The sound or music greets my ear,The castle glares with light:What means these varied sounds I hear?Who banquets here to-night?SCHILLER.
The sound or music greets my ear,
The castle glares with light:
What means these varied sounds I hear?
Who banquets here to-night?
SCHILLER.
The saloon of the town-hall, into which the guests were ushered, formed a large oblong. The walls, and the ceiling, low in proportion to the size of the room, were wainscoted with brown wood; numerous round windows, on which were painted the arms of the nobles of Ulm in bright colors, occupied one side of it; whilst on the walls opposite were suspended the portraits of renowned burgomasters and councillors of the town. They were all painted in the same position, that is, the left hand supported on the hip, the right resting on a table covered with rich cloth, and looking down on the guests of their descendants with grave and solemn, aspect. The assembled company crowded in mixed groups about the table, which being in the form of a horseshoe, occupied nearly the whole length of the apartment. The brilliant festive costume of the grand council and patricians, who were to do the honours of the day in the name of the town, was not in keeping when compared with that of their guests, who, covered with dust, and clad in leather and steel, discomposed the silk cloaks and velvet dresses of their entertainers in no very ceremonious manner, and much to their annoyance.
They waited some time for the Duke of Bavaria, who, having arrived in Ulm a few days before, had accepted the invitation to this brilliant feast; but when his page brought an excuse that he could not attend, the signal by sound of trumpet was given to take places. The rush to the table in consequence was so impetuous that it was impossible to put the preconcerted friendly intentions of the council into execution, by which a citizen of Ulm was to sit between each two of their guests.
Breitenstein secured a seat for Albert at the lower end of the table, which he said was one of the best places. "I could have put you," said the old man, "among our seniors, near Fronsberg, Sickingen, Hutten, and Waldburg at the head of the table, but in such company etiquette and reserve will infringe upon the more important consideration of gratifying the cravings of hunger with ease and comfort. We might have gone further up also, among the Nürnbergers and Augsburgers; there where the roasted peacock is, which I declare is not a bad place; but I know you do not like such townsfolk, and therefore brought you here. Look around you, is it not a capital position? As we do not know the faces hereabouts it will not be necessary to talk much. On the right we have a smoking hot pig's head, with a lemon stuck in its mouth; on the left a magnificent trout biting its tail for joy; and in our front a roebuck, not to be matched for its tender meat and quantity of fat the whole length of the table or elsewhere."
Albert thanked him for his kindness, and took a hasty glance at those immediately about him. On his right sat a good-looking young man about twenty-five or twenty-six years of age. His neat-combed hair, throwing out a perfume of some highly-scented ointment, his small beard, evidently having just gone through the ordeal of warm curling irons, made Albert suspect, even before he was further convinced of it by his dialect, that he was a gay Ulmer citizen. The young man, perceiving himself to be the object of his neighbour's observation, made himself very officious. He filled Albert's glass from a large silver tankard, and pledged him to drink to a better acquaintance and good fellowship; he then offered to help him the best slices of roebuck, hare, pork, pheasant, and wild duck, which lay before them in great profusion on large silver dishes.
But neither the officious kindness of his neighbour, nor the uncommon appetite of Breitenstein, could provoke Albert to eat. His mind was too much occupied with the beloved object he had seen in entering the town to follow the example of his neighbours. He sat full of thought, looking into his tankard, which he still held in his hand; and as the bubbles on the surface of the sparkling wine dispersed, he fancied he saw the portrait of his love in the gilded bottom of it. No wonder then that his sociable friend on his right, seeing how his guest held his tankard, and refused every dish which he offered him, took him for an incorrigible wine-bibber. His keen eye, which was fixed upon the object before him, appeared to point the youth out as one of those perfect connoisseurs of wine, whose refined taste liked to dwell upon the quality of the noble beverage.
For the purpose of seconding the good intentions of the grand council, namely, that of rendering the feast as pleasant as possible to their guests, the young Ulmer sought all means to discover the weak point of his neighbour. It was, indeed, contrary to his moderate habits to drink much wine; but, in the hopes of rendering himself agreeable to Albert, he thought he would stretch a point this once. He filled his goblet full, and said, "Don't you think, neighbour, this wine has fire in it, and is high flavoured? It is not, indeed, Würtemberger wine, such as you are accustomed to drink in Franconia, but it is real Elfinger, out of the cellar of the senate, and calls itself eighty years old."
Astonished at this address, Albert put down his tankard, and answered with a short, "Yes, yes." His neighbour, however, would not let him off so easily. "It appears, nevertheless," he went on to say, "that it is not quite the thing you like, but I know a remedy. Holloa, there!" he called to a servant, "bring a can of Uhlbacher here. Now just taste this; it grows hard by the castle of Würtemberg. You must pledge me in this toast: 'A short war and glorious victory.'"
