Daylight had long since disappeared when Oswald and Faith alighted from their wagon at a solitary inn beyond the Bohemian boundary. 'Here you are for the present in safety,' said the conductor who had brought them from Friedland, knocking at the door. 'The people of the house are honest, and of our faith at heart. The vicinity is full of secret Hussites.'
'Who comes so late?' asked a little, dark-complexioned old woman, opening the door with her hand held before a flickering torch.
'A young wedded pair, mother Thekla,' answered the conductor, 'who are fleeing before the converters. Receive them kindly and take good care of them. God will reward you for it.'
'It is but our duty,' said the woman. 'Come in, poor creatures.'
'Farewell,' said the conductor to Oswald. 'I intend to return directly; for my wife and children may not be safely left without a protector among the reckless soldiery.'
'And, that you have brought me here--' said Oswald, forcing into his hand a couple of dollars over and above the fee agreed upon....
'I have already forgotten it,' said the conductor, laughing. 'Besides, when I get into the forest, I intend to load my wagon with wood, which I shall gaily drag into Friedland early in the morning, and nobody will think of asking me what freight I took thence. May God protect you!'
He mounted his wagon and drove rapidly away, while Oswald led his companion into the bar-room. To their great satisfaction it was tolerably empty. Only in one corner of the room snored three men and four large hounds on some straw, and at a table near the gray-headed host, with a goblet before him, sat a large strongly built man in the dress of a Bohemian peasant. Oswald observed the sabre which the guest bore, and the large knife in his girdle, with some suspicion; but the honest lineaments and saddened expression of his brown, haggard face, again inspired him with confidence. He courteously seated himself at the table and called for a glass of wine, while Faith was arranging with the hostess for a supper and accommodations for the night.
'You are in flight on account of your faith, as I hear, my dear sir?' asked the stranger in a voice of the deepest bass, and at the same time glancing at him mistrustfully with his wild, black eyes.
'The time and weather would have been badly chosen for a journey of pleasure,' peevishly answered Dorn.
'You must surely have come from Jauer, or Loewenberg, or Schweidnitz?' further asked the man; 'for they are very strenuously pushing the counter-reformation in those places just now. 'You are by far too curious!' cried Oswald, with displeasure. 'I do not willingly listen to such questions from strangers.'
'It is the business of my office to ask questions, my young gentleman,' thundered the stranger; 'for I am a captain of Bohemian provincial troops, and am stationed here upon the border to guard against the influx of Silesian heretics.'
While he said this, the four hounds sprang up and placed themselves growling before Oswald, and the three men half raised their bodies from the straw, their flashing eyes peering from their dark brown faces, and their well scoured muskets glistening in their hands. Oswald instantly arose and drew his sword.
'Put up your weapon!' the man now cried in an altered tone, seizing his goblet. 'I but wished to be certain of my man. Come, be again quietly seated, and do me justice in a fresh goblet. The Bohemian goose and Silesian swan!'
'Huss and Luther!' cried Oswald touching glasses and emptying his own with a lighter heart, while the hounds and soldiers again stretched themselves upon the straw.
'Do not be offended that I thought it necessary to prove you,' said the Bohemian; 'but the tricks and artifices of the papists are so manifold, that these precautions are rendered quite necessary. You might have been a spy of the Jesuits. Since we now understand each other, however, I may converse with you without reserve. You are not safe even here. For my old friend, our host, I will indeed be answerable; but the converters sometimes come over the border to us; especially when they deem that they have important game in view; and you appear to me as though you might be of some consequence. Therefore, if it be agreeable, I will conduct you and your little wife to a place, where you may dwell in peace behind the everlasting walls which the Lord himself has built for the defence of persecuted innocents.'
'There is no falsehood in that face!' answered Oswald; 'and I accept your offer with gratitude.'
'You will not indeed find our residence very elegant,' said the Bohemian; 'and that delicate female form may be wholly unaccustomed to such quarters; but necessity reconciles one to privations, and a very little suffices for our actual necessities.'
'Be not concerned on that account,' said Faith, who had now seated herself near Oswald. 'A safe shelter is all we wish.'
'Well, eat your supper,' said the Bohemian, 'and retire quickly to rest, that you may be ready to start by day-break in the morning. I have been long accustomed to watch through the night, and will guard you faithfully. With the rising sun we shall be among the rocks.'
