CHAPTER I.

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COLLECTION

OF

GERMAN AUTHORS.

VOL. 44.

KLYTIA BY GEORGE TAYLOR.

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. I.

KLYTIA.

A STORY OF HEIDELBERG CASTLE.

BY

GEORGE TAYLOR.

FROM THE GERMAN BY

SUTTON FRASER CORKRAN.

_Copyright Edition._

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. I.

LEIPZIG 1883

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.

LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.

CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.

PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.

K L Y T I A.

CHAPTER I.

At a time when in our fatherland a cold raw wind made its presence

felt, and the sharp frost at night checked the growth of the early bud,

the Rhine valley between the Bergstrasse and Hardtgebirge had revelled

for many weeks in the timely spring, the especial privilege of this

garden of Germany. Even three hundred years ago at the time of our

narrative the Neckar valley shimmered with the white and red blossoms

of the various fruit-trees and yellow fields of rape, as if spring had

wished to see how an illumination looked by day. The Jettenbuehl above

Heidelberg which to-day resembles a green velvet pillow, on which the

ruins of the castle stand out like an offering to some Deity, was at

that date but a bare glacis, surmounted by massive turrets and angular

fortresses, the palace of the Kurfuersts of the Palatinate looming out

severe and threatening over the smiling valley of Heidelberg, as does

at the present time the gloomy residence of the Popes over Avignon, or

the menacing Ehrenbreitstein over the green Rhine. Between the

octagonal belfry and the "thick Tower" of which at the present time

only the inner walls are visible, the gorgeous palaces of Frederic IV.

and Frederic V. did not exist, but on the right the peaky gables of the

Chapel and of the roof of the old castle reared above the scarped

fortress wall; "the new court," erected by Frederic II., was built

against the octagonal tower.

In the low but spacious halls of the building which by its mixture of

the Gothic and Renaissance schools recalls to the memory the Flemish

architecture of the period, a numerous throng crowded together seeking

an audience of the Kurfuerst, in the latter part of a spring afternoon

of the year 1570. Before the door of the Prince stood the portly

court-servant Bachmann, attired in the resplendent livery of a Heiduck

of the Pfalz, his jovial expression forming a pleasing contrast to the

grim heraldic lions ornamenting his breast. Solemnly did he call out

the names of those to whom an audience was granted. Huguenots from

France begging for aid. Theologians warmly recommended to the notice of

the Kurfuerst, wandering Scots eager for service, Italian artists who

had obtained commissions were received in order, and dismissed.

Finally, there remained but two couples, widely differing in

appearance, representatives of the two classes which everywhere throng

the ante-chambers of sovereigns, resembling in their demeanour Grief

and Hope.

The two "Hopefuls" paced up and down the now empty hall in lively

discussion, whilst the two sorrowful guests sat sullenly in a corner.

One of these, addressed as Your Reverence, was an undersized well fed

man with fresh ruddy complexion and coarse features. His companion, on

the other hand, was a small dwarf-like being, whose dark costume stood

out in marked contrast to his fiery-red-face, one of those figures only

to be met with at the interment of a circus-rider. With a deep sigh the

dwarf addressed his reverend companion: "Yes, yes. Your Reverence. How

often have I, as counsellor of our beloved ruler, shortened with my

timely jokes the dreary hours of many awaiting an audience, who, even

if not favourably received, nevertheless laughed at my excellent

quibbles. At that time I little thought, that I myself should have to

sit here and beg for a small pension."

"We both owe our misfortunes to that vagabond Olevianus," said the

Parson. "Because I defeated him in a public argument--he knows as much

about theology as your cow does of a bag-pipe--and because he cannot

bear to see how I filled my church, therefore has he deprived me of my

position in the Church of St. Peter, leaving me only matins in the Holy

Ghost, which no one ever attends. But that will help him little, let

but the Heidelbergers have to choose between me and Olevianus and we

shall see who gets the most votes. That he well knows, and on that

account am I stuck in the background. But I seek an audience and intend

to speak out my mind to the Kurfuerst, although he does not like to hear

the truth."

"Our day is over, Herr Neuser," said the discharged Court-fool; "these

are the people who now have full swing," and he grimly pointed to the

other couple, a well dressed old Italian with a head like a fox,

listening covertly to anything said in his neighbourhood, whilst at the

same time he earnestly addressed a young man, who appeared from his

long locks and Raphael-cap to be an artist. "There is another of those

starvelings, which the Italian Doctor trots up and down. At the 'Stag'

where he has stopped a whole week, he has not as yet drunk a whole

bottle of wine. That cock-sparrow has most surely got in his pocket a

letter from Herr Beza recommending him for a post as Privy, or Church

Counsellor."

"Then ought he to have risen earlier," said the Parson, "the martyrs

from Treves, Paris and Prague have long since snapped up those dainty

morsels."

"Then in that case he will be paid, so that wolves may not gobble the

moon, nor the people of Heilbronn set fire to the Neckar; bread and

places are always to be found by the Italians."

"This way, gentlemen, this way most honoured scum!" said the Priest in

the tone of a showman. "Here may you see Boquin, Ramus, Du Jon,

Tremelli and Sanchi, Ursinus and the Bohemian Zuleger, Olevianus from

the lower Rhine, van Keulen, Pithopoeus, Dathan, Marnix, and others

whatever may be their names. For an honest Swabian there is no place,

we may as well quit."

The expressions of the worthy couple would have in no wise lighted up,

had they understood the advice which Professor Pigavetta, the hospital

surgeon, strove to impress upon the young Felice Laurenzano, cautiously

making use, however, of the Italian language. "Remember what you owe to

the Society," said he earnestly, "it paid for your education, it sent

you to Flanders, in order that you might acquire another style than

that of Rome and Florence, it referred you to Master Colins, whose

letter of recommendation brings you here under such creditable

circumstances."

"Excellency," replied the young architect, "even without this reminder,

I can never forget what the reverend Fathers have done for me and my

brother. Show me how I can prove my gratitude to the College for its

kindness? I am unfortunately so distracted, so accustomed to dream

along as I go, that I fear to let a timely opportunity escape unseen,

although ingratitude was never a sin of mine."

"That is very simple, my son," answered the older man. "You should look

out for an occasion to introduce one of our party into this Court. You

should inform us, should you think that anyone has the interest of the

Holy Church at heart, and if affairs of any importance come under your

hand, let me know at once, so that I can advise you how they are to be

carried out. The Church does not consider her cause here as lost.

Prince Ludwig is in no wise satisfied with his father's innovations. So

soon as the old gentleman is dead, Calvinism will be as carefully

rooted out, as it is now implanted, and then much depends on our having

here a party, on which we can reckon. I have fought the cause of the

Church on much more dangerous ground. If we succeed not in the

immediate restoration of her rights, nevertheless we are contented if

the excrescence of the adversary does not increase in growth. 'Trim the

sails according to the wind,' said the holy father Ignatius. The

Kurfuerst intends introducing here the Calvinistic dogma, but he will

find it difficult to accustom the population of this great vineyard as

the Pfalz is called, to drink water and sing Calvin's psalms. To be

inside the house an hour after sun-down, not to tipple, play, or swear,

to sit on Sundays teaching children, instead of bowling and dancing,

will not be easily forced into the crania of these bullet-headed

Pfalzers. The dyspeptic Olevianus and our honest Ursinus will live to

learn that it is easier to write a catechism, than to accustom the

Heidelbergers to drink water. So soon as the Church Council obtains the

signature of the Kurfuerst, our time begins. I must myself be off to the

Reichstag at Speyer, in the meantime do you reconnoitre the field of

battle, support the opponents of church-discipline in their opposition,

and throw as many difficulties in its way as you possibly can. For the

moment to impede definite situations it is sufficient to back up the

weak against the strong. When the heretics find that the heads of their

party can never remain at peace, they will seize the first opportunity

to re-enter the flock of the Holy Father, where only they can find

rest."

The young Italian had been carefully scanning the face of his patron

thus addressing him. But his eyes only had followed the play of the

characteristic features, had observed the remarkable head of the eager

man, noted his every twist and turn, his own fingers meanwhile moving

as if he were kneading a lump of clay, endeavouring to retain the

expression in this plastic material. "What a model," thought he, "for

my picture of Cassius winning Brutus over to the idea of murdering

Caesar. This eloquence, this fanatical look, the cunning insinuating

actor!" The latter looked up inquiringly at him, as if expecting an

assentient answer. "Certainly, certainly," quickly replied the young

artist, a deep blush rising to his face. He endeavoured to collect

himself, but became the more absentminded as the wily politician

continued to disclose to him the praiseworthy intentions of the Society

of Jesus in regard to the Palatinate. An event of his early childhood

came back to him, how when once his grandmother in Naples praised him

for listening with profound attention to a long scolding, he very

inopportunely pointed with his little finger to her meagre throat, and

said: "Granny, when thou speakest such a funny little ball goes up and

down;" for saying which his enraged grandmother gave him his first box

on the ear. He could not help smiling as he thought how little he had

improved since then. His illustrious patron ceased and the young man

replied: "I am but an artist, seeing nought but colour, form and line,

I do not behold with the eyes of a politician."

"Good," replied Pigavetta quite satisfied, "but your brother Paolo,

Signor Felice, for that very reason is better informed in political

matters. Tell him all that your falcon eye discovers, he will soon draw

his conclusions and let me know. My address in Speyer is known to him."

The Prince's usher now stepped up to them, saying: "His Gracious

Highness has ordered me to admit you two gentlemen, the audience will

then be at an end."

"Come," said the physician to the young man, "answer boldly. The Prince

likes straightforward people." They entered the audience chamber,

leaving the Parson and his companion to retire grumbling.

CHAPTER II.

In a room of moderate height, panelled in oak, but with broad

round-paned windows, stood the Kurfuerst Frederic III. near an open

writing-table ornamented with inlaid work and richly adorned with

appropriate mottoes and allegorical figures. A Dutch stove of coarse

German manufacture, representing the world's history from the time of

Adam and Eve to that of the Emperor Charles V. and Francis I., offered

a solid support to that stout gentleman. Pigavetta bowed deeply and

said to the Prince: "I introduce to Your Highness the young artist,

whom Your Highness empowered me to invite."

A short, thick-set asthmatic figure stept forward towards the young

man. A plate-like ruffle surrounded that part of the body known in

other men as the neck, but out of this arose a firm, honest face with a

fair beard. The smallish features were enlivened by a pair of clear

blue eyes, whose gaze a man willingly met. Honesty, truth, and a clear

conscience were all more plainly expressed on the features of this

short sturdy man than mental aptitude or quickness of thought.

Near the window stood, attired in a dark Spanish costume, the court

physician Thomas Liebler, surnamed Erastus, at that time the most

influential man in the Palatinate, whose intervention in church matters

was not welcomed by the theologians of the town.

"You are well recommended to me, Master Laurenzano," said the Count

Palatine in a kindly tone to the young man, pointing at the same time

to plans, accounts, and statements piled up before him. "Master Colins

considers you in the light of a second Michel Angelo. You are an

artist, sculptor and architect, and your black eyes tell me that you

are also a poet."

"He who will build, most gracious Lord," answered the young man in

broken German, to the evident amusement of the Prince, "must also be

able to draw and chisel. In my own country I should not consider myself

an architect, did I not understand both."

"Well spoken, young man, and you shall have an opportunity here of

doing both. When I succeeded to the throne, I found empty coffers, and

instead of money the newly begun gorgeous structure outside there,

which robbed me of my rest by night and day, as I knew not how I could

manage to finish it without neglecting something more important. That

building was a misfortune for the country. Look out into this open

court. The homes of my ancestors resemble old barns, in comparison with

this glittering Italian mansion, erected by Count Palatine Otto

Heinrich, to whose soul may God grant eternal rest. Who for the future

will be contented to live in the Ruprecht castle, or in that of Ludwig

V., or here in the new court, when at every turn this magic castle

meets his eye?"

Without much respect for the growlings of the old Prince, the young man

gazed with unconcealed delight through the open window at the beautiful

picture which lay spread before him. The sun-shine streamed into the

open court, which resembled an enclosed Piazzetta. Gloomy and low

castellated buildings stood in irregular confusion on the South and

West sides, but as the fairy castle of some fair dream, rose on the

Eastern side, bathed in the rays of the setting sun, the building of

Count Otto Heinrich, and the dark blue sky caused the red sand-stone to

glow, as if all these pillars, pilasters, consoles, shafts and statues

had been carved out of some wondrous precious stone, half ruby, half

jasper.

"What a material!" said the young artist in an entranced tone.

"It is the same with this confounded castle," continued the Prince, "as

with every unsuitable gift. Once my wife sent a Turkish carpet and

embroidered curtains, presented to her by the Woywode, to the chamber

where sit the Ladies of the Court. Very soon the old furniture no

longer contented these Dames, they wanted Flemish hangings, then new

chairs and tables, and finally the new carpet kicked out of the door

all the old household goods. So will it soon be with this new castle.

My wife already finds the old chapel too gloomy and heavy as compared

with the new building. Perhaps you will live to see, that my son

instead of worshipping in the House of God used by my ancestors, will

build here one of those new heathen temples with gable-ends and

cupolas; then the palace of the Emperor Ruprecht will find no grace in

the eyes of the grandson and will have to give place to some new

edifice, in short this building of my predecessor will suck the marrow

out of the country; in regal palaces the Counts Palatine and their

wives will dream of kings' crowns, and thus bring misfortune to our

Pfalz. For the happiness of this country consisted in that the Princes

knew their limits. That is the cause of my hating the building, and

were I a conscientious man I would myself quietly set fire to it some

night, and let the chiselled casket burn to the very ground."

Pigavetta listened to the outspoken statements made by the German

Prince with a sarcastic smile, and then asked with a tinge of irony:

"Then the business of this young man will be to pull down the new

building?"

"No," replied the Kurfuerst, with a severe glance from under his bushy

eyebrows at the impudent Italian. "As we have kept our thumbs on our

purse-strings, we have come to such a pass as enables us to finish the

building, for _connoisseurs_ tell me that something must be done, or

the beauteous work will suffer. For this reason has Master Alexander

Colins recommended you to me; for he himself has promised our most

gracious Sovereign the Emperor, not to undertake any work till he has

erected the monument to the Emperor Max at Innsbruck. You have worked

under his orders, and will therefore best carry out his designs."

"It will be a high honour for me," modestly answered the young man, "to

work at a building, whose facade the immortal Michel Angelo helped to

trace, as I am told, and whose sculptures were chiselled by my master,

Colins."

"Yes, yes! these sculptures," puffed out the Prince, throwing himself

back in an arm-chair. "Yesterday I had a discussion about them with my

Council. A beginning must be made with them. The gentlemen tell me

plainly that I am placing heathen Deities on my roof, and that the

planetary Gods watch me through my windows, and as the severe Olevianus

has heard through you, Herr Pigavetta, that the work is to be begun

again, they insist on these idols being removed."

"An impudent set," murmured Pigavetta.

"Not so," answered the Kurfuerst, "we will have in the Palatinate no

watch-dogs around God's house who cannot bark. Even our predecessor

caused his monument to be removed from the Holy Ghost, because Deacon

Klebitz told him, he could not permit naked figures, together with the

wise Virgins of the Gospels cut in marble, in his church. I will not be

more obstinate than my noble cousin. The affair was thus," continued he

turning towards the architect: "The Theologians in Jena are now very

eagerly exposing the errors of Master Philip Melanchthon, and justly

complain, that this pious man laid too much importance on Astrology, a

heathen and Jewish science as well as a blasphemous inquisitiveness.

Both Luther and Master Calvin reproached him for this very reason. Our

great Genevese teacher does not hold images in any esteem, and thus the

statues of the planets which you see there, are doubly objectionable to

my Church Council."

Felice impatiently shrugged his shoulders, and for a moment it seemed

as if the wrath of the hot-blooded Neapolitan must explode.

"I do not mean," said the Kurfuerst kindly, "that we must remove all the

statues. The male deities and ancient heroes below there can possibly

disturb no one, and even if the heathen Hercules looks rather

remarkable standing between Samson and King David, he has such a kind

genial expression that I cannot help every morning being amused at him.

He is also a fitting companion to Samson, who holds the jaw-bone of the

ass in his right hand, and has the dead lion at his left side, and was

himself the Hercules of the people of Israel. Above them you see the

five virtues: strength breaking pillars, justice with sword and

balance, faith, hope and charity; charity is the best of them,

therefore is she placed over the portal. Against these even Olevianus

can say nothing. In the third row higher up are the planetary deities:

Saturn, wishing to eat up the child. Mars, Venus, Mercury and Diana,

the goddess of the moon, but above them all, there where dwells my

physician Erastus and his daughter, who has just withdrawn her pretty

fair head from the window, is Jupiter and the Sun-God Serapis with his

radiant crown. Against these the spiritual gentlemen are especially

spiteful."

"I also," said Erastus for the first time joining in the conversation,

"am no friend of astrology, and have, as Your Highness knows, written a

book against it. That which makes me however especially take offence at

the opinion of my colleagues, is the way in which the gentlemen

composing the Church Council, go about Your Highness' Land, spying

about with a telescope seeking for some ground of complaint. The

figures are so high, that they can scarce be plainly seen with the

naked eye, and no straightforward Christian knows that they represent

sun, moon and planets, from which constellations the deceased Count

Palatine traced all the good or evil fortunes of man, and therefore

placed his home under their protection. Were it not known, that Master

Philip advised the deceased Count in his choice of the figures, it

would never have occurred to the theologians to trouble their heads

about the matter. Thus they wish to offer a sacrifice to their hatred

of images, and render themselves of importance to their brethren in

Geneva and Scotland, as they rule over their princely sovereign and

introduce their church regimen even in his household."

Master Felix had not only listened to the speaker with sympathy, but

had also taken the opportunity to examine more closely the statesman so

well known in the Palatinate. He saw a tall stately man of an energetic

commanding appearance. Even outwardly the scholar formed a wonderful

contrast to the true-hearted, undersized, strong-built Kurfuerst, and

this contrast would have been entirely in Erastus' favour, had not

nature herself spoilt this her masterpiece of mankind. Erastus' right

arm hung dead and stiff at his side. He had been thus crippled from

birth, and still more remarkable and singular was the fact that the

physician's hair was lighter than the swarthy face which it surrounded,

so that he resembled a black man turned gray. His friends called him

the Moor, his opponents, of whom he had many, the black devil. "The

Almighty writes a plain hand," said his enemy Olevianus, if he even saw

him from afar. "Yes, yes," replied the more gentle Ursinus, "he has

been marked by God."

The Prince heard smilingly his friend's speech, then said

good-naturedly: "You are angry with the Church Council, Erastus,

because you lay under the ban. I have however always heard Otto

Heinrich praised for altering his tomb-stone, when it became a rock of

offence, as he did not wish these theological gentlemen to fight over

his grave. I will not be behind him in forbearance for weaknesses. Let

us take away the figures, Master Felix," turning towards Laurenzano.

"Methought we could insert in the empty niches our heraldic quartering,

the Lion of the Palatinate." The young Italian crossed himself and

murmured something between his teeth which sounded like "Gesummaria."

The stout gentleman however continued quite unconcerned. "I meant

something in this style, you stick in the first niche the Lion of the

Palatinate holding a sword, as protector of the land, in the second the

same animal as if reading an open book, as it is very necessary that

the inhabitants of the Pfalz should study their Catechism more, which

is so richly supplied with arguments taken from Holy Scripture that no

sophistry of the papists has been able to prove any error in its

contents." Again the catholic artist crossed himself. "In the third

niche he might be holding a tumbler as a remembrance of the most noble

production of this land." "Dio mio!" shrieked the Italian in dire

indignation. "It is all the same to me should Your Highness wish to set

fire to the Otto Heinrich Castle, but I will rather hack off my own

hand than thus disgrace the creations of Michel Angelo and Colins."

"Respect, young man," said the Kurfuerst knitting his brows, "you speak

to a Prince."

"Oh! most gracious Prince," said the Italian, "respect for a Prince,

when speaking of the realm of the Beautiful. Do you know why I left

Rome? The Pope had been told that the naked figures carved on the great

Altar in his private chapel shocked all pious women, and the Pope

believing this caused all the beautiful bodies in Michel Angelo's great

picture to be fitted out with aprons and breeches. The man who gave

himself up to this is known to the present day in Italy as _il

bracatore_, the breeches painter. I turned my back at the time in a

rage with the Holy city, therefore all the less do I thirst for the

fame to be known as the cat-painter of the Palatinate."

"The young man is right," said Erastus. "I warn Your Highness most

earnestly not to give way to these theological gentlemen. They begin

with the outside wall of the house, as they cannot permit what they

term 'a public scandal,' then come the private scandals within the

house, and finally they will stick their noses in every pot or kettle

as did the gentlemen of the Consistorium at Geneva, so as to prescribe

what people should eat or drink. This pretended scandal has no other

object. These images are no idols, no one worships them, no one has

ever taken offence at them. They stand within the enclosed court of my

most gracious Lord, and only Olevianus' parson's love of meddling

dictated the unseemly representation on the part of the Church Council,

so that he might essay the Church regimen on the sovereign's own

household."

"So you will chisel no lions?" asked the Kurfuerst turning towards the

young man.

"_No_! _mai_," was the reply, and the artist seized his hat as if to

depart, but a sign from his companion reminded him before whom he

stood. With a courtly bow he added: "Master Colins was my teacher, my

Lord, were I not a scoundrel to destroy the work of part of his

life-time, when even a man like Raphael suffered the pictures by Sodoma

to remain in the rooms of the Popes, when he himself could have done so

much better, only because he had a regard for the work of a man, from

whom he had learnt something?"

Frederic III. shook his head in great displeasure and stepping to the

window gazed up at the pediment above bathed in the golden splendor of

a setting sun. Now that the upper row of images shone out in the clear

golden light, whilst the lower portion of the building lay in a bluish

shadow, the planetary Deities looked across so pleasantly at the old

gentleman, that a feeling came over him, that his Palatinate Lions

would besport themselves in a manner less genial. "This building,"

sighed he, "will always be a beauteous stranger in my Pfalz, what can I

do with a castle that is too beautiful even to bear my coat-of-arms."

Laurenzano had also stept up to the window and once more looked over

the rows of images. "The home of this artistic workmanship is not

unknown to me," said he. "Master Gherardo Doceno has painted almost the

same series, as the frieze of a patrician's house at Florence. The

facade is not without serious faults, but it is impossible, even to do

away with one of the figures, without sinning against the idea in its

entirety. The glory of a princely house is built upon Strength and

Heroism. That is shown by the giants and heroes which support the

whole. Virtues adorn a princely house, they stand there the chief

ornaments in the middle. Above the house rules a higher Power, to whom

the members must all look up, this is represented by the Planets and

Lights, through whom the Godhead rules the Day and the Night. Does Your

Grace think, it would be less of an idolatry should the descendants of

this noble House see in the highest place nothing but their own

heraldic Lion?"

This last argument which appealed to the religious mind of the Count

Palatine, made its impression. The old Prince looked with his big

astonished eyes straight at the bold Youth, and it was evident, he had

been touched.

"Do it not," now prayed the young artist with the touching fervor of a

southerner. "How many works of art have been destroyed in Germany

within the last fifty years. You have broken some to pieces because

they were popish, others because they were heathen or immoral--what

remains besides? In Augsburg I wished to see the pictures of Albrecht

Duerer, and was told that they have been dispersed since the

Reformation. In Basel I asked about Holbein's pictures of the Saints:

they have been whitewashed, was the answer given, so none can worship

the idols. Shall this continue, noble Sir? The Churches look sad since

robbed of their images, shall the castles of the Great also look as

bare? Wherefore have you brought me from Innsbruck, where I was the

right hand of the Master, if I am to do him here a deadly injury? Of

what use is your sculptor, when you desire no image or allegory?"

"Of what is in Heaven, young Man," said the Prince.

"By the blood of the Saviour," cried the Italian, "shall we paint

all our lives long, like Master Lucas Cranach of Weimar, instead of

Angels and Saints only the square cut faces of Theologians, or the

pumpkin-shaped heads of the Dukes of Saxony?"

"Stop, stop, young Fanatic," laughed the old Prince, "let not my

daughter hear what you say about Johann Frederic's beauty. Nevertheless

I see by your rudeness, that you are an honest fellow, as it is always

said in Germany, that the Italians are all smooth-tongued scoundrels.

You have convinced me. We shall leave the Planets where they are, and

you, Erastus, shall write to the Church Council, that their Prince also

knows what causes offence, and prefers reforming his own house himself;

let the gentlemen do the same at home."

At this order the physician smiled in such a contented manner that his

white teeth gleamed in contrast to his dark complexion. "Master Felix,"

added the Prince, "shall have from to-day a front apartment in the

Ruprechtsbau, where he can have the new building ever before his eyes,

and be able to satisfy himself as to the necessary repairs, for

whatever we have inherited from our ancestors be it of much or little

value shall remain. You shall however paint in the University building

the Palatinate Lion reading the Catechism. Receive our thanks for your

intervention," said the Kurfuerst turning to Pigavetta, "I am contented

with your choice."

As the doors of the audience-chamber closed on the two, Pigavetta clapt

his companion on the shoulder, and the foxy smile came once more to his

lips. "You did that well, my young friend," said he.

"Did I?" answered Felix, "I little thought about that."

"That is the very blessing attending a good disposition, it anticipates

of itself, what the advantage of the Holy Church demands. Observe

closely the rule of crossing everywhere the path of the heretics. I

have already told you, that nothing must be allowed to take root here.

Who wins, who loses, is in itself a matter of indifference to us, so

long as none remain fast in the saddle. To-morrow," added he, "there

will be long drawn faces in the Church Council, when they receive

Erastus' answer, for the learned pedant is not sparing of his pepper

and salt. I knew at once that my worthy Olevianus would swallow the

bait, when I spoke to him of the splendid opportunity of putting a stop

to those abominations. The Court-preacher Boquin will pitch into him

finely, and Zuleger the President will say: 'Now we have it.'"

The triumphant Jesuit was about to leave the ante-chamber, when he

heard Erastus' voice behind him: "Dr. Pigavetta, His Highness wishes to

give you other commands for Speyer." Pigavetta hastened back to the

room, whilst Erastus descended the staircase towards the court together

with Felix.

"You have rendered to-day an important service to all friends of divine

art, to the memory of my gracious master; as well as to myself, young

Master, and as thanks I will give you a piece of advice."

"And that is?"

"You are in bad company. How came you to know this so-called surgeon?"

The Artist hesitated for a moment, but double-dealing was not his

forte. "I made the acquaintance of the doctor in the College at Venice.

He procured an entry into the College of the Sapientia for my brother,

and the invitation to Colins, which has brought me here, was also owing

to his intervention. I owe him thanks, as you see."

"We have experienced in the University but few proofs of his honesty,

and he likes to stick his finger in every pie. That this gentleman is

connected with the Society of Jesus, is something new to me. The

brothers of Ignatius do not usually indulge in such grandiloquence, as

does this remarkable statesman. Were you also brought up in the

Collegium?"

"The Laurenzanos are of noble race, but poor. So after the death of our

parents the family were talked over into trusting my brother to the

care of the Society. I followed him to Venice, where I worked in the

_atelier_ of Master Jacopo Sansovino, and the Rector gave me the

permission to attend certain lectures which were useful to me. I shall

never forget with what care the College instructed me in mathematics,

languages, and philosophy, requiring no other return but that I should

paint pictures for the Chapel. Nowhere have I seen greater sacrifice,

greater diligence in getting out of the pupils, anything that might be

in them."

"For the use and benefit of the Pope," said Erastus coldly.

"All our gifts are given to us to honor the Holy Church," rejoined

Felix. "Besides you knew me to be a Catholic when you called me here."

"Certainly, Master Felix. We cannot permit Otto Heinrich's statues to

be repaired by Ursinus' Bachelors, or the Doctors of the Sapientia, and

the Heidelberg artists are so busy with politics and church questions,

that soon none will understand his handicraft. Therefore must we turn

to the Papists. You will be allowed to carry on the exercises of your

faith in your chamber, as you please. How comes it however that your

brother Paul fills a protestant pulpit, when inwardly he appears to me

as Roman as yourself?"

Felix looked up in surprise at his quick-witted interlocutor. Then

composing himself, said: "I have not seen my brother for two years."

Erastus shook his head: "In such a time great changes certainly often

take place. I am interested in the young man, yea more, as often as I

see him I have compassion on him. He is as handsome as you are, perhaps

handsomer, but his expression does not exhibit happiness and

contentment of mind. Can I help you, we are now neighbours. I dwell in

the 'new building' as the Kurfuerst often requires my medical advice.

For a lame man my quarters are rather high up between Jupiter and

Serapis, and I look down on the heads of all the planets and christian

virtues. You have a claim upon me, in that you spared me a daily sight

of seven lions' tails. I am also indebted to all Italians. I spent nine

years in Bologna and Padua, and experienced much kindness at the hands

of your countrymen. Visit me soon; Erastus' advice will be of use to

you in this Heidelberg where everything is war and partizanship, since

in twenty years the religion has been four times changed."

"Bachmann," he now called out to the old servant, who was leaning

against a well-house supported by high pillars, "this gentleman is to

have the two rooms near the pages' apartment. Look to it that his

property is brought up from the Hirsch." With a friendly shake of the

hand he left the young artist who looked after his new patron in

wonderment. "Model for a Regulus," he murmured, and then followed the

broad-shouldered Bachmann who preceded him jingling his bunch of keys.

CHAPTER III.

The full moon shone brightly over the Koenigsstuhl and shed its gentle

light o'er the gables and crooked streets of the old town, as the

Italian doctor left the Castle, and descended through the Bergstadt to

his home in the so-called Klingenthor. A clear spring pattered cheerily

to the right of the dark gate-way, and the water reflected back the

silver rays of the moon. At an open bay-window of a room in a

neighbouring house stood the tall figure of a young priest, who gazed

sadly at the quivering play of the light and at the Church of St.

Peter, whose vast nave appeared doubly massive in the moonlight, and

his ear was turned towards the bustling town, from which arose a

confused wild noise of drunken voices, the screaming of shrieking

girls, and the ear-rending din of the various bands of music in the

taverns, "What has come over thee, thou noisy raging town? Thy slain

men are not slain with the sword," murmured the young Priest in the

words of Isaiah. Sounds from the Neckar were mingled with those of the

streets. These were caused by fifers and cornet-players on board a

brilliantly lighted up ship bearing the guests of the Kurfuerst to the

landing-place near the bridge, and salutes fired from the "Trutzbaier"

lighted up the darkness for seconds and re-echoed through the valley.

"Oh! that thou wouldest come down that the mountains might flow at thy

presence," sighed the pale young man. Then he heard a quick step coming

from the Castle way and soon Pigavetta's voice said from beneath: "You

have been obliged to wait for a long time, my dear Master, but His

Lordship could to-day hardly make any end to his scruples. I am coming

at once." A key was turned in the heavy lock and after a time our

excellent physician entered the lofty room in the mansarde holding a

brilliant lamp, and offered with all the grace of an Italian his hand

to his countryman who reluctantly placed therein his long slender

fingers. "I bring you good news. Master Paul," continued Pigavetta,

"your brother is here and was received by the Kurfuerst in the most

friendly manner." The young Laurenzano quickly raised his head for a

moment and the name "Felice" came like a note of joy from his thin pale

lips. Then he was silent and passing his hand over his high forehead,

the old expression of melancholy resignation returned to his face. "You

mean," said Pigavetta in the tone of a man of the world, "that it does

not become a monk to make a relation in the flesh an object of

rejoicing, and the Holy Ignatius forbids them to be considered in any

other light than that of the Church and her Holy Cause; but my dear

Friend, a man is often a better Jesuit by not being so according to

rule. It is not necessary to hide your feelings before me."

"My brother will be useful to me," answered the young Priest shortly.

Then he drew from his pocket and handed to Pigavetta a number of

papers. "Here are the reports as to the state of the Church in the

Stift; here, what I could learn without exciting comment concerning the

religious relations of the families of my pupils. Here are the

astronomical calculations, so far as I, owing to the scanty means at my

disposal, could add them together from the tables."

"Let us sit down, my dear Master," said Pigavetta, throwing himself

back in a chair, and drawing the Priest towards him with offensive

familiarity. "You are not satisfied with your position?" asked he

confidentially.

"All delays and evasions have availed nothing," replied the other in a

low tone. "Yesterday I was again bound and have moreover to subscribe

by oath that I would render my teaching more in accordance with the

fundamental doctrines of the Augsburg Confession and the Catechism of

the Kurfuerst. You know that I cannot do this, therefore help me to quit

this position."

"You are not bound to fulfil this promise, since you never intended

carrying it out when you gave it."

"But the black gown of the heretics chokes me."

"Now, my dear young friend, I am for my part ready to rid you at once

of this Nessus robe if you prove yourself disposed for other duties."

The pale young man raised his large black eyes and fixed them

attentively on his superior. "They are looking out for a tutor for the

young Counts Palatine," continued the older man, "and as you are an

excellent teacher I shall recommend you for the post, but the young

Princes could help us but little if you do not obtain influence over

the new Kurfuerstin and even over the old Count. I am told that she

affects the Kabbalah and astrological studies. This may be the reason

why the thick-headed Count growls and opposes so violently the noble

science of astrology, by means of which many a court chaplain has made

a fool of his Sovereign during his lifetime. Do you know anything of

this science?"

"I can decipher the _rota vitae et mortis_" said Paul Laurenzano sadly,

"draw a horoscope, calculate the appearances, and the rest I can easily

learn, if you only provide me with the necessary books and

instruments."

"These will be forthcoming, still you must not enter into the study of

this foolery too earnestly. I have seen, how at times even the most

steady heads went mad on the Kabbalah and astrology, for once the mind

has got accustomed to wander about the starry fields, it returns

unwillingly to earth. The young Princess has eyes like stars, and to

gaze into them will reward you better than looking at Sirius or

Jupiter, and your own are not bad," added he with a gallant smile.

