could find no firm footing; she looked up to the king, as if to a higher being; his bearing was so firm, his eye so clear. She would gladly have fallen on her knees at his feet.

"Come nearer, Count Wildenort," exclaimed the king.

Irma started. Was her father there? She was so excited that everything seemed possible.

She had, at the moment, quite forgotten that her brother Bruno was the king's aid-de-camp. He had been standing a little distance off, and now approached, in order to take his leave of the queen, as he was about to go away for some time.

The king and queen left; after which, Irma and her brother walked away.

The king's behavior seemed a riddle; but for this he had his own reasons, the first and greatest of which was invincible distrust of others. "Distrust all," was the great precept which had been instilled into him from earliest youth. "One can never know what selfish purposes may lurk behind the n.o.blest exterior." This maxim was in accord with one trait of the king's character. He desired to be strong in himself, to allow no one to guide his judgment; and that is the great secret of the heroic nature. It was this which, with all his love of freedom, had made const.i.tutionalism repugnant to him; for the const.i.tution destroyed great and powerful personal influence, and required that he be simply the vehicle of the spirit of the age, or the exponent of public opinion. This was opposed to his own strong self-consciousness. He distrusted every one who attempted to press him for an opinion or a decision. He even distrusted Irma. Perhaps she did not know that she was the instrument of a party; but she was, nevertheless. They had found out that he held her in great esteem, and were now availing themselves of Emma's entering the convent, to force him to a decision.

He would not submit to this. Irma should be made to know that he would not allow another, even though it were his lovely friend, to lead him.

The olden time could never again return. They would find him a new being; he would not permit female interference in state affairs.

It was these conflicting feelings of distrust and self-exaltation that had induced the king to refrain from mentioning Irma's letter, and at last to speak of it in the way he had.

While walking with the queen, the king still enjoyed his victory over the women and, above all, over the one whom he had believed possessed of so powerful a mind. He repeatedly spoke of Irma's pet.i.tion in favor of her friend, and of his determination not to be swayed by it. His remarks betrayed a trace of ill-humor toward Irma. The queen was lavish in her praise of the countess. The king smiled.

CHAPTER III.

"Don't let me wait any longer for your answer," said Bruno to his sister; "are you ready?"

"I beg your pardon. What was it? I was so preoccupied that I didn't hear you."

Bruno looked at his sister with an air of surprise. Irma had indeed not heard him. She had been puzzling her brain in regard to the king's behavior. He had plainly intimated that he would allow no one to influence his course in state affairs. It now occurred to Irma that the tone of the letter which she had written while at the convent, had been quite improper, and her heart was filled with thanks to the great and n.o.ble man, who, having it in his power to forgive her, had forgiven her so gracefully. She felt doubly grateful to him for refusing to be swayed by her ardent entreaties. She was, herself, in doubt as to the best course, and it now seemed to her, as at first, that it was the duty of the state to prevent the consummation of an irrevocable vow.

"I beg your pardon," she again said to her brother. "Do you wish anything of me?"

"You must go with me to-morrow," said Bruno; "we're going on a journey.

I've already obtained leave of absence for myself, and the queen will grant you leave."

"Go on a journey? Where?"

"To witness my betrothal."

"Surely not with--?"

"Certainly; with the king's sister; or, if you'd rather have it so, his half, or quarter sister. Baroness Arabella von Steigeneck will be delighted to make your acquaintance."

Irma looked down. It was the oldest daughter of the dancer who had been enn.o.bled by the late king. Irma spoke of the impression that this marriage would make upon her father; but Bruno jestingly answered, that he and his sister had been separated from their father, who indulged the strange whim of desiring to be a common citizen. Perceiving that his remarks displeased Irma, he changed his manner and explained to her how cruel and narrow-minded it would be to make Baroness Arabella, who had royal blood in her veins, suffer on account of a few irregularities for which she was not to blame. And when he represented to Irma, that, independent of his wishes, it was her duty to meet Arabella in a spirit of kindness and without prejudice, he touched the right chord. He added:

"You are so affectionate to the simple minded peasant woman, the crown prince's nurse. It is very cheap to practice humanity toward one of the lower cla.s.ses. You will find its exercise pleasanter and more effective in this instance."

"I am glad to find that you think so," replied Irma, regarding her brother with a more cheerful glance.

Bruno was delighted. He had used the right bait, and, for a few moments, found real pleasure in conversing on such subjects as elevation of mind and n.o.bility of soul. Irma consented to accompany him. When she applied to the queen for leave of absence, and the latter, in the most delicate manner, intimated surprise at Bruno's choice, Irma proved herself so zealous an advocate of humanity that the queen could not avoid saying to her:

"You are, and ever will be, a n.o.ble heart."

Irma imprinted a fervent kiss on the queen's hand. They started off on their journey, taking with them Bruno's two private servants, and jockey Fritz, Baum's son. Father Baum, who was both indispensable and ubiquitous, also accompanied them.

Bruno was in high spirits. Like all other epicures, he was not averse to occasional tender scenes. He played the piano excellently and, at times, would indulge in a sentimental adagio. Irma now seemed sentimental in his eyes. But he soon tired of the melting mood and in his flippant, jesting manner, exclaimed:

"I am better than the world of cavaliers that surround us. You smile--and wonder what sort of cavaliers they must be among whom I am the best.--Yes, dear sister Krimhilde, it is so nevertheless. I honestly confess that I only marry this lady in order to be enabled to lead as jolly a life as possible, and am I not better than those who act the hypocrite in such a case?"

"Yes, if you think that makes you better. But I think you're simply ashamed of being in love, and are afraid of appearing sentimental."

"Thanks! You're a profound judge of human nature."

Bruno, at heart, desired his sister to imagine that he was in love; for that would render the demeanor of both of them more natural and more befitting the occasion. He blushed and smiled with a bashful air.

Baroness Steigeneck lived in a little town and occupied a castle which had once been a retreat of a sister of the late king.

They reached the castle. A bright peac.o.c.k stood on the high wall, and filled the air with its shrill cry.