ANNELI SEES THE MAY-POLE ERECTED BY HANS.Hans had always counted himself a happy fellow, but as he now led the lovely Anneli in the merry dance beneath the green linden-trees, it seemed as if he had never knownbefore what happiness meant, and his whole past life he counted now as nothing. But this life offers no lasting happiness, and the purer it is the shorter is its reign. Anneli looked up at him with unconscious tenderness, and whispered that she would not dance that night with any one but him. The maiden's softly spoken words reached the ear of Nazerl, the son of a rich neighbour; and anger and envy blazed forth in his soul."Anneli, you must dance once with me," he said, stepping up to her; but his petition sounded more like an imperious command."You know, Nazerl," answered the girl, "that Hans is my partner; you must ask his consent." Now Hans was just bringing a glass to offer Anneli some refreshment."Listen, goat-boy," said the rich farmer's son haughtily to the poor senner, "I will let you know that I mean to dance now with Anneli." And he seized her hand.Hans was of a peaceable disposition, and his new happiness had not made him proud, but this taunt was too much for him."Let go her hand, Nazerl," he said quietly, though his voice trembled. "She may not dance with you.""May she not, indeed, you beggar?" cried Nazerl; "then take this," and he struck Hans in the face with clenched fist.Anneli screamed, and poor Hans lost all control over himself; without thinking, he hurled the glass in his tormentor's face, and with a loud groan Nazerl fell pale and bloody to the ground. Again a cry of terror escapedAnneli's lips, but it was not for the sake of the fallen Nazerl, but for Hans, whose thoughtless deed must bring him into trouble.The music ceased, and all hastened to the motionless form that lay stretched on the grass to offer help, while Hans stood by in speechless astonishment at his own mad act.Then he felt his hand seized, and Anneli's gentle voice whispered in his ear, "Flee, oh flee, dear Hans, at once, for a minute's delay may make flight hopeless."But when Hans still hesitated, she caught his arm and, unnoticed by the others, drew him away till they stood at some distance from the lindens, and were hidden from their companions by the trees. Hans still looked stunned and paralysed."Hans," she said more earnestly than before, laying her little hand upon his arm—"Hans, listen to me and follow me. Flee as quickly as you can, for all, all are against you, because I chose you in preference to them. Flee, and hide yourself somewhere till the noise of this is over and Nazerl is recovered.""Ah, Anneli," answered Hans shuddering, "he is dead! Did you not see how pale and motionless he lay?""Then there is all the more need for you to flee," said the maiden decidedly; "listen, they are coming; go, go," she urged anxiously."Farewell, Anneli. Do not be angry with me, and never forget poor Hans," and he looked down at her with sorrowful eyes."Never, never, Hans," she said in a firm voice, for theexperience of the last few minutes had ripened her self-knowledge and her will. "But you will come back some day, guiltless and happy; I know you will. But now go. They are coming to look for you."He stooped, and, overcome with the sorrow of the moment, pressed a kiss on her sweet lips."Farewell, farewell, my Anneli," he whispered once more, and then he turned and fled like a hunted chamois. It was dark on the path along which he hastened, but darker in his soul. The short-lived happiness to which he had so joyfully opened his heart was gone, perhaps never to return; even the thought of Anneli's love, which she had so frankly revealed to him, could not scatter the dark shadows.If Nazerl was dead, then he was a murderer, and must remain so all his life, no matter what might be his punishment and his repentance. He shuddered, and hastened trembling up the very path which his joyful footsteps had pressed a few hours before, when his heart was full of vague but sweetest hopes.How all, all had changed in so short a time!The moon, which before had beamed almost with the golden light of day, seemed now as pale as Nazerl's face; the night wind moaned through the trees like the sighs of a dying man, and the harp-like music of the glacier stream sounded like avenging thunder. Hans flew onwards, despair in his heart, great drops of anguish on the brow so lately crowned with calm content. There lay the night pasture. The moonbeams fell across it, and showed him the slumbering animals. He pressed hislips closer at the thought that he must say farewell to the herd that had grown so dear to him.Soon he stood at the senner's cottage. He looked through the window. All was peaceful as usual. The bed was still unoccupied, and the old man was not at the table; but Seppi was merrily turning the fritters and whistling a cheerful tune."Seppi, Seppi!" cried poor Hans outside, as he knocked with trembling finger against the panes.Seppi turned his head in surprise, and when he saw Hans standing out in the moonlight, he came to the window and drew back the bolt."What's the matter, Hans? Is anything wrong?" he said hastily."Alas! yes," sighed Hans, and he told his friend in hurried words the misfortune that had befallen him."The impudent fellow," cried Seppi angrily. "You may be sure your reminder will not do him any harm; and as for his being dead, you know, Hans, 'weeds wont die.' So don't be vexing yourself beyond measure. And are you going away? Where will you go?""I do not know, Seppi," answered Hans sadly—"as far as my feet will carry me; away from my beloved country, perhaps for ever;" and he wiped a tear from his cheek. "But you must do me one kindness, that I may go content. As soon as you can get down to the valley, go to my good old mother, and tell her not to grieve too much. Tell her that I will try to do right, though I must leave the mountains of the Tyrol; and beg Anneli never, never to forget me. And one thing more, Seppi.Take good care of the little man, and let him want for nothing. Promise me this."Seppi nodded, and his good, honest face had a cheery smile on it as he gave his hand to his friend, who hurried away on his restless wandering. He gave a hasty glance at the night pastures, which he now reached; the long mossy veil of the old pine-trees, beneath which he had so often slept, fluttered in the wind like mourning banners. His favourite brown cow raised her head slowly, and the bell round her neck sounded like a sad farewell. Hot tears flowed from his eyes, but he had no time for long leave-taking, he must hurry on. Yonder rose the rugged brow of the glacier, with its furrows lighted by the weird moonbeams. He passed it by winding paths through the gloom of the fir-trees, now climbing steep ascents, now descending into a ravine with its foaming torrent—paths known to no eye and foot save those of the boldest mountaineer.At last he stood on the lofty ridge from which the road led downwards into an unknown valley and unfamiliar fields. He threw a last glance back towards his own loved mountain, then he hastened without further delay on his sorrowful journey.The golden sunlight of evening lay once more on mountain and valley, and floated on the waves of the lovely river Inn, which flowed as peacefully as if it had never tried to foam and rage like its brothers in the mountains. A youth was descending the mountain with tottering footsteps. It was the last of the hills that hadlain between him and the great and populous town that stood in the valley below. His blue eyes looked dim and sunken, his long hair hung tangled round his head, and his once respectable clothing bore traces of hasty and toilsome journeying.The son of the quiet mountains looked down in amazement at the bustle in the town below, and a deep sigh escaped his lips. But he collected himself, and descended the last declivity to the bank of the stream, across which a bridge led to the town. At one end of this bridge stood a watch-house, for it was a needful thing in those unsettled times to keep a sharp look-out on friend and foe. Two soldiers sat at the oaken table before the door. The young man went up to the building, and stood timidly a few steps from the men. At last the elder of the two raised his head."Look, Franzerl," said he, after a hasty glance at the young wanderer; "there comes a lad from your mountains, but he does not look so cheerful as you did when you came."Franzerl looked up, but scarcely had he met the wanderer's eye than he sprang up and with a cry of joy caught his arm."Hans, dear Hans, where have you come from?" he cried. "Do not you remember me? Do you not know Franzerl, with whom you and Anneli used so often to play, and with whom you so often shared your bread and cheese, when my poor mother had nothing to give to her hungry little Franzerl?"Hans—for it was he—looked with joyful surprise atthe cheerful young face, and recognised at once his old playfellow, who years ago had left his native valley to push his fortune in the great world, and whose friends had long believed him to be dead. He had become a soldier; but in spite of his stern employment his heart had remained as warm and true as ever. He drew his old friend to the table where the other man sat, and offered him some of the fiery drink in the glass before him."Drink, my good fellow," he said pressingly, "drink—you seem to be in need of refreshment—and then tell me what brings you hither."The rough kindness touched the poor wanderer's heart, and acted like magic on his weary spirit. It was the first familiar face that he had seen for many days—the first pleasant reminder of days gone by, and he found it sweet to open his heart to this friend of his childhood, and tell him of the folly that had driven him from home, and how he had wandered since from mountain to mountain begging a bite of bread and a drink of milk from kind-hearted herdsmen; for he had not ventured to go down to the villages, where the news of what had happened might have arrived before him. "And now," he said, "I am going away—away to some far-off country, where they know nothing of Nazerl or of Hans, or even of the beautiful land of the Tyrol.""You are very foolish," laughed Franzerl. "Are you quite sure that Nazerl is dead? He had always a thick skull, as I know full well. Don't be a fool, but stay here and become a brave soldier like us. Believe me, it isa merry life, and it is possible to be a good man even under this coat."Hans hesitated a moment; he had never thought of this, but Franzerl overwhelmed him with persuasive eloquence."Look here, Hans; to-morrow or next day we are going to Italy, a country that, they say, is even more lovely than our own. Ours is a cheerful life, and when you come back in two or three years grass will have grown over the whole affair, and they will not dare to say a word to you after you have worn the Emperor's uniform.""But Anneli?" sighed Hans."You cannot see Anneli for a time at any rate, and if she is really worthy of you, she will be true to you."Yes, Franzerl was right, Hans saw that; so he agreed to his proposal, and went with his friend to the recruiting sergeant, who was glad to receive the fine fellow into