"Once win over the young Princess, and then can we do with the Kurfuerst

what we wish, that is," correcting himself sanctimoniously, "what is

required for the benefit of the Church. When a Prince at the age of

sixty marries a young widow he is a lost man. The widow Brederode

brings with her all the charms of youth, but not its inexperience; so

the good old animal is doubly lost. You are young and handsome, and it

must come to pass, that she will prefer you to her fat German husband.

Thus we shall soon compel the old man to do what you read in the stars,

and what you have to read there, that we shall arrange together in

yonder observatory," and he pointed through the window to the tower of

the Klingenthor. Paul made an impatient gesture of dissension, but

Pigavetta continued quietly. "Other secret sciences would be of use.

The Kurfuerst is heavily in debt. Otto Heinrich lived fast, and Simmern

was ever a land of need. How would it answer, should we fit up a

laboratorium. You must study the fixing of metals, making gold, must

gather falling-stars so as to extract the _materia prima_, collect the

night-dews in buckets, with which the Princess may wash her alabaster

neck ... You will find me no bad preceptor, I think I have proved to

you that I can do more than eat bread. I will instruct you, especially

in white magic," said he emphatically, with a sharp look at Paul, "not

in the black art."

"Excuse me from studying either. It might suit certain people later on

to turn white into black, and I have not vowed to spread the devil's

arts and idol worship over Germany."

"Idol worship!" screamed the Physician. "You speak like a Calvinist. In

matters of religion the question is not what is true, but what is

efficacious. Properly handled, belief in the Philosophers' stone or in

the _Elixir vitae_ of Bombastus Paracelsus can bear fruit just as

profitable to the Holy Church, as belief in the scapulary of the Holy

Franciscus or the bones of the Apostles."

The young Priest remained silent, but a hard sarcastic smile played

over his pale thin lips.

Pigavetta's brow wrinkled. "Brother Paul," said he then, "it appears to

me, that the air of this heretic town is dangerous to your vows. Did

you not promise to obey your superior, silently, unconditionally,

submissively as the stick in his hand? It seems to me that you are

falling back into the spirit of opposition for which the Principal once

reproved you so severely. It grieves me, but I shall not be able to

praise your obedience, when I send my report concerning you." The young

man bowed his head and looked down in silence without returning any

answer.

"Well," continued the old man more kindly, "if alchemy is obnoxious to

you, let us see what we can do through the stars. Our principal

adversary at this court is Erastus. Why am I not yet private physician

to this fat gentleman? Because the Kurfuerst has a blind confidence in

this Moor. Why is it that the Church Council has not been able to

introduce its regimen, which would certainly have driven the population

into our net? Because the Count was warned by this Erastus! He has also

written a book against astrology, and is full of ridiculous zeal

against the Chaldaeans as he calls us. If we succeed in winning the

Princess over to the stars, and a pretty woman likes standing, on a

warm summer's night, near a telescope close to a young man of your

appearance, then is the war against the presumptuous court-physician

waged in the bed-chamber, and it is your business to get rid of Erastus

in this or that manner."

A burning blush had risen to Paul's cheeks whilst listening to the

wanton speech of his superior and his breath became audible. Was there

any temptation in the proposition for the pale young man, that he

answered so eagerly, and his words issued from his throat cutting and

sharp as the stiletto of his countrymen. "Your Theology, most worthy

father, becomes every day more wonderful. I thought that it was

written: 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife.'"

The old Physician looked at him sarcastically. "San Giuseppe, what have

I now said? On the whole you would commit no mortal sin, in as much as

your intention would not be to destroy the sacrament of marriage but

simply to amuse yourself and in this particular case for the advantage

of the Church. Here can I refer you also to the moral guides of the

Holy Ignatius: 'Discrimination with less sanctity is better than

greater sanctity with less discrimination.' You may also shut your eyes

to certain advances made to you by the beauteous woman, for as the

General of our Society says: 'An experienced proselyter may overlook

much which he need not understand.' _Prudens tempore illo tacebit._

Moreover if you do not wish for the post, I know a dozen of the

affiliated who would only be too happy."

"I will accept any position," replied the young man quickly, "which

will free me from the obligation of wearing the robes of a heretic

priest, and of submitting to their laws. My own convictions are no

longer a secret to any here. Help me therefore out of this ambiguous

situation and I will render myself as useful as possible."

"Wait a moment," rejoined Pigavetta. "In the Rector's reports is not

your wondrous skill in imitating handwriting mentioned?"

"I know not," hesitatingly answered the young man, "why the Rector had

the whim to teach an art to the best draughtsmen of the class, which

according to the code of the laws of the Emperor Charles is punished

with the loss of the right hand. I will not practice it."

"You will obey the commands of your superiors." The young man sighed.

"I will give you nothing to do which could make you or me responsible

before God or to man. Shall our messengers be prevented from entering

the territory of the heretics, because the authorities will grant them

no safe-conduct, and is it a sin to render the presumptuous request of

these tyrants of no avail through your innocent art, when the eternal

salvation of millions is in question? Are not your bands as a clergyman

of the reformed church, and your now hidden tonsure, forgeries? What

mean these caprices?"

"I do not refuse to write a pass," answered the Priest in a smothered

tone.

"Let us see what you can do," said Pigavetta, handing a sheet of paper

and a pen to the young man. Then carelessly sorting a bundle of

papers he took out a legal document. "Can you imitate this official

hand-writing?"

The Priest looked carefully at the strokes. Then said: "What shall I

write?"

"Well, as an attempt, anything you like, for instance: 'Dear Herr Adam!

I have received your letter and quite agree with you. Matters are going

on well; to-morrow you will receive the required pass, and then follow

my directions exactly in all things, greet the Inspector. Your

Friend.'"

The young Priest wrote, the Physician looking over his shoulder.

"_Optime_, _optime_!" he then cried. "You are a finished artist.

I will shortly bring you some forms, you will write out letters of

safe-conduct for all our agents." He then with apparent indifference

folded up the note and put it with his other papers. But the other said

mistrustfully: "Give me back that sheet, I do not know what you may

want to do with it."

"I think you are becoming childish," cried Pigavetta impatiently,

"since when has it become the custom of the society for the novices to

watch over the initiated." And he took the folded paper from his pocket

and threw it out of the open window. "What sort of French scholar are

you?" added he quickly. "The Countess Brederode, or Her Highness the

Princess Amelia as she likes to be called, is very particular on that

point."

"She will be contented with me," said Paul, "but now dismiss me, it is

late. As you ordered me to conceal our interviews, I told the ladies of

the Stift, that I was about to attend a meeting of the clergy, in the

Hirsch, where I nearly die of ennui, therefore all the less do I dare

stay out till midnight, lest my reputation should suffer in the eyes of

these pious women."

Pigavetta gave him his hand. "I hope you will soon dwell in yonder

castle, and the pretty Princess will have no objection to your then

stopping somewhat later." The Priest blushed anew and hastily left.

Through the open window could be heard the hurried footsteps of the

young man for whom the fresh evening breeze was not sufficient to cool

his fevered brow. Pigavetta's long foxy head was thrust out to watch

him. "'One cannot angle without bait,' said the Holy Ignatius, and he

was the only man who ever impressed me. Of what use hearing the

confessions of this good youth, if I could not work upon his weak

point. He seems however as if he would shortly break away, so it will

be right to lay a new chain on him." After a while he added: "Leaving

all higher considerations aside, it would be no bad spectacle, if I

were to let this black panther loose on the white kitten in yonder

castle. This would bring about some excitement in this tedious home of

heretics, where we have five months of winter and seven months of

rain." Carefully taking from his pocket a creased piece of paper, he

laid another sheet over it, and began cautiously to smooth it out. When

he had finished this piece of work, he added: "Exposed a few times to

the night-air and this masterpiece of our good Magister will be quite

smooth, and then, friend Erastus, thou wilt thyself swear, that thou at

some time must have written this letter." After weighting down the

paper near the window with a stone he took his lamp and sought his bed,

saying: "The instruction in writing as given in Venice is worthy of all

commendation. Now we have in black upon white, that Erastus is an Arian

and therefore do not first require to turn white into black, as piped

this fledgeling."

CHAPTER IV.

The following morning the sun shone brightly on the small bow-window of

the room in the castle, in which Felice Laurenzano now dwelt. The Otto

Heinrich building stood before him in the bluish mist of the early

morning, and behind in vague outlines the Koenigsstuhl. The balmy air of

the park surrounding the castle poured in through the open window, and

the full notes of numerous birds sent forth an invitation to come out

and enjoy the freshness of the morning. In a cheery mood the young man

dressed himself, keeping ever before him the facade which was about to

become the future work of his life. But to-day his first duty must be

to seek out his brother whom he had not seen for so long, and who now

occupied an official dwelling in the Convent (Stift) at Neuburg.

The appointment of the young Jesuit to the Convent Neuburg, at that

time protestant, had a history. The Convent situated within half an

hour of Heidelberg was so rich and lay so immediately under the eyes of

the Kurfuerst, that it was impossible for it to escape "reform." Even

Frederic II. had stretched out his hand in that direction, whilst Otto

Heinrich had insisted on processions and clausure being done away with,

and granted the nuns permission to secede from their vows. Over those

that remained a counsellor of the Palatinate had been appointed as

Inspector, who confiscated the church property for the benefit of the

Palatinate treasury leaving to the ladies a meagre annuity. Thus far

the "reforms" had not been very serious. When however the Inspector

endeavored to alter the mode of life of these old ladies, he learnt to

know a power of resistance in these obstinate and headstrong females

against which he could not cope. As everywhere else, the nuns here

clung with greater tenacity to the old ways than did the monks or

priests. The female mind took no pleasure in the dogmatic discussions

of the reformers, and the reformation deprived these pious ladies of

everything for the which their hearts yearned, their particular dress,

the regular life, to which they were so accustomed, their beloved

pictures, and moreover the great consolation of their solitary

lives--their songs. To sing and attend mass, had been up to that time

their sole occupation, and thus in peaceful retirement had they been

happy. Evenly proportioned between _Ave Maria_ and _Salve Regina_,

their days had peacefully succeeded one another. But now a turbulent

throng raged around their gates, and the haughty spiritual advisers of

the Kurfuerst forced themselves contrary to all regulations within their

walls, to explain to them, that this existence was opposed to the

Gospel and to destroy their peace by forcing them to hear theological

arguments. Terrified out of their quiet life, the helpless dames burst

into the bitterest complaints against the tyranny which forbade them

the use of consecrated salt, wax-candles, and all things pertaining to

the glorification of God, and also refused to suffer them to sing

"_Regina c[oe]li_," or "_Maria mater gratiae_." Moreover these proud new

fangled Theologians with their wide white neck-bands permitted the

youngest novice to confute their Domina out of the Scriptures, the

servants were urged to break the commands of the church, and when the

child of the convent miller, whom the old ladies had loved and petted,

died, no one dared to administer the last unction to him, he was

allowed to die "like a beast" and was buried without incense or holy

water. That Satan himself had incited the wicked Luther and the hellish

Calvin to such misdeeds was a moral certainty to the good nuns, who

never wearied praying for help from any native or foreign protectors.

Should then another Church Counsellor appear from Heidelberg and order

the Domina and her flock to set forth their complaints, the new

negotiations produced about as much result as had the old. Either the

gentleman was received in solemn unbroken silence or the old ladies all

shrieked at him at one and the same time, so that he could only report

in Heidelberg that they wished for a renewal of the former status and

met with truly diabolical opposition the word of God. Otto Heinrich now

appointed a special Preacher to convert them, but they protested

against this breach of conventual propriety. The Preacher occupied the

pulpit during the principal church service, but only preached to empty

benches, and scarcely had he left the church than the nuns trooped in

with holy water and incense, and consecrating the church anew, they

held a service of their own. The Preacher closed the church, but they

sang all the more lustily in the refectory. The Inspector confiscated

their song-books, they looked in all the corners for old ones and

shrieked to Heaven till their wearied old throats gave out. These books

were likewise taken away, but they sang from memory. Sometimes they

read the _Horae_ in one room, sometimes in another by closed doors, and

their "_Salve Regina_" never sounded louder or shriller than when the

Inspector and Preacher raged outside and demanded admission in the name

of the Count Palatine. When the two gentlemen had thus been beaten off,

then the Domina and her ladies sent a complaint to the Kurfuerst, that

the men, whom he had introduced into their nunnery, had attempted to

force their way into the nuns' cells to spite their virginal chastity,

honor and other laudable qualifications. Out of revenge the Inspector

took the clapper from the bell and cut the ropes so that they could no

longer toll the "_tempora_." Then arose a loud wailing and sobbing all

through the convent, and the Inspector grinned as contentedly as if he

heard the most delectable music, but in the evening when he climbed

into his bed, he found it as wet as if the rain had poured through the

roof, and when he strode down the steps the next morning in a rage, to

insist upon an inquiry in the matter of this outrage, he trod on some

peas which caused him to fall so heavily as to produce a painful lump.

This mode of life seemed to him so miserable and unprofitable that he

resigned the place and returned to Heidelberg. As the Preacher was now

left alone he comforted himself in his solitary chamber at the

furthermost end of the convent, with a beaker of wine; but the Domina

took note of every little dissipation which he thus enjoyed, and

drawing up an affidavit which was signed by many unimpeachable

witnesses of both sexes, sent it off to the Chancellory at Heidelberg,

who reproved the poor man so severely, that his life likewise became a

burden to him. Otto Heinrich had considered the struggle carried on

under his eyes in the light of an excellent joke, and whenever he was

informed of any new tribulation undergone by his Inspector, the stout

lord, who measured three feet and a half across the back from shoulder

to shoulder, laughed so loud, that the large dining room of the new

Court shook again. But he was succeeded by Frederic III., who looked

more seriously at the "damnable bigotry of the Mass." He caused certain

of the most obstinate among these female insurgents to be seized and

sent to the hospital at Dilsberg in order to nurse the sick soldiers of

the fortress. Old Domina Brigitta was also deprived of her pastoral

staff, and the prioress Sabina of Pfalz-Zweibruecken was only permitted

to retain her position on promising to keep the peace, and because she

happened to be a favorite cousin of the Kurfuerst. The reform of the

Church and Convent was however now carried on in the most ruthless

manner. The ladies had to give way to violence as they could not do

otherwise. Outwardly the Stift preserved an evangelical appearance,

mass was no longer celebrated, the songs in honor of the Mother of God

and of the Saints were heard no more, the preaching was protestant,

and the elements were distributed in both forms. The number of

schoolchildren was increased, and the nuns were compelled to teach them

reading, writing, and the female accomplishments. This the new Abbess

had to permit, but at heart the older generation of nuns remained

Romanists and privately hoped for better days.

The new Domina herself was a kind-hearted, rather old-fashioned lady.

She was in reality as catholic as the others, but she loved peace and

wisely avoided a conflict with those in power. When the Pfalz inclined

from Lutheranism to Calvinism, public attention became less and less

directed to the Stift. The ladies now hoped to be able to return to

their former practices if they could only get rid of the Preacher.

Domina Sabina managed at last, owing to her influence with the Church

Council of the Kurfuerst, to have the old drunkard as she called him

dismissed from his office. To avoid fresh conflicts, the Kurfuerst

ordered that the ladies should choose from among the clergy of the town

the preacher most acceptable to them. Long had they consulted and

hesitated, at length they elected Master Laurenzano of the College of

the Sapientia, who was capable of imparting instruction in the foreign

languages to the young ladies committed to their charge. "My pious

cousin has chosen the youngest and handsomest of the lot," sneered the

Kurfuerst, as he nevertheless granted their wish. "They will however

thus become quicker reconciled to the new doctrines," he thought. This

time he had not seen the matter in the right light, and however sharp

the old gentleman appeared, in this case he had been taken in. In the

meanwhile he gave orders that Master Laurenzano should at times preach

in the castle, "so that one might taste the food on which the Dames

were fed, for this was not the affair of a cap full of flesh, but of

the eternal welfare of the soul."

Paul's conversion to Calvinism was something new to Master Felix, and

the _role_ of preacher appeared to him all the more grievous, as he had

gathered from Pigavettas' remarks, that the new faith had only been

assumed, to spy on the heretics. The education in the Jesuits' college

had ever been in Felix's eyes a fate attended with all good to himself,

but with much tribulation to Paul. Thus together with his love for his

younger brother, there existed a feeling of pity and commiseration,

which rendered him kind and yielding towards the excitable young

Priest, who often aroused his mental indignation, but also called for

much sympathy. Whether Paul had taken oaths binding to the order, Felix

knew as little, as what to make out of his part of calvinistic

preacher. "Poveretto," he sighed, "I have never understood this

reserved brother of mine, nevertheless Erastus' way of speaking, showed

me plainly, that something still exists to be comforted, perhaps cured.

Poor Paolo, yonder planetary Deities must have formed a complex

conjunction at thy birth."

Thus saying Felix threw his cloak over his shoulders and pulled the

brim of his Raphael cap well down so as to protect his eyes from the

sun. He moreover began to hum his favorite song, but the Nina, Ninetta,

Nina, involuntarily stuck in his throat as he entered the gloomy

gateway of the watch-tower. "One goes in and out of here like the

prophet Jonas," muttered he with a feeling of discomfort. "Do not the

pointed spikes of the drawn up portcullis project over the round, dark

moat as do the teeth of an open-mouthed shark? Sincerely do I hope that

these jaws will never snap behind me." Only after leaving the fortress

behind him did his heart feel lighter. The towers of the town arose out

of the morning-mist, as Felix gazed over at the beauteous plain beyond.

In the marketplace, opposite the chief church, he exchanged a few

friendly words with the host of the Hirsch, paid his bill, and after

finishing his breakfast, walked down the street towards the Neckar to

the covered wooden bridge which led to the other side of the river. At

the other end Felix had to give his name and the object of his stay in

Heidelberg to the watchman of the guard tower, before being allowed to

issue through the gateway. The mountains of the Neckar valley tinged

with a deep blue lay before the youthful wanderer and with charmed gaze

did his eye roam from the nut-trees which lined the road to the green

fore-land of the river, whose emerald waters glistened in thousand

circles, or dashed white crested against the large granite blocks,

which according to the legend a young giant had pitched down from the

Heiligenberg for a wager with his father, who himself had however

hurled them straight across to the so-called Felsenmeer. To the left of

the road beauteous lilacs hung over the garden-wall, or, sweet-smelling

elders in which the finches built their nests were to be seen.

"Since I turned my back on the snows of the Alps," thought the young

artist, "I have never seen any landscape which reminds me more of Italy

than does this valley with its chestnuts and vines. Who would have

expected so much beauty, that gorgeous building opposite, this Neckar

valley at my feet. I am a child of Fortune, therefore am I named

Felice." And he drank in deep draughts of the air laden with the

perfume of the newly-broken up sod and the fragrant rape-fields, borne

to him on the wind. Whilst thus dreaming of the delightful sensation of

being one of the lucky mortals, a division of the road caused him to

remember that he hardly knew whether he would reach his destination by

following this path, and he therefore stopt to await a peasant, who had

stood by his side whilst he gave his name at the Bridge.

"You cannot have heard much about Heidelberg," said the old man, "if

you do not know where the Neuburg lies? Come along with me, you wish to

visit your brother, the Italian parson?"

"How do you know that Magister Laurenzano is my brother?"

"Why he is as like you as two peas, only he is thinner and pale, but a

fine speaker, you must hear him in the pulpit, he is like a dancer on a

tight-rope."

"You have heard him?" asked Felix rather shocked at the comparison.

"That I have," rejoined the old man. "As I went for the first time to

the Court chapel, I saw in the pulpit a tall young man of about six

feet, who raged, wept, wrung his hands, and threw himself from one side

of the pulpit to the other, in a way that quite frightened me. What can

have taken place, I thought to myself 'Oh! what a total depravity of

the human heart!' I heard him call out as I sat down. Have they whacked

him, thought I, or broken his windows, or stolen his cabbages? For it

did not seem like preaching, but quite natural. Then he said again:

'Dearly beloved, such was the hardness of heart of the people of Israel

against Moses.' Ah, thought I, if that is all the matter, that happened

a long time ago. I had thought from the way the mannikin carried on

that the parsonage was on fire."

Felix looked attentively at the old man. "You are no peasant?"

"I am a miller."

"Is yonder house the convent?"

"No, that is where the novices had their hair cut before entering into

the cloister. Now kindling material (Lohkaese) is made there. It has

been turned into a tan-yard."

"You do not appear to be a friend to the Catholics?"

"I was a Catholic at the time when everybody else was catholic."

"And then you became a Lutheran?"

"And am now a Calvinist, as we are not allowed to remain Zwingliites."

"Did you change willingly?"

"One was obliged to do it."

"And when the Pfalzgraf Ludwig becomes Kurfuerst, what will you be

then?"

"One must take things as they come," said the old man with a sly smile.

"After Ludwig comes another Frederic. You know what our Sovereign said,

'If Jack does not do it, Freddy will.' One must know how to wait."

Felix did not quite believe in the passive resignation of the weather

beaten old man, for there was a cunning look in his eyes, and his whole

appearance was not one of stupid dependence.

"In my country," said the young man carrying on the conversation, "we

say that at the present time in Germany a cock-chafer can fly over

three different national churches, but it appears to me that if he only

lives long enough, he need not even fly. Religions here seem to change

like the weather."

"That is good as producing change and movement," said the old man

laughing. "When I lived in the town, every Parson had his special idea

concerning the holy sacrament, and each of my eight children had his

separate Parson. Harry learnt that the Body of the Lord was in the

bread; that is not enough, argued little Christina, he is with, in, and

under the bread. Parson Neuser told Christopher that it was there in

the Presence and that we received it through eating. Parson Greiner

however taught Jack: circa circum, round and about, not in the bread

but close at hand. Do you understand?"

"Were the customs then," answered Felix evasively, "as varied as the

opinions."

"Oh yes," said the old man, "the year in the which we had at one and

the same time both the Church Counsellors of the old Count, and those

of the new, was an amusing year; then had every church its own ritual.

Hesshusen enclosed the host in the tabernacle, consecrated it, turning

his back to the congregation, ordered them to worship the wafers and

handed these to the communicants over a communion cloth, so that not a

single crumb should be lost, and what remained was buried as in the

good old time. In the Convent, mass was once more celebrated. In the

Church of St. Peter they wished to become Zwingliites as is Erastus the

Physician to the Kurfuerst. Then they kept their seats on the benches

and the bread and wine was handed round as in a tavern. In the sacristy

the Deacon reclined with twelve others to celebrate the Lords' supper,

so that everything should take place as at Jerusalem, and once the

assistant-clergyman brought a soup-tureen filled with wine and crumbled

the bread in it, and said they must dip the hand with Christ in the

dish, that alone was a veritable communion."

The Italian crossed himself.

"That must have been a beautifully peaceful church, when every Preacher

did as he chose," said he.

"Well, not exactly peaceful. Hesshusen wished once to snatch the cup

out of Klebitz's hands on the altar steps of the Holy Ghost, and these

two right reverend gentlemen blackguarded each other before the church

doors in such a manner that the market-women of Ziegelhausen and

Bergheim learnt quite a collection of expressions. The following Sunday

however the Superintendent-General got into the pulpit, excommunicated

the Deacon, and forbade the congregation to have any intercourse with

him. No one should eat or drink with the excommunicated man, and the

authorities were compelled to deprive him of his office. Then you

should have seen how the Heidelbergers went for each other."

"Now you see, man," said Felix angrily, "what comes from doing away

with customs thousands of years old, when every man insists on doing

what passes through his head."

"The Turkish religion is also a thousand years old and yet comes from

the devil."

"But what is your creed, as you are neither catholic, lutheran,

zwinglian, or calvinist?" asked Felix. The old man looked at him

cautiously and then said in a low voice: "The spirit must act, not the

sacrament. Water availeth not, neither do bread and wine. The Spirit

must come from inwardly. They have many Bibles in Heidelberg, but they

only look at things from the outside, not inwardly in the spirit.

Therefore the confusion."

"You do not then belong to any Heidelberg communion?"

"You do not possess the truth," replied the old man. "You baptize

children who do not know the difference between good and evil, or what

yes or no is, and then you say, they have renounced the Devil. Thus you

begin with a lie."

"Well but for this reason children are confirmed at a riper age."

"A pretty ripeness. Go to the Sunday-school, when the boys sing out in

lusty tones, as if welcoming summer, 'For whether we live, we live unto

the Lord, or whether we die, we die unto the Lord,' or cheerily shriek

out, 'O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me out of the body of

this death?' You should be ashamed to teach children to babble the

Holiest name like heathens, and to turn the whole affair to ridicule.

Language used by children without thought is the beginning of lies.

Dogs learn to chew leather when fastened to smeared thongs. You confirm

them, when they are twelve or thirteen years old, not because the

spirit moves them, but because it is time and customary. That is not an

introduction to the church, but to the dancing saloon. The Parson

preaches, not because he is urged on by the Spirit, but because he is

paid for doing so. Like a quack he says on Sunday, what he has just

learnt the day before. As I go home Sunday nights and see the lights in

the study of the rectory when the two parsons and the two deacons are

preparing their sermons, I cannot help thinking: they are not ashamed

of lying. Verily they no longer know it to be a lie, when they stretch

out their arms and call upon the Lord in heaven in a state of ecstasy,

and repeat all the time what they prepared the day before, and lower

down sits the Parson's wife, who has heard him reading it aloud, and

she does not feel ashamed either. And others there are who preach in

the Chapel of the Stift, and call so earnestly on the Lord, that the

hearts of the poor nuns sink quite low under their tight bodices, and

then they go over to Heidelberg to the Holy Ghost, and call on Him

again in exactly the same words, so that he may the better remember

them, because the Almighty is rather forgetful. Is it not so?"

"Well, but man," replied Felix indignantly, "how would you have a

church without a priest, or how could you have service on Sundays, if

the preacher did not prepare his sermon?"

"Come to us, and I will show you."

"Who are you," said Felix.

"When you come to Ziegelhausen, ask for Werner the miller of the

Kreuzgrund, and you will be shown the way. You are a Romanist?"

"I am."

"And your brother is still one at heart?"

"Who says so?"

"When you see him greet him from Werner the Baptist, and if he only

knew what a treacherous thing speech is, would he not let the mouth

overflow with things, of which the heart is not full. He will however

not do so much longer, says the Baptist, because no man can deny the

truth without danger to his own soul. If he only wishes to eat well as

he has done up to the present, let him remain where he is, but if he

wants to sleep as he formerly used to, then let him come to Werner the

Baptist, who will procure for him that stone on which the Lord has

written his name, which no one knoweth but he who giveth it, and he who

receiveth it." The old man had drawn himself up, and his eyes flashed.

The strange mocking peasant was no longer there, a prophet in the

coarse dress of the country stood before the young Italian. "Fare you

well," he added drily.

"Thank you, Father."

"No cause for thanks. Here is your path. Do not however pass through

the big gate, but along the wall, the door leading to the chaplain's

apartment, is in the corner tower. He is not allowed to live near the

ladies, and it would be better if he did not live here at all. Fire and

brimstone should not be brought so close together. Everything in your

communion is wrong, as if the Devil himself was your Superintendent."

Saying so the old man hastened on his way.

Felix looked after him for some time. "Things are much worse here than

I thought. I left Venice willingly, because the severity of the holy

Inquisition cut me to the quick. I cannot drive from me this scene:

poor men torn at the rack, led down to the Lido and forced unto a board

spread between two gondolas. Then thus carried out to the Laguna, when

one boatman rowed to the right, the other to the left, the board

falling and the two poor fellows sinking in the troubled waters. It was

a horrible sight. But come what may, my beautiful Italy must never be

allowed to attain to such a condition as exists here. What have I not

lived to see! The holiest chapels profaned, irrecoverable treasures of

art destroyed by coarse hands, the churches as bare as stalls, altars

and fonts shattered, organs broken to pieces. No mass of Palestrina's,

no Miserere addresses itself to those poor men, no picture by some

pious master speaks to those blunted hearts! Therefore do their

Theologians rage and argue as to how the Incomprehensible in the

inconceivable mystery is to be comprehended as if the mystery did not

consist in our not being able to grasp it. I can endure all: bad music,

inartistic pictures, statues by Bandinelli, but when I hear this

heretical twaddle, then do I think, that a lunatic asylum as high as

the tower of Babel should be built in which all heretics should be

locked up, till they recovered out of disgust with one another." Thus

thinking the young man proceeded on the way which had been pointed out

to him, and already saw before him the gate in the corner tower of the

convent wall, when the merry, teazing sound of girls' voices roused him

from his dream.

CHAPTER V.

The young artist was about turning to the gate pointed out to him by

the miller, when he suddenly found himself surrounded by a crowd of

young girls, who ran out laughing and screaming from behind the convent

wall. So full of fun were these maidens that they never saw the young

man coming towards them. Several had joined hands and surrounded a

beautiful fair-haired girl who vainly attempted to free herself from

her persecutors. Her companions however danced only the more calling

out: caught, kept.

"Let me out, or I shall tell the lady Abbess," called out the prisoner,

who looked more like crying than laughing. Her obstinate jailors

answered her by singing: "Wegewarte,[1] Wegewarte, Sonnenwende,

Sonnenwirbel," and danced around her till their hair waved in the wind

around their young necks. The pretty maiden began to cry.

"Leave the Lieblerin," said Countess Erbach, "she cannot help it, she

is bewitched."

"The bewitched maiden," called out the Baroness von Venningen.

"Wait till we make her a wreath of chicory flowers," called out

Baroness von Eppingen, "with which to crown her. That will suit her

well, the blue flowers and the fair hair."

"Bewitched Maiden, lend me thy locks, I should much wish to be gazed at

so tenderly by those well-known black eyes during lesson-hours," called

out Bertha von Steinach.

And again they surrounded the weeping girl, and their cheeks glowed

with life and supercilious arrogance, and they danced around her

singing: "Wegewarte, Sonnenwirbel." Others in the meantime had plucked

certain blue flowers which grew by the wayside, and stuck them in the

clothes of their victim, as well as in her fair hair. The rich curls of

the prisoner fell down at which she shrieked out with rage.

"Now, Clara, don't be so rude," cried one of the maidens. Then suddenly

they became aware of the presence of the young man, who looked on at

the spectacle with mingled feelings of curiosity and displeasure. The

handsome stranger hastened towards them with quick steps as if he would

release the prisoner. Immediately the impudent jades scattered and

raced back towards the court of the convent. The prisoner followed also

slowly and bashfully, whilst rolling up her golden hair with her

delicate white hands. Thereupon one of her wild companions banged the

door in her face and called out: "Much pleasure, wayside-loiterer, go

round to the tower-entrance, no bewitched maiden is allowed through

here." And loudly laughing the maidens were heard racing off. The

angered girl stamped her small foot and turning round, beheld the tall

handsome stranger, standing so close to her, that she drew back

affrighted.

"Now are you my prisoner, beauteous maiden," said the stranger

laughing.

The pretty young creature cast a look out of her large blue eyes still

wet with tears at the handsome man, then raised her head a trifle

higher and said: "My companions can make me a prisoner, but not you. Go

your way and give me place."

"Certainly, beauteous maiden, if you will however point my way out to

me. You are certain to know where Master Laurenzano lives." An angry

blush crept at these words into the cheeks of the young maiden, as with

a haughty movement of her shoulders she answered:

"You misapply what you overheard. You are no true knight. Make way

there."

Horrified at the effect of his remarks Felix hastened to answer. "Do

you feel insulted at my asking about that gentleman?" The young girl

rudely turned her back on him and knocked at the door. Then it suddenly

occurred to him, whose black eyes had been meant, and he felt a lively

sympathy for the pretty child. "They do not hear you," he said, "and

nothing was further my intention than to laugh at you. I am the

architect Laurenzano, and only came to visit my brother who is your

convent-preacher. As your companions have shut me out with you, I only

beg of you to show me the gate, through which I can come to him,

without breaking the rules of the Nunnery."

These words sounded so politely cold, that the poor young thing now

felt, that she only had betrayed herself, as her wounded conscience

alone had marked a rudeness in the stranger's remarks. Hereupon a new

horror overcame her. What if the wretched stranger should relate to his

brother what he had heard, and in what a silly manner she had behaved

towards him. Again she stamped her foot, but this time through rage

with herself. Her first impulse was to run away and hide. But the young

lady in her overcame the school-girl. She quickly composed herself and

determined on the contrary to set the young stranger right with

becoming dignity, so that the bad impression might be eradicated.

"That will not be possible at once," answered she with freshly gained

composure. "The Magister is just now attending the Catechism class of

the younger pupils. If you will however wait here till it is over, I

will take care that this gate be opened and you can enter here." With a

gracious wave of the hand she intended to dismiss the young man, but as

he nevertheless remained at her side, she continued with polite

coolness: "If you prefer going through the main entrance, the sister

portress must first announce you and ask the Lady Superior if she be

permitted to allow a man within the precincts. It is all nonsense, but

they go on here as if it were still a cloister, although they do not

behave at all like nuns, as you saw for yourself. But wait, it is still

better, if I run round through the main entrance, unlock this gate and

thus save you the trouble of going round."

"I thank you, noble Damsel," said Felix. "Allow me to accompany you as

far as the gate." She hesitated. She felt unwilling to be seen in the

convent-yard together with this stranger, as this would only furnish a

fresh subject of amusement for the aristocratic maidens: "No, no," she

answered, "I prefer pointing out a shady seat by the pond, then keep

your eye on the gate." But the thought entered her pretty little head,

that she was bound to cause the scene, which this unwelcome listener

had come upon, to appear in a thoroughly unprejudicial light, so that

she might not in the end be questioned about it either by her beloved

teacher or the Lady Superior. Gracefully she preceded the young man

along the convent-wall, and his artistic eye watched this delicate

pliant figure, her steady gait, her every movement full of natural

ease. As she saw one of the flowers which had been plucked lying before

her she angrily trod upon it with her little foot. "What has the poor

Klytia done to you, that you thus treat it?" asked Felix with apparent

innocence. "You witnessed all," answered she, "how those aristocratic

young ladies abused me! I am here badly off, for I am the only one who

is not of noble birth, my father is Counsellor Erastus, or Liebler as

the petty nobility love to call him."

