Barbara had scarcely entered the street with her father when they were
stopped by Master Adrian, the Emperor’s valet. He came from his Majesty
to inform Blomberg that the regent could not spare Sir Wolf Hartschwert,
and the captain might choose another companion for his ride. The Emperor
expected him to select only a loyal, trustworthy, and vigorous nobleman
who had taken the oath of fealty to his Majesty. If he should be in the
military service, the necessary leave of absence was granted in advance;
only he must present himself to the Lord Bishop of Arras that very day.
Sir Wolf Hartschwert must depart for Brussels in the regent’s train
early the next morning.
This news by no means pleased the old soldier, yet, before the valet had
finished the message, his features smoothed--he thought he had already
found the right man.
After assuring himself that the imperial messenger had fulfilled his
commission, he took a hasty leave of him and his daughter.
His kind heart impelled him to show his chosen companion his friendly
remembrance of him, and thereby atone for the offence which had been
inflicted upon him in his house. To Barbara’s inquiry whom he would take
with him, he hurriedly replied that he should not decide until he joined
his military comrades in the Black Bear. As soon as this important
matter was settled he would return home, for it had now become
unnecessary to inform Wolf. The maid-servant could be sent to summon
him to the Golden Cross. Barbara might go herself at once to Ursel and
soothe her--anxiety about her beloved young knight weighed heavily upon
her soul.
During this conversation? Master Adrian had gone to her side; but as
soon as Blomberg had retired, he informed Barbara, in his master’s name,
that he should expect her after vespers in the apartments of the Queen
of Hungary. He longed to hear her voice. The regent desired to know
whether she had any special wishes concerning the Prebrunn house. She
need not restrict herself on the score of expense; the Prebrunn steward
would be authorized to pay everything. True, most of the furniture was
supplied and the necessary servants had been obtained, but her Majesty
the Queen advised her to take with her a maid or companion whom she
personally liked.
Barbara’s face crimsoned as she listened, and then asked anxiously
whether the Emperor Charles knew of these arrangements.
He had no doubt of it, the man replied, for he had heard his Majesty
remark that, if the marquise’s companion was not to become the toy
of her caprices, she must be enabled to obtain what she desired
independently of the old lady. He was anxious to make Barbara’s life in
Prebrunn a pleasant one.
The latter, with downcast eyes, thanked Master Adrian and turned away;
but he detained her with the inquiry whether he should probably find Sir
Wolf Hartschwert at home, and received the answer that he had gone to
Syndic Hiltner’s.
The valet then hastily took his leave, because just at that time his
royal master needed him. Any one else could summon the knight to the
regent in his place.
In the corridor of the Golden Cross he met Brother Cassian, the body
servant of the Confessor de Soto, a middle-aged Swabian, who had
formerly as a lay brother worked as a bookbinder in the Dominican
monastery at Cologne. He was clad in a half-secular, half-priestly
garb, and was an humble, extremely devout man, whose yielding nature had
rendered him popular among the servants at the court. His bullet-shaped
head was unusually large, and his face, with its narrow brow and small,
lustreless eyes, showed that he was not prone to thinking. Yet he
fulfilled every order precisely according to directions, and possessed
his full share of the cunning which is often a characteristic of narrow
minds.
He willingly undertook to summon Sir Wolf Hartschwert, whom he knew, to
the presence of the Queen of Hungary. No special haste was needful, and,
as he loved good wine and did not lack gifts from those who desired an
audience with his master, he went first to the English Greeting, where
the travelling clergy lodged and often deigned to accost him.
Barbara had returned home with bowed head, and threw herself into her
father’s arm-chair in his workshop. She gazed into vacancy with a sore
and anxious heart, and, as an insane violinist lures the same tone from
the instrument again and again, she constantly returned to the same
thought, “Lost! lost!--too late! too late!”
Barbara gave herself up to this mood for several minutes, but at last
she remembered her lover’s summons for that evening.
He longed to hear her voice, Master Adrian had said.
Surely, surely he himself had clothed the expression in a totally
different, a hundred times warmer form. How bewitchingly he, the great
Emperor, understood how to flatter, and, with the memory of the charm
of his manner, the thought of the blissful hours which she had enjoyed
through his love returned to her mind. It was in his power to bestow the
highest happiness which earth can give; after all, his love outweighed
everything that she must sacrifice for it. To enjoy it, though but for a
brief season, she ought not to refuse to bear the hardest, most terrible
things, and, if what was now her secret became rumoured among the
people, to accept humiliation, shame, and scorn. Let the respectable
women of Ratisbon, in their pride of virtue, maliciously cast stones at
her; they could not look down upon her, for, as the object of the most
illustrious sovereign’s love, she was raised far above them.
