Had not the Conte, with the miserable fawning instinct of a courtier, omitted the words unjust proceedings from that fatal note which the Prince's vanity allowed me to secure, we should have been saved.
I had had the good fortune (rather than the skill, I must admit) to bring into play his personal vanity on the subject of his beloved town of Parma.
Then I threatened to leave, then I was free… .
Great God! What sort of slave am I now?
Here I am now nailed down in this foul sewer, and Fabrizio in chains in the citadel, in that citadel which for so many eminent men has been the ante-room of death; and I can no longer keep that tiger cowed by the fear of seeing me leave his den.
"He has too much sense not to realise that I will never move frofh the infamous tower in which my heart is enchained.
Now, the injured vanity of the man may put the oddest ideas into his head; their fantastic cruelty would but whet the appetite of his astounding vanity.
If he returns to his former programme of insipid love-making, if he says to me: 'Accept the devotion of your slave or Fabrizio dies,'—well, there is the old story of Judith… .
Yes, but if it is only suicide for me, it will be murder for Fabrizio; his fool of a successor, our Crown Prince, and the infamous headsman Rassi will have Fabrizio hanged as my accomplice."
The Duchessa wailed aloud: this dilemma, from which she could see no way of escape, was torturing her unhappy heart.
Her distracted head could see no other probability in the future.
For ten minutes she writhed like a madwoman; then a sleep of utter exhaustion took the place for a few moments of this horrible state, life was crushed out.
A few minutes later she awoke with a start and found herself sitting on her bed; she had dreamed that, in her presence, the Prince was going to cut off Fabrizio's head.
With what haggard eyes the Duchessa stared round her!
When at length she was convinced that neither Fabrizio nor the Prince was in the room with her, she fell back on her bed and was on the point of fainting.
Her physical exhaustion was such, that she could not summon up enough strength to change her position.
"Great God!
If I could die!" she said to herself… .
"But what cowardice, for me to abandon Fabrizio in his trouble!
My wits are straying… .
Come, let us get back to the facts; let us consider calmly the execrable position in which I have plunged myself, as though of my own free will.
What a lamentable piece of stupidity to come and live at the court of an Absolute Prince! A tyrant who knows all his victims; every look they give him he interprets as a defiance of his power.
Alas, that is what neither the Conte nor I took into account when we left Milan: I thought of the attractions of an amusing court; something inferior, it is true, but something in the same style as the happy days of Prince Eugene.
"Looking from without, we can form no idea of what is meant by the authority of a despot who knows all his subjects by sight.
The outward form of despotism is the same as that of the other kinds of government: there are judges, for instance, but they are Rassis: the monster!
He would see nothing extraordinary in hanging his own father if the Prince ordered him to do so… .
He would call it his duty… .
Seduce Rassi!
Unhappy wretch that I am!
I possess no means of doing so.
What can I offer him?
A hundred thousand francs, possibly: and they say that, after the last dagger-blow which the wrath of heaven against this unhappy country allowed him to escape, the Prince sent him ten thousand golden sequins in a casket.
Besides, what sum of money would seduce him?
That soul of mud, which has never read anything but contempt in the eyes of men, enjoys here the pleasure of seeing now fear, and even respect there; he may become Minister of Police, and why not?
Then three-fourths of the inhabitants of the place will be his base courtiers, and will tremble before him in as servile a fashion as he himself trembles before his Sovereign.
"Since I cannot fly this detested spot, I must be of use here to Fabrizio: live alone, in solitude, in despair!—what can I do then for Fabrizio?
Come; forward, unhappy woman!
Do your duty; go into society, pretend to think no more of Fabrizio… .
Pretend to forget him, the dear angel!"
So speaking, the Duchessa burst into tears; at last she could weep.
After an hour set apart for human frailty, she saw with some slight consolation that her mind was beginning to grow clearer.
"To have the magic carpet," she said to herself, "to snatch Fabrizio from the citadel and fly with him to some happy place where we could not be pursued, Paris for instance.
We should live there, at first, on the twelve hundred francs which his father's agent transmits to me with so pleasing a regularity.
I could easily gather together a hundred thousand francs from the remains of my fortune!"
The Duchessa's imagination passed in review, with moments of unspeakable delight, all the details of the life which she would lead three hundred leagues from Parma.
"There," she said to herself, "he could enter the service under an assumed name… .
Placed in a regiment of those gallant Frenchmen, the young Valserra would speedily win a reputation; at last he would be happy."
These blissful pictures brought on a second flood of tears, but they were tears of joy.
So happiness did exist then somewhere in the world!
This state lasted for a long time; the poor woman had a horror of coming back to the contemplation of the grim reality.