Wrapped in his cloak, Oswald was yet sweetly and soundly sleeping upon the floor, before the only bed in the house, in which his fair companion was slumbering. A knock was heard at the door, and the Bohemian cried, 'bestir yourself, sir. The morning breaks, and we must away!' The youth sprang upon his feet and awoke the maiden with a kiss. Soon ready to set out, they took a grateful leave of their worthy hosts and stepped to the door. Every object was obscured by a thick morning mist; and the sun, like a large red ball of fearful size, was just rising in the east.
'Let us wait a little, until the sun has dissipated the mist,' said the Bohemian, 'lest the lady should hurt her feet among the rocks.'
They stood a short time, waiting and shivering in the morning wind. Oswald had thrown his cloak over Faith, and held her closely clasped to keep her warm. The mist moved before them like a waving ocean, and apparently resolved itself into numerous dark clouds, which settled down upon the earth, and seemed to root themselves there. Meanwhile the sun had mounted higher, the waving of the ocean of mist increased, and suddenly there came a powerful gust of wind which rent and pressed down the immense cloud-curtain, when a scene as singular as it was magnificent, lay before Oswald's astonished eyes. The dark clouds that had appeared to sink down upon the earth, had changed to huge masses of gray rocks, which, rising up into the blue ether like countless palaces, churches and high towers, assumed the appearance of a gigantic city. Softly rounded snow-domes, crimsoned by the rays of the morning sun and glistening with thousands of diamonds, adorned the summits of these natural edifices, and the undying verdure of the pines and firs which arose here and there from the clefts of the rocks, gave a cheerful aspect to the view.
'Great is the Lord, when seen in his works!' cried the enraptured Oswald, withdrawing his mantle from Faith, to enable her to enjoy the spectacle.
Opening her large and beautiful eyes, she stood awhile as if blinded. 'How came this strange and wonderful city here?' asked she with astonishment 'Is it indeed a city?'
'Certainly,' answered the Bohemian, laughing. 'We call it the stone city, and divide it into city and suburbs. It is here, however, properly called the rocks of Aldersbach.'
'Are we to go in among those rocks?' anxiously asked Faith, clasping her Oswald more closely.
'There is no other way, my child,' answered the latter. 'Be not alarmed--you see that I am not disturbed, which I should be, if I anticipated any danger to you.'
'Ah, you iron-nerved men never anticipate danger until it is close at hand,' said the maiden; 'and then it is too late to avoid it.'
'Go on in advance, Lotek,' said the Bohemian to one of his companions. 'Beat the path a little where the snow lies too deep; announce to the worthy pastor that I bring him guests, and kindle a good fire in my quarters, that the lady may be rendered comfortable on her arrival.'
Lotek threw his musket upon his back, whistled to his wolf-dog, stepped off with long strides, and soon disappeared among the rocks.
'Now, if agreeable, we also will start,' said the Bohemian. 'The sun is tolerably high, and I would not willingly remain abroad, in open day.'
'Come, my child,' said Oswald, offering his arm to Faith, which she took with a sigh, and they briskly entered among the rocks. The procession was led by the Bohemian, closed by his armed companions, and flanked by the hounds.
'These masses are frightfully high,' said Faith, looking anxiously up at their summits.
'They appear so to you,' said the Bohemian, looking back. 'These, however, are but small affairs. We are now only in the suburbs. In the city you will see rocks worth talking about.'
'Heaven take pity on us!' sighed Faith, wandering on until she came to an open space. Here towered up, solitary and frightful, a single monstrous gray rock, formed like an inverted cone with its base stretching high up into the clouds and its apex imbedded in a lake of ice.
'Do not go so near, Oswald,' said Faith. 'This large rock must in the next moment tumble over.'
'Fear it not,' said the Bohemian. 'This is the Sugarloaf, which has been standing thus upon its head for thousands of years, and will surely retain its position long after we are in our graves.'
They were still advancing, when Faith, who was somewhat ashamed to exhibit her fears to the Bohemian, whispered to Oswald, 'only see that horrible gray giant's head projecting over us from between those high towers. I can plainly discern a monstrous, solemn looking face, surrounded by flowing gray locks.'
'That is the burgomaster,' said the laughing Bohemian, who well understood the whisper. 'So is this sport of nature called, and it is the most beautiful of any here. You need not fear him, for he is the only burgomaster on earth who never troubled any one.'
They continued to proceed farther and farther, until at length they were interrupted by a purling mountain stream. Beyond it, stood a broad mass of stone. The Bohemian leaped across the rivulet, rattling down a quantity of loose stones behind him, and with the humming operation of some wheel-work, the heavy stone moved slowly aside, and discovered a low, narrow opening.
