The Enchanted Waltz Read online

The Baron bowed, collected his reports together and, bowing again, left the room.

  The Prince walked to the window and opened it. There was something deliberate in his attitude, as if he wanted the fresh air to cleanse the room of the Baron’s presence.

  He made no secret of the fact that he disliked the man. The Baron might have his uses and the Prince would be the last person to dispute that, but his poking and prying into the secrets of other people seemed to have affected his personality so that even on sight one distrusted him.

  The Prince was still standing at the window when, a few minutes later, he heard a movement behind him.

  He turned to see a servant with a note lying on a gold salver.

  There were only five words written on the white paper when he opened it.

  “Please, I must see you!”

  The Prince sent for one of his confidential secretaries. He gave him certain instructions and then, walking to the fireplace, threw the note into the flames.

  He watched it burn, making quite certain that not even a small particle of the paper fell through the grate.

  He was taking no chances. He imagined that he was safe enough from Hager in his own house, but could he be sure of nothing.

  For all he knew, the Emperor might have given instructions that he was to be watched and reported on, but whether he gave the order or not, Hager would no doubt welcome any opportunity of gaining special information about him.

  The Prince was well aware that one of the things the Baron disliked most was that he was not made conversant with all that went on at the most secret meetings of the Congress.

  When nothing remained of the note but a few black ashes, the Prince rang the bell for a footman and ordered his horse to be brought to the door.

  It was a fine, sunny afternoon and, although the wind was cold, the air had a sparkling astringent quality about it that brought a bloom to the cheeks of the women thronging the main streets of the Capital.

  Accompanied only by his personal groom, a man who had served him all his life and whom, the Prince believed, he could trust as he could trust himself, he set off.

  The horses trotted swiftly until they were clear of the carriages and sightseers and they were then alone on desolate pathways in the woods outside the City.

  The fallen leaves made a carpet for the horses’ hoofs, the bare branches of the trees rustled against the grey of the winter sky. It was in these woods that the youth of Vienna played and made love in the summer time.

  Then there would be lovers entwined under the shade of every tree and there would be the sound of singing and laughter echoing through the glades. And at night there would come the soft sighs of satisfied desire and sometimes the sound of a young voice yodelling from sheer unbridled happiness.

  Today there was no one to be seen, until at length Prince Metternich came to a small, half-hidden Temple in the depth of the forest.

  And there he saw a groom waiting, holding the bridle of a riderless horse.

  The man saluted smartly at the sight of the Prince, who nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Are you well, Josef?” he enquired.

  “In good health, I thank Your Excellency.”

  “You’ve joined the Baroness’s household as instructed?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency. I am employed as groom and my brother has taken the position of footman.”

  “Good! Your services will not go unrewarded.”

  The Prince dismounted from his own horse, his groom took the bridle and he walked along the leaf-covered path that led to the Temple.

  As he anticipated, Wanda was waiting for him there. She was wearing a riding habit of green velvet and as she ran towards him he thought appreciatively how lovely she was, how vivid the blue of her eyes in the sweet oval of her little face.

  “It is good of you to come, Your Excellency,” she said as she curtseyed. “I did not mean to trouble you, but I felt that I had to see you to talk with you.”

  “You have something to report perhaps?” the Prince questioned. “Shall we sit down?”

  There were wooden seats arranged round the Temple.

  It was in the summer a favourite meeting place for lovers, of which the walls bore witness, for they were scrawled and carved with names, most of which were encircled with a roughly drawn heart.

  Wanda settled herself on a bench, spreading out her skirt, before she turned to the Prince with an eagerness that told of her impatience.

  “I wanted to see you because I have met the Czar,” she began.

  “Yes, I know,” he replied. “You danced with him at the masked ball and you visited him last night at the Razumovsky Palace.”

  “You know that?” she cried.

  “Yes, I know,” he answered. “What transpired?”

  “That is what I wanted to see you about,” she said, but now she looked away from him, a little frown between her eyes.

  “The Czar told you something of import perhaps,” the Prince prompted.

  “I-I don’t think so,” Wanda stammered, “but that is not what I wanted to tell you. You see, I think he trusts me and if he did confide in me, it would be because – he looks on me as – his friend.”

  “Well?”

  The Prince’s reply was a question.

  “I see that I am not making you understand,” Wanda said. “Can you not understand the position I find myself in?”

  “A position that you have achieved with much cleverness,” the Prince smiled. “I have not yet had time to congratulate you.”

  “Please don’t do that,” Wanda replied. “I am not proud of what I have done. I contrived to dance – with the Czar at the masked ball as you wished me to do. He – was very charming.”

  “Yes? Then what happened?”

  Wanda hesitated for a moment.

  “We talked for a long time. He promised to have my fan mended – that was how I got to know him, because he trod on my fan and broke it.”

  “A clever idea,” the Prince approved. “I see you have brains, my dear.”

  “No – don’t praise me.”

  “Then go on.”

