Tales from the German. Volume II.

by C. F. van der Velde

CHAPTER II.

It was the evening of the third christmas holiday. The snow-flakes were merrily whirling about out of doors; and in a well warmed room at Sagan sat the merchant's widow, Prudentia Rosen, with her daughter, the lovely Faith. Both of them were industriously winding the fine spun thread upon the twirling spindles. The impudent captain of the guards had planted himself in the matron's armchair, at the table, and was afflicting the poor women by a recital of his terrible warlike deeds, while he emptied the silver goblet standing before him, and directed love-glances, which made him look even more disagreeable, at poor Faith, who, sighingly and reluctantly replenished it from time to time.

The servant announced a stranger who wished to speak with madam Rosen alone.

The widow rose to go out in obedience to the summons; but the captain sneeringly observed that as she could have no motive for a secret interview with the stranger, she could give the required audience in his presence.

The widow nodded to the servant, with a slight shrug of the shoulders at this new exhibition of insolence. The latter immediately ushered in a young man, who greeted the ladies with modest friendliness, and the captain with cold courtesy.

'I am the book-keeper of your son-in-law,' said he. 'I have the honor to hand you this letter as my credential, and to inform you, that, if agreeable, yourself and daughter can accompany me to Schweidnitz to-morrow morning.'

'How? You wish to leave Sagan now, madam Rosen?' asked the captain, angrily stroking his red beard.

'Family affairs render this journey unavoidable,' answered the widow, with quiet firmness.

'You must arrange the matter otherwise,' blustered the ruffian. 'Your most imperative duty is to remain here and provide for the comfort of those who are quartered in your house.'

'Do not be anxious on that score, captain,' answered the widow. 'Every thing will be furnished that you need in my absence.'

'Then go, in the devil's name, where you please,' cried the captain; 'but, that my comfort may not be disturbed, your daughter remains behind to discharge the duties of hostess.'

'Give yourself no uneasiness, madam Rosen,' said Dorn, consolingly, to the terrified woman. 'If you are not by the duke of Friedland's command a prisoner in your own house, the captain will let you go without requiring a hostage.'

'How is that?' cried the irritated captain, viewing the young man from head to foot. The latter quietly returned his measuring glance, whilst the beauteous Faith timidly raised her eyes from her spindle, inwardly delighted with the fearlessness of the interesting stranger.

'You are a fine fellow,' said the captain with a malicious smile; 'well-grown and strong; and your bold behavior is very becoming. You would make a good trooper. Come, do me justice to the health of our most gracious emperor.'

'We must become better acquainted with each other, captain, before we drink together,' answered Dorn, politely declining the goblet.

'Do you slight my proffered courtesy,' growled the captain; 'or do you belong to the rebels, that you refuse to drink the emperor's health?'

'Drink!' imploringly begged the timid Faith, and, vanquished by the glance which accompanied the request, the youth seized the goblet and cried, 'May God enlighten the emperor and teach him the true way to promote the welfare of his subjects!'

'Bravo, comrade!' cried the captain, as the goblet was drained. 'You will never regret having entered the emperor's service. I pledge you my word that you will be a corporal in a month.'

'What mean you by that?' asked Dorn with surprise. 'The idea of entering the emperor's service never once came into my head.'

'You jest!' cried the miscreant. You have drank to the emperor with a captain in the imperial service, and by that act have become a soldier.'

'Is it possible!' cried Dorn. 'Can you so prostitute the emperor's name as to use it for so low an artifice?'

'Not a word of opposition, fellow!' said the captain menacingly. 'You have consented to take service under the standard of his imperial majesty, and must abide thereby.'

'I am a free burgher of Schweidnitz,' said Dorn; 'what right have you to hold me?'

'What right! what right! blustered the captain, striking the floor with his sword. 'Here is my right, which is valid through all Europe.'

'I warn you, captain,' cried Dorn, 'to be cautious how you take a step which may disgrace you without accomplishing your purpose.'

'That we shall see!' said the captain; and, going to the door, he threw it open and cried, 'Orderly!'

A gigantic guardsman came clattering up the steps, stooped to enter the room, and then, straitening himself up like a tall pine, thundered, 'Here!'

'Take this recruit to the guard-room,' commanded the captain, 'and deliver him over, on my account, to the officer of the day. He may as well be put in uniform and sworn to his colors this evening as tomorrow.'

The colossus stepped up to Dorn, pointed to the door, and in a very insolent tone commanded, 'March!'

Dorn hurled him back with great force, and drew from his pocket a sealed document which he held up to the view of the captain. 'My commission as captain in the royal Danish service,' said he, 'protects me against the honor of serving under you. The duke of Friedland shall satisfy himself of its authenticity to-morrow. To me you must make reparation, upon the spot, for this personal outrage. Have the goodness to follow me to the door.'