Albert, to whom this conversation was in no wise agreeable, thought to turn it to something which might lead to a more interesting topic. "You have much beauty here in Ulm," said he; "at least, in passing through the town, I remarked many pretty faces at the windows."
"Yes, in truth," answered the Ulmer, "the streets might be paved with them."
"That would not be amiss," replied Albert, "for the pavement of your streets is bad indeed. But tell me who lives in that corner house with the bow-window?" pointing to the situation of it: "if I do not mistake, two young ladies were looking out of the window as we rode by."
"So! you have remarked them already?" laughed the other: "upon my word, you have a quick eye, and are a good judge. They are my pretty cousins, on my mother's side: the little blonde is the daughter of the Herrn von Besserer, the other is the lady of Lichtenstein, a Würtemberger, staying with her on a visit."
Albert thanked heaven for having been placed so near a relation of Bertha, and determined at once to take advantage of his good fortune. He turned to him, and in the most friendly manner said, "You have a couple of pretty cousins, Herr von Besserer."
"I call myself Dieterick von Kraft, secretary to the grand council, with your permission."
"A pair of pretty cousins, Herr von Kraft; do you visit them often?"
"Yes, I do," answered the secretary, "and particularly since the daughter of Lichtenstein is in the house. Before her arrival, cousin Marie and I were one heart and soul, but she is somewhat jealous now, being piqued by the attentions I bestow upon her charming cousin, Bertha von Lichtenstein, which she thinks belong to her alone."
This confidential communication of the secretary to a perfect stranger, was not a little surprising to Albert, who very soon discovered that a certain portion of vanity was one of his weak points, though in other respects there was much to like in him.
This avowal, however, on the part of his new acquaintance, did not sound agreeable to Albert's ear, which caused him to press his lips together, whilst his cheeks assumed a deeper colour.
"Laugh as you will," proceeded the scribe, whose head began to feel the effects of the wine, to which he was unaccustomed; "if you only knew how they pull caps about me! My Lichtenstein cousin has, however, a disagreeable, odd way of showing her friendship; she is so ladylike and reserved, that one is afraid to joke in her presence, much less to be as familiar with her as with Marie; but it is just that which renders her so attractive in my eyes, for if she sends me away ten times, I am sure to return to her the eleventh:--the reason is," he murmured to himself, "that her old strict father is present, of whom she is rather shy; let him but once cross the boundary of Ulm, and I'll soon tame her."
Finding his new acquaintance so very communicative, Albert resolved to question him respecting the knight of Lichtenstein's view of the coming struggle, because that was an essential point, upon which his dearest hopes turned, and one upon which he had his doubts; but just as he was about to begin, he was interrupted by the sound of peculiar strange voices near him. He thought he had heard them before amidst the noise and clatter of the ghosts, as they recited in a drawling uniform tone a couple of short sentences, the purport of which he could not well understand. But now that he heard them repeated close to him, he soon learnt the subject of their monotonous import. It was the fashion in those good old times, particularly in the imperial towns, for the father of the family and his wife, when they entertained company, to rise about the middle of the repast, go round to each individual guest, and in a short sentence of customary usage press him to eat and drink.
This fashion was one of such old standing in Ulm, that the grand council would on no account dispense with it on the present occasion, and, therefore, appointed the father of a family and his wife, in the persons of the burgomaster and the oldest of the councillors, to perform the office.
Having gone round two sides of the table on their "pressing" embassy, it was not to be wondered at, that their voices became, by their efforts, rather husky, so that at last their friendly exhortation assumed almost the tone of a threat. A rough voice sounded in Albert's ear, "Why don't you eat, why don't you drink?" Startling, he turned round, and beheld a large man with a red face, who had addressed these words to him, and before he had time to give an answer, a little short man, with a high shrill voice saluted his ear, on the other side.
"But eat and drink and take your fill--Such is our magisterial will."
"But eat and drink and take your fill--
Such is our magisterial will."
"I have long thought it would come to that," said old Breitenstein, as he took breath for a moment from the vigorous attack he had been making on a haunch of roebuck; "there he sits and talks, instead of enjoying the excellent dishes of roast meats, which have been put before us in such profusion."
"With your permission," said Dieterick von Kraft, interrupting him, "though the young man eats nothing, he is a lover o£ wine, and a capital judge of it; I found it out immediately, for he cannot keep his eyes from the bottom of his cup; therefore do not blame him if he prefers old Uhlbacher before anything else."