"Ah, my beloved patron," said Felix.

"You know my father? Oh, how glad I am. Is he not a splendid man?"

rejoined the lovely child with a happy light in her blue eyes, whilst a

flush of joy crimsoned her cheek.

"A noble man," affirmed Felix.

"Well, the Kurfuerst sent me with the Countess Erbach, and the Ladies

von Hemmingen, von Venningen and a few others here, in order that we

might learn languages, history, and the Catechism, and get accustomed

to strict discipline, and I know not what else, that high gentleman

imagined was to be had here. As I am the only commoner, they treat me

as an intruder and Fraeulein von Luetzelstein is by far the worst. She

has alleged that when we take our Italian lessons from Master

Laurenzano, I always turn my head this way and that way after him like

a sun-flower, and then they make fun of me 'heliotrope, girasole,' you

heard it yourself. But it is all nothing but silliness."

"Wegewarte, I heard them also call," said Felix slily. The girl blushed

involuntarily. "That is the same flower," she answered gazing with an

embarrassed look at the tops of the trees. "It is better for me to tell

you everything, in order that you may not finish by relating a lot of

nonsense to Magister Laurenzano. I had gone out to the meadow of the

Convent, to pluck flowers, but only because I will have nothing more to

do with the noble young ladies. Out of spite they followed after me and

Baroness von Eppingen asserted, that I had gone to the meadow, so that

the Magister might meet me on his way home, and then they called me

'Wayside loiterer' and made me prisoner. But," added she with an

imploring look out of her childish eyes, now suffused with tears, "you

promise not to say anything of this to the Magister, otherwise I must

throw myself in the water. Rather than be thus disgraced I will jump

into the Neckar. Promise me, will you not?"

The young man smilingly held out his hand. "I give you my word."

Apparently greatly relieved she placed her right hand in his, which he

did not hurry to let go, till she slightly blushing drew it back. As in

some beauteous sylvan fairy-tale stood the fair innocent child before

him. The peaceful pond, the dark trees, caused this bright light figure

to stand out with double grace. Intoxicated with beauty Felix quite

forgot the object of his visit, and only sought for some cause which

might retain this lovely Being near him. Seeing one of the hateful

flowers, which her companions had stuck in her hair, girdle, and the

folds of her dress, still hanging to her skirts, he picked it up,

saying: "Why have you given this beautiful blue flower, which we know

as Klytia, the ugly names of Wegewarte and bewitched maiden."

"Well," she answered with childish astonishment, "you know that this

blue thing opens its calix at the first ray of the Sun, and that its

little head ever follows the course of the Sun, till evening comes when

it folds itself up again within its leaves. On that account the story

says that the blue flower is an enchanted Princess, which would gladly

be noticed by the one she loves, the Sun-God, and therefore ever looks

after him yearning for his love. Do you not know what Hans Vintler

says:

'According to many the Wegewart was once a woman tender and fair,

Awaiting her lover with grief and despair.'"

The child saying this blushed again and continued with downcast eyes:

"It is also said, that the flower brings luck, if found before

sun-rise, but it must be immediately fastened to a twig, otherwise it

runs away."

"That is indeed a naughty young woman," laughed Felix. "Can I now

relate to you, what we know in Italy about the enchanted Klytia?"

"Willingly, but you must not tell anyone that you call the flower

Klytia, for as my name is Lydia, they would at once give me that other

name so as to teaze me."

"But I may call you Klytia." She shook her pretty head.

"Begin your story otherwise I must be off." Without sitting down she

leant against the nearest tree and gazed thoughtfully at the peaceful

pond. He began his tale: "The heathen poet Ovid says: In old, old times

when all men were still as happy and beautiful as are now only a few

fair Sunday born children, lived two maidens Leucothoe and Klytia. Both

loved Apollo, the beautiful Sun-God. He however loved Leucothoe and his

heart burnt so desperately for the beauteous maiden, that it was hotter

than the rays of the sun-chariot, so that he singed the earth, stars

and planets. The handsome God became more and more dreamy and the whole

course of nature fell into disorder. He got up as early in the morning,

as do children, after a visit from Santa Klaus, because he could not

wait any longer so desirous was he to see his pretty doll. He went

under too late of an evening because he could not tear himself away

from her presence. No one knew anything more about the seasons, as the

Sun-God remained in the heavens as long in Winter as in the Summer, for

Leucothoe appeared charming to him at all times. In time he became

melancholy mad, merely out of love. In mid-day he ceased to appear,

other days he was pale and worn out and hid himself behind clouds. Now

one time that in one of his love fits he had set before mid-day, the

Father of the Gods remarked, that this could not be allowed to go on

any longer. He would give him leave of absence every evening and a

latch-key to the Olympian gate, in case he came home late, but during

the day he must fulfil his duty punctually, otherwise he would make the

brave and reliable Hercules, the Sun-God. The handsome Apollo knew very

well, that Hercules at the best was only fit to be house-boots, but in

his heart he was very glad that the good Father of the Gods had

arranged the matter in that way. So of an evening, when he had reached

the furthest western point, where the world comes to an end, he

unharnessed his horses, and turned them out to grass on a splendid

large meadow, telling Hesperus, the evening Star, which remains out in

the heaven all night, to keep his eye on them. He himself then took a

dip in the Ocean and then with a god-like celerity swung himself round

to the Cape of Circe, where dwelt Leucothoe, assuming at once the

appearance of her mother. 'Get out,' he said to the maidens attending

her, 'I have something to say to my daughter.' As soon however as he

found himself alone with the young lady, he threw off his disguise and

fell at her feet in all the majesty of his glorious beauty. Leucothoe

was frightened, but she could not withstand him, for he was a God and

she only a poor mortal maiden. Thus he often visited her and heaven

regained its usual orderly appearance, and everybody was contented,

except the poor languishing Klytia. As the lucky God had no longer any

glance for her, and her sighs were all wasted in the air, Klytia became

sad and ill, and there was no longer any peace in her heart. In the

daytime she would not come out. For she did not wish to see the God any

more, who so shamefully snubbed her, only at night did she wander

through wood or vale, telling her love to the chaste Luna who however

looked cold and prudish, and would not hear of such complaints. It came

to pass that once she passed by the house of Leucothoe and noticed how

a brilliant light came through all the slits. Out of curiosity she

crept up and placed her eye to a crack. Oh, how her heart sank within

her, and how she cried in bitter dismay, for she saw the Sun-God

sitting within near Leucothoe, holding her hands und telling her the

most beautiful stories, whilst Leucothoe in an entrancement of

happiness gazed into his glorious godlike face and beauteous shining

eyes. Then Klytia fell into a rage, for she imagined that her playmate

alone was the cause of the Sun-God's never looking at her or noticing

her love. 'Look at what your daughter is doing,' she called out in the

ear of Leucothoe's father, 'she is sitting in her room alone with a

strange young man.' Just as the God was hurrying out, called by

Hesperus, the strict parent entered Leucothoe's room; in vain she

prayed for mercy. When Apollo returned, he saw before the house of his

beloved a freshly made grave, which the servants were just levelling

down. In this lay the poor maiden, whom they had buried alive. The hard

father thought that by doing this his honor was avenged, and the

despised Klytia imagined that now the Sun-God would turn to her. But

men only run after maidens who flee from them, and despise those who

are too froward. So Klytia became now totally unbearable in the eyes of

the Sun-God. His looks were always fixed on the home of his former

love, and as he gazed in hotter and hotter grief on the grave of the

poor Leucothoe, a rare plant sprouted out of the heart of the dead

maiden and broke through the earth. This was the Juniper, which filled

the air with its fragrance in the sun-light, and breathed its soul out

in the beams of the God. Thus the maiden by her death refreshed all the

senses and renewed the health of all who drew in her breath. Klytia

however, punished by the God with a look of fiery contempt, shrivelled

up, her beauty died, and she turned into a wayside plant, trodden by

every passer-by under foot. That which was best and strongest in her

however, her love for the Sun-God brought forth a blue flower

resembling the Sun in shape and when the God arises, it turns its

flower-face yearningly towards him, following his course by day, and at

night sinking down its wearied head. That is the story of the poor

Klytia."

When Felix began his story he had not considered, what an injurious

morality for the poor child lay therein; he had only wished to retain

the pretty maiden by his talk. After he had once begun, he let the

affair have its own way. He must get out of it and preferred to make a

virtue of necessity; he assumed a more fatherly tone, and only when he

saw how the poor child, herself like Klytia bent her fair young head

and shivered as some delicate plant when roughly handled, did he hasten

to bring his story to its close. But suddenly Lydia drew herself up,

her small ear heard an approaching step behind the trees, she turned

towards a lofty figure, which drew near in a dignified manner, and a

betraying blush colored her cheeks. Felix recognized his brother.

"Paolo," he called out. The young Magister heartily stretched out his

hand to his long awaited brother, but Felix remarked how the burning

eyes fixed themselves over his own shoulder on the face of the fair

maiden. The young girl had in the meanwhile composed herself and

saluting the brothers with a modest bow she passed on towards the

convent. As Felix turned round to take one more look at the pretty

fugitive, he perceived that she had done the same thing, and being

caught in the act rapidly disappeared behind the bushes. Her fright had

not escaped the practised eye of the artist, and with a slight shake of

the head he entered into conversation with his brother.

Paolo who hated the high road, chose a path leading through the

vineyards, from whence a view of the plain of the blue Rhine was

obtained, and which finally led back to the Haarlass. Slowly did the

brothers proceed on their way, both tall fine-looking men. The artist

in the tight fitting costume of an Italian of that day, with the

becoming Raphael cap, the Magister in a shovel hat with drawn up brim

wearing the long robe of his profession, his fine sharp cut face

surrounded by a platelike white ruffle. "The head of John the Baptist

on a charger" involuntary thought the young artist, who nevertheless

found that Paul's clear intellectual features appeared to great

advantage out of this white Nimbus. "You carry your Nimbus round your

neck," said Felix. But Paolo did not smile. Monosyllabic and hesitating

was the information he gave. Whether he had made Profession in Venice

was not to be ascertained, whether he had bound himself over to the

Calvinists by some outward act, remained equally dark. To the question,

whether he still held to the old belief, came the answer "as one wishes

to think." Only one thing was clear, he was not happy. The bloom of

health had disappeared from his face, which had become sharp and

haggard, the eyes either looked covertly to one side, or were fixed

with a piercing mistrusting expression full on the face of his brother.

Out of humour the two brothers who after so long a separation had so

little to say, finally followed each other in silence. Wherever the

blue Klytia raised its head above the grass, the Magister plucked it.

Felix thus knew, that the nickname given to Erast's daughter, was

already known to her protector, but he found out also how it stood with

his heart.

"You have a liking for the blue Klytia," said he kindly.

"The learned call it Chicory, it is used as an antidote to fever."

"Even against the fever of love?"

"What mean you?"

"Well, I heard, it hung on the sight of the Sun, as certain pupils hang

on the lips of their teacher."

The clerical gentleman angrily threw the flowers among the vines

beneath, as if they had turned into nettles. "Do not make such jokes,

thou knowest I do not like to be turned into ridicule."

An unpleasant pause succeeded this excited speech, and to give the

conversation another turn, Felix asked whether what Werner the Baptist

had told him concerning the former use of the Haarlass had any

foundation. "Foolery," replied Paolo. "Every child knows that the hair

of the novices is cut off at the altar of the convent-church, and not

at the boundaries of the convent property. Haarlass means 'hari lot'

that is 'the property of the Lord of the Manor;' anything else is a

poor joke."

Not to be put down Felix related what else the Baptist had told him. "A

way will be found to get at this bold heretic," was the only answer of

the Magister.

"When shall we meet again?" he then asked coldly as they reached the

road.

"Must you go back already?"

"I have still much to do; if you find time, go of an evening to the

Hirsch Inn. At the round table in the back room one meets the clergy of

the neighbourhood. I am accustomed to go there also, so as to make the

acquaintance of the worthy clerics of this land. We can there talk

further over matters." Saying this he stretched out his small thin

hand. His brother looked him earnestly in the face. But the Magister

avoided the loving glance and directed his steps back towards Neuburg.

"Can his heart really be dried up," thought Felix, "or is he only

inwardly miserable?"

CHAPTER VI.

The artist whose feelings of brotherly affection were deeply hurt, and

who felt the happy expectations which he had formed of this meeting

bitterly disappointed, hurried away at a rapid pace. The Priest looked

after his brother with a sad dark expression, then sat down on a stone

near the roadside and contemplated thoughtfully the deep waters of the

river in which the dark firs of the Koenigstuhl were now reflected. The

flow of the water recalled to him the troubled waves of that Canal, in

the which for so many years of his college life at Venice, he had

gazed, and he thought of the sad morning when he found himself

transposed from the small palace in the ever verdant garden in the

Chiaia and the blooming orange groves of Naples, to the moist damp

walks of the Jesuit college at Venice. Instead of the view over the

gulf which sparkled with the coloring of the opal or emerald, he saw

with horror the brown slime of the Laguna, His eye accustomed to range

from the ridgy peaks of Capri to the noble lines of Vesuvius, now saw

on the other side of the dirty ditch, a bare wall without windows from

which water dropped down. Accustomed during his hours of recreation to

play in the garden with his sister, watched over by the loving eye of a

mother, he now found himself surrounded by about fifty boys, who looked

as pale and strange as himself, who "for recreation" turned out in a

long gloomy corridor, or were taken for an evening walk to the Lido, he

at the tail of a long string of companions under the care of a teacher,

not allowed to look to the right or left to see the beauty of the proud

Venice. At first he thought that he should die in this world without

light or mother's love. He had wept during the night time and spent the

day in fruitless home sickness. His only occupation was, to pray in

silence, as he had been told that it was in his power, to free the

souls of his mother and sister from purgatory, and when he felt a

melancholy resignation in his captivity, this was caused by the fact

that every day which he spent in a convent, gave him ten days

remission, which he could pass on to them. Then he became quick of

perception in the hours of study, so as to understand the teacher more

rapidly than the others and to render more surely and more clearly the

subject learnt. The teachers themselves had repeatedly reasserted that

Paolo Laurenzano was their best pupil. For the first time he became

more reconciled with his new life. As the grain of mustard seed in the

Gospel the small triumph of ambition had fallen into the heart of the

child, and this little seed grew into a mighty tree and all the

passions built their nests therein. Torn apart from all that had been

dear to his child's heart, he now knew no joy exceeding that of study

or the praise of his preceptor. His every endeavour, his only thought

was the task of the following day. Whilst the others played _Boccia_ in

the court of the College, or billiards in the dining-rooms, the

favorite game of the Holy Ignatius, for Paternosters, or dominoes for

Ave Marias, which the loser had to repeat for the winner, he pored over

his books and writings. Only one passion governed him, to excel the

others, to be the best among good scholars. Whoever opposed him in

this, became his foe, and he stole hours from sleep, from play, even

from the supervision of the teacher to attain this end. A son of Naples

he was a born rhetorician; especially adapted for the cultivation of

oratory, and argument was the course of study followed in the school of

the Jesuits. Here everything brilliant was cherished, everything which

caught public attention: Latin declamation and disputation, poetry, the

comedy of the schools, sophistical philosophy and bombastical oratory,

in short all empty show which impressed the ignorant. It was in this

very rhetorical display that lay Paolo's special gift, and when he, at

some of the exhibitions, which were frequently performed in the

interest of the College, hailed down his Latin with all the rattling

velocity of a Neapolitan tongue on some weaker opponent, or

pathetically declaimed in his sonorous soft voice long extracts from

Vergil or Lucian, when he hurled down from the lofty rostra pompous

speeches in sounding periods at the well-dressed audience, which

applauded with the quickness of an Italian assembly every pointed

antithesis, cheered every epigrammatic proposition, noisily acclaimed

every school boyish twaddle, Paolo felt himself then to be not as other

men are, and the proud tread with which he left the platform after the

end of his speech might have served as model to the Triumvirate of

Rome. Thus the education given by the Fathers had envenomed with the

poison of self-love the blood of this gifted boy, it raged within him

as a burning fire, and never left him a moment's peace. Something had

ever to be learnt, something ever to be done, which none other could

do, and he only felt happy in the task of increasing the difference

between that which he could do, and that which the others could, so

that none could be even distantly compared to him.

The education of ambitious minds, determined to render subject to

themselves the sleepy mediocrity found in other schools, was ever a

principal object of the Order, and this result of education had been

brilliantly attained in Paul. He could be named a pattern scholar of

the Institution.

If on the one side the self-consciousness of the young man had been

excited to a degree verging on presumption, so on the other side had

the moral nature been rendered slavishly subservient. The Fathers

of the Society had based the education of their pupils on the

psychologically thoroughly correct idea that nothing brings man down to

such unconditional dependence as consciousness: the superiors know thy

whole past, they know all thy errors, thy secret inclinations and sins,

thou art absolutely transparent to them. The first thing therefore that

had been required of Paul as indeed of every other pupil on his entry

into College, was a general confession, in which he had to mention not

only his faults but his preferences. With a child's hand and with his

hot southern phantasy had he noted down all his vices, and owing to the

mental excitement caused by the death of his sister and his beloved

mother, the despairing boy had portrayed himself as a young miscreant.

The Rector praised his candor and the severity with which he judged

himself and recommended him one of the teachers of the establishment as

confessor and spiritual guide. He then learnt from his school-mates,

that the secret of the confessional usually observed so strictly did

not avail in the College, but that according to the revelations made

the confessor drew up his report to the Rector. He was henceforth

called upon for a daily record of his actions, thoughts, and feelings,

and a strict watch was observed as to whether a pupil kept back or

omitted anything. At the same time an especial monitor was appointed

over each individually, whose duty it was to watch, reprove, or

denounce. This system was all the more pernicious as regarded the

relation of the boys one towards another, as the accused was allowed to

escape unpunished, if he could manage to prove the accuser guilty of

the same misdemeanor, whilst if he could not the punishment was meted

out by a powerful boy known as the "Brother Corrector." Under such

perpetual supervision was Paul brought up, and at the same time

educated in spying others. He was never allowed to enter into

conversation, without also listening to what his neighbour was saying,

and under no circumstance could he keep to himself anything that had

come to his knowledge. In this manner the superiors obtained an

information concerning their pupils which left nothing to be desired.

With one ear the confessions and self-made acknowledgments of the

pupil, with the other the reports and tale-bearings against his

school-mates being considered, each character lay exposed before them

to its very roots. The pupils however learnt, to use Ignatius' own

expression, as they grew older "the difficult art of watching over the

portals of the senses" and in this way only did they preserve a scrap

of freedom, of self-dependent reflection, of private conscience, a

little of the individuality which the inner man always demands,

whenever they succeeded in rendering themselves as impenetrable as

possible both to teachers and companions. Paul was naturally of a frank

chivalrous disposition, but these good qualities shrivelled up in the

glow of ambition, fanned by his teachers. In perpetual contest to

preserve the first place against his fellow-pupils, he had opponents

who were dangerous to him, and it was natural that this ambitious child

judged them more harshly and represented them in darker colors than

those who acknowledged his superiority without jealousy, and whose

mediocrity was to him a foil to be wished for. If he unsparingly, in

his sinister ascetic humor, denounced his crimes, should therefore his

rivals make themselves out to be better than they were? Eagerly did he

watch, listen, spy, denounce, and if one of the rivals was once again

through a lucky tale-bearing brought to the "bench of misfortune" or

the "corner of disgrace" he felt a detestable contentment. He was

therefore anything but loved by his colleagues, and the nickname "the

Censor" which they had bestowed on him, expressed the mixture of

respect and distrust they felt for him. It was only with time that the

young zealot perceived how that he, by every romantic confession he

made concerning the devilish abysses in his inner self, had fashioned

so many chains which fettered him to the Society of Jesus; for based on

these confessions the Rector drew up his reports to the Provincial of

the Order and these communications ever increasing accompanied the

pupil on his way through life. Wherever an Affiliated might go, he

could not escape his past life, whether he settled in the new or old

world. Everywhere the eye of the Order was fixed upon him, everywhere

was he accompanied by his former confessions, in which were marked out

the dark points of his life, everywhere was a fresh book opened for his

every deed. Did any one of those entangled in these toils feel a desire

to break away, he knew but too well, that the Order had it in its power

to destroy him morally. But these paroxysms had not yet been felt at

that time by Paolo. He had been filled with a consciousness of the

importance of the Order, and he knew, that he had been called to a most

brilliant career in connection with a Society spread over the new and

old world. The training which he had received rendered him thoroughly

aware of his superiority over the rest of the world and over those

children of man addicted to the ways of simplicity. Accustomed for

years to spy and be spyed, he had assumed a self-command which

protected him like an impenetrable iron mask against any attack. It had

long become a second nature to him, to utter no word that might be used

against him, and even as little to let any escape which he might use

against another. Kindly feelings and interests he knew nothing of All

that he had brought with him from his father's house, love of family,

home, and brother, had been consumed by the blast of ambition. God made

the heart of man straight, but it learns many arts in the school of

ambition. As a fresh, fantastic, good and beauteous child had Paolo

entered College, he left it a pale, ambitious overwrought champion of

the Church. He was in his twentieth year, when the Rector of the

College declared his education completed, and the school awarded him

all the prizes which it had to bestow. It is true that he knew nothing

of that inward satisfaction, which usually accompanies the attainment

of such an object. The vocation of his life had been up to that time to

be _primus omnium_, and he would have preferred remaining thus for the

rest of his life. He had no family who desired to render his gifts of

use for this or that interest. The exhortations of the Holy Ignatius to

speak of relations only as relations which one formerly had, and the

doctrines of the order that the dependence on flesh and blood was one

of the strongest chains with which Satan bound us to earth, met no

opposition from him as orphan. Homeless as he was, he agreed to become

a novice, and was placed among the "Indifferents" who still had the

choice open of returning to the world or remaining in the church. The

study of philosophy and theology was continued, broken into by services

in the hospitals of Venice, by pilgrimages to neighbouring spots famed

for miraculous appearances, and by begging in the town, all which

duties Paul went through with the same self-negation, which his

ambition and contempt of men and life infused in him. At one moment in

the sick room holding the crucifix before the closing eyes of some

dying man, at another patiently in school repeating texts and prayers

suitable to the lisping lips of children, teaching in the churches the

catechism and imparting religious instruction, going from house to

house begging for alms, or alone in his cell, fasting, praying, and

scourging himself. His exemplary zeal brought it to pass, that at the

termination of his first probationary year, the Rector declared, that

he should be allowed to undertake a sphere of work outside the college,

which the General who had arrived that very day from Rome would point

out to those about to quit. Immediately, after that this communication

had been made to him, Paul was conducted to the Oratorium of the

College, where he found the whole institution assembled. The scholars

sat in close rows before the very rostra from whence Paolo had uttered

with his young lips so much venerable wisdom. The women and maidens of

Venice crowded the seats assigned to the public, and near the walls

thronged citizens and nobles and even many members of the highest

offices of the state. Under the platform numerous wealthy and noble

patrons of the College paid homage to the General present from Rome,

who clothed in his cardinal's robes, acknowledged with austere

condescension the salutations of the Signoria. On this day also, did a

scholar ascend the rostra to greet in a well turned latin Ode the

General as the honored guest of the house and to praise his virtues.

According to the programme another address should have followed, but

these _curialia_ did not seem tasteful to the severe old man. He made

an imperious sign of the hand and himself ascended the tribune. The

stately prince of the Church, a tall ascetic man with harsh features

and fiery eyes began in a hard loud voice a powerful sermon on the text

"the harvest is plenteous but the laborers are few." He drew a picture

of the duties of the Church in the lands of the faithful and of the

heathen, in the new and old worlds, by Turks and by Idol-worshippers,

and described the wants of the copper-colored heathens, who to-day like

the Macedonian of the time who appeared to the apostle at Troas, called

to the scholars of the Institution "come help us." Going into details

he stated that the mission in Malabar had lost through a rising of the

population half of the messengers of the Faith lately send out. For

those who might be called upon to fill up these vacancies, the same

martyrs' crown and the same eternal life, awaited. Then he called out

ten of the pupils by name and asked them: "Are you willing to go to

those heathen coasts, to teach Christ, to preach and to die?" The ten

young men stood up and answered with one voice: "Yes, General." A

shudder ran through the assembly, and in the benches occupied by the

ladies no eye was dry. The old man continued: "In Vera Cruz the yellow

fever has carried off two thirds of our Convent. The College is empty.

The pestilence has ceased, but will return next summer with double

severity. The Rector proposes the following Novices to fill the

vacancies," and again the hard old man read certain names, in a harsh

voice. "Are you willing to sail thither, to preach the Word, and to

die, if such be the will of God?" The young men had risen from their

seats and they also answered: "Yes, General."

"Worse than heathens or pestilence," continued the aged Cardinal, "is

the heresy which rages among the savage nations of Germany on the other

side of the Alps. Those whom we send thither, must be armed with all

the weapons of the mind, they must perhaps for a time even lay aside

the garb of the holy Ignatius and each await his especial danger." A

number of names were then called for this service, among them that of

Paolo Laurenzano. These young men likewise answered the question as to

their readiness, with one voice: "Yes, General."

"You have sworn, my dearly beloved Sons," proceeded the Cardinal, "to

die for the sacred cause of the Church. That is not however the most

difficult, it is on the contrary the easiest part of your task. Much

more difficult is, that which from this hour is incumbent upon you, to

live for the Church. To live as if you lived not. You know the vows, in

which you have already been approved through the noviciate. In place of

poverty many of you will enter into palaces and rich abbeys, and

perhaps you will be commanded to share this luxury for a season. In

this apparent wealth you will observe your vow of poverty, if you, as

the Apostle says, enjoy as if you enjoyed it not; if you are, to use a

comparison made by our Father Ignatius, as a column, which suffers

itself to be clothed or unclothed, decked in rags or precious stones,

without remarking or knowing anything about it, without requiring, or

desiring anything. Then indeed in spite of overflowing tables, purple

and fine linen you will be observing your vow of poverty. Others on the

other hand will have in the woven huts of the Indians, or in the basket

houses of the Mongolians scarcely enough to cover their nakedness or

appease their hunger. There will be times when a stone will be their

pillow and a handful of moss their food. If however at those moments,

they direct their attention to trying to render their lot easier, or if

they, instead of being devoted by day and by night to their mission,

rather let their hearts yearn for the few things which they still have,

so will they break their vow of poverty, although they are poor. That

they should inwardly free themselves from any joy at possession, is

that, which their vow requires of them."

"Secondly our Founder wished his disciples to shine through the vow of

obedience. Therewith the outer is not alone meant, that you should

unconditionally perform that which is commanded you. In this manner the

dog obeys his master, there would be nothing excellent in that. But

that obedience should rank as a virtue, the inferior must make the will

of his superior his own, he must sacrifice his own insight, so that he

should not only will, but also think as does his superior, and he must

hold as right and true all that the latter orders and thinks. All your

courage depends on the simplicity of blind obedience. 'Incomplete

subjection,' says the holy Ignatius, 'has two eyes, but for its own

destruction; complete subjection is blind, but in that consists its

wisdom and completeness.' You should be filled with a blind impulse of

obedience, as Abraham was, when willing to slay his only son, because

to obey he considered as a delight. The obedience which made him

righteous was that he did what appeared wicked to him, because

commanded by God, for goodness is not in itself good, but only because

God has commanded it in his law. Abraham moreover knew that this law

did not bind God, and he wished for no personal comprehension, no will,

no love, no conscience, when God had spoken, only obedience, and

therein consisted his righteousness. Whosoever therefore will oppose

his own inward light to the Light of the Order is a fool, who wishes to

look at the sun by lamplight, and he who suffers from qualms of

conscience at the orders of his Superior, should remember, that it is

one of the great privileges of our Society, that the members, who are

scrupulous by nature, may according to papal assertion calm themselves

on all points by the decision of their superiors. That is however the

highest step of obedience, which we all have to endeavor to reach, that

such scruples may never arise within us, but that a complete uniformity

of understanding between our Superior and ourselves may take place, so

that we are of one mind, of one and the same will with him, that we

hold all that he orders to be reasonable, and take his judgement only

as the rule for our own. If in obeying thou dost not subject thy reason

as well as thy will, so is thy obedience then no complete burnt

offering, in that thou hast not offered thy noblest part to God, thy

reason, and a sacrifice, in the which thou keepest back the best for

thyself is not acceptable to God."

That was the blessing with which within the same hour Paul left the

College, without taking any long farewell, to begin his journey in

company with a stately and older member of the order, who called

himself Doctor Antonio, over the Alps to the seat of the Bishops of

Speyer. All this appeared to him as a dream, and the suddenness of his

freedom came over him almost as a terror. With closed eyes the young

man passed through the fairest cities of Italy and the smiling plains

of Verona. In vain did the peach-trees stretch out to him their ruddy

blossoms, and the citrons on the trellis-work were past by unnoticed.

His eye was entirely turned within himself and on the duties which

awaited him. A feeling of incapacity and fear of the future entered for

the first time the breast of the learned youth. To cheer him up, his

older companion a lively man with sharp, mobile features enumerated all

the privileges to which Paul had a right even as a young novice, member

of the Society of Jesus. He could absolve in all cases, even in those

where the Bishop had refused to grant absolution, he could declare

shore-robbers, convict-slaves, and heretics free from excommunication,

he could dispense from vows in case a pilgrimage to Rome could not be

undertaken. Even engagements entered into on oath he could declare null

and void, in case they militated against the welfare of the Church.

Should he finally attain to the higher ranks, he could then grant

dispensation from all church punishments even for those given as

penalties for schism and heresy, yea even for the falsification of

apostolic letters, he was then in a position to invest with the effect

of deep penitence an insufficient repentance and to turn mortal sins

into venial, not to make any mention of the profound mysteries of the

Sacraments. All this he might and could do, or should soon have the

power to do, and instead of being proud thereat and raising his head

several inches higher, he dragged along weary and heavy-hearted by the

side of his talkative companion, who inwardly thought that he did not

see why in Venice they had set so much importance on this melancholy

dreamer. Reading their prayers, or exchanging monosyllables the two

sons of Loyola had ascended the steep rocks at whose base foam the

green waters of Lake Garda. Then it came out during the evening at the

inn at Arco, that Brother Paul had not even noticed that during the day

they had passed through water, and over rocks and snow. His companion

shook his head and thought: he will indeed become a Doctor Ecstaticus.

The following day he therefore altered his tone and whilst wandering

through the dreary Sarcathal to Trent, Father Antonius began to praise

the especial protection, which the gracious Mother had ever extended

over the Society of Jesus. The Madonna had herself watched over the

blessed Ignatius during his last illness, as she now shielded his Sons

under her mantle. She appeared lately in a vision to a brother in

Catalonia, who was so entranced at her unspeakable beauty that he was

seen floating in the air stretching his arms out towards her. In the

Collegio at Rome lived a holy penitent in his cell without any food

whatever, for the holy Virgin appeared to him night after night and

suckled him at her breast as if he were an infant. Countless miracles

could the loquacious Father relate, worked by pieces of her veil, or

the fair hair which St. Mark had brought with him to Venice. Maria

should therefore ever be an object of especial veneration for the

order, for like the Pope she wore a threefold diadem. She was the

daughter of the Father, the mother of the Son, the bride of the Holy

Ghost. Without her God had not been able to create the world, for had

she rejected the angel Gabriel, the Son could never have become man,

mankind could never have been redeemed, and God could not have created

the world without everlasting torment, which his love would have

forbidden Him. Therefore did the whole world worship Mary, and the

stars were only the large rose-wreath, which the Angels completed, and

the milky way the tassels thereof In the rocky districts natural

temples to Mary were to be found which even the wild beasts reverenced,

and lately a young shepherd discovered one of these Madonna images in a

stalactite cavern in Rhaetia, by following one of his sheep, who daily

at Vesper-time disappeared into this cavern, and the youth was

astonished to see how the lamb bowed its knee and bleated at the altar

of Mary as if to greet her. The water which was gathered from this

cavern was efficacious against fever and gout, against fires, and it

healed demoniacs. Yea it even worked on the soul, for a violent sinner

who for years had neglected his easter duties, drank of this water

without knowing it, and immediately the blessed potion took effect and

he hastened to the confessional.

Father Antonio had almost talked himself out of breath in his praise of

Maria, for the way up hill was steep. As he now stood still and

inquired of the silent novice what he had to say in reference to all

these miracles of the kingdom of Grace, the latter quoted as answer a

verse out of Tibullus to Isis the Mother of the Gods. "That thou canst,

testify all the tablets, which hang painted to thy honour around the

Temple." By this Father Antonio knew that this silent youth was no mere

visionary, and from Trent through the bare valley of the Adda to

Bolseno, whence Father Antonio diverged towards the snow-covered Pass

of the Brenner, the conversation became monosyllabic. Only on the other

side of the Alps, behind Innsbruck, did the companions break into a

lively quarrel. They had remained in the town quietly, as Brother

Antonio had business to attend to. His purse was as he said, quite

empty, and to his astonishment Paul found himself woke up at early dawn

and bidden to hurry away, as the innkeeper must be robbed of the amount

of his bill. The Novice raised no opposition, but when his Superior

left the door, he laid on the table one of the two gold pieces, which

had been given him in Venice to defray immediate necessities, so that

the innkeeper might find his expenses paid. Father Antonius must have

suspected something of the kind. He returned to the room, to fetch

something that he had forgotten, and when they reached the mainroad he

quietly opened his cloth, and added Paul's gold piece to the few

farthings left therein. Paul in a rage insisted on returning to give to

the hotel-keeper what belonged to him, Antonio asked on the other hand:

"Is it better that our holy missions should suffer delay, and perhaps

hundreds of souls more be sent to hell, or that this tavern-keeper

should lose a few shillings? Let us choose the lesser evil, and by

cheating a scoundrel, it is very probable that we become more pleasing

in God's sight."

"But if he follows after us, and accuses us before the magistrate of

the next village," replied Paul angrily.

"Then we can swear that you laid a gold piece on the table to satisfy

his demands."

