At the threshold of Gottlieb's house a number of the chief burgesses of
Cologne had corporated spontaneously to condole with him. As he came
near, they raised a hubbub of gratulation. Strong were the expressions
of abhorrence and disgust of Werner's troop in which these excellent
citizens clothed their outraged feelings; for the insult to Gottlieb was
the insult of all. The Rhinestream taxes were provoking enough to
endure; but that the licence of these free-booting bands should extend to
the homes of free and peaceful men, loyal subjects of the Emperor, was a
sign that the evil had reached from pricks to pokes, as the saying went,
and must now be met as became burgesses of ancient Cologne, and by joint
action destroyed.
'In! in, all of you!' said Gottlieb, broadening his smile to suit the
many. 'We 'll talk about that in-doors. Meantime, I've got a hero to
introduce to you: flesh and blood! no old woman's coin and young girl's
dream-o'day: the honest thing, and a rarity, my masters. All that over
some good Rhine-juice from above Bacharach. In, and welcome, friends!'
Gottlieb drew the stranger along with him under the carved old oak-wood
portals, and the rest paired, and reverentially entered in his wake.
Margarita, to make up for this want of courtesy, formed herself the last
of the procession. She may have had another motive, for she took
occasion there to whisper something to Farina, bringing sun and cloud
over his countenance in rapid flushes. He seemed to remonstrate in dumb
show; but she, with an attitude of silence, signified her wish to seal
the conversation, and he drooped again. On the door step she paused a
moment, and hung her head pensively, as if moved by a reminiscence. The
youth had hurried away some strides. Margarita looked after him. His
arms were straightened to his flanks, his hands clenched, and straining
out from the wrist. He had the aspect of one tugging against the
restraint of a chain that suddenly let out link by link to his whole
force.
'Farina!' she called; and wound him back with a run. 'Farina! You do
not think me ungrateful? I could not tell my father in the crowd what
you did for me. He shall know. He will thank you. He does not
understand you now, Farina. He will. Look not so sorrowful. So much I
would say to you.'
So much was rushing on her mind, that her maidenly heart became unruly,
and warned her to beware.
The youth stood as if listening to a nightingale of the old woods, after
the first sweet stress of her voice was in his ear. When she ceased, he
gazed into her eyes. They were no longer deep and calm like forest
lakes; the tender-glowing blue quivered, as with a spark of the young
girl's soul, in the beams of the moon then rising.
'Oh, Margarita!' said the youth, in tones that sank to sighs: 'what am I
to win your thanks, though it were my life for such a boon!'
He took her hand, and she did not withdraw it. Twice his lips dwelt upon
those pure fingers.
'Margarita: you forgive me: I have been so long without hope. I have
kissed your hand, dearest of God's angels!'
She gently restrained the full white hand in his pressure.
'Margarita! I have thought never before death to have had this sacred
bliss. I am guerdoned in advance for every grief coming before death.'
She dropped on him one look of a confiding softness that was to the youth
like the opened gate of the innocent garden of her heart.
'You pardon me, Margarita? I may call you my beloved? strive, wait,
pray, hope, for you, my star of life?'
Her face was so sweet a charity!
'Dear love! one word!--or say nothing, but remain, and move not. So
beautiful you are! Oh, might I kneel to you here; dote on you; worship
this white hand for ever.'
The colour had passed out of her cheeks like a blissful western red
leaving rich paleness in the sky; and with her clear brows levelled at
him, her bosom lifting more and more rapidly, she struggled against the
charm that was on her, and at last released her hand.
'I must go. I cannot stay. Pardon you? Who might not be proud of your
love!--Farewell!'
She turned to move away, but lingered a step from him, hastily touching
her bosom and either hand, as if to feel for a brooch or a ring. Then
she blushed, drew the silver arrow from the gathered gold-shot braids
above her neck, held it out to him, and was gone.
Farina clutched the treasure, and reeled into the street. Half a dozen
neighbours were grouped by the door.
'What 's the matter in Master Groschen's house now?' one asked, as he
plunged into the midst of them.
'Matter?' quoth the joy-drunken youth, catching at the word, and mused
off into raptures; 'There never was such happiness! 'Tis paradise
within, exile without. But what exile! A star ever in the heavens to
lighten the road and cheer the path of the banished one'; and he loosened
his vest and hugged the cold shaft on his breast.
'What are you talking and capering at, fellow?' exclaimed another: 'Can't
you answer about those shrieks, like a Christian, you that have just come
out of the house? Why, there's shrieking now! It 's a woman. Thousand
thunders! it sounds like the Frau Lisbeth's voice. What can be happening
to her?'
'Perhaps she's on fire,' was coolly suggested between two or three.
'Pity to see the old house burnt,' remarked one.
'House! The woman, man! the woman!'
