CHAPTER XCV

AWAITING a reply which she could not receive, since Porpora had burned her letter, Consuelo persevered in the calm and studious course of life which she had adopted. Her presence attracted to Madame Wilhelmina's apartment many distinguished persons whom she had pleasure in meeting, and among others, Baron Frederick Trenck, for whom she felt a lively sympathy. He had the delicacy not to address her as an old acquaintance at their first meeting, but to have himself presented, after she had sung, as a profound admirer and as deeply affected by her performance. On seeing again this handsome and brave young man, who had so courageously saved her from Mayer and his band, Consuelo's first impulse was to hold out her hand. The baron, who would not suffer her to commit any imprudence in testifying her gratitude to him, hastened to take her hand as if to lead her to her chair, pressing it gently by way of thanks. She afterward learned from Joseph, from whom the baron took instructions in music, that he never failed to inquire kindly for her, and to speak of her with admiration, but from a feeling of almost romantic delicacy, forbore to question him as to the motives of their disguise, their adventurous voyage, and the sentiments which they might have had, or might still have, for each other.

"I do not know what he thinks of it," added Joseph; "but I can assure you that there is no woman of whom he speaks with so much esteem and respect."

"In that case, friend Beppo," said Consuelo, "I authorize you to tell him all our story, and my own as well, without, however, mentioning the family of Rudolstadt. I must have the unreserved esteem of a man to whom we owe our life, and who has conducted himself so nobly toward me in every respect."

Some weeks afterward, Baron Trenck, although having scarcely fulfilled his mission to Vienna, was abruptly recalled by Frederick, and came one morning to the embassy to bid a hasty adieu to Signor Corner. Consuelo, on descending the staircase to go out, met him under the portal, and as they were alone he approached and kissed her hand tenderly.

"Allow me," said he, "to express, for the first and perhaps the last time in my life, the sentiments I entertain toward you. There was no occasion for Beppo to tell your story to arouse my admiration. There are some countenances which never deceive, and it needed no more than a glance to assure me that yours was the index of a lofty intellect and a noble heart. Had I known at Passau that our dear Joseph was so little on his guard, I would have protected you against Count Hoditz's folly, which I foresaw only too plainly, although I did all that I could to make him aware that he was mistaken in your character, and would assuredly render himself ridiculous. However, the good-natured Hoditz told me himself how you had mocked him, and expressed himself infinitely obliged to you for having kept the secret. As to myself, I shall never forget the romantic adventure which procured me the pleasure of your acquaintance, and even were the loss of my fortune and my prospects to be the penalty, I should still look back to it as one of the happiest days of my life."

"Do you think then, baron," said Consuelo, "that such results could possibly ensue?"

"I hope not; nevertheless every thing is possible at the court of the King of Prussia."

"You make me greatly afraid of Prussia. Do you know, baron, it is possible I may have the pleasure of meeting you there soon, since there is some talk of an engagement at Berlin."

"Indeed?" exclaimed Trenck, his countenance beaming with sudden joy; "Heaven grant it! I may be of service to you at Berlin, and you may rely on me as a brother. Yes, Consuelo, I feel toward you the affection of a brother; and had I been free, I might perhaps have been unable to forbid myself a more endearing emotion. But you yourself are not free; and sacred, eternal bonds do not permit me to envy the fortunate nobleman who asks your hand. Whoever he may be, madam, he will find in me, if he wishes, a friend on whom he can reply, and, if needful, a champion against the prejudices of the world. Alas! Consuelo, there is also in my case a dreadful barrier existing between me and my loved one. He who loves you is a man and may break down the barrier, but she whom I love is of higher rank than mine, and has neither power, nor right, nor strength, nor liberty, to cast it down."

"I can do nothing then for you or her?" exclaimed Consuelo. "For the first time in my life I regret my poor and helpless position."

"Who knows?" exclaimed the baron, gaily, "you may do more than you think, if not indeed to insure our union, at least to soften the rigors of our separation. Do you feel sufficient courage to incur a little danger for us?"

"Yes! with the same readiness and joy that you exposed your life to save me."

"Well, I shall rely upon you. You will recollect your promise, and it may be that, one day or other, I shall require its fulfillment."

"Whatever be the day or hour, I shall never forget it," she replied, holding out her hand.

"Well then," said he, "give me a sign; some slight token which I can send to you when the time arrives. For I foresee great struggles, and circumstances may occur when my signature or even my seal might endanger both her and you."

"Will you have this roll of music, which I was carrying to one of my master Porpora's friends? I can get another, and shall mark this one, so as to know it again."