"But how can you deny having taken it up again."

"When I deny it, I think within my own mind to 'taken up' to add the

words 'and not put in my purse,' for as you see I wrap it up in this

piece of cloth."

"These Dominican tricks are known, and you will be required to swear

without any mental reservation."

"Even in such cases one can swear 'without unjust reservation,' for

mine would be especially just, as I am acting in God's cause."

"And do you imagine to be able to bring the heretics back to the cause

of God with such miserable casuistry?" asked the enraged Paul.

"No, my son, I am not such a fool, we shall convert the Germans, by

lighting such a fire in Germany, as will cause the angels to draw in

their toes, and melt the stars in Heaven."

"You have your own peculiar way, of caring for Germany's happiness."

The old man laughed. "Do you think I have climbed these rocks to make

Cimbrians and Teutons happy. I will once more bring back the Roman

dominion which the Emperor Constantine bequeathed to the Pope, so that

we do not, when Christ returns as Caesar, as depicted by Michael Angelo

in his Last Judgment, or as Emperor on a white horse, as the revelation

of St. John describes him, have to appear before Him and say: '_Salve

semper Auguste_, but we have lost the two Germanies.' If however you

hold to rendering people happy, go over to the Waldenses."

Paul was silent. It was impossible to take this man seriously, but it

cut him to the quick to see such a fantastic Being wearing the dress of

his order. As however they sat down to breakfast in the next village,

sounds of loud voices were heard at the door. The two pilgrims

recognized the voice of the tavern-keeper of Innsbruck, who was

inquiring about them. "Give me your purse," said Brother Antonio

coolly, "that I may satisfy him." Unwillingly Paul handed it over to

him and Antonio disappeared. A short time afterwards the magistrate of

the village appeared with the inn-keeper and began cross-questioning

Paul. Paul knew from this that his companion had run away and cheated

him out of his money; calmly he ripped from out of the lining of his

cloak one of his last pieces of money which he had secreted there, and

paid the reckoning. He was thus luckily able to say that through this

means he had escaped without imprisonment or bodily chastisement. His

desire to overtake his escaped companion, was naturally not very great.

Instead of travelling north towards Munich, as his companion had

proposed, he took a western course through the Vorarlberg towards the

Rhine valley, and arrived at the College at Speyer even before the

allotted time. The Rector heard his report coldly, and said:

"Thou hast come out of thy probation badly, brother Paul, and broken

through the rules in two instances. Thou knowest that the members of

our order must ever travel in couples, as the Saviour sent out his

disciples two by two. Thou hast also sinned against thy vow of

obedience. Thou still thinkest to oppose thy conscience, thy reason,

thy will to those of thy superior. The Holy Ignatius did not say

however without cause: 'When God has placed over thee even an

unreasoning animal, do not refuse to obey it in all things as thy guide

and teacher, God has so ordered it,' and again he writes: 'If the

Church of Rome declares as white, what appears to thee black, thou

shalt not believe thy own eyes, but those of the Church of Rome.'

Instead of this thou hast set thy own inward light above the revealed

command, as do the heretics. We know now, how we stand with thee."

Thus Paul had to begin his stay in Speyer with severe exercises, which

were to punish him for something, which still appeared to him as the

usual and plain mode of dealing of every honest man. The Rector

perceived however that here he must not draw the bow string too tight,

and therefore the universally beloved Father Aloysius was appointed as

Paul's confessor and spiritual guide, his mild and calm nature soon

winning the latter's confidence. Paul did not make any further mention

of the annoying event which happened on his journey. He had now learnt

that a monk must submit to an injury, without complaint. Other sorrows

however tortured him much more than the question whether he or this

Brother Antonio had been in the right. As he finally concluded to

frankly confess to this worthy Father Aloysius how it stood with him,

to lament to him the feeling of emptiness and solitude which weighed

him down, to acknowledge the utter absence of joy and hope which had

come over him, his confessor made him no reproachful reprimand, but

said gently and kindly to him: "Be of good cheer, my son. Many, many a

young man has been tormented by the grievous thoughts, whether

unendless sorrow and heaviness awaited him, who however stood on the

brink of a richly endowed life; thou knowest however, that the morning

star rises above all these dismal fogs and lowering clouds." These

kindly words distilled themselves like balm over the mind of Paul, and

he had never before experienced so vividly the advantage of auricular

confession. Father Aloysius became a shining model of one fulfilling

the most severe duties. He would become like to this aged delicate man,

who devoted every moment of his life to others, in the care of his

penitents, his poor, his sick. Unreservedly did he describe in his next

report these inward sensations concerning his mode of life. The effect

of this confession was a removal to Heidelberg. The Superior found that

the young Brother Paul was wasting his life in fruitless inward

contemplation; the young wine must fill some new bottle, lest it be

spoiled, moreover the peace-loving method of which Father Aloysius was

the model, was not to be recommended to the young man in these moments

of warfare. So Paul was commanded to accept a call to Heidelberg, which

had just been offered to him. "You will have there a worldly-wise

superior," said Father Aloysius when wishing him farewell, "the Doctor

Pigavetta as he is known in the world, and I fear muchly he has made

the world a part of his individual self, still he is more active than I

am, and perhaps his unrest will be of more use to thee, than the

monotonous intercourse with an old man like myself, who has perchance

already wearied thee. Shouldst thou however be in need of inward peace,

thou wilt ever be welcomed by Brother Aloysius."

A straight level road brought Paul from Speyer to Heidelberg, and this

time he was determined to blindly obey his new Superior, as prescribed

by his vow. Modestly did he knock at the door of the house near the

Klingenthor. His tranquillity was sorely tried, when on the door

opening he found standing before him his travelling companion Doctor

Antonio. He had on the same velvet cap and dark cloak, which he had

worn on the journey, and noticed with visible complacency the horror of

the novice. Paul composed himself and asked in a dry tone to see Doctor

Pigavetta. "Go up stairs and you will find him," answered Brother

Antonio coolly. A number of spiral staircases led Paul to the upper

part of a tower, where he found Dr. Pigavetta's name inscribed on a

door. At his knock a well known voice bade him enter, and as he opened

the door he saw before him the same man whom he had met below in

travelling costume, seated near a table in a long dressing gown, and

apparently deeply studying some books and papers. This appearance

completely confused him. Which was the veritable Antonio? He bowed his

head and waited patiently till this mysterious stranger chose to

address him. "Your credentials," said the Superior in a cold tone of

command. Paul handed his cypher-letter with trembling hands. After that

the former had read it through, he said with an expression of quiet

contempt: "I think, young Brother, that our first acquaintance will

render obedience to your new Superior easier for all times. You may

depend upon it that whenever I give astonishing commands I have my

reason for doing so, and you will henceforth be more sparing of your

little bit of worldly wisdom. That in Innsbruck it was not for the sake

of a few pennies, you might have discovered from a man of my

appearance, had you not been a short-sighted bookworm. Now that you

have acquired this knowledge through your own wisdom, you will perhaps

kindly remember your vow of obedience. In any case we know each other

well enough, to accommodate ourselves to each other." Pigavetta was

silent and a sarcastic smile curled his upper lip. So this was the same

Dr. Antonio with whom he had travelled, into whose care he was again

committed. Inwardly Paul boiled over with wild rage, but he would give

his superior no cause, to report him again for disobedience. He

remained standing in the same humble position adopted by novices before

the initiated. The joker in the former soon came again to the surface.

Laughing he clapt the young man on the shoulder and said: "Be merry, be

merry, little brother. 'Jovial people are worth twice as much as sad

ones,' said the Holy Ignatius, and our vows do not require us to hang

down our heads. Thus I welcome you to Heidelberg, and first of all you

must pledge me." Then the old Jesuit took a bottle of water, poured out

its contents into a vessel in the wall, turned on a little tap and

immediately red wine flowed out. "Drink to our welfare," he said, as if

there was nothing remarkable in all this. Paul sipped, but as the wine

was strong and with a bouquet, he put down his half emptied glass on

the table and said: "Pardon me, Reverend Father, I am not accustomed to

wine."

"As you will," replied the Doctor. He then took the glass, poured the

wine back into the vessel in the which was the water, opened the same

tap out of which wine had previously flowed, filled the glass with pure

water, with which he rinced it and placed it on one side. Paul felt

that his head was turning with all this excitement, and as he leant

against a chair which stood before him, it began to play and sing. "You

feel unwell," said Pigavetta, "go out into the air, and come to the

Collegium at the hour of Vespers. I will then introduce you to the

teachers." He was thus dismissed. As he however reached the house-door

as in a dream. Dr. Antonio stood suddenly before him in his travelling

clothes. He appeared to have returned from a walk and said calmly: "It

is well that we meet again, here is the gold piece which I borrowed of

you at Innsbruck," he then coolly turned his back on him.

Paul stood before this uncanny house with a dull feeling of

stupefaction. The wine had gone to his head. He hastened therefore to a

clear little brook on his right to bathe his temples and wash this

dream away from his eyes. On thinking calmly over the matter he felt

very certain that Dr. Antonio had been making a fool of him. The trick

of turning water into wine together with the musical chair was too

childish to impress him, but that which rendered him most sceptical was

the returned purse. As Antonio had not paid the innkeeper at Innsbruck,

he therefore owed him two gold pieces and a lot of small change, it

might be also, that the money returned to him was a lucky-penny, but

previous proofs did not seem to confirm this. The Professor's magic

arts appeared to the novice as being of a dubious character. The double

appearance in the study and at the door Paul finally explained as being

one of those contrivances which he had often seen as a part of his

brother's scaffolding works. There was evidently a lift in the Tower,

by which Pigavetta could get up and down much quicker than his visitors

who had to use the winding staircase. The more however that his

superstitious fears were allayed, the more did the feeling of

discomfort increase, at being placed in a strange country under a man

who bore two names, calculated very inexactly, and either possessed or

pretended to possess the gift of a double identity.

Nevertheless the new calling which he had accepted did away for a short

time with his melancholy. For a few months all went on well, when

however the first winter came to an end, and the mild blasts came over

from Italy, the old feeling of despondency once more seized the lonely

Youth. The dark thoughts, which had been dispelled by his intercourse

with the excellent Father Aloysius returned with twofold power. He

wandered about with an inward wretchedness, which crippled his every

action. Such was the condition in the which Felix found him, as they

met once again after so long a separation.

The malady which had befallen Paul, is better described as an

opposition to his brother's health, who had already spent a winter with

him in Venice.

Felice had followed Paul to Venice, and the young artist had been full

of ardor to make use of a better instruction in that mechanical part of

his profession, now offered to him at the Collegio. Soon Felix became

almost more thankfully submissive to the order than was his brother

Paul. The Architect learnt here the theory of his art, mathematics,

geometry, mechanics, without a knowledge of which he had ever remained

a mere dabbler. His mind found nourishment in the rhetorical and

poetical exercises, and after he had laid aside his chisel and apron,

it was his delight and highest joy to hear in the College lectures on

philosophy, literature and poetry. He knew little of the inward

hierarchic motive-power, and when he by means of the Society's

influence received a brilliant offer in the Netherlands, he left the

College with a feeling of gratitude, which inwardly was boundless,

although he seldom found opportunity of proving it. The exact contrary

was the case with his brother. The last moments of his stay in College

had been a mere tribulation, for the long years of ambitious excitement

began now to tell. Accustomed to applause, even the highest measure

which could be bestowed on a novice no longer satisfied him. The

clearness in the exposition of science, which delighted his more

ignorant brother, appeared to him already superficial; the bands, which

his brother did not even perceive, began already to oppress him, and

inwardly less subservient to the Order than Felice, so much the more

did he wish outwardly to serve it, thinking thus to subdue his inward

uneasiness by a galling outward activity, to deaden the feeling of

dissatisfaction, to appease the hunger after happiness which had

awakened in him. Therefore now in Heidelberg did he passionately buckle

to the work assigned to him, without troubling himself much about

Pigavetta. After all the time of preparation he found himself opposed

to a task, which was important if rendered so by him. For the outside

world an inferior member of a theological seminary, he felt himself an

historical lever, which was designed to throw an entire people into

other religious grooves. The idea was sufficiently phantastic, that a

tutor of philology should from this subordinate position demolish the

Church of the Kurfuerst, but Paolo clung to the maxim of the founder of

his order, "should God bid you cross the sea, go you in a ship, but if

there be no ship, then cross on a board." In Speyer he had received the

order to enter for the degree of Master of Arts at the University of

the Kurfuerst, which to him was mere child's play. Pigavetta had imposed

on him the part of a good Calvinist, for which violent abuse of the

Lutherans was all that was necessary. But now his Superior laid before

him an order in cypher from the Provincial which commanded him to pass

an examination before the Council of the reformed Church _pro

ministerio_, and to take the position of clergyman in Heidelberg. For

the first time he hesitated. The better man in him reacted against the

hierarchical. He was willing to play the comedy of Calvinism for a

time, but he was too proud to make it the purport of his life. Being

told that he must become a reformed clergyman so as to better spread

the Catholic dogma, awoke in him a feeling of discomfort, even though

he shared the opinion of his teachers, that every means was good which

proved of service to the highest good, the Church. But the proposition

found a powerful ally in the oratory lying fallow within him, and which

longed for an auditorium, a pulpit and the applause so thirsted after.

He was already weary of explaining the Latin authors to the sleepy

scholars of the Sapientia College. With what an enthusiasm did he daily

introduce descriptions of the splendor of Italy in his lectures, so as

to call forth a home-sickness for Rome in the hearts of the young

Germans,--they however yawned in his face. With what ingenuity had he

found pieces out of Seneca and Plato, to which he could append

quotations from the Church Fathers in support of the Catholic

dogma,--the worthy scholars cut large holes in the oaken benches and

thought about, not his conclusions extracted from Festino and Barbara,

but of a barmaid of the same name in the adjacent pot-house. In lofty

sounding words did he glorify the great men of the Church's past, the

scholars threw paper balls, or mutually smeared each others' seats with

cobbler's wax. Whether Rome, or Wittenberg, that was for him the

momentous question of the day, to them it was of much more importance,

whether the beer at the Schiltzenhof or at the Hirsch was better.

Evidently the heretics were not to be gotten at through the male sex of

their hopeful progenies. He was soon very tired of "nipping the horn of

the bull," as says the Italian proverb. Then came the unexpected

command of his Superior to turn the full force of his activity to the

pulpit. Disgusted at a want of success among the sleepy youths, and

famishing for praise, the order given him to undertake the ambiguous

_role_ rendered his decision easier. His inward scruples were soon

silenced, as his eloquence received the highest meed of praise. Hearts

were moved by the melodious voice of the Italian, by the grace of his

appearance, by the charm of his foreign accent, and Paolo's bold dreams

of a counter-reformation appeared about to be consummated when he saw,

how Sunday after Sunday the ranks of his hearers filled more and more.

The intoxication of success deafened the voice of conscience, which

warned him, that he was in reality carrying on a very critical line of

action, and he was therefore little pleased when the Countess Palatine

singled him out for the Stift at Neuburg, and took him away from a

career so full of promise. To win back a lost convent already seemed to

him as too contemptible a matter for a man of his gifts, and it went

almost against his grain to be compelled to learn once more the almost

forgotten services of the Mass, and to hold a surreptitious service,

which owing to the Kurfuerst's hatred of the "damnable bigotry" might

cost him dear. Even the confessions of the old ladies, their thoughts,

the monotonous relations of their troubled dispositions, their inward

sorrows and sore temptations were not quickening to him. Young himself

he felt an attraction towards young people. Owing to this very human

cause the instruction which he had to impart to the young maidens of

the cloister-school, was not so burdensome as that bestowed on the

classes of the Sapientia. Fresh and blooming as beauteous buds just

bursting from their shells sat the girls and children before him, and

listened eagerly to every word he spoke. They understood intuitively

what he wished, and in that breath of love and admiration, which met

him on all sides, it seemed to him as if his parched soul lived again,

and as if feelings awoke once more, which had slumbered since he saw

the pale thin woman, who had watched over him during his youth, borne

away in her coffin. If when in the College he had rejoiced that his

lessons were over, now did he willingly place himself at the head of

his young ones, and accompany them in their walks around the convent

meadows. Above at the spring house, lower down sitting under the

spreading beeches he taught the children to build altars, and wind

wreaths. He showed them how the beloved angels vanished through bushes,

or looked down as clouds from heaven and bore away a greeting from each

child to the Mother of God. At other times he drilled the young ones

into forming processions and pilgrimages, teaching them to sing

guileless texts adapted from catholic books. Thus could the children

play at being catholics without the parents becoming aware of it. It is

true that once the miller's wife complained that her little daughter

had burnt the name of the Holy Mary in her arm, and that Reinhard had

cut the same in an apple-tree. The Domina however calmed her by saying

that through that the little maiden would not get a fever, and that the

apple-tree would bear a double crop.

The Magister had also quiet talks concerning the welfare of the soul

with the older girls, and the maidens acknowledged, that they had never

before conceived how bad, how in reality wicked they were, but their

heavenly good Magister knew how to console them so lovingly, that they

had never been so happy as at the present moment. But how came it to

pass that about this time Lydia Erast took to complaining that recently

in their games the less agreeable positions were always given to her,

and that when playing: "Do not look round, the Fox is about," Clara and

Bertha, who used to be her best friends, now struck out at her more

spitefully even than did the others? How came it also that the usually

so grave Magister came at times out of the class rooms with a happy

smile such as had never been seen on his lips when leaving the

Sapientia, and instead of reciting his breviary warbled the Odes to

Lalage to the astonished beeches? How all this came about, he himself

knew not. At first his eye had rested unwittingly on this fair head, as

a young teacher when giving the first lesson, out of embarrassment

fixes his look on some bright face, a particular pillar, or the corner

of one of the benches. Next the bright blue eye fixed on him with

touching devotion had attracted him, and soon he had to acknowledge to

himself, that he especially directed his teaching to that sweet child,

that only for her did he prepare the substance of his discourse, that

he only saw her, only thought of her, only heard her answers, though

she in no wise surpassed the others in mental acquirements. An

indefinite yearning seized him, to see her always before him in all the

classes. Thus the misery, which rendered his days peaceless and his

nights sleepless began, and cast him into that inwardly at variance,

gloomy state of mind, in the which his brother found him.

CHAPTER VII.

To be questioned about a secret, which one conceals from one's self

often resembles the fatal word of the fairy tale, which wakes the

Sleeping Beauty from her trance, or dispels the dreams of the Seven

Sleepers. This horrible word, which had aroused him from his dangerous

dawning life, and cast him out into the sharp morning air and glaring

light of day, had on this eventful day twice fallen on the ear of the

young Priest, and he would not hear it, as he desired not to awake.

This was indeed rather the cause why Paolo Laurenzano had received his

brother, whom he was in reality delighted to see once again, so coldly

and distantly, than the coolness befitting a monk as regards the ties

of the flesh. It had not been necessary for him to be informed of the

raillery to which Lydia was exposed on his account. As scholar of the

Collegio, he had been accustomed to have ears and eyes about him, and

had also heard the name "Wegewarte" as he directed his steps that

morning towards his apartment, and as he had often met on his way the

fair child, and had exchanged a few kindly words with her, he

understood the state of the case at once, and turned back through the

wood towards the public road without entering his own room. In vain had

he endeavored to banish the hideous word "Wegewarte" from his memory.

It was clear that every child in the convent knew how matters which he

dreaded admitting to himself stood between him and Lydia. Then his

brother had bluntly at once hinted at his well kept secret, and he had

angrily repelled the hand, because perhaps it alone had any right to

lift the veil. With a feeling of unspeakable misery and bitterness he

now stood alone on the road gazing at the river. Had he wished to

represent clearly to himself the feeling which oppressed him, he would

perhaps have thus addressed himself: "Beloved Magister Laurenzano, the

pious Fathers in the College taught thee, that deception is a weapon

with which a wise man can overthrow a hundred fools. But this weapon is

sharp and double-edged, and often wounds him, who carries it concealed

about him, even before he can turn it against others. Hadst thou boldly

appeared in thy veritable character of Roman priest, this fair German

maiden had never gazed on thee with such eyes, and had never stolen thy

heart from thee; or if thou wert, what thou appearest to be, a

Calvinistic clergyman, thou wouldst go tomorrow to her father and

frankly ask for the hand of his daughter, and I know he would not say

thee, nay. Whom hast thou therefore most grievously injured by thy

deception? Thyself, thyself alone. But why not put an end to these

deceits and frauds?" Had the dejected man wished to render himself a

plain answer, thus would he have spoken: "I, Paolo Laurenzano, primus

omnium of the College at Venice, am too good for the people here. I

have not worked day and night and denied myself all the joys of youth,

to now throw up my career on account of a fair child. Every Priest

wears his nimbus under his tonsure, so was I taught and so I learnt. Of

the generalship, of the scarlet hat, of the Tiara was the song ever

dinned into my ears, and now shall I end in this excommunicated land,

in this dull German town my days as tutor of these unlicked whelps?

Why, even the feeling of homesickness for the sunny skies of Italy

prevents me from accepting a belief, which would ever prevent my return

thither."

Something of this unconscious wish roused him to-day from his

inertness, and as a keen east wind blew towards him from the mountains,

a more powerful energy obtained the mastery within him. "As a mighty

conqueror will I return some day to Italy, and not remain sequestered

in the fogs of this Odenwald. How would it be if I brought about a

great revival? If I, as did the Archbishop Borromeo in Veltlin, could

only effect a great conversion among heretics, of women especially?"

The thought excited him. "Thou must act, not dream. Thou must press

forward to the attack, not be ever putting it off. If they drive thee

away, if they slay thee, so much the better. What is this life worth,

that we should not lay it down in the breach for our flag?" And he

depicted to himself, the rage of the fat German Kurfuerst at hearing

that the daughters of his court aristocracy had returned in a body to

the Catholic Faith. He at once recognised the means which he must

employ. He would introduce the exercises of Loyola into the Stift,

through prayers, contemplations and an education in visions he would

attain to a much more rapid result than through his everlasting

preaching and catechising. "The Catholic Faith must be introduced in a

catholic manner, not by the long-drawn-out means of heresy. Things must

take a more rapid course; the fortress is either to be taken by storm

or not at all." But with whom should he begin? With the old dames? They

were already won over or impregnable. The young ones, whose phantasy

was still paramount, whose minds were excitable and ductible, they must

be filled with enthusiasm for the sweet Madonna and child, and then

carry on others through their example. It quite escaped the good

Magister that here once again the child Jesus with the banner of his

Church in hand appeared under the guise of the rogue Cupid. With the

steps of an Elisha he strode up the hill to the Stift; reaching his

room he put a book hastily into his pocket, and requested the

sister-porter to beg an audience in his name of the Lady Superior. The

Countess, an elderly lady with mild finely cut features, received him

with that calm composed kindness, which in a life full of good

intentions and shattered hopes had become her second nature, and asked

him what he wished. With all her gentleness the immobility of

expression caused by years of conventual discipline was still

perceptible about her, and though she had been compelled to lay aside

the great white cap worn by the Sisters, she held her head as straight

as if its huge white pinions still flapped around her head. But her

cool repelling manner only stimulated the excited young man to a

higher pitch of enthusiasm. The fiery Italian described with much

gesticulation the torture of an inactive life. "No storm is worse than

a placid sea," says the holy Ignatius, "and no enemy is more dangerous

than having none." Either he must return to Italy, or dare and succeed

in something. He had not been sent merely to celebrate a clandestine

service in a half empty Convent, or to teach Greek particles to

overgrown boys; he must have some success or quit the place. "For

weeks," said he at the end of a passionate harangue, "I have been

explaining the Catholic dogma, exalting monachism, and celibacy, and

extolling virginity above marriage. I praise, as prescribed by my

directions, at every opportunity the blessing of relics, the worship

and invocation of saints, the stations of the cross, pilgrimages,

abstinences, fastings, indulgences, jubilees, holy days, the custom of

lighting candles, pictures, and all the other aids to piety and the

worship of God, but what has it availed? Everything is as before. If

you cannot determine on a more decided line of action I give up the

struggle. In this way we shall never attain our end."

The old Countess had kept her eyes fixed calmly on the youthful speaker

and her hands moved as if she were telling her beads, a habit into

which she naturally fell, whenever an event occurred in the which she

was deeply interested. If his youthful enthusiasm and the high colour

which covered his usually pale face had not suited him so well, the old

Princess would have calmly called him to order, for she was opposed to

any violent excitement. But she felt in this case a motherly interest

in the handsome young man and her own life had taught her that by

waiting over long, one could wait through a whole life time. In answer

to her question, as to what he meant by a more decided action, the

young Magister handed her a small book, bearing the title "_Exercitia

spiritualia_." "We cannot produce a belief in catholicism through

protestantism," added Paul, "only through catholicism, and here is the

approved _disciplina_, by which our famed General, the holy Ignatius,

knew how to win souls over to the Catholic Church better than by

teaching or preaching."

The Lady Superior turned over the leaves of the book, and asked

somewhat doubtfully: "In what do these _exercitia_ differ from other

christian books?"

"The prayer-books of the heretics," answered Paul, "would teach a

cognition of God, for the Protestants desire to comprehend God, to

think and understand Him. The holy Ignatius has on the other hand shown

in the book, how man can feel and experience God, taste his entire

sweetness. Not through knowledge, says he in the introduction, is the

desire of the soul after God satisfied, but only through inward

experience, and the idea of these _exercitia spiritualia_ is to guide

this perception. These _exercitia_ are practical prayers, by which we,

through the exertion of our senses, through the extending of our hands

and whole body, through wrestling and prayer struggle to feel him near

to us, and thus ourselves come nearer to God. The holy man traces out

here in outline the objects on which man should direct his attention

with his entire energy. They are identical with those accepted by the

heretics, the fall of the angels, the mystery of the redemption, the

incorporation of the _logos_, eternal damnation and the everlasting

pains of hell. Yet understand, noble Lady! The Lutheran believes this,

he ponders over these things, he endeavours to conceive them. But only

to hear or read concerning these things does not bring us nearer to the

Supreme Being. The soul must see all these things, it must become aware

of their truth through the consciousness of the senses, it must raise

itself even to vision. This little book only contains the directions by

which we succeed, in seeing, tasting and feeling with all our senses

the eternal splendor. Opposed to calvinistic vapidness this book wishes

to bestow on the poor frozen soul the sweet fire of the old faith. He

only who has seen the Mother of God and the saints, as Saint Franciscus

and St. Katherina saw them, is one of us. That is the godly doctrine of

the 'Application of the senses' as imagined by the holy Ignatius.

Permit me therefore, most gracious Countess, to exercise this the only

effectual method on the pupils."

The Abbess remained silent, and distrustfully turned the leaves over

and over. "Is that really the whole of the discipline?" she then asked

the Magister, remembering many scandals which had come to her knowledge

with reference to such _exercitia_.

"Flagellation, expiation through blood, even fasting, we cannot

introduce again," replied Laurenzano, "at least not yet, but the pious

maidens can by prayers at the foot of the cross, by kissing the

implements of torture applied on the martyrs, by tears and weeping,

atone in a measure for the outrage committed at Golgatha on the tree of

life, at a time when the King of Kings was spat upon and buffetted.

There is a blessing in the tears of women, and the maiden who has wept

over the sorrows of the Mother of God is thereby freed from the curse

of heresy. What I usually add, are innocuous things, pictures, relics,

flowers, a few mementoes of death and the grave. You remember how in

the Eleusinian mysteries the initiated were led up to the truth through

serious or pleasing symbols. Permit me to use a few aids of this kind.

The symbol is the language of our church, only the heretic is satisfied

with the mere word."

"On which of the young ladies have you thought to essay these

exercises?" inquired the Domina.

"We could proceed according to age."

"The pupils von Eppingen, von Steinach, and Lieblerin are the first in

the order."

Paul nodded indifferently.

"I only fear," said the Abbess, and her hand sought the Rosary which

was no longer there, "that you will drive these young souls into a

fanaticism, which can do injury to the _sanitudo corporis_. These young

ladies have not been entrusted to me, to be turned into visionaries."

"When the Domina of this Convent notices evil consequences," replied

Paul submissively, "she is always at liberty to order these _exercitia_

to be broken off. I am quite certain, noble lady, that so soon as you

experience the blessing, which is to be found in this little book, you

will yourself as well as all the other ladies attend these

_exercitia_."

"Well then, in God's name. How do you wish to manage the affair?"

"According to the prescription of the holy Ignatius, the person shall

thoroughly study in his private closet at a quiet hour of the morning

or evening one of the passages marked here. Doors and windows must be

closed, the light of day must be shut out. Kneeling on his knees must

the penitent give his whole soul up to the narrative of the stories,

which are here marked out with short strokes. I will read out these

extracts to the young ladies, and beg them to remain in a position of

worship, till the object of the exercise has been obtained."

"These exercises cannot take place in the rooms, you must use the

Church."

"In that case," replied Paolo, "the Church must remain closed, and the

light must be subdued. All impressions likely to distract are to be

avoided, otherwise the real compilation is impossible."

"I will close the outer doors," said the Abbess, "those leading to my

passage must remain open, so that I can go in and out. I shall not

disturb you."

Paolo bowed. "When do you wish to begin?"

"At sunset."

It now struck the good Domina, that the dark Neapolitan had declared as

the fittest implements of the church the three fairest children of the

Odenwald, but she suppressed her suspicions, went to the young girls,

and informed them that the Magister intended holding special evening

prayer services for the promotion of their souls' welfare. Did they

acquiesce, they must remain behind in the church after Vespers. The

three maidens blushed, but none refused.

The Magister at noon visited the church several times and brought in

secretly a few objects, some of them from his own room, others were

taken from the town into the chapel of the Convent. In the evening

vespers were conducted as usual. When the organ had ceased playing the

loud sounding recessional and the exulting Hallelujah, Paul appeared

before the altar, where he found the three girls kneeling in a reverent

position on the three first benches. A mystical semi-darkness filled a

chapel never too bright. The young Priest uttered a prayer, and then

made his three young friends a small discourse containing much of the

same substance which we have already read in his remarks to the

Countess Sabina. Man must not only think about a higher world, but must

feel and experience it, so as to be certain of its existence. For this

cause a holy man had thought of the exercises which he was about to go

through with them. Their soul should in this very hour confer with

Jesus about its belief as a friend with a friend, as a servant with its

Lord. He himself would aid them. He then ordered the first of the

maidens to kneel down in the gloom behind the altar, where on this day

hung a picture representing in vivid and glaring colours the Holy

family in the carpenter's shop. Next he took Bertha von Steinach

already trembling with excitement by the hand and led her to a gloomy

chapel at the side. Before the altar at which he bade her kneel was a

large basket of roses. "Pray here, my dear child," he said, "and when

thou hast reverently repeated a Pater noster, Ave Maria, Salve regina,

Gloria and Magnificat, cast aside these flowers of the Spring and

consider what is hidden behind the roses of this life." Then he led

Lydia, gently supporting her by the arm to the steps of the organ,

where in a semi-dark corner a strange casket covered over by a curtain,

and having a round glass attached was visible. On it was written in

Latin: "Memento mirror for Brother Paul, which will bring back his

veritable calling to his recollection." "When you have prayed," said

the Magister, inviting her to kneel by a gentle pressure on her young

shoulders, "look through this glass, and it will show you what awaits

you." He then ascended the pulpit and read slowly and with many

interruptions a meditation out of his book, which described in coarse

fanciful outlines, in stammering visionary language, the course, which

the phantasy of the worshipper should follow. "I see," he began in a

low suppressed tone, "the three Persons of the Godhead, looking down on

the entire globe, filled with men who must go down into hell." "I see,"

continued he after a pause, "how the Holy Trinity concludes, that the

second Person must take on himself human nature for the redemption of

lost sinners."

"I now survey," he then read out after another pause, "the whole

circumference of this earth and behold in a corner the hut of Mary. The

Holy Personages stand around the crib at Bethlehem. A beam of light

pours down on the divine child and I hear the song of praise of the

heavenly host: 'Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace,

goodwill towards men.'"

Then all was still in the church; the setting sun threw its last golden

beams over the entablature. Stupefying clouds of incense arose in the

close chapel, and low, moaning, sighing tones proceeded from the organ;

they were motives from the Miserere, and Tenebrae played with

variations by the Italian. Then again the reading was continued in a

tone which fell like lead on the young souls of his audience, and

deadened every free action of the mind. The chords increased in power,

and filled the darkened space. The voices separated and joined again;

some notes expressed the deep subjection of the sinner, his contrite

humility, others spoke out in trumpet-like tones of the glorious

Majesty. Then all became a chaotic struggling and wrestling. It was as

if the earth itself opened its mouth to utter its sorrowful wail, and

heaven returned an answer. So must it thus sound, when the mountains of

the Alps join in converse, or the sea answers back the stormwind raging

over it. The entire sorrow of finality wailed in those tones to the

throne of the Highest, and the Grace from above came down, as hovers

the Invisible over his worlds.

Clara von Eppingen, a plump fair Swabian kneeling at the altar, had in

the meanwhile thoroughly imbued herself with the appearances of the

Holy Family. How lovingly did the Madonna bend over the fair headed

Christ child, which pulled at her neckband with its little hands; how

paternally proud stood St. Joseph close at hand, whilst St. Anna in

attendance on the child and mother surveyed the group. The Holy Family

seemed to look back at the plump Clara with a kindly gaze, and the

coarse strokes and vivid colors of the picture impressed themselves

more and more on the mind of the almost entranced maiden. Had she been

a woman, she would have loved to be the mother of such a brown-eyed

Madonna, or fair Christ child; the Magister had treated her like Jacob

did Laban's flocks, in causing her to remain kneeling for hours before

this colored imagery. The thoroughly hearty maiden would have felt

quite at her ease during these _exercitia_, had it not been for the

rolling and sighing of the Organ which at times startled her, and had

not a shriek of terror from the chapel, and a cry for help from the

organ steps reached her ear.

The nervous and delicate Bertha von Steinach had in the meanwhile bent

her curly head in prayer in the chapel over the sweet-smelling roses.

