“Keep your gold, Sir Envoy; I should lie if I said that I had joined the revolt for your Count Schumacker’s sake. I rebel to free the miners from the guardianship of the crown; I rebel that my mother’s bed may have a blanket less ragged than the coast of our good country, Norway.”
Far from seeming disconcerted, Mr. Hacket answered smilingly, “Then I will send this money to your poor mother, my dear Norbith, so that she may have two new blankets to shield her from the cold wind this winter.”
The young man assented with a nod, and the envoy, like a skilful orator, made haste to add:—
“But be careful not to repeat what you just now inconsiderately said, that you are not taking up arms in behalf of Schumacker, Count Griffenfeld.”
“But—but,” muttered the two old men, “we know very well that the miners are oppressed, but we know nothing about this count, this prisoner of state.”
“What!” sharply rejoined the envoy; “are you so ungrateful? You groan in your subterranean caves, deprived of light and air, robbed of all your property, slaves to the most onerous tutelage! Who came to your rescue? Who revived your failing courage? Who gave you gold and arms? Was it not my illustrious master, noble Count Griffenfeld, more of a slave and more unfortunate even than you? And now, loaded with his favors, would you refuse to use them to acquire his liberty with your own?”
“You are right,” interrupted the young miner; “that would be an ill deed.”
“Yes, Mr. Hacket,” said the two old men, “we will fight for Count Schumacker.”
“Courage, my friends! Rise in his name; bear your benefactor’s name from one end of Norway to the other. Only listen; everything seconds your righteous enterprise; you are about to be freed from a formidable enemy, General Levin de Knud, governor of the province. The secret power of my noble master, Count Griffenfeld, will soon procure his recall to Bergen. Come, tell me, Kennybol, Jonas, and you, my dear Norbith, are all your comrades ready?”
“My brethren of Guldbrandsdal,” said Norbith, “only await my signal. To-morrow, if you wish—”