When Biberli bade farewell to his sweetheart, who gave him Eva's little
note, he had arranged to meet her again in an hour or, if his duties
detained him longer, in two; but after the "true and steadfast" fellow
left her, her heart throbbed more and more anxiously, for the wrong she
had done in acting as messenger between the young daughter of her
employers and a stranger knight was indeed hard to forgive.
Instead of waiting in the kitchen or entry for her lover's return, as she
had intended, she had gone to the image of the Virgin at the gate of the
Convent of St. Clare, before which she had often found consolation,
especially when homesick yearning for the mountains of her native
Switzerland pressed upon her too sorely. This time also it had been
gracious to her, for after she had prayed very devoutly and vowed to give
a candle to the Mother of God, as well as to St. Clare, she fancied that
the image smiled upon her and promised that she should go unpunished.
On her return the knight had just followed Eva into the house, and
Biberli pursued his master as far as the stairs. Here Katterle met her
lover, but, when she learned what was occurring, she became greatly
enraged and incensed by the base interpretation which the servant placed
upon Eva's going out into the street and, terrified by the danger into
which the knight threatened to plunge them all, she forgot the patience
and submission she was accustomed to show the true and steadfast Biberli.
But--resolved to protect her young mistress from the presumptuous knight-
scarcely had she angrily cried shame upon her lover for this base
suspicion, protesting that Eva had never gone to seek a knight but, as
she had often done on bright moonlight nights, walked in her sleep down
the stairs and out of doors, when the young girl's shriek of terror
summoned her to her aid.
Biberli looked after her sullenly, meanwhile execrating bitterly enough
the wild love which had robbed his master of reason and threatened to
hurl him, Biberli, and even the innocent Katterle, whose brave defence of
her mistress had especially pleased him, into serious misfortune.
When old Endres appeared he had slipped behind a wall formed of bales
heaped one above another, and did not stir until the entry was quiet
again.
To his amazement he had then found his master standing beside the door
of the house, but his question--which, it is true, was not wholly devoid
of a shade of sarcasm--whether the knight was waiting for the return of
his sleep-walking sweetheart, was so harshly rebuffed that he deemed it
advisable to keep silence for a time.
Though Heinz Schorlin had perceived that he had followed an unconscious
somnambulist, he was not yet capable of calmly reflecting upon what had
occurred or of regarding the future with prudence. He knew one thing
only: the fear was idle that the lovely creature whose image, surrounded
by a halo of light, still hovered before him like a vision from a higher,
more beautiful world, was an unworthy person who, with a face of angelic
innocence, transgressed the laws of custom and modesty. Her shriek of
terror, her horror at seeing him, and the cry for help which had brought
her sister to her aid and roused the servants from their sleep, gave him
the right to esteem her as highly as ever; and this conviction fanned
into such a blaze the feeling of happiness which love had awakened and
his foolish distrust had already begun to stifle, that he was firmly
resolved, cost what it might, to make Eva his own.
After he had reached this determination he began to reflect more quietly.
What cared he for liberty and a rapid advance in the career upon which he
had entered, if only his future life was beautified by her love!
If he were required to woo her in the usual form, he would do so. And
what a charming yet resolute creature was the other E, who, in her
anxiety about her sister, had crossed his path with such grave, firm
dignity! She was Wolff Eysvogel's betrothed bride, and it seemed to him
a very pleasant thing to call the young man, whom he had so quickly
learned to esteem, his brother-in-law.
If the father refused his daughter to him, he would leave Nuremberg and
ride to the Rhine, where Hartmann, the Emperor Rudolph's son, whom he
loved like a younger brother, was now living. Heinz had instructed the
lad of eighteen in the use of the lance and the sword, and Hartmann had
sent him word the day before that the Rhine was beautiful, but without
him he but half enjoyed even the pleasantest things. He needed him.