As she then, as directed by the Magister, plunged her hand in among the

flowers, a cold, flat surface met her fevered touch. In terror she

seized it and drew out a skull, which gazed at her with hollowed eyes,

and mocking drooping jaw. Tremblingly she wished to replace it, when a

living object rustled past her. It was a ring adder which the Magister

had concealed in the basket, and which now gliding over the floor

disappeared behind the altar. At this the excited young maiden uttered

the cry of terror, heard by her friend Clara, and on regaining her

composure, she saw at the bottom of the basket, bloody nails, thorns on

which hung pieces of wool, scourges with small knots at the end or

leaden shot, sharp prongs, little wheels, and other instruments of

mortification. Such things as these according to the words of the

Magister lay concealed under the roses of life. In horrified anguish

she knelt before the basket out of which the skull grinned back at her,

and unresistingly did she give herself up to the tones which poured

forth from the organ.

Matters had not been better for Lydia. She knelt before the "Mirror of

remembrance" and could only bring her mind with difficulty to prayer.

The dark round glass before her seemed to haunt her, and she felt as if

she were about to see all the dead wives of Bluebeard the moment she

looked into it. The tones of the organ however reassured her and she

summoned up courage to follow the directions. A screech for help

escaped her lips, the moment she looked into the glass. Immediately

before her she saw a monk in his cowl, who seemed to move, but from

under the hood she had recognised her own features, gazing pale,

spiritualized, with awe-struck eyes. A chill seized her, and now the

tones of the organ shook her to her very marrow. Long did she remain

kneeling before summoning sufficient courage to look at the horrid

image once again. Once more the same image; calm and pale sat the monk,

but from under the cowl her own features met her gaze. Again she

uttered a shriek of terror, and immediately her second-self opened its

lips. Then the glass became dim and she was obliged to wipe it with her

handkerchief. Doing this she became aware how the hand holding the

cloth appeared from under the hood. Everything was now evident, she saw

her own reflection. Indignant at the frightful spectre she drew the

linen to one side, so as to examine with a girl's curiosity the matter

thoroughly. Behind the curtain was painted a monk, whose wide cowl was

filled up by a looking-glass, so that whosoever should happen to look

in, must see his own face from under the hood. In her disgust she let

the curtain drop. The impression produced on her had not been that

intended by Paul. She did not complain at seeing her own countenance

thus ghostly disfigured, looking out in the costume of one cut off from

the world, but the Latin inscription, which contrary to Paul's

expectation, she understood, rendered her uneasy, as marking through

this monk's dress the veritable position of the Brother Paulus. The

most strange and wondrous thoughts rushed through this bewildered

child's head, and she was aroused from her darksome half terrifying,

half sensuous dreams by the sudden and abrupt ceasing of the organ, as

if death with its hard grip had straightway borne off the player. The

two other worshippers aroused themselves with a start from out of the

world of crowding thoughts, but immediately the melodious voice of the

Italian sounded through the darkened church: "I survey the entire

circumference of the earth and behold in a corner the home of Mary."

When he had finished reading this meditation, he strode slowly up to

the first of the penitents kneeling at the altar, and after turning the

picture with its face to the wall, he laid his small hand gently over

the maiden's eyes and asked: "Dost thou still see with thy spiritual

eyes the Holy Family." "I think so," lisped the plump maiden.

"Represent to thyself the hut, the saintly personages, their looks,

their dress. Thou must see which persons stand in the shade, which in

the light, what colors are used for their clothing. Thou must touch

their foot prints, hear the rustle of their garments, feel their breath

on thy cheek, before that thou mayest rise. Is it thus with thee, then

answer 'Amen' and go with the sign of the Cross over thee, before that

thy soul is again deadened." And bowing over her he imprinted a

fatherly kiss on the head of the blooming child. He next crossed over

to the excitable passionate Bertha von Steinach, who lay shaking with

fever out-stretched on the cold stone floor before the death's head and

the instruments of martyrdom. He saw with a feeling of contentment, the

effect of the means he had employed and when he looked at this bruised

reed now like pliable wax in his hand, he determined to knead her very

soul. "Knowest thou," he asked, "where tarries the soul that used to

gaze from these empty sockets?" The young maiden shook her head,

without rising up. "It is in the place of torment, and thou shalt see

it, writhing in the dread flames of Hell. Shut thine eyes and look

within the space through which the glowing flames break. Dost thou not

hear the wail of the damned, their meanings, their screams, their

shrieks, their blasphemies against Christ? Dost thou smell the

sulphurous vapor, the breath of corruption, the stink of the slimy

pool, reeking upwards? Dost thou taste on thy tongue the salty

bitterness of the tears wept by those below? Feelest thou on thy

fingers the flames, by whose glow the souls of the damned are now

burning?"

"Oh no, no," sighed the terrified child. Then the dark figure knelt at

her side. She felt his breath on her cheek, how he was shaken with

convulsive tremors as he wrestled in prayers, she heard him whispering

in her ear in fanatical excitement. "I see millions and millions of

beings writhing and shrivelling in the everlasting fire. I see how the

pupil of their eyes roll with indescribable fever, how their hacked and

mangled limbs quiver with unendurable pain. Ah, how bodies wind

themselves round one another, how yells for mercy sound, but the heaven

above them is brazen. Only the echo of their shouts return to them.

There however and yonder again in the dark corners grin the masks of

devils with birdlike faces, froglike bodies, and eagle claws. They

hover like bats around the damned and mock their torments. Now they

seize the heaps of the tortured, they shoulder them, and away with them

to the chaldron of burning brimstone. Dost thou see how the blue flames

flare upwards? If one attempts to creep out, the devils flog him in

again with snake scourges; dost thou see that one winding himself as a

serpent round the body of yonder woman, and the toad on her body and

the devil kissing her with his bat-like snout? Now the devils lay their

heads together; how they gnash with their teeth, how their mocking

laugh resounds! They are considering new torments, sharper tortures.

Dost thou see them shaking in fresh pitch, and the red column of flame

now rising upwards? Now the smoke hides the light; a vapour conceals

the ruddy glow, but the shrieks of terror increase. See how they look

at us, how they stretch out their hands to us, they beg for our help,

our prayers...."

"Oh, I can endure no more," sighed the poor child--"every thing smells

of sulphur, I faint--I must leave."

"Go, my daughter, but preserve in a true heart, that which thou has

seen."

Clara and Lydia Erast still lay with bowed heads in their dark corners.

The young Priest took his seat at the organ and played in gentle,

soothing strains, calculated to loose the souls of the penitents from

their excitement. A light step through the Church told him that the

second maiden was now leaving. Only Lydia remained in her dark corner.

The tall figure now approached her. Did he more resemble the archangel

of God, or the angel which had fallen away through lofty pride from the

Eternal, as he thus approached in the gloom the silent worshipper?

Never had Paolo looked handsomer. His black eyes gleamed with the fire

of that ecstasy into which he had worked himself, and a changing colour

glowed over his pale cheek. "Dost thou feel the sweetness of heavenly

love," he whispered. "Lydia, dost thou see the sweet smiling lips of

the Saviour?" The kneeling Lydia felt, how he bowed his face over her

head, her bosom worked tempestuously up and down, her cheeks assumed a

deeper colour. As if in the fervor of prayer he seized her hand, and

the maiden felt his own tremble. "Canst thou see nothing?" he

stammered. "Ah, wherever I look, I see dark brown eyes fixed on me."

And carried out of herself, filled with a deep passion, she arose. His

self-command now entirely forsook him. He pressed her to him with wild

desire, his burning feverish lips sought her own. Powerless she lay in

his arms. The minutes flew as if but seconds. Suddenly a cold severe

voice was heard. "Are these your exercises, Magister Laurenzano?"

called out the Abbess appearing from behind the organ. "Go to thy room,

Lydia," she said to the trembling maiden, and on finding herself alone

with the Magister, she drew back the window curtain, so that the last

rays of the sun fell on the hidden corner. The young Priest lay as if

overwhelmed on the nearest bench, his head buried in the cushion. He

answered not a word, as the infuriated Matron continued her harangue.

"For this cause would you impress these mystic sensuous images on the

souls of confiding children, and fan in them an impure passion, so as

to bring about their ruin? Shame on you, a thousand times shame. Better

would it be, to attain your evil design by force, than to destroy in

this manner the innocency of their hearts."

A sob as that of an hart struck by an arrow reached the ear of the

enraged Abbess. She noticed how the young Priest writhed in agony. Pity

for the poor young man stirred her to the quick.

"I am willing to believe, Magister Paul," said she in a kinder tone,

"that you had not the intention to act in the way I saw, and I thank

the Saints that they left me no rest in my room but led me hither,

before any greater mischief happened. But you see now what comes of all

this juggling, which the Wicked one himself invented, to give the

heretics a hold against us. The gardener shall immediately bring these

pictures and other objects to your apartment. Should such _Exercitia_

be necessary, I shall preside over them in person, as is required by

the rules of all properly conducted convents. You will however return

to your home in Heidelberg, so soon as you can do so without injury to

our or your reputation. I hold much to a good _conscientia_ in all

things, and the _fama publica_ must not slander us."

Thereupon the kindly Dame wished him farewell and left him alone in the

Chapel, which however he only quitted an hour afterwards quietly, and

as one sick of a fever, supporting himself against the wall.

Dame Sabina went at once to see Lydia, whom she to her great

astonishment found in no wise so downcast as she expected. Rather did a

bright gleam of joy seem to beam from her eyes. "What am I to say about

your proceeding, young woman," began the Abbess sternly, "how is it

that you suffer yourself to be kissed in Church by the Priest?"

"Ah!" sighed the maiden blushing, "forgive me most gracious Lady

Abbess. It was in truth the first time. The Magister means to act an

honest part towards me, and my father will have no objection to our

marriage."

The old Lady smiled in a hard manner. "Silly Fool, dost thou not know

that Laurenzano is a catholic Priest and neither can nor will marry?"

But the hard words had scarcely escaped her, then she regretted them,

for Lydia gazed at her as if she were going mad. The blood had left the

maiden's cheek, her eyes had grown unnaturally wide, the large black

pupils were fixed on the Abbess. Then she burst into a convulsion of

tears. "It is not true. Tell me. Mother, it is not true?" The old Lady

caught the child to her heart. Opposed to the heartbreaking grief of

this young creature her motherly feelings came uppermost. "Be quiet,

child, be quiet. Thy sorrow is not so great as thou thinkest. Thou

knowest scarcely this disloyal Priest. Thou lovest the black man in the

pulpit, thou hast never seen the real Laurenzano. That which thou

lovest is an image of thy phantasy, which thou thyself hast created.

Now thou must efface this foolish idol from thy heart, that is all.

Nothing can come out of it. Laurenzano came to convert us. He would be

scoffed at, if he let himself be converted by thy blue eyes."

"I will go back to my father," sobbed the poor child. "I will not

remain here."

"Thou must first become more quiet, my child. I cannot bring thee back

in this condition to thy father. He must not even hear of what took

place here. The Kurfuerst would order Laurenzano to be flogged out of

the country." The maiden gazed at the Countess in horror. The Abbess

kissed her on the forehead, undressed her and helped her to her bed.

Then the old lady sat for some time at the side of the sick child and

told her about her own youth, her plans for marriage, and the rich

stream of kindness, which poured from the lips of the usually cold Nun,

had a beneficial influence upon poor Lydia. When the Domina opened the

door, to go, she saw with displeasure two Nuns, who had certainly been

listening, hurrying off. Even in the neighbouring cells light steps

were heard creeping away. Dame Sabina immediately called a _conventus_,

so as to close the mouth of those ladies, whose chattering, as she

knew, did not fall far short of their curiosity. When her motherly

friend had left her, Lydia thought to herself: "This therefore is the

use of the Mirror of remembrance, given to him by his spiritual

tyrants, that he may not forget, that he is still a monk." She fancied

to herself, how he would look in the cowl, under which she had seen

to-day her own affrighted face. But the excitement had been too much

for her. Her eyes closed and soon she lay in a deep sound sleep. In the

next room Bertha von Steinach had on the contrary much more horrible

dreams of the pains of hell and the tortures of the damned, and more

than once started from her dream calling, "it is burning" and that she

plainly smelt the brimstone. "Take away the skull," cried she another

time, "see how the worms creep out of the empty sockets." Master

Laurenzano moreover, who had caused all this mischief with his

_exercitia_, sat in his room, his head leant out of the open window.

That night he sought not his couch. At sundawn he took the little work

by St. Ignatius which lay before him, and read out of the last page:

"Take, O Lord, my entire freedom, take my memory, my understanding and

very will." It was in vain. He could not pray. Troubled and in misery

he hastened to the mountains.

CHAPTER VIII.

"In truth I shall have to end up by going to the Hirsch if I wish to

see that brother of mine," thought Master Felix, after he had waited

the whole of another day expecting that his brother would come up to

the Castle. So he set his chisel and apron aside and went down to the

Market-place, and from thence entered through the well-known door of

the hotel into the back-room, in which the clergy of Heidelberg were

wont to meet round a large oaken table. He found the room still empty;

the low, arched parlor was only lighted by a single lamp, and at the

table sat a stout gray-headed man dressed in black, with a vinous

countenance and a bottle nose. "God's word from the country," thought

Felix, taking his seat after a profound bow near to the Parson, whom he

thought he had already seen somewhere.

"Have you managed to finish this measure by yourself, reverend Sir?" he

asked of the complacent toper.

"Man is a weak and timorous creature," answered the Blackgown

sanctimoniously, "at first I thought not to be able to master it by

myself, but now through God's help I am about to order a second."

"Without his divine aid you will be scarcely able to recognize your

front door," said the artist laughing.

"What do you know about that?" rejoined the Parson with a severe look.

"He whom a merciful Deity has blest with the capacity of carrying his

four measures of Bergstrasser, is ungrateful to his Maker when he only

drinks three." Saying this he clapped the tin cover of his stone

measure in an audible manner and a hoarse voice answered from a

neighbouring room: "Coming, Your Reverence, coming." And forthwith a

jolly looking little figure with a big red head appeared and took away

the Parson's jug.

"And to you, Sir Italiano, shall I bring once more a bucket of water

and a thimbleful of wine?" asked the small man, who knew Felix from his

former sojourn at the Hirsch.

"As usual, Klaus," answered Felix laughing, whereupon a small glass of

wine and a bottle of water were set before him.

When Felix had looked more attentively at his neighbor, and then cast a

glance at the quaint looking waiter, he felt positive, that he had seen

the two together somewhere within a few days. "Was it not Klaus, that I

saw in your company lately in the ante-chamber of the new hall?" asked

he of the Parson. Mr. Adam Neuser, for he was the quiet soaker, pulled

down his mouth, as if his red wine tasted of the cork. "Formerly he was

court-fool," he said. "But the new-fangled pietists have abolished the

office. The foreign court parsons prefer making a fool of our gracious

sovereign. They would not even grant him a pension; at that he wished

to complain to the Kurfuerst in person. All of no avail. Who knows,

perhaps, I shall come down to being waiter at the Hirsch, if I do not

wish to starve." And he grimly poured a beaker of red wine down his

throat.

"Hallo, Neuser, how does the early rising agree with you?" said a deep

voice belonging to a portly looking cleric who now entered the room.

"It was a first-rate idea of our mutual friend Olevianus, to punish you

by appointing you to conduct morning prayer, ha, ha, ha."

"I have scored him down for that, Inspector," rejoined the ruddy faced

Neuser, "and I think the time is coming when we shall drive the

Trevians, Silesians and French out of South Germany, where they have no

business."

"You forget the Italians," inserted Felix laughing.

"No one has up to the present had to complain of your brother," here

put in Parson Willing, who had entered the room together with Inspector

Sylvan, a slight fair man with interesting but unclerical features, who

looked as if he willingly played chess, but unwillingly preached the

Gospel. "Magister Laurenzano acts in a modest manner, as befits a

foreigner, he is a pleasant companion, and he does not love Calvinists

any better than we do, therefore may he play secretly at popery. Ten

Bishops would never have plagued us as does this one Olevianus."

"Yea verily," continued here Neuser, "I speak of him and of all the

starvelings who have tumbled down on our fair Palatinate like a sow on

a bag of oats, and are now so full of grub that nothing is good enough

for them. Do you know, what that Silesian Ursinus lately wrote in a

report to the Kurfuerst, when His Grace stopped at Amberg? 'To answer in

a few words,' he wrote, 'it is my belief as a Christian that there are

not six competent clergymen in the whole of the Palatinate.' Those were

his own words. May the Koenigstuhl and Heiligenberg fall on his proud,

Silesian pate, if we are not christian enough for him."

"Then must cursing be a part of Christianity," murmured the waiter,

angry with the Parson, who in order to lay more emphasis on his

concluding words, came down so heavily with his fist on the table that

the glasses jumped and part of the contents of his beaker ran over.

"Ho, ho, do not be so peppery, beloved Colleague," here piped in a

squeaky voice a fat little man, who funnily resembled a dressed out

porpoise, and who was introduced to Felix as Parson Suter of

Feudenheim. He added politely taking his seat next to Inspector Sylvan:

"Under the protection of my Inspector the Luetzelsachsener tastes like

Ingelheimer. But is not the way in which our Adam is treated,

shameful," he continued clapping Neuser on the back, "a man, without

whom the Hirsch could not exist."

"And who has the largest congregation in Heidelberg," snarled out

Klaus.

"How the largest congregation?" asked the Inspector.

"Yes, of all who do not go to Church." The others laughed, Neuser

however cast an angry look at the Fool. "Go to thy barrel, thou

wine-spigot."

"He who fiddles the truth, catches it over the head with the bow,"

rejoined Klaus in leaving, while the room re-echoed with the laughter

of the clerics at the anger of their already somewhat intoxicated

colleague. By this time the pale face of Master Laurenzano appeared

from out of the background, who held out to his brother with much grace

his small white hand whilst he with a polite bow asked Neuser, the

martyr of the hour, as to the state of his health. "I am well," said

the fat gentleman spitefully, "and hope the reverend Father is the

same." Paul paid no attention to the allusion but took his seat between

the Inspector and his brother. He must however have overheard part of

the discussion, for he said to Sylvan with a friendly smile: "Your

Colleagues let me know pretty well every evening, that they do not like

the presence of foreigners, and that they will not have in their

country either Calvinists, Lutherans, or Papists. But whom do they then

wish? A man must, so it seems to me, be a Heidelberger and drink a

quantity of beer and wine, otherwise he will never be a good cleric in

their eyes."

The stately Inspector shook his head. "I am myself not a native of the

Palatinate, and yet no one has ever told me, that I was in his way."

The Jesuit looked over his man. "You are a Bavarian, Sir?"

"No, I am from Tyrol, and was a Papist and moreover a zealous one."

"May one ask what damped that zeal?" said Paul with curiosity.

"Why not?" said Sylvan. "The story is not pretty, but it is interesting

for people like you, and cannot hurt me to relate, for it took place a

long time ago. I come from Trieste, and was educated by Abbot Altherr

in Innsbruck, and after being consecrated was sent as Chaplain in the

neigbourhood of Salzburg, to aid an aged Priest who found his duties

too much for him. Thus I came out of the Seminary into the world, with

my head full of plans for the improvement and reformation of men. I got

on very well with my fat old Colleague. He lived with his housekeeper,

and every afternoon went to Salzburg to drink the good Strohwein at St.

Peter's. That just suited me, as I then had the management of the

parish to myself. I carried my wisdom up and down the mountains,

preached the Gospel to the peasants till I perceived that they made fun

of me, and that their favorite Priest was he who kept most out of their

way. Feeling sore I concluded that if the peasants would not hear me I

would sit down in the library of the parsonage and set the world on

fire through some learned work. Whether I should write on the

archangels or the church-tithes would entirely depend on the books I

might find there to hand. But heaven only knows what the patristic

writings were that I found there. Amadis of Gaul, Erasmus and Hutten,

the works of Boccaccio and Sannazar, the Epigrams of Poggio, and the

novels of Rabelais. It became suddenly clear to me why this good Priest

required so much Strohwein to stupefy him. The love stories which I

read, did me much mischief, but I soon cast them away from me; my zeal

was awakened and I determined to do away with the scandal. One

afternoon that the Priest had gone out, and that the housekeeper was

visiting her nephews and nieces, I packed up the entire library of the

Antichrist and carried them into the court. I had soon piled up the

filthy works and rejoiced to see how well they burnt up. But in my

ardour I had not remembered that at this very season the Foehn blew

strongly. How could a young Saint only twenty years of age think of

such a trifle, when the cause of God was in question. The burning paper

went flying about the court and before I knew the shingles of the

pig-sty were on fire. I run for water, pile dung on the burning sty,

and whilst I am sweating and puffing, I suddenly notice that the flying

bits of paper have set the shingle-roof of the parsonage on fire. I at

once run to the Church and toll the alarm bell. People hasten from all

sides. I would answer no question, see nothing, hear nothing. But

whilst tolling I see how the Church itself is filling with smoke; it is

evident that the roof is on fire, I toll all the more till at last the

bell itself lies at my feet. It was time for me to step outside. Holy

Florianus, when I look around me I see the whole place in flames! The

wind carried the burning straw from roof to roof. I did not wait to

receive from the peasants the reward of my pious efforts, but cut a

stick and left the place as hard as my legs could carry me. Of an

evening, I curled myself up in a cornfield and went fast asleep. Thus I

at last reached Innsbruck where lived my Abbot. I confessed all to him.

'Thou wert zealous but foolishly,' said he, 'thy stay in Tyrol is no

longer possible.' Thus I was obliged to come down from my mountains

towards the empire, and could choose any of the sixteen corners from

which the wind blows over the plain of Munich. It now became necessary

to repress myself and to cringe, and I soon entirely lost the art of

rooting the sins of others out by fire. When finally I reached France,

my zeal had vanished. Bishop Zobel of Wuerzburg thought however that I

was a thorough Tyrolean and knew how to behave myself, he therefore

appointed me Canon and Court Preacher. If there was no Strohwein there

was at least Steinwein. I found my Theresa and right or wrong as it

might please God we lived together. But finally I thought the whole

thing bad and asked in the Palatinate whether I could find employment,

as Theresa was always dinning in my ears that I should marry her, and I

felt I should like to have my children about me. Thus it was I came to

Ladenburg. Instead of heavy Steinwein I now drink Luetzelsachsener. The

wine is not tasty, but only a small disrelish has to be overcome, and

it is healthier. In short Inspector Sylvan is a happier man than the

Canon of Wuerzburg ever was. That is my story, young man, and I think

you will find something to copy therein."

"I thank you, Sir," said Paul smiling, "you may be certain that I shall

not set your Heidelberg on fire. It catches fire without my aid once in

every four weeks."

"Room for Chancellor Probus and the Church Counsellor," cried out

Neuser eagerly, as Erast came in accompanied by a stoutly built portly

man, who leaning on his sword sat down at the clerical table. The rows

became closer and closer, and the young daughter of the court fool, a

fresh country lass from the Palatinate, gayly attended to their wants.

She appeared however not to notice Master Laurenzano. He sat there

without being waited on till the host himself brought him a measure of

wine.

"Who is the rough looking man with the huge forehead?" asked the

artist. "I mean the individual who so quickly swallows down one beaker

after another, and whose every remark calls out a shout of applause

from those in his immediate neighbourhood."

"That is Xylander, our celebrated philologist."

"Hem," murmured Felix, "our great humanists look a little different.

And the haggard looking man, who behaves in so condescending a manner,

as if he feared to tread unawares upon us poor worms with his leonine

paws?"

"Be quiet," whispered Paul, "that is the renowned Pithopoeus, the great

Aristotelean of Deventer."

"He may be stolen from me for aught I care," calmly replied Felix.

"The gentlemen may prepare themselves for severe trials," now began

Chancellor Probus raising his voice to call attention. "The

introduction of the Genevese Church discipline is almost a foregone

conclusion. Presbyteries are to be formed which together with the

ministry will carry out the Church excommunication. To sweep before

strange doors will now be a profitable occupation. 'The office of the

elders,' say Calvin's ordinances, 'consists in watching the life of

others.' The quarters of the town will be divided among the elders, who

will have to inspect the different houses and verify whether the

fathers and the mothers have thoroughly studied the new Catechism,

whether the family lives in peace, whether the husband gets drunk, or

the wife rails at her neighbors, whether every one goes to Church and

Communion, whether dice or cards are in the house, and whether the

daughters dance round dances. The Parsons themselves will see to the

reform of those denounced. In a word the observance of public order

passes from the hands of the officials to those of the clerics."

"That will cause some trouble, as the sparrow said, when called upon to

lay a goose's egg," called out a shrill but somewhat husky voice.

The Chancellor wrinkled his brow. "Aha, our Klaus falls again into his

_role_ of fool," said the Inspector apologetically.

"He is not so wrong. Children and fools speak the truth," now spake out

Erast, rubbing with his yellow wash-leather glove the lame arm which

was paining him. "The clergy will not be strong enough to keep public

order. The authorities will be there, but still under the orders of the

Theologians. If the Magistrate Hartmann Hartmanni can preserve order by

Olevianus' directions, I cannot see why he should not have been able to

do so before. For one thing is certain, that the riotous living now

carried on in Heidelberg can no longer be tolerated, the noise in the

streets till late at night, that everlasting firing, music, and

rioting. This the Magistrate could put a stop to without the clergy,

were he not himself a gallivanter, and in every respect a boon

companion, not to mention also, that he considers himself to be quite a

humanist, and makes verses instead of sitting in the Court house."

"Verily a little discipline is necessary in Heidelberg," said Probus

confirmingly, "and now punishment follows after its neglect."

The clerical gentlemen returned no answer but looked rather confused.

An angel, or even two angels had time to pass through the room, before

that the Philosopher Pithopoeus helped these gentlemen to give

expression to their thoughts, by jokingly remarking. "Then shall we not

see our spiritual friends any more in the Hirsch, for if the

Theologians must break the members of their flocks of the habit of

sitting in taverns, they themselves must set the example."

"Thus, Herr Neuser, the whole advantage of an early morning service is

lost to you, and all these nice free hours from eight o'clock on,"

added Xylander with an amused glance from under his eyebrows.

"If Olevianus' propositions take effect," said the Chancellor Probus,

"you yourself will also be spared that trouble, Professor. The taverns

will be closed, and in their place we shall have monasteries in which

the unmarried citizens will be allowed to meet together of an evening

under the supervision of Olevianus, Ursinus, or Zanchi. None will

receive anything to eat or drink, till he has said 'Grace,' or as the

Gospel has it, prayed in the corners, A resolution of the Presbyterium

fixes the number of glasses."

A general groan of disapproval followed this incredible statement.

"You are joking, Sir Chancellor," said Parson Suter with a puzzled

look.

"How," rejoined Probus, "have you not read the Geneva ordinances, which

prescribe what the Genevese are allowed to eat and drink? Did not

Calvin forbid them to eat the dried fruits of the South, did he not

also refuse to allow the poorer classes to feast on baked meats,

venison, or game? Did he not make it a law, that no Genevese should

invite more than ten persons to dinner? Did he not order that none dare

wear velvet, silk, or garments of a red color, although Geneva

possesses the largest dye-works and velvet manufactures? If the

Presbyterium can determine that Hans cannot tie the nosegay for

Gretchen with costly ribbons or gold threads, as decreed by the Geneva

ordinances, why shall it not cast a fatherly eye on the number of

glasses, swallowed down every evening by Parson Neuser? Should that

thirsty gentleman exceed the number limited, he must beg pardon of the

congregation in the Church on bended knee."

"Then is it well to drink another beaker today," squeaked out Parson

Suter in his thin voice, "here Klaus!"

"I was in Geneva," now began Parson Willing, with a diplomatic smile,

while his cunning eyes winked slyly at the Chancellor. "I know from

experience how things are managed. If a man lives too well, he is

punished by flagellation and pillory. In my time a baker was

imprisoned, for not eating meat on Fridays, as Master Calvin smelt

Kryptopapism therein. A bereaved widow was even brought up before the

Consistorium for having used the words over the grave of her husband

'_requiescat in pace_.' That young women should be flogged because

their way of dressing the hair and the cut of their clothes was not

pleasing to Calvin, is easily understood, but he also imprisoned the

dressmaker, who made the clothes, and the friends who helped to dress

them. It will be a nice time for Heidelberg, when the consumptive

butter-colored faces, which Ursinus and Zanchi have called together,

stick their noses in every pot. I remember right well, how in Geneva

they ordered me to repeat the Catechism like a school-boy, looked over

my books, sent elderly gentlemen and worthy women to the head of the

hospital to learn to pray, and made us attend for a whole year the

Sunday-school, so that we might obtain proper notions on the matter of

praedestination."

A pause testified to the impression produced by the remarks of the

experienced Parson. "Even Sunday-walks," continued he, "picnics,

bowling, singing and dancing must the inhabitants of the Palatinate

banish from their minds, for those lead to Church excommunication, and

excommunication means imprisonment and banishment."

"The foreign gentlemen need not banish me," said Neuser angrily, "for I

am about to leave of my own accord."

"Where will you go then?" rejoined Xylander. "To the Hugenots, there

will you have to rise even earlier, as they have early service before

sun-rise. To the Saxons? Think of their wretched beer, and the doctrine

of Ubiquity. To the Hanseatic towns? With Hesshufen and Westphal you

jump from the frying pan into the fire. Easier is it to throw thirteen

spots with a pair of dice than find a Church, which respects your

freedom. It is of no avail, brother, you must submit."

"I know of a place, and the Inspector and my friend Suter know it also.

We shall soon have followers, if the foreigners have it here their own

way. We quit."

"Klaus will also be of your company?" laughed Xylander.

"Klaus will become a Turk," put in the waiter, "there a man has but one

God and three wives. That is better than the reverse way."

"Peace, blasphemer," said Probus.

"It is only a matter of essay, which is better, to be a Turk or a

Palatine under Olevianus and Frederic the Pious," murmured Neuser.

"Our stout Neuser is a man capable of bartering three Heavenly Fathers

and twelve Apostles for a cask of Deidesheimer," said Xylander

mockingly, "but only remember that in Turkey wine is not allowed, the

Prophet had a weak stomach."

The Chancellor arose, the conversation was becoming too frivolous, and

he had attained his end in arousing a feeling against the Church

Council. Erast and the Professors also withdrew after a short time,

followed at last by Parson Willing.

The two brothers still kept their seats at the table with the clergy,

who openly showed that they wished for their departure. Sylvan went

even so far at to ask the artist if he did not feel like accompanying

his brother to the Stift by such a beauteous moonlight, but in vain, it

seemed as if Paul was bent on sitting out the others. He ordered a

fresh supply from Klaus, and Felix delighted at finding himself once

more with his brother, willingly joined him.

The Inspector at last got up and took another seat at the further end

of the table away from Paul and Felix, where he was eagerly surrounded

by Suter, Neuser, and a third Parson, whom they called Vehe, deacon of

Lauter. The stately Sylvan seated between the wine-soaked Neuser, the

porpoiselike Suter, and the coarse Vehe whose face seemed to consist

entirely of underjaw, resembled Orpheus among the beasts. Whilst Paul

was entertaining his brother with an account of his position, the

Inspector brought out certain letters, and said to the other in a

suppressed tone: "I went over to Speyer. Herr Kaspar Beckhess, the

Chancellor of the Woywode received me in the most friendly manner. It

would be very pleasing to him, if ripe and experienced Theologians

entered into the service of the Transylvanian Church. But he thinks,

that his Unitarians would be rather distrustful, lest the incoming

Germans should introduce as many troubles as have the Italians,

Belgians, and French in the Palatinate. Therefore we must clearly and

distinctly abjure the doctrine of the Trinity, before that

Superintendent Davidis sanctions our reception."

"To abjure the doctrine of the Trinity is rather a strong measure,"

said Vehe.

"That depends on the custom of the country," rejoined Sylvanus in

measured tones. "What is in fact really known concerning this matter?

The relation of the three persons of the Godhead is very like the

declension of the three persons in the Grammar, here we decline: sum,

es, est, there they decline: sum, sus, sut, which may also be correct."

"But if the affair gets known, before we have taken leave of the

Kurfuerst," piped Suter out in his squeaky tones, "then is the round

tower our certain abode."

"I thought you would be afraid," said Sylvan laughing, "and therefore I

will snatch the chestnuts out of the fire for you. I have already

written a protest against the doctrine of the Trinity. I will send this

to the body-surgeon of the Woywode, Blandrata. I will add that you

think as I do, and I hope Davidis will be satisfied with this. Here is

the protest."

Vehe took the papers and read out the title: "Against the idolatry of

the Trinity and the worship of the two-fold Nature." "That title is

rather strong," said he, casting his wolfish eyes distrustfully in the

direction of the Italian.

"The stronger the better," rejoined Sylvan. "The Ambassador of the

Woywode, and our friends in Transylvania must be convinced, that we

seriously mean going over, otherwise we shall never receive any

suitable livings. I am leaving here, because I have been thrust to one

side, and these Northgerman and French starvelings have been stuck

under my nose. A beggarly parish in Transylvania will therefore not

suit me. I am better off in Ladenburg; are you not also of my opinion,

Neuser?"

The latter raised his wine-sodden head. "What, another Superintendent,"

said he, "who requires a covenant? Is the whole world filled with this

breed that one cannot live even in Klausenburg as one likes. Klaus is

right, rather under the Turks than under the Superintendents; I will

to-day write a memorial to the Sultan Selim. I will be freed from these

bloodsuckers. Shall I leave the Palatinate to let myself be knocked

about in Klausenburg."

"Don't shout so loud," said Sylvan, yon Jesuit pretends to be busily

conversing with his brother, but I see how he pricks up his ears. I

know these gentry from my experience at Wuerzburg.

"Klaus," cried Parson Vehe in his coarse voice to the waiter, "why have

asses such long ears?"

"Because their mothers did not put caps on their heads when they were

young."

"A bad guess."

"So that they may better hear the sermons from the streets, since the

Clergy forbid their entrance into the Church."

"That is better," said Vehe with a spiteful glance towards the Italian:

"that they may overhear."

