Praxedis faithfully served her mistress for some years more; but by degrees an irresistible longing for her bright, sunny home, took possession of her, so that she declared that she could not bear the Suabian air any longer.
Richly dowered, the Duchess let her go from her. Master Spazzo, the chamberlain, gave her a gallant and honourable escort as far as Venetia; from whence a Greek galley bore the still pretty maiden from the city of St. Mark, to Byzantium. The accounts which she gave there of the Bodensee, and the rough but faithful barbarian hearts near its shores, were received by all the waiting-women at the Greek court with a dubious shake of the head, as if she were speaking of a bewitched sea, and some fabulous country.
Old Moengal, for some time longer took care of the spiritual welfare of his parishioners. When the Huns threatened the land with another invasion, he spent much time in making plans for their reception. He proposed to dig some hundred deep pit-falls in the plain; to cover them with boughs and ferns, and behind them, in full battle-array, to wait for the enemy; so that horses and riders should thus be frustrated in their wicked designs.
The evil guests, however, did not make their reappearance in the Hegau, and thus robbed the parish-priest of the pleasure of splitting their skulls with the mighty blows of his shilalah. A peaceful death overtook the old sportsman, just when he was about to rest himself after a prosperous falcon-hunt. On his grave, in the shadow of his grey parish-church there grew a holly-bush, which became higher and more knotty than any which had ever been seen in those parts; and people said that it must be an offspring of their priest's good bludgeon, Cambutta.
Audifax, the goat-herd, learned the goldsmith's art, and settled down in the bishopric of Constance, where he produced much fine workmanship. The companion of his adventures, there became his wedded spouse, and the Duchess was god-mother to their first little son.
Burkhard the cloister-pupil, became a celebrated Abbot of the monastery of St. Gallus, and on all great occasions he still manufactured many dozens of learned Latin verses, from which, however, thanks to the destroying powers of time, posterity has been spared.
... And all have long since become dust and ashes. Centuries have passed, in swift procession over the places, where their fates were fulfilled; and new stories have taken the place of the old ones.
The Hohentwiel has still witnessed a good deal, during war and peace. Many a brave knight rode out of its gates, and many an imprisoned man pined in its vaults,--until the last hour of the proud fortress struck; for on a fine day in May, it was blown to pieces by the enemy, so that towers and walls were scattered into the air.
In the present day, 'tis quiet enough on that summit. The goats are peacefully grazing between the huge fragments; but from over the glittering Bodensee, the Säntis still stands out in the blue distance, as grand and beautiful as it did many hundred years ago; and it is still a pleasurable thing, seated in the luxuriant grass, to look over the land.
He, who has written this book, has sat up there, on many a spring-evening, a strange and lonely guest; and the crows and jackdaws flew tauntingly around him, as if they wanted to mock him, because he was so lonely; and they did not notice that a numerous and honourable party was assembled around him.--They were all those in fact, whose acquaintance the reader has made in the course of this story; and they told him every thing; clearly and distinctly, and they kindly encouraged him to write it down, thus to help them to live again in the memory of a later, railway-hurrying present.