CHAPTER XCIX

WHILE hurriedly completing her toilet, for fear of a surprise, she heard the following dialogue in Italian:

"Why do you come here? I told you not to enter my apartment. The empress has forbidden us, under the severest penalties, to receive the visits of any but our fellow-actors, and even then there must be some urgent necessity respecting the business of the theater. See to what you expose me! I did not think the police of the theater was so negligent."

"There is no police for those who pay well, my angel. Only fools meet with resistance or delay in their progress. Come, give me a little kinder reception, or, mort du Diable! I will not return in a hurry."

"You could not give me a greater pleasure. Come, be off! Well, why don't you go?"

"You seem to desire it so earnestly, that I shall remain to provoke you."

"I warn you that I shall send for the manager to rid me of your presence."

"Let him come if he is tired of his life! I am ready."

"But are you crazy? I tell you that you compromise me; that you make me break a rule recently introduced by her majesty; that you expose me to a heavy fine, perhaps to a dismissal."

"I shall take upon myself to pay the fine to your director with a few blows of my cane. As to your dismissal, I ask nothing better. I will carry you to my estates, where we will lead a jovial life together."

"I follow such a brute as you? never! Come, let us leave this together, since you are determined not to leave me here alone."

"Alone, say you, my charmer? That is what I mean to satisfy myself of before leaving you. There is a screen there which seems to me to occupy too much space in this little room. If I kicked it to one side I think it would be doing you a good service."

"Stop, sir; stop! a lady is dressing there. Would you injure a woman, bandit that you are?"

"A woman? oh! that is another affair; but I must see if this woman has not a sword by her side."

The screen began to yield, and Consuelo, now full attired, threw on her mantle, and while they opened the first fold of the screen, she endeavored to push the last so as to make her escape by the door, which was not two paces from her. But Corilla, who saw her intention, stopped her, saying: "Remain there, Porporina; if he did not find you he would say it was a man, and might perhaps kill me." Consuelo, frightened, was about to show herself; but Corilla, who had stationed herself between her lover and Porporina, again prevented her. She hoped, perhaps, by exciting his jealousy, to make him overlook the grace and beauty of her rival.

"If it be a lady," said he, smiling, "let her reply. Madam, are you attired? may I offer my respects to you?"

"Sir," replied Consuelo, on a sign from Corilla, "please reserve them for some other occasion; I am not to be seen."

"That is to say, that this is a good time to look at you," said Corilla's lover, again threatening to push aside the screen.

"Take care what you do," said Corilla, with a forced laugh "perhaps in place of a handsome shepherdess you may find a respectable duenna."

"By jove, it is not possible! Her voice hardly betokens twenty. If she had not been young and handsome, you would have shown her to me long ago."

The screen was very lofty, and, notwithstanding his height, the stranger could not see over it unless by throwing down all the articles of Corilla's dress which were scattered over the chairs; besides, as he had no longer feared the presence of a man, the sport amused him.

"Madam," cried he, "if you are old and ugly, do not speak, and I shall respect your asylum. But if on the other hand you are young and handsome, say but a word, were it only to refute Corilla's calumnies."

Consuelo did not reply.

"Ah! by my faith I am not going to be duped in that way! If you were old or ugly you would not acknowledge it so readily; you are doubtless angelic, and therefore mock my doubts. In any case I must see you, for either you are a prodigy of beauty, fit to bear the palm from the fair Corilla herself, or else you have wit enough to admit your ugliness, and I should be glad to see for the first time in my life an ugly woman who makes no pretentions to beauty."

He seized Corilla's arm with two of his fingers, and bent it in his grasp, as if it had been a straw. She uttered a shrill cry, and pretended to be bruised and hurt; but heedless of her plaint he thrust aside the screen and revealed to Consuelo's gaze the horrible countenance of Baron Francis Trench. A rich and fashionable dress had replaced his savage war costume, but his gigantic proportions and the reddish black scars which disfigured his weather-beaten countenance, at once betrayed the bold and pitiless leader of the Pandours.

Consuelo could not repress a cry of terror, and suddenly turning pale she sank back into her chair.

