Seven Legends

by Gottfried Keller

Yet amid it all she cast many a tear-dimmed glance at the busy loom of the blue distance. There she saw weapons glancing, heard the horn of the hunters in the woods, and the clear shout of men, and her breast filled with longing for the world.

At last she could control her desire no longer, and one clear, moonlit night in June she rose, dressed herself, and put on stout new shoes, and went to the altar, equipped for a journey. "I have served thee faithfully these many years," she said to the Virgin Mary, "but now take the keys thyself; for I can endure the heat in my heart no longer!" With that she laid her bundle of keys upon the altar, and went forth from the convent. She made her way down amid the solitude of the mountain, and wandered on until she came to a cross-road in an oak-forest, where, uncertain which way to take, she sat down by the side of a spring, which was provided with a stone basin and a bench for the benefit of wayfarers. Until the sun rose, she sat there, and was drenched with the falling dew.

Then the sun came over the tops of the trees, and the first rays which shot through the forest-road fell on a glittering knight who came riding in full armour all alone. The nun stared with all her lovely eyes, and did not lose an inch of the manly apparition; but she kept so still that the knight would never have seen her had not the murmur of the fountain caught his ear and guided his eyes. He at once turned aside to the spring, dismounted from his horse and let it drink, while he greeted the nun respectfully. He was a crusader who, after long absence, was making his way home alone, for he had lost all his men.

In spite of his respectfulness, he never once removed his eyes from the charms of Beatrix, who held hers just as steady, and gazed as fixedly as ever on the warrior; for he was no inconsiderable part of that world for which she had longed so in secret. But suddenly she cast down her eyes and felt bashful. At last the knight asked her which way she was going, and whether he could be of any service to her. The full tones of his voice startled her; she looked at him once more, and, fascinated by his glances, acknowledged that she had run away from the convent to see the world, but that she was frightened already and did not know which way to turn.

At that the knight, who had all his wits about him, laughed heartily, and offered to conduct the lady so far on the right way, if she would trust herself to him. His castle, he added, was not more than a day's journey from where they were; and there, if she chose, she could make her preparations in security, and after more mature reflection could proceed on her way into the fair, wide world.

Without replying, but yet without opposition, she allowed herself, trembling somewhat nevertheless, to be lifted up on horseback. The knight swung himself up after her, and, with the rosy-blushing nun before him, trotted joyously through woods and meadows.

For two or three hundred lengths, she held herself erect and gazed straight before her, her hands clasped over her bosom. But soon she had laid her head back on his breast, and submitted to the kisses which the stalwart lord imprinted thereon. And by another three hundred lengths she was returning them as fervidly as if she had never rung a convent-bell. In such circumstances, they saw nothing of the bright landscape through which they journeyed. The nun, who once had longed to see the wide world, now shut her eyes to it, and confined herself to that portion of it which the horse could carry on its back.

The knight Wonnebold also scarcely gave a thought to his father's castle, until its towers glittered before him in the moonlight. But all was silent without the castle, and even more silent within, while never a light was to be seen. Wonnebold's father and mother were dead and all the menials departed, save an ancient castellan, who after long knocking made his appearance with a lantern, and almost died for joy when he saw the knight standing at the painfully-opened door. In spite of his solitude and his years the old man had maintained the interior of the castle in habitable condition, and especially had kept the knight's chamber in constant readiness, so that he might be able to go to rest the moment he should return from his travels. So Beatrix rested with him and appeased her longing.

Neither had any thought now of separating from the other. Wonnebold opened his mother's chests. Beatrix clad herself in her rich garments and adorned herself with her jewels, and so they lived for the moment splendidly and in joy, except that the lady remained without rights or title, and was regarded by her lover as his chattel; she desired nothing better for the mean time.

But one day a stranger baron and his train turned into the castle, which by this time was again staffed with servants, and great cheer was made in his honour. At length the men fell to dicing, at which the master of the house had such constant good luck that, flushed with good fortune and confidence, he risked his dearest possession, as he called it, to wit the fair Beatrix as she stood, with the costly jewels she was wearing, against an old, melancholy mountain-keep which his opponent laughingly staked.