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'_Non abiate paura!_' whispered she. 'I will tell you of good fortune.'
Bruhl put out his hand. The gipsy lifted it and having examined it, shook her head.
'A splendid future!' she said. 'You will be marvellously successful, but I cannot promise you much happiness.'
'How can that be,' said Bruhl, 'to have success and not be happy?'
'For one can be happy but not successful,' exclaimed the old woman.
'And would you know the reason that you will lack happiness,--you have no heart.'
Bruhl smiled ironically.
'You don't love anybody,' continued the woman.
'What more?' he asked.
'You are ungrateful,' she whispered, 'you are blind, you are only pursuing greatness.'
'I see,' said Bruhl, 'that you take me for somebody else.'
The woman wrote on his palm; Bruhl withdrew his hand, mixed quickly with the crowd and disappeared. Perchance he preferred to wander unknown among the guests. At length he noticed a woman who absorbed his whole attention.
Her fantastic, oriental costume, was meant to represent some queen, Semiramis or Cleopatra, it was difficult to say who, for its magnificence was greater than its historical exactness. The great thing in those days was to be magnificently dressed, not archaeologically exact. So the lady, who wished to appear a majestic ruler, succeeded by means of her dress which was made of gold brocade, over which a transparent veil fell from her diamond crown to her dainty feet; round her white neck hung a magnificent amethyst necklace; her girdle was set with diamonds; she held a sceptre in her hand; and her bearing was that of one who ruled not only over people, but also over their hearts.
Her hair was dark, covered with gold powder; the lower part of her face was of great beauty.
As she pa.s.sed, everyone gave way to her, n.o.body dared to speak to her.
She looked round indifferently.
Bruhl stood near a column, hesitated for a moment, and then greeted her, touching the brim of his hat. She stopped. Bruhl put out his hand and she gave him hers on which he wrote her name.
She looked at him attentively, and walked further on; Bruhl followed her. She turned several times and seeing that he followed her, she stopped again. A bench nestled among some palms, and here the queen sat down. Bruhl stood. She looked at him and when he gave her his hand, she wrote H. B. on it and laughed.
'It's no wonder, Countess, that I recognise you,' he said, 'for I could not mistake you, even were you not dressed like a queen. But I wonder how you recognised me?'
'By the dress of a member of the Council of Trent,' said the lady. 'And to whom would it be more becoming than to you?'
'Countess, you are beautiful.'
She accepted the compliment without paying much heed to it.
'But beautiful,' he continued, 'like a marble statue, and cold like the marble.'
'What more?' asked the woman. 'Say something more amusing, I have heard that so many times.'
'What else could I say to you?' said Bruhl with trembling voice. 'Every time I look at you my anger is aroused, storms of vengeance and jealousy shake me.'
'Very pathetic,' whispered the woman. 'What more?'
'Had I the heart, I would curse the hour I first saw you,' said Bruhl pa.s.sionately. 'But a glance at you conquers me. You have a power over me possessed by no one else.'
'Is that true?' the woman coolly inquired.
'Is it necessary to swear it to you?'
'I do not need your oath. I merely wanted to be convinced, and very often an oath fails.'
She looked at him piercingly.
'But my love--' said Bruhl.
The woman laughed.
'Bruhl,' she said, 'I believe you were in love with me, I am not surprised at that. I was young, I had a good name and I could a.s.sure a splendid future to the man I married; but your love might have been that we see everyday, burning in the morning and quenched in the evening. I do not want such love.'
'I gave you proof of my constancy,' said Bruhl with animation. 'My love for you began when I was a mere lad and was not quenched even when you took all hope away; it lasts although repulsed and despised.'
'Is it love or ambition?' asked the woman. 'For with you ambition dominates everything.'
'I do not deny that since I cannot be happy, my aim is now to be strong and to be feared.'
The woman looked at him and spoke slowly.
'I do not know what the future may have in store for us. Wait, be faithful to me. I will be frank with you; I was fond of you; with you I could have been happy; we are alike in character.--But things are better as they are. Husband and wife are two fighting enemies; we can be faithful friends to each other.'
'Friends!' said Bruhl, 'it sounds like a funeral to my love for you.
Your husband will be your lover and I your friend; that means a despised friend.'
'A husband a lover?' said the woman laughing. 'Where did you hear of that? Those two words swear at each other. My husband, I hate him, I despise him, I can't bear him!'
'But you married him.'
'My father, the King, married me to him; but believe me, it is well that it happened so. With him my heart is free, I am myself and shall preserve myself for the future. I believe in my star.'
'Will our stars ever meet?'
'If they are destined for each other, they will.'
'You say this so indifferently--'
'I always control my feelings, whether I love or hate. The sentiment that betrays itself, becomes the prey of the people.'
'But how can one believe in it, if one cannot see it?'
'Then what is faith?' said the woman laughing. 'The one who loves must feel, and he who cannot guess the woman's love is not worthy of it.'
Having said this, she very quickly, and before Bruhl could realise it, disappeared.