Early in the morning Clara was awakened by a disturbance in the street
and came from her chamber, when she saw the couple still there. She
hastily disappeared with an exclamation of alarm and grief.
'That must have been my sister!' cried Eliza, starting up with terror,
her dark locks breaking loose from the band which had confined them.
'Be not alarmed my beloved,' said Alf with sweetly soothing tones.
'Immediately after my baptism brother Rothman shall bless our union,
and our weakness will meet with mild judgment from the spirit of mercy
which rules over the new Zion.'
'I will so explain the matter to that foolish girl,' cried Eliza,
eagerly--'that she may not again offend me by her cold insufferable
silence, her customary weapon when we occasionally disagree. She may
censure and envy, but she shall respect me even in my aberration.'
She hastened to her chamber, while Alf prepared to go about his daily
pursuits in the workshop. He was met at the door by his fellow wanderer
the tailor.
'What have I prophesied?' asked the latter, unceremoniously seating
himself at the table which remained as it had been prepared the
previous evening. 'What have I prophesied?' he asked again, helping
himself to a large slice of the gammon of bacon which he found opposite
him upon the table. Then, pouring out a goblet of wine from the bottle
and swallowing it, he a third time asked, 'what have I prophesied?'
'The devil only knows!' cried Alf, impatiently. 'There are so many
prophecies in Munster that my head has already become wholly confused
by them.'
'I have foretold,' said the tailor, with pathos, 'that my beloved
friend and brother, the prophet Johannes Bockhold, would one day become
a great man in the world. You would not believe it, because in the
pride of your big fist, you could not be brought to entertain a good
opinion of a tailor. And now a tailor has become your master and
sovereign; lord over your life and death.'
'You have got into your cups early,' growled Alf, 'and now being drunk,
you make me lose the precious morning hours with your miserable
fables.'
'What I say is true,' muttered the tailor through his stuffed cheeks;
'and it is you who are mad and foolish. Only hear how cleverly every
thing has been brought about. This morning by day-break, while you were
indolently sleeping, the prophet Matthias called all the people to the
market. He there declared to them that he would go forth with a handful
of people, like Gideon, and slay the host of the ungodly. He called and
took with him to the bishop's camp, only thirty men. I know not whether
he had not asked of the Spirit aright, or whether the Spirit did not
answer him rightly: to be brief, a slaughter did indeed follow,--not of
the host of the ungodly, but of the good Gideon and his thirty men; not
a man of them escaped. As I afterwards went to the market place, a
mournful wailing sounded in my ears. The people were beside themselves,
to think that they had lost their ruler in so shameful a manner; and
here and there some fools maintained, that the great Matthias must have
misinterpreted the Spirit in this affair. Then the still greater
Johannes Bockhold stepped forward, and spoke to the multitude. God!
what words did this man use to calm, console, and elevate the people!
He had known the death of Matthias beforehand. He had seen in the
spirit that that great prophet must fall, a second Maccabeus, fighting
for the people. Thence we directly perceived that all was in order,
that it could by no means be otherwise, and we were content. Then, upon
the market-place, we called the preacher of consolation to be our chief
ruler,--and he already commands in such a way that it is a pleasure to
see him,--he has a wilder and more lordly manner than his predecessor
Matthias. His maxim is--that the high shall be brought down, and the
lowly shall be exalted. Consequently we shall destroy the churches and
make them level with the earth,--because they are the highest buildings
in the city. It will be a little tedious, and we also need stout arms
for the defence of the walls; we shall, therefore, for the present only
plunder the churches a little, until we have leisure for their complete
demolition.'
'The churches also to be destroyed!' sighed Alf, 'must that also be? it
is most horrible!'
Meanwhile a wild popular tumult arose out of doors. Both hastened to
the window. A great multitude of the populace ran by, shouting
incoherently. They were followed by a naked man, who came leaping
forward as if impelled by a demon, and who, with foaming mouth and
strange bodily contortions, incessantly bawled, 'the King of Zion
comes!' Thus vociferating, he passed rapidly by. 'The King of Zion
comes!' cried the mob who followed him; and Alf, disgusted with such
indecent madness, withdrew from the window.
'Who was that madman?' asked he of the tailor, after a moment's pause.
'Did you not know him?' asked the tailor in return. 'That was our
highest prophet, Johannes Bockhold himself. The spirit has come over
him. I must follow and see what further he will do.'
He went; and Alf, in fearful dubitation said to himself, 'by such a
chief is Munster to be governed! It will not and it cannot come to
good.'