"Do not be afraid of me, madam," said the baron, sinking on one knee before her, "and pardon the boldness which I now feel I cannot sufficiently expiate. But suffer me to believe that it was out of pity toward me, seeing that to see is to adore you, that you refused to show yourself. Do not grieve me so far as to make me believe I terrify you. I confess I am ugly enough; but if the wars have converted a tolerably handsome fellow into a sort of monster, they have not rendered him less good-natured on that account.

"Less good-natured? no, that would be impossible," replied Consuelo, turning her back on him.

"Come, come," replied the baron, "you are a somewhat wayward child, and your nurse has doubtless told you frightful stories about me, as the old women of this country do not fail to do. But the young ones do me more justice; they know that if I am a little rough with the enemies of my country, they can easily tame me if they will only take the trouble."

And he leaned toward the mirror in which Consuelo pretended to look, fixing on her at the same time the bold and ardent gaze which had fascinated and subdued Corilla.

Consuelo saw that she could not get rid of him, unless by affronting him.

"Sir," said she, "you do not inspire me with fear, but with disgust and aversion; you delight in butchery, and though I do not fear death, I detest sanguinary minds such as yours. I am just come from Bohemia, where I have seen the bloody traces of your footprints."

The baron changed countenance, and shrugging his shoulders, said, turning to Corilla:

"What mad sybil have you got here? The baroness Lestocq, who once fired a pistol point blank at me, was not more frantic. Is it possible that I can have crushed her lover without knowing it in galloping over some bush? Come, my fair one, I was only jesting with you. If you are of so savage a turn, I ask your pardon; but I deserve to be served so for having for a moment forgotten the divine Corilla."

"The divine Corilla," replied the latter," "cares nothing about you, and only wishes to get rid of you. The director will be here presently, and if you do not disappear——"

"Well, I'm off," said the baron; "as I do not wish to vex you, and injure your voice in the estimation of the public, by making you shed a few pearly drops. My carriage will be waiting for you when the performance is over. Is it agreed?"

Here he saluted her, in spite of a pretended resistence before Consuelo, and retired.

Corilla forthwith embraced her companion, and thanked her for having so well repulsed the baron's advances. Consuelo turned her head away, for Corilla and her lover were at this moment equally disgusting in her eyes.

"How can you be jealous of a being so repulsive?" she said.

"Zingarella, you know nothing about it," replied Corilla, smiling. "The baron pleases women in a more lofty position than I am. His figure is superb, and his face, though somewhat scarred, has attractions which you could not withstand if he was determined to please you."

"Ah! Corilla, his face is not the worst; his soul is more hideous still. Do you not know that his heart is the heart of a tiger?"

"And do you not see that this is what has turned my head?" replied Corilla, warmly. "How tiresome is all the stupid stuff that those effeminate creatures say to us! But to chain a tiger, to tame a lion, and hold him in leading strings—to make one whose very glance has put armies to flight, one whose saber can chop off an ox's head as easily as a poppy—sigh and tremble—ah! that is indeed something! Anzoleto was a little savage also, and I liked him for it; but the baron is worse. Anzoleto might have beaten me, but the baron is capable of killing me. Oh! it is delightful!"

"Poor Corilla!" said Consuelo, casting on her a look of deep pity.

"You pity me for my love, and you are right; but you should also envy me. I would rather, however, that you should pity me for it than dispute it with me."

"Do not be uneasy," said Consuelo.

"Signora si va cominciar!" exclaimed the call-boy at the door.

"Begin!" shouted a stentorian voice from the quarter occupied by the chorus-singers.

"Begin!" repeated a hollow voice from the foot of the stairs which ascended from the back of the theater; and the last syllables echoed from scene to scene, becoming every moment fainter, until, almost expiring, it reached the prompter, who announced it to the leader by three blows upon the floor. The latter struck his bow twice upon the desk before him, and a momentary pause ensued before the overture commenced, during which each member of the orchestra collected his energies, and fixed his eye upon the conductor, after which, the first notes of the symphony enforced silence alike upon the boxes and the pit.