Meanwhile, with a feeling of defiant self-confidence, she was again
braiding her hair. But the mental firmness which she had regained did
not last; more than once her hand faltered while the comb was dividing
the wealth of her golden tresses. How ardently Charles had praised their
luxuriant beauty!-and to-day he was to rejoice in it again. But why had
not even one poor word from his own hand accompanied the summons?
Why had his messenger been only a valet? Why had he wounded her so
deeply the night before?
Why did leaden weights seem to hang upon her soul when she attempted to
soar upward?
Oh, what a state of things!
Who had given the regent, to whom nothing attracted her, the right to
dispose of her as though she were a chattel or her captive?
Had she, with her heart and her honour, also resigned her freedom to her
lover?
If she had only possessed one, one single person to whom she could utter
her thoughts!
Then her glance fell upon the knapsack, and she remembered Wolf. He was
to set out on his journey early the next morning; her lover expected her
after vespers; so perhaps she would not be permitted to see him again,
for she scarcely dared to hope that, after the rebuff which he had
experienced, he would seek her again. Yet she longed once more to clasp
the hand of the man for whom she felt a sister’s affection and yet had
so deeply wounded.
Without one kind farewell word from him, the bitterest drop of all would
fall into the wormwood which already mingled in her happiness. It seemed
incomprehensible that he who from childhood had given her his whole
heart would henceforth deny her every friendly feeling. For her own
sake, and also for his, this should not be.
How many had sought her love! But perhaps the time would soon come when,
on account of the one who must supply the place of all others, no one
would care for her. Then she wished at least to be sure of the sympathy,
the friendship of this good loyal man.
There were still many things for her to do, but to seek Wolf she left
them all, even the visit to Frau Lerch, whom she wished to ask to devote
herself exclusively to her service in Prebrunn.
Full of anxious cares, lofty anticipations, and the ardent desire to
conciliate Wolf, she took the by no means lengthy walk to the Hiltners.
Not until she reached the doctor’s house did it occur to her that she
had forgotten to execute her father’s commission and relieve Ursel’s
anxiety about her darling.
How did it happen that, if any affair of her own interested her, she
always forgot what she owed to others?
Barbara was obliged to wait in the broad, lofty hall of the syndic’s
house for the maid-servant, who announced her; and the stout man with
the big head, who had seized the knocker just before she entered, shared
her fate.
He was now leaning with bowed head against the wall, both hands clasped
under his beardless chin, and might have been taken for a monk repeating
his prayers. The long, brown doublet fastened around his hips by a
Hemp rope, instead of a girdle, made him resemble a Franciscan. But his
thick, flaxen hair lacked the tonsure, the rope the rosary, and he wore
coarse leather shoes on his large feet.
Barbara fancied that she had seen this strange figure somewhere, and
he, too, must have recognised her, for he bowed when she looked at him.
There was not the slightest movement of the body except the small eyes,
which wandered restlessly around the spacious room as if they missed
something.
The inquiry what he found lacking here was already rising to Barbara’s
lips when the syndic’s wife came toward her, preceded by her daughter
Martina, who, radiant with joy at seeing the ardently admired singer in
her own house, kissed her with fervent affection.
The mother merely extended her hand to Barbara, yet the whole manner of
the gentle, reserved woman showed that she was a welcome guest.
Frau Sabina loved and understood music, still enjoyed singing hymns with
the members of her household, and had done everything in her power to
aid the establishment of the Convivium musicum and foster its progress.
Interest in music had also united her to Dr. Martin Luther, her
husband’s friend, and mane a composition of the Wittenberg ecclesiastic
had first been performed at the Hiltners.
The old faith offered so much more to charm the senses than the new one!
Therefore it seemed a special cause for thanksgiving that singing and
playing upon the organ occupied a prominent place in the Protestant
religious service, and that Luther most warmly commended the fostering
of music to those who professed the evangelical belief. Besides, her
adopted son Erasmus, the new Wittenberg master of arts, had devoted
himself eagerly to music, and composed several hymns which, if Damian
Feys permitted it, would be sung in the Convivium musicum.
Frau Sabina Hiltner had often met Barbara there, and had noticed with
admiration and pleasure the great progress which this richly gifted
young creature had made under the direction of the Netherland master.
Other members of the Convivium, on the contrary, bore Barbara a grudge
because she remained a Catholic, and many a mother of a daughter whom
Barbara, as a singer, had cast too far into the shade, would gladly have
thrust her out of the circle of music-loving citizens.
Frau Sabina and Master Feys, who, like the much-envied girl, was a
professor of the old faith, interceded for her all the more warmly.
