Part 25 (1/2)
Grateful and full of joy, she took the dollar out of her leather pocket, and looked at it over and over again on both sides. She praised the liberality of the youth, and regretted that his love had been so ill requited, for that her young lady was unfaithful to him was a clear case in her eyes. She stood in the kitchen for some time wrapt in thought. She doubted within herself whether to let the thing take its course, or whether it would not be better to give a hint to the young knight, to apprise him of the nocturnal visitor. ”But,” she said, ”in time of need comes help; perhaps he will see it himself, and does not want my advice. Besides, a meddler between two lovers is likely to burn his own fingers. It will be better to wait and look on, for heat in counsel and rashness in action engender nothing but harm. Who seeks peace and quiet, let him keep his eyes open, listen, and be silent!”
Such were the thoughts of the old philosopher in the kitchen. The lovers had in the mean time made up their differences. Albert was unable to withstand the entreaties of Bertha, and when she asked him, in the most tender tone, whether he was still angry with her, he could not bring his heart to say, yes. Peace was therefore re-established between them, and, which is seldom the case, in a shorter time than that which had been taken up in producing the dispute. She listened to the continuation of his adventures with great interest. It required, nevertheless, the conviction of his stedfast faith in her love, and in the word of the exiled man, to restrain his jealousy within due limits; for when he described his first encounter with his opponent, he observed a blush on her countenance, which raised a doubt in his mind whether it expressed joy for his escape from so formidable and experienced an adversary, or whether it was not occasioned by a lurking interest she took in the stranger. In relating further his visit to the exile in the dreary regions of his retreat, and all the circ.u.mstances connected with it, his admiration of the knight's n.o.ble mind, his greatness of soul amidst privations and miseries, tears started into her eyes, she looked up to Heaven as if in the act of imploring G.o.d's protection upon the unhappy man.
The conversation also which he had had with him, and particularly that part of it in which the exile addressed him as his friend, extolling his magnanimity for having pledged his faith to serve Wurtemberg,--the cause of the oppressed and banished,--lighted up the glance of Bertha's eyes with unusual brilliancy. She gazed on her lover for some time in silent admiration. The sufferings she had endured since she last saw him were now effaced by the joy she felt in having him by her side as the staunch ally of her father. Albert was ashamed to feel his heart beat quicker at the interest Bertha appeared to take in everything relating to his new acquaintance. But he had command enough over himself to conceal his uneasiness from her, whilst his conscience upbraided him for harbouring the slightest suspicion of her fidelity.
”Albert,” she said, ”some time hence many a one will envy you this night's adventure. You may think yourself highly honoured, for it is not every one that Hans would venture to conduct to the exile.”
”You know him, then?” replied the young man, eager to hear from her what he had failed to elicit from the fifer. ”Oh, tell me who he is! I have seldom seen a man whose features, whose whole bearing, have acquired such an ascendancy over me? He told me he would at present be called by no other name than 'the man;' but his arm, whose strength I have felt, his penetrating look, convince me his name must be renowned in the world.”
”He had a name, indeed, once,” she answered, ”which could vie with the most n.o.ble in the land. But if he did not tell it you himself, neither dare I p.r.o.nounce it, because it would be against my word to do so. You must exercise your patience a little longer,” she added, smiling, ”difficult as it may be to restrain your curiosity.”
”But why cannot you tell me,” he interrupted her, ”are not we one?
Ought we to withhold anything from each other? Come, tell me, who is the man in the cavern?”
”Do not be angry. Look ye, if it were my secret only, you know I would not conceal it from you a moment, and you might with justice demand it of me; but, though I know it would be safe in your keeping, I dare not tell it,--I cannot break my word.”
