Joseph II. and His Court Part 162

"Love him!" exclaimed Rachel, with a shudder, "love a man who has neither mind nor heart!"

"And I was so silly as to fear that your heart had strayed from its duty, my child, and that the tears which you are shedding were for him!

But I breathe again; and can exult once more in the knowledge of his love for you."

"No, father," said Rachel, "he does not love me. He loves nothing except himself; but he wearies me with his importunities."

"What has he done to you, my daughter?"

"During your absence he came three times to see me. As I denied myself, he had resort to writing, and sent me a note requesting a private interview. Read it for yourself, father. It lies on the table."

The banker read, and his eyes flashed with anger. "Unmannerly wretch!"

exclaimed he, "to use such language to my daughter! But all Vienna shall know how we scorn him! Answer his note favorably, Rachel; but let the hour of your interview be at mid-day, for I wish no one to suppose that my daughter receives Christians by stealth."

"I will obey you, father," replied Rachel, with a sigh; "but I would be better satisfied to thrust him, without further ceremony, from the door.

I cannot write to him, however, that would be a compromise of my own honor; but I will send him a verbal message by my own faithful old nurse. She knows me too well to suspect me of clandestine intercourse with a wretch like Podstadsky."

"Why not send the girl who delivered his letter?"

"Because I discharged her on the spot for her indiscretion."

"Bravely done, my precious child! You are as wise and as chaste as Israel's beauteous daughters have ever been. I shall reward you for despising the Christian count. But I must go. I must go to double my millions and lay them all at my Rachel's feet."

He kissed his daughter's forehead, and rose from the divan. But as he reached the door he turned carelessly.

"Has the emperor's private secretary visited you of late?"

"He was here yesterday," said Rachel, blus.h.i.+ng.

"Did you receive him?"

"Yes, dear father, for you yourself presented him to me."

Eskeles Flies was silent for a while. "And yet," resumed he, "I believe that I was wrong to invite him hither. In your unconscious modesty, you have not perceived, my child, that Gunther loves you with all the fervor of a true and honest heart. He may have indulged the thought that I would bestow my daughter upon a poor little imperial secretary, whose brother enjoys the privilege of blacking the emperor's boots. Although I laugh at this presumption, I pity his infatuation, for he is an excellent young man. Be careful--or rather, receive him no longer. You see, Rachel, that toward an estimable man, I do not encourage coquetry; on the contrary, I plead for poor Gunther. He must not be exposed to a disappointment. It is understood, then, that you decline his visits."

He smiled kindly upon his daughter, and left the room.

Rachel looked after him with lips half parted, and face as pale as marble. She stood motionless until the sound of her father's foot-steps had died away: then sinking upon her knees, she buried her face in her hands, and cried out in accents of despair

"Oh, my G.o.d! I am to see him no more!"

CHAPTER CXLIII.

THE COUNTESS BAILLOU,

The beautiful Countess Baillou was about to give a ball. She had invited all the haut ton of Vienna, and they had accepted the invitations. And yet the countess had been but four weeks in the Austrian capital; she had no relations there, and none of the aristocracy had ever heard her name before. But she had come to Vienna provided with letters of introduction, and money; and these two keys had opened the saloons of the fas.h.i.+onables to the beautiful stranger.

Her splendid equipage had been seen in the parks, and her magnificent diamonds at the theatre. All the young men of fas.h.i.+on had directed their lorgnettes toward her box, admiring not only her extraordinary beauty, but the grace and abandon of her att.i.tude, as she leaned back in her velvet arm-chair. She had not long been seated when the door of the box opened, and a young man entered whom the lady greeted with a cordial smile. Every one knew the visitor to be Count Podstadsky-Liechtenstein.

the richest, haughtiest, and handsomest cavalier in all Vienna.

Podstadsky was the son of a distinguished n.o.bleman, high in the emperor's favor; he had just returned from his travels, and all the Viennese gallants were eager to imitate him in every thing. To see him in the box of the beautiful stranger was to fire the ambition of every man to know her; the more so that the haughty Podstadsky, instead of accepting a seat, was standing in an att.i.tude of profound respect, which he maintained until he took his leave.

Podstadsky, of course, was a.s.sailed with questions in relation to the countess. He had known her in Italy as the wife of a wealthy old n.o.bleman to whom her parents had sacrificed her before she was eighteen.

She had been sincerely admired in Rome, not only on account of her beauty, but of her wit, goodness, and above all of her admirable behavior toward her repulsive old husband. Her conduct had been so exemplary that she had been called "La contessa del cuore freddo."

[Footnote: The countess with the cold heart.] Podstadsky confessed that even he had been desperately in love with her, but finding her unapproachable, had left Rome in despair. What then was his delight when, a few moments ago, he had learned from her own lips that she was a widow, and had come to spend a season in Vienna!

