Wilhelm was rapidly approaching complete recovery: he now hoped to be
upon his journey in a few days. He proposed no more to lead an aimless
routine of existence: the steps of his career were henceforth to be
calculated for an end. In the first place, he purposed to seek out that
beneficent lady, and express the gratitude he felt to her; then to
proceed without delay to his friend the manager, that he might do his
utmost to assist the luckless company; intending, at the same time, to
visit the commercial friends whom he had letters for, and to transact
the business which had been intrusted to him. He was not without hope
that fortune, as formerly, would favor him, and give him opportunity, by
some lucky speculation, to repair his losses, and fill up the vacuity of
his coffer.
The desire of again beholding his beautiful deliverer augmented every
day. To settle his route, he took counsel with the clergyman,--a person
well skilled in statistics and geography, and possessing a fine
collection of charts and books. They two searched for the place which
this noble family had chosen as their residence while the war continued:
they searched for information respecting the family itself. But their
place was to be found in no geography or map, and the heraldic manuals
made no mention of their name.
Wilhelm grew uneasy; and, having mentioned the cause of his anxiety, the
harper told him he had reason to believe that the huntsman, from
whatever motive, had concealed the real designations.
Conceiving himself now to be in the immediate neighborhood of his lovely
benefactress, Wilhelm hoped he might obtain some tidings of her if he
sent out the harper; but in this, too, he was deceived. Diligently as
the old man kept inquiring, he could find no trace of her. Of late days
a number of quick movements and unforeseen marches had taken place in
that quarter; no one had particularly noticed the travelling party; and
the ancient messenger, to avoid being taken for a Jewish spy, was
obliged to return, and appear without any olive-leaf before his master
and friend. He gave a strict account of his conduct in this commission,
striving to keep far from him all suspicions of remissness. He
endeavored by every means to mitigate the trouble of our friend;
bethought him of every thing that he had learned from the huntsman, and
advanced a number of conjectures; out of all which, one circumstance at
length came to light, whereby Wilhelm could explain some enigmatic words
of his vanished benefactress.
The freebooters, it appeared, had lain in wait, not for the wandering
troop, but for that noble company, whom they rightly guessed to be
provided with store of gold and valuables, and of whose movements they
must have had precise intelligence. Whether the attack should be imputed
to some free corps, to marauders, or to robbers, was uncertain. It was
clear, however, that, by good fortune for the high and rich company, the
poor and low had first arrived upon the place, and undergone the fate
which was provided for the others. It was to this that the lady's words
referred, which Wilhelm yet well recollected. If he might now be happy
and contented, that a prescient Genius had selected him for the
sacrifice, which saved a perfect mortal, he was, on the other hand, nigh
desperate, when he thought that all hope of finding her and seeing her
again was, at least for the present, completely gone.
What increased this singular emotion still further, was the likeness
which he thought he had observed between the countess and the beautiful
unknown. They resembled one another as two sisters may, of whom neither
can be called the younger or the elder, for they seem to be twins.
The recollection of the amiable countess was to Wilhelm infinitely
sweet. He recalled her image but too willingly into his memory. But anon
the figure of the noble Amazon would step between: one vision melted and
changed into the other, and the form of neither would abide with him.
A new resemblance--the similarity of their handwritings--naturally
struck him with still greater wonder. He had a charming song in the
countess's hand laid up in his portfolio; and in the surtout he had
found a little note, inquiring with much tender care about the health of
an uncle.
Wilhelm was convinced that his benefactress must have penned this
billet; that it must have been sent from one chamber to another, at some
inn during their journey, and put into the coat-pocket by the uncle. He
held both papers together; and, if the regular and graceful letters of
the countess had already pleased him much, he found in the similar but
freer lines of the stranger a flowing harmony which could not be
described. The note contained nothing; yet the strokes of it seemed to
affect him, as the presence of their fancied writer once had done.
He fell into a dreamy longing; and well accordant with his feelings was
the song which at that instant Mignon and the harper began to sing, with
a touching expression, in the form of an irregular duet.
"'Tis but who longing knows,
My grief can measure.
Alone, reft of repose,
All joy, all pleasure,
I thither look to those
Soft lines of azure.
Ah! far is he who knows
Me, and doth treasure.
I faint, my bosom glows
'Neath pain's sore pressure.
'Tis but who longing knows,
My grief can measure."
--_Editor's Version._