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 ELISABETH OF EOUMANIA 
 
 WITH TWO TALES FROM THE GERMAN OF CARMEN 
 SYLVA— HER MAJESTY QUEEN ELISABETH 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 BLANCHE EOOSEVELT 
 
 OFFICER OF THK ACADEMY OP FRANCE 
 "life OP GUSTAVE DORE " " LIFE OF LONGFELLOW," * 
 " OTHELLO," *' THE COPPER QtJEEN," *' HAZEL FANE, 
 ETC., ETC., ETC, 
 
 U 
 
 "MILAN," 
 
 vii? 
 
 2RSIT 
 
 Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 
 Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; 
 But you shall shine more bright in these contents 
 Than unswept stone, besmeared by sloven time. 
 When wasteful war shall statues overturn, 
 And broils root out the work of masonry. 
 Nor Mai's' sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn 
 The living record of your memory. 
 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 
 Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room 
 Even in the eyes of all posterity 
 That wear this world out to the ending doom. 
 So, till the judgment that yourself arise, 
 live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes." 
 
 Sonnet hv.— Shakespeare. 
 
 >NDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL 
 
 LIMITED 
 
 1891 
 
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 f 
 
;uiri7BRsiTr) is^i 
 
 ===**^ TO 
 
 CARMEN SYLVA. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 When I began this study the fame of Carmen Sylva 
 — a second sun already risen behind the green Carpathians 
 — was glimmering a bright beacon in the blue Orient. It is 
 not strange that worshippers of nature — light, beauty, and 
 genius — shoidd be attracted .by ^. rays thrown so bioad- 
 cast, and when my revered friend, the famous poet of the 
 Danube, his Excellency the late Yasilie Alecsandri, spoke 
 to me of Carmen Sylva, his words fell on a soil already 
 fertilised by more than common affection. When your 
 Majesty graciously permitted me to make some translations 
 from the works of Carmen Sylva I felt a pardonable pride, 
 and began the following work, which, I may say, although a 
 labour of love, still falls all too far short of what I could 
 have wished it to be. I have continued it, not alone as a 
 token of that homage the world owes to genius, patience, 
 and culture, but as a personal tribute — adding my heartfelt 
 thanks for Carmen Sylva's too generous praise of my own 
 poor pen. It is a further testimony to personal appreciation, 
 that of an amazed and faithful witness of such powers of 
 brain, mind, and intellectual technique as few improvisatrici 
 of the past could ever have possessed, and certainly such as 
 not one of our day could aspire to possess, I feared I had 
 
vi DEDICATION. 
 
 written words of exaggerated laudation. I find them but 
 commonplace mediums of what should be exalted praise. 
 To those who have had neither the honour of listening to 
 Carmen Sylva's fervid eloquence, nor the pleasure of com- 
 prehending in their primeval strength her impassioned 
 thoughts, to such, perhaps, my words might seem addressed 
 — what can I say ? — rather to a queen than to a poet. That 
 would, indeed, be a great pity ; but others — and they are 
 leerion — will readily understand that whilst I paint a cloud- 
 less sky, only those bom to look at the sun may look at the 
 sun, and those who tire of endless blue and imceasing 
 splendour have but to retire to the shade of mediocrity, 
 commonplace, and idleness. They are many — and the world 
 is wide. 
 
 The example of your unflinching endeavour appeals to all, 
 and shall never be lost upon at least one of your most 
 sincere admirers — myself. May I beg you. Madam, to over- 
 look those faults, even in my best work, which your fine 
 mind cannot but recognise at a glance, and to judge me 
 rather by that heart the goodness of which is only surpassed 
 by the genius of its possessor. I have the honour to sub- 
 scribe myself your Majesty's affectionate and devoted servant, 
 and to respectfully kiss the hand which signs the world- 
 renowned name — Carmen Sylva. 
 
 Blanche Roosevelt. 
 
I 
 
 ^4^ Of THl*^^ 
 
 [UHIVBESIT 
 PREFACE. 
 
 A GOOD wine may need no bush, but that is not 
 equivalent to saying that a good book needs 
 no preface. For everything is relative, from grapes 
 to literature, and whatever the venture, the vendor 
 has the right to label his merchandise — to ticket it, 
 as it were, with that professional hall-mark necessary 
 to the article, typical of the epoch, and the usual 
 outcome of enterprise, necessity, and civilisation. 
 
 Most authors write prefaces to explain or point out 
 what is in their book. I write mine to explain and 
 point out what is not in my book ; and as the over- 
 ture to an opera is generally written after the dress 
 rehearsal of that same opera, so, after a dress rehear- 
 sal of my magnum opus^ I write my overture, and 
 shall try to bring together a medley of tunes, the 
 which, by catching the ear in a small way, may end by 
 retaining it in a large way. To be brief — but it is 
 
viii PREFACE, 
 
 very difficult to be brief ; however, to try to be brief 
 — I will say that I have had the courage to read my 
 own book in proofsheets, and find that one of the prin- 
 cipal things I wished to expatiate upon is the very 
 one I have not even alluded to. To save delay and 
 encourage skipping, I name the chapter, even the 
 page : — Chapter V. of Memoir, page 44 ; and anyone 
 may discover that where I have accredited the Eoyal 
 poet with having accomplished much, I have done so 
 in a subjective sort of manner, and objectively would 
 have done quite as much for her, and even much more 
 for myself. 
 
 Those who read of Queen Elisabeth's marvellous 
 works, in a literary sense, may readily understand 
 what she had to do with, and in what way her great 
 works have been achieved. But the social reforms, 
 the propagation of home industries, and the extension 
 of national education, are more the work of an econo- 
 mist and a philanthropist, than of a poet, and it is to 
 the Queen's fine enthusiasm, which amounts in many 
 cases to genius — it is to this special quality that 
 Eoumania and Eoumanians owe so much. Carmen 
 Sylva and her Eoyal husband, each with a different 
 method, have pulled together, and found the right 
 
PREFACE, ix 
 
 method, each, to do the right thing in a different way, 
 a:nd to do many good things in many different ways. 
 
 The King is as silent as the Queen is effusive, and 
 his dogged persistence is quite worth her restless 
 perseverance. The King knows everything, is an 
 inveterate reader, but one never hears him speak of 
 his knowledge or his reading tastes — rarely does he 
 commit himself to an utterance which could in any 
 way establish his likes or dislikes ; and the Queen — 
 the Queen is Carmen Sylva; what more need one say? 
 
 Once, touching a volume of her poems which lay 
 undusted on the table, she remarked laughingly : 
 
 ^^ You see, he is proud of me and my work " — 
 meaning the King — ^^but look at that: I don't 
 believe he has ever even read one of my books ! " 
 
 At the commencement of Prince Charles's reign 
 in Eoumania, the state of society in Bucharest was 
 one perhaps perfectly in accordance with that of a 
 warm-hearted primitive race, displaying all the in- 
 stincts of primeval spirit, and many of the acquire- 
 ments of a too hasty civilisation ; but there was not 
 quite that rigidity and etiquette which obtains with 
 the German or Gothic people, nor that virtue which, 
 on the banks of the Danube, might be mistaken for 
 
 I 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 virtue on the banks of the Ehine. They were two 
 as distinctly different things as the two rivers above 
 named, and the fact of what these royal couple were, 
 what they had been, and what, in an ethical sense, 
 they were accustomed to, may be summed up in the 
 following instance : 
 
 On their arrival in Bucharest, the Queen desired to 
 form her household, and naturally, of those national 
 elements which presented themselves ; also to arrange 
 for Drawing Eooms, receptions and various State 
 functions expected by the people and necessary to 
 any Eoyalty's State. 
 
 After much looking about, the most intuitive 
 appreciation of humanity as she found it — after long 
 and ardent counsels with Prince, ministry, and social 
 personages, it was decided to admit to the Drawing 
 Kooms, &c., every lady who had not been divorced more 
 than once ; and the difficulties of the situation thus 
 presented to this puritanical Princess, brought up in 
 tenderest years as the word puritanical suggests, may 
 readily be imagined. 
 
 There was, however, a humorous side to all this 
 which the poet-Queen saw, and, as one not so comical, 
 acutely felt. It was no uncommon thing to notice a 
 
PREFACE, xi 
 
 lady with her third husband, the two former divorced 
 ones being in the same room, the last having been the 
 first divorced to marry the second, the second put away 
 for the third, the third set aside to take back the first. 
 There was, too, a certain sense of bewilderment gene- 
 rated by the perfect harmony which reigned between 
 these miraculously-made, miraculously-marred, and 
 miraculously-mended couples, and a never-ending 
 sense of insecurity in the way they were all to be 
 addressed — a certain Palais Eoyal sort of connubial 
 situation, and a very decided Bucharest Eoyal sort of 
 dilemma. But tact is more than genius, or talent, or 
 diplomacy. Tact lights up many dark corners. Tact's 
 ready-made smiles frighten away many prepared 
 frowns. Tact's ready sympathy steadies many who 
 totter on the brink of disaffection and discontent. Tact 
 mends broken families, restores household goods, and 
 reintegrates household gods. It reconciles Church 
 and State and municipality; it heals broken hearts, 
 and broken heads, and broken pockets ; arrests ambi- 
 tion, assuages the thirst of fame, and stays the foot of 
 dishonour. 
 
 And when this tact is allied to physical, mental 
 and moral beauty, cause is evident and effect certain. 
 
xii PREFACE. 
 
 When nature^s passport to success comes in a lady's | 
 blue eyes, bright smiles and amiable moods ; when her 
 word is gold, her actions are noble, and her heart is I 
 gladsome — the world only asks to be assured, only 
 listens to be convinced, only hopes to be contented. 
 
 But, bless me, all this is a preface ! — and I only 
 intended in the outset to say a word or two — said — 
 said— and perhaps too often said. Hence I, to close, add 
 my dear thanks to those who have helped, consciously 
 or unconsciously, in the building up this edifice — 
 Professor Max Midler, W. Beatty-Kingston, their 
 Excellencies Prince and Princess Jon Ghica — to the 
 memory of the great Alecsandri, and to all ; — but 
 remember that the great corner-stone is mine. To 
 those dead I commend myself as a Christian; to 
 those alive I recommend myself as an author; and, 
 leaving the room of the latter, with Sir Peter, alas, 
 also leave my character behind me. 
 
 Blanche Eoosevelt. 
 
^^ OT THE 
 
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 1 
 
 
^^ Of rsM ^^ 
 
 UIIVBRSITT] 
 
 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PREFATORY MEMOIR. 
 
 Macaulay has said that ^^ industry and a taste for 
 intellectual pleasures are peculiarly respectable in 
 those who can afford to be idle and who have every 
 temptation to be dissipated." 
 
 Her Majesty Queen Elisabeth of Eoumania, known 
 in the world of letters as Carmen Sylva, may justly 
 be numbered amongst those noble aspirants for lite- 
 rary fame alluded to by the brilliant historian and 
 essayist. 
 
 The Queen of Eoumania, connected by marriage 
 with the reigning House of HohenzoUern, and born 
 Princess Elisabeth of Wied, belongs to a race illus- 
 trious as far back as the eleventh century. The 
 
 B 
 
2 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 princes of the House of Wied, distinguished not 
 alone in religion, politics, science, and art, have 
 been a race of men noted for their humanity, 
 intelligence, noble sentiments, and lofty aims. In 
 the due cento the heads of the House of Wied 
 were counts, and in 1720 became Princes of "Wied. 
 They were nobles of vast possessions and supreme 
 feudal power ; their lands stretched far and wide to 
 the right and left of the sweeping Ehine, and the 
 towers of their family castle cast a shadow against 
 the sky as distinct as the summits of the Eifel and the 
 Westerwald heights. 
 
 The oldest known ancestral seat of the Counts of 
 Wied was the Burg palace, Ober Alt Wied, later the 
 palace Nieder Alt Wied. Amongst her Majesty's 
 noble ancestors we count a long line of archbishops, 
 statesmen, and civil dignitaries, of whom none were 
 more remarkable than the Count Hermann zu Wied, 
 Elector and Archbishop of Cologne from the year 
 1515 to 1547, who, from the outset one of the 
 Eeformation's most bitter foes, suddenly became an 
 avowed partizan of the Evangelical Church. He 
 entered into active correspondence with Luther and 
 Melancthon, and at Easter, 1543, for the first time 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. j 
 
 administered the holy sacrament according to 
 Lutheran and Evangelical rites. This conversion 
 caused the greatest excitement in royal and papal 
 circles. In vain did King and Pope seek to under- 
 mine the influence of the new creed. His Grace 
 Count Hermann not only believed in the tenets 
 of Lutheranism, but moved by, as he thought, 
 Divine inspiration, clung resolutely to the dogmas 
 of the new faith. 
 
 Impeached by the King, the Pope, his enemies and 
 adversaries, he made a remarkable speech, in which 
 his piety, eloquence, and intuition placed on record 
 one of the famous intellectual souvenirs of the House 
 of Wied. The history of one of the princes of Wied 
 in any century would be interesting, but at an epoch 
 celebrated for its liberty, enlightenment, and progress 
 the noble descendant of this worthy race. Princess 
 Elisabeth — Carmen Sylva — embodies not alone all the 
 traditions of past virtue, but has added to this splendid 
 heritage world-wide and enduring renown. 
 
 It might have been difiicult to write of the Queen 
 of Eoumania solely as a queen, but her Majesty has 
 invited criticism in that most exacting of all arts — 
 literature. Had her Majesty not been Carmen Sylva, 
 
4 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 we should probably never have written these lines, 
 but the gifted pen has become the royal sceptre, and 
 the kingdom of the poet a domain bounded neither 
 by sweeping Danube nor majestic Carpathian ; a 
 limitless expanse stretching to the frontiers of intel- 
 lectual capacity ; a kingdom that links past with 
 present in the ideal, universal realm of beauty, genius, 
 and humanity. This is Carmen Sylva's realm, the 
 gold of her sceptre, the purple of her raiment ; these 
 are her quarterings of nobility, these the here- 
 ditary honours, succeeded to and inherited by the 
 right divine of a noble, gifted, and truly poetic 
 nature. 
 
 At the commencement of her biographical sketch 
 of the Queen of Eoumania, the Baroness Nathalie von 
 Stakelberg, friend and historian of the royal poetess, 
 has given the explanation of her Majesty's nom de 
 plume^ Carmen Sylva. In the German Carmen sig- 
 nifies das Lied, and Sylva, der Wald ; Carmen, the 
 song, and Sylva, the glade. 
 
 Her Majesty, born Princess of Wied, is the 
 daughter of Prince Hermann of Wied, a philosopher 
 and thinker, and of the noble Maria, Princess of 
 I^assau. The Queen was born at Neue Wied, 29th 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 5 
 
 December, 1843 ; her godmothers were Elisabeth, 
 Queen of Prussia, and Elisabeth, Grand Duchess of 
 Eussia. 
 
 The Princess Elisabeth, even in her tenderest 
 years, was characterised by those qualities which 
 to-day are so prominent in the Queen and poet: 
 sweetness, simplicity, and goodness. Her High- 
 ness was a very gifted child, but in spite of her 
 supreme mental endowments, she always seemed 
 unconscious that they placed her above the ordinary 
 mortal. She was of a happy but thoughtful disposi- 
 tion; she evinced the greatest respect for her teachers, 
 and showed a wonderful reverence for talents which 
 even in her tender years her fine instinct enabled 
 her to appreciate. 
 
 When Princess Elisabeth was four years of age, 
 Fraulein Lavater became her governess. This lady 
 was a woman of exceptional qualities of mind and 
 heart. Above all she was possessed of firmness, 
 independence, and extraordinary patience. She soon 
 discovered that in the tutorship of this strange child 
 these qualities were pre-eminently necessary. Her 
 little pupil, even at that early age, displayed traits of 
 character simply astounding in one so young. She 
 
6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 was determined, inflexible, and uncommunicative. 
 Moreover, she was as restless as quicksilver, and was 
 absolutely incapable of keeping quiet. While she 
 learned her lessons she marched up and down her 
 schoolroom, declaiming them aloud, and when she 
 recited them she was either pulling at her dress, 
 moving about, or turning over her book in her 
 hands. 
 
 Her parents were very desirous that her portrait 
 should be taken, but the thing was almost an impos- 
 sibility. At last it was decided that she and her 
 brother, Prince William, should sit to Professor Sohn 
 for their portraits. Every conceivable device was 
 tried to keep the Princess quiet, but in vain. At 
 length the painter threw down his brush in despair. 
 Making a violent effort she determined to remain 
 still. She succeeded, but the strain was so terrible 
 that five minutes afterwards she fell fainting on 
 the floor. 
 
 Princess Elisabeth's earliest sorrow was the birth 
 of her brother Otto. Not only was she then excluded 
 from her beloved mother's presence, but this cherished 
 parent became paralysed, and lay stretched for months 
 on a bed of pain. Moreover, little Otto was born 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 7 
 
 with an incurable malady. Elisabeth could not 
 understand why the advent of the baby brother had 
 saddened the entire household, and instead of joy, 
 had brought sickness, sorrow, and suffering. 
 
 Little Elisabeth early learned the art of self- 
 sacrifice. Her compassionate nature and rare unsel- 
 fi.shness were often the household theme; her pity, 
 however, was tempered by a strange sense of justice. 
 Although of a most generous disposition she rarely 
 gave her things away, and when she did, always 
 went so far as to speculate, not on what she could, 
 but on what she ought to do without. She finally 
 decided in favour of giving, but never till she had 
 subjected herself to the severest rigour of childish 
 reasoning. 
 
 One day her mother gave her an entire piece of 
 woollen stuff, saying that it was to be given to the 
 poor. *'No," said the little Princess, ''I shall give 
 them all my white dresses, and keep this myself.'' 
 Her mother asked her if she thought the white 
 dresses suitable for poor children to wear in all sorts 
 of weather. The little girl reflected for some 
 moments before replying, and then gravely said : 
 *' Perhaps you are right," and decided to whom she 
 
8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 would give the piece of material. She then set out, 
 staff in hand, with her little brother, towards the 
 cottage of a peasant, whose principal wealth was a 
 large family of ill- clad children. 
 
 Shut up in the castle of Neue Wied, the little 
 Princess, without any youthful companions except 
 her two young brothers, Princes William and 
 Otto, was strangely alone. She was, however, 
 singularly free from morbid thoughts, and neither 
 moped nor gave way to melancholy ; she spent her 
 time with her books and birds and flowers, playing 
 in the summer garden of her ancestral home, or 
 climbing the hills of the Westerwald, which sur- 
 rounded Castle Neue Wied in a chain of undulating 
 heights ; in the distance was the legendary Ehine, 
 and stretching far away against the horizon were the 
 towers of Coblentz and the Eoman ruins of Brauns- 
 berg and Segendorf. 
 
 The valley is pierced by the river Wied, which 
 glides like a silver serpent through the forest; to 
 the west the extinct volcanoes of Maifeld and Eifel 
 frown on the sombre woods ; while from the valley of 
 the Mosel steals the rich aroma of scented heather 
 and perfumed vineyards. 
 

 1 
 
 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. -^^J^' 9 
 
 In this smiling and fertile country the young 
 Princess early communed with that Nature which has 
 been throughout her life, her love, her ambition, and 
 her guiding star. She attuned her childish fancies to 
 the perfume of sweet flowers, the flowing of clear 
 rivers, and the murmuring of gentle breezes. When 
 summer clothed the valley in its sweetest dress, she 
 ran hither and thither, as happy as a bird on the 
 mountain trees ; when snow fell, and winter wrapped 
 all the land in its virginal shroud, she walked under 
 the pines which bent with the weight of their icy 
 armour; or, if the inclement weather forbade her to 
 go out, she lifted her casement to the snow-birds that 
 came in flocks to partake of her childish bounty. 
 
 The young Princess began at a very early age to 
 study seriously. Not only the Eomance languages — ■ 
 Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, and English — were 
 faithfully acquired, but she likewise evinced an 
 unusual taste for science, political economy, and 
 poetry. In one of her private letters written to an 
 * old friend, her Majesty says that at ten years of age 
 she had already written some verses, and at the age 
 of fourteen she composed a short story. 
 
 ^^I could not struggle against it," she says; ''I 
 
10 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 was obliged to be impetuous ; I could not keep quiet. 
 In my heart I was grateful to all those who had had 
 patience with me, but when the world of poetry 
 revealed itself to me I saw everything in another 
 light." 
 
 It is certain that Princess Elisabeth was not only 
 an unusually gifted child, but that she also possessed 
 the highly strung temperament of those who have 
 been specially endowed by nature ; she was nervous, 
 restless, and ambitious, and having passed the greater 
 part of her extreme youth with few or no companions 
 of her own age — if we except her brothers and 
 Mademoiselle von Bibra — her mental precocity can 
 scarcely be a matter of wonder. To her, as to others 
 intelligent and simple-minded, solitude was a boon, a 
 relief, an unconscious teacher, a companion, a mentor, 
 and a spur to all intellectual attainment. 
 
 The Princess Elisabeth was extremely pious, and 
 found both comfort and joy in her religion; she 
 looked upon the realities of life and death with a 
 strange philosophy, and was often heard to speak 
 of death as a state of perfect happiness. These 
 sentiments might seem extreme in one so young, 
 but allowance must be made for her education, her 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. ii 
 
 natural enthusiasm, and her personal surroundings. 
 Most children brought up alone, if they do not 
 become selfish, at least acquire a domineering habit 
 of absoluteness and egotism; her Highness, on the 
 contrary, evinced a sweetness of disposition and an 
 unselfishness of character which made her remark- 
 able, even to her parents and relations. 
 
 From his birth Prince Otto, the Queen's younger 
 brother, suffered from a terrible and incurable 
 affliction. He absorbed the attention of all the 
 family, but his sister Elisabeth became his chief 
 companion and nurse. Although but a few years 
 older than himself she tended him with the watchful- 
 ness of a mother, listened to his whims with angelic 
 patience, and never considered any plan for her own 
 amusement without first turning over in her mind 
 how the result would affect her brother Otto. This 
 thoughtf'ulness and preoccupation lent her a gravity 
 far beyond her years. The moment she was free, 
 playing amid the flowers and birds and sunshine, she 
 was the happiest, gayest, and youngest of all the 
 young children ; but the instant she recalled to her 
 mind her brother's illness, and made her way to the 
 sick-chamber, the brightness of youth vanished ; she 
 
12 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 became a grave, tender little mother, all sweetness, 
 all patience, all quietness. 
 
 Before she had reached her tenth year, she began 
 to remark and distinguish the different visitors in the 
 castle. Prince Hermann, her father, was a great 
 patron of arts and letters, and delighted to gather 
 round him the master-spirits in literature, poetry, and 
 the fine arts. Amongst other celebrated visitors, the 
 Princess met Ernest Maurice Arndt, the poet, Bunsen, 
 Neukomm, Clement Parthes, and Jacob Bernads. 
 
 Arndt was a very frequent visitor at Neue Wied, 
 and the little Princess Elisabeth soon learned to repeat 
 by heart his beautiful and patriotic verses. Nothing 
 could exceed the Princess's reverence for men of 
 letters, or, in fact, for men in any rank of life who had 
 distinguished themselves in their chosen career ; and 
 one of the prettiest pictures which is remembered by 
 her governess, Madame Lavater, is the little Elisabeth 
 sitting on the poet's knee and listening with flushed 
 cheeks and widely- dilated eyes to the flowing verses 
 of the grey-haired singer. 
 
 Prince Hermann went for a short time to Bonn, 
 and was so well pleased with his stay there that he 
 decided upon making this interesting city a regular 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 13 
 
 resort. The principal reason of this visit was to seek 
 the best medical advice for young Prince Otto, later 
 to undergo an operation for his malady, which attempt 
 was as futile as painful. This annual visit to Bonn, 
 although delightful to the Princess, could never 
 wean her affections from Castle Neue Wied. She 
 loved her home with a fond unreasoning love, and 
 already showed how essentially she differed from 
 ordinary children, inasmuch as, while such children 
 delight in change, in new scenes, and new amuse- 
 ments, the little girl always preferred, above and 
 beyond every other pleasure, the beauties of her 
 ancestral home ; and to re-live there hours which 
 represented the beginning and end of her young, 
 happy life. 
 
 When Princess Elisabeth was ten years of age Prince 
 Otto's health became the excuse for more travelling, 
 and the family went to Paris, where they spent 
 the best part of the year. The previous year Prince 
 Hermann's health had likewise required a change, 
 and he had visited North America and Cuba, in 
 company with his brother-in-law. Prince Nicholas of 
 Nassau. A series of most interesting letters written 
 from the New World by the Prince were published 
 
H ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 later in a local journal and copied extensively through- 
 out the German press. 
 
 The Germans are perhaps the one nation of the 
 world in whom the love of home, family life, and 
 family ties take precedence of all other considerations. 
 The Princes of Wied without exception possessed this 
 virtue. They were so perfectly united in mind, in 
 feeling, and in habit that it was impossible for one of 
 them to remain long away from the others. Prince 
 Hermann's letters were filled with the marvels and 
 glories and beauties of the New World. He wrote of 
 its commerce, its industries, of the universities, of the 
 great lakes, endless rivers, and magnificent forests ; 
 in short, of everything which peoples those rich and 
 fertile countries, but he added: ''Nothing can interest 
 me very long. My thoughts are constantly in my 
 home; my happiness is with my wife and children 
 and those I love." 
 
 It was after this North American trip that Prince 
 Hermann installed his family in Paris. They spent 
 a year in the great capital, and while there Princess 
 Elisabeth, with her brothers and some other little 
 ones, followed a course of studies under the cele- 
 brated Abbe Gaultier. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 15 
 
 The young students passed a very pleasant and 
 happy life in Paris. The beauty of the French metro- 
 polis, the companionship of children of her own age, 
 and the various amusements provided for the princely 
 scholars, chased away the whole, or at least a part, 
 of Princess Elisabeth's melancholy. She laughed 
 and danced and played with her young companions, 
 and one morning Marshal von Bibra, chamberlain 
 and friend of the Prince, found the little students, 
 headed by the little Elisabeth, in the midst of a 
 marionette show. She had written the comedy, the 
 dolls were dressed up for actors, the toys and play- 
 things were the accessories, the children themselves, 
 the so-called artists, filling the roles of Punch and 
 Judy and their troupe. 
 
 Princess Elisabeth tried in vain to hide her book 
 and to stop the performance, but her parents professed 
 themselves so pleased with the entertainment that 
 she was persuaded to continue, and in the end 
 received, with the other little performers, the heartiest 
 applause and congratulations. 
 
 In the June of 1854 the family returned from 
 Paris to Neue Wied ; the winter was spent at home, 
 and Princess Elisabeth began to undertake serious 
 
i6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 and regular studies, music especially, for which she 
 had already shown such admirable and distinguished 
 talent. 
 
 It seems almost incredible that a child of twelve 
 should have been so decided in her tastes and pre- 
 dilections. She was not only very positive with regard 
 to her various studies, but expressed herself very 
 clearly as to the length of time she ought to devote 
 to each, as well as the ability of her masters, and the 
 general characteristics of the educational work assigned 
 to her: in another this extreme precocity would have 
 been alarming, but with her, every task was under- 
 taken with such order, faith, and perseverance that 
 people forgot the tenderness of her years in the self- 
 imposed regularity with which she pursued her tasks. 
 
 She evinced such extraordinary facility for foreign 
 languages that she was dubbed the female Mezzo- 
 fanti ; her Latin, English, and Italian were so perfect 
 that she could translate from one to the other equally 
 well, either in prose or poetry, and as she was 
 extremely fond of the Classics, she made several 
 elaborate studies from Ovid and Plato; comprising 
 translations and critical essays on the Metamorphoses 
 and the Repuhlic, 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 17 
 
 From the year 1858 to 1860, tutors, professors, and 
 governesses were banislied from the house, each and 
 all declaring that the gifted young pupil had passed 
 beyond the limits of even the most elaborate curri- 
 culum ; in short, the pupil was herself a more finished 
 scholar than any of her distinguished masters. Then 
 began a period of desultory reading : everything in 
 p classic or modern literature was devoured, digested, 
 and commented upon ; the Princess's fine intelligence 
 and habit of application soon made her a perfect 
 mine of knowledge, while she had so thoroughly 
 studied the French dramatic authors that she could 
 quote from memory entire scenes from Moliere, 
 Eacine, and Corneille. 
 
 Amongst the poets, Shakespeare, Yictor Hugo, and 
 Tasso held the first place ; and in fictional prose the 
 works of Charlotte Bronte, Sir Walter Scott, and 
 Bulwer Lytton were her favourite authors. One work 
 particularly touched the young Princess, a book 
 which we presume has been read more by enthusiastic 
 youth than any work — not ^^ Eobinson Crusoe " — viz., 
 ^^ The Wide, Wide World," by Elizabeth Wetherell. 
 The Princess said, after having finished it, that she 
 knew every word by heart, and might read a thousand 
 
 c 
 
1 8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 other English novels without any one of them ever 
 being able to take the place of this one in her memory. 
 Of Scott's works she preferred '^ Ivanhoe," and from 
 perusing the others became as fully conversant with 
 Scotch character and scenery as if she had spent a 
 portion of her life — to quote her favourite author — 
 " in the land of the mountain and the flood." 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 At this time Prince Otto's illness took a very serious 
 turn. On the 12th March, 1860, Professor Busch, of 
 Bonn, performed an operation, but the gentle patient 
 never rallied, and his death, which took place some 
 months after, was the first to plunge in mourning the 
 Wied family circle. 
 
 Princess Elisabeth suffered most acutely from this 
 loss, for, as with most women, the presence of sick- 
 ness and suffering in one beloved only attached her 
 all the more closely to the sufferer. The sudden cessa- 
 tion of any active responsibility created a melancholy 
 void in her existence. Her father falling ill shortly 
 after, the house became one of silence and tears and 
 solitude. 
 
 At the age of sixteen her Highness was not only 
 an accomplished linguist and a delightful conversa- 
 tionalist, but was also a musician of remarkable 
 promise. She particularly delighted in Eubinstein, 
 
20 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Mozart, and the great classics ; she played the piano, 
 harp, and organ with delightful facility, and became 
 so enamoured of the first-named instrument that in 
 consequence of her assiduous application her health 
 began to suffer. In short, every study attempted by 
 this ambitious young Princess was followed up with 
 such ardour and obstinate perseyerance that her 
 parents and tutors were always obliged to restrict 
 her studies, and to shorten her hours of serious 
 application. 
 
 It seems almost exaggeration to add that her 
 Highness immediately afterwards began the study of 
 drawing and painting in oils ; it had been hoped that 
 she would consent to take some rest; her mental 
 system was over-worked, and her nerves in a weak 
 and alarming state, but her organisation was such 
 that she could not remain idle, and the variety of her 
 numerous occupations promised greater repose than 
 she could have procured had she remained with 
 absolutely nothing to do. 
 
 There were few visitors to the castle of '^ Meine 
 Euhe," as Carmen Sylva named her ancestral home, 
 but those who were gratified by a visit to Neue Wied 
 never left the princely gates without bearing there- 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 21 
 
 from a charming souvenir of the Princess and her 
 family. 
 
 Although somewhat distant from the village, the 
 castle was easy of access, and whether prince or cotta- 
 ger, poet, or peasant, whosoever entered this domain 
 was received with the noble hospitality characteristic 
 of the House of Wied. 
 
 Occasional visitors, however, were rare, and the 
 Princess passed her life almost after the fashion of 
 princesses in fairy tales, invisible for days, and months, 
 and years, and suddenly, as if at the stroke of the 
 genii's wand, appearing at village feast, or ball, or 
 State ceremony. Her little Highness became almost a 
 legend in her native village, but in her own domain 
 she was constantly seen, gathering flowers on the 
 banks of the Wied, roaming through the shady 
 avenues, followed by three magnificent St. Bernards ; 
 swinging in a hammock under the full-blossomed 
 acacia, conjuring up fancies and figures in the dream- 
 realms of her mind, or reciting some of her verses to 
 the dignified but sympathetic maid of honour, atten- 
 dant upon the person of her young mistress. 
 
 The Princess never tired of this sweet communing 
 with nature ; to her the woods were a revelation. 
 
22 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 the wild flowers companions, and the songs of the 
 birds echoes of her own joyous thoughts. Thus the 
 spring passed, and the summer, and the autumn of 
 1858. 
 
 The idleness of those long June days and autumnal 
 evenings had so refreshed the Princess, mentally and 
 physically, that she undertook a journey to Italy and 
 Switzerland. This was the first time she had seen 
 any world outside of her own home, but, in spite of 
 the beauties of this other land of mountain and song, 
 her heart soon yearned for the Ehine, for the forests 
 of Neue "Wied, and for the old home overlooking 
 the Moselle and the Wied valleys. She had been so 
 long accustomed to solitude and to the absolute 
 liberty of her home life that she looked upon the 
 world with terror, despised conventionalities, and was 
 often oblivious to the social etiquette required from 
 her rank and station. 
 
 In 1860 she was sent to Berlin on a visit to the 
 Queen, the late Empress Augusta — who desired to 
 have the gifted young lady for some time amongst 
 her more favoured ladies of honour. However, her 
 manners were so strange and so totally free from the 
 rigidity of Court etiquette that she frightened the 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 23 
 
 maids and gentlemen in waiting, and appears herself 
 to have felt great discomfort at the stiffness and 
 ceremony of her surroundings. 
 
 In referring to this visit she even wrote : ^^In the 
 salon I was obliged to exercise the most painful 
 vigilance over myself, so as not only to converse 
 with moderation, but in all things to keep within the 
 strict limits of etiquette." 
 
 This year Princess Elisabeth was confirmed, and in 
 the following autumn made another tour with her 
 family through Switzerland to the lakes of North 
 Italy. On their return thence Prince Otto's health 
 grew very much worse. Prince Hermann likewise 
 became a confirmed invalid, and kept his room for 
 weeks at a time ; his wife was also ailing, and already 
 the house had become a house of mourning. 
 
 Princess Elisabeth so divided her time as to be 
 several hours at her brother's bedside, and spent 
 three hours regularly in companionship with her 
 beloved father. She read to him and undertook his 
 correspondence ; classified State, civil, and family 
 documents, and became her dear parent's representa- 
 tive, not only in household affairs, but also in the 
 management of his various estates. In spite of her 
 
24 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 constant occupation and readily assumed cheerfulness, 
 the Princess was anything but light-hearted; the 
 journal kept by her, and even the slightest jottings in 
 her birthday book, show that her life then at best was 
 a struggle, and she was beginning to sow the first 
 seeds of disheartenment, unrest, and self- questioning. 
 
 It was in this year, 1860, that she visited Berlin 
 with her companion, Fraulein Lavater, and in the same 
 year wrote the letter above quoted, referring to her 
 lack of knowledge of etiquette and of Court manners. 
 
 A curious anecdote is related about this visit, and 
 the Princess's first meeting with her future husband. 
 It will be seen that the introduction diff'ered in every 
 way from the ceremonies usually observed by such 
 august personages. One afternoon, Princess Elisabeth 
 was descending the staircase in great haste, when she 
 missed her footing, and fell headlong into the arms 
 of a stranger, at that moment in the act of ascending. 
 As soon as she recovered her breath, she looked into 
 the face of her timely preserver, hoping to recognise 
 some friend of the family, but he was totally un- 
 known to her, and when, later. Prince Charles of 
 Hohenzollern was presented, she blushingly recol- 
 lected that — they had met before ! 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 25 
 
 In response to Queen Augusta's inquiring look, 
 his Highness hastened to explain the circumstance, 
 and in addition to the thanks of her Majesty, received 
 also those of Princess Elisabeth, for having averted 
 what might have been a serious accident. 
 
 In the January of 1862 Prince Hermann became 
 so seriously ill that he took to his bed, never to leave 
 it; while poor Prince Otto's martyrdom also drew 
 to its end, and, on the 10th February, he breathed 
 his last. During the ensuing winter Prince Her- 
 mann was carried to Baden Baden, and, in the same 
 season, the Princess was presented, and attended the 
 Court balls at Wiirtemberg. She also went twice 
 a week to Carlsruhe, to take lessons in music from 
 Kalliwoda, and lessons in flower-painting from 
 Madame Schroeder. 
 
 About this time the Princess again sustained a 
 loss in the death of her most intimate, in fact her 
 only friend, daughter of Field-Marshal von Bibra 
 before named. Princess Elisabeth took this calamity 
 so deeply to heart that she was threatened with a 
 very serious malady. Through incessant contempla- 
 tion of illness, suftering, and death, her mind was 
 over- worked, her nerves were strained to their utmost 
 
26 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 tension, and she lost, not only her former vivacity, 
 but also her physical strength, and with that, 
 naturally, her powers of mental endurance. The 
 doctors not only ordered absolute rest, but also 
 change of scene. Accordingly she was committed to 
 the care of her aunt, the Grand Duchess Helen of 
 Kussia, and prepared to spend some time absent from 
 Neue "Wied. 
 
 In the autumn of 1863 we find the Grand Duchess 
 and her niece at the charming watering-place of 
 Ouchy, on the Lake of Geneva. Here, amidst 
 the delightful society constituting the circle of her 
 distinguished relative, the Princess was surrounded 
 by all that was noted in art, science, and letters ; 
 for the first time she appreciated the beauty of Swiss 
 scenery, so especially sympathetic at this point, and 
 so different from the sombre mountains and forests 
 of Neue Wied. Before long Princess Elisabeth had 
 regained, not only her health, but also her spirits ; 
 she laughed and chatted and sang; wrote verses, 
 played the piano, and conversed with such intelligence 
 that her aunt was charmed, and determined to carry 
 her back with her to spend the winter in Eussia. 
 
 Life at the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg was 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 27 
 
 one round of gaiety, of splendid fetes and magnifi- 
 cent State ceremonies. However, the first excitement 
 worn off, the severe Court etiquette told upon this 
 child of nature ; she began to be excessively fatigued, 
 and requested as a change, permission to resume her 
 studies. 
 
 Music became a passion, and the great Eubinstein 
 gave her lessons. The German historian, Mme. 
 Stackelberg, quotes a letter she wrote from St. Peters- 
 burg, to her mother ; she refers to her studies with 
 the above-named professor, and especially to the 
 sensations awakened by his playing. 
 
 ^^ The consciousness of my very slight talent caused 
 me to lose all courage," she wrote ; and further on, 
 evidently in reference to the same master: '^ Under 
 such power, it was as if one listened to some mystic 
 legend, as if one heard the music of the spheres. 
 There are a poetry and tenderness in his playing 
 which are really enchanting. His genius is such, 
 that beside it prodigious force and culture appear but 
 secondary affairs. ... I have never heard anything 
 to equal it ; his touch breathes magic, and, added to 
 his talent, is a double beauty like the dew on the 
 flower, or the bloom on the purple grape. '^ 
 
28 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 On the 4th May, 18 64, the Princess wrote from 
 Moscow to her mother, the Princess of Wicd, as 
 follows : — 
 
 '^ We are in Moscow, the old patriotic city, with its 
 one- and two-storeyed houses, green roofs, and several 
 hundred churches, all shining in their most variegated 
 colours. When we arrived, a sunbeam fell through 
 the thick clouds on some gilded cupola; the view 
 from the Kremlin was highly impressive (curious), 
 unhappily not sunny, but green. We look down 
 upon nothing but verdant roofs. The dimensions of 
 the streets are such that one scarcely knows which 
 is street and which square. It is too wonderful. 
 The city, with its one-storeyed structures set in their 
 surrounding gardens, is quite like the country — 
 almost like a village — and yet it is very beautiful. 
 One sees only little houses, many-hued, and much 
 more highly-coloured churches : vivid blue with 
 bright green roof and domes, or red, with green 
 cupolas, or red, green and blue in the most fantastic 
 mixture. Only in bright sunshine could I imagine 
 Moscow peculiarly beautiful, when the hundreds of 
 domes glisten and throw their rays on the green roofs, 
 here, there, and everywhere. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 29 
 
 *' In the Kremlin I saw the church treasure, also 
 the treasure and armour chamber, in which all the 
 Imperial crowns are kept. I take a particular interest 
 in this spot, for the sake of the age of these relics, 
 and likewise the historical remembrances which are 
 attached to them. In this room we also find the 
 enormous silver kettles in which holy oil is prepared 
 and sanctified. Every three years, during three days 
 of continuous prayers, it is boiled and mixed with 
 perfumed herbs, then it is blessed and consecrated in 
 the church, and is called 'la sainte cr^me.' Forty 
 to fifty amphorae are filled with it, and from far and 
 wide come prayers to possess some of this oil, because 
 they use it for the dedication of churches, as well as 
 for ceremonials of birth and death. For me it has 
 something touching to think in how many ways men 
 endeavour to hallow themselves, and although we are 
 disposed to ask what is the benefit of this holy oil and 
 holy water, there lies within the mere idea and its 
 fulfilment a child-like desire to become quite pure ; 
 there is an unchanging faith in the power of prayer, 
 which in itself is alone able to sanctify all things. 
 In the Greek Church I find very many childish and 
 cheerful ideas, and fewer superstitions than in the 
 
30 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Eoman Catholic belief — nothiDg, however, of the 
 solemnity and earnestness of our religion. However, 
 it strikes me that our Church in its noblest form (as 
 I should also mention other Churches in their noblest 
 form) is specially suited to the German character : 
 we all have, more or less, the tendency to sound our- 
 selves, probe into our own hearts, and to wholly 
 retire within ourselves, and only out of our inmost 
 souls to draw the fulness of the knowledge of God." 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 The rigorous winter in Eussia soon told upon the 
 Princess's health; she was attacked by a malady 
 which placed her life in danger, and she had no sooner 
 entered into convalescence than the news of her 
 father's death reached her. This cruel loss retarded 
 her recovery, and the idea of his having died while 
 she was absent from home was a constantly recurring 
 pain ; but she bore her loss, as she had borne that of 
 her brother Otto, with Christian patience and resigna- 
 tion. She was surrounded by the most loving kind- 
 ness and solicitude; every possible distraction that 
 her mourning permitted was procured for her, and 
 life in the Kremlin, with its multitudinous ceremonies 
 and fetes, the splendid gardens and promenades 
 attached to this royal residence, not only helped her 
 to pass her time both agreeably and cheerfully, but 
 she even fancied that Eussia reminded her of her old 
 home, Meine Euhe : and in this ducal palace gradually 
 
32 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 re-lived her old life of poetry, music, and classic 
 reminiscence. 
 
 In June the Grand Duchess Helen conveyed her 
 niece back to Germany, but the sight of her ancestral 
 walls, sad and silent, took from her all the pleasure 
 she had anticipated from this home-coming. Her 
 melancholy became so deep-seated that her aunt 
 insisted on taking her to Ouchy, the charming 
 autumnal residence on the Lake of Geneva, but for 
 th6 first time in her life change of scene failed to 
 benefit the Princess. 
 
 The following year she visited Eagatz with the 
 Grand Duchess, and in the January of 1867 she 
 went with another relative, the Princess Therese of 
 Oldenburg, to visit Naples and Southern Italy. 
 
 Her pleasure in, and appreciation of, the volcanic 
 city is best described in some of her letters. 
 
 '^ Naples Villa, 
 
 St. Bridget, 
 
 19^^ January^ 1867. 
 
 ^' Yesterday we moved here. Since several days 
 
 the sirocco blows and the sea is lashed into furious 
 
 whirlpools. The sea-birds fly across the bounding 
 
 foam, and last night a hurricane made the house 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 33 
 
 tremble. Clouds are dense, low, and completely hide 
 Yesuvius ; the wind and rain are beating against the 
 window in horrible concert, while the sea is green 
 and grey, and phosphorescent lights flit over the 
 crested waves. It is a barbarous world, but I do not 
 mind this tumultuous raging ; let it continue, only I 
 should like to fly with the tempest, expose myself all 
 alone to its fury, and hurl out upon the waters a wild 
 song which no one but myself could hear, no one 
 disturb : which, although I should sing it at the 
 highest pitch of my voice, would still be for me, and 
 me alone. Then immediately after, as quiet as a 
 lamb, I would return home, and no longer hear the 
 clamour. But the cloud-veil again unfolds, and a 
 reddish light spreads itself calmly and tranquilly over 
 the foaming main ; it stretches farther and farther from 
 the horizon to my very feet, and across the path of 
 the storm, illuminating, tranquillising, and bringing 
 joyous thoughts to my heart. Could this latter but 
 learn to be more quiet, it might likewise dominate 
 the tempest. Perhaps, however, in its most secret 
 depths it is really calm, for, in spite of everything, 
 my own fireside is the haven which protects, the 
 anchor which holds, when the sails are torn asunder." 
 
34 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 ''•2^th January. 
 ^' When we awoke this morning, the sea visible 
 from our hillside was lit up like a mirror. The 
 windows and doors were wide open, and a real May- 
 breeze penetrated our hearts and homes, inspiring me 
 with joyful thoughts. All my forces and all my love 
 of life are revivified. ... If I lift up my head I see 
 in front of me the blue sombre mass, Vesuvius — 
 Vesuvius, whose summit hides itself in the clouds. 
 To the left, looking downwards, the seething city is 
 gilded with sunshine. To the right the Mediterra- 
 nean stretches away, sharp cut by the denticulated 
 heights of the Isle of Capri. The city for the first 
 time appears to me in all its enchanting beauty, and 
 for the first time I can plunge heart and soul into the 
 splendours of this magnificent nature. A peace which 
 I have not felt for a long time has entered into my 
 soul; I feel as though I could rock myself on the 
 air, and as though I had an hundred wings to bear me 
 towards the sun ; I feel a healing balm penetrating 
 my breast, causing it to expand, to live and breathe 
 anew. It is worth while to struggle with the tempest 
 in order to enjoy the subsequent calm. The sea 
 murmurs softly, as if it feared to trouble the silence. 
 Everything seems to say to me, ^ Peace, peace ! ' " 
 
CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 In the spring of 1867 the Princess returned to Meine 
 Euhe, and in the month of August went to Carlsbad, 
 thence to Paris to visit the great exhibition. It was 
 here that her royal Highness sujffered from momentary- 
 deafness, and from a constant pain in the head. The 
 year was prolific in continental trips, the Princess 
 returning to Eagatz, and later on visiting Norway 
 and Sweden. She was so delighted with this country 
 of beautiful legends and idyllic poetry that she 
 learned Swedish in order to read the works of the 
 native authors, more especially Frithiof 's ^^ Sagas of 
 Tegner." 
 
 In 1868 she visited Heidelberg. Among the ruins 
 and surroundings of the old castle her poetic nature 
 was, perhaps, for the first time most fully awakened ; 
 in short, of all the places she had ever seen, none 
 charmed her more than this, and in a recent letter she 
 refers to the delightful town, and writes : '^ I adore 
 
36 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Heidelberg. With, my aunt I once passed there the 
 three most perfect months of my life." 
 
 Princess Elisabeth inherited from her father, Prince 
 Ay Hermann of Wied, a mind of extraordinary vigour. 
 She not only sounded questions which are supposed to 
 belong chiefly to the feminine world, but science, the 
 fine arts, politics, and even political economy were 
 studied in turn and thoroughly investigated by her 
 large and liberal intelligence. She was particularly 
 interested in the situation of European politics, and 
 agreed with her father about the vesting of petty 
 feudal rights in the great German sovereignty, to-day 
 exercised by the young Emperor-King, William of 
 Prussia. 
 
 She was also very much interested in the Porte, 
 and particularly in those countries whose legends, 
 poetry, and magnificent natural scenery appeal most 
 strikingly to the poetical nature. She always named 
 the Carpathians with enthusiasm, and once, in 
 speaking of Eoumania, its slaves, disbanded people, 
 and decaying provinces, uttered these words, almost 
 a prophecy: *^ The only throne that could have any^ 
 attraction for me would be the throne of Eoumania, 
 for there, even for me, there would be something to 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 37 
 
 do." At the outset, the Princess's marriage with 
 Prince Charles of Eoumania was merely a political 
 alliance, but in the end became a real love match. ---"' 
 The Queen has since confessed that the young man 
 into whose arms she once accidentally fell, was the only 
 person who from that time forward occupied all her 
 thoughts, and on the 15th November, 1869, the 
 marriage was celebrated at Neiwwed. On the 18th 
 the royal couple set out for their new residence, to 
 found a new home among new people, a new race, and 
 for them, a new land in this old land of the sun — 
 Eoumania. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 In speaking of Queen Elisabeth of Eoumania under 
 her poetic pseudonym of Carmen Sylva, who by dint 
 of her fine literary work has conquered and holds so 
 exceptional a place amongst the sovereigns of Europe, 
 it is but natural to say something of the man to 
 whom her royal destiny has been attached. Nor is it 
 less important to have some exact notion of this 
 new country of their adoption, about which Europe 
 at the present moment appears to be unusually 
 occupied. 
 
 The vague ideas which exist about Eoumania in the 
 minds of many — indeed of a very great many — were 
 they not so discouraging, would be delightful. We 
 hear of America and Americans till Europe, I think, 
 must be sick of the sound of the name. Next in the 
 wave of surfeit comes Germany and her eternal 
 empire ; Russia with her intrigues and intrepidities ; 
 Italy with her constitutional manoeuvre ; France with 
 her Republicans, her Opportunists, her Recidivists, her 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 39 
 
 Legitimists, her Bonapartists ; Spain with her Carlos 
 and Carolinas, and so on, ad infinitum^ through the 
 length and breadth of civilisation. Hence, to properly 
 explain the what, the why, and the wherefore of Eon- 
 mania, her sovereigns and her institutions, her people 
 and her provinces, we are obliged to go through a com- 
 plete course of geography, history, and ethnography. 
 
 It has been very much the custom of late to place 
 King Charles of Eoumania under a false light, and 
 likewise the habit of so-called historiographers to 
 spread abroad a mass of errors about the people and 
 country of Eoumania, as malevolent as grotesque. We 
 read daily in the press, in books of travel by the most 
 celebrated writers, fantastic, inexplicable assertions 
 about the Orient, assertions which are anomalies, 
 and a confusion of names worthy of the ^' Heathen 
 Chinee " when he appears in San Francisco, and sells 
 his first cargo of tea — in English. 
 
 Eoumania is confounded with Eoumelia, Moldavia 
 with Moravia, Bucharest with Budapest, and a per- 
 sonage lately at the head of one of the European 
 powers pushed his republican fantasy to the point of 
 giving to Eoumania the name of Bucharia ; although 
 we must confess the similarity of names of this Asiatic 
 
40 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 province with that of the capital of the young king- 
 dom of Eoumania is such that a Western savage might 
 be excused for the mistake, but a ruler on a con- 
 tinental throne, or a boy in the lowest form of any 
 institute in Europe guilty of such an error would not 
 be excusable. He would be deservedly laughed at, 
 and returned on the hands of his parents as "lacking 
 in the upper storey.'' 
 
 This stupidity is a comical display of the ignorance 
 of great statesmen in the matter of geography. It 
 might be pardonable, but the obstinacy in continuing 
 in the error becomes a grave affair. 
 
 The races that border the Danube are surely distinct 
 enough each in itself to own a national appellation. 
 However, in spite of their characteristic name, lan- 
 guage, and Latin type, Eoumanians are constantly 
 confounded with Servians, Montenegrins, Dorian- 
 Greeks, Bulgarians, and other Slavonic types in- 
 habiting the Dalmatian peninsula. 
 