his ranks.It was autumn. The morning wind swept over the Adriatic, rippling its deep blue waves, and played with the dark hair of a youth who leant in deep reverie against the archway of the Piazza di San Marco, gazing dreamily at the flow of the Grand Canal, which, after cutting Venice with its great curve, mingles its waters with the waves of the Adriatic.It was Hans. The mountains and valleys of his native land lay far away. It was long since he had left the last mountain-pass of the Tyrol far behind, but he could notleave his love for home there at the boundary—it filled him with secret longings in this beautiful, but foreign land. What good did all the splendour of this strange country do him—all the lofty palaces and art-trophies of the queenly city—all the sweet melody of this unknown tongue? Could one of those musical sounds be compared with Anneli's voice when she said, "I am so glad you have come, dear Hans"? Could one of these marble towers attempt to rival the jagged glacier peaks when they shone with the purple of the evening sky? And when the horn sounded at sunset through the mountains, echoed a hundred-fold from clefts and deep ravines, and dying softly amid the shades of the valley, who would compare with that the tones of the music which day and night hovered on the waters through the streets of Venice?Hans raised his tearful eyes: the sky, at least, must be the same which spans the valleys of the Tyrol. Then he noticed a figure on a slender pillar—a figure which he must have seen long years before. A brazen lion with a proudly flowing mane raised its kingly head, as if keeping watch over the city below, and over the sea that kissed its feet. The young man dashed the rising tear from his eye, and looked thoughtfully up at the kingly beast. Yes, indeed, that was the same lion which was marked on the coin that the little man gave him long ago, and which in the secret drawer had kept watch and guard over his mother's treasure. A smile passed like a sunbeam over his troubled face as he thought of that sunny autumn morning when the old man saidgood-bye to him, and when he watched him from the rock as he sailed through the air on his magic mantle."Oh! I wish I had such a ship," he said with a sigh. Then, in the familiar accents of his native tongue, the words sounded in his ear, "Good morning, Hans."Hans started—there was no one near. Had a dream mocked him? But no, there it was again—"Look up, Hans, up here." And Hans looked up.Above him, out of the high bow-window of one of those proud palaces, leant a familiar head with snowy locks and dark earnest eyes that smiled kindly down on poor Hans.He uttered a cry of joy, his first since he came to this foreign land, and quick as an arrow he darted into the archway, and entered the portal of the palace. His foot flew over marble steps and velvet carpets; but he had no eye for that. On he went, up to where, leaning over the golden banister of the landing-place, a noble and well-remembered face awaited him. Full of emotion, he stood before the old man, who gave him his hand in loving greeting. No longer a shabby coat, but a garment of black velvet covered his form, and his withered but wonder-working hand gleamed with costly diamonds. But the youth's affection broke the barriers of this marvellous change, and tenderly, as on that spring evening on the mountain when he had brought the old man into his cottage, he pressed his lips against the kind hand, and said from the fulness of his heart, "God bless you, sir. I bless Him for letting me find you here in this foreign land."HANS RECEIVES A HEARTY WELCOME FROM AN OLD FRIEND."Not a foreign land, Hans; I am in my own country," answered the noble Venetian, as he led the young man through the splendid halls, whose stately walls were adorned with the masterpieces of those immortal artists who called Italy their home. Then they sat down together in the wide bow-window, and Hans looked joyfully into the old man's venerable countenance."So you did not forget the poor herdsman in your splendid home?" said he."Forget thee, Hans!" replied the noble Venetian—"forget thee, who didst think of me in the midst of love and pleasure, and even in thy flight, when thy heart was filled with deadly anguish! No, indeed. I long to reward those years of faithful love, and perhaps the opportunity has come at last.""Oh, sir," cried Hans with shining eyes, "will you tell me how things go at home, where you have been more lately than I? Tell me if Nazerl recovered, if my mother has ceased to grieve about me, and if Anneli still remembers me.""Nazerl is dead—but through no fault of thine," said the old man soothingly, for Hans had looked terror-stricken at his opening words. "He soon recovered from the trifling wound caused by thy hand; but his own foolhardiness drove him up to the highest points of rock after a chamois, and a rash step hurled him into the ravine. It was not till long afterwards that they found his mangled corpse. As for thy mother and Anneli, thou mayest see for thyself."So saying he rose, stepped up to a richly carved cabinet, and took from a secret compartment a flashing jewel. The young man recognised it well; it was the wondrous mountain mirror; and now he held it once more in his hand, and looked searchingly on its shining surface. Light mists rolled over it; they grew gradually thinner and thinner, till at last there lay before him in the splendour of the morning sunlight his own beloved valley, and the substantial farm-house, Anneli's home. He gave no heed to the cheerful stir in barn and stable,nor to the busy preparation for the returning herds. No, his eye pressed through the clear window-panes to a well-remembered room. It was quiet and cosy, as in days gone by. At the window sat Anneli, fair and lovable as ever, but her countenance bore traces of gentle melancholy. The snow-white thread rested in her hands, and her lips moved in earnest talk with the two women at the other window—the farmer's widow and the old mother that Hans was longing to comfort. It seemed to Hans that the conversation concerned him, and as if now and then his name fell from Anneli's rosy lips. And every time she raised her eyes towards the opposite wall, Hans followed the direction of her gaze, and saw, carefully preserved by glass and frame, a well-remembered blue ribbon and bunch of withered mountain flowers. At this sign of faithful memory tears started to the young man's eyes, and when he had dried them, and looked again on the magic mirror, the dear vision had vanished, and the glass flashed once more in the light of the Italian sun."Listen, my son; I will tell thee the wish that my heart cherishes for thee," said the old man, as he laid the magic mirror carefully back in the cabinet. "I am alone and lonely, the last representative of a name of ancient renown. When I was young and strong, I was filled with a desire after secret knowledge. I sought the gold of the mountains far and near—thou knowest this well—heaping treasures on treasures, and all the while I never noticed that I was growing old, and was still alone in life. Stay now with me. I will enrichthy mind with the treasures of my knowledge, and thy heart shall remain pure. Thou shalt be my son, the heir of my wealth; and thy name shall be inscribed among the noblest names in the golden book of Venice."The young man clasped his hands, and leant towards his aged friend. "Forgive me, noble sir," he begged humbly, "if I cannot gratify your wishes; but what can riches and honour do for a heart that is pining with longings after home? The scene which I have just witnessed—the vision of Anneli and my home—has shown me where alone my happiness must be sought. But if you wish to grant me a favour, then loose the fetters that bind me here, and let me go as quickly as possible back to my loved mountains."The old man sat a moment in silent thought. "I would fain have kept thee with me," he said at last, "for thy heart is true and pure; but my wishes must yield to thy happiness."So saying, he rose and once more opened the cupboard which hid his magic hoards. From its most secret recess he brought a dark object, and when he unrolled it, it proved to be the magic mantle, the air-ship of which Hans had thought so longingly a short time before. The old man spread it on the balcony, embraced the astonished youth with the tenderness of a father, and led him towards the mantle."Now stand on it," he said; "take this staff to guide thy flight; and think of me with love."Hans obeyed as in a dream. The old Venetian wavedhis hand, and the mantle rose and bore the young man up into the air.Not till his eyes met the full light of the open air, and the fresh wind played with the folds of the mantle, did Hans awake to the reality of his situation. He looked sorrowfully back at his noble friend, who still stood in the bow-window looking after him, with a smile on his aged features, and waving a farewell with his withered hand. Hans stretched out his arms towards him, and cried in a voice of deep emotion, "Farewell, farewell, noble sir," and the mantle bore him onwards with the swiftness of the storm-wind.For a moment the Queen of the Sea gleamed far below, in the splendour of her towers and palaces; the sunlight flashed from the high windows of her churches, and the black gondolas glided noiselessly over the winding canals. But soon this scene grew faint in the distance, and nothing was left of it all but the sea stretching in a blue line along the horizon. Hans turned his face homewards, and directed his course towards the north. Swift as an arrow he flew onwards; the air rustled around him like the sound of eagles' wings; in the dim distance lay the mountain peaks of his native land, but they began to shine out more and more clearly from the blue mists. Soon he was floating above that rocky pass which long months before he had trodden with deadly sorrow in his heart; and now he breathes the air of his native land.With beaming eyes he looked down over the side of the magic eagle whose dark pinions were bearing himonwards to his home. Far below him lay the mountains with the grazing herds; from his cloudy height they seemed no larger than the lady-birds with which he used to play when a boy, and the senners' cottages like the round pebbles in the village brook. He almost felt as if he could touch the glacier peaks with his hand, so near did they seem in the splendour of the midday sun. He looked down into their icy clefts, and saw the glacier torrent rolling far below in milk-white waves; but the magic boat sped further and further, still bearing Hans swiftly onwards to his home.The young man now began to view the country more carefully, and soon he directed his course westwards. Then he uttered a cry of joy, for they were sailing towards a well-known mountain, and the mantle, as if it knew exactly its appointed task, sank gently downwards, till Hans found himself on a projecting rock. It was the same spot from which he had often, when a goat-herd, looked down longingly on the smiling meadows, searching for the entrance to the dwarf king's magic realm—the same spot where the old man bade him farewell that autumn morning long ago, before