CHAPTER XIV - RELATES THE CAUSE AND OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION
BRAVE as she was, and brave by intellect, the Princess, when first
she was alone, clung to the table for support. The four corners of
her universe had fallen. She had never liked nor trusted Gondremark
completely; she had still held it possible to find him false to
friendship; but from that to finding him devoid of all those public
virtues for which she had honoured him, a mere commonplace
intriguer, using her for his own ends, the step was wide and the
descent giddy. Light and darkness succeeded each other in her
brain; now she believed, and now she could not. She turned, blindly
groping for the note. But von Rosen, who had not forgotten to take
the warrant from the Prince, had remembered to recover her note from
the Princess: von Rosen was an old campaigner, whose most violent
emotion aroused rather than clouded the vigour of her reason.
The thought recalled to Seraphina the remembrance of the other
letter - Otto's. She rose and went speedily, her brain still
wheeling, and burst into the Prince's armoury. The old chamberlain
was there in waiting; and the sight of another face, prying (or so
she felt) on her distress, struck Seraphina into childish anger.
'Go!' she cried; and then, when the old man was already half-way to
the door, 'Stay!' she added. 'As soon as Baron Gondremark arrives,
let him attend me here.'
'It shall be so directed,' said the chamberlain.
'There was a letter . . .' she began, and paused.
'Her Highness,' said the chamberlain, 'will, find a letter on the
table. I had received no orders, or her Highness had been spared
this trouble.'
'No, no, no,' she cried. 'I thank you. I desire to be alone.'
And then, when he was gone, she leaped upon the letter. Her mind
was still obscured; like the moon upon a night of clouds and wind,
her reason shone and was darkened, and she read the words by
flashes.
'Seraphina,' the Prince wrote, 'I will write no syllable of
reproach. I have seen your order, and I go. What else is left me?
I have wasted my love, and have no more. To say that I forgive you
is not needful; at least, we are now separate for ever; by your own
act, you free me from my willing bondage: I go free to prison. This
is the last that you will hear of me in love or anger. I have gone
out of your life; you may breathe easy; you have now rid yourself of
the husband who allowed you to desert him, of the Prince who gave
you his rights, and of the married lover who made it his pride to
defend you in your absence. How you have requited him, your own
heart more loudly tells you than my words. There is a day coming
when your vain dreams will roll away like clouds, and you will find
yourself alone. Then you will remember
OTTO.'
She read with a great horror on her mind; that day, of which he
wrote, was come. She was alone; she had been false, she had been
cruel; remorse rolled in upon her; and then with a more piercing
note, vanity bounded on the stage of consciousness. She a dupe! she
helpless! she to have betrayed herself in seeking to betray her
husband! she to have lived these years upon flattery, grossly
swallowing the bolus, like a clown with sharpers! she - Seraphina!
Her swift mind drank the consequences; she foresaw the coming fall,
her public shame; she saw the odium, disgrace, and folly of her
story flaunt through Europe. She recalled the scandal she had so
royally braved; and alas! she had now no courage to confront it
with. To be thought the mistress of that man: perhaps for that. . .
. She closed her eyes on agonising vistas. Swift as thought she had
snatched a bright dagger from the weapons that shone along the wall.
Ay, she would escape. From that world-wide theatre of nodding heads
and buzzing whisperers, in which she now beheld herself unpitiably
martyred, one door stood open. At any cost, through any stress of
suffering, that greasy laughter should be stifled. She closed her
eyes, breathed a wordless prayer, and pressed the weapon to her
bosom.
At the astonishing sharpness of the prick, she gave a cry and awoke
to a sense of undeserved escape. A little ruby spot of blood was
the reward of that great act of desperation; but the pain had braced
her like a tonic, and her whole design of suicide had passed away.
At the same instant regular feet drew near along the gallery, and
she knew the tread of the big Baron, so often gladly welcome, and
even now rallying her spirits like a call to battle. She concealed
the dagger in the folds of her skirt; and drawing her stature up,
she stood firm-footed, radiant with anger, waiting for the foe.
