The Banished Part 4

But his first concern would be to hasten to impart this extraordinary piece of good news to his charming cousins.

He related all this to his guest with an air of great importance, and a.s.sured him he was so full of business that he scarcely knew where his head was. Albert had only one thought, that of seeing and speaking with Bertha, and he was so overjoyed in the antic.i.p.ation of such-unlooked for happiness, that he gladly would have embraced the bearer of the good tidings, if prudence had not deterred him from thus exhibiting his secret feelings.

"I can plainly see," said the scribe, "the pleasure this news gives you; the love of dancing brightens up your eyes already. I can promise you a couple of partners, such as you will not find every day. You shall dance with my cousins; for I am their chaperon on such occasions, and I will so arrange the matter that you and no other shall be the first to engage them; they will be enchanted when I promise them the best dancer in the room." With this he left the apartment, wis.h.i.+ng his friend good morning, cautioning him when he went out of the house not to forget to notice it, so as to be able to find it again at dinner time.

Herr Kraft being a near relation of the Herrn von Besserer, was ent.i.tled to free access to his house, and upon this occasion he made an earlier call than usual.

He found the maidens still at breakfast. Ladies of the present day may perhaps be shocked at the homely meal which our two belles of Ulm, in the year 1519, were partaking of when their cousin Dieterick entered the room. It was not an elegant dejeune, served up in painted porcelain in the form of beautiful antique vases, or curious-shaped chocolate cups; no, the natural grace of Marie and Bertha was not impaired by the occupation of breakfasting on humble _beer-soup_,[1] at six in the morning, served up in the brown-coloured jug of that day. Can this avowal, however, prejudice the attractive qualities of these two beauties? In the eyes of some it perhaps may; but whoever could have seen Marie and Bertha, in their pretty little morning caps and neat clean dresses, would certainly, as cousin Kraft did, have no objection to partake of the breakfast with them.

"I can see at once, cousin," began Marie, after the usual salutations of the morning, "that you would like to partake of our soup, because, I suppose, your old cross nurse has not taken care of you this morning; but don't flatter yourself that you will get any here, for you deserve punishment, and must expect----"

"Oh, we have been waiting for you so long," interrupted Bertha.

"Yes, to be sure we have," said Marie, with her usual quick way; "but don't flatter yourself that we care as much about your society, as to be informed of the news of what is going on, that's all."

The scribe had been long accustomed to be received by Marie in this manner. He determined, therefore, to make himself as agreeable as possible, satisfying her curiosity by giving her all the gossip of the town, in order to pacify the jealous mood, which he thought he had excited. He was about to begin, when Marie interrupted him. "We know,"

said she, "that you are too fond of a long story, and as we witnessed most of your doings in the town-hall yesterday from the balcony, we'll say nothing touching your drinking bout there, which speaks not much to your credit; but answer me this question."--She placed herself before him in an att.i.tude of comic seriousness, and went on: "Dieterick von Kraft, scribe of the most n.o.ble council of state, did you notice among the confederates, at the dinner given yesterday in the town-hall, a remarkably distinguished-looking young knight, with long light-brown hair, a face not so milk-white as your own, but not less handsome; a small beard, not so carefully combed as yours, but much more beautiful; a light blue scarf with silver----!"

"Oh, that is no other than my guest," cried cousin Kraft; "he rode a large brown horse, and wore a blue jacket, slashed at the shoulders, and turned up with light blue."

"Yes, yes, go on; the very one," said Marie; "we have our particular reasons for inquiring all about him."

"Well, that is Albert von Sturmfeder," answered the scribe, "a handsome charming young fellow. It is curious that you should be the first he noticed in coming into the town." Kraft then related all the particulars of what had pa.s.sed at the dinner, how he was at once struck by the manly figure, the commanding and attractive countenance of the young man, who, by good luck, became his neighbour at table, and that the more he knew of him the more he liked him; so much so, that he had invited him to his house.

