Away with these!--True Wisdom's world will be
Within its own creation, or in thine,
Maternal Nature! for who teems like thee
Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine?
There Harold gazes on a work divine,
A blending of all beauties, streams, and dells--
Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine,
And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells,
From grey but leafy walls, where ruin greenly dwells.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto III._
When Arthur Philipson left his father, to go on board the bark which
was to waft him across the Rhine, he took but few precautions for his
own subsistence, during a separation of which he calculated the
duration to be very brief. Some necessary change of raiment, and a
very few pieces of gold, were all which he thought it needful to
withdraw from the general stock; the rest of the baggage and money he
left with the sumpter-horse, which he concluded his father might need,
in order to sustain his character as an English trader. Having
embarked with his horse and his slender appointments on board a
fishing-skiff, she instantly raised her temporary mast, spread a sail
across the yard, and, supported by the force of the wind against the
downward power of the current, moved across the river obliquely in the
direction of Kirch-hoff, which, as we have said, lies somewhat lower
on the river than Hans-Kapelle. Their passage was so favourable that
they reached the opposite side in a few minutes, but not until Arthur,
whose eye and thoughts were on the left bank, had seen his father
depart from the Chapel of the Ferry, accompanied by two horsemen, whom
he readily concluded to be the guide Bartholomew, and some chance
traveller who had joined him; but the second of whom was in truth the
Black Priest of St. Paul's, as has been already mentioned.
This augmentation of his father's company was, he could not but think,
likely to be attended with an increase of his safety, since it was not
probable he would suffer a companion to be forced upon him, and one of
his own choosing might be a protection, in case his guide should prove
treacherous. At any rate, he had to rejoice that he had seen his
father depart in safety from the spot where they had reason to
apprehend some danger awaited him. He resolved, therefore, to make no
stay at Kirch-hoff, but to pursue his way, as fast as possible,
towards Strasburg, and rest, when darkness compelled him to stop, in
one of the _dorfs_, or villages, which were situated on the German
side of the Rhine. At Strasburg, he trusted, with the sanguine spirit
of youth, he might again be able to rejoin his father; and if he could
not altogether subdue his anxiety on their separation, he fondly
nourished the hope that he might meet him in safety. After some short
refreshment and repose afforded to his horse, he lost no time in
proceeding on his journey down the eastern bank of the broad river.
He was now upon the most interesting side of the Rhine, walled in and
repelled as the river is on that shore by the most romantic cliffs,
now mantled with vegetation of the richest hue, tinged with all the
variegated colours of autumn; now surmounted by fortresses, over whose
gates were displayed the pennons of their proud owners; or studded
with hamlets, where the richness of the soil supplied to the poor
labourer the food of which the oppressive hand of his superior
threatened altogether to deprive him. Every stream which here
contributes its waters to the Rhine winds through its own tributary
dell, and each valley possesses a varying and separate character, some
rich with pastures, cornfields, and vineyards, some frowning with
crags and precipices, and other romantic beauties.
The principles of taste were not then explained or analysed as they
have been since, in countries where leisure has been found for this
investigation. But the feelings arising from so rich a landscape as is
displayed by the valley of the Rhine must have been the same in every
bosom, from the period when our Englishman took his solitary journey
through it, in doubt and danger, till that in which it heard the
indignant Childe Harold bid a proud farewell to his native country, in
the vain search of a land in which his heart might throb less
fiercely.
