‘There have never,’ said Prince Irenaeus, wrinkling his brow, ‘there have never been any misalliances in our house, so pray desist from an idea which I cannot approve! In other respects I was, and still am, ready to do as you wish!’
‘As if,’ replied Madame Benzon sharply, ‘as if I didn’t know that, your Highness! How often have justifiable wishes been obliged to fall silent for the sake of imaginary considerations! But there are some claims that make a mockery of all circumstances.’
‘Laissons cela,’64 Prince Irenaeus interrupted Madame Benzon, clearing his throat and taking snuff. After a few moments’ silence he went on: ‘Princess Hedwiga causes me almost more distress than the Prince. Tell me, Benzon, how could a daughter of her strange disposition, and yet worse, of a morbid constitution which puzzles even the court physician, how could she have been born to us? Hasn’t the Princess her mother always enjoyed blooming health? Was she ever inclined to high-flown nervous attacks? Haven’t I been a strong prince in body and soul myself? How came we to have a child who, I must admit it to my bitter sorrow, who often seems to me quite – quite deranged, lacking in all princely decorum?’
‘I too,’ replied Madame Benzon, ‘find it impossible to understand the Princess’s organism. Her mother has always been clear-minded, sensible, free of any excessively strong, disastrous passion.’ Madame Benzon spoke these last words in a low, quiet voice, averting her gaze.
‘You mean the Princess her mother,’ suggested Prince Irenaeus with some emphasis, since he did not think it proper for the word ‘mother’ not to be qualified by the word ‘Princess’.
‘Whom else?’ replied Madame Benzon, intensely. ‘Whom else should I mean?’
‘Has not,’ continued the Prince, ‘has not Princess Hedwiga’s recent alarming illness cost me the fulfilment of my efforts, the joy of seeing her married as soon as I would wish? For my dear Benzon, entre nous soit dit, Princess Hedwiga’s sudden fit of catalepsy, which I personally put down to nothing but a bad cold, may well have been the sole reason for Prince Hector’s abrupt departure. He wanted to leave, and – juste ciel, I must admit I can’t entirely blame him, so even if propriety didn’t forbid any new approach, that fact alone must keep me, as a prince, from taking further steps towards the granting of a wish which I abandon most unwillingly, and only because I must. For I am sure you will agree with me, dear lady, that there’s always something alarming about a wife who suffers such strange attacks. Might not such a wife – of a princely house, and at the same time subject to cataleptic fits – be struck down by such a fit in the midst of the most brilliant cour, standing there like an automaton and obliging all the worthy persons present to imitate her and remain motionless? To be sure, a court stricken by general catalepsy may be considered the most solemn and dignified court the world can show, since it would be impossible even for the frivolous to give the slightest offence to the requisite dignity. But a feeling which takes possession of me at such moments of paternal emotion as those now prevailing allows me to observe that a condition of that kind in his bride can inspire a princely bridegroom with horror and distaste, and consequently – Benzon, you’re a good, sensible woman: do you think you could find some way to set things right with Prince Hector, some means of–’
‘There is no need,’ Madame Benzon interrupted the Prince with animation, ‘there is no need for this at all, your Highness! It wasn’t the Princess’s illness that drove Prince Hector away so quickly; there’s another mystery involved, and Kapellmeister Kreisler is part of it.’
‘What?’ cried the Prince in astonishment. ‘What are you saying, Benzon? Kapellmeister Kreisler? Then can it be true that he –’
‘Yes,’ continued Madame Benzon, ‘yes, dear sir, it was a quarrel between him and Prince Hector, a quarrel which was, perhaps, to be settled in too heroic a manner, which sent the Prince away.’
‘Quarrel!’ Prince Irenaeus interrupted Madame Benzon. ‘Quarrel – settled – heroic manner! The shot in the grounds – the blood-stained hat! Benzon! why, it’s impossible – the Prince – the Kapellmeister! – a duel – a rencontre – why, either is unthinkable!’
