'And bid me not depart,' she cried,
'My Rudolf, say not so;
This is no time to quit thy side,
Peace, peace, I cannot go!
Hath the world aught for me to fear
When death is on thy brow?
The world! what means it?
Mine is here!
I will not leave thee now.
'I have been with thee in thine hour
Of glory and of bliss;
Doubt not its memory's living power
To strengthen me through this.
And thou, mine honor'd love and true,
Bear on, bear nobly on;
We have the blessed heaven in view,
Whose rest shall soon be won.'
When day began to break, the guard returned, and Gertrude took down her
stage of wood and continued kneeling at the foot of the pole. Crowds of
people came to look, among them the wife of one of the officials, whom
Gertrude implored to intercede that her husband's sufferings might be
ended; but though this might not be, some pitied her, and tried to give
her wine and confections, which she could not touch. The priest came
and exhorted Rudolf to confess the crime, but with a great effort he
repeated his former statement of innocence.
A band of horsemen rode by. Among them was the young Prince Leopold and
his sister Agnes herself, clad as a knight. They were very angry at
the compassion shown by the crowd, and after frightfully harsh language
commanded that Gertrude should be dragged away; but one of the nobles
interceded for her, and when she had been carried away to a little
distance her entreaties were heard, and she was allowed to break away
and come back to her husband. The priest blessed Gertrude, gave her his
hand and said, 'Be faithful unto death, and God will give you the crown
of life,' and she was no further molested.
Night came on, and with it a stormy wind, whose howling mingled with the
voice of her prayers, and whistled in the hair of the sufferer. One of
the guard brought her a cloak. She climbed on the wheel, and spread the
covering over her husband's limbs; then fetched some water in her
shoe, and moistened his lips with it, sustaining him above all with her
prayers, and exhortations to look to the joys beyond. He had ceased to
try to send her away, and thanked her for the comfort she gave him. And
still she watched when morning came again, and noon passed over her, and
it was verging to evening, when for the last time he moved his head; and
she raised herself so as to be close to him. With a smile, he murmured,
'Gertrude, this is faithfulness till death,' and died. She knelt down to
thank God for having enabled her to remain for that last breath--
'While even as o'er a martyr's grave
She knelt on that sad spot,
And, weeping, blessed the God who gave
Strength to forsake it not!'
She found shelter in a convent at Basle, where she spent the rest of her
life in a quiet round of prayer and good works; till the time came when
her widowed heart should find its true rest for ever.