"Say to her Highness that I am truly grateful to her, and that I will wait upon her to-morrow at the time appointed."
"Her Highness will be very glad. Farewell."
"Excuse me, Fraulein; one question more: is your name Roschen?"
A deep blush suffused the lovely face. "Yes."
Cornelia, deeply moved, went up to her, took her hands, and pressed a kiss upon her fresh lips. "We have known each other a long time, have we not?"
Roschen was surprised and greatly agitated. "Yes, yes!" she exclaimed, pressing Cornelia"s hand to her lips. "Let me thank you for all you have done for Albert. We can never repay you for it; but the dear G.o.d will know how to reward you."
Cornelia gazed into her eyes for a long time with ever-increasing interest. "You ought to have become Albert"s wife: the poor fellow has suffered so much for your sake."
"I cannot leave the princess, and besides,"--Roschen hesitated a little,--"besides, he did not wish it so very much. Ah, I understand it now: he who has once seen you can never love another."
"Oh, my dear girl, what are you saying? You will be reconciled to each other again, or I shall regret what I did for Albert." She glanced anxiously at the clock; for it was almost the hour when Ottmar might be expected.
This did not escape Roschen"s natural delicacy of feeling. "I am detaining you, dear Fraulein, and the princess is waiting. Farewell!
your kindness has made me very happy."
"Will you not come again, that we may continue our talk?"
"With the greatest pleasure. But there is one thing more I had almost forgotten: the princess begs you to tell no one that you have been requested to come to her. She will refuse all visitors to-morrow on the plea of indisposition, and fears people might take it amiss if she----"
"I understand," interrupted Cornelia, "and will say nothing."
After Roschen had gone she stood for a long time absorbed in thought.
The solution of this enigma could not be guessed. She rejoiced over the strange event, for she had loved Ottilie ever since she knew her relations with Ottmar; yet it grieved her to think that she would perceive at every breath a happiness denied the princess. Suppose her eyes should rest upon Cornelia with sorrowful jealousy as her fortunate rival.
The following day and the appointed hour came. In great agitation, and not without a little timidity at the idea of the grandeur that surrounded Ottilie, Cornelia entered the magnificent apartments of the princess. The groom of the chambers conducted her through a long succession of rooms. At last he paused, pointed to a half-open gla.s.s door, and disappeared. The silken portieres were drawn aside, and Ottilie stood before Cornelia!
A long pause followed. Both looked at each other in breathless suspense. Ottilie was paler than ever; Cornelia deeply flushed. At last Ottilie gently took her hand and murmured almost inaudibly, with a sort of sorrowful satisfaction, "Yes; so my fancy pictured you! So you must be."
"Your Highness bestows upon me so great a favor that I seek in vain for words to express my joyful surprise and grat.i.tude."
"There can be no question of grat.i.tude here; but no doubt you were surprised that I should request you to visit me." Ottilie seated herself, and drew Cornelia down upon the sofa beside her. "I have a great and important matter to intrust to you, Fraulein, and believe I can read in your eyes, an your lofty brow, the certainty that I have applied to the right person." Cornelia looked at Ottilie in eager expectation. After a short pause, the latter continued: "Accident, Fraulein, or rather destiny, made me acquainted with your labors among the prisoners. I perceived with admiration how you had aimed at results which the wisest provisions of the law could not attain; how you were the first to strew over the lifeless forms of punishment the living germs from which sprang new life, remorse, and amendment. You will believe me when I say that no mere idle curiosity, but heartfelt sympathy, impelled me to make the acquaintance of so remarkable a character. I will even confess that I trembled lest I should find your person did not harmonize with the ideal I had formed." She paused, and once more gazed long and earnestly into Cornelia"s eyes; then bent towards her and pressed a kiss upon her brow. "Thank G.o.d that I now dare love you in reality, as I have already done in fancy!"
"Your Highness," began Cornelia, deeply moved as she sought for words, while her bosom rose and fell more rapidly, "I know I do not deserve what you say; and yet a blissful content, for which I can find no expression, overflows my whole nature. You see me in the light that streams from yourself; but its rays fall upon my soul also, and wake their concealed powers of good, which fill me with pride,--not for what I have done, but for what I shall accomplish. G.o.d knows I performed these works of mercy without any desire or hope of recognition. I have long supposed I labored wholly un.o.bserved; but there is so great a recompense in this moment that it would crown the toil of a whole life; and I will struggle all my life to deserve it."
"You are enthusiastic, my child; but this very enthusiasm makes you what you are; so I will accept the flattery contained in your words as the tribute every n.o.ble soul offers to the ideal towards which we all strive."
"Oh, not as that alone, your Highness! Deign to accept the childlike, humble reverence of a heart which has long looked up to you as the n.o.blest of women. I know not whether I ought to express in words what has been hovering upon my lips ever since the first moment of our meeting. It might, perhaps, be a great offense against etiquette, but I hope your Highness will regard the essence rather than the form."