Though frankness beamed in her countenance, and not a spark of guile reigned in her heart, her refusal to satisfy Albert's wish irritated him, and he was on the point of taxing her with duplicity, when the door burst open, and an immense dog sprang into the room. Albert gave an involuntary start, having never seen so powerful a beast. The dog took up a position opposite to him, eyed him with a fierce look, and began to growl. His voice bore an ominous sound, whilst a row of white teeth, which he every now and then showed, might have startled the courage of the bravest man; one word from Bertha was sufficient to quiet and make it lay down at her feet. She stroked his beautiful head, from which his sharp eye first glanced inquisitively at her and then at the stranger. ”It does everything but speak,” she said, smiling; ”it comes to warn me not to betray my friend.”
”I have never seen so beautiful an animal! How proudly it carries his head, as if he belonged to an emperor or a king.”
”It belongs to him, the banished,” replied Bertha; ”it came to stop my mouth.”
”But why does not the knight keep him with him? Truly, such an arm as his, supported by a dog of this kind, might defy a host of enemies.”
”It is a watchful beast,” she answered, ”and savage; if he kept it in the cavern, he would, indeed, be a certain protection. The cavern is so extensive that a man may remain concealed in its interior without fear of molestation. But if by chance any one entered it, a dog might easily betray him, for as soon as it heard a footstep no one could control it; he would begin to growl and bark, and attract the notice of his master's enemies; he therefore ordered it to remain here. The dog understands his duty, and I take care of him. It pines for his master, and you should see his joy when night comes; he knows then that his lord will soon visit the castle; and, when the drawbridge falls, and footsteps are heard in the court, it is impossible to hold him any longer, he would break a dozen chains to get to his side.”
”A beautiful specimen of fidelity!” said her lover; ”but exemplified by the man to whom this dog belongs in a still higher degree. Faithful to his lord, he prefers banishment and misery rather than betray his cause. It is a folly in me,” Albert added; ”I am aware that curiosity is not seemly in a man, but I long to know who he is.”
”Have patience till the night,” said the maiden; ”when he comes I will ask him if I may tell you. I doubt not but that he will permit me.”
”It is a long time to wait,” said Albert; ”and really I cannot drive his image out of my head. If you will not tell me, I'll ask the dog; perhaps he will be kinder than you.”
”Well, try him,” said Bertha, laughing; ”if he can speak, I'll allow him to satisfy your curiosity.”
”Hearken, you enormous beast,” said Albert, turning to the dog, who looked at him attentively; ”tell me, what is your master's name?”
The dog raised himself proudly up, opened his broad jaws, and roared out, in terrifying tones, ”U--U--U!”
Bertha coloured: ”Let's have no more of this nonsense,” she said, and called the dog to her; ”who would talk to a dog when in Christian society?”
Albert appeared not to heed her remark. ”He said 'U,' good dog; I'll wager he has been trained to it! It is not the first time he has been asked what his master's name was?”
Scarcely had he p.r.o.nounced the last words than the dog repeated his U--U--U! in a still harsher tone. Bertha coloured again, she made it come and lay down at her feet, scolding him in displeasure.
”Well, we have it now,” said Albert, in triumph; ”his master's name is U!” He recollected that the curious word on the ring which the exile had given him began with an U. It is extraordinary, thought he. ”Is your master's name, perhaps, Uffenheim? or Uxhull? or Ulm? or, by the bye,----”
”Nonsense! the dog has no other note than U. How can you plague yourself in trying to find out a meaning to it? But here comes my father. If you wish to conceal our love from him, do not commit yourself. I'll leave you now, as it would not be right to be found together.”
Albert promised to be discreet, and once more embraced Bertha, an indulgence which was likely to be the last for some time, should the presence of her father render it impossible to see her again alone. The dog appeared to watch the movements of the loving couple with astonishment, as if he were really gifted with human sense. The first sound of the horse's feet on the drawbridge was the signal for separation, when Bertha left the room accompanied by the faithful animal.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Duke, so sad, can find no rest, And dark reflections fill his breast; ”How far, alas! from me removed, How much is sunk, the land I loved.”