Hundreds of other knights and squires could break in the new horses for
the Emperor and the young Bohemian princess, though perhaps not quite so
skilfully. Hartmann would understand him and persuade his imperial
father to aid him in his suit. The warmhearted youth could not bear to
see him sorrowful, and without Eva there was no longer joy or happiness.
He was roused from these thoughts and dreams by his own name called in a
low tone.
Katterle had gone with Eva to the chamber, whither the older sister
followed them. Tenderly embracing the weeping girl, she had kissed her
wet eyes and whispered in an agitated voice, with which, however, blended
a great deal of affectionate mischief: "The wolf who forced his way into
the house does not seem quite so harmless as mine, whom I have succeeded
in taming very tolerably. Go to mother now, darling. I'll be back
directly."
"What do you intend to do?" asked Eva timidly, still unable, under the
influence of her strange experiences, to regain her self-control.
"To look around the house," replied her sister, beckoning to Katterle to
accompany her.
In the entry she questioned the maid with stern decision, and the
trembling girl owned, amid her tears, that Eva had sent a little note to
the knight in reply to his request that she would name her colour, and
whatever else her anxious mistress desired hastily to learn.
After a threatening "We will discuss your outrageous conduct later," Els
hurried down-stairs, and found in the entry the man whose pleasure in the
pursuit of the innocent child whom she protected she meant to spoil. But
though she expressed her indignation to the knight with the utmost
harshness, he besought a hearing with so much respect and in such seemly
words, that she requested him, in a gentler tone, to speak freely. But
scarcely had he begun to relate how Eva, at the ball, had filled his
heart with the purest love, when the trampling of horses' hoofs, which
had come nearer and nearer to the house, suddenly ceased, and Biberli,
who had gone into the court-yard, came hurrying back, exclaiming in a
tone of warning, "The von Montforts!"
At the same moment two men-servants threw back both leaves of the door,
torchlight mingled with the moonbeams in the courtyard, and the next
instant a goodly number of knights and gentlemen entered the hall.
Biberli was not mistaken. The von Montforts had returned home, instead
of spending the night at Kadolzburg, and neither Els nor the Swiss had
the time or disposition to seek concealment.
The intruders were preceded by men-servants, whose torches lighted the
long, lofty storehouse brilliantly. It seemed to Els as if her heart
stopped beating and she felt her cheeks blanch.
Here she beheld Count von Montfort's bronzed face, the countenance of a
sportsman and reveller; yonder the frank, handsome features of the young
Burgrave, Eitelfritz von Zollern, framed by the hood of the Knights of
St. John, drawn up during the night-ride; there the pale, noble visage of
the quiet knight Boemund Altrosen, far famed for his prowess with lance
and sword; beyond, the scarred, martial countenance of Count Casper
Schlick, set in a mass of tangled brown locks; and then the watery, blue
eyes of Sir Seitz Siebenburg, the husband of her future sister-in-law
Isabella.
They had pressed in, talking eagerly, laughing, and rejoicing that the
wild night ride proposed by Cordula von Montfort, which had led over dark
forest paths, lighted only by a stray moonbeam, and often across fields
and ditches and through streams, had ended without mischance to man or
beast.
Now they all crowded around the countess, Seitz Siebenburg bending
towards her with such zeal that the ends of his huge mustache brushed the
plumes in her cap, and Boemund Altrosen, who had just been gazing into
the flushed face of the daring girl with the warm joy of true love, cast
a look of menace at him.
Els, too, greatly disliked "the Mustache," as her future brother-
in-law was called because the huge ornament on his upper lip made him
conspicuous among the beardless knights. She was aware that he returned
the feeling, and had left no means untried to incite Wolff Eysvogel's
parents to oppose his betrothal. Now he was one of the first to notice
her and, after whispering with a malicious smile to the countess and
those nearest to him, he looked at her so malevolently that she could
easily guess what interpretation he was trying to put upon her nocturnal
meeting with the Swiss in the eyes of his companions.
