CHAPTER CLI.
THE TWO OATHS.
"Already, beloved? Think that for three long weeks I have not seen you, Gunther! It is so early: no one misses me in the house, for my father returns from his bank at nine only. Who knows when we shall meet again?"
"To-morrow, my Rachel, if you will permit me to return, and every morning at this hour, I shall be here behind the grove, waiting for my angel to unlock the gates of Paradise, and admit me to the heaven of her presence."
"I will surely come! Nor storm nor rain shall deter me. Here, in this pavilion, we are secure from curious eyes. God alone, who blesses our love, shall see into our hearts!"
"Oh, Rachel, how I honor and love your energetic soul! When I am with you, I fear nothing. But away from the influence of those angelic eyes, I tremble and grow faint."
"What do you fear, Gunther?"
"The pride of riches, Rachel. Your father would laugh me to scorn were he to hear that his peerless daughter is loved by a man without rank or fortune."
"But whose heart has a patent of nobility from God!" exclaimed Rachel, with enthusiasm. "And besides, Gunther, are you not a confidential friend of the emperor?"
"Yes," said Gunther, bitterly. "The emperor calls me 'friend,' and in 'grateful acknowledgment of my services,' he has raised my salary to three thousand florins. But what is that to your father, who pays twice the amount to his book-keeper! Why are you the daughter of a man whose wealth reflects discredit upon my love!"
"No one who looks into your noble face will suspect the purity of your love, dear Gunther. But, alas, my lover! there is an obstacle greater than wealth, to part us—the obstacle of your cruel faith, which does not permit the Christian to wed with the Jew."
"If you were poor, my Rachel, I would try to win you over from the Jewish God of vengeance to the merciful God of the Christian. Would I could bring such an offering to Jesus as that of your pure young heart!"
"My father would die were I to renounce my faith," said Rachel, suddenly growing sad. "But before he died, he would curse me."
"How calmly you speak, and yet your words are the death-warrant of my hopes!" exclaimed Gunther, despairingly.
"I speak calmly, because I have long since resolved never to be the wife of another man," replied Rachel. "If I must choose between father and lover, I follow you. If my father drives me from his home, then, Gunther, I will come and seek shelter upon your faithful heart."
"And you shall find it there, my own one!—I dare not call you, beloved, but oh! I await with longing the hour of your coming—the hour when, of your own free will, your little hand shall be laid in mine, to journey with me from earth to heaven! Adieu, sweetest. I go, but my soul remains behind."
"And mine goes with you," replied Rachel. He clasped her in his arms and over and over again imprinted his passionate kisses upon her willing lips.
"To-morrow," whispered she. "Here is the key of the gate. I shall be in the pavilion."
Again he turned to kiss her, and so they parted. Rachel watched his tall, graceful figure until it was hidden by the trees, then she clasped her hands in prayer:
"O God, bless and protect our love! Shelter us from evil, but if it must come, grant me strength to bear it!"
Slowly and thoughtfully she returned to the house. Her heart was so filled with thoughts of her lover, that she did not see the stirring of the blind, through which her father's dark, angry eyes had witnessed their meeting. It was not until she had entered her room that she awakened from her dream of bliss. Its splendor recalled her senses, and with a sob she exclaimed:
"Why am I not a beggar, or a poor Christian child? Any thing—any thing that would make me free to be his wife!—"
She ceased, for she heard her father's voice. Yes, it was indeed he! How came he to be at home so soon? His hand was upon the door, and now he spoke to her.
"Are you up, my daughter? Can I come in?"
Rachel hastened to open the door, and her father entered the room with a bright smile.
"So soon dressed, Rachel! I was afraid that I might have disturbed your slumbers," said he, drawing her to him, and kissing her. "Not only dressed, but dressed so charmingly, that one would suppose the sun were your lover, and had already visited you here. Or, perhaps you expect some of your adoring counts this morning—hey!"
"No, father, I expect no one."
