Mysteries of Paris, V3 by Eugene Sue

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Nothing could have been more easy you may say, my friend, than for me to
have made some excuse for leaving the baron, and to have regained the
abbey. I suppose it would have been; whether it was weakness, or a secret
desire to escape from the salutary resolution I had just formed, I replied
with an embarrassed air, that I was giving orders to my coachman to inquire
at the gate of the palace whether we entered by the new pavilion, or
through the marble court. "The entrance is through the marble court, my
dear prince," replied the baron; "it is a grand gala reception. Tell your
coachman to follow mine; I will show you the way."

You know, Maximilian, how much of a fatalist I am; I would have returned to
the abbey, to spare myself the vexations which I foresaw; fate opposed it;
I abandoned myself to my star. You do not know the grand ducal palace of
Gerolstein, my friend. According to all those who have visited the capitals
of Europe, there is not, with the exception of Versailles, a royal
residence, of which the whole pile of building, and the avenues to it, have
a more majestic aspect. If I enter into some details on this subject, it is
that, in recalling at this hour these imposing splendors, I ask myself why
they did not all at first call up my nothingness; for the Princess Amelia
was the daughter of the sovereign of this palace, of these guards, of this
great wealth. The court of marble, a vast hemicycle, is so called because,
with the exception of a broad path around it, in which the carriages pass,
it is paved with marble of every color, having magnificent mosaics. In the
center of it is placed an immense basin of antique marble, fed by abundant
springs of water, which fall continually into a large porphyry vase. This
court of honor is surrounded by a row of white marble statues, of the
finest execution, bearing torches of gilded bronze, from whence floods of
dazzling gas are poured out. Alternating with these statues, Medicean
vases, raised on their richly-sculptured pedestals, contain enormous
rose-laurels, real flourishing shrubs, whose lustrous foliage, seen in the
resplendent light, shines with a metallic verdure.

