Part 9 (1/2)

Yet but the lightest touch is a source of pain to the sick man.

Nay, concealment itself, if successful, had profited nothing.

Better show now what had later increased to a bitterer anguish, And to an inward consuming despair might perhaps have reduced me.

Let me go back! for here in this house I can tarry no longer.

I will away, and wander in search of my hapless companions, Whom I forsook in their need; for myself alone choosing the better.

This is my firm resolve, and I therefore may make a confession Which might for years perhaps have else lain hid in my bosom.

Deeply indeed was I hurt by the father's words of derision; Not that I'm sensitive, proud beyond what is fitting a servant; But that my heart in truth had felt itself stirred with affection Towards the youth who to-day had appeared to my eyes as a savior.

When he first left me there on the road, he still remained present, Haunting my every thought; I fancied the fortunate maiden Whom as a bride, perhaps, his heart had already elected.

When at the fountain I met him again, the sight of him wakened Pleasure as great as if there had met me an angel from heaven; And with what gladness I followed, when asked to come as his servant.

True, that I flattered myself in my heart,--I will not deny it,-- While we were hitherward coming, I might peradventure deserve him, Should I become at last the important stay of the household.

Now I, alas! for the first time see what risk I was running, When I would make my home so near to the secretly loved one; Now for the first time feel how far removed a poor maiden Is from an opulent youth, no matter how great her deserving.

All this I now confess, that my heart ye may not misinterpret, In that 'twas hurt by a chance to which I owe my awaking.

Hiding my secret desires, this dread had been ever before me, That at some early day he would bring him a bride to his dwelling; And ah, how could I then my inward anguish have suffered!

Happily I have been warned, and happily now has my bosom Been of its secret relieved, while yet there is cure for the evil.

But no more; I have spoken; and now shall nothing detain me Longer here in a house where I stay but in shame and confusion, Freely confessing my love and that foolish hope that I cherished.

Not the night which abroad is covered with lowering storm clouds; Not the roll of the thunder--I hear its peal--shall deter me; Not the pelt of the rain which without is beating in fury; Neither the bl.u.s.tering tempest; for all these things have I suffered During our sorrowful flight, and while the near foe was pursuing.

Now I again go forth, as I have so long been accustomed, Carried away by the whirl of the times, and from every thing parted.

Fare ye well! I tarry no longer; all now is over.”

Thus she spoke and back to the door she hastily turned her, Still bearing under her arm, as she with her had brought it, her bundle.

But with both of her arms the mother seized hold of the maiden, Clasping her round the waist, and exclaiming, amazed and bewildered: ”Tell me, what means all this? and these idle tears, say, what mean they?

I will not let thee depart: thou art the betrothed of my Hermann.”

But still the father stood, observing the scene with displeasure, Looked on the weeping girl, and said in a tone of vexation: ”This then must be the return that I get for all my indulgence, That at the close of the day this most irksome of all things should happen!

For there is naught I can tolerate less than womanish weeping, Violent outcries, which only involve in disorder and pa.s.sion, What with a little of sense had been more smoothly adjusted.

Settle the thing for yourselves: I'm going to bed; I've no patience Longer to be a spectator of these your marvellous doings.”

Quickly he turned as he spoke, and hastened to go to the chamber Where he was wonted to rest, and his marriage bed was kept standing, But he was held by his son, who said in a tone of entreaty: ”Father, hasten not from us, and be thou not wroth with the maiden.

I, only I, am to blame as the cause of all this confusion, Which by his dissimulation our friend unexpectedly heightened.

Speak, O worthy sir; for to thee my cause I intrusted.

Heap not up sorrow and anger, but rather let all this be ended; For I could hold thee never again in such high estimation, If thou shouldst show but delight in pain, not superior wisdom.”

Thereupon answered and said the excellent clergyman, smiling: ”Tell me, what other device could have drawn this charming confession Out of the good maiden's lips, and thus have revealed her affection?

Has not thy trouble been straightway transformed into gladness and rapture?

Therefore speak up for thyself; what need of the tongue of another?”

Thereupon Hermann came forward, and spoke in these words of affection: ”Do not repent of thy tears, nor repent of these pa.s.sing distresses; For they complete my joy, and--may I not hope it-thine also?

Not to engage the stranger, the excellent maid, as a servant, Unto the fountain I came; but to sue for thy love I came thither.

Only, alas! my timorous look could thy heart's inclination Nowise perceive; I read in thine eyes of nothing but kindness, As from the fountain's tranquil mirror thou gavest me greeting.

Might I but bring thee home, the half of my joy was accomplished.

But thou completest it unto me now; oh, blest be thou for it!”

Then with a deep emotion the maiden gazed on the stripling; Neither forbade she embrace and kiss, the summit of rapture, When to a loving pair they come as the longed-for a.s.surance, Pledge of a lifetime of bliss, that appears to them now never-ending.