'Wilhelmine, do you love me? Alas! alas!'

'I love you, mon Prince, but these taunts are unbearable. I have no one to protect me--you cannot, for you yourself are the cause of all the indignities heaped upon me.'

'Ah, would that I could make you d.u.c.h.ess, my wife, safe from insult!'

'You dare not, though other princes have had the courage thus to shield those they loved.'

'I dare not? I? G.o.d! who shall tell me that I dare not?' he cried.

'You dare not,' she answered, and again as she swept from the room, over her shoulder she flung scornfully: 'You dare not!'

In the panelled living-room of the Neuhaus, on the morning of the 29th July 1707, Madame de Ruth and her peasant servant were busying themselves with a large table and a heap of silken hangings. The lady was draping the table with these, and her efforts had caused her highly piled-up head-dress to become deranged; the elaborate structure leaned on one side and scattered a shower of powder over Madame de Ruth's shoulders. The servant interrupted his work of hammering nails into the draped silk on the table; he stared at his mistress and grinned. 'Go on, stupid head, and never mind an old woman's hairdress,' she said good-humouredly. 'I shall be fine enough this afternoon, and so wilt thou, for I shall give thee a new coat.' She rose from her knees and surveyed her handiwork.

Taking a large bowl filled with roses, she placed it upon the table, then she went to a cupboard and began to hunt through its varied contents. She sought a Bible, and indeed it was the first time in her life that she had searched the Scriptures, as she reflected grimly. She had a dim recollection of having seen a worn Bible consorting oddly with the other books in that cupboard. After some time she found the Bible and placed it upon the silk-draped table. She stood a moment absent-mindedly, gazing from the window at the sunlight playing through the delicate tracery in the beech branches without, her hands mechanically turning over the leaves of the Bible. Suddenly her fingers touched something between the pages, something that crumbled away beneath her touch, a withered flower, the faded, brittle ghost of some vanished summer day. She drew away her hand quickly as though the flower stung her. It had conjured up the long-past loss and sorrow of a day when she had given birth to a child and Death came hurrying to gather the little life. Madame de Ruth remembered how eagerly she had read in the Book of Life during the sad hours of her recovery, seeking wildly, miserably for consolation, and she recalled how the kind old peasant woman, who nursed and mourned with her for the baby's loss, had brought her a flower which bloomed near the piteously small mound beneath which the little one slept for ever. And Madame de Ruth had laid the blossom tenderly between the Bible's pages, and now, after long years of forgetful gaiety and dissipation, the yearning, unsatisfied motherhood welled up in her heart and she wept again.

Once more we are in the panelled room at Neuhaus, and again is a.s.sembled the company which on that portentous November evening of the preceding year had discussed the plan of summoning Wilhelmine von Gravenitz, she who was to be their tool in an ordinary court intrigue. Madame de Ruth, the hostess; Monseigneur de Zollern; Friedrich Gravenitz, since a few days become Count of the Empire; Marie Gravenitz, his bigoted Catholic wife; Monsieur the Hofmarshal Stafforth.

'It is madness, rank lunacy!' Stafforth was saying vehemently. 'Illegal and impossible, it will spell disgrace and misfortune to us all. The Emperor will interfere, for this is going too far. We must hinder this farcical ceremony; his Highness cannot marry two wives! It will be Mompelgard over again! Think how absurd, Gravenitz! Cannot you see that this farce is bigamy?'

Count Gravenitz held his hands over his brow. 'I agree with you, Monsieur de Stafforth. My sister goes too far. It is very hard on me; I advised her to be satisfied with a settled annuity, and to live peacefully with me, her brother, the head of her house. His Highness can always visit her--a great honour indeed----' He broke off, seeing the sneer on Monseigneur de Zollern's face.

'I wash my hands of the whole affair!' cried Gravenitz distractedly.

'Ce cher Pilate,' murmured Zollern. Madame de Ruth laughed.

'Gravenitz, your sister will be d.u.c.h.ess, never fear! Marie, she will befriend the Holy Church in Wirtemberg.' Madame de Ruth addressed herself to Marie Gravenitz, but it was Zollern whom she observed as she spoke.

'Stafforth, you will become a Count; and for myself, I shall see the last of her Dull Highness from Baden. That is _my_ reward.' She laughed, but no responsive gaiety came from the rest of the company. Indeed, the intrigue had a.s.sumed proportions which alarmed Wilhelmine's allies. Her brother had learned to fear her--he was jealous of her now. Stafforth, having been foolish enough to incur her displeasure by tactless amorous advances, feared that once her position became una.s.sailable she would cause him to be dismissed from court. Marie Gravenitz was horrified at the idea of her sister-in-law's great success; she said it was sinful.