"Why not? A roll of music is one of those things which can be best sent without exciting suspicion. But I will separate the sheets, that I may make use of them several times. Make a mark on each page."

Consuelo, resting upon the balustrade of the staircase, wrote the name of Bertoni upon each sheet of the music. The baron rolled it up and carried it away, after having sworn eternal friendship to our heroine.

At this period Madame Tesi fell ill, and the performances at the imperial theater threatened to be suspended, as she performed the most important parts. Corilla could, if necessary, replace her. She had great success both at the court and in the city. Her beauty and her saucy coquetry turned the heads of the good German noblemen, and they did not dream of criticizing her voice, which was somewhat worn, or her rather forced and unnatural acting. All was thought beautiful coming from so beautiful a creature. Her snowy shoulders gave forth admirable sounds, her round and voluptuous arms always sang just, and her superb attitudes carried her through the most hazardous passages without opposition. Notwithstanding the musical taste on which they prided themselves, the Viennese, as well as the Venetians, surrendered to the fascination of a languishing look, and Corilla, by her exquisite beauty, prepared many to be rapt and intoxicated by her performances.

She therefore boldly presented herself to sing, in the meantime, the parts of Madame Tesi; but the difficulty was how to replace herself, in those she had sung. Madame Holzbaüer's flute like voice did not permit her to be thought of. It was therefore necessary to admit Consuelo, or to be satisfied with inferior performers. Porpora worked like a demon; Metastasio, horribly dissatisfied with Corilla's Lombard pronunciation, and indignant at the attempts she made to drown the other parts (contrary to the spirit of the poem and in spite of the situation), no longer concealed his antipathy to her, nor his sympathy for the conscientious and intelligent Porporina.

Madame Tesi already detested Corilla cordially for endeavoring to rival her and dispute with her the palm of beauty, and Caffariello, who paid his court to Tesi, spoke loudly in favor of the admission of Consuelo. Holzbaüer, anxious to sustain the character of his management, but terrified at the ascendancy which Porpora would acquire if once admitted behind the scenes, knew not which way to turn. Consuelo's prudent and dignified conduct had won her so many friends that it would be difficult to misrepresent her to the empress much longer. On all these accounts Consuelo received proposals; but they were purposely made humiliating in hopes of their meeting with a refusal. Porpora, however, accepted them at once, and as usual without consulting her. One fine morning Consuelo found herself engaged for six representations, and, without power to escape or being able to understand why, after waiting six weeks, she had not heard from the Rudolstadts, she was dragged by Porpora to a rehearsal of the Antigone of Metastasio, written for the music of Hasse.

Consuelo had already studied the part with Porpora. Without doubt it was a source of severe suffering for the latter to be obliged to teach her the music of his rival—the most ungrateful of his pupils, and the enemy which from henceforth he most bitterly hated—but besides that this was a necessary step to pave the way for his own compositions, Porpora was too conscientious an artist not to apply all his zeal and attention to the task. Consuelo aided him so generously, that he was at once ravished and in despair. In spite of herself, the poor girl found Hasse magnificent; her heart responded more warmly to the tender and passionate accents of the Saxon, than to the somewhat cold and naked grandeur of her own master. Accustomed while studying the other great masters with him to give full vent to her enthusiasm, she was forced on this occasion to restrain herself on seeing the melancholy which was imprinted on his brow, and the gloomy reverie into which he sunk when the lesson was over. When she entered on the stage to rehearse with Caffariello and Corilla, although she was well acquainted with the part, she felt so agitated that she could hardly commence the scene between Ismenio and Berenice, which begins thus:

"No; tutto, o Berenice,

 Tu non apri il tuo cor," etc.8

To which Corilla replied:

"E ti par poco,

 Quel che sai de' miei casi?"⁹

Here Corilla was interrupted by a loud burst of laughter from Caffariello. Turning to him with eyes sparkling with anger she exclaimed:

"What do you find so amusing in that?"

"You have spoken well, plumpest of Berenices!" replied Caffariello, laughing still more loudly; "no one could speak with more sincerity."

"Then it is the words which amuse you?" said Holzbaüer, who would not have been sorry to repeat to Metastasio the sarcasms of the soprano on his verses.

"The words are beautiful," replied Caffariello, drily, who knew his design; "but their application just now is so happy, that I could not help laughing."

And he held his sides as he repeated to Porpora:

"E ti par poco,

Quel che sai di tanti casi?"

