“Alas!” said the old noble, “it matters, in truth, but little to me. I am childless, and almost friendless; for with those I once associated I have no longer a desire to mix; and, except that I may live a few years longer, and forward the noble cause of the Reformation, I should be ready even now to lay down life.”
“Count,” said the old man, rising and standing before him, “you say that you are childless—but are you really so? You once had a daughter?”
“I had, but I cruelly drove her from my door; but I know that she is dead; for, having taken every possible means for her discovery, I could gain no tidings; and I am very sure, knowing her disposition, that ere this, had she been alive, she would have sought a reconciliation. Of the death of her husband I received tidings. He died fighting in the Spanish army against Barbarossa, and on hearing that my child was left a widow, my heart relented towards her. But tell me, friend, have you any tidings of my daughter?”
“You surmise too rightly, count, that your daughter is dead,” answered the woodcutter. “She died in this humble cottage, and in these arms; but before she died she had given birth to a child,—a girl,—who was brought up by my poor daughter, till she herself was also carried to the grave, leaving behind her a son,—young Karl yonder.”
“And my grandchild? Where is she?” exclaimed the count, casting a glance at Meta.
“You see her there, count,” answered the woodcutter. They were seated in the porch of the cottage. Below it ran a stream, where Meta, aided by Karl, was busily washing. The first thing, perhaps, in the once proud noble’s mind was:—
“And can a descendant of mine be thus employed?” The next instant, however, rising from his seat, he hurried down the bank, calling Meta to him. She was quickly by his side. “Child,” he said, “which of us is your grandfather, think you?” As he spoke he drew her towards him, and gazed in her face. “Yes, yes, I recognise the features of my own lost daughter!” he exclaimed. “We will ever love old Moretz, and be grateful to him,” he said, pressing a kiss on Meta’s brow. “But I am your grandfather, and you must try and give me some of the love you bear him.”
Again and again the count expressed his gratitude to old Moreu. “And above all things,” he added, “that you have brought her up as a true Christian Protestant. Had you returned her to me as an ignorant Papist, as I was long ago, my happiness would have been far less complete.”
It was some time before Meta could understand the change in her circumstances, never having indeed been told who was her mother, and believing always that she was Karl’s sister. The poor lad was the only one whose spirits sunk at what he heard, when he was told that he should lose his companion. A right feeling, however, soon rose in his bosom, and he rejoiced at Meta’s change of fortune.
The peasant-army meantime increased in numbers, and a vast concourse, under a fanatical leader, Thomas Munser, marched through the land, burning castles and towns which refused to admit them, and committing all sorts of atrocities. There were several similar bands. The people in the Black Forest rallied round John Müller of Bülgenbach. Wearing a red cap and a red cloak, he rode from village to village, ordering the church bells to summon the people to his standard. Several noblemen were compelled to join them. Among others, the famous Geotz von Ber Lichengen was forced to put himself at the head of the rebel army. Many towns, unable to withstand them, opened their gates, and the citizens received them with acclamations. Dr Martin Luther and many other leaders of the Reformation exerted all their influence to induce the peasants to return to their homes. They wrote, they preached, and showed how such proceedings were opposed to the principles of the gospel. At length a large army, raised by the Ex-Emperor of Germany, was sent against the insurgents, while the nobles, in every direction taking courage, banded together to put down the insurrection. Fearfully did they retaliate on the unhappy people for the insults they had received. Seldom could the insurgent bands withstand the well-trained forces sent against them, and a large part of the country was deluged in blood, the fugitives in most instances being slaughtered without mercy.