Albert had no idea how he had become the subject of this extraordinary apology; he was on the point of making an excuse, when another event drew his attention. Breitenstein had now taken pity upon the pig's head with the lemon stuck in its mouth, which he very cleverly extracted from its jaws, and undertook, with great avidity and experienced hand, its further dissection. Just as he was in the act of swallowing the first mouthful of one of the choicest bits, the burgomaster came to him also, with the same exhortation, "Why don't you eat, why don't you drink?" Breitenstein looked at him with astonishment, but his speaking organs had no time to exercise their functions; he however nodded his head, and pointed to the well-polished bone of the haunch of roebuck in his plate. The little man, also, with the cracked voice, though it appeared unnecessary, would not be debarred repeating his friendly exhortation--
"But eat and drink and take your fill,--Such is our magisterial will."
"But eat and drink and take your fill,--
Such is our magisterial will."
And thus it was in the good old times. At least no one could complain of being invited to a mere parade dinner. The table soon after assumed a different appearance. The large dishes and plates were removed, and were replaced by spacious bowls and large jugs filled with generous wine. The wine passed freely, and the frequent drinking of healths, at that time very much the custom in Swabia, soon produced its usual effects. Dieterick Spät and his companions sang burlesque songs on Duke Ulerich, and confirmed each oath or bit of coarse wit with a horse laugh or a deep draught. The Franconian knights called for dice, threw for the duke's estates, and drank to the taking of the castle of Tübingen. Ulerich von Hutten and his friends carried on a controversy in Latin with some Italians about a recent attack on the papal chair, which a monk of Wittemberg of no reputation had undertaken. The Nürnbergers, Augsburgers, and some few Ulmers had got together, and disputed upon the merits of their respective republics; in short, the room resounded with the din of laughter, singing, quarrelling, and the clatter of silver and pewter tankards.
But at the upper end of the table a much more becoming and sober hilarity prevailed. George von Fronsberg, old Ludwig Hutten, Waldburg Truchses, Franz von Sickingen, and other elderly grave men occupied seats there.
Hans von Breitenstein, who was a captain of the League, having now fully satisfied his appetite, turned his eyes in that direction, and said to Albert, "The noise about us here is not at all agreeable,--what say you? would you like to be presented to Fronsberg now, as you told me a few days ago you wished so to be?"
Albert, whose desire it had long been to become acquainted with the general, gladly accepted the offer, and getting up, followed his old friend. We will not stay to inquire the reason why his heart beat quicker on this occasion, why his face assumed a higher colour, or why his steps, as he approached him, were slower or less firm. Who has not experienced in his youth similar feelings on being introduced to the notice of a brilliant character, crowned with glory? Whose darling self, "I," has not sunk into utter insignificance before the giant-like idea we have formed of a renowned man! George von Fronsberg was accounted one of the most famous generals of his day. Italy, France, and Germany had witnessed his victories, and his name will go down to posterity in the annuls of the art of war, as the author and founder of a regular system, by which a body of infantry is trained to fight in ranks and companies. Tradition and chronicles have brought down the exploits of this noble personage to our times, and who can help calling to mind the heroes of Homer, when they read the following description of this man:--"He had such strength in his limbs, that with the middle finger of his right hand he could displace the strongest man from his seat, let him hold himself as firm as he might; he could seize the bridle of a horse on the full gallop, and stop him; and he could carry alone, from one place to another, the largest gun and battering ram of the time." Breitenstein conducted the young man to him.
"Who do you bring us now, Hans?" said George von Fronsberg, as he noticed the well-grown youth with interest.
"Look at him well, noble sir," answered Breitenstein, "and you will not fall to recognise the house whence he sprung."
The general regarded him with still greater attention; old Truchses von Waldburg also run his scrutinizing eye over his person. Albert was timid and shy before these great men; but whether it was that the friendly, frank manner of Fronsberg gave him confidence, or whether he felt how important that moment was to his future prospects, he overcame the shame of being put out of countenance by the looks of so many renowned men, and faced them with determination and courage.
"I recognise you at once by that look," said Fronsberg, and gave him his hand: "you are a Sturmfeder."
"Albert von Sturmfeder," answered the young man: "my father was Burkhardt Sturmfeder; he fell by your side in Italy: so it has been told me."
"He was a brave man," said the general, whose eye rested thoughtfully on Albert's features, "he remained faithful by my side in many a warm day of battle, and fell covered with glory and honour in defence of my person. And you," he added, "have you determined to follow his steps? Methinks you have left your nest somewhat early, for you are scarcely fledged."
Waldburg, a weather-beaten, hard featured old soldier, interrupted Fronsberg, and said, with a gruff, surly voice, "I suppose that young bird is seeking a few flocks of wool to repair the dilapidated family nest."