 Under these circumstances it is not unreasonable 
 that we should touch upon the country and people 
 now brought into prominence by a ruler such as King 
 Charles of Eoumania, ana his gifted consort, Elisabeth, 
 Princess of Wied. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 41 
 
 Eoumania is a country situate between Eussia, 
 Austria, and Turkey, to-day inhabited by the descend- 
 ants of the old Eoman colonists who conquered 
 ancient Dacia under the Emperor Trajan, a race of 
 men who since the time of Alexander the Great have 
 been amongst the most valiant of the Thracian bar- 
 barians, and who have handed down the most splendid 
 and triumphant records to history and historical study. 
 
 A singular characteristic of the Eoumanian which 
 probably struck the Princess Elisabeth as it might 
 strike any student of Eoman history, is that when 
 casually asked, ^' What are you ? " he never answers, 
 as would an Italian, or a Frenchman, or a German, 
 this or that or the other relating to his own nation. 
 The Eoumanian does not say, ^^ I am a Eoumanian," 
 but replies, ^' I am a Eoman." However, such is the 
 strange destiny of this race of nine millions of souls 
 that diplomacy, usually supposed to be serviceable for 
 straightening international errors and prejudices, has 
 perhaps done more than anything else to destroy and 
 weaken the dominion of Eoumania ; to insensibly 
 detach it from the Eoumania of old, known to the 
 student of antiquity. Eome and her conquests and 
 powers are a thing of the past, not forgotten but 
 
42 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 cherished, and although we may well establish a 
 difference between the inhabitants of the banks of the 
 Tiber and the banks of the Danube, the fact remains 
 that the only Latin race which speaks a pure Eoman 
 is almost unknown in Central Europe, while it exists, 
 as in the long ago, in Eoumania. 
 
 Although as well versed in European history and 
 geography as many a laurelled professor, when Prince 
 Charles of Hohenzollern was called to be Prince- 
 Eegnant of Eoumania, the Princess began a course of 
 study relative to the people, language, and country that 
 were to represent her future life, not unworthy the 
 efforts of a Gibbon or a Macaulay. An ardent student 
 of Eoman history, an ardent admirer of the Latin 
 tongue, she learned by intuition that the new 
 country of her adoption was but one of the frontiers 
 of ancient Eome ; the people descendants of that 
 mighty race who represented Eome on the borders of 
 the Danube — who speak comparatively pure Eoman or 
 Eomansch, that language so dear to the heart of the 
 student— and of that race known in the early ages as 
 the Dacians, the most powerful of all the oriental 
 warlike tribes. 
 
 Most of the ladies at present occupying European 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 43 
 
 thrones, and most women called to sovereign state, 
 would have anticipated their position by ordering 
 sumptuous attire wherewith to adorn the royal 
 person ; but Princess Elisabeth chose rather to clothe 
 her mind in the splendid raiment of antique lore, than 
 her body with the richest of Mechlin or finest of 
 brocade. The booksellers of Europe received orders 
 innumerable, but the dressmakers, jewellers, &c., 
 were sadly neglected ; and when she set out for her 
 new country, her bouquet was a Eoumanian grammar, 
 and her travelling itinerary, the landmarks of old 
 Koman and Dacian conquest. 
 
 It may readily be imagined with what surprise the 
 Princess Elisabeth made the acquaintance of the land 
 which was to be her future home, and discovered that 
 instead of going to a country which fifteen years ago 
 was a vassal of Turkey, she was but going to a place 
 where she would take up all her old Eoman 
 souvenirs ; to a country purified through past sufi^er- 
 ing, now on a plane with the other civilised countries 
 of Europe, and predestined to play, as in the past, a 
 great role ; this time not under the shadow of Eome, 
 but of the Orient — Eoumania, once so backward in 
 every art and evidence of modern progress, the Mecca 
 
44 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 of the hundred different tongues that crossed Caucasus 
 or Carpathian, now a modern kingdom, with gas, 
 electricity, and machinery ; and nearly three thou- 
 sand miles of railway, silvering mountain and valley 
 and metropolis; Eoumania, which has joined her 
 provinces and freed her slaves, whose capital, 
 Bucharest, is rightly called the Paris of the Orient ; 
 whose society is polished like the best European 
 society ; whose educational, military, and civil insti- 
 tutions may vie in excellence with the best similar 
 institutions in the known world, and whose poets, 
 historians, and artisans bid fair to dissipate for ever 
 the absurd and almost universal ignorance which 
 reigns with regard to this country, its people, its 
 position, and its importance. 
 
 Speaking of his Majesty Carol I., we cannot do 
 better than to quote from Mr. William Beatty 
 Kingston's admirable work, *^ Monarchs I have Met," 
 the following anent King Charles of Eoumania : 
 
 " Carol I., * din gracia lui Dumnedeu si prin vointa 
 Nationala Kege al Eomaniei,' or in our vernacular, 
 ' Charles the First, by the grace of God and the will 
 of the nation. King of Eoumania,' is the second son 
 of the late Prince Anthony of Hohenzollern, whose 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 45 
 
 sovereign rights were vested in the Prussian throne 
 thirty-eight years ago, and who, at the time of his 
 death, was the wealthiest gentleman in Germany. 
 His Majesty was born in 1837, entered the Prussian 
 army at an early age — as all the princes of his 
 illustrious house have done since Frederick I. changed 
 his Elector's hat for a royal crown — and served in the 
 first regiment of Guard Dragoons until his twenty- 
 seventh birthday, when an event of supreme import- 
 ance befell him. The united principalities of 
 Wallachia and Moldavia, but recently emancipated 
 from vassalage, and anxious to achieve promotion in 
 European position and international rank, happened 
 to be in want of a constitutional monarch, young, 
 brave, intelligent, good-looking, and influentially 
 connected. This requirement they met by electing 
 Karl-Eitel-Friedrich-Zephyrin-Ludwig von Hohen- 
 zollern to rule over them, under the title of Prince of 
 Eoumania. It may interest some of my readers to 
 learn how this splendid advancement came to the 
 gallant cavalry captain, son of a mediatised princelet, 
 whose twenty- one years' reign over the Dacians has 
 unquestionably, in the words of our national anthem, 
 been * happy and glorious.' " 
 
CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 On Prince Charles becoming King of Eoumania he 
 determined to build a royal residence, and the site i 
 chosen was the heart of the Carpathians, near the 
 ancient monastery of Sina'ia, facing the torrent of ( 
 Pelech, one of the most beautiful waterfalls of this 
 celebrated mountain range. Although his Majesty's \ 
 father was one of the ancient landed proprietors in 
 Germany, Prince Charles, being a second son, brought 
 but a slender heritage to add to the Eoumanian royal 
 coffers. "When he undertook the building of this 
 castle, he found the undertaking so costly that he I 
 was unable to pay for it at once, but devoted towards 
 the cost of the building 300,000 francs a year from 
 his private income. The site he fixed upon, though 
 very picturesque, was almost impracticable for the 
 erection of a dwelling. Whether through volcanic 
 influence, or the tidal wave, or the terrestrial char- 
 acter of the Carpathians themselves, this spot was 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 47 
 
 discovered to be of unstable land, absolutely unfit for 
 building purposes. However, it was rendered firm 
 by piling, and before a stone of the walls was placed, 
 the subterranean supports and stone foundations had 
 cost a million and a half francs. 
 
 After many years, the royal chateau was finished, 
 and is called Castel Pelech. It resembles very much 
 the chateaus of the Dukes of Sigmaringen ; the 
 interior is marble and of elaborate ornamentation ; the 
 exterior is of feudal architecture recalling the early 
 mediaeval strongholds. The ceilings, windows, and 
 doors are ornamented with plaques of rarest carving, 
 made from the scented wood of the forest, and the mam- 
 moth doors, rising from floor to ceiling, are likewise 
 carved from single pieces of the giant Carpathian oak. 
 
 The palace is furnished with exquisite nicety. Old 
 gold and moss green are the Queen's favourite colours, 
 and we are led from one sumptuous chamber to 
 another, the mind cheered and the eye gladdened by 
 a continuous view of the varying autumnal tints. 
 
 The throne-room, or long gallery, is decorated at 
 one end by a magnificent double- stained glass quad- 
 rangle. This marvel of the glass painter's art was 
 decorated in honour of the Eoumanian Homer, the 
 
48 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 people's poet, and Queen's friend, Y. Alecsandri, and 
 illustrates several of his principal poems; the first 
 two panels being ^'Die Perlenreiheu, Legende," and 
 ^'Die Lerche, Legende"; and ^'Der Eing und der 
 Schleier " forming the subject of the two last 
 panels. 
 
 The Queen's private chapel, or music-room, would 
 tax the happiest descriptive powers, and we must 
 content ourselves with saying that it is a chamber 
 where the gods and muses might be inspired, and 
 where mortals at first sight might readily believe 
 themselves transported to enchanted halls, the home 
 not alone of a Carmen Sylva, but of all the sylvan 
 singers. 
 
 Here the Queen writes, sings, and plays on the 
 great organ, sits with her ladies embroidering tapes- 
 tries or illuminating missals for the cathedral; and 
 during her stay at the castle passes in this sanctuary 
 some of the happiest hours of her life. The exterior 
 of the castle is being constantly embellished, the 
 grounds stretch wider and deeper into the wooded 
 recesses of the mountains, and the roads leading to 
 the demesne resemble the shady arbours of some 
 magnificent private English estate. 
 

 
 
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 -<-^. '-^t^. .«» 
 
 Ifcr-^ , ^ 
 
 ^^■^■^^^^BBl i^ 
 
 
 
 "^ 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 49 
 
 The castle proper is situated almost on the moun- 
 tain crest, and overlooks the country nearly to the 
 banks of the Danube. The house and grounds are 
 lighted by electricity, and the effect, seen from a 
 distance, is something positively fairy-like; the 
 peasants as they pass murmur their aves^ the glitter- 
 ing lights of the castle they declare to be lights from 
 heaven, celestial spirits come to protect the Sovereign 
 and his doamna, Elisabetta. 
 
 There have been many descriptions of Carmen 
 Sylva and the life of the royal poetess at Sinaia, but 
 I quote from a letter written to me by Mr. Alecsandri, 
 the following simple sketch. 
 
 . . . "If you are curious to know how I pass my 
 time in this fairy chateau which has been raised as if 
 by enchantment in the heart of the Carpathians, I 
 shall try to give you a short sketch, to which, how- 
 ever, your own imagination must lend animation and 
 colour. 
 
 *^ You must first, then, picture to yourself a castle 
 with turrets and vast terraces raised on the banks of 
 the Pelech, a little mountain torrent which falls in 
 three cascades, and which, on account of its rapidity, is 
 used to work the engine necessary for the electric light. 
 
 E 
 
50 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 When night falls, the valley, surrounded by gigantic 
 pines, is illuminated spontaneously, as well as the 
 castle, and both present a most fantastic appearance. 
 A traveller who had lost his way in the mountains 
 on some dark night, suddenly beholding the scene 
 would think it some hallucination. And yet this 
 place, only a short time since, was haunted by the 
 bear and the great eagle of the Carpathians. To-day 
 we see here vast lawns covered with flower-beds, 
 ponds surrounded with fresh verdure, and here and 
 there clumps of noble trees, all of which are enough 
 to inspire an idyl. Quagmires have been trans- 
 formed into gravelled walks, and the spots which 
 before bore the foot-prints of wild beasts now bear 
 those of civilisation, and of lovely ladies who pro- 
 menade morn and eve, clad in the gold- embroidered 
 costume of Eoumania. Instead of the howling of the 
 wolves one hears sweet voices of those who speak all 
 languages to perfection ; even the surrounding moun- 
 tains take, one would say, a milder aspect in order to 
 become a more worthy frame for such a picture. 
 Our popular legends tell of maidens who in letting 
 fall a pearl from their necklace suddenly saw rise a 
 palace of gold and crystal. We might suppose that 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 51 
 
 one of these fairies had passed through the valley of 
 the Pelech and raised all these beauties with the 
 fairy's magic wand. 
 
 ^^ In the castle each guest is comfortably lodged, and 
 is free in his movements till one o'clock in the after- 
 noon. Before this hour the time is spent in making 
 excursions in the environs, or in visits, or in meet- 
 ing in a I'otunda of carved oak, where merriment 
 is monarch of the hour, and even the most serious 
 conversation is not unfrequently mixed with bursts 
 of laughter. 
 
 " The Queen often leaves her study to surprise us in 
 this retreat and add to the pleasure of the company 
 the charm of her wit and presence. Lunch is at one 
 o'clock in the splendid dining-room, and tea at five 
 o'clock in a handsome salon, style Louis XY. This 
 is also the hour of reading. Sometimes the Queen 
 submits to us her morning's work, and sometimes I 
 am obliged to recite a piece of original poetry ; for 
 here I am forced to shake off my laziness or run the 
 risk of dying of hunger. One of these days we shall 
 read some chapters from your works. This their 
 Majesties are eagerly looking forward to. 
 
 '-'- Grand dinner at seven o'clock, after which we go 
 
52 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 to the music-liall, ornamented with paintings, the 
 subjects taken from the poems of the Queen. A 
 large stained-glass window represents scenes taken 
 from some of my legends. All round this room chairs 
 in sculptured oak are arranged for the company ; in 
 the middle are two grand divans which by their 
 luxuriousness invite repose and aid digestion. 
 
 *^The Queen, who is an excellent musician, presides 
 at the organ ; two ladies play the piano, and a young 
 secretary arms himself with the violin. Here for hours 
 are we enchanted by German music, from Mendelssohn, 
 Haydn, Mozart, and sometimes from Wagner. I then 
 beg leave to go and play a few games of billiards 
 with the King, and at ten o'clock all retire to bed to 
 dream of all sorts of things till morning. And the 
 next morning we begin the old routine — and after 
 luncheon, as before — the grave minister disappears 
 behind the fanciful and humorous poet." 
 
CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 In the second half of this century, the ladies of 
 sovereign houses have regarded the exercise of benevo- 
 lence, as well as the instruction and education of the 
 people, as one of their essential duties. The example 
 set by Queen Elisabeth proves to us that she also 
 proposed to fill such a role ; she, who had had from the 
 days of her youth the instinct of teaching, now that 
 she was on the throne, could not leave untilled the 
 fruitful fields of youthful education, and of national 
 civilisation which lay spread before her in such 
 seductive richness. 
 
 It was with the most lively solicitude that she 
 undertook to assist in promoting the intellectual 
 development of her pupils of the Asile Hel^ne, an 
 orphanage in which four hundred and sixty young 
 girls are reared from the age of five till twenty 
 years. In this home they receive instruction in 
 various branches of knowledge, in foreign languages, 
 
54 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 in the arts and sciences, and remain in tlie insti- 
 tution till their final examinations, to become 
 teachers, &c. Most of them marry after the expira- 
 tion of their studies. The fame of the house is 
 so well established that young men willingly 
 take for wives the girls who have been reared and 
 trained in the Asile Helene. When these girls 
 marry some professor or teacher, they generally 
 become teachers themselves, and can often earn up to 
 three hundred francs a month. 
 
 Queen Elisabeth visits the educational institutions 
 but rarely, and ^' only to give emulation and joy." 
 . . . "because I find," said she, "that it is good to 
 leave all liberty of action to those who understand 
 their business better than I." " The Grand Duchess 
 Helene, who was always my model, was more occupied 
 in thought than in person with these things." But 
 she is always present at the examinations, as well at 
 those of the young girls as at those of the Conserva- 
 toire. She distributes with her own hand all the 
 prizes, and enhances their value by kind words, which 
 rejoice the teachers as well as the pupils. 
 
 We have previously referred to the Queen's 
 musical talent, and it is given to very few persons to 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 55 
 
 express themselves on this subject as clearly and 
 simply as does her Majesty. At one of the musical 
 reunions at the Conservatoire before mentioned, her 
 Majesty herself directed the exercises, and accom- 
 panied some of the pupils in their singing of popular 
 songs. 
 
 It is not generally known that music in Eoumania 
 and the Eoumanian provinces, up to a very recent date, 
 was the special property and accomplishment of the 
 peasants and the lower classes. At the houses of the 
 great reading, conversation, and the eternal tapestry 
 were theme and occupation for the Eoumanian nobles : 
 at feasts, suppers, or gala gatherings, professional 
 singers were commanded to entertain the guests. Eut 
 these singers were not from the opera : they were 
 rather peasants who had been tending sheep in the 
 valley, the Wallachian guide with his Jodels, or the 
 pretty dark-eyed daughter of the Moldavian farmer. 
 These ingenious creatures sing, dance, and act to 
 perfection. I speak in the present, because to-day is 
 the long yesterday of the longed-for to-morrow. 
 
 Eoumania is rich in a peasant race which has 
 inherited — to quote Gibbon — all the virtues and none 
 of the vices of its ancestry, and the musical instinct 
 
56 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 of the Eoman of Dacia or the Eoman of Kome remains 
 the same, whether in a dark- eyed, chamois-dressed 
 mountaineer carolling a native lay on the borders of 
 the Danube, or in a haunter of the Vatican in velvet 
 jacket and moonlight smile, sending the strains of 
 " Amata Eoma " on Angelo's Bridge, to float in 
 limpid echo over pallid Tiber. Hence we are not 
 surprised at hearing of her Majesty's success with her 
 singing schools and musical societies, her choristers 
 for the cathedrals, or her virginal choruses — the pick 
 of the flower of youth amongst peasant and populace. 
 
 As she writes to Maitre Gounod : — 
 
 ^' Among four hundred young girls, there are fifty 
 or more who can sing charmingly, and even fault- 
 lessly, and I would wish to pray all the world to 
 come to my aid to enforce the art of music on my 
 country, as the greatest means of civilisation. It 
 seems to me that without music, earth is a desert." 
 
 We can easily picture to ourselves the arched 
 Gothic room of the palace, rich in warmth, perfume, 
 and colouring ; the Queen seated at the organ, and 
 her four hundred little orphans singing with their 
 sweet voices Gounod's chorus of *^ The Ant and the 
 Grasshopper." We can likewise understand her 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 57 
 
 Majesty's delight, and how she was on the point, as 
 she says, of sending a telegram to Gounod : — 
 
 "Dear Monsieur Gounod, 
 
 "Do write some more choruses for the orphans 
 of Eoumania and their mother." 
 
 Had Byron assisted at some of those evenings we 
 should have missed the wit of : — • 
 
 " Oh, the long evenings of duets and trios ! 
 The admirations and the speculations ; 
 The * Mama mias ' and the 'Amor mios ' ; 
 The ' Tanti palpitis ' on such occasions" — 
 
 and had more lines like : — 
 
 " It told the triumph of our king ; 
 
 It wafted glory to our God ; 
 It made our gladdened valleys ring, 
 
 The cedars bow, the mountains nod ; 
 
 Its sound aspired to Heaven, and there abode. 
 Since then, though heard on earth no more, 
 
 Devotion and her daughter Love 
 Still bid the bursting spirit soar 
 
 To sounds that seem as from above 
 
 In dreams that day's broad light cannot remove." 
 
 The Queen's enthusiasm did not stop with listen- 
 ing to her little singers. As before mentioned, she 
 wrote a charming letter to the immortal author of 
 " Faust," which by the kindness of M. Gounod, we 
 give here entire, and in its original text. 
 
58 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 '^ SiNAIA, 
 
 ''le22Nov., 1887. 
 
 ^^MONSIEUB, 
 
 ^' Je vous suis mille fois reconnaissante des belles 
 choses que vous m'avez envoyees, comme de votre 
 admirable composition de la gen. La poesie m'a 
 saisie dans le temps tellement que je Tai traduite et il 
 me semble que chantee elle arrive seulement a toute 
 sa puissance. N'est-elle pas encore transposee pour 
 contre-alte ? L'hiver dernier j'ai assiste dans notre 
 grand orpbelinat au choeur de la Fourmi et de la 
 Cigale, et j'en ai ete tellement ravie que j'etais sur le 
 point de vous envoyer le telegramme suivant : ' Cher 
 Monsieur Gounod ! faites-nous encore des cboeurs pour 
 les orphelines de la Eoumanie et leur mere ! ' Et puis 
 je n'ai pas ose. Mais a present le voici. Mon secretaire, 
 Monsieur Scheffer, vous dira combien je serais recon- 
 naissante, si vous nous faisiez encore de belles choses 
 qui sont adorables pour nous. Parmi les 400 jeunes 
 filles il y a une cinquantaine qui chantent gentiment 
 et m^me juste. Et je voudrais prier tout le monde 
 de me venir en aide pour infliger la musique a mon 
 pays, comme le plus grand moyen civilisateur. II 
 me semble que sans musique c'est le desert. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 59 
 
 "Monsieur Brialmont m'avait promis de vous 
 amener ici, mais il est difficile de promettre pour les 
 autres ! Et nous parlerions de Mozart, comme nous 
 en parlerions ! Car je suis a genoux devant lui : je 
 voudrais embrasser chaque note qu'il a ecrite ! Quand 
 j'entends quelques notes de ' Don Juan,' mon coeur se 
 met a danser. 
 
 " Yous avez exprimd I'aimable d^sir de composer de 
 mes mechants vers francais, mais ils n'ont ^t^ qu'une 
 plaisanterie ; je n'ai aucune idee de la versification 
 fran^aise. C'est comme qui jouerait du violon et se 
 mettrait k jouer du cello sans I'avoir ^tudie. II ne 
 sait meme pas tenir Farchet. 
 
 *' Je vous remercie encore de tout coeur et j'espere 
 vous serrer la main un jour." 
 
 *^ Elisabeth." 
 
 In every country, whether civilised or barbarous, 
 the music-lore of each and every one has something 
 specially attractive to the stranger coming among 
 the people and listening to these songs for the 
 first time, and if we are to accept the Wolffian 
 theory that great Homer was none other than a singer 
 of folk-lore, the immortal interpreter of the people 
 
6o ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 and their songs for all time to come, the Queen 
 has been very much helped by Vasilie Alecsandri, 
 the late Dacian Poet-Laureate, lovingly styled the 
 " Homer of the Danube,'' and recently Eoumanian 
 Minister at Paris. His Excellency's songs for the 
 people are become the poet-lore of Eoumania, and 
 are sung throughout the length and breadth of the 
 land, as the lark carols in the waving trees, or the 
 nightingale haunts the roses of the Ottoman vales. 
 Not every queen, however exalted in mind or 
 station, could find ready-made and at hand such a 
 poet, such a people, and such a mine of priceless 
 folk-lore. That her Majesty has known how to 
 utilise these treasures, and has known how to bring 
 them to the happiest fertility, reflects more than 
 words can say on her humility and patience and 
 obedience to her poet-teacher and friend, Alecsandri. 
 
 While we are on the question of music, we cannot 
 do better than quote from Mr. Beatty Kingston's 
 undeniable authority, ^' Music and Manners," the 
 following anent the songs, music, language, &c., of 
 Eoumania and her provinces : 
 
 *' There is unquestionably something about the 
 songs sung and the dances played throughout the 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 6i 
 
 length and breadth of the Dacian lands (which com- 
 prise Bessarabia, the Eukovina, and a considerable 
 portion of Transylvania, as well as the kingdom of 
 Eoumania proper, whilom the united principalities of 
 Moldavia and Wallachia) that reminds the discrimi- 
 nating ear of Turkish, Hungarian, and Slavonic 
 strains. This circumstance is readily to be accounted 
 for by the fact that Dacia, for a thousand years past, 
 if not more, has been an oppressed and down-trodden 
 land, the favourite battle-ground of Eastern Europe, 
 surrounded on all sides by warlike and rapacious 
 neighbours, whose favourite recreation it was to over- 
 run the ^ sweet and lovely country,' carry off its 
 sons and daughters into slavery, and every now and 
 anon, annex it altogether. The Eoumanians of the 
 Middle Ages, as well as of a more modern epoch, 
 although they frequently fought their invaders with 
 great gallantry and resolution, were nearly always in 
 a state of vassaldom, writhing under the armed heel 
 of some neighbour mightier than themselves. It is 
 not to be wondered at that their successive conquerors 
 made deep impressions upon their manners and 
 customs, and even imparted various foreign flavours 
 to their national music. That they retained their 
 
62 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 language, originally the * army Latin,' or lingua 
 franca, commonly spoken in the foreign legions of the 
 Eoman Empire (two of which colonised Dacia in the 
 time of Trajan) is an extraordinary illustration of the 
 instructive race-conservatism exemplified in Western 
 Europe by the Welsh, Scotch Highlanders, Bretons, 
 Basques, and Swiss Eoumanians. Of course, Hun- 
 garian, Polish, and Turkish occupations of Eoumania 
 forcibly introduced a large number of foreign words 
 into the Dacian vernacular ; indeed, when I first 
 began to study Eoumanian, exactly twenty years 
 ago, suh consule Cusd, twenty-four per cent, of its 
 total vocabulary consisted of Magyar, Slav, Turkish, 
 and even Greek importations, the remaining seventy- 
 six per cent, being of pure Latin origin. I may 
 observe — for the fact is an interesting one, though it 
 certainly has nothing to do with Eoumanian music — 
 that since Eoumania practically shook ojff the Turkish 
 yoke in 1866, her leading philologists, amongst them 
 Prince Jon Ghica, her present representative at the 
 Court of St. James, Yasilie Alecsandri, her Poet- 
 Laureate and Minister in Paris, and Majorescu, 
 formerly her Minister of Education, have been assidu- 
 ously engaged in purifying the Eoumanian tongue. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 63 
 
 and ridding it of the barbarous idioms that had crept 
 into it in the manner above indicated. Their efforts 
 have been so far crowned with success that the limbd 
 romand of to-day only contains about five words of 
 alien origin in every hundred, retained in deference 
 to popular convenience, and, freed from the cramping 
 trammels of the Cyrillic alphabet, is as well ordered 
 and leamable a literary language as either of its 
 first cousins, Italian or Spanish." — (Chap Y., vol. I.) 
 
 Queen Elisabeth has founded an embroidery school, 
 the Scola Elisabetha Doamna. Twenty of the poorest 
 girls are here taught to read, to write, and especially 
 to work the embroideries of the country. Patterns, 
 Byzantine for the most part, are collected in order to 
 be copied in the national costumes. Peasant women 
 generally work from old ecclesiastical ornaments, or 
 copy some flowers with needle and the tinsel threads 
 used for chasuble or church ornament even up to the 
 present day. 
 
 Certain ideas are hereditary and different in dif- 
 ferent instincts, from which result combinations of a 
 sort at once so simple and so original that they 
 captivate the eye by continual change of colour. All 
 Eoumanian women have a natural taste in colours. 
 
64 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 They embroider with much skill and taste on the 
 special tissues of the country. The first association 
 for the poor which the Queen established is called the 
 Societe Elisabetha, and distributes each year thirty 
 thousand francs' worth of wood to the poor. This 
 society is composed of more than a hundred ladies, 
 who every winter organise a lottery at the theatre, 
 and give several magnificent balls. The King and 
 Queen, together with the highest society, assist at 
 these gatherings. On these occasions the ladies 
 wear the richly-ornamented Eoumanian national 
 costume in order that the peasants may earn their 
 winter livelihood by the sale of their embroideries. 
 
 The Queen's patronage and example are so con- 
 tagious that many similar societies have been formed 
 throughout the country. 
 
 Her Majesty has also founded a woman's association 
 bureau called L'Albina, for the benefit of women of 
 the poorer class who are unfit for heavy labour. From 
 a very small beginning of six individuals, the 
 members of this society have increased to perhaps as 
 many thousands. Many of them have bought sewing- 
 machines, and have become apt proficients in the 
 mechanical art of the seamstress. In 1 884 the Albine 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 65 
 
 society alone manufactured and distributed twenty thou- 
 sand tents, and also made innumerable sets of uniform 
 for the soldiers, for the barracks, and for the hospitals. 
 
 Another association founded by the Queen is 
 called the Concordia, which has for object the pro- 
 motion of industries, especially of weaving. Although 
 in Eoumania hemp grows wild after tilling and 
 manuring of the soil, a newer and finer quality has 
 been procured, this latter in such quantity that new 
 looms have been established and some old ones, 
 long since fallen into disuse, re-equipped and set in 
 motion. In an annex of the Concordia is La Furnica, 
 especially devoted to the buying of articles of 
 Eoumanian handicraft, tissues, embroideries, &c., &c. 
 The peasants receive ready money for their work, 
 which is afterwards re- sold by La Furnica at the 
 bazaars and fetes organised by the Queen. 
 
 In short, it would occupy volumes to recount the 
 initiative works of the Queen or their result in this 
 land of her adoption. Whether on a throne or '^ below 
 the salt," it has been given to few women to plan, 
 undertake, and carry out works with the success that 
 her Majesty has achieved in planning, undertaking, 
 and carrying out these important tasks in Eoumania, 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 Princess Elisabeth soon became devotedly attached 
 to her adopted country. Although in her exalted 
 station she was still slave to a certain Court etiquette, 
 yet she speedily found herself almost as much at 
 home amongst the Carpathians and provinces of 
 Eoumania as she had been near her beloved Wester- 
 wald and her adored home of Meine Kuhe. 
 
 She had once said, "In Eoumania there is some- 
 thing to be done," and with her zeal, ardour, and 
 unflagging energy, she not only found a great deal 
 to be done, but, by means of ordered and methodical 
 working, found time to do everything in the right way. 
 
 In the capital, her schools, societies, orphan asylums, 
 and hospitals kept her busy during the winter months, 
 but usually at the end of May the royal couple went 
 to their country seat of Cotroceni, an ancient convent 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 67 
 
 situated in an immense park, which had been fitted 
 up by Prince Charles for their summer residence. 
 
 Here the Princess was free to roam about in the 
 vast forests, and to recall the hours of her childhood 
 by following her favourite childhood's amusements, 
 climbing the mountains with the fearlessness of the 
 chamois, playing with ball or hoop on the springing 
 grass, sitting at nightfall with her ladies at the foot 
 of some limpid cascade, telling the fairy tales she 
 had known and loved in youth, or listening with 
 moistened eye and glowing cheek to the romantic 
 legends whose richest imagery has for its home the 
 wilds of the Carpathian or the Caucasus. Life for the 
 Princess was one long summer day, and to add to 
 the joy of these gracious months, her Highness antici- 
 pated the golden autumn which was to bring to her 
 her harvest of love and life, and to afford new happi- 
 ness to her royal spouse, and a new hope to the people 
 and throne of Eoumania. 
 
 On the evening of the 8th September, 1870, a 
 salute of twenty-one guns announced that a daughter 
 had been born to the princely couple. Several hours 
 later, the Metropolitan of Bucharest arrived in great 
 pomp, and, to quote Madame v. Stakelberg, ^^ covered 
 
68 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 the mother and child with images, according to the 
 Greek rite ; blessed them with holy water, and pro- 
 nounced the usual words of ritual." 
 
 It would be unnecessary to state that this woman — 
 so womanly in every sense of the word — experienced 
 the realisation of her completest joy in the feeling 
 of maternity, and we find her as usual recording 
 in her diary the events of the day, and her own 
 feelings as a wife and mother. 
 
 About this time Eoumania was in a state of political 
 agitation, virtually induced by the introduction of the 
 Strousberg system of railways, considered by Prince 
 Charles as necessary to any civilised country. His 
 Highness was so greatly embarrassed to know what 
 was the best thing for the country that at one time 
 he thought seriously of abdicating, but the Eoumanian 
 nation was too fond of its ruler, and too thoroughly 
 appreciated the advantage of being governed by so 
 wise, moderate, yet firm a prince, not to stand firm 
 in its support of the Government, and so the crisis 
 was happily soon passed. 
 
 Princess Elisabeth was doubly occupied, not only 
 with the care of the various asylums and societies 
 she had founded, but with the health of the little 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 69 
 
 Princess Maria, which absorbed her every moment of 
 freedom and of repose from the cares of State. At 
 this time she was studying Roumanian, and had 
 become such a mistress of its most intricate sense 
 that, to quote the late Eoumanian Homer, Mr. Y. 
 Alecsandri, ''She speaks a better, purer Eoumanian 
 than nine-tenths of those born in the country." 
 
 The letters of Princess Elisabeth to her mother, 
 the Princess of Wied, are not only a complete 
 history of herself and of the royal family, but are 
 likewise an admirable history of her adopted land, 
 Eoumania. The country, the scenery, the people, the 
 peasants, are almost photographic in their accuracy. 
 
 At the opening of the new railway. Prince Charles 
 and his consort took occasion to visit Jassy, the capi- 
 tal of Moldavia, and their trip was one triumph from 
 first to last. Addresses were presented, and deputa- 
 tions of leading dignitaries met the royal party at all 
 the important stations. The customary bread and salt 
 were presented in token of friendship and welcome. 
 
 Te Deums and Jubilates were sung in every cathedral 
 throughout the country.. Princess Elisabeth at that 
 time wrote the following to her mother : ''It would 
 be scarcely possible to imagine a greater enthusiasm 
 
70 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 than is here manifested hy the cries from thousands 
 of throats, and from the mouths of a thousand cannon. 
 In Jassy the time was taken up with audiences, visits 
 to churches and schools, and flying trips to the 
 cloisters situated here and there in the surrounding 
 mountains, and so forth. The population, to a man, 
 seem drunk with enthusiasm." And on her return 
 she wrote again to her mother: ^^What can I tell 
 you of the lovely countries through which we have 
 travelled — eight little horses to our carriage, and 
 shouting, whip- snapping postillions ! From three to 
 four hundred mounted peasants at full speed accom- 
 panied us with their flying white mantels of goatskin 
 floating in the wind, and high caps made of white 
 fur. What can I say to you of the fine, stalwart 
 men of Moldavia, or how can I make you understand 
 with what real pride I heard my husband say at 
 every railway, and every road, and every bridge, 
 * That was done by me ' ! And then, to keep on 
 going on farther and farther, like the chase of the 
 wild huntsman ! And now that we are back again, 
 away from those thousands who applauded us, better 
 than all is to hold in my arms, happy and rosy, one 
 more beloved than all the thousands." 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 71 
 
 The same year the mother of Princess Elisabeth 
 came to visit Bucharest, and held her first grandchild 
 in her arms. 
 
 The health of the little Princess was such that it 
 was not possible to pass the summer in Bucharest, 
 and it was decided to take her where she could 
 breathe mountain air — the only preventive against 
 the fatal grip of fever, which sooner or later attacks 
 every one in Eoumania. The summer residence was 
 chosen in the Carpathians, and thither the royal 
 family repaired at the beginning of the hot season. 
 
 In the valley of Pranova, three thousand feet 
 above the level of the sea, on the rocky and sterile 
 Falsberg, stands the old cloister of Sina'ia. It had 
 been founded by a "Wallachian pilgrim, and named 
 after the Mount Sinai of the Bible. It had served as 
 asylum or resting-place for the caravans and travelling 
 merchants, making their way over the mountains into 
 Transylvania. Behind the cloister rises one of the 
 highest peaks of the Carpathians, surrounded by 
 mountains of lesser height, gloomy in appearance and 
 cut out with all the fantastic caprices of mountainous 
 nature. Madame v. Stakelberg, in her book, "Aus 
 Carmen Sylva's Leben," thus describes the convent: — 
 
72 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 "The wanderer approaching the mountain sees 
 glimmering from afar the white walls of the cloister. 
 The one-storeyed structure is of very modest dimen- 
 sions, and surrounds a plain quadrangular courtyard, 
 in the middle of which is the little church. The outer 
 buildings are adorned with wooden arcades, and on 
 the outer walls we still see old Byzantine frescoes. 
 Thirty monks, true types of Oriental priestcraft, here 
 enjoy in peaceful repose the benefits of their pious 
 calling. Formerly the Prince shared with them their 
 modest little rooms, but about this time, wishing to 
 make his residence more commodious, he constructed 
 a light cottage of fir-wood, which was added to the 
 main body of the edifice. Were it not for the flag of 
 Eoumania floating over the great gateway, and the 
 sentinels walking to and fro under the galleries of 
 sculptured wood, one would expect to find within 
 these walls the home of some artist, rather than the 
 residence of a royal couple. We can scarcely form 
 an idea of the uncomplaining modesty with which, 
 year after year, the sovereigns endured the greatest 
 inconveniences. For instance, the Princess in her 
 toilette-room heard a clock ticking in the neighbour- 
 ing cell of an old monk. The holy fathers took their 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 73 
 
 meals in tlie refectory, whilst the adjoining corridor 
 was converted into a dining-room for the Prince and 
 his wife. Twice in the week victuals and other 
 necessaries were brought from the neighbouring 
 capital, but these inconveniences seemed little worth 
 mentioning, for in Sina'ia, as in Mon Eepos, they 
 enjoyed the forest, the air, and liberty ^three principal 
 life-giving elements to the princely pair.'' 
 
 It is higher in the valley, and in the shade of great 
 trees, that the Prince built his shooting-box, and has 
 surrounded it with gardens of exquisite beauty ; this 
 edifice, the Castel de Pelech, already described, is 
 now become the favourite summer residence of the 
 Court, and yearly from April until ^N'ovember, the 
 sovereigns, with their retinue and guests, pass there 
 the happiest hours of their lives. 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 We have followed the Princess from her ancestral 
 home on the banks of the Ehine, to her royal demesne 
 on the banks of the Danube ; we have followed her 
 career in art and ethics, her social, literary, and artis- 
 tic labours to that perfect result which, while the 
 object of the many, has been the reward but of the 
 few ; we have assisted at her triumphs as poet, author, 
 sovereign, and mother; we now arrive at that sad 
 epoch when, with the dropping of the sun behind the 
 clear orient, the brightest and most glorious day found 
 its end, at the period when her heart was shattered, 
 her shrine vacant, her idol destroyed, and her life 
 become the benumbed existence of one who survives 
 the loss of a dear, perhaps the dearest, object it 
 held upon earth. 
 
 With that fatal sixth sense so sure an clement in 
 a superfine nature, the Queen felt that her happi- 
 ness was too great to last. Surrounded with every 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 75 
 
 blessing that it had pleased the Almighty to bestow, 
 adored by king, husband, and subjects, a second sun 
 to her dear Sun- child, the little Princess Maria, her 
 heart overflowed its boundaries to that fatal frontier 
 which separates joy and sorrow, everything from 
 nothing ; her Highness felt all the secret pangs of a 
 constant presentiment of forthcoming ill. It would 
 seem as if she were endowed with second- sight, that 
 the ribbons of destiny were hovering in the air, 
 around, above, below her, and that she were breath- 
 ing misfortune to come. As we stop in a summer 
 garden and feel the airy cobweb for a moment bind 
 our lips, stray across brow and cheek, so was the 
 atmosphere of happiness choked by the passing breath 
 of presentiment and foreboding. 
 ; She wrote to her mother and said : *^ My life is too 
 perfect, too beautiful. Can it last, can it last ? '' 
 — words often spoken and penned by enthusiasts, 
 happily not so soon as in this case to become auguries 
 of misfortune and despair. 
 
 Fate may be alone in direness of design, but it 
 would seem that as soon as misfortune is in the air, 
 we mortals are the first to aid pitiless destiny, to 
 open the door to disaster, to make way for calamity, 
 
 (UiriVBRSITT) 
 
76 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 and to personally invite destruction to ourselves from 
 and on every side. This is especially the prerogative of 
 the super- sensitive, who, if at times they enjoy more, 
 at others as certainly suffer more; and the Queen, to 
 whom so much had been given, was no stranger to 
 this rule. The law of human compensation is that 
 of a diviner Mede or Persian ; for all one possesses 
 beyond the gifts of the ordinary mortal, one must 
 pay the inevitable penalty. Nature is the greatest of 
 usurers : her exaction for an ounce of talent is the 
 pound of non-appreciation ; for an ounce of joy the 
 pound of misery ; for the golden measure of plenty 
 the heart's dearth from complete starvation ; and with 
 the rigorous justice of her finely balanced nature, the 
 Queen knew but too well that she must also pay her 
 tribute for an over-stacked granary of blessings. It 
 is strange that happiness preyed upon her exalted 
 mind as misery preys upon a mind less exalted ; that 
 from the moment the joys of motherhood crowned 
 the temple of her desires, the cloud of apprehen- 
 sion already darkened the horizon of a sphere too 
 radiant not to throw a shadow from such a sun of 
 brightness. 
 
 So great was the joy of the people on the occasion 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA 77 
 
 of the birth, of tlie Princess Maria that, to quote 
 the Baroness von Stakelberg — '^Her little Highness 
 was the mightiest person in all Eoumania.'' 
 
 The first enthusiasm and delight of motherhood 
 calmed, the looking for a newer light in baby eyes, 
 the interpreting of baby smiles, the noting a wrinkle 
 here, an expression there, the mastering of the com- 
 plete looks and language of babyhood accomplished, 
 her Highness set about a curious and interesting 
 work. 
 
 She discovered that there were no children's fairy 
 stories or books for children in the Eoumanian lan- 
 guage, and determined to supply this national want. 
 Herself a magnificent Eoumanian scholar, she began 
 to write a series of fairy tales and tales for the young, 
 which soon became folklore, and which the national 
 poets — Alecsandri at their head — declare to be 
 marvels of invention, sweetness, perfection, and 
 taste. 
 
 Little Maria thus began her education at her 
 mother's knee, and the sovereign's labour of love was 
 speedily imitated by all young mothers ; not that of 
 writing, but of teaching very youthful minds, neither 
 the grotesque, fabulous, nor terrible, but simple, 
 
78 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 innocent tales, as pure as harmless, and as salutary as 
 ingenious. Little peasant-children longed to be taught 
 as was the little girl at the castle, all the mothers in 
 Eoumania blessed the sovereign, and all the youth 
 began to look upon her as the good fairy of one of 
 her own legends. 
 
 We will not follow the life of her Highness during 
 all her studies, but will take it up at the period of her 
 travels: notably a journey to Jassy and Moldavia 
 with the Prince, and a trip through Italy and the 
 Tyrol. We quote from Madame von Stakelberg the 
 following : — 
 
 " The ensuing March, in consequence of ill health 
 and fever, unaccompanied by husband or child, the 
 Queen was obliged to go to Italy for change of air. 
 In May her Highness returned home, strong and well, 
 and the Prince went to meet her in the Donau^ one 
 of the Eoyal steamships plying the famous river of 
 that name." 
 
 The Queen wrote : ''That was a romantic meeting. 
 I in the Stephan^ Karl in the Romania^ all bedecked 
 and beflagged. We glided swiftly towards each other 
 in the brilliant sunshine, each of us standing on the 
 deck, and straining our eyes in search of the longed- 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 79 
 
 for ship. I did not see my child until two days later 
 in Comana. How charming she had grown! You 
 can form no conception of the exquisite tenderness 
 and grace of the dear little creature. Her training 
 will be an easy matter, for she is so vexed with her- 
 self when she says or does anything stupid that one 
 is constantly obliged to comfort her. . . . Directly 
 one makes an appeal to her heart, every trace of 
 obstinacy and ill-will disappears. She is such a 
 patient, intelligent child. There is such depth and 
 penetration in her blue eyes, one feels inclined to 
 wonder what sort of thoughts dwell behind the arched 
 brows and brilliant orbs. ... I think that so long as 
 the world endures, a mother's love and a mother's 
 happiness will be much the same, and will be com- 
 pensation for all the cares and troubles of this life. . . . 
 Eut the joys of this earth must be very tenderly 
 handled. They are fragile." 
 
 The household of the Princess is a veritable garden 
 of juvenile bloom. She loved to surround herself 
 with the young — her ladies-in-waiting and maids- 
 of-honour were most of them in their teens, and all 
 — to quote the divine poet — wore on their bosoms the 
 rose of youth. It is a pretty sight to see the Eoyal 
 
8o ELISABETH OF ROUMANJA. 
 
 poetess surrounded by her children, here the daughter 
 of a great writer, here the daughter of a celebrated 
 artist, here the daughter of a famous general; all 
 chosen from among her subjects with that innate 
 delicacy and tact possessed by her Highness, who 
 loves to surround her person by those human 
 flowers culled in the garden of courage, genius, and 
 talent. 
 
 I have already described an evening at the palace, 
 and only add here a few words anent the little 
 heiress from Madame von Stakelberg's "Aus Carmen 
 Sylva's Leben." She says : — 
 
 '^ In this delightful environment the little Princess 
 Maria bids fair to grow up as charming as her gifted 
 mother, and to develop, like her, an essentially earnest 
 and thoughtful nature. She was, like the heroine of 
 Carmen Sylva's legend, a child of the sun, endowed 
 with every grace and every charm. Love and happi- 
 ness were her companions and playmates. In those 
 days the earth was filled with joy and blessedness, 
 with a glory and beauty that no pen could fitly 
 describe, and no painter adequately realise. Life was 
 a perpetual May, and the august mother looked 
 from afar with unbounded and heartfelt joy at her 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 8i 
 
 daughter's joyous frolic, and blessed the earth 
 whereon her child was so gay and light of heart." 
 
 We will now pass rapidly over the saddest period 
 of the Queen's life. The health of the little Princess 
 Maria, always very delicate, began to cause her 
 mother constant care and watching, and at the same 
 time her happy, light-hearted disposition often de- 
 ceived even her mother. Children usually complain, 
 not because they are children, but because infancy 
 is a transparent stream that reflects every passing 
 shadow of light and shade upon its surface. Little 
 Maria had been known to suffer silently for a whole 
 day, and only by the merest chance to discover 
 either to her parents or attendants that she felt in- 
 disposed. It would seem that she had imbibed the 
 breath of stoicism with her good nurse's milk — that 
 savage endurance which takes the red man smiling 
 to the stake, and the Hindoo widow calm and majestic 
 to her own funeral pile. Hence it was necessary 
 to surround the little girl with an almost invisible 
 guard, lest she herself should take alarm, and grow 
 nervous from the consciousness of being so constantly 
 attended and watched 
 
 I often look at the little street waifs, rolling 
 
82 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 about in sand, revelling in dirt and liberty, and 
 think that if the rich could only give to their own 
 youth the mud-pies, soiled pinafores, and dirty faces 
 of the poor, healthier and more beautiful human 
 flowers would spring from this human engrais. But 
 there is a destiny for rich and poor. In spite of all the 
 watching and care and solicitude that surrounded it, 
 the royal bud never ripened to bloom, and the royal 
 cradle was emptied of the fair child whose coming 
 had gladdened, not so much the sovereign's as the 
 mother's heart. 
 
 In the summer of 1873, Princess Elisabeth travelled 
 with her little daughter, and, for the first time since 
 her marriage, returned to the home of her youth. "We 
 can imagine with what joy the Princess looked upon 
 her ancestral home, back to the hills of the "Wester- 
 wald, where emerald festoons surround Castle Neue 
 Wied, with its chain of undulating green : back to the 
 Ehine, stretching as of old into the distant horizon, to 
 the towers of Coblentz and the ruins of Braunsberg 
 and Segendorf. 
 
 It was in this home of her youth, in this smiling 
 and fertile country, that the young Princess showed to 
 little Maria all the scenes and objects she had known 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 83 
 
 and loved in her own ehildliood. The fond mother 
 listened to her darling's childish fancies, to her lisping 
 voice, as she communed with flowers and birds and 
 fragrant winds. One glorious afternoon she sprang 
 from her mother's side and ran in and out of the old 
 trees — as her mother remembered to have done, and 
 as her brother, the poor little Prince Otto, had so 
 often wished he could do. The Princess watched her 
 child fondly, and was not a little curious to know to 
 what the infant was giving chase with such unflagging 
 energy. She called, ''Maria, Maria, come hither!" 
 and when the child but too reluctantly came back to 
 her side, she gave the following reply : ''Mamma, I 
 was playing with the sunshine and trying to catch it, 
 but it always slipped through my fingers." 
 
 Weeks were spent in the old home. Not only was 
 the mother's health immensely benefited by the 
 change, but the little girl grew as strong and lithe as 
 one of the young pines in the old forest. Her merri- 
 ment was infectious, her laugh contagious, and often 
 all the woods seemed vocal with the sweetness of her 
 clear, young, trilling voice. She was allowed to 
 wander at will; she made friends with the old lodge- 
 keeper, who had often held her own mother in his 
 
84 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 arms as a child ; she knew the name of every servant 
 on the estate, and where the old gardener would be 
 tending some special flower, a child's voice would 
 break on his reverie, a child's blue eyes be bent 
 on him with all a child's wise infantine gravity, 
 and a tangle of golden hair, like fillets of golden 
 cobweb, would suddenly brush across the withered 
 face. 
 
 Then the flower would be forgotten — the gardener's 
 flower — and this latest blossom born to the House of 
 Wied would engross all the old man's attention and 
 interest. And what parleyings there were amongst 
 tenants, cottagers, peasants, and retainers — what dis- 
 cussions in town, and village, and farmhouse, and 
 cottage : the child was the image of this one or that 
 or the other member of her royal family. There were 
 the usual differences of opinion as to family resem- 
 blances, but all agreed as to her marvellous sweetness 
 of disposition, her simplicity and gaiety, and gave 
 her, by common accord, her mother's pet name of 
 Sun-child. Then there were the usual little jealousies 
 between mother and mother, for grandmamma could 
 not bear her grandchild out of her sight — grand- 
 mothers never can — and mamma naturally could not 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 85 
 
 endure to leave her child with anyone, even her own 
 beloved parent. So the hours and days and weeks 
 ran on ; the Princess had shown her wonderful baby 
 to all her old school-friends ; its little face was 
 familiar to everyone in the village, and every mother 
 in the place talked about this child as if it were her 
 own special invention and production. At last the 
 final leave-taking came. Good-bye was said to the 
 dear Princess-mother, to Mon Eepos, lying so peace- 
 ful against the green hillside, and to the emerald 
 heights, above whose festoons of living green little 
 Maria intently watched the sun as it leaped in a great 
 golden ball towards the western horizon. 
 
 The journey home passed without other incident 
 than the strange reiteration of the little child : ^^ I 
 want to get back to Bucharest ! " In vain did her 
 mother question her as to her stay at Neue Weid. 
 She admitted that she had been very happy there, but 
 insisted that she wanted to get back to Koumania. It 
 could not have been the child's love for pomp and 
 State ceremony — she was surrounded with all that at 
 Mon Eepos. Still perhaps the unique position she had 
 occupied at the Court of Bucharest might have left 
 some lingering idea in her mind that she was a more 
 
86 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 important personage in Boumania than at !N^eue Wied ; 
 or was it merely the child longing, with all a child's 
 longing, to see again the familiar faces which repre- 
 sented all her world, and the familiar surroundings 
 which represented all her life ? When they reached 
 Vienna, a group of Eoumanian students came to 
 greet the sovereign and the little Princess, which 
 latter informed them confidentially, in their own 
 dialect : '^ I am going home to Bucharest with eight 
 horses." 
 
 Like the sun-god in his chariot reining in the 
 steeds of dawn, so this child was flashing towards the 
 golden orient— towards the morning which was to 
 break into eternal day in the roseate, flushing east. 
 "When she saw the old cloister of Sina'ia, her little 
 heart danced with glee, and she immediately began to 
 plan promenades in the forest, spoke of the waters of 
 the Pelech and of the old familiar beauties as of old 
 familiar friends. 
 
 Diphtheria and typhus having made their ap- 
 pearance at the capital, it was decided that the 
 Court should remain for some time in residence at 
 Sinaia. 
 