'Do we enter there?' asked Faith in a tone so disconsolate as to call forth a hearty laugh from all the Bohemians. Even Oswald joined in the laugh, and, clasping the maiden in his arms, he sprung with her to the opposite bank. They all now stood within a narrow passage, the wheel-work again moved, the entrance closed, and they were enveloped in darkness.
'It is very dark here!' cried Faith.
'We shall soon come into the light,' said their leader, advancing. The others followed, and they thus proceeded in a narrow path, floored with yielding planks, and bounded by high perpendicular walls of dark gray stone, between which was seen the dark blue sky--so dark indeed, that they could almost distinguish the stars in broad day-light. The trickling water glistened upon the walls like silver threads upon a black velvet ground; and here and there little waterfalls, forming dazzling crystals with their congealing spray, bounded down the rocks and disappeared under the planks upon which they were walking.
'If we follow this path much longer,' protested Faith, 'I shall die of fear and anxiety.'
'For shame, my love!' answered Oswald. 'Will you, who spoke so boldly for me to the grim Wallenstein, lose your courage here in the bosom of harmonious nature, where we are especially and wholly in the hands of a protecting God?'
'We are at the end!' exclaimed the Bohemian, stepping out into the clear sunshine. The fugitives followed him, and found themselves in a narrow but pleasant valley, surrounded by high snow-covered rocks which cut off this quiet retreat from the rest of the world. A clear, silver fountain, which gushed from a cleft in the rocks, meandered through the vale, while among and upon the rocks, like eyries, were to be seen about ten huts, built of rough branches, and well covered with moss, to secure their inhabitants from the inclemencies of the weather. Men, women, and children, were moving in and about these simple dwellings as quietly and confidently as if they had resided there all their lives. The fire ordered by the Bohemian twirled its smoke up into the clear heavens, and there sat Lotek, assiduously turning a haunch of venison which was roasting before it. An old and venerable man with a long white beard, in a black clerical dress, and with a black cap surmounting his white hairs, came forth from one of the best of the huts to meet the new comers.
'Welcome, ye who have become outcasts and wanderers for the sake of your faith!' said he, with solemnity, as he extended to them the hand of friendship. 'Welcome to the Hussite's Rest. In my hut there is yet room for you. Come, eat of my bread and drink of my cup. By the grace of God you have here found an asylum which will conceal and protect you as long as may be necessary; for the destructive storm which now rages over the land, reaches not here.'
'Heartfelt thanks for your hospitable offer, reverend father,' said Oswald. 'Have you dwelt long among these rocks?'
'For the last five years,' answered the venerable pastor. 'After our emperor (who will one day have to answer for the deed before the judgment seat) destroyed the sacred edict which assured toleration, and burned its seal, there was no longer peace or safety for the poor Hussites in Bohemia. As he openly declared that 'he would have none but catholic subjects,' more than thirty thousand of our most respected families, embracing all ranks, wandered abroad to strengthen and enrich foreign countries by their wealth and industry. The poor cultivators of the soil could not avail themselves of the generous permission to emigrate with their property. They could not carry the soil with them, and being thus compelled to remain, they seized their arms and fell upon their persecutors. I myself, with the cross in my hand, led my parishioners against the enemy, and we struck boldly for our religion. Fresh armies were sent against us; the gallows and racks were encumbered with the corpses of our brethren, and we were compelled to yield; but it was impossible for us wholly to abandon our father-land, and we therefore threw ourselves into the caverns among these rocks, where a deep seclusion from the world is our only safety. Here we live quietly and peacefully upon the produce of our labor and the chase, which we dispose of in Bohemia and Silesia, and are much rejoiced whenever a victim of priestly rage wanders hither to claim our protection and hospitality.'
'We may now dismiss all anxiety,' said Oswald to Faith. 'We have at last reached a safe and well concealed haven.'
'That beauteous form inclines so confidingly and yet so modestly toward you, young man,' said the venerable pastor, 'that I should judge you were not yet man and wife, but only lovers. If you desire it, I will pronounce the blessing of the church over you. I am fully authorized to perform the ceremony, having received ordination from our right reverend bishop, who now wears the crown of martyrdom before the throne of the Lamb.'
'Have I your consent, my dearest?' asked Oswald, warmly pressing the maiden's hand. 'We already have your mother's blessing.'
'Not now, dear Oswald,' said Faith, with mingled sadness and resignation. 'I cannot consent to take that important step while yet so deeply impressed with sorrow for the fate of my dearest relatives. Our love must now wear the mourning dress in which it has been clad by these unhappy times. It would be almost wicked to put on the myrtle now; and the decisiveyes, which should be spoken out of a joyful heart, would be stifled by my sobs and tears, under the present circumstances.'