'Ah!' replied the other, an ancient inhabitant of Cologne, shaking his
head, 'the house is oldest!'
Farina, now recovering his senses, heard shrieks that he recognized as
possible in the case of Aunt Lisbeth dreading the wickedness of an
opposing sex, and alarmed by the inrush of old Gottlieb's numerous
guests. To confirm him, she soon appeared, and hung herself halfway out
of one of the upper windows, calling desperately to St. Ursula for aid.
He thanked the old lady in his heart for giving him a pretext to enter
Paradise again; but before even love could speed him, Frau Lisbeth was
seized and dragged remorselessly out of sight, and he and the rosy room
darkened together.
Farina twice strode off to the Rhine-stream; as many times he returned.
It was hard to be away from her. It was harder to be near and not close.
His heart flamed into jealousy of the stranger. Everything threatened to
overturn his slight but lofty structure of bliss so suddenly shot into
the heavens. He had but to remember that his hand was on the silver
arrow, and a radiance broke upon his countenance, and a calm fell upon
his breast. 'It was a plight of her troth to me,' mused the youth. 'She
loves me! She would not trust her frank heart to speak. Oh, generous
young girl! what am I to dare hope for such a prize? for I never can be
worthy. And she is one who, giving her heart, gives it all. Do I not
know her? How lovely she looked thanking the stranger! The blue of her
eyes, the warm-lighted blue, seemed to grow full on the closing lids,
like heaven's gratitude. Her beauty is wonderful. What wonder, then,
if he loves her? I should think him a squire in his degree. There are
squires of high birth and low.'
So mused Farina with his arms folded and his legs crossed in the shadow
of Margarita's chamber. Gradually he fell into a kind of hazy doze. The
houses became branded with silver arrows. All up the Cathedral stone was
a glitter, and dance, and quiver of them. In the sky mazed confusion of
arrowy flights and falls. Farina beheld himself in the service of the
Emperor watching these signs, and expecting on the morrow to win glory
and a name for Margarita. Glory and the name now won, old Gottlieb was
just on the point of paternally blessing them, when a rude pat aroused
him from the delicious moon-dream.
'Hero by day! house-guard by night! That tells a tale,' said a cheerful
voice.
The moon was shining down the Cathedral square and street, and Farina
saw the stranger standing solid and ruddy before him. He was at first
prompted to resent such familiar handling, but the stranger's face was
of that bland honest nature which, like the sun, wins everywhere back a
reflection of its own kindliness.
'You are right,' replied Farina; 'so it is!'
'Pretty wines inside there, and a rare young maiden. She has a throat
like a nightingale, and more ballads at command than a piper's wallet.
Now, if I hadn't a wife at home.'
'You're married?' cried Farina, seizing the stranger's hand.
'Surely; and my lass can say something for herself on the score of brave
looks, as well as the best of your German maids here, trust me.'
Farina repressed an inclination to perform a few of those antics which
violent joy excites, and after rushing away and back, determined to give
his secret to the stranger.
'Look,' said he in a whisper, that opens the private doors of a
confidence.
But the stranger repeated the same word still more earnestly, and brought
Farina's eyes on a couple of dark figures moving under the Cathedral.
'Some lamb's at stake when the wolves are prowling,' he added: ''Tis now
two hours to the midnight. I doubt if our day's work be over till we
hear the chime, friend.'
'What interest do you take in the people of this house that you watch
over them thus?' asked Farina.
The stranger muffled a laugh in his beard.
'An odd question, good sooth. Why, in the first place, we like well
whatso we have done good work for. That goes for something. In the
second, I've broken bread in this house. Put down that in the reckoning.
In the third; well! in the third, add up all together, and the sum
total's at your service, young sir.'
Farina marked him closely. There was not a spot on his face for guile to
lurk in, or suspicion to fasten on. He caught the stranger's hand.
'You called me friend just now. Make me your friend. Look, I was going
to say: I love this maiden! I would die for her. I have loved her long.
This night she has given me a witness that my love is not vain. I am
poor. She is rich. I am poor, I said, and feel richer than the Kaiser
with this she has given me! Look, it is what our German girls slide in
their back-hair, this silver arrow!'
'A very pretty piece of heathenish wear!' exclaimed the stranger.
'Then, I was going to say--tell me, friend, of a way to win honour and
wealth quickly; I care not at how rare a risk. Only to wealth, or high
baronry, will her father give her!'
The stranger buzzed on his moustache in a pause of cool pity, such as
elders assume when young men talk of conquering the world for their
mistresses: and in truth it is a calm of mind well won!
