Of all the inmates, Gottlieb had slept
most with the day on his eyelids, for Werner hung
like a nightmare over him. Margarita lay and dreamed
in rose-colour, and if she thrilled on her pillowed
silken couch like a tense-strung harp, and fretted
drowsily in little leaps and starts, it was that a
bird lay in her bosom, panting and singing through
the night, and that he was not to be stilled, but
would musically utter the sweetest secret thoughts
of a love-bewitched maiden. Farina’s devotion
she knew his tenderness she divined: his courage
she had that day witnessed. The young girl no
sooner felt that she could love worthily, than she
loved with her whole strength. Muffed and remote
came the hunting-song under her pillow, and awoke
dreamy delicate curves in her fair face, as it thinned
but did not banish her dream. Aunt Lisbeth also
heard the song, and burst out of her bed to see that
the door and window were secured against the wanton
Kaiser. Despite her trials, she had taken her
spell of sleep; but being possessed of some mystic
maiden belief that in cases of apprehended peril from
man, bed was a rock of refuge and fortified defence,
she crept back there, and allowed the sun to rise
without her. Gottlieb’s voice could not
awaken her to the household duties she loved to perform
with such a doleful visage. She heard him open
his window, and parley in angry tones with the musicians
below.
‘Decoys!’ muttered Aunt
Lisbeth; ‘be thou alive to them, Gottlieb!’
He went downstairs and opened the
street door, whereupon the scolding and railing commenced
anew.
‘Thou hast given them vantage,
Gottlieb, brother mine,’ she complained; ’and
the good heavens only can say what may result from
such indiscreetness.’
A silence, combustible with shuffling
of feet in the passage and on the stairs, dinned horrors
into Aunt Lisbeth’s head.
‘It was just that sound in the
left wing of Hollenbogenblitz,’ she said:
‘only then it was night and not morning.
Ursula preserve me!’
‘Why, Lisbeth! Lisbeth!’
cried Gottlieb from below. ’Come down! ’tis
full five o’ the morning. Here’s company;
and what are we to do without the woman?’
’Ah, Gottlieb! that is like
men! They do not consider how different it is
for us!’ which mysterious sentence being uttered
to herself alone, enjoyed a meaning it would elsewhere
have been denied.
Aunt Lisbeth dressed, and met Margarita
descending. They exchanged the good-morning of
young maiden and old.
‘Go thou first,’ said Aunt Lisbeth.
Margarita gaily tripped ahead.
‘Girl!’ cried Aunt Lisbeth, ‘what’s
that thing in thy back hair?’
‘I have borrowed Lieschen’s arrow, aunt.
Mine has had an accident.’
’Lieschen’s arrow!
An accident! Now I will see to that after breakfast,
Margarita.’
‘Tra-ra, ta-ta, tra-ra,
tra-ra,’ sang Margarita.
’The wild boar lay
a-grunting,
A-grunting, tra-ra.’
’A maiden’s true and proper
ornament! Look at mine, child! I have worn
it fifty years. May I deserve to wear it till
I am called! O Margarita! trifle not with that
symbol.’
’"O birdie, and boar,
and deer, lie tame!”
I am so happy, aunty.’
‘Nice times to be happy in, Margarita.’
“Be
happy in Spring, sweet maidens all,
For
Autumn’s chill will early fall.”
So sings the Minnesinger, aunty; and
’"A
maiden in the wintry leaf
Will
spread her own disease of grief.”
I love the Minnesingers!
Dear, sweet-mannered men they are! Such lovers!
And men of deeds as well as song: sword on one
side and harp on the other. They fight till set
of sun, and then slacken their armour to waft a ballad
to their beloved by moonlight, covered with stains
of battle as they are, and weary!’
’What a girl! Minnesingers!
Yes; I know stories of those Minnesingers.
They came to the castle Margarita, a bead
of thy cross is broken. I will attend to it.
Wear the pearl one till I mend this. May’st
thou never fall in the way of Minnesingers.
They are not like Werner’s troop. They
do not batter at doors: they slide into the house
like snakes.’
‘Lisbeth! Lisbeth!’
they heard Gottlieb calling impatiently.