'Your wish can alone decide the question,' said Oswald, tenderly, impressing a chaste kiss upon her forehead.
'Maiden, it is evident you have chosen a worthy partner,' said the pastor. 'And early has your betrothed learnt the lesson of self-denial, the hardest in this life to be acquired.'
Delighted to hear from such reverend lips the praise of one so dear to her, the maiden threw her arms about Oswald's neck and embraced him with love and joy.
'The morning is fine,' said Faith to Oswald after breakfast, as their venerable host seated himself with his bible upon his knee; 'and the valley here is so narrow and close that these huge rocks seem to press upon my heart. Let us therefore walk out a short distance beyond their confines.'
'Venture not too far, my children!' said the pastor, in a warning voice without raising his eyes from his book. 'My old body is a true and faithful weather-prophet, and tells me that we shall have a severe storm to-day. These storms rage much more furiously here than in the plains, and, when they come, every living creature finds it necessary to seek a shelter.'
'We will soon return,' promised Faith, skipping forth by Oswald's side.
'Mark well the place of entrance to our retreat,' said the Hussite, who opened the outer stone door for them; 'that you may be sure to find it again. The passages among the rocks are very similar, and if by mistake you enter a wrong one you may be compelled to wander about all day long.'
'Never fear! 'answered Oswald. 'It would illy become a soldier to be unable to remember any locality it might be necessary for him to find again. He then looked at the highest peaks in the vicinity, impressed their relative positions upon his memory, carefully examined the secret door, and thus prepared, they went forth into the clear fresh morning air and soon became engaged in a conversation of such interest as to render them entirely heedless of the lapse of time.
'I know not how it is,' said Faith, fanning her glowing face with her handkerchief; 'it is yet mid winter here, and I am so very warm.'
'It is incident to the summer of life,' said their former guide, who suddenly stood before them as they turned a corner; 'especially when the sun of love shines warmly. It is not probable you will have much further occasion to complain of the heat to-day, for a storm is approaching.'
'With the sky so clear? Impossible!' cried Faith.
'You know nothing of the tricks of the mountain-sprites,' said the Bohemian. 'One moment we have sunshine, the next thunder and lightning. That is the way with them. You will do well to return to the valley betimes.'
He passed on and was soon out of sight.
'We had better follow him,' said Oswald.
'Yet but one quarter of an hour,' begged Faith; 'and then we will return as fast as we can.'
'Who can deny you any thing,' said the youth; 'even when you solicit what should not be granted?'
They still continued to advance, until they came where the rocks were less compactly clustered, and glimpses of the plain, presenting brilliant winter landscapes, were occasionally obtained through the openings.
'Ah, how much pleasanter it is here than in the pent up valley!' cried Faith, clapping her hands with childish joy.
Oswald suddenly started and listened. 'Did you hear nothing?' he asked the maiden. 'It sounded like a distant trumpet.'
'Yes,' said Faith, after listening a moment; 'it must be the blast of a trumpet.'
'It may be our pursuers!' cried Oswald. 'Let us hasten back to our asylum.'
He now turned quickly about with Faith, and, rather bearing than leading her, hastened to retrace the path by which they had come. Before proceeding far on their return, they were met by a colder and sharper wind, and the snow which it blew from the summits of the rocks involved them in a white fleecy cloud.
'Alas, Oswald, I can no longer see,' complained Faith.
'It is but little better with me,' answered Oswald, groping after the path to the right, which he supposed to be the one he should take. Still sharper blew the wind as the storm rapidly approached, and the dark gray mountain-clouds lashed the immense rocks with their mighty wings, sending down their accumulated snows upon the heads of the poor wanderers. Still more wildly rushed and whistled and howled the winds among the rocks, in strangely horrible tones, and in the midst of the uproar they distinguished the sounds of distant rolling thunder and the flashes of lightning in the low dark clouds. In this struggle of the elements, all the summits and other landmarks which Oswald had noted to guide his returning steps, had completely disappeared, and at length he impatiently cried: 'I have lost the way. Why was I weak enough to yield to the wishes of a child!'
'Chide not, dear Oswald,' entreated Faith, submissively. 'I will willingly endure every hardship which is suffered with you.'
'That is what distresses me,' said Oswald. 'Were I alone, I should enjoy this storm instead of trembling at it; for nature appears to me most beautiful in anger, and I have already been compelled to expose this brow to many a wild tempest. My anxiety for you troubles me. If your health should be injured by this exposure I should be inconsolable, and have only my own thoughtlessness to blame for it.'
