CHAP. V.
MR. D'Alenberg, after leaving the Baron's, returned to his daughter, whom he found in tears, her head reclining on the shoulder of Louisa.—"My dear Theresa (said this tender father) have some compassion upon me; must the remnant of my days be embittered by seeing my child unhappy. I have already told you there exists a possibility that every wish of your heart may be gratified."
"No, my dear father, No (said she, raising her head) my happiness is beyond the reach of possibilities; but I trust despair will have the same effects of making me composed and resigned, as if I could indulge a visionary hope. These tears will be the last you shall see me shed, not one sigh more shall give you pain; I have given too much indulgence to a fatal weakness which stole upon me insensibly, but now I throw it from my heart for ever. Your daughter never shall live to blush for her attachment to an insensible object; but she will admire the constancy of an unfortunate man, and imitate a character that rises upon her every hour. Yes, his fortitude, his discretion, his strict adherence to honour and rectitude of conduct, shall inspire me with equal courage, to bear the misfortunes of life without sinking under them, and teach me to respect your feelings by suppressing my own."
She rose, and kissing her father's hand.—"Do not look at me (said she) with such tender surprise; this is not a false heroism; you shall see what resolution and a sense of duty will enable me to perform."
Mr. D'Alenberg was charmed with the behaviour of his daughter; but taking an opportunity, on her leaving him, of speaking to Louisa, she followed her friend to another apartment.
In the evening the Count and the two Barons paid a visit to the Ladies; every one expressed their regret at the sudden mandate which had taken their friend from Vienna, and every tongue was lavish in his praise. The Count seemed but half himself without Ferdinand, and could not reconcile it to his own feelings, that he submitted to let him go alone with only his brother's messenger.
Two days after the departure of Ferdinand, a messenger came to the Baron's from Mr. D'Alenberg, acquainting him with the arrival of the Countess Wolfran, and requested to see the Count immediately. He obeyed the summons. On being introduced to an apartment where that Gentleman waited to receive him, after saluting him, "I have been a witness (said he) to one of the most interesting scenes you can possibly conceive, between two amiable and noble minded women. The indiscretion of Louisa, in marrying Count Wolfran without her parent's sanction, she has amply atoned for, not only by her subsequent sufferings, but by a generosity of conduct that highly exalts her.
You know the subject of the letter she wrote to the Countess, and her fixed determination never to avail herself of the Count's last declaration in her favour. The Countess, on the receipt of her letters, without communicating the contents to any one, set off post for Vienna, leaving her child to the care of a friend in the Convent.
She came directly to this house; the meeting was truly affecting, and the self-denying arguments on both sides, such as did honour to the goodness of their hearts.—Louisa held one that I thought was incontrovertible. "In resigning those rights (said she) which you wish me to assume, I forfeit nothing; claims which were never publicly made, nor at any time allowed, from which I could derive but a trifling pecuniary advantage to myself only, which must subject me to the talk of the country, and drag me into public notice as an object of compassion for past injuries, and of curiosity for the claims and circumstances so mortifying, which I must adduce to prove my rights; advantages attained under all these considerations would be to me more humiliating than indigence if unnoticed.
Had the Count acknowledged me in the life time of my father, my duty, and regard for his honour, would certainly have made me act very differently, and then, my dear Countess, I should not have known the superior nobleness of your mind, so different from the jealousy and hatred a narrow and contracted heart would have felt towards an object who had, however innocently, interrupted her happiness.
Never, were I to live a thousand years, shall I forget your kind visit, and subsequent generosity: And will you deny the poor Louisa the heart-felt satisfaction of imitating, as well as she can, so bright an example?—But to do away every idea of any obligation to me, I own to you, my dear friends, that was I a parent, had I a child to inherit from the claims I might bring forward, then, I should feel it a duty to assert them; but to wrong the Countess, married in the face of the world, to disinherit a lawful heir, for such is your son; to throw the estates and titles into a very distant branch of the family, to the prejudice of his own child, merely for a temporary advantage to myself—never, never, can I think of it! And after all, what merit is there in giving up claims which the uncertainty of the law might long with-hold, and, perhaps, deny me at last for want of sufficient proofs."
"Those arguments of Louisa, which I think I have pretty exactly repeated," continued Mr. D'Alenberg, "seemed unanswerable; the Countess had only to oppose what she termed justice and equity; the matter was at length referred to me, and both parties pledged themselves to abide by my determination; without hesitation I pronounced Louisa's conduct both just and proper, and that the Countess ought, without scruple, to act for her son according to the rights allowed her by the world.