‘We come, Gottlieb!’ and
in a low murmur Margarita heard her say: ’May
this day pass without trouble and shame to the pious
and the chaste.’
Margarita knew the voice of the stranger
before she had opened the door, and on presenting
herself, the hero gave her a guardian-like salute.
‘One may see,’ he said,
’that it requires better men than those of Werner
to drive away the rose from that cheek.’
Gottlieb pressed the rosy cheek to
his shoulder and patted her.
’What do you think, Grete?
You have now forty of the best lads in Cologne enrolled
to protect you, and keep guard over the house night
and day. There! What more could a Pfalzgrafin
ask, now? And voluntary service; all to be paid
with a smile, which I daresay my lady won’t
refuse them. Lisbeth, you know our friend.
Fear him not, good Lisbeth, and give us breakfast.
Well, sweet chuck, you’re to have royal honours
paid you. I warrant they’ve begun good work
already in locking up that idle moony vagabond, Farina ’
‘Him? What for, my father?
How dared they! What has he done?’
’O, start not, my fairy maid!
A small matter of breakage, pet! He tried to
enter Cunigonde Schmidt’s chamber, and knocked
down her pot of lilies: for which Berthold Schmidt
knocked him down, and our friend here, out of good
fellowship, knocked down Berthold. However, the
chief offender is marched off to prison by your trusty
guard, and there let him cool himself. Berthold
shall tell you the tale himself: he’ll
be here to breakfast, and receive your orders, mistress
commander-in-chief.’
The Goshawk had his eye on Margarita.
Her teeth were tight down on her nether lip, and her
whole figure had a strange look of awkwardness, she
was so divided with anger.
’As witness of the affair, I
think I shall make a clearer statement, fair maiden,’
he interposed. ’In the first place, I am
the offender. We passed under the window of the
Fräulein Schmidt, and ’twas I mounted
to greet the lilies. One shoot of them is in my
helm, and here let me present them to a worthier holder.’
He offered the flowers with a smile,
and Margarita took them, radiant with gratitude.
‘Our friend Berthold,’
he continued, ’thought proper to aim a blow at
me behind my back, and then ran for his comrades.
He was caught, and by my gallant young hero, Farina;
concerning whose character I regret that your respected
father and I differ: for, on the faith of a soldier
and true man, he’s the finest among the fine
fellows I’ve yet met in Germany, trust me.
So, to cut the story short, execution was done upon
Berthold by my hand, for an act of treachery.
He appears to be a sort of captain of one of the troops,
and not affectionately disposed to Farina; for the
version of the affair you have heard from your father
is a little invention of Master Berthold’s own.
To do him justice, he seemed equally willing to get
me under the cold stone; but a word from your good
father changed the current; and as I thought I could
serve our friend better free than behind bars, I accepted
liberty. Pshaw! I should have accepted it
any way, to tell the truth, for your German dungeons
are mortal shivering ratty places. So rank me
no hero, fair Mistress Margarita, though the temptation
to seem one in such sweet eyes was beginning to lead
me astray. And now, as to our business in the
streets at this hour, believe the best of us.’
‘I will! I do!’ said Margarita.
‘Lisbeth! Lisbeth!’
called Gottlieb. ’Breakfast, little sister!
our champion is starving. He asks for wurst,
milk-loaves, wine, and all thy rarest conserves.
Haste, then, for the honour of Cologne is at stake.’
Aunt Lisbeth jingled her keys in and
out, and soon that harmony drew a number of domestics
with platters of swine flesh, rolls of white wheaten
bread, the perpetual worst, milk, wine, barley-bread,
and household stores of dainties in profusion, all
sparkling on silver, relieved by spotless white cloth.
Gottlieb beheld such a sunny twinkle across the Goshawk’s
face at this hospitable array, that he gave the word
of onset without waiting for Berthold, and his guest
immediately fell to, and did not relax in his exertions
for a full half-hour by the Cathedral clock, eschewing
the beer with a wry look made up of scorn and ruefulness,
and drinking a well-brimmed health in Rhine wine all
round. Margarita was pensive: Aunt Lisbeth
on her guard. Gottlieb remembered Charles the
Great’s counsel to Archbishop Turpin, and did
his best to remain on earth one of its lords dominant.