A brighter flash and louder report now put it beyond doubt that a terrible storm was at hand. The echoes thundered among the rocks, now nearer and now farther off, until they finally died away in indistinct murmurs.
'A thunderstorm in winter!' cried the trembling Faith. 'That is doubly horrible.'
'Who knows that this tempest may not bring a blessing; and certainly it cannot do much harm here among these old rocks,' said Oswald by way of consoling her, still continuing to advance at random.
'Thank heaven, I hear human voices!' exultingly shouted Faith: and like a doe she skipped towards an eminence with such speed that Oswald could scarcely follow her.
A multitude of people were approaching, sure enough. It was composed of colonel Goes, the detestable Hurka, and a troop of the Lichtenstein dragoons, who immediately aimed their arms at the fugitives.
'Stand!' cried Goes, amid the thunder of the storm, to his son, whom he instantly recognised. 'Stand, or I command the troops to fire.'
'Father, do no violence!' cried the despairing youth, throwing himself before the maiden, who had sunk upon her knees; 'God judges righteously and protects the innocent! Hear how he warns you with the voice of his thunder!'
The captain gave a loud and scornful laugh.
'Seize the rebel and his heretic bride,' shrieked the angry colonel. The captain, nothing loth, motioning his dragoons to follow him and confiding in his superior force, hastened forward, swinging his sword high above his head. The colonel accompanied him and the dragoons followed.
'Save me, my God, from the crime of parricide!' cried Oswald, advancing to meet his opponents.
At that moment came a blinding flash of lightning, accompanied by a deafening clap of thunder, and with it rushed down from the highest summit a monstrous mass of stone which caused the earth to tremble as if there had been an earthquake; a short, sharp cry was heard, and the pursuers and pursued were prostrated upon their faces.
The first glance of Oswald's opening eyes, when consciousness returned, was directed in search of poor Faith. She lay near him in a deep swoon. Flying to her aid, he applied snow to her temples and warmed her lips with his kisses. At length she opened her eyes.
'You are yet alive, my Oswald!' cried she, with pious ecstasy, folding her hands as if giving thanks. 'The Lord has passed over us in the tempest; but he has remembered us in mercy!'
'Pious maiden,' said Goes, who stood behind them, leaning like a dying man upon a dragoon. 'Pious maiden, so mayest thou speak, out of the fulness of thy pure heart,--but the sinner must smite upon his breast and cry. The Lord is just, and in his wrath has executed a righteous judgment! Yet I may also give thanks for his mercy; for he has only punished the incorrigibly wicked, warning the deluded with the voice of his thunder, and leaving him yet a space for repentance and amendment. Forgive me, my son. I had unlearned to be a man and a father; but will again become one, even at this late hour of my life.'
'Your goodness restores me to new life, my father,' said Oswald, pressing the paternal hand to his lips. His thoughts then instantly recurred to the monster who had allured, his father there and stimulated him to the commission of crime; and, catching up his sword from the ground, his death-flashing glance sought the captain.
'He whom you seek is not far off,' said Goes, speaking low, so as not to attract the maiden's attention, lest she should be too much shocked. With a trembling hand he directed his son to the enormous rock which, still smoking with the fire of heaven, lay in the path. The youth shuddered as he turned his head and beheld a naked sword projecting from under the mass, in the grasp of a stiffened hand. The captain's plumed hat lay near, and the surrounding snow was reddened by a small rivulet of blood which came trickling forth.
'Behold the judgment of God, and implore his mercy for your repentant father,' said Goes, sinking into the arms of his son.
Three months later, Frau Rosen was sitting in the little cottage of the weaver's widow in Friedland, with an expression of soil serenity upon her still pale countenance. On either side of her sat Oswald and Faith, each holding one of her hands, and all rejoicing at her convalescence. The rattle of an approaching carriage was heard without, and directly four black horses, attached to the carriage of colonel Goes, trotted up to the cottage door. The merchant Fessel, yet thin and pale from his past illness and sorrows, descended from the carriage and entered the room.
As calamities suffered in common, only strengthen the bands by which good hearts are united, so the meeting of these friends evinced increased tenderness and affection; while the memory of the dear departed, which it called up, received the tribute of many tears.
'How stand matters in our good city of Schweidnitz? at length asked the matron.