The carriages stopped at the foot of a double row of balustrades, which led
to the peristyle of the palace; at the foot of this staircase, two
cavaliers of the guard of the grand duke, mounted on black horses, stood as
sentries. The soldiers of the guard were chosen from among the
largest-sized non-commissioned officers of the army. You, my friend, who
are so fond of military men, would have been struck with the severe and
martial air of these two colossal figures, whose cuirasses and brazen
casques of an antique form, without ornament or crest, shone in the light.
These cavaliers wore blue coats with yellow collar, pantaloons of white
buckskin, and stout boots, reaching above the knee. Finally, for you, my
friend, who are fond of military details, I will add, that at the top of
the steps, on each side of the door, two grenadiers of the regiment of
infantry of the grand ducal guard were on duty. They resembled, I was told,
in appearance, with the single exception of the color of the dress and its
facings, Napoleon's old guard. After having crossed the vestibule, where,
with their halberts in their hands, stood the Swiss liveried servants of
the prince, I ascended an imposing staircase of white marble, which led to
a portico, ornamented with columns of jasper, surmounted by a cupola,
painted and gilded. There were ranged two long files of foot servants. I
afterward entered into the guard-room, at the door of which were standing a
chamberlain and an aid-de-camp on service, whose duty it was to lead up to
his royal highness such persons as were entitled to be presented to him. My
relationship, though distant, gave me a right to this honor. An aid-de-camp
preceded me into a long gallery filled with men in court-dresses or
uniforms, and ladies in full costume. While I was slowly passing through
this brilliant crowd, I heard words which heightened still more my emotion.
On all sides people were admiring the angelic beauty of the Princess
Amelia, the charming face of the Marchioness d'Harville, and the truly
imperial air of the Archduchess Sophia, who had recently arrived from
Munich, with the Archduke Stanislaus, and was soon to go to Warsaw. But
while all rendered homage to the lofty dignity of the archduchess and to
the distinguished grace of the Marchioness d'Harville, it was acknowledged
that nothing was more ideal than the enchanting form of the Princess
Amelia. As I approached the spot where the grand duke and his daughter were
standing, I felt my heart beating violently. At the moment when I reached
the door of this saloon (I forgot to tell you that there was a ball and
court concert), the illustrious Liszt had just seated himself at the piano,
and the deepest silence succeeded to the slight murmur of conversation.
While awaiting the end of the piece, which the artist played with his
accustomed superiority, I remained standing at the door. Then, my dear
Maximilian, for the first time I saw the Princess Amelia. Allow me to paint
to you the scene, for I feel an inexpressive pleasure in gathering up all
these recollections. Imagine, my friend, a vast saloon, furnished with
royal splendor, dazzling with light, and hung with crimson draperies, about
which ran a border of foliage embroidered in gold. In the first row, in
large gilded chairs, were seated the Archduchess Sophia (to whom the prince
was doing the honors of the palace), on her left the Marchioness
d'Harville, and on her right the Princess Amelia. Standing behind them was
the grand duke, wearing the uniform of colonel of his guards. He seemed to
have renewed his youth by his happiness, and did not look more than thirty
years old. The military dress set off finely the elegance of his height,
and the beauty of his face. Near him stood the Archduke Stanislaus, in the
uniform of a field marshal. Then came the Princess Amelia's ladies of
honor, the wives of the grand dignitaries of the court, and, finally, the
latter themselves. Need I tell you that the Princess Amelia, by her rank,
less than by her grace and beauty, reigned supreme in this dazzling
assemblage? Do not condemn me, my friend, without reading this description.
Though it fall a thousand times below the reality, you may comprehend my
adoration; you will understand that as soon as I saw her, I loved her, and
that the suddenness of this passion can be equaled only by its violence,
and the intensity of its duration. The Princess Amelia, dressed in a simple
robe of white watered silk, wore, like the Archduchess Sophia, the grand
cordon of the Imperial Order of Saint Nepomucene, which had been recently
sent her by the empress. A bandeau of pearls, surrounding her noble and
open forehead, harmonized most exquisitely with the two large braids of
magnificent ashy blond hair which bordered her cheeks, which were lightly
tinged with red; her fair arms, still whiter than the waves of lace from
which they escaped, were half hidden by her gloves, which did not come up
to her dimpled elbow: nothing could be more graceful than her bearing;
nothing prettier than her little foot, with its white satin shoe. At the
moment when I saw her, her large eyes, of the purest azure, were
thoughtful. I do not know whether at this moment she felt the influence of
some serious idea, or whether she was deeply impressed by the grave harmony
of the piece Liszt was playing, but her half smile seemed to me to have a
sweet and inexpressible melancholy: her head was slightly bent over on her
bosom, and she was playing mechanically with a great bouquet of white
violets and roses which she held in her hand. I could never express to you
my feelings at that moment; all that my aunt had said to me of the
ineffable goodness of the Princess Amelia came back to my mind. You may
smile, my friend, but in spite of myself I felt my eyes moistening as I
gazed on this thoughtful, almost sad young girl, so admirably beautiful,
surrounded with honors, with such respect, and so idolized by such a father
as the grand duke.

Maximilian, I have often said it to you, I believe man incapable of tasting
certain kinds of happiness, which are, so to speak, too complete, too
immense for his circumscribed faculties; I think, too, that certain beings
are too divinely endowed not to feel sometimes that they are alone here
below, and that they feel at times vague regrets for their exquisite
delicacy, which exposes them to so many deceptions, to so many chills which
are unknown to less tender natures. It seemed to me that at that time the
Princess Amelia felt the reaction of such a thought. Suddenly, by some
strange chance (there is fatality about everything here), she mechanically
turned her eyes toward the place where I was standing. You know how
scrupulously etiquette and the hierarchy of rank is observed with us.
Thanks to my title and to the ties of relationship which attach me to the
grand duke, the persons in the midst of whom I had at first placed myself
had receded gradually, so that I remained almost alone, and decidedly in
the first row, in the embrasure of the gallery door. It must undoubtedly
have been this circumstance which caused the princess, as she started from
her reverie, to perceive and take notice of me, for she made a slight
movement of surprise, and blushed. She had seen my portrait at the abbey,
in my aunt's apartments, and she recognized me--nothing was more simple.
The princess had scarcely looked at me for a second, but that look made me
feel the most violent, the most profound emotion; I felt my cheeks on fire;
I cast down my eyes, and remained some minutes without daring to raise them
again toward the princess. When I ventured to lift them, she was talking in
a low tone with the Archduchess Sophia, who appeared to listen with the
most affectionate interest. Liszt having put an interval of some moments
between the two pieces he was to play, the grand duke took advantage of
that moment to express to him his admiration in the most gracious manner.
The prince, as he turned to his place, perceived me, made a sign of the
head to me with the greatest kindness, and said some words to the
archduchess in pointing me out to her. The latter, after having looked at
me for a moment, turned toward the grand duke, who could not help smiling
as he replied to her and spoke to his daughter. The Princess Amelia seemed
to be embarrassed, for she again blushed. I was in torments; unfortunately,
etiquette did not permit me to quit the spot where I was until the concert
was over, which was beginning. Two or three times I stole a glance at the
Princess Amelia; she seemed pensive and thoughtful; my heart was oppressed.
I suffered a slight feeling of uneasiness, as if I had been the cause of
the pain she felt. Undoubtedly the grand duke had been asking her,
jestingly, if she found any resemblance to the portrait of her cousin of
the olden times; and, in her ingenuousness, she perhaps reproached hers. If
for not having told her father that she had before recognized me. When the
concert was over, I followed the aid-de-camp. He led me toward the grand
duke, who advanced a few steps to meet me, took me cordially by the arm,
and, approaching the Archduchess Sophia, said to her:

"I beg of your royal highness the permission to present to you my cousin,
Prince Henry of Herkausen-Oldenzaal."

"I have already met the prince at Vienna, and I am happy to see him again
here," replied the archduchess, before whom I made a profound bow.

"My dear Amelia," continued the prince, addressing himself to his daughter,
"I present to you Prince Henry, your cousin; he is son of Prince Paul, one
of my most venerable friends, whom I much regret not to see to-day at
Gerolstein."

"Be so kind, sir, as to inform Prince Paul that I share deeply in my
father's regrets, for I shall be always happy to become acquainted with his
friends," replied my cousin, with a simplicity full of grace.

I had not before heard the sound of Princess Amelia's voice; imagine, my
friend, the sweetest, the most delicious, the most harmonious tones; in
fine, one of those accents which cause the most delicate chords of the soul
to vibrate.

"I hope, my dear Henry, that you will remain some time with your aunt, to
whom I am greatly attached. I respect her as a mother, as you know," said
the grand duke kindly to me. "Come often to see us, familiarly, in the
morning, at three o'clock. If we are going out, you can join us in our
walk; you know I have always loved you, because you have one of the most
noble hearts."

"I do not know how to express to your royal highness my gratitude for the
kind reception you condescend to bestow on me."

"To prove to me your gratitude, then," said the prince, smiling, "ask your
cousin for the second contra-dance; the first belongs of right to the
archduke."

"Will your highness grant me this favor?" said I to the Princess Amelia,
bowing before her.

"Call each other simply cousins, after the good old German custom," said
the grand duke gayly; "ceremony is not proper among relatives!"

"Will my cousin do me the honor to dance this contra-dance with me?"

"Yes, cousin," replied the Princess Amelia.

CHAPTER III.

PRINCE HENRY D'HERKAUSEN-OLDENZAAL TO COUNT MAXIMILIAN KAMINETZ.

"OLDENZAAL, August 25th, 1841.

I can hardly tell you, my friend, how pleased, and, at the same time,
pained, I was at the fatherly cordiality of the grand duke; the confidence
he testified toward me, the affectionate kindness with which he induced his
daughter and myself to substitute for the formula of etiquette these family
terms of a most tender intimacy, all penetrated me with gratitude; I
reproached myself so much the more bitterly for the fatal attraction of a
love which ought not, or could not be agreeable to the prince. I have
promised myself, it is true (and I have not failed in this resolution),
never to utter a word which might lead my cousin to suspect the love that I
was nourishing; but I feared that my emotion, my glances, might betray me.
In spite of myself, however, this sentiment, silent and concealed as it
must be, seemed guilty to me. I had time to make these reflections while
the Princess Amelia was dancing the first contra-dance with the Archduke
Stanislaus. Here, as everywhere, dancing is no more than a kind of march
which follows the measure of the orchestra; nothing could show to more
advantage the serious grace of my cousin's carriage. With a happiness
mingled with anxiety, I awaited the moment for that conversation that the
liberty of the ball would allow me to hold with her. I was sufficiently
master of myself to conceal my embarrassment, as I went to seek her with
the Marchioness d'Harville. Thinking of the circumstances of the portrait,
I expected to see the Princess Amelia share my embarrassment. I was not
mistaken; I recall, almost word for word, our first conversation; let me
relate it to you, my friend:

"Will your highness permit me," said I to her, "to say always my cousin, as
the grand duke has authorized me?"

