Part 16 (1/2)

LONDON: PRINTED BY J. B. NICHOLS AND SON, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.

THE BANISHED:

A

SWABIAN HISTORICAL TALE.

EDITED BY

JAMES MORIER, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF HAJJI BABA, &c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1839.

THE BANISHED.

CHAPTER XV.

Art thou troubled, maiden? Tell me what,-- Thou speak'st of matters which beseem thee not.

SCHILLER.

Barbelle went up stairs to her mother, who was still occupied in adorning her little plump person, to appear before her guest in proper attire. They then descended together to the kitchen on the ground floor, which adjoined the apartment of Albert. The attention of the good matron was more excited by getting a peep at him through a small window looking into his room, than in preparing a mess of oatmeal porridge for his mid-day meal. Barbelle was also determined to satisfy her curiosity in like manner, and standing upon tiptoes, looked over her mother's shoulders.

She beheld the young man with wondering eyes, and her heart beat violently for the first time in seventeen years at the sight of his fine figure. She had been often moved to tears as he lay on the bed of sickness, insensible, almost lifeless; deeply affected at the pallid appearance of his fine manly features struggling with death, as she imagined, she had watched him with the tender anxiety of a pious mind; but now she felt he was quite a different object to behold. His eye was reanimated by a beautiful expression, and it struck Barbelle, young though she was, that she had never seen the like before. His hair fell no longer in wild disorder over his forehead; it now hung down his neck arranged with care and combed into neat curls. The colour had returned to his cheeks, and his lips were as fresh as cherries on the festivals of Peter and Paul; and how well did his embroidered silk jacket become him, and the broad white collar which he had put on over his dress! But the little girl could not comprehend why he was so much occupied with a certain white and blue silk scarf; she even thought that he pressed it to his heart and raised it to his lips, full of the devotion which is paid to some esteemed relic.

The elderly matron had, in the meantime, satisfied her curiosity in the examination of her guest, and returned to her culinary occupations.

”The gentleman looks like a prince,” she said, as she gave the mess of oatmeal porridge a stir, ”what a jacket he has! no Stuttgardt beau can boast of a finer one. But what is he always doing with that band he holds in his hand? He never ceases to look at it. Perhaps there is a spot of blood on it which he cannot get out?”

”No, that's not it!” said Barbelle, who could now look into the room with greater ease. ”But do you know, mother, what I think? he looks at it with such ardent eyes, that it must certainly be something from his love.”

The matron could scarcely help smiling at the supposition of her child, but she soon recover her dignity, and replied, ”Ah, what do you know about love! Such a child as you must not think of the like. Get away from the window, and fetch me a napkin. The gentleman has been accustomed to good living, so I must put more melted b.u.t.ter in the porridge.” Barbelle left the window rather in a pet. She knew that she dare not disobey her mother, but nevertheless thought that she was in the present instance decidedly in the wrong. For, had she not been in the habit of joining the other girls of the village for a whole year past, when they talked and sang of their loves and favourites? Had not some of her companions, who were only a few weeks older than herself their appropriate sweethearts? and should she alone be debarred from even speaking on the subject,--not even to know anything about it? No, it was too bad of her mother; who now forbad her knowing anything about such affairs, when but a moment before she had not objected to her standing upon tiptoes to look over her shoulder. But, as it often happens that prohibition excites transgression, so Barbelle was determined not to rest satisfied until she had discovered why the young knight regarded his scarf with such enraptured eyes.

The breakfast of the young man was, in the meantime, ready, wanting only a can of wine to complete it; this was also soon provided; for, though the fifer of Hardt was a man of low condition, he was not so poor that his cellar could not produce a bottle or two upon extraordinary occasions. The girl carried the wine and bread, whilst her mother, dressed in her complete Sunday's attire, preceded her daughter into the room, bearing the dish of oatmeal porridge in both hands.

Albert had some difficulty to dispense with the ceremonious respect, which the fifer's wife thought was due to such a distinguished guest.