"That is more to the purpose," said the Princess, relieved; "I now hear the voice and hold the hand of him in whom I most love to trust."

"But I wish for your Highness a nearer and stronger support than myself," began the old lord, earnestly.

The Princess started.

"So it was that which occasioned your Excellency's journey?" she exclaimed, with agitation.

"That was the anxiety which occupied me. It is nothing--nothing more than an idea," said the High Steward, inclining his head.

"And is that to tranquilize me more?" asked the Princess. "What has. .h.i.therto given me the power to live but your Excellency's ideas?"

"When your Highness, while still in widow's weeds, was called home, the wish of the Sovereign, making it a duty to attend upon you, was welcome to me; because I thereby obtained the right of carrying on this conversation with your Highness."

He motioned with his hand to the seat, and the Princess again hastened to place herself by his side.

"Now when I see your Highness before me in the bright bloom of youth, richly gifted and fitted to confer the greatest happiness on others and to partake of it yourself, I cannot forbear thinking that it is wrong for you to be debarred from the pleasures of home."

"I have enjoyed this happiness and have lost it," exclaimed the Princess. "Now I have accustomed myself to the thought of renouncing much. I seek for myself a compensation which even you will not consider unworthy."

"There is a difference between us of more than fifty years. A mode of life, proper for me, an unimportant man, may not be permitted the daughter of a princely house. I beg the permission of my beloved Princess," he continued, with a gentle voice, "to draw aside to-day the curtain which has covered a dark image of your early youth. You were witness of the scene which separated the Sovereign from your ill.u.s.trious mother."

"It is a dark recollection," whispered the Princess, looking up anxiously at the old lord; "my mother was reproaching the Sovereign,--it was something concerning the fateful Pavilion. The Sovereign got into a state of excitement that was fearful. I, then but a little girl, ran up and embraced the knees of my mother; he dragged me off, and--" the Princess covered her eyes. The old lord made a motion to stop her, and continued:

"The after-effect of the scene was ruinous to the life of a n.o.ble woman, and also to that of yourself. Then for the first time the diseased irritability which has since darkened the Sovereign's spirit displayed itself; from that day the Sovereign sees in you the living witness of his guilt and his disease. He has for years endeavored to wipe away from you that impression by kindness and attentions, but he has never believed himself to be successful. Shame, suspicion, and fear have continually ruined his relations with you. He will not let you go away from him, because he fears that in your confidence to another man you might betray what he would fain conceal from himself. He unwillingly gave in to the first marriage, and he will oppose a second, for he does not wish to see your Highness married again. But in the hours when dark clouds lie over his extraordinary spirit, he rejoices in the thought that your Highness might lose the right of secretly reproaching him. The thought that he did an injury to the princely dignity of his wife gnaws within him, and he is now occupied with the idea that your Highness might under certain circ.u.mstances forget your position as princess."

"He hopes in vain," exclaimed the Princess, excitedly. "Never will I allow myself to be degraded by an unworthy pa.s.sion; it has not been without effect that I have been the child of your cares."

"What is unworthy of a princess?" asked the High Steward, reflectively.

"That your Highness would keep yourself free from the little pa.s.sions which are excited in the quadrille of a masked ball there can be no doubt. But intellectual pastime with subjects of great interest might also disturb the life of a woman. Easily does the most refined intellectual enjoyment pa.s.s into extravagance. More than once has the greatest danger of a woman been when under powerful external excitement, she has felt herself to be higher, freer, n.o.bler than her wont. It is difficult to listen to entrancing music and to preserve oneself from a warm interest in the artist who has produced it for us."

The Princess looked down.

"Supposing the case," continued the High Steward, "in which a diseased man, in bitter humor, should meditate and work for such an object, the sound person should guard himself from doing his will."

"But they should also not allow themselves to be disturbed in what they consider for the honor and advantage of their life?" cried the Princess, looking up at the old man.

"Certainly not," replied the latter, "if such benefits are in fact to be gained by the playful devotion of a woman to art or learning. It would be difficult for a princess to find satisfaction in this way. No one blames a woman of the people when she makes a great talent the vocation of her life; she may satisfy herself as singer or painter and please others, and the whole world will smile upon her. But if my gracious Princess should employ her rich musical talent in giving a public concert, why would men shrug their shoulders at it? Not because your Highness's talent is less than that of another artist, but because one expects other objects in your life; the nation forms very distinct ideal demands of its princes. If, unfortunately, the ruling princes of our time do not find it easy to answer to this ideal, yet to the ladies of these ill.u.s.trious families the serious tendency of the present day makes this more possible than in my youth. A princess of our people ought to be the n.o.ble model of a good housewife,--nothing more and nothing else: true and right-minded, firmly attached to her husband, careful in her daily duties, warm hearted to the needy, kind and sympathizing to all who have the privilege of approaching her. If she has intellect, she must beware of wishing to shine; if she has a talent for business, she must guard herself from becoming an _intrigante_.

