See that arrowy crag so tapering rise,From the depths of that valley so sweet;There Lichtenstein's fort rears her head to the skies,And smiles on the world at her feet.Schwab.
See that arrowy crag so tapering rise,
From the depths of that valley so sweet;
There Lichtenstein's fort rears her head to the skies,
And smiles on the world at her feet.
Schwab.
When the fifer of Hardt awakened Albert in the morning, the youth was at first puzzled to recollect where he was, and to recognize the objects about him; but he soon came to his senses, and the remembrance of the last evening's occurrences. He returned the hearty shake of the hand with which the exile saluted him, who said, "Although it would give me great pleasure to detain you some few days with me, yet I would rather advise you to proceed at once to Lichtenstein, if you wish to have a hot breakfast. I cannot, alas! prepare such in my cavern, for we never dare make a fire, lest the smoke betray our position."
Albert consented to his proposal, and thanked him for his night's lodging. "I may truly say," he answered, "that I never passed a night more to my satisfaction, than I have done in this place. A deep-felt, though melancholy, charm would seem to hallow the society of friends in such a situation as this, and I would not have exchanged my abode among these rocky walls, for the most splendid apartment of a ducal palace."
"Yes, indeed, secure from persecution, and among friends, when the glass circulates freely, banishment has its charms," replied the exile; "but when I sit here, day after day, in solitude, brooding over my calamities, my heart yearning for liberty, and my eye wearied with the sameness of these subterranean splendours, then it is I drink the full cup of misery. And then again, my ear is deafened with the unceasing monotonous murmur of these waters, dripping drop after drop from the rocks! Jealous of their freedom, my imagination follows their course through the depths below, whence they escape to swell the running stream, whose gentle ripple, with the note of the cheerful lark, would seem to join chorus in the universal praise."
"My poor friend, I pity thee! yes, indeed, this solitary life must be terrible," said Albert.
"Nevertheless," continued the other, raising himself up, "I reckon myself happy to have found this asylum, with the help of a few trusty friends. Rather than fall into the hands of my enemies, to be their sport and laughing-stock, I would descend a hundred fathoms lower, where the vital air scarce sustains life. And before I would surrender my liberty, these hands should dig my way into the heart of the earth, until I reached its centre; there to invoke the curses of heaven upon my oppressors as a just punishment of the wrongs I endure from the persecutions of their revengeful designs."
The exile having worked himself up into a state of fury, Albert involuntarily retreated a pace or two. His figure appeared to gain in height--all the muscles of his body were on the stretch--his cheeks glowed with rage--his eyes shot fire, as if they sought an enemy upon whom to revenge his sufferings; and the loud and violent tone of his voice; echoed among the rocks the maledictions which issued from his mouth.
Albert could not but sympathise with the man in giving vent to his feelings in such a burst of passion; he who was so cruelly persecuted by his enemies, for his faithful attachment to his lord. "I admire your strength of mind," said he to the knight; and, as if a sudden thought had crossed his mind, continued, "will you pardon me for asking you one question, which perhaps you may deem indiscreet; but since you have admitted me to your friendship and confidence, I will venture to do so. Tell me, are you not the celebrated Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg?"
There must have been something particularly strange in this question; because the gravity which had shaded the knight's countenance disappeared at once, at the mere mention of this name. He first smiled; but not able to contain himself, broke out into a loud laugh, in which Hans considered himself permitted to join.
Albert was unable to comprehend the meaning of the sudden burst of merriment which his question had occasioned. He felt confused, and looked for an explanation of it, first at one, then at the other; but his embarrassment only excited their merry mood still more.
At length the exile said, "Pardon me, worthy guest, for having violated in an unmannerly way the rights of hospitality; for I ought rather to have bitten off the end of my tongue than have given you cause to suppose I had thought you said anything ridiculous; but how comes it that you take me for Maxx Stumpf? Do you know him?"
"No, I never saw him; but I know him to be a brave knight, whom the League has expelled from his country, on account of his faithful adherence to the Duke, and that they are now endeavouring to apprehend him. Is not yours a similar case?"
"I thank you for comparing me to such a man; but I would not advise you to fall in his way in the night, upon the same terms as when we met; for Stumpf, without further to do, would soon have cut you up into slices fit for cooking. Schweinsberg being a little thick-set fellow, and a head shorter than me, it was the comparison which made me laugh so irresistibly. He is, however, an honourable man, and one of the few to be depended upon who will not desert his master in misfortune."
"So you are not Schweinsberg?" replied Albert; "then I must leave you without knowing who my friend is."
"Young man!" said the exile, with dignity, "you have found a friend in me, by your gallant, honourable behaviour; which your open, frank countenance has confirmed. Let it suffice for you, to have gained this friend; ask no further questions, one word might perhaps interrupt this confidential intimacy between us, which is so gratifying to me. Farewell; think on the banished man without a name, and be assured that, before two days are over, you shall both hear from me, and know my name."
In spite of his unseemly dress, the whole demeanour of this man appeared to Albert to be more that of a Prince dismissing a subject from his presence, than an unfortunate exile, parting from a friend who had participated in his afflictions.
During the last conversation, the fifer of Hardt had lighted the torches, and stood waiting at the entrance of the grotto; the knight pressed a salute on the lips of the young man, and waved him to go. He departed, unable to account why a man so familiar and friendly in his address, should, at the same time, inspire him with the idea of being so much his superior in rank; he had never felt, until this moment, how an individual, devoid of all the external marks of distinction, exhibiting outward signs of poverty, rather than the contrary, could possess a personal influence sufficiently great to subdue vanity and self-love. Occupied with these thoughts, he retraced his steps through the cavern. The beauties of nature, which had surprised him and fixed his attention when he first entered it, had lost their charm to his eye, and his wonder was no longer excited at the grandeur of the surrounding objects. His mind was exclusively taken up with the contemplation of a subject more imposing and instructive than these rocks, however magnificent they might be. The human mind, rising superior to the frowns of this world, exemplified so well in the character of his unknown friend, filled him with admiration, and proved to him that the dignity of man's nature will force its way through the garb of poverty and the suffering of persecution, and remain unsullied amidst the frowns of fate.