This rude allusion to the ruined castle of his ancestors, called up a crimson blush on the cheek of the young man. He had never been ashamed of his poverty, but these words sounded so full of scorn and insult that he felt himself, for the first time, really poor, as he stood before the more affluent derider of his name. His eye at that moment passing over Truchses Waldburg, fell on that well-known bow window, where, thinking he perceived the person of his love, his usual courage resumed its dominion. "Every struggle has its price. Sir Knight," he replied; "I have proffered head and arm to the League; the motive of this step can be but indifferent to you."
"Well, well," answered the other, "we shall see what the arm can do; but as to the head it cannot be quite so clear, if you take in earnest what was meant as a mere joke."
The offended youth was about to make an angry reply, when Fronsberg, taking him kindly by the hand, said, "Just like your father; dear young man! you will in time become like him, a stinging nettle1also,--we shall require friends whose hearts are in the right place. You will not be the last thought of, you may rest assured."
These few words, from the lips of a man who had won so high a reputation among his contemporaries by bravery and experience in war, produced such an effect on the mind of Albert, that the unguarded answer which floated on his tongue sank harmless. He withdrew from the table to a window, partly for the sake of not interrupting the conversation of the officers, partly to convince himself with greater certainty, whether the momentary apparition which he had seen was really his beloved.
When Albert left the table, Fronsberg turned to Waldburg; "That is not the way, Herr Truchses, to win over a staunch ally to our cause. I'll wager he has not quitted us with the same zeal he brought with him."
"Do you consider yourself called upon to raise your voice in favour of that hot-headed youth?" said the other; "it is not at all necessary; he must learn to take a joke from his superiors."
"With your permission," interrupted Breitenstein, "it is no joke to be jeer'd on account of unavoidable poverty; but I know you never bore his father any good will."
"And," continued Fronsberg, "you have no controul over him in any way, for he has not yet taken the oath of alliance to the League and is therefore at perfect liberty to go wheresoever he pleases. Should he serve under your colours, I would advise you not to push him too far, as he does not appear much inclined to submit to insult or contumely."
Speechless from rage upon being contradicted, which he never in his life could brook, Truchses first looked at one and then at the other with such fury, that Ludwig von Hutten, fearful of further strife, interposed between them, and said, "Come, an end with these old stories. It is high time to rise from table. It is now getting dark, and the wine is becoming too powerful for our friends lower down there. Dieterick von Spät has already drank twice to Würtemberg's death, and the Franconians have not yet quite settled whether his castles shall be burnt to the ground or divided among them."
"Let them alone," laughed Waldburg, scornfully, "those gentry may do and say what they please to-day; Fronsberg will soon bring them to their senses."
"No," said Ludwig von Hutten, "if any one has a right to talk in such terms, I am the one, the avenger of my son's blood; but until war be declared, intemperate conversation must be restrained. My cousin Ulerich speaks much too violently with the Italians about the monk of Wittemberg, and when he is out of temper, divulges things which ought to be kept secret."
Fronsberg and Sickingen now rose from table, and those about them following their example, the break-up was general.
Footnote 1: The same words which Fronsberg made use of in speaking of Götz von Berlichingen.
The eyes with which I gaze on herCan pierce thro' wood and stone:They're seated in my heart so true,That beats for her alone.Walther von der Vogelweide.
The eyes with which I gaze on her
Can pierce thro' wood and stone:
They're seated in my heart so true,
That beats for her alone.
Walther von der Vogelweide.
The small distance which separated the table from the window, to which Albert had retired, permitted his hearing every word of the dispute mentioned in the latter part of the last chapter. He rejoiced to perceive the warm interest which Fronsberg took in him, an inexperienced orphan; but, at the same time, he could not conceal from himself that his first step in his military career, had also brought upon him a formidable, bitter enemy.
The unbending pride of Truchses von Waldburg was so well known in the army, that Albert had little reason to hope Hutten's mediatory and conciliatory words would have much effect in soothing the unfavourable impression, which he feared his warmth in upholding the name of his family might have created in the mind of the general. And he was well aware that men of weight and consequence, governed by a violent, imperious temper, such as Waldburg's, do not readily enter into the feelings of those who have excited their anger, nor forgive the ebullition of a generous mind when assailed in its most vulnerable point.
A slight tap on the shoulder interrupted his thoughts, and as he turned round, his friendly neighbour at table, the scribe to the grand council, stood before him.
"I'll bet, you have not looked out for a lodging yet," said Dieterick von Kraft, "and it might be now somewhat difficult to find one, as it is getting dark, and the town is very full."
Albert acknowledged he had not thought about it; he hoped however to find a room in one of the public inns.
"I would not have you be quite so sure of that," answered the other, "and, should you find a corner in one of those houses, you must reckon upon being but badly off. But if my lodging would not appear too small for you, it is very much at your service."
