Old Fritz and the New Era Part 55

"We must compromise the matter."

Woellner sprang up, and a flush of anger or from champagne overspread his face "Compromise with the sinful creature!" he cried, impetuously.

"Make peace with the seductress, who leads the prince from the path of virtue!"

"Yes, we must be on friendly terms with this woman, who could greatly injure us as an enemy, and aid us infinitely as a friend. This is my intention, and I am the more convinced that we must accept this middle course, as she is protected by the king."

"Because he knows from his spies that she mingles with the Illuminati and the Freemasons, and that she is our opponent," said Woellner.

"The more the reason, my n.o.ble zealot, to win her friends.h.i.+p, who will have validity and power until the crown prince reigns, and this old G.o.dless freethinker of a king is in his gravel Then Prussia will commence a new era, and we shall be lords, and guide the machine of state. For such lofty aims one ought to be ready to compromise with his Satanic majesty even. Then why not with this little she-devil, whose power is fading every year with her youth and beauty?"

"It is quite true, we should be mindful of the device of our Invisible Fathers. The end sanctifies the means," sighed Woellner.

"I believe it to be indispensable, and you will grant that I am right.

Do you not see that the prince has availed himself of our absence to go there, and has not yet returned?"

"What!" shrieked Woellner, clasping his hands--"you do not mean that--"

"That Rinaldo has returned to the enchanted garden of Armida."

"Oh, let us hasten to release him at once, and revue his soul from perdition!" cried Woellner, springing up.

"On the contrary, let us await him here without a word of reproach upon his return. This will touch his tender heart which we must work upon, if we would get him into our power, for to us he must belong. Fill our gla.s.ses with the sparkling wine, and drink to the contract with Wilhelmine Enke."

Just as merrily they quaffed the champagne in the little cosy dining-room at Charlottenburg, where the prince and Wilhelmine were rejoicing over a reconciliation, no one being present but the two children. Their joyous laugh and innocent jests delighted the father, and the beaming eyes, sweet smile, and witty conversation of his favorite, filled his heart with pleasure.

Not a word of reproach escaped her, but exultant and joyous she hastened with outstretched arms to meet him, kissing away all his attempts to implore pardon, and thanking him that he had returned to her.

At first the prince gave himself up to the joy of the reunion with his beloved Wilhelmine sad children; but now, as the first outburst had pa.s.sed, the quiet, happy dinner being finished, and they had returned to the sitting-room, a tinge of melancholy earnestness overshadowed his amiable face.

Wilhelmine threw her arms gently around his neck as she sat beside him upon the divan, and looked up to him with a tender questioning glance.

"Your thoughts are veiled, dearest; will you not confide to me that which lies concealed there?"

"Ah, Wilhelmine, it is a mourning veil, and hides the sorrow of renunciation."

"I do not understand you, Frederick," she smilingly replied. "Who could compel you to an abnegation which would cause you grief?"

"Listen to me, Wilhelmine, and understand that I am suffering from circ.u.mstances--an oath taken in the pressure of the moment. Try to comprehend me, my dear child."

Drawing her closer to him, he faithfully related to her the night of the communion of the spirits, and his consequent oath.

"Is that all, my dear?" she replied, smiling, as he finished.

"What do you mean?" he asked, astonished.

"Nothing more than I would know if you have only sworn to renounce Wilhelmine Enke!"

"What could I have done more prejudicial to you?" he cried, not a little irritated.

"Surely you could not injure or grieve me more, and therefore I am not a little surprised that the pious Fathers could so carelessly word their oaths. You have sworn to renounce your affection to and separate from Wilhelmine Enke; so it follows that the Invisibles only demand that you give up my name, not myself, and that is easily changed, and my dear prince will not become a perjurer."

"I do not quite understand you; but I perceive by the arch expression of your face that you have conceived a lucky escape for your unhappy Frederick William. Explain to me, dearest, your meaning."

"I must change my name by marrying some one!" she whispered.

"Marry! and I give you to another? I will never consent to that," he cried, alarmed.

"Not to a husband, only a name," said she. "These Rosicrucians are such extraordinarily virtuous and pure beings, loving you so infinitely and disinterestedly, that it grieves them that my love for you does not shun the light, and throw over itself the mantle of hypocritical virtue!

We will yield to the zealous purity of the Rosicrucians," continued Wilhelmine, her eyes sparkling, "and wrap this Wilhelmine Enke in a mantle of virtue by giving her a husband; and then, when she walks out with her children the pa.s.sers-by will not have to blush with shame, and cry, 'There goes the miss with her children!' I have conceived and planned during this long and painful separation, and I am resolved to submit humbly to the pious Fathers, who are so zealously watchful for the salvation of your soul and my good fame."

"That is to say, you are determined to snap your fingers at them!

Your plan is a good one, but you will find no one to aid you in a sham marriage!"

"I have already found one," whispered Wilhelmine, smiling. "Your valet de chambre Rietz is willing to stand with me in a sham marriage."

"My body-servant!"

"Yes, Frederick William! You will confess that I am not ambitious, and only consent to it to secure our happiness from the persecution of these virtuous men. Here is the contract," said she, drawing from her dress-pocket a paper, which she unfolded. "He promises to give me his name, and regard me as a stranger always, for the sum of four hundred thalers annually, with the promise of promotion to confidential servant when the n.o.ble crown prince shall ascend the throne. [Footnote: Historical.--See F. Forster, "Latest Prussian History," vol. 1., p. 74]

Will you sign it?"