taking his airy journey to his distant home. Hans sprang joyously from his magic boat, laid the staff on it with whispered words of thanks, and immediately the mantle rose, and flew swift as an arrow up into the clouds. Hans stood watching it for a few moments, then he hurried down the old familiar path. A little below herds were grazing—his herds—and Seppi was leaning against a rock watching them, and singing the while in his own cheery way. Hansglanced joyfully at the distant scene, and hurried on. There was the night pasture, and now he arrived at the senner's cottage; he did not wait, however, even to peep in at the window, so eager was he to reach the village. With flying footsteps he hurried down the rocky path which he had climbed a few months before with deadly anguish in his heart.But to-day—to-day all was changed. With joy throbbing in every pulse-beat Hans felt the stony path softer than the grass of the pasture-lands, and the sound of the stream seemed sweeter than the melody of harps. At last he reached the valley, and just as he entered it the evening bell began to ring. At the sound he stopped, bared his head, and knelt by the wayside; but when the last tone died away he rose and hastened up the village street, then with a bound he crossed the brook and reached the farm-yard gate. There was no one to be seen, for the servants were at supper in the house. Quickly, but noiselessly, Hans slipped through the yard, and stood with beating heart at the door of the sitting-room. There was no sound of life within. Hans put his ear to the key-hole and listened. Then he heard Anneli's sweet voice saying, "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and bless Thy gifts. Amen." And when the Amen was said, Hans opened the door and stepped over the threshold."Have you any of God's gifts to spare for a poor wanderer?" he said softly."Hans, dear Hans!" was Anneli's glad cry, for in spite of the twilight and his unfamiliar dress she recognisedhim at a glance, and soon she lay weeping with joy in the tall soldier's arms.Next May-day a stately May-pole stood, as before, at Anneli's window, richly adorned with fluttering blue ribbons and with the bunch of alproses at the top, and Anneli once more walked on the arm of her Hans to the dance beneath the lindens. But this time the rich farmers' sons could not say a word of protest, for Anneli was now a fair and happy bride.Meantime, the brave Franzerl had tired of the merry soldier's life, for it had grown dull to him since the return home of his dear friend Hans. So he had laid aside the Emperor's uniform, and come back to his native valley.RHINE GOLD:EVENING'Sdim shadows had ceased to hover in vague mystery around the walls of Worms. They had, hours before, gathered in dark masses in every nook of the royal city, hiding like traitors from the light of the clear full moon that flooded with silvery splendour the Rhine river and the Wonnegau on its banks, where, transformed by the soft touch of the moonbeams, stood the proud seat of Burgundy's mighty kings.Slumber and silence reigned in the palace which, but the morning before, had resounded with the clash of weapons and a cheerful bustling life; for King Gunther, accompanied by his brothers and his bravest men-at-arms, had that day set out on a warlike expedition, leaving the town and the castle and his fair queen Brunhild to the care of the truest of the true, bold Haco, in whose courage and wisdom he placed the fullest confidence.With a loose velvet mantle half hiding his gold-gleaming armour, Haco paced the streets of the lonely city, and listened attentively for some sound to break the stillness of the night. A distant noise like the rumbling of many wheels reached his ear, and an eager look came into his eyes. He glanced over at the palace, in the safest room of which lay Brunhild, his honoured queen. Out of love to her he had murderously slain the noble Siegfried, the immortal hero of the Nibelungen; and the shame of the deed will last to the remotest ages, dimming with rust the splendid escutcheon of his fame.When he had convinced himself of the undisturbed repose of the royal household, he turned and walked towards the minster, in whose shadow lay another palace. There dwelt the beautiful Kriemhild, King Gunther's sister, and widow of the noble Siegfried, whose death she mourned with inconsolable grief. The stillness of repose hovered also round these walls. The windows were dark, the doors barred, and amidst her maids lay the royal widow in her first deep sleep.The moonbeams glided over the roof of the palace,and glanced suspiciously at the dark figure of the man who stood gazing anxiously up at the windows. When he saw that there was no movement, he went towards the tower built of huge blocks which guarded the entrance to the castle, took a bunch of rusty keys from under his mantle, and opened the locks and bolts of the ironbound door which led into the vaults. The last bolt was loosed, the heavy gate opened, and the moonlight streamed in freely over the treasures which were here displayed in splendid piles. Crowns of gold richly adorned with diamonds, bracelets and chains gleaming with jewels, lay there in rich profusion. Wrought by the skilful hands of the dwarfs, they had been kept hid by the little folk in secret mountain recesses until Siegfried came, and Alberich, the dwarf-king, had been obliged, notwithstanding his magic power and cunning, to yield to the might of the hero's arm, and give him the precious hoards of jewels. And beside these, heaped up to the very roof, were bars upon bars of uncoined gold, only waiting the impress of the mint to change them into an exhaustless hoard. This was the treasure of the Nibelungen, the widow Kriemhild's rightful possession, which the heroes had brought her a few weeks before from the land of the Nibelungen. With full hands she had scattered gold among these heroes, and had also given rich gifts to the vassals of her brother, the king of Burgundy, for she had now come to live in his land that she might be near the corpse of her beloved husband. And what Kriemhild's beauty and misfortune had failed to do, her bounteous gifts accomplished. The hearts of the Burgundians wereturned towards her, so that Haco, the watchful hero, began to be anxious about his own influence and her probable revenge. So he determined to rob her of the Nibelungen treasure, that she might be deprived of the means of working his ruin.At a place not far from the royal city, where the Rhine flows in a still deeper channel, stood Haco a few hours later in a boat on the river, and watched the high-piled waggons, the first of which now passed over the shaking bridge, rolled on with threatening rumble, and stopped close to the low parapet. Haco stretched forth his stalwart arm and removed the back of the waggon, so that its precious burden slid into the depths below.The stream gleamed brightly in the radiance of gold and precious stones, the jewels whirled round and round in the rapid waters, then sank down flashing from wave to wave, till they had reached the still, deep bed of the river. Waggon after waggon was silently emptied by Haco's powerful hand, and each time the costly load made the Rhine river flash with borrowed splendour. So hour after hour went by in silent and restless haste. When the last gold bar had disappeared beneath the water, the drivers swore an oath of eternal secrecy, received rich rewards of gold, and led their waggons away in endless line. Haco stood alone in the boat, and watched them till the last man had vanished in the shades of night; then he stooped to gaze down into the stream.There far down lay the treasure of the Nibelungen, and the Rhine flowed on in silence over the golden secretthat it hid. No tongue would ever tell the tale, no arm would ever reach the hoards. Why, then, did Haco still stand lost in thought?—why did he gaze down gloomily into the river depths? Was it that the shadows of the past, or visions of a bloody future, rose from the gleaming waves? Was he thinking of Kriemhild's beauty and the passionate love which his now hard heart had once felt for the beautiful princess, and which, when rejected, changed into anger and hatred that moved his arm to the murder of Siegfried and the robbery of the Nibelungen treasure? Or did he see with prophetic eye that time in which the now helpless one should take revenge on all who had injured her—a revenge which should exterminate the heroes of Burgundy to the last man.Many hundred years had passed over the world since that night robbery; blood and tears had been shed, dried, and forgotten; new nations had arisen and the old ones fallen, so that there was scarcely a page of the world's chronicle to tell of their struggles, hopes, and tears. All things had changed. The new had taken the place of the old, only to yield in its turn to a newer order still. Nothing was the same but ever young, ever beautiful, ever innocent nature, and the human heart with its love and hate. The Rhine still flowed and the Wonnegau on its banks still bloomed as of old, but its name was changed; the Cathedral of Worms still pointed to the sky, but it was not the same building in the shadow of which Kriemhild's palace used to stand. The generation that now trod the same soil knew nothing ofthe Nibelungen—the tradition of those heroes lived only in some half-forgotten songs. The sunken treasure had long since been thought a myth, and with an incredulous smile the wise men of those days pointed to the stream which was said to hide such a "golden secret."Nevertheless, it was no myth; the treasure still lay beneath the waters. Not a crown, not a bracelet was lost; not a diamond had fallen from the brilliant setting; for, as if held together by magic hand, the jewels had remained firmly united; but wave after wave had rolled on unceasingly, day and night, from year's end to year's end, and softly and gradually the treasure had been pressed on further into the bed of the river. The Wonnegau lay behind it; there the waves foamed, whirling over the hidden reefs beneath, and further on towards the sea they roared loudly against the walls of the Pfalzburg, then flowed caressingly past the blooming vines which wound their clustered garlands round the white cottages of the vine-dressers.The treasure of the Nibelungen had been carried in safety, though without any guiding hand, past all these different scenes, and the waves had borne it further and further into the shadow of the bank, bit by bit, until, after many years, it lay at the foot of a rock that rose high and bold above the waves. The moonbeams wove a silver garland round its granite brow, and for centuries tradition echoed round its jagged peak; but a row of crags surrounded the foot of the rock, and the foaming rage of the waves kept away even the boldest. There into that deep rocky bed the waves bore the treasure,and now it rested safely hidden at the foot of the Loreley rock.But treasures which have once gleamed in the sunlight, and been grasped by human hands, can never rest in darkness; they strive to reach again the light of day and the warm living hand of man. Slowly they rise from year to year, till at last they