Her cheeks flamed with wrath, and like a flash of lightning came the
thought of the pleasure it would afford this wanton company, whose
greatest delight was to gloat over the errors of their neighbours,
if the knight who had brought her into this suspicious situation, or she
herself, should confess that not she, but the devout Eva, had attracted
Heinz hither. What a satisfaction it would be to this reckless throng to
tell such a tale of a young girl of whom the Burgravine von Zollern had
said the evening before to their Uncle Pfinzing, that purity and piety
had chosen Eva's lovely face for a mirror!
What if Heinz Schorlin, to save her, Els, from evil report, should
confess that she was here only to rebuke his insolent intrusion into a
decorous household?
This must be prevented, and Heinz seemed to understand her; for after
their eyes had met, his glance of helpless enquiry told her that he would
leave her to find an escape from this labyrinth.
The merry party, who now perceived that they had interrupted the
nocturnal tryst of lovers, did not instantly know what to do and, as one
looked enquiringly at another, an embarrassed silence followed their
noisy jollity.
But the hush did not last long, and its interruption at first seemed to
Els to bode the worst result; it was a peal of gay, reckless laughter,
ringing from the lips of the very Cordula von Montfort, into whose eyes,
as the only one of her own sex who was present, Els had just gazed with a
look imploring aid.
Had Eva's aversion to the countess been justified, and was she about to
take advantage of her unpleasant position to jeer at her?
Had the two quarreled at the ball the night before, and did Cordula now
perceive an opportunity to punish the younger sister by the humiliation
of the older one?
Yet her laugh sounded by no means spiteful--rather, very gay and natural.
The pleasant grey eyes sparkled with the most genuine mirth, and she
clapped her little hands so joyously that the falcon's chain on the
gauntlet of her riding glove rattled.
And what was this?
No one looks at a person whom one desires to wound with an expression of
such cheerful encouragement as the look with which Cordula now gazed at
Els and Heinz Schorlin, who stood by her side. True, they were at first
extremely perplexed by the words she now shouted to those around her in a
tone of loud exultation, as though announcing a victory; but from the
beginning they felt that there was no evil purpose in them. Soon they
even caught the real meaning of the countess's statement, and Els was
ashamed of having feared any injury from the girl whose defender she had
always been.
"Won, Sir Knight--cleverly won!" was her first sentence to Heinz.
Then, turning to Els, she asked with no less animation: "And you, my fair
maid and very strict housemate, who has won the wager now? Do you still
believe it is an inconceivable thought that the modest daughter of a
decorous Nuremberg race, entitled to enter the lists of a tourney, would
grant a young knight a midnight meeting? "And addressing her companions,
she continued, in an explanatory yet still playful tone: "She was ready
to wager the beautiful brown locks which she now hides modestly under a
kerchief, and even her betrothed lover's ring. It should be mine if I
succeeded in leading her to commit such an abominable deed. But I was
content, if I won the wager, with a smaller forfeit; yet now that I have
gained it, Jungfrau Ortlieb, you must pay!"
The whole company listened in astonishment to this speech, which no one
understood, but the countess, nodding mischievously to her nearest
neighbours, went on:
"How bewildered you all look! It might tempt me to satisfy your
curiosity less speedily, but, after the delightful entertainment you gave
us, my Lord Burgrave, one becomes merciful. So you shall hear how I, as
wise as the serpent, craftily forced this haughty knight"--she tapped
Heinz Schorlin's arm with her riding whip--"and you, too, Jungfrau
Ortlieb, whose pardon I now entreat, to help me win the bet. No offence,
noble sirs! But this bet was what compelled me to drag you all from
Kadolzburg and its charms so early, and induce you to attend me on the
reckless ride through the moonlit night. Now accept the thanks of a lady
whose heart is grateful; for your obedience helped me win the wager.