‘So much,’ Madame Benzon continued, ‘so much is certain, sir: Kreisler had only too powerful an influence on the Princess’s mind, and that strange fear, indeed that horror she felt at first in his presence was on the point of turning to disastrous passion. It may be that the Prince was keen-eyed enough to observe this; that he saw Kreisler, who from the first employed a tone of hostile, scornful irony towards him, as an opponent of whom he thought he must rid himself; and that this led to a deed which, to be sure, may be condoned only on the grounds of the fierce hatred arising from injured honour, from jealousy, and which, thanks be to the Eternal Power, did not succeed. I allow that none of this explains the Prince’s swift departure, and that (as I said) there is still a dark mystery at work. Prince Hector fled in horror, so Julia tells me, at the sight of a picture which Kreisler carried with him and which he showed the Prince. Well, however that may be, Kreisler is gone and the Princess’s crisis is over! Believe me, Highness, had Kreisler stayed, the Princess’s breast would have been inflamed by the most violent passion for him, and she would have died rather than give her hand to the Prince. Everything has changed now, Prince Hector will soon come back, and his marriage to the Princess will end all cares.’
‘You see,’ cried the Prince angrily, ‘you see, Benzon, the insolence of that wretched music-maker! The Princess would fall in love with him, would she – refuse the hand of the most amiable of princes? Ah, le coquin!65 Oh, I see just what you mean now, Master Abraham! You must rid me of that dreadful man, sir, and make sure he never comes back.’
‘Every measure,’ said Madame Benzon, ‘every measure that wise Master Abraham might suggest to that end would be superfluous, since what would be required has already come about. Kreisler is at Kanzheim Abbey, and as Abbot Chrysostom writes to tell me, will probably decide to renounce the world and enter the Order. I have already given Princess Hedwiga this news at a suitable moment, and the fact that I then noticed no particular agitation of mind in her assures me that the dangerous crisis, as I said, is already over.’
‘Excellent woman!’ said Prince Irenaeus. ‘Excellent, good woman! What devotion you show me and my children! What pains you take for the good of my house, for its best interests!’
‘Really?’ said Madame Benzon in a bitter tone. ‘Do I really? Could I, was I always permitted to take pains for the good of your children?’
Madame Benzon laid special emphasis on these last words. The Prince looked down and ahead of him in silence, playing with the thumbs of his clasped hands. At last he murmured quietly: ‘Angela? Still no trace of her? Entirely vanished?’
‘Such is the case,’ replied Madame Benzon, ‘and I am afraid the unhappy child has fallen victim to some infamy. She was said to have been seen in Venice, but that was certainly a mistake. Admit, Highness, it was cruel – terrible to have your child torn from its mother’s breast, banished into desolate exile! I shall never recover from the wound your severity dealt me!’
‘Benzon,’ said the Prince, ‘didn’t I make you and the child a handsome annual allowance? Could I do more? Had Angela stayed here, must I not have feared constantly that our faiblesses might be divulged, and the decorous peace of our court wrecked in a disagreeable manner? You know the Princess my wife, dear Benzon! You know she sometimes takes strange fancies into her head.’
‘You mean,’ said Madame Benzon, ‘you mean that money, an annual allowance, is supposed to compensate a mother for all her pain, her grief, her bitter lamentations for her lost child? The fact is, your Highness, there is another way of caring for one’s child, one which satisfies the mother better than any amount of gold!’
Madame Benzon spoke these words in a tone and with a look that caused the Prince some embarrassment.
‘Excellent woman,’ he began, awkwardly, ‘why these strange ideas? Don’t you think that I too feel the disappearance
without trace of our dear Angela most unfortunate, most dreadful? She would surely have been a good, lovely girl, born as she was of handsome, charming parents.’
Prince Irenaeus again kissed Madame Benzon’s hand very tenderly, but she swiftly withdrew it and whispered into the Prince’s ear, a bright, penetrating look in her eyes, ‘Confess, sir, it was unjust, cruel of you to insist on the child’s being sent away. Don’t you owe it to me not to refuse me a wish – a wish which, if granted, I’m really well enough disposed to see as some recompense for all my grief?’