‘Poor Berthold!’ said
he. ’’Tis a good lad, and deserves his
seat at my table oftener. I suppose the flower-pot
business has detained him. We’ll drink
to him: eh, Grete?’
‘Drink to him, dear father! but
here he is to thank you in person.’
Margarita felt a twinge of pity as
Berthold entered. The livid stains of his bruise
deepened about his eyes, and gave them a wicked light
whenever they were fixed intently; but they looked
earnest; and spoke of a combat in which he could say
that he proved no coward and was used with some cruelty.
She turned on the Goshawk a mute reproach; yet smiled
and loved him well when she beheld him stretch a hand
of welcome and proffer a brotherly glass to Berthold.
The rich goldsmith’s son was occupied in studying
the horoscope of his fortunes in Margarita’s
eyes; but when Margarita directed his attention to
Guy, he turned to him with a glance of astonishment
that yielded to cordial greeting.
‘Well done, Berthold, my brave
boy! All are friends who sit at table,’
said Gottlieb. ’In any case, at my table:
“’Tis
a worthy foe
Forgives
the blow
Was
dealt him full and fairly,”
says the song; and the proverb takes
it up with, “A generous enemy is a friend on
the wrong side”; and no one’s to blame
for that, save old Dame Fortune. So now a bumper
to this jovial make-up between you. Lisbeth!
you must drink it.’
The little woman bowed melancholy obedience.
‘Why did you fling and run?’ whispered
Guy to Berthold.
‘Because you were two against one.’
’Two against one, man!
Why, have you no such thing as fair play in this land
of yours? Did you think I should have taken advantage
of that?’
‘How could I tell who you were,
or what you would do?’ muttered Berthold, somewhat
sullenly.
’Truly no, friend! So you
ran to make yourself twenty to two? But don’t
be down on the subject. I was going to say, that
though I treated you in a manner upright, ’twas
perhaps a trifle severe, considering your youth:
but an example’s everything; and I must let you
know in confidence, that no rascal truncheon had I
flung in my life before; so, you see, I gave you all
the chances.’
Berthold moved his lips in reply;
but thinking of the figure of defeat he was exhibiting
before Margarita, caused him to estimate unfavourably
what chances had stood in his favour.
The health was drunk. Aunt Lisbeth
touched the smoky yellow glass with a mincing lip,
and beckoned Margarita to withdraw.
‘The tapestry, child!’
she said. ’Dangerous things are uttered
after the third glass, I know, Margarita.’
‘Do you call my champion handsome, aunt?’
’I was going to speak to you
about him, Margarita. If I remember, he has rough,
good looks, as far as they go. Yes: but thou,
maiden, art thou thinking of him? I have thrice
watched him wink; and that, as we know, is a habit
of them that have sold themselves. And what is
frail womankind to expect from such a brawny animal?’
’And
oh! to lace his armour up,
And
speed him to the field;
To
pledge him in a kissing-cup,
The
knight that will not yield!
I am sure he is tender, aunt.
Notice how gentle he looks now and then.’
’Thou girl! Yes, I believe
she is madly in love with him. Tender, and gentle!
So is the bear when you’re outside his den; but
enter it, maiden, and try! Thou good Ursula,
preserve me from such a fate.’
’Fear not, dear aunt! Have
not a fear of it! Besides, it is not always the
men that are bad. You must not forget Dalilah,
and Lot’s wife, and Pfalzgrafin Jutta, and the
Baroness who asked for a piece of poor Kraut.
But, let us work, let us work!’
Margarita sat down before Siegfried,
and contemplated the hero. For the first time,
she marked a resemblance in his features to Farina:
the same long yellow hair scattered over his shoulders
as that flowing from under Siegfried’s helm;
the blue eyes, square brows, and regular outlines.
‘This is a marvel,’ thought Margarita.
’And Farina! it was to watch over me that he
roamed the street last night, my best one! Is
he not beautiful?’ and she looked closer at
Siegfried.