A bright day greeted Albert and the fifer of Hardt, as they issued from the darkness of the cavern into the light of heaven. Albert breathed more freely in the freshness of the morning air, than he had done amidst the damp exhalations which streamed from the galleries and grottos of the subterranean vaults, from which they derive the name of the misty caverns. He found his horse in the same place, fastened to the tree, where he had left him the night before, as fresh and lively as ever; the military weapons attached to the saddle not having suffered from the night dew, which Albert was fearful might have been the case. But Hans had had the precaution to cover the beast with a large coarse cloth, in order to guard against bad weather. The young man arranged his dress as well as he was able, after such a night's lodging, whilst the countryman gave his horse a feed of fresh hay. They then set forward on their journey, and having gone but a few paces, the tolling of a church bell from the valley below saluted their ears, and broke the solemn stillness of the morning. Shortly afterwards, another bell answered, and then three or four more followed, when the number, increasing to at least twelve, spread their melodious tones over the heights and vallies. The young man stopt his horse, surprised at this early chorus of bells: "What means this salutation?" he asked, "is it a signal that there is a fire in the neighbourhood? or may be to-day is a holiday? God knows that, since my illness, I have quite lost all knowledge of time, and can only distinguish Sunday from the other days of the week by the peasant girls being clad in their best dresses and clean aprons."
"That is not an uncommon case with many a military man," replied Hans; "I myself have often been obliged to guess what day it was, when I had other things in my head, which I regret to say I deemed more important than hearing mass. But now it is different," he added, with a serious countenance, and crossed himself, "to-day is Good Friday."
"That reminds me," said the young man, "that this is the first time in my life that I have not celebrated this day as becomes a Christian; it also brings with it many happy hours of my youth to my recollection. My father was then alive; I possessed a tender, good mother, and a dear young sister. We two children always rejoiced upon the anniversary of Good Friday, and, though we did not know exactly what it meant, we remembered that it was only two days from Easter, a season when our mother invariably gave us some token of her affection.Requiescant in pace!" he added, turning away to conceal a tear; "they are all three gone."
These last words, which he pronounced in remembrance of his departed parents, the spontaneous effusion of his affectionate heart, did not escape the fifer's observation, who raised his cap in respect to the feelings of his companion. Such had been the restless life of this extraordinary man from his infancy, that he might have been thought to be void of all sense of religion; but since his escape from the hand of the executioner, which he had hinted at in a former conversation with Albert, and professed to have become a better man, serious thoughts at times occupied his mind.
Albert having alluded to his own case of receiving a present from his mother at Easter, the fifer took occasion to say, with a good-natured smile, "that the time was coming, when he hoped he would also be able to perform the same office to his own children." But the young man was offended at this familiarity, and showed symptoms of his displeasure.
"No offence, sir," he replied, and drew his attention to the castle before them. "Do you see the tower peeping out among the trees?" he added: "another short quarter of an hour, and we are there."
"From what I could remark yesterday in the dark," said the young man, "the castle appeared to be erected upon a solitary, steep rock. By heavens! a bold thought, whoever built it; for no one could attempt to scale its walls unless he were in league with the devil, and had the power of flying. It might be bombarded, however, from this spot with heavy artillery."
"Do you think so? I can tell you, that they have four good match-guns in the hall, which would return an answer too sharp to any one who should attempt it. Had you made a careful survey, you must have observed, that the rock is separated from the mountain by a broad deep valley, which surrounds it, so that much damage could not be done to the castle. The only weak side is that nearest the mountain, upon which the drawbridge is placed. Let but an enemy attempt to plant guns there, and he would soon see old Lichtenstein's battery hurl them down in the abyss below, before they had even touched a pane of glass in his windows. But the great difficulty would be to get guns up this declivity, and transport them over these cavities, without exposing men to more danger than that nest is worth."
"You are right," Albert answered; "I should like to know who ever thought of building a castle upon that rock."
"I'll tell you," replied Hans, who was well acquainted with all the legends of his country: "once upon a time there lived a fair lady, who suffered much persecution from her suitors, and did not know how to escape them. She came to this rock, and saw a large eagle with its family perched upon the top of it, secure from all interruption. Having determined to expel the eagle, she built the castle on its nest; and when everything was complete, drew up the drawbridge, and from the summit of the tower proclaimed aloud, 'I henceforth devote myself to God, and forswear the world.' From that day forth no one was able to annoy her;--but we are arrived. Farewell; perhaps I may see you again tonight. I am now going about the country, to endeavour to ascertain what is going on, and will return to the exile in the cavern with what news I can gather as to the state of the Duke's affairs. Don't forget, when you come on the bridge, to send the ring and letter to the lord of the castle; and take care you do not break the seal yourself."
"Don't fear! I thank you for your conduct; salute my kind host of the cavern for me," said Albert; and, pushing his horse forward, in a few minutes stood before the fortress of Lichtenstein.
A guard at the gate demanded his business, and called a servant to deliver the letter and ring to his master. Albert had in the meantime an opportunity to examine minutely the castle and its environs. Having only seen it the night before by the dim light of the moon, and too much occupied with other important subjects to fix his exclusive attention to its structure, he had not been able to imagine even what he now viewed with rapture. A perpendicular isolated rock, like the colossal tower of a cathedral, rising from the valley of the Alb, stood before him in bold independence. Its position impressed him with the idea, that it might have been cleft from the surrounding hills by some violent convulsion of nature, either by an earthquake, or by a deluge in ancient times, which had washed away the softer materials of the earth, leaving the solid mass of rock untouched. Even on the south-west side, where he now stood, the deep ravine which separated the rock from the nearest part of the adjoining country, was too broad for the boldest shamoy to venture a spring across, though not so distant as to baffle the art of man to throw a bridge over. The castle stood on its summit, like the nest of a bird, perched upon the highest branch of an oak, or the pinnacle of a lofty tower. Except the tower, which peered above all, the only apparent habitation was a small fortified apartment surrounded by many round windows. The numerous loop-holes in the lower part of the buildings, and several larger embrasures, out of which peeped the muzzles of guns of the heavy calibre of the time, proved that it was well guarded, and that, spite of its insignificant size, it was no contemptible fortress. The enormous foundation walls and buttresses, which appeared to form part of the rock, and had assumed by age and weather the same yellowish-brown colour of the mass of stone upon which they stood, might well convince the beholder of the solidity of the structure, and its capability to bid defiance to the power of man and the storms of the elements. A beautiful view presented itself before Albert, and he thought how much more extended it must be from the top of the watch-tower.