The good secretary of the council pressed Albert with so much cordiality, that he did not hesitate to take advantage of his invitation, though he almost feared lest, when the effects of the wine had passed off, his host might regret his proffered hospitality to him, a perfect stranger. Dieterick von Kraft, however, appeared rejoiced at the readiness with which his proposal was accepted, and taking Albert's arm, with a hearty shake of the hand, led him out of the room.
The square before the town-hall was in the mean time the scene of much bustle and confusion. The days were still short, and the evening having broken in upon the dinner-party, torches were lighted, the glare of which illumined but sparingly the large space, and played on the windows of the opposite houses, and on the polished helmets and cuirasses of the knights. Loud calls for horses and attendants sounding through the town-hall, the clatter of swords, the running here and there of many men, coupled with the barking of dogs, the neighing and pawing of impatient horses, formed a scene, which resembled more the surprise of a military post in the night by an enemy, than the breaking up of a convivial festival.
Albert remained in the hall in a state of amazement at the sight of so many jovial faces and powerful figures, who, having mounted their horses, retired in small groups, singing and springing about in all the hilarity of youth. This nocturnal, fleeting scene, forcibly impressed him with the conviction of the uncertainty and changeableness of all worldly events. These same joyous associates, thought he, would soon be engaged in the dangerous concerns of war, when many of them, even before the spring should be fully advanced, would cover the green grass with their bodies, with no other price offered for their blood than the tear of a comrade, or the short-lived glory of having fallen before the enemy as brave men.
His eye turned instinctively to that quarter where he knew the reward which he hoped would crown the success of his present undertaking awaited him. He there saw many figures at the window, but soon the black smoke of the torches, which suddenly, as a cloud, almost covered the square, veiled the objects so as to give them the appearance of mere shadows. He turned away in disappointment, saying to himself, "Such are my prospects also; at one moment the present indeed looks bright, but in the next, how dark, how uncertain is the prospect of the future!"
His kind friend roused him from this foreboding frame of mind, with the question, "Where are your servants with your horses?" Had the spot where they stood been better lighted, our good Kraft might, perhaps, have discovered a passing blush upon the cheek of his friend at this inquiry.
"A young soldier," answered Albert, quickly recovering his composure, "must learn to look after his own affairs as well as he can, without the assistance and trouble of servants, and therefore I have not brought one with me. I have given Breitenstein's groom charge of my horse."
The scribe of the council applauded the young man for the self-denial which he exercised; but he could not help making the remark, that when once in the field he would not be able to assert his independence so easily. The attention which his companion paid to his own person, his well-combed hair, his neatly curled beard, convinced Albert that he spoke from his heart, and the snug comfortable lodging into which he was introduced did not belie this opinion.
The ménage of Herrn von Kraft was, in fact, a young bachelor's establishment, for his parents died before he attained the age of manhood. He had often thought of looking for a partner to share his comforts with him, but he hesitated to renounce the charm of independence; an advantage he thought not to be despised, flattered as he was by being honored and looked upon by the ladies of Ulm as a desirable match. But ill-natured folks whispered abroad, that it was principally owing to the decided disinclination of his old nurse and housekeeper to have a young mistress in the house, which deterred him from taking so important a step.
Herr Dieterick possessed a large house not far from the cathedral, a pretty garden on St. Michael's Hill, furniture in high preservation, large oak chests full of the finest linen, made of the yarn which the ladies of the house of Kraft, with their female domestics, had for many generations passed their long winter evenings in spinning; and an iron chest in the bed-room, containing a large stock of gold florins. As to his person, he was a good-looking, substantial man, always spruce in his dress, tight-laced, and proud of the fine linen which he wore: his deportment in the council was serious and full of business; he was well conversant in state affairs, as well as in those of his own household; and being sprung from a good old family, it was no wonder that he was respected and looked up to by the whole town, and that any pretty young Ulmer damsel would have thought herself too happy to become mistress of these united advantages.
Upon a nearer inspection, however, the interior of his friend's establishment appeared to Albert any thing but enviable. The only domestic companions of Herr Dieterick were an old grey-headed man-servant, two large cats, and the above-mentioned unsightly fat nurse. These four creatures stared at the new guest with large wondering eyes, which convinced him how little accustomed they were to receive any increase of guests in the establishment. The cats went round him mewing with raised backs; the old woman, in a cross manner, fidgeted her large high round cap, ornamented with gold fringe, out of its accustomed perpendicular position, and asked whether she should prepare supper for two? When she heard her question not only affirmed, but was ordered also (it was not quite clear whether it was an order or a petition) to prepare the corner room on the second floor for the stranger, her patience appeared exhausted; she shot a look of fury at her young master, and left the room rattling a large bunch of keys, which were suspended from her girdle. The hollow sound of her footstep, and the noise of the door, as she, in her ill-humour, slammed it after her, re-echoed through the dead stillness of the spacious corridors.