Aunt Lisbeth had begun upon the dragon
with her usual method, and was soon wandering through
skeleton halls of the old palatial castle in Bohemia.
The woolly tongue of the monster suggested fresh horrors
to her, and if Margarita had listened, she might have
had fair excuses to forget her lover’s condition;
but her voice only did service like a piece of clock-work,
and her mind was in the prison with Farina. She
was long debating how to win his release; and meditated
so deeply, and exclaimed in so many bursts of impatience,
that Aunt Lisbeth found her heart melting to the maiden.
‘Now,’ said she, ’that is a well-known
story about the Electress Dowager of Bavaria, when
she came on a visit to the castle; and, my dear child,
be it a warning. Terrible, too!’ and the
little woman shivered pleasantly. ’She had I
may tell you this, Margarita yes, she had
been false to her wedded husband. You understand,
maiden; or, no! you do not understand: I understand
it only partly, mind. False, I say ’
‘False not true:
go on, dear aunty,’ said Margarita, catching
the word.
‘I believe she knows as much
as I do!’ ejaculated Aunt Lisbeth; ’such
are girls nowadays. When I was young-oh! for a
maiden to know anything then oh! it was
general reprobation. No one thought of confessing
it. We blushed and held down our eyes at the
very idea. Well, the Electress! she was you
must guess. So she called for her caudle at eleven
o’clock at night. What do you think that
was? Well, there was spirit in it: not to
say nutmeg, and lemon, and peach kernels. She
wanted me to sit with her, but I begged my mistress
to keep me from the naughty woman: and no friend
of Hilda of Bayern was Bertha of Böhmen, you may
be sure. Oh! the things she talked while she
was drinking her caudle.
Isentrude sat with her,’and
said it was fearful! beyond blasphemy! and
that she looked like a Bible witch, sitting up drinking
and swearing and glaring in her nightclothes and nightcap.
She was on a journey into Hungary, and claimed the
hospitality of the castle on her way there. Both
were widows. Well, it was a quarter to twelve.
The Electress dropped back on her pillow, as she always
did when she had finished the candle. Isentrude
covered her over, heaped up logs on the fire, wrapped
her dressing-gown about her, and prepared to sleep.
It was Winter, and the wind howled at the doors, and
rattled the windows, and shook the arras Lord
help us! Outside was all snow, and nothing but
forest; as you saw when you came to me there, Gretelchen.
Twelve struck. Isentrude was dozing; but she
says that after the last stroke she woke with cold.
A foggy chill hung in the room. She looked at
the Electress, who had not moved. The fire burned
feebly, and seemed weighed upon: Herr Je! she
thought she heard a noise. No. Quite quiet!
As heaven preserve her, says slip, the smell in that
room grew like an open grave, clammily putrid.
Holy Virgin! This time she was certain she heard
a noise; but it seemed on both sides of her.
There was the great door leading to the first landing
and state-room; and opposite exactly there was the
panel of the secret passage. The noises seemed
to advance as if step by step, and grew louder in
each ear as she stood horrified on the marble of the
hearth. She looked at the Electress again, and
her eyes were wide open; but for all Isentrude’s
calling, she would not wake. Only think!
Now the noise increased, and was a regular tramp-grate,
tramp-screw sound-coming nearer and nearer: Saints
of mercy! The apartment was choking with vapours.
Isentrude made a dart, and robed herself behind a curtain
of the bed just as the two doors opened. She
could see through a slit in the woven work, and winked
her eyes which she had shut close on hearing the scream
of the door-hinges winked her eyes to catch
a sight for moment we are such sinful,
curious creatures! What she saw then, she
says she shall never forget; nor I! As she was
a living woman, there she saw the two dead princes,
the Prince Palatine of Bohemia and the Elector of
Bavaria, standing front to front at the foot of the
bed, all in white armour, with drawn swords, and attendants
holding pine-torches. Neither of them spoke.
Their vizors were down; but she knew them by their
arms and bearing: both tall, stately presences,
good knights in their day, and had fought against
the Infidel! So one of them pointed to the bed,
and then a torch was lowered, and the fight commenced.
