CHAPTER XXI.
The noble spirit of the victim brave
Affects the knight, he feels that he must save;
The dews of friendship o'er his eyelids steal,
His heart no longer can resist th' appeal.
P. Conz.
When the two men were left alone in the saloon of Lichtenstein, the old knight gazed at Albert full in the face, with a scrutinizing eye, as if to satisfy himself of the honesty of his looks. The noble features of his visitor convinced him of the purity of his heart, and animated the old man's eye with a ray of joy. The air of melancholy which habitually sat on his brow had vanished, he became cheerful, he received Albert as a father would a son, who had returned from a long journey. A tear at length stole from his brilliant eye; but it was a tear of joy, for he pressed the astonished youth to his heart.
"It is not often that I am betrayed into this weakness," he said to Albert, "but in moments such as these nature gives way, because they happen seldom. Dare I indeed trust my old eyes? Do the contents of this letter deceive me? Is the seal really his? and can I believe it? but why do I doubt! has not nature stampt the impression of her noblest gifts upon your open forehead? Oh, yes, honesty is too visibly depicted on your countenance; you cannot deceive me; the cause of my unfortunate master has gained another friend!"
"If you allude to the cause of the banished Duke, you are not mistaken; it has found a warm partisan in me. Report has long since reached my ear of the knight of Lichtenstein being a faithful friend of his, and with this assurance I should perhaps have presented myself to you ere this, of my own accord, without the introduction of the unfortunate man in the cavern."
"Sit down beside me, my young friend," said the old man, who continued to regard Albert with a look of benevolence, "seat yourself, and listen to what I say: generally speaking, I am not an admirer of persons who change their minds. The experience of a long life has taught me to respect the opinion of others, and to assert that a man who entertains pure and honest views of a subject, is not therefore to be prejudged by another, who may think differently. But when a person changes his colours from real disinterested motives, as you appear to have done, Albert von Sturmfeder, and turns his back upon prosperity, for the noble purpose of allying himself to, and aiding the oppressed, in a just cause, then it is that his virtuous intentions justify his conduct, and carry along with them the stamp of a noble act."
Albert blushed for himself, when he heard old Lichtenstein praising his disinterested motives. Was it not for the sake of the beautiful daughter of the knight, that he had principally been induced to join his colours? and would he not sink in the esteem of this man, when, sooner or later, his real motive for embracing his party came to light? "You are too good," he answered; "the views of a man are often buried deeper than we at first sight think. But be assured, that though the step I have taken was dictated partly by a feeling which revolts at the idea of unjust oppression; I would not have you think too well of me, because it would give me very great pain, were you afterwards to be obliged to pronounce an unfavourable opinion upon my actions."
"I love you still more for your frankness," replied the lord of the castle, and squeezed the hand of his guest: "I can trust to my knowledge of physiognomy, and maintain, from what I see in yours, that, though other views may have influenced you, besides the feeling of justice, you never will be found wanting in honour. Whoever is led by evil intentions is a coward, and no coward would dare to run his head against Truchses, the Duke of Bavaria, and the whole Swabian League, and rise superior to the danger, as you have done."
"What do you know of me," said Albert, with joyful surprise; "have you ever heard of me before this moment?"
A servant, who opened the door at these words, interrupted the answer of the old man. He set a breakfast of game and a can full of wine before Albert, and prepared to wait on the guest; but a hint from his master made him withdraw. "Don't spare this morning's meal," said he to the young man; "the first glass, indeed, ought to be drank to the lady of the house, according to courteous habits; but mine has long departed this life, and my only daughter, Bertha, who acts in her place, is gone down to the village church, to hear the sermon and mass on this holiday. Well, you asked me if I have ever heard of you before? As you now belong to our party, I may venture to acquaint you with what I otherwise should have kept secret. When you entered Ulm, I was also in the town, not only for the purpose of taking my daughter home, who was residing there, but principally to learn many things, which were important for the Duke to know. Gold opened all the doors," he added with a smile, "and unbolted those also of the grand council; by which means I became acquainted with everything the commanders of the League had determined upon. When war was declared, I was obliged to leave the place, but I left faithful men behind me in the town, who informed me of every circumstance, even the most secret."
"Was not the fifer of Hardt one of them," asked Albert, "whom I found with the exile?"