Besides, it afforded Frau Hiltner scarcely less pleasure to hear Barbara
than it did Martina, and she could also fix her eyes with genuine
devotion upon the girl’s wonderfully beautiful and nobly formed
features. The mother and daughter owed to this peerless singer the best
enjoyment which the Collegium afforded them, and, when envy and just
displeasure approached Frau Sabina to accuse Barbara of insubordination,
obstinacy, pride, and forwardness, which were unseemly for one so young,
as well as exchanging coquettish glances with the masculine members of
the choir, the profoundly respected wife of the syndic and her young
daughter warmly defended the persecuted girl.
In this her husband strongly supported her, for, when necessary, he
dealt weighty blows and upheld what he deemed just without fear of man
and with the powerful aids of his strong intellect and the weight of the
esteem he had won by a stainless, industrious life.
Doubtless Frau Sabina also perceived something unusual in Barbara’s
nature and conduct, traits of defiance, almost rebellion, which would
have troubled her in her Martina, who, though no beauty, was a pretty
girl, with the most winning, childlike charm; but she secretly asked
herself whether she would not accept it gratefully if, in exchange, her
girl could possess such a wonderful gift of God; for, sharply as the eye
of envy followed Barbara’s every act, she had never given cause to doubt
her chastity, and this Frau Hiltner considered greatly in her favour;
for what tremendous temptations must have assailed this marvellously
beautiful creature, this genuine artist, who had grown to womanhood
without a mother, and whose only counsellor and protector was a
crippled, eccentric old soldier.
As Martina opened the door of the sitting room a loud conversation in
men’s voices became audible, and with the deep, resonant tones of the
syndic Barbara recognised the higher, less powerful ones of the man whom
she was seeking.
The kiss of the scarcely unfolded bud of girlhood, the child of a
mother whose presence in the Convivium had often helped her to curb an
impetuous impulse, pleased Barbara, and yet awakened the painful feeling
that in accepting it without resistance she was guilty of a deception.
Besides, she had not confessed, and it seemed as if, in feeling the
young heretic’s kiss an honour, she were adding to the burden which had
not yet been removed from her conscience.
Yet she could not overcome an emotion of rare pleasure when Frau Sabina,
after beckoning to her husband, took her hand and led her into the
reception room. Erasmus Eckhart, the adopted son of the house, hastened
toward Barbara to greet her as an acquaintance of his school days,
flushing deeply in his surprise at her great beauty as he did so.
But the mistress of the house gave him no time to renew the relations
of childhood, and led her away from him to her husband and her
mother-in-law, a woman of ninety, to whom she presented her with kind,
nay, with extremely flattering, words. Barbara lowered her eyes in
confusion, and did not see how, at her entrance, Wolf’s face had
blanched and old Frau Hiltner had sat up in her cushioned arm-chair at
the window to look her sharply and fixedly in the eyes with the freedom
of age.
Meanwhile the man from the hall had stationed himself beside the door
in the same attitude, with his hands clasped under his chin and his cap
between his breast and arm, and stood motionless. He did not appear to
be at ease, and gnawed his thick lower lip with a troubled look as he
occasionally cast a glance at the strong countenance of Martin Luther,
whose portrait, the size of life, gazed at him from its gilt frame on
the opposite wall.
Barbara did not regain complete self-control until the syndic asked his
errand.
The man in the brown doublet was Brother Cassian, the body servant of
the Emperor’s confessor. He now unclasped his hands to grasp the cap
under his arm, which he twirled awkwardly in his fingers while saying,
in a rapid, expressionless tone, as though he were repeating a lesson,
that he had come to summon Wolf Hartschwert to the Queen of Hungary,
with whom he must set out for Brussels early the next morning.
Barbara then remarked in a subdued tone that she had come here for the
same purpose, and also for another-to shake hands with the playmate of
her childhood, because she probably would not see him again before his
departure.
Wolf listened to this statement in surprise, and then told the messenger
that he would obey her Majesty’s command.
“Obey the command,” Cassian repeated, according to his servant custom.
Then he was about to retire, but Frau Sabina had filled a goblet with
wine for him, and Martina, according too an old custom of the family,
offered it to the messenger.
But, much as Cassian liked the juice of the grape, he waved back the
kindly meant gift of the mistress of the house with a hoarse “No, no!”
and shaking his head, turned on his heel, and without a word of thanks
or farewell left the room.
“The heretic’s wine,” observed Dr. Hiltner, shrugging his shoulders
regretfully, and then asked Wolf, “Do you know the queer fellow?”
“The body servant of the almoner, Pedro de Soto,” was the reply. The
bang of the closed outer door was heard at the same moment, for Cassian
had rushed into the open air as fast as his feet would carry him. After
leaving part of the street behind him, he stopped, and with a loud
“B-r-r-r!” shook himself like a poodle that has just come out of the
water.