"I hope you will do me the honor to be a.s.sured of it," interposed Ottilie, with a smile.
"Well, then, permit me to tell your Highness that I have long loved you with my whole heart."
"If that is true, my child, I rejoice to hear it. Love is a voluntary gift, which, whether deserved or not, we are always permitted to receive. I thank you for it; yes, I thank you from the inmost depths of a lonely heart."
"Ah, if you were not a princess!" murmured Cornelia, involuntarily.
"My dear child, how often I have said that myself! G.o.d has placed me in this position only to test my strength; for that which compensates others in a similar station for their secret lack of happiness--delight in splendor and grandeur, sovereignty and renown--is denied me. Nothing has any charm for me; my joys are rooted solely in the heart; and even these are sparingly meted out. The gulf which severs the princess from her subjects does not exist in my soul, and cannot separate my affection from them. I love men, respect their rights, admire their works, and thus stand ever alone upon my lofty height, consumed with vain longings, and stretching out my arms across the abyss which yawns between me and the warm hearts of humanity."
"Poor princess!" said Cornelia, earnestly.
"Yes, poor princess," replied Ottilie, her eyes resting dreamily upon Cornelia"s beautiful features.
"But your Highness can taste great joys, and satisfy your benevolence by your power of benefiting so many thousands."
"Do you think so, my dear child?" asked Ottilie, with a sorrowful smile.
"That was the one thing for which I always envied princes," continued Cornelia, "which always made sovereignty appear so beautiful, so alluring."
"And the thought tempted me, too," said Ottilie, lowering her voice to a scarcely audible whisper, "when I allowed myself to be wedded to the prince; but I was disappointed, as I have been in so many other things.
Believe me, my child, it is sad to be compelled to look an helplessly, while the right way of making a nation happy is earnestly sought, but always missed. The prince"s views are so immovable, and so entirely opposed to my own, that I have given up the effort to exert any influence whatever for the welfare of my country, although my heart bleeds for it. I know that no good can come for either party; I see a time approaching when the dissension will increase to such a degree that one or the other must fall a victim. I shall not live to see it; if I am anxious, it is only for my subjects, my husband, and--perhaps my children," she paused. "G.o.d grant that I may not be denied the opportunity of teaching them a better understanding of their times!"
"But cannot the joyful blessings of the many to whom your Highness gives special aid offer you some compensation?"
"Even this is limited. Every one who makes his narrow circle happy in his own way receives more pleasure from his efforts than I: the princess lacks the power of immediate bestowal and reception; but this directness is the source of all the joys of the soul. If you, my child, do good according to your circ.u.mstances, you will be rewarded a thousandfold more than I, though I should give a thousand times more.
The poor man, whose sufferings you instantly relieve, can show you his joy; it is not only the alms, but your manner of bestowing them, that console him, and the tears sparkling in his eyes certainly reward you far more than I am recompensed by the official addresses of thanks and humble bows of delegates from whole parishes I have saved from misery.
I am well aware that we should not perform charitable works for the sake of grat.i.tude, nor do I; but it is so natural to be cheered by the success of a good deed, the same sympathy which induces us to alleviate the sorrows of others makes us long to spare the joys we have prepared.
This is denied me; etiquette always stands between me and the hearts of my subjects, and with its icy breath transforms every voluntary show of feeling into the unvarying mien of reverence. You see, my child, the halo your imagination spread around sovereignty is vanishing more and more." She paused, and her large, tearful eyes gazed sorrowfully at Cornelia. "I shall depend upon your well-known greatness of soul to communicate the purport of this conversation to no one."
"I thank you for your confidence, your Highness, and will justify it."
"I believe you," said Ottilie. "And now let me proceed to the princ.i.p.al matter. I do so with a heavy heart, for fondly as I have become attached to you, I must now make a proposal whose acceptance will deprive me of your society, because it depends upon your leaving the city. But I have learned to sacrifice my own wishes for the welfare of others, and will not be so selfish as to claim your presence here when it may prove the salvation of so many unfortunates."
Cornelia gazed at Ottilie in speechless expectation. She felt afraid, for she had gathered nothing from the princess"s words except an intention to send her out of the city.
Ottilie clasped Cornelia"s hand with evident emotion, and continued: "I have founded in T----, whose lovely scenery seemed peculiarly adapted for it, an inst.i.tution for the reformation of female criminals, who, on being discharged from the custody of the law, perhaps wholly dest.i.tute of means, and alone in the world, would be led to enter the path of wrong anew in order to escape hunger and despair. The idea is not new; it has already been attempted in Germany many times, usually with very indifferent success. All such undertakings require not only money, skillful and conscientious management, and carefully watched exercises, but a genial spirit and loving heart to breathe life into the empty forms, and rouse in the penitents themselves an impulse of repentance, for whose development the peace prevailing in the inst.i.tution, the pious exercises, and useful occupations will afford a suitable soil.
