Louise Muehlbach - A Conspiracy of the Carbonari
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Louise Muehlbach >> A Conspiracy of the Carbonari
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"I know it, father, yes, I know it," she answered, panting for breath, as
she slowly raised her hands and pressed them on her bosom as if to force
down the anguish within. "Ah, yes, I shall never forget it! That was the
hour when we both sold ourselves to hell."
"Until that time I had been an honest man," he continued. "I had toiled in
honest ways to obtain support for my family and myself. I had earnestly
endeavored to make my knowledge profitable--humble enough to be willing to
teach for the lowest price, to offer my services everywhere. But I could
get no employment; people wanted no teacher of music; everywhere I was
pitilessly turned away. During the mournful years of war which had closed
in upon us, no one wanted to spend his money for a useless art, which
perhaps could be used only for dirges. A music-teacher was the most
unnecessary and useless of mortals, and the music-teacher felt this, and
was ready to become wood-cutter, laborer, street-sweeper, anything to
procure food for his sick wife, his only child, to brighten their
impoverished, sorrowful lives with a ray of comfort. But it was all in
vain; the poor music-teacher found employment nowhere; he might have
starved in the midst of the great city, surrounded by wealthy people who,
with arrogant bearing, daily drove in brilliant equipages past him and his
misery. For his part, he would gladly have died, for what value could his
wretched, pitiful life have to him! But he had a daughter, the only
creature whom he loved; she was his happiness, his hope, and his joy. His
daughter must not starve; must not suffer from the wretched needs of
existence; must not crawl in the dust, while others, less beautiful, less
good, less gifted, enjoyed life in luxury and splendor. Chance betrayed an
important secret to the poor musician. He knew that on the one side a large
sum would be paid for his silence, on the other for his speech. He went and
sold himself! He went to warn some, to save others if it were possible."
"I know," she said, panting for breath. "You are speaking of the
assassination of the ambassadors in Rastadt."
"Yes, Count Lehrbach's valet, in a drunken spree, betrayed his master's
secret, so I learned the fine business, and could warn the envoys, could
warn Lehrbach to take stronger precautions. It was my first trial, and it
was well paid."
"The poor envoys paid for it with their lives," she cried, shuddering.
"That was their own fault. Why didn't they listen to my warning? Why didn't
they delay their departure until the following morning? I knew that in the
evening a whole detachment of Hussars was stationed on the highway which
they must pass. I told them so, and warned them. But they did not believe
me; they were reckless enough to set out, and I only succeeded in
persuading them to burn their important papers and arm themselves. True,
this was useless. They were butchered by the Hussars. One alone, Jean
Dubarry, escaped, and I may say that I saved him; for I discovered him in
the tree up which he had climbed in his mortal terror, took him to a safe
hiding-place, and informed the French authorities in Rastadt. Yes, I saved
his life, and therefore I can say that I began my new life with a good
deed, and did not entirely sell myself to the devil. Since that time I have
led a changeful, stirring existence, often in danger of getting a bullet in
my head, or a rope around my neck. But what has given me courage to deride,
defy all these perils? The thought of my child, my beautiful, beloved
daughter Leonore. I had taken her to Paris, and placed her in one of the
most fashionable boarding schools. I wished to have her trained to be an
aristocratic lady. I had told her all my plans for the future, and as,
like me, she despised the world and human beings, she had approved those
plans and solemnly vowed by the memory of her mother, murdered by want,
famine, and grief, to avenge herself with me upon society--wrest from it
what formerly it had so cruelly denied: wealth, honor, and distinction."
"And I think I have kept my oath," she said earnestly. "I have entered into
all your plans; I have accepted the part which you imposed upon me, and for
three years have played it with success. Baroness von Vernon was as useful
to you in Berlin the last two years, as Baroness de Simonie is now in
Vienna. She aided you in all your plans, entered into your designs,
pitilessly betrayed all who trusted her and whose secrets she stole by
craft, falsehood, and hypocrisy."
"Why did they allow them to be stolen?" he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Why were they so reckless as to trust a beautiful woman, when experience
teaches that all women lie, deceive, and are incapable of keeping a secret?
They must bear the consequences of their own folly; we need not reproach
ourselves for it."
"I do not reproach myself," she said, "only life bores me. I long for rest,
for peace, for solitude around me, that I may not be so unutterably lonely
within."