 In February, 1874, diphtheria and scarlet fever 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 87 
 
 ravaged the Moldavian, Wallachian, and Eoumanian 
 provinces. The winter had been unusually severe, 
 and it would seem that fever and malignant disease 
 were swept upwards on every breath that blew over 
 Caucasus and Carpathian. The Princess wrote in her 
 diary : ^^ Diphtheria and scarlet fever are raging 
 here in Bucharest ; children are dying by thousands. 
 "When we mothers meet, the very first question we 
 ask is, ' Are your children well ? ' " 
 
 In the latter part of Lent the little Princess had a 
 slight attack of diphtheria, which, after the usual 
 treatment, disappeared. On Palm Sunday, the 5th 
 April, she was attacked with scarlet fever, and 
 developed alarming symptoms, attended by a return 
 of diphtheria. The Princess watched by her child 
 day and night. She neither ate, drank, nor slept. 
 Her hands administered to all the childish wants. 
 Her hands prepared bandage and poultice and food — 
 anything to tempt the sick child's appetite. Her 
 hands prepared the cooling drinks which for the most 
 part remained untouched in the little silver mug, 
 placed on a table by the child's bed. In the height 
 of fever Maria's bright eyes fell upon the cup, and she 
 said : '^ I want to go back to Sina'ia and drink from 
 
88 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 the cascade of the Pelech." Then the mother's heart 
 was torn. She saw arise before her — not the cloister 
 of Sinai'a and the torrent of the Pelech, with priests 
 and peasants coming and going in the valleys — but 
 the towers of Neue Wied — of Mon Eepos, tipped by 
 the early sunrise, the bubbling waters of the river 
 "Wied, silvered with the sheen of early moon, and the 
 longing eyes of a poor sick child trying to catch a 
 last glimpse of the golden Westerwald heights : and 
 she murmured to herself, as she had written to her 
 mother: '*' There is a law of recompense. I was too 
 happy. Something had to be taken away to 
 counterbalance the overflowing measure of my great 
 
 It was the morning of Holy Thursday, and already 
 the cathedral bells were sending out warning notes 
 for fasting and prayer. Bucharest was alive, pious 
 folk were seen wending their way to their morning 
 orisons, and crowds of sympathetic souls of every 
 rank were mingling with the names of their own 
 loved ones that of the little Sun-child whose darkened 
 chamber cast a shadow on the palace wall. The air 
 was soft and balmy, unusual at that season, and 
 although mountains of snow lay beyond on the Car- 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 89 
 
 pathians, and fields of snow lay white in the ravines 
 and broad valleys, yet the light of early morning 
 flushed the pale face of the hills, and under the sod 
 the buds of waiting spring were bursting with their 
 perennial leaven. The snow-birds — perhaps those 
 very same that the Princess used to tend on the old 
 ledges of Mon Eepos — were already chirping on 
 branch and window-sill. Five o'clock struck from 
 a neighbouring church. Without the palace was 
 heard the hum of insects, the ring of steps on the 
 wintry pavement, and the snapping of some dry 
 branch in a wintry tree ; and the April wind coming 
 up slowly, stealthily, as a messenger comes who bears 
 news of unwelcome import ; within, the sick child, 
 the hushed chamber, anxious attendants, and the 
 anguished watching mother. 
 
 Little Maria lay back in the arms of her tender 
 nurse, when she suddenly asked for a drink, which 
 she took with a smile. Did she think she was 
 drinking the clear waters of the Pelech, in that 
 valley where she had so often chased the sun 
 and its rays of gold ? The mother, kneeling at 
 her feet, holding the child's hands with a loving, 
 gentle clasp, looked into the eyes of her dear 
 
go ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 one, and she too went back in thought to happier 
 days. 
 
 There was a slight quivering, the little head 
 drooped forward, and the Princess arose the poorest 
 woman in all her dominions. The little Sun-child 
 had gone to meet an eternal aurora. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 During the Eusso-Turkish campaign of 1877 
 Eoumania, for the first time in many years, found 
 herself called upon to furnish a large standing army. 
 A corps of forty thousand beyond the usual militia 
 and regular service was gathered from every part of 
 the Moldavian and Wallachian provinces. The 
 enthusiasm for the Eussian alliauce was so great 
 that noblemen left their castles, farmers their fields, 
 and peasants, who scarcely knew what firearms were, 
 declared themselves proud to fight for their country. 
 
 It was then that her Majesty, as Princess of 
 Eoumania, showed of what noble stuff women are 
 sometimes made. History has rarely or Dever given 
 an example of greater self-sacrifice, nobler courage, 
 or purer devotion than was evinced by the Princess 
 Elisabeth on this noteworthy occasion. It is natural 
 that one in her position should receive the greatest 
 acknowledgment for even the slightest services, but 
 
92 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 it is difficult to exaggerate the womanly perfections 
 slie displayed at this time, and it would seem as if 
 ten centuries of ancestral excellencies had all com- 
 bined their virtues in this latest and most worthy 
 descendant. The Queen's conduct at this memorable 
 epoch showed her to be the worthy successor of 
 that Prince Victor of Wied whose touching, admir- 
 able, and patriotic life has been the theme of Ernst 
 Moritz Arndt, whose most stirring national poems 
 it will not be irrelevant here to recall. 
 
 Prince Yictor's life was a dream of ambition, an 
 example of glorious achievements.* At the age of 
 eighteen he buckled on his sword in the defence of 
 his country ; he followed the entire Spanish campaign 
 under IN^apoleon ; and at the age of six- and- twenty, 
 fell on the field of battle, revered by his parents, 
 regretted by his country, and a lasting honour to that 
 flag whose honour he had so valiantly upheld. 
 
 When the garrisons were preparing for battle, 
 when the sound of pipe and drum rang throughout 
 
 * Prince Victor's life and letters were so remarkable that tliey were 
 not only made the subject of poetry by the great poet Amdt, but a 
 collection of his correspondence was made, and, with a history of him- 
 self and his exploits, formed one of the choicest volumes of this 
 
 cclcbiiited writer. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 93 
 
 Eoumania, her Highness remembered the days of her 
 youth, when she sat on the knee of the poet Arndt, 
 and listened to his tales of her ancestor, the hero 
 Prince, and these lines rang through her memory : — 
 
 " Von hohen Bergen fliesset 
 
 Das Fliisschen Wied zum Rliein, 
 An dessen Ufern spriesset 
 
 Ein Fiirstenhaus so fein. 
 Aus altem Heldenstamme 
 
 Mit Schlechtem nie in Kauf, 
 Drum schlagt auch edle Flamme 
 
 Aus Stamni und Wiirzeln auf." 
 
 The Princess organised a system of ambulances, 
 while she herself, apparelled in the costume of a 
 sister of charity, made her way unattended through 
 the city of Bucharest. Nothing daunted her invin- 
 cible courage, and scenes that drew tears from the 
 stoutest hearts failed outwardly to affect her heroic 
 fortitude. Never of the strongest health, her High- 
 ness on this occasion seemed made of iron ; but the 
 courage of woman rises with her needs, and it would 
 appear that the creature destined to bring heroes into 
 the world is by nature endowed with that peculiar 
 resistance denied to man. 
 
 She watched by the sick and dying, she dressed 
 
94 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 wounds and nursed fever-stricken patients whose 
 breath alone seemed a fatal contagion, but God 
 walked abroad with this noble lady. Her invinci- 
 bility, her strength, and her smile of pity appeared 
 but the visible reflection of a divine and more omni- 
 potent spirit. Her influence was most felt in attend- 
 ing the wounded, and those for whom amputation 
 was considered necessary. 
 
 The Eoumanian, in every walk of life, has that 
 fierce savageness and primitive pride which abhors 
 the idea of doctors and surgeons, and looks upon the 
 loss of one of his limbs, not only as a disgrace, but 
 as a greater calamity than loss of life itself. He 
 has never seen other than mendicants and highway 
 beggars crippled or disabled, and his idea is that 
 were he to suffer the loss of any of his members, he 
 would no longer be respected, but would be imme- 
 diately despised, classed amongst those miserable and 
 abandoned outcasts. 
 
 The greatest difficulty the Princess had to fight 
 against was this rooted mania against disfigurement- 
 Many soldiers, whose lives could have been saved, 
 preferred death to amputation, and so died. The 
 sovereign, however, was unfailing in her perse- 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 95 
 
 verance. She thought if she could get one to yield 
 to her prayers others would be sure to follow. 
 
 One day walking in the hospital ward, she saw an 
 old soldier suifering from a compound fracture of 
 the leg, which threatened gangrene. Amputation 
 would certainly save his life, but, as is well known, 
 no soldier is ever operated upon except after his own 
 consent; consequently, the resident surgeon, unable 
 to obtain the desired authority, sorrowfully, even 
 complainingly, gave up insisting. Her Highness, 
 however, who had overheard the discussion, went to 
 the bedside and joined her prayers to those of the 
 doctor. In vain the soldier reiterated that he should 
 be taken up for a mendicant like the wretched out- 
 casts of the Carpathians. 
 
 ^^ I am not a beggar," he said proudly ; '' I'll lose 
 my life, but not my honour." 
 
 ^^ 'Tis true," said the Princess, " you are not a 
 beggar, but I am," and she threw herself on her knees 
 at the bedside. ^^ I have never prayed but to God," 
 and taking his hand, she added, " but I now suppli- 
 cate you to listen to His wish and mine. Let your 
 leg be taken off, and spare your life to your family, 
 to your country, and to me, and " 
 
96 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 *^ And if I consent, mia dodmna^ what then ? " 
 
 '-'- What then ! " she said joyfully, rising and seiz- 
 ing his hand again, ^* why, I shall give you the most 
 beautiful cork leg that can he made in Europe; it 
 shall work with springs, and when the war is over, 
 you shall come and dance at the palace with your 
 sons." 
 
 '-^ I consent," he said softly, ^' but you must hold 
 my hand during the operation/' 
 
 It is almost unnecessary to state that the Princess 
 was only too happy to be the means of saving a 
 soldier's life. After this the surgeons met with no 
 more resistance in the matter of amputation. 
 
 Stories of the sovereign's tenderness, heroism, and 
 affection for those who had done battle for the country 
 went the rounds from camp to camp, and spread to the 
 most distant hut in the Carpathians. As every boy in 
 America is promised if he learns to read he may some 
 day confidently hope to become President of the United 
 States, so every wounded soldier who submitted to 
 the operation of amputation was promised the privilege 
 of a visit to, and a dance in, the royal castle. It is an 
 open question whether many who have gone through 
 the old soldier's experience for a smile, a tear, a hand- 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 97 
 
 clasp of this gracious lady, would not have submitted 
 to the sawing off of both legs, and for such recompense 
 gone cripples to the remainder of their days. 
 
 With the end of the war came the triumph of 
 Eoumania. She was declared a kingdom by the 
 powers, and on the 22nd May, 1881, Prince Charles 
 of Hohenzollern and Eoumania became Charles I. of 
 Eoumania. The King, accompanied by the Queen and 
 her brother, the heir presumptive, Leopold of Hohen- 
 zollern, signed the solemn coronation act, which legally 
 made a kingdom of Eoumania. 
 
 We extract the following from the ^^ Cours Princiers 
 d'Europe." 
 
 ^^ Young, and full of force, the King was there, 
 standing decorated with all the marks of a recent 
 glorious past, retaining all the calm and gravity 
 which habitually distinguished him ; to the left were 
 his brother's sons. Princes Ferdinand and Charles; 
 to his right, Queen Elisabeth, beaming with beauty, 
 and breathing majesty from every movement ; beside 
 her sat the hereditary prince Leopold of Hohen- 
 zollern, wearing, like his brother, the Eoumanian 
 uniform." 
 
 The lips of the Queen, around which ordinarily 
 
 H 
 
98 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 plays so amiable a smile, seemed compressed and 
 drawn together to repress a sob, wbicli every mo- 
 ment threatened to escape her. . . This expression of 
 sadness overspread her face only to embellish it. She 
 held herself upright, showing her royal stature to 
 advantage. Slender and tall, she stood with her eyes 
 fixed upon the clergyman, who, at the foot of the 
 estrade, was reading the coronation service. Her 
 marvellous hair fell in soft curls from beneath the 
 diadem which crowned her royal brows, and waved 
 back in masses on the shapely neck, framed in a 
 Medici collar, embroidered in gold and pearls ; the 
 long white satin train was lined with dark red, 
 and bordered with ermine ; a fan of superb ostrich 
 feathers hung from her chatelaine ; the rose-coloured 
 ribbon of the order of Catherine II. depended from 
 shoulder to waist, and to the left, conspicuous amongst 
 the jewels of her bodice, was the star of the Koumanian 
 order of literary merit, the Ben i meriti^ coveted by 
 the few celebrated in arts, sciences, and letters. 
 
 This was certainly a gala day for Bucharest ; the 
 crowds were immense, the population decked out in 
 the richest of national costumes, and everywhere the 
 sovereigns were greeted with indescribable loyalty 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 99 
 
 and enthusiasm. Not alone Queen Elisabeth, beloved 
 and idolised by the people, but her Eoyal Consort, 
 the soldier-king, Carol, were recipients of such enthu* 
 siasm and applause as greeted the Csesars of old 
 after state triumphs, and victories became individual. 
 Many a soldier, landsman, and peasant, while gazing 
 on the fair woman, bearing with such regal grace 
 the purple of her high rank, recalled her as the 
 pale sister of Mercy : dressed in the uniform of the 
 Sisters of the Eed Cross ; bearing the universal badge 
 of humility, fidelity, and charity; following the 
 ambulance with its freight of agonised humanity, or 
 making the rounds of the hospital ward with the 
 other sick nurses ; bathing the heated forehead, cool- 
 ing the parched lips, or composing the stifi'ened limbs 
 of those heroes who had fought for their king and 
 queen and country. Not one soldier heart in all the 
 realm but beat more proudly at sight of the brave 
 young prince, whose superb feats of arms over the 
 hardiest of the Mussulman foe had so proudly won 
 for him the traditional steel crown of Dacia and the 
 Dacian kings. In the slender, noble-looking young 
 monarch standing before them, vested with all the 
 insignia and pomp of his high station, they saw the 
 
100 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 hero of the Grivitza redoubt : foremost in generalship, 
 foremost in strategy, and foremost in battle ; endur- 
 ing every hardship which the soldier endured, and 
 gaining such victories as soldiers alone know how 
 to appreciate. 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 Peefection in any art, and certainly in that of 
 literature, has never been attained by the many, and 
 is scarcely the portion of the few. Her Majesty, 
 however, possesses one of the chief distinguishing 
 attributes which, according to Edgar Allan Poe, 
 should promise not only success, but successful artistic 
 labour. She has originality, the quality above-named, 
 in a very marked degree, chiefly noticeable in the 
 lyrics, ^^The Three Friends," ^^ The Sun-Child," 
 and ^' The Mother " (the latter, although original in 
 idea, recalls a well-known English lyric), and in the 
 prose of " Idle Eamblings," notably '' In Fetters," 
 '' The Mother-in-Law," and '' The Story of a Child," 
 the latter in collaboration with the highly gifted 
 writer, Madame Kremnitz. *^ In Fetters " is certainly 
 one of the very remarkable realistic novelettes of 
 modern literature. It is characterised by boldness of 
 thought, simplicity of style, and originality of idea, 
 
102 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 qualities which when analysed assume the simplest 
 forms of everyday comprehension. We can well 
 understand " In Fetters " to be the work of a master- 
 mind, and yet cannot understand how it is that other 
 master-minds should never have treated in a similar 
 manner, so feeling, so true, so thoroughly realistic a 
 subject. 
 
 ** In Fetters " is a purely imaginative work in one 
 way, a purely realistic one in another; a woman 
 writing the autobiography of a man must necessarily 
 write in the imaginative sense, but the Queen, like 
 most of the highest gifted writers, realises that 
 perhaps, after all, the greatest difference between man 
 and woman is physical rather than moral. Her 
 Majesty knows but too well that if she wish to describe 
 a man's real love she has but to call to mind a woman's 
 real love ; if she wish to describe a man's pure joy 
 she has but to describe a woman's pure joy ; if to 
 describe a man's deepest despair, she has but to 
 picture a woman's deepest despair. Moral heights 
 and depths have no sexual difference, and the senti- 
 ment in man or woman which idealises before it 
 peoples the world is not the exclusive property of one 
 individual, neither can it be distinctly modified or 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 103 
 
 distinctly described by any one individual. The 
 Queen, of course, realises this, but her enormous 
 cleverness consists not alone in picturing man as he 
 is, but in the depiction of man, his one distinct 
 essence, his very second self — habit. Habit, man's 
 second nature, understood by every other man, but 
 never understood by any woman, for alas ! it can 
 never be understood by woman. Usually what a 
 woman takes for love is passion, what she takes for 
 passion is habit, what she takes for affection, friend- 
 ship, and what she takes for habit, indifference. 
 
 "In Fetters" is an astonishing study of one 
 woman's strength, one woman's frailty, and one man's 
 — second self— selfishness. Nora, Lavinia, and Ewald 
 are as distinct and thoroughly natural personages as 
 any conceived by Balzac or Dickens. Erom the first 
 they are clear-cut and polished like the diamond 
 which, from a vague original carbon, under the 
 cutters' happiest chisel grew the Kohinoor. 
 
 The Queen has drawn her characters with a direct- 
 ness, naturalness, force, and simplicity beyond all 
 praise. Under these powerful lenses, even the man's 
 egotism shines forth with such unaffected artlessness 
 that one is forced to ask — did Carmen Sylva write 
 
104 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 this innocently or with the fullest conviction of what 
 she was doing? Did she realise in one sense, in 
 many senses, how odious her hero really is, and yet 
 at the same time, to properly balance his character, 
 real or imagined, how impossible it would have been 
 to the artistic soul to have made him out other than 
 what he has legitimately become ? If she wrote in 
 the first sense, innocently, we must admit very 
 exceptional natural powers ; if in the second, not 
 alone the gifts, but added to these a very high order 
 of art. Between creation and execution lies the world 
 of unwritten failures. Here, whoever runs may read. 
 I refrain from further judgment, and content myself 
 with according a very just praise to the writer, praise 
 which thorough conscientious work must demand the 
 world over from everyone who sympathises with or ap- 
 preciates the great beauty of high literary invention, 
 the enormous difficulty of perfect literary execution. 
 
 " The Mother-in-Law " and *^ In Fetters " must 
 speak for themselves in detail, but the same careful 
 style and workmanship remarked above characterise 
 one as the other ; the same originality of thought, 
 force, and limpidity of utterance lend to each a 
 charm peculiarly its own, a charm which one must 
 
fV 
 
 or TUX 
 
 ELISABETH OF R^Stf MANIA, 105 
 
 recognise and accord in a very eminent degree to the 
 pen of Carmen Sylva. 
 
 I may note in passing that the ^^ Mother-in-Law " 
 is an extremely beautiful picture of life in Eoumania, 
 the description of scenes in the capital and provinces, 
 the people, costumes, habitations, light and colour, 
 even of an oriental snow-storm, not red, but white, 
 an it please you, being marvels of exactitude, lucidity, 
 and beauty. The Queen has caught the old Greek 
 idea of action, that is to say, movement, motion in 
 description. For instance, she says, the peasants 
 bestrode their horses as if they were part of the 
 animals themselves. By way of exact expression, 
 nothing could be happier. Innumerable similar 
 passages occur, bespeaking her Majesty's mastery of 
 word-painting, that rock whereon the finest talents 
 have been, and are destined to be, fatally wrecked. 
 
 What astonishes and delights, however, in the 
 writings of Carmen Sylva are the lasting pictures 
 painted with seemingly evanescent colours. The Queen 
 is a master of style. She is essentially a poet, but 
 her prose would challenge the hardiest of criticism. 
 It is a very beautiful and pure German, so im- 
 proved by knowledge of foreign authors that while 
 
io6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 it remains distinctly and purely a native talent, it is 
 robbed of the heaviness and pretentiousness so occa- 
 sional to the learned German writer. 
 
 Her Majesty has one fault in her prose, however, 
 which is serious, and that is a certain curtness of 
 phrasing ; a certain leaving too much to the imagi- 
 nation of her listeners, seriously inconsistent with 
 lucidity and simplicity of style, and oftentimes out 
 of place with the sentiment, the character of her 
 most studied creations. 
 
 Brevity may be the soul of wit, but between being 
 brief and being intelligible there is a vast and 
 dangerous gulf. 
 
 In his magnificent Barrett-Browning study, with 
 reference to this same fault — obscurity of expression 
 in writers — Edgar Poe speaks particularly and to 
 grand purpose. He says : — 
 
 ... ^^ It is the nature of thought in general, 
 as it is the nature of some ores in particular, to be 
 richest when most superficial, and we do mean to 
 say, secondly, that in nineteen cases out of twenty, 
 the reader will suffer the most valuable ore to remain 
 unmined to all eternity, before he will be put to the 
 trouble of digging for it one inch : and we do mean 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 107 
 
 to assertj thirdly, that no reader is to be condemned 
 for not putting himself to the trouble of digging even 
 the one inch, for no writer has the right to impose 
 any such necessity upon him. What is worth thinking 
 is distinctly thought, what is distinctly thought can and 
 should he distinctly expressed or should not he expressed 
 at alL^^* The language is strong, but surely not 
 too strong ; and when we see a person of the very 
 highest mental organisation and mental endowment 
 not doing fullest justice to her exceptional gifts, 
 we are reminded of the poet's dictum, which we 
 have quoted above. 
 
 It is likewise true the beautiful picture always 
 remains the picture, but if it is to be framed, it 
 should be framed in a worthy manner, or it should 
 not be framed at all. 
 
 The above seems to me Carmen Sylva's most 
 striking fault — her virtues may speak for them- 
 selves. 
 
 The art of writing is not to leave but to lend to 
 the imagination: not alone to see and feel all the 
 author sees and feels, but at the same time to have 
 a new train of ideas or thoughts awakened, as it were, 
 
 * The italics are the author's. 
 
io8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 by one chance idea or thought. That is one reason 
 why the classics are a perennial fount. "We read and 
 re-read the thing we thought yesterday to know in 
 its minutest sense, and to-day we discover a newer 
 sense which appeals to us with a newer charm. The 
 blue sea opens, and Aphrodite rises as she rose long 
 ago from the blue and limpid wave. We may gaze 
 and gaze ; she is still there, do not be afraid she will 
 disappear. It is true she only shows herself to the 
 faithful, but all goddesses are alike in this. Venus 
 only appeared to ^neas, the goddess-born, when he 
 called upon her with faith. Spirits of light, like 
 spirits of darkness, are but visible to those who see 
 with the mind, and if we wish immortality, we 
 must invoke the goddess from afar, warm the muse, 
 not at mortal, but immortal fires. She will ever 
 return, ever part the blackest wave, ever illumine 
 the blackest expanse, but we must make the appeal. 
 The mind requires to be treated with respect, with 
 ceremony ; without the asking treasures will not be 
 hurled at one's head; but call with conviction, as 
 children hang up their stockings on Christmas Eve, 
 and in the night a beautiful fairy will come laden 
 with Christmas gifts ; the morrow will dawn with a 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 109 
 
 roseate light in the flushing east, and the goddess- 
 born will go forth to victory radiant with the 
 panoply of the chosen, the faith which prepares for 
 victory, and the invincible armour which predestines 
 lasting triumphs. 
 
 The world will fall down before what it worshipped 
 yesterday, and will be ever ready to adore to-morrow 
 what it adored to-day. There will be always some- 
 thing to say, because the greatest have left some- 
 thing unsaid. One might think that Homer had 
 said all, but Virgil said more ; Dante even more, and 
 Shakespeare — even Shakespeare — ah, that is a revered 
 name to write — even Shakespeare has not pronounced 
 the CliuLeya of literature. As long as men and women 
 are born into the world, the sun shines and flowers 
 bloom, so long will genius create, and the force of 
 its light pervade the earth anew with radiance; so 
 long will rich thoughts and high intellectual purpose 
 perfume existence, men and women will read and 
 write, and humanity will give back the perpetual 
 watchword that may once or twice be challenged at the 
 lines of human purpose, but in the end will ever be 
 understood by humanity's chosen and faithful sentinels. 
 
 With regard both to the poetical and prose 
 
1 1 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA . 
 
 works of Carmen Sylva, the highest compliment 
 we can pay them is to insert in this memoir fair 
 samples and free translations from the German. But 
 the poetry, likewise from the German, even of the 
 two ballads — *^Die Lerche," and '^Perlenreihen" — 
 wherein we had been helped to the sense through 
 the verbal translation of the great folk-poet Alec- 
 sandri — ^we feel constrained to omit : the sudden 
 death of the bard having prevented our submittal 
 to his late Excellency of either the French or English 
 versions. In justice to the Queen we defer publi- 
 cation of all the poetical translations until they shall 
 have been more thoroughly and completely revised. 
 
 Several years have elapsed since Carmen Sylva 
 published ^^ Kumanische Dichtungen, with Notes by 
 Mita Kremnitz " — the latter a very charming writer, 
 and also the collaboratrice and friend of her Majesty. 
 The book comprises German adaptations from the 
 Koumanian poets: V. Alecsandri, born 1821, Poet 
 Laureate of Eoumania and late Koumanian Minister in 
 Paris; Eolintenianu, (1821-1872); Caudiano Popescu, 
 born 1842; Cretzanu, born 1835; Eminescu, born 
 1850; Konaki (1785-1850); Negruzzi, born 1842; 
 Serbanescu, born 1839, and Torccanu, born 1856. 
 
 The selections made for reproduction were from 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. in 
 
 poems by the Poet Laureate, Alecsandri, although 
 eminently worthy to be distinguished before those 
 of his brother poets, not chosen through other cause 
 than the very simple one that I am well acquainted 
 with the works of his Excellency Y. Alecsandri, 
 but did not feel myself competent to render full 
 justice to other lyrics by native authors. Moreover, 
 many of the standard works of Eoumanian poets, 
 notably some by the Laureate himself, have been so 
 admirably rendered into English song by the gifted 
 singer, William Beatty Kingston, that the loss will 
 be but the nominal one of shutting the cover of 
 one book to open the cover of another. 
 
 The success of the Queen's volume of poems, pub- 
 lished by Strauss, of Bonn, has been so great, that a 
 fourth edition is exhausted, and a fifth is now in 
 press, and her Majesty — Carmen Sylva — with wise 
 thoughtfulness, gives all the products of her writings, 
 which are not inconsiderable, to the poor. 
 
 It must be someone of extraordinary energy who 
 can accomplish what her Majesty has achieved; only 
 one of the most unflinching perseverance could com- 
 bine such incessant social, literary, and charitable 
 labours. Nothing is neglected. The Queen is the 
 first person in the house to rise ; the first rosy light. 
 
112 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 flushing the Carpathian Hills, floods her fair hair, 
 carved table, and white hands flashing over the white 
 manuscripts : and at night, when the fairy lamps are 
 extinguished in the valley, and the sentinel on guard 
 looks at the last stars fading from the midnight 
 heavens, one light is seen to throw its eloquent beam 
 around, above, and below. It comes from the royal 
 sanctum^ where the unwearied author is pouring the 
 midnight oil for her poor ; writing story after story 
 and tale after tale; drawing from the inexhaustible 
 fount which is nourished by wisdom, and goodness, 
 and habit. 
 
 Amongst her Majesty's other best known works 
 are the following : 
 
 ^^Stiirme," ^'Jehovah." A series entitled "Aus 
 Carmen Sylva's Konigreich,'' and consisting of two 
 parts : Part I, ^'Pelechmarchen," and Part II, ^^Durch 
 die Jahrhunderte." 
 
 ^' Durch die Jahrhunderte " is a collection of stories 
 dealing with Eoumania and Eoumanian legend — 
 beginning with a tale founded on one of her Majesty's 
 favourite themes — ancient Dacia — and introducing 
 the good and great Trajan, whose name and fortunes 
 are always remembered by the people of Eoumania. 
 
' ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 113 
 
 Here the Queen's historical enthusiasm, fine fancy, 
 and wide culture in Eoumanian folk-lore are displayed 
 in all their richest variety. The courage, chivalry, 
 and valour of those bygone days are put away — 
 as a woman puts away her first love-letter — in the 
 lavender of her dearest remembrances. It is not too 
 much to say that the studies : '^ Decebals-Tochter," 
 ^^ Dragomira," ^^Die Schlangeninsel," ^^Mioritza," 
 *^Doncila," " Pietrele Doamne," and ^^Bogdan" — the 
 four latter taken from Yolksballaden — with several 
 others completing the volume, reflect the highest 
 credit on the Queen's literary talent, taste, and style ; 
 and a perusal will well repay the ardent amateur of 
 ancient and typical national studies. These historical 
 tales are written with such brevity and vivacity, and 
 so partake of the character of the country they de- 
 scribe, that is difficult to realize that the graceful 
 historian is speaking of centuries, and not days, ago. 
 It is very curious to remark how the leading charac- 
 teristics of the Dacian race remain unchanged, as in 
 its eventful past. The men, women, peasants, nobles, 
 children, Speak, act, and move in the streets of Bucha- 
 rest to-day as they did when gallant commanders 
 gave the flower of Dacia to swell great Trajan's 
 
 I 
 
114 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 armies ; when the giant trees of the Carpathians 
 were but tender shoots in a fertile soil, and exiled 
 Ovid took his tuneful lyre to the shades of the 
 Euxine. 
 
 The above-named work — ^^Durch die Jahrhun- 
 derte " bears the following simple dedication : — 
 
 " Unserm geliebten und verehrten Diehter 
 
 Vasili Alecsandri 
 
 dem unermiidlichen Sammler rumanischer Yolks- 
 poesie, gewidmet, von 
 
 Carmen Sylva." 
 
 Besides the above-named works, one of her Ma- 
 jesty's latest and greatest successes is ^' Les Pensees 
 d'une Eeine," a volume of aphorisms, maxims, etc., 
 which had the honour of receiving one of the prizes 
 of the French Academy, bestowed by the immortal 
 forty, whose favourable edict must gladden the heart 
 of any woman, whether queen or otherwise. 
 
 The Queen has also written in conjunction with 
 Madame Kremnitz: ^^Ans Zwei Welt en," ** Astra," 
 *^ Feldpont," " Eache, und andere Novellen," and an 
 historical tragedy, ^^ Anna Boleyn." The Queen has 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 115 
 
 also made a translation of Pierre Loti's celebrated 
 novel, ^^ Les P^cheurs d' Island," which has already- 
 attained a second edition, and reflects the very highest 
 credit on its royal translator. 
 
 Her Majesty's hospitality is proverbial, as is also 
 that of her royal husband, and there are few per- 
 sonages in Europe, celebrated in art, literature, or 
 science, who have not enjoyed the distinction of being 
 invited to the royal demesne. The gates are opened 
 wide; many have spent days and weeks, most wel- 
 come guests, in this noble retreat. It was on such 
 an occasion that the Queen received M. Pierre Loti, 
 and herself suggested the translation of his celebrated 
 work. Her Majesty is enthusiastically devoted to 
 French literature, ancient and modern, and is a 
 veritable bibliophile in her knowledge of, affection 
 and solicitude for, French men of letters. She has 
 also written some charming verses in French — 
 notably an impromptu in response to an invitation 
 written in old Proven9al, and sent her by an asso- 
 ciation of poets and authors, asking her to visit the 
 land of the Troubadours. The King and Queen were 
 then spending some time at Sestri Ponenta, and her 
 Majesty, with admirable promptness, indited the 
 
ii6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 following — too clever and charming not to be repro- 
 duced here. 
 
 Reponse de S,M. la Eeine Elisabeth de Roumanie au 
 capiscol M. J, B. Gant^ pour les Felihres de Lar. 
 
 De gracieux noma suis appelee 
 
 Venir ne puis, 
 Par tema et devoir enchalnde 
 
 Oiseau ne suis. 
 
 Si^ comme la pensee moult radieuse, 
 
 Ailee j'etais, 
 A votre source mysterieuse 
 
 Je renaltrais. 
 
 Je baignerais dans Tharmonie 
 
 De la chanson, 
 Cherchant des froideurs de la vie 
 
 La guerison. 
 
 Au grand soleil qui vous immonde 
 
 De son amour, 
 Oyez-je volerais une onde, 
 
 Beau troubadour. 
 
 Je cueillerais de vos pens^es 
 
 La fraiche fleur, 
 Vos harpes au cocur accord^ es 
 
 Me diraient : Sceur I 
 
 Le mistral meme a' est fait caresse ! 
 
 Venir ne puis 
 A votre source enchanteresae 
 
 Oiseau ne suis. 
 
 Elisabeth. 
 
 Se&tri Ponente, 
 Le 11 Avrilj 1883. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The cares of state at an end, the crown laid aside, 
 the purple and ermine abandoned, a lone woman 
 steals unattended out of the castle, and makes her 
 way towards the hill lying between the Asile Hd^ne 
 and the park of Cotroceni ; for near the church of 
 Elisabeta Doamna there is a tiny grave — become the 
 Mecca of Moldavian and Wallachian faithful. Hither, 
 summer and winter, spring and autumn, old and 
 young, proud and humble, come with flowers and 
 love- offerings. 'No sooner does the first crocus lift its 
 head in April grass than some watchful hand trans- 
 ports it to the sainted shrine; the October rose, 
 blowing away all its beauty on the steep gorge's 
 side, is taken by the same mysterious watcher— but to 
 sigh away its latest breath at the feet of the forest- 
 guarded saint. In summer time nature holds high 
 revel in this chosen spot ; the sweetest breezes blow 
 
1 1 8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 night and morn throngli the clustering trees; the 
 rarest flowers embroider the emerald meads with their 
 divine bloom, the richest cadence swells from the 
 throat of the Eoman lark; that legendary warbler 
 whose song and flight are but for the predestined of 
 the "Wallachian valleys ; the notes of whose melody 
 heard by the great, bring honour ; heard by the 
 humble, bring content. The sun floods tree and 
 glade and aisle with a million laughing rays ; the 
 branches hang together in magic fillets, and the 
 awe-struck peasant, looking upon them, whispers 
 that they are the threads of a child's golden hair — a 
 fairy network of golden threads, so fine that a 
 breath could dissolve them, so strong that the moun- 
 tain heights from Balkan to Carpathian are hung 
 and clasped eternally in their magic embrace. In 
 winter, when the mountains are bound in long 
 watered ribbons of snow — when the vales are vast 
 prairies of shimmering tissue— to the sceptic eye 
 their spotlessness is untinged by aught not white; 
 but the loving eye will see a mysterious trace on the 
 immaculate shroud. Faint rifts and troubled veins, 
 as if a soul in its flight had brushed its wings on 
 the vestal stole, and left the impress of its sainted 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 119 
 
 soaring for ever stamped on the Carpathian valley 
 and hills. 
 
 In the spring-time, when the earth bursts with its 
 human leaven, and all nature is vocal with the sense 
 of renewed sweetness and being, one pilgrim wends 
 her silent way to the little shrine in the valley. 
 The peasants draw to one side, the people to one 
 side, and the little children of the Asile H^lene hush 
 their careless laughter and still their happy smile ; 
 they put their golden heads together, and their juve- 
 nile voices mingle with the carol of birds nestling in 
 the woodland trees. One says : 
 
 *^ Hush, it is the Queen ! " but a peasant with lined 
 face and eyes that still burn holes into her withered 
 cheeks, old Nani, gathering her early herbs and pale 
 lilacs, murmurs softly : 
 
 *^ There she goes — unhappy dodmna ! Look at 
 her young face and grey hair ! It is the mother of 
 that poor dead baby, the little Sun-child, Maria ! " 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 Sixteen years ago, Carmen Sylva, then reigning 
 Princess of Eoumania, visited England, and spent 
 several days at Oxford in the delightful home of 
 Professor and Madame Max Miiller. She charmed 
 everyone by her sweetness, simplicity, and natural- 
 ness. She went everywhere, she saw everything, 
 and, promising to return shortly, expressed herself 
 absolutely enchanted with her stay. It is true not 
 everybody, even a Queen, could have seen Oxford 
 under more delightful circumstances ; and it is not a 
 matter of wonder that, with all the historic world, her 
 Majesty should hold this mediseval city in dear 
 remembrance. The promised return, however, has 
 not been made, as during this last visit to England 
 the Queen's time was limited, and her desire to see 
 Wales, Ireland, and other portions of the British 
 Isles, notably Llandudno and Bray, obliged her to 
 neglect many places of interest, even the most dear, 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 121 
 
 and shortened her stay even in London. The reason 
 of her remaining so few hours on her return may be 
 best given in her own words : " Oh ! my visit to 
 "Wales was delightful, delicious; there they quite 
 spoiled me. I love London, too. I am charmed with 
 all I have seen, all I see, but if I stay a day longer 
 here," — this conversation took place at the Grosvenor 
 Hotel, October 6th — " if I stay longer here, I must 
 take that time away from my dear mother, and of all 
 the world she must not be neglected. Seeing her, of 
 course, is a pleasure, but above all it is a duty, and 
 duty, we know, must ever come first.'' 
 
 The key-note to the Queen's character lies in the 
 above words, and they need no comment. 
 
 The 4th and 5th of October was spent at Osborne. 
 To quote Carmen Sylva, ^^a most delightful visit ; one 
 I shall ever look back upon with pleasure." Carmen 
 Sylva was speaking in her pretty voice, and holding 
 the MS. of two plays, both of which were subse- 
 quently read to Mr. Becrbohm Tree and Mr. Comyns 
 Carr. She added : 
 
 ** I read this to the Queen ; ^ Ulranda ' it is called, 
 but I was so nervous in the commencement that my 
 voice was quite weak, and I did myself no justice. 
 
Ill ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 However, I got on very well afterwards " — Carmen 
 Sylva now spoke with the ingenuousness of a school- 
 girl — " and if all her Majesty said then be quite true, 
 then this is the selection I shall also read to you." 
 
 This was the day of her Majesty's arrival from the 
 country. She had travelled all night, been here, there, 
 everywhere since early morn, and not only showed no 
 signs of fatigue, but appeared as fresh as a lark. Her 
 last day in London was a still more memorable one, 
 and one which I certainly never can forget. 
 
 I had heard a great deal of Carmen Sylva' s mar- 
 vellous powers, not alone of reading and histrionic 
 talent, but of that more extraordinary gift, the trans- 
 position at sight of one language into another, and 
 must confess to no little curiosity as to how the poet 
 would justify her world-wide renown. She read 
 ^ Ulranda ' that afternoon, and the following morning 
 we again assembled as early as 10.30 in the state 
 drawing-room of the Grosvenor Hotel to hear another 
 reading by the poet. 
 
 The apartment, filled with flowers, books, and 
 pictures, breathed femininity; that atmosphere of 
 intellectuality so indicative not alone of the true, 
 but of the high-minded woman. Beside material 
 
ELISABETH OF ROU MANIA . 12$ 
 
 adornment the room was filled with eager interested 
 people — bright eyes, bright smiles, and bright faces 
 everywhere. That is a special contagion of the 
 Queen's presence. She herself is like quicksilver. 
 Everybody and everything with her lives and has 
 being. !N'othing is indifferent. Even inanimate 
 objects seem animate, and although they do not 
 speak, still give one to understand that they know 
 perfectly well all that is going on. Some furniture is 
 intelligent, and some not. One has but to look at a 
 room to know the mind, the character of its occupant ; 
 and this one speciality, so often missed in magnifi- 
 cent, even dazzling apartments, is the first thing 
 noticeable even in the simplest of Carmen Sylva'a 
 surroundings. 
 
 As soon as possible I approached a table in the 
 window, and saw an illuminated missal, an immense 
 volume in vellum, destined as a gift to the newly- 
 restored cathedral of Cotroceni. This marvellous 
 study was the work of the Queen's own hands, a 
 miracle of beauty and invention. There were minia- 
 tures, raised letters, gilded traceries, children with 
 faces like flowers, roses, lilies, and clambering vines 
 so natural that the perfume seemed almost to steal 
 
124 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 from the leaves ; page after page, each one, if 
 possible, more ingenious and beautiful than the 
 other. Beside her taste and talent is her astonishing 
 quickness. Once at l!Teue Wied, the castle filled 
 with guests, her idle moments produced a similar 
 work. She began it none knew when, and in a few 
 days, a fortnight perhaps, handed it to her mother, 
 saying : " Here, this is for you. I did it in my lost 
 moments." " We were all dumbfounded," said Pro- 
 fessor M M , ^* but there it was; none knew 
 
 how or when, but she had done it alone — comme si 
 rien vCy etaiV 
 
 Had this art been the unique study of anyone's 
 idle hours, it would still suggest years of consecutive 
 and unflagging labour. 
 
 We were still examining the first-named work when 
 the Queen came in. 
 
 Her Majesty has changed but little — the greatest 
 noticeable difference being in the hair, once blonde, 
 now quite grey at the temples. The slender figure 
 and graceful bearing, which so distinguishes this 
 royal lady, the elegant carriage and sweet composure 
 still remain. The face is a singular oval, more narrow 
 than round, and the deep eyes, like pansies, fringed 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 125 
 
 with their black lashes, are set in the countenance 
 like antique jewels, and with a strange glance, as if 
 the owner, dead for many years, were just come to 
 life, and wondered what all this modern movement 
 were about. 
 
 The high forehead crowned with fair hair — more 
 than fair — is shaded by that veil that nature alone 
 may weave — a veil which suggests that even in that 
 bright Orient, some fillets of the Carpathian snows 
 had gently strayed earthward, to chill the heart but 
 to bind the brows of this pure poetical princess. A 
 faint colour glows in the cheeks, and a delicate sensi- 
 tive mouth opens over teeth of such dazzling brilliancy 
 that one expects them rather than the lips to speak. A 
 slender neck like a Parian column uplifts from the fine 
 bust ; the hands are white, quick, nervous, graceful, 
 very small, and have a child-like look, as if they 
 were younger than their mistress, or had, at least, less 
 experience of the world. But the most remarkable 
 characteristic of Carmen Sylva, is the long, slow, 
 supernatural glance, and the fine facial expression : the 
 whole countenance illumined by as bright an intellect 
 as any our times have known. The mien, as it were, 
 is that shadowy mask of sweetness and gentleness 
 
126 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 which can only emanate from a mind dedicated to 
 noble thoughts and lofty aspirations, the soul trans- 
 figured through deepest suffering and sorrow, and 
 shining through the face. Is it art, and does the 
 Queen know that the only way to beautify the human 
 face is to beautify the human mind ? and yet there 
 are women who think of Ninon's bloom, and talk of 
 Ninon's cosmetics. 
 
 After a cordial welcome to her guests, a few words 
 uttered with that affability and simplicity all her own, 
 a maid-of-honour handed her a portfolio containing 
 the manuscript of the poem, the reading of which we 
 had been invited to hear, and her Majesty sat down. 
 
 ^* Come, do sit down," she said, " all around and 
 quite near me. Ah, that is more ^ gemuthlicW and 
 now I will read, if you are sure it will not bore you 
 too much, either of the works you desire to hear 
 first." After a moment's chat with Miss Terry, a 
 moment's talk with others, after due consideration, 
 her greatest poetical work, a tragedy in five acts, 
 ^* Meister Manole " was chosen. 
 
 There was a flutter of women's petticoats. Professor 
 Max Miiller and Mr. Henry Irving seated themselves, 
 Miss Ellen Terry drew near the Queen, and the read- 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 127 
 
 ing began. Her Majesty prefaced the tragedy by the 
 following : 
 
 ^' I must first tell you that I have been studying ten 
 years, ten years writing plays, in order to write this one. 
 I first began with one little act, afterwards a dialogue 
 between two women, I then wrote a little more, and 
 then a little more, and then a little more, until finally 
 I had arrived at what I considered a fair basis for 
 my more important work ; the story is taken from 
 one of the old Roumanian legends, called the Contes 
 de Pelech, and touches upon the restoration of a mar- 
 vellous cathedral, which, after twelve years' labour, has 
 just been completed and consecrated. The legend runs 
 that the church fell to ruin, and was continually 
 rebuilt, but by the influence of godless spirits, it was 
 as constantly thrown down ; in short, what the builders 
 conceived and executed by day, was destroyed by 
 night, until the wicked spirits were exorcised — devils, 
 to quote Her Majesty exactly — by the immuring alive 
 in the walls of some guilty human being, which sacri- 
 fice alone would charm away all evil, and once more 
 restore the church to the graces and worship of 
 God. 
 
 ^^ Of all the Eoumanian folk-lore, I conceived a 
 
128 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 passionate fascination for this tale, and by adding 
 historical characters, inventing some, and finding 
 others, I made this particular one the theme of the 
 tragedy I am about to read.'' 
 
 The Queen commenced, and it would seem ex- 
 aggeration to say all one should say of her beautiful 
 voice and diction, her impassioned manner of ges- 
 ticulation, and great histrionic talent. It would 
 be difficult to give the tragedy here in detail, and 
 although a theme, to my mind, essentially unfit for 
 any other than the Eoumanian stage, it certainly is 
 a work of the very highest merit ; splendid dramatic 
 action ; in short, a masque such as might be expected 
 from a poet-student of the old Greek drama. The 
 Queen read in English and translated from the 
 German as she read — a free translation as one would 
 say — and she did this without notes or agenda of 
 any sort. One of the most marvellous feats of mind, 
 memory, culture, and metier^ that I have ever known ; 
 she very seldom paused for a word, and then she 
 did put her hand to her head with a pretty gesture, 
 saying, *^ Oh, the word, the word ; will someone give 
 me the word ? " and with several voluntary sugges- 
 tions, always finished by herself finding one, the 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 129 
 
 fetrongest and most appropriate. The lyrics are at 
 times absolutely astounding, some of the poems being 
 not unworthy of a Heine or a Schiller. It is very 
 evident that being a Queen has been, in one sense, 
 very detrimental to this remarkable intellect. Had 
 she been obliged to earn her bread and butter with 
 her pen, she would probably have been the greatest 
 poetess of the nineteenth century ; but the passion of 
 production has blunted the sense of selection : every- 
 thing the Queen writes is published, everything the 
 poet might write would be subjected to the literary 
 scalping knife. The mind that returns into itself, 
 reasons, reduces, and criticises Carmen Sylva, has 
 done this with ^^ Meister Manole,'' and the result is 
 a great complete work. Until one has seen Carmen 
 Sylva one can form no adequate idea of her mar- 
 vellous poetical organisation and marvellous literary 
 capacity. She is a perfect Niagara of hidden resource, 
 and has exercised her brains, and, like an acrobat 
 or professional trapeze performer, constant practice 
 has prepared her to be ready at all times for the 
 most daring deeds. She can command her mental 
 powers, can draw blank cheques upon her intellect, 
 and be assured beforehand that her future capital 
 
130 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 cannot be exhausted. She can go on, and on, and on, 
 and there always remains the exhaustless fount of 
 lucid and purling inspiration, the which, without 
 proper technique, would baffle the finest genius in 
 the world to accomplish what her Majesty accom- 
 plishes. Hers is a mind that can never be surprised, 
 never taken by storm, and the lightning-like quick- 
 ness with which its transitions are accomplished 
 is something so startling, that, to the unaccustomed 
 observer, such change goes to the head like a draught 
 of strong wine to one unused to liquor. Those in 
 daily contact with Carmen Sylva have long since got 
 used to this display of culture, genius, and skill. I 
 must confess that, for my part, my brains were on 
 edge, and I felt absolutely exhausted. She goes on 
 like this day after day, month after month, year in 
 and year out. She would never rest, but nature, how- 
 ever, has taken things into her own care, and compels 
 her to give the active brain repose. Alas, this rest is 
 enforced upon her in the shape of most terrible ill- 
 nesses, and thus the mind is obliged to remain in a 
 state of complete passiveness— a summary way, per- 
 haps, but, as I said before, nature is the greatest of 
 usurers ; and every gift one has out of the common, 
 
EL ISA BETH OF RO UMANIA . 131 
 
 one must pay five hundred per cent, for in suffering 
 sorrow, misfortune, and obligatory idleness. 
 
 In speaking of Carmen Sylva, of this extraordi- 
 nary tension of brain power, M. Alecsandri — so often 
 mentioned, now gone to meet that eternal aurora 
 he so loved — in speaking of the Queen, the poet, 
 with Professor Max Miiller, was alike astounded at 
 such incessant brain work. 
 
 Either at Neue Wied or at Sina'ia, it is no uncom- 
 mon thing for visitors at the castle to compose songs 
 or one-act pieces. These will be set to music in the 
 afternoon, and performed in the evening, some by 
 her Majesty herself, others by well-known writers 
 or amateurs, distinguished guests at the palace. 
 Alecsandri said: ^^ This goes on day after day. She 
 is indefatigable, is bubbling over with art and 
 artistic feeling, and this she must pour forth. She 
 must produce; it is not enough that she possesses 
 these faculties : they must be before the world. Her 
 mind is a mint, is such a wealth of ever-coming and 
 going creations, that one pushes the other out of her 
 head ; the thought comes, she acts upon it — it is put 
 away done for, and then another and another comes, 
 springs up in this fertile and extraordinary intellect. '^ 
 
132 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Now it will be clearly understood that Carmen 
 Sylva is one of the old Improvisatrice. It suffices for 
 her but to touch the harp to sweep melody from the 
 golden wires, to but touch the strings to cause all the 
 air around to vibrate with the refrain of the sweet 
 seductive music. 
 
 That she herself should possess such gifts is rare 
 enough, but that she should leave her country, her 
 woods and vales and forests, and go to a foreign land, 
 and find, as it were, a creature if not so highly, at 
 least, similarly gifted, is one of those curious coinci- 
 dences that fate reserves for those patient ones who 
 keep the door open to fortune. Mdlle. Hellene 
 Yacaresco, her Majesty's favourite maid of honour, 
 whose portrait we reproduce with that of her Majesty, 
 is another such a gifted being. She can improvise by 
 the hour, translate from the Eoumanian into French 
 or German spontaneous lyrics, of a sweetness and 
 perfection of rhythm absolutely astounding. It is 
 not surprising that the Queen should have attached 
 this young lady to her royal person, or that the two 
 should have collaborated in writing both verse and 
 prose ; in short, very much as her Majesty did with 
 the gifted Madame Miti Kremnitz. 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 133 
 
 '^ Tales of the Dumbovitza," her Majesty's latest 
 work, has just been published at Bonn. It is a 
 collection of Eoumanian legends and tales amassed 
 here, there, and everywhere in Eoumania by the 
 Queen and Mdlle. Yacaresco, done into verse by her 
 Majesty, and edited by Mdlle. Yacaresco. 
 
 This book is a monument of poetic literature, of 
 superhuman work, and Professor Max Miiller, in 
 speaking of it, said: "It is most curious; wonder- 
 fully done ; some of the verses very beautiful and 
 flowing — and you know the difficulty of the double 
 German rhythm. Some of these lyrics are so fine 
 that the greatest German poet of the day need not 
 have been ashamed to have written them, and it 
 certainly is a book that will live." 
 
 No higher praise could be awarded, and Max 
 Miiller is not a man to praise unless he sees a very 
 good reason for so doing. 
 
