Part 27 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXIV.
Deserted as thou art, by all forsaken, Thy fortunes ruin'd and thy power gone, Thou still shalt find fidelity unshaken, Although you find it in myself alone.
Thy humble va.s.sal, 'till the hour of death, I'll hail my sovereign with my latest breath.
L. UHLAND.
Albert's expectation was also raised to the highest pitch. His eye examined the two men as they entered, and he at once recognised the fifer of Hardt as one, and the pedlar he had met at the Golden Stag of Pfullingen as the other. The latter disburthened himself of a pack which he carried on his back, tore a plaister from his eye, erected himself from a bent position, which he had a.s.sumed for the purpose of disguise, and stood before the a.s.sembled group, the short-set, strong-built man, with open bold features, which the exile had already described in the cavern.
”Maxx Stumpf!” cried the exile in a trembling tone of voice, ”what means that gloomy countenance? You bring us good news, don't you? they will open the gates to us, and with us hold out to the last man?”
Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg looked about him in confusion. ”Prepare for the worst, sir!” he said, ”the intelligence I bring you is not good.”
”How?” answered the other, whilst the blush of rage flew into his cheeks, and the veins of his forehead began to swell, ”how, do you mean they hesitate, they waver? It is impossible! be not precipitate in what you say, recollect it is of the n.o.bles of the land of whom you speak.”
”And still I will say it,” Schweinsberg answered, making a step forward. ”In the face of the Emperor and the Empire, I will say they are traitors.”
”Thou liest!” cried the exile with a terrible voice. ”Traitors, did you say? Thou liest! Dost thou dare to rob forty knights of their honour?
Ha! own it, that you lie.”
”Would to G.o.d I were a knight without honour--a dog that betrays his master! But the whole forty have broken their oaths--you have lost your country. My Lord Duke, Tubingen is gone!”
The man, whom these words more immediately concerned, sank in a chair at the window: he covered his face with his hands, his agitated breast appeared to seek in vain for breath, his whole frame trembled.
The eyes of all were directed to him, expressive of commiseration and pain, particularly Albert's, who now for the first time learnt the name of ”the man”--it was him, Duke Ulerich of Wurtemberg! Recollections of the first moment he had met him, of his first visit to the cavern, of the conversation they had had, and the way which his whole bearing had surprised him and bound him to his cause, crossed his mind in _one_ rapid flight. It was quite incomprehensible to him, that he had not long ago made the discovery.
No one dared to break the silence for some time. The heavy breathing of the Duke only was heard, and his faithful dog, who appeared to partake of his master's misery, added his pitiable whining to the distressing scene. Old Lichtenstein at length giving a sign to the knight of Schweinsberg, they both approached the Duke, and touched his cloak, in order to rouse him, but he remained immoveable and silent. Bertha had stood aloof, with tears in her eyes. She now drew near with hesitating step, put her hand on his shoulder, and, beholding him with a look of tender compa.s.sion, at last took courage to say, ”My Lord Duke! it is still good Wurtemberg for ever!”
A deep sigh escaping from his breast, was the only notice he took of the kind girl's solicitude. Albert then approached him. The expression which the exile had made use of, when they first met, flashed across his mind, and he ventured to address the same words now to his afflicted friend. ”Man without a name,” said he, ”why so downhearted?
Si fractus illabatur orbis, impavidum ferient ruinae!”[1]
These words acted like a charm upon Ulerich. Whether he had adopted them as his motto, or whether it was that combination of greatness of soul, and obstinate contempt of misfortune, which formed his character, and acquired for him the name of the ”Undaunted,” he was reanimated, as if by an electric spark, when he heard them repeated, and from that moment rose worthy of his name.
”Those are the true words, my young friend,” he said at length with a firm voice, proudly raising his head, his eyes sparkling with their usual animation, ”those are the words. I thank you for bringing them to my mind. Stand forward, Maxx Stumpf, knight of Schweinsberg, relate the result of your mission. But first of all, give me another gla.s.s, Bertha!”
”It was last Thursday, when I left you,” began the knight: ”Hans disguised me in this garb, and instructed me how to comport myself. I went to the Golden Stag at Pfullingen, just to try if any one would recognise me in it, but the hostess brought me a can of wine with all the indifference she would have done to a perfect stranger she had never seen before. And a city counsellor, with whom I had exchanged angry words not a week before in the same room, drank with me, supposing I had followed the vocation of pedlar from my childhood. That young man,” pointing to Albert, ”was also in the room.”
The Duke appeared to recover his spirits, and was more cheerful. He asked Albert whether he had noticed the knight in his garb of pedlar, and whether he looked the character?
He replied, smiling, ”I think he played his part to perfection.”
”From Pfullingen I went the same evening to Reutlingen. I entered the public room of an inn, where I met a tribe of Leaguists, consisting of citizens, from all parts, who were exulting with the Reutlingeners, for having torn down the stag horns, the emblems of your house, from their city gates. Though they abused you and sang burlesque songs at your expense, still they appeared to fear your name. On Good Friday I proceeded towards Tubingen. My heart beat high when I descended through the wood near the castle, and saw the beautiful valley of the Neckar before me, with the fortified towers and steeples of that place peering above the hill.”
The Duke compressed his lips, turned away, and looked at the distant country. Schweinsberg paused, sympathising in his master's pain, who beckoned to him, however, to proceed.
”Descending into the plain, I wandered onward towards Tubingen. The town had been already occupied by the League some days, the castle still held out, and only a few troops remained in the camp, which was pitched on the hill overlooking the valley of Ammer. I determined to slip into the town, for the purpose of finding out how affairs stood in the castle. You know the little inn in the upper town, not far from the church of St. George? I went there, and called for wine. On my way I learned that the knights of the League often a.s.sembled in the same house, and therefore I considered it the best place to attain my object.”
”You risked a good deal,” interrupted the knight of Lichtenstein: ”it was very possible some one might have wished to buy some of your wares, and then the pedlar in disguise would have been discovered.”
”You forget it was a holiday,” replied the other, ”so that I had a good excuse not to open my pack, and recommend my goods for sale, according to the custom of pedlars. But I had sufficient proof of the security of my disguise, for I sold a box of healing plaster to George von Fronsberg, G.o.d knows, I would gladly have come to blows with him, and given him an opportunity on the spot to make use of it. They were still at high ma.s.s in the church, and no one in the inn; but I learned from the master of the house, that the knights in the castle had agreed to a truce till Easter Monday. When church service was over, many knights and other men came, as I expected, into the room where I was, for their morning's potation. I seated myself in a corner on the bench near the stove, the proper place for people of my condition in the presence of their superiors.”
”Who did you see there?” inquired the Duke.