These observations obtruded themselves upon Albert, as he stood waiting at the outer gate, which was strongly palisadoed towards the ravine, and covered the approach to the bridge. He now heard steps approaching; the gate was thrown open, and the master of the castle appeared himself to receive his guest. It was the same stern elderly man whom he had seen several times in Ulm, whose countenance he could not easily forget; for his dark fiery eye, his pale but noble features, his likeness to his daughter, had made a lasting impression upon his mind.
"Welcome to Lichtenstein," said the old man, offering his hand, the grave features of his face giving place to a more kindly expression. "What are you standing gaping about there, you idle vagabonds?" he said to his servants, after the first salutation to his visitor; "do you suppose the gentleman is to lead his horse up into the room? Take him away to the stable, and bring his weapons into the saloon. I beg pardon, worthy sir, that these carles should have kept you so long waiting; but there is no beating sense into their thick heads. Will you follow me?"
He led on over the bridge, followed by Albert, whose heart beat in full expectation and longing desire to see and surprise his beloved. But recollecting the adventures of the preceding night, and the feeling which first prompted him to come to this spot, he blushed in shame for having suspected her fidelity. His eye sought all the windows in the hopes of seeing her; his ear was sharpened to catch if possible the sound of her voice: but in vain did his eye search the windows; in vain did his ear listen.
They had now reached the inner gate. It was strongly built, according to the ancient manner, with a portcullis, and openings above, to throw down boiling oil and water; and provided with all the other means of defence made use of in the olden times to repel a besieging enemy, should he have made himself master of the bridge. But it was not to the massive walls and fortifications alone which surrounded the castle that Lichtenstein was indebted for its security; nature claimed her share also in it. The rock itself formed a principal part of the habitation, having large roomy stables, and apartments which served as cellars, hewn out of it. A winding staircase led to the upper part of the castle, where military defences were likewise not less thought of than elsewhere. On the landing place, leading to the different rooms, and generally appropriated in similar habitations to the purposes of keeping the household utensils, were now to be seen match-guns, large chests containing shot, and divers other warlike weapons.1The old knight's eye rested with a peculiar expression of pride upon this singular species of household furniture; and it is a fact that, in those days, the possessor of heavy artillery was accounted a man of opulence and wealth, for it was not every one who could afford to defend his castle with four or six such pieces as were possessed by the lord of the castle.
Another staircase led to the second story, upon which the knight of Lichtenstein showed his guest into a fine large saloon, lighted by several windows. He gave a sign to a servant who had followed them up, to withdraw.
Footnote 1: There is a description, in an old chronicle, of Lichtenstein, as it existed at the end of the sixteenth century, about sixty years after 1519. It is stated therein, "In the upper story, there is a remarkable handsome room, surrounded on all sides by windows, from which may be seen the Asperg. The banished Duke Ulerich of Würtemberg, who often visited it, came every night to the castle, and saying, 'The man is here!' was immediately received." A gamekeeper's house is now built upon the ruins of the old castle, which still retains its name, and serves on Whitsunday as a place of rendezvous for the peasantry of the surrounding country, who assemble in their gayest dresses for dancing and carousal.
The noble spirit of the victim braveAffects the knight, he feels that he must save;The dews of friendship o'er his eyelids steal,His heart no longer can resist th' appeal.P. Conz.
The noble spirit of the victim brave
Affects the knight, he feels that he must save;
The dews of friendship o'er his eyelids steal,
His heart no longer can resist th' appeal.
P. Conz.
When the two men were left alone in the saloon of Lichtenstein, the old knight gazed at Albert full in the face, with a scrutinizing eye, as if to satisfy himself of the honesty of his looks. The noble features of his visitor convinced him of the purity of his heart, and animated the old man's eye with a ray of joy. The air of melancholy which habitually sat on his brow had vanished, he became cheerful, he received Albert as a father would a son, who had returned from a long journey. A tear at length stole from his brilliant eye; but it was a tear of joy, for he pressed the astonished youth to his heart.
"It is not often that I am betrayed into this weakness," he said to Albert, "but in moments such as these nature gives way, because they happen seldom. Dare I indeed trust my old eyes? Do the contents of this letter deceive me? Is the seal really his? and can I believe it? but why do I doubt! has not nature stampt the impression of her noblest gifts upon your open forehead? Oh, yes, honesty is too visibly depicted on your countenance; you cannot deceive me; the cause of my unfortunate master has gained another friend!"
"If you allude to the cause of the banished Duke, you are not mistaken; it has found a warm partisan in me. Report has long since reached my ear of the knight of Lichtenstein being a faithful friend of his, and with this assurance I should perhaps have presented myself to you ere this, of my own accord, without the introduction of the unfortunate man in the cavern."
"Sit down beside me, my young friend," said the old man, who continued to regard Albert with a look of benevolence, "seat yourself, and listen to what I say: generally speaking, I am not an admirer of persons who change their minds. The experience of a long life has taught me to respect the opinion of others, and to assert that a man who entertains pure and honest views of a subject, is not therefore to be prejudged by another, who may think differently. But when a person changes his colours from real disinterested motives, as you appear to have done, Albert von Sturmfeder, and turns his back upon prosperity, for the noble purpose of allying himself to, and aiding the oppressed, in a just cause, then it is that his virtuous intentions justify his conduct, and carry along with them the stamp of a noble act."
Albert blushed for himself, when he heard old Lichtenstein praising his disinterested motives. Was it not for the sake of the beautiful daughter of the knight, that he had principally been induced to join his colours? and would he not sink in the esteem of this man, when, sooner or later, his real motive for embracing his party came to light? "You are too good," he answered; "the views of a man are often buried deeper than we at first sight think. But be assured, that though the step I have taken was dictated partly by a feeling which revolts at the idea of unjust oppression; I would not have you think too well of me, because it would give me very great pain, were you afterwards to be obliged to pronounce an unfavourable opinion upon my actions."
"I love you still more for your frankness," replied the lord of the castle, and squeezed the hand of his guest: "I can trust to my knowledge of physiognomy, and maintain, from what I see in yours, that, though other views may have influenced you, besides the feeling of justice, you never will be found wanting in honour. Whoever is led by evil intentions is a coward, and no coward would dare to run his head against Truchses, the Duke of Bavaria, and the whole Swabian League, and rise superior to the danger, as you have done."