But how many women are there who unite to the highest qualities of the heart a sound understanding, and are n.o.ble enough to devote them to such a purpose? You, Cornelia, are such a being; you possess the requisite grandeur of soul and self-denial, and your heart beats warmly for the moral sufferings and infirmities of mankind: you have already proved it. Do you now understand what I wish to ask of you? You shall secure blessings and prosperity for my subjects, you shall receive the position of directress of the inst.i.tution at T----, and I am sure that this sphere of influence among the poor wanderers of your own s.e.x will suit you far better than to a.s.sociate with the rude, degraded men in the prison."
Cornelia looked down. "I see with painful confusion," she began, at last, "how greatly your Highness has over-rated me, and how little I deserve the favor you have permitted to fall to my lot in consequence of these expectations. Will your Highness most graciously permit me to correct the last opinion you expressed, that I must prefer to a.s.sociate with female criminals rather than with men. I feel far less sympathy and interest for a guilty woman; for she has much less excuse than a man. He is created stronger and more ungovernable by nature, therefore his pa.s.sions must be more violent, his desires fiercer, his acts and thoughts ruder, more energetic, while the moral support given him is not proportionally greater than that of the woman. On the contrary, the moral instincts are more vivid in the latter, and her moral horizon more contracted. How much worse, then, must she be, to sink into crimes which often have no foundation in her nature! No doubt, woman is also the cause of many crimes,--or rather womanly weaknesses; yet these are as repulsive to me as the crimes committed at the expense of all womanly feeling."
"That is a very harsh judgment," Ottilie interposed.
"I am not harsh, your Highness; I condemn such feeble creatures less, but I have not sufficient sympathy, even for them, to be able to devote myself to them with the necessary self-sacrifice. Besides, I should be unable to believe that my efforts in their behalf would be attended with sufficient success, for the same weakness that permitted them to fall into sin would, it true, make them easily susceptible to repentance, but expose them just as readily to any evil influence as soon as they were left to themselves."
"That may unfortunately be true in many cases. But are you not attracted towards the poor creatures who have fallen victims to the highest earthly power,--who have erred through love?"
Cornelia started, and a deep blush suffused her face; she knew not why.
Her conscience was pure, and yet she could not bear the clear, penetrating glance of the princess. Why did she feel so startled by that word? Why did the look that accompanied it weigh upon her brow like a secret sentence? Surely she had not erred through love, but she had not been heedful of appearances. Suppose Ottilie judged by appearances, and had spoken with a meaning? Oh, that she could banish this treacherous blush! Must it not seem to Ottilie the token of a bad conscience? She could not bear that. She raised her head and looked the princess steadily in the face.
"Your Highness, the law does not punish the errors of love; but if a woman falls so low that she commits from love crimes which make her amenable to the law, she becomes as detestable to me as all others. You see I lack the first requisite for the vocation your Highness did me the honor to propose,--the true Christian charity which does not judge but pardons."
"But which has already been so touchingly proved by your care for the prisoners of state," replied Ottilie. "I will not be indiscreet, but I cannot help remarking that the reason you have just given cannot be the only one which withholds you from a vocation of Christian charity you have hitherto voluntarily chosen, under circ.u.mstances far more favorable to you; for your labors in my inst.i.tution would not only secure you every pecuniary advantage you could ask,--not only win gratifying success with those intrusted to your care,--but make you famous in the eyes of the would. Your ambition, if you possess any, would also obtain the most brilliant satisfaction abroad the name and spirit of Cornelia Erwing could soar away from the pleasant work- and prayer-rooms of the inst.i.tution far more easily than through the gloomy, impenetrable dungeon-walls of the prison."
"Oh, your Highness, pardon the freedom of my words!" said Cornelia, with n.o.ble pride; "but you now undervalue as much as you lately overrated me. Does your Highness really suppose that these prospects could induce me to prefer laboring in the inst.i.tution at T---- to my present sphere of influence in the prison? Do you imagine a pecuniary advantage I do not even need, or ambition for the cheaply-bought fame of being a Good Samaritan, which every hypocrite can obtain, would induce me to do anything to which my own feelings did not urge me? No, your Highness, you cannot think so meanly of one to whom, a few moments ago, you condescended to show the greatest favor. I have no other motive for my actions than my heart. In this alone is rooted my strength or my weakness, as you may choose to term it,--perhaps my selfishness. But all selfishness that arises solely from calculating reason is foreign to my nature; therefore, when I tell you that my heart does not draw me to the Christian work in T----, your Highness may be a.s.sured that no worldly advantage would lead me to it; yet, if the contrary were the case, I would joyfully renounce every material reward."