"Let us away from such a crowd," roared Neuser. "Nowhere now is a man at

peace. Everywhere is listening, spying, ferreting out, denouncing,

counting the drops in one's glass, I will be a free man."

"We are in the way here," said Felix to his brother, who apparently

undisturbed by the conversation at the other side of the table, fixed

his eyes on his brother's face, but none the less had kept his ears

open to what had been said by the Parsons.

"Let them leave first," replied Paul in the Italian language, "it looks

less remarkable." In fact the four parsons rose at the same moment and

left the room in a noisy manner, without honoring the brothers with a

bow.

"German politeness," laughed Paul.

"They are beasts," said the artist, "Could I but saw away the facade of

the new building and send it off to Florence, I should consider it a

good action;" washing down by a last swallow of water the bad

impression made on him, he took his brother's arm and went out on the

Market place, where the dark massive Church opposite stood out boldly

in the quiet square now resplendent with the light of a clear moon.

Felix made his way towards the Schloss, Paul towards the bridge. The

young Priest saw naught of the metallic gleam of the moonlit river,

naught of the mist, which rolled in fairylike play around the valley,

he was full of the blasphemies, which he had heard, of the plans of the

wicked Priests, who wished to swell the army of those who deny the holy

Trinity. It seemed to him not improbable, that all the influential and

important men, who that day had gathered round the table, were secret

allies of the Arians, But with one blow would he destroy this nest of

Satan, this was his inward vow, and if he had known but one sentiment

of mercy, when the cause of God was in question, it would not have

availed in this case, opposed to the thirst for revenge of the

Neapolitan, who had apparently treated the vulgar insults of these

coarse men with contempt, whilst in reality his heart was fired with

the desire, to pay them back in his own peculiar coin. Sylvan

especially, that handsome man vain as a peacock, was the principal

object of his wrath, a man who had been granted the highest honors of

the Catholic Church, and who to-day openly admitted the fundamental

principle of all gregarious animals, ever to hasten thither where the

best pasturage was to be found. As soon as Paul had reached his room,

he drew up in a secret cypher a full report of what he had heard on

this memorable evening. "Up to the present," thought Paul dipping his

pen, "I have only slain small foxes and wild boars, who were desolating

the vineyard of the Lord, to-day has a spotted royal stag, who breaks

through the forest with spreading antlers, received an arrow in his

heart." With a feeling of triumph did he lie down, to be in readiness

to forward his letters the first thing in the morning from the town to

Speyer.

CHAPTER IX.

The sun was setting and still Felix remained on the topmost boards of

his scaffolding, to examine the cornice and the cracks in the walls

which appeared to require filling up. At the midday meal he had heard

that Erast's daughter had returned home, and who knows whether this

news had not brought back to his memory the most perilous portion of

his undertaking. At all events, whilst he was examining the pilasters,

consoles and figures, the remembrance of the fair maiden at the Stift

came back to his recollection more than once. Two hundred feet above

ground, standing on a narrow plank, he looked straight in the face of

the grave Serapis, then he passed his hand over his eyes, and bethought

him that this was not a good place for a reverie, and shaking his head,

said: "If I make a false step to-day, and come to the same end as did

Phaeton, no one but the fair Klytia is to blame, for whosoever has once

seen this maiden's sweet smile, will be haunted by the remembrance of

the dimple in her cheeks, even if he ascends as high up as to the

planetary Deities. Those old gentlemen have some knowledge of these

matters." As he was preparing to come down, he recognised the fair

maiden of whom he was thinking, standing in person before him close to

the window.

Klytia had in reality returned from the convent to the home of her

father, and had curled up her little nose in no small degree when she

perceived the scaffolding before her window and the dust in her room.

In spite of the sad recollections of that day in the Stift she felt

lonely at home. Even the farewell she took of the good Abbess was more

painful than she had thought it could be, and her anger against her

companions quite disappeared when they wished her good-bye amidst

kisses and good-humored jokes. She sat at her high window and gazed

through the scaffolding in a dreamy manner at the distant Rhine valley.

The Neckar flowed like a silver thread through the plain, whose fields

were white for the harvest; in the distance the blue Haardt mountains

were to be seen, the blossoming acacias on the slopes of the Jettenbuehl

filled the air with perfume, and to the right and left the flowering

chestnuts dotted as if with a white powder the dark-green woods. Around

the Heiligengeist the closely built houses seemed like sheep

surrounding their shepherd, and the two towers on the bridge standing

on either side of the river seemed hospitably to invite the inhabitants

to cross over. It was the same lovely picture which had formerly so

delighted her, but now it possessed no longer this charm; her joyous

heart had remained behind in the convent, and her entranced glance

lingered on the tower of the bridge as if through this gate all her

happiness--passed in or out she knew not which. As she now sat at her

window over her work, she felt what was lost to her: "If my mother

were but still alive," she thought, and a tear dropped from under her

eye-lashes. However much she loved her grave father she could not

confide her feelings to him. She had been shamefully deceived. The man,

whom she had deified as the best on earth, had proved himself to be a

wicked angel in the garb of a good shepherd, and the insult which he

had offered her, had sorely stricken her maiden heart. What did it

avail, that she had _bonam conscientiam_, as the good Abbess was wont

to say, it seemed nevertheless to her as if she had done some wrong in

suffering a hypocrite to have so much influence over her, and as she

thought of the terrible moment after the evening _exercitia_ in the

Chapel, the blood flew to her cheeks, and she bent over her work while

indignation and shame struggled within her. Whilst thus deeply wrapped

up in thought and painful reminiscences she was startled from her work

by seeing the shadow of a man passing close to the window on the

scaffolding. She was so accustomed to live here in profound solitude,

that she rose up terrified, as at the most did a sparrow fly against

the window or a pigeon settle on the coping. The head of the man was

above the window so that she could only see up to his shoulders. A man

at such a moment would have thought how shall I rouse the house; a

woman would have feared lest the poor young man should fall from his

narrow plank into the depths beneath. Lydia was still too much of a

child for either, and as the first fright passed away, she was filled

with curiosity to see the head appertaining to those young feet. A

sudden presentiment shot through her mind. It seemed to her as if she

saw them wandering over the meadows of the convent and treading upon

certain blue flowers. Quickly did she spring up to shut the window; but

Master Felice had already recognised her: "Ah! so you are back, noble

maiden?" said he cheerily. "I greet you from my airy height."

"You will fall," said Klytia anxiously, "please finish your work, it

makes me giddy."

"Oh, here I feel as comfortable as does the ant when swinging on a

pine-cone. How fresh the air is! Allow me to sit down." And he leant

his back against a beam, nursing one of his knees between his hands,

while the other leg swung backward and forward over the scaffold.

"Have you much to do in this dangerous situation?" asked Klytia, who in

her terror had almost begged him to get down through her window.

"A pretty good deal," replied the architect laughing, "I must cobble

Serapis' boots, Jupiter's eagle will be _minus_ a tail if I do not

treat him to a little mortar, Cupid is in danger of losing his head,

for which you are perhaps responsible, Faith and Hope are in pretty

good condition, but Charity has lost her nose, and Samson must have a

new jawbone of an ass. You see, that you could hardly remain in this

Schloss without me."

"Do go, how can you joke in such danger."

"By the eyes of the Madonna, I do not joke. Do you wish for a Cupid

without a head, and a Charity without a nose?"

"I do not wish to have anything to do with either, but so that I may

not keep you any longer in your break-neck position, permit me to shut

the window."

"No, as you have asked for permission, that I cannot suffer. Rather

give me a more gracious farewell, by telling me at what hour evening

service begins in the Castle-Chapel? I should much like to hear my

brother preach, as he has become so sparing of his words since he has

come over to you."

"Magister Laurenzano preaches?" asked Klytia terrified, her heart

seeming to stop.

"Yes," replied Felix smiling, "and do you know when?"

"Evening service begins at six," said Klytia shortly, "and I hope you

may get down in safety," and with hasty trembling hands she closed her

window. Felix looked after her in astonishment, and then shaking his

head he began his journey downwards lost in thought. Klytia had

hastened to a back room, as if she felt there better protected from her

own thoughts. She arranged the room, but soon forgot where she had

placed the different articles, so that she had to look for them again.

Sad and discontented she sat down once more to her work. The little

room felt close, for the rays of the setting sun poured into it. She

re-opened the window. Outside all was still and Felix had taken away

the ladders, so she felt secure from intrusion. With beating heart she

took up her work. Never again would she see the man, who though bound

down by dark vows had nevertheless sought her love. Soon the first

among the worshippers came out of the doors of the Castle which led

across to the Chapel. Her female friends looked up at her to see

whether she would not join them. She drew back into the room. The bells

began to chime. It was the only church music, which the Kurfuerst

permitted "for the nonce" as he said, even the organ had to give way to

the general reformation. Klytia heard the booming tones with heavy

heart, it seemed as if they tolled for a funeral, whether her own, or

his, she knew not. When the bells ceased, and all around was silent in

the large court, a sudden shiver passed over her, it took away her

breath, she felt she must hasten into the air. Outside she heard the

singing, and as in a dream she took her hood and cloak, and prayerbook

in hand, she as if drawn in against her will, entered into the house of

God in which preached this terrible man, and crept into the last row

near the door where she hoped to remain concealed from his diabolical

gaze. Was it the magic of the bells, that had drawn her thither, had

the Psalms possessed that power, or had she gone to seek him, from

whose eyes she sought to shield herself by hiding behind the pillar?

The clergyman ascended the pulpit and read out the prayers. As Felix

after a while looked in the direction where sat Klytia he noticed that

she had moved more forward in her seat, and now endeavoured to catch

Master Paul's eye.

Felix looked around the lofty Chapel in an absent and disgusted manner.

Was this the celebrated Church of the Heidelberg castle, the wealthiest

at that time of all the Rhenish provinces? The high gothic arches had

been whitewashed, the paintings ruthlessly daubed over disclosed

themselves, however, here and there to the practised eye of the artist.

A large spot at the entrance marked the place, where the font had once

stood, another in the chancel the broken down altar. Without any regard

to the architecture of the building the benches had been grouped in a

square, in the middle of which stood, a most ludicrous object to Felix,

"the honorable table." A part of the congregation turned their backs to

the chancel which remained unused without Altar or Crucifix. The

colored windows had been replaced by plain glass, and angrily did Felix

gaze through those at the blue sky, as he asked himself what could have

become of the famed glass paintings, to restore which known Masters had

spent great portions of their lives? Even the old Heidelberg school of

singing, which had once possessed a building of its own at the foot of

the Schlossberg had disappeared. The people shouted in chorus, as

appeared best to each individually. When the singing was over, the

Preacher read out his text in a soft, melodious voice and laid the book

aside with a graceful motion. Then he passed his white hand over his

pale lips and began his sermon. His silvery melodious tones rang

through the Church, at times like the monotonous melancholy murmur of a

fountain, at other times rising to the majestic roll of thunder, but in

the midst of the loudest blast of this rhetorical hurricane, the voice

suddenly once more assumed a low loving tone which doubly touched the

heart. These homiletic sounds moved Felix in no sense. He looked at the

disposition of the benches, he thought to himself, how otherwise they

would have looked if dimly lighted by the colored windows of the

chancel filled with the smoke of incense, buried in the shadows of dark

side chapels and the semi-light of deep niches. Gradually he mastered

his indignation sufficiently to turn his attention to the words of the

Preacher, who moved about the pulpit with the confidence of a trained

orator and the innate grace of an Italian. He had bent over the edge of

the pulpit, the white ruff stood up, and he resembled with his

outstretched arms a bird about to take its flight. In speaking colors

he described the dangers of life, the dependency of the defenceless

heart. A world of despondency lay in his mournful tones. "Nowhere a

consolation or support, not in ourselves for the heart is a hardened,

deceitful, unreliable thing; not in others, for they are like unto

ourselves; not in the world in general, for it belongs not to the good,

but to the wicked. Where then is a refuge, salvation, a sure foundation

on which we may depend?" A pause aroused the expectations and gave the

oppressed hearts time to become conscious of their own anguish. Then

the Preacher continued with a movement of the hand, which showed how

near the blessing was at hand. "Behold the Church, thy mother, thy

guide, thy protector and consoler under all difficulties."

Felix out of humor looked about him. "We all know how that is done,"

thought he. He again watched the congregation. The few men were

heedless, the children restless, but the women hung with all the more

attention on the lips of the young orator. When Felix again listened

his brother was depicting the punishment of the other world. "They will

be tortured through all eternity, says the Scriptures. How long is an

eternity?" he then asked with as steady a look at his congregation as

if he required of them a positive answer. "Let us suppose that this

high lofty mountain lying towards the east, be made of polished steel

and that every thousand years a bird came and pecked with its little

beak this steel mountain and then flew away. How many thousands of

years would it require ere the mountain was pecked to pieces? Or let us

suppose that a large lake stretches from these hills here to yonder

Haardt mountains, and that every thousand years a gnat came and sucked

up through its little trunk as much water as it required to still its

thirst, how many thousands of years would this little insect require to

suck up the whole lake? When the bird has picked away the mountain, and

the gnat drunk up the lake, that will not even be a millioneth part of

an eternity, the Scripture however says: they will be tortured

throughout all eternity."

"Humbug," murmured Felix to himself and for the first time in his life

he felt a sort of repugnance towards his brother, for whom he usually

had had only the tender feelings of a friend and father; he looked up

with a sort of displeasure at the tall young figure which with bowed

knee almost disappeared within the pulpit, then again rose up quickly

with outstretched arms, and sank backwards as if he had been stricken

to the heart with a deadly blow, only to repeat once again with

uplifted hand "Only the Church, preaching, and the word."

"That comes from having done away with organ, colored windows, and male

choirs, they must crack up with immoderate praise the excellency of

wares for which no mouth now waters, whilst in the Church, as we adorn

it, the heart draws up men with it." As finally the speaker with a

thorough knowledge of his subject produced a final homiletic storm, and

the entire fullness of his voice reached its highest developement,

Felix awaited his Amen with impatience and when the congregation after

a song of praise left the Church without the usual organ accompaniment,

but amidst the hasty trot and shuffling of the school-children and the

loud remarks of the men, the Italian felt himself colder and less

satisfied than at any time when leaving after Vespers.

As he came out of the door of the Church into the court filled with the

rays of an evening sun, his look fell at once upon the tall figure of

the Counsellor Erast who was waiting for his daughter. He wished to

pass on with a polite bow, but Erast stopped him with the friendly

inquiry as to how the reformed service had pleased the Papist.

"Monotonous melodies badly sung," said the Italian evasively. He felt

he was not called upon to preach the gospel to the heathen. But the

Counsellor was in his own waters. "Ah so," said he, "you do not know

our musical canon. We observe Calvin's Institutio in this matter.

'Attention is to be paid', says the Genevese teacher, 'that the ear

does not strive more after the melody than the spirit after the meaning

of the words. Songs, which are calculated only to produce a pleasing

impression and to delight the ear are not suitable to the Majesty of

the Church and must be displeasing to God.'"

"Quite the contrary," answered the Italian dryly, "if the Almighty only

possesses the slightest ear for music, he will exclude these people

from the celestial choirs if only on account of their inharmonious

shrieks. The singing is only fit for Hell."

Erast laughed. "And the Magister's sermon, did that find grace in your

sensitive ears?"

"Had the House of God been left as our forefathers built it," said

Felix, "no excessive oratory would be needed to lead souls to God."

"We are accustomed to be edified by the word, not by pictures, symbols,

and all kinds of singsong," rejoined Erast smiling.

"By the word," cried Felix angrily. "Do you then believe that the

chanted word is not the word of God? And the question remains still the

same whether the Maestro of Palestrina does not rather disclose to me

the meaning of the word and imprints it deeper in my heart, or whether

Parson Neuser, Suter, or whatever these gentlemen are called whom I

lately met sitting round the table at the Hirsch do so. Perhaps you

also have seen at St. Mark's in Florence the picture by Fra Angelico of

the two disciples inviting the Saviour disguised as a pilgrim to tarry

with them, for the day is far spent and night is at hand. You could

hear many sermons on the disciples at Emmaus from your celebrated

Church divines before obtaining a conception of the text, which Fiesole

places before you in so impressive a manner. He who has seen the look

of the Saviour in that picture, will be accompanied through life by

this look, as by the best text out of the Bible."

"I also have spent many a profitable hour in your churches," said

Erast, "but I have remarked how the best pictures as well as the worst

are reverenced by the people as idols, and the worship of the only true

God is lessened thereby. I know the picture in San Marco well, and as

you state, no one who has seen the gentle features of the Master and

his disciples can forget them. I have seen however other pictures,

which I can just as little forget. As for instance the horrible

Sebastian, Roche and Mark in the hospital at Venice. When the Lazareth

fever broke out in consequence of the filthy management, it was not

combated by fresh air, pure water and lime, as we do it, but new lights

were lit to the three Patron Saints. If nevertheless people died, then

the Saints were insulted, spat upon, beaten, then everything was held

to be done. No one thought of practical earthly measures. That is a

consequence of mixing religion and art together. For this cause did I

move no hand, when all the pictures here were done away with, although

I felt grieved for many a work of art." The Italian perceived well the

seed of truth which lay in these words, but he was as horrified at the

heretical sentiment as if the claw of Satan had laid hold of him. He

made the sign of the cross, and remarking, that Erast smiled

contemptuously took up the discussion excitedly.

"The people ever remains the people," said he sharply. "Since they no

longer seek help from images, they do believe the more in witches and

magic in the which God's worship acquires nothing. You cannot be

ignorant of the fact that in the small Geneva, Calvin has burnt more

magicians and witches than have been burnt during our life time in the

whole of Italy. It is therefore better for the people to turn for aid

to the images of the Madonna than to Satan. In the matter of lights and

choirs you have not even the excuse of misuse, or has the organ also

tended towards idolatry?"

"We do not go to Church to see lights and hear music, but to ponder

over the sufferings of the Lord."

"Sir," said the artist in a voice trembling with excitement, "I

happened to be in Rome last Easter in the Chapel of the Pope, as on the

day previous to the death of the Saviour they recalled to our minds,

according to our form of worship, the sufferings of the Lord. The choir

gave expression to the feeling which fills the soul at the thought of

the terrible crime committed by mankind on Christ. That was no

singsong, it seemed as if a deep wail passed over the whole earth and

heaven on account of the blasphemy and evil of the world, and we wept

likewise. And the lights which had been lit had no charm for us. One

after another were they extinguished by an invisible hand. The last was

borne away behind the altar. The Church was dark and only Michel

Angelo's colossal figures of the last judgement loomed forth in the

background. But this gradual extinction of the lights affected us more

deeply than the best sermon could have done. I trembled, in my

excitement I raised my hand to save the last flickering life-flame of

the Saviour, and as the last light disappeared, then did we understand

what the Scripture saith: 'The light shone in the darkness, but the

darkness apprehended it not.' The pure and beautiful life of the

Saviour was extinguished before our eyes. Believe me, I felt at that

time the sufferings of the Lord more deeply, than if I had been in your

Reformed church, and a red-faced man had stood up in the pulpit and had

spoken in the coarse voice of a drunkard of a suffering which he

comprehended not."

"If the preacher does not believe, the case is bad everywhere."

"If, if," cried Felix passionately, "real belief has ever been rare on

earth. And does not even your Church Counsellor Ursinus himself state,

that he scarcely knows six Christian clergymen in the Palatinate?"

"What does Ursinus know, who seated behind his study table continually

finds objections, and who for years has seen nothing of the world but

the road from the Sapientia college to the clerical Library in the

tower?"

"Well, what I have seen myself does not convince me that these

gentlemen can ever replace Michel Angelo, Raphael and Palestrina."

"In spite of these Masters we are far ahead of you in true culture,"

said Erast calmly.

"In true culture!" cried Felix angrily. "Look on this building. The

culture of your people in these matters was incited by our Masters,

then came the great heretic of Wittenberg, the horrible demon sent by

the Wicked one to destroy you, and since then what have you done?

Catechisms, confessions, pamphlets, books on subjects which none can

know, and all your lives passed in wrangling, strife, and discussing

unprofitable subjects. Only keep on in this way, and you will never

again behold such edifices as that of the departed Otto Heinrich, but

only continual bloodshed, hate and never-ending strife."

"Young man," replied Erast, "you have been only a few weeks in Germany,

and do you therefore think yourself competent to speak a lasting

judgement on our land? Look only at our schools, how the young people

grow up Catechism in hand, know the words of Scripture, learn reading,

writing, and the ten commandments. Look into the homes of our citizens.

If we can once succeed in introducing in every house the Holy

Scriptures, the German translation by Martin Luther, so that every man

at any hour can take up the word of God, then are your sensuous means

not necessary. Perhaps you find this proceeding coarse and plain, but

that our people light no candles to the Virgin so that their children

may regain their health, but rather seek a physician, that they do not

go halves in matters of stealing and robbery with images of the Saints,

arises from the fact, that they are edified by the word of God, which

tells them what God wills, not by images, lights and music, when every

man thinks of the desire of his heart, the one of the good and

beautiful, the other of murder and thieving."

The calm man was beginning to work himself into a state of excitement

when luckily Lydia came up. She appeared disturbed and her eyes shone

feverishly bright. She listened to the conversation in silence, but

heard the Artist rather with her eyes than with her ears.

"How like him, he is," she thought.

"And what do you say?" now asked Felix politely.

"That the one does not exclude the other. God's word remains throughout

eternity, and when men are thoroughly imbued with it, then perhaps can

they return again to images, lights, and organs."

"Thoroughly a woman's decision," said Felix laughing, "or shall I

rather say: a judgement of Solomon?"

"No, Sir painter. The wise Solomon was a man, and therefore said,

_either_, _or_, and ordered the child to be cut in two parts, the Queen

of Sheba would have said: you shall both have the child and in this way

does the world go on best."

"See how wise the maidens in the Palatinate are," rejoined Erast

smiling, stretching out his hand to wish Felix farewell. Klytia felt

very pleased at having given so good an answer and singing gleefully

sprang up the steps to the portal of the Castle.

CHAPTER X.

Master Paolo had indeed noticed his beloved pupil attending the evening

service, and though the experienced orator had in no way broken down

but let his pulpit eloquence roll on in the usual track, nevertheless

his thoughts from the moment he became aware of her presence, did not

remain earnestly fixed on the eternal pains of hell of which he was

speaking. This was certainly improper, but whilst causing the bird to

pick away the iron mountain, he thought: "she has forgiven thee;" and

whilst his congregation was adding up the thousands of years, he said

to himself: "she cannot tear herself away from thee." As he stood after

the sermon in the lofty Chapter hall, adjoining the Chapel, and beheld

through the high windows the sweet maiden standing in the court yard in

eager converse with his brother and her father, he felt much inclined

to join them, but the days of deep mortification through which he had

passed were still present before him and he escaped through the hall of

the Castle to the Burgweg.

The _primus omnium_ of the College at Venice had felt himself

thoroughly humbled under the cold look of the Countess at Neuburg, and

the same sensation crept over him which he had formerly experienced

when convicted of a gross grammatical error by the Jesuit fathers

during his school days. Whilst teaching in the children's classes he

often made a hasty motion, stamped with his feet, or bit his lips till

they bled. The passionate excitable Neapolitan nature now rose

uppermost. He was to be seen talking rapidly to himself in the woods,

angrily striking the bushes with his stick, and the children were once

much amused at seeing Magister Laurenzano seated on a bench near the

convent pond, violently boxing his own ears and crying out repeatedly

_pazzo_, _pazzo_! But only because he had acted as a fool, he said

within himself, not because he was a sinner, and when he made in the

Hirsch the great discovery of the damnable heresy of the parsons, his

dogmatic indignation at these blasphemers against God helped to banish

from his memory his own moral discomfiture. For a few days he was

filled with the remembrance of the disgraceful Arian conspiracy. He had

done with Lydia as he imagined. The heedless child now crossed his path

once more of her own accord. Buried in thought he made his way down the

Schlossberg, often pausing as if wishing to be overtaken, often

standing still, as if wishing to climb up once again and seek Lydia in

her own home. As he finally composed himself and was hastening in a

resolute manner to his apartment, he met at the gate of the bridge the

very person whom he now desired to escape. Erast had patients in the

next village and his daughter willingly accompanied him. The physician

addressed Paul in a kindly manner, whilst Lydia walked before them with

bowed head listening attentively to what was said. On the father being

stopped by one of his patients, the two young people were compelled to

join one another, but to-day words seemed to fail the ready-witted

Italian. He changed color and kept catching his breath. To break the

painful silence Lydia praised the clear hue of the river flowing past

them.

"The Neckar has become a friend to me," replied Paolo, "since I lived

at the Stift; a friend about whose humor I inquire daily. If when awake

I hear its restless moan prolonged during the whole night, and behold

it the next morning gloomy and troubled, and the mountain above casting

over it a deep shadow I feel as if I ought to console it. But another

day its rippling sounds joyfully, it looks at me with thousand clear

eyes and changing wanton lights, like the laugh of a child. In winter

often does it seethe in its hasty passion and smoke like boiling water,

being warmer than the chilled world around. To-day it is transparent

and pure, like a young man with an easy conscience, but I have seen it

looking quite differently," added the Preacher with a slight tremor in

his voice, "troubled by evil storms and tempests and red with shame at

what it had done." Saying this Paul attempted to look into the maiden's

face, but immediately cast down his eyes. His first words had struck a

sympathetic cord in Lydia's breast, but the direct acknowledgement of

his sins embarrassed her. "How unhappy must he be when he confesses to

me," thought she, and the pity of her heart shone out of the innocent

eyes which gazed earnestly at him. The approach of her father put an

end to all further explanations. They separated, as Erast wished to go

to Neuenheim, Paul to the Stift. The good child felt now lighter at

heart since the first dreaded interview with her former teacher was

over, and the terrible remembrance buried. Mechanically, as if it must

be so, did she reach out her hand to the man whose mental confusion she

increased. Paul now knew, that he would daily find at this same hour

the punctual physician on his visit to his sick patient, and thus

accident often brought it about that their ways met. Erast liked to

speak about Italy; Paolo knew how to relate; one always saw everything

clearly represented when he depicted his home, the shimmering red over

Vesuvius, as well as the ripples of the canal which splashed up against

the marble steps in Venice. He understood moreover the gracious art of

listening respectfully to the old man, and when Lydia perceived, what a

high opinion her father had of Paul, she soon came under the spell of

his appearance more helplessly than ever. Her hopes returned. Even

should the good Abbess be in the right and he had been a zealous

papist, why should he not shake off the secret bonds and as a free man

ask her hand of her father, who would never refuse it! Was she less

worthy than others, that a man should perpetrate this sacrifice for

her. As day after day Paul sought her company in the presence of her

father, and paid his silent homage, she began once more to believe in

the sincerity of his wooing. That Love which believes all, and hopes

all, told her, that he had cast away the old Faith for her sake, and

with a ready confidence did she give herself up to this new belief. One

evening he had again joined them, and whilst her father entered into

his patient's house, Lydia found herself once more alone with the

Magister, He immediately took her hand and said: "Lydia, have you

forgiven me?" And the same sensation came over her that she ever had

when near him, a tightening of the heart, a numbness of the will, and

an undefined fear of being forced to do what he wished, against her own

will, a blissful torture. He wound his arm around her waist, and kissed

and kissed her over and over again. No explanation, no requests, no

words, only kisses, burning kisses. And she stood there tremblingly

resistless. But her heart did not feel the same happiness, that it had

felt the first time she leant on his breast. Then like an angel of God

had he gently drawn her to him, today he seized her as if committing a

sin, his eyes rolled about restlessly to see whether they were alone,

and hearing Erastus approaching, quickly did he hasten towards a field,

where he pulled up a few plants and placing their blossoms within the

lining of his hat, cleverly engaged the physician even from afar in a

conversation about his patient, before that he could come up to where

the excited child stood. Lydia soon came back to her senses. Her maiden

pride revolted against such a treatment. His kisses burnt like spots

upon her glowing cheeks, and as they passed a farm, where a clear cold

water poured from two pipes, she felt as if she wished to enter, and

wash away the impure taint. Ashamed and sad she walked on before them,

thinking to herself how she could best make him declare his veritable

intentions. But now an event occurred which plainly showed her the

abyss round which she trod. A cloud of dust arose on the road leading

to Ladenburg. On approaching, the three discerned a cart surrounded by

mounted men accompanying two prisoners. Erastus pained at such a sight

looked away. On this one of the prisoners, a long tall figure arose and

cried out to the physician: "Friend, appeal on our behalf to the

Kurfuerst. We were not in earnest, and did not intend to emigrate."

Struck by the well known sound of this voice Erastus stared at the

afflicted dust-covered man and recognized with horror Inspector Sylvan

whose guest he had frequently been in Ladenburg.

"There stands the traitor," now cried with furious gestures the other

prisoner. Deacon Vehe, "he overheard us in the Hirsch," A cold smile

passed over Paul's pale face.

"Take heed of him," now cried Sylvan, "and warn Neuser." With that the

sad cavalcade passed on, as the riders whipped up the horses, so as to

prevent any further remarks being exchanged. Horrified Erastus gazed at

Laurenzano's cold stony face, whilst Lydia burst into tears. It

suddenly became clear to her that the Magister was still treading the

same dark paths, and as he had hurried to their destruction these men,

friends of her father, so had she almost become his victim. She

immediately depicted him to herself as wearing the cowl, from under

which his demoniacal eyes gleamed at her, as her own had terrified her

at that time from under the "Mirror of remembrance."

"Why have you accused those two men?" asked Erastus hoarsely of the

Italian.

Laurenzano contemptuously shrugged his shoulders. "I know not what the

good people mean. They took out in the Hirsch all kinds of papers and

whispered together, whilst my brother Felix was relating his adventures

to me, then they suddenly arose, cast an angry look at us and left

without greeting. Had they forbidden secrets, it was not necessary for

them to mention them in a tavern."

Erastus looked in silence at the Italian, but Paul continued calmly in

a tone of slight reproof: "Moreover I only went to these evening

gatherings because you advised me not to hold myself aloof from the

country clergy. After my experience of to-day I shall deny myself that

pleasure."

"Pardon me," answered Erastus with a feeling of shame, holding out his

hand to Paul, "in that case the matter will be cleared up. And you have

no idea of the contents of these papers?"

"I heard the names Transylvania, and that of the Woywode mentioned

several times, but the secrets of these vulgar men did not seem to me

worth listening to."

Erastus shook his head thoughtfully. "They wished to emigrate, so said

Sylvan.... To Transylvania, therefore to the Unitarians, Sylvan's old

idea. That may turn out badly," and he became buried in deep thought.

Lydia was not so easily appeased as her father. Her woman's instinct

told her that Paul was guilty. That said by the prisoners agreed but

too well with what she knew of the cowled monk, of his efforts for

papistry, of his secret masses and _exercitia_, and with what the good

Abbess had said to her. It was clear he was the same man to-day that he

had ever been, and the heartless monk had wished to carry on a bold

game with her. Angrily rejecting any attempted approach made by Paul

she walked on hastily before them. Thus even the Magister was pleased

when they separated at the head of the Bridge.

When father and daughter entered the town they found it in a state of

great excitement. "They wanted to make Turks of us," called out an old

woman as she descended the steps of the Heiligengeist. "They would

betray the empire to the Sultan! The Church Counsellor has just told us

so from the pulpit!"

"Speak no nonsense, Quadin," called out a lusty citizen. "Parson

Neuser was an honorable man, and I preferred his red nose to all the

pale-faced men, who gave themselves no rest, till they have wrought his

destruction."

"What has happened to Parson Neuser," asked Erastus of the speaker.

"Do you not know, Sir Counsellor?" rejoined Neuser's advocate.

"Magistrate Hartmann Hartmanni received the order of the Kurfuerst to

arrest him, but the Magistrate tarried too long at the gaming-table,

and by the time he had said something pretty to all the waitresses the

black bird was over the hills. His wife lied in saying he was only gone

out, but in searching the house they found burnt papers and a packed up

knapsack; his money he must have taken with him, for not a single penny

was to be found. He is away leaving wife and child, and mounted men are

searching for him along the roads."

"The Church Counsellor says he wanted to hand the empire over to the

Turks," cried out the old woman once more.

"Parson Neuser?" said Erastus laughing, "on that score you can sleep in

peace, my good woman. If the Turk wants to make war, he requires no

Heidelberg Parson to help him." Shaking his head he went on. But at the

next corner met with another group.

"They have also arrested Parsons Suter and Vehe," cried a hoarse voice,

which Erastus immediately recognized to be Klaus' of the golden Stag.

"All natives of the Palatinate must give way to the Belgian dogs."

"Sylvan and Neuser are no Palatines," said another voice.

"But they love our Palatinate, and have made front for us against the

French, the Italians, and Dutch, who would be our masters."

"Let us burn down Olevianus' house," cried out a voice.

"And Zanchi's also," echoed another.

"And that of Dathen the court preacher," added Klaus.

"Be quiet good folks," now said Erastus. "Do not say anything that you

might regret should you be ever heard by the Magistrate." The speakers

already began to look about them in terror. "Get thee to thy tavern,

Klaus, and attend to thy guests. No one has heard thee, but do not help

to make matters worse."

The crowd in the market became visibly greater. Men poured forth from

every house, and the voices sounded like the humming of a swarm of

bees. Here Erastus remarked two of the bitterest of the nuns of the

Stift at Neuburg, who were exciting the people by telling them, that

the calvinistic church council was responsible for all this oppression.

"Only come out to us on St. John's day," he heard Sister Anastasia, a

withered up yellow old maid say, "then can you dance in the mill, and

we shall soon see if the Calvinists dare prevent our good people from

enjoying a proper amusement." The host of the Hirsch was relating in a

side street to an astonished crowd of young villagers, that Olevianus

intended closing all public houses; Parson Willing was making his way

through the crowd with a ready smile, letting a word here and there be

heard against the Professors. At the corner of the gable-house opposite

the church, Erastus saw the baptist Werner standing, looking down from

some raised steps, with socratic irony on the mob. He also met Xylander

in the crowd, whose jolly brown eyes gleamed with pleasure at the

turmoil going on around him.

