Tales from the German. Volume I.

by C. F. van der Velde

CHAPTER XXXV.

'The royal taxes were raised, the constantly recurring lawsuits of the Finns and Laplanders about pasturage, the chase and the fishery, were settled in some way, by power and with mildness, the sun was approaching the horizon, and the hum of the crowd in the market place grew fainter and fainter.

'My business is finished,' said the governor to Arwed, 'and it will soon be time to view the spectacle for which you have given yourself the trouble to come here. Seek Christine. We shall set out immediately.'

Arwed searched the house, garden, and the whole of the little town, without being able to find her. As he was returning in the ill humor naturally consequent upon his want of success, he was met by the sheriff's little daughter.

'Perhaps you can tell me, my child,' he asked, 'where I can find the governor's daughter?'

The little thing gave him an arch look and placed her finger on her nose. 'That indeed can I,' answered she; 'but I know not whether I may venture to do so.'

'I will answer for it that you may,' Arwed jestingly assured her. 'I am a messenger from her father--'

'And possibly for that reason I may not. Fathers must not be allowed to know every thing. The countess told me that, should a handsome slender man in a green hunting dress ask for her, I might direct him where she was. Now you are indeed handsome and slender, but the green dress is wanting.'

'Who knows if she will be able to see the green coat to-day,' answered Arwed significantly. 'Lead me to her. Perhaps she will be willing to receive, for once, a blue coat instead of the green.'

'Well, at your own risk!' cried the child, leading him by some deserted passages through the house and garden into the open fields, where the waters of a meandering stream glistened among the trees in the evening sun.

'She is there behind that thicket of alder bushes upon the border of the stream!' whispered the child. 'Good success to you, sir officer!' and she ran back to the house.

'Even at the north pole,' said Arwed, proceeding forward, 'the sex indulge in amorous intrigues, and promote those of others when they have none of their own.' He came to the bushes, and was not a little astonished when, instead of Christine, he beheld a Finnish peasant girl, who sat angling on the bank with her back towards him. But the disguise was soon betrayed by the beauteous golden locks of the girl, and the deep reverie into which she had fallen,--and he silently approached through the bushes, that he might surprise his fair cousin.

The latter discovered by the slight movements of the foliage that some one was approaching; but, pretending not to have remarked it, she sang in her sweetest tones a Finnish song, in keeping with her assumed character. The words were as follows:

Oh! if the dear and only loved
Might by some magic art appear,
Though on his mouth the wolfs blood hung,
My lips should kiss its beauty clear!
Though round his hand a serpent's coil
Envious, had twined its venom'd ring,
Would not all-powerful love defy
The danger of the reptile's sting!

Why lacks the wind a fervent soul
Like that which glows within my breast?
Why lives not language in its sigh?
Then could it speed my fond request!
Then, truant, then the whisp'ring breeze
Thy thoughts might interchange with mine;
And, faithful carrier, swiftly bear
The throbbings of this heart to thine!

'Poor maiden!' sighed Arwed with fearful misgivings. 'God grant that the man thy heart has chosen, drip only with the blood of the wolf, that the serpents of hell be not coiled around the hand which thou wouldst press so tenderly in thine!'

Meanwhile Christine, having ended her song, listened a moment, and then turning towards the thicket, exclaimed, 'tease me no longer, Mac Donalbain, it is you--I hear your breathing.'

'The lover hears acutely, but not always rightly,' said Arwed advancing. 'It is only the breathing of your insignificant kinsman.'

'My God, what have I done!' shrieked the terrified Christine, covering her face with her hands.

'Lost the secret,' answered Arwed 'that you once promised to confide to me. I am indebted to accident for what I now know, and not to your confidence.'

'Can that be any excuse for your betraying me?' asked Christine, grasping his hand and searching deeply into his soul with her beautiful blue eyes.

'Do I look like a betrayer?' asked Arwed, indignantly withdrawing his hand. 'The knowledge of what I only conjectured till now, at least authorises me to exercise the fraternal right which you have conceded to me, and earnestly to warn you against this Scot, who, by the mildest judgment, is only an adventurer. Even if the garb in which you have to-day so strangely clothed yourself did actually belong to you, you could not hope to derive any especial honor from such a connection; the countess Gyllenstierna degrades her rank and reputation when she throws herself away upon a suspected vagabond.'

'Then cast I from me both rank and reputation,' cried the maiden, with the defiance of desperation, 'and retain the garb which brings me nearer to him, and in which I am allowed to love him.'

'Has it gone so far with you, cousin? Then indeed must this masquerade have some secret object, and you were at least willing to try, how it would become you against the time when it may be adopted for life. There is too much meaning in this, and I should but discharge the duty of a guest and kinsman by informing your father of the affair.'

Christine gave the youth a piercing glance, and sprung upon a rock which jutted out far over the stream. 'Give me your word of honor, Arwed,' cried she from her place of refuge, 'that you will remain silent to every one upon this matter, or I will instantly throw myself into the stream.'

'What madness!' cried Arwed, advancing to take her from her dangerous situation.

'Back!' screamed she wildly. 'The first step you take toward me shall plunge me in a cold and watery grave. By my mother's ashes, I will keep my word! In any event life has henceforth no joy for me.'

'Well, come down!' cried Arwed, angrily; 'by my honor I will be silent.'

'Thanks, thanks!' said Christine descending; 'you are a Gyllenstierna and will keep your word. And now, nothing more upon this unpleasant subject. Let us return to our companions. My disguise is a jest I played off upon you. Do you understand me, Arwed?'

'Perfectly!' answered the latter; and, troubled by the cloud hanging over the maiden's fate, as well as vexed that he had taken upon himself the thankless office of confidant, he gave his arm to the beauteous Finlander, and they proceeded back to the house in moody silence.