 So much is to be said on the theme of folklore 
 and native legends that volumes might be dedicated 
 to this topic alone, and still volumes would remain 
 unwritten. In speaking with the late M. Alecsandri 
 on this very subject, he told me frankly that of his 
 poems, some of the so-called legends he had invented 
 
134 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 outright, viz., two of the most exquisite and, strange 
 to say, most successful, the "Perlenreihen" and "Die 
 Lerche." I give the titles as given by Carmen Sylva 
 in her volume dedicated entirely to the works of 
 Eoumanian poets. 
 
 When questioned about the " Dumbovitza " collec- 
 tion, I was not at all surprised to hear Mdlle. Yaca- 
 resco,with most ingenuous refreshing sincerity, say : — 
 
 *' Oh ! we heard the stories everywhere. I went 
 to the houses of the old, of the poor, of the peasants, 
 sometimes alone, sometimes with the Queen ; some- 
 times her Majesty heard their tales, and sometimes I 
 heard them, and recounted them afterwards verbally, 
 faithfully to the Queen, who as faithfully put them 
 into verse or prose. So we worked night and day " — 
 I should think so : had she said years and years I 
 would not have been surprised — "we worked night 
 and day, and finally got them in shape — put together, 
 and her Majesty is very pleased indeed with the 
 reception the work has met with." 
 
 That is the history of the " Dumbovitza," and a re- 
 markable history it is. As I have before said, the book 
 is a monument of exhaustive labour, extraordinary 
 research, and curious compilation. Not alone Carmen 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 135 
 
 Sylva, but her gifted handmaid, herein show more 
 than common talent, and have every reason to be 
 proud of such a creation, so remarkable a native and 
 poetic collection. 
 
 The Queen's book, " Les Pensees d'une Eeine," has 
 been awarded a high monetary prize medal by the 
 fastidious French Academy, while the number of her 
 decorations from various other literary and artistic 
 societies is something as merited as fabulous. Last 
 but not least, her Britannic Majesty has sent the 
 order of Victoria and Albert to her gifted cousin, not 
 alone in remembrance of Carmen Sylva's recent visit 
 to England, but as a special offering to the poet- 
 author of ''Ullranda,'' which tragedy would be 
 eminently suitable to the Lyceum stage, and may 
 be brought out at a not far distant day on the 
 boards of this theatre. 
 
 " Meister Manole " is already in rehearsal at the 
 Vienna Burg Theatre, and will be produced with the 
 great Madame Wolter in the role of Elorica. In read- 
 ing the play. Carmen Sylva's voice reminded me 
 strangely of this marvellous artist, and I told her 
 Majesty so. She cried : " Now that is strange, for, 
 will you believe me, I have never heard her, never 
 
136 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 seen her on the stage." And when the first acts 
 of this play were concluded, Florica's cry, uttered 
 by the Queen with such heartfelt agony— ^^Manole ! 
 Manole ! Manole ! " — was a triumph of elocutionary 
 art such as even a Madame Wolter might have been 
 proud of. 
 
 The Queen is never so delightful as when one 
 appreciates the direct cause of her work. She never 
 takes any merit to herself, but explains at once the 
 why, the wherefore, in short, the fountain-head of all 
 her inspirations. 
 
 The fundamental basis of Carmen Sylva's dramatic 
 art is — action, action, action, and this is very notice- 
 able, even in her verse and prose. She has also the 
 remarkable gift of distinction, the still more remark- 
 able one of selection. I was very much struck by 
 this in the ^^ Ullranda " and ^^ Meister Manole." 
 
 The life-like simplicity of some characters, the 
 artificial complexity of others, was demonstrated by 
 the firm workmanship of a skilled literary and 
 dramatic artisan. 
 
 Methods of studying, of models to choose from, of 
 authors to avoid, of authors to adore, became the 
 theme of conversation, the Greek dramatists naturally 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 137 
 
 receiving unanimous praise. After the recital of a 
 clever and highly-applauded scene from " Meister 
 Manole," I involuntarily cried — 
 
 *' Ah, madam ! one sees, one feels, that the Greek 
 drama has been your model." 
 
 "You do not know me and yet you could tell 
 that ? " She smiled brightly. " The Greek drama I— 
 why, I have been brought up on it, I have been fed on 
 it, it has been a part of my life, and not a day passes 
 but I go back to my idols. I go back to let them 
 see that my worship does not flag but grows in love 
 and sincerity every year, every day, every hour. 
 The Greek drama — ah \ when you say that you say 
 everything." 
 
 That evening a band of faithful — a few intimate 
 — friends and representatives of the Eoyal Family 
 stood at the station to bid Carmen Sylva a last God- 
 speed. The train was in waiting, crowds lined the 
 platform, and as the Queen appeared smiling faces 
 greeted her, cheers rent the air, and the perfume 
 from many thousand flowers scented waiting-room and 
 walk with their grateful fragrance. The red carpet, 
 stretched to the Eoyal carriage, was a veritable bed 
 of roses, and the Queen, a second goddess, walked 
 
JiS ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 forth on her floral tapestry. Eoses here, there, and 
 everywhere, rose-leaves falling on the dusty parquet, 
 falling on the wooden railings, and even falling beneath 
 the wheels of the carriage. All around were animated 
 forms and bright eyes. There was a low hum of 
 voices, and that attitude of sincere homage so grateful 
 to those who, yet lifted above, still live in the hearts 
 of the people. The wide, grim station was a mass of 
 flitting light and shadow, here and there fitful gleams, 
 and once a sudden blaze like a falling star shot athwart 
 a dark far corner ; and for one moment only, a face 
 like a flower, a wee child's face, was lifted upwards 
 in the crowd. 
 
 Just at that instant the Queen turned towards the 
 light, and saw the bright eyes gazing eagerly, long- 
 ingly into her own. She started, smiled, blew a kiss 
 with her fingers, and — then came a sudden dark- 
 ness. The corner faded away, the child faded away, 
 and when I looked at the Queen — alas ! the pansy 
 blue of her eyes had also faded away. 
 
 Suddenly all was bustle and confusion. There was 
 a ringing of bells, a hurlyburly of voices, and that 
 steady, subterranean tinkle which signals incoming and 
 outgoing convoys. The flash of Edison's Kohinoors 
 
ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 139 
 
 showed a long sliming way of metal filets; that 
 glittering cobweb whose intricacies even the King 
 Spider Lightning alone might pretend to thread. 
 There was a last throwing of flowers, waving of hand- 
 kerchiefs, and cries of ^^ Long live Carmen Sylva ! 
 Long live the Queen ! " and the train, like an undu- 
 lating serpent, glided away on its shining earthly 
 trail. 
 
 Everyone turned eagerly for a last look, and I saw 
 the deep-fringed violet eyes gleaming in their white 
 oval, and a slender form with a dusky branch on its 
 bosom framed in the panel of the window. Another 
 moment and Carmen Sylva was gone, leaving behind 
 her what she was going back to — loyal friends, 
 loving hearts, and a devoted country. 
 
 As we walked back through the waiting-room, the 
 air was still heavy with the scent, not alone of rose 
 and violet, but of something heavier and sweeter, 
 familiar, but at that moment unnameable. I looked up 
 
 wonderingly, and Mr. N 0, the Eoumanian Charge 
 
 d'Affaires, explained : 
 
 '* Yes. Did you see that large basket of reseda ? " 
 
 When she first landed the Queen was very touched 
 to receive a similar one, sent to ^^ Carmen Sylva — From 
 
140 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 a Working Man." A few days after came a letter of 
 apology : the donor feared he had taken too great a 
 liberty ; but the Queen sent him a word of thanks 
 by her maid of honour, and to-night again came a 
 basket, " wishing Carmen Sylva and her kingdom 
 health, happiness, and prosperity — From a Working 
 Man." 
 
 As the train pushed out of the station I had noticed 
 flowers on her breast. They were neither rose, helio- 
 trope, nor violet, but a branch of green and golden 
 bloom, a branch of the fragrant — now significant — 
 mignonette. Blanche Eooseyelt. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 
 
 ^»-S^ 
 
 at THB 
 
 [^irivisRsiT 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 '^Les yeux bleus Vont aux cieux, Les yeux noirs 
 Vont en purgatoire," cried merrily a young black-eyed 
 girl in the school-room of Sacre Coeur. 
 
 "Et les yeux verts?" asked a graceful, slender 
 girl, with eyes of sea-green, black lashes, and dark 
 eyebrows that nearly met above her finely-formed 
 nose. 
 
 '' Les yeux verts Vont en enfer ! " replied the 
 black-eyed maiden, and her tone implied that even 
 if Heaven remained closed to her, her lot would still 
 be immeasurably superior to that of her companion. 
 
 The beautiful brows of the questioner gathered into 
 a slight frown, but a smile was still hovering on the 
 slightly-parted lips when the door opened, and a 
 severe- looking nun entered the room. 
 
144 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 ^^Eleonore," she said, going straight up to the 
 beautiful girl. The latter started, and her perfect 
 oval face, framed in masses of waving golden brown 
 hair, was for one instant overspread by fiery blushes, 
 but the next it had resumed its usual pallor. 
 
 For one moment her eyelids sank, like drooping 
 wings ; then the green eyes, with their large pupils, 
 looked full and straight into the face of the nun, 
 their expression a mixture of defiance and mischief. 
 
 *' Perhaps you can tell me, Eleonore, who has filled 
 our piano with cockchafers ? " 
 
 Silence — deep, breathless silence. 
 
 ^^Why should you always suspect me of every- 
 thing ? " said the young girl at last. 
 
 " Because here on your dress is a cockchafer that 
 betrays you," said the nun, lifting up the insect as 
 she spoke. A suppressed titter went through the 
 whole room. Every girl there was grateful to the 
 culprit for having put a stop, for the space of a 
 few days, to the music lessons, which they all dis- 
 liked. 
 
 '^ Is it not possible, then, that a cockchafer may 
 have clung to my dress in the garden P " 
 
 ^' Yes, certainly in the garden, where you spent half 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 145 
 
 the night. If you do not confess immediately, your 
 whole class will be punished." 
 
 " Of course it was I who did it, and I am not in the 
 least sorry," said Eleonore defiantly. 
 
 '*In that case you will have full leisure during 
 eight days' arrest, on bread and water, to reflect 
 whether or no you are sorry, and for the next two 
 months you will not be allowed to enter the garden." 
 
 How gloomy and sullen could that beautiful face 
 become when the eyebrows met in anger ; how dark 
 a shadow clouded the eyes, how bitter the expression 
 of the mouth. She bowed her head and followed the 
 nun without looking to right or left. When, how- 
 ever, she passed by her schoolfellows she heard the 
 words : *' Dear Leo ! Good Lona ! Dearest Ello ! 
 Poor Ellenor ! " and she felt her hand pressed in many 
 a secret clasp. 
 
 Scarcely had the door closed when a perfect Babel 
 of voices burst forth. The prudent and sensible girls 
 began to blame and censure, but the wild and rebel- 
 lious spirits were in a state of ecstasy. 
 
 ^^ I tell you what," said the black-eyed girl, "to- 
 night I mean to take away the clapper from the school 
 bell. Our sister the portress is deaf, so she will go 
 
 I 
 
146 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 on ringing and ringing, and we shall all sleep like 
 dormice, and if they punish me, I shall be put in 
 prison with my EUenor — that is just what I should 
 like ! " 
 
 " As for me," cried another girl, " I mean to 
 plaster all the stairs with soap. And then, when the 
 nuns want to go downstairs to-morrow morning, you 
 will see how quick they will go ! " 
 
 "Eight days' imprisonment on bread and water 
 and two months without going in the garden ! " cried 
 a rosy-cheeked girl with bright blue eyes. "It's not 
 so very pleasant up there in the garret ! Take my 
 advice, and do nothing rash ! " 
 
 High up under the roof was the little garret, the 
 well-known little grey garret with its stone floor. 
 Through a chink in the tiling the very tiniest patch 
 of grey sky was visible, the only spot of lightness or 
 brightness in the place, and Eleonore's sad eyes, sore 
 and weary with crying, felt impelled to wander thither, 
 whether she would or no. 
 
 There was nothing whatever in the little attic 
 except a plank and a coarse woollen coverlet. In 
 former days Eleonore could remember that a table and 
 chair used to stand there : it had, however, come to 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 147 
 
 light that she was in the habit of placing the chair on 
 the table, and by this means climbing to the chink, 
 through which she slipped like any cat, and of spend- 
 ing many hours on the steep roof, far above the 
 murmur and hubbub of Paris. Since then, however, 
 table and chair had been removed, and there re- 
 mained only the plank bedstead. With, the exception 
 of a piece of dry bread and a pitcher of water, there 
 was nothing else in the garret, not even a stove. If 
 one were cold, one could wrap oneself in the woollen 
 coverlet, which was sufficiently coarse and heavy. 
 
 Formerly the walls had been covered with all sorts 
 of rough scribbles and sketches, verses and carica- 
 tures. These, however, had been effaced, and, to 
 Eleonore's dismay, on first entering the garret she 
 was forced to undress, and everything was taken 
 from her : pencils, penknives, a little piece of fancy 
 work ; even her most sacred possession, a little note- 
 book that she carried hidden in her breast. She tried 
 to tear it quickly into pieces, but the nun snatched it 
 from her. Trembling with anger, cold, and shame, 
 she stood there, still dressed only in her chemise, 
 long after the lock of the door had been turned upon 
 her ; in the meantime, the nun, who had uttered not 
 
148 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 a word except to order her to disrobe, had disap- 
 peared with her booty. 
 
 The notebook was at once delivered to the Lady 
 Superior, and its contents were certainly not calcu- 
 lated to mitigate the severity of the sentence passed 
 against the young rebel. The pages were closely 
 covered with satirical verses, caricatures remarkable 
 for their striking resemblance to their originals, and 
 various outpourings of a wild, passionate nature. 
 
 In imagination Eleonore could see the nuns putting 
 their heads together over her little book, and could 
 hear them blaming and condemning and accusing her 
 on account of many a fault to which all the time they 
 had paid too little heed. She looked at her clothes, 
 which still lay on the floor, and said to herself. 
 
 *^Were it only winter, I would leave them off 
 entirely, so that I might freeze to death. That would 
 serve the nuns right." 
 
 She had fondly hoped to be sent away altogether 
 on account of this last prank, and now instead was 
 obliged to undergo imprisonment in its most rigorous 
 form. A punishment task would have been almost 
 an agreeable diversion. But the weary monotony 
 of nothing to do stared her in the face. And 
 
THE MOTHER- IN-LA W. 149 
 
 she would have to endure this for eight days ! Kot 
 a sound penetrated to her solitude, not even the 
 groaning of the piano under the process of purifica- 
 tion. That might have been some consolation, but 
 already her mind had ceased to dwell on that subject; 
 her thoughts were busy with the fact that she was an 
 orphan, desolate and alone in the wide world, and that 
 she would probably be obliged to remain for some 
 years longer in the hated convent. 
 
 Then all at once she was seized with unutterable 
 agonised longings for the almost-forgotten land of 
 her childhood, for the great sun of Eoumania, the vast 
 cornfields, the dark-eyed peasants with their white 
 blouses and broad sashes, for the sweet mother- 
 tongue that contained so many endearing expressions 
 — ^^Dadina" and "Mititica" and ^'Dragulitza" and 
 ^^ Inimioara" — and all the sweet words that had been 
 showered upon her by nurses and mother ; for she 
 had been the only child, the idol, the domestic 
 tyrant, and now she was here ! She was so shaken 
 by a burst of tears that she was forced to lean 
 against the wall. She threw herself upon the ground, 
 buried her face in the heap of clothes that still lay 
 on the floor near her, and sobbed out : 
 
150 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 " Mother ! my mother ! maiculitza ! take me to 
 you ! I am so unhappy ! Darling mother, why did 
 you die? Oh, let me hear you once again say, 
 ^ Dadina ! ' — mother ! maiculitza ! " 
 
 At last she arose and slowly dressed herself once 
 more in the hated convent dress. It appeared to her 
 more detestable than ever since her thoughts had 
 dwelt for awhile on the glorious colouring of hei 
 native land, the glowing brilliancy of the sunlit land- 
 scapes, the exuberant profusion of flowers, the village 
 maidens with their red petticoats, richly embroidered 
 chemisettes, and wreaths of flowers entwined in 
 their hair. It was only shame that restrained her 
 from again tearing off her dress. It seemed to her 
 that she could hear the gipsies in her fatherland 
 playing long-forgotten dance-tunes on their violins ; 
 everything appeared before her with extraordinary 
 distinctness — the scent of the newly-mown hay, the 
 beautiful green pitchers, and the pails of white wood 
 which the girls carried on their shoulders. 
 
 The vision made her so thirsty that she was 
 obliged to drink. Almost immediately, however, 
 she put down the pitcher with a shrug. That did 
 not taste like the water at home, the glorious water 
 
THE MOTHER' IN- LA W, 151 
 
 which always plays such an important part in a hot 
 climate. 
 
 " Oh, my lovely, beautiful country ! " she cried, 
 stretching out her arms. And again her eyes filled 
 with tears. The first night, exhausted with weeping, 
 she slept a deep, profound sleep. She dreamt of her 
 home, dreamt that she was lying in her mother's 
 arms; she could not recall her features, although 
 she could still feel the touch of the soft flesh, the 
 pressure of the tender bosom on which she had 
 reclined. She was so confused on awakening that 
 at first she could not realise where she was. The 
 pain in her back and limbs reminded her where she 
 had been lying; she was tired, tired to death and 
 hungry. The bread left from yesterday was dry 
 and tough ; she only ate a small piece of it, but 
 felt as satiated as though she had eaten too much. 
 In order to warm herself she began to pace up and 
 down the tiny chamber, but only grew colder and 
 colder. When the sun rose a roseate light overspread 
 the ceiling, which, however, was soon quenched, 
 and garret and roof resumed their original sombre 
 hues. 
 
 Monotony, which is so salutary for sick persons. 
 
152 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 affects those who are in health like some fatal disease ; 
 and the more excitable the organisation the more 
 quickly does it succumb. The lymphatic tempera- 
 ment grows sleepy and melancholy, the sanguine, on 
 the contrary, becomes wild and madly excited : hence 
 for such a nature solitary confinement is a hazardous 
 experiment. 
 
 By the evening of the second day, Eleonore's 
 cheeks glowed, and that night she saw visions. One 
 hallucination was followed by another, and her heart 
 never ceased to throb violently. Her restless fantasy 
 called before her excited brain one image of terror 
 after another; until at length she lay bathed in 
 sweat under her little coverlet, so frightened and 
 excited that she scarcely ventured to breathe. The 
 sister whose duty it was to change her daily ration 
 of bread and water, reported that she had never 
 uttered one word since her imprisonment, and that 
 she had dark rings round her eyes. The Lady 
 Superior, however, remained inexorable. Atonement 
 must be made for the indiscretions of the little note- 
 book, even if the girl became ill in consequence. 
 
 Eleonore had such terror of the succeeding night 
 that she never went to bed at all, but paced up and 
 
THE MOTHER'IN-LA W. 153 
 
 down, up and down in the thick darkness until at 
 last she staggered, drunken with sleep, against the 
 wall and fell into a dreamless trance. On the fol- 
 lowing day defiance had the upper hand. All the 
 demons of her being were aroused, as is so often the 
 case with hermits and ascetics. All the evil element 
 in her nature was whirling and seething in her brain, 
 and she smiled to herself now and then at her dreams 
 of revenge. 
 
 She felt herself capable of killing all the nuns, 
 of setting the entire convent on fire, and with 
 genuine delight pictured to herself tongues of flame 
 curling and wreathing round the building ; she tried 
 to think from which side it could most easily be 
 destroyed. 
 
 The darkness was very welcome to her to-day, 
 her thoughts had freer scope, and she saw a red 
 glow before her eyes. Once she looked upwards : a 
 star was shining down upon her through the chink 
 in the roof; for a moment the sight of it led her 
 thoughts into a different channel. She thought of 
 heaven, but had no belief in its existence; she 
 had been obliged to grow up without any religion, 
 for it had been strictly forbidden to give her any 
 
154 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 instruction in the Eoman Catholic faith. It was 
 thus that she had gone through all the outward 
 forms of sanctity without any comprehension of their 
 inner and spiritual significance, and had found these 
 forms hollow and insipid. 
 
 However, she locked her doubts securely in her 
 own breast, and in the fatal little book that was now 
 going from hand to hand — the diary which had 
 caused the confessor of the convent to shake his 
 head many times in great perplexity. Sleepless, 
 she fought all through that night against faith and 
 hope. Dull despair took possession of her heart, 
 and it seemed to her as though she were thoroughly 
 and innately wicked, as though she never had been, 
 and never could become, good. 
 
 The next morning her face wore the tragic expres- 
 sion that so often had disquieted the nuns and had 
 caused them to utter dismal prophecies. She stared 
 before her motionless. She appeared not to perceive 
 the presence of the sister who came to bring her 
 bread and water; the latter went down terrified to 
 the nuns, and declared her belief that the young 
 girl was going out of her mind. 
 
 '*And if there is a God, there is also a Devil," 
 
THE MO THER-IN-LA W. 155 
 
 said Eleonore, with pallid lips ; " God will not help 
 me, he has forsaken and forgotten me, so I will try 
 if the Devil will not come to my aid.'' She drew 
 a hairpin out of her hair, tore and scratched her 
 arm with it, and with her blood wrote '-'- Eleonore," in 
 large characters, on the wall. 
 
 " Devil ! do you hear me ! I will belong to you 
 from henceforward if you will only take me out of 
 this place." 
 
 She had cried these words aloud, and now she 
 stopped short, terrified ; she looked behind her to see 
 whether he were already standing there before her, 
 and nearly uttered a cry when she heard the sound of 
 a key turning in the lock. She had not heard the 
 sound of a footstep. 
 
 '' You are to go down at once into the parlour," 
 said the nun. Eleonore gazed at her speechless. 
 *' Did you hear me ? You are to go down ; your aunt 
 is there." 
 
 ^' My aunt ? My aunt Sabine ? " When Eleonore 
 entered the parlour her heart was beating so violently 
 that she could scarcely breathe. Her aunt, a pretty 
 young woman, hastened towards her and said : 
 
 '-'- Do you know that I have come to take you away 
 
156 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 with me ? I have a husband for you ; in three weeks 
 you will be a wife ! Are you not glad ? " 
 
 Eleonore's eyes wandered from her aunt to her 
 uncle, who was also her guardian, and who, had he 
 only understood even a little of psychology, might 
 have wondered at the sphynx-like expression in the 
 young girl's face. He, however, merely nodded his 
 bald head, rubbed his hands softly together as though 
 he were washing them, and said : 
 
 '^ Yes, a very good match." 
 
 '' But I know no one in this wide world." 
 
 '' Oh, that is not in the least necessary," cried the 
 aunt ; *^ I showed him your photograph, and told him 
 of your fortune, and he did not hesitate for a single 
 moment. He has a beautiful estate, and a stud of 
 horses, and his name is Scherban, and his estate is 
 called Boldeni. It is very prettily situated with 
 woods and vineyards, and lies on the Jalonitza, and 
 you will be very happy there." 
 
 Eleonore listened with her mind far away from the 
 speaker. She had not ceased to feel the chill shudder 
 of horror that seemed yet to freeze her veins, and she 
 was still afraid to look round for fear that he whom 
 she had just invoked might be standing behind her. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 157 
 
 She would have given worlds to be able to forget 
 what had happened a few moments since, to recall 
 the spirit of haughty defiance that had possessed her 
 a few days ago. Her companions ceased to envy her 
 when they saw how changed she looked ; with dreamy 
 eyes and pallid cheeks she bid them farewell, as 
 though she came from some strange world to disappear 
 like a meteor into some other strange and distant 
 world. 
 
 " You have given yourself to the Devil." She felt 
 as though someone were whispering these words in 
 her ear. It seemed to her that the spell could never 
 be broken until her name, written in blood, were 
 wiped away from the garret walls. One of the girls 
 crept upstairs to the little prison. She wanted to see 
 whether she could find some trace of that which had 
 wrought such a terrible change in Eleonore. She 
 found the name, and told the others of it, and then all 
 crept up secretly to look at it as though it were some 
 work of magic. 
 
 With blood ! What might have been her thoughts ? 
 Many questions were put to the sister who had waited 
 on her, but she did not know or refused to know 
 anything. The garret remained for some time in 
 
158 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 disuse, and so the name, which gradually faded and 
 deepened in tone, remained unperceived by the nuns. 
 
 The greatest astonishment was, however, experi- 
 enced by the Lady Superior when Eleonore the un- 
 yielding entered her apartment, fell on her knees, 
 and fervently implored her to grant her her pardon, 
 and to forget all her misconduct, otherwise she could 
 never, never be happy. She longed to ask for her 
 blessing, but dared not do so, she who had given her- 
 self up to the Devil. But when the Lady Superior of 
 her own accord laid her hand on the girl's head, 
 the latter began to sob so wildly that the old lady 
 thought that after all she must have been mistaken in 
 the child, and perhaps, through all the years that 
 Eleonore had been with her, had treated her with 
 undue severity. Eleonore' s agony of remorse, far 
 from teaching the good nuns how injurious is the 
 effect of solitary confinement, only served to strengthen 
 their belief in its efficacy. 
 
 Gladly would the young girl have suffered volun- 
 tary imprisonment, have made full confession of what 
 she had done, and by dint of fasting and penance have 
 freed her soul from the curse that rested on it. Too 
 late ; the heavy gates of the convent closed behind 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 159 
 
 her. Her innocent childhood was a thing of the 
 past, and she drove away into the great stream of 
 life. 
 
 The pilot who from time to time undertook to guide 
 the bark of her destiny was little calculated either to 
 subdue or to comprehend the tumult of passionate 
 emotion raging in her soul. Her kind aunt hurried 
 her from one shop to another, in order to get her as 
 superb a trousseau as possible, and imagined that 
 in so doing she was acting a mother's part to the 
 orphan. Then they went to the photographer. 
 Eleonore's beauty must be represented in twelve 
 different positions and toilettes. Eleonore has as yet 
 scarcely seen anything of Paris, and what she saw 
 of it now was little more than an endless succession of 
 streets and shops. She had, however, the benefit of 
 motion, of activity, and of change of scene ; also 
 she experienced a certain girlish pleasure in pretty 
 dresses and finery, and in the consciousness of her 
 own beauty. 
 
 Besides, since she had heard of the bridegroom 
 whom she had never seen, and had not the faintest 
 desire to see, she was by no means impatient to set 
 out on her homeward journey. When, however, 
 
i6o ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Vienna already lay behind her, she began to take 
 pleasure in the thought of home, and even to picture 
 its aspect to herself. 
 
 On nearing the Eoumanian frontier, her heart, in 
 spite of herself, began to beat with joy at sight of the 
 harnessed buffaloes toiling along the roads, yoked to 
 drays or waggons, and of the carts, drawn by twelve 
 to eighteen diminutive horses : these sometimes guided 
 by a single lad, riding postillion fashion, and attired 
 in white shirt, broad waistband, and lambswool cap. 
 Already the heavens were of a different hue, of that 
 deep, intense blue of eastern lands, with that great, 
 great sun, that seems to have so many more rays than 
 in colder countries. The air had become intensely 
 hot, but, in spite of the clouds of dust, Eleonore 
 enjoyed the heat like a lizard. While at the convent 
 she had literally pined for the sunshine of her native 
 land, and had laughed at her schoolfellows when 
 they had complained of the warmth, and pulled down 
 the blinds ; she, on the contrary, loved to warm 
 herself in the intense white heat of a Paris sun. 
 
 The travelling party had quitted the railway, and 
 were seated in a roomy comfortable carriage, with 
 eight posthorses and two postillions, driving in Eou- 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, i6i 
 
 manian tempo, through the fertile country to Morineni, 
 her uncle's estate. 
 
 Eleonore was in ecstasies at the rapid course, at 
 the cries of the postillions, and the cracking of their 
 whips ; at the beautiful scarlet petticoats, white bod- 
 ices and veils of the women working in the fields. 
 Peasants rode past them who sat on horseback as 
 gracefully as though they were a part of the animal 
 they bestrode ; their white cloaks floated backwards 
 as they rode, displaying their linings of fur : on the 
 outer surfaces these cloaks were richly embroidered, 
 as were also the men's closely-fitting sleeveless waist- 
 coats. Women likewise rode past, who sat their 
 horses like men, hushing their babies as they rode, 
 and herds innumerable wended their way towards the 
 mountains. 
 
 Eleonore laughed at the shaggy donkeys, literally 
 robed in fur, who carried the shepherd's baggage, 
 and at the dogs, who looked to her like jackals and 
 young bears. 
 
 Out of sight, already out of sight, as in a dream. 
 As in a dream the happy days of childhood came back 
 to Eleonore, the days when she had roamed through 
 the fields with her father, and had tasted pieces of 
 
 M 
 
i62 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 mamaligay just taken out of the black pot for the 
 morning meal. At every moment some well-remem- 
 bered sound of home struck her ear. "Oh, my 
 beautiful mother-tongue ! " she thought, but when 
 she tried, in thought, to form sentences, she was no 
 longer able to do so, and her eyes filled with tears at 
 the idea of having forgotten the language of her 
 childhood, of her native land. She laughed aloud at 
 the sight of a little urchin — save for a very scanty 
 shirt and huge lambswool cap, destitute of clothes — 
 who had taken up in his arms a goose, nearly as big 
 as himself, in order to save it from the attacks of an 
 enormous pig. 
 
 Far away in the distant fields she could see the 
 outlines of the great cross-bars by means of which 
 buckets are lowered into the wells, and when they 
 had come nearer she saw the peasant maidens standing 
 barefooted, with their skirts caught up on one side, 
 and carnations in their hair, also on one side, just 
 at the back of the ear. 
 
 Out of sight, out of sight ; then a whole herd of 
 buffaloes came towards them, perhaps a hundred head 
 of these antediluvian animals; they were hurrying 
 towards the river, into which they plunged speedily, so 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 163 
 
 that only their shining noses and retreating horns were 
 visible above the water. Now the travellers them- 
 selves had reached the Eurth, and through its waters 
 they drove, the drivers shouting to the horses, and 
 urging them on with loud cries ; the river was greatly 
 swollen by a downfall of rain, and Eleonore's heart 
 beat with terror when the raging waters almost forced 
 their way into the carriage, threatening every moment 
 either to overturn or bear away the entire equipage. 
 
 *' We shall soon be home now," said the aunt ; ^* I 
 think that most likely Scherban will have ridden out 
 to meet us, and give us greeting. Yes, there he is, 
 on one of your uncle's horses.'' 
 
 At that moment two horsemen came riding towards 
 the carriage ; one from the right, giving greeting to 
 the uncle, the other from the left, bowing to the aunt. 
 
 Eleonore scarcely vouchsafed a glance to the 
 bearded horseman on her left, he being neither tall 
 nor handsome, whereas the cavalier on her right was 
 tall and lithe as a pine-tree, with deep- set black eyes 
 under bushy eyebrows, a long, waving moustache and 
 an aquiline nose — a superb bandit's face. 
 
 When she saw this handsome man bowing grace- 
 fully before her, she felt a strange thrill that seemed 
 
i64 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 to penetrate to her heart's core. The aunt meanwhile 
 had been talking so earnestly with the other horse- 
 man that she had for a moment forgotten her niece ; 
 now, however, she turned eagerly toward her : 
 
 " Eleonore — my cousin Scherban ! " The young girl 
 blushed up to the roots of her hair and bowed gravely 
 and silently. Her heart seemed to grow cold as a 
 stone. He was not at all handsome, the other rider : 
 the aunt must have made some mistake in speaking. 
 The good-looking equestrian was then introduced to 
 her as " cousin Mihai." 
 
 So it was really true : that insignificant man yonder 
 was her fiance^ to whom she belonged already with- 
 out any possibility of refusal. It was horrible ! 
 
 The two young men galloped along beside the 
 carriage, and now others came riding to meet them ; 
 stewards and peasants, huntsmen and schoolmasters, 
 so that a whole cavalcade entered the courtyard and 
 garden of Morineni. The two cavaliers sprang from 
 their horses in order to help the ladies out of the 
 carriage, and it so happened that Scherban gave his 
 hand to Frau Sabine, Mihai to Eleonore. 
 
 They entered the vestibule, which felt fresh and 
 cool after the heat of the journey, and there they 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 165 
 
 found an array of maidservants awaiting them with 
 bouquets of flowers ; at once the attendants began to 
 remove their travelling- wraps. 
 
 The hall opened directly into the drawing-room, 
 while to right and left the doors of various sleeping- 
 apartments stood open. The windows of the drawing- 
 room commanded a pretty view of river and pond, 
 — rindeed, of several ponds, and of a wood far away 
 in the glimmering distance. Trays were at once 
 brought with Dultchatza and water, ice-cold water, 
 which refreshed the heated and thirsty travellers. 
 Eleonore declared that she was not in the least 
 tired, while her aunt threw herself upon a low 
 divan, seized a fan lying there and began to fan 
 herself energetically and noisily. 
 
 The party did not long remain together ; as soon 
 as the uncle had greeted his retainers and ser- 
 vants, they betook themselves to different chambers 
 \ of the one-storeyed house and began to make their 
 toilettes. 
 
 Eleonore was soon dressed and leaning dreamily 
 against her open window, when her aunt entered the 
 room hastily. 
 
 ^^ Well, how do you like him ? " 
 
i66 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Scherban, of course." 
 
 " Not at all, aunt." 
 
 "But, child, how can you say such a thing I 
 You musi like him now! " 
 
 " Must I ? I like the other much better." 
 
 " Which other ? What — he ! Goodness gracious ! — 
 you musn't think of liking him, child. He has squan- 
 dered his whole fortune, and now he is living with 
 us, just for a time, wears the uncle's shirts, rides his 
 horses, and now and then gets a little pocket-money 
 when he asks me for it very prettily. He is not a 
 man that any girl could think of as a husband, dear. 
 Scherban is an excellent man, so sober and steady ; 
 so good and kind to his workpeople, and to his 
 mother ! Ah, when you see her, you can't help 
 loving him." 
 
 "Does he live with her?" asked the young girl 
 coldly. She was greatly displeased at her aunt's 
 words, and a feeling of most bitter disappointment 
 had crept over her, causing the glorious May day to 
 appear grey and cold. 
 
 " Of course he lives with her, always I She will 
 fill the place of a mother to you ! " 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 167 
 
 ^^But I am not yet even decidedly engaged to 
 him?" 
 
 "With your permission, you are — most decidedly 
 engaged. The engagement is already well known 
 throughout the whole district." 
 
 "What the whole district knows is surely of very 
 little consequence ? " 
 
 "Not at all, but it is quite impossible now to 
 withdraw our consent ; if you think that in that case 
 you would get that scamp, that good-for-nothing 
 for your husband, you are very much mistaken; 
 you shall never get him, I promise you. You are 
 very ungrateful, Eleonore, after we have taken such 
 pains to provide for your future." 
 
 The aunt burst into tears. 
 
 "Well, well, don't cry, dear aunt; I only asked 
 just for the sake of asking." 
 
 After dinner the four sat down to their whist- 
 party. Eleonore was to look on ; soon, however, she 
 got up and went out on the broad verandah; she 
 longed to be alone. Scherban had sat next her at 
 dinner and talked to her with great enthusiasm of 
 his future plans and schemes ; these embraced every- 
 thing, except any notion of travelling. Eleonore 
 
1 68 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 remarked the omission, and at the bare thought of 
 passing the rest of her days in the country with 
 this good, steady man and his mother, she felt as 
 though the demon of ennui had taken possession of 
 her. '*If the mother resembles her son," she 
 thought, *^I might as well order my funeral at 
 once." 
 
 The mother, however, did not resemble her son, 
 as Eleonore discovered on the day following, when a 
 tall, stately lady entered the drawing-room ; a lady 
 with Eoman nose, large, dark eyes, and black eye- 
 brows that formed a sharp angle against the inner 
 comer of the eye and nearly met over the nose. 
 She had two even rows of faultless teeth, making a 
 centre of light and brilliancy in the dark face, while 
 her voice came deep and full from between. Her 
 hair, which was raven black, and as yet without 
 any touch of silver, was parted in smooth braids 
 above a forehead that was low, firm and regular in 
 outline. She was accompanied by two daughters, of 
 whom the one resembled her, the other her son. 
 They gazed, full of curiosity, at their brother's 
 intended bride, while the mother, Frau Pulcheria, 
 having in one glance rapidly surveyed and studied 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 169 
 
 her, kissed her in friendly fashion on the forehead, 
 during which the young girl bowed her head over the 
 elder lady's hand. 
 
 Eleonore experienced an indescribable sensation of 
 awe and fear in the presence of this imposing woman, 
 and thought : ^^ If only her son were like her ! I 
 would serve him, wait on him hand and foot ! " 
 
 She went and sat near her future mother-in-law. 
 In spite of the feelings of timidity and awe with 
 which the latter inspired her, she took refuge with 
 her, in order to escape from the questions of the 
 young girls and the possible declarations of her 
 intended. She would so much have liked to speak 
 with Mihai, but he kept out of her way. 
 
 ^^ Don't you think she has beautiful green eyes ? " 
 said Scherban to Mihai, who was smoking and 
 throwing away one cigarette after another. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 *' Why, of course, Eleonore, my intended." 
 
 " You are right, they are certainly green," answered 
 Mihai, in an indifferent tone. 
 
 "But how cold you are — and in the presence of 
 so much beauty — you, who profess to be an admirer 
 of women ! " 
 
170 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 '* I ? I have seen so many beautiful women, and 
 besides, she is not my intended. I wish she were,'' 
 he added, but in such a low voice, with his teeth in 
 his cigarette, that Scherban did not hear. 
 
 For. the next five weeks there was to be unusual 
 gaiety at Morenini. At the end of that time the wed- 
 ding was to take place, and then, thought Eleonore, 
 there would be an end of everything. She never 
 saw her intended alone, and had not the slightest 
 inclination to do so ; she was very content to take 
 interminable rides with him, her two future sisters-in- 
 law, Mihai, and her uncle, and in the evening to dance 
 to the sound of Aunt Sabine's polkas and waltzes. 
 
 Mihai was a wonderful dancer : the partner hang- 
 ing on his arm did not feel her feet touch the floor. 
 IN'eighbours came from far and near, there were 
 games in the garden, there was eating of ices, and 
 rowing on the lake, visits to the stables and devouring 
 of bonbons, which, according to custom, came every 
 three days from Bucharest, together with a magnifi- 
 cent bouquet. Luckily, the period of betrothal does 
 not last long in Eoumania, otherwise the bridegroom 
 might easily ruin himself in the flowers and sweets 
 of which he is expected to send a daily supply. 
 
THE MOTHER'IN'LA W. 171 
 
 " Do you know what sort of woman you have for 
 a mother-in-law ?" said Eleonore's uncle one day. 
 
 "She is a wonderful woman, and I reverence 
 her!" 
 
 " Not enough ! not enough ! It was the thought 
 of her that induced us to select her son for your 
 husband. There must be some good in a man who 
 has such a mother." 
 
 " If he only looked like Mihai ! " thought Eleo- 
 nore, and trembled at the thought; then she said 
 aloud : — 
 
 " But he bears very little resemblance to her ! " 
 
 " That does not matter, child ; she has brought him 
 up and has filled his mind with her own grand ideas." 
 
 Eleonore gazed at her uncle, astonished. She had 
 as yet heard no grand ideas from her intended ; but 
 possibly he was reserving them for a later period. 
 During the dance Mihai had said all kinds of beau- 
 tiful things to her, had uttered phrases full of deepest 
 feeling and emotion that had set her thinking ; he 
 had even composed exquisite sonnets in French; his 
 was certainly a cultured mind. 
 
 Scherban, however, talked of the harvest of the 
 poor on his estate, of the work that she would have 
 
172 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 to do, and Eleonore had no sort of inclination for 
 work; rather than take the burden of life on her 
 shoulders, she preferred to bloom idly in the con- 
 sciousness of her superior beauty. Her uncle con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "She — your mother-in-law — saved her husband 
 from Siberia ! " 
 
 " From Siberia ? " 
 
 " Yes ; at the time when the Eussians held posses- 
 sion of the land. Nowadays people have no concep- 
 tion of the state of things at that time. The land 
 groaned under the weight of heavy burdens, and 
 short work was made of those who were unwilling to 
 bear them. A large number of soldiers were quar- 
 tered in Frau Pulcheria's house, and their presence 
 was rendered the more unendurable to her by the 
 rough behaviour of the captain, who conducted him- 
 self as though he were master of the house. He 
 had his host's horses taken out of the stables that 
 his own might be placed there ; he raged and swore 
 the whole day long ; the vexations he caused were 
 innumerable. One day he demanded something that 
 no creature in the place could understand— seeing 
 that he could speak no language except the Kussian — 
 
THE MOTHER'IN'LA W. 173 
 
 and as Frau Pulcheria was sitting on the divan with 
 her husband, this rough, half-savage fellow entered 
 the room, swearing and cursing in his own language, 
 and rushed at the master of the house, threatening 
 him with his clenched fist. The latter sprang to his 
 feet, and was about to defend himself, when — like a 
 lightning flash — Frau Pulcheria came between the 
 two, and gave the insolent captain two such terrible 
 boxes on the ear that he tumbled backwards ; then 
 she got up from the divan and walked majestically 
 out of the room. 
 
 '^ But, wife, what have you done ! " said her husband. 
 
 " I have done what you would otherwise have 
 done, but what would have cost you your head, or at 
 any rate have sent you to Siberia, in which case we 
 should have been separated for ever ! You see if he is 
 not tame from this day forward." 
 
 And she was right. Scarcely half an hour had 
 elapsed before the Eussian came slinking into the 
 room, humbled and repentant, begging and entreating 
 that the aflPair might be kept secret, as otherwise it 
 might have serious consequences for him, and from 
 that day forwards he was a very model of politeness. 
 
 Eleonore was charmed with this story, was full 
 
174 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 of admiration for her mother-in-law, and was com- 
 forted at the thought that the latter would form one 
 of her future household ; it would be so much more 
 amusing to talk with her than with Scherban. 
 
 At the bridal ceremony, Eleonore suffered from no 
 sort of emotion or excitement, but was sufficiently 
 calm and self-possessed to let her eyes wander 
 through the church. She looked extraordinarily 
 beautiful under the golden threads, which, in place 
 of the usual veil, fell downwards from her head, 
 covering the whole of her train, and, following the 
 undulating lines of her body like a mass of golden 
 hair, enveloped her in glory, like so many sun- 
 beams. 
 
 ^^When you walk around the altar," her little 
 sister-in-law Linza had said to her, '^ don't forget to 
 think of me, and to slide your feet ever so little 
 forwards — then I shall also get a husband." 
 
 Eleonore remembered the young girPs wish, and 
 just as she was passing under a shower of blossoms, 
 she lifted her eyes in search of little Linza's nut- 
 brown face and fiery black eyes; but instead of 
 these encountered the burning orbs of Mihai, who 
 was gazing at her with unconcealed admiration and 
 
THE MOTHER- IN- LA W. 175 
 
 desire. Slie was so startled and terrified tliat for a 
 moment she tottered. Was it the Devil who had 
 looked at her? Why did that thought occur to 
 her now — she had quite forgotten it, of late. As 
 she bowed her head before the altar, in the act of 
 kissing testament and cross, the golden circlet and 
 cross, which it is customary to wear during a portion 
 of the marriage ceremony, fell from her brow and 
 rolled on the ground, a terribly evil omen. The 
 two sisters-in-law, wilful Linza and earnest Zoe, 
 gazed at each other in astonishment; Mihai's face 
 wore an ironical smile, and he took the ends of his 
 long moustachios between his teeth. He also had 
 noticed that Eleonore could scarcely suppress her 
 laughter when the crown was placed on her husband's 
 head — it was so unbecoming to him ! If Frau 
 Pulcheria was not edified by all this, she did not 
 allow any one to perceive the fact ; she stood like a 
 statue near her daughter-in-law, to whom she was 
 bridesmother. 
 
 A year and a half had elapsed, and little Linza 
 was returning from one of her interminable country 
 walks. She loved to sit and roast in the July sun 
 without any hat, and the July sun of Eoumania will 
 
176 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 often bring the thermometer up to fifty degrees. She 
 had been running for a long distance, and had grown 
 tired all of a sudden, when she perceived a cart- 
 horse grazing on the meadow. It had its feet chained 
 together, and from time to time lifted its front feet 
 with a little spring in order to get to a less barren 
 patch of ground, to find a few blades of green 
 grass. Quick as thought she unloosed the chain, 
 and was sitting like a boy on the back of the 
 unsaddled and unbridled horse, explaining to it by 
 means of a few light blows on neck and ears the 
 direction whither she desired to be carried. At first 
 the horse shook its head, but Linza allowed it to 
 eat up the entire bouquet of flowers with which she 
 had intended to adorn her dress and hair at dinner, 
 and coaxed it to go further. She soon came to a 
 dense, shady wood, where the horse found it much 
 more agreeable to munch fresh grass and leaves than 
 to go further. Linza waited for awhile ; on a sudden 
 she became aware of voices close by, and soon 
 recognised the tones of Eleonore's voice. 
 
 ^^No, Mihai; let me go ! I will go; I must get 
 home ! you terrify me ! '' 
 
 Linza stretched her little brown head forward over 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW: 177 
 
 the horse's neck, and held her breath, while her 
 eyes glittered like those of a wild cat. 
 
 ''It's of no use," said the other voice. '' You have 
 trifled with me for so long, I am in earnest now, 
 and you shall escape me no longer ! " 
 
 ''I have not trifled with you," gasped Eleonore; 
 ''it's not true! But you are the Devil, I know you 
 are ! You tempt me to sin. You see that I am 
 weak and disappointed and • miserable, and instead 
 of helping me, you make use of my misfortunes to 
 serve your own ends. Let me go, I say ! " 
 
 *'I will let you go when it pleases me, not 
 before." 
 
 '^Oh, but set me free, I implore you. I am half 
 dead with terror ! " 
 
 "Terror? what of? of the trees? For there is 
 no living soul here, far and wide. Call as loud and 
 as long as you like, no one can hear you ! You are 
 in my power ! " 
 
 " I hate you ! " 
 
 "No, that you don't! you have loved me ever 
 since the moment when we first met; and as for 
 your having married Scherban notwithstanding, that 
 was your own affair. You had already perjured 
 
 N 
 
178 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 yourself when you did so; you were already lost, 
 even then, Eleonore, and you belonged to me from 
 that time forward ! You know this very well! " 
 
 " Oh, Mihai ! have you no pity for me ? Am I 
 not sufficiently miserable already ? " 
 
 " That's just it ! out of sheer pity for you, I wish 
 to make you happy and teach you what love really 
 means. You have as yet no conception of it, my 
 poor child ! " 
 
 Just at that moment Linza gave her horse such a 
 blow with a branch that she had torn from one of the 
 trees, that it began to trot, and so she came riding 
 past the lovers, nodding and laughing at them as she 
 rode. For some time she continued to look back at 
 them, showing her white teeth. 
 
 As soon as she reached home, she sprang from 
 her horse, flew to her mother, and related to her in 
 minutest detail all that she had seen and heard. 
 
 An hour later Linza and Zoe were looking out of 
 the window. They saw Eleonore coming homewards, 
 walking slowly, and with bowed head. 
 
 " I hate her ! " said Zoe. 
 
 ^' Mother says that Scherban must not hear a word 
 of this. Just think ! poor Scherban ! " 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 179 
 
 " You have not told anyone of what you saw ? " 
 
 '' God forbid ! ISTo one." 
 
 ^' Only Keti, and Maritza, and Sophie, and " 
 
 ^' Stop ! stop ! Not so many as that ! " 
 
 " Only two of them, then ! Don't I know you ? 
 you are incorrigible ! " 
 
 '^Eleonore!" called the deep voice of Frau Pul- 
 cheria from her window. 
 
 The person thus addressed trembled visibly, and 
 became very pale. 
 
 " Eleonore, come up here to me, if you please ! " 
 
 As soon as Eleonore entered the room, Frau Pul- 
 cheria locked the door behind her, and let the 
 portiere fall over it. 
 
 ^'The matters that we have to discuss are not for 
 strange eyes and ears," said the mother-in-law. ^'If 
 your life here does not please you, and you take no 
 pains to conceal the fact from us, we can bear with 
 you patiently; if, however, you seek consolation in 
 love affairs away from this house, we are not obliged 
 to put up with the indignity. I think of keeping 
 silence for the present, in order not to break my son's 
 heart; if, however, you continue to cover his name 
 with shame, I shall not shrink from the terrible pain 
 
j8o ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 that I shall be forced to make him suffer. But as for 
 you, I shall have you flogged from this place. Do 
 you understand ? " 
 
 Eleonore fell on her knees. 
 
 '^ It is all a calumny," she stammered; "it is not 
 true ! I entreat you, dear mother, be merciful ! " 
 
 '^I have warned you. I require no confessions; 
 I wish to know nothing. Now go." 
 
 She opened the door with her firm hand, and 
 allowed Eleonore to pass out of the room, trembling 
 inwardly before the flaming eyes of her mother-in- 
 law. 
 
 But it is a well-known fact that no lock is so 
 strong and no wall so high as to be impregnable to 
 love. 
 
 Months had passed. Scherban had gone to Bucha- 
 rest about some legal business, and no one knew 
 exactly when he was likely to return. October was 
 there in all its glory, and everywhere people were 
 busy with the vintage. It was such an abundant 
 season, that old wine-casks were being emptied because 
 there were not sufficient new ones ready for use. In 
 spite of all this, entire vineyards were left perforce 
 ungathered. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. i8i 
 
 House and grounds were deserted, for all hands 
 were busy in the vineyards. Frau Pulcheria had 
 also been out of doors, and on her return she remained 
 for a moment standing in front of the portico, shading 
 her eyes with her hand, and looking out over the 
 golden glimmering landscape. On a sudden she 
 became aware of a conversation carried on in sub- 
 dued whispers in the room directly above her, of 
 which she could only catch a few words. 
 
 '' To the Devil, Eleonore ? " 
 
 "Yes, I belong to him." Then, once more the 
 words were inaudible. 
 
 ** I entreat you ! go away ! They might return ! " 
 
 "What if they do? Have I not a perfect right to 
 visit you ? " 
 
 " Oh, you don't know with what my mother-in-law 
 has threatened me ! I am shaking with fear." 
 
 "You will have an opportunity of admiring my 
 aplomb ! " 
 
 ^^Oh, Mihai, I'd rather you went away ! " 
 
 Frau Pulcheria was supporting herself against 
 the wall; she pressed her hand to her heart, and 
 opened and shut her lips as though in great physical 
 pain. 
 
1 82 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 If Eleonore could but have seen the flame in her 
 eyes ! 
 
 At that moment the house door opened, and Mihai 
 stood before her. 
 
 Por a few minutes both remained speechless. 
 
 Frau Pulcheria was the first to regain her com- 
 posure. 
 
 " My son will be here in a few moments," she said ; 
 " will you not wait to see him ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly — I don't know — I only wished 
 to see — I am afraid I haven't the time now — it is 
 vintage at my cousins' ; I couldn't be of any use there 
 — I thought I should find Scherban here." 
 
 Thus he stumbled from phrase to phrase. Frau 
 Pulcheria looked at him scornfully, and her eyes 
 glittered. 
 
 ^^ We also are very busy here," she said. 
 
