In Vienna, during the early years of the reign of Maria Theresa, love intrigues formed one of the chief amusements of persons of quality; and, therefore, it was no strange thing that, early one bright summer morning, the Princess von Werdenberg should be enjoying an interview with an ardent lover in her boudoir, whilst her sleepy, but faithful, lackeys kept watch outside to prevent interruption.
The Princess\'s husband, Field-Marshall Prince von Werdenberg—an elderly man, too much engrossed in matters of war and sport to be greatly interested in the doings of his pretty wife—was abroad on a hunting expedition; so what more natural than for the Princess—still young and beautiful enough to be one of Cupid\'s victims—to invite her young kinsman and devoted lover, Octavian, to visit her and to pour forth into her willing ears the sweet words of love she delighted to hear.
Octavian, a handsome youth, sat at the feet of his beloved Princess in an adoring attitude, every now and again rising to draw her into his eager embrace; and the Princess listened indulgently to his extravagant expressions of admiration and adoration—for, in spite of his extreme youth, she loved the boy dearly and delighted in his ardently responsive passion.
Their golden hours of sweet dreaming this morning, however, were doomed to a rough awakening; for there suddenly came the sound of an arrival in the courtyard below, and the Princess exclaimed in deep alarm, as she heard approaching heavy footsteps: "Ah, woe! My husband has returned unexpectedly! Quick, conceal thyself, my beloved Octavian!"
Octavian hastily retired to a cupboard in a recess; and the Princess paced restlessly up and down her room, listening to the voices of her zealous lackeys arguing with the newcomer, whom she soon realised was not her husband, after all, but a near kinsman, the Baron Ochs von Lerchenau, a middle-aged and dissipated roué, for whom she had little affection and less respect.
In a few moments Octavian emerged from the recess, attired in female garments, and entreated the Princess to pass him off to her intruding cousin as a new waiting-maid; and his royal sweetheart, delighted with his charming appearance—for he made an extremely pretty "girl"—and ever ready for a joke, gladly agreed to do so.
At this moment the visitor burst into the room, angrily expostulating with the dismayed attendants for having kept him waiting outside so long; and seeing that he was indeed her kinsman, the Baron Ochs von Lerchenau, the Princess gave him a gracious welcome and inquired the reason for his unexpected appearance so early in the morning.
The Baron, however, was immediately so struck with the fair fresh beauty of the dainty "waiting-maid," that he could scarce take his eyes away, and kept casting languishing glances at her, making frequent inviting signs for her to approach nearer to him—to the secret entertainment of the Princess, who more than once had to bid him keep his hands off the "girl," whom she addressed as "Mariandel"; but the flirtatious visitor was at last induced to sit down and state his business whilst partaking of a cup of chocolate.
The Baron now explained to his royal cousin that he had decided to marry, and was, in fact, about to enter into a contract that day with a very young girl named Sophia, the daughter of Faninal, a wealthy merchant who had recently been ennobled; and when the Princess expressed surprise that he should stoop to wed with one of such plebeian origin, he airily confessed that the father\'s money-bags were of more service to him in his present impecunious state than a long pedigree, declaring that enough blue blood flowed in his own veins for himself and his wife.
The marriage contract was to be signed later during that day; but, in the meantime, he required the services of a noble youth to bear to his promised bride a silver rose as the pledge of his love, in accordance with the pretty custom of such ancient families as his own—and he begged the Princess to name one of their kinsmen for this important mission.
In reply, the Princess bade her "waiting-maid" fetch her a certain jewelled medallion in which was set a miniature of Octavian; and showing the portrait to the Baron, she asked him if he would like the original to perform the office of rose-bearer to his bride-elect, Sophia. The Baron gladly answered in the affirmative, entreating that the matter should forthwith be arranged by the Princess, who agreed to the plan; then, upon gazing more closely at the miniature, he noticed the likeness between the pictured youth and the pretty young "waiting-maid," and his royal cousin informed him that they were, in fact, related, and that though their relationship was not quite "canonical," she nevertheless for that reason chose to keep "Mariandel" always about her own person and away from the other maids.
Once more the Baron tried to make advances to the pretty "Mariandel," inviting her to sup with him that night, and boldly seeking an opportunity to snatch a kiss, to the increasing amusement of the Princess; but Octavian at last managed to make his escape through one of the doors, which he slammed in the amorous Baron\'s face.