"Certainly, my cousin," she kindly answered me; "I am always happy to obey
my father."

"And I am still more proud of this familiarity, my cousin; I have learned
through my aunt to know you, that is to say, to appreciate you."

"My father has also spoken to me of you, cousin, and what will perhaps
astonish you," added she, timidly, "I know you already, if I may say so, by
sight. The lady superior of St. Hermangilda, for whom I have the most
affectionate respect, one day showed to us, to my father and myself, a
picture."

"Where I was represented as a page of the sixteenth century?"

"Yes, cousin, and my father even used the little deceit of telling me that
this portrait was of one of our relations of the olden time, adding such
kind words toward this cousin of former days, that our family must be happy
to number him among our relations of the present day."

"Alas! my cousin, I fear I resemble no more the moral portrait that the
grand duke designed to make of me, than I do the page of the sixteenth
century."

"You deceive yourself, cousin," said the princess to me, gayly; "for at the
end of the concert, casting my eyes, by chance, toward the side gallery, I
recognized you directly, in spite of the difference of costume."

Then wishing, undoubtedly, to change a subject of conversation that
embarrassed her, she said to me, "What a wonderful talent M. Liszt
possesses! do you not think so?"

"Wonderful! With what pleasure you listened to him!"

"Because, indeed, it seems to me there is a double charm in music without
words; not only is it played with excellent execution, but we can in a
moment apply our own thoughts to the melodies that we hear, and which
become, so to speak, their accompaniment, I know not if you understand me,
cousin?"

"Perfectly. Our thoughts are, then, the words that we adapt mentally to the
air that we hear."

"Just so, just so; you understand me," said she to me, with an expression
of pleased satisfaction; "I fear I should explain but ill what I felt just
now, while listening to that melody, so plaintive and so touching."

"God grant, my cousin," said I to her, smiling, "that you may have no words
to put to an air so sad!"

Either because my question was indiscreet, and she wished to avoid
answering me, or because she had not understood it, the Princess Amelia
immediately said to me, pointing out the grand duke, who, giving his arm to
the Archduchess Sophia was then traversing the dancing gallery:

"Cousin, look at my father: how handsome he is! how noble and fine his air!
how eagerly all glances follow him! It seems to me he is more beloved even
than he is revered."

"Ah!" I exclaimed, "it is not only here, in the midst of this court, that
he is cherished. If the blessings of the people should be echoed to
posterity, the name of Rudolph of Gerolstein would be, with justice,
immortal."

In speaking thus, my enthusiasm was sincere; for you know, my friend, that
the dominions of the prince are, with good reason, called the Paradise of
Germany.

It is impossible to paint to you the grateful glance my cousin threw upon
me on hearing me speak in this manner.

"To appreciate my father thus," said she to him, with emotion, "is to be
worthy of the attachment he bears to you."

"And can no one but myself love and admire him! Beside those rare qualities
that make great princes, has he not the genius of kindness that makes
princes adored?"

"You know not how truly you speak," exclaimed the princess, still more
moved.

"Ah, I know--I know it, and all those whom he governs know it as I do. They
love him so much that they mourn in his sorrows, as they rejoice in his
happiness; the eagerness of all to come and offer their homage to the
Marchioness d'Harville is bestowed on the choice of his royal highness, as
well as the true worth of the future grand duchess."

"The Marchioness d'Harville is more worthy than any one of the attachment
of my father; this is the highest praise of her I can give you."

"And you can, doubtless, appreciate her justly. Have you not known her in
France, my cousin?"