"What do you know of me," said Albert, with joyful surprise; "have you ever heard of me before this moment?"
A servant, who opened the door at these words, interrupted the answer of the old man. He set a breakfast of game and a can full of wine before Albert, and prepared to wait on the guest; but a hint from his master made him withdraw. "Don't spare this morning's meal," said he to the young man; "the first glass, indeed, ought to be drank to the lady of the house, according to courteous habits; but mine has long departed this life, and my only daughter, Bertha, who acts in her place, is gone down to the village church, to hear the sermon and mass on this holiday. Well, you asked me if I have ever heard of you before? As you now belong to our party, I may venture to acquaint you with what I otherwise should have kept secret. When you entered Ulm, I was also in the town, not only for the purpose of taking my daughter home, who was residing there, but principally to learn many things, which were important for the Duke to know. Gold opened all the doors," he added with a smile, "and unbolted those also of the grand council; by which means I became acquainted with everything the commanders of the League had determined upon. When war was declared, I was obliged to leave the place, but I left faithful men behind me in the town, who informed me of every circumstance, even the most secret."
"Was not the fifer of Hardt one of them," asked Albert, "whom I found with the exile?"
"Yes; the same who conducted you over the Alb." Albert started. "I had daily intelligence of the most secret affairs. Among other things, I learnt that they had determined to send a trusty spy into the neighbourhood of Tübingen, to gain intelligence and advertise the League of our movements. I heard you were selected for that service. I must tell you honestly, that, though you and your name were indifferent to me, for I did not know you personally, still I regretted that your young blood should be employed on that service, for, as sure as you live, the moment you had passed the Alb in the degrading character of a spy, so soon would you have been cut to pieces without grace or mercy. So much more surprising then was the information to me, when I learned further, that you had refused the service, and had spoken boldly before your employers. The fact also of your having renounced their party, and sworn to keep in a state of neutrality for fourteen days, was also made known to me. How much I rejoice then that you have become our friend also, I leave you to imagine!"
Nothing could have been more gratifying to Albert's feelings than the eulogium passed on his conduct by the knight of Lichtenstein. This moment removed all obstacles which had hitherto interrupted the tie between him and Bertha. The only wish of his heart, which he at times thought would never be realised, and had almost given up in despair, he now might hope would be accomplished, for he unknowingly had gained the good will of her father. "Yes, I renounced their service," he answered, "because their intentions outraged my feelings; I became your friend with heart and soul. When I was seated beside the exiled man in the cavern, and heard the disgraceful manner in which the lord of the land and the nobles were treated, I felt the force of his language strengthen my resolutions. In that moment all doubts and difficulties were removed from my mind, every thing was as clear as day, my only desire was, to draw my sword in this cause! And do you think we shall be called into action soon? How stand the Duke's affairs? You must not suppose I am come to you to set with my hands across."
"I can well imagine your anxiety to be in the field," said the old knight; "forty years ago I possessed the same ardour. You are aware, perhaps, in what state our affairs are at present; more upon the decline, I fear, than prosperous. The enemy is in possession of the whole tract of the low country as far up as Urach. Our fate depends upon one solitary circumstance,----if Tübingen holds out, victory is ours!"
"The honour of forty knights will, I think, answer for its safety," replied Albert, with animation; "the castle is strong, I have never seen a stronger; the garrison is sufficient for its defence, and forty men of noble blood will not surrender for a trifle. They cannot--they dare not. Have they not the children of the duke, and the treasures of his house, under their protection?--theymusthold out."
"It were well if they were all like-minded with you," said the old man. "Tübingen holds a great stake in her hands. If the Duke can bring succour to its relief, he will then have a starting point, whence he will be able to reconquer his country. The place contains large supplies of munitions of war; and most of the nobility are assembled within its walls. So long as they remain faithful to his cause, so long will the feeling of Würtemberg be for the Duke, were he only to possess the spot upon which he stands; but I fear, I fear for the result."
"How? do you think it likely the knights will surrender? Impossible!"
"You have had but little experience in the ways of the world," replied the old man; "you are not aware of the many allurements and snares at work, which may make many a man waver in his allegiance. It is on this account, that the Duke, being doubtful of the fidelity of some of them in Tübingen, has sent Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg with a letter to the garrison written in strong terms, not only urging them to hold the castle to the last, but to afford him the means of entering therein himself, being ready to sacrifice his life in its defence, if God should so ordain it."
"Poor man," said Albert, moved by the consideration of the Duke's hard fate; "I cannot believe the nobility of the land will act in a manner unworthy of their rank. His presence among them will encourage their desponding hopes, sorties will be made, the besiegers will be beaten in spite of Bavaria and Fronsberg. We'll join them sword in hand, and drive these Leaguists out of the country."
"Maxx Stumpf is not yet returned," replied the knight of Lichtenstein, with a look of anxiety; "and the firing has ceased since yesterday. We hear every shot here on the Lichtenstein; but during the last twenty-four hours all is as quiet as the grave."
"Perhaps they have ceased firing on account of the holidays; you'll see that, to-morrow, or Easter Monday, they will re-commence with redoubled vigour, and make your rocks echo again."
"What is it you say?" replied the other, "on account of the holidays? To serve the Duke faithfully is a pious undertaking; and the saints in Heaven would perhaps rather hear the thunder of cannon in a just cause than that the knights should remain idle. Idleness is the parent of all vice! But, I trust, when Maxx arrives in the castle, he will rouse them out of their slumbers."
"Do you mean that the Duke had sent the knight of Schweinsberg to Tübingen, and that he intended to follow him, because the garrison has shewn symptoms of surrender? Has he not flown to Mömpelgard, as the people say? or is he still in the neighbourhood? Oh, that I could see him, and accompany him!"
A peculiar smile passed rapidly over the stern countenance of the old man. "You will sec him at the proper moment," he said; "he will be happy to see you also, for he loves you already. And, if fortune favours us, you shall also go with him to his castle, I give you my word. But for the present I must beg you will remain patiently alone for a short time; some business calls me, but it will be soon finished. I leave you in the company of some good old wine; make yourself at home in my house; were it not Good Friday, I would invite you to go out hunting." The old man pressed Albert's hand once more, and left the room; and soon after he saw him ride out of the castle towards the wood.