"You wish to conceal the truth from me, Leonore," he cried, shrugging his
shoulders, "but I know it. You are in love, my child, and since, as I
suppose, this is your first love, it cannot fail to be very passionate and
transfigure all humanity with a roseate glow. But wait! that will pass away
and you will soon be disenchanted. Hush! do not answer; do not try to
contradict me; lovers' reasons have no convincing power. We will leave
everything to time and say no more about it. Let us rather talk about the
great affair, which you just mentioned, and which certainly might greatly
promote our prosperity. Then you really believe in a conspiracy?"
"I do. I know some of the accomplices and shall succeed in discovering
others. But I repeat, I will do nothing in regard to this matter until you
have granted my condition."
"Are you serious, Leonore?" he asked sorrowfully. "You would leave me, your
father? You wish to abandon the task which we imposed upon ourselves? For
you know that we had set ourselves the purpose of becoming rich in order to
trample under our feet those who scorned and ill-treated us when we were
poor. But there is still much to be done ere we attain our goal. It is true
that I am well paid; for I am always paid for my life, which is risked in
every one of my enterprises. You, too, are well paid; for a magnificently
furnished home with a monthly income of six thousand francs is a liberal
compensation. But my proud, aristocratic Leonore knows little about
economy, and she has arranged her housekeeping on so regal a scale that I
shall scarcely succeed in putting a trifle aside for her every month.
Besides, consider that the engagement is liable to be cancelled at any
moment, and that the least error, the most trivial suspicion of your
trustworthiness will suffice to hurl you back into oblivion. No, Leonore, I
must not enter into your ecstasy, and I will not. You must remain with me;
you must fulfill the vow you made and, holding my hand, pursue the path
into which despair and contempt for mankind has led us."
"And if I will not?" she asked, sitting erect, and, for the first time
during this whole conversation, permitting the passionate agitation of her
soul to be mirrored in her face. "If I will not? If I have resolved to fly
from this life of shameful splendor, gilded falsehood, whitewashed crime?"
"Then I shall hold you in it by force," he cried, grasping her arm
violently. "And do you know how? I will inform the man you love who you
are, and, believe me, he will turn from you with contempt and loathing; he
will not follow you into the paradise of solitude into which you would
fain escape with him. Listen, Leonore, and weigh my words. We have gone too
far for return ever to be possible, therefore we must press forward,
steadily forward! Whoever has once sold himself to the devil can never hope
to transform himself once more into an angel. Therefore he must be on his
guard against nothing so rigidly as repentance, moods of virtuous
atonement! You are now suffering from such a mood; it is my duty to cure
you of it, and I know the medicine which can heal. So listen. If you do not
swear, solemnly, swear, to continue, without wavering or delay, to play the
part which you perform with so much talent and success, I will await Baron
Kolbielsky here and tell him who you are."
"You will not do that," she shrieked, throwing herself from the divan upon
her knees; "no, father, you will not. You will have pity on me, for I will
confess it to you: I love him. He is my first, my only love, and for his
sake, oh! solely for his sake, I would fain again be good, pure, virtuous.
So have pity on me, do not betray me."
"Will you swear to remain Madame de Simonie? To make no change in your
present mode of life? To fulfill the duties which you have undertaken, and
pursue your task with zeal and cleverness?"
"If I do, will you then promise not to betray me?"
"If you do, I will devote all my craft, cunning, and boldness to the one
purpose of making us rich; will put all means in motion, in order, when we
are wealthy, to give you the happiness of living with your lover in some
secluded corner of the world."
"You do not say that you will not betray me. Swear it."
"I swear that I will betray to no human being who and what you are, as soon
as you swear to remain what you are and to fulfill your duties."
"Well then," she groaned faintly, "I swear it: I will remain what I am; I
will make no attempt to fly from this life of disgrace and crime."
"My dear Leonore," he said kindly, "now we have taken our mutual vows and
understand each other. All differences are settled, and we are once more
sure of each other."
"Yes, we are sure of each other," she repeated with a melancholy smile,
slowly rising from her knees and drawing her figure proudly to its full
height. "I will take up my part again and you shall hear no more complaints
from me, father. Have you any further questions to ask?"
"Really," he exclaimed, gazing at her with sparkling eyes, "really, you are
an admirable woman. Just now a despairing, penitent Magdalen, and once more
a Judith ready for battle or a Delilah who is joyfully ready to cut
Samson's locks and deliver him to the Philistines. Tell me, is there a
Samson whom you will deliver to us?"