The old grey-headed servant had in the mean time pushed the table and two ponderous arm-chairs near the immense stove; and having put a black box on the table, with two candlesticks and a tankard of wine, he whispered a few words to his master, and then withdrew. Herr Dieterick invited his guest to take part in his usual evening amusement of playing a game of tric-trac, which the black box contained.
Albert was amused at the proposal of his friend, and particularly when he told him that, since he was twelve years old, he had been in the habit of playing a game with his nurse every evening.
The dead silence which reigned throughout the house was only broken by the occasional snuffing of the candles, the ticking of a large wooden clock in a black case, and the monotonous throw of the dice. Albert would gladly have heard some other symptoms of life, if it were but the grumbling of the old nurse, or her footstep sounding again in the corridors. The game had never possessed any charm for him, and more particularly at the present moment, when his thoughts were otherwise occupied. He was oppressed with a lowness of spirits which he could scarcely control, separated as he now was by a few streets only from his beloved, and anxious to satisfy his longing desire to see her again. The unfeigned pleasure which Herr Dieterick appeared to derive in winning nearly every game, imparted to his good-natured face something so peculiarly agreeable, that it made up in some measure for the loss of time.
When the clock struck eight Dieterick led his guest to supper, which his housekeeper, spite of her ill humour, had prepared in her best manner, for she spared nothing to keep up the dignity and honour of the house of Kraft. The secretary again essayed the powers of his eloquence, with which he sought to season the repast. He talked concerning passing events, of the coming war, and gave Albert to understand that his situation put him in possession of state secrets known only to a select few. But in vain did Albert hope to hear something about his pretty cousins. He attempted to sound him upon a subject so nearly allied to his dearest interests, namely, upon the views of the knight of Lichtenstein in the pending struggle, which he had failed to elicit at the dinner; but the secretary, whether to impress Albert with the importance of his confidential situation in the council, or that he really did not know the intention of Bertha's father, put on a more consequential and mysterious air than usual, and the only information he would impart was, that the knight was then in Ulm with some others of Würtemberg.
This news was at least satisfactory so far as the turn it was likely to give to his fate. His joy was now for the first time complete, in the satisfaction of having joined a party which, except for the great names at the head of it, was otherwise indifferent to him. "And so her father is also among those assembled here!" thought he. "May I not hope to have the good fortune to fight by the side of that good man, and prove myself worthy of my name, and of her I love?" He felt the conviction that Albert von Sturmfeder would not be the last in a battle.
His host, after supper, conducted him to his bed-room, and took his leave with a hearty wish for a good night's rest. Albert examined his room closely, and found it to correspond precisely with the rest of the gloomy house. The round frames of the windows, warped by age, the dark woodwork of the walls and ceiling, the large stove projecting far into the apartment, the enormous bed with a broad canopy and heavy stuff curtains, gave a dull, nay a melancholy, effect to the whole. But still every thing was arranged for his comfort. Clean snow-white sheets invited him within as he threw back the curtains of the bed, the stove threw out an agreeable warmth, a night lamp was placed in a niche in the wall, and even a tankard of spiced hot wine, by way of a nightcap, was not forgotten. He closed the curtains as he got into bed, and scanned over in his mind the passing events of the day. Having taken them in their due order as they had occurred, he had reason to be satisfied with his position; but, when he afterwards fell into the province of dreaming, they were all heaped up in crowded confusion in his mind, far beyond the power of unravelling. One object alone was perfectly clear to him,--it was the portrait of his beloved Bertha.
And is it mere illusion? Say--Or will that one so kind, so true,To whom my heart and life are due,Be to my arms restored this day?F. Haug.
And is it mere illusion? Say--
Or will that one so kind, so true,
To whom my heart and life are due,
Be to my arms restored this day?
F. Haug.
Albert was awoke the next morning by a tap at the door. He threw open the curtains, and perceived that the sun was already high up. The knocking increased, when, shortly after, his kind host entering, inquired how his guest had slept, and explained to him the cause of his early visit. The grand council had determined on the preceding evening to celebrate the arrival of the confederates by a ball, which was to take place that very evening in the town-hall. It was his province, as secretary to the council, to make all the necessary arrangements for this important affair. He had to secure the services of the town musicians, and to invite the first families in the name of the senate. But his first concern would be to hasten to impart this extraordinary piece of good news to his charming cousins.
He related all this to his guest with an air of great importance, and assured him he was so full of business that he scarcely knew where his head was. Albert had only one thought, that of seeing and speaking with Bertha, and he was so overjoyed in the anticipation of such-unlooked for happiness, that he gladly would have embraced the bearer of the good tidings, if prudence had not deterred him from thus exhibiting his secret feelings.