‘Benzon,’ replied Prince Irenaeus, cast into even more confusion than before, ‘my dear, my wonderful Benzon, can’t our Angela be found? I will do heroic deeds at your desire, dear lady! I will confide in Master Abraham; I’ll consult him. He’s a sensible, experienced man; perhaps he can help.’
‘Oh,’ Madame Benzon interrupted the Prince, ‘oh, the wise Master Abraham! Do you believe, Highness, that Master Abraham is really willing to do anything for you, that he’s truly devoted to you and your house? And how could he find out anything about Angela’s fate, now that all inquiries in Venice and Florence have failed, and worst of all, he has been robbed of that mysterious means he once employed for discovering the unknown?’
‘You mean his wife,’ said Prince Irenaeus. ‘You mean the wicked enchantress Chiara.’
‘It is a moot question,’ replied Madame Benzon, ‘it is decidedly a moot question whether the woman deserves that description, gifted as she was with superior, remarkable powers; perhaps she was inspired and no more. In any case, it was unjust, inhuman, to rob the Master of the creature he loved with all his heart, who was a part of his own self.’
‘Benzon,’ cried Prince Irenaeus in alarm, ‘Benzon, I don’t understand you today! My head is going round and round! Weren’t you yourself in favour of removing the threat of that creature, through whom the Master might soon have known everything about us? Didn’t you yourself approve my letter to the Grand Duke, pointing out that as magic arts of any kind had long been prohibited in this country, those who persisted in pursuing such matters shouldn’t be tolerated, and should suffer a period of imprisonment for safety’s sake? Was it not purely to spare Master Abraham that the mysterious Chiara wasn’t publicly put on trial, but apprehended in secret and taken away, I don’t even know where, since I gave the matter no further thought? How can I be reproached with anything?’
‘Forgive me,’ replied Madame Benzon, ‘forgive me, Highness, but you can in fact be justly reproached with acting too hastily, at the very least. However, sir, you must know that Master Abraham has been told his Chiara was taken away at your behest. He is quiet, he is friendly, but don’t you think, Highness, that he nurtures thoughts of hatred and vengeance towards the man who robbed him of what he loved most on earth? And is this the one in whom you would confide, disclosing your inmost mind to him?’
‘Benzon,’ said the Prince, mopping the drops of perspiration from his brow, ‘Benzon, you are agitating me severely – I might say indescribably! Merciful Lord! Can a prince be so put out of countenance? Devil take it – dear God, I do believe I’m swearing like a dragoon as I sit here drinking tea! Benzon, why didn’t you tell me before? He already knows everything! In the fisherman’s cottage, when I was quite beside myself about Princess Hedwiga’s condition, my heart overflowed and the words spilled out. I spoke of Angela, I told him – Benzon, this is terrible! J’étois un – an ass, voilà tout!’
‘And he replied?’ Madame Benzon asked this question intently.
‘I almost feel,’ continued the Prince, ‘I almost feel as if Master Abraham was the first to speak of our former attachement, and how I could have been a happy father instead of the unfortunate I now am. But so much is certain: when I had finished my confession he told me, smiling, he had known all about it for a long time, and hoped Angela’s whereabouts might very soon be discovered, saying many falsehoods would then be demolished and many deceptions foiled.’
‘Did the Master say that?’ asked Madame Benzon with trembling lips.
‘Sur mon honneur’, replied the Prince, ‘he said that. Good Heavens above – forgive me, Benzon, but I am enraged! – suppose the old man were to bear me a grudge? Benzon, que faire?’
Both of them, Prince Irenaeus and Madame Benzon, stared at one another, speechless.
‘Most Serene Highness!’ whispered a servant softly, offering the Prince tea.
But – ‘Bête!’ cried the Prince, leaping up in such haste that he knocked the cup and saucer flying from the servant’s hands. Everyone rose from the card-tables in alarm. The game came to an end, and the Prince, pulling himself together with an effort, smiled a friendly ‘Adieu!’ to the alarmed company and withdrew with Princess Maria to their private chambers. The thought could clearly be read on every face: ‘Good God, what’s the matter, what does it mean? The Prince didn’t play cards, he talked so long and earnestly with Madame Benzon, and then fell into such a terrible rage!’