"My opinion was decisive, and concluded the debate. Louisa has drawn up a short declaration in these words, to which myself and daughter have signed as witnesses, and to which you also are requested to put your signature.
"Louisa, the daughter of Claude Hautweitzer, thus publicly acknowledges Theodosia—to be the true and lawful wife of Frederic Count Wolfran; and as such entitled to all his estates and effects in right of her son, heir to the late Count Wolfran.—This declaration made before, and witnessed by, &c. &c."
"This paper (pursued Mr. D'Alenberg) she has written herself for the farther satisfaction of the Countess, not that I think there will ever exist any cause that shall make it necessary to produce it, only that there were some persons in the room when Mr. Hautweitzer claimed the Count as his daughter's husband; but as the affair fell to the ground, and that claim has never been renewed, there is no great chance that it will be noticed; if it should, this paper will be conclusive, and, Louisa being almost entirely unknown, has consented to adopt our name, and to reconcile the Countess to herself, agrees to accept a very handsome independent settlement.
"Thus all parties are satisfied at last, and all this business has been begun and ended in little more than three hours."
Mr. D'Alenberg having concluded, introduced the Count to the Ladies. He was much struck with the fine person and noble air of the young Countess, and with admiration gazed on three such women, as it would have been extremely difficult to produce their equals.
He earnestly inquired after Eugenia.—"I have a letter for you, Sir," said the Countess, "from my amiable friend. Thank Heaven, her health is amazingly restored, though the fatigues and fasts she voluntarily inflicts upon herself are great trials to a delicate constitution. I have left my child to her tender care, and shall feel inconceivable regret to part from that Lady, and attend to the necessary cares my friends have heaped upon me for the advantage of my son. All my objections are over-ruled and silenced, Sir, but I shall never feel half satisfied with myself."
The Count joined heartily in the opinion before given, and then mentioned the civilities for which he was indebted to Baron Reiberg and his son. The Countess blushed at the name; but with a noble frankness she said, "I doubt not, Sir, from the expression of your countenance, but that you have heard of the early attachment the young Baron honoured me with. My dear father was pleased to consign both my person and fortune to the care of Baron Nolker, and made his consent absolutely necessary to my marriage with any man, at the same time recommending Count Wolfran for my husband, if he desired my hand.
The Baron, though a good man, availed himself of this authority in favour of his nephew, whom he certainly thought a good character; my preference of the Baron was reprobated, the acquaintance broken off, and in obedience to the will of my father I consented to sacrifice myself rather than wound my character and delicacy, by forfeiting my fortune to indulge what might have been deemed a juvenile attachment in a giddy young woman.
I owe the Baron much respect, and many obligations for his strict adherence to my wishes and entreaties. He respected my peace, and I had too much regard for his, ever to inform him of the cruel duplicity of Count Wolfran; I rather wished him to believe our separation was my own work, and the effects of my own weak and discontented spirit."
"And your secret, Madam," said the Count, "has never transpired; the Baron feared you was unhappy, suspected the Count did not behave well; but he had no grounds to form his opinion from, as upon inquiry he was told the Count opposed your retirement; and grieved at your absence."
"I am glad the Baron was so informed," returned she; "but the hypocrite never regretted me; the possession of my estates easily consoled him for my absence."
As the Countess was now compelled to appear as the widow of the late Count Wolfran, she was obliged to confine herself till after the funeral, which was ordered to be at the burial-place of his family near Ulm, and every preparation was set on foot to forward the procession in a day or two.
It was singular enough to the company to see two widows, both of whom disdained to assume any appearance of sorrow for a man they equally despised, whose interests, one would suppose, must have been incompatible with each other, linked in the firmest bands of friendship, and each feeling the highest admiration for the merits of her friend.
The fortunate escape of Louisa being talked of, naturally led to the situation of Heli, and she avowed much pain that the poor Turk should have been so great a sufferer by affording her an asylum in his house. "I think it a duty upon me," said she, "to reimburse his losses in some degree, and the Countess having made me so handsome a provision, infinitely beyond my wants, I shall certainly appropriate a part of it for his use, since it is through him ultimately that I am indebted for the blessings I at present enjoy."