Hardly had I uttered these words, when some sudden thought, I know not
what, came into the Princess Amelia's mind, she cast down her eyes, and,
for a second, her features wore an expression of sadness, that made me
silent with surprise. We were then at the end of the contradance; the last
figure separated me a moment from my cousin; when I led her back to the
Marchioness d'Harville, it seemed to me her features were still slightly
moved. I believed, and I believe still, that my allusion to the abode of
the princess in France, having recalled to her the death of her mother,
created in her the painful impression of which I have just spoken to you.
During this evening, I remarked a circumstance which will, perhaps, appear
to you puerile, but which has been to me a new proof of the fascination
this young girl inspires in all. Her bandeau of pearls being a little
deranged, the Archduchess Sophia, who was leaning upon her arm, was kind
enough to be willing herself to replace the bijou upon her brow. Now, to
one who knows the proverbial hauteur of the archduchess, such an act of
graciousness from her seems scarcely conceivable. Besides, the Princess
Amelia, whom I was observing attentively at the moment, appeared at the
same time so confused, so grateful, I might almost say so embarrassed, at
this graceful attention, that I thought I saw a tear sparkle in her eyes.

Such, my friend, was my first evening at Gerolstein. If I have related it
to you with some detail, it is that almost all these circumstances have
since had their results for me. I will now abridge: I will only speak to
you of some of their principal circumstances relating to my frequent
interviews with my cousin and her father. The day after this fete, I was
among the very small number of persons invited to the celebration of the
marriage of the grand duke and the Marchioness d'Harville. I never saw the
countenance of the Princess Amelia more radiant and more serene than during
this ceremony. She gazed upon her father and the marchioness with a kind of
religious ecstasy, that gave a new charm to her features; it might have
been said that they reflected the ineffable happiness of the prince and the
Marchioness d'Harville. That day my cousin was very gay, very affable. I
gave her my arm in a walk that we took after dinner in the palace gardens,
which were magnificently illuminated. She said to me, on speaking of her
father's marriage, "It seems to me that the happiness of those we cherish
is yet more sweet to us than our own; for is there not always a shade of
selfishness in the enjoyment of our own personal happiness?"

If I give you, from among a thousand, this reflection of my cousin's, my
friend, it is that you may judge of the heart of this adorable creature,
who possesses, like her father, the spirit of goodness. Some days after the
marriage of the grand duke, I held quite a long conversation with him. He
asked me of the past, of my plans for the future: he gave me the wisest
counsel, the most flattering encouragement; he even spoke to me of several
of his plans for government, with a confidence that made me feel as proud
as I was flattered; in short--shall I tell it to you? For one moment a most
foolish idea crossed my mind; I fancied that the prince had imagined my
love, and that in this conversation he wished to study me, feel my
sentiments, and perhaps lead me to an avowal.

Unhappily, this mad hope did not last long; the prince brought the
conversation to a close by telling me that the time for great wars had
passed away; that I ought to profit by my name, my connections, the
education I had received, and the intimate friendship that had united my
father and Prince M., prime minister to the emperor, and pass through the
diplomatic instead of the military career; adding, that all the questions
which were decided formerly upon the battle-field, would henceforth be
decided by Congresses; that soon the intricate and base tradition of
ancient diplomacy would give place to an enlarged and _humane_ system
of politics concerning the true interests of the people, who from day to
day gained more knowledge of their rights; that a high, loyal, and generous
spirit might have, before many years, a noble and great part to play in
political affairs, and might thus do much good; he proposed to me, in
short, the assistance of his high patronage to facilitate me at the outset
of the career in which he solicited me to embark. You understand, my
friend, that if the prince had had the least design upon me, he had not
made me such overtures. I thanked him for his offers with warm gratitude,
adding, that I felt all the worth of his counsel, and was determined to
follow it. I had at first used some reserve in my visits to the palace, but
in consequence of the urgency of the grand duke, I soon went there every
day about three o'clock. They lived there in all the simplicity of our
German courts. It was the life of the great castles in England, rendered
still more attractive by the cordial simplicity, the pleasing liberty of
German manners. When the weather permitted, we took long rides with the
grand duke, the grand duchess, my cousin, and the people of their
household. When we remained in the palace, we were occupied with music. I
sung with the grand duchess and my cousin, whose voice was of a tone of
unequaled sweetness and purity--such, that I could never hear it without
being moved even to the depths of my soul. At other times, we examined in
detail the wonderful collection of pictures and works of art, or the
admirable library of the prince, who, you know, is one of the most learned
and best-informed men in Europe; frequently I returned to dine at the
palace, and on opera days I accompanied the grand ducal family to the
theater.

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