The dawn had almost appeared, when Rolf, who had been asleep, was
awakened by low singing; and as he looked round, he perceived, with
surprise, that the sounds came from the lips of the castellan, who said,
as if in explanation, “So does Sir Weigand sing at the convent-gates,
and they are kindly opened to him.” Upon which, old Rolf fell asleep
again, uncertain whether what had passed had been a dream or a reality.
After a while the bright sunshine awoke him again; and when he rose up,
he saw the countenance of the castellan wonderfully illuminated by the
red morning rays; and altogether those features, once so fearful, were
shining with a soft, nay almost child-like mildness. The mysterious man
seemed to be the while listening to the motionless air, as if he were
hearing a most pleasant discourse or lofty music; and as Rolf was about
to speak, he made him a sign of entreaty to remain quiet, and continued
in his eager listening attitude.
At length he sank slowly and contentedly back in his seat, whispering,
“God be praised! She has granted his last prayer; he will be laid in the
burial-ground of the convent, and now he has forgiven me in the depths
of his heart. I can assure you that he finds a peaceful end.”
Rolf did not dare ask a question, or awake his lord; he felt as if one
already departed had spoken to him.
The castellan long remained still, always smiling brightly. At last
he raised himself a little, again listened, and said, “It is over. The
sound of the bells is very sweet. We have overcome. Oh, how soft and
easy does the good God make it to us!” And so it came to pass. He
stretched himself back as if weary, and his soul was freed from his
care-worn body.
Rolf now gently awoke his young knight, and pointed to the smiling dead.
And Sintram smiled too; he and his good esquire fell on their knees, and
prayed to God for the departed spirit. Then they rose up, and bore the
cold body to the vaulted hall, and watched by it with holy candles until
the return of the chaplain. That the pilgrim would not come back again,
they very well knew.
Accordingly towards mid-day the chaplain returned alone. He could
scarcely do more than confirm what was already known to them. He only
added a comforting and hopeful greeting from Sintram’s mother to her
son, and told that the blissful Weigand had fallen asleep like a tired
child, whilst Verena, with calm tenderness, held a crucifix before him.
“And in eternal peace our penance end!”
sang Sintram, gently to himself: and they prepared a last resting place
for the now peaceful castellan, and laid him therein with all the due
solemn rites.
The chaplain was obliged soon afterwards to depart; but bidding Sintram
farewell, he again said kindly to him, “Thy dear mother assuredly knows
how gentle and calm and good thou art now!”