"More than one," she cried; "for I tell you that there is a conspiracy, and
I already know three of the members. The object is to discover the others.
So give me time and trust me."
"May I speak of it to the emperor now?"
"You may warn him, throw out hints, fix your price. For as you have said,
we must be rich to be free and happy. Demand a high price of blood, that we
may be rich."
"Blood-money! Then it is a very serious matter. Blood will be shed! Ay,
blood will be shed! Heads will fall!" she cried with flashing eyes. "But
what do we care for that? We shall be paid for betraying the traitors, and,
when we have gained wealth, no one will ask from what bloody source it
came. Wealth reconciles, equalizes everything. So we will be rich, rich.
And now, uncle, listen. Baroness de Simonie will give another entertainment
to-morrow. She will invite all her friends and acquaintances, but
especially Count Andreossy's aids, Colonel Mariage, Captain de Guesniard,
Lieutenant-colonel Schweitzer, the two Counts von Poldring, and moreover a
number of French and Austrian officers, magistrates and ladies. It must be
a brilliant fete--all the rooms crowded with people, that some, without
attracting attention, may be able to retire and hold a familiar
conversation."
"Of course, of course, my beautiful Leonore, and as your uncle and
major-domo, I will do everything in my power for your honor! And now, my
child, farewell! I will go to Schoenbrunn, to report to the emperor.
Farewell, and be brave, happy, and joyous. Believe me, men do not deserve
to be pitied, far less to be loved. The day will soon come when my Leonore
will perceive this and strip the enthusiasm of love from her heart as
calmly as the glove from her fair hand. Farewell, you lovely Baroness de
Simonie!"
CHAPTER III.
BARON VON KOLBIELSKY.
Leonore had accompanied her father into the anteroom and listened in
breathless silence to his departing footsteps.
Then, rushing to the window, she threw it open and gazed down into the
street. Yes, she saw him enter a carriage and drive off in it, turning once
to nod to her.
With a sigh of relief she went back to her boudoir. Her whole being seemed
transformed. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, and a happy smile
hovered around her lips as she glanced at the clock.
"Twelve!" she cried joyously, "twelve! He will come! I shall see him
again. Ah, there he is! There he is!"
She darted to the door to open it. She had not been mistaken. _He_ was
there, the man whom she expected. With a cry of joy he opened his arms, and
she threw herself into them, clasping her arms around his neck, and laid
her head upon his breast.
"Welcome, my beloved one, welcome! Oh, how delightful it is to rest upon
your breast!"
"And what happiness to clasp you in my arms, Leonore! Raise your head, my
sweet love; let me see your beautiful face and sun myself in your eyes."
She lifted her face to his, gazing at him with a happy smile. "I see myself
in your eyes, dearest."
"And you would see yourself in my heart also, if you could look into it,
Leonore. But come, my queen, sit down and let me rest at your feet and look
up to you as I always do in spirit."
He accompanied her to the divan and pressed her down upon the silken
cushions. Then, reclining at her feet, he laid his clasped hands in her lap
and resting his chin upon them, gazed up at her.
"Do you really love me, Leonore? Can you, the proud, petted, much courted
Baroness de Simonie, really love the poor adventurer, who has nothing, is
nothing, calls nothing his own, not even his heart, for that belongs to
you."
"I love you, because you are what you are," she said, smiling, stroking his
black hair lightly with her little white hand.
"I love you because you are different from every one else; because what
attracts others does not charm you; what terrifies others does not
intimidate you; I love you precisely because you are the poor adventurer
you call yourself. Thank heaven that you are no sensible, prudent,
deliberate gentleman, who longs for titles and orders, for money and
position, but the clever adventurer who calls nothing his own save his
honor, seeks nothing save peril, loves nothing save--"
"Loves nothing save Leonore," he ardently interrupted. "Believe me, it is
so! I love nothing save you, and, until I knew you, I did not know even
love, only hate."
"Hate?" she asked, smiling. "And whom did you hate, my loved one?"
"The foes of my native land," he cried, while a dark, angry flush swept
over his handsome, expressive face, and his dark eyes flashed more
brightly.
"The foes of your native land?" she repeated, smiling. "And who are these
hated foes?"
"The Prussians and the Emperor Napoleon. It was the Prussians who first
dismembered my hapless country. Oh, I was but a little boy when the Empress
Catharine and King Frederick stole the fairest portions of hapless Poland.