Bertha rose from her seat, and went to look for her work-box, turning her back at the same time upon both her cousins, in order to conceal a blush which flew to her forehead, and which proved that not one word of Dieterick's conversation was lost upon her.

"Come, that is very kind of you, cousin," said Marie, as he finished: "I believe it is the first time you have ventured to have a guest in your house. I should like to have seen the face of old Sabina, when master Dieter, as she calls you, brought a stranger home so late at night."

"Oh," said the scribe, "she resembled the dragon attacking St. George; but I gave her to understand pretty clearly, that it was not at all improbable, I might soon bring home one of my pretty cousins----"

"Ah, get away with you, and don't talk nonsense," resumed Marie, as she tried to withdraw her hand, which he had taken, blus.h.i.+ng highly at the same time. She had never appeared so pretty in his eyes as at this moment. Bertha's serious face, in proportion as this flirtation increased, lost its attraction in his estimation, the balance of his devotion was all in favour of the animated Marie, who now sat before him in all the bloom of blus.h.i.+ng beauty.

Bertha having slipt out of the room, Marie escaped the tender grasp of Dieterick's hand, and profited by this opportunity to turn the subject of the conversation.

"There she goes," she said, as she looked after her cousin; "I would wager she is going to her room to weep again. She cried so violently yesterday, that it has made me also quite melancholy."

"What is the matter with her?" asked Dieterick, with interest.

"I am as ignorant of the cause of her grief as ever," answered Marie; "I have asked her over and over again; but she only shakes her head, as if there was no hope left. 'This unhappy war!' is all she ever gave me for answer."

"And is old Lichtenstein still determined to take her back to his castle?"

"Certainly," answered Marie; "you should have heard how the old man swore yesterday, when the confederates entered! Well, he is devoted to his Duke, heart and soul, so he may go, with all my heart. As soon as war is declared, he intends taking his departure with her."

Herr Dieterick appeared very thoughtful; he rested his head upon his hand, and listened to his cousin in silence.

"And only think," she continued, "yesterday, after the entrance of the leaguists into the town, she wept more than ever. You know she was always serious and melancholy; but as if that circ.u.mstance were to decide the fate of the war, she is now quite disconsolate, I don't believe it is the idea of leaving Ulm that affects her; but I suspect,"

she added, mysteriously, "she has some secret attachment at heart."

"Yes, I have long remarked that," sighed Herr Dieterick; "but how can I help it?"

"You! how can you help it?" laughed Marie, all signs of sorrow on Bertha's account vanis.h.i.+ng from her face at these words. "No, indeed, you need not flatter yourself that you are the cause of her suffering.

She was in this state long before you ever saw her."

The worthy secretary was very much put out by this a.s.surance. He thought in his heart that a farewell from him was the real cause of Bertha's state, and her care-worn countenance at this moment almost regained the preponderance in his changeable heart. Marie went on to deride his conceitedness, when all of a sudden he recollected the main object of his visit, which he had lost sight of during the conversation. Marie sprang up with a scream of joy, as her cousin imparted to her the news of the ball.

"Bertha, Bertha!" she cried out, at the height of her voice, so that her cousin, startled, and fearing lest some accident had happened, hastened to her a.s.sistance. But before she had scarcely had time to enter the room, Marie said again, "Bertha, a ball at the town-hall this evening!"

This news was a happy surprise to her also. "When? are the strangers invited also?" were her rapid questions, whilst a deep red covered her cheeks, and a ray of joy shot from her sorrowful eyes, scarcely able to contain their tears.

Marie and her cousin Kraft were both astonished at Bertha's rapid change from depression of spirits to sudden joy, and Dieterick could not help remarking, that he supposed she must be pa.s.sionately fond of dancing. But he was equally mistaken in this instance, as he was when he mistook Albert von Sturmfeder for a connoisseur of wine.