"So much the better, for I have glorious news for you. Do you remember what I promised when you consented to let me punish Count Podstadsky after my own fashion?"
"No, dear father, I do not remember ever to have been bribed to obey your commands."
"Then, I will tell you my news, my glorious news. I have become a freiherr."
"You were always a free man, my father; your millions have long ago made you a freiherr."
"Bravely spoken, my Jewess," cried Eskeles Flies. "I will reward you by telling you what I have bought for you. A carriage-load of illuminated manuscripts decorated with exquisite miniatures, that you may enrich your library with Christian Bibles and papal bulls of every size and form."
"My dear father, how I thank you for these treasures!"
"Treasures, indeed! They are part of the library of a convent. The emperor has destroyed them as the Vandals once did the treasures of the Goths. I bought them from one of our own people. And that is not all. I have a communion-service and an ostensorium for you, whose sculptures are worthy of Benvenuto Cellini. I purchased these also from a Jew, who bought them at one of the great church auctions. Ha, ha! He was going to melt them up—the vessels that Christian priests had blessed and held sacred!"
"That was no disgrace for him, father; but it is far different with the emperor, who has desecrated the things which are esteemed holy in his own curch. The emperor is not likely to win the affections of his people by acts like these."
"Pshaw! He wanted gold, and cared very little whence it came," cried Eskeles Flies, with a contemptuous shrug. "His munificent mother having emptied the imperial treasury, the prudent son had to replenish it. True, his method of creating a fund is not the discreetest he could have chosen; for while teaching his people new modes of financiering, he has forgotten that he is also teaching them to pilfer their own gods. What an outcry would be raised in Christendom, if the Jew should plunder his own synagogue. But I tell you, Rachel, that when the lust of riches takes possession of a Christian's heart, it maddens his brain. Not so with the Jew. Were he starving, he would never sell the holy of holies. But the Jew never starves—not he! He lays ducat upon ducat until the glistening heap dazzles the Christian's eyes, and he comes to barter his wares for it. So is it with me. My gold has bought for me the merchandise of nobility."
"Are you really in earnest, father? Have you thought it necessary to add to the dignity of your Jewish birthright the bawble of a baron's title?"
"Why not, Rachel? The honor is salable, and it gives one consideration with the Christian. I have bought the title, and the escutcheon, as I buy a set of jewels for my daughter. Both are intended to dazzle our enemies, and to excite their envy."
"But how came it to pass?" asked Rachel. "How came you to venture such an unheard-of demand? A Jewish baron is an anomaly which the world has never seen."
"For that very reason I demanded it. I had rendered extraordinary services to the emperor. He sent for me to repay me the millions I had lent him without interest; and I took occasion there to speak of my thriving manufactures and my great commercial schemes. 'Ah,' said he, putting his hand affectionately upon my shoulder (for the emperor loves a rich man), 'ah, if I had many such merchant-princes as you, the Black Sea would soon be covered with Austrian ships.' Then he asked what he could do in return for the favor I had done him."
"And you asked for a baron's title!"
"I did. The emperor opened his large eyes, and looked knowingly at me. He had guessed my thoughts. 'So,' said he, 'you would like to provoke the aristocracy to little, would you? Well—I rather like the idea. They are in need of a lesson to bring down their rebellious spirit, and I shall give it to them. You are a more useful man to me than any of them, and you shall be created a baron. I shall also elevate several other distinguished Jews to the rank of nobles, and the aristocracy shall understand that wherever I find merit I reward it.'"
"So then it was your worth, and not your gold, that earned for you the distinction!" cried Rachel, gratified.
"Nonsense! 'Merit' means wealth, and I assure you that titles cost enormous sums. I must pay for my patent ten thousand florins, and if I should wish to be a count, I must pay twenty thousand. But enough of all this. Suffice it that I shall prove to the nobles that my money is as good as their genealogical trees, and now we shall have crowds of noble adorers at the Baroness Rachel's feet. But be she baroness or countess, she is forever a Jewess, and that parts her eternally from any but a wooer of her own faith. Does it not, my Rachel, my loyal Israelitish baroness?"