The captain, who, like many a bragadocio, hid the ears of the ass under the skin of the lion, stood utterly confused before the angry youth, in whom he had very unexpectedly found his match. At length he motioned his orderly to retire. 'It is not possible for me to accept your invitation to-night; but early in the morning we will speak further upon this matter,' said he with constrained courtesy to Dorn, and immediately left the room.

'We shall not be able to start before noon, in this way,' said Dorn, with some little vexation. 'Meanwhile, have the goodness, madam Rosen, to pack the best and most necessary articles which you may wish to take with you, to-night.'

'Ah, that would prove a fruitless trouble, my dear sir!' exclaimed the widow. 'The captain is now highly incensed, and I believe he would strike the horses dead before the carriage, sooner than let us go.'

'I trust some one higher than he can be found here,' said Dorn. 'When matters come to the worst, I can speak to the duke himself.'

'God preserve you from that!' cried the widow. 'He is indeed a passionate, tyrannical man, who will not tolerate even the sparrows upon his roof. He directly hangs every one who makes the least opposition to him. He strung up a poor apothecary's apprentice for making too much noise in his neighborhood with his pestle and mortar, and a poor child because it cried in its mother's arms.'

'I nevertheless doubt not he will suffer me to live,' said Dorn, with a smile. 'I have seen the white of his eye at Dessau, and was not frightened. Therefore dismiss your fears and pack up as quick as you can. I shall start at one in the afternoon to-morrow. I have promised your daughter to be in Schweidnitz on new-year's eve, and will keep my word.'

He was about to take his leave; but the widow held him fast by both his hands.

'No,' cried she, anxiously, 'I will not let you go. I thank God for sending a manly protector to my house in these evil times, and should die with fear if compelled to sleep alone under the same roof with that monster, now that he is irritated. No, you remain with us. My daughter shall prepare the little guest-chamber for you, and I will mix your evening draught.'

'I would not be troublesome to you,' said Dorn, 'at a time when your house is already occupied by other guests.'

'It is, indeed, and by those who are uninvited and unwelcome,' sighed the widow. 'But for that very reason I would add a welcome guest to the number, that I may know whether I am yet mistress of my own house.'

In obedience to a nod from her mother. Faith, with blushing cheeks and downcast eyes, took a light to show the guest to his chamber. He followed her through the Gothic building, up one flight of steps and down another, through crooked passages, until they reached a small, but neatly furnished chamber, in which was a snow white bed. While Faith removed the flowered damask covering, filled the shining pewter ewer with fresh water, and hung a towel near it, he was occupied in observing the beautiful form of the lovely blonde, whose graceful motions, employed for the promotion of his comfort, were for that reason rendered doubly charming.

'Perhaps I render you an unwelcome service in taking you from this place, fair maiden?' said he, by way of beginning conversation.

'How can you think so, sir?' quickly replied Faith. 'I thank my God and yourself for my release.'

'Well, one cannot always know,' said Dorn, jestingly. 'The heart may often have attachments in a place otherwise particularly disagreeable.'

'If I thought you alluded to the captain,' said Faith, with some asperity, 'I could become angry with you, in the first hour of our acquaintance.'

'He is not, indeed, a very fascinating suitor,' continued Dorn; 'but there nevertheless may be in the city of Sagan, some slender rosy youth, who has eyes for so beauteous a maiden.'

'I know none here for whom I could have eyes,' answered the maiden, quickly, and immediately became somewhat alarmed at the traitorous emphasis she had laid upon the word here.

'Not here, but elsewhere?' asked Dorn, seizing her delicate white hand.

'These bold questions come from the evil customs of your hateful military profession,' said Faith, endeavoring to withdraw her hand. He suffered her to regain it only by slow degrees, letting but one rosy finger out of his hand at a time, while his pulse was becoming greatly accelerated by the soft, caressing touch. His eyes sought and met hers, which looked kindly upon him, not with the sun's consuming fire, but with the mild chaste light of the friendly moon.

'So you have not yet loved, charming Faith?' he earnestly asked, holding fast the last little finger of the imprisoned hand.

'What a question,' whispered she, turning away from him. 'I am scarcely sixteen years old.'

'Then the first silver-tone is yet to be drawn from this untried 'harp of a thousand strings;' O, how happy,' cried the youth, 'will be that artist who shall one day succeed in awakening its thrilling music!'

Faith suddenly exclaimed, 'Good night, captain!' The farewell bow released the yet imprisoned finger, and the delightful vision disappeared.