Even the great social talent of virtuosoship she must exercise with the greatest discretion. A well-weighed balance of female excellence is the best ornament of a princess; her highest honor, that she is better and more lovable than others, without parading it, with goodness and capacity in everything, and with no pretensions of any kind. For she stands too high to seek conquest and acquisition for herself."

The Princess sat near the speaker, her head supported on her arm, looking sorrowfully before her.

"My beloved Princess does not hear me speak in this way for the first time," continued the Lord High Steward. "I have often felt anxious about the dangers which a high-flown spirit and active fancy prepare for you, the cradle gift of an envious fairy, who has made your Highness too brilliant and attractive. It is owing to these brilliant gifts that you have not the same aristocratic nature as your ill.u.s.trious brother, the Hereditary Prince. There is too lively a desire in you to make yourself appreciated, and to influence others.

One can leave your brother with full confidence to his own good nature.

Every attempt to persuade the soul of the much-tormented child has come to naught. But you, that delicate artistic work of nature which now gazes at me with those open eyes, I have endeavored constantly to guard from an over-refined coquetry of sentiment. I am now the severe admonisher to high duties, because I antic.i.p.ate the dangers which this love of conquest in your soul will bring upon yourself and others."

"I hear a severe reproof in loving words," replied the Princess, with composure. "I should marry again in order to become distinguished."

"My dear Highness, I wish that you may obtain this great aim as the wife of a husband who is not unworthy of your devotion. Only in this way can a princess expect true happiness. Even this happiness cannot be gained without self-denial, I know it; it is difficult to every one to control themselves. To those who are born in the purple this virtue is ten times more difficult than to others. Forgive me," he continued, "I have become talkative, as often happens to us old people at Court."

"You have not said too much, my friend, nor too little," said the Princess, much moved. "I have always cherished the hope to live on quietly for myself, surrounded by men who would teach me the highest things that it is possible for a woman to acquire. On this path also I find tender duties, n.o.ble bonds which unite me with the best, and such a life also would not be unworthy of a princess; more than one have, in former times, chosen this lot, and posterity respects them."

"Your Highness does not mean Queen Christina of Sweden," replied the High Steward. "But to others also this lot has seldom been a blessing.

Your Highness must remember that when a princess surrounds herself with wise men, she means always one man who is to her the wisest."

The Princess was silent, and looked down.

"We have now long discussed the possible position of a princess," began the old gentleman; "let us now consider the fate of the men who would be united by tender bonds to the life of an ill.u.s.trious lady. Granted that she should succeed in finding a friend, who, without unseemly pretensions, would attach himself with self-denial and real devotion to the active and varied life of a princess. He must sacrifice much and forego much; the right of the husband is that the wife should devote herself to him, but in this case a man must fetter the powers,--nay, even the pa.s.sions of his nature,--for a woman who would not belong to him, whom he could only cautiously approach at certain hours as a friend unto friend; who would consider him at first, to a certain extent, as a valuable possession and a beautiful ornament, but finally, under the best circ.u.mstances, as a useful bit of furniture. The greatest sufferer in such a position would be the artist or scholar. I have always felt compa.s.sion for the walking dictionaries of a princely household. Even men of great talent then resemble the philosophers of ancient Rome, who, with the long beard and the mantle of their schools, pa.s.s through the streets in the train of some distinguished lady."

The Princess rose, and turned away.

"Better, undoubtedly, is the situation of the man," concluded the High Steward, "whose personality allows him to guide, by silent work, the life-current of his high-born friend. Yet even he must not only himself lose much of what is most delightful in life, but, even with the purest intentions, he will not always be able to give pleasure to his princess. He who would be more than a faithful servant diminishes the security of his princely mistress. Should such chivalrous devotion be offered, a n.o.ble woman should hesitate to accept it, but to endeavor to attract it does not become a princess."

Tears rushed to the eyes of the Princess, and she turned quickly to the old man.

"I know such a life," she exclaimed; "one that has been pa.s.sed in unceasing self-denial--a blessing to three ladies of our family. O my father, I know well what you have been to us; have patience with your poor ward. I struggle against your words; it is a hard task for me to listen to you, and yet I know that you are the only secure support that I have ever had in this life. Your admonitions alone have preserved me from destruction."

