Consuelo, page 90
"What Shade?" asked Consuelo, whose thoughts were solely occupied with Frederick and the occurrences of the evening.
"The Shade which comes at the desert to seek the margravine and her guests, in order to lead them through Tartarus, where I have placed the music of the dead, and conduct them to the theater where Olympus is to receive them. Venus does not immediately appear, and you will have time to throw aside the drapery of woe and display the brilliant costume of the queen of love beneath, that is to say, rose-colored satin, with clasps and tinsels of silver mounted in gold looping up the dress, and powdered hair, with pearls, feathers, and roses. An elegant and most recherché toilet, as you shall see. Come! you consent; for the part requires a dignified carriage, and not one of my liltle actresses would have the courage to say to her highness, in a tone sufficiently respectful and imperious—'Follow me.' It a phrase not easy to say, and I think it requires genius to give it the desired effect. What think you?"
"Oh, it is admirable; and I shall perform the Shade with all my heart," replied Consuelo, smiling.
"Ah, you are an angel; an angel in truth!" exclaimed the count, kissing her hand.
But alas! the fête, this brilliant fête, this dream, which the count had cherished during the whole winter, and for which he had taken three journeys into Moravia to superintend the preparations, this fête so anxiously expected, was destined, like the stern and fatal vengeance of Karl, to vanish into thin air!
The following day every thing was in readiness. The retainers of Roswald were under arms. Nymphs, genii, savages, dwarfs, giants, mandarins, and shades, waited, shivering at their posts, for the signal to commence their evolutions. The roads leading to the castle were cleared of snow and strewn with moss and violets, numerous guests from the neighboring castles, and even distant towns, formed a respectable assemblage—when, alas! an unexpected calamity upset every thing. A courier dashing up at full gallop, brought the intelligence that the margravine's carriage had been overturned, that her highness had two ribs broken, and was forced to alight at Olmutz, where the count was to join her. The crowd dispersed. The count, followed by Karl, who had now regained his reason, mounted the best of his horses, and set off in haste, after having said a few words to his major-domo.
The Pleasures, the Brooks, the Hours, and the Rivers hastily put on their furred boots and woolen dresses; and together with the Chinese, the Pirates, the Druids, and the Anthropophagi returned pell-mell to their labor in the fields. The guests re-entered their carriages, and the same berlin which had brought Porpora and his pupil was again placed at their disposal. The major-domo, conformably to the orders he had received, handed them the sum agreed upon, and compelled them to accept it, although they had only half earned it. They set out the same day for Prague, the professor enchanted at being freed from the cosmopolitan music and the polyglot cantatas of his host, and Consuelo directing many a sorrowful look in the direction of Silesia, and grieved to the heart at being obliged to turn her back on the captive of Glatz without a hope of rescuing him from his unhappy fate.
That same day the Baron de Kreutz, who had passed the night in a village not far from the Moravian frontier, and who had departed again at dawn in a huge traveling coach, escorted by his pages on horseback and followed by a berlin which carried his secretary and his treasure chest, said to his lieutenant, or rather his aide-de-camp, the Baron of Buddenbrock, as they approached the city of Neïsse (and it must be remarked that, dissatisfied with his awkwardness the day before, this was the first time he had spoken to him since their departure from Roswald)—"What was that illumination which I perceived at a distance upon the hill we must have passed, if we had skirted the park of that Count Hoditz?"
"Sire," replied Buddenbrock, trembling, "I saw no illumination."
"You were in the wrong, then. A man who accompanies me ought to see everything."
"Your majesty must forgive me, but the frightful state of agitation into which I was thrown by that wretch's resolution——"
"You do not know what you are saying! That man was a fanatic, an unhappy Catholic devotee, exasperated by the sermons which the Bohemian clergy preached against me during the war, and driven moreover to extremity by some personal misfortune. He must be some peasant whom my recruiters have carried off; one of those deserters whom we sometimes recapture in spite of all their precautions——"
"Your majesty may rely upon it that tomorrow this man shall be retaken and brought before you."