"I can plainly see," said the scribe, "the pleasure this news gives you; the love of dancing brightens up your eyes already. I can promise you a couple of partners, such as you will not find every day. You shall dance with my cousins; for I am their chaperon on such occasions, and I will so arrange the matter that you and no other shall be the first to engage them; they will be enchanted when I promise them the best dancer in the room." With this he left the apartment, wishing his friend good morning, cautioning him when he went out of the house not to forget to notice it, so as to be able to find it again at dinner time.
Herr Kraft being a near relation of the Herrn von Besserer, was entitled to free access to his house, and upon this occasion he made an earlier call than usual.
He found the maidens still at breakfast. Ladies of the present day may perhaps be shocked at the homely meal which our two belles of Ulm, in the year 1519, were partaking of when their cousin Dieterick entered the room. It was not an elegant déjeuné, served up in painted porcelain in the form of beautiful antique vases, or curious-shaped chocolate cups; no, the natural grace of Marie and Bertha was not impaired by the occupation of breakfasting on humblebeer-soup,1at six in the morning, served up in the brown-coloured jug of that day. Can this avowal, however, prejudice the attractive qualities of these two beauties? In the eyes of some it perhaps may; but whoever could have seen Marie and Bertha, in their pretty little morning caps and neat clean dresses, would certainly, as cousin Kraft did, have no objection to partake of the breakfast with them.
"I can see at once, cousin," began Marie, after the usual salutations of the morning, "that you would like to partake of our soup, because, I suppose, your old cross nurse has not taken care of you this morning; but don't flatter yourself that you will get any here, for you deserve punishment, and must expect----"
"Oh, we have been waiting for you so long," interrupted Bertha.
"Yes, to be sure we have," said Marie, with her usual quick way; "but don't flatter yourself that we care as much about your society, as to be informed of the news of what is going on, that's all."
The scribe had been long accustomed to be received by Marie in this manner. He determined, therefore, to make himself as agreeable as possible, satisfying her curiosity by giving her all the gossip of the town, in order to pacify the jealous mood, which he thought he had excited. He was about to begin, when Marie interrupted him. "We know," said she, "that you are too fond of a long story, and as we witnessed most of your doings in the town-hall yesterday from the balcony, we'll say nothing touching your drinking bout there, which speaks not much to your credit; but answer me this question."--She placed herself before him in an attitude of comic seriousness, and went on: "Dieterick von Kraft, scribe of the most noble council of state, did you notice among the confederates, at the dinner given yesterday in the town-hall, a remarkably distinguished-looking young knight, with long light-brown hair, a face not so milk-white as your own, but not less handsome; a small beard, not so carefully combed as yours, but much more beautiful; a light blue scarf with silver----!"
"Oh, that is no other than my guest," cried cousin Kraft; "he rode a large brown horse, and wore a blue jacket, slashed at the shoulders, and turned up with light blue."
"Yes, yes, go on; the very one," said Marie; "we have our particular reasons for inquiring all about him."
"Well, that is Albert von Sturmfeder," answered the scribe, "a handsome charming young fellow. It is curious that you should be the first he noticed in coming into the town." Kraft then related all the particulars of what had passed at the dinner, how he was at once struck by the manly figure, the commanding and attractive countenance of the young man, who, by good luck, became his neighbour at table, and that the more he knew of him the more he liked him; so much so, that he had invited him to his house.
Bertha rose from her seat, and went to look for her work-box, turning her back at the same time upon both her cousins, in order to conceal a blush which flew to her forehead, and which proved that not one word of Dieterick's conversation was lost upon her.
"Come, that is very kind of you, cousin," said Marie, as he finished: "I believe it is the first time you have ventured to have a guest in your house. I should like to have seen the face of old Sabina, when master Dieter, as she calls you, brought a stranger home so late at night."
"Oh," said the scribe, "she resembled the dragon attacking St. George; but I gave her to understand pretty clearly, that it was not at all improbable, I might soon bring home one of my pretty cousins----"
"Ah, get away with you, and don't talk nonsense," resumed Marie, as she tried to withdraw her hand, which he had taken, blushing highly at the same time. She had never appeared so pretty in his eyes as at this moment. Bertha's serious face, in proportion as this flirtation increased, lost its attraction in his estimation, the balance of his devotion was all in favour of the animated Marie, who now sat before him in all the bloom of blushing beauty.
Bertha having slipt out of the room, Marie escaped the tender grasp of Dieterick's hand, and profited by this opportunity to turn the subject of the conversation.