'Badly enough, as yet,' answered Fessel; 'but not near so bad as when you left us. There seems, indeed, no prospect of an end to our oppressions. The Jesuits are constantly multiplying their encroachments and assumptions, and the royal judge whom the count has installed there commands that all shall become catholic communicants, and prohibits attendance upon the Lutheran churches out of town. These commands cannot be very effectively enforced, and the military executions have been discontinued ever since the departure of the tyrannical Dohna. Many of the troops also have been withdrawn, and but two squadrons now remain in the city. I must do the colonel the justice to say, moreover, that he has done every thing in his power to mitigate our sufferings, even at great hazard of injuring himself.'
'The Lord reward him for it,' said Frau Rosen, 'and allow it to balance the long account in that book where his sins are recorded.'
'I am here as his messenger,' continued Fessel; 'to conduct you all to the little inn near the rocks of Aldersbach, where he intends to hold a family festival.'
'There?' asked Oswald with surprise. 'That indicates some important, and certainly some joyful purpose.'
'He keeps his plans and objects very secret,' said Fessel. 'I have my conjectures; but can divulge nothing. That it is to be a great festival I know by the extent of the preparations. He has been there with a stone-cutter and gardener from Schweidnitz, since the day before yesterday; and he wishes you all to come in full dress to-day.'
Fessel, having returned to his carriage, soon came in again with two large packages, which he delivered to the lovers. Faith hastened to her mother with hers, that they might examine and comment upon its contents together.
Meanwhile, Oswald opened his package and found therein a splendid Danish officer's uniform with all its usual appendages. 'The time for these gilded ornaments has long since passed with me,' he observed with a feeling of dissatisfaction; 'and I do not deem it proper to wear the costume of a station which I intend never again to occupy.'
'He anticipated the objection,' said Fessel; 'and requests me to beg of you to wear it only this day, for his sake, notwithstanding your own disinclination.'
'Ah, Oswald, look!' exclaimed the happy Faith, holding out her present for his examination. 'See this beautiful white silken dress and this splendid diamond ornament!'
'It is very beautiful,' said Oswald, giving it a careless glance; 'but is there no myrtle-wreath with the dress?'
'I have already sought it in vain,' answered Faith, with a slight blush.
'Alas!' sighed Oswald, 'then the most acceptable present is wanting. My dearest hope for to-day is at once annihilated.'
'Murmur not against your father, my dear brother-in-law,' begged Fessel. 'I will be answerable that he means well with you and our little Faith.'
'It is well!' said Oswald, taking his package under his arm and retiring to dress; 'but he ought not to have forgotten the myrtle-wreath!'
Panting and foaming, the four black steeds drew up before the little inn at Aldersbach, which was now gaily decorated with evergreens. The happy old colonel stood in the door, ready to receive them. Oswald assisted Faith, and Fessel his mother-in-law, to alight. Goes advanced to the latter and clasped her hand. 'You have lost much through us,' he sorrowfully said, 'can you forgive?'
'Should I else deserve to be called a christian?' answered the matron.
'May God reward your kindness!' said the colonel, leading her into the house, in the largest room of which several protestant officers of the imperial army were assembled. Oswald then entered with Faith, in all her youthful beauty, which was much heightened by her rich dress.
'Ha, what a charming maiden!' exclaimed Goes. 'Yes, my son, her appearance would excuse thy choice, if indeed it needed an excuse.'
'I cannot share any part of the satisfaction which seems to be so general,' said Oswald with forced gaiety, 'as it is impossible for me to feel comfortable in a dress which is unsuited to my station and calling.'
'It is exactly suited to your station,' said the colonel with solemnity, handing a folded paper to him. It was a major's commission in the Danish service.
'This is wholly contrary to my wish,' exclaimed Oswald with surprise, as he perceived the nature of the document. 'I have laid down the sword forever!'
'That cannot be done with safety at present in any part of Europe, my dear Oswald,' said Goes. 'In these rough times a man must bear the sword, if he would not be compelled to bow his neck under it; nor is there any prospect that it will soon be otherwise. You have repeatedly shown, that you will never be able to reconcile yourself to the humble and submissive condition of a burgher. Whenever occasion has offered, you have unhesitatingly drawn that sword with which you have professedly wished to have nothing more to do. I most heartily rejoice at it, because of the evidence it affords that my blood flows in your veins; but at the same time it proves your unfitness for the counter and yard-stick. You must again serve,--it is required both for your honor and mine. To serve the emperor would be against your conscience. I have therefore sought out a service which, as matters now stand, cannot be objectionable to either of us. A permanent peace has been concluded between the emperor and the king of Denmark. Your new situation will lead you from Silesia to the land where your own faith, which is persecuted here, is openly and triumphantly professed. You will be spared the grief of being compelled to witness innumerable evils which you can have no power to remedy. All these considerations were well weighed by me before I applied in your name for the honorable appointment which you surely will not now reject.'