"You have given orders then to have him carried off from Count Hoditz?"
"Not yet, sire; but as soon as I arrive at Neïsse, I will despatch four skillful and determined men——"
"I forbid you to do so; on the contrary, you will obtain information respecting the man, and if his family have fallen victims to the war, as he seemed to indicate in his incoherent talk, you will see that he be paid the sum of one thousand rix-dollars, and you will have him pointed out to the recruiters of Silesia that he be left forever undisturbed. You understand me? His name is Karl, he is very tall, he is a Bohemian, and in the service of Count Hoditz; that is enough to enable you to identify him and to procure information respecting his family and condition."
"Your majesty shall be obeyed."
"I hope so, indeed! What do you think of that professor of music?"
"Master Porpora? He seemed to me foolish, self-satisfied, and exceedingly ill-tempered."
"And I tell you that he is a man of superior acquirements, full of wit, and a most amusing irony. When he arrives with his pupil at the frontier of Prussia, you will send a comfortable carriage to meet him."
"Yes, sire."
"And you are to hand him into it alone; alone, you understand? but, at the same time, you will treat him with every respect."
"Yes, sire."
"And afterward?"
"Afterward your majesty means he shall be carried to Berlin?"
"You have not common sense today. I mean that he shall be carried back to Dresden, and from thence to Prague, if he desire it, or even to Vienna, if such be his wish; all at my expense. Since I have taken so worthy a man from his occupations, I ought to replace him in his former position without the change costing him any thing. But I do not wish him to place a foot in my kingdom. He has too much wit for us."
"What does your majesty command respecting the cantatrice?"
"That she be conducted under escort, whether willing or unwilling, to Sans Souci, and that an apartment be prepared for her in the château."
"In the château, sire?"
"Yes! are you deaf? the apartment of the Barberini."
"And the Barberini, sire—what shall we do with her?"
"The Barberini is no longer at Berlin. She has left that. Did you not know it?"
"No, sire."
"What do you know then? And as soon as the girl has arrived, I am to be notified of the fact, at whatever hour of the day or night it may happen. Do you understand what I have said? The following are the first orders you are to have inscribed upon register number 1 of the clerk of my treasury: the compensation to Karl, the sending back of Porpora, the succession of the Porporina to the honors and emoluments of the Barberini. Ha! here we are at the gates of the city. Resume your good humor, Buddenbrock, and endeavor to be a little less stupid the next time I take a fancy to travel incognito with you."
CHAPTER CIV
THE cold was intense when Porpora and Consuelo arrived at Prague, as night was closing in. A brilliant moon illumined the ancient city, which preserved in its aspect the religious and warlike character of its history. Our travelers entered it by the gate called Rosthor, and passing through that portion of it which is on the right bank of the Moldaw they reached the middle of the bridge without accident. But there the carriage received a heavy shock, and stopped suddenly. "Holy Virgin!" cried the postilion, "my horse has fallen before the statue! it is a bad omen! May Saint John Népomuck help us!"
Consuelo, seeing that the shaft-horse was entangled in the traces, and that the postilion would require some time to raise him and readjust the harness, of which several buckles had been broken by the fall, proposed to her master to alight in order to warm themselves by a little exercise. The maestro having consented, Consuelo approached the parapet in order to examine the localities around. From the spot on which she stood, the two distinct cities of which Prague is composed—one called the new, which was built by the Emperor Charles IV in 1348, and the other which ascends to the remotest antiquity, both constructed in the form of amphitheaters—looked like two black mountains of buildings from which ascended here and there the lofty spires of the antique churches and the somber battlements of the fortifications. The Moldaw flowed dark and rapid beneath the bridge, which was of the simplest construction, and which had been the theater of so many tragical events in the history of Bohemia; and the rays of the moon, which silvered the projecting battlements, streamed full on the head of the revered statue. Consuelo examined long the features of the holy doctor, who seemed to fix a melancholy gaze on the dark and flowing waves.