 *' I will therefore take the liberty of bidding you 
 goodbye." 
 
 Frau Pulcheria inclined her head, and passed by 
 him into the house. 
 
 Eleonore was standing, half hidden by the window 
 curtains, when her mother-in-law entered the room. 
 
 She was trembling like a leaf, and already, in 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LA ^F. v 183 
 
 imagination, saw herself doomed to undergo the just 
 punishment of her sin. But Frau Pulcheria uttered 
 not a single word : she only looked at her daughter- 
 in-law, perhaps for the space of a quarter of an hour. 
 Eleonore kept tight hold of the curtain, so as to 
 prevent herself from falling, and the curtain trembled 
 with her weight, and threatened to give way every 
 moment. 
 
 And still Frau Pulcheria said never a word. 
 
 At last Zoe,. like an angel of deliverance, came 
 into the room to ask her mother about something, 
 and Frau Pulcheria went out with her, and left 
 Eleonore standing there. The latter was obliged to 
 go to bed with acute headache, and could appear no 
 more that day. She continued to tremble long after 
 she was in bed, and for some time could not restore 
 the warmth to her chilled frame. 
 
 Eleonore was out of health at this time, and so 
 irritable that it was very difficult to get on with her. 
 She quarrelled continuously with Linza more espe- 
 cially, and these two played tricks on each other 
 whenever they could. One day they had a quarrel, 
 and Eleonore was roaming through the house full of 
 vengeful thoughts, but nowhere could she find the 
 
1 84 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 little elf, Linza. On a sudden she heard the tones of 
 Linza's violin coming, apparently, from the bath- 
 room. Astonished, she opened the door noiselessly : 
 there was the young girl standing in the copper 
 hath, and listening entranced and delighted to the 
 tones of her violin, which sounded wonderfully rich 
 and full on account of the echo. Eleonore crept 
 along, softly as a cat, turned on all the taps, and set 
 the water flowing, so that in a moment of time Linza 
 found herself and her violin flooded with water. The 
 poor child wept with vexation and anger, for she 
 believed her beloved violin to be ruined for ever. 
 
 '^ Gipsy ! '' called Eleonore, laughing, and had 
 vanished before Linza could come up with her. 
 
 In that same hour Scherban was galloping at full 
 speed through the fields, where his horse's rapid 
 tread bowed the young corn and set it waving ; the 
 superb horse was covered with foam which fell about 
 him in flakes and bespattered his rider. The sun 
 radiated such springtime heat that the trees bloomed 
 anew, and the sod burst afresh with the slender, up- 
 springing herb. A haze of silvery vapour steamed up 
 from the smoking earth, and from' all the vine-clad 
 hills, far and near, there came the sound of snapping 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 185 
 
 cords, joyful outcries, stray shots, stamping feet, and 
 happy laughter. The lads had driven up to the 
 house of the rector in a cart drawn by four oxen, had 
 called out his beautiful young daughter, crowned 
 her with grapes and vineleaves, and had conducted 
 her, with accompaniment of flutes and fiddles, to the 
 great wine-vat, where the finest grapes lay piled in a 
 clean white sack. 
 
 The girl's mother had to take off her shoes, and 
 shorten her petticoats, and then she danced upon the 
 grapes to the sound of music. This was the first tread- 
 ing, or pressing of the fruit, and from this the finest 
 and richest wine was obtained. When the young girl 
 was thought to have danced sufficiently, her betrothed 
 was allowed to approach her, and to kiss the soles 
 of her feet, a proceeding viewed with e.nvy by all the 
 other lads, who cried : 
 
 ^'How beautiful and rosy you are ! Has the spring 
 boxed your ears, Yiorica ? " 
 
 Scherban tore past, without vouchsafing a single 
 glance to all this glory and gaiety. Formerly he had 
 taken such delight in the joyous merriment of the 
 young people ; had looked with such pleasure at the 
 tall youths, with flowing locks, black as ravens' 
 
1 86 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 feathers, and eyes like blackberries ; at the graceful 
 maidens with their supple figures, the delicate outline 
 of the bust just visible under their richly-embroi- 
 dered bodices. He was wont to assist at all the 
 weddings and christenings in the neighbourhood, and 
 was beloved by old and young. When the villagers 
 saw him riding by in mad haste, they suddenly became 
 hushed and sad, and gazed at one another for some 
 moments with wide-open eyes. Then jests flew hither 
 and thither, jests that abounded in humour, and at 
 the same time were often full of poetry, for never 
 were youth and maiden at a loss for a repartee in 
 their answers to one another. 
 
 Scherban dismounted in the garden so as to reach 
 the house unseen and unheard. The horse trembled 
 from head to foot, its nostrils quivered, and a network 
 of veins was visible through its silky coat ; its mane 
 shone like burnished gold, with tints similar to those 
 of the autumn foliage, that seemed as though it had 
 absorbed the golden glory of the sunbeams. It 
 appeared, indeed, as though the leaves had retained 
 all the sunshine on which they had gazed through 
 the long summer days, and were now trying to shine 
 and glow like the sunbeams themselves. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 187 
 
 Erau Pulcheria's sharp ears had heard the horse's 
 tramp and she was standing at the window when her 
 son, deadly pale and with a rapid tread, came up the 
 garden path towards the house. When she saw his 
 face, her brow was furrowed with lines of care and 
 sorrow. However, her dark eyes met his grave and 
 calm, as he entered the room with beads of sweat on 
 his forehead, and, without giving her any greeting, 
 threw two letters on the table in front of her. 
 
 " There, mother, read. It is true they are anony- 
 mous, but still you must read them." 
 
 ^* Eut who would care to trouble themselves about 
 anonymous letters ? " 
 
 "I know, mother, it is a cowardly thing to do; it 
 is everything that is foolish, it is what you will, but 
 just read ! " 
 
 She let her eyes wander over the missives. In a 
 few seconds she had read them — had she not antici- 
 pated their contents? — but still she kept her eyes 
 fixed on the papers in front of her, in order to 
 collect her thoughts and to say what was most 
 judicious. 
 
 ^^But, mother, this is a most abominable scandal. 
 Mihai is my friend. He, surely, would not be so 
 
1 88 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 wicked, so shameless, as to '' he put his hands 
 
 convulsively to his head. 
 
 **0f course not, Scherban ! How can -you believe 
 for one moment in a hoax that some wicked person is 
 trying to play on you ? " 
 
 "No, I don't believe it, mother, as you see ; I don't 
 believe it for an instant. Only, how could anyone 
 invent such a story, unless he and my wife had at 
 least been careless ? " 
 
 "But it is just the most innocent who are often 
 the most careless." 
 
 "You have perfect confidence, then, in my wife, 
 mother? " 
 
 " I would never disgrace our name by allowing the 
 shadow of suspicion to rest on your wife." 
 
 "You have had more opportunities of observing 
 her lately than I have, mother; haven't you found 
 her ill at ease, absent-minded? " 
 
 "Not that I am aware." 
 
 " Mihai has been here often ? " 
 
 "No, not so often as formerly." 
 
 "Not so often? Mother, it is ridiculous, but the 
 thought of his not having been here so often fills me 
 with anxiety. Tell me, mother, that my wife is pure 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. ■ 189 
 
 and I will believe you. For you observe everything ; 
 no footstep, no sound escapes you." 
 
 Frau Pulcheria looked at her son as though she 
 were about to subdue some terrible monster. 
 
 ^^ Your wife is innocent, Scherban." 
 
 '''' Swear it, mother ! " 
 
 She suppressed a fit of trembling that threatened 
 to convulse her tall frame, even to her lips. 
 
 '-'• I swear it.'' 
 
 With a feeling of horror she saw him go to a corner 
 of the room where her sacred images were placed, 
 under a lamp that was kept continually burning. He 
 brought them to her. 
 
 ^^ Mother, lay your hand upon the sacred images, 
 and swear to me that my wife is faithful.'' 
 
 He watched her like a hungry animal, and followed 
 each of her movements with his eyes. 
 
 She lifted her hand slowly, as though it were of 
 lead, and placed it on the sacred images. 
 
 ^'I swear!" She had raised her eyes to Heaven, 
 and her heart lifted up a fervent petition that even 
 a false oath might be forgiven to a mother's all- 
 conquering love. 
 
 " Oh thanks, mother ! thanks, mother ! " He laid 
 
190 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 the images on the table, fell on his knees before her, 
 and covered her hands with tears and kisses. 
 
 " You have saved my life, mother ! I could have 
 endured anything, everything, but not this ! I know 
 I am neither handsome nor agreeable, but I love her 
 so madly ! She must feel this ! Perhaps some day 
 she will be touched by it ; perhaps some day she will 
 learn to care for me. It would have broken my heart, I 
 should have committed some cowardly deed ! You have 
 saved me, mother ; for your eyes observe and your lips 
 have never yet uttered a falsehood." Then he left her. 
 
 For a moment she remained standing and gazing 
 back after him ; then she fell on her knees, took up 
 the sacred images and was about to kiss them, but 
 put them back in their place. 
 
 ^* Never again, as long as I live, may these lips 
 touch cross or ikon ! " she said to herself, and 
 leaning her forehead against the edge of the table, 
 she wept bitterly, bitterly as in the stormy and 
 passionate days of her youth. "I was obliged to 
 preserve my child! God pardon me! God pardon 
 me ! I am only a poor, weak mother ! Pardon me, 
 holy Virgin ! thou, who knowest the depths of a 
 mother's heart." 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. igi 
 
 When she arose from her knees she knew that as 
 long as she lived she would have to bear the burden 
 of a sin from which no power in Heaven or earth 
 could release her. She was, however, a woman of 
 strong character, and tliought that out of love to her 
 child she would be able to endure a load that in all the 
 course of her virtuous and spotless life her shoulders 
 had never yet stooped to bear — the consciousness of 
 guilt and sin — of swearing to a false oath. As Scherban 
 embraced his young wife, who blushed crimson under 
 his steady gaze, he never imagined the sacrifice that 
 his mother had just made for his sake. 
 
 It was afternoon, and Scherban had gone with his 
 sisters to see the vintage. Eleonore complained of 
 fatigue and remained at home. Her mother-in-law 
 entered the room. 
 
 "You are not aware, I presume, that your hus- 
 band has been informed of your conduct by letters, 
 and that I have sworn to him that you are inno- 
 cent." 
 
 " There is no one but Linza who could have done 
 that ! " cried Eleonore. 
 
 " It seems to me that you are not in a position to 
 accuse others, seeing that it is. with the greatest 
 
iqz ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 difficulty you can defend yourself. The letters were 
 anonymous." 
 
 " So much the worse if he believes in them." 
 
 ** He does not believe in them, but, let me tell you, 
 the strength of his passion for you is such that if he 
 is once more led to suspect you, he is capable of 
 killing both himself and you." 
 
 At that moment the sound of cracking whips and 
 postillions' cries rang through the air, and a carriage 
 containing Frau Sabine, Uncle Eaelu, and cousin 
 Mihai drove up to the house. 
 
 " Here we are again ! " cried Frau Sabine cheerily, 
 " for we guessed you would be having a lively time 
 during the vintage ! " 
 
 ^^They have all gone to the vineyards," said Frau 
 Pulcheria, coming forward to welcome her guests. 
 
 " All ? What, Eleonore also ? " 
 
 ^^ No, dear aunt, I am here ! " sounded from the 
 window, and Eleonore's charming, flushed face was 
 bent forward. 
 
 ^^"Well, then, come with us. "Where is your 
 husband?" 
 
 ^* He is gone out ; I'll come directly." 
 
 ^^ You know that a short time ago you were not 
 
THE MOTHER-IN'LA W. 193 
 
 well enough to go out," said Frau Pulcheria, with 
 stern voice and threatening eyes. 
 
 ^^Is it not possible that I may be better now?" 
 came the answer, curt and snappish. 
 
 "No, you are not better, and I command you to 
 remain at home." 
 
 " Oho ! how severe ! " said the uncle. 
 
 "I am a disagreeable mother-in-law," said Frau 
 Pulcheria, smiling. 
 
 "Well, then, I shall remain here," said Aunt 
 Sabine. 
 
 Eleonore would have preferred to be left alone, so 
 as to be able to weep undisturbed over her vexation 
 and disappointment. She gazed after the men with 
 longing eyes as they walked away in the direction of 
 the vineyards. Frau Sabine seated herself on a 
 small divan and compelled Eleonore to sit beside 
 her. 
 
 " You and your mother-in-law don't seem to get on 
 very well together," she said, in a half whisper, and 
 with an air of importance. 
 
 " How is it possible we can get on together, aunt ? 
 It seems I am disobedient." 
 
 " I suppose she's too fond of keeping you in 
 
 
 
194 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 leading strings ? But I assure you she does it out of 
 purest love and goodwill to you." 
 
 *^Do you think so?" said the young wife, bit- 
 terly. A torrent of hot, angry words trembled on her 
 lips, but for very fear she kept silence. 
 
 " And your husband — he is kind to you, is he 
 not ? " 
 
 ^^ Oh, yes, certainly, very kind ! kind as a sheep ! 
 He does everything that I wish ! " 
 
 ^' That's bad, very bad ! " said Frau Sabine, and 
 she looked as full of care and thought as was possible 
 with her cheery face. 
 
 Eleonore laughed. 
 
 ^^ You seem to be prejudiced in favour of the argu- 
 ments of Saint Nicholas, aunt." 
 
 ^' It would be far better for you if you were just a 
 very little afraid of your husband ; you would be 
 much fonder of him in that case." 
 
 Eleonore looked thoughtfully on the ground. 
 
 *^ Perhaps you are right, aunt," she said slowly. 
 
 " I will teach him how to manage you ! " cried 
 Frau Sabine, laughing. 
 
 She found her niece strangely absent- minded that 
 afternoon, for Eleonore was listening with strained 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 195 
 
 ears for the only footstep that she cared to hear. But 
 the evening shadows closed in, and the uncle came 
 back alone. 
 
 Mihai, he said, had already ridden home. It 
 seemed to Eleonore as though her heart were turning 
 to stone, especially when she heard her uncle say that 
 in fourteen days they should be moving into the city, 
 as the theatrical season had already begun. For 
 herself, she would be forced this winter to remain in 
 the country ; it was important that she should have 
 repose, said Frau Pulcheria. 
 
 It was January, and earth and air glistered with 
 crystalline clearness. On the 2nd the thermometer 
 still registered fifteen degrees above zero, and now 
 it had fallen to eighteen degrees below zero. It 
 froze about as hard as it could freeze. Youths and 
 maidens had even been forced to postpone the 
 pleasure of sleighing on account of the extreme 
 cold, and were busy with preparations for the 
 carnival, the first they would have spent in the 
 capital. 
 
 Frau Pulcheria breathed more freely in the con- 
 sciousness that the danger of Mihai's immediate 
 presence had ceased to exist— at any rate, for the next 
 
196 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 few months— and now that she was no longer occupied 
 in guarding the honour of her son, she began to busy 
 herself with plans and projects for the marriage of her 
 daughters. 
 
 Eleonore might have found her solitude more endur- 
 able had it not been for the terrible eyes that seemed 
 to be ever watching her like a tortured conscience. 
 She would have been better able to endure Scherban's 
 devoted love, if his mother and sisters had not been 
 witnesses to it, and often, through a quick and 
 expressive glance, reproached her far more bitterly 
 than they could have done in words. Scherban was 
 full of the most devoted attentions for her, and his 
 sisters, when alone together, often expressed their 
 anger against Eleonore, saying how little she 
 deserved such goodness. They dared not speak of 
 these things to their mother ; she had strictly for- 
 bidden them ever to mention this subject before her. 
 
 On this very day at last the sledge stood ready 
 before the door, and Scherban said he meant to drive 
 his mother himself ; he could not think of allowing 
 the ladies to take the long journey alone in the 
 depth of winter. 
 
 '^ In three days I shall be back, my dearest ! You 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 197 
 
 must not let yourself be dull. You have your piano, 
 and your books, and household matters. I shall make 
 all possible haste ! " And a few moments later 
 the sledge was gliding away noiselessly and with 
 such speed that the sound of the sledge-bells became 
 every second more and more indistinct, until soon it 
 had died away altogether. 
 
 Eleonore returned to her room sighing deeply ; she 
 thought of all the lovely balls that were to be given 
 that season, and of the exquisite Paris toilettes 
 that she had not yet so much as unpacked ; then 
 she heard a loud crackling sound on the snow, 
 and a messenger was standing before the door with 
 a letter, addressed to her. 
 
 As she opened it, her hands trembled, and she 
 sank again into her chair, unable to stand. It ran 
 thus : — 
 
 ^^ At nightfall you will find a sledge awaiting you 
 in the garden. If you love me, pack a few things 
 together, take some money with you, and get into 
 the sledge ; at the nearest cross-road I will join you 
 and in a few days we shall be at Mce." 
 
 Eleonore leaned back in her chair, feeling faint 
 and almost ready to swoon. She had to make a 
 
J 98 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 decision which, at one stroke, would change the whole 
 course of her life. But with him — at his side — would 
 it not indeed be heaven ! 
 
 Twenty times she sprang up and began to pack her 
 things together; then sat down again and pressed her 
 folded hands convulsively between her knees. Until 
 evening she remained firmly resolved not to go, 
 but when evening came she heard the sound of 
 sledge-bells behind the garden door, and without 
 stopping for a moment to reflect, wrapped herself in 
 her beautiful fur cloak, put on her little hat of otter- 
 skin, seized her bundle of clothes and some money, 
 and ran, without once looking round, towards the 
 garden door. She recognised neither coachman nor 
 horses; scarcely, however, had she entered the 
 sledge when the fiery beasts plunged forward and 
 tore along at headlong speed. She looked about in 
 the gathering darkness for Mihai, but saw no sign 
 of him. Ilcr heart beat audibly when, on the out- 
 skirts of 'the wood, she perceived a large number 
 of animals gliding stealthily along; in the dark- 
 ness and snow they had somewhat the effect of 
 monsters. 
 
 '^ Are those buffaloes ? " she asked, in tones of fear. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LA W. i qq 
 
 ^* IN'o — dogs," muttered the driver, without looking 
 round, and taking a firmer hold of the reins. 
 
 '^ Strange-looking dogs ! " thought Eleonore. ^^ They 
 surely cannot be wolves ? Scherban would not allow 
 his mother to travel alone, but he said nothing of 
 wolves." 
 
 ^^Are those really dogs?" she asked aloud, when 
 she found they were nearing the wood. 
 
 ^^Dogs; yes, dogs;" said the driver. Then the 
 sledge halted for a moment, and a dark figure sprang 
 in, with the question : 
 
 " Can you rely on your horses? " 
 
 " They fly like dragons,^' was the answer. 
 
 Eleonore nestled against Mihai, who, however, had 
 no time to look at her, but kept his eyes fixed on 
 the borders of the wood, where the dogs were fast 
 gathering in larger and larger numbers. Then the 
 moon arose and spread its glorious silvery light over 
 wood and field; the plain was one sheet of snow, 
 which here and there rose and sank in gentle undula- 
 tions ; the wood seemed a magic glittering cathedral, 
 the tracery of whose delicate architecture, composed 
 of millions of crystalline spires, told out sharp and 
 clear against the moonlit heavens. Now they were 
 
200 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 driving into the heart of this shrine, into the ghostly- 
 shadow of the beeches and oaks, and in another 
 moment they were surrounded by a pack of howling 
 animals. 
 
 ^'Wolves!" cried Eleonore, and clung to Mihai's 
 arm. 
 
 *'Let me go! " he cried, in a harsh voice, such as 
 she had never heard from him before. ^^ Drive, coach- 
 man — drive like the Devil ! " 
 
 The driver slashed his horses, which at other 
 times never felt the whip, and they tore along like 
 a whirlwind. Mihai brought out a revolver from 
 under his cloak, and shot one among the wolves ; at 
 once they set to work to devour their fallen comrade. 
 There were, however, too many of them ; keeping 
 close to the sledge, they tore along behind it. Had 
 a horse but slipped or fallen, every one of the party 
 would have been lost. Mihai shot again, loaded 
 quickly, and shot for the third time. Then, for the 
 first time, their followers became frightened and re- 
 mained behind. When at last Mihai turned round 
 to look after Eleonore, she lay in a deep swoon, and, 
 with a curse on his lips, he began to pommel and 
 shake her until she came to herself. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 301 
 
 Not yet fully conscious, she murmured : 
 
 " ^ Green eyes go to hell.' The Devil has got me, 
 
 and we are driving to hell." 
 
 '•'- Eleonore, don't talk so ! It is heaven we are 
 
 driving to, child — to the beautiful South, to roses 
 
 and oranges, to sunshine and love ! And," he added 
 
 to himself, ^' to the Casino at Monaco." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Scherban was leaning against a column in a 
 corner of the brilliantly illuminated ball-room, and 
 looked with pleasure at the throng of beautiful 
 women, at the charming toilettes, and at the graceful 
 motions of the dancers. A ball in Bucharest may 
 be — and more especially at that period, might be — 
 counted among the fairest sights to be seen anywhere. 
 It was a perfect galaxy of charming women, who 
 united Parisian taste in dress with Oriental feeling 
 for colour, and the most refined culture with the 
 keenest natural wit. Strangers, when they enter a 
 ball-room in Jassy or Bucharest, are fairly dazzled. 
 It must be remembered that the Eoumanians are by 
 nature keen lovers of dancing : their artistic sense and 
 their vivacious feeling alike find full satisfaction in 
 the dance and all rhythmic measure. 
 
202 ELISABETH OF ROUMANTA, 
 
 Linza flitted past Scherban, dressed in yellow crape 
 that seemed to impart a glow — almost tlie glow 
 of the sunshine itself — to her dark skin. Her eyes 
 sparkled and glittered, and the little curls on her 
 forehead seemed to curl more than ever, like little se- 
 ductive serpents. Her tiny feet scarcely touched the 
 ground, and as she was soon universally recognised as 
 a first-rate dancer, she flew from arm to arm, until at 
 lasi she begged for a few minutes' rest. Eound dances, 
 it may be as well to explain, are never, in Eoumania, 
 danced with one and the same partner. 
 
 Zoe looked like a queen, standing there in her white 
 dress, with white roses in her hair, and as she talked 
 with the persons who were introduced to her she had 
 an inimitable air of dignity and high breeding. Her 
 shapely head, with its coils of blue-black hair, 
 smoothly braided in front, and resting in a heavy 
 knot at the back of the neck, was carried in such a 
 graceful and peerless fashion that Scherban overheard 
 people asking: ''Do tell me who is that noble- 
 looking girl yonder, the latest beauty ? '' 
 
 Once she turned her large eyes on her brother and 
 smiled at him, and then she looked more beautiful 
 than ever. Her own mother was astonished ; she 
 
THE MOTHER'IN-LAW. 203 
 
 had always known her child to be good and noble, but 
 it needed a new environment to reveal to her Zoe's 
 beauty. 
 
 ^'If only Eleonore was here!" said Scherban to 
 himself. ^^ She would be the most beautiful of all." 
 
 *' I wonder where Mihai can be?" thought Frau 
 Pulcheria, and let her eyes wander over the ball- 
 room. At that moment Frau Sabine came up to 
 her. 
 
 ^' How charming your daughters look ! I must 
 congratulate you. What a pity Eleonore is not here ! 
 We should then have really had the Three Graces. 
 And my nephew Mihai is not here either : he's gone 
 wolf-hunting ; not even this long-desired ball had 
 power to detain him. How well he ' and Zoe would 
 have looked together, both so tall and graceful ! 
 What a pity ! what a pity ! " 
 
 This tirade was not at all pleasing to Frau 
 Pulcheria. Was it possible that Frau Sabine had 
 designs on her daughter, thinking perhaps thus to 
 fill Mihai's empty purse ? 
 
 In the same moment Scherban overheard someone 
 at the other side of the column against which he was 
 leaning utter the word, " Mihai," and the speaker was 
 
 Of THM 
 
 ^IJiriVSRSITTj 
 
204 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 talking in such loud tones that he could hear every 
 word distinctly. And what he heard froze the blood 
 in his veins and left lips and face colourless. 
 
 ''' Where is Mihai this evening ? " 
 
 " He's gone wolf-hunting." 
 
 ^^Ah, bah! wolf-hunting, when one has a chance 
 of dancing." 
 
 ^^ Yes, indeed ; it does not look much like Mihai." 
 
 " Ah, well ! I know the sort of wolves Mihai is 
 likely to be after." 
 
 " Aha ! Is he hunting some special game, then, at 
 the present moment ? " 
 
 *^ Of course ! Just now there is a talk of a certain 
 beautiful Eleonore, daughter-in-law of the stately 
 dame yonder. It seems Mihai is quite off his head." 
 
 ^^ Is she beautiful ? " 
 
 *' Oh, of course — beautiful as sin itself. And it 
 seems she has a most wonderful history : she is said to 
 have sold herself to the Devil." 
 
 " To the Devil ! And thereupon Mihai appeared ? " 
 
 ** Perhaps. It appears the nuns in Sacre Cceur had 
 placed her in solitary confinement; she wrote her 
 name on the wall in her own blood, called on the 
 Devil, and thereupon appeared — " 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 205 
 
 " His Dark Higliness in person?'' 
 
 "1^0 — a nun — who came to announce Eleonore's 
 aunt and her own departure from the convent." 
 
 ^^ And the aunt, I suppose, had a husband ready?" 
 
 '-'- Oh, of course — the husband and the husband's 
 friend. She introduced both to the young girl in the 
 same moment, this clever aunt. You must know that 
 if the two men are placed close together there is no 
 sort of doubt which of the two is most likely to 
 captivate a young woman. " 
 
 " But from whom did you hear all this ? " 
 
 '^Why, from Mihai himself, of course. He also 
 gave me to understand — well — you can guess what I 
 mean ! " 
 
 " The rogue ! he is always lucky ! " 
 
 Scherban leant more and more heavily against the 
 column, almost as though he himself were turned 
 into stone. His eyes were distended and vacant, like 
 those of some animal dying a torturous death ; his 
 lips were tightly compressed as though to keep back 
 the cry that the heart longed to set forth ; his nostrils 
 were dilated, but remained motionless as though every 
 eflfort to breathe had ceased. He no longer heard the 
 intoxicating sounds of the music, no longer saw the 
 
2o6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 figures of the dancers as they glided to and fro in the 
 mazes of the quadrille, happily hiding him from his 
 mother's eyes ; he had no longer any consciousness of 
 where he was. For the moment the only sensation 
 that he could realise was that of every particle of his 
 body being steeped in pain— such intolerable, madden- 
 ing pain as he had never imagined possible, and as 
 though his brain were about to burst through his 
 skull, as though another deadly wound were bleeding 
 at his breast. 
 
 When, all at once it seemed to him as if, in the far, 
 far distance, he could hear a rushing, roaring noise, as 
 of the sea. He failed to realise where he was, until 
 at last it seemed to him that from amid the raging 
 tumult of sound he could distinguish a voice, saying 
 to him : — 
 
 " Are you ill, Scherban ?" 
 
 Slowly he turned his vacant eyes in the direction 
 of the voice. It belonged to Linza, whose sharp eyes 
 never let anything escape them. He did not, how- 
 ever, in the least understand what it was she had said 
 to him. 
 
 " But, Sherban, what is the matter with you ? " 
 
 ^^ With me ?'' His voice sounded hoarse and strange : 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 207 
 
 it seemed to him as though not he, but someone else 
 were speaking. 
 
 "You are so deathly pale." 
 
 "Tell mother I am obliged to return home, but 
 she's not to be anxious about me. I have just heard 
 that my wife is not well, and so I want to get to 
 Boldeni as quickly as possible." 
 
 He drew himself up to his full height, strengthened 
 by the resolve not to allow the world to see the death- 
 wound he had just received. With weary footsteps 
 he descended the stairs and sought his sledge. 
 
 The temperature had risen slightly, and the snow 
 had begun to fall thick and fast, in large flakes, as 
 though shreds torn by the wind from handkerchiefs 
 and banners were falling slowly to the ground. 
 Scherban drove through the streets, still brilliantly 
 illuminated. Passengers on foot and in sledges were 
 hurrying to various social gatherings, a stream of 
 people were pouring out of the theatre: after the 
 peaceful busy months of summer passed in the country, 
 or a residence in some foreign watering-place, every- 
 one' seemed bent on pleasure. 
 
 He paid a hurried visit to his hotel, and put some 
 necessaries into his hand-bag; then he examined and 
 
2o8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 loaded his revolver, which he put in his pocket ; and, 
 while waiting for postillion and sledge, wrote a few 
 lines to his sister Zoe, telling her not to have any 
 anxiety on his account. Eleonore, he vrrote, had sent 
 him word that she was not very well ; Zoe should 
 soon have a letter from him. 
 
 Then for some time his head remained buried in his 
 hands, his pen idle ; at last he wrote a few lines which 
 he placed in his breast pocket, wrapped himself in his 
 fur-lined coat, pressed his fur cap over his eyes, so as 
 to protect them from wind and snow, and got into his 
 sledge. There was only one postillion in attendance. 
 
 " It will be impossible to get another postillion at 
 such short notice, but these four horses are said to 
 run as fast as eight ordinary ones," said the servant. 
 
 The man was about to take the box-seat, when 
 Scherban stopped him and begged him to remain 
 behind with his mother. 
 
 "But I am afraid we are going to have a snow- 
 storm: the snowflakes are becoming finer and smaller, 
 and the wind has risen." 
 
 " That's of no consequence, as long as the postillion 
 knows the way." 
 
 A cry from the postillion to his horses, a crack of 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LA W. 209 
 
 the whip, and away they sped to the sound of merry 
 bells ; past houses whose windows sparkled and beamed 
 with the gay lights within, past brilliantly illuminated 
 shops, past streams of hurrying men and women. 
 
 Then they were rushing through streets that were 
 quieter and more or less deserted, then by smaller 
 houses, and along alleys almost in total darkness, 
 until at last they were out in the open country. A 
 violent gust of wind swept the plains. The horses 
 raised their heads and snorted, then bowed them low 
 and started off at a furious gallop. The postillion 
 also kept his head bent forwards, so that his eyes 
 might not be blinded by the snow which became 
 every moment finer and more penetrating. 
 
 Scherban allowed his gaze to sweep over the far 
 distance : there was nothing to be seen but black 
 Night in her white robe. One could not see the 
 snowstorm — one only felt encompassed by it. 
 
 Higher and higher rose the wind, finer and finer 
 became the driving flakes — now like fine needles, 
 again like drifting sand, driving hard into eyes, face, 
 and ears, encircling the throat, blinding the vision, 
 until the entire body smarted under the lash of the 
 pitiless downpour. In a few hours the tumult and 
 
2 10 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 turmoil of the storm were such that the flakes began 
 to whirl in circles, a perfect vortex, above, below, 
 around, and about, in and around all at the same 
 time. The horses threw back their heads, and vainly 
 turned to the left, to escape the biting northern blast, 
 which beset them on every hand. 
 
 Scherban paid but little heed to what was passing 
 around him. He kept his hand on his pistol, and 
 pictured to himself, as though in delirium, how he 
 would shoot the two lovers, and then himself. His 
 revolver had six bullets, and there was not likely 
 to be any question of mercy. Just about daybreak, 
 at which hour he hoped to reach Boldeni, he would 
 enter her chamber and shoot her dead as she lay in 
 her bed. He pictured to himself her terror, her 
 piteous entreaties, her beauty ; but the thought of 
 all this only served to strengthen his resolve. 
 
 The wind blew in wild and sudden gusts. The 
 postillion had lost all trace of a road or of any definite 
 landmark ; the horses plunged more and more to the 
 left ; the snow whirled in eddying circles round 
 them, enveloping feet and face and chest; the pos- 
 tillion was obliged to close his eyes repeatedly in 
 order to melt the minute icicles that prevented him 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LA W. 2 1 1 
 
 from seeing. Deeper and deeper grew the white 
 drifts, the horses' hoofs fell on them with a hollow 
 thud, and ever and anon they sank kneedeep into 
 the yawning quicksands of snow. 
 
 ^^ And if she protests her innocence ? " Scherban 
 thought ; ^^ and I do not find the rascal with her ? — 
 My mother knew of it ! My mother was stern and 
 strict with her because she knew everything — but she 
 tried to spare me because she realised that this would 
 be my death. Poor, poor mother! — Him first, and 
 then her ! And if she speaks to me of the child ? 
 Shall I murder the child that she is bearing next 
 her heart ? Pah ! the child — better for it to die ; 
 it shall never be born. Better for it to be devoured 
 by wolves than to come into the world with the 
 brand of sin on its brow ! " 
 
 The horses were travelling . in a wide circle ; every 
 moment the continuously falling showers effaced all 
 trace of a road, but this fact was scarcely observed ; 
 they panted to an alarming degree, and the lanterns 
 burnt more and more dimly, until at length the glasses 
 were completely frozen over. Already Scherban and 
 the postillion had snow-white hair and beards, and 
 the horses were festooned with icicles that clung to 
 
2 1 2 ELISABETH OF ROUMANTA . 
 
 collar and mane ; still they continued to press forward 
 courageously. Every now and again they fell, 
 buried up to their necks in a snowdrift, but struggled 
 through it, encouraged by the cheering cries of the 
 postillion ahead. 
 
 "Sir," he said at last, " I am afraid we have lost 
 our way — there is no longer any trace of a road." 
 
 With a start, Scherban stopped short in his solilo- 
 quy; then, for the first time, became aware of the 
 raging tempest, of the whirling, blinding storm. 
 
 "Drive up to a haystack, if you can; then we can 
 kindle a fire." 
 
 The postillion sought for some object that was a 
 little upraised above the flat unbroken level of the 
 surrounding country, and at last found something 
 that might possibly be a haystack. Scherban took 
 the reins, the postillion cleared away the snow, and 
 began to twist the hay into a rope; when he had 
 made this of sufficient thickness, he set it afire and 
 endeavoured by its light to find the road, and after 
 a few minutes' search thought that he actually had 
 found it; then he set the entire haystack on fire 
 with his torch, sprang into the sledge and again took 
 the reins. 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LA W. 213 
 
 The wind flung hay and flames into the air like 
 sky-rockets, and sent them whirling with frantic 
 rapidity over the plain, a commingled vortex of 
 flnely-powdered snow and showers of flashing, scintil- 
 lating sparks. All to no purpose ; still blacker grew 
 the night and more and more impracticable the road. 
 All at once the leader stumbled into a pitfall which 
 the snow had completely levelled over, the postillion 
 swore, and, up to his neck in snow, declared : — 
 
 '' Sir, the horse has broken his leg ! " 
 
 Scherban sprang out and examined the horse ; then 
 drew his revolver and shot it dead. The other 
 appeared unhurt, but incapable of pushing forwards ; 
 he was unharnessed and allowed to lie where he fell. 
 
 '' Onward ! " cried Scherban ; then jumped back 
 into the sledge. *' Five shots remain," he muttered; 
 "- still five— that suffices.'' 
 
 The road became more and more impassable, the 
 wind howled louder and louder, now and again with 
 a sound like rattling shot, again like a tornado of sand 
 in a desert. They continued their journey with two 
 tired horses, but at a slower pace. 
 
 The postillion began to lose heart. Scherban, 
 however, was far from perceiving any danger. The 
 
?i4 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 snowdrifts became such mountains that every moment 
 the horses sank neckdeep into the abyss. The sledge 
 gave a lurch and the axles gave way. The driver 
 searched in the sledge-box and found the wherewith 
 to mend the broken joist, but with his stiff fingers 
 it was a very difficult task. The horses snorted, 
 trembled and panted, and the next step in advance 
 both fell. 
 
 ^^Sir," said the postillion, "for to-night we cannot 
 advance farther. Let us turn round the sledge and 
 shelter ourselves from the wind, so as not to freeze 
 to death." 
 
 Scherban looked at him in absolute wonder. He 
 murmured slowly : — 
 
 "Freeze to death?" 
 
 It was just as if these words brought him into a 
 new train of thought. A strange peace stole over 
 him. They put the horses in shelter from the wind 
 and dragged the sledge to one side, spread the 
 carriage rugs upon the snow, and lay down upon 
 them. An intense weariness came creeping on 
 apace, so gentle, so still, it was as if hot thoughts of 
 revenge were all slowly dispersing. The postillion 
 had brought some brandy with him, which they drank 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 215 
 
 in silence ; the horses sucked up the very snow from 
 thirst, and began drowsily to blink their eyes. 
 
 Scherban thought that were he to fall asleep here, 
 it would be the end of all misery — and thus none 
 other would be doomed to death. He could not 
 understand how it happened that such a thought 
 had not sooner occurred to him. His death would 
 free both from sin and despair. How selfish he had 
 been in his sorrow ! Why had he not realised from 
 the beginning that he ought to withdraw and leave 
 the coast clear for the handsomer, more captivating 
 man ? An infinite peace stole over his spirit. 
 
 ^^ Be happy, my child that is to come ; I bless thee," 
 he murmured, half aloud, half smiling ; '-^ and thou, 
 poor mother, shalt not have an assassin for thy son." 
 His thoughts grew more and more tranquil; he no 
 longer heard the raging storm ; a comforting sense 
 of warmth encompassed him, as the snow, quicker 
 and faster, heaped itself up as though it would 
 ultimately enshroud him ; as though it would protect 
 him from the last final agony, and preserve him in 
 purity, goodness, and guiltlessness. 
 
 Then a beautiful dream came to him : he saw 
 Eleoaore place a lovely child in his mother's arms, 
 
2i6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 and his mother took the child to her heart, and named 
 it Scherban. And after that he knew no more. 
 
 The storm raged on, piling the drifts high on men 
 and horses, until only the faint outlines of the sledge 
 were visible above the white surface. 
 
 By daybreak even these had disappeared. 
 
 For three days, night and day, the storm continued 
 with unabated fury, as though the entire heavens 
 were dissolving in snow: it was as if every wind 
 had flown from Siberia to bleat over the Black Sea 
 and freeze the flowing Danube. Far and wide, 
 nothing could be seen but snow, everywhere snow, 
 as though the sun had no longer any power to 
 thaw. The heavens, in masses of dark grey, over- 
 hung and fretted the vast white cerements below. 
 Men, women, beasts, and vehicles were overwhelmed 
 before the very gates of Bucharest ; the suburban 
 villas were quite blotted out with the deathly pall ; 
 even the chimney-stacks were almost entirely 
 obliterated, and the wolves came howling up to the 
 very portals of the city. Long trains of peasant 
 sledges were seen laden with wood, and many a 
 young forest was sacrificed in its prime, never again 
 to rejoice in spring days or summer sunlight. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 *' Mother," said Linza, ^* someone is going to die. 
 The sacred image has just cracked ; I heard it." 
 
 Frau Pulcheria grew very uneasy when, although 
 the snowstorm was over, she still received no news 
 of her son. She sent a messenger to Boldeni : he 
 did not return until after a lapse of several days, 
 when he came accompanied by the old steward. 
 With drooping head, his fur cap in his hand, the 
 old servant entered Frau Pulcheria' s room; he 
 brought with him a perfect stream of cold air, for 
 it was freezing hard outside. 
 
 "Did my son send you?" she asked, going up to 
 the old man in an excited, eager way. 
 
 The fur cap trembled in the old man's hands. 
 
 " I can't exactly say that he sent me. I came of 
 mine own accord." 
 
 "Is he ill then?" 
 
 " I am afraid he is not very well." 
 
2i8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 *^ What is the matter with him ? Did you send for 
 a doctor ? Why did you not come sooner ? " 
 
 *^ Because at first we had no idoa that the master 
 was expected, seeing that the young mistress had left 
 the house." 
 
 A look, almost of perplexity, came into Frau 
 Pulcheria's large eyes. 
 
 ^* My daughter-in-law had left the house, you say ! 
 When did she go, and where was she going?" 
 
 " We thought, of course, she must be coming here. 
 She drove away, quite alone, in a sledge." 
 
 " And after that you sent word to your master ? " 
 
 *^ No ; I thought that of course she had come 
 here." 
 
 The fur cap trembled more and more. 
 
 "And afterwards my son came to the house and 
 found her gone ? " 
 
 " No ; he never came." 
 
 **Ah, what do you say?" The strong woman 
 tottered, and caught at an armchair for support. 
 
 " We had no idea that he was travelling to Boldeni 
 in the snowstorm until your messenger arrived, and 
 then we sought for him night and day, with dogs and 
 torches — and at last we found him." 
 
THE MO THER-IN-LA W, 219 
 
 Frau Pulcheria gave a deep groan, and fell back in 
 a swoon. 
 
 The old man wrung his hands in despair, knelt 
 down beside his mistress, rubbed her hands, tried to 
 raise her head, and finally ran out of the room to 
 seek for help. He found Zoe, who rushed into the 
 room at the sound of his cries, and for a long time 
 sought in vain to restore her mother to consciousness. 
 The deathlike swoon seemed as though it would 
 indeed become the sleep of death. 
 
 '" What have you told her ? " asked Zoe, but she 
 received no answer. Linza came into the room, 
 followed by the women-servants ; the latter were in 
 tears, the messenger having told them everything. 
 
 Linza fell on her mother's neck, sobbing violently. 
 
 '•^ Don't make such a pretence," said Zoe sternly. 
 Then she looked up, and saw that everyone was 
 sobbing. 
 
 *' What are you all crying for ? " she asked, and 
 began to tremble violently. 
 
 '' Scherban ! ah, Scherban is dead ! " cried Linza, 
 in tones of despair. 
 
 At the sound of this name Frau Pulcheria opened 
 her eyes, and allowed her gaze to rest in turn on each 
 
2 20 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 member of the little circle, as though she were 
 trying to comprehend. When her eyes fell on the 
 old steward, she seemed about to go off into another 
 swoon, but every means were tried to prevent her 
 from once more losing consciousness. At length she 
 gave a deep sigh, and the tears slowly trickled down 
 her pale cheeks. 
 
 When mother and sisters arrived at the old home, 
 Scherban, lying in his coffin, appeared to them like 
 an image of peace. The priest stood at the foot of 
 the bier, murmuring the customary prayers, while 
 the numerous lights burning in the chamber cast a 
 roseate glow over the calm, pale face. 
 
 Frau Pulcheria fell prone on her son's body and 
 remained lying there a long, long while, as though 
 she would warm him into life. When at last she 
 arose, the old steward handed her a paper, saying : — 
 
 ^'We foimd this in his breast pocket, and," he 
 added, *• this in his hand; " and he placed Scherban's 
 revolver on the table. 
 
 With trembling hands Frau Pulcheria opened the 
 letter and read : — 
 
 " Do not weep for me, mother ! I have heard of 
 my wife's infidelity, and cannot survive the know- 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 221 
 
 ledge. It must have been well known to you, and it 
 was for this that your blessed lips uttered their first 
 falsehood. For this I thank you, mother, from the 
 very depths of my soul, for by this act you preserved 
 to me, for a short time, my happiness and peace of 
 mind. Forgive me for having, in my passionate 
 vehemence, required such a sacrifice on your part. 
 I am on my way to murder my fair young wife and 
 then to kill myself. Pardon me, mother, and pray 
 for my soul." 
 
 Frau Pulcheria kissed the letter with trembling, 
 burning lips, and hid it in her breast, without betray- 
 ing its contents to anyone. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Two years had passed since the night of the ball at 
 Bucharest. One day a carriage drove up to the gates 
 of Morineni. Immediately several curious faces 
 peered from the windows, for since the terrible 
 misfortune that had happened two years ago, it had 
 been very quiet in the great house, and the owners 
 had been absent the major portion of the year. 
 
 In the carriage sat a lady with pale face and eyes 
 of infinite sadness, and on her lap a lovely little boy 
 with eyes of greyish green, black eyelashes, and a 
 shower of golden curls. He looked like a tiny cherub 
 when he smiled, showing his little white teeth, and at 
 that very moment he was smiling at a dove which 
 flew past him. 
 
 A servant came to the door of the carriage. 
 
 " Is Frau Sabine at home ? " asked the strange 
 lady. The servant stared her in the face, fancying 
 that he recognised her. 
 
THE MO T HER- IN LAW. 223 
 
 ^' Yes, I believe so ; I will go and see." 
 
 The lady wrote on a piece of paper : '^ Eleonore." 
 
 " Give her that," she said. 
 
 A long, long time elapsed before the servant 
 appeared again. At last he came out of the house, 
 shut the hall door behind him, and said, stiffly and 
 coldly :—^^ Not at home." 
 
 Eleonore pressed the child's sunny head to her lips. 
 
 '^ Drive on," she said to the coachman; '^ to the 
 right, through the avenue." 
 
 The servant hastened to the kitchen, related there 
 what had happened, and expressed his most extreme 
 surprise that Eleonore should have chosen the road 
 leading to Boldeni. 
 
 Eleonore stopped the carriage at the steward's 
 lodge, paid the coachman his fare, and dismissed him. 
 Then she entered the lodge. The old man started as 
 though he had seen a ghost. 
 
 " Please," said Eleonore, ^' for pity's sake, a drop 
 of milk for my child — it is parched with thirst." 
 
 Then she sank upon a chair. 
 
 The old man fetched some milk without saying a 
 word, and then remained standing in front of her, 
 gazing at her with a troubled face. 
 
224 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 ^^ I wish to see Frau Pulcheria ; will you help me ? " 
 she said at last. 
 
 "You wish to see my mistress ? " 
 
 " I would have gone to one of the young ladies 
 had I not heard that they are both married, and have 
 left this neighbourhood. Now there is no one but 
 her to whom I can go." 
 
 The old steward shook his head. 
 
 " That will be a difficult matter.'' 
 
 " Then I will go to her alone ! " and, snatching her 
 child up with a gesture of despair, she ran out of the 
 lodge in the direction of the manor. There she found 
 a servant to whom she was unknown, and begged him 
 to request Frau Pulcheria to come to the hall-door for 
 a moment, as someone was standing without who 
 wished to speak with her. 
 
 In the course of a few moments Frau Pulcheria 
 appeared, still upright and stately, but with hair 
 prematurely bleached, her black draperies giving her 
 somewhat the appearance of an abbess. 
 
 Eleonore fell on her knees, and, holding out the 
 child towards her, said : — 
 
 " Oh, 1 entreat you, for God's sake, protect my child ! 
 They want to take it from me, after having brought 
 
THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 225 
 
 me to beggary ! Oh, take my child, I implore 
 you ! " 
 
 *^And you come to me?'' asked Frau Pulcheria's 
 sonorous voice. 
 
 ^^ I know well that I have no right to come to you, 
 but I have been sent away from other doors as though 
 I were a beggar. Oh pray, pray, pray protect my 
 child ! " 
 
 ^^ Whose child is it ? " asked Frau Pulcheria. 
 
 Eleonore bowed her head over the little neck. 
 
 " The thought that this child would soon be born 
 to us used to make him so happy ! " she whispered, 
 "and he said that it should be called Dan." 
 
 Frau Pulcheria took something sewn up in a silken 
 handkerchief from the pocket of her dress ; she tore 
 the stitches asunder, and handed to Eleonore Scher- 
 ban's last letter. 
 
 Eleonore read it at a glance, and gave it back with 
 trembling hand. 
 
 "Ah!" she cried, "had he but killed me! — it 
 would have been a far happier fate ! Ah, had he but 
 preserved me thus from shame and misery ! Oh, my 
 God ! what indescribable wretchedness I have suffered ! 
 what barbarity and ill-usage! I have been treated 
 
2 26 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 worse than one treats the meanest girl who walks the 
 streets ! I have been in hell ! and now he wants to 
 take my child, and to make it as bad as he is himself ! 
 Oh, mother ! take my child and train it so that it 
 may resemble your son! I am not worthy to have 
 charge of it ! Let me be driven with stripes from 
 your door, as you once threatened — I will suffer it 
 without one word of complaint — only, protect my 
 child ; train him to be a man, and never say a word 
 to him of his mother. Let him think that you are 
 his mother; and then he will become as good and 
 noble as was Scherban. As for me, not a trace shall 
 remain of my existence ! Never fear that I shall ever 
 again appear before you — I, who murdered him ! 
 Oh, mother, take my child ! " 
 
 Frau Pulcheria bent low, and lifting the child 
 from Eleonore's arms, took her hand and assisted her 
 to rise. Then she said : — 
 
 ^^ Come within, and remain for evermore with me." 
 
 In the garden rare nightingales sing hymns to 
 
 the goodness of God, and happy swallows, rejoicing, 
 
 circle round the house into which peace has at last 
 
 entered. 
 
IN FETTERS, 
 
m FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE T. 
 
 Isle of Wight, Madeira Yale. 
 March 10th, 18—. 
 God forgive me, I am married ! It was wicked of 
 me, but I imagined it possible to take such a step, as 
 one might conclude an amicable and peaceable treaty 
 of friendship, without thereby selling my soul to the 
 Devil. ^Never for one moment had I any thought of 
 love in the matter, and now to my horror I find that 
 my wife is in love with me ! It is enough to drive 
 one mad. Nora loves me ! Had I only known this, I 
 would never have married her. Now I am a liar, a 
 perjured creature ; I loathe myself, I despise myself, I 
 long to put an end to my existence. She loves me. 
 Ye gods ! I shall go mad. 
 
 It seems that she fell in love with my poems long 
 
230 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 before she saw me, and now she gazes at me with her 
 large eyes, and questions me as only love can question. 
 But there is no such love as hers in my heart. And 
 there never will be any such. My mother is happy 
 beyond measure at having at last succeeded in caging 
 her wild bird-of-passage. If she only knew what she 
 has done ! Even my songs have died in me. 
 
 March \^th, — It is my honeymoon, and I am living 
 in a sort of earthly Paradise. My misfortune is that 
 this is neither my first honeymoon nor my first 
 Paradise. Nora likes to follow me wherever I go : 
 to sit with me amongst the violets, sail with me in 
 my boat— I am never permitted to be alone. She talks 
 incessantly, and always looks into my eyes while she 
 is speaking, so that I am forced to listen to her. I 
 must put an end to my life. At every loving kiss, at 
 every word of love, my heart withers. In all my 
 existence I have never before uttered so many false- 
 hoods ; for when I really did love I believed in that 
 love, and never imagined it possible that my feelings 
 could undergo any change. Hence in those days I 
 never lied. But now I have become a liar. With 
 the next high tide I shall go bathing and drown 
 myself. 
 
IN FETTERS. 231 
 
 March Ibth,— But the tide refused to engulf me — I 
 am still here. How, then, did it come about that I did 
 not drown and die as I intended ? Something — I am 
 not quite clear as to what it was— drew me back to 
 shore. Nora is so overjoyed at having me with her 
 again, alive and safe, that she overwhelms me with 
 tenderness. She was most terrified, poor little thing, 
 imagining, as she did for a moment, that I had 
 perished beneath the black, surging waves. Above 
 the roar of storm and tide I could hear her wild cry 
 of despair, and once I looked towards her and saw her 
 stretching out her arms towards me. Oh, horror ! 
 I am still living ! I live because her will forces me to 
 live. This discovery maddens me. She actually will 
 not permit me to die. Her love gives her power over 
 me. I feel this, and yet I am unable to defend 
 myself. I live under the spell of her eyes. She 
 never asks, ^^ Do you love me ? " If she did I should 
 answer her quite rudely, '^ No ! " Why does she not 
 ask? 
 