glow in the light of the sun, and await a pure hand to set them free, to do good with their riches, and so to expiate the guilt which was attached to them. It was thus that the treasure of the Nibelungen pressed upwards. It rose slowly, slowly, for sighs and blood and tears hung more heavily on it than on other sunken hoards. But at last, about a thousand years after that night when Haco threw the treasure into the stream, it had made its way up through the water.It was just such a delightful spring night as that memorable one long ago; work had long since ended in the blooming vineyards, rest and peace lay all around. The night-wind came softly from the mountains and bore the fragrance of the vines across the Rhine; the moon stood high in heaven, its light glided trembling down on the ledges of the Loreley and kissed the feet of the rock, which until now had lain in deep shadow. There in magic radiance floated the jewels of the Nibelungen treasure, so that the Rhine shone brightly as its waves played round the golden hoard. The night-wind blew more strongly, bearing on its wings something like a spirit, which sank in a veil of mist round the point of the rock, and then stood in that majestic beauty which had in days long past touched Haco's proud heart andwon the love of the hero Siegfried. It was Kriemhild, once Siegfried's sorrowing widow, and afterwards King Etzel's queen in the distant land of the Huns. As Queen of Hungary, she invited the Burgundian heroes to her kingdom, that she might demand the stolen treasure from Haco, or take revenge on him for Siegfried's murder and the robbery of her gold. But the vengeance which should only have overtaken one fell upon all, even on her own little son. Kriemhild's proud heart was softened by the blow, and with a pang of keen repentance she thought of those other mothers whom her mad revenge had rendered childless. One way only was left her of giving happiness instead of sorrow. With a desire that rose to heaven like a prayer, she thought of her lost treasure. If she could but get it now, what troubled hearts would be soothed by her who had heretofore brought misery to happy ones! But the swift sword sent her to the grave with her longings unsatisfied. The same slaughter that had freed her from her enemies had robbed her of her child and of her life.Her spirit hovered often round the scenes of her youthful happiness, seeking the hidden treasure in the river-bed. That night, when it rose to the surface, and its golden radiance was seen bright and clear, Kriemhild came, thinking to set it free. Her eyes gazed longingly on the floating gold, and her arms, light and transparent as the moonbeams, were outstretched over the rock as if she would fain grasp the moving treasure. Then she glided with spirit tread down over the jagged moonlit rock by paths which no human foot could follow, andsoon she stood on the narrow ledge over which the Rhine river flowed in gleaming ripples. Her white foot was covered by the water, but she heeded it not; her eye gazed fixedly on the treasure for which she had longed unceasingly in life, and which now hovered close to her feet in the dancing waves. Her lips moved softly, her hands were clasped as if in earnest desire, and she stooped to reach the golden crown which now knocked with a metallic sound against the rock and almost touched her foot; but when she stretched out her transparent hand, and thought she had touched the point of the diamond cross, the crown shrank from her fingers, sank into the stream, and was borne away out of her reach by the mighty waters. Kriemhild sank on her knees; the waves wet her long flowing locks, and the hem of her purple robe—but she felt them not. Only one thought, one feeling, lived in her heart—the longing to recover the treasure. She bent forward once more; her white hands clutched again and again at the jewels which shone around her in tempting nearness, and yet always shrank from her touch. Other treasures floated towards her, the bars of gold came close to her feet, then started back when the white hands grasped at them, and gradually all disappeared in the middle of the stream.Kriemhild's cold lips trembled, her transparent hands ceased their useless toil, and were clasped again in prayer. Then there was a louder rushing in the river, and a majestic shadow floated down the stream. Kriemhild's eye watched its onward movement; nearer and nearer it came, till it passed through the foaming gold stream,and approached the rock where the Queen now stood erect and majestic.CHARLEMAGNE MEETS WITH KRIEMHILD.F. C., p. 108.It was Charlemagne, once Germany's beloved and mighty ruler, who every year leaves his tomb at Aachen, glides along the Rhine to bless the vineyards on its banks, and then lies down again in the golden coffin until the fragrance of a new spring awakes him to another beneficent progress. Now he stood before her on the river, clad in his purple mantle and his golden crown, with the sword which formerly decided the fate of nations in his cold right hand. His foot rested on the shield of Roland, his beloved nephew, which they had laid beside him in the tomb, and which now bore him like a trusty boat. The water rippled over the golden edge, and washed the grave-dust from the flashing emerald which the hero of Ronceval once won from the giant and fastened as an ornament on his shield."Who art thou?" asked the dead Emperor, when his gaze had rested long on Kriemhild's face. "Thou art no mortal woman; I know that by the glance of thine eye, which speaks to me of bygone ages. It was thus that Fastrada's eyes shone; her golden hair was soft and silken as thine. I have not forgotten it, though I have slept for more than half-a-thousand years in the dark vault—yet thou art not Fastrada, the Emperor's beloved wife.""No, great Emperor," said the Queen; "I was once Kriemhild, the wife of Siegfried, the hero of the Nibelungen, who ruled over the land which was also subject to thy sway. The present generation know almost nothing ofhis glory, but in thy times, O Emperor, his renown was still bright.""I know him well, that model of all knightly virtues," said the Emperor thoughtfully, "and his fate and thine are familiar to me. It was but the old and yet ever new song that sounds through all time—the song of the victory of evil over good—which made my life also one of pain and trouble. But what brings thee hither, O Queen?""If thou knowest my fate, noble Emperor," answered Kriemhild, "thou knowest also what I seek for here. Thou knowest the misery I caused in life. When repentance came it was at the last moment, and my time was gone for earthly works of love. But now, perhaps, my spirit may be permitted to grasp this treasure, cause of so much sin, and use it well and wisely, till as many tears are dried as have been shed, and as much sorrow healed as was once caused by me."See yonder, noble Emperor! there gleams the Nibelungen hoard, the bequest left me by my husband, but of which Haco robbed me. It has risen, and awaits only the delivering hand; but no one comes. So I would fain grasp the treasures and seize the moving bars of gold. Then in the stillness of the night I would take them into the abodes of poverty and misfortune, so that when the inmates awake Kriemhild's treasure might dry the tears of need and despair. But it is not permitted me."The Emperor turned his face and gazed searchingly down at the jewels, which floated in bright clear radiance on the waters of the Rhine."Thou askest a thing impossible, O Queen," he said at length; "knowest thou not the limits which debar spirits from the deeds of mortals? It is only a guiltless, living, human hand which may change the sentence that hangs over them. But the Nibelungen treasure has long since been forgotten. Yet look! Thou no longer seest the jewels in the full size of olden days. Wave after wave has gnawed at them; the waters have worked unceasingly through long centuries at this tedious task. See how the ornaments on the bracelets and crowns have shrunk, and how slender the links of the chains have become. The Rhine has taken the gold of thy treasure, and with it fertilised the blooming meadows on its banks. Nightly the gold set free rises in light mists above the stream and sinks in blessing on mountain and valley, and when autumn comes thy gold gleams in every cluster, ripens in every ear of corn. Freer, stronger, more joyous are the people of these meadows—and that is the blessing of the Nibelungen treasure, which rests unseen in earth and air and water—thus will the guilt and tears be done away with which once lay heavy on this hoard. Then have patience, O Queen, for a few short years—then thou wilt search in vain for thy treasure. Meantime other ministries are thine."The Emperor bowed his head in courteous farewell, and sailed on his magic boat up the moonlit stream.Kriemhild gazed after him. The emerald in the point of the shield flashed brightly in the moonlight, and the wide purple mantle fluttered above the gleaming waves. The Emperor blessed the vineyards as he passed; andwhen the last glimmer of his crown grew pale and the veil of night concealed him, the Queen once more looked at the gold hoard at her feet. The dead Emperor had spoken truly; her eyes now perceived it too; so she could wait in patience till the last crown, the last gold bar, had melted in the sparkling river.The treasure's time of freedom was passed; no delivering hand had come. The jewels slowly shrank together round the foot of the Loreley and fell into their watery bed. Their splendour was extinguished; still and dark the river flowed. Then Kriemhild turned and ascended the rock. She gave one long farewell look at the meadows of her former home, and then vanished like a mist in the distance.Again centuries have passed. Kriemhild no longer hovers round the Loreley, for the Nibelungen treasure has melted in the waves; only its diamonds rest uninjured in the river bed, and any one gazing into its depths on starry nights may see them flash and sparkle far below. But the gold runs freely through the Rhine, so that its waters flow in bright, clear waves; and on summer nights the precious substance rises to the clouds, and then falls in fertilising dew on the meadows and vineyards all around. Gold shines in the ripening berries and gleams in the waving corn; with the clear ring of gold sound the songs of the Rhenish people; pure as gold is their honesty—that surest safeguard against every foe.That is the German Nibelungenhort—that is the Rhine gold.The Friendship of the Dwarfs.PART I.
ANNELI SEES THE MAY-POLE ERECTED BY HANS.
Hans had always counted himself a happy fellow, but as he now led the lovely Anneli in the merry dance beneath the green linden-trees, it seemed as if he had never knownbefore what happiness meant, and his whole past life he counted now as nothing. But this life offers no lasting happiness, and the purer it is the shorter is its reign. Anneli looked up at him with unconscious tenderness, and whispered that she would not dance that night with any one but him. The maiden's softly spoken words reached the ear of Nazerl, the son of a rich neighbour; and anger and envy blazed forth in his soul.