"What are the people crying about?" he asked Erastus.

"If they only knew themselves. Crying seems to be to them the great

object of life." Even the haggard philosopher Pithopoeus, who overtopped

by a head all his neighbours, was threading his way through the throng

to his usual Tusculum. The cause of the concourse did not appear to him

worthy of inquiring. What did it matter to him, that those ants

swarmed. He only thought to himself: "Mankind would have been more

supportable, had the Deity set a limit to the quantum." As the great

man reached the Hirsch, Parson Willing whispered to him: "Philosopher!

the movement is taking place, let us endow it with thought." Horrified

at such familiarity, the Aristotelian knit his brows, but had not quite

come to an end with this awe-inspiring performance ere the nimble

Parson had ascended the front steps leading to the Hirsch and requested

silence by signs and gestures. "The town preacher wishes to speak," was

now heard on all sides. "Silence, silence for Parson Willing."

"Beloved Countrymen! Palatines! Citizens of Heidelberg!" began the

Parson in a stentorian tone, his wrinkled face beaming with humor,

whilst at the same time he rubbed his hands together with that soaping

movement peculiar to him in the pulpit.

"He washes his hands in innocence," said the Baptist Werner to his

neighbours.

"I have only asked for a hearing, my dear friends," cried the Parson,

"to beg you to return quietly to your homes." A mocking laugh followed

those words evidently spoken ironically. "Remember," continued the

Parson, "that it is Saturday, and that Olevianus wishes to study his

sermon of to-morrow, and if you make such a noise it is impossible for

him to prepare himself and you know that a Professor must learn

everything by heart before that he can speak in public." A fresh burst

of laughter followed. "Thus you can plainly see, my dear children that

you must be quiet. You also know well that Herr Olevianus is a pompous

man, and that in the whole land none, but those he will, dare snort." A

hail-storm of abusive words was now heard on all sides. "Then remember

likewise that another clerical gentleman dwells in the neighbourhood.

Parson Zankus ..."[2] "Zanchius," corrected the tall Aristotelian in

his magisterial voice.

"Well, I mean the little mannikin, who always begins a row, and then

weeps in the pulpit; I cannot keep all their foreign names in my head,

but he is just now taking his midday nap, so as to be better able to

spy out at night, who may be tippling over much, therefore be still,

else he will wake up and begin to cry. You know very well what is

prescribed by the new discipline of the Church."

"No, we know nothing about it, we want no Church discipline," was

shouted on all sides.

"Well," cried the Parson, taking a small book out of his pocket, "it is

written in the thirteenth section: 'We decree also, that the parading

of the streets at night, which up to the present time has led in a

great measure to disorder, breaking of the peace, and immorality, be

from this time forth done away with.' So that if you do not want to be

fined thirty kreutzers per man, you must go to bed at sunset, so soon

as the fowls of Herr Garnix[3] go to roost." "Marnix!" shouted the

Professor. "Marnix, quite right, but who can remember all the foreign

names? But on the other hand Herr Olevianus grants you a concession,"

cried the Parson holding up his paper. "He whose health permits must go

twice to Church on Sundays, and he who on Sundays or holidays is seen

standing outside his door, or in a tavern or on the public places will

be flogged. Thus, none must dare go to the Wolfsbrunnen on a Sunday or

to the Mill at Bergheim, otherwise Miller Ulrich will trounce him with

his broom." Mad shouts were heard on all sides. "Silence, my beloved

brethren, lest you disturb Herrn Datterich." "Dathen," corrected the

irrepressible Professor. "No, I meant in reality Herr Tremellius, but I

keep confounding the numerous foreign names, and what is worse we must

give our children outlandish names, as decreed by Herr Olevianus."

"How is that, what mean you?"

"Yes, citizens, you must re-christen your children. None shall be

called Alexander nor Julius, those names are heathenish, nor Barbara

nor Ursula, because they sound catholic, not even Franciscus nor

Catherine;--Katie and Bab are not allowed, only such names as Sarah,

Rebecca, Mardochaeus, Abraham, Gideon, Melchisedec, Zerubbabel,

Zacharias. Biblical names alone are permitted, and the dragoon must

call his sweetheart Abigail, and Bab her dragoon Habakuk. Thus is it

decreed by the Church counsellors Olesinus and--now what is the name of

the other."

"Olevianus and Ursinus," called out the Professor.

"Right, Olevianus and Urschelinus decree."

"It appears to me that this common fellow wishes to make fools of us,"

said the huge Pithopoeus, entering the tavern with a look of withering

contempt at Parson Willing. The Parson continued: "Neither can you

marry when you will, Lupinus and Citronianus have ordered that no man

over 60 dare marry a woman under 30."

"If the man however is Kurfuerst?" said a voice from the crowd, amidst

shouts of laughter. "Yes, little peasant, that is quite another matter,

for that are we Frederic the Pious. Moreover President Beileger ..."

"Zuleger is he called ..." "Well Zuleger, or Hinleger, or Ableger, as

you will, he sticks his nose even in the Kurfuerst's pie. Dinners

must not be in the Castle as they formerly were. Hear only what the

mouse-trap dealer says on page 98: 'We order also, that in our district

the extravagantly big dinners given at the coronation or at other

times, and which have generally led to prodigality, causing drunkenness

and dissipation, be abolished from this time on.' Thus no more money is

to be made out of the castle, and foreign guests will keep away, if

they are to be told by the Council, how many 'costumes' they shall be

permitted to wear. Money, profit, pleasure all must stop, only Sunday

schools and preaching are to be sanctioned in Heidelberg." A shout of

rage arose from all sides. "Shooting for prizes, processions, theatres,

dancing, bowls, dice, cards are all forbidden, only psalms, psalms, and

yet more psalms." The growls became more threatening, more intense.

Here and there was heard the crash of broken windowpanes. "I therefore

exhort you, beloved friends, to go home quietly. The Calvinistic

gentlemen don't joke. Fines, lock and key will punish all church

offences, other crimes mean the rack, burning, or beheading. Above all

send the children home. You well know that Master Calvin ordered girls

of nine, and boys of twelve to be beheaded, so that the town might be

kept in good order and in the fear of God. When I was in Geneva in the

year 45, thirty-four people were beheaded between February and May,

because they would not acknowledge Calvin as their Master, and refused

to profess the dogmas of his Church, among the latter was the

executioner's own mother."

After these words things became more quiet. Certain street boys put

their hands in their pockets and let the stones which they had stored

up, quietly drop on the ground. At the same moment the crowd at the

east-end of the market began to disperse. The sound of trumpets was

heard in the direction of the cornmarket. "I now repeat," cried Willing

in stentorian tones, "he who is an obedient subject of His Highness the

Kurfuerst will hasten home at once, and go quietly to bed. The Church

Council will take heed of everything else. And now I call you all to

witness, that I said these words only to exhort you to be quiet and to

summon you to go home peacefully, and have not said a word about

freeing the prisoners." Saying this he got down and disappeared within

the tavern, where Xylander laughingly greeted him. His audience

followed his example and dispersed. At the same time the trotting of

horses was heard, and an officer's guard of infantry moreover appeared

on the Burgway, coming towards the town at the double. Immediately the

crowd in the other squares began to break up, at first hesitatingly,

growling, and slowly, then by degrees quicker, and when the soldiers

appeared they found the market place deserted and empty, and only

laughing faces were seen at the windows above looking down at the

horses' tails, as they disappeared round the corner of the

Heiligengeist towards the Hauptstrasse.

Erastus had taken refuge from the surging crowd in the gable house

opposite the church, and resolved to leave Lydia in the care of the

owner, his French friend Belier, till he had made further inquiries.

Herr Belier was one of those industrious Huguenots, who had founded new

businesses in the places to which they had immigrated and had acquired

a fortune through unwearied toil. The master of the house, a tall

distinguished looking man, whose moustachios reminded one of Henry the

Bearnais (IV.), and his small plump wife, greeted their beloved

physician with evident pleasure. "Can you tell me what all this means?

Three of the Clergy imprisoned, one a fugitive, the people embittered

against strangers, cavalry in all the streets, houses searched

everywhere," asked the energetic Frenchman, whilst his wife

affectionately drew Erastus' daughter with her to the window.

"Look at this crowd, dear child," she said. "Did you ever before see

Heidelberg in such a state of excitement?"

"I wished to hear the news from you, Herr Belier," answered Erastus.

"Let us go over to the Hirsch, there we can certainly ascertain."

"I do not visit taverns," said Belier with a polite but negative motion

of the hand.

"Good, then I will take that sin on myself," laughed Erastus, "take

care of my child, I shall soon be back."

Whilst Herr Belier accompanied Erastus downstairs and then returned to

his study, Lydia remained at the window with the lively Frenchwoman.

She felt very sad, and would have wished to be alone so as to have a

good cry. All this misery had been caused by the horrid man, who had

wished to drag her to destruction, and against whom she nevertheless

felt herself to be defenceless.

"Who has been the cause of all this trouble?" asked the little

Frenchwoman with a sigh.

"Laurenzano," called out a screechy voice, "_filou Laurenzano_."

Lydia turned pale, and looked around her in terror. Frau Belier

laughed. "Be quiet, Papchen," she said to a bird, which Lydia now

noticed for the first time. "You scare people." Lydia clung terrified

to Frau Belier's arm.

"There is witchcraft in this," she said trembling, "The bird is right.

Oh, how frightened I am!"

"Be sensible, child, the name of our architect is Laurenzano, and as

his name is mentioned daily in connection with the new building my

husband is undertaking, the parrot has picked up his name."

"No, no," said Klytia trembling, "he has learnt it from the Evil one."

"But I assure you, that he calls out the name at least twenty times a

day. He is always proud of a new accomplishment. What could the good

architect have to do with this matter? Or are you thinking of his

brother?"

Lydia remained silent with a sad look on her face. This aroused the

curiosity, or as she preferred to term it, them otherly interest of the

Frenchwoman. "Why do you think evil of Master Laurenzano?" asked she,

fixing her kindly brown eyes on the face of the maiden.

"He acted in a wrong manner toward me," sobbed Lydia, and she felt as

if the places kissed by Laurenzano more than hour since, still burnt

her face. The words had escaped the lips of the excited maiden

involuntarily, but concealment was no longer possible. The sharp woman

asked and crossquestioned so long that Klytia had to make a full

confession. When she hesitated, the indiscreet Frenchwoman supplied the

rest in a manner best pleasing to herself. "He made appointments with

thee, followed after thee, etc.," so that the poor child had to

disclose her secret in order that the matter should not appear in a

worse light than it really was.

The fiery little woman stamped her foot angrily. "He is in truth an

abominable wolf in sheep's clothing, a seducer, a secret papist, a spy,

perhaps even a Jesuit."

"_Filou_, _filou_" cried out the bird.

"But you promise not to say a word of this to my father," said Lydia

beseechingly.

"I betray you, _foi de Bayard_! I a Frenchwoman, tell women's secrets

to men? What do you think of me? But you must place yourself under my

_surveillance_, you little rogue," she added kindly. "We shall soon be

quits with that black gentleman. Come and see me to-morrow again, and

we shall take counsel together," and she kissed Lydia with so much

emphasis both on cheeks and forehead, that the child began to smile

once more.

When Erastus returned together with the master of the house, he looked

sad and stern. He told the ladies, that the Kurfuerst had suddenly sent

orders from Speyer to have the clergyman at Freudenheim, the Deacon at

Lautern, and the Inspector at Ladenburg arrested, and their papers to

be sequestered. Neuser had been warned against the same fate in a few

Latin words by a student, who had been requested by the prisoners as

they were being hurried off to put him on his guard. They had also from

their car called out to the Parson of Neuenheim "tell this to Neuser."

He could not be far off, as he had hardly left his house, when the

Police-magistrate Hartmann Hartmanni appeared. A horrible pamphlet

against the doctrine of the Trinity had been found among Sylvan's

papers. The Amtmann came in just as Neuser's wife was setting fire to

his papers. The brave woman had however thus become an accomplice in

vain, for hidden among her husbands books a singular and blasphemous

letter was found addressed to the Sultan of Turkey, in which Selim II.

was invited to unite himself with a large party in Germany who wished

to overthrow the antichristian dogma of the Trinity and introduce the

pure doctrine of the Koran of the One God. Neuser must have been either

drunk or mad when he composed such an insane letter; moreover he had

written on the blank side, "_potest omitti_," which means, need not be

sent on. But that it was not being sent on was the worst for him, for

it had been inserted among the other documents, and if read in Court

would bring the heaviest punishments with it. "How intentionally the

opposition party is spreading the scandal," added Erastus sighing, "is

proved by the fact, that the Clergy read out during evening service

Neuser's letter to their congregations, and dozens of copies have

already been spread about the town. Probus has lent me his, here read

the abominable nonsense," and he handed Belier a paper, which he had

stuck in his belt.

The Huguenot stepped to the low round-paned window and read amidst

exclamations of horror the paper lent to him. "That is in truth high

treason," cried he. "Listen, Fanchon, to what the wretch writes to the

sultan: 'On that account if Your Majesty wishes to bring the heretical

Christians to acknowledge the One God, wishes to extend your empire,

and to spread in the world the worship of the only true God, now is the

time, whilst the Priests and Pastors of the Christians are at variance,

and the common people are beginning to doubt the Faith. The Bishops and

Authorities oppress and persecute the poor to such an extent, that Your

Majesty's arrival is openly desired, so that Your Majesty may take

possession of the German empire and thus free the poor.'"

"The wretch," cried Frau Belier, whilst Erastus paced up and down in

concern. "Still worse," continued Belier. "He offers to give the

Grandturk advice by word of mouth. 'What further you may desire to know

concerning the Christians, I shall myself inform Your Majesty in

person.' He deserves the axe and that legally," said the Frenchman as

he folded the letter and returned it to Erastus. "I must not conceal it

from you, my friend," cried he excitedly as Erastus kept silence, "that

I am as strongly opposed to such blasphemies against the name of God as

is Master Calvin. To punish robbery, murder, extortion with death, but

to suffer the name of the Deity to be treated with contumely because

thereby men are not personally injured but only the worship of God,

would be to act in an unreasonable and godless manner. The laws of the

state must place the honor of God on as sure a basis as that of man. A

Pastor, who sets the Alkoran of Satan above the word of God, must be

rooted out of the community." Erastus shrugged his shoulders.

"Nevertheless," he said, "it is sad that the delirium of a drunkard

should be punished with the rack and execution. The man has a good wife

and a crowd of children. Other innocent persons will be punished

together with him. Ursinus' bachelors and licentiates are skipping

about with joy. This scandal suits them as if made to order. Already

they have given out as password that all opponents of the 'Geneva

interdict' and of the Presbyterian police are to be regarded as

accomplices of the Arians." He then added that he himself and Xylander

had been purposely shunned at the Hirsch. His best friends had

anxiously asked him, whether it was true, that they had often held

conferences at Ladenburg with Sylvan. Olevianus and his party evidently

intended to turn to their own benefit, the feeling against himself,

Xylander and Probus. Ursinus had stated to the students, and Olevianus

to the congregations, that the prisoners were only the "sharp-shooters

of Satan," the "generals" would soon be found out. "Scarcely is peace

once more brought into the Church," sighed Erast, "than we are again

dragged into a most dreadful warfare."

"No one who knows you," said Belier heartily, "will believe your

enemies' statement, that you have made common cause with the

blasphemers. I do not approve of your opposition to the Church

discipline. A Church without discipline is in my opinion no Church and

no Body of Christ. But I know, that you combat the thirst for power,

not the intention of purifying and edifying the body politic."

Erastus held out his hand. "I thank you, noble friend," he said

feelingly. "In Geneva and Scotland, where no evangelical ruler existed,

the Theologians deserved thanks when they took on themselves the

maintenance of order. Here such a necessity does not exist. We have no

Maria Stuart, no Guises to struggle against, but are blessed with a

christian, evangelical ruler. Olevianus and Ursinus do not wish to

guide the populace while standing in their midst, as did the Prophets

of France and Scotland, but wish to play at being Calvin and Knox

behind their desks, and that will not answer. They are strangers in our

land, and have not a hundred people to follow after them."

"That may be so," said Belier evasively. "Nevertheless come what may;

the man who by his skill and care saved my wife from death, will ever

find this house open to him, even if we do not agree in matters

relating to the welfare of the community." They parted with a hearty

shake of the hand.

CHAPTER XI.

With the arrest of Sylvanus days of trouble began for the good Erastus.

The report of a great unitarian conspiracy was purposely spread about

by the adherents of the Church discipline, who threatened both the life

and honor of their opponents. Sunday after Sunday Olevianus poured down

the vials of his wrath from the pulpit against the blasphemers who trod

the honor of God under foot, and against the Jurists and Officials

whose pride refused to grant to the Church that which was due to Her.

This was especially aimed at Erastus and the philologist Xylander, and

re-acted the more on Lydia's father, who to strengthen his party

against Olevianus had mixed himself up too intimately with the ever

ambiguous Inspector of Ladenburg. It is true that these doubtful

conferences were easy to explain through Xylander's admiration for

Sylvanus' good wine, moreover the latter had always wisely kept back

any writings which might have damaged him in Erastus' opinion; but no

one would believe that explanation. For the time it was true the

Kurfuerst stuck faithfully to his Counsellor, but the latter knew well,

how eagerly from all sides he was being maligned to his dull Sovereign.

Oppressed by such cares Erastus had little time to trouble himself

about his child. Lydia sat dreaming and alone at her work, she was

right--she needed a mother's care. At times she went to the house of

the Huguenot and was ever received kindly by Frau Belier, as the good

woman was very glad to listen to something other than the strict

doctrines considered fundamental by her calvinistic husband, but the

chattering which accompanied the good lady's love and care, oppressed

the silent thoughtful child, besides this the pet bird was an object of

horror to her, which shrieked with screeching voice the name which

contained all her joys and all her sorrows, and which the moment it had

got this name well out, shook its feathers with satisfaction and added

_filou_ (rogue). Sometimes she met Felix there, who amused her after a

manner by his jokes, who praised her beauty, and offered himself to her

as _cavaliere servente_. That pleased her, as she sometimes ventured

upon a side look at the shapely figure of the artist. Then she thought

how much more imposing and handsome was the grave Magister. But she

never repeated her confessions to Dame Belier. Speaking of her grief

had only proved to be a poor means of stifling it. Her foolish heart

found therein a basis for examining her connection with the Magister in

all its bearings, and the more sharply the volatile little woman abused

Paolo, so much the more did her own kind heart feel disposed to excuse

the man so violently attacked. She, who believed in the melioration of

wasps and therefore helped them out of her father's wineglass, and in

the thankful disposition of sparrows, with whom she shared her

breakfast, how could she give up the handsome clever teacher as

entirely lost to her? In fact what had the young clergyman done that

was so bad? Kissed her; she herself ought not to have permitted this,

and the accusation of the imprisoned clergymen, that he had betrayed

them, had never been proved. The real truth was that since the fiery

Neapolitan had kissed her she had become sick at heart. She felt

herself as if drawn by strong ties to the Stift. One day that her

father had gone to attend one of those endless Church meetings, from

which he always returned ill at ease, it occurred to Lydia how long she

had put off paying the good Abbess a duteous visit. She well knew what

had prevented her from fulfilling this obligation, and she daily

reminded herself that it was now high time. That day she felt as

oppressed as if she were doing some evil deed when she took up her veil

and hung her gipsire about her. At one time hesitatingly, at another

moment quickly did she walk along the road by the river in constant

fear, of meeting him, who was in the whole world her one terror. Had

she been obliged to wend her way through some thick wood, behind whose

every tree lay a robber in ambush she could not have felt more

terrified. With quickened breath did she mount the last step and when

she reached the convent gate and inquired for the Abbess, her heart

beat so rapidly and her voice sounded so low and broken, that the

sister-porter thought that Lydia had come to deliver some sad news, and

directed her with a shake of the head to the rooms of the Abbess. The

most trying moment now came for Lydia. She was obliged to pass across

the wide court under the very windows of the Magister. The bad man

could do her no evil there, but perhaps he might see her. She

experienced the same feeling as when she passed the butts behind the

Castle, when it could never be known whether or not a bolt from a

cross-bow would hit one full in the face, and she had a feeling of

security when she finally stood in the shade of the narrow passage, and

knocked with trembling hand at the door of the good Abbess. The aged

Countess warmly embraced her, reproving her for having so long delayed

her visit, whilst others, who lived much further away, had all visited

her. Then she wished to know if her Father had really been the friend

and advocate of the detestable prisoners and broke into passionate

comments, as to the misery entailed on the Pfalz by the continual

changes in Church matters. She did not allude in any way to the

Magister, and having refreshed Lydia with a cup of fresh milk dismissed

her with a motherly kiss. Happy and with a light heart did the good

child hurry down through the court to the gate, and having sent her

best greetings through the sister-porter to the inmates of the convent,

rapidly descended the hill.

Where the path joined the country road she met an ugly peasant boy with

fiery red hair and a cunning expression holding something in his hand.

It seemed as if he were waiting for her, but before she could address

him he said: "You have lost this," and throwing a parcel at her feet

made off over the fields towards the vineyards. Surprised she took up

the parcel. It was a silken kerchief unknown to her. As she unfolded it

a note fell out: "Beloved maiden! Be to-morrow on the Holtermann an

hour before sunset. I have much to say to you. Your father's happiness

is concerned in the matter." The note was signed "L." Angrily did

Klytia roll up the note. Was she the sort of girl with whom an

appointment could be made at evening in the loneliest cross road of the

whole neighbourhood? In her vexation she crumpled up the note and

placed it with the handkerchief in her satchel. "An hour before sunset!

Horrible! At the Holtermann--two hours from my father's house.

Dreadful;" and with flushed face she hurried along over the bridge and

through the town, till the steep Burgway caused her to slacken her

pace.

The Magister, on the evening when he quitted Lydia and her father,

found himself in a most painful state of mind. He felt triumphant, that

the beloved creature had suffered herself to be enclosed in his arms

without resistance, and his blood seethed when he thought of those

happy moments, and yet he was ashamed of his own weakness, and

uncomfortable at the expression of disgust, which Lydia had finally

shown. That the prisoners had pointed him out as their betrayer also

oppressed him. The bolt which he had shot from his safe hiding place,

had rejoiced him so long as the quarry did not lie bleeding before him.

Now that he saw heavy punishment facing the poor bound prisoners, the

excited zeal which had caused him to consider it a duty to avenge the

honor of God, suddenly disappeared. As an open accuser he could have

demanded their condemnation at any moment, but his conscience accused

him of having sped his deadly arrow as a hidden hunter concealing

himself and ever to be concealed. This word spoken by him in secret had

not relieved, but rather weighed down his soul. He could but notice

that on all sides he heard disapprobation of the secret denunciation,

nowhere a word of approval. He pictured himself as a criminal, who must

ever lie concealed, for if once but the end of the veil now thrown over

his actions was raised, the unreality of his position would be

inevitably disclosed, and he shuddered to think, how many people were

already possessed of his secret. Everywhere did he hear along the road

of the arrests which had taken place, and it seemed to him as if those

he met greeted him in a less friendly manner than usual, or purposely

looked aside. Half forgotten innuendoes made by the clergy of the

Hirsch and occasional references to his papistry now began to weigh him

down, for the first time his conscience pricked him and was at

variance. Whatever dogmas of his Order he might repeat to himself,

since he saw before him the bleeding victims of his secret report, did

not console his better self with mechanical references to a sworn duty.

"I ought never to have allowed myself to undertake such a _role_" he

murmured. "I shall serve the Order, but openly. I am a man, what

necessity have I for concealment?" and carried out of himself by his

rapid walk and by the flood of thought within him, he tore from his

neck the plate-like ruff and hid it away, as if the symbol of a

clergyman of the reformed Church choked him like an iron neck band. He

struggled in his close cell through a restless night, in which the

seven mortal sins contested for the possession of his soul. Distracted

with wild passion he rose with fevered eyelids the next morning from

his couch. The school was closed and no occupation was at hand to free

him from the torture of his thoughts. The Abbess and presumably all the

nuns knew what was going on within him since those profane _exercitia_.

What could he preach to them? Mechanically did he perform his services.

Together with the loss of the respect of his congregation did his own

self-respect seem to abandon him. The work sickened him. Lazily did he

wander about the woods surrounding the Stift, or he climbed up to the

Benedictine Abbey of Schoenau, to return after a short rest alone and

sad through the old oaks to his room in the Stift. His sermons in the

Chapel of the castle became more and more gloomy, replete with mournful

lamentations over the human heart and the sins of the world. His images

were mainly derived from the darkest situations of life. Often did the

women and maidens gaze up at the melancholy preacher, who wished to

drive away sunshine from God's beauteous world. He saw Lydia no more

among them. The Ephorus of the Sapientia said contentedly to the Church

Counsellor and Town-preacher sitting near him: "The Magister increases

daily in knowledge." In this however the church elders were at fault.

On the contrary, their _protege_ had never been so near his moral ruin

as at the moment that he spake so bitterly of the world and of man. He

who has lost his self-respect, possesses only half the power of

resisting Evil. Since the Abbess had seen him giving way to weakness,

since those immediately surrounding him did not hold him in so high

esteem, since the congregation looked on him with suspicion, he neared

the brink of the Abyss closer than ever. All seemed alike to him. Why

should he not become like Sylvan, Neuser and hundreds of others, who in

spite of their sins rejoiced in the approval of their fellow citizens?

He also had hot blood in his veins, and his passions cried out for

satisfaction, lust and love. He had sucked a sweet poison from Lydia's

lips, which boiled in his veins. Day and night did he feel soft full

lips and warm arms encircling him. The heart of the Neapolitan beat

tempestuously under the pedantic garb of a german Magister. Of an

evening he hastened to the town, where at the Hirsch he was received

coldly, and kept at a distance. In his excitement he poured beaker

after beaker of wine down his throat, to do as did the others, and then

left earlier than usual to wander through the streets of the town in a

fevered state of mind. His heated fantasy played him many a trick. He

saw Lydia in every young form. Often did he think, that the women were

luring him with their gaze, that each one who turned aside sought to

entice him down a side street. Then did he clench his teeth, the blood

rushed to his temples, and rapidly did he press forwards till he

arrived breathless and with hurriedly beating heart to his room in the

Stift. As the imprisoned stag in February tears with outspread antlers

the ground, and with wild cry pants for the forest, so did the Man in

Laurenzano bound down with hundred chains call for freedom from the

spiritual yoke; and when gloomy and savage he came out of his room, the

pious women hurried out of his way with affright, he seemed to them so

ill and weird, and even Fran Sabina began to feel doubtful as to

whether all the institutions of the old Church were as salutary as she

had formerly considered them to be.

Such was the state of Paolo's mind, on that day when sitting by the

window of his cell, as he saw Lydia entering the convent yard. He felt

at once certain that she had come to see him again. The trembling doe

which he would spare, came of its own accord within reach of his

weapons. He must see her, speak to her, kiss her ... Quickly he seized

his hat, and hurried forth outside the walls. But how could he address

the maiden in sight of all the inmates of the convent, she, whose name

was already coupled with his by the Nuns. Undetermined he stood there

and the passion of manhood fought an ignoble fight with the cowardice

of the priest. Laborers were tilling the ground around the vineyards;

children carried bundles of faggots down from the wood. It was evident

that no meeting was possible there; did Lydia wish to meet him,--and

she must have come with that intention--it must be in some quiet

sequestered spot. In his haste he could think of none other but the

crossroad avoided by the common people for its evil repute, which lay

above the Stift on the brow of the Heiligenberg and Dachsbau. There

were they safe. That the innocent child would lose her reputation if

seen in this notorious locality, did not trouble the disloyal priest,

if he himself could only get there without being seen. Thus he made the

appointment in a few hurried lines, wrapped the note in a silken cloth,

and beckoned to a red headed boy who was apparently standing

unconcernedly in the road. "Dost thou see the young lady, coming out of

that gate? She has lost this kerchief! I do not wish her to know

however who found it. Give it to her without betraying me and then run

away at once. Come back then here and if thou hast exactly done as I

told thee, I shall give thee a penny (groschen)." The boy scratched his

red head and grinned. Then took the kerchief and ran across the fields,

whilst Paul quickly turned towards the vineyards. When the boy

returned, he handed him his reward. Conscious of having interpreted

Lydia's wishes, Laurenzano returned satisfied with himself to his cell.

Was not Lydia's acceptance of the kerchief an infallible token, that

she assented to the _rendez-vous_? "_Volenti non fit injuria_" he

murmured. It is true that with a priestly prudence he had added the

words about the father. That was not right, it was devilish. But he

comforted himself. "I was obliged to help her to overcome her feelings

of modesty, so that she might have some excuse in her own eyes and in

mine for following the dictates of her heart." Even the choice of the

spot pleased him. He could by taking a lonely woodpath reach it unseen.

No one dared to come near that place after dusk, and his passion

depicted in burning colors how he might use to advantage this solitary

meeting. The risk to Lydia, were she seen, was not considered by his

priestly selfishness; it was a matter of course that his reputation,

the reputation of a priest, of his office, of the church must be

guarded above all, and this place was the easiest for him to get at.

How deeply sunk in degradation was he, when he could call to mind at

that moment without horror, a statement made by Pigavetta on the

probable opinion of a learned teacher, that a monk was justified in

murdering his mistress, if by so doing he could prevent the greater

crime, namely the loss of reputation entailed on the cloister.

"I know she will come," he said to himself, "she cannot help it.

Otherwise she would not be the bewitched maiden," and he smiled

contentedly. Suddenly his eye fell upon the mirror of remembrance,

which the Abbess had ordered to be taken back from the Church to his

room, and the recollection of Father Aloysius came up before him. It

compelled him as if drawn by unseen hands even in this his hour of

temptation to look through the round glass. Feverish, burning with

passion, with dark-rimmed eyes, and open sensuous month, did the face

under the hood appear to him. He recognized the portrait of a broken

down monk, against whom Father Aloysius had once warned him in Speyer,

when giving him this curious memento. "My Son," had the worthy father

said to him, "thou goest out in the world as a laic. Look from time to

time into this glass, see that the expression of thy soul shows itself

in thy features as befitting the garb to which thou art sworn." For a

moment Paul was startled at his own appearance. But passion had

subjugated every better feeling in him; with an oath he rushed at the

casket and felled it to the ground. Glass and mirror lay in pieces

before him. Hastily did he gather up the whole and shoved the shapeless

bundle in a corner. He felt as if freed from some horrible goblin, and

he hummed a popular air which he had lately heard. When our sinful

resolves have reached a certain point, they seem to replace at times

for a moment the quiet of an easy conscience. Feeling certain of

success the Magister slept calmly and soundly for the first time for

many weeks; but when he woke fresh and clear the following morning, his

action of the previous day presented a totally different appearance.

The fragments of the broken casket gazed reproachfully at him. The

mirror of remembrance never answered its purpose better than now when

lying in fragments before him. Sad and down cast Paul began to prepare

himself for the evening service, which unfortunately he had to perform

that very evening. Had he known how to reach Lydia, he would have

cancelled the appointment, and he determined if it did take place, to

remember in time the penitence which always follows every sin, and to

seize this opportunity of separating for ever from Lydia.

CHAPTER XII.

When Lydia returned to the Castle wearied and excited from her visit to

the Stift, she found her father sitting sorrowfully by the window

looking fixedly at the Rhine valley now bathed in the glow of a setting

sun. "We shall not enjoy this sight much longer, my child," said he

laying a long emaciated finger on her delicate hand. "My opponents are

increasing in power, and who knows whether I myself shall not some day

be sitting in the round tower together with Vehe and the Inspector."

Klytia grew pale. Had Paolo really sought an interview on her father's

account? It was on the tip of her tongue to relate the whole affair to

her father, to seek his advice and beg him to speak to the Magister.

But then if all being known her father, instead of the terrible

uncertainty, put an end to the whole affair? She felt that she could

bear this less well than all the misery of doubt. Her father noticed

how pale she turned and continued soothingly: "Be not afraid. For the

time I am not in immediate danger, only I cannot go on holding my

present position. The former hatred of many a man often prejudicially

affects the disgraced favorite of a prince." After supper Erastus asked

her to read a sermon of Zwingli's, and then kissing Klytia with a

certain gravity on the brow entered his study chamber which he

restlessly paced up and down till a late hour in the night. Klytia

looked after him in fear. What could all this mean? Oppressed, with a

feeling of the saddest loneliness, she sat near the window and looked

up to heaven, where one star after another appeared, as do the lights

of some big town when lighted, now here, now there. The sparkling

Hesperus shone through the ruddy glow of the still variegated clouds.

"The star of love, gleaming o'er a sea of blood," thought she. The

pointed roof of the round tower, and the dark massive fabrics known as

the Ruprecht building and the Chapel, stood out in prominent outlines.

A light flickered here and there from the tower. Was the once jovial

Sylvanus in whose garden she had spent many a happy hour, and whose

happy children worshipped her as the pretty cousin from Heidelberg,

trying to read by this miserable light, or was he sorrowing for his

family? Whatever wicked the poor man might have written, she felt a

sincere pity for him, and heartily did she mention him in her prayers.

"What a frightful certainty of belief must it be which puts a man to

death on account of his unbelief," thought she. She laid herself down

to rest at a late hour, but could not sleep. Her father's words kept

ringing in her ears, he also would soon be imprisoned in that dreadful

tower. If Paul could really save him, and she had rendered the aid of

no avail by not meeting him at the cross-roads? She began to weep

through very fear and inward grief. The wind howled and shook the

scaffolding outside, and more than once did she start up affrighted,

thinking she heard the boards creak under a creeping step, and a gentle

tap at her window. "If he came up here by the same way as does his

brother," stammered the terrified child hiding herself under the

blankets. Even in her dreams she felt the gnawing fear at heart. In her

nightmare she thought that Paul had attacked her and was sucking up her

young blood, plainly did she see him in the fearful cowl of the "mirror

of remembrance," his eyes glowed from under his hood, then the head

changed into a skull which essayed to kiss her with lipless mouth,

causing her to start up with a shriek from her couch. At last she fell

into a deep sleep and waking up late heard that her father was already

gone out to visit his patients. At table he was silent merely stating

"he would be away for a few days as he thought of holding a meeting

with some friends in another part of the Palatinate. One more effort

must be made to free the Kurfuerst from the hands of the fanatics."