Poor soul, she was very jealous. Zollern, however, regarded the strange marriage with favour. He foresaw the complications ahead, and intended to steer for a happy landing of the Prince and his new bride on the eternal sh.o.r.es of Roman Catholicism. The Pope would declare Eberhard Ludwig's former alliance with Johanna Elizabetha to be null and void, and, in return, the Duchy of Wirtemberg would be gathered back to the Holy Church.

Madame de Ruth alone rejoiced honestly in the brilliant ending of the 'great intrigue,' and if there was another thought in her mind, it was delight at the discomfiture of the dull d.u.c.h.ess; but chiefly the old courtesan was happy that this honour befell her friend. She had conceived a real affection for Wilhelmine.

Zollern tapped his cane on the parquet floor, rhythmically, persistently.

To Madame de Ruth the tapping sound seemed to beat on her brain, and she put out her hand imploring silence. 'How gay, my friends!' she exclaimed; 'really, we owe our friend a little merriment on her wedding day!'

'I do not think I can permit my sister to go through this marriage ceremony. It would show a nicer spirit towards me, the head of her house, if she considered the difficulties she may land me in----'

'Bonte divine! Gravenitz, what foolishness!' said Madame de Ruth sharply.

'If you could manage to forget your own important existence for a time----' She was interrupted by the entry of a personage of clerical appearance. Madame de Ruth rose to greet the new arrival. 'Hochwurden,'

she said in German, 'you received my letter? and you are ready to do as I require--ask no questions and marry a couple, you may know who, but on that head silence until your testimony is necessary; and then you are prepared to swear you have married them in all legal and religious form?

In return a hundred gulden, and I undertake also to have the Pfarrhaus repaired. Is that well? yes?--well, let me present you: Monseigneur de Zollern you have the honour to know already; M. le Comte de Gravenitz, Madame la Comtesse, M. de Stafforth, may I present to you Herr Pfahler, Pastor of the Lutheran Church at Aalendorf?'

The man bowed deeply to each in turn. Marie Gravenitz scarcely acknowledged his salute for fear of endangering her Catholic soul by intercourse with a Protestant pastor.

'Now, Herr Pastor, are those arrangements complete? See here, I have draped you an altar. Oh! unnecessary, you say, for a Lutheran marriage? I regret, enfin--so much prettier, hein? Well, you can stand before it to marry our friends, it will not affect you! Then, here are two cushions for them to kneel on; a Bible, pen, and paper for the legal doc.u.ments.

Yes, is that all? Well, I may now call our friends,' and she rustled out of the room.

A constrained silence fell on the four occupants of the apartment. The Pastor who had followed after Madame de Ruth to don his black 'talar,'

the clerical gown of the Lutheran divine, returned and took up his position before the altar table. He busied himself turning over the leaves of the Bible, and the faded flower fluttered out and fell on to one of the cushions prepared for the bride and bridegroom. The door opened and Eberhard Ludwig, Duke of Wirtemberg, entered the room. He bowed gravely to the a.s.sembled company, then moved forward and stood facing Pfahler before the improvised altar. The guests had risen at his Highness's entry. The silence was intense. Of a sudden a huge black form bounded through the window. Marie Gravenitz screamed shrilly, and the Herr Pastor started violently.

'It is only my dog, Madame,' said his Highness. 'He has found me after all. I left him locked up in my sleeping-room. Here, Melac, lie down!

quiet! good dog!' he called, and the wolf-hound obediently stretched himself beside the Duke.

'I thought it was the devil,' Marie Gravenitz whimpered.

'The devil, Madame, come to attend these espousals,' remarked Stafforth with a sneer.

'Silence, Monsieur,' said his Highness haughtily; and once more a brooding stillness fell on the company, broken only by Melac's heavy breathing, and the flutter of the Bible's pages between the Pastor's nervous fingers. Would the bride never come? this waiting was intolerable. Eberhard Ludwig stood stern and silent, his hand resting on his rapier's hilt. At length there came the swish of silken garments rasping over the rough wooden boards of the corridor floor. Once more the door was flung open, and Wilhelmine von Gravenitz stood on the threshold.

She looked like some lavish flower of a tropic clime, a gorgeous white blossom, surrounded by rich golden outer petals. Her gown was of the delicate yellow colour which she loved, and her bare breast was creamy white, and showing the blue tracery of the veins through the fine skin.

From her shoulders fell a heavy white brocade cloak, trimmed with ermine like the coronation robe of a queen. Her hair was powdered and piled high on her head, the towering ma.s.ses adding height to her great stature. She looked a queen among women, a glorious figure of youth and majesty, and it was little wonder that Eberhard Ludwig was enthralled.