"Anneli, you must dance once with me," he said, stepping up to her; but his petition sounded more like an imperious command.
"You know, Nazerl," answered the girl, "that Hans is my partner; you must ask his consent." Now Hans was just bringing a glass to offer Anneli some refreshment.
"Listen, goat-boy," said the rich farmer's son haughtily to the poor senner, "I will let you know that I mean to dance now with Anneli." And he seized her hand.
Hans was of a peaceable disposition, and his new happiness had not made him proud, but this taunt was too much for him.
"Let go her hand, Nazerl," he said quietly, though his voice trembled. "She may not dance with you."
"May she not, indeed, you beggar?" cried Nazerl; "then take this," and he struck Hans in the face with clenched fist.
Anneli screamed, and poor Hans lost all control over himself; without thinking, he hurled the glass in his tormentor's face, and with a loud groan Nazerl fell pale and bloody to the ground. Again a cry of terror escapedAnneli's lips, but it was not for the sake of the fallen Nazerl, but for Hans, whose thoughtless deed must bring him into trouble.
The music ceased, and all hastened to the motionless form that lay stretched on the grass to offer help, while Hans stood by in speechless astonishment at his own mad act.
Then he felt his hand seized, and Anneli's gentle voice whispered in his ear, "Flee, oh flee, dear Hans, at once, for a minute's delay may make flight hopeless."
But when Hans still hesitated, she caught his arm and, unnoticed by the others, drew him away till they stood at some distance from the lindens, and were hidden from their companions by the trees. Hans still looked stunned and paralysed.
"Hans," she said more earnestly than before, laying her little hand upon his arm—"Hans, listen to me and follow me. Flee as quickly as you can, for all, all are against you, because I chose you in preference to them. Flee, and hide yourself somewhere till the noise of this is over and Nazerl is recovered."
"Ah, Anneli," answered Hans shuddering, "he is dead! Did you not see how pale and motionless he lay?"
"Then there is all the more need for you to flee," said the maiden decidedly; "listen, they are coming; go, go," she urged anxiously.
"Farewell, Anneli. Do not be angry with me, and never forget poor Hans," and he looked down at her with sorrowful eyes.
"Never, never, Hans," she said in a firm voice, for theexperience of the last few minutes had ripened her self-knowledge and her will. "But you will come back some day, guiltless and happy; I know you will. But now go. They are coming to look for you."
He stooped, and, overcome with the sorrow of the moment, pressed a kiss on her sweet lips.
"Farewell, farewell, my Anneli," he whispered once more, and then he turned and fled like a hunted chamois. It was dark on the path along which he hastened, but darker in his soul. The short-lived happiness to which he had so joyfully opened his heart was gone, perhaps never to return; even the thought of Anneli's love, which she had so frankly revealed to him, could not scatter the dark shadows.
If Nazerl was dead, then he was a murderer, and must remain so all his life, no matter what might be his punishment and his repentance. He shuddered, and hastened trembling up the very path which his joyful footsteps had pressed a few hours before, when his heart was full of vague but sweetest hopes.
How all, all had changed in so short a time!
The moon, which before had beamed almost with the golden light of day, seemed now as pale as Nazerl's face; the night wind moaned through the trees like the sighs of a dying man, and the harp-like music of the glacier stream sounded like avenging thunder. Hans flew onwards, despair in his heart, great drops of anguish on the brow so lately crowned with calm content. There lay the night pasture. The moonbeams fell across it, and showed him the slumbering animals. He pressed hislips closer at the thought that he must say farewell to the herd that had grown so dear to him.
Soon he stood at the senner's cottage. He looked through the window. All was peaceful as usual. The bed was still unoccupied, and the old man was not at the table; but Seppi was merrily turning the fritters and whistling a cheerful tune.
"Seppi, Seppi!" cried poor Hans outside, as he knocked with trembling finger against the panes.
Seppi turned his head in surprise, and when he saw Hans standing out in the moonlight, he came to the window and drew back the bolt.
"What's the matter, Hans? Is anything wrong?" he said hastily.
"Alas! yes," sighed Hans, and he told his friend in hurried words the misfortune that had befallen him.
"The impudent fellow," cried Seppi angrily. "You may be sure your reminder will not do him any harm; and as for his being dead, you know, Hans, 'weeds wont die.' So don't be vexing yourself beyond measure. And are you going away? Where will you go?"
"I do not know, Seppi," answered Hans sadly—"as far as my feet will carry me; away from my beloved country, perhaps for ever;" and he wiped a tear from his cheek. "But you must do me one kindness, that I may go content. As soon as you can get down to the valley, go to my good old mother, and tell her not to grieve too much. Tell her that I will try to do right, though I must leave the mountains of the Tyrol; and beg Anneli never, never to forget me. And one thing more, Seppi.Take good care of the little man, and let him want for nothing. Promise me this."
Seppi nodded, and his good, honest face had a cheery smile on it as he gave his hand to his friend, who hurried away on his restless wandering. He gave a hasty glance at the night pastures, which he now reached; the long mossy veil of the old pine-trees, beneath which he had so often slept, fluttered in the wind like mourning banners. His favourite brown cow raised her head slowly, and the bell round her neck sounded like a sad farewell. Hot tears flowed from his eyes, but he had no time for long leave-taking, he must hurry on. Yonder rose the rugged brow of the glacier, with its furrows lighted by the weird moonbeams. He passed it by winding paths through the gloom of the fir-trees, now climbing steep ascents, now descending into a ravine with its foaming torrent—paths known to no eye and foot save those of the boldest mountaineer.
At last he stood on the lofty ridge from which the road led downwards into an unknown valley and unfamiliar fields. He threw a last glance back towards his own loved mountain, then he hastened without further delay on his sorrowful journey.
The golden sunlight of evening lay once more on mountain and valley, and floated on the waves of the lovely river Inn, which flowed as peacefully as if it had never tried to foam and rage like its brothers in the mountains. A youth was descending the mountain with tottering footsteps. It was the last of the hills that hadlain between him and the great and populous town that stood in the valley below. His blue eyes looked dim and sunken, his long hair hung tangled round his head, and his once respectable clothing bore traces of hasty and toilsome journeying.
The son of the quiet mountains looked down in amazement at the bustle in the town below, and a deep sigh escaped his lips. But he collected himself, and descended the last declivity to the bank of the stream, across which a bridge led to the town. At one end of this bridge stood a watch-house, for it was a needful thing in those unsettled times to keep a sharp look-out on friend and foe. Two soldiers sat at the oaken table before the door. The young man went up to the building, and stood timidly a few steps from the men. At last the elder of the two raised his head.
"Look, Franzerl," said he, after a hasty glance at the young wanderer; "there comes a lad from your mountains, but he does not look so cheerful as you did when you came."
Franzerl looked up, but scarcely had he met the wanderer's eye than he sprang up and with a cry of joy caught his arm.
"Hans, dear Hans, where have you come from?" he cried. "Do not you remember me? Do you not know Franzerl, with whom you and Anneli used so often to play, and with whom you so often shared your bread and cheese, when my poor mother had nothing to give to her hungry little Franzerl?"
Hans—for it was he—looked with joyful surprise atthe cheerful young face, and recognised at once his old playfellow, who years ago had left his native valley to push his fortune in the great world, and whose friends had long believed him to be dead. He had become a soldier; but in spite of his stern employment his heart had remained as warm and true as ever. He drew his old friend to the table where the other man sat, and offered him some of the fiery drink in the glass before him.
"Drink, my good fellow," he said pressingly, "drink—you seem to be in need of refreshment—and then tell me what brings you hither."
The rough kindness touched the poor wanderer's heart, and acted like magic on his weary spirit. It was the first familiar face that he had seen for many days—the first pleasant reminder of days gone by, and he found it sweet to open his heart to this friend of his childhood, and tell him of the folly that had driven him from home, and how he had wandered since from mountain to mountain begging a bite of bread and a drink of milk from kind-hearted herdsmen; for he had not ventured to go down to the villages, where the news of what had happened might have arrived before him. "And now," he said, "I am going away—away to some far-off country, where they know nothing of Nazerl or of Hans, or even of the beautiful land of the Tyrol."
"You are very foolish," laughed Franzerl. "Are you quite sure that Nazerl is dead? He had always a thick skull, as I know full well. Don't be a fool, but stay here and become a brave soldier like us. Believe me, it isa merry life, and it is possible to be a good man even under this coat."
Hans hesitated a moment; he had never thought of this, but Franzerl overwhelmed him with persuasive eloquence.
"Look here, Hans; to-morrow or next day we are going to Italy, a country that, they say, is even more lovely than our own. Ours is a cheerful life, and when you come back in two or three years grass will have grown over the whole affair, and they will not dare to say a word to you after you have worn the Emperor's uniform."
"But Anneli?" sighed Hans.
"You cannot see Anneli for a time at any rate, and if she is really worthy of you, she will be true to you."
Yes, Franzerl was right, Hans saw that; so he agreed to his proposal, and went with his friend to the recruiting sergeant, who was glad to receive the fine fellow into his ranks.
It was autumn. The morning wind swept over the Adriatic, rippling its deep blue waves, and played with the dark hair of a youth who leant in deep reverie against the archway of the Piazza di San Marco, gazing dreamily at the flow of the Grand Canal, which, after cutting Venice with its great curve, mingles its waters with the waves of the Adriatic.