 She is not even jealous. She is so sure that she is 
 the climax of all my loves that she insists on my 
 constantly repeating it to her, and she is always 
 teasing me to tell her about love passages in my past 
 
232 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 life. Sometimes it almost seems as though she wished 
 to inflict innumerable little wounds on herself, in 
 order to test her happiness, and then she begins to 
 put questions to me about my former love affairs. 
 
 At first I was shy and answered her cautiously and 
 hesitatingly. But now I have become utterly savage 
 and pitiless; I wound her whenever I can, and as 
 often as I can, as though I longed to avenge myself 
 on her for having me so utterly in her power. She 
 never winces and never grows angry, but remains 
 perfectly quiet under my stabs, and smiles up in my 
 face as though with something of a victor's joy at 
 having me in fetters. If she would only doubt my 
 love for her ! It would be my salvation. But no, I am 
 her creature. She calls me, *' My master," kisses my 
 hand, and appears to have no will of her own. In 
 spite of this apparent submission, however, she has a 
 will of iron, by dint of which she has made of me her 
 humble slave and subject; so that I lie, as it were, 
 bound and captive at her feet. If we were but at 
 home, then I might lock myself into my study, and 
 once there her power over me would cease. With a 
 revolver, there it might be possible to put an end to 
 my life. 
 
I7BRSI 
 
 IN fetter! 
 
 Eeclining on my soft pillow, I dreamed again all my 
 day-dreams, wlien suddenly it seemed that a pistol- 
 shot actually rang through my brain, bringing me 
 back to the consciousness of night and of my tor- 
 menting thoughts. 
 
 March \%th. — To-day I spoke of our return journey, 
 when she nestled up to me and said : — 
 
 " As you like, but I am so frightened ! Once 
 among your own people, something of you will be lost 
 to me ! Here you belong to me, and to me alone. I 
 have no fear of the sea ; it was powerless to tear you 
 from me. But your home is stronger than I ! Do 
 remain here just a little longer ! " 
 
 And of course I remained. 
 
 ^^ Will you not write a beautiful song ? " she asked 
 me. '* Here are pencil and paper, and I have hired a 
 piano, so that you can sing me your song as you write 
 it." 
 
 In that moment I became aware that she has even 
 killed in me my power of song. She seems to think 
 that songs can be made to order. But a poet's songs 
 sing themselves into his brain, as it were, and if they 
 do not come to him thus, they are no songs, and he is 
 no poet. 
 
234 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 I laughed loud and bitterly. 
 
 " I do not need my songs any more," I said. 
 
 " But / need them ; otherwise I cannot tell whether 
 you are happy or not." 
 
 " Foolish child ! It was just when I was most sor- 
 rowful, sorrowful even unto death, that I wrote my 
 songs. " 
 
 " This morning, from ten till half-past eleven, you 
 looked so sorrowful that I felt nearly sure you must 
 be composing a song. I have not grieved you or 
 vexed you, have I ? " 
 
 Good God ! An hour and a half ! She has actually 
 been timing me by the clock to see how long I remain 
 in low spirits. So that at times when other women 
 would fall to weeping or grumbling, she will in the 
 future bring pencil and paper, and say, ^^ Write a 
 song ! " I could laugh aloud ! By no possible 
 method could she more effectually destroy and crush 
 the artist and the poet within me. She has penetrated 
 into my last place of refuge. There is now no soli- 
 tude for me anywhere ; not even with my pen can I be 
 alone. Yesterday she looked over my manuscripts, 
 and wanted me to give her the exact history of them 
 all — to lay my inmost soul bare for her inspection. 
 
IN FETTERS. 235 
 
 I told her all sorts of wild and extravagant nonsense, 
 until at last she looked full at me with those large 
 eyes of hers, and said : — 
 
 ^^ Why won't you tell me the truth ? I can bear it 
 very well. Or are you afraid that I shall not care for 
 your poems any more ? " 
 
 ^^ But, indeed, I have almost forgotten the origin and 
 history of all these thoughts and fancies. Such things 
 come of their own accord, spontaneously : one sings as 
 birds sing, or not at all." 
 
 She looked at me searchingly. 
 
 " And rhyme, does that also come spontaneously ? " 
 
 *' Of course ! How could it come otherwise ? " 
 
 *^ I have never in all my life been able to compose 
 one single verse of poetry ! " 
 
 Now she will begin to dissect me alive. For she is 
 very thorough in all she does. She will search out 
 and carefully analyse the thoughts that have inspired 
 my poems. It is just as though she were to try to 
 comprehend the wind, or the ebb and flow of the tide. 
 ^' WhyV she asks. Everyone who is not himself a 
 poet will persist in asking, '^ Why ? " 
 
 March l^th, — This place grows daily more beautiful. 
 Our rose-bedecked cottage is enveloped as it were in 
 
236 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 clouds of fragrance. Last night I arose softly, and 
 threw myself on the grass outside. I thought of a 
 certain night in Sorrento, and the tears fell. How 
 beautiful she was, my Lavinia ! She was like some 
 lovely, stately goddess ; and indeed, she was my god- 
 dess, my star, my everything. How can I adequately 
 describe her ; how satisfy my own feelings in doing so ? 
 Into what magic tints shall I dip my brush in order 
 to bring her back to me ; as by enchantment, bring her 
 back in all her brilliant glowing loveliness ? She 
 was bom in the South of France, and had Arabian 
 blood in her veins; she had a creamy skin with a 
 peach-like bloom, large dark eyes, luxuriant hair of 
 a bluish-black, lips of coral red, wonderful little teeth, 
 a classic nose, with transparent, incessantly quivering 
 nostrils, and one dark spot under the left eye, set 
 there, as it were, but to enhance the fairness of 
 her beauty. 
 
 But what is description in comparison with reality ? 
 I should like to erase every word that I have written, 
 to tear in pieces the page that looks back at me so 
 coldly. It seems to me as though I saw her coming 
 towards me in all her slender grace and stately repose ; 
 as though I could hear the sound of her deep, tender 
 
IN FETTERS, 237 
 
 voice ; as though once again I felt compelled to 
 whisper, " Lavinia ! " 
 
 My mother would not hear of making her my wife, 
 my superb Arabian. I could scarcely, however, have 
 been more unhappy with her than I am at present. I 
 should have taken her to my estate, and have kept 
 her a close prisoner there, and not allowed any human 
 creature to come near her. Possibly I should have 
 tormented her to death with jealousy and suspicion, 
 but she would nevertheless have belonged to me, and 
 I should have been able to preserve her from shame 
 and misery. I would have loved her madly, but at the 
 same time I would have protected her, and — 
 
 March 21st — ^* Come, Ewald ! Let us drive to 
 Shanklin Chine and see the waterfall." 
 
 Like the icy breath of an east wind, the voice of my 
 young wife struck with a sudden chill into the heated 
 atmosphere of my glowing and excited feelings. There 
 was only just time to hastily secrete the words I had 
 written. Her large grey eyes had, however, perceived 
 the manuscript, and the finely formed nose took rather 
 a sharp and downward curve. 
 
 *' So you have been writing ? Why do you not show 
 me what you write ? '' 
 
238 ELISABETH OF KOUMANIA. 
 
 ** I can never show anything unfinished. It is like 
 being flayed alive." 
 
 **And I have been rejoicing in the thought of 
 sharing your labours, of being your secretary. " 
 
 ^' I am as shy in all that concerns my work as any 
 schoolgirl, and as nervous as a violinist.'' 
 
 *^ I undertake to cure you of that. It is only because 
 you have never yet had anyone in whom you could 
 thoroughly confide." 
 
 I trembled with rage and impatience, but said, quite 
 in a friendly tone : — 
 
 "Yes, dear heart ! " and took my hat and left her. 
 
 The way in which she says " Ewald," with her 
 English accent, is certainly charming, but nevertheless 
 I am irritated by it. I think of the tender, loving tone 
 in which Lavinia used to say, "Jannino," for she 
 could never pronounce the word, " Hans." And then 
 she used to look at me with her intoxicating eyes. 
 Ah, Lavinia ! how madly have I loved you. You 
 would never have become bad, would you, had I 
 remained near you ? You were such a noble creature, 
 my darling. I remember your perfect repose of manner, 
 your majestic and dignified bearing, and the quiet way 
 in which you used to slowly raise your eyes under the 
 
IN FETTERS. 239 
 
 proudly arched brows that seemed to rule the world. 
 Who could have guessed that under this calm exterior 
 you hid such a tumult of passionate feeling. I will 
 tell your story calmly, as though I were someone else, 
 and not a madman, plunging both hands into an old 
 wound. 
 
 Lavinia was an orphan, and had been brought up 
 in a convent. Her convent training might have had 
 a far more injurious effect on her character than was 
 actually the case, had not the convent been ruled by 
 a woman of unusual ability. This woman deserved to 
 have an entire book written about her, but I have only 
 space here for a few details related to me by Lavinia. 
 
 She— the Mother Superior — was comparatively 
 young, but under her nun's veil she hid hair that was 
 snow-white, for in one and the same day she had lost 
 father, husband, and five children, from an infectious 
 disease, and, worst of all, she was tormented by remorse, 
 because for a short space of time she had deprived those 
 loved ones of her tender solicitude — had allowed her 
 heart to dwell elsewhere. She imagined that only in 
 the cloister would it be possible for her to atone for 
 her sin, and to lighten her almost intolerable burden 
 of remorse and sorrow. This woman was capable of 
 
240 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 understanding a nature like that of Lavinia. The 
 young girl had a great longing to take the veil, but 
 the Lady Superior detected youthful exaltation, and 
 felt that, lying in wait in the girl's nature, was 
 enthusiasm of a far wilder and more passionate sort ; 
 hence, with extreme gentleness and mildness, she for- 
 bade her to take such a decisive step. 
 
 Perhaps her own experience had taught her how 
 difficult it is to forego the satisfaction of passionate 
 desires, and to stifle one's craving after the pleasures 
 of heart and sense. She had weathered all the storms 
 of life, and had not suffered shipwreck; she had seen 
 all her loved ones die, and had not been turned to 
 stone; but by these experiences she had gained an 
 intimate knowledge of human character and human 
 passion. 
 
 With many bitter tears Lavinia had torn herself 
 from the arms of her friend, and had followed her 
 sister and her sister's husband to Sorrento. It was 
 there that I first made her acquaintance, having ac- 
 companied thither my mother and my invalid sister. 
 In the very first moment of our meeting I fell under 
 her spell. Not so my mother. 
 
 It was sunset; the evening was sweet with all 
 
IN FETTERS. 241 
 
 manner of fragrant odours. On a sudden I perceived 
 Lavinia standing near us, gazing out over the sea. 
 Her eyes seemed to catch and retain every ray of 
 the golden tramonta. 
 
 At the sight of so much beauty I experienced a 
 sudden thrill of sharp and subtle pain ; I felt as though 
 impelled to rush towards her, and held my breath for 
 fear that I might cause her to change her attitude. 
 The spell was broken by my sister moving; the 
 stranger turned towards us, an expression of sympathy 
 in her eyes that considerably enhanced their beauty. 
 My sister told me afterwards that she was exquisitely 
 dressed. I have not the slightest idea what was the 
 fashion or colour of her garment; I can remember 
 only the subtle magic influence that seemed to stream 
 from her towards me ; even now I can feel the warm 
 glance of her almond eyes. I must have stared at her 
 very intently, for all at once she blushed deeply and 
 disappeared from the balcony. Of course I lost no 
 time in making her acquaintance. 
 
 Her sister was short, inclined to embonpoint, viva- 
 cious, and much occupied with her baby daughter, 
 whilst her brother-in-law seemed very much occupied 
 with her — Lavinia. I often visited them in their 
 
 R 
 
242 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 villa, where I soon became a welcome guest. My 
 mother was not at all contented with the state of 
 affairs. The girl, she said, was a thorough coquette, 
 and allowed her brother-in-law to pay her attentions ; 
 nothing would induce her to make her acquaintance 
 or to have anything to do with her, &c. 
 
 One day I rode up to the villa and found it deserted. 
 My heart stood still with despair and disappointment. 
 I ran through all the rooms. Silence everywhere ; 
 traces of hurried packing, and a certain disorder and 
 confusion that I had never observed there before. I 
 opened door after door — emptiness, solitude every- 
 where. Just as I was approaching a writing-table 
 to see whether some word of farewell might not 
 have been left there for me, I heard a light foot- 
 step slowly descending the stairs and entering the 
 little ante-room that led into the garden, and there, 
 in front of me, stood Lavinia, pale, like a wrathful 
 angel, with lips tightly pressed together, and eyes 
 whence all light had died away. She gazed at me 
 in silence. 
 
 "Lavinia, dear Lavinia ! " I cried. 
 
 But she drew back a step. 
 
 *^Do you know what has happened?" she said, 
 
IN FETTERS. 243 
 
 "and have you come to see me nevertheless, or do 
 you know nothing ? " 
 
 " In God's name, tell me — has any misfortune 
 befallen this house ? " 
 
 " So you know nothing. That is just what I 
 imagined ; otherwise you would never have come ! '' 
 
 " But tell me, what has happened ? " 
 
 " My sister has gone away quite suddenly and 
 unexpectedly with her child," said the young girl, 
 in a deep, joyless voice, " because she imagined — 
 because she imagined that her husband and I — '' 
 She could say no more, but covered her face with 
 her hands. 
 
 " And she has left you, poor child, exposed to 
 public scandal and gossip ? Oh, how cruel ! " 
 
 "My brother-in-law at once set off in search of 
 her, and I remain here," she said, letting head and 
 arms sink like someone, who, being accused of a 
 crime, does not care to make any defence, because he 
 well knows that appearances are against him. 
 
 " But you surely do not imagine, Lavinia, that I 
 shall give any credence whatever to these abominable 
 scandals ? Does it not occur to you that I am likely 
 to treat you with even greater respect and considera 
 
2+4- ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 tion than usual, just because you are solitary and 
 forsaken? Surely you do not think so meanly of 
 me, Lavinia ? " 
 
 Still she hung her head despondently, while the 
 sunbeams, passing through the half-opened garden 
 door, played and glimmered in her shining hair. 
 
 "Leave me," she said; "I must bear my fate 
 alone ! " and, bursting into tears, she sank upon a 
 couch. What I thereupon said to her is so much a 
 matter of course that I scarcely need relate it here. 
 I spoke to her of my ardent love, assured her that 
 in her present forsaken and desolate situation I 
 should regard her as a sacred being, and that she 
 need not have the slightest fear of me ; in fact, I said 
 everything that an honourable and upright man 
 would be likely to say at such a time. Ah, how 
 wonderfully sweet it was to see that superbly beau- 
 tiful woman revive under the influence of my love — 
 she who but a moment before had imagined herself 
 to be despised and abandoned by all. Every one of 
 her servants, with the exception of one old faithful 
 negress, had forsaken her. 
 
 I was obliged to talk to her long and earnestly 
 before she would either believe in or trust me. 
 
IN FETTERS. 245 
 
 Every now and then she was overcome by sensations 
 of mingled shyness and terror, and she seemed unable 
 to struggle against the conviction that she must 
 necessarily remain from henceforward and for ever a 
 disgraced and branded creature. 
 
 I could not endure to see my sublime and stately 
 goddess so utterly crushed and broken-hearted. In 
 quite paternal fashion, I laid my hand on her head ; 
 she, however, trembled so violently at my touch that 
 I withdrew my hand. My feelings at that moment 
 resembled those of some youthful priest who has 
 inadvertently laid profane hands on the sacred 
 amphorae. 
 
 From that time forward I used to ride over every 
 day to visit Lavinia in her solitude, and I found her 
 full of courage, strength of mind, and resolution. 
 Likewise she bad absolutely no fear of robbers, and 
 although she had no other protection than her old 
 negress, a gardener's boy, and two pistols, was not 
 afraid to live alone. 
 
 Owing to my sister's failing health, it was some 
 time before my mother came to hear of the misfor- 
 tune that had befallen Lavinia. But when she did 
 hear of it — ah ! that was a terrible hour for me. 
 
246 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 She assured me tliat if I wished to bring her speedily 
 to her grave, the best thing I could do would be to 
 marry this girl. 
 
 *' I would far rather," she said, ^^ see you married 
 to a servant-maid — to any honest girl — rather than 
 to one at whom the fingers of all the world are 
 pointed in scorn.'' 
 
 A few days later she informed me that the doctors 
 were uneasy about the state of my sister's health, 
 that they considered the air of Sorrento not sufficiently 
 warm for her, and recommended Egypt. I did not 
 believe her for a moment, for I was quite beside 
 myself with rage, and guessed that she had managed 
 to win the doctors over to her side in order to be 
 better able to separate me from Lavinia. 
 
 My final visit to Lavinia was an hour of terrible 
 suffering, of almost mortal despair for us both. I dared 
 not say to her, "Become my wife," and I was com- 
 pelled to leave her alone in the world — in the very 
 same world that had outlawed her, and had condemned 
 her to solitude and abandonment as though she were a 
 leper. 
 
 When I informed her that I was forced to leave 
 hel" for awhile, she gazed at me long and searchingly. 
 
IN FETTERS. 247 
 
 " Of course, the meaning of this is that your mother, 
 Jannino — your mother has heard all about me. You 
 have been very imprudent. Your reputation might 
 have suffered, you know." 
 
 How satirical and how bitter rang these words from 
 her lips ! I assured her of my deep and unalterable 
 love, but how was she to believe me, seeing that I 
 never once spoke to her of the marriage tie ? My 
 heart seemed all aglow and on fire. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 March 24:th, — " Lavinia ! Who is she, I wonder ? " 
 said my wife, peering over my shoulder. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, during which I 
 hastily disarranged the leaves of my journal, before I 
 was capable of a reply. 
 
 ** Lavinia!— oh, merely a pretty girl whose acquain- 
 tance I once made, and whom I am going to utilise 
 in my next novelette. I was just making a few 
 rough notes, for fear that I might forget certain 
 details." Never once had I mentioned Lavinia to 
 my wife. 
 
 "Why do you not tell me all about her, then? 
 My memory is like a book, I never forget anything. 
 Whatever you relate to me I immediately arrange in 
 small compartments in my brain, and from this store 
 you may obtain, ad libitum^ as much and as often as 
 you please. My brain is like a commodious cabinet 
 
IN FETTERS. 249 
 
 whose contents are carefully and methodically ar- 
 ranged in numerous tiny compartments." 
 
 I thought of Schumann's words : ^' Woman is chaos, 
 but from this chaos the world is recreated." 
 
 Of what use to a poet is subject-matter taken from a 
 cabinet where everything has its special compartment 
 and its special number. Nora's passion for order and 
 method frightens me out of my wits. Most assuredly 
 she has already analysed and tabulated my character 
 and disposition, and her cold eyes have studied me 
 carefully and critically, anxious not to overlook the 
 most insignificant minutiae. At the same time, she is 
 not without a certain kind of refined taste, and is, in 
 a certain sense, a connoisseur in art and antiquities. 
 We visited lately some of the old curiosity shops in 
 London. She was most prompt and accurate in de- 
 tecting at the first glance what was really antique, 
 and what mere imitation, and she took such a long 
 time bartering and bargaining that at last I whis- 
 pered softly, *'Eut, Nora, this is not ladylike." She 
 merely laughed in reply, so that I left the shop and 
 walked up and down in front of the door, until at 
 length she came out and joined me, her face beaming 
 with pleasure and satisfaction as she took my arm. 
 
250 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 " Surely you are not displeased ? " she said. 
 
 ^^ How is it possible not to be displeased ? " I replied. 
 "Am I not rich enough to gratify each and everyone 
 of your whims, even if you wished to buy up the 
 whole shop. But this bargaining is hateful to me." 
 
 " Ah, I am beginning to see that I shall just do 
 for your business factotum and general manager," she 
 said, laughing. 
 
 And she has kept her word. She now takes charge 
 of my banker's book, and keeps a careful and accurate 
 account of all our expenditure. The next thing will 
 be that she will refuse to allow me any money when 
 I wish to spend what is my own. 
 
 To-day, instead of yesterday's fog, there is a cold, 
 drizzling rain. That is just what Nora likes. She 
 has begun her interminable letter- writing, after having 
 first arranged all my watercolour and pencil sketches 
 in most faultless and systematic order. 
 
 In doing this she brought to light a few studies of 
 Sorrento that I thought to have destroyed long ago, and 
 among them several which Lavinia had painted under 
 my instructions. I imagined that by becoming her 
 teacher I might help to make her life more endurable. 
 But I soon found that she did more work when I was 
 
IN FETTERS. 251 
 
 not there, for when I came she used to lead me to a 
 cool grotto in the shadiest and most secluded corner 
 of the garden, and there she would often rest her 
 beautiful head on the moist stones as she listened with 
 slightly parted, smiling lips to my words of love. And 
 then, suddenly, she would throw her arms around my 
 neck, draw me towards her, but to take flight all in 
 the same moment. Had she not been so utterly 
 desolate and unprotected, I would not have allowed 
 her to make her escape. 
 
 And when at length I told her that I must go away^ 
 she lay on my breast like a crushed flower. 
 
 ^* If you also abandon and forsake me, Jannino, I 
 shall indeed feel that I am worthless, and have no 
 longer any value for any one ! " 
 
 ** I shall return ! " 
 
 She looked full into my eyes, and then she shook 
 her head. 
 
 '^ You will never return ! " 
 
 '^ I swear it ! " 
 
 She tried to utter a cry of delight, but it changed 
 into a kind of half-choked sob. 
 
 ^' If only I could hear you sing once more before I 
 die ! " 
 
252 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 We sat talking under the starlit sky until the night 
 was far advanced, but at last we were forced to sepa- 
 rate. What is the use of describing moments like 
 these ? One has to live through them, but it is quite 
 impossible to write about them. I rode away through 
 that lovely starlit night like one in a dream, like one 
 who is bidding eternal farewell to his better self and 
 his life's happiness. 
 
 I found my mother sitting up, waiting for me. 
 
 "Do you still belong to me, or are you lost to 
 me ? " she asked. 
 
 " I still belong to you, but I am lost to you never- 
 theless," I answered, in a cold, harsh voice, and then 
 locked myself into my room until the morning. 
 
 How can I describe the long, long months we spent 
 upon the Nile ; how write of the gently flickering, 
 slowly dying flame of life in my sister ; of the untiring 
 patience and constant self-surrender of my mother, 
 whose life at that time was certainly not made easier 
 by my presence ? She, however, never complained. I 
 almost hated her in those days, and in my bitterness 
 and despair I said many hard things to her. Once I 
 cried : — 
 
 " Do you think that because you have given me life 
 
IN FETTERS, 253 
 
 you have therefore any right to crush and destroy that 
 life in me?" 
 
 And my mother was silent. 
 
 My sister used to talk to me with a gentle sweetness 
 that was almost angelic, as we sat on deck, our hands 
 clasped in one another's, slowly sailing up the Nile. 
 She was always entreating that we might go farther, 
 and yet a little farther, and I used to imagine that this 
 wish for constant change of scene was due to the rest- 
 lessness of an invalid, until later I discovered that it 
 was entirely for my sake ; in order to give me distrac- 
 tion, and that she was suffering in those last weeks 
 from burning homesickness, and would so gladly have 
 gone home to die. 
 
 " Neither of us has as yet succeeded in making our 
 mother happy," she whispered ; ^' but you will still do 
 this?" 
 
 '' I, indeed I " 
 
 Soon afterwards she lay dead. Then, in mourning 
 clothes and with heavy hearts, we returned home. I 
 tried m.y very best to remain there and to be contented 
 with my surroundings, but when autumn set in and 
 winter was approaching, my longing after Sorrento 
 became almost unbearable. 
 
254 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 " Let me go, mother. I must go southwards ; I 
 cannot exist in the north." 
 
 " Very well, my son, I will go with you. I have 
 a longing once more to see the places where my child 
 stayed for a time while she still belonged to me. I 
 know that I must be a burden to you, and yet I think 
 you will have patience with me, out of pity for my 
 sad aching heart." 
 
 The women who are dear to me seem predestined to 
 be my fatality. 
 
 March 21th, — I had scarcely written the last words 
 when my wife entered the room, asking me to look at 
 the menu. !N'ow the food question has always been 
 my abomination. I 'positively detest the sight, and 
 sound, and smell, and thought of eating. I have no 
 tendency whatever towards gormandising, and am 
 only too glad when the tedious business of drinking 
 and feeding is at an end. I still live in the earnest 
 hope that before I die some inventive genius may 
 discover a means of swallowing all requisite nourish- 
 ment in the form of peai:ls. My wife regards this 
 feebleness of epicurean sense as a positive defect in 
 my education. Every day I am obliged to go through 
 the bill of fare with her, every day I see the same 
 
IN FETTERS. 255 
 
 things written down on it : soup, fish, meat, and so on 
 — each and every one things that I eat with positive 
 distaste, and of which the sight, and still more the 
 thought, bore me to death. Like Byron, directly I 
 see a woman eating whom I admire, she has lost all 
 charm for me. Such a creature ought rightly to exist 
 upon ether and dew. Sometimes I wonder whether 
 my wife has any soul whatever, or whether she has 
 merely appetite and memory. Moreover she is a 
 walking encyclopaedia, and constantly makes me blush 
 on account of my growing ignorance. For I have no 
 love of reading, and I read very little ; I prefer essays 
 to books, and human beings to biographies. 
 
 My wife writes a firm, large hand. "When once she 
 has affixed her signature, '^ Honoria Ewald," to any- 
 thing, be it merely a card of invitation, it looks like a 
 legal document. She is never hasty or superficial in 
 anything she does, nor does she ever betray any sign 
 of weakness or of needing any assistance from others. 
 She is always strong and self-sufficing, and able to 
 stand on her own feet. These characteristics are, 
 doubtless, a blessing to her. But I, for my part, far 
 prefer gentle, tender womanliness, even very great 
 weakness, imperfection — anything rather than this 
 
^56 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 eternal, imperturbable strong-mindedness. I have 
 always been fond of Magdalenes — a taste that has been 
 to me as an evil destiny. 
 
 So we went together to Sorrento. At first my 
 mother would not permit me to leave her side, but 
 insisted on my accompanying her to every spot that 
 reminded her of my sister. At last, however, one day 
 I found that I was free to go where I pleased. I 
 hastened at once to the villa, but found no one there 
 except the gardener's boy. 
 
 ^^ Where is your mistress? " I asked. 
 
 '' I don't know." 
 
 '-'' Where is the negress ? " 
 
 '' She is dead." 
 
 "Dead! The negress?" 
 
 " The robbers killed her." 
 
 " And your mistress ? " 
 
 " She shot the robbers dead." 
 
 " And afterwards ? " 
 
 " After then she used to be always going out to 
 sea." 
 
 "And later?" 
 
 My God ! I could have shaken him for his deli- 
 berate coolness and equanimity. But I feared that 
 
IN FETTERS. 257 
 
 if I showed any sign of anger, I might cause him to 
 hold his tongne altogether. 
 
 '^ Was there no one here in those days besides your 
 mistress? '' 
 
 '^ Oh, yes, a gentleman used to come here." 
 
 ^' Do you mean your master ? '' 
 
 '^ No, a gentleman." 
 
 ** Did he come often ? " 
 
 '' Yes, often." 
 
 "Who was he?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " And did he take her away with him ? " 
 
 " "N'o, he went away himself." 
 
 "He went away? Why, then? Who was he, 
 then ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Was he a native of this place ? " 
 
 "He spoke Italian." 
 
 " What did she do after he had gone away ? " 
 
 " She used to be always going out to sea." 
 
 The lad looked so knowing, in spite of all his stupid 
 answers, that I could gladly have strangled him. 
 
 "And the last time she went to sea, did she go far 
 away ? " 
 
Z58 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 '^!N'o, I believe not; I don't know." 
 
 " But, fellow, did she not give you orders of any- 
 kind ? Did she say nothing to you ? " 
 
 *^ She said nothing to me. She has gone away." 
 
 ^' But did you not make any search after her ? " 
 
 ^' "No, because I saw her go away." 
 
 *^Eascal ! " I cried, ^^ tell me where she is gone." 
 
 '^ She is gone where she wishes no one to find her." 
 
 I grew hot and cold by turns. 
 
 " She is surely not under the sea ? " 
 
 " No, she is not there." 
 
 " You need not say a word : only point with your 
 hand in the direction in which she went." 
 
 He pointed in the direction of a monastery situated 
 on a high cliff that overhung the sea. 
 
 " But she surely did not go to the monastery ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 I wonder now how it was that I was able to refrain 
 from throttling him. In despair at not being able to 
 obtain any more certain information, and full of sad 
 and bitter thoughts, I turned my course in the direc- 
 tion of the monastery. This time I resolved to be 
 more cautious in my enquiries, and allowed my horse 
 to walk leisurely up the steep, slippery path that led 
 
IN FETTERS. 259 
 
 to the sacred gates, in order to give myself time to 
 plan what I had best say when I arrived there. 
 
 I begged the brother who acted as doorkeeper to 
 show me the chapel and the library, and did my very 
 best to make him talk. But he betrayed nothing. At 
 length I asked to see the refectory. 
 
 " That is inhabited at present; you cannot see it." 
 
 " Inhabited ? Have you, then, some guest of high 
 rank?'' 
 
 ^' Ah, dear sir, not of very high rank, I assure you. 
 A very poor guest, indeed ! " 
 
 ^* You have a poor person in the refectory ? " 
 
 ^^ Not poor in worldly goods, but unfortunate, very 
 unfortunate and wretched. The guest I speak of is a 
 woman." 
 
 My heart gave such a bound that I nearly choked. 
 
 ^^ I am here in search of my sister. I entreat you, 
 lead me to this lady ! " 
 
 " In that case I must first inform her of your arri- 
 val. Who can say how she will receive the news ? " 
 
 And shuffling in front of me along the corridor, he 
 cautiously opened a door in a kind of vaulted hall, 
 studded with rows of curtainless windows. I could 
 hear him speaking of a gentleman who wished to see 
 
26o ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 his sister, and I could hear the well-known voice reply- 
 that she had no brother to visit her. But just as the 
 monk was about to leave her, I brushed past him into 
 the apartment, and with a piercing cry, ^'Jannino!" 
 Lavinia arose with difficulty from an easy chair, 
 tottered towards me, and fell senseless at my feet. 
 
 The monk looked at me reproachfully. 
 
 " How could you give her such a terrible shock, a 
 poor woman in that condition ? " 
 
 '' In— that— condition ? " 
 
 At that very moment she opened her eyes, and with 
 both hands thrust me from her. 
 
 ^' Go away, Jannino ! Go away immediately ! You 
 must not look at me ! I am unworthy of j^ou ! Go 
 away ! I felt so forsaken, so utterly forsaken, and it 
 seemed to me after you had gone away that my life 
 was no logger of any value to myself or to anyone 
 else. Oh God, I suffer terribly ! " 
 
 How can I fittingly describe the hours that followed, 
 hours that I spent beside her couch in terrible agony 
 of mind ; how find words to picture the wild rage 
 that convulsed my heart against the wretch who had 
 dared to shatter and desecrate what to me had been 
 so sacred. 
 
IN FETTERS. 261 
 
 By daybreak, a stillness as of death reigned in tlie 
 desolate chamber ; Lavinia had been delivered of a 
 stillborn child, and herself lay very nigh nnto death. 
 The monk and I had watched alone and unaided 
 through those terrible hours, for had we tried to 
 obtain assistance from without, we might thereby have 
 betrayed the very being who wished her secret to 
 remain hidden within those walls. When I had con- 
 vinced myself that Lavinia really lived, and was 
 likely to continue to live, I saddled my horse, and 
 rode home, promising to return in the course of the 
 eveuing, and to remain with her throughout the 
 night. 
 
 The sea beat, softly murmuring, against the cliffs, 
 and the waves glittered, rose-tinted, in the beams of 
 the rising sun. Scalding tears were coursing down 
 my cheeks, and falling on my beard as I rode away ; 
 in the course of that night I had been by turns 
 confessor and physician, and was as little fitted for 
 the one role as for the other. My soul was torn by 
 such unspeakable anguish that I would gladly have 
 spurred my horse to take a wild leap into the waves 
 beneath. 
 
 By degrees I learned that someone had sought out 
 
262 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Lavinia in her solitude and desolation, had paid 
 her attentions, had promised her marriage, and had 
 ruthlessly abandoned her. A very old and simple 
 story. But such shame and misery should never 
 have touched my goddess, my glorious Lavinia. She 
 ought never have been trampled on and forsaken, 
 she whom I had held sacred, whom I had kept pure 
 as a spotless lily. 
 
 The confession of that night came to me in broken 
 sentences, from groaning, quivering lips, perpetually 
 interrupted by the agonised entreaty that I would go 
 away ; yet at the same time she clung to me like 
 a drowning creature. To me it seemed that I hated, 
 almost abhorred her, and yet my heart was torn 
 with compassion for her forlorn and miserable con- 
 dition. Utterly exhausted, I threw myself, without 
 undressing, on my bed, and slept for several hours. 
 
 My mother was quite at ease in her mind. She 
 had made careful enquiries, had learned that the 
 villa was deserted, and that the young lady had 
 disappeared from the neighbourhood. I could see 
 that her brow was no longer clouded by care and 
 anxiety on my account, although she complained that 
 I was looking very pale and worn. 
 
IN FETTERS, 263 
 
 In the evening I again made my appearance at the 
 monastery, saying that I had come to watch by my 
 sister. She kissed my hands when I entered the 
 room, and allowed me to nurse and tend her as though 
 she had been a child. But now and then she would 
 hide her face, sobbing, in the pillows. 
 
 " Jannino ! you are a saint, and I adore you; but 
 I am so ashamed before you that I would gladly die ! " 
 
 Every night, as soon as there was no longer any 
 risk of my betraying her secret, I rode up the steep 
 rocky pathway that led to the monastery, sometimes 
 by moonlight, sometimes in the pitch darkness of a 
 starless gloom, and remained with her till morning 
 dawned. In those nights I seemed to myself like 
 some venerable old man, who is trying to gently lead 
 a poor erring child back into the right path. I felt, 
 at times, as though my heart's blood were slowly 
 ebbing from me, for the sight of her humility— a 
 humility that is born of a crushed and broken spirit 
 — was a torture to me. At such times I positively 
 hated her. But when she was merely the loving, 
 confiding child, confessing everything to her brother, 
 and longing, in all the unutterable torment of a sin- 
 and grief-laden conscience, for comfort and absolution. 
 
264 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 then I was as full of compassion as though I had never 
 entertained any other feeling for her. 
 
 In the early morning I used to ride home, smiling 
 to myself sometimes at the services I had been 
 rendering. I had learned to be content with only 
 two hours' sleep, and if I was at times rather taciturn, 
 my mother used to lay all the blame on old reminis- 
 cences, which, as she imagined, still lingered in my 
 memory. She told me she thought we had best 
 leave Sorrento, for she could see by my looks that 
 old memories were tormenting me. I needed only 
 to look in the glass, she declared, to see how thin 
 and hollow-eyed I was becoming. Her handsome 
 son was really beginning to look like a worn old 
 man. This sort of life continued for five weeks, 
 for Lavinia recovered slowly and with difficulty ; my 
 nursing must have been most awkward and defective, 
 and the honest monks understood nothing except 
 their herbal remedies. They were firmly persuaded 
 that I was Lavinia' s brother, gave me friendly 
 greeting every evening, brought me wine to drink 
 during my night watch, and treated me with respect, 
 as they might have treated one who was bearing 
 a great misfortune with patience and resignation. 
 
IN FETTERS. 265 
 
 But oh, how far from me were patience and resig- 
 nation ! 
 
 One stormy night, when the waves were seething 
 and raging beneath me, I had a wild and daogerous 
 journey ; it was only at the risk of my life that I at 
 length succeeded in reaching the monastery, and in 
 that very night Lavinia lay between life and death. 
 "Would that she had indeed died ! 
 
 At last, however, her convalescence was very nearly 
 complete, but in proportion as her health improved 
 my heart grew colder : often indeed I terrified her 
 by my harshness and severity. I never scolded, 
 never punished her, but I talked with her sternly 
 and earnestly. There was no tenderness or sentiment 
 in the relations between us. When she wept silently 
 I pretended not to notice her. 
 
 She was very timid and shy with me, and often 
 trembled when I entered and gave her my hand. 
 One evening I said : — 
 
 ^' Everything is ready for your departure to- 
 morrow. Your place on board ship is taken; you 
 will go to Marseilles, to your aunt. I have already 
 given notice of your arrival there, and have sent a 
 telegram with your signature." 
 
266 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Lavinia fell upon her knees before me. 
 
 " Oh, not there, I entreat, I implore you ! Oh, 
 anywhere, send me anywhere you please, only not to 
 my aunt ! I cannot endure it ! She will kill me ! " 
 
 ''Do you suppose that I shall leave you here in 
 the streets? You will please to betake yourself to 
 the only place of refuge that Heaven and your own 
 foolishness have left you." 
 
 She leaned against the window-sill and wept 
 bitterly. I stood with folded arms before her, 
 looking coldly down upon her as she wept, and 
 waited until she once more turned upon me her 
 large, frightened eyes, like those of some poor terri- 
 fied animal that trembles before its master. 
 
 She used every imaginable argument to induce 
 me not to send her to Marseilles, but in vain : I 
 remained firm. Our struggle lasted many hours. At 
 length she let head and arms sink, saying : — 
 
 ''As you will." 
 
 I sufi'ered no sort of pain or regret when I saw 
 her drive away ; my heart seemed to have died in 
 me, and to be no longer capable of love. It was she 
 who had crushed and killed it. 
 
 " Come, mother," I said, " let us return home." 
 
IN FETTERS. 267 
 
 '^Home!" she replied, '^but surely you ought to 
 recover your health, a little before you return home ! 
 Just look in the glass, my poor boy ! Your eyes are 
 as hollow as saucers; what makes you wish to go 
 home so soon ? " 
 
 "Perhaps I shall feel better there, mother." 
 
 But I was just as ill and restless at home as I had 
 been in Sorrento, and I informed my mother, soon 
 after our return, that I had made up my mind to go 
 to America. 
 
 "But you can't speak a word of English! I shall 
 try and procure someone who will serve at the same 
 time as companion for me and as teacher for you." 
 
 And so she invited Nora to come and stay with us. 
 
 My mother and I were about equally fascinated by 
 her unusual intelligence and brilliant culture. Her 
 lessons became conversations replete with interest and 
 information; her reading aloud was a positive enjoy- 
 ment. My brother even began to pay her attention. 
 After several weeks — nine, I believe, was the exact 
 number — my mother said one day : — 
 
 " What a pity that she is not of noble birth. She 
 would be a daughter-in-law after my own heart." 
 
 I went immediately to Nora, knocked at the door of 
 
268 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 her sitting-room, seated myself at her writing-table, 
 and asked her whether she would consent to become 
 my wife. 
 
 And so she has become my wife. Naturally my 
 mother was only half pleased at what I had done. She 
 had had no idea when she spoke to me of Nora's 
 perfections, that I was in the mood to commit some mad 
 action, merely for the sake of freeing myself from the 
 sensation of desolation, of death-like indifference, that 
 was weighing upon my heart like lead. But she never 
 went back from her word. As for Nora, the more 
 intimate became the relations between us, the more 
 indifferent I grew towards her, and I began to 
 realise with horror that I was bound to her, bound for 
 ever. But when I made the discovery that she was 
 actually in love with me, my terror became inde- 
 scribable. 
 
 At my wedding breakfast I looked so pale that the 
 lady sitting next me advised me to go into the fresh 
 air for a short space of time, for I appeared, she said, 
 as though I were going to faint. I went out, longing 
 from my soul that it were possible for me never to 
 return. For the first time in my life I was conscious 
 of a desire to commit suicide. I wandered about the 
 
IN FETTERS. 269 
 
 park, haunted by thoughts of death and despair, until 
 at length I began to reflect that, were I never to return, 
 it would not be exactly a gentlemanly thing to do, 
 and were I to kill myself, such a catastrophe would 
 be a lasting disgrace to the memory of an honourable 
 and upright gentleman, who had no crime on his 
 conscience. 
 
 On my return, Nora's large grey eyes looked at me 
 as shrewdly and critically as though they could read 
 into the very depths of my soul, could see into my 
 brain, and even through the walls beyond ; and as 
 though she knew accurately what had been my 
 thoughts while in the park. Her nose took an 
 expressive but almost imperceptible curve, and her lips 
 became ever so lightly compressed ; then she turned 
 to one of her guests with some clever, witty saying. 
 She was not in the least shy or timid, but as self- 
 possessed as though she had been my Lady Countess 
 all her life. For my part I began to jest, and to talk 
 small talk until the carriage was announced that was 
 to bear us away on our honeymoon trip. 
 
CHAPTEK III. 
 
 Zurich, April 20th. 
 I HAVE seen her, and I thought my heart would 
 break. She never saw me, however. It was at 
 Lucerne, in front of the Lions. 
 
 We had grown tired of the Isle of Wight, and 
 had gone to Switzerland, there travelling from place 
 to place. ISTora had never been to this mountainous 
 country before. I dislike Switzerland — probably very 
 bad taste on my part, but I have several good reasons 
 for my dislike. I had made my way, alone, to the 
 Lions, and was sitting there, quite hidden by the dense 
 mass of foliage, vexing my soul over all the insignifi- 
 cant and unpoetical objects that surrounded me — the 
 tiny, toylike houses, the narrow roads, the dwarfish 
 doors, with dwarf trees in front ; all tending, in my 
 estimation, to disfigure and belittle not only those 
 grand masterpieces of human art, but also those 
 magnificent masterpieces of nature, the glaciers and 
 glacier ravines. 
 
IN FETTERS. 271 
 
 Just then I was startled by the sound of a sharp, 
 disagreeable voice : — 
 
 '^When I have once told you that I will not 
 permit anything, you will please to obey me, 
 Lavinia." 
 
 My heart stood still ; I waited for an answer, but 
 none came ; the only sound that I could catch was a 
 short dry cough. 
 
 ^^ I should very much like to know, Lavinia, who 
 it is that has trained you to be what you are. To 
 take sea trips with a stranger, indeed ! Are you 
 not ashamed of yourself? " 
 
 Still there was no answer. 
 
 ^^ I shall yet live to find out what sort of life you 
 used to lead when you were living in your villa in 
 Sorrento, and I warn you, if it was not a respectable 
 and honest life, all is over between us. Your sister 
 swears that she had good reasons for her jealousy, and 
 now that I know more of you and your ways, I can 
 scarcely blame her for acting as she did. You are a 
 shameless coquette. Do you think I have no eyes ? 
 You even bring your blood-spitting into the service of 
 your coquetry. You begin to spit blood immediately 
 you think anyone is near who can see you, and who 
 
272 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 is likely to be horrified and to talk about the poor, 
 consumptive Lavinia and her old dragon of an aunt." 
 
 A short laugh, a well-known short laugh, that again 
 ended in a short cough. 
 
 '^ Laugh away ! You have no more heart than a 
 siren. Do you think I am taken in by your sad eyes ? 
 That expression is merely put on to attract men : to 
 make them think you are dying of a broken heart ; 
 when there is no one near to admire and pity you, you 
 have a very good appetite. I believe you will kill me 
 with vexation, and your uncle also — your uncle, who 
 picked you up out of the street, as it were, when no 
 one else would take you in. And just supposing we 
 had shut our doors upon you lately, what do you think 
 would have become of you ? " 
 
 At that moment the ladies passed close by me. 
 Yes, that was Lavinia ; that was the same beautiful, 
 slender figure, now become rather thinner. She turned 
 away from her aunt for a moment, and coughed, and I 
 could see her handkerchief become stained blood-red ; 
 I could observe the quivering of her finely formed 
 nostrils, and admire the way in which her noble 
 profile told out against the grey rocks. I felt such a 
 sensation of giddiness, such a sharp and gnawing pain 
 
IN FETTERS. 
 
 273 
 
 at my heart, that I was on the point of committing 
 some mad, foolish action. But the consciousness of 
 the distressing and impossible situation into which I 
 might bring us all by such a course, nailed me to my 
 seat. 
 
 To me it was as the rack. Had she but uttered one 
 word, one single word ! But she said nothing : she 
 glided past me like a vision. For a moment I once 
 more caught sight of her as she ascended the narrow 
 path that leads up to the glaciers, and then she had 
 disappeared. 
 
 I knew well that she must return by the same path, 
 and great was the struggle that ensued in my breast. 
 I longed to wait for her, to greet her as a distant 
 acquaintance, but the voice of conscience whispered, 
 ''You are on your wedding journey. Do nothing of 
 which you might afterwards feel ashamed." 
 
 I arose and left the place slowly, very slowly. Per- 
 haps, by some fortunate chance, she might overtake me. 
 Once out of the garden, however, I walked so quickly 
 that I almost ran. I told Nora that I could not possibly 
 remain here any longer, that the crowds of people, star- 
 ing open-mouthed at the magnificence of nature, were 
 an abomination to me ; that I wished above all things 
 
 T 
 
274 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 to get home. So we pg-cked up, and now we are here, 
 and the more quickly we continue our journey the 
 better pleased I shall be. It seems as though some 
 fury were driving me farther, ever farther. 
 
 Freiburg in Breisgatj, May ^th. 
 
 I have been to the cathedral, and to the Schlossberg, 
 and to all the places usually visited by travellers. I 
 have been roaming all over this place. Nora is tired, 
 and has her twenty letters to finish. I have had a 
 shock, a terrible shock. I can't think what possessed 
 me, one day in Zurich, to sit down before a piano that 
 stood in our sitting-room. I began to play and sing 
 as in old times. Nora was sitting by the window, in 
 order, so she assured me, to look at the mountains on 
 the further side of the lake, but in reality she was 
 criticising the people walking in the garden, making 
 satirical observations about them, and interrupting me 
 in my playing, for she is not in the least musical. 
 
 " Well, I never saw anything so ridiculous as that 
 old gentleman over there. What a scarecrow. He is 
 making up to all the young girls, and they are nearly 
 dying with laughter at him. — There goes a charming 
 trio, husband, wife and friend of the family, taking an 
 
IN FETTERS. 275 
 
 amicable stroll together. — And there's a young wife 
 who makes her little son serve her as chaperon, while 
 an officer sits by her side, talking with her the whole 
 day long. But it's all perfectly honourable, you know ; 
 of course, the child is always with them." 
 
 ^'- Nora, will you be so good as to spare me your 
 remarks ? I do not take the slightest interest in any 
 of the people down below there ; I wish they were all 
 
 at the Devil ! " 
 
 ^* How very impolite ! " 
 
 " Well, you know, you have yet to put the finishing 
 touches to my education. In the meanwhile try if 
 you can remain quiet for a little while, and keep your 
 remarks to yourself." 
 
 I was so angry that I played like a madman, and 
 the piano groaned under my hands. At length my 
 mood became calmer, and I began to sing; to sing 
 some of my dear old songs, those that I had composed 
 for Lavinia in Sorrento. 
 
 When at last I ceased singing, my wife was still 
 gazing, apparently with the same lively interest as 
 before, into the garden below. I thought it very 
 possible that some people might have gathered there 
 to listen to my singing, and, as I had no wish for 
 
276 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 publicity, avoided going near the window, took my 
 hat, and leaving the house by a back entrance, went 
 by a circuitous route in the direction of the lake. On 
 my return I found everything packed ready for our 
 departure ; my wife wished to leave the place at once, 
 she said. She did not like Freiburg, and she wished 
 to continue the journey homewards. Since that 
 meeting in Lucerne everything was one and the 
 same to me. I simply complied with the in- 
 evitable. 
 
 We are now at Schaffhausen, near the falls of the 
 Ehine, and I am thinking to myself how stupid and 
 insignificant are these same far-famed falls. 
 
 "2 propos^'''' says my wife, ^' there was a most 
 interesting little interlude in Zurich. While you 
 were singing and playing, a very beautiful lady came 
 towards our window ; she looked like a southerner ; 
 she had large dark eyes, black waving hair, and a 
 beauty spot on the left cheek. Pale, and with parted 
 lips, she leaned against the posts of one of the garden 
 swings, the tears trickling down her cheeks. At 
 first she stood with her head slightly bent forwards, 
 so as to be able to hear better through the tumult 
 of voices surrounding her, but very soon three was 
 
IN FETTERS, 
 
 •77 
 
 perfect stillness. You had a most attentive audience, 
 Ewald, and you gave them a delightful concert. 
 Afterwards the lady raised her eyes to our window, 
 and when she observed me, her expression changed 
 immediately to one of the wildest rage ; she pressed 
 her hands to her breast, and looked at me as though 
 she would gladly kill me. Of course, I looked down 
 at her very calmly and composedly ; what harm 
 could her hatred do me, seeing that I am your wife, 
 and under your protection ? — Suddenly she called out 
 something; what it was I could not quite make out 
 because you were making so much noise ; it sounded 
 like ' Janni,' and then like ^Nino,' and then, just as 
 she was about to call out again, a stream of blood 
 gushed from her mouth, and she fell down in a 
 swoon. An old lady came towards her, scolding and 
 shaking her head, lifted her up in her arms, and 
 had her carried away as soon as possible. A few 
 minutes later, when I turned round to speak to you, 
 you had left the room. Did you not meet her ? " 
 
 While my wife was speaking, I felt as though my 
 whole body had been transformed into a raging, 
 tossing sea. She spoke as she always does, quite 
 clearly and distinctly, so that in spite of the roaring 
 
278 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 and raging of the cascade close by, it was not 
 possible for any of her words to escape me. She 
 looked at me with her great eyes, as a cat looks at 
 the mousehole behind which lurks the prey that she 
 hopes soon to tear to pieces. 
 
 *' Why did you not tell me all this before?" I 
 said at last. 
 
 "You forget that you had just forbidden me, in 
 rather an angry tone, to trouble you with any of my 
 observations or remarks." 
 
 I could not find a word to say in answer. It 
 seemed to me as though — were my wife to utter 
 another syllable — I should be forced to hurl her into 
 the gulf beneath; as though I must hurl myself 
 thither, and be dashed to atoms amidst the crashing, 
 seething waters. She endeavoured to say something, 
 but I could not hear what it was, and did not try 
 to hear. She wanted me to come away from the 
 falls, but I stood there, mute and immovable as a 
 column. In those moments I took careful measure 
 of the suffering into which I had so rashly and 
 incautiously plunged myself. I began to recognise 
 in my wife a dangerous antagonist ; one who would 
 never flinch in guarding her rights, and who would 
 
IN FETTERS. 279 
 
 never fail to scourge me, if she thought it necessary, 
 with the scourge of duty. 
 
 My buried love for Lavinia began to revive in all 
 its former power, as though the fatal words, ^4ost," 
 '' ruined," had never separated us, as though I had 
 never known of her dishonour. I felt as though my 
 heart must break. 
 
 ^^ She certainly could have been no acquaintance 
 of yours," shouted Nora into my ears, ^^for the 
 name that she called out did not resemble yours in 
 the least. Who knows of what former lover your 
 songs may have reminded her, poor forlorn crea- 
 ture!" 
 
 Still I remained silent. I clenched my teeth as 
 though I were undergoing some terrible operation, 
 and were determined Dot to cry out under the pain. 
 Whether I was able to prevent my face from betray- 
 ing the tumult of emotion within me, I have my 
 doubts. For my wife's eyes seemed to pierce me like 
 a stiletto. At last I found strength to ask her : — 
 
 "How can you take so much interest in perfect 
 strangers?" 
 