'Dressed as a royal princess already!' spitefully whispered Stafforth to Marie Gravenitz, who looked at her radiant sister-in-law with envy written on her narrow face.

Eberhard Ludwig came forward, bowed profoundly before his bride, and led her towards the altar. The Pastor stared in astonishment when he saw the woman he had undertaken to marry to his Prince, for he recognised the traveller he had met at Tubingen. The stranger's face had haunted his dreams.

And now the brief ceremony commenced. The Pastor, evidently nervous, mumbled his words indistinctly; and of a truth, no one of the a.s.sembled company paid much heed to the sermon and prayers, for each was busy with thoughts of personal ambition and intrigue, excepting Marie Gravenitz, whose lips moved rapidly in prayer that she might be forgiven for taking part in an heretical rite. Madame de Ruth watched Wilhelmine with adoring eyes; perchance she dreamed this beautiful woman to be her child returned to her. Poor mite, who slept forgotten in its tiny grave----!

'May the blessing of G.o.d rest upon you, and may G.o.d enable you to keep sacred the vows you have made this day,' concluded the Pastor, and the bride and bridegroom rose from their knees.

'I have the honour to present to you Madame la Comtesse d'Urach, which t.i.tle I hereby confer upon my beloved wife, pending the bestowal of the first t.i.tle of my Dukedom, which I shall hope to be able to offer to my wife in a few months' time. Meanwhile, I beg you, my friends, of your good feeling, to pay the same respects and courtesies to the Countess of Urach as you, so kindly, pay to myself.'

Up jumped Madame de Ruth and kissed Wilhelmine on both cheeks, then sank to the ground before her in a deep courtesy; but the other friends hung back, save Zollern, who came forward and, bowing over the bride's hand, remarked: 'To every beautiful woman should be rendered homage.' It was an adroit compromise, half reminder, half graceful, tactful compliment, for naturally a Prince of his house could not be expected to pay royal honours to any Countess of Urach--or even d.u.c.h.ess of Wirtemberg, save from courtesy or worldly wisdom. Stafforth, the adventurer, had an ugly sneer on his countenance, and was evidently embarra.s.sed, so took refuge in the frequent att.i.tude of the vulgar when ill at ease--a noisy jocularity.

'Ha! ha!' he laughed boisterously, 'and now for the wedding feast! Bride and bridegroom, come along--and we'll have a song to cheer us!'

Friedrich Gravenitz, full of fict.i.tious emotion, was kissing his sister's hand repeatedly, and making little speeches to her, the beauty of which moved him almost to tears; though when he saw no one was admiring him, he retired in aggrieved silence, thinking 'What a bad spirit these people show towards me!'

Marie Gravenitz stiffly congratulated her sister-in-law, and pressed a meagre cheekbone against Wilhelmine's glowing face; she called this a kiss. Pfahler bowed before the bride: 'I have had the honour to meet your Highness,'--Wilhelmine started, Zollern tapped with his stick impatiently--'to meet your Highness before--one day at Tubingen; but your Highness could not recollect. I had no idea then that I was speaking with so exalted a lady.'

'Nor were you then,' said Wilhelmine with that bright humorous smile of hers; 'but indeed, Hochwurden, I do remember, and I recollect how you told me of the history of master races cradled in the Swabian hills.'

'I have a.s.sisted to-day at a great historic scene. May a new race of strong men and princes arise herefrom!' said Pfahler, the historic dreamer.

'Umph! ces bourgeois heretiques ne savent jamais trouver le juste milieu,' growled Zollern to Madame de Ruth.

Now his Highness became impatient, the embarra.s.sment of the scene seemed to grow each moment. 'A thousand thanks, dear friend,' he said, turning to Madame de Ruth, 'a thousand thanks for all you have done for us, but we must leave you now. Come, bid us G.o.d-speed!' He led the way from the panelled room to the house door, before which stood a chaise de poste with six horses, which the three postillions restrained with difficulty.

Dressed in his fine new coat, the peasant servant of Neuhaus stood grinning in the background.

'Come, Madame!' called his Highness. Wilhelmine sprang into the chaise, and Madame de Ruth, perilously balanced on the step, wrapped a white lace mantilla round the bride. The horses bounded forward, and, urged by the postillions, raced away at a hand gallop.

This was the first of that furious driving with which the favourite, in after years, habitually dashed through the country. It was one of the causes of her unpopularity with the peasants; they cursed her and her wild horses. 'Why such haste to do the devil's work?' they muttered; and they cursed the dust which the chariot left, as the hated Gravenitzin thundered through the villages.

CHAPTER XII