Part 8 (2/2)
Before this man, who, mindful of his father's bequest, had kindly opened to him a path which would lead to the accomplishment of his parent's wishes, he must now appear in very doubtful light.
Troubled with these gloomy forebodings, he had slowly approached the gate of the town, when he was suddenly seized by the arm, and turning around, a man, to appearance a peasant, stood before him.
”What is your business with me?” asked Albert, rather angrily, annoyed at being disturbed in his musing.
”My answer will depend upon whether you are the person I am looking for,” answered the man. ”Tell me, what belongs to _Licht_ and _Sturm_?”
Albert was astonished at this singular question, and observed him more closely. He was not very tall, but strongly built, broad-chested, and of mean appearance. His face, much tanned by the sun, might have pa.s.sed as plain and insignificant to a superficial observer, but, upon a narrower inspection, there was a certain expression about the eyes and mouth which, in addition to cunning and acuteness, bespoke daring and audacity. His hair and beard were dark yellow, and smooth; he carried a long dagger or knife in his leathern girdle; in one hand he held an axe, in the other a low round leathern cap, such as the Swabian peasant of the present day wears.
Whilst Albert made these hasty observations, he narrowly watched the expression of his features.
”Perhaps you did not thoroughly understand me, sir knight,” continued the other, after a short silence; ”so I will explain myself more fully.
Let me ask, what should be added to _Sturm_ and _Licht_, to form two n.o.ble names?”
”_Feder_ and _stein_,” answered the young man, to whom it was immediately clear, what was to be understood by the question; ”but what is your business?”
”So you are Albert von Sturmfeder?” said the other; ”and I come from Bertha von----”
”For heaven's sake be silent, friend; mention no names,” said Albert; ”tell me quickly, have you got any thing for me?”
”A note, sir,” said the peasant; when, unbuckling a broad black leather band, wound under his knee, he produced a small strip of parchment.
Albert took the parchment with hasty joy; there were a few words written on it with black s.h.i.+ning ink. It appeared to have cost some trouble to the writer, and proved that the young ladies of 1519 were not so ready with their pen, to express their tender feelings, as those of the present day, when every village beauty can write an epistle to her swain as long as her garter. The chronicle whence we have taken this history, has happily preserved every word of the confused traces on the parchment, which Albert's greedy eye now speedily deciphered as follows:
”Remember your oath--fly bytimes. G.o.d conduct thee. Your Bertha----to eternity.”
These few words expressed a pious, tender feeling, dictated by a loving heart. No wonder then that Albert was for some moments lost in a state of joyous intoxication. He sent a look of grat.i.tude toward the distant blue mountains in the direction of Lichtenstein, and thanked his love for the consolation these lines afforded him, for truly, never had he stood so much in need of comfort, as at this moment. He was now convinced, that a being, the dearest that existed in the world to him, had not forsaken him. His heart resumed its usual cheerfulness, he proffered his hand to the trusty messenger, thanked him cordially, and asked him how he came by the strip of parchment.
”Did not I know,” he answered, ”that that little sc.r.a.p of paper contained no evil enchantment, for the young lady smiled most kindly as she pressed it into my rough hand! I came to Blaubeuren last Wednesday, where our army is encamped. There is a magnificent high altar in the convent church there, over which the history of my patron, John the Baptist, is represented. About seven years ago, when I was in great distress of mind, and upon the point of suffering an ignominious death, I made a vow, to perform a pilgrimage to the spot every year about this time. I have never neglected this duty, having been saved from the hangman's hand, by a miracle performed by my saint. When I have finished my prayers, I always go to the abbot to present my offering of a couple of fine geese or a lamb, or any thing else he may prefer. But, sir, you will be tired with my gossip.”
”No, no,--go on,” said Albert; ”come, sit down on that bench, beside me.”
”That would not be proper,” answered the messenger; ”for a common peasant to place himself beside a gentleman, whom the general took such notice of before all the people this morning, would be out of all character: I would rather stand, with your permission.” Albert seated himself on the stone bench by the road side, and the countryman, leaning on his axe, went on with his story. ”I had little inclination to prosecute my pilgrimage in these unsettled times, but it is said, an unfulfilled oath is displeasing to the Almighty; so I was obliged to perform my vow. This year, when I rose from my prayer, and, as usual, was going to present my offering to the abbot, one of the priests told me, I could not go to his reverence this time, because many n.o.bles and knights were waiting on him; but I insisted on it, for I knew the abbot to be a kind benevolent man, and he would have been displeased, had I gone away without seeing him. Should you ever visit the convent, don't forget to notice a long and narrow staircase leading from the high altar to the dormitory, through a thick wall, which separates it from the church. There it was that the lady met me. She approached me, a delicate-formed female, descending the stairs, covered with a long veil, with breviary and rosary in her hands. I pressed myself close to the wall, to allow her to pa.s.s, but she stood still, and said, 'Well, Hans, whither are you going?'”
”But how did the lady know you?” Albert interrupted him.
”My sister is her nurse, and----”
”How, is old Rosel your sister?” said the young man.
”Do you know her also?” said the messenger, ”only think! but let me proceed. I was very happy to see her again, for I visited my sister often in Lichtenstein, and I have known the young lady, ever since she was taught to walk with the help of her father's sword belt. I should scarcely have known her again, she is grown so much, but her rosy cheeks have disappeared, like the snow on the first day of May. I don't know how it was, but I was so much struck by her looks, that I could not help asking her if any thing was the matter with her, and whether I could render her any a.s.sistance. She thought for a moment, and then said, 'Yes, Hans, if you can be discreet you may indeed render me a very great service!' I promised, and she appointed a meeting after vespers.”
”But how is it, that she is in the convent?” Albert asked; ”for formerly no female foot dared cross its threshold.”
”The abbot is a friend of her father's, and as there are so many people in Blaubeuren at present, she is in greater safety in the convent than in the town, where strange things come to pa.s.s. After vespers, therefore, when all was quiet, I stole softly into the cloister, and met her. I cheered her sunken spirits, as well as we peasants know how to do, when she gave me that strip of parchment, and bid me find you out.”
”I thank you heartily, good Hans,” said Albert; ”but is that all she charged you with?”
”No,” answered the messenger; ”she moreover commissioned me to tell you, by word of mouth, to be upon your guard, for there was a plot laid against you.”
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