Look yonder at my handsome, submissive knight, Sir Heinz Schorlin, so
rich in every virtue. I commanded, him, on pain of my anger, to meet me
at midnight at the entrance of our quarters--that is, the entry of the
Ortlieb mansion; and to this modest and happy betrothed bride (may she
pardon the madcap!) I represented how it troubled me and wounded my timid
delicacy to enter so late at night, accompanied only by gentlemen, the
house which so hospitably sheltered us, and go to my sleeping room,
though I should not fear the Sultan and his mamelukes, if with this in my
hand"--she motioned to her riding whip--"and my dear father at my side,
I stood on my own feet which, though by no means small, are well-shod and
resolute. Yet, as we are apt to measure others by our own standard, the
timid, decorous girl believed me, and poor Cordula, who indeed brought
only her maids and no female guardian, and therefore must dispense with
being received on her return by a lady capable of commanding respect, did
not appeal in vain to the charitable feelings of her beautiful housemate.
She promised faithfully to come down into the entry, when the horses
approached, to receive the poor lamb, surrounded by lynxes, wild-cats,
foxes, and wolves, and lead it into the safe fold--if one can call this
stately house by such a name. Both Sir Heinz Schorlin and Jungfrau
Elizabeth Ortlieb kept their word and joined each other here--to their
extreme amazement, I should suppose, as to my knowledge they never met
before--to receive me, and thus had an interview which, however loudly
they may contradict it, I call a nocturnal meeting. But my wager, fair
child, is won, and tomorrow you will deliver to me the exquisite carved
ivory casket, while I shall keep my bracelet."
Here she paused, paying no heed to the merry threats, exclamations of
amazement, and laughter of her companions.
But while her father, striking his broad chest, cried again and again,
with rapturous delight, "A paragon of a woman!" and Seitz Siebenburg,
in bitter disappointment, whispered, "The fourteen saintly helpers in
time of need might learn from you how to draw from the clamps what is not
worth rescue and probably despaired of escape," she was trying to give
time to recover more composure her young hostess, to whom she was
sincerely attached, and who, she felt sure, could have met Heinz
Schorlin, who perhaps had come hither on her own account, only by some
cruel chance. So she added in a quieter tone: "And now, Jungfrau
Ortlieb, in sober earnest I will ask your protection and guidance through
the dark house, and meanwhile you shall tell me how Sir Heinz greeted you
and what passed between you, either good or bad, during the time of
waiting."
Els summoned up her courage and answered loud enough to be heard by all
present: "We were speaking of you, Countess Cordula, and the knight said:
"I ventured to remark, Countess," said Heinz, interrupting the new ally,
"that though you might understand how to show a poor knight his folly, no
kinder heart than yours throbbed under any bodice in Switzerland, Swabia,
or France." Cordula struck him lightly on the shoulder with her riding
whip, saying with a laugh: "Who permits you to peep under women's bodices
through so wide a tract of country, you scamp? Had I been in Jungfrau
Ortlieb's place I should have punished your entry into a respectable
house:
"Oh, my dear Countess," Heinz interrupted, and his words bore so
distinctly the stamp of truth and actual experience that even Sir Seitz
Siebenburg was puzzled, "though I am always disposed to be grateful to
you, I cannot feel a sense of obligation for this lady's reception of me,
even to the most gracious benefactress. For, by my patron saint, she
forbade me the house as if I were a thief and a burglar."
"And she was right!" exclaimed the countess. "I would have treated you
still more harshly. Only you would have spared yourself many a sharp
word had you confessed at once that it was I who summoned you here. I'll
talk with you tomorrow, and am I not right, Jungfrau Elsyou won't make
him suffer for losing the wager, but exercise your domestic authority
after a more gentle fashion?"
While speaking, she looked at Els with a glance so full of meaning that
the young girl's cheeks crimsoned, and the longing to put an end to this
deceitful game became almost uncontrollable. The thought of Eva alone
sealed her lips.