I did not understand my mother's tears, my father's execrations, but as my
father commanded me, I laid my hand upon the Bible and vowed eternal,
inextinguishable hatred of the Prussians. And the boy's vow has been kept
by the man. I have struggled ceaselessly against these ambitious
land-greedy, avaricious Prussians; fought with my tongue, my sword, and my
pen. And when at last, at Jena, they were vanquished and forced to bow to
the very dust, I exulted, for their defeat was Poland's vengeance. God was
requiting the wrong they had done to Poland. Since then I have no longer
hated the Prussians, but I despise them."
"And whom do you hate now?" she asked, gazing lovingly at him with her
large, dreamy eyes.
"Him, the traitor, the actor, and liar, the Emperor Napoleon!" he cried,
starting up and pacing excitedly to and fro. "Ah, Leonore, why did you lay
your hand upon the great, ever-aching wound in my heart? Why did you ask
about my hate when I wished to speak to you only of my love? Why do you
wish to see that my heart is bleeding when you ought only to know that it
exults in love? Yet perhaps it is better so; better that you should behold
it wholly without disguise; that you should know it not only loves, but
hates. Leonore, all my love is yours, all my hate Napoleon's. I came to
Vienna by the behest of my hate, and for the first time, I found here what
I had never known--love. Hitherto my heart had belonged to my native land,
now it is yours, Leonore. The poor adventurer, who, under manifold forms,
in manifold disguises, under many names, had wandered through the world,
always in the service of his native land and vengeance, has now found a
home at your feet, and it sometimes happens that he forgets grief for his
country in the joy of his love. And yet, Leonore, yet there are bitter,
sorrowful hours, in which I execrate my love itself; in which I feel that
I will rend it from my heart; that I must escape from it into the hate
which hitherto has guided and fixed my whole existence."
"If you feel and think thus, you do not love me," she said mournfully.
"Yes, I love you, Leonore; love you with rapture, with anguish, with
despair, with joy. Yet I ask myself what will be the goal and end of this
love? I ask myself when this sun, which has shone upon me through one
beautiful, splendid day, will set?"
"It will never set, unless by your desire," she cried, putting her arms
around his neck and bending to imprint a kiss upon his brow.
"It will set, for I am not created to live in sunshine and enjoy happiness.
My life belongs to my native land! I have sworn to consecrate it to my
country, and I must keep my oath. I dare not give myself up to love until I
have done enough for hate; I dare not enjoy happiness ere I have fulfilled
vengeance."
"Vengeance, my dearest? On whom do you wish to take vengeance?"
"On him who stole my native land; who deluded us for years with false
hopes, with lying promises; who promised us liberty and in return gave us
bondage. I seek to avenge my country on Napoleon--"
"Hush! for God's sake, hush!" she cried, trembling violently, as she
pressed her hand upon his lips. "Do not utter such words; do not venture
even to think them; for even thoughts bring danger, and speech will bring
you death."
"Ah," he cried, laughing, "does my proud, royal Leonore fear? Does she
fear in her own house, in her boudoir, where love alone can hear?"
"And hate," she said anxiously. "For you say that not only love, but hate,
dwells in your heart."
"But not in yours, Leonore. No, in your heart dwells only love, and I will
trust it. Yes, you beautiful, glorious woman, I will give you a proof of my
infinite love and confidence. You shall know my secrets and I will tell you
what I have yet betrayed to no woman on earth."
"No, no," she cried vehemently; "no, I will hear nothing. I do not wish to
know your secrets; for I might reveal them in my sleep. They might fill my
soul with such anguish and terror, that they would occupy it even in
slumber, and I might tell in my dreams what I certainly would not disclose
in waking, though I were exposed to the tortures of the rack. Oh, love, I
fear your secrets, and I fear that they threaten you with peril! Give them
up. If my love has any power over you, I entreat you: renounce them. Resign
all your plans of hate and vengeance! Cast thoughts of anger from you! You
have lived and labored for your native land long enough. Now, my love,
dismiss hatred from your heart, and yield it to love! Renounce vengeance
and allow yourself happiness! You say that you love me--give me a proof of
it, a divine, beautiful proof! Let us fly, my beloved one, fly from this
world of falsehood, treachery, hate, and anger, to conceal ourselves in a
quiet corner of the earth, where no one knows us, where the noise of the
world does not penetrate, where we shall learn nothing more of its
dissensions and wars, where only love and peace will dwell with us; where,
clasped in each other's embrace, we can rest on Nature's bosom and receive
from her healing for all our wounds, comfort for all our losses. Oh, let us
fly, for I know well that, so long as you are here--here in this world of
strife and intrigue--you will not be mine; you cannot wrench yourself away
from the numerous relations which hold and bind you, draw you into their
perilous circle. Give them up. Let us rend these bonds which fetter you and
will drag you to destruction. Let us go to America; far, far away to some
quiet, unknown valley, where there are no human beings, and therefore there
will be no falsehood and no treachery, no battles and strife. There let us
dwell in the divine peace of creation; live as Adam and Eve lived in
Paradise, quietly and at rest in the precincts of pure human happiness."