"Yes; the same who conducted you over the Alb." Albert started. "I had daily intelligence of the most secret affairs. Among other things, I learnt that they had determined to send a trusty spy into the neighbourhood of Tübingen, to gain intelligence and advertise the League of our movements. I heard you were selected for that service. I must tell you honestly, that, though you and your name were indifferent to me, for I did not know you personally, still I regretted that your young blood should be employed on that service, for, as sure as you live, the moment you had passed the Alb in the degrading character of a spy, so soon would you have been cut to pieces without grace or mercy. So much more surprising then was the information to me, when I learned further, that you had refused the service, and had spoken boldly before your employers. The fact also of your having renounced their party, and sworn to keep in a state of neutrality for fourteen days, was also made known to me. How much I rejoice then that you have become our friend also, I leave you to imagine!"
Nothing could have been more gratifying to Albert's feelings than the eulogium passed on his conduct by the knight of Lichtenstein. This moment removed all obstacles which had hitherto interrupted the tie between him and Bertha. The only wish of his heart, which he at times thought would never be realised, and had almost given up in despair, he now might hope would be accomplished, for he unknowingly had gained the good will of her father. "Yes, I renounced their service," he answered, "because their intentions outraged my feelings; I became your friend with heart and soul. When I was seated beside the exiled man in the cavern, and heard the disgraceful manner in which the lord of the land and the nobles were treated, I felt the force of his language strengthen my resolutions. In that moment all doubts and difficulties were removed from my mind, every thing was as clear as day, my only desire was, to draw my sword in this cause! And do you think we shall be called into action soon? How stand the Duke's affairs? You must not suppose I am come to you to set with my hands across."
"I can well imagine your anxiety to be in the field," said the old knight; "forty years ago I possessed the same ardour. You are aware, perhaps, in what state our affairs are at present; more upon the decline, I fear, than prosperous. The enemy is in possession of the whole tract of the low country as far up as Urach. Our fate depends upon one solitary circumstance,----if Tübingen holds out, victory is ours!"
"The honour of forty knights will, I think, answer for its safety," replied Albert, with animation; "the castle is strong, I have never seen a stronger; the garrison is sufficient for its defence, and forty men of noble blood will not surrender for a trifle. They cannot--they dare not. Have they not the children of the duke, and the treasures of his house, under their protection?--they must hold out."
"It were well if they were all like-minded with you," said the old man. "Tübingen holds a great stake in her hands. If the Duke can bring succour to its relief, he will then have a starting point, whence he will be able to reconquer his country. The place contains large supplies of munitions of war; and most of the nobility are assembled within its walls. So long as they remain faithful to his cause, so long will the feeling of Würtemberg be for the Duke, were he only to possess the spot upon which he stands; but I fear, I fear for the result."
"How? do you think it likely the knights will surrender? Impossible!"
"You have had but little experience in the ways of the world," replied the old man; "you are not aware of the many allurements and snares at work, which may make many a man waver in his allegiance. It is on this account, that the Duke, being doubtful of the fidelity of some of them in Tübingen, has sent Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg with a letter to the garrison written in strong terms, not only urging them to hold the castle to the last, but to afford him the means of entering therein himself, being ready to sacrifice his life in its defence, if God should so ordain it."
"Poor man," said Albert, moved by the consideration of the Duke's hard fate; "I cannot believe the nobility of the land will act in a manner unworthy of their rank. His presence among them will encourage their desponding hopes, sorties will be made, the besiegers will be beaten in spite of Bavaria and Fronsberg. We'll join them sword in hand, and drive these Leaguists out of the country."
"Maxx Stumpf is not yet returned," replied the knight of Lichtenstein, with a look of anxiety; "and the firing has ceased since yesterday. We hear every shot here on the Lichtenstein; but during the last twenty-four hours all is as quiet as the grave."
"Perhaps they have ceased firing on account of the holidays; you'll see that, to-morrow, or Easter Monday, they will re-commence with redoubled vigour, and make your rocks echo again."
"What is it you say?" replied the other, "on account of the holidays? To serve the Duke faithfully is a pious undertaking; and the saints in Heaven would perhaps rather hear the thunder of cannon in a just cause than that the knights should remain idle. Idleness is the parent of all vice! But, I trust, when Maxx arrives in the castle, he will rouse them out of their slumbers."