  “Last night another fan arrived as a present and with it a note, unsigned, telling me that a carriage would call for me just before ten. It came and I was taken, as apparently you know, to the Razumovsky Palace. The Czar was there.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “In a small salon on the first floor. I cannot describe to you which one it was, as the Palace was so vast that I found myself utterly bewildered.”

  “Yes, yes, continue!”

  “He was different somehow. He spoke of how there was no one he could trust. I had a feeling that he was suspicious of me.”

  “Nonsense!” the Prince said sharply. “There is no reason for him to suspect you.”

  “I kept telling myself that. And I suppose it was my guilty conscience – but I felt unhappy. I did not want to deceive him.”

  “Let’s be frank,” the Prince said. “The Czar is the enemy of Austria. If he succeeds in his ambitions, he will have greater power in Europe than ever Napoleon enjoyed.”

  “I-I quite understand that is something that must be prevented by you and all the other nations at this Congress,” Wanda said, “but where I am concerned, it is different. The Czar seems to me a lonely person – it is so difficult to put into words, but I didn’t realise before that an Emperor can be just a man!”

  “The man who also has the power, authority and autocracy of an Emperor,” the Prince answered. “What else did he say to you? Did he speak of Poland or of me?”

  “He does not seem to be very fond of you,” Wanda prevaricated.

  “He hates me, I know that. What I would prefer is that he should be afraid of me,” Metternich replied. “Anything more?”

  “Nothing really, I think,” Wanda answered. “But suppose there was something? If there should be other occasions when I should meet him – and he should tell me something privately because he wants to talk with someone who
m he believes has nothing to do with politics and has no interest in the Congress save as a place of entertainment, is it right that I should repeat it to you?”

  The Prince looked at her in genuine astonishment.

  “Right?” he said. “What are you trying to tell me, child?”

  “Only that my conscience is – troubled.”

  “Austria is what matters. Our country is more important than personalities, more important, if it comes to that, than our petty little consciences. In Affairs of State we have to rise above trivialities. We have to look to the main issue, to the main objective. We can only, all of us, each in our own way, strive to serve our country. We cannot give more than we are capable of giving, but we can give that. And it is only by complete elimination of self that we can offer to Austria, whom we all love, a little of our gratitude for being a part of this very great and very glorious country.”

  As he spoke, warming to the theme, the Prince held Wanda’s eyes with his.

  It was as if he hypnotised her so that her troubles and worries seemed to recede into the background and she felt again the warm rush of patriotism that she had felt that first night when she came to Vienna.

  “I do want to help – I really do,” she said. “And when you are here, it seems so easy, so simple.”

  “Nothing is simple and nothing is easy when it comes to dealing with other people and especially those of other nationalities,” the Prince said. “The Czar is an extraordinary man, no need for me to tell you that. My wife tells me that our doctors are researching on the problem of a man being two personalities in one body – that is the Czar! Remember, if he shows you one side of his character, there is another side that he keeps hidden and secret.”

  Wanda gave a little sigh.

  “I wish you could see him as I do.”

  “I am afraid I should not be so sympathetic,” the Prince smiled.

  He hesitated for a moment and then added,

  “Let me tell you something. We have reached a deadlock. The Congress has been in existence now for some months, but we are exactly where we were when we started in September. I am at my wits end as to what the next move shall be. I am speaking frankly, Wanda, because I need your help. I must know what the Czar intends. I must know whether he is putting over a gigantic bluff or whether he has the power and strength to remain adamant where Poland is concerned. Will you not help me?”

  No woman, however experienced, would have been able to resist the appeal in the Prince’s voice. It shattered Wanda’s resistance and swept away her hesitation and doubts.

  “Oh, I will!” she cried impulsively. “I promise you I will.”

  The Prince smiled at her.

  “Then continue your friendship with the Czar,” he said. “Find out all you can, encourage him to talk. He is, I believe, a great talker on subjects that interest him.”

  “I will try to do as you tell me,” Wanda answered.

  The Prince rose to his feet.

  “You have been far more successful already than I had imagined possible. I hope too that you are enjoying yourself in Vienna. From all reports you are being very much admired.”

  He turned to look at her as she stood there, vivid against the grey walls of the Temple.

  “It’s not surprising,” he added. “You are very lovely, as a great many men must have told you already.”

  “I have no time to listen to them,” Wanda replied.

  “I cannot believe that,” the Prince replied. “All women like to be told they are lovely and all women like to talk of love, but let me warn you, be careful who you give your heart to.”

  He was not prepared for the sudden flood of colour that came into Wanda’s face.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “So there is someone?” he queried.

  “No, no, there is no one,” Wanda protested, “no one who could possibly matter to me.”

  “I am glad of that,” he answered seriously, “for at the moment you are too important for me to want to lose you.”

  “I shall not fall in love with anyone,” Wanda said and he thought it sounded as if she had made a promise, not to him but to herself.

  “Love, when it comes, is something we cannot deny,” he remarked contemplatively. And he was not thinking of Wanda.

