MINE ENEMY'S HIDING-PLACE
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the
morning.
--The Bible.
My vanquished foe had hardly disappeared down the mountain when I
recovered sufficiently from my dazed state to recall the witch, who I
feared had escaped me while I was engaged in desperate conflict with the
red man. No man who hath not gone through such adventures can understand
what a weakness and loneliness came upon me way up there in that wild
spot, with no foe to fight or witch to pursue; for surely idleness
afflicts one with many foolish fears and vain imaginings.
I crawled stiffly, now that I had cooled off somewhat, to the top of the
rock and looked carefully in every direction, straining my ears for any
sound of her; but I saw and heard nothing. I fairly groaned in my
childish despair. It seemed to me I must find out this night the haunt
of this sorceress. And then, as I jumped down from the great stone so
heedlessly I almost fell, something leaped out of the dark shadow of the
rock with such suddenness I shrank back trembling like a leaf; but as I
saw, despite my shattered wits, the form of the witch fleeing still
higher up the mountains, I rushed after her with such a vengeful whoop
as startled even myself; but with all my violent efforts she gained
steadily on me, for that she knew the way, dodging in and out among the
trees and bushes with the greatest ease, while I stumbled and fell
repeatedly bruising and tearing my hands and knees almost beyond
endurance.
Yet how truly it hath been said that often victory cometh when we are
ready to give up; for as I was passing a cluster of tall, gloomy looking
pines only a few paces from me, I saw a white-clad figure which as I
advanced cautiously toward it, suddenly rushed forward and ere I could
hinder threw itself into mine arms with a cry that was nigh to weeping,
"Brother Jabez!" As I recovered from my amazement and stepped back into
the moonlight I could hardly believe my senses, not knowing at first
whether it were another trick of the witch; for she who lay so quietly
in my protection was none other than our Sister Genoveva!
But she was not senseless as I first supposed; for in a moment or two
she stood up by herself, though trembling, and said with a great
gladness, "The Lord be praised thou didst overcome thine adversary."
Then with a vanity I trust King David never had, I boasted to my sister,
"Didst see me fight the red man?"
"Yea, and when thou didst throw him so mightily I feared thou hadst
killed him; for I knew thee not until I saw thee leave the rock in such
hot haste after this poor creature."
"Where hath she gone?" I asked eagerly. "I have vowed not to rest until
I track her to her vile retreat, though she take me to the gates of the
lost." And then our sister smiled so brightly I was hurt that she should
feel thus at such a time, as she said, "Wouldst like to see her vile
retreat, as thou callest it?"
"For that and for thee I am here."
Still smiling she said more softly, and it seemed to me almost
teasingly, "Art strong enough to stand a great surprise?"
To which I replied boastfully, "After such a night of surprises can I
endure anything."
With that she took me lightly by the arm and led me into the shadow of
those dark pines and when in the very midst of them, I saw what appeared
to me like one of the cone-shaped houses of poles covered with skins the
red men are wont to live in, only this one was larger than any I had
ever seen before and so hidden by the enfolding branches of the pines
that one might have passed it within a few feet even in daylight without
knowing there were human habitation nigh.
"See," said Sister Genoveva, "this is the vile retreat of her whom thou
callest the witch. 'Tis substantial, I assure thee; 'twill not vanish
into the air."
And then, as she stepped down and lifted aside a flap that gave entrance
to the structure, the moonlight shining through the opening fell full
upon the form of some one lying within, seemingly asleep, just beyond
the glowing embers of a bright fire that spread a soothing warmth
throughout the rude dwelling. As I hung back, not knowing but that I was
under some spell of the witch and that all this enchantment would be my
undoing, Sister Genoveva assured me of herself by pushing me forward
gently, saying, "'Tis not she whom thou hast frightened away by thy
unseemly screeching," and as I still hung back for--I say it to my great
shame--I feared perhaps the witch had changed herself into the form of
our sister to lure me to my destruction, our sister said to me
mockingly, "Surely a fighting man like thee is not afraid!" With that I
stepped forward with a brave showing, for the man that can endure being
called coward by woman is beyond recall.
But then as my feet sank into the soft floor--for it seemed thickly
strewn with the skins of wild animals--the prostrate form moved uneasily
and murmured weakly, "Genoveva," and before she could hold me back I
flung myself down beside my boy, calling to him like one crazy with joy,
"Sonnlein! God be praised for his mercy!" forgetting the witch and
Sister Genoveva, knowing only that in his wonderful way he had brought
me back to my own again.
Best of all he knew me and though I feared the shock of my sudden coming
might increase his illness he soon drove away my fears by saying, with
such simple faith, and the tenderness illness often brings even to men,
as made me more wickedly vain than ever, "I knew thou wouldst come."