The Baron was announced, and entered. To him, Seraphina was a hated
task: like the schoolboy with his Virgil, he had neither will nor
leisure to remark her beauties; but when he now beheld her standing
illuminated by her passion, new feelings flashed upon him, a frank
admiration, a brief sparkle of desire. He noted both with joy; they
were means. 'If I have to play the lover,' thought he, for that was
his constant preoccupation, 'I believe I can put soul into it.'
Meanwhile, with his usual ponderous grace, he bent before the lady.
'I propose,' she said in a strange voice, not known to her till
then, 'that we release the Prince and do not prosecute the war.'
'Ah, madam,' he replied, ' 'tis as I knew it would be! Your heart,
I knew, would wound you when we came to this distasteful but most
necessary step. Ah, madam, believe me, I am not unworthy to be your
ally; I know you have qualities to which I am a stranger, and count
them the best weapons in the armoury of our alliance:- the girl in
the queen - pity, love, tenderness, laughter; the smile that can
reward. I can only command; I am the frowner. But you! And you
have the fortitude to command these comely weaknesses, to tread them
down at the call of reason. How often have I not admired it even to
yourself! Ay, even to yourself,' he added tenderly, dwelling, it
seemed, in memory on hours of more private admiration. 'But now,
madam - '
'But now, Herr von Gondremark, the time for these declarations has
gone by,' she cried. 'Are you true to me? are you false? Look in
your heart and answer: it is your heart I want to know.'
'It has come,' thought Gondremark. 'You, madam!' he cried, starting
back - with fear, you would have said, and yet a timid joy. 'You!
yourself, you bid me look into my heart?'
'Do you suppose I fear?' she cried, and looked at him with such a
heightened colour, such bright eyes, and a smile of so abstruse a
meaning, that the Baron discarded his last doubt.
'Ah, madam!' he cried, plumping on his knees. 'Seraphina! Do you
permit me? have you divined my secret? It is true - I put my life
with joy into your power - I love you, love with ardour, as an
equal, as a mistress, as a brother-in-arms, as an adored, desired,
sweet-hearted woman. O Bride!' he cried, waxing dithyrambic, 'bride
of my reason and my senses, have pity, have pity on my love!'
She heard him with wonder, rage, and then contempt. His words
offended her to sickness; his appearance, as he grovelled bulkily
upon the floor, moved her to such laughter as we laugh in
nightmares.
'O shame!' she cried. 'Absurd and odious! What would the Countess
say?'
That great Baron Gondremark, the excellent politician, remained for
some little time upon his knees in a frame of mind which perhaps we
are allowed to pity. His vanity, within his iron bosom, bled and
raved. If he could have blotted all, if he could have withdrawn
part, if he had not called her bride - with a roaring in his ears,
he thus regretfully reviewed his declaration. He got to his feet
tottering; and then, in that first moment when a dumb agony finds a
vent in words, and the tongue betrays the inmost and worst of a man,
he permitted himself a retort which, for six weeks to follow, he was
to repent at leisure.
'Ah,' said he, 'the Countess? Now I perceive the reason of your
Highness's disorder.'
The lackey-like insolence of the words was driven home by a more
insolent manner. There fell upon Seraphina one of those storm-
clouds which had already blackened upon her reason; she heard
herself cry out; and when the cloud dispersed, flung the blood-
stained dagger on the floor, and saw Gondremark reeling back with
open mouth and clapping his hand upon the wound. The next moment,
with oaths that she had never heard, he leaped at her in savage
passion; clutched her as she recoiled; and in the very act, stumbled
and drooped. She had scarce time to fear his murderous onslaught
ere he fell before her feet.
He rose upon one elbow; she still staring upon him, white with
horror.
'Anna!' he cried, 'Anna! Help!'
And then his utterance failed him, and he fell back, to all
appearance dead.
Seraphina ran to and fro in the room; she wrung her hands and cried
aloud; within she was all one uproar of terror, and conscious of no
articulate wish but to awake.
