"It is well, my son," replied Koerner. "To each one his own succor and light, his own strength and safety. If, thanks to the priest's purer cross, thou findest calm and resignation, may I not seek the encouragement and strength of my sculptor's chisel? Who may say, that, without these walls, I am not destined to achieve some work that will immortalize my name and console my heart? Then, why not leave to a father's grief the hope of glory, of triumph, and—this little sculptor's tool?" demanded the old man, with flushed face and sparkling eyes.
"I wish thee triumph and glory, my master. But yet, if thou canst do so, remember, when thou art active, diligent, and famous, that thy old pupil Johann, who would not be an artist and became a monk, will never cease to bless thee and to think of thee in his prayers."
So saying, the youth, weeping, kissed old Sebald's hand and left the dwelling, carrying with him the crucifix, his last and only treasure. When he had departed, Sebald Koerner, too, left the studio, after casting a last look on the bas-reliefs, the balcony, the mouldings, and the statues. He double-locked the door and took away the key, and, issuing from his house, he walked for a long time through the fields. Arriving at length at the side of a deep pool near the foot of the hills, he bent over the tranquil waters and dropped the key therein.
The water plashed and the waves hastened in increasing rings from the spot, and then became even more clear and peaceful than before—stilling themselves ere the key had touched the bottom. Sebald then again stood erect, with his icy glance and strange smile, yet grasping the chisel in his hand, and then concealing it in his bosom as if it were a dagger.
Chapter VIII.
One morning the Baron Otho of Arneck and the young Countess Gertrude, now his dear lady and noble wife, were partaking in their house in Baden of their morning collation of fruits, hydromel, and spiced cakes. How charming seemed their repast, since they enjoyed it together. The cakes were exquisite, the hydromel of the sweetest; the cups were of gold, the cloth of fine brocade; Gertrude beautiful and loving. What was needed to complete Otho's happiness?
When the young baroness had clapped her hands to order away the breakfast service, the servant who entered approached the knight, bearing on a silver plate a piece of parchment folded in the form of a letter.
"What have we here?" asked the noble lady. "Another invitation? Indeed, Otho, they become wearisome. We are allowed no rest, although happiest together."
"It is indeed an invitation, but not one for thee, my cherished one," replied Otho, when he had cast his eyes over the missive.
"In good sooth! And who is it who dares so soon to attempt to separate thee from thy wife?"