On the Cross: A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberammergau
The Countess von Wildenau greeted all the ladies somewhat absently, yet
very cordially. "Will you condescend to sit on this bench?"
"Oh, you must sit here, too."
"No, It is not large enough, I am already seated."
She had taken her seat on the root of a tree, with her face turned
toward the street, in which she seemed to be deeply interested. The
ladies were accommodated on the bench, and then followed a conversation
which no pen could describe. This, that, and the other thing, matters
to which the countess had not given a single thought, an account of
everything the new comers had heard about the Ammergau people, the
appearance of the Christ, whom they had already met, a handsome man,
very handsome, with magnificent hair, and mysterious eyes--not the head
of Christ, but rather as one would imagine Faust or Odin; but there was
no approaching him, he was so unsociable. Such a pity, it would have
been so interesting to talk with him. Rumor asserted that he was in
love with a noble lady; it was very possible, there was no other way of
explaining his distant manner.
Countess von Wildenau had become very quiet, the eyes bent upon the
street had an expression of actual suffering in their depths.
Prince Emil stood in the doorway, mischievously enjoying the situation.
It was a just punishment for her capricious whims that now, after
having so insolently refused to see her friends, she should be
compelled to listen to this senseless chatter.
At last, however, he took pity on her and sent out his valet with the
table-cloth and plates.
"Oh, it is your dinner hour!" The ladies started up and Her Highness
raised her lorgnette.
"Ah, Prince Emil's valet! So the faithful Toggenburg is with you."
"Certainly, ladies!" said a voice from the door, as the prince came
forward. "Only I was too timid to venture into such a dangerous
circle."
Peals of laughter greeted him.
"Yes, yes; the Prince of Metten-Barnheim timid!"
"At present I am merely the representative of Countess Wildenau's
discharged courier, whose office, with my usual devotion, I am trying
to fill, and doing everything in my power to escape the fate of my
predecessor."
"That of being sent away?" asked the baroness somewhat maliciously.
Countess Madeleine cast a glance of friendly reproach at him. "How can
you say such things, Prince?"
"Your soup is growing cold!" cried the duchess.
"Where does Your Highness dine?"
"At the house of one of the chorus singers, where we are lodging. A man
with the bearing of an apostle, and a blacksmith by trade. It is
strange, all these people have a touch of ideality about them, and all
this beautiful long hair! Haven't you walked through the village yet?
Oh, you must, it's very odd; the people who throng around the actors in
the Passion Play are types we shall not soon see again. I'm waiting
eagerly for to-morrow. I hope our seats will be near. Farewell, dear
Countess!" The duchess took the arm of the prince, who escorted her to
the garden gate. "I hope you will take care that the countess, under
the influence of the Passion, doesn't enter a convent the day after
to-morrow."
"Your Highness forgets that I am an incorrigible heretic," laughed
Madeleine Wildenau, kissing the two ladies in waiting, in her absence
of mind, with a tenderness which they were at a loss to understand.
The prince accompanied the ladies a short distance away from the house,
while Madeleine returned to Josepha, as if seeking in the society of
the sorrowful, quiet creature, rest from the noisy conversation.
"Really, Countess von Wildenau has an over-supply of blessings. This
magnificent widow's dower, the almost boundless revenue from the
Wildenau estates, and a host of suitors!" said the baroness, after the
prince had taken leave to return to "his idol."
"Yes, but she will lose the revenue if she marries again," replied the
duchess. "The will was made in that way by Count Wildenau because his
jealousy extended beyond the grave. I know all the particulars. She
must either remain a widow or make a _very_ brilliant match; for a
woman of her temperament could _never_ accommodate herself to more
modest circumstances."
"So she is not a good match?" asked Her Excellency.
"Certainly not, for the will is so worded that on the day she exchanges
the name of Wildenau for another, the estates, with the whole income,
go to a side branch of the Wildenau family as there are no direct
heirs. It is enough to make one hate him, for the Wildenau cousins are
extravagant and avaricious men who have already squandered one fortune.
The poor countess will then have nothing except her personal property,
her few diamonds, and whatever gifts she received from her husband."
"Has she no private fortune?" asked the baroness, curiously.
"You know that she was a Princess Prankenburg, and the financial
affairs of the Prankenburg family are very much embarrassed. That is
why the beautiful young girl was sacrificed at seventeen to that
horrible old Wildenau, who in return was forced to pay her father's
debts," the duchess explained.
"Oh, so _that's_ the way the matter stands!" said Her Excellency,
drawing a long breath. "Do her various admirers know it? All the
gentlemen undoubtedly believe her to be immensely rich."
"Oh, she makes no secret of these facts," replied the duchess kindly.
"She is sincere, that must be acknowledged, and she endured a great
deal with her nervous old husband. We all know what he was; every one
feared him and he tyrannized over his wife. What was all her wealth and
splendor to her? One ought not to grudge her a taste of happiness."
"She laid aside her widow's weeds as soon as possible. People thought
that very suspicious," observed the baroness in no friendly tone.
"That is exactly why I say: she is better than her reputation, because
she scorns falsehood and hypocrisy," replied the duchess, leading the
way across a narrow bridge. The two ladies in waiting, lingering a
little behind, whispered: "_She_ scorn falsehood and deception! Why,
Your Excellency, her whole nature is treachery. She cannot exist a
moment without acting some farce! With the pious she is pious, with the
Liberals she plays the Liberal, she coquets with every party to
maintain her influence as ex-ambassadress. She cannot cease intriguing
and plotting. Now she is once more assuming the part of youthful
artlessness to bewitch this Prince Emil. Did you see that look of
embarrassment just now, like a young girl? It is enough to make one
ill!"
"Yes, just see how she has duped that handsome, clever prince, the heir
of a reigning family, too," lamented Her Excellency, who had daughters.
"It is a shocking affair, he is seen everywhere with her; and yet there
is no report of a betrothal! What do the men find in her? She
captivates them all, young and old, there is no difference."
"And she is no longer even _beautiful_. She has faded, lost all her
freshness, it is nothing but coquetry!" answered the baroness hastily,
for the duchess had stopped and was waiting for the ladies to overtake
her. So they walked on in the direction of the Passion Theatre where,
on the morrow, they were to behold the God of Love, for whose sake they
made this pious pilgrimage.
"You were rightly served, Countess Madeleine," said the prince
laughing, as they took their seats at the table. "You sent away your
true friends and fell into the hands of these false ones."
"The duchess is not false," answered the countess with a weary look,
"she is noble in thought and act."
"Like all who are in a position where they need envy no one," said the
prince, pushing aside with his spoon certain little islands of doubtful
composition which were floating in the soup. "But believe me, with
these few exceptions, no one save men, deals sincerely with an admired
woman. Women of the ordinary stamp cannot repress their envy. I should
not like to hear what is being said of us by these friends on their way
home."
"What does it matter?" answered his companion, leaving her soup
untasted.
"Our poor diplomatic corps, which had anticipated so much pleasure in
seeing you," the prince began again. "I would almost like to ask you a
favor, Countess!"
"What is it?"
"That you will invite us to dine day after to-morrow. The gentlemen
have resolved to avenge themselves nobly by offering you an ovation on
your return to Munich to-morrow evening."
"Indeed, what is it?"
"I ought not to betray the secret, but I know that you do not like
surprises. The Wildenau palace will be transformed into a temple of
flowers. Everything is already ordered, it is to be matchless, fairy
like!"
The speaker was secretly watching the impression made by his words; he
must get her away from this place at any cost! The mysterious figure
which had just called to her cheeks a flush for whose sake he would
have sacrificed years of his life, then he had noticed--nothing escaped
his keen eye and ear--her annoyed, almost jealous expression when the
ladies spoke of the "raven-locked" Christ and his love for some
high-born dame. She must leave this place ere the whim gained a firm
hold. The worthy peasant-performer might not object to the admiration
of noble ladies, a pinchback theatre-saint would hardly resist a
Countess Wildenau, if she should choose to make him the object of an
eccentric caprice.
"It is very touching in the gentlemen," said the countess; "let us
anticipate them and invite them to dine the day after to-morrow."
"Ah, there spoke my charming friend, now I am content with you. Will
you permit me, at the close of this luxurious meal, to carry the joyous
tidings to the gentlemen?"
"Do so," she answered carelessly. "And when you have delivered the
invitation, would you do me the favor to telegraph to my steward?"
"Certainly." He pushed back the plate containing an unpalatable cutlet
and drew out his note-book to make a memorandum.
"What shall I write?"
"Steward Geres, Wildenau Palace, Munich.--Day after to-morrow, Monday,
Dinner at 6 o'clock, 12 plates, 15 courses," dictated the countess.
"There, that is settled. But, Countess, twelve persons! Whom do you
intend to invite?"
"When I return the duchess' visit I will ask the three ladies, then
Prince Hohenheim and Her Excellency's two daughters will make twelve."
"But that will be terribly wearisome to the neighbors of Her
Excellency's daughters."
"Yes, still it can't be helped, I must give the poor girls a chance to
make their fortune! With the exception of Prince Hohenheim, you are all
in the market!" she said smiling.
"No one could speak so proudly save a Countess Wildenau, who knows that
every other woman only serves as a foil," replied the prince, kissing
her hand with a significant smile. She was remarkably gracious that
day; she permitted her hand to rest in his, there was a shade of
apology in her manner. Apology for what? He had no occasion to ponder
long--she was ashamed of having neglected a trusted friend for a
chimera, a nightmare, which had assumed the form of a man with
mysterious black eyes and floating locks. The ladies' stories of the
love affairs of the presumptive owner of these locks had destroyed the
dream and broken the spell of the nightmare.
"Admirable, it had happened very opportunely."
"But, Countess, the gentlemen will be disappointed, if the ladies,
also, come. Would it not be much pleasanter without them? You are far
more charming and entertaining when you are the only lady present at
our little smoking parties."
"We can have one later. The ladies will leave at ten. Then you others
can remain."
"And who will be sent away _next_, when you are wearied by this _apres
soiree_? Who will be allowed to linger on a few minutes and smoke the