From the very first act of Zenobia, Consuelo produced the complete and irresistible effect which Haydn had predicted. The greatest actors are not always uniformly successful on she stage; and even supposing that no temporary weakness takes possession of their powers, every situation and every part is not equally adapted to their development. It was the first time that Consuelo filled a part in which she could be herself—in which she could manifest, in their full force, all her purity, strength, and tenderness, without, by an artificial effort, identifying herself with an uncongenial character. She was able to forget her painful task, abandon herself up to the inspiration of the moment, and drink in the deep and pathetic emotions which she had no time to study, but which were revealed to her, as it were, by the magnetic influence of a sympathizing audience. This was to her an unspeakable pleasure, and just as she had experienced in a less degree during the rehearsal, and as she had expressed herself to Joseph, it was not her public and overwhelming success which so intoxicated her with joy, but the happiness she felt at putting her powers to the test, and the glorious certainty of having realized for a moment the ideal perfection of which she had dreamed. Hitherto she had ever asked herself whether she could not have done better, but now she felt that she had revealed all her power, and almost heedless of the thunders of acclamation, she applauded herself in her secret soul.

After the first act she remained behind the scenes to listen to and applaud Corilla, who acquitted herself charmingly; but after the second act she felt the necessity of an instant's repose, and returned to her private apartment. Porpora, who was otherwise engaged, did not follow her, and Joseph, who, in consequence of the imperial patronage had obtained the privilege of being admitted to the orchestra, remained, as may be supposed, in his place.

Consuelo entered Corilla's room, of which she had procured the key, swallowed a glass of water, and threw herself for an instant on the sofa; but suddenly the recollection of the Pandour Trenck made her shudder, and she hastened to bolt the door. There was no probability, however, that he would make his appearance. He had been in the body of the theater from the raising of the curtain, and Consuelo had distinguished him in a balcony among the most enthusiastic of her admirers. He was passionately fond of music. Born and bred in Italy, he spoke the language with all the purity and grace of a native, he sang agreeably, and acted so well that it was said, had he not been born with other resources, he might have made his fortune on the stage.

But what was Consuelo's terror when, on retiring to her sofa, she saw the fatal screen pushed aside, and the hateful Pandour appear before her!

She darted to the door, but Trenck was there before her, and placed his back against it.

"Calm yourself, my charmer," said he, with a frightful smile. "Since you share Corilla's dressing-room, you must accustom yourself betimes to see her lover, and you could not be unaware that she had a duplicate key in her pocket. You have come to cast yourself into the lion's den—Oh, do not attempt to cry out! Nobody will come. Trenck's presence of mind is well known, as well as the vigor of his arm, and the little value he places on the lives of fools. If he is admitted here, in spite of all the empress' orders, it is because, to all appearance, there is not among all your knights-errant a single one bold enough to look him in the face. Come, why are you so pale? why do you tremble so? Have you so little self-reliance that you cannot listen to three words without becoming confused? Do you think I am a person to treat you rudely? These are old wives' stories, my child, which they have told you. Trenck is not so bad as they say. It is to convince you of that that he wishes to have a moment's conversation with you."

"Sir, I shall not listen to a word you utter till you have opened that door. On this condition I shall consent to hear what you have to say; but, if you persist in shutting me up, I shall think that this redoubted hero, as he proclaims himself, wants courage to meet my companions the knights-errant."

"Ah! you are right," said Trenck, opening the door wide. "If you do not fear getting cold, I would rather have it so than breathe the confounded musk with which Corilla has scented this little chamber."

Thus saying, he seized hold of both Consuelo's hands, and forced her to be seated, while he went on his knees, without relinquishing his grasp which she could not force him to loose unless by a childish and unbecoming struggle. Consuelo, therefore, resigned herself to what she was unable to prevent, but a tear which she could not restrain trickled slowly down her pale and anxious cheek. This, in place of softening and disarming the baron, merely served to elicit a gleam of satisfaction from under his bloody and puckered eyelids.

"You are unjust," said he, in a voice whose assumed mildness only served to betray his hypocritical satisfaction. "You hate without knowing me. I cannot submit without a murmur to your dislike. Once, indeed, I should not have cared; but since I have heard the divine Porporina, I feel that I adore her, and must live for her or die by her hand."