The legend of Saint Népomuck is a holy and touching story, and his name is venerated by every one who esteems independence and loyalty. Confessor to the empress Jane he refused to betray the secrets of her confession, and the drunkard Wenceslas, eager to discover his wife's secret thoughts but unable to draw any thing from the illustrious doctor, had him drowned under the bridge of Prague. The tradition relates that at the moment when he disappeared beneath the waves, five brilliant stars glittered upon the scarcely closed gulf, as if the martyr had allowed his crown to float for an instant upon the waters. In record of this miracle, five stars of metal have been inlaid in the stone of the balustrade, at the very spot from which Népomuck was hurled.
Rosmunda, who was very devout, had preserved a tender recollection of the legend of John Népomuck; and in the enumeration of the saints whom every evening she taught her child to call upon with lisping accents, she had never forgotten that one, the special patron of travelers, and of people in danger, and above all, the guardian of a good reputation. Consuelo therefore recalled at this instant the prayer which she formerly addressed to the apostle of purity, and struck by the sight of the place which had witnessed his tragical end, she knelt instinctively among the devotees who at that epoch still paid, each hour of the day and night, an assiduous court to the image of the saint. They were composed principally of poor women, pilgrims, and aged beggars, with perhaps a few Zingari, children of the mandoline and proprietors of the highway. Their piety did not absorb them so much as to make them forget to hold out their hands as she passed. She gave them liberal alms, happy to recall the time when she was neither better clad nor prouder than they. Her generosity affected them so much that they consulted together in a low voice, and then charged one of their number to tell her that they were going to sing one of the ancient hymns in honor of the blessed Népomuck, that the saint might avert the bad omen which had stopped their progress. According to them, the music and the words dated so far back as the time of Wenceslas the drunkard:
"Suspice quas dedimus, Johannes beate,
Tibi preces supplices, noster advocate,
Fieri dum vivimus, ne sinas infames,
Et nostros post obitum cœlis infer manes."
Porpora, who took pleasure in listening to them, was of opinion that the hymn could not be more than a century old, but a second which he heard, seemed a malediction addressed to Wenceslas by his contemporaries, and commenced thus:
"Sævus, piger imperator,
Malorum clarus patrator, etc."
Although the crimes of Wenceslas were of no great importance, the poor Bohemians seemed to take a pleasure in eternally cursing in the person of this tyrant the abhorred title of imperator which had become synonomous in their eyes with that of Foreigner. An Austrian sentinel guarded each of the gates placed at the entrances of the bridge. It was their duty to march unceasingly from either end and meet before the statue, when they turned their backs and resumed their monotonous walk. They heard the Canticles, but as they were not as well versed in church Latin as the devout inhabitants of Prague, they doubtless fancied they were listening to a hymn in praise of Francis of Lorraine, the husband of Maria Theresa.
Listening to these delightful airs by the light of the moon in one of the most romantic situations in the world, Consuelo felt herself overwhelmed with melancholy. Her journey so far had been gay and happy, and by a natural reaction she fell all at once into the opposite extreme. The postilion, who set about repairing his harness with true German phlegm, kept on repeating so constantly, "Ha! this is bad business," that poor Consuelo at last became affected by his evil presages. Every painful emotion, every prolonged reverie, recalled Albert's image. At that moment she recollected that Albert, hearing the canoness one evening invoke St. Népomuck, the guardian of good reputation, aloud in her prayer, had said to her: "That is all very well in you, aunt, who have taken the precaution to insure yours by an exemplary life; but I have often seen souls stained by vice call to their aid the miracles of this saint, in order the better to conceal from men their secret iniquities. Thus it is that devout practices serve quite as often to cloak the grossest hypocrisy as to sustain and fortify innocence." At that instant, as Consuelo thought, she heard Albert's voice sounding at her ear in the evening breeze and in the dusk of the Moldaw's gloomy waves. She asked herself what he would think of her, he who perhaps believed her already perverted, if he could see her prostrate before that image; and, almost terrified, she was rising to retire, when Porpora said to her: "Come, let us get into the carriage again; every thing is repaired."