When the young man found himself alone, he commenced putting his dress in order, which in consequence of his recent adventures, required some attention. Whoever has been in the vicinity of the lady of his love, under Albert's circumstances, will not blame him for taking advantage of a piece of polished metal, which served as a looking-glass, hanging on the wall, to arrange his beard and hair. Having brushed his jacket, and removed all traces of having passed the night underground, he went into the large saloon, and sought among the many windows which surrounded it, the one which would give him the best view of the path leading up to the castle from the church of the village in the valley below, whither Bertha had gone to hear mass.
Cheering thoughts passed through his mind, in rapid succession, like bright vapours flying under the blue vault of heaven. He was now on the spot which had long been the object of his ardent desire to visit; he viewed the mountains and rocks which Bertha had often spoke about; he felt a charm in being in the same house which had been the dwelling of her childhood, and in which she had grown up to woman's estate.
Albert went into the small spot of ground within the walls of the castle, adorned with flowers, and which assumed the name of garden. Again his imagination wandered, in the pleasing supposition that it had been created by her orders; the flowers appeared to speak to him in her name--he was in the act of bending under a tree to pluck a violet, when he heard footsteps at the gate. He turned around to observe who it might be, it was indeed Bertha herself--she stood there wrapt in surprise and motionless, scarcely trusting her eyes. He flew to her, and pressed her to his heart; her astonishment at the unexpected apparition gave way to the conviction that it was really her lover, and not his spirit that embraced her. They had more to ask each other than they knew well how to answer in the first transport of joy, for they could with difficulty convince themselves that it was not a dream, thus to find themselves in each other's presence without fear or interruption. Having returned to the house, Bertha said,
"How much have I suffered on your account, dearest Albert; and with what a heavy heart did I leave Ulm! You had, indeed, sworn to quit the service of the League; but I had no hopes of seeing you so soon. And then, when Hans informed me, that, on your journey with him to Lichtenstein, you had been surprised by the enemy on the road, and dangerously wounded, my heart was almost broken, at the thought that I could not go to you and nurse you."
Stung with remorse for having given place to the jealousy which the story of the hostess of the Golden Stag at Pfullingen had created in his breast, he sunk in his own estimation before the tender love of Bertha. He sought to conceal his confusion, and related to her, amidst the interruption of her numerous questions, all that had happened to him since their separation; the cause which had favoured his quitting the service of the League with honour; the particulars of his perilous escape from the enemy's patrole; the kind care which the fifer's wife and daughter had taken of him, by which he was enabled to prosecute his journey to Lichtenstein.
Albert's conscience was too honest not to feel embarrassed at some of Bertha's scrutinising questions; and when she wished to have her curiosity satisfied upon the subject of his coming to Lichtenstein at so strange an hour of the night he scarcely knew what to answer. Her beautiful eye rested upon him with such an expression of inquisitive penetration, that, though he would gladly have escaped the reproach of harbouring a momentary idea of her want of fidelity, he would not for all the world tell her an untruth.
"I will own," he said, with a confused look, "that I was infatuated by the hostess at Pfullingen; she told me something about you, which I could not hear with indifference."
"The hostess? about me?" cried Bertha, smiling; "well, but what brought you, at that late hour of the night, to this place?"
"Never mind, dearest; we'll not think of it any more. I know I acted like a fool. The exiled knight has quite convinced me how wrong I was."
"No, no," she replied, earnestly, "I am not going to let you escape so cheap; what had that chatterbox to say about me? tell me immediately----"
"Well, then, I give you leave to laugh at me as much as you please: she told me you had another lover, who came to visit you every night, whilst your father slept."
Bertha blushed; indignation, and the inclination to smile at a ridiculous story, contended for the mastery on her expressive features. "Well, I hope," she replied, "you repelled the calumny with proper contempt, and left her house immediately. That was the reason, I suppose, of your arriving here so late, with the intention of passing the night under our roof."
"I honestly avow, I had no such thought. You know I was not quite convalescent, so excuse my weakness. I really did not believe her at first; but when she brought your nurse, old Rosel, to substantiate what she said, and who moreover lamented that I had been deceived, I----oh, do not turn away from me, Bertha; do not be angry! I threw myself on my horse, and rode direct to the castle, for the purpose of exchanging a word with him who dared to love you."
"And could you believe that?" she answered, with tears starting into her eyes: "I cannot think that Rosel said any thing of the kind, though she is fond of a gossip; I am not angry with the hostess, for she does not know better; but that you, you Albert, should give credit to so foul a falsehood, and think it necessary to convince yourself, that----" The tears of the faithful girl flowed in abundance; and the feeling of mortification choked her further utterance.
Her lover was overcome by the sense of his egregious folly; but he also felt the consolation, that though he was to be blamed his suspicions arose purely out of the intensity of his love. "Pardon me this once, dearest; let me assure you, that the jealousy which tormented me, unfounded as it was, would never have been inflamed into reality, did not my whole existence depend upon you."
"He who really loves can never harbour a spark of jealousy, founded upon such reports," said Bertha, in displeasure; "you hinted something of the same kind once before in Ulm, which you know hurt me very deeply. But if you had known me, and loved me with the same unalterable attachment that I love you, you never could have entertained such thoughts."
"No, truly, but you must not be unjust," he replied, and took her hand; "how can you reproach me with not returning your love with the same ardent sincerity? Was it impossible that one more worthy than Albert von Sturmfeder might appear, and supplant him in your heart by some infernal enchantment? Every thing is possible in this world."
"Possible!" interrupted Bertha; and a certain pride, which Albert had often remarked in the daughter of Lichtenstein, appeared now to animate her; "possible? if you ever could have entertained such an opinion of me,--I repeat it, Albert von Sturmfeder,--you have never loved me. A man must not allow himself to be blown about like a reed; he ought to stand firm to his opinion; and if he loves, he must have faith also."
"I have not merited such a reproach, from you at least," said the young man, starting up in great excitement; "I have been, indeed, as you say, a reed shaken about in the wind, and many a man will despise me----"
"That may be!" she whispered to herself, but not so lightly as to escape his ear, and cause his displeasure to blaze up into rage.
