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Page 37
"To Leopoldstadt! In an open grave," cried Kolbielsky gloomily. "Cut off
from the world, in joyless solitude, far from you. Oh, death, speedy death
would be better and--"
"No," she interrupted, "not far from me! I will remain with you. The
emperor at my fervent entreaty, permitted your servant, your faithful
servant, to accompany you, share your imprisonment. Now look at me,
beloved, look at me. I wear your livery, I am the faithful servant who has
the right to go with you. Oh! no, no, we will be parted no longer. I shall
stay with you."
Clasping both arms around his neck, she pressed a glowing kiss upon his
lips.
But Kolbielsky released himself from the sweet embrace and gently pushed
her back. "That can never be--never will I accept such a sacrifice from
you. No, you shall not bury your beauty, your youthful bloom in a living
tomb. Your tender foot is not made to tread the rough paths of life. The
proud Baroness de Simonie, accustomed to the splendor, luxury, and comfort
of existence must not drag out her life in unworthy humiliation. I thank
you, love, for the sacrifice you wish to make, but nothing will induce me
to accept it. Return to the world, my worshipped one! Keep your love, your
fidelity! Wait for me. Even though years may pass, the hour of liberty will
at last strike and then I will return to you!"
"No, no!" she impetuously exclaimed. "I will not leave you; I will cling to
you. You must not repulse me. The emperor has given your servant the right
to stay with you. I am your servant. I shall stay!"
"Leonore, I entreat you, do not ask what is impossible. There are
sacrifices which a man can never accept from the woman he loves--which
humiliate him as they ennoble her. I should blush before your nobility; it
would bow me into the dust. Leonore de Simonie must not leave the pure,
proud sphere in which she lives; she must remain what she is, the queen of
the drawing-room."
"Is this your final answer?" she asked, turning deadly pale.
"My final one."
"Well, then, hear me! You shall know who I am; you shall at least learn
that you might accept every sacrifice from me without ever being obliged to
blush in my presence. You thrust me from you, that is, you thrust me into
death! Yes, I will die, I wish to die, but first you shall hear from my
lips the truth, that you may not grieve, may not shed a single tear for me.
So hear me, Carl, hear me! I am not what you believe. My foot is not
accustomed to the soft paths of life--the world of splendor and honor is
not mine. From my earliest childhood I have walked in obscurity and
humiliation, in disgrace and shame, a dishonored, ignominious creature."
As if crushed by her own words she sank down at his feet, and raised her
clasped hands beseechingly, while her head drooped low on her breast.
Kolbielsky gazed at her with an expression of unspeakable horror, then a
smile flitted over his face.
"You are speaking falsely," he cried, "you are speaking falsely out of
generosity."
"Oh, would to heaven it were so!" she lamented. "No, believe me, I am
telling the truth; I am not what I seem; I am not the Baroness de Simonie."
"Not Baroness de Simonie? Then who are you?" he shrieked frantically.
"I am a paid spy of the Emperor Napoleon, and the spy Schulmeister is my
father."
Kolbielsky uttered a cry of fury and raised his clenched fist as if he
intended to let it fall upon her head. But he repressed his rage and turned
away. Despair and grief now overpowered him. He tottered to a chair and,
sinking into it, covered his face and wept aloud.
Leonore was still kneeling, but when she heard him sob she started up,
rushed to him, and again throwing herself at his feet, she embraced his
knees.
"Do not weep--curse me! Thrust me from you, but do not weep. Alas! yet I
have deserved your tears. I am a poor, lost creature. Yes, do not weep. I
have suffered much, sinned much, but also atoned heavily. Yes, weep for me!
My life lies bare as a torn wreath of roses in the dust--not a blossom
remains, nothing save the pathway of thorns, grief, and torture. Yes, weep
for me--weep for a lost existence. I was innocent and pure, but I was
poor--that was my misfortune. Poverty drove my father to despair, drove us
both to disgrace and crime. Oh, God! I was so young, and I wanted to live;
I did not wish to die of starvation, and the tempter came to me in my
father's form, whispering, 'Have money and you will have honor! Help
yourself, for men and women will not aid you. They turn contemptuously
away because you are poor. To-morrow, if you are rich, they will pay court
to you, honor, and love you. I offer you the means to become rich. Give me
your hand, Leonore, despise the people who leave us to die, and follow me.'
I gave him my hand, I followed him, I became Napoleon's spy. I had money, I
had a name, I saw people throng around me, I learned to despise them, and
therefore I could betray them. But, in the midst of my brilliant life, I
was unhappy, for the consciousness of my shame constantly haunted me,
constantly cast its shadow upon me. And one day, one day I saw and loved
you! From that day I was the victim of anguish and despair. On my knees I
besought my father to release me, to permit me to escape from the world. He
threatened to betray my past, my disgrace to you. And I--oh, God, I loved
you--I yielded, I remained. My father vowed that, if I made him rich, he
would set me free. I discovered a conspiracy. You were not among the
accomplices--I betrayed it. I wanted to serve _you_ by the treachery and I
plunged you into ruin."
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