Into what an abominable heretic house Master Adrian had sent him!
To despatch a good Christian to such an unclean hole!
No images of the Virgin and the saints, no crucifix nor anything else
that elevates a human soul in the whole dwelling, but the portrait of
the anti-Christ, the arch-heretic Luther, in the best place in the room!
However he turned his eyes away, the fat heretic face had forced him to
look at it. Meanwhile he had felt as if the devil himself was already
stretching out his arm from the ample sleeve to seize him by the collar.
“B-r-r-r!” he repeated, and hurried off to Saint Leonhard’s chapel in
the Golden Cross, where he sprinkled himself eagerly with holy water,
and then sought Master Adrian. But the valet was with the Emperor,
and so he went to his master and told him where he had unexpectedly
wandered.
The latter lent a willing ear and shook his sagacious head indignantly
when he learned that, besides Sir Wolf Hartschwert, Cassian had also
met “the singer” at the house of the syndic, the soul of the evangelical
movement in Ratisbon.
Meanwhile Barbara was taking leave of the friend of her youth at the
Hiltner house.
The others, with the exception of the deaf old dame, had considerately
left the room.
Wolf felt it gratefully, for a dark suspicion, which Barbara’s
information of her father’s long ride as a messenger only confirmed,
weighed heavily upon his heart.
The man for whose sake the woman he loved had given him up must be Baron
Malfalconnet.
It was well known how recklessly this gay, gallant noble trifled with
women’s hearts, and he had mentioned Barbara in his presence in a way
that justified the conjecture.
Therefore, ere Wolf clasped her hand, he told her the suspicions which
filled him with anxiety about her.
But he was soon to discover the baselessness of this fear.
Whatever the truthful girl so positively and solemnly denied must be far
from her thoughts, and he now clasped her right hand in both his.
The heavy anxiety that his “queen” had fallen into the baron’s hands as
a toy had been removed. The thought of the Emperor Charles was as far
removed from his mind as heaven from earth, though Barbara emphasized
the fact that the man whom she loved would be sure of his respect. She
also, with deep emotion, assured him that she wished him the best and
most beautiful life, and would always retain her friendship for him
whatever Fate might have in store for both.
The words sounded so truthful and loyal that Wolf’s heart was moved to
its inmost depths, and he now, in his turn, assured her that he would
never forget her, and would treasure her image in his heart’s core to
the end. True, he must endure the keenest suffering for her sake, but he
also owed her the greatest happiness life had granted him.
The eyes of both were dim, but when he began to talk in the old pathetic
way of the magic of love, which would at last bring together those whom
Heaven destined for one another, she tore herself away, hastily begged
him to say farewell to Fran Hiltner for her, and then went into the
hall; but here Martina overtook the departing guest, threw herself
impetuously into her arms, and whispered the question whether she would
permit her to pay her a visit at Prebrunn when she was with her old
marquise, she had so much, so very much, to tell her.
But the wish, of which her mother was ignorant, remained unfulfilled,
for Barbara, scarcely able to control her voice in her embarrassment,
hurriedly replied that while with the lady in waiting she would no
longer be her own mistress, pressed a hasty kiss upon the innocent
child’s brow, released herself from her embrace, and rushed through the
door, which Wolf was holding open for her, into the street.
The former gazed after her with a troubled heart, and, after she was out
of sight, returned to the others. He conscientiously delivered Barbara’s
farewell, and the praise which Frau Sabina lavished upon her pleased
him as much as if nothing had come between them. Finally he made an
engagement to see Erasmus Eckhart that evening in his lodgings, and then
went to the Queen of Hungary.
After he had left the Hiltners Frau Sabina bent down to her
mother-in-law’s ear--though she had lost her quickness of hearing, she
had retained her sight perfectly--and, raising her voice, told her the
name of the young lady who had just left them. Then she asked if she,
too, did not admire Barbara’s beauty, and what she thought of her.
The grandmother nodded, exclaiming in a low tone, “Beautiful,
beautiful--a wonderfully beautiful creature!” Then she gazed
thoughtfully into vacancy, and at last asked whether she had heard
correctly that Jungfrau Blomberg was also a remarkable singer.
Her daughter-in-law eagerly nodded assent to this question.
The aged woman silently bowed her head, but quickly raised it again, and
there was a faint tinge of regret in her voice as she began: “Too much,
certainly too much. Such marvels are rare. But one thing or the
other. For women of her stamp there are only two conditions, and no
other--rapturous happiness and utter misery. She will be content with no
average. It does not suit such natures.”
Here she paused abruptly, for Martina entered the room, and with
affectionate solicitude said to her granddaughter: “Young Trainer was
here just now. Has anything happened between you? I see by your eyes
that you have been weeping.”