Isentrude saw the sparks fly, and the steel struck
till it was shattered; but they fought on, not caring
for wounds, and snorting with fury as they grew hotter.
They fought a whole hour. The poor girl was so
eaten up with looking on, that she let go the curtain
and stood quite exposed among them. So, to steady
herself, she rested her hand on the bed-side; and think
what she felt a hand as cold as ice locked
hers, and get from it she could not! That instant
one of the princes fell. It was Böhmen.
Bayern sheathed his sword, and waved his hand, and
the attendants took up the slaughtered ghost, feet
and shoulders, and bore him to the door of the secret
passage, while Bayern strode after ’
‘Shameful!’ exclaimed
Margarita. ’I will speak to Berthold as
he descends. I hear him coming. He shall
do what I wish.’
’Call it dreadful, Grete!
Dreadful it was. If Berthold would like to sit
and hear Ah! she is gone. A good girl!
and of a levity only on the surface.’
Aunt Lisbeth heard Margarita’s
voice rapidly addressing Berthold. His reply
was low and brief. ‘Refuses to listen to
anything of the sort,’ Aunt Lisbeth interpreted
it. Then he seemed to be pleading, and Margarita
uttering short answers. ’I trust ’tis
nothing a maiden should not hear,’ the little
lady exclaimed with a sigh.
The door opened, and Lieschen stood at the entrance.
‘For Fräulein Margarita,’ she said,
holding a letter halfway out.
‘Give it,’ Aunt Lisbeth commanded.
The woman hesitated ’’Tis for
the Fräulein.’
‘Give it, I tell thee!’
and Aunt Lisbeth eagerly seized the missive, and subjected
it to the ordeal of touch. It was heavy, and contained
something hard. Long pensive pressures revealed
its shape on the paper. It was an arrow.
‘Go!’ said she to the woman, and, once
alone, began, bee-like, to buzz all over it, and finally
entered. It contained Margarita’s Silver
Arrow. ‘The art of that girl!’ And
the writing said:
’Sweetest maiden!
’By this arrow of our betrothal,
I conjure thee to meet me in all haste without
the western gate, where, burning to reveal to thee
most urgent tidings that may not be confided to
paper, now waits, petitioning the saints, thy
‘Farina.’
Aunt Lisbeth placed letter and arrow
in a drawer; locked it; and ’always thought
so.’ She ascended the stairs to consult
with Gottlieb. Roars of laughter greeted her
just as she lifted the latch, and she retreated abashed.
There was no time to lose. Farina
must be caught in the act of waiting for Margarita,
and by Gottlieb, or herself. Gottlieb was revelling.
’May this be a warning to thee, Gottlieb,’
murmured Lisbeth, as she hooded her little body in
Margarita’s fur-cloak, and determined that she
would be the one to confound Farina.
Five minutes later Margarita returned.
Aunt Lisbeth was gone. The dragon still lacked
a tip to his forked tongue, and a stream of fiery threads
dangled from the jaws of the monster. Another
letter was brought into the room by Lieschen.
‘For Aunt Lisbeth,’ said
Margarita, reading the address. ’Who can
it be from?’
‘She does not stand pressing
about your letters,’ said the woman; and informed
Margarita of the foregoing missive.
‘You say she drew an arrow from
it?’ said Margarita, with burning face.
‘Who brought this? tell me!’ and just waiting
to hear it was Farina’s mother, she tore the
letter open, and read:
’Dearest Lisbeth!
’Thy old friend writes to thee;
she that has scarce left eyes to see the words
she writes. Thou knowest we are a fallen house,
through the displeasure of the Emperor on my dead
husband. My son, Farina, is my only stay,
and well returns to me the blessings I bestow upon
him. Some call him idle: some think him
too wise. I swear to thee, Lisbeth, he is
only good. His hours are devoted to the extraction
of essences to no black magic. Now
he is in trouble-in prison. The shadow that
destroyed his dead father threatens him. Now,
by our old friendship, beloved Lisbeth! intercede
with Gottlieb, that he may plead for my son before
the Emperor when he comes ’
Margarita read no more. She went
to the window, and saw her guard marshalled outside.
She threw a kerchief over her head, and left the house
by the garden gate.