She followed him and was just entering the carriage, when a cavalier, heavily mounted on a horse still heavier than his rider, stopped abruptly, alighted, and approaching gazed at her with a tranquil curiosity, which appeared to her excessively impertinent. "What are you doing there, sir?" said Porpora, pushing him back; "ladies are not to be stared at so closely. It may be the custom in Prague, but I warn you I am not inclined to submit to it."
The stout man drew his chin out of the furs which enveloped it, and still holding his horse by the bridle, replied to Porpora in Bohemian, without perceiving that the latter did not understand a word of what he said; but Consuelo, struck by his voice, and leaning forward to look at his features by the moonlight, cried, interposing between him and Porpora: "Do I indeed see the Baron of Rudolstadt?"
"Yes, it is I, signora!" replied Baron Frederick; "it is I, the brother of Christian, the uncle of Albert; oh! it is indeed I. And it is in truth you also?" added he, uttering a deep sigh.
Consuelo was struck by his dejected air and his cold greeting. He who had always been the mirror of chivalry, did not so much as kiss her hand, or touch his furred cap, but contented himself with repeating with a half-stupid, half-terrified air:
"Yes, it is even so—it is indeed you."
"What news from Riesenburg?" said Consuelo with emotion.
"Yes, signora, I long to tell it to you."
"Well, then, baron, speak; tell me about Count Christian, about the canoness, and——"
"Yes, I shall tell you all," replied the baron, more and more dejected.
"And Count Albert?" resumed Consuelo, terrified at the expression of his countenance.
"Yes, oh! yes, Albert—yes—I would speak of him."
But he said not a word, and to all the questions of Consuelo he remained as dumb and motionless as the statue of St. Népomuck.
Porpora began to grow impatient. He was cold and longed to reach some shelter. Moreover, this meeting, which was so well calculated to make a deep impression on Consuelo, annoyed him hugely.
"My lord baron," said he, "we shall have the honor of paying our respects to you tomorrow, but permit us at present to sup and warm ourselves. That is more important than compliments," he added, pressing into the carriage, and pushing Consuelo unwillingly in before him.
"But, my dear friend," she exclaimed, anxiously, "let me ask——"
"Let me alone," he bluntly added. "This man is mad or dead drunk; and we may spend the entire night upon the bridge without getting a word of sense from him."
Consuelo was a prey to the deepest anxiety.
"You are pitiless," said she, as the carriage passed the bridge and entered the ancient city. "Another moment and I should have learned what I am more interested in than any thing else in the world."
"Oh! ho! are we there still?" said the maestro angrily. "Is this Albert always running through your head? A precious family, forsooth, to judge by this old booby with his cap apparently glued to his head, for he had not even the civility to raise it when he saw you."
"It is a family for which, until lately, you expressed the highest esteem; so much so that you consigned me to its care as to a haven of safety, and enjoined on me the deepest respect, love, and affection for all the members of it."
"The last injunction you have obeyed to the letter, I see."
Consuelo was about to reply, but remained silent when she saw the baron mount his horse with the intention apparently of following the carriage. When she alighted she found the old noble at the entrance, holding out his hand to assist her and doing the honors of his house; for it was there and not at the inn that he had directed the postilion to stop. Porpora in vain refused his hospitality; he was not to be put off, and Consuelo, who burned to clear up her melancholy presentiment, hastened to accept his attentions, and proceeded with him into the saloon, where a huge fire and an excellent supper awaited them.
"You perceive, signora," said the baron, "that I calculated on your arrival."
"That greatly surprises me," replied Consuelo, "for we mentioned it to no one, and we did not even expect to get here before tomorrow."
"You are not more astonished than I am," said the baron, with a disconsolate air.