'Things look so brisk at home here in the matter of the maiden, that I
should say, wait a while and watch your chance. But you're a boy of
pluck: I serve in the Kaiser's army, under my lord: the Kaiser will be
here in three days. If you 're of that mind then, I doubt little you may
get posted well: but, look again! there's a ripe brew yonder. Marry, you
may win your spurs this night even; who knows?--'S life! there's a tall
fellow joining those two lurkers.'
'Can you see into the murk shadow, Sir Squire?'
'Ay! thanks to your Styrian dungeons, where I passed a year's
apprenticeship:
"I learnt to watch the rats and mice
At play, with never a candle-end.
They play'd so well; they sang so nice;
They dubb'd me comrade; called me friend!"
So says the ballad of our red-beard king's captivity. All evil has a
good:
"When our toes and chins are up,
Poison plants make sweetest cup"
as the old wives mumble to us when we're sick. Heigho! would I were in
the little island well home again, though that were just their song of
welcome to me, as I am a Christian.'
'Tell me your name, friend,' said Farina.
'Guy's my name, young man: Goshawk's my title. Guy the Goshawk! so they
called me in my merry land. The cap sticks when it no longer fits. Then
I drove the arrow, and was down on my enemy ere he could ruffle a
feather. Now, what would be my nickname?
"A change so sad, and a change so bad,
Might set both Christian and heathen a sighing:
Change is a curse, for it's all for the worse:
Age creeps up, and youth is flying!"
and so on, with the old song. But here am I, and yonder's a game that
wants harrying; so we'll just begin to nose about them a bit.'
He crossed to the other side of the street, and Farina followed out of
the moonlight. The two figures and the taller one were evidently
observing them; for they also changed their position and passed behind an
angle of the Cathedral.
'Tell me how the streets cross all round the Cathedral you know the
city,' said the stranger, holding out his hand.
Farina traced with his finger a rough map of the streets on the
stranger's hand.
'Good! that's how my lord always marks the battlefield, and makes me show
him the enemy's posts. Forward, this way!'
He turned from the Cathedral, and both slid along close under the eaves
and front hangings of the houses. Neither spoke. Farina felt that he
was in the hands of a skilful captain, and only regretted the want of a
weapon to make harvest of the intended surprise; for he judged clearly
that those were fellows of Werner's band on the look-out. They wound
down numberless intersections of narrow streets with irregular-built
houses standing or leaning wry-faced in row, here a quaint-beamed
cottage, there almost a mansion with gilt arms, brackets, and devices.
Oil-lamps unlit hung at intervals by the corners, near a pale Christ on
crucifix. Across the passages they hung alight. The passages and alleys
were too dusky and close for the moon in her brightest ardour to
penetrate; down the streets a slender lane of white beams could steal:
'In all conscience,' as the good citizens of Cologne declared, 'enough
for those heathen hounds and sons of the sinful who are abroad when God's
own blessed lamp is out.' So, when there was a moon, the expense of oil
was saved to the Cologne treasury, thereby satisfying the virtuous.
After incessant doubling here and there, listening to footfalls, and
themselves eluding a chase which their suspicious movements aroused, they
came upon the Rhine. A full flood of moonlight burnished the knightly
river in glittering scales, and plates, and rings, as headlong it rolled
seaward on from under crag and banner of old chivalry and rapine. Both
greeted the scene with a burst of pleasure. The grey mist of flats on
the south side glimmered delightful to their sight, coming from that
drowsy crowd and press of habitations; but the solemn glory of the river,
delaying not, heedless, impassioned-pouring on in some sublime conference
between it and heaven to the great marriage of waters, deeply shook
Farina's enamoured heart. The youth could not restrain his tears, as if
a magic wand had touched him. He trembled with love; and that delicate
bliss which maiden hope first showers upon us like a silver rain when she
has taken the shape of some young beauty and plighted us her fair
fleeting hand, tenderly embraced him.
As they were emerging into the spaces of the moon, a cheer from the
stranger arrested Farina.
'Seest thou? on the wharf there! that is the very one, the tallest of the
three. Lakin! but we shall have him.'
Wrapt in a long cloak, with low pointed cap and feather, stood the person
indicated. He appeared to be meditating on the flow of the water,
unaware of hostile presences, or quite regardless of them. There was a
majesty in his height and air, which made the advance of the two upon him
more wary and respectful than their first impulse had counselled. They
could not read his features, which were mantled behind voluminous folds:
all save a pair of very strange eyes, that, even as they gazed directly
downward, seemed charged with restless fiery liquid.
The two were close behind him: Guy the Goshawk prepared for one of those
fatal pounces on the foe that had won him his title. He consulted Farina
mutely, who Nodded readiness; but the instant after, a cry of anguish
escaped from the youth:
'Lost! gone! lost! Where is it? where! the arrow! The Silver Arrow!
My Margarita!'
Ere the echoes of his voice had ceased lamenting into the distance, they
found themselves alone on the wharf.