The consequence of this recital was that Podstadsky's young acquaintances were clamorous for presentation to la contessa. He stepped into her box to inform the lady of their wishes, but soon returned with the unwelcome tidings that the countess would receive no male visitor unless he came in the company of a lady. This, of course, increased the longing of the gallants tenfold, and the next day when her equipage was seen coming in the park, it was followed by many an eager horseman, jealous beyond expression of Count Podstadsky, who was admitted to the blessed privilege of riding near the lady of their thoughts.

Some days later the young countess left her cards and letters of introduction, and as they were from Orsinis, Colonnas, and other grandees of Rome, her hotel was crowded with elegant equipages, and she was admitted into the charmed circles of the first society in Vienna.

As for the furniture of her hotel, it surpa.s.sed anything in the city.

Her orders of every kind had been princely. Her sofas and chairs were of embroidered satin; her tables of inlaid wood and verde antique; her carpets the richest Persian; her paintings and statuary of rarest value.

She had bespoken several services of gold, and jewellers were revelling in her orders for parures such as princesses would have been proud to possess.

One quality which the Countess Baillou possessed gave her unbounded popularity with those whom she patronized. Her purchases were all promptly paid in new Austrian bank-notes, and tradesman vied with tradesman as to who should have the privilege of her custom.

Finally, her palace was furnished, and the day of her ball had dawned.

Every invitation had been accepted, for the world was curious to see the splendors of her fairy abode, and to behold the fairy emerge from the retreat wherein she had buried herself up to the date of this grand reception.

And now the long suites were lit up, and room after room was one blazing sea of light, gold, crystal, bronze, and marble. Here and there were charming boudoirs, where those who were weary of splendor could retire to converse in the soft, subdued light that was shed upon them from veiled lamps. The whole was closed by magnificent conservatories, where flourished the flowers and fruits of every clime; where tropical birds were seen fluttering among the branches of the orange-trees, or dipping their beaks in the cla.s.sic basins of the fountains that were gently plas.h.i.+ng there.

The countess had just emerged from her dressing-room. Her dress for the evening was of white satin, and the coronal of brilliants which flashed among the braids of her black hair was worthy to be the bridal-diadem of a queen. The Countess Baillou was tall and stately in her beauty, hers was the fascination of the dark-eyed Italian, united to the majesty of a daughter of ancient Rome, and the union was irresistible. Her throat was slender, her head small, and her cla.s.sic oval face was of a pale, pearly hue, without a tinge of the rose, which, while it lends animation to a woman's face, detracts from the camelia-like purity of genuine patrician beauty.

The countess glided across the room, and throwing back her head took a critical survey of her apartments. They presented a combination of taste with magnificence, and their mistress was satisfied.

She turned to her steward, who was breathlessly awaiting the result of his lady's inspection. "Not bad," said she, in a rich, melodious voice.

"I am quite pleased with your labors."

"Will my lady walk through the rooms to see the conservatories?" asked the steward.

"Why so?" replied she, with indifference. "I have no doubt that all is as it should be, I am too weary of splendor to take much interest in it.

See, however, that the tables are spread with every luxury that can tempt the palates of my guests."

"I hope your ladys.h.i.+p will be satisfied. The two cooks from Paris profess, the one to have learned his art under the Prince de Soubise, the other to have received his receipts for pastry from the Duke de Richelieu?"

"Let them both do their best," said the countess, languidly, "and remember that expense is to be no obstacle to the carrying out of my orders."

With these words she dismissed the steward, and sank back into the recesses of an arm-chair. But when he had fairly left, and she knew that she was alone, her aspect changed. She rose quickly from the chair, and walked through her rooms, surveying their splendor with visible exultation.

How peerless was her beauty as she swept through those empty rooms, her diamonds reflected from mirror to mirror, her rich dress falling in heavy folds about her form! He who had seen her there would have taken her for the princess who had just awakened from her hundred years'

sleep, looking around her palatial solitude to see who it was that had broken the spell of her enchanted trance. Her face was lit up with triumph as she went, and at times, when something of rare value met her eyes, in the ecstasy of her pride she laughed aloud.

Suddenly the stillness was broken by the sound of a man's footstep. The laugh of the countess ceased, and she drew on her mask of indifference.

She turned slowly around, and dropped it again--for the intruder was Count Podstadsky.

Just in the midst of the dancing room, tender the blaze of a crystal chandelier, they met. The countess gave him her hand, and he grasped it in his own, looking earnestly at her fair, bewitching face. She returned the glance with her large, flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and so they stood for a time together. There was a secret between those two.

The countess spoke first. Her mouth relaxed into a scornful smile.