CHAPTER TWELVE
Such was the revolutionary whirlwind during which Frederick and Mersburg entered Venice and went to an inn fairly close to the hotel which Adelaide occupied.
It is sad to look for one that you love, to look with so much care and difficulty and to have that person so near and yet not to be able to go and throw oneself in her arms because of not knowing that she is near.
Everybody knows about the strange things that the Venetians do during the carnival, and what is unusual is that the customs of that period are fantastic in that they are done without any real emotion. What is more strange than to see the most serious people of the city, priests, nobles, senators, the most respected old men, the most chaste women, go through the streets and canals in disguise? They go through this without giving up their serious nature and without changing their ideas on life. Thus it is neither in the mind nor in acts that gaiety lies; it is in the clothing. These good citizens are only wild because they are masked; take off the domino and the Harlequin costume and they will immediately revert to type.
Frederick from his inn, and Adelaide from her hotel wanted to take part in the festival, and so both set out without suspecting that the other was in the city, and even if they had met they would not have recognized each other.
However, Frederick had learned, since his arrival in Venice that there was a Saxon woman who had taken part in the revolution, and he had a suspicion that it was his wife. Unfortunately, Adelaide had made it hard for him to find her. Except for the shipper and a few illustrious persons of the government nobody knew her real name and she had asked these people to keep her identity secret.
Frederick kept working on this clue, and in time he learned that there was a Saxon woman who lived at the Rialto, but her name and place of birth were unknown. He called at the hotels in that neighborhood; but Adelaide had already foreseen any such requests for information, and she had left instructions to say if anybody asked for her to say that she had recently left for Germany.
Frederick did not give up immediately. He thought that if Adelaide were in Venice that he would see her in time by staying on the streets as much as possible. Since it was carnival time, it would be hard to recognize her, but he kept on and in time he was somewhat successful.
Since Adelaide was taller than the other women of Venice, this would always give Frederick a clue and one day he noticed in the middle of Saint Mark's Square a group of admirers surrounding a woman whose beauty was the subject of conversation of all. He pushed his way through the crowd and found the woman talking with the wife of the shipper. Frederick spoke to her in German. Adelaide hesitated for a moment and then answered in Italian assuring him that she only spoke that language. At that moment, Mersburg, who was with the prince, drew near Adelaide and took her by the hand and said to her in Italian:
"Watch out for the man who is speaking to you."
Adelaide knew then that it was her husband and continuing to speak in Italian and changing her voice she said that she could not stand people who spoke to her in a language she couldn't understand. Mersburg translated these words to Frederick who immediately cried out in German:
"It is she, my friend, it is she. I will not leave her until she has been unmasked."
Mersburg who pretended to translate this message into Italian told the princess to escape as quickly as possible, that her husband was furious and that he would almost certainly have her put in irons.
At this moment the wife of the shipper who understood the situation, made a sign to several of the young men who composed the group. They ran up in such a way that they separated the two women from Frederick and enabled them to escape into a narrow street. They soon found a gondola which took them home.
Frederick was greatly upset to lose sight of the woman he believed to be Adelaide and at the same time his jealousy was stimulated at the thought that all these men were so much impressed by her that they followed her around.
"My friend," he said to Mersburg, "do you believe there is a more curious situation in the world?"
"I don't see it as such," said Mersburg with the greatest sangfroid. "This woman is not Adelaide. Let's question these people and we will see if I am mistaken."
"Gentlemen," he said to several young men, "could you tell us why all of you are so much interested in this women. My friend and I have not noticed anything special about her which would require so much attention."
"You have certainly not seen her with her face uncovered," answered one of the men. "She is the most beautiful woman in Europe."
"Do you know who she is?"
As Mersburg was fairly sure what the answer would be, he asked one of the men to tell Frederick in German.
"This woman," said one of them in very poor German, "is an adventuress from Naples who has come here to make her fortune, and she picked the right time because the season is especially good for women of that kind. She is as beautiful as she is heedless. She was mixed up with the Contarini in the plot to overthrow the government. She was about to lose her life, but she was able to leave the prison through the influence of the rival of Contarino, who has become her lover. The first one lost her, the second one saved her. I am sorry, but I cannot tell you more. It is forbidden in Venice to talk about affairs of state, and perhaps we have already talked too much."
They disappeared.
"Well, my Prince," said the count smiling, "you see well that you were wrong. Would your wife have taken part in such a plot to overthrow the government? Would she be the type to play around with these young men? Whatever be her wrongs, you will agree that she is incapable of all that."
"There is only one thing I agree to, my friend," said Frederick impetuously, "it is that the woman we have just seen is Adelaide. I admit also that she is unfaithful to me and that I adore her and hate her at the same time, and if she had not fled, I would have stabbed her while falling on my knees in front of her. In my despairing love, I would plunge the dagger into that traitorous heart, the altar from which the false vows of matrimony have come."
"You are carried away by your emotions, Prince," said Mersburg … "Let's move on now, people are looking at us and your violence is causing comment."
"I will follow you. You are right. I am no longer myself. I turn myself over to you; do with me as you wish, and if you would end this life, it would be the greatest service you could do me."
