‘Come,’ said the Prince, ‘you are no such martinet in duty.’ And then
seeing that the man was shaking from head to foot, Otto laid a hand upon
his shoulder. ‘If I meant you harm,’ he said, ‘should I be here?’
The fellow became instantly reassured. He got the sack; and Otto led him
round by several paths and avenues, conversing pleasantly by the way, and
left him at last planted by a certain fountain where a goggle-eyed Triton
spouted intermittently into a rippling laver. Thence he proceeded alone
to where, in a round clearing, a copy of Gian Bologna’s Mercury stood
tiptoe in the twilight of the stars. The night was warm and windless. A
shaving of new moon had lately arisen; but it was still too small and too
low down in heaven to contend with the immense host of lesser luminaries;
and the rough face of the earth was drenched with starlight. Down one of
the alleys, which widened as it receded, he could see a part of the
lamplit terrace where a sentry silently paced, and beyond that a corner
of the town with interlacing street-lights. But all around him the young
trees stood mystically blurred in the dim shine; and in the stock-still
quietness the upleaping god appeared alive.
In this dimness and silence of the night, Otto’s conscience became
suddenly and staringly luminous, like the dial of a city clock. He
averted the eyes of his mind, but the finger rapidly travelling, pointed
to a series of misdeeds that took his breath away. What was he doing in
that place? The money had been wrongly squandered, but that was largely
by his own neglect. And he now proposed to embarrass the finances of
this country which he had been too idle to govern. And he now proposed
to squander the money once again, and this time for a private, if a
generous end. And the man whom he had reproved for stealing corn he was
now to set stealing treasure. And then there was Madame von Rosen, upon
whom he looked down with some of that ill-favoured contempt of the chaste
male for the imperfect woman. Because he thought of her as one degraded
below scruples, he had picked her out to be still more degraded, and to
risk her whole irregular establishment in life by complicity in this
dishonourable act. It was uglier than a seduction.
Otto had to walk very briskly and whistle very busily; and when at last
he heard steps in the narrowest and darkest of the alleys, it was with a
gush of relief that he sprang to meet the Countess. To wrestle alone
with one’s good angel is so hard! and so precious, at the proper time, is
a companion certain to be less virtuous than oneself!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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