It was Hans. The mountains and valleys of his native land lay far away. It was long since he had left the last mountain-pass of the Tyrol far behind, but he could notleave his love for home there at the boundary—it filled him with secret longings in this beautiful, but foreign land. What good did all the splendour of this strange country do him—all the lofty palaces and art-trophies of the queenly city—all the sweet melody of this unknown tongue? Could one of those musical sounds be compared with Anneli's voice when she said, "I am so glad you have come, dear Hans"? Could one of these marble towers attempt to rival the jagged glacier peaks when they shone with the purple of the evening sky? And when the horn sounded at sunset through the mountains, echoed a hundred-fold from clefts and deep ravines, and dying softly amid the shades of the valley, who would compare with that the tones of the music which day and night hovered on the waters through the streets of Venice?
Hans raised his tearful eyes: the sky, at least, must be the same which spans the valleys of the Tyrol. Then he noticed a figure on a slender pillar—a figure which he must have seen long years before. A brazen lion with a proudly flowing mane raised its kingly head, as if keeping watch over the city below, and over the sea that kissed its feet. The young man dashed the rising tear from his eye, and looked thoughtfully up at the kingly beast. Yes, indeed, that was the same lion which was marked on the coin that the little man gave him long ago, and which in the secret drawer had kept watch and guard over his mother's treasure. A smile passed like a sunbeam over his troubled face as he thought of that sunny autumn morning when the old man saidgood-bye to him, and when he watched him from the rock as he sailed through the air on his magic mantle.
"Oh! I wish I had such a ship," he said with a sigh. Then, in the familiar accents of his native tongue, the words sounded in his ear, "Good morning, Hans."
Hans started—there was no one near. Had a dream mocked him? But no, there it was again—"Look up, Hans, up here." And Hans looked up.
Above him, out of the high bow-window of one of those proud palaces, leant a familiar head with snowy locks and dark earnest eyes that smiled kindly down on poor Hans.
He uttered a cry of joy, his first since he came to this foreign land, and quick as an arrow he darted into the archway, and entered the portal of the palace. His foot flew over marble steps and velvet carpets; but he had no eye for that. On he went, up to where, leaning over the golden banister of the landing-place, a noble and well-remembered face awaited him. Full of emotion, he stood before the old man, who gave him his hand in loving greeting. No longer a shabby coat, but a garment of black velvet covered his form, and his withered but wonder-working hand gleamed with costly diamonds. But the youth's affection broke the barriers of this marvellous change, and tenderly, as on that spring evening on the mountain when he had brought the old man into his cottage, he pressed his lips against the kind hand, and said from the fulness of his heart, "God bless you, sir. I bless Him for letting me find you here in this foreign land."
HANS RECEIVES A HEARTY WELCOME FROM AN OLD FRIEND.
"Not a foreign land, Hans; I am in my own country," answered the noble Venetian, as he led the young man through the splendid halls, whose stately walls were adorned with the masterpieces of those immortal artists who called Italy their home. Then they sat down together in the wide bow-window, and Hans looked joyfully into the old man's venerable countenance.
"So you did not forget the poor herdsman in your splendid home?" said he.
"Forget thee, Hans!" replied the noble Venetian—"forget thee, who didst think of me in the midst of love and pleasure, and even in thy flight, when thy heart was filled with deadly anguish! No, indeed. I long to reward those years of faithful love, and perhaps the opportunity has come at last."
"Oh, sir," cried Hans with shining eyes, "will you tell me how things go at home, where you have been more lately than I? Tell me if Nazerl recovered, if my mother has ceased to grieve about me, and if Anneli still remembers me."
"Nazerl is dead—but through no fault of thine," said the old man soothingly, for Hans had looked terror-stricken at his opening words. "He soon recovered from the trifling wound caused by thy hand; but his own foolhardiness drove him up to the highest points of rock after a chamois, and a rash step hurled him into the ravine. It was not till long afterwards that they found his mangled corpse. As for thy mother and Anneli, thou mayest see for thyself."
So saying he rose, stepped up to a richly carved cabinet, and took from a secret compartment a flashing jewel. The young man recognised it well; it was the wondrous mountain mirror; and now he held it once more in his hand, and looked searchingly on its shining surface. Light mists rolled over it; they grew gradually thinner and thinner, till at last there lay before him in the splendour of the morning sunlight his own beloved valley, and the substantial farm-house, Anneli's home. He gave no heed to the cheerful stir in barn and stable,nor to the busy preparation for the returning herds. No, his eye pressed through the clear window-panes to a well-remembered room. It was quiet and cosy, as in days gone by. At the window sat Anneli, fair and lovable as ever, but her countenance bore traces of gentle melancholy. The snow-white thread rested in her hands, and her lips moved in earnest talk with the two women at the other window—the farmer's widow and the old mother that Hans was longing to comfort. It seemed to Hans that the conversation concerned him, and as if now and then his name fell from Anneli's rosy lips. And every time she raised her eyes towards the opposite wall, Hans followed the direction of her gaze, and saw, carefully preserved by glass and frame, a well-remembered blue ribbon and bunch of withered mountain flowers. At this sign of faithful memory tears started to the young man's eyes, and when he had dried them, and looked again on the magic mirror, the dear vision had vanished, and the glass flashed once more in the light of the Italian sun.
"Listen, my son; I will tell thee the wish that my heart cherishes for thee," said the old man, as he laid the magic mirror carefully back in the cabinet. "I am alone and lonely, the last representative of a name of ancient renown. When I was young and strong, I was filled with a desire after secret knowledge. I sought the gold of the mountains far and near—thou knowest this well—heaping treasures on treasures, and all the while I never noticed that I was growing old, and was still alone in life. Stay now with me. I will enrichthy mind with the treasures of my knowledge, and thy heart shall remain pure. Thou shalt be my son, the heir of my wealth; and thy name shall be inscribed among the noblest names in the golden book of Venice."
The young man clasped his hands, and leant towards his aged friend. "Forgive me, noble sir," he begged humbly, "if I cannot gratify your wishes; but what can riches and honour do for a heart that is pining with longings after home? The scene which I have just witnessed—the vision of Anneli and my home—has shown me where alone my happiness must be sought. But if you wish to grant me a favour, then loose the fetters that bind me here, and let me go as quickly as possible back to my loved mountains."
The old man sat a moment in silent thought. "I would fain have kept thee with me," he said at last, "for thy heart is true and pure; but my wishes must yield to thy happiness."
So saying, he rose and once more opened the cupboard which hid his magic hoards. From its most secret recess he brought a dark object, and when he unrolled it, it proved to be the magic mantle, the air-ship of which Hans had thought so longingly a short time before. The old man spread it on the balcony, embraced the astonished youth with the tenderness of a father, and led him towards the mantle.
"Now stand on it," he said; "take this staff to guide thy flight; and think of me with love."
Hans obeyed as in a dream. The old Venetian wavedhis hand, and the mantle rose and bore the young man up into the air.
Not till his eyes met the full light of the open air, and the fresh wind played with the folds of the mantle, did Hans awake to the reality of his situation. He looked sorrowfully back at his noble friend, who still stood in the bow-window looking after him, with a smile on his aged features, and waving a farewell with his withered hand. Hans stretched out his arms towards him, and cried in a voice of deep emotion, "Farewell, farewell, noble sir," and the mantle bore him onwards with the swiftness of the storm-wind.
For a moment the Queen of the Sea gleamed far below, in the splendour of her towers and palaces; the sunlight flashed from the high windows of her churches, and the black gondolas glided noiselessly over the winding canals. But soon this scene grew faint in the distance, and nothing was left of it all but the sea stretching in a blue line along the horizon. Hans turned his face homewards, and directed his course towards the north. Swift as an arrow he flew onwards; the air rustled around him like the sound of eagles' wings; in the dim distance lay the mountain peaks of his native land, but they began to shine out more and more clearly from the blue mists. Soon he was floating above that rocky pass which long months before he had trodden with deadly sorrow in his heart; and now he breathes the air of his native land.
With beaming eyes he looked down over the side of the magic eagle whose dark pinions were bearing himonwards to his home. Far below him lay the mountains with the grazing herds; from his cloudy height they seemed no larger than the lady-birds with which he used to play when a boy, and the senners' cottages like the round pebbles in the village brook. He almost felt as if he could touch the glacier peaks with his hand, so near did they seem in the splendour of the midday sun. He looked down into their icy clefts, and saw the glacier torrent rolling far below in milk-white waves; but the magic boat sped further and further, still bearing Hans swiftly onwards to his home.
The young man now began to view the country more carefully, and soon he directed his course westwards. Then he uttered a cry of joy, for they were sailing towards a well-known mountain, and the mantle, as if it knew exactly its appointed task, sank gently downwards, till Hans found himself on a projecting rock. It was the same spot from which he had often, when a goat-herd, looked down longingly on the smiling meadows, searching for the entrance to the dwarf king's magic realm—the same spot where the old man bade him farewell that autumn morning long ago, before taking his airy journey to his distant home. Hans sprang joyously from his magic boat, laid the staff on it with whispered words of thanks, and immediately the mantle rose, and flew swift as an arrow up into the clouds. Hans stood watching it for a few moments, then he hurried down the old familiar path. A little below herds were grazing—his herds—and Seppi was leaning against a rock watching them, and singing the while in his own cheery way. Hansglanced joyfully at the distant scene, and hurried on. There was the night pasture, and now he arrived at the senner's cottage; he did not wait, however, even to peep in at the window, so eager was he to reach the village. With flying footsteps he hurried down the rocky path which he had climbed a few months before with deadly anguish in his heart.