"Can you upbraid me thus," said he, "you, who are the sole cause of my vaccilating conduct? Did I not seek you among the friends of the League; and when I found you, was I not overjoyed? You entreated me to quit their colours,--I did so; and still more, I came over to your party, and, though it nearly cost me my life, I held firm to my determination. I visited your father, who received me as a son; and rejoiced that I had bound myself to the Duke's cause. But his daughter compares me to a reed moved by every blast of wind! but once more I will----for the last time, allow myself to be moved by you; I'll leave you, as you requite my love thus; in an hour hence, I wish you farewell." With these last words he girded on his sword; and, taking his cap, turned to depart.
"Albert," cried Bertha, with the sweetest accent, at the same time springing up and seizing his hand; her pride, her displeasure, every trace of ill-will vanished in a moment, and entreating love only beamed from her eyes, "for God's sake, Albert! I did not mean to speak so angrily; remain, I will forget every thing; I am ashamed of myself for having betrayed so unkind a spirit."
But the anger of the young man was not to be appeased in a moment. He turned away, lest her looks should master his resolution of leaving the castle. "No!" he cried, "you shall not turn the reed back again; but you may tell your father the cause which has driven his guest from his house." The windows trembled with the sound of his voice; he looked about him with wildness; he tore his hand away from Bertha's grasp; and, followed by her, he hastily opened the door to fly from her presence, when an apparition arrested his attention on the threshold which we shall describe in the next chapter.
Prince's favour, April's sky,Woman's love, the rose's dye,Cards, dice, and weathercocks are stillChang'd about, believe't who will.Old Proverb.
Prince's favour, April's sky,
Woman's love, the rose's dye,
Cards, dice, and weathercocks are still
Chang'd about, believe't who will.
Old Proverb.
The apparition which so opportunely arrested the attention of Albert on opening the door, was no other than the old nurse, Rosel, hastily rising from a bent position she had taken up at the keyhole. She was one of those old servants, who, having been brought up in the family from her youth, was firmly rooted in it, and now formed one of its principal branches. Since the death of the Lady of Lichtenstein, Bertha's mother, she had shewn her attachment to the family in the assiduous care she had taken in bringing up her charge. Having passed through the different gradations, from nursery-maid to nurse, from nurse to housekeeper, she now occupied the more important post of governess and confidant to her foster-child. Greatly jealous of others, and ambitious to secure all authority in her own hands, she filled for many years the different important domestic situations of the castle, making herself universally necessary in all its concerns. Having gained an ascendancy over her master, who never found fault with her, at least before others, she gave out that she was essential in the management of the domestic affairs of the family, that without her superintendence, things could not go on right.
Of late, she had not lived on the best terms with her young mistress. In the days of her childhood and first youth, she had possessed her whole confidence. Even in Tübingen she was partly in the secret of Bertha's love; and old Rosel took such an interest in every thing that related to her child, as she always called her, as to speak in the first person plural, "Welove Albert von Sturmfeder most tenderly,"--or "Ourheart is ready to break in parting from him."
Two circumstances, however, tended to weaken this confidence. The young lady remarked, that her nurse was too fond of gossiping, that she had been even watching her movements, and had been twattling with others about her intimacy with Albert; she, therefore, grew more reserved towards the old woman, who very soon guessed the cause of it. But when the journey to Ulm was undertaken, and she had provided herself with a new woollen-stuff gown, and a superb brocade cap, upon the occasion, her disappointment knew no bounds upon being ordered to remain at Lichtenstein. This widened the breach between her and Bertha, for she attributed the cause of her not accompanying the family to her mistress.
Confidence between them was not restored after the knight of Lichtenstein returned with his daughter to the castle from Ulm. Old Rosel, who always preferred the society of her superiors to that of the domestics, endeavoured to obtain some information from Bertha about Albert, hoping thus to re-establish herself in her good graces; but Bertha, whose heart was then full of the late painful occurrences at the meeting with her lover, and still suspicious of the discretion of her nurse, would not satisfy her curiosity. When, therefore, the exile visited the castle at stated hours every night, and her young lady secretly prepared his meal, and, as her nurse thought, remained alone with him for a length of time, she gratified her pique towards her mistress by opening her heart to the hostess of the Golden Stag at Pfullingen upon the subject. No wonder, then, that Albert was led to believe every word he heard; because, having only known the nurse as the confidant of his love, he was not aware that the intimacy between her and Bertha had suffered interruption.
She had accompanied her mistress the morning of Albert's arrival, in her best Sunday's attire, to her pilgrimage to the church. Having confessed her sins, among which "curiosity" preponderated above the rest, and received absolution, she returned to Lichtenstein with a lighter heart and clearer conscience than she had when she left the castle, sighing under the weight of them. But the words of the father confessor had not probed so deep in her soul as to root out effectually her besetting sin, for when she got into her apartment and was occupied in putting by her rosary and Sunday dress, she heard her young lady and a man's deep voice in angry conversation together, and she even thought her mistress was crying.
"Can the nocturnal visitor have come up here in the day time, and taken advantage of the old man's absence?" she muttered to herself. A natural feeling of curiosity and sympathy drew her eye and ear involuntarily to the keyhole, when she overheard the dispute of which we have already been witnesses.
The young man opened the door so suddenly that she had no time to retreat, scarcely sufficient to recover her upright figure from her bending position. But she did not lose her presence of mind in this awkward predicament, for stopping Albert, and before either of them could speak, seizing his hands, poured upon him a torrent of words.
"Ay, upon my veracity! Could I ever have thought that my old eyes would have beheld Albert von Sturmfeder again! And I verily believe you have grown handsomer and taller than when I last saw you! Who could have thought it? Look, he stands like a stick at the door! Well, but who is it that dares speak thus to my dear young lady? It is not my master, nor any of his servants! Ay! what does one live to see? Young Albert, it is you who have been upbraiding my child!"
During this rapid flow of exclamations, Albert in vain sought to escape from the old woman, and though he determined, in the heat of the moment, to leave the castle, he felt it unseemly to let her suppose he had been quarrelling with Bertha. He shook off the grasp which the nurse had of him, and, in spite of her reproachful smile, took the hand of Bertha, at the same time pressing it to his heart. A glance from her eye calmed the tumult of his feelings. But a fresh conflict, a new embarrassment agitated him. His anger indeed subsided, he felt convinced that Bertha could not entertain that unkindness towards him which his heated imagination had conjured up--but how to reconcile it with his honour, to submit to the shame of being subdued by a squeeze of the hand, or a glance of the eye, before a witness, was a difficulty in which pride had its share. He blushed for his weakness, in standing self-convicted before the old woman; and we have often heard that the feeling of shame, and the embarrassment of getting out of a scrape, such as Albert's precipitation had drawn him into, without committing our honour, is apt often to convert a trifling quarrel into a lasting one, and dissolve ties founded on the basis of tender affection.