"Do you mean that the Duke had sent the knight of Schweinsberg to Tübingen, and that he intended to follow him, because the garrison has shewn symptoms of surrender? Has he not flown to Mömpelgard, as the people say? or is he still in the neighbourhood? Oh, that I could see him, and accompany him!"
A peculiar smile passed rapidly over the stern countenance of the old man. "You will sec him at the proper moment," he said; "he will be happy to see you also, for he loves you already. And, if fortune favours us, you shall also go with him to his castle, I give you my word. But for the present I must beg you will remain patiently alone for a short time; some business calls me, but it will be soon finished. I leave you in the company of some good old wine; make yourself at home in my house; were it not Good Friday, I would invite you to go out hunting." The old man pressed Albert's hand once more, and left the room; and soon after he saw him ride out of the castle towards the wood.
When the young man found himself alone, he commenced putting his dress in order, which in consequence of his recent adventures, required some attention. Whoever has been in the vicinity of the lady of his love, under Albert's circumstances, will not blame him for taking advantage of a piece of polished metal, which served as a looking-glass, hanging on the wall, to arrange his beard and hair. Having brushed his jacket, and removed all traces of having passed the night underground, he went into the large saloon, and sought among the many windows which surrounded it, the one which would give him the best view of the path leading up to the castle from the church of the village in the valley below, whither Bertha had gone to hear mass.
Cheering thoughts passed through his mind, in rapid succession, like bright vapours flying under the blue vault of heaven. He was now on the spot which had long been the object of his ardent desire to visit; he viewed the mountains and rocks which Bertha had often spoke about; he felt a charm in being in the same house which had been the dwelling of her childhood, and in which she had grown up to woman's estate.
Albert went into the small spot of ground within the walls of the castle, adorned with flowers, and which assumed the name of garden. Again his imagination wandered, in the pleasing supposition that it had been created by her orders; the flowers appeared to speak to him in her name--he was in the act of bending under a tree to pluck a violet, when he heard footsteps at the gate. He turned around to observe who it might be, it was indeed Bertha herself--she stood there wrapt in surprise and motionless, scarcely trusting her eyes. He flew to her, and pressed her to his heart; her astonishment at the unexpected apparition gave way to the conviction that it was really her lover, and not his spirit that embraced her. They had more to ask each other than they knew well how to answer in the first transport of joy, for they could with difficulty convince themselves that it was not a dream, thus to find themselves in each other's presence without fear or interruption. Having returned to the house, Bertha said,
"How much have I suffered on your account, dearest Albert; and with what a heavy heart did I leave Ulm! You had, indeed, sworn to quit the service of the League; but I had no hopes of seeing you so soon. And then, when Hans informed me, that, on your journey with him to Lichtenstein, you had been surprised by the enemy on the road, and dangerously wounded, my heart was almost broken, at the thought that I could not go to you and nurse you."
Stung with remorse for having given place to the jealousy which the story of the hostess of the Golden Stag at Pfullingen had created in his breast, he sunk in his own estimation before the tender love of Bertha. He sought to conceal his confusion, and related to her, amidst the interruption of her numerous questions, all that had happened to him since their separation; the cause which had favoured his quitting the service of the League with honour; the particulars of his perilous escape from the enemy's patrole; the kind care which the fifer's wife and daughter had taken of him, by which he was enabled to prosecute his journey to Lichtenstein.
Albert's conscience was too honest not to feel embarrassed at some of Bertha's scrutinising questions; and when she wished to have her curiosity satisfied upon the subject of his coming to Lichtenstein at so strange an hour of the night he scarcely knew what to answer. Her beautiful eye rested upon him with such an expression of inquisitive penetration, that, though he would gladly have escaped the reproach of harbouring a momentary idea of her want of fidelity, he would not for all the world tell her an untruth.
"I will own," he said, with a confused look, "that I was infatuated by the hostess at Pfullingen; she told me something about you, which I could not hear with indifference."
"The hostess? about me?" cried Bertha, smiling; "well, but what brought you, at that late hour of the night, to this place?"
"Never mind, dearest; we'll not think of it any more. I know I acted like a fool. The exiled knight has quite convinced me how wrong I was."