"Spare me this wretched farce," said Consuelo, roused to indignation.

"Farce?" exclaimed the baron. "Hold!" continued he, drawing from his pocket a loaded pistol, which he cocked and handed to her. "You shall keep this in one of your beautiful hands, and if I offend you—were it ever so little—if I continue to be hateful to you, kill me at your pleasure. As to this other hand, I am resolved to hold it so long as you do not give me permission to kiss it. But I wish to owe this favor only to your good nature, and you shall see me ask and await it patiently, under the muzzle of the deadly weapon which can rid you of me when you please."

Here Trenck placed the pistol in Consuelo's right hand, and holding her left, remained with incomparable self-conceit on his knees before her. Consuelo now felt herself completely reassured, and, holding the pistol so that she could make use of it if necessary, said to him with a forced smile:

"Now speak, if you please—I shall listen to you."

As she said this, she imagined she heard footsteps in the corridor, and saw a shadow projected on the door. The shadow, however, whether it was that the person had retreated, or that Consuelo's terror was imaginary, immediately disappeared. In the situation in which she was placed, having no longer any thing to dread but ill-natured remarks, the approach of an indifferent, or even friendly person, caused her rather fear than pleasure. If she kept silence, the baron on his knees before her, and with the door open, must seem to any passer-by in the insolent enjoyment of his position as a favored lover; if she called out, he would instantly destroy the first person who approached. Fifty such instances had already marked his career. In such a frightful alternative, Consuelo desired nothing so much as instant explanation, and hoped by her self-possession to bring Trenck to reason before any one should witness, and interpret after his own fashion, this extraordinary scene.

He understood her in part and proceeded to push the door to, but without closing it. "Surely, madam," said he, turning toward her, "it would be absurd to expose yourself to the misconstruction of passers-by; this matter must be settled between ourselves. Listen to me; I see your apprehensions and I understand your scruples with regard to Corilla. Your honor and reputation are yet dearer to me than the precious moments I can look upon you unobserved. I know very well that this fury, with whom I was for a moment taken, will charge you with treachery if she sees me at your feet. She will not have that pleasure; the moments are counted. She has still ten minutes to amuse the public with her sufferings, and I have time therefore to tell you that if I have loved her for a brief period, I have already forgotten it; do not hesitate, therefore, to appropriate a heart no longer hers and from which nothing can efface your image. You alone, madam, rule over me, you alone are sovereign of my existence. Why do you hesitate? You are guarded by a jealous, gloomy old tutor; I will carry you off before his beard. You are beset in the theater by a thousand intrigues; the public adores you, but the public is ungrateful and would abandon you on the first failure of your voice. I am immensely rich and I can make you a princess, almost a queen, in my own wild country, where I could build you, in the twinkling of an eye, theaters and palaces larger and more sumptuous than anything that Vienna can produce. I am not handsome it is true, but the scars on my face are more honorable than the paint which covers the sallow faces of your fellow-actors. I am severe to my slaves, and implacable to my enemies; but if so, I am kind to my faithful servants, and those I love breathe an atmosphere of glory and opulence. Lastly, I am violent at times; in that you have been correctly informed. People, who like me are strong and brave, love to use their power when vengeance demands its exercise; but a woman, pure, timid, gentle, and charming as you are, can quell my strength, tame my will, and place me at her feet as she would a child. Only try me, confide in me, were it but for a time, and when you know me better, you will not hesitate to trust me and follow me to my native Slavonia. You smile—that name you think betokens slavery; nay, heavenly Porporina, it is I who will be your slave. Look at me, and accustom yourself to deformity which you alone can embellish. Say but the word and you shall see the red eyes of Trenck the Austrian shed tears of tenderness and joy, as pure and heartfelt as the beautiful eyes of Trenck the Prussian—that dear cousin whom I love so well, though we fought on different sides, and to whom it is said you were not indifferent. But this Trenck is a child, while he who addresses you has passed his four-and-thirtieth year, though the thunder of war which has furrowed his cheek makes him seem sixty; he is beyond the age of caprice and will assure you of long years of devotion. Speak—speak—say yes—and you shall see the scarred and disfigured Trenck transformed into a glowing Jupiter! You do not reply—a touching modesty keeps you silent. Well, you need say nothing, suffer me but to kiss your hand, and I will leave you full of confidence and happiness. Judge now if I am the tiger which I have been described; I ask you but this little favor, I implore it on my knees."