'You are right,' cried Oswald. 'You see farther than I do, and I gratefully receive the commission from your paternal hands.'
'My application alone would not have met with such ready success,' continued Goes. 'For that, you have to thank one whose friendship and patronage you literally conquered at Dessau,--the duke of Friedland. He wrote himself to Copenhagen in your behalf; and the mediator who brought about the treaty of Lubeck could hardly be refused so small a request by the king of Denmark.'
'Honor to the lion!' jocosely exclaimed Frau Rosen. 'Those large wild beasts generally have some generosity about them.'
'All is in readiness!' said the old Hussite host, entering the room and throwing open the doors.
'Give your arm to Faith, my son, and follow this man,' said Goes. The lovers looked at each other with some surprise, and obeyed the command. After them came the matron, supported by Goes and Fessel. The officers followed.
The procession entered directly among the rocks, and at length, magnificently gilded by the evening sun, the eventful mass of stone which had been detached and overthrown by the lightning, shone upon them with a far different and more friendly aspect than when it had last met their view. It was hung around with evergreens and adorned with flowery garlands; and upon the most conspicuous part of it a medallion had been cut out, with these words engraved upon it: 'The lightning of heaven here punished and warned.' Underneath was cut out the day of the month and the year. In front of the huge mass stood an altar, built of the fragments which were shivered from it when it fell. The old pastor of Huss's Rest waited at the altar, in his clerical robes and with opened book. On each side of him stood Fessel's children, holding wreaths of flowers.
'What can all this mean?' whispered Faith to Oswald, in sweet confusion, while the colonel placed the missing myrtle wreath upon her blond locks.
'Unite this pair in marriage, reverend father,' cried the colonel, with gushing tears, leading the lovers to the altar.
Mild toleration has spread its dove-like wings over the states of Austria for many long years since the period above referred to,--the colony of Huss's Rest is no longer to be found among the rocks of Aldersbach,--and the silver rivulet again meanders in silent solitude through the concealed valley. The huge rock hurled down by the lightning's stroke yet lies, a lasting monument, in the middle of the road, and the medallion may yet be recognised. Time has effaced the inscription, and the guide who now conducts the curious visitor knows only a legend of an English gentleman, who atoned for his desire to view a thunderstorm among the rocks by being very nearly crushed by the fall of this rifted fragment. In memory of his imminent danger, and in gratitude for his almost miraculous preservation, he is said to have caused the medallion to be carved in the rock. Of the punishment of the reprobate captain and the deep repentance of the colonel of the converters, they have long since forgotten the tradition; and FANCY may therefore be allowed to erect her light and airy castle upon the granite foundation of history; to picture forth to those now living the savage contests for opinion, of former times,--and to warn them against the evils of an exclusive and intolerant spirit, into which we are in constant danger of relapsing.
THE SORCERESS.BY C. F. VAN DER VELDE.
The first rays of the morning sun were brilliantly reflected by the polished arms of Ryno and Idallan, as they rode gaily forth in search of adventures. It was not their first similar excursion. As usual with errant knights, they had struck down many a dragon, vanquished many a giant, and rescued many a damsel from the clutches of wicked magicians. Delicate arms had clasped their knees in gratitude, tender bosoms had feverishly beat against their iron breastplates, ruby lips had pledged them in golden cups of the juice of the Syracusan grape, and yet their hearts remained cold and impenetrable as the pure steel of their armor. The delightful consciousness of freedom, strength, and youthful spirits, spoke in their every movement. Stately and beautiful they passed on their way, their sharp lances resting quietly upon their right stirrups, their swords peacefully clinking in their scabbards, and their hands carelessly holding their highly ornamented bridle reins.
Suddenly they heard female voices uttering distressing cries for help. The steeds snorted and pricked up their ears; the knights involuntarily drew a tighter rein, seized their lances, and applied the spur; and thus they darted forward with perfect indifference whether this new adventure should be crowned with wounds or kisses, blows or treasures, a martyr's chains, or an hymeneal altar.
Their panting chargers soon bore them to a forest filled with oaks of a thousand years, whence had proceeded those outcries, which were now subsiding to sobs so low as to be almost lost to the ear. At length a green meadow opened upon them through the wood, and there, enclosed by a circle of Moors, stood two powerless maidens of angelic beauty, bound to a tree. An old, meagre, yellow monster, in the rich dress of the east, appeared to be feasting himself with gazing upon their charms. He had just drawn a dagger from his girdle and was about to approach one of the maidens, when Ryno and Idallan burst upon them from the thicket with the suddenness of the lightning's flash, and the fury of the storm. Knight-errant like, without asking any questions, they nailed six of the Moors to the nearest oaks with their lances, and then, (as if Vulcan had sent his cyclops to the work,) their blows fell like hail upon the astonished Moors.
