Baron Z— returned the next day, was delighted to see Hamilton, and went about with him everywhere, showing and explaining whatever he thought likely to interest him. One of their excursions was to the marriage of a wood-ranger with the daughter of an innkeeper, who lived deep in the mountains. There was to be a dance and target shooting match as wedding festivities; and it was with no small satisfaction that Hamilton, at an unmentionably early hour in the morning, followed Baron Z— to his room to choose one of his rifles for the latter. Hamilton did not, as on a former occasion, listen with indifference while he descanted on their merits, but examined them carefully, poised them in his hand, and pointed them out of the windows at the little belfry of the house he had visited with A. Z., and which he now chose as a target.
“You really look as if you understood what you were about,” observed A. Z., who was pouring out their coffee. “If you have gained nothing else by your residence in Bavaria, you have at least learned to get up in the morning, and to use a rifle!”.
“Both decidedly German accomplishments,” replied Hamilton, laughing, “and learned, in both cases, from ladies. Madame Rosenberg and the Baroness Waldorf have been my instructresses, as you will find when you look over my journal.”
“Which I intend to do to-day, when I am alone and quiet,” said A. Z., “and then we can talk about it whenever you are disposed.”
“Time to be off!” cried Baron Z—; and Hamilton found himself, soon after, driving through the wildest passes of the mountain at an hour which he had formerly considered ought to be devoted to sleep in a darkened chamber.
The road was still in shadow, though the sun shone brightly on the rocks above them, and it was only through an occasional cleft in them, or a widening of the pass through which the road lay, that the warm rays occasionally tempered the bracing morning air. For the first time since Hamilton had left the Rosenbergs, he felt exhilarated—disposed to enjoy life as he had formerly done. It must not be supposed that he was beginning to forget Hildegarde—quite the contrary—his mental struggles were over; absence, that surest test of affection, had proved to him that without her the best years of his life would be clouded; so completely had the world, and all relating to it, been changed to him during the last year, so different were all his ideas from what they had been, that his recollections of home were becoming ruins, and it was with difficulty that his imagination supplied the broken walls and crumbling windowsills of his former splendid visions of pomp and riches. His only fears now were of Hildegarde herself, he half dreaded a repulse; but he had resolved to brave even that; and since his resolutions had been formed, he had again begun to feel pleasure in everything surrounding him. When Baron Z— stepped out of the little low carriage, which he called a “sausage,” to gather bunches of the beautiful wild rhododendron, commonly called Alpen rosen, Hamilton sprang joyously up the side of the mountain with him, and experienced a boyish satisfaction in scrambling higher and higher still, to obtain a branch with deeply-coloured flowers, or a few sweetly-scented cyclamens.
Their destination was a village, which as nearly resembled a nest as could well be imagined, so completely was it surrounded by mountains, all wooded nearly to the summit; there were about thirty houses and two large inns. Baron Z——’s brewery supplied the place with beer, and it was, as he informed Hamilton, in the characters of a brewer and his friend that they that day appeared. They were, however, persons of considerable importance, as Hamilton soon discovered, for the marriage had been delayed until their arrival, and the gay procession was then first formed, with which preceded by loud music, in which a flageolet contended in vain with a couple of horns for predominance, they marched to the church. Hamilton, on perceiving that all the men had large bouquets of flowers, and streaming ribbons in their hats, immediately decorated his with Alpen rosen. As to Baron Z—, neither he nor any of the other numerous gentlemen who came in the course of the day to shoot, could be distinguished at a little distance from the peasants. The strong shoes, worsted stockings, black breeches, leather belts, with their curiously worked initials, loose grey shooting-jackets, and slouched hats with black cock feathers, were common to all. A nice observer might, perhaps, have discovered a difference in the materials, but even that was generally avoided. If ever a German nobleman feels that those who are not in his class are equal or superior to him, it is at a Scheiben-Schiessen. There the best shot is the best man. The consciousness of strength and power, which the free use of arms, and the habit of seeking pleasure and fame in their dexterous use beget, is not without its national importance; such men can scarcely fail to make good soldiers, or defend their mountain homes in time of war.
Excepting while they dined, Baron Z— never ceased shooting. Hamilton, contented with having acquitted himself creditably, began at the end of a couple of hours to wander about; he first looked into the room where the wedding banquet was being slowly served: it had already lasted more than three hours, which is scarcely to be wondered at, as between the courses, the more youthful part of the company made their way up the crowded staircase to a large room under the roof, where they danced; the measured sound of the waltz step forming a sort of metronome to the musicians, who, at times, seemed more attentive to the movements of those about them than their occupation, thereby occasionally producing such extraordinary and wild sounds that Hamilton allowed himself to be pushed up the stairs into their immediate vicinity. Finding a quiet corner, he tranquilly smoked his cigar and looked on, an amused spectator of a scene which formed for him a picture of the most interesting description from its novelty and thoroughly national character.
The room, spacious and well-floored, was immediately under the roof, of which the rafters and, on close inspection, the tiles were visible. The musicians, placed in a corner and well supplied with beer, blew, whistled, and scraped with all their might, the violoncello, with its eternal tonic, dominant, and subdominant, acting as whipper-in to the other instruments. The trumpet, occasionally raised to one of the windows in the roof, informed the absent of the opportunity they were losing, or served as an invitation to the lazy. Diminutive beer barrels, connected with strong planks, formed seats along the walls, and on them the half breathless dancers, in their picturesque costumes, occasionally sat and rested; a few elderly peasants were established round a table behind the door, and near them stood a fine specimen of a rustic exclusive, with his arms folded, and bright blue eyes audaciously following each dancing pair as they passed; he lounged against the wall, until seeing some known, or loved, or pretty girl, he was moved to touch her partner on the shoulder, and however unwilling the latter might be, he was obliged in courtesy to resign her until she had taken some turns round the room with the interloper, who, on returning her to her partner, thanked him, and the flushed and panting girl invariably looked delighted at this most approved mode of publicly doing her homage. Hamilton observed about half a dozen beauties who never were allowed to rest for one moment.
Light and shade were disposed as the most fastidious painter could desire; the rays of the afternoon sun, as they entered by the open windows, rendered even the tremulous motion of the air and the usually imperceptible particles of dust apparent, while the gradually dispersing light made the silver-laced bodices of the women glitter, and the beaming faces of the men to glow more deeply. Here for the first time Hamilton saw the real Ländler danced, the waltz in all its nationality—as unlike anything he had ever heard so denominated as could well be imagined. It was a German fandango with nailed shoes instead of castanets, but there was life, energy, and enjoyment in every movement. The origin of the name of waltz for this dance is from walzen, to turn round, and this the dancers did regularly, though not quickly when together, but they often separated, and then the movements were as uncertain as various, accompanied on the part of the men by the snapping of fingers, clapping their knees with both hands, and springing in the air, while ever and anon they uttered a piercing peculiar cry, something between shouting and singing. During the time the men performed these wild gesticulations, their partners waltzed on demurely before them, and when they joined each other again it was usually with a few decided foot stampings that they recommenced their rotary motions.