A stream of attendants, vendors of goods, suppliants and servitors now poured into the room through another door; and the Princess, seating herself at the toilet-table, gave herself up into the hands of her hairdresser, who proceeded to arrange her head-dress whilst she listened to the various petitions that were made to her for charity and patronage.
The Princess\'s attorney having entered with the others, the Baron immediately drew the man of law aside and made arrangements with him for the drawing up of his marriage contract; and very soon he was singled out as a likely customer by a couple of disreputable Italians—an uncle and niece, Valachi and Annina—who earned a doubtful living as panderers and by spying, tale-bearing, and finding proofs of scandals. This shady pair of hangers-on were not long ere they found an opportunity of asking the Baron to employ them in his numerous love affairs; and when, at the end of the reception, he retired with the rest of the company, they followed closely upon his heels in the hope of proving their usefulness to him.
The Princess, thus left alone for a few minutes, fell into a pensive mood, reflecting upon the emptiness of the frivolous life around her, and of the only too probable passing of her present happiness; but her reverie was soon broken by the return of Octavian, once more clad in his own male garments, and laughing merrily over the part he had just enacted so cleverly. Soon, however, observing that his beloved one looked sad, he clasped her in his arms in alarm, and begged to know what ailed her; and when the Princess admitted that she feared their love would soon come to an end, since he would almost certainly bestow his affections on some fair young girl sooner or later, he passionately declared that he should never cease to love her, his adored Princess, adding, in extravagant terms, that she had no equal.
The Princess, however, dismissed him with quiet tenderness, bidding him to hold himself in readiness to do her will and to enact the part of rose-bearer for the Baron; but when he had departed, she remembered with a pang that he had forgotten to kiss her as usual, and she sighed deeply as she realised that her sad thoughts were probably nearer the truth than she had imagined.
Later in the day great excitement reigned in the household of the newly-ennobled merchant-prince, Herr von Faninal, whose gorgeous palace glowed with decorations of brilliant colours, and whose fair young daughter, Sophia, attired in elegant garments, awaited the arrival of her fiancé\'s rose-bearer—a royal alliance for a merchant\'s daughter being an achievement to be proud of; so that the worthy Faninal\'s citizen friends were all envious of what they considered his good luck in having secured so distinguished a son-in-law.
Consequently, all the neighbours were agog with excitement and curiosity to see the arrival of the rose-bearer; and in the reception chamber of the gaudy palace, after the departure of Faninal to meet the bridegroom, the pretty Sophia vainly endeavoured to quell her eager heart-beats by uttering fervent prayers for humility, whilst at the window her fussy duenna, Marianne, interrupted her every minute by drawing attention to the merry doings in the street below, where little groups of curious neighbours were gathered to watch the arrivals.
Presently, loud greetings and shouts announced the arrival of the eagerly-expected rose-bearer; and, next minute, Octavian, dressed in dazzling garments of silver and white, entered the reception-room, carrying in his hand a lovely silver rose, which, upon his bended knee, he gracefully presented to Sophia. He was followed by a party of elegant attendants, who grouped themselves around the room; but Sophia saw no one but the handsome young Octavian, whose glowing eyes instantly held her own enthralled.
In that first long look the two young people felt themselves transported, as it were, to another world—a rosy world of joy and love, where they two were the only dwellers; and though they gradually came back to the scene around them and talked of ordinary matters, they both felt the glory of a new happiness and knew that love had dawned, unbidden, in their hearts.
Scarcely had they recovered themselves than the doors were once more flung open, and Faninal, with great pomp and ceremony, ushered in the Baron Ochs von Lerchenau, who, in spite of his noble birth, soon showed himself to be nothing but a vulgar boor. He treated the obsequious Faninal first with insolent condescension and next with downright rudeness; and he quickly offended the modest Sophia with the rough boorishness of his wooing and the leering suggestiveness of his bold glances. His coarse words and manners filled the poor girl with disgust; and when he drew her down on to a seat beside him and began to fondle her with easy familiarity, she wrenched herself free from his arms with flaming cheeks, full of indignation, and forbade him to touch her again.
Her resistance, however, vastly amu............