How the Lady Bertha fled from the Druda’s castle.
Bertha had spent several days of solitude in calmness and peace. From
the great hall she was serenaded by delightful music; the mirror had
displayed all her favourite landscapes; and, though she was without
any companion, and had the sole charge of the castle, yet her duties
were by invisible hands rendered so light, that they seemed like a mere
game contrived for her entertainment. Thus, one afternoon she stepped
into the bark, in order to enjoy for some time the cool fragrant air
on the water. The day was so lovely, that even the light fleecy clouds
in heaven appeared to dance for joy as they were driven along by the
zephyrs; there were also numberless singing birds that came flying
round the castle towers, playing and chasing each other among the white
flowers that grew thereon. They seemed to her like ambassadors, bearing
joyful tidings from the world which she had been forbid to look upon,
and yet insensibly the wish grew upon her, that she might indulge in
one fleeting glance from out these lonely walls. “What harm,” said she
to herself, “could possibly come of this? It is doubtful even whether
I have rightly understood the lady’s admonition. Merely to look for
a moment on that world, of which I was born to be an inhabitant,
cannot surely have evil consequences.” Almost as soon as the thought
was formed had Bertha turned the bark again towards the shore, and
re-entered the castle. Then, as her aunt’s instructions not to look
out from the windows had been less strict than against walking on the
ramparts, she thought that she proved her self-command and obedience,
by passing quickly through the inviting garden of snow-white flowers,
and entering a chamber, at the window of which she had often seen her
aunt when she was speaking with her brother from the battlements. In
this room there was nothing mysterious, and immediately Bertha drew
open the lattice, with its painted glass, and began to gaze out over
the wide landscape.
From hence she indeed beheld a beautiful prospect across rich-blooming
meadows and valleys towards the sea, on which the sun now shone with
full refulgence and glory. There too she saw a beautiful island,
which lay with its verdant woods like a green emerald amid the blue
waters. A strange mood of mind now came over the lonely damsel. She
felt attracted towards that island with an irresistible longing, and
could not help believing that Sir Otto von Trautwangen dwelt thereon,
that he had built for himself a hermitage under the green shade of
the trees, where he had completely forgot the attractions of the
noble Gabrielle, and waited anxiously for the reappearance of his
beloved Bertha. At first this was like a dream, but every moment its
influence became more powerful, and had more of reality. She thought
that she could distinguish blooming gardens, parterres, and
winding-walks, which Sir Otto had cultivated around his hermitage; and
soon afterwards she marked a boat approaching the shore, floating about
on the sun-illumined waters, in which she could clearly distinguish
her brother’s figure. These were his very gestures,--his form,--the
colour and fashion of his garments! “Good Heaven!” said she, “if
indeed he should have found Otto in that island, if he should have
been reconciled to his former adversary, and wish to bring me across?”
Thereafter it seemed as if Sir Heerdegen waved a white handkerchief,
making her signs; but, when she had drawn off her veil to return the
signal, she was withheld by an inward terror, and hastily closed the
window. With deep melancholy she now thought on the good kind Lady
Minnatrost; how sad and affectionate had been her behaviour on the
night of her departure, and she wept bitterly, because she had been
even once disobedient to her injunctions; yet, so weak are we, poor
mortals, in resisting temptation, that she could not, even now, divert
her thoughts from the island and the boat, and, by way of defence
against herself, she said many times aloud, “Thank Heaven, I have not
even the keys of the castle-gate!” Suddenly the recollection occurred
to her, that she knew very well where they lay, and her anxiety
increased every moment, for she knew not where to seek for help and
consolation.
Anxious to find any object that might divert her attention, she ran to
the chamber wherein was stationed the wonderful mirror. On the way she
brushed, with her garments, a chair on which she had laid her lute, and
immediately it sounded, as if her once favourite companion addressed
to her words of admonition and reproach; for the Lady Minnatrost had
commanded her to play on the lute, if she wished for aid, or had any
desire to gratify. Bertha, however, was too much agitated to attend to
sounds so light and gentle; she ran breathless into the chamber, and
though the glass was covered with a red curtain, which hung over it in
deep mysterious folds, yet, in a mood of wild forgetfulness, she drew
it suddenly away.