Much had we to say to each other after all our grievous trials, for
Sonnlein would talk against all the admonishing from Sister Genoveva,
and once when she insisted more firmly than before that he cease talking
and go to sleep he retorted softly, slyly winking at me--though I detest
winking--"Surely thou art not going to scold me ere we are married?"
"Married!" I burst forth, "much time hast had to make love if thou hast
been sick since thou left us, and I doubt not thou hast been nigh to
death."
But he merely smiled more wickedly than before as he said, "When a man
is too old or too sick to make love 'tis time for him to die, and I
feel not like dying, I assure thee."
So long as he had such nonsense in him I knew he was not in any critical
illness. Indeed, Genoveva declared he was gaining so rapidly she knew
not what to do, for that he was all the time promising she must be his
wife so soon as he were well.
But finally, for with our Kloster discipline still upon us even in all
these wild surroundings, in that we came slowly to what we most cared to
hear, I prevailed upon our sister's modesty--for she would not have it
that she had endured anything unusual--to tell me about her capture and
long stay from us; but she insisted in making so light of all she had
suffered and endured in body and mind that her story was over much too
soon, though Sonnlein fell most ungallantly asleep ere she was half-way
through, greatly tempting me to waken him with the reminder that he was
the one who acted as though he and Genoveva were already married; but no
doubt his illness was adequate apology; for truly no man worthy the
name, so it seemeth to my inexperience, could even wish to sleep while
his lady love were talking to him; though I have heard it stoutly
averred that after marriage a great change cometh over the man so that
he goeth to sleep whenever he feeleth like it even though his _Liebchen_
be talking to him; but this I never could believe.
But it is not seemly that I, a monk, should attempt instruction in love
and marriage, and therefore shall I turn to our sister's tale of her
capture; and very discreetly she said nothing about Sonnlein's meeting
her under the chestnut tree; nor did I think it wise to refer to the
matter for fear--though I never doubted her word--the temptation for
falsehood would be too great; for it hath ever seemed to me a most
dreadful thing that the fair sisters, whom the Lord hath created so like
unto the angels, should ever be guilty of untruth.
But here I am preaching again, as usual, so that it seemeth I shall
never get to our sister's story. Yet now shall I proceed to it without
further deviation. And thus it was: She was sitting under the tree but a
short time after Brother Alburtus had passed her when suddenly some one
from behind grasped her roughly by the arm and as she turned about, in
her first thought believing it had been some jesting one stealing upon
her, she looked up and saw bending over her threateningly the tall form
of a red man, with an evil-looking old woman directly back of him. As
our sister was about to cry for help he made such menacing motions and
gestures that she knew it would be foolish to make resistance; but
instead she went with them as they led the way down Mount Sinai through
the meadows, and along the creek, crossing it where Sonnlein and I had
seen the footprints.
At first their course was to the southwest from the Kloster, and in this
direction they had gone for some miles, and though in the darkness that
soon came upon them they went slowly through the thick woods, the
captors not seeming inclined to be harsh to our sister, yet so oft did
she stumble and the swinging branches strike and sting her face that she
was compelled to stop for rest.
But now, though our sister understood not their speech, the red man and
the old woman seemed to be disputing, the former wanting, our sister
made out, to go back to the mountains, for thus he would point while the
witch would shake her head and beckon to the southwest; but at last she
consented to the red man's persuasion, for suddenly they changed almost
directly about, so that for a moment our sister had the cheering hope
they were going to take her back to the Kloster.
This hope, however, lasted not long, for instead of returning to the
Kloster her captors soon turned toward the mountains. Beyond the
spiteful glances the witch would cast at our sister there seemed no
inclination to injure her; but though the way through the valley had
been rough it was as naught to the unbroken path up the steep hillside
in the darkness of the night, for they had no light, only that the red
man went ahead as freely as though it were midday, with our sister next
to him, and back of her the witch, to prevent escape.
At last they came to the great rock, from whose top a view could be had
down over the valley of the Cocalico. The red man having ascended the
high stone looked long and carefully in the direction of the Kloster.
All at once he called the witch to him and pointed out something of
great interest to both, causing Genoveva to climb upon the rock and look
in the direction he was pointing. She saw now and then a light moving
down from what she guessed to be Mount Sinai toward the Cocalico in the
direction she and her captors had taken, and she doubted not that some
one was coming to her rescue.
But though her hope was again revived it was but for a brief season, for
heavy clouds had gathered after nightfall, and even while yet on the
rock a few scattering drops of rain fell, so that her captors after a
few moments more of careful examination of the valley proceeded up the
hill and led her to this hiding-place. Hardly had they reached its
shelter when the rain came down, and she knew as it came faster and
faster none of us would be able to find their trail.
