"Marianne," he said, firmly, "you want to know the truth, and I love you too tenderly to conceal it from you. I will not, must not, cannot marry you. I WILL not, because I am unable to bear once more the fetters of wedded life. I MUST not, because I should make you unhappy and wretched. I CANNOT, while, doing so, I should act perfidiously toward a friend of mine, for you know very well that the Prince von Reuss is my intimate friend."
"And _I_ am his mistress. You wished to intimate that to me by your last words, I suppose?"
"I wished to intimate that he loves you boundlessly, and he is a generous, magnanimous man, whose heart would break if any one should take you from him."
"For the last time, then: you will not marry me?"
"Marianne, I love you too tenderly--I cannot marry you!"
Marianne burst into a fit of laughter. "A strange reason for rejecting my hand, indeed!" she said. "It is so original that in itself it might almost induce me to forgive your refusal. And yet I had counted so firmly and surely upon your love and consent that I had made already the necessary arrangements in order that our wedding might take place to-day. Just look at me, Gentz. Do you not see that I wear a bridal-dress?"
"Your beauty is always a splendid bridal-dress for you, Marianne."
"Well said! But do you not see a myrtle-wreath, my bridal-wreath, on the table there? Honi soit qui mal y pense! The priest is already waiting for the bride and bridegroom in the small chapel, the candles on the altar are lighted, every thing is ready for the ceremony. Well, we must not make the priest wait any longer. So you decline being the bridegroom at the ceremony? Well, attend it, then, as a witness. Will you do so? Will you assist me as a faithful friend, sign my marriage-contract, and keep my secret?"
"I am ready to give you any proof of my love and friendship," said Gentz, gravely.
"Well, I counted on you," exclaimed Marianne, smiling, "and, to tell you the truth, I counted on your refusal to marry me. Come, give me your arm. I will show you the same chapel which the Prince von Reuss has caused to be fitted up here in the building of the Austrian embassy. The servants will see nothing strange in our going there, and I hope, moreover, that we shall meet with no one on our way thither. At the chapel we shall perhaps find Prince Henry--that will be a mere accident, which will surprise no one. Come, assist me in putting on this long black mantilla which will entirely conceal my white silk dress. The myrtle-wreath I shall take under my arm so that no one will see it. And now, come!"
"Yes, let us go," said Gentz, offering his arm to her. "I see very well that there is a mystification in store for me, but I shall follow you wherever you will take me, to the devil or--"
"Or to church," she said, smiling. "But hush now, so that no one may hear us."
They walked silently through the rooms, then down a long corridor, and after descending a narrow secret staircase, they entered a small apartment where three gentlemen were waiting for them.
One of them was a Catholic priest in his vestments, the second the Prince von Reuss, Henry XIII., and the third the first attache of the Austrian embassy.
The prince approached Marianne, and after taking her hand he saluted Gentz in the most cordial manner.
"Every thing is ready," he said; "come, Marianne, let me place the wreath on your head."
Marianne took off her mantilla, and, handing the myrtle-wreath to the prince, she bowed her head, and almost knelt down before him. He took the wreath and fastened it in her hair, whereupon he beckoned the attache to hand to him the large casket standing on the table.
This casket contained a small prince's coronet of exquisite workmanship and sparkling with the most precious diamonds.
The prince fastened this coronet over Marianne's wreath, and the diamonds glistened now like stars over the delicate myrtle-leaves.
"Arise, Marianne," he then said, loudly. "I have fastened the coronet of your new dignity in your hair; let us now go to the altar."
Marianne arose. A strange radiance of triumphant joy beamed in her face; a deep flush sufused used her cheeks, generally so pale and transparent; a blissful smile played on her lips. With a proud and sublime glance at Gentz, who was staring at her, speechless and amazed, she took the prince's arm.
The priest led the way, and from the small room they now entered the chapel of the embassy. On the altar, over which one of Van Dyck's splendid paintings was hanging, large wax-tapers were burning in costly silver chandeliers. On the carpet in front of the altar two small prie-dieus for Marianne and the prince were placed, and two arm-chairs for the witnesses stood behind them. Opposite the altar, on the other side of the chapel, a sort of choir or balcony with an organ had been fitted up.
But no one was there to play on that organ. All the other chairs and benches were vacant; the ceremony was to be performed secretly and quietly.