Arthur enjoyed this scene, although the fading daylight began to
remind him that, alone as he was, and travelling with a very valuable
charge, it would be matter of prudence to look out for some place of
rest during the night. Just as he had formed the resolution of
inquiring at the next habitation he should pass, which way he should
follow for this purpose, the road he pursued descended into a
beautiful amphitheatre filled with large trees, which protected from
the heats of summer the delicate and tender herbage of the pasture. A
large brook flowed through it, and joined the Rhine. At a short mile
up the brook its waters made a crescent round a steep craggy eminence,
crowned with flanking walls, and Gothic towers and turrets, enclosing
a feudal castle of the first order. A part of the savannah that has
been mentioned had been irregularly cultivated for wheat, which had
grown a plentiful crop. It was gathered in, but the patches of deep
yellow stubble contrasted with the green of the undisturbed pasture
land, and with the seared and dark-red foliage of the broad oaks which
stretched their arms athwart the level space. There a lad, in a rustic
dress, was employed in the task of netting a brood of partridges with
the assistance of a trained spaniel; while a young woman, who had the
air rather of a domestic in some family of rank than that of an
ordinary villager, sat on the stump of a decayed tree, to watch the
progress of the amusement. The spaniel, whose duty it was to drive the
partridges under the net, was perceptibly disturbed at the approach of
the traveller; his attention was divided, and he was obviously in
danger of marring the sport, by barking and putting up the covey, when
the maiden quitted her seat, and, advancing towards Philipson,
requested him, for courtesy, to pass at a greater distance, and not
interfere with their amusement.
The traveller willingly complied with her request.
"I will ride, fair damsel," he said, "at whatever distance you please.
And allow me, in guerdon, to ask, whether there is convent, castle, or
good man's house, where a stranger, who is belated and weary, might
receive a night's hospitality?"
The girl, whose face he had not yet distinctly seen, seemed to
suppress some desire to laugh, as she replied, "Hath not yon castle,
think you," pointing to the distant towers, "some corner which might
accommodate a stranger in such extremity?"
"Space enough, certainly," said Arthur; "but perhaps little
inclination to grant it."
"I myself," said the girl, "being one, and a formidable part of the
garrison, will be answerable for your reception. But as you parley
with me in such hostile fashion, it is according to martial order that
I should put down my visor."
So saying, she concealed her face under one of those riding-masks
which at that period women often wore when they went abroad, whether
for protecting their complexion or screening themselves from intrusive
observation. But ere she could accomplish this operation Arthur had
detected the merry countenance of Annette Veilchen, a girl who, though
her attendance on Anne of Geierstein was in a menial capacity, was
held in high estimation at Geierstein. She was a bold wench,
unaccustomed to the distinctions of rank, which were little regarded
in the simplicity of the Helvetian hills, and she was ready to laugh,
jest, and flirt with the young men of the Landamman's family. This
attracted no attention, the mountain manners making little distinction
between the degrees of attendant and mistress, further than that the
mistress was a young woman who required help, and the maiden one who
was in a situation to offer and afford it. This kind of familiarity
would perhaps have been dangerous in other lands, but the simplicity
of Swiss manners, and the turn of Annette's disposition, which was
resolute and sensible, though rather bold and free, when compared to
the manners of more civilised countries, kept all intercourse betwixt
her and the young men of the family in the strict path of honour and
innocence.
Arthur himself had paid considerable attention to Annette, being
naturally, from his feelings towards Anne of Geierstein, heartily
desirous to possess the good graces of her attendant; a point which
was easily gained by the attentions of a handsome young man, and the
generosity with which he heaped upon her small presents of articles of
dress or ornament, which the damsel, however faithful, could find no
heart to refuse.
The assurance that he was in Anne's neighbourhood, and that he was
likely to pass the night under the same roof, both of which
circumstances were intimated by the girl's presence and language, sent
the blood in a hastier current through Arthur's veins; for though,
since he had crossed the river, he had sometimes nourished hopes of
again seeing her who had made so strong an impression on his
imagination, yet his understanding had as often told him how slight
was the chance of their meeting, and it was even now chilled by the
reflection that it could be followed only by the pain of a sudden and
final separation. He yielded himself, however, to the prospect of
promised pleasure, without attempting to ascertain what was to be its
duration or its consequence. Desirous, in the meantime, to hear as
much of Anne's circumstances as Annette chose to tell, he resolved not
to let that merry maiden perceive that she was known by him, until
she chose of her own accord to lay aside her mystery.
While these thoughts passed rapidly through his imagination, Annette
bade the lad drop his nets, and directed him that, having taken two of
the best-fed partridges from the covey, and carried them into the
kitchen, he was to set the rest at liberty.
"I must provide supper," said she to the traveller, "since I am
bringing home unexpected company."