In this lonely spot she had been all these months with no other
companion than this strange woman, who seldom spoke to our sister, but
would often sit muttering to herself. Sometimes she would leave her
hiding-place, and be gone for days and even weeks at a time, and had it
not been that the red man, who seemed to have a shelter somewhere nigh,
had supplied Sister Genoveva with the flesh of wild animals and other
food she would have starved; for when the witch was absent our sister
had thought to make her escape, but every time before she had gone far
the red man would suddenly appear, and without saying a word lead her
back to the hut.
Nor could she learn from him the reason of her capture and who the witch
was, as he--according to the silent nature of Indians--would say nothing
more than that the witch was friend to his tribe, "Conestogas," had
often taken care of them in sickness, and was regarded by his people as
having wonderful powers.
Thus day after day and night after night she lived here during all the
cold of winter, though snugly enough housed within the shelter of these
pines, that sometimes with all her hope and faith, it seemed she must go
mad; but she never failed, no matter whether rain or snow or biting
cold, to rise at the midnight hour and seek peace and comfort in praise
and prayer. Often she heard the clear tones of the Kloster bell, even at
this far-off height, if the wind were not in the contrary direction, and
saw the cheering lights that shone out from Mount Sinai and from the
wide scattered settlers' huts throughout the valley, so that she felt
not utterly alone in the world.
Then she came to that which she knew I most cared to hear, and that was
how Sonnlein had come to her. And the manner of this has always seemed
to me little less than miraculous, for it is beyond me to explain it
otherwise. All that night that Sonnlein was with Brother Benno and me in
the chapter house, our sister--the witch at that time being in her
hiding-place--could find no rest. It seemed impossible for her to fall
asleep. She held her usual midnight devotions from the rock looking down
toward the Kloster, so that she might feel she were praying with us, and
though this gave her some peace, yet when she returned again to the hut
and lay down to sleep she found no rest; but toward the morning she
finally fell asleep, but only to have it filled with a strange dream;
for it seemed to her she saw Sonnlein lying on a hard couch in one of
our _Kammers_, worn and wasted and suffering from some great illness,
and then suddenly he arose from his couch and rushed from his cell and
out of Zion down over the hill toward the Cocalico, calling her name,
once, twice, a number of times, whereat she struggled to go to him but
could not! She awoke with a great start only to hear a heavy storm
roaring all about her; but though she knew she was awake she still saw,
or imagined she saw, Sonnlein rush through the creek and into the woods
on the other side, as though he were coming directly to her.
At first she tried to shake the matter from her mind as merely a dream,
but she could not do so. Something even against her own persuading
seemed to tell her that Sonnlein was seeking her, that she must go to
meet him, and ere she knew what she was about she found herself outside
the hut, rushing in all the storm down the mountain as fast as she
could, the witch closely following.
Our sister could not tell how long or how far they had gone in this
wild, headlong manner, but they were not far from the foot of the
mountain, when suddenly at no great distance above them, seemingly the
very way they had come, she heard a faint cry, "Genoveva!"
Not knowing whether she were bewitched or really gone mad from all these
months of loneliness, she stood like one dazed; but then again, and even
a third time, she heard her name as though the one calling were going
farther up the mountain. The witch too heard the cry and together they
hastened up the hill, but hearing no longer the calls; and in this wise
they came back again to the great rock, and there, so that she could
hardly believe her own eyes, it now being broad daylight, lay the figure
of a man face downward as though he had fallen that way, who as they
turned him about she saw was Sonnlein.
Here I interrupted our sister most foolishly by asking, "What didst
do--kiss him?" To which unmanly question she made no reply, only that I
feel sure had it not been so dark in the hut, the moon having gone down,
I should have seen exceedingly rich blushings on the face of our dear
sister.
But she and the witch, the latter seeming to have the strength of a man
(and in truth Genoveva was no weakling) carried Sonnlein into the hut,
where he lay for weeks with a raging fever, and though she and the witch
watched over him and nursed him, our sister despaired of his ever coming
to himself again. Had it not been that the witch possessed wonderful
knowledge of the herbs she gathered in the woods and made into physic
for Sonnlein, our sister felt he surely would have died. But for some
reason the witch became greatly devoted to Sonnlein, nursing him as
tenderly as though she were his own mother, sometimes seeming jealous of
our sister, so that until this night the witch had not left the hut
since they had found Sonnlein lying on the rock; but gradually under the
witch's care he had come to himself again, and was now quite strong and
in his own mind, only that he was continually pestering our sister that
she must marry him.
To this I made question, "But being a Rose of Saron thou wouldst not
marry him?"
And to which she replied softly, "So have I oft told him, but he sayeth
he careth naught what I say, that he will marry me whether I have him
or not, and thou hast so spoiled him all his life by letting him have
his own will I fear I can do naught but let him have it in this."
I merely made reply, "May thy reward be great for sacrificing thyself so
willingly to the result of my over-indulgence!" whereat she laughed so
merrily, 'twas like music, for though quick to feel the soft sting in my
retort she was too great-hearted a woman to be hurt at what she knew was
only meant in jest.