"No, no," she replied, earnestly, "I am not going to let you escape so cheap; what had that chatterbox to say about me? tell me immediately----"
"Well, then, I give you leave to laugh at me as much as you please: she told me you had another lover, who came to visit you every night, whilst your father slept."
Bertha blushed; indignation, and the inclination to smile at a ridiculous story, contended for the mastery on her expressive features. "Well, I hope," she replied, "you repelled the calumny with proper contempt, and left her house immediately. That was the reason, I suppose, of your arriving here so late, with the intention of passing the night under our roof."
"I honestly avow, I had no such thought. You know I was not quite convalescent, so excuse my weakness. I really did not believe her at first; but when she brought your nurse, old Rosel, to substantiate what she said, and who moreover lamented that I had been deceived, I----oh, do not turn away from me, Bertha; do not be angry! I threw myself on my horse, and rode direct to the castle, for the purpose of exchanging a word with him who dared to love you."
"And could you believe that?" she answered, with tears starting into her eyes: "I cannot think that Rosel said any thing of the kind, though she is fond of a gossip; I am not angry with the hostess, for she does not know better; but that you, you Albert, should give credit to so foul a falsehood, and think it necessary to convince yourself, that----" The tears of the faithful girl flowed in abundance; and the feeling of mortification choked her further utterance.
Her lover was overcome by the sense of his egregious folly; but he also felt the consolation, that though he was to be blamed his suspicions arose purely out of the intensity of his love. "Pardon me this once, dearest; let me assure you, that the jealousy which tormented me, unfounded as it was, would never have been inflamed into reality, did not my whole existence depend upon you."
"He who really loves can never harbour a spark of jealousy, founded upon such reports," said Bertha, in displeasure; "you hinted something of the same kind once before in Ulm, which you know hurt me very deeply. But if you had known me, and loved me with the same unalterable attachment that I love you, you never could have entertained such thoughts."
"No, truly, but you must not be unjust," he replied, and took her hand; "how can you reproach me with not returning your love with the same ardent sincerity? Was it impossible that one more worthy than Albert von Sturmfeder might appear, and supplant him in your heart by some infernal enchantment? Every thing is possible in this world."
"Possible!" interrupted Bertha; and a certain pride, which Albert had often remarked in the daughter of Lichtenstein, appeared now to animate her; "possible? if you ever could have entertained such an opinion of me,--I repeat it, Albert von Sturmfeder,--you have never loved me. A man must not allow himself to be blown about like a reed; he ought to stand firm to his opinion; and if he loves, he must have faith also."
"I have not merited such a reproach, from you at least," said the young man, starting up in great excitement; "I have been, indeed, as you say, a reed shaken about in the wind, and many a man will despise me----"
"That may be!" she whispered to herself, but not so lightly as to escape his ear, and cause his displeasure to blaze up into rage.
"Can you upbraid me thus," said he, "you, who are the sole cause of my vaccilating conduct? Did I not seek you among the friends of the League; and when I found you, was I not overjoyed? You entreated me to quit their colours,--I did so; and still more, I came over to your party, and, though it nearly cost me my life, I held firm to my determination. I visited your father, who received me as a son; and rejoiced that I had bound myself to the Duke's cause. But his daughter compares me to a reed moved by every blast of wind! but once more I will----for the last time, allow myself to be moved by you; I'll leave you, as you requite my love thus; in an hour hence, I wish you farewell." With these last words he girded on his sword; and, taking his cap, turned to depart.
"Albert," cried Bertha, with the sweetest accent, at the same time springing up and seizing his hand; her pride, her displeasure, every trace of ill-will vanished in a moment, and entreating love only beamed from her eyes, "for God's sake, Albert! I did not mean to speak so angrily; remain, I will forget every thing; I am ashamed of myself for having betrayed so unkind a spirit."
But the anger of the young man was not to be appeased in a moment. He turned away, lest her looks should master his resolution of leaving the castle. "No!" he cried, "you shall not turn the reed back again; but you may tell your father the cause which has driven his guest from his house." The windows trembled with the sound of his voice; he looked about him with wildness; he tore his hand away from Bertha's grasp; and, followed by her, he hastily opened the door to fly from her presence, when an apparition arrested his attention on the threshold which we shall describe in the next chapter.