Thus saying, he removed the unsightly cap from his head, and with it a large quantity of white hair, threw the bauble from his hand into the midst of the aisle, cast back the cloak from his shoulders, and gazed around him,--as lordly a man, in his presence and bearing, as any in the whole court.
As he did so, a cry, strange and horrible, came from the group on the left; and Count William of Ehrenstein darted forward, with his hands clasped tight together--gazed for an instant, with wild eagerness, in the face of him who had so boldly seated himself in the Emperor's chair--and then falling on his knees, exclaimed, "Ferdinand! Ferdinand!"
The multitude in the chapel seemed at once to conceive the whole; and a loud shout--the mixture of surprise and satisfaction--burst from them, and made the vaulted roof ring. At the same moment, too, good Franz Creussen strode up to the table, and taking the Count's hand in his, wrung it hard, exclaiming, "Welcome to your own again, my good and noble lord!"
But how shall I depict all the varied expressions on the countenances of those who surrounded the table at that moment:--the joy, the surprise, the bewilderment in the face of Ferdinand of Ehrenstein;--the agony and despair in that of his uncle, as he still knelt, with the eye of his brother fixed even fiercely upon him; the look of terror and dismay of old Karl von Mosbach; and the calm and triumphant glance of satisfaction in the eyes of the two old knights who had accompanied Ferdinand thither, and of several other hardy warriors around.
Nor was there less pleasure in the aspect of Count Frederick of Leiningen, who, after having paused for a moment to let the first feelings have way, advanced, and laid his hand upon the shoulder of him who had so lately appeared as his jester, and said aloud, "This is Ferdinand Charles, Count of Ehrenstein, delivered by my assistance from the bonds of the infidel. No man, who knows him and looks upon him, will deny it; but, should there be any one bold enough so to do, I will prove the fact, either by my body against his in battle, or by the course of true evidence; showing that this noble Count has, ever since his captivity, been in constant communication with the Grand Master of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem; who, at his intercession and upon his bond, has ransomed, from time to time, every one of his companions made captive at the same time with himself; and would have ransomed him also, long ago, had not the sum demanded been utterly unreasonable. William of Ehrenstein, do you deny that this is your brother?"
"I do not," answered the unhappy man, bending his head down to the table, and covering his eyes with his hands. "It is--it is my brother. Fool that I was not to know him sooner!"
"Fool that you were, indeed," replied his brother; "for fool must be every man who takes not warnings repeatedly given. You have had every means; you have had every chance. When I could have struck you in the halls that you had taken from my son,--when I could have punished you at the board, where you had no right to sit but as a guest,--when I could have made you bow the head amongst the soldiery, where you had no place but as a vassal--I forebore; although I knew you to be perfidious, blood-stained, cruel! But yet I hoped that there might be some grace left,--that some redeeming quality--some tardy repentance of error--might give room for clemency,--might excuse, to my own heart, the traitor against my own life, the plotter against my child, the persecutor of my wife, the assassin of a faithful though humble friend. Yet here, even here, to the very last, no touch of remorse has shaken you,--no shame has found place in your bosom. When proofs, as clear as day, have established rights of another and your own guilt, you have resisted, with base and dishonourable subterfuges, the restitution of that to which you had no claim; and have striven to murder, with words, him whom your steel was impotent to reach. The day of mercy and tenderness is past; I have swept from my bosom every feeling of brotherly love--every memory of youthful hours--all the linked tenderness of young affections,--all the sweet bonds of the early heart. I deal with you as traitor, knave, assassin;--false to your brother and your lord; and henceforth, from me, hope neither grace, nor favour, nor compassion. Not as you have done to others will I do to you; but, with the stern and rigid arm of impartial justice, I will strike at proved crimes and wickedness unrepented.--My lord the Emperor," he continued, rising, "I have usurped this seat too long, and crave your gracious pardon; but at your hands I demand this man, my vassal and my liegeman, whom I formerly called brother, to deal with him, in my court, according as justice shall determine; and justice he shall have, even to the uttermost jot, according to the laws and customs of the nobles of this realm."
While he spoke, the culprit had remained with his head bent down, and his face hidden; but the moment that the stern words left the Count's lips, his brother made a convulsive motion forward, and grasped his knees, exclaiming, "Ferdinand! Ferdinand!--Have mercy, have pity!"
But the Count spurned him from him, asking, in a deep fierce tone, "Have you had pity?" And as the unfortunate man fell back upon the pavement, there was a shrill cry--not exactly a shriek, but the sound of grief rather than of terror; and suddenly from between the pillars which separated the south aisle from the nave, a beautiful form darted forward, passed the knights before the table, passed the prostrate suppliant and his brother, passed Father George and the Emperor, and, advancing straight to Ferdinand of Ehrenstein, caught his hand, and, casting herself upon her knees at his feet, raised that beautiful face toward him, exclaiming, "Ferdinand! Ferdinand! my husband, my beloved! Now, remember the promise that you made me, the oath you swore. Save my father: intercede for him--now, even now, when the warm gush of parental love must be flowing from the heart of him who has our fate in his hands, when the long yearnings of the soul to see his child must make his spirit tender. Save my father--save him, my husband; by your oath, by our hopes, by our mutual love. Kneel to him--I will kneel too."
Ferdinand replied not but by a mute caress; but then advancing, he bent his knee before the Count, saying, "My father!" Adelaide followed timidly, and knelt beside him. But the Count seemed not to notice her; and, casting his arms round the youth's neck, he bent his head over him, while tears bedewed his cheeks, murmuring with faltering accents, "My son! My brave, my noble son!"