CHAPTER CII

FROM the second relay Consuelo had recognized in the domestic who was seated before her upon the box of the carriage, and who paid the guides and scolded the postilions for their tardy pace, the same heyduc who had announced Count Hoditz on the day when he came to propose to her their pleasure excursion to Roswald. This tall showy looking man, who continually looked at her as if by stealth, and who seemed divided between his wish to speak to her and the fear of giving offense, at last fixed her attention, and one morning, when she was breakfasting in a solitary inn at the foot of the mountains—Porpora having gone to walk in pursuit of some musical theme, while waiting for the horses to be baited—she turned toward the man at the moment when he was handing her coffee, and looked at him somewhat angrily. But he assumed such a piteous expression that she could not help laughing. The April sun was reflected in dazzling rays from the snow which still crowned the mountain summits, and our young traveler found herself as if by sympathy in a gay and joyous frame of mind.

"Alas!" said the heyduc, "your highness does not deign to remember me then? But I should never forget you, were you disguised as a Turk or a Prussian corporal; yet I only saw you for an instant, but what an instant in my life!"

Thus saying he placed the salver on the table, and coming close up to her, he gravely made the sign of the cross, kneeled on the ground, and kissed the floor at her feet.

"Ha!" exclaimed Consuelo, "Karl the deserter, is it not?"

"Yes, signora," replied Karl, kissing the hand which she held out to him; "at least they tell me I must address you so, though I could never tell exactly whether you were a lady or a gentleman."

"Indeed? And whence comes your uncertainty?"

"Because I saw you first as a boy, and since then, although I recollected you very well, you were as like a young girl as you were before otherwise. But that is nothing; whatever you are, you conferred favors on me which I shall never forget; and were you to command me to cast myself from the top of yonder peak, I would do so at your bidding without a moment's hesitation."

"I ask nothing from you, my brave Karl, but to be happy and free; for you are now at liberty, and I hope enjoy your life!"

"At liberty? yes," said Karl, shaking his head; "but happy—alas! I have lost my poor wife!"

Consuelo's eyes filled with tears as she saw Karl's manly features working with emotion.

"Ah!" said he, wiping away a tear, "poor soul, she had gone through too much! The vexation of seeing me taken prisoner by the Prussians a second time, the fatigue of a long journey on foot when she was very weak and ill, and then the joy of seeing me once more, gave her such a shock that she died in eight days after reaching Vienna, where, thanks to your note and Count Hoditz's assistance, she found me again. This generous gentleman sent his own doctor and gave every assistance, but nothing was of any use; she was weary of life, look you, and she has gone to rest in the heaven of the merciful."

"And your daughter?" continued Consuelo, who hoped by these questions to prevent his thoughts from dwelling on his loss.

"My daughter?" said he, gloomily, and seeming hardly conscious of what he said; "the King of Prussia has killed her too."

"How! killed? What do you mean?"

"Was it not the King of Prussia who killed the mother in bringing all this evil upon her? Well, the child followed her mother. Since the evening when, after seeing me bleeding, gagged, and torn off by the recruiters, they remained lying half dead upon the road, the little one took a raging fever, and fatigue and want did the rest. When you saw them on the bridge of some Austrian village, they had not eaten any thing for two days. You gave them money; you told them I was saved; you did every thing in your power to comfort and cure them; they told me all that, but it was too late. They continued to sink from the moment we again met; and just when we might indeed have been happy, they both went down to the grave. The earth was scarcely heaped over my poor wife's body when it had to be removed to make room for my child; and now, thanks to the King of Prussia, Karl is alone."

"No, my poor Karl, you are not alone; you have friends who will always take an interest in your welfare, on account of your good heart."