Courage, strength, knowledge of the use of arms, and the consciousness of a good cause, enabled them quickly to overpower their venal opponents. Those, who were not killed by the sword or trampled down by the horses, threw away their weapons and fled. Only the horrid looking yellow old man kept his ground, and he was busily employed in drawing strange characters in the air with a black wand. 'You lose your pains!' cried Idallan, laughing. 'You must know, sir wizard, that our arms, tempered by the fairy Diamanta, fear no magic charm, and that only superior natural power can prevail against them.'
'If you wish a proof of it,' interposed Ryno, springing from his horse, 'I am here ready for the trial, and you may call back your flying Moors to arm you.'
Without answer, but with a glance that disclosed the hell within, the sorcerer strode with uplifted dagger, towards his poor bound victim; but Ryno's ready weapon interrupted him in full career. With rifted head the fiend sank to the earth, which immediately opened and swallowed his hideous form; while a blue smoke, accompanied by fearful sounds, gnashing of the teeth and scornful laughter, issued from the spot where he had disappeared.
The knights hastened to the damsels, and by the aid of their bloody swords quickly severed the bands by which they were confined. Water brought from a neighboring spring soon restored the fainting sufferers to consciousness, and with the first glances of their large blue eyes arose a new sun upon their deliverers. The charming girls cast a shuddering glance upon the field of slaughter, kneeled before the knights with their arms folded in thanksgiving, timidly murmured to them some words in an unknown language, and, after a short internal struggle, rushed into their preservers' arms. An ardent kiss burned upon the lips of each of the enraptured heroes; but before they could recover from their delightful surprise, the maidens had escaped from their embraces. One bound of their little feet lifted them into the air,--a zephyr expanded their dresses into sails,--and with glances of ineffable sweetness they rose high over the gigantic trees, and swept beyond the vision of their astonished beholders.
'By my knightly oath, it is not fair,' said Ryno, after a long pause, 'to leave us standing here alone.'
'It is ungrateful,' murmured Idallan.
Ryno.--Say not that; for had all my heart's blood flowed upon this spot, the kiss impressed upon my lips would have been a sufficient reward.
Idallan.--I am wounded in the arm.
Ryno.--And I in the heart, which is far more dangerous.
Idallan.--What is now to be done?
Ryno.--Resume our travels. The heavenly forms moved towards the west, and happily no direction can be the wrong one for us.
Idallan sighed, and they proceeded towards their horses.
'Hold! what do I see?' cried Ryno.
'Where?' asked Idallan.
'A white veil, the earthly covering which the fairies left behind them when they mounted into the air.'
The two knights rushed towards the veil, and both caught hold of it at the same moment. 'It belonged to the damsel saved by me, and is therefore mine!' exclaimed Idallan.
Ryno.--I saw it first.
Idallan.--My blood flowed in the strife by which we have obtained it!
Ryno.--It is mine, I will not yield it up.
Idallan.--Nor I, but with my life.
Both held the veil fast, and it was in imminent danger of being torn in pieces.
'Hold!' said Ryno. 'Why should we senselessly destroy that which, uninjured, would make one of us happy. Let us calmly and peacefully determine our respective claims by an appeal to argument and reason.'
'I never will resign my claim,' scornfully exclaimed Idallan. 'If you persist in yours, the sword must decide.'
Ryno.--You are my brother in arms, and wounded; I will not fight with you!
Idallan.--Has the struggle with the Moors already exhausted your stock of courage?
Ryno.--Idallan! Even this shall not provoke me!
Idallan in a rage seized the veil, which Ryno reluctantly released, to save it from destruction. He hung it upon a high branch, and placed himself before it with his sword drawn. 'The veil is mine, if you are too cowardly to contend for it.' The noble Ryno half drew his sword, but, recollecting himself, immediately returned it to its sheath, and was about to mount his horse.
'Do you slight me?' roared Idallan, running after him sword in hand. Ryno was compelled to turn and draw, and a furious battle commenced over the dead bodies of the Moors. The attack and defence were conducted on both sides with equal courage and skill, so that neither obtained any advantage over the other. Sparks flew at every encounter of their weapons, the frightened birds flew screaming from the place, and the timid deer fled to the protection of the remotest thickets.