"Do you doubt me, my father?" asked Rachel in a faltering voice, while she averted her face.
"No, my child, for if I did, I would curse you on the spot."
"Dear, dear father, do not speak such fearful words!" cried Rachel, trembling with fright.
"You are right, child. I am childish to indulge the supposition of my Hebrew maiden's treachery. She is pure before the Lord, loyal and true to the faith of her fathers. But we must be armed against temptation, and before we part for the day, we must both swear eternal fidelity to our creed. These wily Christians may come with flattery and smiles, and some one of them might steal my Rachel's heart. I swear, therefore, by all that is sacred on earth or in heaven, never to abandon the Jewish faith, and never to enter a Christian church. So help me God!"
Rachel gazed upon her father with blanched cheeks and distended eyes; her muscles stiffened with horror, until she seemed to be turning to stone.
"Did you hear my oath, Rachel?" said he.
She parted her lips, and they faltered an inaudible "Yes."
"Then," said he, gently, "repeat the oath, for we both must take it."
She raised her head with a quick, convulsive motion, and stammered,
"What—what is it, father?"
"Swear, as I have done, never to leave the faith of your fathers, never to enter a Christian church."
Rachel made no reply. She stared again as though her senses were forsaking her. She thought she would go mad. Her father's brow contracted, and his mien grew fierce as he saw that his daughter's heart had gone irrevocably from him. There was a long, dreadful pause.
"Are you at a loss for words?" asked the baron, and his voice was so savage that Rachel started at the ominous sound.
"Repeat my words, then," continued he, seeing that she made no answer, "or I—"
"Say, on, my father," replied the despairing girl.
Baron Eskeles Flies repeated his oath, and the pale victim spoke the words after him. But at the end of the ordeal she reeled and fell to the floor. Her father bent over, and raising her tenderly, folded her to his heart. His voice was now as loving as ever.
"My precious child, we are truly united now. Nothing can part us, and your happy father will surround you with such splendor as you have never beheld before."
"Oh, my father!" exclaimed she, "what has splendor to do with happiness?"
"Everything," replied her father, with a careless laugh. "Misfortune is not near so ugly in a palace as in a cottage; and I do assure you that the tears which are shed in a softly-cushioned carriage are not half so bitter as those that fall from the eyes of the houseless beggar. Wealth takes the edge from affliction, and lends new lustre to happiness. And it shall shed its brightest halo over yours, my daughter. But I must leave you, for I expect to earn a fortune before I return, when I hope to see you bright and beautiful as ever."
He kissed her forehead and stroked her silky hair. "The Baroness Rachel will be a Jewess forever! Oh, how can I thank you for that promise, my adored child! What new pleasure can I procure for my idol to-day?"
"Love me, father," murmured Rachel.
"What need you ask for love, you who are to me like the breath of life? To show how I anticipate your wishes, I have already prepared a gratification for you. I have remarked how much pleasure you take in the gardens and little pavilion yonder. Since my Rachel loves to take her morning walk there, it shall be changed into a paradise. The brightest fruits and flowers of the tropics shall bloom in its conservatories: and instead of the little pavilion, I shall raise up a temple of purest white marble, worthy of the nymph who haunts the spot. For a few weeks your walks will be somewhat disturbed, darling, for the workmen will begin to-morrow; but they aced not be much in your way, for while the walls are down, I shall set a watch at every gate to make sure that no one intrudes upon your privacy. In a few months you shall have a miniature palace wherein to rest, when you are tired of roaming about the grounds: Farewell, my child. I shall send the workmen to-morrow—early to-morrow morning."
"He knows all," thought poor Rachel, as he closed the door. "The oath was to part me from Gunther; the changes in the garden are to prevent us from meeting."
For a long time she sat absorbed in grief. But finally she made her resolve.
"I have sworn to love thee forever, my Gunther," said she. "When the hour comes wherein my choice must be made, I go with thee!"