There came a knocking at the door; and she sprang to it and held it,
panting like a beast, and with the strength of madness in her arms,
till she had pushed the bolt. At this success a certain calm fell
upon her reason. She went back and looked upon her victim, the
knocking growing louder. O yes, he was dead. She had killed him.
He had called upon von Rosen with his latest breath; ah! who would
call on Seraphina? She had killed him. She, whose irresolute hand
could scarce prick blood from her own bosom, had found strength to
cast down that great colossus at a blow.
All this while the knocking was growing more uproarious and more
unlike the staid career of life in such a palace. Scandal was at
the door, with what a fatal following she dreaded to conceive; and
at the same time among the voices that now began to summon her by
name, she recognised the Chancellor's. He or another, somebody must
be the first.
'Is Herr von Greisengesang without?' she called.
'Your Highness - yes!' the old gentleman answered. 'We have heard
cries, a fall. Is anything amiss?'
'Nothing,' replied Seraphina 'I desire to speak with you. Send off
the rest.' She panted between each phrase; but her mind was clear.
She let the looped curtain down upon both sides before she drew the
bolt; and, thus secure from any sudden eyeshot from without,
admitted the obsequious Chancellor, and again made fast the door.
Greisengesang clumsily revolved among the wings of the curtain, so
that she was clear of it as soon as he.
'My God!' he cried 'The Baron!'
'I have killed him,' she said. 'O, killed him!'
'Dear me,' said the old gentleman, 'this is most unprecedented.
Lovers' quarrels,' he added ruefully, 'redintegratio - ' and then
paused. 'But, my dear madam,' he broke out again, 'in the name of
all that is practical, what are we to do? This is exceedingly
grave; morally, madam, it is appalling. I take the liberty, your
Highness, for one moment, of addressing you as a daughter, a loved
although respected daughter; and I must say that I cannot conceal
from you that this is morally most questionable. And, O dear me, we
have a dead body!'
She had watched him closely; hope fell to contempt; she drew away
her skirts from his weakness, and, in the act, her own strength
returned to her.
'See if he be dead,' she said; not one word of explanation or
defence; she had scorned to justify herself before so poor a
creature: 'See if he be dead' was all.
With the greatest compunction, the Chancellor drew near; and as he
did so the wounded Baron rolled his eyes.
'He lives,' cried the old courtier, turning effusively to Seraphina.
'Madam, he still lives.'
'Help him, then,' returned the Princess, standing fixed. 'Bind up
his wound.'
'Madam, I have no means,' protested the Chancellor.
'Can you not take your handkerchief, your neck-cloth, anything?' she
cried; and at the same moment, from her light muslin gown she rent
off a flounce and tossed it on the floor. 'Take that,' she said,
and for the first time directly faced Greisengesang.
But the Chancellor held up his hands and turned away his head in
agony. The grasp of the falling Baron had torn down the dainty
fabric of the bodice; and - 'O Highness!' cried Greisengesang,
appalled, 'the terrible disorder of your toilette!'
'Take up that flounce,' she said; 'the man may die.'
Greisengesang turned in a flutter to the Baron, and attempted some
innocent and bungling measures. 'He still breathes,' he kept
saying. 'All is not yet over; he is not yet gone.'
'And now,' said she 'if that is all you can do, begone and get some
porters; he must instantly go home.'
'Madam,' cried the Chancellor, 'if this most melancholy sight were
seen in town - O dear, the State would fall!' he piped.
'There is a litter in the Palace,' she replied. 'It is your part to
see him safe. I lay commands upon you. On your life it stands.'
'I see it, dear Highness,' he jerked. 'Clearly I see it. But how?
what men? The Prince's servants - yes. They had a personal
affection. They will be true, if any.'
'O, not them!' she cried. 'Take Sabra, my own man.'
'Sabra! The grand-mason?' returned the Chancellor, aghast. 'If he
but saw this, he would sound the tocsin - we should all be
butchered.'
She measured the depth of her abasement steadily. 'Take whom you
must,' she said, 'and bring the litter here.'
