CHAPTER 7
Some weeks after this, in the twilight of evening, Sintram, very disturbed, came down to the castle-garden. Although the presence of Gabrielle never failed to soothe and calm him, yet if she left the apartment for even a few instants, the fearful wildness of his spirit seemed to return with renewed strength. So even now, after having long and kindly read legends of the olden times to his father Biorn, she had retired to her chamber. The tones of her lute could be distinctly heard in the garden below; but the sounds only drove the bewildered youth more impetuously through the shades of the ancient elms. Stooping suddenly to avoid some overhanging branches, he unexpectedly came upon something against which he had almost struck, and which, at first sight, he took for a small bear standing on its hind legs, with a long and strangely crooked horn on its head. He drew back in surprise and fear. It addressed him in a grating man’s voice: “Well, my brave young knight, whence come you? whither go you? wherefore so terrified?” And then first he saw that he had before him a little old man so wrapped up in a rough garment of fur, that scarcely one of his features was visible, and wearing in his cap a strange-looking long feather.
“But whence come YOU and whither go YOU?” returned the angry Sintram. “For of you such questions should be asked. What have you to do in our domains, you hideous little being?”
“Well, well,” sneered the other one, “I am thinking that I am quite big enough as I am—one cannot always be a giant. And as to the rest, why should you find fault that I go here hunting for snails? Surely snails do not belong to the game which your high mightinesses consider that you alone have a right to follow! Now, on the other hand, I know how to prepare from them an excellent high-flavoured drink; and I have taken enough for to-day: marvellous fat little beasts, with wise faces like a man’s, and long twisted horns on their heads. Would you like to see them? Look here!”
And then he began to unfasten and fumble about his fur garment; but Sintram, filled with disgust and horror, said, “Psha! I detest such animals! Be quiet, and tell me at once who and what you yourself are.”
“Are you so bent upon knowing my name?” replied the little man. “Let it content you that I am master of all secret knowledge, and well versed in the most intricate depths of ancient history. Ah! my young sir, if you would only hear them! But you are afraid of me.”
“Afraid of you!” cried Sintram, with a wild laugh.
“Many a better man than you has been so before now,” muttered the little Master; “but they did not like being told of it any more than you do.”
“To prove that you are mistaken,” said Sintram, “I will remain here with you till the moon stands high in the heavens. But you must tell me one of your stories the while.”
The little man, much pleased, nodded his head; and as they paced together up and down a retired elm-walk, he began discoursing as follows:—
“Many hundred years ago a young knight, called Paris of Troy, lived in that sunny land of the south where are found the sweetest songs, the brightest flowers, and the most beautiful ladies. You know a song that tells of that fair land, do you not, young sir? ‘Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers.’” Sintram bowed his head in assent, and sighed deeply. “Now,” resumed the little Master, “it happened that Paris led that kind of life which is not uncommon in those countries, and of which their poets often sing—he would pass whole months together in the garb of a peasant, piping in the woods and mountains and pasturing his flocks. Here one day three beautiful sorceresses appeared to him, disputing about a golden apple; and from him they sought to know which of them was the most beautiful, since to her the golden fruit was to be awarded. The first knew how to give thrones, and sceptres, and crowns; the second could give wisdom and knowledge; and the third could prepare philtres and love-charms which could not fail of securing the affections of the fairest of women. Each one in turn proffered her choicest gifts to the young shepherd, in order that, tempted by them, he might adjudge the apple to her. But as fair women charmed him more than anything else in the world, he said that the third was the most beautiful—her name was Venus. The two others departed in great displeasure; but Venus bid him put on his knightly armour and his helmet adorned with waving feathers, and then she led him to a famous city called Sparta, where ruled the noble Duke Menelaus. His young Duchess Helen was the loveliest woman on earth, and the sorceress offered her to Paris in return for the golden apple. He was most ready to have her and wished for nothing better; but he asked how he was to gain possession of her.”
“Paris must have been a sorry knight,” interrupted Sintram. “Such things are easily settled. The husband is challenged to a single combat, and he that is victorious carries off the wife.”
“But Duke Menelaus was the host of the young knight,” said the narrator.
“Listen to me, little Master,” cried Sintram; “he might have asked the sorceress for some other beautiful woman, and then have mounted his horse, or weighed anchor, and departed.”
“Yes, yes; it is very easy to say so,” replied the old man. “But if you only knew how bewitchingly lovely this Duchess Helen was, no room was left for change.” And then he began a glowing description of the charms of this wondrously beautiful woman, but likening the image to Gabrielle so closely, feature for feature, that Sintram, tottering, was forced to lean against a tree. The little Master stood opposite to him grinning, and asked, “Well now, could you have advised that poor knight Paris to fly from her?”
“Tell me at once what happened next,” stammered Sintram.
“The sorceress acted honourably towards Paris,” continued the old man. “She declared to him that if he would carry away the lovely duchess to his own city Troy, he might do so, and thus cause the ruin of his whole house and of his country; but that during ten years he would be able to defend himself in Troy, and rejoice in the sweet love of Helen.”
“And he accepted those terms, or he was a fool!” cried the youth.
“To be sure he accepted them,” whispered the little Master. “I would have done so in his place! And do you know, young sir, the look of things then was just as they are happening to-day. The newly-risen moon, partly veiled by clouds, was shining dimly through the thick branches of the trees in the silence of evening. Leaning against an old tree, as you now are doing, stood the young enamoured knight Paris, and at his side the enchantress Venus, but so disguised and transformed, that she did not look much more beautiful than I do. And by the silvery light of the moon, the form of the beautiful beloved one was seen sweeping by alone amidst the whispering boughs.” He was silent, and like as in the mirror of his deluding words, Gabrielle just then actually herself appeared, musing as she walked alone down the alley of elms.
“Man,—fearful Master,—by what name shall I call you? To what would you drive me?” muttered the trembling Sintram.
“Thou knowest thy father’s strong stone castle on the Moon-rocks?” replied the old man. “The castellan and the garrison are true and devoted to thee. It could stand a ten years’ siege; and the little gate which leads to the hills is open, as was that of the citadel of Sparta for Paris.”
And, in fact, the youth saw through a gate, left open he knew not how, the dim, distant mountains glittering in the moonlight. “And if he did not accept, he was a fool,” said the little Master, with a grin, echoing Sintram’s former words.
At that moment Gabrielle stood close by him. She was within reach of his grasp, had he made the least movement; and a moonbeam, suddenly breaking forth, transfigured, as it were, her heavenly beauty. The youth had already bent forward—
“My Lord and God, I pray,
Turn from his heart away
This world’s turmoil;
And call him to Thy light,
Be it through sorrow’s night,
Through pain or toil.”
These words were sung by old Rolf at that very time, as he lingered on the still margin of the castle fish-pond, where he prayed alone to Heaven, full of foreboding care. They reached Sintram’s ear; he stood as if spellbound and made the Sign of the Cross. Immediately the little master fled away, jumping uncouthly on one leg, through the gates and shutting them after him with a yell.
Gabrielle shuddered, terrified at the wild noise. Sintram approached her softly, and said, offering his arm to her: “Suffer me to lead you back to the castle. The night in these northern regions is often wild and fearful.”