Arthur earnestly expressed his hope that his experiencing the
hospitality of the castle would occasion no trouble to the inmates,
and received satisfactory assurances upon the subject of his scruples.
"I would not willingly be the cause of inconvenience to your
mistress," pursued the traveller.
"Look you there," said Annette Veilchen, "I have said nothing of
master or mistress, and this poor forlorn traveller has already
concluded in his own mind that he is to be harboured in a lady's
bower!"
"Why, did you not tell me," said Arthur, somewhat confused at his
blunder, "that you were the person of second importance in the place?
A damsel, I judged, could only be an officer under a female governor."
"I do not see the justice of the conclusion," replied the maiden. "I
have known ladies bear offices of trust in lords' families; nay, and
over the lords themselves."
"Am I to understand, fair damsel, that you hold so predominant a
situation in the castle which we are now approaching, and of which I
pray you to tell me the name?"
"The name of the castle is Arnheim," said Annette.
"Your garrison must be a large one," said Arthur, looking at the
extensive building, "if you are able to man such a labyrinth of walls
and towers."
"In that point," said Annette, "I must needs own we are very
deficient. At present, we rather hide in the castle than inhabit it;
and yet it is well enough defended by the reports which frighten every
other person who might disturb its seclusion."
"And yet you yourselves dare to reside in it?" said the Englishman,
recollecting the tale which had been told by Rudolph Donnerhugel,
concerning the character of the Barons of Arnheim, and the final
catastrophe of the family.
"Perhaps," replied his guide, "we are too intimate with the cause of
such fears to feel ourselves strongly oppressed with them--perhaps we
have means of encountering the supposed terrors proper to
ourselves--perhaps, and it is not the least likely conjecture, we have
no choice of a better place of refuge. Such seems to be your own fate
at present, sir, for the tops of the distant hills are gradually
losing the lights of the evening; and if you rest not in Arnheim, well
contented or not, you are likely to find no safe lodging for many a
mile."
As she thus spoke she separated from Arthur, taking, with the fowler
who attended her, a very steep but short footpath, which ascended
straight up to the site of the castle; at the same time motioning to
the young Englishman to follow a horse-track, which, more circuitous,
led to the same point, and, though less direct, was considerably more
easy.
He soon stood before the south front of Arnheim Castle, which was a
much larger building than he had conceived, either from Rudolph's
description or from the distant view. It had been erected at many
different periods, and a considerable part of the edifice was less in
the strict Gothic than in what has been termed the Saracenic style, in
which the imagination of the architect is more florid than that which
is usually indulged in the North--rich in minarets, cupolas, and
similar approximations to Oriental structures. This singular building
bore a general appearance of desolation and desertion, but Rudolph had
been misinformed when he declared that it had become ruinous. On the
contrary, it had been maintained with considerable care; and when it
fell into the hands of the Emperor, although no garrison was
maintained within its precincts, care was taken to keep the building
in repair; and though the prejudices of the country people prevented
any one from passing the night within the fearful walls, yet it was
regularly visited from time to time by a person having commission from
the Imperial Chancery to that effect. The occupation of the domain
around the castle was a valuable compensation for this official
person's labour, and he took care not to endanger the loss of it by
neglecting his duty. Of late this officer had been withdrawn, and now
it appeared that the young Baroness of Arnheim had found refuge in the
deserted towers of her ancestors.
The Swiss damsel did not leave the youthful traveller time to study
particularly the exterior of the castle, or to construe the meaning
of emblems and mottoes, seemingly of an Oriental character, with which
the outside was inscribed, and which expressed in various modes, more
or less directly, the attachment of the builders of this extensive
pile to the learning of the Eastern sages. Ere he had time to take
more than a general survey of the place, the voice of the Swiss maiden
called him to an angle of the wall in which there was a projection,
whence a long plank extended over a dry moat, and was connected with a
window in which Annette was standing.
"You have forgotten your Swiss lessons already," said she, observing
that Arthur went rather timidly about crossing the temporary and
precarious drawbridge.
The reflection that Anne, her mistress, might make the same
observation, recalled the young traveller to the necessary degree of
composure. He passed over the plank with the same _sang froid_ with
which he had learned to brave the far more terrific bridge beneath the
ruinous castle of Geierstein. He had no sooner entered the window than
Annette, taking off her mask, bade him welcome to Germany, and to old
friends with new names.
"Anne of Geierstein," she said, "is no more; but you will presently
see the Lady Baroness of Arnheim, who is extremely like her; and I,
who was Annette Veilchen in Switzerland, the servant to a damsel who
was not esteemed much greater than myself, am now the young Baroness's
waiting-woman, and make everybody of less quality stand back."
"If, in such circumstances," said young Philipson, "you have the
influence due to your consequence, let me beseech of you to tell the
Baroness, since we must now call her so, that my present intrusion on
her is occasioned by my ignorance."
"Away, away!" said the girl, laughing. "I know better what to say in
your behalf. You are not the first poor man and pedlar that has got
the graces of a great lady; but I warrant you it was not by making
humble apologies, and talking of unintentional intrusion. I will tell
her of love, which all the Rhine cannot quench, and which has driven
you hither, leaving you no other choice than to come or to perish!"
"Nay, but Annette, Annette"----
"Fie on you for a fool,--make a shorter name of it,--cry Anne, Anne!
and there will be more prospect of your being answered."
So saying, the wild girl ran out of the room, delighted, as a
mountaineer of her description was likely to be, with the thought of
having done as she would desire to be done by, in her benevolent
exertions to bring two lovers together, when on the eve of inevitable
separation.
In this self-approving disposition, Annette sped up a narrow turnpike
stair to a closet, or dressing-room, where her young mistress was
seated, and exclaimed, with open mouth,--"Anne of Gei----, I mean my
Lady Baroness, they are come--they are come!"
"The Philipsons?" said Anne, almost breathless as she asked the
question.
"Yes--no--" answered the girl; "that is, yes,--for the best of them is
come, and that is Arthur."
"What meanest thou, girl? Is not Seignor Philipson, the father, along
with his son?"
"Not he, indeed," answered Veilchen, "nor did I ever think of asking
about him. He was no friend of mine, nor of any one else, save the old
Landamman; and well met they were for a couple of wiseacres, with
eternal proverbs in their mouths, and care upon their brows."
"Unkind, inconsiderate girl, what hast thou done?" said Anne of
Geierstein. "Did I not warn and charge thee to bring them both hither?
and you have brought the young man alone to a place where we are
nearly in solitude! What will he--what can he think of me?"
"Why, what should I have done?" said Annette, remaining firm in her
argument. "He was alone, and should I have sent him down to the _dorf_
to be murdered by the Rhinegrave's Lanzknechts? All is fish, I trow,
that comes to their net; and how is he to get through this country, so
beset with wandering soldiers, robber barons (I beg your ladyship's
pardon), and roguish Italians, flocking to the Duke of Burgundy's
standard?--Not to mention the greatest terror of all, that is never in
one shape or other absent from one's eye or thought."
"Hush, hush, girl! add not utter madness to the excess of folly; but
let us think what is to be done. For our sake, for his own, this
unfortunate young man must leave this castle instantly."
"You must take the message yourself, then, Anne--I beg pardon, most
noble Baroness;--it may be very fit for a lady of high birth to send
such a message, which, indeed, I have heard the Minne-singers tell in
their romances; but I am sure it is not a meet one for me, or any
frank-hearted Swiss girl, to carry. No more foolery; but remember, if
you were born Baroness of Arnheim, you have been bred and brought up
in the bosom of the Swiss hills, and should conduct yourself like an
honest and well-meaning damsel."
"And in what does your wisdom reprehend my folly, good Mademoiselle
Annette?" replied the Baroness.
"Ay, marry! now our noble blood stirs in our veins. But remember,
gentle my lady, that it was a bargain between us, when I left yonder
noble mountains, and the free air that blows over them, to coop myself
up in this land of prisons and slaves, that I should speak my mind to
you as freely as I did when our heads lay on the same pillow."
"Speak, then," said Anne, studiously averting her face as she prepared
to listen; "but beware that you say nothing which it is unfit for me
to hear."
"I will speak nature and common-sense; and if your noble ears are not
made fit to hear and understand these, the fault lies in them, and not
in my tongue. Look you, you have saved this youth from two great
dangers--one at the earth-shoot at Geierstein, the other this very
day, when his life was beset. A handsome young man he is, well spoken,
and well qualified to gain deservedly a lady's favour. Before you saw
him, the Swiss youth were at least not odious to you. You danced with
them,--you jested with them,--you were the general object of their
admiration,--and, as you well know, you might have had your choice
through the Canton--Why, I think it possible a little urgency might
have brought you to think of Rudolph Donnerhugel as your mate."
"Never, wench, never!" exclaimed Anne.
"Be not so very positive, my lady. Had he recommended himself to the
uncle in the first place, I think, in my poor sentiment, he might at
some lucky moment have carried the niece. But since we have known this
young Englishman, it has been little less than contemning, despising,
and something like hating, all the men whom you could endure well
enough before."
"Well, well," said Anne, "I will detest and hate thee more than any of
them, unless you bring your matters to an end."
"Softly, noble lady, fair and easy go far. All this argues you love
the young man, and let those say that you are wrong who think there is
anything wonderful in the matter. There is much to justify you, and
nothing that I know against it."
"What, foolish girl! Remember my birth forbids me to love a mean
man--my condition to love a poor man--my father's commands to love one
whose addresses are without his consent--above all, my maidenly pride
forbids me fixing my affections on one who cares not for me--nay,
perhaps, is prejudiced against me by appearances."
"Here is a fine homily!" said Annette; "but I can clear every point of
it as easily as Father Francis does his text in a holiday sermon. Your
birth is a silly dream, which you have only learned to value within
these two or three days, when, having come to German soil, some of the
old German weed, usually called family pride, has begun to germinate
in your heart. Think of such folly as you thought when you lived at
Geierstein--that is, during all the rational part of your life, and
this great terrible prejudice will sink into nothing. By condition, I
conceive you mean estate. But Philipson's father, who is the most
free-hearted of men, will surely give his son as many zechins as will
stock a mountain farm. You have firewood for the cutting, and land for
the occupying, since you are surely entitled to part of Geierstein,
and gladly will your uncle put you in possession of it. You can manage
the dairy, Arthur can shoot, hunt, fish, plough, harrow, and reap."
Anne of Geierstein shook her head, as if she greatly doubted her
lover's skill in the last of the accomplishments enumerated.
"Well, well, he can learn, then," said Annette Veilchen; "and you will
only live the harder the first year or so. Besides, Sigismund
Biederman will aid him willingly, and he is a very horse at labour;
and I know another besides, who is a friend"----
"Of thine own, I warrant," quoth the young Baroness.
"Marry, it is my poor friend Louis Sprenger; and I'll never be so
false-hearted as to deny my bachelor."
"Well, well, but what is to be the end of all this?" said the
Baroness, impatiently.
"The end of it, in my opinion," said Annette, "is very simple. Here
are priests and prayer-books within a mile--go down to the parlour,
speak your mind to your lover, or hear him speak his mind to you; join
hands, go quietly back to Geierstein in the character of man and wife,
and get everything ready to receive your uncle on his return. This is
the way that a plain Swiss wench would cut off the romance of a
German Baroness"----
"And break the heart of her father," said the young lady, with a sigh.
"It is more tough than you are aware of," replied Annette. "He hath
not lived without you so long but that he will be able to spare you
for the rest of his life, a great deal more easily than you, with all
your new-fangled ideas of quality, will be able to endure his schemes
of wealth and ambition, which will aim at making you the wife of some
illustrious Count, like De Hagenbach, whom we saw not long since make
such an edifying end, to the great example of all Robber-Chivalry upon
the Rhine."
"Thy plan is naught, wench; a childish vision of a girl who never knew
more of life than she has heard told over her milking-pail. Remember
that my uncle entertains the highest ideas of family discipline, and
that to act contrary to my father's will would destroy us in his good
opinion. Why else am I here? Wherefore has he resigned his
guardianship? And why am I obliged to change the habits that are dear
to me, and assume the manners of a people that are strange, and
therefore unpleasing to me?"
"Your uncle," said Annette firmly, "is Landamman of the Canton of
Unterwalden; respects its freedom, and is the sworn protector of its
laws, of which, when you, a denizen of the Confederacy, claim the
protection, he cannot refuse it to you."
"Even then," said the young Baroness, "I should forfeit his good
opinion, his more than paternal affection; but it is needless to dwell
upon this. Know, that although I could have loved the young man, whom
I will not deny to be as amiable as your partiality paints
him--know,"--she hesitated for a moment,--"that he has never spoken a
word to me on such a subject as you, without knowing either his
sentiments or mine, would intrude on my consideration."
"Is it possible?" answered Annette. "I thought--I believed, though I
have never pressed on your confidence--that you must--attached as you
were to each other--have spoken together, like true maid and true
bachelor, before now. I have done wrong, when I thought to do for the
best.--Is it possible!--such things have been heard of even in our
canton--is it possible he can have harboured so unutterably base
purposes, as that Martin of Brisach, who made love to Adela of the
Sundgau, enticed her to folly--the thing, though almost incredible, is
true--fled--fled from the country and boasted of his villany, till her
cousin Raymund silenced for ever his infamous triumph, by beating his
brains out with his club, even in the very street of the villain's
native town? By the Holy Mother of Einsiedlen! could I suspect this
Englishman of meditating such treason, I would saw the plank across
the moat till a fly's weight would break it, and it should be at six
fathom deep that he should abye the perfidy which dared to meditate
dishonour against an adopted daughter of Switzerland!"
As Annette Veilchen spoke, all the fire of her mountain courage
flashed from her eyes, and she listened reluctantly while Anne of
Geierstein endeavoured to obliterate the dangerous impression which
her former words had impressed on her simple but faithful attendant.
"On my word"--she said,--"on my soul--you do Arthur Philipson
injustice--foul injustice, in intimating such a suspicion;--his
conduct towards me has ever been upright and honourable--a friend to a
friend--a brother to a sister--could not, in all he has done and said,
have been more respectful, more anxiously affectionate, more
undeviatingly candid. In our frequent interviews and intercourse he
has indeed seemed very kind--very attached. But had I been
disposed--at times I may have been too much so--to listen to him with
endurance,"--the young lady here put her hand on her forehead, but the
tears streamed through her slender fingers,--"he has never spoken of
any love--any preference;--if he indeed entertains any, some obstacle,
insurmountable on his part, has interfered to prevent him."
"Obstacle?" replied the Swiss damsel. "Ay, doubtless--some childish
bashfulness--some foolish idea about your birth being so high above
his own--some dream of modesty pushed to extremity, which considers as
impenetrable the ice of a spring frost. This delusion may be broken by
a moment's encouragement, and I will take the task on myself, to spare
your blushes, my dearest Anne."
"No, no; for Heaven's sake, no, Veilchen!" answered the Baroness, to
whom Annette had so long been a companion and confidant, rather than a
domestic. "You cannot anticipate the nature of the obstacles which may
prevent his thinking on what you are so desirous to promote. Hear
me--My early education, and the instructions of my kind uncle, have
taught me to know something more of foreigners and their fashions than
I ever could have learned in our happy retirement of Geierstein; I am
well-nigh convinced that these Philipsons are of rank, as they are of
manners and bearing, far superior to the occupation which they appear
to hold. The father is a man of deep observation, of high thought and
pretension, and lavish of gifts, far beyond what consists with the
utmost liberality of a trader."
"That is true," said Annette. "I will say for myself, that the silver
chain he gave me weighs against ten silver crowns, and the cross which
Arthur added to it, the day after the long ride we had together up
towards Mount Pilatus, is worth, they tell me, as much more. There is
not the like of it in the Cantons. Well, what then? They are rich, so
are you. So much the better."
"Alas! Annette, they are not only rich, but noble. I am persuaded of
this; for I have observed often, that even the father retreated, with
an air of quiet and dignified contempt, from discussions with
Donnerhugel and others, who, in our plain way, wished to fasten a
dispute upon him. And when a rude observation or blunt pleasantry was
pointed at the son, his eye flashed, his cheek coloured, and it was
only a glance from his father which induced him to repress the retort
of no friendly character which rose to his lips."
"You have been a close observer," said Annette. "All this may be true,
but I noted it not. But what then, I say once more? If Arthur has some
fine noble name in his own country, are not you yourself Baroness of
Arnheim? And I will frankly allow it as something of worth, if it
smooths the way to a match, where I think you must look for
happiness--I hope so, else I am sure it should have no encouragement
from me."
"I do believe so, my faithful Veilchen; but, alas! how can you, in the
state of natural freedom in which you have been bred, know, or even
dream, of the various restraints which this gilded or golden chain of
rank and nobility hangs upon those whom it fetters and encumbers, I
fear, as much as it decorates? In every country, the distinction of
rank binds men to certain duties. It may carry with it restrictions,
which may prevent alliances in foreign countries--it often may prevent
them from consulting their inclinations, when they wed in their own.
It leads to alliances in which the heart is never consulted, to
treaties of marriage, which are often formed when the parties are in
the cradle, or in leading strings, but which are not the less binding
on them in honour and faith. Such may exist in the present case. These
alliances are often blended and mixed up with state policy; and if the
interest of England, or what he deems such, should have occasioned the
elder Philipson to form such an engagement, Arthur would break his own
heart--the heart of any one else--rather than make false his father's
word."
"The more shame to them that formed such an engagement!" said Annette.
"Well, they talk of England being a free country; but if they can bar
young men and women of the natural privilege to call their hands and
hearts their own, I would as soon be a German serf.--Well, lady, you
are wise, and I am ignorant. But what is to be done? I have brought
this young man here, expecting, God knows, a happier issue to your
meeting. But it is clear you cannot marry him without his asking you.
Now, although I confess that, if I could think him willing to forfeit
the hand of the fairest maid of the Cantons, either from want of manly
courage to ask it, or from regard to some ridiculous engagement,
formed betwixt his father and some other nobleman of their island of
noblemen, I would not in either case grudge him a ducking in the moat;
yet it is another question, whether we should send him down to be
murdered among those cut-throats of the Rhinegrave; and unless we do
so, I know not how to get rid of him."
"Then let the boy William give attendance on him here, and do you see
to his accommodation. It is best we do not meet."
"I will," said Annette; "yet what am I to say for you? Unhappily, I
let him know that you were here."
"Alas, imprudent girl! Yet why should I blame thee," said Anne of
Geierstein, "when the imprudence has been so great on my own side? It
is myself, who, suffering my imagination to rest too long upon this
young man and his merits, have led me into this entanglement. But I
will show thee that I can overcome this folly, and I will not seek in
my own error a cause for evading the duties of hospitality. Go,
Veilchen, get some refreshment ready. Thou shalt sup with us, and thou
must not leave us. Thou shalt see me behave as becomes both a German
lady and a Swiss maiden. Get me first a candle, however, my girl, for
I must wash these tell-tales, my eyes, and arrange my dress."
To Annette this whole explanation had been one scene of astonishment,
for, in the simple ideas of love and courtship in which she had been
brought up amid the Swiss mountains, she had expected that the two
lovers would have taken the first opportunity of the absence of their
natural guardians, and have united themselves for ever; and she had
even arranged a little secondary plot, in which she herself and Martin
Sprenger, her faithful bachelor, were to reside with the young couple
as friends and dependants. Silenced, therefore, but not satisfied, by
the objections of her young mistress, the zealous Annette retreated
murmuring to herself,--"That little hint about her dress is the only
natural and sensible word she has said in my hearing. Please God, I
will return and help her in the twinkling of an eye. That dressing my
mistress is the only part of a waiting-lady's life that I have the
least fancy for--it seems so natural for one pretty maiden to set off
another--in faith we are but learning to dress ourselves at another
time."
And with this sage remark Annette Veilchen tripped down stairs.