A German Pompadour. Hon. Marie Hay
would never have witnessed such a brilliant festival. The Duke had travelled in many lands—to France, where the court had been so gay and fine before its King Louis xiv. became a death-fearing, trembling bigot, dragging out the last years of a dissipated life in terrified prayers. Poor Roi Soleil, become the creature of his mistress, Madame la Marquise de Maintenon! Still, though Eberhard Ludwig had not been in time to witness this first splendour, he had been able to learn in France of how fine feasts should be ordered. He had been in England too, though he could not have seen much there in the dull days of William of Nassau, or of good, ponderous Queen Anne; yet all travel teaches, and evidently the Duke had learnt its pleasant lesson well.
Wilhelmine sat in Monsieur de Stafforth's fine coach with Madame de Stafforth—a gentle, silent lady, whom Stafforth had chosen for her noble birth and yielding ways. She was perfectly unimportant; Stafforth never considered her, and the only person who was known to notice her was her Highness Johanna Elizabetha, who was, indeed, something akin to her in nature. Madame de Stafforth sat meekly on the back seat of her husband's splendid coach, leaving the place of honour on the front seat to her husband and his guest, rewarded sufficiently for her diffidence by a smile which her handsome lord threw her, as he lay back on the yellow satin cushions of his over-decorated coach.
It was but a step to the castle gate, and as Oberhofmarshall Stafforth might have walked through the Duke's private garden and gained a side entrance to the castle, and thence traversed the short distance to the Lusthaus, but he chose rather to drive through the crowd in order to arrive with ostentatious flourish.
The coach drew up at the entrance, and many curious eyes were fixed upon the Oberhofmarshall as he led his guest through the throng to the door of the disrobing room. Madame de Stafforth followed, and, being unable to push her way so quickly past the people, it was a moment or two before she rejoined Wilhelmine, who was removing her wrap in a leisurely way while the other ladies there eyed her rudely. It was very like the advent of a strange bird into a cage of canaries; the indigenous birds were all prepared to peck at the intruder. How willingly would they have torn out the strange bird's feathers! Wilhelmine appeared unconscious of this unfriendly scrutiny, though, in reality, she was disagreeably aware of it. Madame de Stafforth had torn the hem of her skirt walking through the crowded antehall, and she begged the attendant to sew it for her. Wilhelmine was obliged to wait, and nearly all the company had streamed into the dancing-hall before the two ladies were ready. Fate played Wilhelmine a nasty trick in this—a throw-back in fact; for when they reached the hall the effect of their entrance was hidden by the crowd, and his Highness Eberhard Ludwig had already left the daïs before which the courtiers passed and bowed. Only her Highness Johanna Elizabetha remained to receive the salutes of the late arrivals.
Stafforth had hurried away; the Duchess was so unimportant, poor soul! and he could make his bow to her later in the evening. Besides, he had his duties to attend to: he must glance at the long supper-tables in the apartment adjoining the dancing-hall, he must see that all the arrangements were perfect. So Madame de Stafforth presented Fräulein Wilhelmine von Grävenitz to her Highness Johanna Elizabetha, Duchess of Wirtemberg. The dull, amiable woman gave Wilhelmine her hand to kiss and turned away, indifferent, unconcerned. So little do we know when we first approach the enemies of our lives! With those we are to love it is often the same. We touch the hand which is fated to give life's gift of joy to us, and we pass on unconscious that Destiny has spoken. Sometimes we would barter a year of our life to recall that first touch.
Wilhelmine stood at the foot of the daïs before the Duchess, who was exchanging moth-dull confidences with Madame de Stafforth. The crowd moved before the girl's eyes, and she felt bewildered, dizzy, in a dream, for she was unaccustomed to crowds. At length she saw Stafforth coming towards her. He looked very fine in his court dress: the long, blue silk overcoat richly embroidered in gold, the embroidered waistcoat of white satin, white silk hose, and blue satin shoes with high red heels and enormous diamond buckles. He carried the Oberhofmarshall's staff of office in his left hand, and on his breast shone the insignia of several high orders. His curled wig was much powdered, and his healthy, coarse face seemed to gain in refinement thereby, softened in outline by the white hair. Very fine was the bow he made as he said: 'Mademoiselle, may I entreat the honour of your hand for the pavane? Serenissimus dances in the same set. You know the pavane?' he added anxiously. 'His Highness is quicker to detect a fault in dancing than to pardon it.'