 "I was interested in ih.Q look, so full of most 
 intense hatred, that she cast at me. No human 
 
28o ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 being has ever looked at me like that before. I felt 
 just as though a serpent were hissing at me, but a 
 serpent safely caged behind the glass doors of a 
 menagerie, where I could look at it without the 
 slightest danger, and could even amuse myself by 
 watching its impotent rage. When the rush of blood 
 came, however, I was really sorry for the poor 
 creature ; but since I could not be of any possible 
 assistance to her, I remained where I was." 
 
 We looked into one another's eyes, as though each 
 of us wished to sound the other's powers of dissimula- 
 tion. It was certainly not love that we saw mirrored 
 there, but a dangerous game, being played with sharp 
 and highly-polished weapons. I was just conscious 
 that if I did not wish to become her slave and prisoner, 
 utterly and entirely in her power, I must on no 
 account allow her to gain even the smallest advantage 
 over me. 
 
 *^ If you have stared sufficiently at the falls," I said 
 at last, *^let us go home to dinner; I am as hungry 
 as a hunter." 
 
 She looked disappointed, and as for me, the con- 
 sciousness that after all I had not succumbed to her 
 rendered mc almost overbearing. I began to banter 
 
IN FETTERS. 281 
 
 her unmercifully about all her little weaknesses. She, 
 however, kept her temper admirably, parried all my 
 thrusts in most amiable fashion, and looked as de- 
 lighted as though I had been saying the most tender 
 and loving things to her. Dinner was a most try- 
 ing ordeal for me ; not the utmost force of will could 
 enable me to swallow a morsel, although I tried to 
 force an appetite by drinking glass after glass of 
 wine. I grumbled at the bad cooking, complained of 
 headache, and said that I must go to my room and 
 sleep. For the first time since our marriage I locked 
 the door of my chamber. I felt that at any cost I 
 must be alone for a time. 
 
 For a while I was mad ; I am convinced of this ; 
 my brain seemed on fire : I felt as though every nerve 
 in my body had been stretched and torn. Like a 
 madman, I raged against myself, against my fate, 
 against my weakness of character, and against my own 
 foolishness. I hated my wife, I cursed my mother. 
 And what crime has my wife committed, after all ? 
 Absolutely nothing with which I have any right to 
 reproach her. She has merely acted with great 
 prudence and discretion. But that is exactly what 
 makes me feel so wild. 
 
282 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Frankfort, May Ibth. 
 
 My wife is encliaiited with this place, but I am 
 unable to share in her delight. She drags me with 
 her into all the fashionable shops, full of showy 
 goods that are, one and all, so inartistic that the 
 mere sight of them sets one's teeth on edge. She 
 takes quite a childish delight in all sorts of modish 
 articles, which in the space of one short year will be 
 valueless, because no longer the fashion. Oh, this 
 money-getting, money-loving Frankfort ! One has 
 the feeling as though so much gold has been amassed 
 here that it must of necessity sprout forth, as leaf 
 and blossom, from every bush and shrub and tree in 
 the place. 
 
 To-morrow we propose returning, via Cassel, to my 
 estate at Haxtroden. I feel depressed and anxious. 
 How will it fare with me in the home of my fore- 
 fathers, when I shall have introduced there the 
 woman who in future is to be its mistress ? "Would 
 she have it in her power to make any other man 
 happy ? I have been thinking lately that perhaps the 
 best thing I can do is to take to smoking opium, so 
 that any rate I may lull myself in a dream of happi- 
 ness, although the reality is denied me. 
 
IN FETTERS. 283 
 
 I would far rather Nora were stupid. Her shrewd 
 cleverness has brought me into more complete subjec- 
 tion than have the charms of any woman I have ever 
 met. Never, by any chance, does she give me a pre- 
 text, an opportunity for venting my anger upon her ; 
 for she is always amiable and good-humoured, and has 
 perfect command over herself. It is just as though 
 1 tried to make scratches on a mirror with my finger- 
 nails ; the polished surface remains as smooth and clear 
 as ever, and only reflects my own distorted countenance 
 until I turn away from it, ashamed. In her presence 
 I feel at times like a boy ; I try to play the role of 
 master, and in all good humour and friendliness she 
 allows me to play it. She even watches me as though 
 she were highly amused at my performance. 
 
 Sometimes I meet her large eyes resting upon me 
 just as they did on our wedding day ; as though I 
 were transparent, and as though she could see into 
 my brain, and read there thoughts that I would never 
 have her even guess. 
 
 The Zurich aifair is no longer mentioned by either 
 of us, although it is quite certain that it is never 
 absent from our minds for very long. Nora has a burn- 
 ing desire to Imow who was the heroine of that little 
 
284. ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 episode, and she has a clear perception that the lady 
 is at any rate one who might possibly become her 
 most dangerous rival. And thus we play hide-and- 
 seek with one another, behaving very much like the 
 judge and the defendant in a criminal trial : the one 
 trying his best to extort a confession, which the other 
 has determined shall never be wrung from him. 
 
 Haxtroden, Maij 2itL 
 It is cool, very cool here. My mother took the 
 greatest pains to make her welcome to Kora as hearty 
 and cordial as possible, and privately expressed her 
 joy to me that an heir was likely to arrive before very 
 long, but she gazed at me at the same time with eyes 
 full of doubt and anxiety, saying that I had grown 
 terribly thin and careworn. My God— a second pair 
 of eyes to follow me everywhere with doubts and 
 inquiries and suspicions ! How uncomfortable one's 
 life may be made by sheer love ! 
 
 Nora is in a state of almost childish delight about 
 everything. She is celebrating her memories of the 
 fireplace by which she read aloud to us for the first 
 time, of the carpet on which we were standing when 
 I first admired her handwiiting, of the park and the 
 
IN FETTERS. 285 
 
 wood, which she now sees for the first time in their 
 summer dress. She is roaming through the house, 
 unpacking her purchases, and decorating the room 
 with them. 
 
 My studio is the only exception : thither she has 
 been absolutely forbidden to bring anything whatever, 
 and she is only allowed to enter it on very rare 
 occasions. She is bitterly disappointed. She thought 
 that she would be permitted to bring her book and 
 sit beside me, and now I ask to be left alone there. 
 When I first entered my sanctum, I longed to cast 
 myself at full length on the thick, soft carpet, instead 
 of exhibiting the contents and furniture of the room 
 to the curious eyes of my young wife. She opened 
 the piano. 
 
 ''• There — do play something ! " 
 
 I sat down and let my fingers glide over the keys. 
 On a sudden I was startled by a low cry from Nora, 
 and looking round, I saw that she was examining 
 attentively, almost hungrily, a picture that had hung 
 with its face towards the wall, but which she had 
 turned towards herself. 
 
 A sensation of tingling and heat passed through my 
 body, even to my finger-tips. Nora had lighted upon 
 
286 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA^ 
 
 Lavinia's portrait, which I had painted almost entirely 
 from memory. 
 
 I continued to play in order not to be obliged to 
 speak. For a long, long time she stood gazing at the 
 portrait, and at length, with a deep sigh, replaced it 
 in its former position. Then she turned shyly and 
 cautiously round, but I kept my eyes fixed on the 
 notes, as though I had observed nothing. She had 
 grown very pale — I could see that as she passed by me 
 to inspect some of the curious things I had collected 
 in my study. 
 
 She lifted a Moorish coverlet, and gazed at the 
 skeleton which had been hidden by it; from the 
 skeleton her eyes wandered to the portrait hanging in 
 the corner of the room, and then back again to the 
 skeleton, as though she were saying to herself : — 
 
 " After all, under your external appearance this is 
 what you really are, and this is what you will become 
 very soon ! " 
 
 Then she let the coverlet fall again. It is a remark- 
 ably beautiful coverlet, of such a brilliant yellow that 
 in the very farthest corner of the room it shines 
 out like a sunbeam. She, however, had no sense for 
 its beauty, and did not even admire the dainty 
 
IN FETTERS. 287 
 
 embroidery upon it, worked in red, rose-colour, green, 
 and lilac, which harmonises so perfectly with the 
 yellow background that it rejoices one's heart to look 
 at it. 
 
 She can talk learnedly about pictures and schools 
 of painting, but she has no sense of colour. Lavinia 
 would at once have draped the coverlet around her, and 
 have looked at herself in the mirror, certain of being 
 gloriously beautiful enveloped in that mass of lustrous 
 gold ; she would have stretched herself like a kitten 
 on the magnificent black fur rug in front of the fire- 
 place, would have rolled herself up in it, and would 
 have looked in the rosy light very like a young 
 panther. 
 
 Faint shadows of evening began to be reflected 
 through the tall window-panes, the arms hanging on 
 the walls glittered in the waning light, and my 
 unfinished pictures looked pale and spectral. 
 
 Nora still continued to wander up and down the 
 room, taking every object in her hand so as to examine 
 it more closely, with the exception of some old scraps 
 and pieces of material that I dearly prized on account 
 of their exquisite tints, which she kicked away from 
 her contemptuously, or else took between the tips of 
 
288 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 her thumb and fore-finger, only to cast them away from 
 her and then wipe her fingers on her handkerchief. 
 Lavinia would have taken up such a thing only to 
 throw it into the most picturesque folds possible. 
 
 I suffered the pains of hell, but, nevertheless, took 
 a sort of demoniacal pleasure in torturing myself to 
 the uttermost. No movement escaped me. She was 
 not looking towards me any longer, for she had gone 
 up to my writing-table, and was examining the picture 
 that hung immediately above it, a study by Greco, 
 which I prize on account of its harmonious colouring. 
 She sneered ever so slightly, then smiled, and I could 
 almost hear her say : '-'- Excellent ! " 
 
 Then she began to search among the papers on my 
 writing-table. I knew that there lay unfinished 
 poems, aphorisms, and a quartet, only half finished, 
 but neither letters nor business documents. Such 
 things are never placed on this desk — my library is 
 for that purpose, not my studio. 
 
 I still continued to play, however, although I could 
 distinctly hear the rustle of her dress, and there was 
 a curious singing in my ears, and a tingling in all 
 my nerves. I cannot endure to have my writing-table 
 touched. 
 
IN FETTERS. 289 
 
 At last she sank exhausted into an easy-chair in 
 front of my easel, and looked at the unfinished 
 picture standing there. It represented a boy of 
 Sorrento, lying at full length on the ground, teasing 
 a crab — background of sea and sunset. 
 
 I continued playing until I heard Nora yawn once, 
 twice, and then I got up from the piano. 
 
 "Do you know, Ewald," she said, "this place is 
 very untidy, and full of dust. To-morrow I mean to 
 have it thoroughly cleaned and put to rights.'' 
 
 "If you will have the goodness not to touch a 
 single thing in this room, I shall be very thankful to 
 you. ^N'othing lies or stands here without a purpose, 
 and I shall be furious if one fold is disarranged. I 
 must also beg of you, as a rule, to leave me undis- 
 turbed here when I am writing. Into my study you 
 may come at any time. But here, where it is a 
 question of imaginative work, I must on no account 
 be disturbed.'' 
 
 She was silent. The evening shadows lengthened, 
 and all objects in the room looked dark and sombre, 
 except the Moorish coverlet and the sky of my 
 unfinished picture. The little travelling-clock on 
 my writing-table struck the hour in low, deep tones, 
 
290 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 like a far distant churcli clock. Nora sobbed audibly- 
 several times, but did not speak. I was terribly 
 afraid she would burst into tears. Just then someone 
 lifted the portiere, placed so as to deaden the sound 
 of the opening and shutting of the doors of studio 
 and sanctum, now already brilliantly illuminated with 
 a broad gleam of light which fell over the carpet. A 
 servant entered, bearing a shaded lamp, which he 
 placed on my writing-table, and disappeared. Then 
 he brought a second lamp, which he placed on the 
 reading-table by the divan, in the darkest corner of 
 the studio, thereby illuminating the coverlet that 
 Lavinia had given me. Next came a hanging lamp, 
 which was not placed in the centre of the room but 
 in a corner, just over the piano, for lights placed on 
 the piano disturb me so much that I am unable to 
 compose anything when they are there, and since it 
 is my habit to paint in the day-time and to compose 
 in the evening, the light is disposed in this manner. 
 I ought rather to say, it used once to be my habit to 
 paint in the day-time and to compose in the evening, 
 for now 1 no longer do anything whatever at any 
 time. 
 
 As soon as the room had been so lit up as to 
 
IN FETTERS, 291 
 
 assume an air of indescribable comfort and pleasant- 
 ness, a bell announced that it was time to dress for 
 dinner. Nora arose. 
 
 "What dress shall I wear?" she said. She was 
 extraordinarily pale. 
 
 " Wear something white : it suits you, and my 
 mother likes it. Have you no dress of ivory-coloured 
 wool — some soft, transparent fabric that falls into 
 soft, graceful folds of its own accord ? " 
 
 " No, I have nothing of that kind. I have only my 
 wedding dress, trimmed with lace, and my satin dress.'' 
 
 "Wear the satin then; you look like a Vandyke in 
 that white satin dress." 
 
 She blushed. " If I can only manage to fasten it ! " 
 she said. 
 
 Thereupon I flung my arm round her waist, and 
 drew her to me; but she freed herself from my 
 embrace, and slipped out of the room without looking 
 back. Looking down, I saw something glistening 
 on my coat: it was a tear. I never ventured to 
 wipe it away, but gazed down at it until it had been 
 gradually absorbed by the stuff, and I made a sacred 
 resolve that Nora should never shed another through 
 any fault of mine. It was enough for me that on 
 
292 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 this evening she had learned what were the limits 
 of her power, and it gave me a feeling of comparative 
 rest and peace to reflect that I had so decidedly and 
 accurately defined those limits that there was now, 
 at any rate, one room which was mine exclusively, 
 and which we should never dwell in together; one 
 piece of ground wherein the spell of her power over 
 me was broken. I felt that I had given her great 
 pain, and that during that hour in my atelier I had 
 forced her to swallow a very bitter draught ; therefore 
 I took pains to make the evening as pleasant and 
 agreeable to her as possible. 
 
 I bogged her to read aloud to us, as in olden times, 
 I assured her that she looked very beautiful in the 
 lamplight, and told her how cleverly she had managed 
 to arrange her lace so as to hide the fact that she was 
 no longer able to fastcQ her dress. She smiled with 
 pleasure, and once more blushed deeply. My mother 
 watched us with that disagreeable scrutinising glance 
 of hers which robs me of all peace of mind. 
 
 Haxtroden, June Wi. 
 When the child shall have come, many things will 
 be different, for then, I hope, there will be warmer 
 
IN FETTERS. 293 
 
 and tenderer relations between us. I try my best to 
 be gentle and kind to Nora, and to make her as happy 
 as possible, for I feel bound to atone to ber as far as I 
 can for having made her my wife without loving her. 
 I can never forgive myself for having done this. It 
 was a wicked thing to do. And then, if, through me, 
 she becomes a mother ! 
 
 June 9th. — I am forced to laugh bitterly over my 
 last sentence. She has just confessed to me that she 
 does not like the prospect of becoming a mother, that 
 she is terribly frightened, and, since she has never 
 yet looked attentively at a little baby, she imagines 
 they are all very ugly. 
 
 Oh why, why did she tell me all this ? Did she 
 wish to avenge herself upon me ? Can she not forgive 
 me for the portrait of Lavinia and for my silence ? 
 Since that day she has often sought for the picture, 
 but has never succeeded in finding it. 
 
 One day she went so far as to say : — 
 
 ^' Where are all your studies and sketches? I 
 thought there had been more of them." 
 
 ** A good many ; those that I can't endure the sight 
 of any longer are in the granary." 
 
 And she went to the granary. 
 
294 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 A few days later she questioned me about my 
 models. In an indifferent tone I gave her a descrip- 
 tion of those poor creatures. Then she began to talk 
 about my residence in Italy. I told her about my 
 sister, and then passed on quickly to the subject of 
 Egypt. 
 
 " So that was the trouble of which your mother 
 once spoke to me, and on account of which she 
 wished me to distract and amuse you as much as 
 possible." 
 
 ^* That was really very kind of my mother," I said 
 angrily. " Possibly, however, I have just sufficient 
 manliness to have recovered without any assistance 
 of the sort." 
 
 In these days I often drive Nora four-in-hand ; this 
 delights her. What would please her most would be 
 to have permission to take the reins herself in her 
 little nervous hands, but she is not allowed to do this 
 — my mother will not hear of such a thing. 
 
 ** You are happy, are you not? " asked my mother 
 yesterday. 
 
 ** Why should I not be happy ? I have a wife who 
 is perfection itself." 
 
 " And do you feel quite well ? " 
 
IN FETTERS. 295 
 
 ^^Oh yes, only lazy. I can no longer work at 
 anything." 
 
 "I am afraid you are not really well — you are 
 growing so terribly thin." 
 
 "That is never unpleasant, dear mother." 
 
 Then she began to talk about my brothers, who 
 were just then causing us great anxiety. Over and 
 over again have I paid their debts. My wife was 
 displeased at this, and gave it as her opinion that 
 they did not deserve any assistance, and ought to be 
 made to find out how they could get on in the world 
 without it. 
 
 " But one of them has a little child, Nora." 
 
 " It would have been far better if that child had 
 never been born," she replied. 
 
 Of course this remark was unanswerable. 
 
 Haxtroden, July l^tL 
 The confession that I am going to make to these 
 
 pages to-day is made in a spirit of bitter repentance 
 
 and tormenting anguish of soul. 
 
 I have upset the four-in-hand with my young wife. 
 
 Never in all my life before have I met with any 
 
 accident in driving, but to-day I wished to drive up 
 
296 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 in style, took too abrupt a curve, and just as the four 
 horses were in full swing, we came full tilt against a 
 block of stone, and were thrown out. Nora fell in a 
 sitting position. Calm and self-possessed, as always, 
 she smiled at me, saying she was not in the least hurt, 
 and could very well get up without any assistance. 
 But since that fall she can no longer feel the dear life 
 throbbing within her. 
 
 I entreated her to go to bed at once, and am now 
 watching beside her. At times I am overmastered 
 by my longing and impatience, and am constrained 
 to ask her whether she no longer feels anything. 
 Then she looks at me with her large, earnest eyes, and 
 says, '^ No, nothing." 
 
 It is of little use pacing up and down my studio rav- 
 ing, and tearing my hair. I cannot say to myself, "It 
 is not my fault." My mother tries her best to comfort 
 me, but what comfort is there left for me ? The one, 
 the only thing that made my life endurable, the hope of 
 having a child of my own, has vanished. Like a cold, 
 grey mist, the conviction that the child is dead creeps 
 into my heart and chills it with the chill of death, 
 and then it begins to beat like a trip hammer, so that 
 there is no longer any chance for me of rest or sleep. 
 
IN FETTERS. 297 
 
 Nora remains perfectly quiet and patient, but 
 evidently suffers a good deal, and complains of a 
 constant feeling of chilliness. Whenever she alludes 
 to this I am obliged to leave the room, for fear of 
 bursting into tears before her. How gladly would I 
 put an end to my life ! 
 
 August 2nd, — We have passed through three 
 terrible, miserable days, and now the dead body of 
 my little daughter lies here in my studio — embedded 
 in flowers. 
 
 At first — after the agony of those terrible hours, 
 during which my poor wife suffered like a heroine, 
 and showed almost superhuman courage and fortitude 
 — my nerves were in such a shattered state that I 
 refused even to see the child. But when at length I 
 mustered sufficient courage to look at it, I found 
 the little body — white and still as a snowflake — so 
 very lovely that I brought it here, and now I have 
 locked all the doors, and am seated beside it weeping. 
 
 Nora lies at the point of death, so wildly delirious 
 that she is absolutely unconscious of the presence of 
 those around her. Before they were able to take 
 the child away from her, she began to rave, and kept 
 on repeating :— 
 
298 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 ** If only she were not so beautiful ! But she is so 
 beautiful that I am nothing in comparison with her ! 
 She is like a queen, like a panther, like an Arabian. 
 Oh, how am I to win his heart, so long as he can- 
 not forget her ? The portrait ! Give me that por- 
 trait ! It is in the studio in the corner. Don't you 
 know it — that beautiful portrait ? 
 
 *^ Ah, with what wild, fierce hatred she looked at 
 me, as though she were challenging me to a struggle 
 for life or death ! 
 
 '-^ And I felt certain of victory, and believed that 
 she must soon die, but she — she killed me with that 
 look. "Why did he not marry her, if he loved her 
 so dearly ? And then her blood began to flow ; it 
 went on flowing, flowing, and I gazed at it, and saw 
 how red, red it was. What name did she call out ? 
 * Anni ' ? * Nino ' ? I was very hard and cruel and 
 revengeful. Oh, do give me that picture ! Has he 
 hidden it? Is he then so very frightened? The 
 portrait — I must have the portrait ! He never even 
 winced when I dealt him such a deadly blow at the 
 Falls of the Ehine ! That was a bad omen for me ! I 
 knew then that I should never possess his heart. I 
 wanted to see his heart quite, quite bare ; I wanted 
 
IN FETTERS. 299 
 
 to see it quivering ; I longed to have it, to possess it ; 
 for it is mine by right. 
 
 ^^But, lie is so proud, he concealed it. And in that 
 moment I loved him madly. And the waters went 
 on roaring and roaring. ... I should like to have 
 gone on my knees and begged his pardon. But we 
 were both of us too proud. ^ Nino ! ' she called ; 
 yes, she cried 'Mno!' so loudly; but he heard 
 nothing — he was blind and deaf. When I told him 
 all this, his lips grew quite white, but he never 
 winced. I thought he would surely have cried out 
 with pain ; but no — he took my weapon from me, and 
 struck me in the heart with it. And that is why the 
 child died. It is my agony and his agony together 
 that has killed the child. I will have his heart ! 
 Oh, give me my husband's heart ! Can't you give 
 it me then ? Am I never to have it ? " 
 
 At these wild sayings of my poor wife, my mother 
 gazed at me open-eyed. Already I have had my 
 pistols in my hand. But the sight of the little child, 
 so still and peaceful, had more power over me than 
 even the soul-rending words of my wife. That sight 
 would not allow me to put an end to myself. 
 
 To-day she cried with a wild, bitter laugh : — 
 
300 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 '-'' He thinks I do not understand him ! But I can 
 read him like an open book. I know why he is 
 weeping. Oh, he is weeping so bitterly, so bitterly, 
 but not for me. He is weeping for the child, and for 
 her. Oh, how he weeps ! I saw him go and fetch 
 his pistols, and my heart beat with terror ; it beat so 
 fast, and I longed to cry out. 
 
 " But I did not want everybody to know, so I lay 
 quite still, and only said to myself: — *You ought 
 not to do that ! No, you have no right to do that ! ' 
 And then he laid the pistols down, and threw himself 
 on his knees before the child. Oh, do take away 
 the pistols, or he will try to shoot himself ! '^ 
 
 She gave a loud shriek. ^^No, I must not cry 
 out, or the world will discover our secrets. But 
 don't leave the pistols there, for if I see him go and 
 fetch them again I shall go mad. See how he is 
 kissing the cold, dead child ! He never kisses me 
 like that ! Can no one help us, then ? He imagines 
 I know nothing about her ! But I have known for 
 some time that her name is Lavinia. I have put 
 such clever, cautious questions to his mother, so as 
 to try and learn something from her, but she seems 
 to know nothing. Much more has passed between 
 
IN FETTERS, 301 
 
 them than he has ever told her — his mother — but 
 what ? How is it that he still loves her— Lavinia — 
 with such mad love ? " 
 
 What torture ! When she talks like this before 
 my mother, before the doctor, before her maids, I 
 feel as though I were on the rack. I dare not look 
 anyone of them in the face, and they dare not look at 
 me. Nora has never tortured me consciously and 
 deliberately, as she is now torturing me uncon- 
 sciously. She talks without ceasing : just as though 
 she felt compelled to free herself at last from the 
 burden of a heretofore perpetual silence. 
 
 August V)th. — My child is buried, and I^ora is very 
 near her grave. Her thoughts range perpetually in the 
 same narrow circle. Sometimes she merely murmurs 
 quite softly, but the murmur is always "Lavinia!'' 
 My mother has not yet ventured to question me 
 about anything, except with her eyes, which I do 
 my best to avoid. I bear a grudge against my mother, 
 and am unable to forgive her ; it is she who has forged 
 the chains whose heavy burden I must bear to my 
 life's end. 
 
 August \^th, — The doctors have grave doubts of 
 Nora's recovery. They are sending telegrams to other 
 
302 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 doctors, and consulting together, and shaking their 
 heads at one another. And each fresh doctor has to 
 listen to the same story : that it is all my fault, that 
 my wife was thrown out of a carriage through my 
 carelessness. It is enough to drive one mad ! I shall 
 sell those horses — I will never see them again. It 
 was not their fault though, after all, poor beasts ! 
 
 To-day I was in my studio ; the door leading into 
 my study happened to be ajar, and so I overheard a 
 conversation between my mother and the doctors. 
 
 First they discussed Nora's case, which the physi- 
 cians apparently look upon as well-nigh hopeless, and 
 then they spoke of me. My mother is very anxious 
 about the state of my health. I heard her say : — 
 
 *^ It is quite shocking to see how thin he is grow- 
 ing : his chest is shrunken and hollow, and his hair 
 is beginning to turn grey ! " 
 
 *' That is quite in the natural order of things," was 
 the reply. ^^Such mental agony as he has been 
 forced to endure must of necessity prey upon and 
 exhaust the vital forces, without there being any 
 physical derangement whatever." 
 
 ** Yes," replied my mother, " and the effect on him 
 of all this mental trouble is so much the more fatal 
 
IN FETTERS. 3f^3 
 
 because he is always silent about such matters, and 
 never speaks to anyone of the terrible self-reproach 
 that is consuming him." 
 
 Ah ! would that my strength might indeed become 
 quickly exhausted I 
 
 September 1st. — Nora still lives !— that is all that 
 can be said of her at present. During the last few 
 days no one has even thought of going to bed : she 
 has been hovering, as it were, between life and death. 
 
 When she first recognised me, such an angelic 
 smile, a smile of such rapturous delight, passed over 
 her countenance, that I hid myself behind the bed- 
 curtains : it was as though a vision had smiled upon 
 me. Nora is scarcely to be recognised. Her beauti- 
 ful hair has fallen off, her cheeks have become hollow, 
 and she looks like an old woman. To-day I gently 
 stroked my cheeks with her transparent little hand, 
 lying like a lily leaf on the white coverlet. Her eyes 
 appear the largest part of her whole face ; although 
 they have lost nothing of their expression of sharp- 
 ness and penetration, there is in them now a sugges- 
 tion of sorrow which greatly tends to soften and 
 subdue their brilliancy. 
 
 If she only knew all that she had said in those 
 
304 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 long, long weeks ! If she only knew how she has 
 laid bare all the deepest wounds of my heart for the 
 inspection of strangers ; for how long hours at a time 
 she has constantly had me under the dissecting-knife, 
 she would indeed be wretched. To-day as she was 
 gazing at me, her eyes filled with tears, but she said 
 nothing. Ah, how true it is that genuine outpourings 
 of the heart only occur during the silent watches af 
 the night ! 
 
 Silence once more reigns between us. If this state 
 of things continues, neither of us will ever be able 
 to recover, especially since I have learned that it will 
 never again be possible for her to become a mother. 
 For me there is in her gaze a silent but perpetual 
 reproach. 
 
 Yes, all hope of motherhood for her is past for ever. 
 For myself there could be no more cruel punishment 
 than this, for I used to console myself with the pros- 
 pect of a house full of children. My home, however, 
 must remain empty, as far as these dear beings are 
 concerned, until my brother takes possession of it. 
 The inheritance may be of use to him, for he has 
 nothing—less than nothing. He no longer tells me 
 the full amount of his debts ; he is too much ashamed 
 
IN FETTERS. 30S 
 
 of himself. The other day he made enquiries of the 
 doctors as to Nora's exact condition, and since then he 
 has been gambling as though Haxtroden and half the 
 world besides already belonged to him ; but in spite of 
 all, he still remains my mother's darling ; from baby- 
 hood upwards she has always had an indescribable 
 tenderness for him. 
 
 To-day, when my mother wished to go in to Nora, 
 the nurse prevented her from doing so by saying that 
 her patient was asleep, whereas I had only just that 
 minute heard her talking. Thi3 was a new light for 
 me. So Nora does not like my mother; she only 
 bears with her because she is obliged to do so. I 
 resolved, however, to make quite sure of this. 
 
 *^ I suppose my mother is rather too lively for an 
 invalid ? " I said to Nora. 
 
 ^^ Yes, she talks a good deal, and asks a great many 
 questions, and often I cannot imagine who has told 
 her some of the things that she questions me about." 
 A suspicious glance at me accompanied these words. 
 
 *^ Well, you know," I said, "in fever one tells all 
 sorts of wild stories, and then afterwards people want 
 to know whether there was any truth in them or 
 
 X 
 
3o6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Nora started up. '^ I talked, did I ? What did I 
 say, then ? Oh, do, do tell me what I said." 
 
 ^^ Nothing, except what might come from a tender, 
 pure, and loving heart," I replied. 
 
 She cast down her eyes with a troubled, anxious 
 expression, and from time to time gazed at me search- 
 ingly and curiously. There was an old, old look in 
 her haggard face at that moment that seemed to me 
 scarcely human. 
 
 ** Your mother is always wanting to talk with me 
 about the child, and I cannot talk of it ! " she said, 
 after a short pause, and her lips trembled visibly. 
 
 " Don't you think," I said, " that it is better not 
 to talk about our greatest sorrows ? Don't you think 
 that if we are silent we are able to bear them more 
 patiently ? " 
 
 *^I am not sure," she said. ** Perhaps they might 
 heal more quickly if we did talk of them, just as a 
 wound heals more quickly under the touch of lunar 
 caustic. But one has not always sufficient courage to 
 undergo such an ordeal." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "but there are certain wounds 
 that one prefers to leave unhealed, for fear of be- 
 coming quite numb and petrified if freed from the 
 
IN FETTERS. 307 
 
 quickening influences of the pain that accompanies 
 them." 
 
 She looked at me again, a profound, searching look, 
 as though she were trying to sound me to the very 
 depths. I bore the look, however, with great com- 
 posure. 
 
 September Sth. — My brother has arrived here with 
 his wife and child, and is engaged in shooting my deer. 
 I have invited my friend Hermann in the hope of 
 somewhat enlivening the long and painful period of 
 Nora's convalescence. He comes and sits beside me 
 near Nora's sofa, where she lies stretched at full 
 length, and almost motionless ; then tells all sorts of 
 anecdotes in his hearty, cheery fashion. My brother 
 is not best pleased at having to share the pleasures of 
 the chase with him, and Hermann is not particularly 
 fond of my sister-in-law, who has rather vulgar tastes 
 and ideas, and who makes an idol, and at the same 
 time a tyrant, of her little child. 
 
 It certainly showed great lack of tenderness and 
 kindly feeling on her part to parade her child under 
 our very eyes just at this time. I have forbidden her 
 to bring it again into my wife's room. When she 
 brought it in to show it to Nora for the first time, she 
 
3o8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 actually placed it at my wife's very feet. Nora began 
 to play with it most sweetly and kindly, and continued 
 to do so until she suddenly fell back in a swoon. 
 When she recovered consciousness, she fell into vio- 
 lent hysterics. 
 
 I was so angry with my brother that I lost all 
 command of my temper, but one might just as well be 
 angry with a broomstick. He merely made humorous 
 remarks, after his usual fashion, and remained as 
 utterly devoid of feeling as though all that I were 
 saying were no concern of his. Hermann shared in 
 my anger, and that was some little relief and consola- 
 tion to me. 
 
 My other brother also wishes to come here; he 
 wants to take part in the shooting, the rascal. After 
 what has passed between us, I cannot conceive how 
 he can have the audacity to make his appearance 
 under my roof. 
 
 September 19 /A. — The days glide by wearily. 
 There seems to be no improvement in Nora's health. 
 It is just as though some heavy burden were weighing 
 on her mind that no power on earth can remove. To- 
 day I questioned my mother very closely, for, just 
 after she had left her, I found my wife greatly excited. 
 
IN FETTERS. 309 
 
 crying bitterly, and in a painfully weak and exhausted 
 condition. 
 
 For a long while my mother would tell me nothing, 
 but at length I forced her to confess that she had 
 thought over Nora's delirious ravings until she had 
 established some connection between them in her own 
 mind, and had just been putting my wife through a 
 cross-examination in regard to them. 
 
 I am afraid that when I heard this I did not behave 
 as a son should behave to his mother, for she began to 
 weep and to tremble under the torrent of reproaches 
 that I poured upon her. She asked me whether I 
 could not forgive the over-anxiety of a loving mother's 
 heart. I answered, ^' No ! " I told her that she had 
 no right to seek to know the meaning of the delirious 
 confessions of my poor, unconscious wife; that she 
 ought to have done her best to forget them, and that 
 above all she ought never to have repeated to Nora 
 what had been uttered in the wild ravings of delirium. 
 
 " I cannot comprehend you, mother," I cried ; ^* you 
 have always taught me to be discreet, and now you 
 yourself act in this fashion. But, mother, how could 
 you — how could you do such a thing ? " 
 
 " Will you, then, rob me of my right to watch over 
 
310 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 you?" she said. *^Are you then no longer my 
 child?'' 
 
 *^ I wish that it were so," I answered ; " I wish you 
 had never brought me into the world, mother ! You 
 gave me a fatal gift when you gave me existence." 
 
 She wept, and I remained hard and cold. My rage 
 was so great that it shook and tore me like a hurri- 
 cane, and now I feel as shattered and dead as though 
 I were a piece of ore whence all metal has been poured 
 out in a molten, fiery stream. I have the miserable 
 feeling that a woman has trembled before me, and that 
 woman my own mother. 
 
 But she ought not to have done this I She ought 
 never to have done it ! Had it not been for her, Nora 
 would never have known of what she raved about in 
 her delirium; now the knowledge of it will always 
 be a torture to her, and will certainly not tend to im- 
 prove the relations between us. When in health my 
 wife has such perfect tact, and knows how to govern 
 her every word and look, that she must feel deeply 
 humiliated at having told our painful secret as it were 
 to all the four winds. She looked anxiously from me 
 to my mother ; noticed that I did not speak to this 
 latter, and became so deathly pale, I thought she was 
 
IN FETTERS. 311 
 
 going to faint. She asked no questions, however, but 
 she is suffering as before, from great pain and terrible 
 exhaustion. I carried her to her bed, held her in my 
 arms, and kissed her forehead and eyes ; she pressed 
 my hands to her lips, and began to sob bitterly. 
 
 '^ Never mind, dear child ! " I said. " Only try 
 and be calm. Never mind; you are a dear angel; 
 you are incapable of doing anything wrong." 
 
 She kissed my hand repeatedly, and the rebellious 
 tears would fall, however much she tried to force 
 them back. 
 
 " We are both very unhappy," she said ; ^^ but our 
 sorrow springs from such different sources that it is 
 impossible for us to share the burden of it, and so we 
 must be silent." 
 
 " The sight of such conjugal happiness as yours is 
 certainly most touching, and puts us to shame," said 
 my sister-in-law, when we had all assembled round 
 Nora's couch after dinner. ^^ I suppose," she con- 
 tinued, ^' you have liever had a quarrel ? " 
 
 "No, never," I replied; "and, what is more, we 
 never intend to have one ! " 
 
 "Dear me, but such harmony is something too 
 wonderful ! The disputes I have with Edouard ! He 
 
312 
 
 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 tells me that I annoy him so, and I tell him he is 
 such a tyrant, and then we have an awful quarrel, 
 and then we make it up again so prettily. But 
 with you two, there seems to be the peace of heaven 
 itself!" 
 
 ^^ Does there not ? " I answered. 
 
 My mother looked down into her lap, and Nora 
 made little knots in her handkerchief with her white, 
 trembling hands ; my brother Max whistled softly to 
 himself, and looked first at Nora, then at me, while 
 Edouard laughed aloud. 
 
 ^'Yes, we quarrel so fearfully that sometimes we 
 are on the point of throwing the knives and forks at 
 one another's heads ; we have already borrowed all the 
 books in the library for this purpose ; the only resource 
 now left to us is to use our fists. It will be great fun: 
 we have not the least notion yet which of us will get 
 the better of the other in a hand-to-hand fight." 
 
 " For shame, Edouard 1 " said my mother. 
 
 He came behind her chair and threw his arm round 
 her neck. 
 
 ^^ We are going to be very good, very good indeed," 
 ho said, in the peculiar, caressing tone with which he 
 has always been able to coax my mother into doing 
 
IN FETTERS. 313 
 
 whatever he wished, and my sister-in-law laughed, 
 and said : — 
 
 " Oh yes, that is always his way : when he pleases, 
 he can be as gentle as a lamb, and no one has the 
 heart to be angry with him then. But he does not in 
 the least deserve your forgiveness, dear mamma. He 
 is a great, lazy fellow, a good-for-nothing, frivolous 
 creature ! " 
 
 And how tenderly and lovingly she looked at him 
 as she said this, and how proudly my handsome, 
 frivolous brother gazed down at her, although he 
 had told me only that morning that unless I would 
 assist him in his money difficulties, the only thing 
 remaining for him to do was to send a bullet through 
 his head. 
 
 ^^Take me away from here," whispered Nora to 
 me this evening. 
 
 ^' Yes," I answered ; *^ that I will. You can't bear 
 the life here, child. Where shall we go ? " 
 
 ^^ Oh, anywhere where it is warm, and where there 
 are no people ! " 
 
 Again the lips began to tremble as though she were 
 about to cry. My strong-minded wife has become as 
 weak and hysterical as a little child. I am writing 
 
314 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 this in an atmosphere of the most perfect solitude and 
 external tranquillity. I do not intend to go to bed 
 this night. I have passed many such hours lately, 
 lying on the black fur rug in front of the fireplace in 
 my studio, where I take care to keep a small fire 
 burning. I can sleep best on the floor, and in a room 
 that is not in complete darkness. Night and bed are 
 the enemies of the wretched. In the studio my heart 
 is more at rest, for there I am surrounded by traces 
 of my former industry, and of the creative power of 
 happier days, and although these things have been 
 fatally blighted and well-nigh killed in me, I am glad 
 not to lose all memory of them. 
 
 My diary is a sort of consolation to me ; at any rate, 
 my mind is active while I am writing ; although my 
 pen no longer serves me in higher intellectual labour. 
 At least during that time I am able to pace up and 
 down and about the room at my will ; on the thick soft 
 carpet not even my own footstep can disturb me. I 
 rack my brains in trying to imagine what I ought to 
 do in order to build up the edifice that is called con- 
 jugal happiness. In what, then, does such happiness 
 consist ? It is as ambiguous a word as was the fatal 
 riddle of the Sphinx ; like that, it is likewise a riddle 
 
IN FETTERS. 315 
 
 for which one can scarcely find the solution, and which 
 means death for those who are nnable to solve it. 
 
 My child has died before the terrible question could 
 be put to her. It is well for her. . . . And I wish 
 to put an end to my life, because she is dead ? 
 
 With my deep and passionate love I would have 
 shielded her from all sorrow and evil — yes, just like 
 my own mother, whose anxious love for me has blighted 
 all my hopes, and wrecked my life, and who never 
 tries to further my happiness but she plunges me into 
 greater misery. 
 
 September 21 th, — I am beginning to find a certain 
 sweetness in my lonely nights. There is, in a sense, a 
 slackening of the intolerable tension of the whole day, 
 and even if I am unable to sleep, I enjoy a period of 
 comparative rest. 
 
 Nora has just suffered a slight relapse. In the 
 midst of her pain she begged me not to be angry with 
 my mother. 
 
 ^^ Just think," she said, ^^ she might die to-morrow, 
 and then, suppose you were not reconciled to her ! 
 Besides, we are soon going away, are we not ? " 
 
 When my mother entered, I went up to her, said 
 ^* Good morning," and kissed her hand. She, 
 
3;6 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 however, had no tender looks or words for me — she 
 reserves all these for my brother— and to Nora she 
 was as cold in her manner as though the relapse had 
 been a crime, a little comedy got up in order to 
 alienate me from my dear parent. Evidently we are 
 both in her bad graces. 
 
 *^I have only come because it is my duty, and 
 for the sake of appearances,'' she said, in freezing 
 tones. 
 
 It would have been far better had she neglected 
 this duty, for her presence only tends to excite Nora 
 most painfully. 
 
 October \st. — In the quietude and stillness of night 
 I sometimes take out Lavinia's portrait like a thief 
 who likes to have a quiet look at his hidden treasure. 
 There is surely no sin in looking at it ? Sometimes 
 I place it on the ground, so as to let the light from 
 the fire play upon it, and then I lie down in front of 
 it, and gaze at it for hours together. I wonder if she 
 is dead ? I trust she is. She must surely either be 
 dead, or else be very near death, after such terrible 
 illness. And, therefore, I may look at her portrait 
 sometimes ; there can be no sin in doing so. Her 
 imago is to me like a breeze from Paradise, wafting 
 
IN FETTERS. 317 
 
 \ 
 
 me back to the old days when I still believed in love 
 and happiness, in my talents, and in my future ! 
 
 October bth, — I am still trembling in all my limbs. 
 I had once more placed Lavinia's picture in front of 
 me, and had become absorbed in the contemplation 
 of it. All at once I heard a slight movement, and, 
 looking round, I perceived Nora gliding in her long 
 night- dress towards the curtain. I saw her lift up 
 the curtain softly, without the slightest noise, and 
 disappear, and near me, on the carpet, I perceived her 
 pocket-handkerchief. So she must have been standing 
 close to me, looking at the painting for some time, 
 and I knew nothing of this, for I lay with my face 
 buried in my arms, weeping. As for the little hand- 
 kerchief, all wet with tears, I have locked it up in a 
 safe place ; Nora shall never find out that she was 
 seen by me. I will take good care never to bring 
 out Lavinia's picture again, unless after having care- 
 fully locked all the doors ; but if I lock them now, 
 she will know that I have seen her. My heart is 
 throbbing so violently that I can distinctly hear it 
 beating. And people talk of ghosts ! I would rather 
 all the inhabitants of Hell itself had been dancing 
 round me than have seen what I have seen this 
 
3i8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 night, and I know that as long as I live I shall never 
 be able to forget the sight. 
 
 Nora was bare-footed. Her little feet were just 
 visible under her night-dress, which she held up ever 
 so little, so as not to tread upon it. Perhaps she has 
 met her death this night. How long, I wonder, had 
 she been standing there ? How softly and silently 
 she must have wept ! And at the first motion on my 
 part she fled. How long can I have been lying 
 there ? It is now three o'clock. A very long time, 
 at all events. I would fain contemplate another 
 picture, the portrait of my little daughter that I 
 painted for myself as she lay almost enveloped in 
 flowers. In the exquisite little face there is abundant 
 peace, but my own heart is so utterly devoid of 
 comfort that I feel as though, even were I at the very 
 gates of Paradise, I should turn away, driven back 
 by a curse like that which rested on the Wandering 
 Jew. 
 
 I have made Nora wife and mother, I have robbed 
 her of all joy and peace and health, and have made 
 her as unhappy as it is possible for any woman to be 
 made. Now she is neither wife nor mother, and can 
 never again bring a child into the world. This, this 
 
IN FETTERS. 3 '9 
 
 is all my doing. Oh, God ! be merciful to me, a poor 
 sinner ! 
 
 Beethoven's "Hymn of Eepentance" keeps on sound- 
 ing in my ears, and especially the grand finale, with 
 its promise of pardon. Is there, then, really a Divine 
 Mercy? I do not believe it. I believe there is 
 nothing but pain and torment. 
 
 My friend Hermann sees that I am suffering, and 
 tries to help and comfort me. He coaxes me to go 
 out with him into the woods, and there we talk over 
 our old wild student days, recall all the mad pranks 
 we used to play together. He is so full of kindness 
 and tenderness that he helps me to bear the life here, 
 in spite of mother, sister-in-law, and brothers, who 
 certainly do not try to make my existence easier to 
 me. 
 
 Sometimes it seems to me as though I must relieve 
 my mind by confessing everything to Hermann, but 
 I have no longer any right to do this : I am a married 
 man. 
 
 Evidently it was Nora's intention to come to me in 
 the night and comfort me, when she found me gazing 
 at Lavinia's picture. My poor wife ! I know well 
 that she will never come again. I might place 
 
3*0 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Lavinia's picture every night in the same place, for 
 Nora will never come again; but I have not the 
 heart to do so, for now it has no longer any consola- 
 tion for me — now it only serves to remind me of my 
 wife's cruel agony. 
 
 October ^th, — Timidly and anxiously I entered 
 Nora's room this morning. She received me with per- 
 fect good humour and amiability, said she had slept 
 well and had been thinking over a good route for our 
 journey. Such a restless spirit as myself must soon 
 suffer from depression, she declared, unless each day 
 afforded some fresh amusement or interest. 
 
 Were it not that I have the little handkerchief 
 safely locked up in my writing-table, I should be 
 forced to believe that last night I had seen a vision. 
 
 Nora seems to have lost all trace of feebleness, and 
 to all appearance is now as self-possessed, as calm and 
 resolute as she used to be before her illness. She talks 
 of the books that we must read together, of the picture 
 galleries that we must visit, although she tells my 
 mother jestingly that to-day she is not able to walk; 
 she even teases my brothers, and begs my sister-in- 
 law to let her see her child. I believe I would far 
 rather have seen her shed a flood of tears. She has 
 
IN FETTERS. 321 
 
 locked the door of her heart against me, and who 
 knows whether she will ever open it again. If any 
 one is ignorant of how much self-control a woman 
 is capable, let him come and visit us, and see — my 
 wife. 
 
 ^^But how is it that you are unable to walk 
 to-day ? " said my mother. ^* Several days ago you 
 were able to walk." 
 
 I listened anxiously. 
 
 ''' I tried to get up early this morning, feeling rested 
 after a good night, but I fell back in bed, exhausted. 
 It is quite absurd to be still feeling so weak ! " And 
 as she said this Nora became deathly pale, and her 
 eyes looked extraordinarily large, albeit her mouth 
 smiled. , 
 
 My wife is indeed a heroine, and her courage puts 
 me to shame. I have just unlocked the secret drawer 
 in my writing-table, and have been looking at the 
 little handkerchief : it was becoming so very difficult 
 to me to resist the impression that I was under some 
 hallucination. I can scarcely endure the knowledge 
 of what happened last night ; even on the rug in my 
 studio I can find no rest. I feel like the moth which 
 is now buzzing round my lamp : every other moment 
 
 Y 
 
322 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 it falls on the carpet and begins to rub its scorcbed 
 feet and its transparent wings, evidently in great pain, 
 but, neverthless, back it flies again, until at last it has 
 burnt its wings to nothing, cannot even crawl, and 
 writhes about in such agony that I can no longer 
 bear the sight of its torments, and compassionately 
 crush it to death. How easy it is to crush an insect 
 to death ! In a second it has become dust, less than 
 dust, and all torment is at end — but I am no moth. 
 My life was in my own hands, and I have thought- 
 lessly and carelessly misused and misspent it. 
 Human beings are not crushed so easily. 
 
 It seems to me as though I could not be permitted 
 to die before I have redeemed, even to the very last 
 iota, the wrong I have done to Nora. 
 
 My wings are scorched so that I shall never again 
 be able to fly, and as for my feet, if they will just 
 enable me to. walk, it is all that I can expect of them. 
 
CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 October ^th. — !N"ora joined us in the drawing-room 
 to-day for the first time since her illness. Her hair 
 begins to show itself again in little curls under her 
 cap, not, however, with the luxuriant growth of 
 perfect convalescence. 
 
 Her eyes look unnaturally large, as if she had 
 suffered much from sleeplessness, although she 
 always maintains that she has slept remarkably well. 
 For my part I am unable to tell such direct untruths : 
 I openly confess that I sleep but very little. At times 
 I feel horrified at the rapidity with which N'ora is 
 ageing, but immediately afterwards I am tortured by 
 renewed pangs of conscience — I feel that it is I who 
 have wrecked and injured her health. Sometimes I ask 
 myself what would have happened had I hastened after 
 her on that fatal night, and had we talked over every- 
 thing together. But I cannot discuss such matters 
 
324 ELISA BETH OF ROUMANIA . 
 
 with her. It is, perhaps, unpardonable weakness on 
 my part, but I cannot. 
 
 The only thing that gives me any peace or comfort 
 is to occupy myself during the long nights in writing. 
 And when I shall be gone, I shall have taken good 
 care that, as a widow, she shall have sufficient fortune 
 to be quite independent, to travel, to buy books, to 
 do whatever she may fancy. Her life will not be 
 utterly miserable. Now that I know our departure 
 to be very near, and feel that I shall soon be living 
 the wretched hotel life which I detest, I am perfectly 
 revelling in the long nights that I spend alone in my 
 studio. But she wishes to travel, she longs to be 
 away from here. And seeing that I have made her 
 life so unbearable, I owe it to her to take her to the 
 very end of the world, if it should be her wish to 
 go so far. 
 
 I have a perfect dread of spending many months 
 amid noise, discomfort and confusion, and of con- 
 sulting various strange doctors, not one of whom will 
 be able to do my poor Nora any good, because not one 
 of them will know the real cause of the gnawing pain 
 that is wasting her life and strength. I shudder at the 
 thought of the coming months, more especially if I 
 
IN FETTERS. 325 
 
 am still to suffer from insomnia, scarcely endurable 
 even in the still, peaceful atmosphere of my favourite 
 haunt — my studio. 
 
 Baden, October ^%th. 
 We have come here, and at present there seems but 
 little probability of our getting any further. Nora is 
 very much exhausted by the journey, although we 
 accomplished it in easy stages. She wishes to make 
 the acquaintance of several people who are staying 
 here, and to hold a small drawing-room sometimes, as 
 she lies on her sofa ; she thinks this will be a distrac- 
 tion for us both. The society here is of a very 
 cosmopolitan character : perhaps that is just what 
 will please her. I thought she would be sure to wish 
 to go to England, but it appears she has relatives 
 there^hom she would much rather forget. 
 
 November %th. — I wander about here like a wretched 
 spirit that can find no rest ; I long for home. !N'ora 
 has already collected a circle of acquaintances round 
 her, so that I am free to wander for hours together in 
 the woods, under the tall pine-trees, in the mild air that 
 makes one feel as though it were summer time. Under 
 these influences I now and then get a little sleep. 
 
320 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 People here find Nora highly clever and intellectual, 
 and congratulate me on my good fortune in possessing 
 such a wife ; but at the same time they express their 
 sorrow at her shattered health. 
 
 November 18//^. — The weather continues perfect. 
 I spend much of my time near the old castle, lying 
 in some solitary corner among the ruins. I am so 
 exhausted by excess of emotion and anxious thought, 
 that I should like, of all things, to cease for a while 
 either to think or to feel. I should like to become a 
 mere animal. 
 
 November 25^^.— Help me, ye gods ! Lavinia is 
 here ! And I must not, I dare not go mad ! I dare not 
 go and meet her publicly before all the world, for, if 
 I did, I should at once be hunted and driven back 
 by conscience, only to become even more wretched 
 than I am at present. 
 