Corilla, now perceiving the bitter allusion to her habits, and trembling at once with hate, rage, and apprehension, was ready to fly at Consuelo, and sink her nails in her face; but the countenance of the latter was so calm and gentle that she dare not venture. Besides, the feeble light which penetrated into the theater, falling on her rival's face, suggested vague recollections and strange terrors. She had never seen her closely or by daylight at Venice. Amidst the pains of her confinement, she had a confused remembrance of the little gypsy Bertoni hovering around her, but she could not understand the motives for his attentions. She now endeavored to recall the different occurrences which had taken place, but not succeeding, she remained discomfited and uneasy during the whole rehearsal. The Porporina's style of singing only added to her ill humor, and the presence of her former master, who like a severe judge listened silently and almost contemptuously, became gradually an insupportable torment. Holzbaüer was hardly less mortified when the maestro told him that his directions were altogether erroneous; and he was perforce obliged to believe him, for Porpora had been present at the rehearsal which Hasse himself conducted at Dresden on the first bringing out of his opera.

The necessity of obtaining good advice dispelled ill-will, and imposed silence on the discontented. Porpora conducted the entire rehearsal, pointed out to each his duty, and even reproved Caffariello, who affected to listen to his advice with respect in order to give it more weight with the others. Caffariello's sole aim was to annoy the impertinent rival of Madame Tesi, and he spared no pains, not even an act of submission and modesty, to obtain that pleasure. It is thus among artists as among diplomatists, on the stage as in the cabinet, that the noblest as well as the meanest affairs have their hidden causes, often infinitely petty and frivolous.

On returning from the rehearsal, Consuelo found Joseph filled with some hidden joy. When they had an opportunity of speaking, he informed her that the good canon had arrived in Vienna, and that his first care had been to inquire for his dear Beppo, and make him partake of an excellent breakfast, asking him all the while a thousand affectionate questions about his dear Bertoni. They had already discussed the means of becoming acquainted with Porpora, so as to meet together without reserve or mystery. The very next day the canon presented himself as a protector of Joseph Haydn, and a warm admirer of the maestro, whom he thanked for the lessons he had been good enough to give his young friend. Consuelo saluted him as if she had seen him for the first time, and in the evening the maestro and his two pupils partook of a friendly dinner with the canon. Unless Porpora had affected a greater degree of stoicism than the musicians of that period, even the most celebrated, piqued themselves upon, it would have been difficult for him to avoid liking this excellent canon, whose table was so good, and whose admiration for his works was so great. They had some music after dinner, and from thenceforth saw each other every day.

This was a further relief to the anxiety which Consuelo felt at Albert's silence. The canon was of an unaffected, lively temperament, gay, yet observing the strictest propriety, and possessing an exquisite taste and a just and enlightened judgment. In short he was a most valuable friend, and a winning and amiable companion. His society animated and strengthened the maestro, softened the ascerbities of his temper, and in the same proportion relieved and gratified Consuelo.

One day that there was no rehearsal—it was the secon before the representation of Antigone—Porpora having gone to the country with an associate, the canon proposed to his young friends to make a descent on the priory in order to surprise his people whom he had left behind, and see if the gardener's wife took good care of Angela, and the gardener did not neglect the volkameria. The invitation was accepted. The carriage was loaded with pastry and bottles, to satisfy the appetite which a journey of four leagues is certain to create, and they arrived safely at the canon's residence, after making a slight détour and leaving the carriage at some distance, in order to create the greater surprise.

The volkameria was in splendid condition. Its bloom was over on account of the cold, but its beautiful leaves fell gracefully around its lofty stem. The hot-house was in the nicest order; the blue chrysanthemums had braved the winter stoutly, and seemed to laugh from behind the glass. Angela, hanging by the nurse's breast, began to smile also when incited by her playful gestures, but the canon judiciously ordered that she should not be made to laugh too often, since with creatures so young, such a course might put the nervous system in disorder.

They were all three chatting pleasantly in the gardener's little abode, the canon, wrapped in his furred cloak, was warming his legs before a famous fire of dried roots and fircones, Joseph was playing with the pretty children of the gardener's handsome wife, while Consuelo, seated in the middle of the apartment, held Angela in her arms and looked at her with a mixture of pain and tenderness, when the door suddenly opened and Corilla stood before her, like a phantom summoned up by her melancholy musings.