But to-day—to-day all was changed. With joy throbbing in every pulse-beat Hans felt the stony path softer than the grass of the pasture-lands, and the sound of the stream seemed sweeter than the melody of harps. At last he reached the valley, and just as he entered it the evening bell began to ring. At the sound he stopped, bared his head, and knelt by the wayside; but when the last tone died away he rose and hastened up the village street, then with a bound he crossed the brook and reached the farm-yard gate. There was no one to be seen, for the servants were at supper in the house. Quickly, but noiselessly, Hans slipped through the yard, and stood with beating heart at the door of the sitting-room. There was no sound of life within. Hans put his ear to the key-hole and listened. Then he heard Anneli's sweet voice saying, "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and bless Thy gifts. Amen." And when the Amen was said, Hans opened the door and stepped over the threshold.
"Have you any of God's gifts to spare for a poor wanderer?" he said softly.
"Hans, dear Hans!" was Anneli's glad cry, for in spite of the twilight and his unfamiliar dress she recognisedhim at a glance, and soon she lay weeping with joy in the tall soldier's arms.
Next May-day a stately May-pole stood, as before, at Anneli's window, richly adorned with fluttering blue ribbons and with the bunch of alproses at the top, and Anneli once more walked on the arm of her Hans to the dance beneath the lindens. But this time the rich farmers' sons could not say a word of protest, for Anneli was now a fair and happy bride.
Meantime, the brave Franzerl had tired of the merry soldier's life, for it had grown dull to him since the return home of his dear friend Hans. So he had laid aside the Emperor's uniform, and come back to his native valley.
EVENING'Sdim shadows had ceased to hover in vague mystery around the walls of Worms. They had, hours before, gathered in dark masses in every nook of the royal city, hiding like traitors from the light of the clear full moon that flooded with silvery splendour the Rhine river and the Wonnegau on its banks, where, transformed by the soft touch of the moonbeams, stood the proud seat of Burgundy's mighty kings.Slumber and silence reigned in the palace which, but the morning before, had resounded with the clash of weapons and a cheerful bustling life; for King Gunther, accompanied by his brothers and his bravest men-at-arms, had that day set out on a warlike expedition, leaving the town and the castle and his fair queen Brunhild to the care of the truest of the true, bold Haco, in whose courage and wisdom he placed the fullest confidence.
EVENING'Sdim shadows had ceased to hover in vague mystery around the walls of Worms. They had, hours before, gathered in dark masses in every nook of the royal city, hiding like traitors from the light of the clear full moon that flooded with silvery splendour the Rhine river and the Wonnegau on its banks, where, transformed by the soft touch of the moonbeams, stood the proud seat of Burgundy's mighty kings.
Slumber and silence reigned in the palace which, but the morning before, had resounded with the clash of weapons and a cheerful bustling life; for King Gunther, accompanied by his brothers and his bravest men-at-arms, had that day set out on a warlike expedition, leaving the town and the castle and his fair queen Brunhild to the care of the truest of the true, bold Haco, in whose courage and wisdom he placed the fullest confidence.
With a loose velvet mantle half hiding his gold-gleaming armour, Haco paced the streets of the lonely city, and listened attentively for some sound to break the stillness of the night. A distant noise like the rumbling of many wheels reached his ear, and an eager look came into his eyes. He glanced over at the palace, in the safest room of which lay Brunhild, his honoured queen. Out of love to her he had murderously slain the noble Siegfried, the immortal hero of the Nibelungen; and the shame of the deed will last to the remotest ages, dimming with rust the splendid escutcheon of his fame.
When he had convinced himself of the undisturbed repose of the royal household, he turned and walked towards the minster, in whose shadow lay another palace. There dwelt the beautiful Kriemhild, King Gunther's sister, and widow of the noble Siegfried, whose death she mourned with inconsolable grief. The stillness of repose hovered also round these walls. The windows were dark, the doors barred, and amidst her maids lay the royal widow in her first deep sleep.
The moonbeams glided over the roof of the palace,and glanced suspiciously at the dark figure of the man who stood gazing anxiously up at the windows. When he saw that there was no movement, he went towards the tower built of huge blocks which guarded the entrance to the castle, took a bunch of rusty keys from under his mantle, and opened the locks and bolts of the ironbound door which led into the vaults. The last bolt was loosed, the heavy gate opened, and the moonlight streamed in freely over the treasures which were here displayed in splendid piles. Crowns of gold richly adorned with diamonds, bracelets and chains gleaming with jewels, lay there in rich profusion. Wrought by the skilful hands of the dwarfs, they had been kept hid by the little folk in secret mountain recesses until Siegfried came, and Alberich, the dwarf-king, had been obliged, notwithstanding his magic power and cunning, to yield to the might of the hero's arm, and give him the precious hoards of jewels. And beside these, heaped up to the very roof, were bars upon bars of uncoined gold, only waiting the impress of the mint to change them into an exhaustless hoard. This was the treasure of the Nibelungen, the widow Kriemhild's rightful possession, which the heroes had brought her a few weeks before from the land of the Nibelungen. With full hands she had scattered gold among these heroes, and had also given rich gifts to the vassals of her brother, the king of Burgundy, for she had now come to live in his land that she might be near the corpse of her beloved husband. And what Kriemhild's beauty and misfortune had failed to do, her bounteous gifts accomplished. The hearts of the Burgundians wereturned towards her, so that Haco, the watchful hero, began to be anxious about his own influence and her probable revenge. So he determined to rob her of the Nibelungen treasure, that she might be deprived of the means of working his ruin.
At a place not far from the royal city, where the Rhine flows in a still deeper channel, stood Haco a few hours later in a boat on the river, and watched the high-piled waggons, the first of which now passed over the shaking bridge, rolled on with threatening rumble, and stopped close to the low parapet. Haco stretched forth his stalwart arm and removed the back of the waggon, so that its precious burden slid into the depths below.
The stream gleamed brightly in the radiance of gold and precious stones, the jewels whirled round and round in the rapid waters, then sank down flashing from wave to wave, till they had reached the still, deep bed of the river. Waggon after waggon was silently emptied by Haco's powerful hand, and each time the costly load made the Rhine river flash with borrowed splendour. So hour after hour went by in silent and restless haste. When the last gold bar had disappeared beneath the water, the drivers swore an oath of eternal secrecy, received rich rewards of gold, and led their waggons away in endless line. Haco stood alone in the boat, and watched them till the last man had vanished in the shades of night; then he stooped to gaze down into the stream.
There far down lay the treasure of the Nibelungen, and the Rhine flowed on in silence over the golden secretthat it hid. No tongue would ever tell the tale, no arm would ever reach the hoards. Why, then, did Haco still stand lost in thought?—why did he gaze down gloomily into the river depths? Was it that the shadows of the past, or visions of a bloody future, rose from the gleaming waves? Was he thinking of Kriemhild's beauty and the passionate love which his now hard heart had once felt for the beautiful princess, and which, when rejected, changed into anger and hatred that moved his arm to the murder of Siegfried and the robbery of the Nibelungen treasure? Or did he see with prophetic eye that time in which the now helpless one should take revenge on all who had injured her—a revenge which should exterminate the heroes of Burgundy to the last man.
Many hundred years had passed over the world since that night robbery; blood and tears had been shed, dried, and forgotten; new nations had arisen and the old ones fallen, so that there was scarcely a page of the world's chronicle to tell of their struggles, hopes, and tears. All things had changed. The new had taken the place of the old, only to yield in its turn to a newer order still. Nothing was the same but ever young, ever beautiful, ever innocent nature, and the human heart with its love and hate. The Rhine still flowed and the Wonnegau on its banks still bloomed as of old, but its name was changed; the Cathedral of Worms still pointed to the sky, but it was not the same building in the shadow of which Kriemhild's palace used to stand. The generation that now trod the same soil knew nothing ofthe Nibelungen—the tradition of those heroes lived only in some half-forgotten songs. The sunken treasure had long since been thought a myth, and with an incredulous smile the wise men of those days pointed to the stream which was said to hide such a "golden secret."
Nevertheless, it was no myth; the treasure still lay beneath the waters. Not a crown, not a bracelet was lost; not a diamond had fallen from the brilliant setting; for, as if held together by magic hand, the jewels had remained firmly united; but wave after wave had rolled on unceasingly, day and night, from year's end to year's end, and softly and gradually the treasure had been pressed on further into the bed of the river. The Wonnegau lay behind it; there the waves foamed, whirling over the hidden reefs beneath, and further on towards the sea they roared loudly against the walls of the Pfalzburg, then flowed caressingly past the blooming vines which wound their clustered garlands round the white cottages of the vine-dressers.