Consuelo looked with surprise at this frightful man to whom so many women had listened with pleasure, and she could not help pondering on this fascination which might have been irresistible in spite of his ugliness, had he been but a good man and animated by an upright passion.

"Have you said all, sir?" she asked tranquilly; but all at once she grew alternately red and pale, as the Slavonian despot cast into her lap a whole handful of large diamonds, enormous pearls, and rubies of price. She rose so suddenly that the precious stones rolled upon the ground for the after-profit of Corilla. "Trenck," said she, with all the force with which contempt and indignation could inspire her, "notwithstanding all your boasting, you are the meanest of cowards. You have never fought but with lambs and fawns, and you have slain them without pity. If a man worthy of the name had turned against you, you would have fled like a savage and cowardly hound as you are. I know very well where your glorious scars were received—in a cellar where you searched for the gold of the conquered, amid the bodies of the dead. Your palaces and your little kingdom are cemented with the blood of a noble people, on whom a cruel despotism imposes such a ruler as you. You have torn from the orphan his bread, from the widow her mite; your gold is the price of treason, your riches the pillage of churches, where you pretended to prostrate yourself in prayer, for you add hypocrisy to your other noble qualities. Your cousin Trenck the Prussian, whom you so tenderly love, you betrayed and would have assassinated; the women whose happiness and glory you boasted to have formed, have been torn from their husbands and fathers, and your present tenderness for me is but the caprice of a dissipated libertine. The chivalrous submission which has made you venture your life in my hands, is but the act of a fool, who thinks himself irresistible, and the trifling favor you ask of me would be a stain which death alone could wash away. This is my last word, cut-throat Pandour! Fly from my presence—fly—for if you do not let go my hand, which, for the last quarter of an hour you have held palsied in your grip, I shall rid the earth of a scoundrel who dishonors and disgraces it!"

"And is this your last word, daughter of Satan!" exclaimed Trenck; "well woe be to you! The pistol which I deigned to place in your trembling hand is only loaded with powder, and a little burn more or less is nothing to one who is fire-proof. Fire this pistol—make a noise—it is all that I desire! I shall be glad to have witnesses, before whose faces and in spite of whose beards I shall carry you off to my Slavonic castle, which you just now despised but to which a short residence will soon reconcile you."

Thus saying, Trenck seized Consuelo in his arms; but at the same instant the door opened, and a man whose face was hidden by crape knotted behind his head, laid hold of the Pandour, shook him to and fro like a reed beaten by the wind, and dashed him roughly to the floor. This was but the work of a few seconds. The astonished Trenck rose, and, with savage eyes and foaming mouth, darted sword in hand after his enemy, who had passed the door and appeared to fly. Consuelo also rushed toward the doorway, thinking she recognized in this disguised individual the lofty figure and powerful arm of Count Albert. She saw him retreat to the end of the corridor where a steep and winding stair led in the direction of the street. There he paused, awaited Trenck, stooped rapidly while the baron struck his sword against the wall, and seizing him by the body heaved him over his shoulders headlong down the stairs. Consuelo heard the giant thunder down the descent, and ran toward her liberator, calling Albert, but ere she could advance three steps he was gone. A frightful silence reigned upon the staircase.

"Signora, cinque minuti," said the crier with a fatherly air, as he issued from the theater stairs which terminated on the same landing. "How does this door happen to be open?" continued he, looking at the door of the staircase down which Trenck had been hurled. "Truly, signora, you run great risk of getting cold in this corridor." He then pulled the door to and locked it, while Consuelo, more dead than alive, re-entered her apartment, threw the pistols out of the window, and thrusting aside with her foot Trenck's jewels as they lay strewn on the carpet, returned to the theater, where she found Corilla heated and breathless with her triumph in the intervening scene.