Herr Kraft, supposing his cousins would now wish to occupy themselves with the important preparation of dress, rather than listen to anything else he might have to say, took his departure, to fulfil the rest of his weighty duties. He hastened to give the requisite orders, and to invite, in person, the princ.i.p.al guests, and higher families. He was received everywhere as the messenger of good news; for tradition says, that the pleasure of dancing is not the pa.s.sion of the present day only.

His arrangements were soon accomplished. In those days, in order to be merry and cheerful, it was not absolutely necessary there should be a long suite of apartments, lighted up with flaming chandeliers, and furnished with numerous unmeaning things, which enc.u.mber the fas.h.i.+onable apartments of the present age. All was simple. The room in the town-hall was, from its size, well adapted for the purpose, and the humble rude-shaped lamps which hung on the walls, had, up to that time, thrown out light enough to show off the dresses and illumine the pretty faces of the maidens of Ulm.

But not only had the arrangements of the active scribe succeeded in everything he had undertaken on this important occasion; he had also in the course of his visits learned some secret intelligence which had been confided solely to the committee of the council, and the princ.i.p.al officers of the League.

Satisfied with the result of his various avocations, he returned home at noon, when his first step was to inquire after his guest.

Albert had been employed, during the absence of his host, in looking over a beautifully-written book of chronicles, which he found in his room. The neat painted figures which formed the first letter of the chapters, the pictures of fields of battle, and triumphal entries of victorious troops, delineated with a bold outline, and painted with peculiar care and labour, and which were dispersed throughout the volume, had amused him for some time. His mind being full of the warlike figures he had been examining, induced him to think of his own weapons, and of polis.h.i.+ng his helmet, armour, and the sword which he had inherited from his father. He accordingly set to work, at the same time singing sometimes a cheerful, sometimes a serious song, to the great annoyance of the unmusical organs of Frau Sabina.

Dieterick heard the sounds of his agreeable voice as he walked up stairs, and he could not resist listening at the door until he had finished his song. It was one of those touching strains, bordering almost on the melancholy, which has been brought down to our times, and is to be heard even now in the mouth of the Swabians. Often and with pleasure have we listened to those strains on the charming banks of the Neckar, struck with the beautiful simplicity and lengthened sound of their harmony.

Albert went on singing:

Swift as thought All our pleasures come to nought!

The charger yesterday he press'd, To-day the death-shot pierced his breast, To-morrow opes the chilly grave.

Such the measure Of all earthly bliss and pleasure!

In that comely cheek of thine, The lily and the rose combine; But rose and lily fade and die.

Then resigned To G.o.d's will, I yield my mind: Should the trumpet sound a call, Should it be my fate to fall, Say "A gallant soldier's gone."

"Really you have a fine voice," said his host, as he entered the apartment; "but why sing such melancholy songs? I prefer a merry and cheerful one, such as a young fellow of twenty-eight ought to sing."

Albert put his sword aside, and gave his hand to his friend. "Every one to his taste," said he, "but I think that to those whose occupation is war, and whose life is in constant jeopardy, a song which carries consolation and encouragement to the heart of the soldier, gives death a milder aspect."

"That's just what I mean, also," said Dieterick; "but what is the use of being melancholy upon a subject which is certainly the lot of all?

'If you paint the devil on the wall, he will surely appear,' says the proverb; however, that saying does not hold good as the case now stands."

"How? is not war decided," asked Albert, with curiosity; "has the Wurtemberger accepted conditions?"

"Conditions? none will be made with him," answered the secretary, with an air of contempt; "he has lived his longest day as Duke; it is our turn now to govern. I will let you into a secret," added he, looking big with importance and mystery, "but it must be strictly between us.

Your hand! You think the Duke has fourteen thousand Swiss with him?

They are scattered to the winds. The messenger we despatched to Zurich and Bern has returned. All the Swiss at Blaubeuren and on the Alb will be obliged to return home immediately."

"Return home?" said Albert, with astonishment, "and for what purpose?

Are they at war themselves in their own country?"