Part 31 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CATASTROPHE.
The bells were ringing, the men were rejoicing, and the girls of Windisch-Matrey and its environs took position with baskets of flowers on both sides of the street. For the victorious defenders of the country were approaching; their cheers were already heard at a distance; and they already saw the merry boys who had gone out to meet them, and who now headed the procession amid manifestations of the liveliest delight. Yes, they were coming, they were coming!
Yonder, down the mountain-slope, moved the motley procession of the Tyrolese, resembling a glittering serpent of gigantic proportions.
How their rifles flashed in the sun! How beautifully the bouquets adorned their pointed green hats! And now they were already able to distinguish the faces and the individual forms. Immediately behind the boys, at the head of the procession, walked Anthony Wallner- Aichberger. How splendid the commander-in-chief looked; and how beautiful was Lizzie, walking by his side, handsomely dressed, and wearing a beautiful bouquet in her bosom! Her attentive father had despatched a special messenger to his wife for Lizzie's holiday dress and her trinkets, so that Lizzie, the pride and joy of his heart, might make her entrance in a becoming manner into Windisch- Matrey.
Lizzie looked really splendid in her holiday attire. Her raven hair, flowing down in heavy tresses on her neck, was interwoven with dark red ribbons, and large rosettes of the same color were fastened with silver pins to her head. Her low-necked corset, adorned with silver tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, was fastened on the breast with silver chains; and above it rose a white chemisette trimmed with laces, and veiling chastely her faultless bust and beautifully-shaped shoulders. Large white sleeves covered her arms and were fastened to her wrists with dark- red rosettes. An ample skirt of fine dark-red wool, trimmed with black velvet, fell from her slender waist down to her ankles, and her small feet were encased in handsome stockings and shoes adorned with large silver buckles. The boys had brought to her the splendid bouquet which she wore in her bosom, and had told her, amid laughter and cheers, that her betrothed sent her the bouquet as a wedding- present.
But these words had rendered Lizzie silent and sad. The smile had disappeared from her lips, and the color had faded from her cheeks; she looked anxiously at her father, but he nodded to her and said laughingly: ”Do not ask me any questions to-day, Lizzie, for I will not tell you any thing. Await quietly the events that will take place, and bear in mind that your father loves you dearly, and is anxious to make his little daughter happy and contented.”
Eliza tried to divine what these words of her father meant, and a gloomy foreboding, a terror which she was unable to explain to herself, filled her heart.
She listened no longer to the joyous shouts of the boys, and ceased singing with Panzl the fine songs of the Tyrolese mountains, but walked along, pale, silent, and hanging her head.
Now they reached Windisch-Matrey, and stood still at the entrance of the street, where the clergy, munic.i.p.al authorities, and the beautifully-dressed girls, bade them welcome. Oh, it was a soul- stirring moment, a sacred festival of welcome! The brave men had gone out to fight for their native country, their emperor, and the liberties of the Tyrol; and G.o.d had granted them victory. He had a.s.sisted them in all contests, the country was free, the emperor was again master of the Tyrol, and the men of Windisch-Matrey returned victoriously to their homes. All seemed to greet them with glowing looks of love; the whole earth seemed to shout ”Welcome!” to them.
Even the glistening snow-clad summits of the Gross-Glockner seemed to look at them over the other mountains with an air of curiosity and solemn kindness; and on the green mountain-pastures stood the red cows so proud and handsome, as if they had placed themselves there for the purpose of adorning the landscape for the returning heroes. And the wild Iselbach murmured merrily at the roadside and sent its silvery spray into the air, and the boys laughed and sang; the bells pealed so loudly and solemnly, and received ringing responses from the villages farther down in the valley; the priests stood with solemn, devout faces at the entrance of the place, blessing the heroes with uplifted hands, and eyes turned to heaven; and the girls and matrons, strewing flowers to the returning men, stood on both sides of the street, and greeted them with beaming smiles.
Oh, this sweet, sublime moment silenced all cares and doubts. The smile returned to Eliza's lips, her cheeks crimsoned, and her eyes beamed with the purest joy. With a loud cry of delight she threw herself into the arms of her mother, and kissed her a thousand times, and scarcely listened to the address of the curate, who returned thanks to her in the name of the whole parish for her courage and the a.s.sistance she had rendered to her countrymen wounded in battle.
But now Eliza heard a dear familiar voice, which caused her to raise herself from her mother's arms and look up. Yes, it was the old, kind-hearted Baron von Hohenberg who was standing before her, and held out his hand to her with his sunniest and kindest smile. ”My brave daughter,” he said, feelingly, ”give me your hand. You know that I love you as though you were my own child, and now I am proud of you, for you have become a heroine, and have done honor to our Tyrol. Elza was right after all in always calling you another Maid of Orleans, and saying you were a born heroine.”
”But where is Elza?” said Lizzie, anxiously, to the old castellan.
”Here I am, dearest Eliza,” said the young lady, who had hitherto kept herself behind her father and the clergyman.
”Oh, my Elza, my dear, dear Elza!” exclaimed Eliza, rapturously; and she encircled her friend's neck with her arms, and imprinted a glowing kiss on her lips.
But she felt that Elza's lips quivered, that she did not return the kiss, nor press the friend to her heart; and it seemed to Eliza as though a cold hand suddenly touched her heart and pressed it rudely and cruelly. She raised her head from Elza's shoulder, and looked her full in the face. It was not until now that she saw how pale Elza was, how red her eyes with weeping, and how forced her smile.
”You are sick, Elza,” she said, anxiously.
”No,” whispered Elza, ”I am not.”
”Then you love your Lizzie no longer?” asked Eliza, pressingly.
”Yes, I do,” said Elza, in a hollow voice, and with a wondrously mournful smile. ”I do love you, and, to prove it, I present you with this wreath. G.o.d bless you, dear Lizzie; may He grant you happiness!”
”Elza,” cried Eliza, anxiously, ”Elza, pray come to me and tell me what it means, what--”
”Hush, Lizzie, hush,” said her father, seizing her hand and drawing her forward. ”Do you not see that the procession is moving on, and that we must go with it? See, the curate and the castellan are already far ahead, and we must go too.”
”But where, father, where?”
”To the church, you dear little goose!”
”To the church? What are we to do there? Why do we not go home?”
”Have you become so impious during your campaign, Lizzie, as not to know that we must always render homage to G.o.d first and above all things? We are going to church to return thanks; come with me, and ask no more questions.”