This generous intention was only opposed in part, the Count insisting both for himself and Ferdinand, that they should participate in the benefits she proposed for Heli. This claim was at length allowed, and he was commissioned to get a settlement drawn up for the advantage of the Turk.
The day following Mr. D'Alenberg and his daughter was to be presented at Court; she would gladly have declined a fatiguing, and to her little pleasing, ceremony; but as her father appeared desirous of it, she submitted to his wishes. The Count, the two Barons, and the Lady of the first Minister, were to be of the party.
The day came, and Miss D'Alenberg went through the ceremony, was graciously received, and very much admired. One Nobleman of high rank and fortune, was particularly charmed with her, fixed himself in her party, and paid her the most marked attention.
In the evening, when all the friends met at Mr. D'Alenberg's lodgings, the Count gave an account of his commission to Heli, which he had executed that morning, and at length prevailed upon him to accept the settlement; but he declared he would not relax in his endeavours to trace Fatima, and should he recover his jewels, or such part of them as would enable him to live, he would throw up his obligations to Christians, and enjoy the pleasure of revenge upon an ungrateful, abandoned woman.
After the Count had repeated his negotiation with Heli, the Gentlemen all rallied Miss D'Alenberg on the conquest she had made that morning at Court.—"I have no doubt," said Baron Reiberg, "but that Mr. D'Alenberg will receive a visit from Count Dusseldoff."
"It will be an unnecessary piece of politeness," said the young Lady, hastily; "for I hope in a few days we shall leave Vienna, and return home. Our appearance this morning I thought a work of supererogation, as our stay here will be so very short."
"Indeed, Madam," returned the Baron, "few young Ladies would think so lightly of such a conquest. Count Dusseldoff is a very worthy young Nobleman, highly in favour with his Royal Master, a very handsome fortune in possession, and his reversionary ones."———
"Dear Sir," exclaimed she, "neither his possessions, or reversions, can be any thing to me. I hope and believe you mistake the nature of his attentions, which certainly extended no farther than common politeness. I beg," continued she, very seriously, seeing the Baron smile, and going to speak, "I entreat you, Sir, to choose some other subject for your observations. Your present ideas are very visionary ones."
"I beg your pardon, Madam," said he, "and have done."
The Countess gladly availed herself of the privilege allowed her as a widow to retire from company, and therefore avoided being seen by the young Baron; but he was changed into a new man, life and animation informed his whole person, and the hope, though a distant one, that a day would arrive when he might be permitted to see his adored Theodosia, and resume his former claims upon her heart, made him submit with a tolerable grace to the rules of decorum.
The next morning the Baron's predictions were verified; Count Dusseldoff sent in his name to Mr. D'Alenberg, his daughter was not present, and he received a visit he considered as an honour. After a very little prefatory discourse, the Count frankly avowed his admiration of Miss D'Alenberg, and requested permission to visit her.
Her father most respectfully acknowledged the honour intended to her, told him that he had long since resigned all parental authority to dictate to her choice, having reason to be perfectly satisfied with her prudence, and assured that she would never form an imprudent attachment; that his Lordship being but little acquainted with her person, and not at all with her disposition, or understanding, he hoped he might be excused for saying, "it was rather a premature declaration."
The Count said, "that it became his character to be candid towards Mr. D'Alenberg; but to the young Lady he should be more reserved, and only requested, for the present, permission to pay him and his daughter that attention, which, as strangers, they were entitled to." This politeness could not be refused, and on that footing the Count was permitted to pay his respects to them in the evening.
He had scarcely left the house before Count M——— was announced, who with great joy produced a few lines he had received from Ferdinand, the same he had written at Lintz. The Ladies were soon informed of the letter, which conveyed his best respects to them, and the whole party seemed rejoiced to hear of his safe arrival there: But this pleasure was short-lived, when Mr. D'Alenberg mentioned the visit he had received, and the permission he had granted.
For a few minutes his daughter seemed in great agitation; she stole several looks at the Count; his countenance said nothing. She soon recovered, and only replied, "her father had a right to see whom he pleased, although she could not see the necessity of adding to their acquaintance for the very short time they should stay in that city."—No answer was made to this observation, and the Count receiving an invitation for himself and his friends, they separated soon after.
As he walked back he recollected the secret attachment which Louisa had hinted at as the cause of her friend's disorder upon her spirits, and revolving every occurrence as they rose to his mind, he began to entertain an idea, that either Ferdinand or himself was the object of it. He was many years older than his friend, and he thought very inferior to him in every personal endowment; yet he had remarked she generally addressed herself to him, and the particular looks she had eyed him with when her father spoke of the Count's visit, had not passed unobserved then, and now, from several corroborating circumstances, seemed to proceed from no common cause.
