She had been told that Count Hugo was the most noble of Adalric's four sons. He was universally considered the handsomest and most accomplished prince of his time. His illustrious birth was his least recommendation: he was prudent and generous, and animated by that lofty courage and goodness of heart so becoming to youth. Odile wrote to him, entrusting the letter, carefully wrapped in a piece of scarlet stuff, to a pilgrim. Hugo, charmed with the letter and, unlike most of the nobility of that time, knowing how to write, henceforth [pg 100] kept up a frequent correspondence with her. Odile often gave him serious advice, which he received with tender gratitude. Finding him well disposed, she decided to open her heart to him. Hugo joyfully hastened to intercede for his sister, begging his father to banish no longer a daughter whose virtues would reflect so much honor on his house. But the duke, with his inflexible pride, assumed a severe expression, and, in spite of his partiality for Hugo, told him he had particular motives, for which he was accountable to no one, for requiring Odile to remain at Baume. He also forbade his son ever making a like request. The young man was profoundly afflicted. Impelled by his ardent love for his sister, and believing her sweet presence would justify him in his father's eyes, he immediately despatched horses and everything necessary for such a journey, telling his sister to set off immediately. Full of confidence in Hugo, and sure that her father had consented to her return, she left Baume. It was a sad and painful leave-taking, but she consoled her aunt and the nuns by promising to return and end her days among them. But Heaven otherwise decreed.
Odile had hardly left the monastery when she began to reproach herself for too strong a desire to return to her family, and for the eagerness with which she looked forward to a taste of earthly happiness. She remembered that he to whom she wished to consecrate her life is a jealous God, who wishes his servants, instead of clinging to human creatures, to consider them as instruments of perfection. She shed many and bitter tears, but, according to her custom, she had recourse to prayer, which assuaged the trouble of her conscience and restored a sweet serenity and trust to her soul.
Protected by holy angels, she arrived safely at the foot of the mountain on which rose the new castle of Hohenbourg. Adalric was conversing with his sons when he perceived a company of armed men accompanying a vehicle that was slowly ascending the acclivity. He inquired who the strangers were. “It is my sister Odile,” replied Hugo joyfully. “And who dared bring her here without my orders?” cried the duke in an angry tone. The youth saw the truth must be acknowledged, and, bending his knee before his father, he said: “It was I, my lord. Impelled by my ardent love for her, I wrote her she could come. I am guilty through excessive affection. Punish me alone, if you will not forgive, for she is innocent.”
Hugo, relying too much on his father's partiality, thought he should escape with only a few sharp words; but Adalric, inflamed with rage, raised the staff he held in his hand, and inflicted such a blow on his son that he fell senseless at his feet. Ashamed and sorry for his rashness, the duke raised him, and ordered that his bruises should be cared for.
Adalric's anger had passed away when Odile arrived at the top of the mountain. Kneeling, she lifted towards him the eyes once closed to the light. The duke, recalling the miracle wrought in her behalf, felt, for the first time, an impulse of affection, and, raising her in a kind manner, he bade his sons to welcome her affectionately. At that instant Berswinde and her daughter Roswinde came running out. The duchess kissed, with many tears, Odile's eyes, acknowledging [pg 101] that God had suffered her child to be born blind that he might at a later day manifest his power by repeating the miracle of the gospel. Our saint was then conducted to the chapel. There, humbly prostrate, she thanked God for protecting her in her journey and reuniting her to her family.
VII.
Although Adalric's aversion to Odile was lessened, and he showed her some kindness at her arrival, he was far from feeling the same love for her as for the rest of his children. He assigned her a retired part of the castle, and gave her as a companion a holy maiden from Great Britain who was vowed to the service of God. He never admitted her to his presence, and only allowed her the portion of a servant for her subsistence. Our saint, overlooking this unjust treatment, led at Hohenbourg a life as simple and retired as at the Convent of Baume, often finding means, by really depriving herself of the necessaries of life, of aiding the needy. It was not long before her father awoke to better feelings. Crossing a court of the castle, one day, he met Odile carrying a covered dish. Laying aside his usual coldness, he said mildly: “Where are you going, my child?” “My lord,” replied she, “I am going to cook a little oat-meal for some poor sick people.” These words, timidly uttered, touched the duke. He looked tenderly at his daughter, whose love and sweetness were unchanged by his treatment, and exclaimed, with tears in his eyes: “Be not afflicted, my dearest child, at having hitherto led a life of privation. It shall not be so hereafter.”
In fact, from that moment the relations of Odile and her father were changed. He began to treat her with marked favor, as if to pay the long arrear of paternal love; but she, who was not cast down by misfortune, showed herself unelated by prosperity. Disdaining the pleasures now at her command, she continued to devote her whole life to God. Her days and nights were passed in prayer and good works. Her example produced such an effect that it was imitated by the rest of the family. Her sister Roswinde renounced the pleasures of the world to bear the cross of our Lord. The manners of her father and brothers were softened, and they endeavored to practise the Christian virtues. Even the servants of the castle began to live devoutly. She gained all hearts. She was such a friend to the poor and unfortunate that Hohenbourg soon became their refuge. “Our dear saint,” for such is the name the old historians of Alsace give her, was not satisfied with bestowing on them kind words. She gave them all the money and clothing she possessed. She often endured hunger and refused food that she might aid the sick still more. Every day she descended the steep mountain-path to seek those who were unable to reach the castle, and encourage them with her pious counsels. Her zeal in their behalf was unbounded. She performed the most revolting offices with her own hands. The unhappy regarded her not only as a benefactress, but as a friend to whom they could open their hearts and consciences. The duke and duchess soon became so fond of her that if any one wished a special favor they begged it through her. Adalric's repentance for his past injustice exceeded the anger he felt at her birth. He [pg 102] once thought his conduct justifiable, now he acknowledged it was inexcusable, thus showing himself superior to most men of his station, who are unwilling to allow they are ever wrong. He actually commended Hugo for his disobedience, and tried to atone by particular favors for his cruel treatment at the time of Odile's arrival.
But this serenity could not last forever. Our saint, who had endured her father's coldness so heroically, now began to grow weary of a life of grandeur. She was depressed by the flattery of which she was the object. Duties that were purely worldly absorbed part of the time she wished to consecrate to God. In a word, she often sighed after the retirement of Baume and the life she led there. She finally asked her father's permission to return to her aunt and end her days in penitential works. “I am misunderstood here,” said she; “I am treated with a respect of which I am not worthy. You do not know what I really am, and, if I remain here any longer, I may even forget it myself.”
But the duke opposed her departure, telling her that by practising the Christian virtues at court she could do more good than by leaving the world for the austerities of Baume. Prayers and tears were of no avail; Adalric's resolution was not to be shaken. Odile, despairing of her return, wrote a touching farewell letter to her old companions. Their sorrow was tempered by remembering that she was under the special protection of God, who doubtless wished to make use of her in extending elsewhere the glory of his holy name. Full of veneration for her memory, they put carefully away among the precious objects in their church a violet-colored veil, embroidered with gold and silk of different colors by the daughter of the Duke of Alsace when she lived among them, an exile from the house of her father.