 There was a thick fog all yesterday which invested 
 the tall pines with spectral draperies ; all the leaves 
 were dripping with moisture, and the wood filled with 
 sounds of the rippling and trickling of falling water. 
 
 I was sauntering slowly towards the wood, and, 
 without purposing to walk in any particular direction, 
 took by chance a turning that led through the trees. 
 
IN FETTE^!^^^^^^^ 327 
 
 On a sudden I perceived a sketch-book lying on the 
 ground, and near it a camp-stool. "Who might have 
 been drawing here, and who might be the possessor of 
 the sketch-book ? I went a few paces further, and 
 waited in order to see who should come. I heard a 
 light footstep and the rustle of a woman's dress, and 
 there, coming out of the thick fog, and quite close to 
 me, was Lavinia ! 
 
 For one moment we stared at each other, speechless, 
 and then, with a soft '' Ah ! '' we sank into each other's 
 arms. "We were powerless to utter a word : we could 
 only listen to the beating of our own hearts, we could 
 only feel our unutterable happiness. I was forced to 
 lean against a tree in order not to sink under her light 
 weight. She pressed her handkerchief to her lips: 
 it was stained with ruby drops. 
 
 "What ! again ! " I cried. 
 
 She freed herself from my embrace, and stared at 
 me, horror-stricken. 
 
 " You have — seen this — this — already ? " she 
 asked, her lips contracted with an expression of such 
 pain, and her beautiful nostrils quivering with such 
 violent emotion that for a minute I was unable to 
 answer, unable to collect my thoughts. 
 
328 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 My eyes sank before her glance, and I stammered : — 
 ** Yes, I saw you in Lucerne, when I was on my 
 wedding journey. '^ 
 
 ^* And also in Zurich ? " 
 
 ^^ No, I had no idea that you were there, and only 
 heard long afterwards that you had been seen there.'' 
 ^^ Who told you, then?" 
 " My wife.'' 
 
 "We gazed silently at each other for some time. 
 '' How is it that you are so unhappy, Jannino ? " 
 she asked suddenly. 
 
 "Because I am unable to forget Sorrento." 
 Now it was her turn to cast down her eyes. 
 "It is you who have spoiled my life, Lavinia," I 
 said ; " if I am unhappy it is your fault." 
 She still kept her eyes fixed on the ground. 
 " I have borne a more bitter grudge against you, 
 Lavinia, than against any creature in this world." 
 
 "Have I not then been sufficiently punished?" 
 she said, without lifting her eyes. 
 
 "How am I to know ? " I said, in a hard tone. 
 " Oh, Jannino ! " She clasped her hands. 
 "You were once my flower, my saint, my jewel, 
 my sunbeam ! " I said passionately. " It was you 
 
IN FETTERS. 329 
 
 who made my life valuable and beautiful. You were 
 everything, everything to me ! " 
 
 '^ Oh, why should you torture me with these 
 reproaches now," she said, ^* now that all is at an end 
 between us? When I lay ill and in despair in 
 Sorrento, you used to be so good and kind, Jannino, 
 and no reproach ever passed your lips ! You seemed 
 to me then like my better angel ! '' 
 
 I was ashamed of my outbreak of passion : it was 
 almost as though I had meant to make her answerable 
 for all the misery I had endured of late. And yet I did 
 not wish her to perceive that I had suffered : I tried 
 to appear hard and stern and cold : I wanted to 
 punish her for all that she had caused me to suffer, 
 and she disarmed me with one word. " You seemed 
 to me then like my better angel ! '* 
 
 And what had I become since that time ? To think 
 that hers should be the lips to remind me of my 
 old self! 
 
 '-'- 1 have endeavoured to become worthy of you, 
 Jannino," she said, ^^ I have become a painter ; I live 
 in Paris, and I work from early morning till night. 
 I have a great deal to do, and am just at present on 
 a visit to friends here, so as to get a little rest." 
 
330 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 I could have groaned aloud. A life spent with her 
 would have been Paradise. Enthusiastically I began 
 to picture to myself our studio, with her figure there, 
 we two painting, singing; so happy, so unutterably 
 happy ! I gnashed my teeth in the bitterness of my 
 regret, while Lavinia began to relate to me how she 
 began to learn the art of painting, some time ago, in 
 order to get away from her aunt, and be independent. 
 She had possessed more strength of mind and will 
 than I. She had given drawing lessons, so as to be 
 able to earn her own living and be free, and after- 
 wards she had painted portraits, and these had soon 
 brought in money. She has always had the power 
 of doing almost anything to which she put her 
 hand. People willingly had their portraits painted 
 by the handsome lady artist, more especially, as she 
 told me with an arch smile, because she usually 
 painted them better-looking than they really were. 
 
 She talked earnestly and fluently, and we neither of 
 us noticed how rapidly the time was passing, and how 
 the fog had gradually dispersed, until at length the 
 sun burst through and enveloped all things in a haze 
 of brilliant splendour. With the wonderfully fine tact 
 that she has always had, she took care to ask me very 
 
IN FETTERS. 331 
 
 little about myself. We promised each other to meet 
 here daily. 
 
 December V^tli. — I have very little to relate to my 
 diary, for I tell everything to Lavinia, and find rest 
 and peace in doing so. Our roles are changed. She 
 has become my confessor, and leans down lovingly 
 and tenderly from the summit of her supreme and 
 holy elevation, in order, like the sweetest of sisters, 
 to give me comfort and support. 
 
 January \2th. — We meet each other in the snow, 
 and wander hither and thither. She has even taught 
 me how to sleep again. The fearful tension has 
 slackened at last ; since Lavinia has fed my soul with 
 warmth and reciprocity and deep sympathy, I no 
 longer feel the coolness that exists between my wife 
 and myself. 
 
 February 10 th. — Had I not sworn to myself to 
 observe the most rigorous truth in writing this 
 journal, I would put down nothing to-day. 
 
 For two, three days Lavinia had not come to our 
 place of meeting, and so at last, tortured with anxiety, 
 I resolved to go in search of her. I found the villa 
 where she was sta3ing, and did not have myself 
 announced, but, giving another name, asked to be 
 
3 3 2 ELISA BETH OF ROUMANIA . 
 
 conducted to her room. As I opened the door, she 
 sprang up from her couch, on which she was lying, 
 dressed, and flew towards me. I tried to fold her 
 in my arms. She, however, only stretched out her 
 hands and lowered her head. In that moment we 
 were both overcome by memories of the past. Her 
 chamber was filled with the same aroma as in 
 Sorrento: flowers were everywhere, especially violets. 
 Her hair was all dishevelled with lying down, and 
 her cheeks were flushed. 
 
 *' And so you have come to me ? " she said. 
 
 ^^ May I not come and see how you are ? " I asked 
 softly, and drew her forcibly towards me, so that her 
 forehead rested on my shoulder. I was determined 
 that she should look into my eyes. 
 
 " Lavinia ! " I said, ^' had you not forgotten me ? " 
 
 A quick glance. ^* I forget ! Oh, my God ! " 
 Again she let her head sink upon my breast. '^I 
 have been dying with longing after you, Jannino ! " 
 
 " Ah, child, you have caused me such cruel pain 
 that I am obliged to doubt you, even while I hold you 
 in my arms ! " 
 
 She sank upon her knees. 
 
 '' Kill me if it please you, but believe in me ! With 
 
IN FETTERS, 333 
 
 what, then, can I be sufficiently true if my lips lie, 
 and my eyes lie, and my beating heart lies ? Tell me, 
 with what can I be true ?" 
 
 I lifted her up again. She trembled like an aspen 
 leaf. 
 
 " Ah ! child, child ! If only you could be mine ! 
 I would guard you and protect you, and enwrap 
 you in my love, so that no unkind glance might annoy 
 you. Oh, if you were only mine ! " 
 
 " I am yours, with my whole soul," she whispered. 
 " But of what use to tell you so if you will not believe 
 it ? I have learnt to look up to you as to something 
 unapproachable, something holy, Jannino ! How can 
 I speak to you of love ? " 
 
 I have no longer any knowledge of what I said to 
 her, of what I heard her say. I only know that I 
 loved her madly; ah! not in the least like a "pure 
 angel," but quite in an earthly fashion, and with all 
 that is good and bad in my nature. And I felt com- 
 pelled to tell her this, and to drag her with me into 
 the wild flood of my passionate love. For me there 
 was no longer any outer world, nor any time, nor any 
 human beings save we two, nor any past — only a 
 mighty, all powerfid, soul-stirring present, only a 
 
334 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 breakiQg-down of all the boundaries which should by 
 rights never have been broken down — which had it 
 not been for our misdoings, for our destiny, would 
 never have been set up. It seemed as though, in the 
 vortex of that fatal passion that had already gnawed 
 at my heart's core, and sapped the very springs of my 
 being, all landmarks were torn down and effaced. 
 
 At last I came to my senses, and then a terrible 
 sensation of shame pierced my heart suddenly like a 
 sharp dagger. I thrust from me the woman whom I 
 had only just been embracing in a rapture of passion, 
 and cried, almost in a threatening tone : — 
 
 ^'Lavinia! "What have you made of me? Go 
 away ! Go away from here ! Never in my life will 
 I see you again ! It must be at an end between us 
 for ever, Lavinia ! " 
 
 She became pale as death. 
 
 " Go away from here ! " I said, harshly. 
 
 ^^ Jannino ! " 
 
 *' I shall be forced to despise myself if my eyes look 
 OD you again! Go away ! I am a miserable wretch ! " 
 
 I had sunk into an arm-chair. She thi-ew herself 
 . on her knees beside me ; her large, tearless eyes gazed 
 upon me. 
 
IN FETTERS, 335 
 
 "Am I then so utterly unworthy of you, Jannino?" 
 
 ^'No; it is I who am miserable and unworthy! 
 All my grand struggle and all my heroism have 
 become in this hour as dust and ashes. Go away ! 
 I have a wife, Lavinia ! " 
 
 " I have always obeyed you, my master," she said, 
 almost inaudibly. 
 
 " Did I not love you so madly," I said, " I should 
 hate you as I hate myself." 
 
 '• Hate me but do not forget me ! " 
 
 She let her bowed head rest on my hands, and her 
 tears trickled through my fingers. 
 
 "It is my fault!" she groaned. "Oh, Jannino, 
 once it happened that you left me : my ruin was the 
 result, and yet I forgave you ! And now it is I who 
 am forced to leave you ; I feel that I shall die in 
 consequence, and nevertheless I forgive you. But 
 you, you must try to bear me no grudge for having 
 twice crossed your path, only to bring you sorrow 
 and wretchedness ! " 
 
 " Oh, Lavinia, you have made of me a worthless, 
 purposeless creature ! May God forgive you for it ! 
 Like some malignant demon you have blighted and 
 consumed my best impulses and aspirations, and 
 
336 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 now I wander through, life without purpose, without 
 hope, without ambition ! Go away ! or I shall curse 
 you ! " 
 
 And even as she knelt at my feet, I left her, and 
 went away, raging. I never even turned round to 
 look back at her. I hurried into the woods, and 
 kept listening to hear whether she were not coming 
 after me. I thought she must surely have followed 
 me, and yet I said to myself that I never wished 
 to see her again as long as I lived. It seemed to me 
 as though I hated her, and yet as though my heart 
 must break unless I kept her near me. 
 
 At what hour I returned home I know not; it 
 was dark night, and all was calm and still. As I 
 did not wish to arouse anyone, I returned to the 
 woods, all covered with glistening snow ; up and 
 down the hills I wandered through shady thickets, 
 through moonlit valleys ; the scared game fled before 
 me ; now and then some large bird of night grazed 
 my fevered forehead as it flitted past. I wandered 
 up and down in this silent world like an unhappy 
 soul that has for ever forfeited eternal peace ; I, who 
 although alive in the ordinary sense of the word, 
 was dead to all that makes life really worth living ; 
 
IN FETTERS. 337 
 
 the mere shadow of my former self, chained to life 
 by guilt and repentance, by weakness, folly, and 
 unreason. I cursed God for having created me with 
 a soul filled with insatiable thirst after all that is 
 beautiful, but with a will too weak to curb my 
 passions. 
 
 Were not all the^ waters turned to ice, I should 
 have drowned myself then and there. I thought 
 of allowing myself to freeze to death, but I was 
 unable to remain quiet for a sufficient length of 
 time. I felt impelled to wander restlessly up and 
 down, up and down, as though hell were behind 
 me ; no, not hell, but all my long, wasted, blackened 
 life! 
 
 The next day I was seized with euch a passionate 
 longing to see Lavinia that I again called upon her. 
 She had gone away. She had actually gone away. 
 This was in accordance with my expressed wish to 
 her, but, all the samC; the news stunned me like a 
 thunderbolt. 
 
 It seemed to me as if, without her, I must die of 
 sorrow and pain> I ran about in the woods like a 
 madman. Was she aware that I should die of longing 
 after her? Is she a siren, who clouds the senses of 
 
 z 
 
338 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 men, or was it merely that she wished to obey me 
 implicitly, in order to prove to me the extent and 
 the depth of her love ? 
 
 For the first time since we have come to Baden I 
 found Nora rather vexed with me for having stayed 
 away from her so long. 
 
 " I had thought to make your life pleasant by 
 having society here," she said, " and now you are 
 always away ! " 
 
 *^ I cannot endure life in hotels." 
 
 ^' Then let us go home." 
 
 '-'- Oh, no ! not home — anywhere rather than 
 home ! " I was frightened at the thought of solitude, 
 of being alone with my own haunting conscience. 
 
 Man is a great fool, incapable of forming any 
 correct judgment as to the nature and the amount 
 of matter that he may be able to digest ; hence he 
 should never do anything the after-consequences 
 of which he will be unable to endure. Light 
 and frivolous natures, however, may be able to 
 make t^rms with conscience, but with me this would 
 be impossible. I ought to have reflected on this 
 beforehand. My wife interrupted my thoughts as 
 usual. 
 
IN FETTERS. 33V 
 
 ^^But what is to be done for you, then?" she 
 said. 
 
 '' Give me a little freedom, that is all. I am such 
 a restless creature, and travelling is bad for you just 
 now.'' 
 
 ^' Eeally," said Nora, ^'to understand you is beyond 
 all human skill." 
 
 *' I cannot even understand myself." 
 
 *' Because you have no strength of will, not even so 
 much as a little child." 
 
 " In everything I have been accustomed to aban- 
 don myself unreservedly to my various moods, but 
 since I have been unable to do this, my talent has 
 died, and my pen gone lame." 
 
 ^' In my estimation, strength of will is of far greater 
 value than mere talent." 
 
 "Until now," I replied, "I had always regarded 
 talent as the special gift of God. I suppose I have 
 been mistaken." 
 
 " But what is the use of talent if the one who 
 possesses it be devoid of moral worth ? " 
 
 " You are severe, Nora ! " 
 
 '' I am true, and you are not." 
 
 Without answering a word I left the room, and we 
 
340 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 did not meet again until dinner-time. She was then 
 as calm and as amiable as though no angry words 
 had passed between us, and appeared to have quite 
 forgotten my wish to leave Baden. She carelessly 
 informed me that her doctor was sending her to 
 Freiburg for treatment. 
 
CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 CoMO, February 21th. 
 I AM alone for a short time, having bfeen sent here 
 by the same doctor who advises my wife to remain 
 for the present in Freiburg. I am consumed with 
 longing after Lavinia, and am suifering terrible pangs 
 of conscience. 
 
 I have no news of her. Perhaps she is ill. I spend 
 my days on the sea, rowing my own boat, and I lie 
 sometimes for hours gazing up into the sky. A reso- 
 lution is slowly — but very slowly — ripening in my 
 mind, and when it has been carried into effect, it is 
 very possible that I shall regret it. For some time past 
 I have not known the meaning of happiness ; every- 
 thing that I do bears some evil consequence : I suffer 
 perpetual martyrdom, perpetual pangs of conscience, 
 and I long for liberty as any galley-slave might long 
 for his freedom. 
 
 March 10^^.— My resolution has ripened into a veri- 
 
342 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 table act. I have written to Nora to ask her whether 
 we had not. better make each other a mutual present 
 of our freedom. The letter is gone, and my heart 
 throbs as it never throbbed before. I told her that 
 we should never be able to understand each other, 
 and that therefore it would be better if we separated. 
 
 Perhaps once more I have done an unwise thing. 
 I seem to have quite lost all power of forming any- 
 correct judgment in the important affairs of life. It 
 seems to me as though in my relations towards her I 
 were a perjured creature, as though I should be acting 
 dishonourably did I not set her free. It is possible 
 that I am a burden to her, and yet that she, with her 
 severe sense of duty, might never speak the word that 
 would effect her own deliverance. 
 
 March 2ith, — I waited and waited, and no answer 
 came. I was in the greatest anxiety of mind. I 
 spent my days in wandering about the neighbourhood, 
 and my nights on the lake in my boat. I began to 
 think that my letter must have been lost, and to ask 
 myself whether I had not best write another. Yes- 
 terday evening I returned home. There stood Nora 
 herself, in my room. She looked full at me with 
 her large eyes. 
 
IN FETTERS. 343 
 
 *^ No, Ewald, I will never yield my place to a 
 profligate. I know all ! I have been back to Baden, 
 and have been making inquiries there. She was there 
 and you saw her daily — that is enough. You are not 
 aware, I presume, that she has a bad reputation ? They 
 even say that she has had a child. That is no fitting 
 wife for my Ewald. You will be angry with me for 
 a time, but some day I know that you will be grateful 
 to me for having protected you from her. You need 
 never have married me had she been so very dear to 
 you, you know. If you have lied to me and deceived 
 me, it is your own affair, but since you have made 
 me your wife, it is my intention to retain that title.'' 
 
 I sank into a chair, and answered not a word. 
 I had said nothing whatever in my letter about any 
 other woman. I imagined that in writing only of 
 Nora's happiness and unhappiness, I had worded it 
 most cautiously. But who could keep any secret from 
 those eyes of hers ? 
 
 ^^ I know," she continued ; ^' it is the same Italian 
 woman who was at Zurich. I have had her described 
 to me ; it is the same woman whom you once knew 
 in Sorrento. This woman was at Baden, and she is 
 gone away from there, I kn,c>w not whither. You have 
 
344 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 always managed to meet her. But she is not worthy 
 of you. She has other loves beside you, believe me. 
 Do not start : you have not such sharp eyes as I, and 
 therefore I must keep watch over you. And even if 
 you should hate me now, Ewald, some day you will 
 confess that you owe to me your happiness and peace 
 of mind — some day you will thank me for having 
 preserved you from great shame and sorrow, for 
 having kept your name untarnished ! " 
 
 I arose and went to the window. At that moment 
 the moon floated over the distant hills, and its beams 
 were reflected on the lake. The scent of myrtle and 
 violet was wafted towards me, as though to tempt and 
 ensnare me. Oh, that I were lying out there under 
 the chill waves ! Oh, that my burning, seething brain 
 had become dead and still ! — that the raging heart in 
 my bosom had ceased for ever to beat ! 
 
 For a long time we were both silent. At last I 
 turned towards Nora ; as she stood there, the moon 
 illuminated both face and figure. Her nostrils were 
 rather more sharply dilated than usual, her lips tightly 
 pressed together, and there was a flame in her eyes 
 that signified her capacity for hating with the hatred 
 of death itself ; both hands were firmly planted on the 
 
IN FETTERS. 345 
 
 table. She looked as terror-inspiring as any !N'orne. 
 I looked again towards the lake. 
 
 ^^ As you please," I said at last. 
 
 " Do you see, Ewald ? " she said. "I love you so, 
 that I will joyfully bear any suffering that comes to 
 me from your hand. Already through you I have had 
 much, very much to bear." 
 
 Her voice grew more soft and tender in its tones as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " And for the sake of all the suffering I have had to 
 endure, you must try and bear with me patiently, and 
 without murmuring at your fate. If we only have 
 sufficient strength of will, we surely may yet make of 
 our lives something beautiful, useful, noble — some- 
 thing rich in resignation, forbearance and peace." 
 
 She still retained the same attitude, and spoke 
 softly — very softly, and yet very distinctly. 
 
 *^ I am not worthy of you." 
 
 ''But if I consider you worthy of me, that is 
 enough." 
 
 Had she only become angry, I could also have given 
 way to anger; but although her eyes glittered like 
 the wave lit by vague gleams of phosphorescence, she 
 herself seemed every moment to grow more calm and 
 
346 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 composed. I tried to look into those steely orbs, 
 but turned away again towards the distant moon that 
 illuminated my own face with its peaceful, silvery 
 beams. The distant heights were wrapped in sombre 
 gloom, while in the foreground every object shone 
 bright and clear in sharpest outlines. A boat was 
 rocking softly to and fro ; the waves glimmered as 
 they bathed its keel ; in the boat a man was lying at 
 full length, singing to himself a song that seemed to 
 have no end and no beginning. 
 
 *^. I shall never make a good husband." 
 
 '^ Good enough for me." 
 
 *^ You do not know my wild, stormy nature." 
 
 '-'- 1 will undertake to tame it," she said, and her 
 words, softly as they were spoken, sounded in my ears 
 like a threat. 
 
 At that moment the waiter entered, bearing lights, 
 and began to lay the cloth for our evening meal. She 
 came up to me as I stood by the window and looked 
 out with me silently into the night. My heart 
 became still and cold as Luna's face, but within 
 it, black and deep as the lake beneath, was unutter- 
 able pain — pain so acute and intolerable that it could 
 not even find relief in a sigh. 
 
IN FETTERS. 347 
 
 <t Forgive me, Ewald ! " she said, in a very soft 
 whisper. 
 
 I was silent. 
 
 ^* You are far too noble to be associated with what 
 is mean or ignoble. I cannot endure it." 
 
 ^^ I am no longer anything." 
 
 ^^ Only because your will is asleep, Ewald." 
 
 *^ I have no longer any will." 
 
 *^ Oh," said Nora, '''- you mean that the water below 
 looks very black, and that you would like to put an end 
 to your life. But you will not do such a cowardly deed 
 as that. Through you I have lost everything, health 
 and hope, joy and peace. Am I, then, worth so little 
 in your eyes, that you will also rob me of a husband ? " 
 
 '-'- 1 have already suffered more remorse on your 
 account than I can bear." 
 
 *^ Forgive me, Ewald ! " Her voice trembled, and 
 two large tears trickled slowly down her pale cheeks. 
 They glittered in the moonlight. 
 
 Florence, Ajpril ith. 
 We are spending the best part of our days in the 
 picture galleries ; we sit for hours before each picture 
 and analyse it. In the evening Nora reads aloud to 
 
348 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 me from some history of the fine arts. She no longer 
 speaks to me of her health, but her sunken cheeks 
 tell a tale of acute, though silent suffering ; and as 
 for her eyes, they still reflect the same indomitable 
 will, by dint of which she keeps both her own spirit 
 and mine in subjection. 
 
 April 12tL — Yesterday when we were in the 
 Medici's Vault, whom should I see coming towards 
 me but my friend Hermann ! Nora had secretly 
 invited him. She is striving in every possible way 
 to render my present existence endurable to me. 
 How cheerfully Hermann talked ! How light and 
 how sound his heart is ! He is certainly not tor- 
 mented by remorse : no demon of forbidden love has 
 gotten him in its clutches. It is strange ! I feel in 
 the humour to write something. 
 
 April Ibth. — To-day I wrote all sorts of things, 
 but destroyed them immediately. I have come to 
 a standstill. The strings have snapped, the instru- 
 ment is out of tune, and not a single note can be 
 won from it. 
 
 April \%th. — It was very clever of Nora to invite 
 a friend here, so that she and I need not be always 
 sitting alone, face to face. Our conversation has 
 
IN FETTERS, 349 
 
 become muoli more clieerfiil and animated in conse- 
 quence, and Hermann suspects nothing. He per- 
 ceives that I am often unhappy and out of spirits, 
 but lays this entirely to the account of the sorrow 
 that I have recently undergone, and to my feeling 
 of hopelessness in regard to the delicate state of my 
 wife's health. His pleasant society is the only thing 
 that makes my life endurable to me just now. 
 
 Nice, May IWi, 
 We are on the way to Paris. It was Nora herself 
 who suggested going there : if she only knew who is 
 living there, she certainly would not have been so 
 imprudent. I faintly suggested that we had better 
 return by Switzerland, but she insisted on Paris. 
 
 ^^ You shall revel in music there ! " she said to me, 
 and she added this as gravely and earnestly as though 
 her words signified something very different from 
 pleasure and enjoyment. Naturally, for music to 
 her is an abomination. 
 
 Paris, June 10 tL 
 We are here. My heart beats painfully. To- 
 morrow I shall go and seek out Lavinia. I am in a state 
 of such intense excitement that I can scarcely write. 
 
350 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Paris, June \Zth, 
 
 I am still alive, in spite of the terrible agony I 
 have endured. And I am not mad, for I understand 
 what I am writing. 
 
 After searching for some time, I succeeded in 
 finding Lavinia's place of residence. I rang the 
 bell and asked to see her. The porter looked at me 
 in a strange fashion, and asked me to follow him 
 upstairs to the atelier. Of course I did so, and that 
 speedily. Tremblingly I entered the room. All was 
 quiet, solitary, deserted, empty, but on the easel was 
 a large portrait of myself — a speaking likeness. I 
 turned round. The porter was looking from my 
 face to the portrait, and from the portrait back to 
 my face. 
 
 *^ Where is the artist ? " I asked him. 
 
 *^What!" he said, '^ don't yoii know, then? A 
 month ago all Paris was talking of it ; she was then 
 lying here in her coffin, and all the world poured in 
 here to see her as she lay, surrounded by her pictures, 
 and looking so very, very lovely. Her pictures have 
 all been sold, except this one. On this she was 
 working up to the very day of her death. — Angele, 
 Angele ! " he called down the stairs suddenly. 
 
IN FETTERS. 351 
 
 ^' bring some vinegar quickly — the gentleman has 
 fainted ! " 
 
 After that, for some time, I heard and saw no- 
 thing. It seemed to me as if I also were dead. Had 
 they only allowed me to die I 
 
 June 18th, — To-day I mustered courage to go there 
 again. I have hired the atelier, and now I am 
 searching in it for any little scrap or speck that once 
 belonged to her. I have tried to listen to what the 
 people here can tell me about her, but I find I cannot 
 bear it — I cannot bear it. Not a word of her writing 
 can be found ; there is only the portrait that stares at me 
 incessantly and on which, with the last strength that 
 she possessed, she wrote the record of her great love. 
 
 June 20th, — When I returned to the atelier, the 
 portrait was gone. A lady had bought it, so the 
 porter informed me ; he did not know who she was. 
 "When I entered our sitting-room on my return, I 
 found it there. I looked at Nora. She reddened, 
 in spite of her pallor. 
 
 *' Where did you find it ? " I asked. 
 
 '^ I found it on your track." 
 
 ^' Did you know, then, who had painted it ? " 
 
 ^' Certainly, and I also knew that she was dead.'' 
 
352 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 "Youknew- 
 
 ^^It was in the newspapers; I have not hidden 
 them ; you might just as well have read them as I. I 
 even supposed that you had read them, but that 
 naturally you did not like to discuss this subject 
 with me." 
 
 '-'' And you wish to have this picture ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it is a striking likeness, and well painted.'^ 
 
 Again, as on that evening at Como, I saw that 
 
 weird flash in her ej^es. She hates, even after death, 
 
 and thinks to torture me with that picture. That is 
 
 her vengeance. 
 
 Etretat, July ^th. 
 The doctors have sent me to the seaside on account 
 of my failing health. They said it would also be 
 good for Nora. And so we are here. The great 
 leviathan is thundering in the caverns of the rocks — 
 hissing, foaming, raging, and I am lying up above 
 on the cliffs, too feeble and exhausted even to wish 
 to precipitate myself into the ocean beneath. I have, 
 however, no occasion to do this. Death has already 
 taken up his abode in my heart. I only need to 
 wait patiently. I no longer even have the right to 
 kill myself; to flee like a coward from the burden of 
 
IN FETTERS, 353 
 
 life, and from the duties of atonement and expiation 
 that it holds in store for me. 
 
 " You seemed to me like my better angel, Jannino ! " 
 Those words are always ringing in my ears. I hear 
 them in the roaring of the sea, in the moaning of the 
 wind, in the echoes of my own heart. 
 
 " You seemed to me like my better angel, Jannino ! " 
 And then I could writhe in agony. How could I 
 allow her to die alone, quite alone ? How is it that 
 now I am obliged to bear such a heavy burden of 
 guilt on my conscience? Once on a time I was 
 guiltless and pure ! I was free and happy. I was 
 a poet ! Oh, dear heaven ! the time was when I was 
 a singer, and I imagined that life itself could be 
 more easily stifled within me than the power of 
 song ! 
 
 I have made my wife wretched, and consequently 
 I have grown to hate her. I forsook the woman I 
 loved, and sent her from me in scorn and anger. I 
 killed my child. If the furies would only be silent, 
 I could breathe freely. But at present they pursue 
 me and trample on me, and I lie in the dust, defence- 
 less, incapable of rising, incapable of closing my ears, 
 incapable of flight. 
 
 A A 
 
354 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 Nora did indeed take a cruel and terrible revenge 
 in quietly allowing me to go to Paris, although she 
 knew very well what awaited me there. The shock 
 has very nearly cost me my life, but even in that 
 case Nora would have remained victor, and could 
 have trampled upon all poor sinners ! 
 
 What may have been her thoughts, in Paris, when 
 I went out in search of Lavinia ? She did not show 
 even the smallest sign of disquietude or restlessness. 
 And when, after many hours of agony of soul, I 
 returned home, and lay down, prostrate and exhausted, 
 she never troubled me with any questions. She is 
 an excellent surgeon, and her hand never trembles, 
 even when she has to cut deep, very deep, into the 
 quivering flesh. And she says she loves me! — 
 Perhaps ? Perhaps that is love ! She has right on 
 her side. She has defended herself to the uttermost, 
 and now, with her firm little hand, she points out to 
 me the path I should tread, and says : — " There lies 
 your duty." 
 
 Etretat, July 2Wi, 
 We live here in the midst of an interesting circle, 
 almost entirely composed of artists who have sought 
 
IN FETTERS. 355 
 
 out tliis quiet retired little spot in order to enjoy an 
 interval of rest. My wife has already collected them 
 around her. Alike by the seashore and at the table 
 d'hote she is ever the centre of conversation, and every 
 one admires her keen and powerful intellect. I am 
 usually a silent member of the group, but the mere 
 act of listening soothes me and distracts my mind 
 from painful thoughts. Sometimes, also, it occurs 
 to me that by rights I also belong to this circle of 
 artists — that, once upon a time, I also could create in 
 the world of art. 
 
 August 1th, — I do not know who has betrayed the 
 fact that I am able to sing. They actually forced me 
 to sit down at the piano which they had secretly pro- 
 cured from Paris. Yesterday evening I sang all my 
 songs to them, and afterwards I lay all night on the 
 seashore, sobbing. The tide ebbed and flowed, the 
 bosom of the vast ocean heaved and fell, it sobbed and 
 groaned convulsively, and its deep voice murmured 
 to me of all the sin and sorrow of this world, of 
 the unceasing decay and death of all earthly 
 things. Towards morning I fell asleep, and slept 
 so soundly that I awoke to find the tide bathing 
 my feet*. Oh, why did it not bear me away while 
 
356 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 I slept, instead of awakening me to another painful, 
 weary day ! 
 
 '^ Are you aware that you are an artist ? " said one 
 of the company to me to-day. 
 
 " I might possibly have become an artist." 
 
 *^ You will do so yet. Only you must work, you 
 know." 
 
 ^^ I am not in the least ambitious." 
 
 " So much the worse for you. Come and pass this 
 winter with us in Paris, and you shall become 
 famous." 
 
 *^ I will gladly go to Paris, but not for the purpose 
 of producing any artistic creation ; my health is no 
 longer equal to that." 
 
 Etretat, August 4tk 
 There is a saying in the East: — '"'If you have a 
 great sorrow, go and lie down beside the water : the 
 water will bear it away." But the vast ocean itself is 
 powerless to alleviate my sorrow, to lift from off my 
 shoulders the intolerable burden of my position. Nora 
 has crushed me, and she knows it ; but, like all strong 
 natures, she thinks it is far better to be crushed than 
 that one's soul should suffer injury. 
 
IN FETTERS. 357 
 
 Incessantly my mind reviews those hours passed in 
 Eaden. I fancied that Lavinia would triumph because 
 I had been unable to withstand her spell ; but no, she 
 went away quietly and submissively, and died of grief. 
 And !N'ora knew that she had died ! I feel absolutely 
 frightened of my wife when I remember that she is 
 capable of acting so cruelly and revengefully. In 
 these days, however, she is most gentle and loving, 
 thanks me for the smallest mark of consideration for 
 her, and in general exerts no sort of pressure upon 
 me. She very cleverly avoids being left alone with 
 me, and she never asks, ^^ Where have you been ? " or, 
 *^ Why did you go away ? " even when I spend the 
 night on the seashore. She must, however, know of 
 this — she who always knows everything. Sometimes 
 I fancy that I have taken leave of my senses. At such 
 times I hear all manner of voices calling to me from 
 the depths of the sea, and I see Lavinia' s corpse come 
 floating towards me on the waves, floating, floating — 
 near, nearer, but it never quite succeeds in reaching 
 me. 
 
 Paris, December 2{)th, 
 
 Nora is living in picture galleries and lecture halls, 
 collecting learned and talented people around her, and 
 
3S8 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 making her life as full and as enjoyable as possible. I 
 cannot refuse her my admiration. I am very often in 
 the churchyard, still oftener in Lavinia's atelier, which 
 I have had fitted up quite to my own taste. The bed 
 on which she breathed her last breath belongs to 
 me. They say that in the last days she scarcely 
 ever took any rest, but was alwiays painting^ painting. 
 It occurred to me to-day to search through my 
 couch, and there I found a few words in her hand- 
 writing. 
 
 " God will surely have mercy on me for the sake of 
 my great, great love. I did not wish to drag his 
 proud heart in the dust : I could not bear that he 
 should be humiliated in his own eyes by committing 
 what he felt to be a sin, and therefore I left him. 
 God, have mercy upon me, and admit me into thy 
 Heaven ! I have already passed through Hell and 
 Purgatory, and I am so tired. I trust that I shall be 
 dead, so that he can remain free from guilt, and can 
 think of me without remorse, without a curse on his 
 lips. Oh, God, grant that my suffering may soon be 
 at an end ! Very soon I shall have finished his por- 
 trait. When he comes he will find it here, and will 
 know that up to the very last I belonged to him with 
 
IN FETTERS. 359 
 
 body and soul. Oh, God, preserve him from guilt 
 and remorse ! grant him Thy peace ! " 
 
 I felt as though holy angels were hovering around 
 me, as though some pure hand had taken hold of mine, 
 and were leading me out of the darkness and night 
 towards the peace and rest of heaven. I kissed the 
 sheet of paper ; I knelt down beside the bed on which 
 she had died, and bowed my head over it. 
 
 I softly called her name many times, and thanked 
 her fervently. She passed away without the least 
 rancour or bitterness, with love, and love alone, in her 
 heart. 
 
 The invincible siren became the angel of peace, 
 illuminated and purified by love, and by love alone. 
 
 Paris, January ith. 
 
 Yesterday Nora procured a seat for me in the theatre 
 of the Conservatory of Music. 
 
 *' You had better go there alone," she said. ^' I am 
 so wanting in love for the divine art that I should 
 only spoil your pleasure." 
 
 So I went, and the music encompassed me and filled 
 my soul like a divine atmosphere; it sank deep into my 
 sad heart, and lifted me up to those celestial heights 
 
 I7BRSIT7] 
 
36o ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 that are only accessible to heart and love. I can still 
 enjoy, though I am no longer able to create. 
 
 I have had a piano placed in the atelier, and 
 I am reading through numerous scores. Sometimes 
 musicians come to me there, and sing me their opera 
 quartettes. In the evening we always have society; 
 often quite a brilliant assembly. My wife is always 
 a shining star in these gatherings : no man in the circle 
 is her equal in witty and brilliant conversation. 
 Our soirees are very popular. Nora and I live together 
 in peace. We never utter an unkind or unfriendly 
 word. "We are free from storms, as we are free from 
 any touch of tenderness or aflPection. So that our life 
 is not in any sense a lie, and each of us feels perfectly 
 free and untrammelled. 
 
 Biarritz, November ^th. 
 
 Unfortunately we* have both lost our good health 
 and know not how to regain it. 
 
 There is a convent here for penitents. Some of 
 these have built wooden barracks in the sand, by the 
 side of the main building, and dwell there in tiny cells. 
 They walk about in white woollen garments with 
 hoods, under which not the smallest particle of the 
 
IN FETTERS, 361 
 
 face is visible. They never utter a word. My heart 
 beat wildly at the thought that possibly Lavinia had 
 hidden herself here — that I might be standing face to 
 face with her without knowing it ! It is just possible, 
 I thought, that she only wished to make me believe 
 she was dead, and that she is wandering here like some 
 repentant shade of the nether world. And I, perhaps, 
 am standing before her, myself a poor contrite sinner 
 who has destroyed his own life and also that of two 
 beings entrusted to his care, and has murdered his 
 own child. And possibly there is nothing whatever 
 to divide us, except a piece of thin tissue that serves 
 to intercept our glances. 
 
 I was obliged to turn away suddenly, overpowered 
 by a sort of vertigo. Supposing that I find it 
 impossible to bear my life with l^ora, and yet cannot 
 feel that I am justified in committing suicide, it is just 
 possible that I may turn Trappist ! — What foolish, mad 
 thoughts chase one another through a suffering brain ! 
 My noble Lavinia would not have hesitated for one 
 instant to commit suicide rather than hide herself 
 away from the cares and duties of life like a coward. 
 To think that she, who was once in the service of art, 
 could endure life here, in this sandy waste— a life of 
 
362 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 silence and idleness ! — oh, no, no ! The doctors have 
 advised me to spend all my winters in the South. God 
 knows what is amiss with me ! — I no longer trouble 
 myself about the matter. 
 
 Sorrento, February ith. 
 I insisted on coming here, and Nora made no 
 objection. I see, however, that I credited myself 
 with greater powers of endurance than I really possess. 
 The old sense of unrest begins to torment me. My 
 wise wife suggests Algiers, and a beautiful return 
 journey through Spain. She declares that she herself 
 is quite equal to the fatigues of travelling. Hermann 
 will accompany us. 
 
 Paris, June 2itk 
 Algiers and Spain lie behind ns : I feel more at 
 peace near Lavinia's beloved grave. We have 
 resumed our former mode of life here. I perceive, 
 however, that my strength is growing less and 
 less. For me this is almost an agreeable thought ; it 
 resembles the sensation of perfect rest after great 
 exhaustion, or the feeling experienced by a poor bird 
 of passage, whose wings have been shot away, and for 
 
t 
 
 IN FETTERS. 363 
 
 whom a soft, warm nest lias been prepared, so that it 
 may feel less sad and miserable. 
 
 Hermann, through his agreeable companionship, 
 has made a pleasure of the journey that would other- 
 wise have been a torment. He paid his court assidu- 
 ously to my intellectual wife, and I was able to sit 
 in peace and listen silently to their talk. He often 
 reproached me, however, for allowing myself to be so 
 depressed by the mere fact of being childless ; such a 
 wife, he maintained, constitutes in herself the very 
 essence of happiness — one needs no other treasure. 
 And I listened to him with a smile, like one who 
 is in the act of ascending a glacier alone, when 
 someone from below calls out to him the way he 
 ought to go. 
 
 At first Nora was evidently afraid that I might 
 confide in Hermann, and took care never to leave us 
 at home together. Very soon, however, she became 
 reassured, without our having exchanged a word on 
 the subject. We never talk to one another of what 
 lies deepest in our hearts ; we never say anything to 
 each other when we are alone that we should not care 
 to be overheard in our drawing-room. And so this 
 journey was very pleasant and enjoyable. Hermann 
 
364 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 looked at me anxiously from time to time, to see if I 
 were not becoming jealous, but he soon reassured 
 himself and became once more his pleasant lovable 
 self. Whoever had met us for the first time on this 
 journey must have imagined us to be very happy, 
 in spite of my wretched health, which I am obliged 
 to drag about with me, and which has made of me 
 the knight of the sad countenance, and has reduced 
 me to the shadow of my former self. 
 
 Haxteoden, July 2ith, 
 The escapades of my two brothers have forced us 
 to come hero for a short time, in order to bring the 
 present wretched state of affairs into some sort of 
 order. My mother was horrified when she saw me 
 again, and overwhelmed Nora with reproaches for 
 having allowed me to fall into such a condition. 
 
 ^^ But his shoulders are quite bent, and his hair is 
 grey ! " cried my mother. ^' And look at his hollow 
 eyes ! But, Hans, in God's name ! And see how his 
 cheeks are fallen away — and the way he walks ! 
 You used to tread with such an elastic step, and now 
 you slink about like a lost soul ! " 
 
 I overheard her saying to my brother: *^ If only 
 
IN FETTERS. 365 
 
 he would not smile ! I can't endure to see that smile, 
 with those sad, despairing eyes ! He has become such 
 a skeleton that his laugh is a ghastly grin. Ah, 
 Edouard, it is fearful ! Must he die, my poor Hans ? 
 Are there no doctors that can cure him ? " 
 
 My poor mother ! It had never occurred to me 
 that I had become so terribly changed, or I would 
 never have allowed her to see me. 
 
 July '11th, — Oh, the delicious nights in my dear 
 old studio ! Sometimes I play for hours at a time 
 near the open window, and let the odorous night air 
 blow upon me, and then I place Lavinia's portrait 
 opposite me on the piano, and near it the photograph 
 which her admirers had taken of her corpse. And 
 then I play and play until I am overcome by a kind 
 of stupor and fall asleep on the divan in the corner. 
 The picture of her corpse is the image of her as she 
 looked in Sorrento soon after that eventful night, 
 when I used often to sit by her bedside for 
 many hours at a time, watching the gentle heaving 
 of her chest, and fearing that it would suddenly 
 become quite cold and still, for her breath came 
 and went as feebly as though she were just about 
 to die. 
 
366 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 "You seemed to me like my better angel, Jannino ! " 
 At the thought of these words I feel as though I 
 must begin again to rave and despair, to throw myself 
 on the ground, and hold my head with both hands, 
 for fear lest I may go mad. Anything rather than 
 madness ! That would be the last stage of degrada- 
 tion. "Whether the brain remain sound and healthy 
 or no depends mainly on strength of will. I must not 
 allow the darkness of night to enter my soul. No — 
 rather let my spirit become purified and illuminated. 
 
 Haxtroden, August 6 th. 
 
 Only a few more weary tedious days here, and 
 then we wander forth again. In spite of the inde- 
 scribable annoyances and vexations that I have to 
 encounter, there is a delicious sensation of rest in 
 being at home again at last. 
 
 The park and the wood are wondrously beautiful, 
 and the trees still murmur under the breath of the 
 soft wind, just as they used to murmur in the wild, 
 stormy days of my youth, when they sang me to rest, 
 those old, old trees, and whispered in my ear that 
 I was a genius, and that some day I should witness 
 the realisation of all my desires — that I only 
 
IN FETTERS. 367 
 
 needed to will in order to possess. Everything 
 appeared to me so easy in those days. I could not in 
 the least comprehend why people found it necessary 
 to utter the word ^^ impossible." Such a word had no 
 existence for me. 
 
 Yes, the morning was brilliant, and the ship 
 bravely bedecked, but the fierce power of the storm 
 has been greater than my strength. I have suffered 
 shipwreck, and now I lie in harbour like a stranded 
 hulk, unserviceable, a sight to arouse compassion, 
 and people have already almost forgotten that I ought 
 to have become a great artist. In three days we go 
 away from here, and I shall never return alive. The 
 trees will moan and rustle over my grave, their 
 leaves will fall in showers over my coffin. If 
 only they might be the leaves of this autumn ! 
 But it seems that one wish of my heart is not to be 
 granted me. 
 
 My mother makes Nora's life here unbearable. It 
 is her fault that I am obliged to remain altogether 
 abroad, an exile from my home. I cannot exact such 
 a sacrifice from Nora. She utters no word of com- 
 plaint, but I can see that her very existence is 
 intolerable. 
 
368 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 She shall never endure another hour's suffering 
 through any fault of mine. I will even learn from 
 her to be always cheerful and in good spirits. That 
 is not nearly so difficult as people imagine. It is but 
 a habit to which one has to grow accustomed. It 
 is just as easy to appear gay as to appear sad. It 
 does not even require much strength of will, only 
 perfect indifference— complete forgetfulness of one's 
 own affairs as well as those of the outer world, and 
 an absence of all desire and hope, just as though one 
 were already in the grave. It is the custom to plant 
 flowers even above graves so that these may look 
 bright and gay. 
 
 I have made a firm resolution to maintain an 
 appearance of cheerfulness and good spirits, and there 
 now exists no one and nothing to cause me to fail 
 in keeping this resolution. 
 
 My brother thought it advisable to enact a little 
 melodrama to-day before me, because it has been 
 thought advisable to place him under tutelage. I 
 could have laughed aloud — the whole affair seemed 
 to me so unutterably ludicrous. He overwhelmed me 
 with a perfect flood of unreal passion. I listened 
 to him as calmly and coolly as though he had been 
 
IN FETTERS. 569 
 
 some rushing, bubbling stream, which, in spite of 
 the noise it -makes, still remains without any warmth. 
 While he talked I amused myself by sketching a 
 lean clown in the act of giving a groschen to a tight- 
 rope dancer even more lean than himself. His 
 fleshings are torn, her shoes are much bepatched, and 
 her petticoat in tatters. There is a good deal of 
 bitterness and humour in the little sketch. 
 
 "Have you finished?" I said at last, in such a 
 cool tone that Edouard looked at me horror-stricken. 
 '* You might have spared yourself all this," I said, 
 "for things cannot be altered, and it would be easier 
 to move a rock than me." 
 
 " But, Hans, what has come to you ? " 
 " I find that I have been remarkably patient." 
 " About as patient as a milestone!" cried Edouard, 
 beside himself. 
 
 His children are racing and romping about the 
 house, and everyone is paying court to them as to the 
 future owners of the place. My sister-in-law said 
 to-day : — 
 
 " I must say, Nora, you have trained your husband 
 well. Mine grows more and more unmanageable, but 
 yours seems only to breathe through you. I used to 
 
 B B 
 
370 ELISABETH OE ROUMANFA. 
 
 have no idea that he even loved you. But you are 
 the most extraordinary couple. He is as gallant 
 towards you as though he were your lover, and treats 
 you like a queen. How have you managed to hring 
 ahout such happy results ? " 
 
 *' I have studied his character and disposition, and 
 have occupied myself with nothing else but him and 
 his happiness." 
 
 " But must one, then, studij such things ? " 
 
 ** I think so. Nothing in this world comes to one 
 of its own accord." 
 
 They are all as shy with us as though we were 
 riddles which they are unable to decipher. My calm- 
 ness and icy composure, more especially, are so new 
 to them that they are fairly puzzled. Why should I 
 ever become excited or agitated any more about 
 anything in this world? I had forgotten, though. 
 Lavinia's couch in the monastery at Sorrento had 
 forced from me once more burning, bitter tears. It 
 stood in its old place. 
 
 Parts, November 10//^. 
 If one might mention the word heroism in speaking 
 of such insignificant mortals, I should say that, in the 
 
IN FETTERS. 371 
 
 matter of mutual forbearance, Nora and I are very 
 heroic. Nora looks almost gay and cheerful, and I 
 exert myself to be no disgrace to her evening recep- 
 tions. I often suffer from indescribable home-sickness, 
 but Nora will not hear of going back to Haxtroden. 
 She declares that she is unable to bear the recollec- 
 tions that crowd upon her there. She is, however, 
 merely frightened of my people, for whom she 
 has a peculiar aversion, and, since I have spoiled 
 her life, I feel that I have no right to exact any- 
 thing from her which must put an end to the 
 pleasant though fictitious existence she is leading 
 just at present. 
 
 We propose to remain here this winter. I spend 
 a good deal of my time in the atelier, the only place 
 where I am quite my own master, where I can lie 
 down when my sufferings are too great for passive 
 endurance without enquiring eyes resting on me. In 
 the quiet and stillness I am able to work again. I have 
 written and composed all sorts of poems and music, 
 have begun to write novelettes and to jot down various 
 thoughts and fancies, and have found a certain kind 
 of rest and peace in doing this. The main stream of 
 creative force has been interrupted and diverted into 
 
372 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA. 
 
 another channel, but sometimes a quiet little rill 
 steals through dykes and barriers, and bears away my 
 pain. Sometimes I cease to feel at all, and sink into 
 a dreamy condition of passive indifference. 
 
 Haxiroden, September 12 th, 18 — . 
 (Seven years later, ^ 
 
 The lamp burns more feebly, and I have once more 
 turned my steps towards home, so that I may end my 
 days here. My mother is living in a house set apart 
 for widows of our family, and which I have had fitted 
 up for her use, so that she may not make Nora's life 
 a burden to her ; more especially when I shall have 
 passed away, and Nora will be mistress of Haxtroden. 
 I have made arrangements for my brothers to live else- 
 where. No one shall know how ill I am, for no one 
 shall witness my illness. Nora is sufficient for me. 
 She is always in the same good spirits, i'uU of energy 
 and vitality and of interest in life ; she reads aloud to 
 me for hours at a time while I lie on the divan in my 
 atelier. 
 
 My God, how sweet it is to die ! I no longer suffer 
 —I only grow weaker and weaker. She is a most de- 
 voted and faithful companion, and has become quite 
 
IN FETTERS. si5 
 
 indispensable to me. The past is never mentioned by 
 either of us ; it is just as though we had never passed 
 through the bitterness of death — as though we had 
 never been crushed and bruised by sorrow and pain 
 unspeakable. That I am paying forfeit with my life 
 seems to me only right and just — I make no com- 
 plaint of this. I only complain that I have not 
 possessed the requisite force to rise above my suffer- 
 ings, and to renew my being in renewing my creative 
 efforts. 
 
 Some of my sad failures in accomplishing what I 
 would willingly have accomplished I leave as a legacy 
 to my friend Hermann. Possibly my want of success 
 may be the means of bringing joy — perhaps also 
 sorrow — into his life. 
 
 I have taken up the thread of my own existence at 
 the wrong end, and become entangled in its meshes 
 and intricacies till I am utterly exhausted. 
 
 Do not weep for me. It is very well with me — the 
 struggle is at an end. The great sorrow of my entity 
 seems to have faded away into some far, far distance. 
 Peace and resignation are here, here in the very room 
 where I used to feel my spirit wildly raging within 
 me, until I was on the verge of madness. 
 
374 ELISABETH OF ROUMANIA, 
 
 My eyes grow heavy, my hand feeble, for I am 
 passing away — passing, without any pain or regret, 
 into a rest eternal— a rest that is full of calm and holy 
 peace. 
 
 ^'^ or THl "^^ 
 
 UIIVERSITrl 
 
 London: pbinted by j. b. vibtue aitd co., uvxtbd, gitt boad. 
 
/<* 
 
 ■UQ ?i 3 1 8