There is no man, at any time of life, but has some latent spark of vanity, which may be raised by accidental and concurring incidents. Count M——— had still such advantages of person, as might well warrant more than a bare supposition that he was not deficient in attraction, and from the idea once obtruding on his mind, many little trifling instances were recollected, that fixed it there, and he concluded Miss D'Alenberg had certainly entertained a decided partiality for him.
He was too noble and generous not to lament that he was so distinguished, because he still retained a warm affection for Eugenia, and had that affection been cooled, yet his honour and feelings never would suggest him to pay particular attention to any woman whilst she existed; he therefore concluded it would be most prudent and proper for him to relax in his visits, and, if possible, to avoid being a companion in their journey when they should return into Suabia.
Count Dusseldoff made his visit, and was still more charmed with Miss D'Alenberg than at first. The little she did say, and that was as little as was consistent with politeness, gave him the highest opinion of her understanding and cultivated mind. She was above assuming any consequence from his partiality to her, and being perfectly indifferent to him, she treated him as a Gentleman chance had thrown in her way, and whom possibly she might never see again; for she took an opportunity of saying they should soon leave Vienna, and that she was so devoid of fashion, as to prefer the country to all the amusements a gay and crowded city could hold out to her.
In the course of a week his visits were several times repeated, and at length he took courage to avow his admiration in very explicit terms. Her answer was short, but decided: "I am truly sensible of the honour of your good opinion; but, my Lord, there are insuperable obstacles to any union between us. My father has the goodness to permit me in this important business to decide for myself; therefore I am not accountable to any other person. My Lord, I never can be your's: I respect you, I am grateful, but I can entertain no other sentiments for you, and I beg that I may never more hear a word on this subject."
The Count, mortified and disappointed, appealed to the father, he absolutely declined any interference, though he acknowledged the Count's proposals were highly honourable both to himself and daughter; but he was convinced her resolution was unalterable.—Thus ended the hopes of Count Dusseldoff, and he ceased to importune her farther.
Whilst this affair was pending Count M——— very seldom called, and when he did his visits were short, his behaviour cool. The Ladies noticed this alteration, but supposed it was occasioned by his uneasiness in not hearing from Ferdinand; indeed all grew impatient at his silence, as they only waited to hear of his arrival and situation to fix on a day for following him.
Baron Reiberg had received a letter from his steward that the valet was safe with him, and appeared to be a very good sort of a man. This indefinite term was not misapplied to him, for he had a few good traits in his character, which, if he had belonged to a better master, might have made him a valuable servant; for he was strictly faithful to him, and made his inclinations and conscience subservient to what he thought was his duty to his employer; unfortunately he had not understanding, or strength of mind, to distinguish between that duty, and what he owed to himself and society, the consequence of that slavery and vassalage, which the German Lords exact from their poor tenantry and servants.
Ferdinand had been gone now ten days, no news was received, and they were extremely uneasy; when one day an express arrived to Baron Reiberg from Count Rhodophil, requesting to know "if any servant of his had appeared at the Baron's house to attend on his brother, he had dispatched a messenger more than a fortnight since to implore Ferdinand's return, as he supposed himself then at the point of death; that although much recovered, he was still in a weak state, and very unhappy from not seeing or hearing of his brother, or whether the messenger had reached Vienna or not."
Never was consternation greater than what the Baron and his friends felt on the receipt of this letter; from the date Ferdinand ought to have been there several days preceding it. This, with his silence to them, gave unspeakable apprehensions to the whole party, and accelerated their resolution to quit Vienna. The messenger was sent back with an account of Ferdinand's arrival at Lintz on his way to Baden, since which they had heard nothing of him.
Mr. D'Allenberg declined acquainting the Ladies of the cause which hastened their journey, and Miss D'Alllenberg was so desirous of returning, that she readily fell in with her father's opinion, that it was unnecessary to wait for letters from Ferdinand, as they were going to him, and letters could be dispatched after them. Louisa had no will but her friends, and the Countess was anxious to see her son, and had much business to go through at Ulm. Thus the whole party made up their mind for the journey, and the second day after the next was fixed upon for their departure. Here then we leave them to follow Ferdinand.