For Sceptre and Crown Volume II Part 40

"Here is his card," said the servant, handing a visiting card to the countess. "He a.s.sures me it is greatly to your ladys.h.i.+p's interest to hear what he has to say."

Countess Frankenstein took the card, and read, with a look of astonishment--"E. Balzer, Exchange Agent."

A deep flush pa.s.sed over Countess Clara's face, she looked anxiously at her mother and pressed her handkerchief to her lips.

"I cannot understand," said the countess, "what a person so entirely unknown to me can want; however, let him come in!"

In a few moments Herr Balzer entered the salon. He was dressed in black, and his common-looking face bore an expression of grave dignity which did not appear to belong to it.

He approached the ladies with a manner in which the boldness of the habitue of a coffee-house was mingled with the embarra.s.sment of a man who, accustomed only to low society, suddenly finds himself amongst persons of distinction.

Countess Frankenstein looked at him with a cold, proud gaze, whilst Clara, after her large eyes had taken in his vulgar appearance with a hasty glance, cast them down and waited in trembling expectation for the reason of this unexpected visit.

"I have consented to receive you, sir," said the countess, with easy calmness, "and I beg you to tell me the important matter you have to impart."

Herr Balzer bowed with affected dignity and said:

"A most melancholy affair, gracious countess, brings me to you,--an affair in which we, you and I, or rather your daughter and I, have a common interest."

Clara fixed her eyes upon him with great surprise and painful suspense; the haughty look of the countess asked plainer than words, "What interest can I have in common with this man?"

Herr Balzer saw this look, and an almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips.

"A very painful and distressing circ.u.mstance," he said slowly and hesitatingly, "obliges me, your ladys.h.i.+p, to confide my honour to you, and to consult with you, as to what is best to be done."

"I pray you, sir," said the countess, in an icy voice, "to come to the fact you have to communicate. My time is much engaged."

Without paying any attention to this intimation, Herr Balzer proceeded, apparently with some embarra.s.sment, whilst twirling his hat in his hands:

"Your daughter is engaged to Lieutenant von Stielow?"

The countess looked at him, almost rigid with amazement. She began to fear she had admitted a madman. A slight s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed through Clara's tender form; deep paleness overspread her features, and she did not dare to lift her eyes to this man, for an instinctive suspicion warned her he must be the bearer of something evil.

Herr Balzer drew a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his eyes.

In a theatrical manner he walked towards the countess, exclaiming, whilst he stretched out his hand:

"Countess, you will understand me at once, you must understand me; I trust my fate to your discretion,--only in common with yourself can this melancholy transaction--"

"I must really beg you, sir," said Countess Frankenstein, looking anxiously at the bell, from which she was separated by Herr Balzer, "I must really beg you to state the facts."

"Herr von Stielow," said Balzer, again covering his eyes with his large yellow silk pocket-handkerchief.

Clara folded her hands in breathless suspense.

"Herr von Stielow," repeated Herr Balzer, in a voice that appeared to struggle for composure, "that volatile young man who is so happy in the possession of so lovely, so worthy a fiancee," he bowed to Clara, who turned from him with disgust, "this volatile young man dares to rob me of my happiness, to destroy my peace--he keeps up a criminal correspondence with my wife."

With a low cry, Clara sank down upon the chair before which she stood, and wept silently.

Countess Frankenstein remained standing upright. Her eyes rested fiercely and proudly upon this detestable messenger of evil, and in a voice in which no emotion was perceptible, she asked:

"And how do you know this, sir? Are you quite sure?"

"Alas! only too sure," cried Herr Balzer, pathetically, again applying his handkerchief to his eyes, which were quite red with repeated rubbing.

"Some time ago," he said, "my friends warned me; but my confidence in my wife--I love my wife, gracious countess: ah! she was my whole happiness--prevented my heeding these warnings; then, too, Baron von Stielow's engagement with the lovely countess"--he again bowed to Clara--"was well known in Vienna; I felt quite safe, since I was simple-hearted enough,"--he laid his hand on his black satin waistcoat--"to believe such an error impossible."

"Well?" asked the countess.

"At last, by chance--oh! my heart will break when I think of it--yesterday I discovered the frightful truth."

The countess made a movement of impatience.

He threw a side glance at the easy-chair, in which the younger lady sat motionless, her face covered with her handkerchief, and with the malice of vulgar natures who instinctively hate those of a higher grade, he seemed disposed to prolong her torture.

"Amongst the letters brought to me," he continued, after some hesitation, "there was one intended for my wife. I did not observe the address, and I opened it, believing it directed to myself. It contained the horrible, too certain proof of my misfortune."

Clara gave a low sob.

The countess asked with cold severity,--

"Where is this letter?"

Herr Balzer, with a deep, strongly marked sigh, felt in the breast pocket of his coat, pulled out a folded letter, and gave it to the countess. She took it, opened it, and read the contents slowly. Then throwing it on the table, she said:

"What have you done?"

"Countess," cried Herr Balzer, in the same pathetic voice, "I love my wife; she has greatly erred, it is true, but I love her still, and I cannot give up the hope of reclaiming her."

The countess shrugged her shoulders, almost imperceptibly, and cast a look full of contempt upon the exchange agent.

"I do not wish for a separation,--I would rather forgive her," he continued, in a tearful voice; "and I have come, therefore, to speak to you, countess, to consult with you,--to implore you to--"

"What?" asked the countess.

"You see, I thought," said Herr Balzer, turning his hat round and round more quickly, "if you,--Vienna is now a very sad place to reside in,--if you would go to your country estates, or into Switzerland, or to the Italian lakes, far away from here, and if you would take Lieutenant von Stielow with you, he would leave Vienna, and could not continue to have any intercourse with my wife: I too would take her away somewhere for a time. After his marriage with the lovely countess, the young couple would naturally visit Baron von Stielow's family for a time; he would forget my wife,--all would come straight, if we only work together at the same plan!"

He spoke slowly, and with much hesitation, often interrupting himself, and casting stolen looks now at the mother, now at the daughter. Before he had finished speaking, Clara had sprung to her feet, her eyes, red with weeping, were fixed on him with burning anger; and as he concluded, she looked at her mother with anxious suspense, her lips half opened, as if she almost feared her mother might not give the right reply.

Countess Frankenstein drew herself up, with a movement full of pride, and said in a tone of cold contempt:

"I thank you for your communication, sir; it has opened my eyes in time. I regret I cannot a.s.sist you in the way you wish, to re-establish your domestic happiness. You must understand it cannot be the task of a Countess Frankenstein to cure the Baron Stielow of an unworthy pa.s.sion, nor can she consent to continue an engagement which the baron has not respected. You must find some other means of reclaiming your wife."

Clara's eyes expressed her perfect approval of her mother's words; with a proud movement she turned her back upon Herr Balzer, and, suppressing her tears with a great effort, she looked out of one of the large panes of gla.s.s in the high window of the salon.

Herr Balzer wrung his hands, as if in despair, and cried with well-acted emotion:

"My G.o.d! countess, forgive me, if I thought only of my own sorrow and grief, only of myself and my wife, and did not consider that difficulty. I thought, too, you wished so much for this _parti_, which is so excellent, and I hoped you would act in concert with me to bring everything to a good end."

"A Countess Frankenstein is not in a position to wish for a _parti_ unworthy of her, and one her heart cannot approve," said the countess, the cold calmness of her manner unchanged. "I believe, sir," she continued, bowing very slightly, "that it is scarcely necessary to continue this conversation."