"There she goes," she said, as she looked after her cousin; "I would wager she is going to her room to weep again. She cried so violently yesterday, that it has made me also quite melancholy."
"What is the matter with her?" asked Dieterick, with interest.
"I am as ignorant of the cause of her grief as ever," answered Marie; "I have asked her over and over again; but she only shakes her head, as if there was no hope left. 'This unhappy war!' is all she ever gave me for answer."
"And is old Lichtenstein still determined to take her back to his castle?"
"Certainly," answered Marie; "you should have heard how the old man swore yesterday, when the confederates entered! Well, he is devoted to his Duke, heart and soul, so he may go, with all my heart. As soon as war is declared, he intends taking his departure with her."
Herr Dieterick appeared very thoughtful; he rested his head upon his hand, and listened to his cousin in silence.
"And only think," she continued, "yesterday, after the entrance of the leaguists into the town, she wept more than ever. You know she was always serious and melancholy; but as if that circumstance were to decide the fate of the war, she is now quite disconsolate, I don't believe it is the idea of leaving Ulm that affects her; but I suspect," she added, mysteriously, "she has some secret attachment at heart."
"Yes, I have long remarked that," sighed Herr Dieterick; "but how can I help it?"
"You! how can you help it?" laughed Marie, all signs of sorrow on Bertha's account vanishing from her face at these words. "No, indeed, you need not flatter yourself that you are the cause of her suffering. She was in this state long before you ever saw her."
The worthy secretary was very much put out by this assurance. He thought in his heart that a farewell from him was the real cause of Bertha's state, and her care-worn countenance at this moment almost regained the preponderance in his changeable heart. Marie went on to deride his conceitedness, when all of a sudden he recollected the main object of his visit, which he had lost sight of during the conversation. Marie sprang up with a scream of joy, as her cousin imparted to her the news of the ball.
"Bertha, Bertha!" she cried out, at the height of her voice, so that her cousin, startled, and fearing lest some accident had happened, hastened to her assistance. But before she had scarcely had time to enter the room, Marie said again, "Bertha, a ball at the town-hall this evening!"
This news was a happy surprise to her also. "When? are the strangers invited also?" were her rapid questions, whilst a deep red covered her cheeks, and a ray of joy shot from her sorrowful eyes, scarcely able to contain their tears.
Marie and her cousin Kraft were both astonished at Bertha's rapid change from depression of spirits to sudden joy, and Dieterick could not help remarking, that he supposed she must be passionately fond of dancing. But he was equally mistaken in this instance, as he was when he mistook Albert von Sturmfeder for a connoisseur of wine.
Herr Kraft, supposing his cousins would now wish to occupy themselves with the important preparation of dress, rather than listen to anything else he might have to say, took his departure, to fulfil the rest of his weighty duties. He hastened to give the requisite orders, and to invite, in person, the principal guests, and higher families. He was received everywhere as the messenger of good news; for tradition says, that the pleasure of dancing is not the passion of the present day only.
His arrangements were soon accomplished. In those days, in order to be merry and cheerful, it was not absolutely necessary there should be a long suite of apartments, lighted up with flaming chandeliers, and furnished with numerous unmeaning things, which encumber the fashionable apartments of the present age. All was simple. The room in the town-hall was, from its size, well adapted for the purpose, and the humble rude-shaped lamps which hung on the walls, had, up to that time, thrown out light enough to show off the dresses and illumine the pretty faces of the maidens of Ulm.
But not only had the arrangements of the active scribe succeeded in everything he had undertaken on this important occasion; he had also in the course of his visits learned some secret intelligence which had been confided solely to the committee of the council, and the principal officers of the League.
Satisfied with the result of his various avocations, he returned home at noon, when his first step was to inquire after his guest.
Albert had been employed, during the absence of his host, in looking over a beautifully-written book of chronicles, which he found in his room. The neat painted figures which formed the first letter of the chapters, the pictures of fields of battle, and triumphal entries of victorious troops, delineated with a bold outline, and painted with peculiar care and labour, and which were dispersed throughout the volume, had amused him for some time. His mind being full of the warlike figures he had been examining, induced him to think of his own weapons, and of polishing his helmet, armour, and the sword which he had inherited from his father. He accordingly set to work, at the same time singing sometimes a cheerful, sometimes a serious song, to the great annoyance of the unmusical organs of Frau Sabina.
Dieterick heard the sounds of his agreeable voice as he walked up stairs, and he could not resist listening at the door until he had finished his song. It was one of those touching strains, bordering almost on the melancholy, which has been brought down to our times, and is to be heard even now in the mouth of the Swabians. Often and with pleasure have we listened to those strains on the charming banks of the Neckar, struck with the beautiful simplicity and lengthened sound of their harmony.
Albert went on singing: