The moon found something in front of the Ortlieb house worth looking at.
Rarely had she lighted with purer, brighter radiance the pathway of the
mortals who excited her curiosity, than that of the two handsome young
men who, at a moderate interval of time, passed through the Frauenthor,
and finally entered the courtyard of the Ortlieb residence almost at the
same instant.
Luna first saw them pace silently to and fro, and delighted in the
resentful glances they cast at each other. This joy increased as the one
in the long coat, embroidered on the shoulder with birds, and then the
other, whose court costume well became his lithe, powerful limbs, sat
down, each on one of the chains connecting the granite posts between the
street and the courtyard.
The very tall one, who looked grave and anxious, was Wolff Eysvogel; the
other, somewhat shorter, who swung gaily to and fro on the chain as if it
afforded him much amusement, Heinz Schorlin.
Both frequently glanced up at the lighted bow-window and the smaller one
on the second story, behind which Eva lay half asleep. This was the
first meeting of the two men.
Wolff, aware of his excellent right to remain on this-spot, would have
shown the annoying intruder his displeasure long before, had he not
supposed that the other, whom at the first glance he recognised as a
knight, was one of Countess Cordula von Montfort's admirers. Yet he soon
became unable to control his anger and impatience. Yielding to a hasty
impulse, he left the chain, but as he approached the stranger the latter
gave his swaying seat a swifter motion and, without vouchsafing him
either greeting or introductory remark, said carelessly, "This is a
lovely night."
"I am of the same opinion," replied Wolff curtly. "But I would like to
ask, sir, what induced you to choose the courtyard of this house to enjoy
it?"
"Induced?" asked the Swiss in astonishment; then, looking the other in
the face with defiant sharpness, he added scornfully:
"I am warming the chain because it suits me to do so."
"You are allowed the pleasure," returned Wolff in an irritated tone;
"nay, I can understand that night birds of your sort find no better
amusement. Still, it seems to me that a knight who wishes to keep iron
hot might attain his object better in another way."
"Why, of course," cried Heinz Schorlin, springing swiftly to his feet
with rare elasticity. "It gives a pleasant warmth when blade strikes
blade or the hot blood wets them. I am no friend to darkness, and it
seems to me, sir, as if we were standing in each other's light here."
"There our opinions concur for the second time this lovely night,"
quietly replied the patrician's son, conscious of his unusual strength
and skill in fencing, with a slight touch of scorn. "Like you, I am
always ready to cross blades with another; only, the public street is
hardly the fitting place for it."
"May the plague take you!" muttered the Swiss in assent to Wolff's
opinion. "Besides, sir, who ever grasps iron so swiftly is worth a
parley. To ask whether you are of knightly lineage would be useless
trouble, and should it come to a genuine sword-dance.
"You will find a partner in me at any time," was the reply, "as I, who
wear my ancient escutcheon with good right, would gladly give you a
crimson memento of this hour--though you were but the son of a cobbler.
But first let us ascertain--for I, too, dislike darkness--whether we are
really standing in each other's light. With all due respect for your
fancy for warming chains, it would be wise, ere Sir Red Coat--[The
executioner]--puts his round our ankles for disturbing the peace, to have
a sensible talk."
"Try it, for aught I care," responded Heinz Schorlin cheerily.
"Unluckily for me, I live in a state of perpetual feud with good sense.
One thing, however, seems certain without any serious reflection: the
attraction which draws me here, as well as you, will not enter the
cloister as a monk, but as a little nun, wears no beard, but braids her
hair. Briefly, then, if you are here for Countess Cordula von Montfort's
sake, your errand is vain; she will sleep at Kadolzburg to-night."
"May her slumber be sweet!" replied Wolff calmly. "She is as near to me
as yonder moon."
"That gives the matter a more serious aspect," cried the knight angrily.
"You or I. What is your lady's name?"
"That, to my mind, is asking too much," replied Wolff firmly.
"And the law of love gives you the right to withhold an answer. But,
sir, we must nevertheless learn for the sake of what fairest fair we have
each foregone sleep."
"Then tell me, by your favour, your lady's colour," Wolff asked the
Swiss.
The latter laughed gaily: "I am still putting that question to my saint."
Then, noticing Wolff's shake of the head, he went on in a more serious
tone: "If you will have a little patience, I hope I may be able to tell
you, ere we part."
This assurance also seemed to Wolff an enigma. Who in the wide world
would come from under the respectable Ortlieb roof, at this hour, to tell
a stranger anything whatsoever concerning one of its daughters? Neither
could have given him the right to regard her as his lady, and steal at
night, like a marten, around the house which contained his dearest
treasure. This obscurity was an offence to Wolff Eysvogel, and he was
not the man to submit to it. Yonder insolent fellow should learn, to his
hurt, that he had made a blunder.
But scarcely had he begun to explain to Heinz that he claimed the right
to protect both the daughters of this house, the younger as well as the
older, since they had no brother, when the knight interrupted:
"Oho! There are two of them, and she, too, spoke of a sister. So, if it
comes to sharing, sir, we need not emulate the judgment of Solomon. Let
us see! The colour is uncertain, but to every Christian mortal a name
clings as closely as a shadow and, if I mention the initial letter of the
one which adorns my lady, I believe I shall commit no offence that a
court of love could condemn. The initial, which I like because it is
daintily rounded and not too difficult to write-mark it well--is 'E.'"
Wolff Eysvogel started slightly and gripped the dagger in his belt, but
instantly withdrew his hand and answered with mingled amusement and
indignation: "Thanks for your good will, Sir Knight, but this, too,
brings us no nearer our goal; the E is the initial of both the Ortlieb
sisters. The elder who, as you may know, is my betrothed bride, bears
the name of Elizabeth, or Els, as we say in Nuremberg."
"And the younger," cried Heinz joyously, "honours with her gracious
innocence the name of her through whom sin came into the world."
"But you, Sir Knight," exclaimed Wolff fiercely, "would do better not to
name sin and Eva Ortlieb in the same breath. If you are of a different
opinion----"
"Then," interrupted the Swiss, "we come back to warming the iron."
"As you say," cried Wolff resolutely. "In spite of the peace of the
country, I will be at your service at any time. As you see, I went out
unarmed, and it would not be well done to cross swords here."
"Certainly not," Heinz assented. "But many days and nights will follow
this moonlight one, and that you may have little difficulty in finding me
whenever you desire, know that my name is Heinrich--or to more intimate
friends, among whom you might easily be numbered if we don't deprive each
other of the pleasure of meeting again under the sun--Heinz Schorlin."
"Schorlin?" asked Wolff in surprise. "Then you are the knight who, when
a beardless boy, cut down on the Marchfield the Bohemian whose lance had
slain the Emperor's charger, the Swiss who aided him to mount the steed
of Ramsweg of Thurgau--your uncle, if I am not mistaken--and then took
the wild ride to bring up the tall Capeller, with his troops, who so
gloriously decided the day."
"And," laughed Heinz, "who was finally borne off the field as dead before
the fulfilment of his darling wish to redden Swiss steel with royal
Bohemian blood. This closed the chronicle, Herr--what shall I call you?"
"Wolff Eysvogel, of Nuremberg," replied the other.
"Aha! A son of the rich merchant where the Duke of Gulich found
quarters?" cried the Swiss, lifting his cap bordered with fine miniver.
"May confusion seize me! If I were not my father's son, I wouldn't mind
changing places with you. It must make the neck uncommonly stiff,
methinks, to have a knightly escutcheon on door and breast, and yet be
able to fling florins and zecchins broadcast without offending the devil
by an empty purse. If you don't happen to know how such a thing looks, I
can show you."
"Yet rumour says," observed Wolff, "that the Emperor is gracious to you,
and knows how to fill it again."
"If one doesn't go too far," replied Heinz, "and my royal master, who
lacks spending money himself only too often, doesn't keep his word that
it was done for the last time. I heard that yesterday morning, and
thought that the golden blessing which preceded it would last the dear
saints only knew how long. But ere the cock had crowed even once this
morning the last florin had vanished. Dice, Herr Wolff Eysvogel--dice!"
"Then I would keep my hands off them," said the other meaningly.
"If the Old Nick or some one else did not always guide them back! Did
you, a rich man's son, never try what the dice would do for you?"
"Yes, Sir Knight. It was at Venice, where I was pursuing my studies, and
tried my luck at gambling on many a merry evening with other sons of
mercantile families from Nuremberg, Augsburg, and Cologne."
"And your feathers were generously plucked?"
"By no means. I usually left a winner. But after they fleeced a dear
friend from Ulm, and he robbed his master, I dropped dice."
"And you did so as easily as if it were a short fast after an abundant
meal?"
"It was little more difficult," Wolff asserted. "My father would have
gladly seen me outdo my countrymen, and sent me more money than I needed.
Why should I deprive honest fellows who had less?"
"That's just the difficulty," cried his companion eagerly. "It was easy
for you to renounce games of chance because your winnings only added more
to the rest, and you did not wish to pluck poorer partners. But I!
A poor devil like me cannot maintain armour-bearer, servants, and steeds
out of what the dear little mother at home in her faithful care can spare
from crops and interest. How could we succeed in making a fair
appearance at court and in the tournament if it were not for the dice?
And then, when I lose, I again become but the poor knight the saints made
me; when I win, on the contrary, I am the great and wealthy lord I would
have been born had the Lord permitted me to choose my own cradle.
Besides, those who lose through me are mainly dukes, counts, and
gentlemen with rich fiefs and fat bourgs, whom losing doubtless benefits,
as bleeding relieves a sick man. What suits the soldier does not befit
the merchant. We live wholly amid risks and wagers. Every battle, every
skirmish is a game whose stake is life. Whoever reflects long is sure to
lose. If I could only describe, Herr Eysvogel, what it is to dash
headlong upon the foe!"
"I could imagine that vividly enough," Wolff eagerly interposed.
"I, too, have broken many a lance in the lists and shed blood enough."
"What a dunce I am!" cried Heinz in amazement, pressing his hand upon his
brow. "That's why your face was so familiar! By my saint! I am no
knight if I did not see you then, before the battle waxed hot. It was
close beside your Burgrave Frederick, who held aloft the imperial
banner."
"Probably," replied Wolff in a tone of assent. "He sometimes entrusted
the standard to me, when it grew too heavy for his powerful arm, because
I was the tallest and the strongest of our Nuremberg band. But,
unluckily, I could not render this service long. A scimitar gashed my
head. The larger part of the little scar is hidden under my hair."
"The little scar!" repeated Heinz gaily. "It was wide enough, at any
rate, for the greatest soul to slip through it. A scar on the head from
a wound received four years ago, and yet distinctly visible in the
moonlight!"
"It should serve as a warning," replied Wolff, glancing anxiously up the
street. "If the patrol, or any nocturnal reveller should catch sight of
us, it would be ill for the fair fame of the Ortlieb sisters, for
everybody knows that only one--Els's betrothed lover--has a right to
await a greeting here at so late an hour. So follow me into the shadow
of the linden, I entreat you; for yonder--surely you see it too--a figure
is gliding towards us."
Heinz Schorlin's laugh rang out like a bell as he whispered to the
Nuremberg patrician: "That figure is familiar to me, and neither we nor
our ladies need fear any evil from it. Excuse me moment, and I'll wager
twenty gold florins against yonder linden leaf that, ere the moonlight
has left the curbstone, I can tell you my lady's colour."
As he spoke he hastened towards the figure, now, standing motionless
within the shadow of the door post beside the lofty entrance.
Wolff Eysvogel remained alone, gazing thoughtfully upon the ground.