P. Conz.
When Albert von Sturmfeder viewed the old castle of Stuttgardt the next morning, it did not exhibit the same form which it has in our days, the present one having been built by the Duke's son, Prince Christoph. The residence of the former Dukes of Würtemberg stood in the same place; and differed little in plan and appearance from Christoph's work, except that it was for the most part built of wood. Being surrounded by broad and deep ditches, over which a bridge led to the town, a large open space in front served in early times as a tilt-yard for the gay court of Ulerich, whose powerful hand had often rolled many a knight in the arena. The interior also of the building bespoke the customs and usages of the times. High and vaulted halls occupied the lower part of the castle, and were generally used in rainy weather as a place for manly exercises, having space sufficient to admit of the largest lance being wielded without hindrance. Old chronicles mention the size of these halls as being spacious enough to contain between two and three hundred persons at table. A broad stone staircase, capable of admitting two horsemen to ride abreast, and made for that purpose, led to the upper apartments, where the splendour of the rooms, the grandeur of the hall of the knights, and the richly ornamented galleries used for dancing and play, corresponded with the exterior appearance of the castle.
Albert viewed with an eye of astonishment the extravagant splendour of the palace. When he compared the establishment of his ancestors with what he now saw, how small and confined they seemed to him! He recollected the stories he had heard of the brilliancy of Ulerich's court, on the occasion of his magnificent marriage, when seven thousand guests, from all parts of the German empire, caroused in this castle, in whose vaulted halls and spacious court-yards all kinds of games and merrymaking were held for a whole month; and a numerous assembly of noblemen, with all the greatest beauties of the day, kept up the merry dance till late at night. He looked down into the garden of the castle, which, from its beauty, was called Paradise. His fancy peopled the shaded walks and summerhouses, which were scattered about it, with the joyous throng of gallant knights and stately ladies, enjoying themselves with mirth and song. But alas! how deserted and empty were they now; and when he compared their present state with the picture his imagination had created, what a lesson of this world's vanity did it not give! The guests of the marriage feast, the brilliant merry court, all are vanished, said he to himself; the princely bride is flown, the brilliant circle of women by whom she was surrounded scattered to the four winds; knights and counts, who once feasted in these halls, have deserted their prince; the tender pledges of his marriage now in a distant land, in the hands of his enemies; and the lord of the castle is left alone to brood in solitude over his misfortunes, and think only of revenge; and who knows how long he will be allowed to remain in the house of his ancestors; who knows whether his enemies will not get the upper hand again, and, overpowering him, drive him into misery twofold greater than what he has already experienced.
The young soldier attempted in vain to repress these gloomy thoughts, which the contrast between the splendour of the surrounding objects and the misfortunes of the Duke involuntarily awakened in his mind. In vain he summoned to his aid the portrait of that beloved being, whom he hoped soon to call his own for ever; in vain he painted, in the most glowing colours, to his imagination, all the charms of domestic happiness in her company; he was still unable to shake off the gloomy ideas which the sight of the castle had produced on his mind. Whatever was the cause of it, whether it was the Duke's lofty character, which he had so nobly manifested in misfortune, and which had created so deep a feeling of admiration in the breast of the young man, or whether nature had gifted him with an extraordinary perception into future events, he remained riveted to the spot in deep thought. Persuaded that the Duke's affairs were any thing but prosperous, he felt himself in duty bound to warn him against some unforeseen impending danger which irresistibly haunted his mind.
"Why so much wrapped in thought, young man?" asked an unknown voice behind him, and roused him from his reverie: "I should have thought Albert von Sturmfeder had reason to be of good cheer."
Albert turned round in surprise, and cast his eyes upon the chancellor, Ambrosius Holland. If this man had struck Albert the night before, as being peculiarly forbidding by his officious courteousness, his cat-like sneaking manner, he was now more confirmed in his dislike, when he remarked the deformity of his person, rendered more conspicuous by an overladen finery of dress. His dark-yellow shrivelled-up face, with an eternal hypocritical smile upon it, his green eyes peeping out under long grey eyelashes, his highly inflamed eyelids, and scanty beard, contrasted strangely with a red velvet cap, and a gown made of bright yellow silk, which hung over his hump. Under the gown he wore a grass-green dress, slashed with rose-coloured silk, his knee-bands being of the same material, fastened with enormous rosettes. His head was stuck close between his shoulders, and the red cap, which he carried on it, appeared to belong equally to the hump. It was a great joke of the executioner of Stuttgardt, that of all heads, that of the chancellor Ambrosius Bolland would appear to be the most difficult to cut off.
This was the man who looked up at Albert von Sturmfeder with a courteous smile. He addressed him with smooth words, "Perhaps you don't know me, my much esteemed young friend: I am Ambrosius Bolland, the chancellor of his highness. I come to wish you a good morning."
"I thank you," said Albert; "and esteem it a great honour, if you have put yourself out of your way on my account."
"Honour to whom honour is due! you are the pattern and crown of our young knighthood! Truly, you who have stood by my master so faithfully in his necessity and dangers have a claim to my most inward thanks, and my particular respect."
"You might have bought your compliments much cheaper had you joined us at Mömpelgard," replied Albert, who was offended by the adulation of the flatterer. "There is no necessity to speak of fidelity; it were better to reprove the want of it."