For the first time since the birth of her child, Corilla had felt an impulse of maternal love, and had set out to see her child secretly. She was aware that the canon was residing in Vienna; and having arrived about half an hour after him, and not seeing the traces of his carriage-wheels in the vicinity of the priory, she had entered the garden, and proceeded straight to the house where she knew that Angela was at nurse, for she had taken care to procure information on this subject. She had laughed not a little at the embarrassment and Christian resignation of the canon, but she was wholly ignorant of the part which Consuelo had taken in the transaction. It was with a mixture of surprise and consternation therefore that she thus encountered her rival, and not knowing nor daring to guess what infant it was she rocked in her arms, she was about to turn on her heel and fly. But Consuelo, who had instinctively clasped the infant to her bosom, as the partridge hides her young at the approach of the hawk—Consuelo, who next day might present Corilla's secret in a very different point of view from that which was generally believed—Consuelo, who gazed at her with a mixtnre of terror and indignation, held her rooted as if by fascination to the spot. Corilla, however, had been too long accustomed to the stage to lose her presence of mind. Her tactics were to anticipate any humiliating remarks by offering her rival an insult, aud to gain time she commenced the following bitter apostrophe in the Venetian dialect.

"Oh! ho! my poor zingarella, is this a foundling hospital you have here? Are you come to seek or to leave? for I perceive our fortune has been much the same? Doubtless this infant is the handsome Anzoleto's, who I was sorry to hear did not hasten to rejoin you when he left us so suddenly in the midst of his engagement last season."

"Madam," replied Consuelo, pale but calm, "if I had had the misfortune to be as intimate with Anzoleto as you have been, and had the happiness of being a mother, for it is always a happiness to one who has a feeling heart, my child would not be here."

"Ah!" replied the other, with a gloomy fire in her eyes, "it would have been brought up at the Villa Zustiniani. But as you have not been, as you allege, unfortunate with Anzoleto, Joseph Haydn, your master's pupil, it seems, consoles you for the mishap, and doubtless the infant which you nurse——"

"Is your own, mademoiselle," exclaimed Joseph, who had learned the Venetian dialect, and who now interposed between Consuelo and Corilla with a look which made the latter recoil. "It is Joseph Haydn who will certify it, for he was present when you gave it birth."

Joseph's face, which Corilla had not seen since that unhappy day, brought back the circumstances which she had vainly endeavored to recall, and in the zingari Bertoni she at once recognized the features of the zingarella Consuelo. A cry of surprise escaped her, and for some minutes anger and shame struggled for supremacy in her bosom; but her sarcastic disposition soon resumed its sway.

"In truth, my young friends," she exclaimed, with a malignant yet fawning air, "I did not recollect you. You looked remarkably well when I met you seeking your fortune, and Consuelo, I must confess, was a pretty youth in her disguise. It was in this sacred house, then, that she piously spent the year and a half which has elapsed since she left Venice. Come, zingarella, my child, do not be uneasy. We are in possession of each other's secrets, and the empress, who wishes to know every thing, shall learn nothing about either of us."

"Even suppose I had a secret," replied Consuelo, calmly, "you have discovered it only today; while I was in possession of yours on the day when I had the interview with the empress, and three days before your engagement was signed, Corilla!"

"And you spoke ill of me to her?" exclaimed Corilla, reddening with anger.

"Had I told her what I know of you, you would not have been engaged. That you are so, proves sufficiently that I did not take advantage of the opportunity."

"And why did you not? You must be a great fool!" replied Corilla, with a candor and perversity truly wonderful.

Consuelo and Joseph could not avoid smiling as they looked at each other; but Joseph's smile was full of contempt, while that of Consuelo displayed only angelic goodness.

"Yes, madam," she replied, with unconquerable sweetness, "I am as you say, and I am happy that I am so."

"Not so happy, my poor girl, since I have been engaged, and you are not so," replied Corilla, a little shaken in her confidence, and becoming by degrees more thoughtful. "They said at Venice that you had no sense, and could not manage your affairs. It is the only true thing that Anzoleto told me of you. But what is to be done? It is not my fault if it be so. Had I been in your place, I would have said what I knew of Corilla; I would have represented myself as a vestal, a saint. The empress would have believed it, for she is not hard to persuade, and I would have supplanted all my rivals. But you have not done so! It is very strange, and I pity you sincerely for having so badly steered your bark."

For once, contempt got the better of their indignation, and Consuelo and Joseph burst into a laugh, while Corilla, whose bitterness had gradually evaporated on witnessing what she called her rival's impotence, ceased to act on the offensive, and assuming an easy air, drew her chair to the fire, in order to continue the conversation quietly, and thus learn better both the weak and strong side of her opponents. At this instant she found herself face to face with the canon, whom she had not hitherto perceived, since the latter, prompted by his professional prudence, had signed to the gardener's buxom wife and two children to stand before him, until he should find out what was going on.