"I know it. Yes, there are good people, and you are one of them. But what do I want now? I have no wife, no child, no country! I would never be safe at home again, for my mountain is too well known to the robbers who sought me out twice before. One of the first questions I asked myself when I saw myself alone in the world, was, if we were at war, or if we should soon be so, for I had a notion of serving against Prussia, so as to kill as many of these Prussians as I could. St. Wenceslas, the patron saint of Bohemia, would have strengthened my arm, and not a ball would have left my gun in vain. Perhaps Providence would have suffered me to meet the King of Prussia himself in some defile, and then—were he armed like the Archangel Michael—should I have to follow him as a dog follows a wolf—but I learned that peace was settled, and then having no longer any taste for soldiering, I waited on Count Hoditz to ask him not to present me to the empress, as he had intended. I would have killed myself, but he was so kind to me, and the Princess of Culmbach his daughter, to whom he related my history, told me such fine things of the duties of a Christian that I consented to enter their service, where indeed I am too well fed and too well treated for all I have to do."

"But, in the meantime, tell me, my good Karl," said Consuelo, drying her eyes, "how you knew me again?"

"Did you not come one evening to sing at the house of the margravine, my new mistress? You then passed by me dressed all in white, and I knew you at once, although you had become a young lady. Why, you see, I may forget many places through which I pass, as well as the names of people I have met, but as to faces I never forget them. I began to cross myself when I saw a young man who followed you, and whom I recognized at once as Joseph; but in place of being your master (for he was better dressed in those days than you), he had become your servant, and remained in the antechamber. He did not know me; and as the count had forbidden me to mention a word to any body of what had happened (I never asked nor knew why), I did not speak to the good Joseph, though I was well inclined to give him a hug. He almost immediately retired to another apartment; and I had orders not to quit the one I was in, and a good servant you know holds by his orders. But when every one was gone, Henri, my lord's valet, who is in his confidence, came to me and said—'Karl, you said nothing to Porpora's little attendant although you knew him, and you did well. The count will be pleased with you. As to the young lady who sang this evening——' 'Oh! I knew her also!' I exclaimed, 'but I said nothing.' 'Very well,' he added, 'you did well, for the count wishes no one to know that she traveled with him as far as Passau.' 'That is nothing to me,' said I; 'but I wish to know how she delivered me out of the hands of the Prussians.' Henri told me all about it, for he was there; how you had run after the carriage, and how when you had nothing to fear on your own account you made them come back to free me. You told something of it to my poor wife, and she told me. She died blessing you; 'for,' said she, 'they are poor young things almost as ill off as ourselves; and for all that, they gave us what they had got, and wept as if they had belonged to us.' So when I saw Joseph in your employment, having been directed to bring him some money for playing on the violin for my master, I slipped a few ducats (the first I had earned) into the paper, and he never knew any thing about it. When we return to Vienna, I shall take care that he never wants, so long as I have a farthing."

"Joseph is no longer in my employment, my good Karl; he is my friend. He is no longer embarrassed; he is a musician, and earns his bread easily. Do not strip yourself, therefore, on his account."

"As to you, signora," said Karl, "I cannot do any thing for you, because you are a great actress, they say; but if you ever want a servant, do you see? and cannot pay him, send to Karl—that is all. He will wait upon you for nothing, and be glad to do it."

"Your gratitude, my friend, is sufficient recompense. I ask no further."

"Stay! Here is Master Porpora returning. Remember, signora, that I have not the honor to know you otherwise than as a servant placed at your command by my master."

The next day our travelers having risen very early, arrived not without difficulty about mid-day at the château of Roswald. It was situated in an elevated region, on the slope of one of the most magnificent mountains in Moravia, and so well protected from cold winds, that the spring was already felt there while at half a league round the winter still prevailed. Although the season was exceedingly early and the weather lovely, the roads were hardly passable. But Count Hoditz, who doubted of nothing and for whom the impossible was a jest, had already arrived, and had a hundred pioneers at work smoothing the road over which the majestic equipage of his noble spouse was to roll the next day. It would, perhaps, have been a more conjugal plan, as well as one more likely to be of assistance to the fair traveler, to have journeyed along with her, but it was not of so much consequence, it seemed, to hinder her from breaking her arms and legs on the road, as to give her a fête; and dead or alive, she must needs have a splendid entertainment on taking possession of Roswald.