"I will do any thing that will grant me your affection, in spite of my unhappy oath. Give me the paper. I will sign it. When is the wedding?"

"The moment that you, my dear lord and master, have inscribed your name," said Wilhelmine, handing him the pen, and pointing to the paper.

The prince wrote the desired signature, quickly throwing the pen across the room, shouting, "Long live Wilhelmine Rietz, who has rescued me from perjury and sin! Come to my arms, outstretched to press to my heart the most beautiful, most intelligent, and most diplomatic of women!"

Two days later it was related in Berlin that Wilhelmine Enke had married the princely valet de chambre Rietz, the crown prince being present at the ceremony, which took place at a small village near Potsdam.

Under the head of marriages, the Berlin newspapers announced "Wilhelmine Enke to Carl Rietz."

"Ah, my Rosicrucians," cried Wilhelmine, laughingly, as she read this notice, a mischievous triumph sparkling in her eyes; "ah, my heroes in virtue, for once you are outwitted, and I am victorious! I would like to witness their surprise. How they will laugh and swear over it! The favorite of a prince married to a valet de chambre! Wait until the prince becomes a king, then Wilhelmine Rietz will develop into a beautiful b.u.t.terfly, and the wife of the valet de chambre will become a countess--nay, a princess. The Great Kophta has promised it, and he shall keep his word. I wear his ring, which sparkles and glistens, although the jeweller declares the diamond has been exchanged for a false stone. No matter, if it only s.h.i.+nes like the real one. Every thing earthly is deception, falsehood, and glitter. Every one is storming and pressing on in savage eagerness toward fortune, honor, and fame! I will have my part in it. The storm and pressure of the world rage in my own heart. The fire of ambition is lighted in my soul, and the insatiable thirst for fortune consumes me. Blaze and burn until the day that Frederick William ascends the throne; then the low-born daughter of the trumpeter will become the high-born countess. The false stone will change to the sparkling diamond and Cagliostro shall then serve me."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII. REVENGE FULFILLED.

Since the soiree at the house of the rich banker, Ebenstreit, an entire winter had pa.s.sed in pleasures and fetes. The position of Baron Ebenstreit von Leuthen had been recognized in aristocratic society, thanks to his dinners, soirees, b.a.l.l.s, fetes, and particularly to his lovely, spirited, and proud wife. Herr Ebenstreit von Leuthen had reached the acme of his ambition; his house was the resort of the most distinguished society; the extravagance and superb arrangements of his dinners and fetes were the theme of every tongue. This excessive admiration flattered the vain, ambitious parvenu extremely, and it was the happiest day of his life when Prince Henry of Prussia, brother of Frederick the Great, did him the unspeakable honor to dine with him.

This gratifying day he owed to his wife, and, as he said, it ought to be kept as the greatest triumph of money over prejudice and etiquette--the day upon which a royal prince recognized the rich and newly-created n.o.ble as his equal. Ebenstreit's entrance into the highest circle of aristocracy was due to the management and tone of the world of his wife, who understood the elegancies of life, pa.s.sing as an example and ideal of an elegant woman, of which her husband was very proud. He lauded his original and crafty idea of devoting his money to such a satisfactory purchase as a sensible and ladylike wife, although the union was not a happy one, and, in the proper acceptation of the word, no marriage at all.

Whilst all were entertained at the fetes, and envied the splendor and wealth of Baron von Ebenstreit, there were many sinister remarks as to the possibility of sustaining this expenditure upon such a grand scale.

It was whispered about that the banking-house, conducted under another name, had lost in extensive speculations, and that the baron lived upon his princ.i.p.al instead of his interest. The business community declared that the firm entered into the most daring and senseless undertakings, and that it must go to ruin. The old book-keeper, Splittgerber, who had for many years conducted the business, had been pensioned by the baron, and commenced for himself. His successor had once ventured to warn the n.o.bleman, and represent to him the danger which threatened him, for which he was immediately dismissed, and the fact communicated to the entire house, at a special a.s.semblage of the clerks for the purpose, with the warning of a like fate for every subordinate who should presume to criticise the acts of the princ.i.p.als, or proffer advice to them.

Since this no one had ventured to repeat the offence, but every member of the house occupied himself in drawing a profit from the general and daily increasing confusion, and save something from the wreck which would inevitably ensue. The baron, with pretentious unconcern, dazzled by his unusual honors, permitted his business affairs to take their course with smiling unconcern, and when unsuccessful, to hide the mistakes of the banker under the pomp of the baron.

Marie, indulging in the style of a great lady, appeared not to notice or trouble herself at all about these things. She entertained most luxuriantly, and spent enormous sums upon her toilet, changed the costly livery of her numerous retinue of servants every month, as well as the furniture of the drawing-rooms; and presented with generous liberality her superfluous ornaments, dresses, and furniture to her dear high-born friends, who greedily accepted them, and were overflowing in their tender protestations and grat.i.tude, whilst they in secret revolted at the presumption of the arrogant woman, who permitted herself to send them her cast-off things.

They rejoiced to receive them, however, and reappeared in her splendid drawing-rooms, enduring the pride and neglect of the baroness, and calling her their dear friend, whom they in secret envied and hated.