The treasure of the Nibelungen had been carried in safety, though without any guiding hand, past all these different scenes, and the waves had borne it further and further into the shadow of the bank, bit by bit, until, after many years, it lay at the foot of a rock that rose high and bold above the waves. The moonbeams wove a silver garland round its granite brow, and for centuries tradition echoed round its jagged peak; but a row of crags surrounded the foot of the rock, and the foaming rage of the waves kept away even the boldest. There into that deep rocky bed the waves bore the treasure,and now it rested safely hidden at the foot of the Loreley rock.
But treasures which have once gleamed in the sunlight, and been grasped by human hands, can never rest in darkness; they strive to reach again the light of day and the warm living hand of man. Slowly they rise from year to year, till at last they glow in the light of the sun, and await a pure hand to set them free, to do good with their riches, and so to expiate the guilt which was attached to them. It was thus that the treasure of the Nibelungen pressed upwards. It rose slowly, slowly, for sighs and blood and tears hung more heavily on it than on other sunken hoards. But at last, about a thousand years after that night when Haco threw the treasure into the stream, it had made its way up through the water.
It was just such a delightful spring night as that memorable one long ago; work had long since ended in the blooming vineyards, rest and peace lay all around. The night-wind came softly from the mountains and bore the fragrance of the vines across the Rhine; the moon stood high in heaven, its light glided trembling down on the ledges of the Loreley and kissed the feet of the rock, which until now had lain in deep shadow. There in magic radiance floated the jewels of the Nibelungen treasure, so that the Rhine shone brightly as its waves played round the golden hoard. The night-wind blew more strongly, bearing on its wings something like a spirit, which sank in a veil of mist round the point of the rock, and then stood in that majestic beauty which had in days long past touched Haco's proud heart andwon the love of the hero Siegfried. It was Kriemhild, once Siegfried's sorrowing widow, and afterwards King Etzel's queen in the distant land of the Huns. As Queen of Hungary, she invited the Burgundian heroes to her kingdom, that she might demand the stolen treasure from Haco, or take revenge on him for Siegfried's murder and the robbery of her gold. But the vengeance which should only have overtaken one fell upon all, even on her own little son. Kriemhild's proud heart was softened by the blow, and with a pang of keen repentance she thought of those other mothers whom her mad revenge had rendered childless. One way only was left her of giving happiness instead of sorrow. With a desire that rose to heaven like a prayer, she thought of her lost treasure. If she could but get it now, what troubled hearts would be soothed by her who had heretofore brought misery to happy ones! But the swift sword sent her to the grave with her longings unsatisfied. The same slaughter that had freed her from her enemies had robbed her of her child and of her life.
Her spirit hovered often round the scenes of her youthful happiness, seeking the hidden treasure in the river-bed. That night, when it rose to the surface, and its golden radiance was seen bright and clear, Kriemhild came, thinking to set it free. Her eyes gazed longingly on the floating gold, and her arms, light and transparent as the moonbeams, were outstretched over the rock as if she would fain grasp the moving treasure. Then she glided with spirit tread down over the jagged moonlit rock by paths which no human foot could follow, andsoon she stood on the narrow ledge over which the Rhine river flowed in gleaming ripples. Her white foot was covered by the water, but she heeded it not; her eye gazed fixedly on the treasure for which she had longed unceasingly in life, and which now hovered close to her feet in the dancing waves. Her lips moved softly, her hands were clasped as if in earnest desire, and she stooped to reach the golden crown which now knocked with a metallic sound against the rock and almost touched her foot; but when she stretched out her transparent hand, and thought she had touched the point of the diamond cross, the crown shrank from her fingers, sank into the stream, and was borne away out of her reach by the mighty waters. Kriemhild sank on her knees; the waves wet her long flowing locks, and the hem of her purple robe—but she felt them not. Only one thought, one feeling, lived in her heart—the longing to recover the treasure. She bent forward once more; her white hands clutched again and again at the jewels which shone around her in tempting nearness, and yet always shrank from her touch. Other treasures floated towards her, the bars of gold came close to her feet, then started back when the white hands grasped at them, and gradually all disappeared in the middle of the stream.
Kriemhild's cold lips trembled, her transparent hands ceased their useless toil, and were clasped again in prayer. Then there was a louder rushing in the river, and a majestic shadow floated down the stream. Kriemhild's eye watched its onward movement; nearer and nearer it came, till it passed through the foaming gold stream,and approached the rock where the Queen now stood erect and majestic.
CHARLEMAGNE MEETS WITH KRIEMHILD.F. C., p. 108.
It was Charlemagne, once Germany's beloved and mighty ruler, who every year leaves his tomb at Aachen, glides along the Rhine to bless the vineyards on its banks, and then lies down again in the golden coffin until the fragrance of a new spring awakes him to another beneficent progress. Now he stood before her on the river, clad in his purple mantle and his golden crown, with the sword which formerly decided the fate of nations in his cold right hand. His foot rested on the shield of Roland, his beloved nephew, which they had laid beside him in the tomb, and which now bore him like a trusty boat. The water rippled over the golden edge, and washed the grave-dust from the flashing emerald which the hero of Ronceval once won from the giant and fastened as an ornament on his shield.
"Who art thou?" asked the dead Emperor, when his gaze had rested long on Kriemhild's face. "Thou art no mortal woman; I know that by the glance of thine eye, which speaks to me of bygone ages. It was thus that Fastrada's eyes shone; her golden hair was soft and silken as thine. I have not forgotten it, though I have slept for more than half-a-thousand years in the dark vault—yet thou art not Fastrada, the Emperor's beloved wife."
"No, great Emperor," said the Queen; "I was once Kriemhild, the wife of Siegfried, the hero of the Nibelungen, who ruled over the land which was also subject to thy sway. The present generation know almost nothing ofhis glory, but in thy times, O Emperor, his renown was still bright."
"I know him well, that model of all knightly virtues," said the Emperor thoughtfully, "and his fate and thine are familiar to me. It was but the old and yet ever new song that sounds through all time—the song of the victory of evil over good—which made my life also one of pain and trouble. But what brings thee hither, O Queen?"
"If thou knowest my fate, noble Emperor," answered Kriemhild, "thou knowest also what I seek for here. Thou knowest the misery I caused in life. When repentance came it was at the last moment, and my time was gone for earthly works of love. But now, perhaps, my spirit may be permitted to grasp this treasure, cause of so much sin, and use it well and wisely, till as many tears are dried as have been shed, and as much sorrow healed as was once caused by me.
"See yonder, noble Emperor! there gleams the Nibelungen hoard, the bequest left me by my husband, but of which Haco robbed me. It has risen, and awaits only the delivering hand; but no one comes. So I would fain grasp the treasures and seize the moving bars of gold. Then in the stillness of the night I would take them into the abodes of poverty and misfortune, so that when the inmates awake Kriemhild's treasure might dry the tears of need and despair. But it is not permitted me."
The Emperor turned his face and gazed searchingly down at the jewels, which floated in bright clear radiance on the waters of the Rhine.
"Thou askest a thing impossible, O Queen," he said at length; "knowest thou not the limits which debar spirits from the deeds of mortals? It is only a guiltless, living, human hand which may change the sentence that hangs over them. But the Nibelungen treasure has long since been forgotten. Yet look! Thou no longer seest the jewels in the full size of olden days. Wave after wave has gnawed at them; the waters have worked unceasingly through long centuries at this tedious task. See how the ornaments on the bracelets and crowns have shrunk, and how slender the links of the chains have become. The Rhine has taken the gold of thy treasure, and with it fertilised the blooming meadows on its banks. Nightly the gold set free rises in light mists above the stream and sinks in blessing on mountain and valley, and when autumn comes thy gold gleams in every cluster, ripens in every ear of corn. Freer, stronger, more joyous are the people of these meadows—and that is the blessing of the Nibelungen treasure, which rests unseen in earth and air and water—thus will the guilt and tears be done away with which once lay heavy on this hoard. Then have patience, O Queen, for a few short years—then thou wilt search in vain for thy treasure. Meantime other ministries are thine."
The Emperor bowed his head in courteous farewell, and sailed on his magic boat up the moonlit stream.
Kriemhild gazed after him. The emerald in the point of the shield flashed brightly in the moonlight, and the wide purple mantle fluttered above the gleaming waves. The Emperor blessed the vineyards as he passed; andwhen the last glimmer of his crown grew pale and the veil of night concealed him, the Queen once more looked at the gold hoard at her feet. The dead Emperor had spoken truly; her eyes now perceived it too; so she could wait in patience till the last crown, the last gold bar, had melted in the sparkling river.
The treasure's time of freedom was passed; no delivering hand had come. The jewels slowly shrank together round the foot of the Loreley and fell into their watery bed. Their splendour was extinguished; still and dark the river flowed. Then Kriemhild turned and ascended the rock. She gave one long farewell look at the meadows of her former home, and then vanished like a mist in the distance.
Again centuries have passed. Kriemhild no longer hovers round the Loreley, for the Nibelungen treasure has melted in the waves; only its diamonds rest uninjured in the river bed, and any one gazing into its depths on starry nights may see them flash and sparkle far below. But the gold runs freely through the Rhine, so that its waters flow in bright, clear waves; and on summer nights the precious substance rises to the clouds, and then falls in fertilising dew on the meadows and vineyards all around. Gold shines in the ripening berries and gleams in the waving corn; with the clear ring of gold sound the songs of the Rhenish people; pure as gold is their honesty—that surest safeguard against every foe.
That is the German Nibelungenhort—that is the Rhine gold.