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Updated: June 12, 2025
And she knocked at the door with bold fingers, and exclaimed: "Pray, Fanny, open the door, and let me come in. It is I, Princess Eibenberg; it is I, your friend, Marianne Meier; I want to see my dear Fanny Itzig." Every thing remained silent; nothing stirred behind that locked door. Marianne removed her veil, and showed her proud, pale countenance to the baron.
She had accomplished her purpose. Marianne Meier, the Jewess, was now a noble lady, to whom everybody was paying deference; and Marianne, princess von Eibenberg, felt so much at home in her new position, that she had herself almost forgotten who and what she had been in former times.
"Then you have seen and conversed with our poor, unhappy king?" said Madame Bonaparte to the beautiful and richly-dressed lady who was sitting on the sofa at her side, and who was none other than the Princess Marianne von Eibenberg. "Yes, madame, I have often had the good fortune to converse long with him," said the princess, heaving a sigh.
Thanks to my title, to my rank, and to my connections, every door will be open to us there, and the Jewess, Marianne Meier, princess of Eibenberg, will not even find the apartments of the emperor and empress closed; on the contrary, their imperial majesties will receive me as an honored and welcome guest. for I am a princess by the act of the emperor, and the friend of the empress; Victoria de Poutet Colloredo is also my friend.
Oh, a little glory, a little immortality on earth; that, Marianne Meier, is what the ambitious heart of the Princess von Eibenberg is longing for; that is the object for which she would willingly sacrifice years of her life. Life is now so boundlessly tedious and empty; it is nothing but a glittering phrase; nothing but a smiling and gorgeous but dull repetition of the same thing! But, hark!
Marianne Meier, rise and walk; it is the Princess von Eibenberg who is calling you! Ah, I see you it is you, Marianne; you are looking at me with the melancholy eyes of those days when you had to bear so much contumely and disgrace, and when you were sitting mournfully by the rivers of Babylon and weeping.
When he commenced writing, she supported herself in breathless suspense on the back of his arm-chair and looked over the Consul's shoulder, while the Princess von Eibenberg, standing not far from them, looked at both with sparkling eyes. Bonaparte hastily wrote a few lines, threw the pen aside, and turning around to Josephine, he handed her the letter.
Do you know still, Marianne Meier, how often you have wrung your hands and wailed, 'Would to God I were rich! For he who is rich is happy! The Princess von Eibenberg is rich, Marianne Meier; why, then, is she not happy?
"My friend," said Josephine, with a fascinating smile, "the Princess von Eibenberg has been recommended to me by persons of the highest distinction, and I confess that I am very grateful to those who gave me an opportunity to make the acquaintance of this beautiful and agreeable lady.
"But if the First Consul learns that the Count de Provence wants to avail himself of my services for the purpose of promoting his interests here in Paris, and if he has, nevertheless, permitted you to receive me, it seems to me a favorable symptom," said Marianne Eibenberg, musingly. "Of course, he has some object in view in permitting it," replied Josephine, sighing, "but who knows what?
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