Over the whole surface of the mirror there was then a dark waving and
heaving, like that of a stormy sea, as if its creations, rashly looked
upon, ere they were perfect, shunned the light, and, therefore, were
contorted in frightful indeterminate shapes. Thereupon Bertha wished
to draw the curtain over it; but as she was about to touch it with her
trembling hand, the forms which it presented began to whirl in circles
with such vehemence, that she was terrified, and remained motionless.
At last there came forward the figure of a man, pale and agitated, and
with the expression of wild anger on his features. Unwillingly Bertha
recognised in this figure her brother Heerdegen. On his head was placed
somewhat like golden vulture’s wings, and she knew not whether he wore
a helmet in this fashion, or if it were indeed a vulture, whose attacks
had thus made him pale and enraged. While she reflected on this, a
female figure, wounded and bleeding, made its appearance, and looking
on it but for a moment, Bertha screamed aloud, “Have mercy, Heaven!”
for she recognised that the features were her own. Terrified by this
phantom, and even by the sound of her own voice, she rushed out of the
chamber into the hall, in which hung the golden rings. They were now
silent and motionless, as if held by invisible bands, and at this time,
above all others, Bertha would have rejoiced in the slightest sounds of
their former music; for it seemed to her disordered fantasy, as if the
fearful shapes in the mirror had started out into real life; that they
were moving through the apartment which she had left with rustling
garments and sounding steps. How glad would she have been, therefore,
if the magic rings, the harps, and cymbals, had overpowered those
fearful sounds, and the terror by which her heart was now oppressed!
Then she, indeed, remembered the lady’s instructions, that by a few
notes on her lute she was to obtain whatever she wished for in this
enchanted castle. But, alas! her voice was rendered powerless by fear,
and in order to obtain her lute, she must have passed again through
the frightful apartment with the mirror. Horror deprived her of all
self-possession; so that, as if supernaturally compelled, she touched
one of the golden rings;--immediately they all began to move and to
sound aloud; but, alas! not in harmonious music. Their tones were like
an awful mixture of thunder and tempestuous winds, or hoarse roaring as
of wild beasts,--then there was the clashing of swords as in battle,
and at intervals arose lamentable moanings, as of the wounded and
dying. At length the rings began to turn in furious haste; the noises
were more and more hideous, accompanied too by yells of unearthly
fiendish laughter; so that Bertha was attacked by fearful giddiness,
and could scarcely support herself. There was then a loud knocking at
the door, which communicated with the chamber of the mirror. Bertha
thought she could not refrain from calling out, “Who is there?” And
that she would then be answered by her own voice,--that she would
behold her own form enter, pale, dishevelled, and bleeding,--that the
horrid spectre would stretch out its arms to seize upon her! Half
delirious, she rushed out of the hall, ran along the corridor down
stairs, and through the court, till she found herself on the banks
of the lake, which, instead of being serene and still as before, now
heaved and raged with waves like those of a stormy sea! All was indeed
changed around her; most of the white flowers had grown blood-red,
and waved downwards like flames from the ramparts, as if threatening
and angrily against her. How was her terror augmented, however, when,
on gaining the opposite bank of the lake, she remembered that she had
not brought the keys of the gate! Should she now return to that scene
of horrors? Such attempt would have been vain, as she felt that utter
madness would ensue. So she ran onward, calling aloud on her brother,
though she might have well known, that within these walls he could
not render her assistance. But the gates stood wide open, while their
ponderous wings moved as if agitated by a hurricane, threatening to
close and crush to death any one who would venture beyond the portal.
However, the damsel took courage, and rushed forwards. Scarcely was
she on the other side, when the gates closed with a horrible crash;
so that, perceiving how narrowly she had escaped with life, she fled,
swift as an arrow, down the hill, and when arrived in the plain
beneath, sunk down on the ground, exhausted and motionless. She heard
on all sides the murmuring of voices, and confused clashing of armour
and weapons, and on half recovering her self-possession, perceived
that she was carried in her brother’s arms, and that he said, as if
communing with himself, “We must bring her into the boat, and cross
over to the island, for the people here are mad with terror at the
horrid sights on the castle ramparts.” Then Bertha, remembering the
prospect which she had seen from the window, faintly whispered, “Oh
yes! let us go to that beloved island!” But thereafter she again closed
her eyes, wearied and insensible.