Old Rosel perceived with some degree of pleasure the anxiety and sorrow of her young lady, and would perhaps have gladly taken advantage of her distress, by way of punishing her for the withdrawal of her confidence, had not her natural kindness of heart resumed its sway over the malicious joy which she had given way too. She looked at the young man full in the face, and said, "You surely don't intend to leave us so soon, since it is but an hour ago that you arrived at Lichtenstein? Before you have had your mid-day meal, we will not allow you to depart, for that would be quite against the custom of the castle; and besides which, you have probably not yet seen my master?"
It was a great point gained for Bertha's cause to hear Albert speak again: "I have already spoken to him," he said; "as a proof of it, look at the two goblets we have emptied together."
"Well," continued the old woman, "but you would not leave his house without wishing him farewell?"
"No, I ought not certainly, as he desired me to wait for him in the castle," replied the young man.
"Aye, why would you go away in such a hurry, then?" she said, and forced him back into the room; "do you call that manners? My master would wonder, indeed, to think what kind of guest he had entertained. Whoever comes here by day," she added, with a searching look at Bertha, "whoever comes by broad daylight, possesses a clear conscience, and need notslip away like a thief in the night."
Bertha blushed, and pressed the hand of her lover, who could not refrain from smiling, when he thought of the old woman's mistaken notion respecting the nocturnal visitor, and remarked the reproachful glance which she threw at her child.
"Yes, yes, as I said," she continued, "you have no occasion to steal away like a thief in the night. It had been better, perhaps, had you come sooner. The proverb says, 'judge for yourself, to doubt is dangerous, and he who seeks peace and quiet, let him remain with his cow!'--but I say nothing."
"Well, then," said Bertha, "you see he remains here; your proverbs are misplaced. You know, yourself, they do not always agree with the subject."
"Really? but they sometimes hit the right nail upon the head, however disagreeable it may be to the hearer. But repentance and good advice come too late after the evil has happened. I know well enough, that ingratitude is the wages of the world, and I can be silent! he who seeks peace and quiet, let him keep his eyes open, listen, and be silent."
"Come then, be silent," said Bertha, somewhat displeased; "at any rate it will be wise of you not to let my father remark that you know Albert von Sturmfeder; it were not unlikely he might suppose he is come to Lichtenstein for our sakes alone."
Good and ill humour strove for the mastery in old Rosel's breast. She was, on the one hand, flattered to be admitted again into her lady's confidence, by being requested to keep silence before her master, but, on the other, she still felt annoyed that her young mistress confided so little of her heart to her. She kept muttering a few indistinct words to herself, as she put the chairs in their places against the wall, and took the goblets off the table, wiping the marks which the wine had left on the slate slab with which the table was inlaid. Albert had retired to one of the windows, and though he did not feel quite reconciled to his love, yet he could not mistake a sign she gave him. He was particularly anxious her father should, as yet, know nothing of their mutual feeling, for he feared he might attribute to it the principal motive which had induced him to join Würtemburg's cause, and thereby lose the favourable opinion he had formed of him. Thinking it the wisest plan to pacify the old woman, he approached her, and tapping her gently on the shoulder, said, in a kind manner, "Miss Rosalie, you have a very pretty cap on, but the riband does not match it properly, it looks old and faded."
"Eh! what?" she answered in a pet, expecting to be addressed with more respect: "don't trouble yourself about my cap; every one has enough to do to sweep before his own door. Look first to yourself and your own affairs, and then find fault with me and mine. I am a poor woman, and can't dress like a countess. If all the world were alike, and all rich, and all sat at the same table together, who would you find to serve up the eatables and drinkables?"
"I did not mean to affront you," said Albert, and by way of soothing her, took a silver coin out of his purse, adding, "but Rosalie will do me a favour by changing her riband: and that my request may not sound unreasonable, she will not, I hope, refuse to accept a broad piece!"
Who has not seen the sun disperse the mists of a day of October? In like manner was old Rosel's ill-humour dispelled. The polite manner of the young knight, who had touched her weak point, by calling her Rosalie, her favourite name, instead of the familiar one of old Rosel, and presenting her with a dollar, having the bust of the Duke on one side, and the arms of Teck on the reverse, were charms too potent for her to withstand. "Ah, I see you are still the same good friendly gentleman," she said; whilst, stooping down, she glided the dollar into a large leather pocket which hung to her side, and carried the hem of Albert's cloak to her lips: "just so used you to do in Tübingen. When I stood at the fountain of St. George, or went from the hill down to the market place, I was sure to hear you call to me,--'Good morning, Rosalie; and how is your young lady?' And did you not often give me presents? why at least two thirds of the gown I wear comes from the bounty and kindness of your honour!"
"Never mind that now, good woman," said Albert, interrupting the old chatterbox; "But about your master,--you will not----"
"What do you mean?" she replied, half shutting her eyes: "I can pretend never to have seen you in my life. You may rest assured of that. That which does not burn I will not inflame!"
With these words she left the room and went down to the first floor, to attend to her affairs in the kitchen.
Grateful and full of joy, she took the dollar out of her leather pocket, and looked at it over and over again on both sides. She praised the liberality of the youth, and regretted that his love had been so ill requited, for that her young lady was unfaithful to him was a clear case in her eyes. She stood in the kitchen for some time wrapt in thought. She doubted within herself whether to let the thing take its course, or whether it would not be better to give a hint to the young knight, to apprise him of the nocturnal visitor. "But," she said, "in time of need comes help; perhaps he will see it himself, and does not want my advice. Besides, a meddler between two lovers is likely to burn his own fingers. It will be better to wait and look on, for heat in counsel and rashness in action engender nothing but harm. Who seeks peace and quiet, let him keep his eyes open, listen, and be silent!"