Again she seized his hand, and her head sank on his shoulder.

"I loved your grandmother," replied the old man, with trembling voice; "it was at a time when such things were lightly thought of. It was a pure connection; I lived for her; I made daily self-sacrifice for her.

She was unhappy, for she was the wife of another, and her holiest duties were made difficult to her by my life. I guarded your mother like an anxious servant, but I could not prevent her from being unhappy and dying with the feeling of her misery. And now I hold the third generation to my heart, and before I am called away I would like to impress my life and the sufferings of your mother as a lesson on you. I have never been so anxious about you as I am now. If my dear child has ever felt the heart of a fatherly friend in my words, she should not lightly esteem my counsel now, whatever brilliant dreams it may dispel."

"I will think of your words," exclaimed the Princess. "I will endeavor to resign my wishes; but, father, my kind father, it will be very hard for me."

The old gentleman collected himself, and interrupted her.

"It is enough," he said, with the composure that befitted his office; "your Highness has shown me great consideration to-day. There are others who also desire their share of your Highness's favor."

There was a knock at the door. The waiting-woman entered.

"The servant announces that Lady Gotlinde and the gentlemen are waiting in the tea-room."

"I have still some business with his Excellency," answered the Princess, gently. "I must beg Gotlinde to take my place in entertaining our guest."

Evening had descended upon the castle-tower, the bats flew from their hiding-places in the vacant room; they whirled about in circles, astonished that they had awoke in an empty habitation. The owls flew into the crevices of the tower, and searched with their round eyes after the old arm-chairs, on which they had formerly waited for the stupid mice; and the death-watch, which the scholar had carried down from the lonely room, gnawed and ticked on the staircase and in the rooms of the castle among living men. The rain beat against the walls, and the stormy wind howled round the tower. The wife of the scholar was driving through the night, flying like a hunted hare; but he was pacing up and down his room, dreamily forming from the discovered leaves the whole lost ma.n.u.script. And again he wondered within himself that it looked quite different from what he had imagined it for years.

The wind also howled about the princely castle at the capital, and large drops of rain beat against the window; there, also, the powers of nature raged and demanded entrance into the firm fortress of man. The darkness of the night seemed to pervade the halls and the decorated rooms like gloomy smoke; only the lamps in the pleasure-grounds threw their pale light through the window, and made the desolate look of the room still more dreary. The melancholy tones of the castle clock sounded through the house, announcing that the first hour of the new day was come. Then again silence, desolate silence, everywhere; only a pale glimmer from the distance on the covers of the chandeliers and the golden ornaments of the walls. Sometimes there was a crackling in the parquet of the floor, and a draught of wind blew through an open pane upon the curtains, which hung black round the window like funeral drapery. Here and there fell a scanty ray of light on the wall, where hung the portraits of the ancestors of the princely house in the dress of their time. Many generations had dwelt in these rooms; stately men and beautiful women had danced here. Wine had been poured out in golden goblets; gracious words, festive speeches, and the soft murmur of love, had been heard here; the splendor of every former age had been outdone by the richer adornment of later ones. Now everything had vanished and withered; the darkness of night and of death hung over the bright colors. All those who had once moved about and rejoiced in the brilliant throng, had pa.s.sed away into the depths. Nothing now remained of these hours but a dreary void and dismal stillness, and one single figure which glided about on the smooth floor, noiseless like a ghost.

It was the lord of this castle. His head bent forward as in a dream, he pa.s.sed along by the pictures of his ancestors.

"The timid doe has escaped," he whispered; "the panther made too short a spring: in rage and shame he now creeps back to his den. The powerful beast could not conceal his claws. The chase is over; it is time to set at rest the beatings of this breast. It was only a woman--a small, unknown human life. But the jade Fancy had bound my senses to her body; to her alone belonged whatever remained in me of warmth and devotion to human kind."

He stopped before a picture, on which fell the gloomy light of an expiring lamp.

"You, my steel-clad ancestor, know what the feeling is of him who flies from home and court, and has to give up to his enemy what is dear to him. When you fled from the castle of your fathers, a homeless fugitive, pursued by a pack of foreign mercenaries, there was misery in your heart, and you cast back a wild curse behind you. Still poorer does your descendant feel, who now glides fleeting through the inheritance that you have left him. To you remained hope in your hard heart; but I to-day have lost all that is worth the effort of life. She has escaped my guards. Where to? To her father's house on the rock!

Cursed be the hour when I, deceived by her words, sent the boy among those mountains."