  “But suppose – one falls in love with – someone completely unsuitable – completely impossible?”

  “It would still be love,” the Prince answered. Then he returned from dreams to hard reality. “But I am sure that you will do nothing so stupid. When you fall in love, it must be with someone eminently suitable, someone you can marry, someone I can approve of wholeheartedly.”

  “I shall hope that will happen,” Wanda said in a low voice.

  “It will, my dear, I am quite sure of it, but for the moment your task lies with the Czar. It is fortunate that there is no likelihood of your falling in love with him. They tell me that ten years ago he was attractive to women. But now that he is older and more vainglorious than ever, he is even losing his proverbial charm. Perhaps it is as well or I might be anxious about you.”

  As Prince Metternich spoke, Wanda knew that never in his wildest imaginings did he think that she might fall in love with the Czar.

  He was striving to be humorous and obediently she forced a smile to her lips.

  There was no need for her to say anything more, for already the Prince was ready to leave. As far as he was concerned, the interview was ended.

  There was nothing further to be discussed and he was impatient to be away.

  “Goodbye, my dear.”

  He raised his fingers to his lips and then, as she rose from her curtsey, he repeated the words he had used the last time they met.

  “I am proud of you,” he said and left her without a backward glance, swinging himself so swiftly into the saddle that, almost before she had reached the door of the Temple, he was cantering away through the woods, his groom following behind.

  *

  Only when he was out of sight did Wanda realise that she had gained nothing from this interview, nothing save the fact that the burden he had set upon her weighed even heavier than it had done before.

  But Prince Metternich, as he rode towards the City, was well satisfied.

  The child was intelligent. It was not surprising, he thought, considering who her father was. And she was pretty enough to attract any man, whether he was Emperor or commoner.

  She had too an innate purity, which should, he calculated, appeal to the Czar. He was never quite certain how far Alexander’s religious instincts affected his intercourse with women, but he was an idealist in many ways and Wanda’s innocence and air of untouched freshness should appeal to him where a more sophisticated woman might leave him cold.

  He was taking a long chance, of course, but no one knew better than the Prince how important a part a clever woman could play in diplomacy.

  And where the Czar was concerned, it was not safe to leave any stone unturned however small, however insignificant.

  Prince Metternich was so intent on his own thoughts that he had practically passed another rider moving ahead of him before he saw who it was.

  Then a face was turned towards him and he heard his own voice as breathless as that of a boy breathe her name,

  “Comtesse Julia.”

  “Good afternoon, Your Excellency. I thought I was the only person in the woods this afternoon.”

  “And I have been thinking the same thing,” he said, his eyes taking in every detail of her appearance, the soft silky grey of her habit, which seemed to echo the serene depths of her eyes, the way her hair curled from under her hat from which fell a long feather, the rich vivid blue of a peacock’s tail.

  She was sitting on a big black mare, a magnificent animal with a strain of Arab in her and her groom in her father in-law’s yellow and silver livery rode almost as fine a piece of horseflesh.

  “I want to talk to you,” Prince Metternich suggested.

  “Why not?” she smi
led.

  “Alone,” he insisted, feeling as he spoke that even the grooms were an intolerable intrusion on their privacy.

  She hesitated and then added,

  “There is a walk to the left of us that leads down to a small lake, which in the summer is covered with water lilies. Shall we go there together? It will not take long.”

  She smiled at the pleading in his tone.

  “Why not?” she enquired gaily. “If you can forget your engagements for a few minutes, then I can forget mine.”

  They left their horses in charge of the grooms and walked side by side down the path that led to the lake.

  The wind, which had been so boisterous early in the afternoon, seemed to have died away and there was a sudden breathlessness about the atmosphere. Or was it just his own feeling because they were together?

  They walked until they reached the lake. It was like molten silver reflecting the clouds above it and then, as he turned to look at her, he forgot everything save his overwhelming need for her calm serenity.

  They talked, moving round the lake, hardly conscious of where they went. He watched her face. The sweet seriousness of it showed no coquettishness when she spoke to him and there was nothing flirtatious in the way her eyes were raised to his.

  It seemed to him that her beauty was intensified as he grew to know the curves of her face, the movement of her lips, the way she would smile suddenly and slowly, so that her whole face seemed illuminated.

  He had no idea how long they walked together, until suddenly he felt a splash on his face and realised that it had started to rain.

  Then he saw that they were far away from their horses.

  “We will shelter under the trees,” he said, and put his hand under her arm.

  The trees were so thick on the far side of the lake that, although they were leafless, their branches, locked and interlocked, provided shelter if they kept close to the trunks.

  For a moment they stood there side by side and then the Prince put his arms round Julia.

  As if she was waiting for this moment, she made no resistance, but turned confidingly towards him and hid her face in his shoulder.

  For a long time he held her close, kissing her hair just above her ear and murmuring, in a voice he hardly recognised as his own, that he loved her.