Such were the thoughts of the old philosopher in the kitchen. The lovers had in the mean time made up their differences. Albert was unable to withstand the entreaties of Bertha, and when she asked him, in the most tender tone, whether he was still angry with her, he could not bring his heart to say, yes. Peace was therefore re-established between them, and, which is seldom the case, in a shorter time than that which had been taken up in producing the dispute. She listened to the continuation of his adventures with great interest. It required, nevertheless, the conviction of his stedfast faith in her love, and in the word of the exiled man, to restrain his jealousy within due limits; for when he described his first encounter with his opponent, he observed a blush on her countenance, which raised a doubt in his mind whether it expressed joy for his escape from so formidable and experienced an adversary, or whether it was not occasioned by a lurking interest she took in the stranger. In relating further his visit to the exile in the dreary regions of his retreat, and all the circumstances connected with it, his admiration of the knight's noble mind, his greatness of soul amidst privations and miseries, tears started into her eyes, she looked up to Heaven as if in the act of imploring God's protection upon the unhappy man.
The conversation also which he had had with him, and particularly that part of it in which the exile addressed him as his friend, extolling his magnanimity for having pledged his faith to serve Würtemberg,--the cause of the oppressed and banished,--lighted up the glance of Bertha's eyes with unusual brilliancy. She gazed on her lover for some time in silent admiration. The sufferings she had endured since she last saw him were now effaced by the joy she felt in having him by her side as the staunch ally of her father. Albert was ashamed to feel his heart beat quicker at the interest Bertha appeared to take in everything relating to his new acquaintance. But he had command enough over himself to conceal his uneasiness from her, whilst his conscience upbraided him for harbouring the slightest suspicion of her fidelity.
"Albert," she said, "some time hence many a one will envy you this night's adventure. You may think yourself highly honoured, for it is not every one that Hans would venture to conduct to the exile."
"You know him, then?" replied the young man, eager to hear from her what he had failed to elicit from the fifer. "Oh, tell me who he is! I have seldom seen a man whose features, whose whole bearing, have acquired such an ascendancy over me? He told me he would at present be called by no other name than 'the man;' but his arm, whose strength I have felt, his penetrating look, convince me his name must be renowned in the world."
"He had a name, indeed, once," she answered, "which could vie with the most noble in the land. But if he did not tell it you himself, neither dare I pronounce it, because it would be against my word to do so. You must exercise your patience a little longer," she added, smiling, "difficult as it may be to restrain your curiosity."
"But why cannot you tell me," he interrupted her, "are not we one? Ought we to withhold anything from each other? Come, tell me, who is the man in the cavern?"
"Do not be angry. Look ye, if it were my secret only, you know I would not conceal it from you a moment, and you might with justice demand it of me; but, though I know it would be safe in your keeping, I dare not tell it,--I cannot break my word."
Though frankness beamed in her countenance, and not a spark of guile reigned in her heart, her refusal to satisfy Albert's wish irritated him, and he was on the point of taxing her with duplicity, when the door burst open, and an immense dog sprang into the room. Albert gave an involuntary start, having never seen so powerful a beast. The dog took up a position opposite to him, eyed him with a fierce look, and began to growl. His voice bore an ominous sound, whilst a row of white teeth, which he every now and then showed, might have startled the courage of the bravest man; one word from Bertha was sufficient to quiet and make it lay down at her feet. She stroked his beautiful head, from which his sharp eye first glanced inquisitively at her and then at the stranger. "It does everything but speak," she said, smiling; "it comes to warn me not to betray my friend."
"I have never seen so beautiful an animal! How proudly it carries his head, as if he belonged to an emperor or a king."
"It belongs to him, the banished," replied Bertha; "it came to stop my mouth."
"But why does not the knight keep him with him? Truly, such an arm as his, supported by a dog of this kind, might defy a host of enemies."
"It is a watchful beast," she answered, "and savage; if he kept it in the cavern, he would, indeed, be a certain protection. The cavern is so extensive that a man may remain concealed in its interior without fear of molestation. But if by chance any one entered it, a dog might easily betray him, for as soon as it heard a footstep no one could control it; he would begin to growl and bark, and attract the notice of his master's enemies; he therefore ordered it to remain here. The dog understands his duty, and I take care of him. It pines for his master, and you should see his joy when night comes; he knows then that his lord will soon visit the castle; and, when the drawbridge falls, and footsteps are heard in the court, it is impossible to hold him any longer, he would break a dozen chains to get to his side."
"A beautiful specimen of fidelity!" said her lover; "but exemplified by the man to whom this dog belongs in a still higher degree. Faithful to his lord, he prefers banishment and misery rather than betray his cause. It is a folly in me," Albert added; "I am aware that curiosity is not seemly in a man, but I long to know who he is."
"Have patience till the night," said the maiden; "when he comes I will ask him if I may tell you. I doubt not but that he will permit me."
"It is a long time to wait," said Albert; "and really I cannot drive his image out of my head. If you will not tell me, I'll ask the dog; perhaps he will be kinder than you."
"Well, try him," said Bertha, laughing; "if he can speak, I'll allow him to satisfy your curiosity."
"Hearken, you enormous beast," said Albert, turning to the dog, who looked at him attentively; "tell me, what is your master's name?"
The dog raised himself proudly up, opened his broad jaws, and roared out, in terrifying tones, "U--U--U!"
Bertha coloured: "Let's have no more of this nonsense," she said, and called the dog to her; "who would talk to a dog when in Christian society?"
Albert appeared not to heed her remark. "He said 'U,' good dog; I'll wager he has been trained to it! It is not the first time he has been asked what his master's name was?"
Scarcely had he pronounced the last words than the dog repeated his U--U--U! in a still harsher tone. Bertha coloured again, she made it come and lay down at her feet, scolding him in displeasure.
"Well, we have it now," said Albert, in triumph; "his master's name is U!" He recollected that the curious word on the ring which the exile had given him began with an U. It is extraordinary, thought he. "Is your master's name, perhaps, Uffenheim? or Uxhüll? or Ulm? or, by the bye,----"
"Nonsense! the dog has no other note than U. How can you plague yourself in trying to find out a meaning to it? But here comes my father. If you wish to conceal our love from him, do not commit yourself. I'll leave you now, as it would not be right to be found together."
Albert promised to be discreet, and once more embraced Bertha, an indulgence which was likely to be the last for some time, should the presence of her father render it impossible to see her again alone. The dog appeared to watch the movements of the loving couple with astonishment, as if he were really gifted with human sense. The first sound of the horse's feet on the drawbridge was the signal for separation, when Bertha left the room accompanied by the faithful animal.