The count hardly allowed our travelers time to change their dress until he forced them to sit down to a splendid entertainment, served in a mossy and rocky grotto, which an enormous stove, skillfully masked by false rocks, warmed to an agreeable temperature. At first sight this place seemed enchanting to Consuelo. The view which opened from the entrance of the grotto was really magnificent. Nature had done every thing for Roswald. Precipitous and picturesque hills, forests of evergreens, abundant springs of water, lovely and extensive prospects, immense prairies, surrounded it on every side. It seemed that with a comfortable habitation all this was enough to constitute a perfect paradise. But Consuelo soon perceived the strange contrivances by which the count had succeeded in spoiling the sublimity of nature. The grotto would have been charming without the windows, which made it merely an unseasonable dining-room. As the honeysuckles and climbing plants were only beginning to bud, the frames of the doors and the windows had been masked with artificial leaves and flowers, which only served to make the whole seem ridiculous. The shells and stalactites, somewhat damaged by the winter, disclosed to view the plaster and mastic which fastened them to the walls, and the heat of the stove, melting the remains of the frost which had been concentrated in the vaulted ceiling, brought down upon the heads of the guests a blackish and unhealthy rain, which the count was determined not to observe. Porpora was exceedingly annoyed, and two or three times put his hand to his hat, but without daring to clap it on his head, as he was dying to do. He feared above all that Consuelo might take cold, and he ate very fast, pretending a great impatience to see the music which was to be executed the next day.

"What is the matter with you, dear maestro?" said the count, who was a great eater, and loved to dilate on the pieces of plate of which his dinner service was composed; "able and accomplished musicians such as you are need but little time for study. The music is simple and natural. I am not one of those pedantic composers who seek to astonish by strange and elaborate combinations of harmony. In the country, we require simple pastoral music, and like the margravine, my spouse, I admire only unambitious and easy airs. You will see that everything will get on well. Besides we do not lose any time; while we breakfast my major-domo is giving the necessary directions, and we shall find the choruses ready and the musicians at their post."

As the lord of the mansion said these words he was informed that two strangers, traveling through the country, requested permission to pay their respects to the count, and to visit the palace and gardens of Roswald.

The count was accustomed to visits of this sort, and nothing afforded him greater pleasure than to be the cicerone of those who desired to inspect the splendors of his abode.

"Show them in, they are welcome!" he exclaimed; "and place seats for them at the table."

A few seconds after, two officers were introduced dressed in the Prussian uniform. He who walked first, and behind whom his companion seemed determined to conceal himself, was little and had rather a disagreeable countenance. His long, thick, and vulgar nose made his gaping mouth and retreating or rather absent chin seem more repulsive than they would otherwise have been. His shoulders were of a round and ungainly shape, and together with the ugly military costume invented by Frederick, gave him a sort of antiquated and even decrepit air. Yet this man was at the farthest about thirty years of age; his step was firm; and when he took off the hideous hat which concealed the upper portion of his face, he displayed the only redeeming features it possessed—a decided, intelligent, reflecting forehead, expressive eyebrows, and eyes of extraordinary animation and brilliancy. His glance produced the same startling change in his appearance as the sun's rays which animate and embellish the most dreary and unpoetical landscape. He seemed a whole head taller when his eyes lighted up his pale, restless, and mean-looking countenance.

Count Hoditz received them with more cordiality than ceremony, and without losing time in compliments, he made them sit down at table, and helped them from the best dishes with true patriarchal hospitality; for Hoditz was one of the kindest of men, and his vanity, far from corrupting his heart, only increased his confidence and generosity. Slavery still reigned over his domain, and all the wonders of Roswald were created at little cost by his numerous vassals, whose chains, however, he decked with flowers. He made them forget what was necessary, in loading them with superfluities; and, convinced that pleasure was happiness, he amused them so well that they never thought of freedom.

The Prussian officer—for in reality there was only one, the other being little better than his shadow—appeared at first somewhat astonished, not to say affronted at the count's bluntness, and affected a degree of polite reserve, when the count said to him: "I entreat you, Captain, to put yourself at your ease, and act just as if you were in your own house. I know that you are accustomed to the strict and admirable regularity of the armies of the great Frederick; but here you are in the country, and if we do not amuse ourselves in the country, why do we visit it? I perceive that you are well-educated, polite persons, and you certainly are not officers of the king of Prussia without having given proofs of military science and unflinching bravery. I consider that you do honor to my poor dwelling, and I trust you will dispose of it at your pleasure, and prolong your stay so long as it shall be agreeable to you."

The officer immediately responded to this invitation like a man of tact and good sense. After having thanked his host he began to try the champagne, without however its producing the slightest effect on his coolness and self-possession, and vigorously attacked a pasty, on the cookery of which he made such profound and scientific remarks as were not calculated to raise him in the esteem of the abstemious Consuelo. She was nevertheless struck with his piercing glance; but although it astonished it did not charm her, as it seemed to express something haughty, prying, and suspicious, which was not calculated to inspire affection.

While eating, the officer informed the count that he was called the Baron de Kreutz, that he was originally from Silesia, where he had been sent to procure horses for the cavalry, and that finding himself at Neisse, he could not resist the desire of visiting the celebrated palace and gardens of Roswald. That in consequence he had that morning crossed the frontier with his lieutenant, and had purchased some cattle by the way, in order to turn the opportunity to good account. He even offered to visit the count's stables, if he had any horses to dispose of. He traveled on horseback and intended to return the same evening.

"I will not hear of it," said the count; besides, I have none to spare at present—indeed I have too few to carry out all my improvements here. But if you have no objection I will employ the time much better in enjoying your society, as long as you can make it convenient to remain."

"But we learned on our way hither that you were in momentary expectation of the Countess Hoditz's arrival, and as we should be most unwilling to put you to inconvenience, we shall take our leave the moment she arrives."

"I do not expect the countess till tomorrow," replied the count; "she will be accompanied by her daughter, the Princess Culmbach. For you are not unaware perhaps, gentlemen, that I have had the honor to contract a lofty alliance——"

"With the Dowager Margravine of Bareith," replied the baron rather abruptly, who did not appear so much dazzled with this title as the count had expected.

"She is the King of Prussia's aunt," resumed the latter with emphasis.

"Yes, yes, I know that," said the Prussian officer, taking a huge pinch of snuff.

"And as she is a most affable and condescending lady," continued the count, "I have no doubt she will feel infinite pleasure in receiving and entertaining the brave servants of his majesty, her illustrious nephew."

"We are truly sensible of the honor," said the baron, smiling; "but we have not leisure to avail ourselves of it. Our duties call us imperatively hence, and we must take leave of your highness this evening; meanwhile we shall be happy to admire this delightful residence with which the king our master has nothing that can be compared."

This compliment completely restored all the Moravian count's good humor toward his Prussian guest. They rose from table. Porpora, who cared much less for the promenade than the rehearsal, wished to excuse himself.

"By no means," said the count; "you shall see, my dear maestro, that we can manage both at the same time."

He offered his arm to Consuelo, and preceded the rest. "Excuse me, gentlemen," said he, "if I offer my arm to the only lady present; it is my right as host. Have the goodness to follow me; I shall serve as your guide."

"Permit me to ask, sir," said the Baron de Kreutz, addressing Porpora for the first time, "who this amiable lady is?"

"Sir," replied Porpora, who was not in the best of tempers, "I am an Italian; I understand German indifferently, and French still worse."

The baron who had hitherto conversed with his host in French, according to the fashion of the time, repeated his question in Italian.

"This amiable lady, who has not spoken one word before you," replied Porpora, dryly, "is neither margravine, nor princess, nor baroness, nor countess; she is an Italian singer not wholly devoid of talent."

"On that account I should wish so much the more to know her name," said the baron, smiling at the maestro's bluntness.

"It is my pupil, the Porporina," replied Porpora.

"I am informed that she is very clever," observed the other, "and that she is impatiently expected at Berlin. And since she is your pupil, I perceive that I address the illustrious Master Porpora."

"At your service," replied Porpora, hastily, and clapping on his hat, which he had taken off in reply to a low bow from the Baron Kreutz. The latter, seeing him so little disposed to be communicative, dropped behind and rejoined his lieutenant. Porpora, who might almost be said to have eyes in the back of his head, observed that they were laughing together and speaking about him in their own language. This conduct did not advance them in his opinion, and he did not so much as even look at them during the rest of the promenade.