"Marie," said he, in a loud, distinct voice, that reached the portals of her soul, and aroused her departing senses.

Marie slowly opened her eyes, and gazed upon the speaker. "I have kept my oath," said she, hoa.r.s.ely. "No blood was shed, but I have returned to die."

"Wherefore to die?" cried several voices at once.

"Ask my Caspar," murmured she, looking fondly into the face of her betrothed, and, with her eyes fixed upon his, Marie's soul took its flight to heaven.

BOOK VII.

CHAPTER I.

THE ISLAND OF BLISS.

They were together in the little pavilion of the garden at Schonbrunn. With clasped hands, and eyes that sparkled with happiness, they sat in that sweet silence which to lovers is more eloquent than words. The door that led to the park was open, and the balmy breath of May wafted toward them the perfume of the flowers and trees without.

The park, too, was undisturbed by a sound. The laborers had gone to their mid-day meal, and the birds had hidden themselves away from the sunbeams. The great heart of Nature was pulsating with a joy like that of the lovers, too great for utterance. There was something in the appearance of this youthful pair which would have convinced a looker-on that there was a mystery of some sort surrounding the romance of their love. For the one was in the garb of a nun, her head concealed by a coif, and her person enveloped in a long white veil; while the other was attired in a splendid Spanish dress. Over it hung a heavy gold chain, to which was attached the order of the Golden Fleece. His soft black hair lay on a forehead white as snow, and made a pleasant contrast with a face which was pale, not with sickness or suffering, but with that suppressed sensibility which leaves the cheek colorless because its fires are concentrated within the heart. No! It was not for sorrow that Eugene of Savoy was pale; it was from excess of joy; for SHE was at his side, and the world had nothing more to bestow!

So thought he, as, with caressing hand, he lifted her long veil from her shoulders and threw it behind, in imitation of the drapery that hangs around Raphael's Madonnas.

"Oh, how I love you, Sister Angelica!" murmured he; "and, in my feverish visions, how often I have mistaken that white veil for the snowy sail of a ship of which I used to dream in my delirium--a ship that was bearing me onward to an island of bliss, where my Laura stood with outstretched arms, and welcomed me home! But what were imagination's brightest picturings to the reality of the deep joy that flooded my being, when the veil was flung back, and my love stood revealed! Oh, Laura--my life will be all too short to reward you for your fidelity."

"You love me, Eugene, and therein is my unspeakable reward."

"And will you never leave me, dearest?"

She laid her small hand upon his head, smoothed his hair fondly, and gazed pa.s.sionately into his eyes. "You ask, as if you required an answer," said she, in tones that were tremulous with love.

"I do require an answer, for I am continually fearing that this is a blissful dream; and that some morn I shall awake to find thee flown, and Angelica the nun all that is left of thee! When thou art absent from my sight, I shiver with dread lest I should see thee never more."

She laughed, and oh, how musical was her laugh! "Is this the hero of Belgrade, that talks of shivering with dread?"

"Yes; and when he thinks that he might lose you, he is no hero, but a poor coward. And in truth, my Laura, I am tired of a soldier's life--it is too exciting for my health; and I am tired of the world and its frivolities, too. If you love me as I do you, you will be happy in our mutual love, without other companionship than mine."

"Over castle-roof, and through the dangerous descent of that castle- chimney, came I to meet you, Eugene; how then should I pine for other companionship?"

"When I think how mysterious was your escape, I dread lest you should disappear from me as mysteriously. The very thought presses on my brain like the first horrid symptoms of madness; then my body begins to suffer, my wounds seem to open, and bleed anew. Laura, prove to me your love by going with me into solitude. I am tired of being a courtier, and have asked the emperor for my discharge."

"Did he grant it, Eugene?" asked she, fixing her large, penetrating eyes upon his, with an earnestness that forbade him to avoid her glance.

"He will grant it to-morrow. To-morrow for the last time, I go to the imperial palace as a field-marshal; I shall return thence n.o.body but Eugene of Savoy, your lover, who lives but to serve you, and repay if he can all that he owes to your courageous and heroic affection."

"The emperor has refused," replied Laura. "He gave you time for reflection," added she, looking intently again into her lover's eyes.

"Perhaps he may have wished me to reflect," replied he, smiling, and trying to endure her scrutiny, "But my resolve is not to be shaken.

I shall retire to the estate presented me by the emperor in Hungary, there to live with my darling on an island of bliss, upheaved so far above the tempestuous ocean of the world's vicissitudes, that no lashing of its waves will ever reach our home. Will you go with me into this island, where you shall not fear the world's censorious comments on our reunion--where you may throw aside that false vestal garb, and be my own untrammelled bride?"

Laura said nothing; a deep glow suffused her cheeks, and her eyes filled with tears. Gliding from her seat to her knees, she took her lover's hand and covered it with kisses.

"Laura!" exclaimed he, "what can this signify?"

Laura wept on for a time in silence; then, when she had recovered herself sufficiently to speak, she replied:

"It signifies that I bow down before the magnanimity of him who, to shield me from the world's contumely, would relinquish that which he holds most dear on earth, his hopes of glory."

"Laura, give me an answer to my prayer. Will you go with me to my estates in Hungary?"

Laura smiled, but said nothing.

"Answer me, Laura, answer me, my own love."

"The emperor gave you a day to reflect upon your sudden desire for retirement. Give me but one hour for my decision."

"You hesitate!"

"Only ONE hour, Eugene; but during that hour I must be alone with my Maker. Await me here."

Drawing the veil over her face, Laura bounded lightly down the pavilion stops, and walked hurriedly toward the palace. Eugene looked after her with eyes that beamed with love ineffable, sighing as he did so: "She is worthy of the sacrifice; I owe it to her."

The hour seemed interminable. At first, he fixed his eyes upon the walk by which she must return; then he turned away, that he might wait until he heard her dear voice.

At last a light step approached the pavilion; he heard it coming up the steps, and a beloved voice spoke:

"The Marchioness de Bonaletta."

Eugene turned, and there, instead of Sister Angelica, stood his beautiful Laura in rich attire-so beautiful that he thought he had never sufficiently admired her before.

He started forward, and, dropping on one knee, took her little hand, and covered it with kisses. Then, rising, he flung his arm around her waist, and drew her to a seat.

"Now read me the riddle," said he.

"My beloved, do you think me so blind as not to have comprehended the immeasurable sacrifice you would have made to my womanly pride?

Oh, how I thank you, my own, peerless Eugene! But I will not accept it. I may not bear your name, but G.o.d knows that I am your wife, as Eve was the spouse of Adam; and it is for me to show that our bond is holy, by enduring courageously the stigma of being considered as your mistress. Enough for me to feel that to you I shall be an honored and beloved wife, incapable of sharing your fame, but oh, how proud of my hero! Gird on your sword, my Eugene, and fulfil your glorious destiny. Go once more into the world, and let me share your fate."

"Let her share my fate! She asks me to let her share my fate." cried Eugene, pressing her to his heart. And G.o.d and Stature blessed the union that man refused to acknowledge.

CHAPTER II.

THE FRENCH IN SPEIER.

General Melac and his murderous hordes were in the old city of Speier, squandering the goods and money of which they had robbed the unfortunate inhabitants. Scarcely two months had elapsed since the departure of the French from Esslingen, and in that short interval they had laid more than one hundred towns in ashes.