The next day, Frederick, a little more calm, wanted to continue his search, and it was to the home of the shipper that he wanted to go. The count tried to keep him from going there, but without succeeding. They were in the midst of discussing this point when the prince received the following letter:
The one you seek is in Venice and is very anxious to see you, but I do not know where she lives. Have yourself taken two miles along the Brenta canal; I will try to be there. Our gondoliers will bring our two gondolas together as you will see. Not a word to anybody; the slightest indiscretion might cause everything to go wrong.
Frederick, not believing that his friend should be excluded from this confidence, showed him the note.
"What do you think of that?" said the prince. "Well, you see you were in error in not believing that she was in Venice. She is here, my dear Count, she is here, and I must see her at any price."
The Count of Mersburg did not fail to tell the prince that he thought that only scorn should be shown to such anonymous documents. But since Frederick had made a firm resolution not to leave Venice without finding the one he believed to be there, nothing could turn him from carrying out the project which this note suggested.
At the time agreed upon, the two Saxons got into their gondola and had themselves taken to the place which had been designated. Hardly had they reached this place when they heard gondoliers singing a barcarolle and soon there was an answer from another gondola. In a few instants the two boats were side by side … Heavens! What an object appeared before the eyes of a loving husband! A coffin filled the middle part of the gondola; two priests were praying beside it and a person who was hidden in such a way that his face could not be perceived threw the following note into the prince's gondola:
This is the Fate of the Princess of Saxony and the punishment which the Republic reserves for those who conspire against her. You saw her yesterday for the last time; she was arrested and taken to the place of her punishment. Profit by the example; the severity which has fallen on the wife might easily fall on the husband. Don't be in Venice tomorrow, and if you wish to destroy the Republic of Venice, you will have to come with your troops and not try to overthrow it by plots.
While Frederick was reading this fatal note, the two gondolas separated and each was soon out of sight of the other.
It took all of Mersburg's strength to prevent Frederick from throwing himself into the sea. He wanted to expire, he said, on the coffin of the only being he adored in the world.
"Let's flee, Prince," cried the count, "it is the only thing left for us to do. Think about your people and do not expose yourself to danger. Posterity would not pardon you the weakness of dying for a woman who has given you so much cause to hate her."
But love does not listen to reason, and anything attempted to extinguish it only makes it more intense. The despair of the prince was frightful.
"I will never see again the one I loved," he cried throwing himself out of the bed which had been prepared for him on his return to the inn. "I am losing her forever. The wrongs which I have committed toward her are irreparable. Oh, Mersburg, you want me to go back to a throne which I no longer share with her. What interest would all that have for me since I have lost the one who made me want it. It was only over her heart that I wanted to rule. I have lost her and I must follow her. These insolent people defy me. Well, it will be on them that I will cause to fall the effects of my just vengeance. They want war; I will give it to them. I want this country to be reduced to cinders and it will be under the ruins of its proud buildings that I will bury the one they have snatched from me."
Meanwhile preparations were made for the rapid departure of the prince when an individual brought another note. The prince opened it hurriedly and read what follows:
The woman with whom you sought to speak the other day in Saint Mark's Square has the greatest desire to carry on this conversation. Come this evening to the same place and you will meet her. She will be alone and you can talk to her at leisure.
"It is only too true, Mersburg," said the prince, "that they want me to go crazy in this detestable city. What does all that mean? If the woman on Saint Mark's Square was the princess, as I have never doubted, the princess was not in the coffin which we saw on the canal yesterday. And if she were in the coffin, then this note could not have been written for her."
"I don't see how your love can be blind to such a degree," said Mersburg, "that you cannot see through all this. It is only too true that the princess was mixed up in the conspiracy which has just agitated this city and that it is she that the Republic has punished in the frightful manner which your eyes have seen yesterday. As for this note, it is from the adventuress from Naples, and you have heard her described as such by the young men who were there."
"But this so-called Neopolitan has been taken away under our eyes, and you know that the one taken away was the Princess of Saxony going to her punishment."
"Two women could have been taken away at the same instant," said the count, "and you know that the Republic would proceed in such matters with the greatest discretion."
"So be it, but I want to get some more information about this frightful mystery. The wisest would become crazy and I am not strong enough to stand so many cruel alternatives."
"You are going to do something imprudent, Prince," answered the count, "and which might cost you dearly. Since you wish it, I agree to stay with you, but only on condition that if nothing is cleared up tomorrow, we will leave Venice immediately."
Frederick promised and went to the rendezvous.
No woman similar to the one that he was seeking appeared, but a man taking off his mask came up to the prince and said in an insolent fashion:
"You will be a dead man if you are still in Venice tomorrow morning."
"Well," said Mersburg, "once more will you believe what I told you?"
"She really is dead then," cried the prince withdrawing with the count. "I have lost her forever. I feel sure of that now."
"Oh, my dear Prince," said Mersburg seeming to share the grief of his master. "Let's cease to be blind about this misfortune. Man is like that, he will not accept the hand of fate when it rests on his shoulder … Let's leave, Prince, in order that I not have to deplore on returning to our dear country the painful loss of both of those persons who brought so much happiness to it. It seems to me that the sword is hanging over you and it should not be by the hands of executioners that the sovereign of Saxony must perish."
After a frightful night, Frederick finally consented to leave and the next day, Mersburg and he spent the night in Trieste and from there they went on to Germany.