It was impossible for Madame Benzon to guess, even remotely, what kind of scene awaited her in her own apartments, which were in a building beside and close to the castle. For no sooner had she come in than Julia, quite beside herself, hurried to meet her and – Well, the present biographer is very glad that this time he can give a much better, clearer account of what had happened to Julia, while the Prince was taking tea in company, than of many another event in this narrative, which so far at least has been somewhat confused. Very well! We know that Julia had been permitted to go home earlier. One of the Prince’s huntsmen went ahead with a torch to light her way. However, no sooner were they a few paces from the castle than the huntsman stopped suddenly and held the torch aloft.
‘What is it?’ asked Julia.
‘Why,’ replied the huntsman, ‘why, Fräulein Julia, didn’t you see the figure hurrying away so fast, over there ahead of us? I don’t know what to make of it. There’s been a man prowling around here these last few evenings, and with no good in mind, judging by his secrecy! We’ve already tried every possible means of waylaying him, but he slips out of our hands, in fact he becomes invisible before our eyes, like a ghost or Old Nick himself!’
Julia thought of the apparition in the gable window of the pavilion, and felt eerie shudders run through her. ‘Let us get away from here, quickly!’ she cried out to the huntsman, but the man, laughing, said there was nothing for the young lady to fear, because the ghost would have to wring his, the huntsman’s neck before anything touched her, and anyway no doubt the unknown creature seen in the vicinity of the castle had flesh and blood like other honest folk, and was a timorous coward who shunned the light.
Julia found her maid complaining of headache and a feverish chill; she sent the girl to bed and put on her nightclothes without her aid.
Now that she was alone in her room she went over everything Hedwiga had said in a condition she could put down only to morbid over-excitement. Yet it was certain that this morbid excitement must have some psychic cause. Girls of such a pure and candid disposition as Julia’s seldom hit upon the truth in such intricate cases. So having recalled everything to mind, Julia felt sure that Hedwiga was in the grip of that terrible passion which she herself had described to Julia in terms as dreadful as the thought of it was in her own soul, and that Prince Hector was the man to whom she had sacrificed her Self. She concluded, further, that somehow, Heaven knew how, Hedwiga had fallen prey to the delusion that the Prince was in love with someone else, and this delusion had tormented her like a frightful ghost always following close behind her, causing the sad disruption of her mind. ‘Oh,’ said Julia to herself, ‘oh, dear, sweet Hedwiga, if Prince Hector would come back, how soon you would be sure you have nothing to fear from me, your friend!’
But as Julia spoke these words the idea that Prince Hector did love her emerged from her inmost mind so vividly and strongly that she took fright, feeling herself seized by an indescribable fear that what the Princess believed might be true after all, and her ruin was
certain. The strange, curious impression that Prince Hector’s glance and whole bearing had made on her came back to her; the same horror shuddered through her again. She remembered that moment on the bridge when the Prince, embracing her, fed the swan; she remembered all the insidious remarks he had made on that occasion. Harmless as they had all seemed to her at the time, they now seemed to have a deeper meaning. But she also remembered her dreadful dream, in which she felt steely arms seize her and found it was the Prince holding her; whereupon she woke to see the Kapellmeister in the garden, his whole nature became clear to her, and she believed he would protect her from the Prince.
‘No,’ cried Julia, ‘no, it isn’t so, it can’t be so, it is impossible! The evil spirit of Hell itself stirs up these sinful doubts in me, poor creature that I am! No, that spirit shall have no power over me!’
With her thoughts of the Prince and those perilous moments, an emotion stirred deep within Julia’s breast which might be recognized as dangerous only in that it aroused shame, bringing the surging blood to her cheeks and hot tears to her eyes. It was as well for the lovely, devout Julia that she had strength enough to dismiss the evil spirit, allowing it no room to get a firm footing. It may be mentioned again here that Prince Hector was the most handsome and charming man imaginable, that his ability to please was founded on a thorough knowledge of women, a knowledge which had provided him with a life full of fortunate adventures, and that of all women a young, innocent girl might well fear the triumphant force of his glance and his whole nature.
The Life and Opinions of the Tomcat Murr Page 36