Wilhelmine had danced the pavane with M. Gabriel in the schoolhouse at Güstrow, and he had told her that her dancing was perfect enough for the court of France itself; so she accepted Monsieur de Stafforth's hand without hesitation.
He led her to the middle of the dancing-hall, and stood beside her, waiting for the Duke to give the sign to the musicians to commence. It was scarcely correct for Wilhelmine to dance in the Duke's pavane before she had been presented to his Highness, but Stafforth told her that the Duke desired all presentations to be made in the pause after the figure dance, which was to take place later in the evening. Wilhelmine reflected that she would be at liberty to observe Eberhard Ludwig at her leisure during the dance. She looked round, but the Duke was not yet visible. Stafforth pointed to an alcove, telling her that his Highness was there talking to Madame de Geyling. At length the curtains of the recess were pushed aside and a tall figure appeared. Eberhard Ludwig, Duke of Wirtemberg, leading his favourite, Madame de Geyling, by the hand. A princely figure indeed, thought Wilhelmine, as she bent low in the elaborate courtesy with which the dancers greeted their Duke. He was tall and slight, dressed in ivory-coloured satin; his breast glittered with magnificent orders, the broad orange ribbon of the newly instituted Prussian order of the Black Eagle being the only variation in the uniform whiteness of his attire. He looked the very figure of a prince of romance, and the gentlemen who bowed before him seemed to be popinjays in their over-gorgeous clothes.
He stood for a moment, his blue eyes flashing round the circle of dancers, then he raised his hand in sign to the musicians to commence, and turning to Madame de Geyling bowed profoundly. The music rang out in the stately measure of the pavane, and the dance began: the ladies gliding, bowing, bending, their fans raised above their heads, then pressed to their bosoms as they bowed again; the cavaliers no whit behind them in elegance and grace. The court of Versailles itself had not danced better, for to dance badly meant disgrace with the Duke of Wirtemberg.
The pavane ended, and Monsieur de Stafforth led Wilhelmine to a seat near the daïs, where she found Madame de Ruth resplendent in a green court dress. The two ladies settled down to await the beginning of the figure dance, in which the Duke himself was to take part. Madame de Ruth, voluble as usual, questioned Wilhelmine closely upon the events of the evening, and her face fell when she heard that the girl had not been presented to his Highness—nay, more, had danced near him without his deigning to notice her. 'Well, my dear, never mind,' said Madame de Ruth, 'the most victorious armies may suffer defeat at first.' As will be seen by this speech, the object of Wilhelmine's campaign was no longer a mystery, and the intriguers now spoke openly before their intended tool. She knew that her goal was Eberhard Ludwig himself, and the future seemed good to her since she had seen Eberhard Ludwig. Also it all spelt 'fine clothes, fine living, fine linen, gaiety, and perhaps power,' and as she had once said to her friend Anna Reinhard at Güstrow, without these she could not imagine happiness. 'Mon enfant, it is serious though,' Madame de Ruth was saying, 'the Duke never looked at you? you are sure? Ah! he was staring at that odious Geyling, I dare swear! Lord God! how I hate that woman! She once asked me if I had any children, and when I said "no," she inquired if I had any grandchildren!'
Wilhelmine laughed. 'She might have grandchildren herself, I think,' she said.
'Yes, my child, if you scraped the paint you might find the grandmother beneath. Indeed, the Geyling is nearly as old as I am,' laughed Madame de Ruth, delighted at Wilhelmine's judgment of the woman whom she hated. 'But see,' she continued, 'here comes the figure dance.' As she spoke the doors at the end of the dancing-hall opened, and the musicians in the gallery began to play a lilting strain. Quite slowly through the gilded doors came a tiny figure dressed in wreaths of leaves and flowers, a golden bow in his hand, and at his side a miniature quiver filled with paper arrows. 'The Geyling's nephew,' said Madame de Ruth, 'and the only good thing about her! A charmingly naughty child, who they hope, however, will play his Cupid's rôle to-night, though he is as likely as not to do exactly