Part 9 (1/2)

Meanwhile, silently descended Midnight over vale and city; And in Margaretta's slumbers Came a dream most sweet and wondrous: As she walked to the old minster Once again in festal garments, Fridolinus came to meet her; By his side there walked another, But 'twas not the dead man who once Followed him to Glarus court-house; 'Twas a youth, fair, tall, and slender; Like a trumpeter he looked, and Greeted her with lowly reverence; While Saint Fridolin was smiling.

SIXTH PART.

HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER.

Master Anton started early The next morning for the city, To find out that trumpet blower.

By St. Fridolin's cathedral He turned off into a side-street.

From the other side there came with Rapid steps the boatman Martin, And they met just at the corner, b.u.mping up against each other.

”'Pon my soul,” cried out the worthy Anton, as he rubbed his forehead; ”Your thick skull is hard as iron.”

”Yours is not upholstered either With soft wool or springy sea-weed,”

Was the boatman's ready answer.

”And what business have you running Through the city's streets thus early?”

”I can ask the same,” said Anton.

”I seek someone who last evening From the sh.o.r.e my boat unfastened,”

Answered him the boatman Martin.

”He may be my man,” said Anton.

”When I came down to the river, There I found my boat turned over On the sh.o.r.e--the rudder broken, And the fastening cut asunder.

If a thunderstorm would only Sweep away these wicked people, Who like thieves at night are roving On the Rhine in borrowed vessels.”

”And the trumpet blow,” said Anton.-- ”But whenever I shall find him, To the justice I shall take him.

He must pay me; even for the Black and blue mark which you gave me, I shall bring a heavy reckoning.

It is shameful how this fellow Gives me such vexation!” Thus the Boatman scolding went on farther.

”And I do not see myself, why I should take such extra trouble To hunt up this mischief-maker,”

Said old Anton to himself then.

”Seems to me it is already Just the time when honest people For their morning draught are longing.”

To the ”Golden b.u.t.ton's” shady Tap-room turned the worthy Anton Now his steps, and through a side-door In he stepped: he deemed it wiser Thus to hide before the public Such an early morning visit.

Many worthy folks already Had there quietly a.s.sembled O'er their br.i.m.m.i.n.g foaming b.u.mpers.

Like red roses shone their faces, And like radishes their noses.

”Want a big gla.s.s?” asked the waitress Our old Anton, who a.s.sented: ”To be sure! hot is the weather, And when I woke up, already In my throat I felt a dryness.”

So good Anton soon was drinking From his large Bohemian b.u.mper, Turning over in his mind well, How he should despatch his business.

In the private room was sitting, Just then Werner with the landlord, Who had served for his guest's breakfast A fine slice of red smoked salmon, And commenced with the young stranger An instructive conversation: On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz, How the price of hops was standing, How they fared in time of war there.

Now and then, to sound the stranger, He threw slyly out some questions, Whence he came and what his business.

Still he gained no satisfaction; But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned:

”He's no bookworm, for he seemeth Much too martial--nor a soldier Either, as he looks too modest; He may be a necromancer, An adept in all dark witchcraft, Alchemy, and other black arts.

Wait, I'll catch thee;” and he turned their Talk to hidden buried treasures, And to midnight exorcisms.

”Yes, my friend, here near the city Lies a sandbank in the river.

At the time of Fridolinus Heaps of gold coin there were buried.

One who knows, a clever fellow, Could there dig and make his fortune.”