"And you would, you could, do this for me?" he asked, gazing with admiring
eyes at her glowing face, radiant with enthusiasm. "You, the petted queen
of society, the spoiled, delicate daughter of luxury and wealth, you could
resolve to lead a quiet, simple, unknown life, far from the world and men?"
"Oh," she exclaimed, "such an existence would be my happiness, my ecstasy,
my bliss. I would greet it exultingly. I long for it with all the powers of
my soul, all the fervor of my heart. Give it to me, my beloved; give us
both this life of solitude and divine peace. Speak one word--say that you
are ready to fly with me--I will arrange everything for our escape; will
guide us both to liberty, to happiness. Speak this one word, and I will
sever every tie that binds me to the world; my future and my life will
belong to you alone. We will strip off all the luxury that surrounds us as
the glittering snake-skin with which we have concealed our real natures,
and escape into the solitude as free, happy children of God. If such a life
of peace and rest does not satisfy you; if you wish to labor and create, be
useful to mankind, we can find the opportunity. We will buy a tract of land
in America, gather around us people to cultivate it, create a little state
whose prince you will be, which you will render free and happy and content.
Say that you will, my loved one; tell me that you will make my golden
dreams of the future a reality--oh, tell me so and you will render me the
proudest and happiest of women. My dearest, you have so long devoted your
life to hate, consecrate it now to love; let yourself be borne away by it.
It will move mountains and fly on the wings of the morning through every
realm. Hitherto you have called Poland your native land--now let love be
your country, and you shall find it on my breast. Come, my darling, come!
My arms are opened to embrace you; they are ready to bear you away, far
away from this battle-rent, blood-soaked Europe. Save yourself, my beloved,
save me! Come to my arms, let us fly to America!"
She held out her arms, gazing at him with a happy, loving smile. But he did
not rise from his knees to fall upon her breast; he only bowed his head
lower and kissed the hem of her dress--kissed her feet, which he pressed to
his bosom.
"Alas!" he sighed sadly, "this little foot, in its white satin shoe, is not
created for the rough paths of life; it would be torn and blood-stained by
their thorns, and the fault would be mine. No, my sweet love, you shall not
for my sake renounce the world of pleasure and splendor whose queen you
are, even though you wish it, and perhaps even long for the peace and quiet
of solitude. I must not accompany you thither, must not be faithless to
myself. For the most terrible and inconsolable thing which can befall a man
is to be faithless to himself and turn from the way which he himself has
chosen, and from the goals which he himself has appointed. But I should do
this, Leonore, if I renounced the goals and efforts of my whole past life,
and turned from what I have hitherto regarded as the most sacred purpose of
my existence. You yourself, Leonore, cannot wish it, for then how could you
trust my fidelity, my love, if, for your sake, I could be untrue to my
native land, my sacred duty. No, Leonore, my heart is yours, but my brain
and life belong to my country. I came to Vienna to serve it. The great
patriots of Poland sent me here. 'Go to Austria, they said, and serve there
the sacred cause of freedom and human dignity.' And I went, and am here to
serve it. Many are in the league with me, struggling with me toward the
same goal. No one knows the others, but in the decisive hour we shall all
work together for the one great object. And this hour will soon come; all
the preparations are made, all the plans are matured. It is approaching.
The great hour of sacred vengeance is approaching. You do not wish me to
initiate you into my secrets, Leonore, and I now feel that you are right,
for every sharer in these secrets is imperiled by them, and I will not draw
you, my beloved one, into the dangerous circle, where I am bound. But if a
gracious destiny grants our plans success, if the great venture which we
have determined upon succeeds, then, Leonore, I will come to you, hold out
my hand, and exultingly repeat the question which to-day I dare only to
whisper timorously: Leonore, will you be my wife?"
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