Once she was alone she ran to the Baron, and with a sickening heart
sought to allay the flux of blood. The touch of the skin of that
great charlatan revolted her to the toes; the wound, in her ignorant
eyes, looked deathly; yet she contended with her shuddering, and,
with more skill at least than the Chancellor's, staunched the
welling injury. An eye unprejudiced with hate would have admired
the Baron in his swoon; he looked so great and shapely; it was so
powerful a machine that lay arrested; and his features, cleared for
the moment both of temper and dissimulation, were seen to be so
purely modelled. But it was not thus with Seraphina. Her victim,
as he lay outspread, twitching a little, his big chest unbared,
fixed her with his ugliness; and her mind flitted for a glimpse to
Otto.
Rumours began to sound about the Palace of feet running and of
voices raised; the echoes of the great arched staircase were voluble
of some confusion; and then the gallery jarred with a quick and
heavy tramp. It was the Chancellor, followed by four of Otto's
valets and a litter. The servants, when they were admitted, stared
at the dishevelled Princess and the wounded man; speech was denied
them, but their thoughts were riddled with profanity. Gondremark
was bundled in; the curtains of the litter were lowered; the bearers
carried it forth, and the Chancellor followed behind with a white
face.
Seraphina ran to the window. Pressing her face upon the pane, she
could see the terrace, where the lights contended; thence, the
avenue of lamps that joined the Palace and town; and overhead the
hollow night and the larger stars. Presently the small procession
issued from the Palace, crossed the parade, and began to thread the
glittering alley: the swinging couch with its four porters, the
much-pondering Chancellor behind. She watched them dwindle with
strange thoughts: her eyes fixed upon the scene, her mind still
glancing right and left on the overthrow of her life and hopes.
There was no one left in whom she might confide; none whose hand was
friendly, or on whom she dared to reckon for the barest loyalty.
With the fall of Gondremark, her party, her brief popularity, had
fallen. So she sat crouched upon the window-seat, her brow to the
cool pane; her dress in tatters, barely shielding her; her mind
revolving bitter thoughts.
Meanwhile, consequences were fast mounting; and in the deceptive
quiet of the night, downfall and red revolt were brewing. The
litter had passed forth between the iron gates and entered on the
streets of the town. By what flying panic, by what thrill of air
communicated, who shall say? but the passing bustle in the Palace
had already reached and re-echoed in the region of the burghers.
Rumour, with her loud whisper, hissed about the town; men left their
homes without knowing why; knots formed along the boulevard; under
the rare lamps and the great limes the crowd grew blacker.
And now through the midst of that expectant company, the unusual
sight of a closed litter was observed approaching, and trotting hard
behind it that great dignitary Cancellarius Greisengesang. Silence
looked on as it went by; and as soon as it was passed, the
whispering seethed over like a boiling pot. The knots were
sundered; and gradually, one following another, the whole mob began
to form into a procession and escort the curtained litter. Soon
spokesmen, a little bolder than their mates, began to ply the
Chancellor with questions. Never had he more need of that great art
of falsehood, by whose exercise he had so richly lived. And yet now
he stumbled, the master passion, fear, betraying him. He was
pressed; he became incoherent; and then from the jolting litter came
a groan. In the instant hubbub and the gathering of the crowd as to
a natural signal, the clear-eyed quavering Chancellor heard the
catch of the clock before it strikes the hour of doom; and for ten
seconds he forgot himself. This shall atone for many sins. He
plucked a bearer by the sleeve. 'Bid the Princess flee. All is
lost,' he whispered. And the next moment he was babbling for his
life among the multitude.
Five minutes later the wild-eyed servant burst into the armoury.
'All is lost!' he cried. 'The Chancellor bids you flee.' And at
the same time, looking through the window, Seraphina saw the black
rush of the populace begin to invade the lamplit avenue.
'Thank you, Georg,' she said. 'I thank you. Go.' And as the man
still lingered, 'I bid you go,' she added. 'Save yourself.'
Down by the private passage, and just some two hours later, Amalia
Seraphina, the last Princess, followed Otto Johann Friedrich, the
last Prince of Grunewald.
