They were separated. The Emperor’s commands summoned Henry to the army; and the old Melthal thought, that in the present position of things a slight falsehood would be justified by the intention, with which it was fabricated.—Accordingly, a report was soon circulated, that his grandson Erwin had fallen at the siege of Bender. It obtained universal credit; and Ida, (for whose sole use the artifice had been designed) doubted not, that her lover had perished on the field of glory. One person however (and that to his great mortification) was assured of the inaccuracy of the report. No sooner had Henry left Helvetia, than Melthal set out for the Castle of Montfort; he made known to the astonished Count, that his nephew was still in existence, and spared neither persuasions nor threats to induce the old usurper to reinstate the true heir in his rights and titles.
Threats and persuasions from the mouth of a man of sense and probity came with a force, that few villains however hardened are able to resist entirely. Count Egbert trembled in the presence of his venerable monitor; and he presumed not to give him such a reply, as he would willingly have done, had he followed his heart’s instigations. He answered him with fair promises and professions, the trusting to which cost the poor old man many a painful journey; till at length highly exasperated at having been made so long the dupe of his soft words and endless delays, he assumed a tone of such authority, as almost frightened the trembling usurper out of his senses, and made him solemnly swear to lose no time in acknowledging the claims of his nephew. Unluckily, this scene agitated Melthal so violently, that the consequence was an illness, which soon carried him to his grave. Count Egbert did not let slip so good an opportunity of annihilating the hopes of Henry; he easily persuaded the unconscious heirs of old Melthal to give up to him the papers, which attested his nephew’s birth, and which, (as they seemed to relate entirely to the Montfort family), they made no doubt, were (as he asserted) his own peculiar property and no concern of any other person’s.
Now then who was so happy as the crafty Egbert? in the full exultation of triumph he was persuaded, that the papers which he lost no time in committing to the flames, were the only proofs of his nephew’s existence. But in this respect he was deceived. When Henry departed for the army, Melthal charged him to seize the first favourable opportunity of laying his case before the emperor; for which purpose he furnished him with the authentic documents of his real birth, and those which fell into Count Egbert’s hands were nothing more valuable than mere copies. The favourable opportunity, of which Melthal had spoken, was not tardy in arriving. At the siege of Bender Henry behaved with such distinguished gallantry as to make it the general opinion, that if all his companions had performed their duty as well, the victory would have been wrested from the hands of the infidels.
The emperor was not the last to applaud his gallant demeanour. He commanded him to name a reward; and Henry demanded to be re-instated in those rights, to which he could establish his claim by proofs, that would set all doubt at defiance.
—“I do not wish,” said he, “that my uncle’s conduct towards me should undergo too nice an examination; nor during his lifetime do I insist, that my inheritance should be restored to me. I only demand for the present to be acknowledged as a descendant of the house of Montfort, and for the future to be protected in obtaining those advantages, to which I may be able to substantiate a lawful claim.—I am not desirous of expelling the old Count from the station, which he has so long occupied; I only demand, that when his death shall leave that station vacant, I may succeed to that, which in justice is my birth right.”—
The Emperor Albert, who was already aware that under the administrations of the debauched Venceslaus, and the careless Sigismund (his immediate predecessors) much partiality had taken place in settling the affairs of the Montfort family, and who besides wished most anxiously to serve his favourite in every point that was not repugnant to justice, heard the above declaration with pleasure, and praised the youthful warrior’s generosity. Albert himself was generous, and it delighted him, when others acted, as he would have acted himself.
On the next day Henry was declared by the emperor to be a Count of Montfort, and was allotted a command suitable to his high rank and distinguished services. This change of name contributed to support the erroneous belief, that Erwin Melthal had never been heard of since the battle of Bender, and that in all probability he had fallen in the field. Ida therefore was sorrowing for his loss at the very moment, that he was hastening back to the beloved valley, crowned with laurels, and determined to share with her his honours and his happiness.
Alas! that beloved valley was no longer to be recognised! dreadful storms had laid it waste; the mountain-torrents had deluged the country; and when he at length with difficulty had reached Tell’s habitation, he found it silent and empty—the dreadful pestilence, which had more than decimated the unfortunate inhabitants of those quarters, had raged with peculiar fury in the house of Tell; but he was informed, that a remnant of the family had taken refuge (so at least it was rumoured) in the Convent of Engelberg. Thither Henry repaired without loss of time, but he found no one capable of giving him either present comfort or future hope. His apprehensions were converted into despair, when in reply to his enquiries Tell’s humble grave was pointed out to him, and when he beheld near it two smaller graves, which (he was assured) contained the bodies of two of the old man’s grand-daughters. It is probable, that this assurance was given not without foundation, for several of the grand-children of Tell had followed him to Engelberg, and had there fallen a prey to the inveteracy of the prevalent disease.
The wretched Henry was thoroughly convinced, that the bones of Ida and Constantia rested within those smaller graves. He knelt beside them; he watered them with his tears, and abandoned himself to the most violent emotions of anguish, which love and despair ever excited in the heart of man. It was long, before he attained any degree of composure; and he employed the first hour, in which his heart was sensible of a melancholy resignation, in hastening to the Convent, and requesting to know every particular respecting the death of the lovely sisters. He wished also to enquire, why they had interred in the open church-yard the bodies of those angels, whose virtues should have obtained for their tomb the most distinguished spot to be found within the Convent’s sanctuary.
The high-sounding title of “Count Henry of Montfort” obtained for him an easy admission into the Convent-parlour; but he derived no benefit from his visit to Engelberg. The old Abbess, who had superintended the Convent during Constantia’s residence, had paid the debt of nature. The present superior was totally ignorant of the history of the sisters; and she could not help secretly suspecting, that the young-warrior’s understanding was not quite as sound as it should have been, when with considerable impetuosity he demanded as a matter of right, that the grand-daughters of a common peasant, who had conferred on the institution neither wealth nor honour, should be alloted a tomb in the Chapel of St. Engeltruda!