Part 9 (1/2)

Ashamed and very wrathful many a great knight had left the castle, and with indignation and disdain had blotted out of his memory the names of these bewitching sirens who at first had listened with deceitful modesty to his honest wooing, only afterwards to declare with scornful laughter that their liberty was so dear to them, that they would not give it up for the sake of any man.

Alas! there were always youths to be found who put no faith in such speeches and, trusting to their great names and peculiar merits, sought their happiness among these maidens. But all the trials ended in the same mournful manner; no suitor succeeded in winning the heart of these seductive beings. Thus they continued their dangerous and contemptible life for some years.

Once again there was a great banquet and feasting in the halls of the castle. A circle of knightly figures sat round the brilliant board among the seven sisters, who were quite conscious of their charms, one rivalling the other in gaiety and liveliness.

The joyous scene was disturbed for a short time by two knights who were disputing about one of the sisters, and had angered each other by their growing jealousy.

The scene excited general attention and was looked on at first as a most amusing one, but when the youths were about to draw their swords, it was thought necessary to separate them.

Seizing this opportunity one of the other knights proposed that to guard against further discord, the castle maidens should be urged to make a final decision, so that each suitor--they all recognised one another as such--might know what he had to expect.

The proposal met with general applause, only the sisters showed discontentment, declaring they could not agree to such a presumptuous plan. However the wooers tried every imaginable means of persuading them, and at last one of the sisters wavered, a second followed her example, and the remaining ones, after whispering to each other for some time, declared with laughing countenances that they would decide the fate of their suitors the next day.

The expected hour arrived, and the knights in great suspense a.s.sembled in the large hall.

Every eye was riveted on the door through which these Graces should enter, bringing a sweet surprise to some or a bitter disappointment to others.

The folding-doors were suddenly thrown open, and an attendant announced that the mistresses of the castle were waiting to receive the knights in the garden near the river.

The numerous suitors all hurried out. To their great astonishment they saw the fair ones all seated in a boat on the Rhine. With a peculiar smile they beckoned the knights to approach, and the eldest sister standing up in her seat, made the following speech.

”You may all throw your hopes to the winds, for not one of us would dream of falling in love with you, much less of marrying you. Our liberty is much too precious to us, and we shall not sacrifice it for any man. We are going to sail down to Cologne to the property of a relation, and there we shall disappoint other suitors, just as we have misled you, my n.o.ble lords. Good-bye, good-bye!”

The scornful speech was accompanied by a scoffing laugh which was re-echoed by the other sisters, and the boat set sail.

The rejected suitors stood speechless with shame and anger.

Suddenly a terrible storm arose, the boat was agitated violently, and the laughter of the seven sisters was turned to cries for help. But the roaring of the waves drowned their voices, and the billows rushed over the boat, burying it and the seven sisters in the depths below.

Just on the spot where these stony-hearted maidens met their deaths, seven pointed rocks appeared above the surface of the water, which up to the present day are still to be seen, a salutary warning to all the young maidens of the country.

ST. GOAR

Lorelei

[Ill.u.s.tration: Die Loreley--Nach dem Gemalde von C. Begas]

I.

Above Coblenz where the Rhine flows through hills covered with vineyards, there is a steep rock, round which many a legend has been woven--the Lurlei Rock. The boatman gazes up at its gigantic summit with awful reverence when his boat glides over the waters at twilight.

Like chattering children the restless waves whisper round the rock, telling wonderful tales of its doings. Above on its gray head, the legend relates that a beautiful but false nymph, clothed in white with a wreath of stars in her flowing hair, used to sit and sing sweet songs, until a sad tragedy drove her forever away.

Long long ago, when night in her dark garment descended from the hills, and her silent comrade, the pale moon, cast a silver bridge over the deep green stream, the soft voice of a woman was heard from the rock, and a creature of divine beauty was seen on its summit. Her golden locks flowed like a queenly mantle from her graceful shoulders, covering her snow-white raiment so that her tenderly-formed body appeared like a cloud of light. Woe to the boatsman who pa.s.sed the rock at the close of day! As of old, men were fascinated by the heavenly song of the Grecian hero, so was the unhappy voyager allured by this being to sweet forgetfulness, his eyes, even as his soul, would be dazzled, and he could no longer steer clear of reefs and cliffs, and this beautiful siren only drew him to an early grave.

Forgetting all else, he would steer towards her, already dreaming of having reached her; but the jealous waves would wash round his boat and at last dash him treacherously against the rocks. The roaring waters of the Rhine would drown the cries of agony of the victim who would never be seen again.

But the virgin to whom no one had ever approached, continued every night to sing soft and low, till darkness vanished in the first rays of light, and the great star of day drove the gray mists from the valley.