Klytia sat once more alone pondering what it might be that the Magister

had to tell her concerning her father's welfare? It became more and

more plain to her, that she would be going against the latter's

interest, by simply refusing to hear Paolo's communications. Perhaps

Paul had something he might wish to say to her? Perhaps did he at last

feel in earnest, anxious to begin a new life, if she would only stretch

forth a hand to help him? She said to herself that it was impossible to

keep an appointment made on the hills, but it was as if the demoniacal

priest had encircled her soul with a rope, she felt drawn towards the

place appointed by him. Finally she could endure this no longer. She

wrapped her veil around her and hurried down the Burgweg to beg Frau

Belier to accompany her. Perhaps she might meet the artist there, who

would request his brother to tell her in the presence of Frau Belier

what he had to say? But on inquiring at the gable-house by the market,

she was told that Frau Belier had crossed the bridge to buy flowers at

a gardener's. She might meet her on the way? She crossed the river now

no longer offering any opposition to her fate. Opposite the bridge

stood a chapel. How willingly would Lydia have knelt in prayer to ask

for inspiration, but the Calvinists had closed it, and whosoever was

found praying here, outside the hours appointed for public worship was

liable to be prosecuted for idolatry. If she could but have prayed, she

would have commended her father to the care of God and then returned

homewards, but the door was closed. She remained in her uncertain fear.

"I must save my father, and him also must I save, yes him, him

especially." She would tell him, how wrong it was to try and appear

what he in reality was not, and how happy he would feel when casting

aside this false mode of life. She imagined to herself, that she had

much to say to him, for his own sake. Behind the chapel lay a seldom

trodden path leading up to the woods through the vineyards, and thus

unnoticed by taking a few side-paths she could reach the spot appointed

by the Magister, The bells of the Heiligengeist tolled for evening

prayer as she reached a secluded meadow in the woods. Peacefully among

high beech trees lay the silent hill, the valley of the Neckar which

wound its silvery way between the blue mountains could be seen to a

great distance. Whilst the tolling of the bell was re-echoing from

afar, a child's prayer came uppermost to her mind. "Dear Christian what

means this evening bell. The purpose of thy life and number of thy

years doth it tell." But she must now hurry, the sun was already

dipping behind the hills. The higher she climbed, the wider was the

view over the range of the hills and mountains of the Odenwald, and of

the plain now gilded by the rays of a setting sun. Partridges disturbed

by the unwonted step flew deep into the thicket. The younger pine trees

surrounded the more aged like loving children. Then came a number of

clearings. Solitude and rest reigned around the lofty oaks, strewn

about the high hill. Here and there a jay hopped across the path, now

and then she heard the rapping of the woodpecker, a lively squirrel

bounded across the path which she had now reached, otherwise all that

was living in the wood had gone to rest. When the shadow of the

Heiligenberg confronted her, she shuddered. She ought to have clothed

herself more warmly, but she had not left the house to come here. She

began to feel afraid. Behind her a great gray bird sprang from out of

the bushes and flew in front of her with a screech. When she had gone

on but a little way, she saw him flying before her with rapid noiseless

flight, only to settle down a few yards ahead of her. She felt uneasy

for she knew, that the night-owl meant evil, but her cries and shooings

did not drive her ghostly companion away. She would willingly have

returned, but was now so close to the spot, and the town to which she

preferred returning escorted by Paul, was so distant. When she reached

the saddle between the Heiligenberg and the so-called Dachsbau and

rested near an old beech tree, she noticed that the sun had set. The

detour she had chosen, had been much longer than she intended. But

therefore the more certainly must Paul be already waiting, and as she

approached the ghostly shade of the oaks, whilst behind her still

gleamed the glow of a set sun, she earnestly wished for his protection.

On the brow of the hill leading to the edge of the forest she met some

wood-cutter, going towards the mills of the neighboring village, whose

sails might still be heard clattering in the distance. The men gazed at

the lonely pilgrim in surprise. She saw how they stopped and looked

after her for a while. Therefore did she hasten the more to escape them

by remaining among the bushes. At the end of a solitary pine forest she

found herself at last near to the haunted Holtermann. The road from the

valley of the Seven mills and Heidelberg intersected the roads leading

to the villages of the Odenwald. Many a traveller had here lost his

way, in troublesome times many a rich miller from below had here been

eased of his purse by footpads lying in wait, and children had seen

hobgoblins, will 'o' the wisps, moaning women, or heard the sounds of

mocking laughter in the dusky woods. Why had the heartless priest

chosen such a spot? In terror she walked along in the twilight. The

distant plain seemed like a blue sea, through which the red waves of

the Rhine glowed as a fiery streak, whilst the Neckar resembled a great

river of blood. Near the cross roads were ghostly shadows. All was

still and lonely. No one greeted her. She could have wept through fear

and disappointment. But whilst looking around for some dry spot on

which she might sit down, partly to rest, partly to wait a little

longer, she suddenly noticed, that she was not alone. A startled cry

escaped her lips. Near the edge of the dark pine forest crouched an old

woman seemingly drawn up in a knot, her face between her arms and

knees, who sat watching her with wicked crooked eyes. Klytia could not

stir for fright. As the bird is magnetised by the green eye of the

snake, so did she meet the gaze of the horrible eyes of the old woman,

whom she supposed at once to be one of the beings haunting the

Holtermann. At last she heard an evil chuckle. "So, the beauteous Lydia

will also gather herbs by the cross roads, and dig out roots at sunset?

I knew not that the physician's daughter dealt in magic. Your father

threatened me so terribly if ever I did it again. Has the Beloved One

proved faithless, he! he!? Shall the old Sibylla help? I have often

succeeded beauteous maiden, in cases where fair hair and blue eyes did

not avail. Do you wish to try Mother Sibylla?"

"You are the woman from the Kreuzgrund who sells herbs, I recognize you

now," said Lydia. "Allow me to come and sit near you, I have lost my

way in the forest and would like to rest." "Lost on this road," said

the old witch mockingly. "Take in some one else with that. Show me your

hand, beauteous Maiden, perhaps I can console you, without your having

to dig up roots;" and she seized Lydia's hand, which the trembling

maiden resistlessly surrendered. The old woman chuckled approvingly

after looking for a while at the hand. "Thou willst live poor, my

dear," said she, "but die rich."

"Ah!" said Lydia impatiently, "is this the place to think about gold

and riches?"

"Gently, gently, my dove," continued the old woman, holding on to her

hand. "In a short time thou willst weep much, but by the time the

berries are ripe, thou willst be laughing again. Two will come, a fair

and a dark man. Beware of the dark one, he will drive thee to thy

destruction." Lydia sighed. "Yes, my angel, he will drive thee to thy

destruction, the brown-haired one is the right one, him must thou take,

although he is older, but banish the dark one out of thy mind. So--now

thou knowest what thou wouldest know, go. I require no company for the

business which I have before me."

"Oh, come with me, good woman. I am so horribly frightened," said

Klytia weeping.

"Little fool who bade thee come. As thou camest alone, thou canst

return alone," and the eyes of the old woman began to flash angrily.

"I will not return alone," said Klytia in a decided tone. "You either

accompany me, or otherwise I wait till some one else comes."

"You wish to bottle the night dew to use against summer freckles, so

that the white face may not become yellow, or break _Liebessamen_ or

gather roots of _Maennertreu_?"[4] Then suddenly bursting into a rage

she cast a wicked look at the affrighted maiden and said: "May Satan

bless you," and uncoiling herself she left, murmuring deep curses as

she descended the darkest of the wood paths, where she soon disappeared

among the firs.

Full of melancholy Lydia sat down on a stone. The red glow in the West

had died away. Could Laurenzano have been there already, and been

disturbed by the witch, or should she wait for him? Terrified and

repenting she crept into the corner in the which the old witch had

crouched. She noticed that the grass was marked as if by a knife in

curious streaks, and around in strange order lay some dark stones. The

grass was singed. The old woman must have just extinguished her fire as

Lydia came up. The meaning of the curse last spoken by the old witch

was now plain to her. She had disturbed her during her incantations at

the cross roads. Horrified she looked behind her at the dark fir trees

to see whether the wicked woman would not finally plague her with some

calamity. She would only wait a quarter of an hour longer for the

Magister, then would she bound down the wood-path like a deer to reach

the bridge before the shutting of the gates. But all remained still. No

Paolo. Sitting thus alone and abandoned on the Holtermann, tears came

to her eyes. "I have really come to what the song says:

Eh' denn ich lass' das Weinen gehn,

Will ich lieber an der Wegscheid stehn,

Will eine Feldblum werden."

She was just on the point of starting for home when she heard voices in

the distance. Excitedly did she strain her ears to catch the sound of

Paolo's voice. Instead she heard three or four men talking to one

another loudly and coarsely. A new horror; how was she to pass by these

strange men, who moreover appeared to her to be drunk? It would be best

for her to lurk behind the bushes till the road was free. Hastily she

chose a hiding-place. She heard the voices again but close. "She must

be here, as said the old witch," said a rough fellow. "Yes, but you

shall do her no harm," said a younger man. "I shall do nothing to her,

but what you yourself wish to do. If she is waiting for her sweetheart,

she can take us as well as any other." Lydia's blood turned icy cold.

"I believe," said the third, "that old Sibylla has played us a trick.

There is no one here. Stop, some one sat here, and beyond do I not see

something white?" At that moment the terrified Lydia sprang down the

mountain, wildly bounding down the path by which she had ascended. For

a moment the three ruffians stood still in amazement, then they

followed after like clumsy dogs in pursuit of the light-footed deer.

The descent was only very gradual and the strength of the men exceeded

the speed of the girl. The distance between the hunted maiden and the

three scoundrels behind her was gradually diminishing. When Lydia

reached the old beech tree, which stood on the saddle of the mountain,

it was clear to her, that if she kept down hill, the three would cut

her off from one side or the other. The instinct of fear bade her take

an up hill path. Her pursuers had expected her to do the contrary and

lost sight of her for a moment. "There, there," now cried out one,

pointing upwards to where Lydia was endeavoring to reach the ruins of

the Heiligenberg along the mountain ridge. The chase began anew. But in

climbing the trembling maiden had a great advantage over the heavy

footed drunken men. They were already about to give up the hunt, when

the eldest proposed to cut off the game thus escaping, and evidently

making for Heidelberg, by taking the foot path to the left. Stealthily

did the three ruffians make off in that direction. Lydia looked back

for a moment. She was no longer being pursued; she could draw breath.

Heated and half-dead through fear and fatigue, she leant against a

beech tree. Hundred lights gleamed in the town below. From the castle a

lamp in the window shone in a more friendly manner than did the others.

What would she not have given to have been there. She would rather have

been transported to Sylvan's prison than be here in the dark, in fear,

and hunted down. Quietly did she wend her way through the ruins of the

old monastery, through which wondrous shapes formed by the evening

mists arose, and she thought whether she could not find a shelter among

the tumbled down walls. But she felt afraid of remaining in this

dreadful place, around which crept the ghosts of walled-in monks. The

moon now appeared from behind the Koenigstuhl; peacefully glinted its

light through the trees, and shed pure rays on the path beneath. Her

long shadow accompanied her, at times reaching far down the descent, at

times reared straight against the steep declivity. As she was about to

come forth from behind a small mound she heard a suppressed chuckle.

She sprang to one side with a bound, and rushed once more upwards

through the bushes. They were at hand those horrible men. One rose up

on one side, another on the other side, whilst a third hidden behind a

tree came straight at her. "Saviour, have mercy on me," cried the

terrified child. The drunken scoundrel tripped over the root of a tree,

and Lydia shot past him swift as an arrow. But the hunt could not last

much longer; the three pressed after her with drunken confidence sure

of their booty, each pushing the other out of his way to be the first

to reach the beauteous prey. Klytia's last hope was to get to the ruins

of the Michael's Church on the foremost brow of the hill, and conceal

herself in one of the niches. She had already cleared the first wall,

but the youngest of her pursuers was close at her heels. She made one

spring forwards, and felt the ground give way under her feet. "The

Heidenloch" the horrid thought flashed across her mind; she fell into

empty space; struck the ground beneath her heavily and lost her senses.

A moment afterwards the foremost of her pursuers came through the

entrance. The ruins lay before him bathed in the pure moonlight, but

all was still. It seemed as if the earth had swallowed up the maiden.

"Holy saints," muttered he. The others now appeared, the eldest

limping. "Where is she," roared the ruffianly scoundrels. "I saw her

here still flying before me and when I came up she was gone." "She is

somewhere crouching behind the walls," said the oldest. Cursing and

with terrible threats they searched the bushes and walls. Nowhere did

they find a trace. The three looked at each other suspiciously. "I

believe one witch sent us in pursuit of another." The older man crossed

himself. "With real beings such things do not occur," added the

youngest. "Perhaps she fell into the Heidenloch, in which case she is

dead," said the third unconcernedly. "Come, I have had enough of the

business, I want a sleep." And calmly, as if they had done no evil, the

three blackguards went down the hill, to seek their beds.

Sweetly did the elder bush scent the air around the walls of the ruined

church, the wind murmured through the tops of venerable trees, which

had already given shade to the Roman soldiers, guarding the fort, and

to the monks of the cloister; the crickets sang their monotonous song

as they had done for thousands of years previously, brightly beamed the

moon on the scattered stones, beneath however in a dark cellar, which

only received light from the opening above, lay Lydia senseless. The

poor child was only known to exist by Him, who both hears the death

rattle of the stricken deer in the thicket, and the sigh of the

creature hidden from the eye of man.

CHAPTER XIII.

On the morning of the day so momentous for Lydia, Miller Werner and his

boy descended from the Kreuzgrund behind Ziegelhausen along the

pattering brook to the village below. The sails of his own mills and

those of his neighbours clappered merrily as if for a wager. The brook

glittered as morning dew and May light. Even the meadows of the fertile

valley were still adorned in the midst of summer with the green of

spring.

"Thou art certain," said the miller to his redheaded offspring, "that

it was Erastus' daughter?"

"Quite certain, father."

"Thou didst read the note thyself?"

"I read, that she was to be on the Holtermann an hour before sundown."

"How didst thou manage that?"

"I am not going to run errands for the Jesuits blindly. I saw that he

wrapped something up in a kerchief, and he wanted me to believe, that

he wished the young lady to receive back her lost property without

knowing who had found it. I don't let myself be made a cat's paw of.

'Be wise as serpents,' says Grandmother."

"I don't blame thee, but only wish I could put a stop to the design of

this Priest of Baal? Erastus saved thy mother's life through his skill;

he however has a low opinion of our Church. I shall be glad to make him

think better of our habits, and prove my gratitude to him. I am also

sorry for the girl. I shall have to inform her father about this

letter."

"Had I not better go up to-day and separate them? Thou knowest I can

imitate all birds and animals, and the devil himself pretty well."

"No," said the miller, "this is no matter for boys." When the miller

had finished all his errands in the tower, he inquired for Erastus at

his house. He was told, that the Counsellor was away. He wished to

speak with the young lady. She was out. The old dissenter went away

shaking his head. "Nothing is left for me to do, but to try and move

the conscience of the Italian Papist, if he has a conscience. Ha,

it is ringing for the evening worship, which the pious man holds

in the Heiligengeist Church. Perhaps I may there meet the infatuated

girl, in any case the good shepherd, who would lead his own sheep to

destruction. These people are a crying sin and disgrace."

When he reached the market, he entered the Church disdaining the

outward visible signs of worship usually observed in God's house by the

members of the congregation. The Preacher had already begun his sermon.

It was his usual theme, the wickedness of the world. "A fitting subject

for thee, thou scoundrel," thought the Baptist. He looked around for

Lydia. In vain. He examined all the faces from the most backward to the

foremost rows; she was not present. "The lost sheep is in any case

better than the shepherd," he said to himself, "she at all events does

not prepare herself in God's house for an assignation." He now turned

his attention to the Preacher, who began to speak more warmly and more

enthusiastically. He spoke of the punishments of sin, but the iron

mountain and the pecking bird played no longer a part in his rhetoric.

From most intimate knowledge did he that day depict the pangs of an

evil conscience. He described the secret sinner, peering timorously

around or continually looking behind him, whether one was not near who

had seen all; no longer able to look at people straight in the face,

but casting his eyes down before their scrutiny, whose evil conscience

attributed everything to his hidden trespass and who thus on earth

carried Hell about him in his own breast.

"Oho does it seem to thee thus," thought the Baptist, "then perhaps is

there a chance of saving thee." After thinking for a time he tore from

a bill which he had about him a piece of blank paper and wrote on it a

few words. Then he took off his woollen neck-cloth, folded it neatly

together, concealing the note within it. "That is the same post-office

as invented by thee," said he to himself with a grim smile. As the last

psalm was being sung, he left the Church quietly. Keenly did his

piercing eye survey the passing crowd. Finally he beheld a young

maiden, a member of his sect, who would be a suitable messenger. He

quietly went up to her and whispered for a while with her. Silent

messages, concerted watchwords, signals, and all sorts of secret

communications were not uncommon among the oppressed and persecuted

Baptists. The young woman accepted the charge given to her by the

Baptist without the slightest hesitation. The bells sounded, the

congregation left the Church, the marketplace was empty. Out of humor

and inwardly ill at rest Laurenzano now came out of the porch. "What

did that Dissenter want here during prayer-time," he asked himself.

"Unabashed he entered in the middle of the sermon, and how insolently

did he stare at me towards the end leaning against a pillar, as if I

were depicting the evil state of my own wicked conscience." He sighed,

and then continued angrily "I will take care that the police-magistrate

pays another visit to the Kreuzgrund." At that moment a neatly dressed

peasant girl came up to him, "Reverend Sir, you lost something

yesterday near the Stift." Scarcely was the cloth in his hand, than the

maiden disappeared round the corner. Laurenzano looked anxiously about

him, to see whether he was observed. Then he undid the cloth. It

contained a piece of paper. It was certainly from Lydia. She was

perhaps appointing a safer place than the Kreuzweg. He quickly turned

up a narrow street opposite, stopped and read the words: "Fly, all is

known." Terrified he looked behind him, and suddenly a loud voice above

him roared out: "The man deserves that a fox's tail be hung from his

collar, and himself be flogged out of the town," It was the landlord of

the Hirsch, talking about the opposition host, of the Ox. Paul knew the

voice well, and thought the words referred to himself, for he

remembered the habitual evening guests of the Hirsch, whom he had

caused to be imprisoned in the great tower. For that reason he had

daily been treated with great coolness in the Hirsch. So now it was

known that he was acting under orders of the Jesuits, it was known that

he had been the cause of the wretched fate of the four parsons, a

stranger warned him. Did he mean the betrayal, did he mean the

appointment with Lydia, or the affair with the daughter of the former

court fool? or perhaps--a shudder passed over him. In any case he was

discovered. Madly did he rush forwards. He only came back to his senses

on reaching the Speyer gate. Pigavetta is at present with the

Reichstag, he thought in his fear. Father Aloysius' name came back to

him as a deliverer from his inward and outward troubles. He alone could

advise him and the Bishop protect him. As if hunted by evil spirits he

hastened onwards. On the way to Schwetzingen was a tavern. A band was

playing a new gavotte composed by the jovial Henry of Navarre, and

introduced by the French into Heidelberg. "Beauteous Gabrielle," began

the words of the text thus set to music. In his indefinite fear it

sounded like mockery. As if pricked by spurs, he hastened his pace,

whilst the merry tune pursued him for some time across the silent

fields. He breathed more freely, when he had left the "beauteous

Gabrielle" entirely behind him. Only when the sun was setting, and a

cool breeze from the Bergstrasse fanned his neck, did he question

within himself whether he had not been rather premature in thus taking

to flight? He pulled the note out of his pocket. It was a coarse piece

of paper, a large bold handwriting, evidently a man's. With a shake of

the head he once more concealed the mysterious words about him. Under

any circumstances he must consult Pigavetta, and more calmly did he

continue his journey along the stubbly road between the waving

cornfields.

The Baptist left the market-place the moment that he perceived from

afar the effect of his message. He saw how the Magister slipped up the

narrow street, how he trembled, and how finally he hastened away, but

not at all in the direction of the _rendez-vous_. "I have the greatest

mind," thought the old man laughing "to send the same message to all

these priests of Baal, I bet, that the following morning all the

pulpits in this sinful town would be empty." Some of his errands were

not quite finished; he was only free as night came on. "The deluded

maiden must be home by this time," he said, as he left the home of

his last customer; "perhaps she is sad and ashamed, I will try and

touch her better feelings, and thus spare the good Physician a great

sorrow--" and although tired and hungry he once more climbed the

Schlossberg. He found there only Erastus' housekeeper in an anxious

state of mind at the young lady's absence. "I have specimens of wheat,"

said the Miller, "and a message besides, she will not stay out much

longer and I have already climbed up here twice to-day." The old

Barbara delighted at having some one to keep her company in her

solitude, set a bowl of millet soup before him chattering away in

praise of her young mistress. He answered shortly, and listened in

great distress of mind to every sound. Midnight was approaching and

still the two sat on waiting near the hearth by the burnt out fire.

Finally the old servant could not contain her anxiety any longer. She

wanted to rouse the people in the castle to search for Lydia, but the

Miller stopped her. "A scandal won't do. A girl's reputation is like

the bloom on the peach, or a frost flower on a pane of glass. Touch

them, they are gone. Therefore keep quiet. I fancy I know where she is,

but you must promise me to be silent. If to-morrow by mid-day I have

not found her, I shall come back here. Till then do not mention a word

of this to any one." Old Barbara gave her promise. She felt relieved at

his taking the responsibility on himself. When the Miller reached the

town once again, he turned down one of the narrow side streets leading

to the Neckar. He knocked three times in a peculiar manner at the

shutters of a house. "Immediately," answered a gentle female voice. The

Baptist entered and asked whether his boy was still there? "He sleeps,"

was the answer. "Wake him and give us both a couple of stout sticks."

After a time the boy appeared looking very drowsy, but determined to

accompany his father without a word of complaint, who grasped in his

strong hand the knotty thorn lent to him. After giving their names they

were allowed by the guard to cross the bridge. "We are going by way of

the Holtermann to the Kreuzgrund."

"That is it," said the boy. "I thought that was the reason why thou

didst remain out so long."

Silently, continuing his sleep as he best might whilst walking, the

weary boy plodded in a mechanical manner behind his father. The

crickets chirped around them, and fire-flies flew among the bushes.

When they reached the brow of the hill near the old beech tree, the

father ordered his son to shout his loudest mountain call. The boy did

this at first with a tired husky voice, then louder and louder, but all

remained mute. A bird rose here and there from its bush, and a cock

crowed an answer from the Siebenmuehlenthal. "There is no one here any

longer," said old Werner sadly, "why should she be? Let us go to our

beds."

"It seems to me as if I saw a fire there, Father," said the boy.

"You are right. What means a fire in the middle of the Kreuzweg?"

Quietly did the old man and his son steal up to where the light shone.

"Go thou round that way, I go this way, so she cannot escape us, should

she be there."

By the Kreuzweg sat in the seat from whence she had been disturbed by

Lydia, the old witch of the Kreuzgrund. Before her lay the bleached

skull of a child, around which she had placed three lights. Over a

coal-fire was swung a vessel containing a strangely smelling water.

Near wriggled the bodies of three snakes whose heads had been cut off.

All kinds of magical implements were scattered around. The witch

herself had fallen fast asleep. "Mother Sibylla," shouted the Miller

loudly in her ear, "what has become of the maiden, who was waiting here

this evening?"

The witch started up and stared at Werner. "The fair Ly----," murmured

she half asleep, and then became silent.

"Where is she?" repeated the Miller.

"I know nothing about the matter," murmured the old woman, now

thoroughly aroused.

"You know all, the name was even on your lips. Do you confess

everything or else to-morrow I tell the magistrate that I have already

found you twice at midnight on the Kreuzweg, and the previous week

before sunrise by the Linsenteich."

The witch grinned. "They will burn you as well as me, if I say, what I

know about you."

"I however die for the Lord Jesus Christ and you for Satan." The old

woman would have laughed mockingly but suddenly the forest immediately

behind her seemed alive. A cock crowed, then the grunting of swine was

heard together with an outlandish neighing.

"Be quiet, George," said the Miller angrily. The witch stared at him in

fear, then looked behind her, thinking to see in the thicket a man

breathing out flames. "What do you wish to know," she tremblingly

asked.

"What has become of the maiden?"

"The sons of the host of the Rose, and the red Maier frightened her

away from here. She flew towards the cloister, I heard the three

shouting after her. What they have done to her, I know not."

The old man's heart sank within him, then he said sternly: "When was

that?"

"It may have been four hours ago, the moon had just risen."

"Then are we too late. May God have mercy on your soul, if you have

caused this. And now quit this foolery," and he gave her kettle a kick,

causing it to tip over, so that the coals flamed up with the fat of the

snakes. "Come out, George, and show her, what sort of devil has

frightened her." The boy came out and stood before the fire looking at

the old woman mockingly. "The plague seize thee and thy father."

"Yes the plague, always the plague," quoth the old Miller, "but if ever

it comes you will have wished you had not called upon it. I tell you,

you will yet end badly, although your foolish witchcraft is not worth a

straw." With that he took his boy by the arm and hastened towards the

seven mills.

"We must find out the red-headed Maier and make him confess," said he.

After a sad pause, he began anew in a serious tone: "What thinkest thou

does the old woman yet earn by her nightly arts?"

"The rack or the stake."

"Good, my boy, therefore do not be tempted to play at being the devil,

for he who calls on the devil, is already in the devil's claws."

"But nevertheless we have often frightened with such jokes people who

wished to disturb our meetings."

"I have never sanctioned it, and thou least of all shouldst help in

such iniquity." The boy walked on ahead much mortified, as he felt

certain that the old witch had only been induced to confess through his

magic arts.

"Dost thou think, father, that she can bewitch?" asked he after a

while.

"To wish and to do, are different things," replied the old man.

"But the neighbours assert that she can produce mice, prevent cows from

milking, and cause women's hair to fall out."

"Yes especially when they have taken no precautions against vermin, fed

their cattle poorly, and themselves acted immorally, then it is always

witchery."

"But the peasant woman on the Hang relates, that Sibylla herself told

her 'if you do not take in your hay on Sunday, the devil will carry it

off.' Monday morning the hay was still there but when they came to rake

it together, a storm arose and sent it all to the devil."

"Accident, George, accident. She must have felt that a storm was

brewing. The evil spirit is a spirit, and has only power over spirits,

not over bodies, otherwise he would long since have prevented thee from

mocking him. But take care that he does not come into thee. There is he

powerful."

END OF VOL. I.

* * * * *

PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.

* * * * *

COLLECTION

OF

GERMAN AUTHORS.

VOL. 45.

KLYTIA BY GEORGE TAYLOR.

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.

KLYTIA.

A STORY OF HEIDELBERG CASTLE.

BY

GEORGE TAYLOR.

FROM THE GERMAN BY

SUTTON FRASER CORKRAN.

_Copyright Edition._

IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.

LEIPZIG 1883

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.

LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.

CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.

PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.

KLYTIA.

CHAPTER I.

Disturbed by the heavy fall of the young maiden the bats flew out of

the dark cellar and whirred wildly around. Toads crept from out of the

swampy rain-sodden ground and crawled up the damp wall towards the

opening. The terrified mice ran hither and thither. The moon had

reached its highest point, and cast its cold rays through the square

aperture on the humid wall. A violent pain in her foot aroused Lydia

from the faint, into which she had fallen, and in the which she knew

not how long she had lain. When she endeavored to stand up, she became

aware that her foot was broken. Only half conscious of her position,

she looked up through the shaft of the cellar, at the starry heaven

above. The Lord on whom she had called for aid had saved her from a

hideous fate. "He will not suffer me to perish here," she said with the

patience of a person afflicted with a serious illness. But the sight

was terrible which the beams of the Moon now falling straight disclosed

to her, as her eyes became more and more accustomed to the darkness.

Dozens of bats flew noiselessly about in the dark. Horrible toads

crawled along the wet walls. A rat ran across her face, so that she had

to start up in spite of her pain to frighten the animal away. Overhead,

all was still. Lydia reflected that her shouts would attract no one to

her, except perhaps her pursuers. She therefore determined to husband

her strength till dawn. She would then certainly succeed in making

herself heard by some of the children picking berries, or by some of

the numerous laborers. Anxiously did she gaze upwards towards the

opening to see whether the cold light of the moon was not giving way to

the warmer beams of the sun. Her back hurt her from having fallen

against stones, the stinging pain in her foot caused her to sob, but

she believed that she would be saved, and considered this as a

punishment for the guilt which she had been induced to commit. How

thankful she felt that her father was absent and therefore not anxious

about her. Thus thinking she fell asleep.

She woke, aroused by a stone which fell from above on her wounded foot.

"Nothing stirs," she heard a boy's voice say. "I am here," cried Lydia

in terror lest her deliverers should depart. "God be praised, young

lady," cried a man's voice, "we heard no sound and feared our search

was vain. Have you strength enough, to let yourself be pulled up by a

rope."

"I doubt it. My foot is broken and my back is wounded."

"Then must we see if the ladder is long enough."

"But you promise to do me no harm?"

"Don't you know me, young Maiden, the Miller Werner from the

Kreuzgrund, behind Ziegelhausen."

"Ah, is it you Father Werner," said she crying for joy. "How did you

find out where I was?"

"The wretches who hunted you down, said, you disappeared from them here

as if the earth had swallowed you up, so we could easily imagine where

you were. The scoundrels would have quietly let you perish."

"Yes, it was terrible," said Lydia, "but God punished me for my sins."

The ladder was now let down through the opening, and carefully did the

brave old man avoid touching Lydia. Then he himself climbed down

holding a burning rosin torch. "A filthy hole, this old cellar," he

murmured. "How the bats fly the light. Yes, light is horrible to you,

you children of darkness." Carefully did he raise Lydia, who like a

child wound her arms round his neck. Cautiously did he climb the ladder

to the world above, where he laid her down on the soft turf. The

question now was how to carry the sick child, who lay pale and faint on

the ground, to the high road beneath. The Miller thought at first of

using the ladder as a stretcher, and carrying her down on that. But the

ladder was small and hard. To fetch a stretcher would have taken too

much time and attracted attention. Lydia also begged urgently that he

would hurry. Nothing remained but for the old man to carry her down in

his arms, for which purpose he bound her to himself with the boy's

girdle. The latter ran down to the village to have a covered cart in

readiness below, whilst the father climbed cautiously down the stony

footpath leading to the road. Lydia lay still, on the back of the

miller, with her arms around his neck, while he sought the most lonely

path through wood and vineyard. "The lost sheep," he thought, "torn

even to bleeding by thorns and its wool remained sticking to the

hedges. But when the shepherd finds it again, he takes it on his back

with joy." And he looked at the pretty white hands clasped so

touchingly under his prickly chin. The sweet burden lay warm on his

back, and the maiden's delicate cheek rested on his shoulder. Then the

old gray-beard began to lose his head. It seemed to him whilst looking

at those white hands, as if an evil voice close to him said: "Thy

Martha never had such hands."

"What does that matter to thee, old sinner," he answered the tempter

bravely. "Hast thou always lived among the purer brethren, thou

would'st not care in thy older days to keep company with the coarser."

"To be waited upon by such hands, would nevertheless be pleasant,"

continued the first voice.

"Nevertheless thou hast still thy old wife," answered he gruffly.

"Have not Hetzer, Rottmann and other prophets taught, that when a

brother felt, he had not found his suitable spiritual bride, he might

loose himself from the older bond and enter into a new marriage."

"Let the disciples of Judas teach. Their end was like his. Old Martha

entered the Baptist Communion with me and has ever been a true wife."

"Then take two wives, as permitted by the prophets of Munster. Had not

the holy fathers, Abraham, Isaac, Lamech, Gideon, and David more than

one wife, why not thou also? It is true that the German princes forbade

this to the brethren at Munster, but the Landgraf himself, who

persecuted them with fire and sword, followed their example later on."

"Peace Satan," rejoined the old man. "Scripture is opposed to polygamy

in spite of Abraham and Philip of Hessen. God gave Adam only one Eva.

He created them male and female, not one male and two females. It is

also said, 'and they two shall be one flesh,' and not three or four.

But verily Martha is now nothing but skin and bones," he thought sadly

and sighed.

"You must find me very heavy, good father?" said Lydia in a low tone.

"No," he answered shortly. Then he became conscious that he had better

keep up a conversation with his _protegee_ than with the wicked Satan

who would tempt him from the right path, and he told her how his son

had informed him of the appointment made by Laurenzano, and how the

rest had come to pass. Lydia began to weep. "So you know everything,

and will certainly consider me very wicked."

"We are all but flesh and blood," said the Miller good-naturedly. "Our

souls will stumble so long as they go about on two legs, and each bears

within himself a rock of offence."

"I thank you father, for not punishing me more severely."

"That is not my office," replied the Baptist. "I have enough to punish

in myself."

"Ah, you are good, but I dare not think what others will think of me."

"People must be allowed to talk, as geese cannot," rejoined the Miller.

"Make your peace with God and then be satisfied. Look there is George

with the cart."

Joyfully cracking his whip, stood the little devil of the previous

night close to his horse. "Now we shall lay you down gently in the

waggon and then close the linen curtains." Getting her down was only

managed with much pain and difficulty; then the well known Miller drove

back unquestioned through the town to the portal of the Otto Heinrich

building. The careful Barbara had seen the cart crossing the drawbridge

and was immediately at hand. The Miller gave her no information. The

young lady had hurt her foot falling was all he said, and carefully was

she carried up the steps. Barbara by the Miller's advice wrapped the

leg in wet cloths, till the father at his return at mid-day could apply

a more surgically correct bandage. The brave Baptist had quietly

withdrawn to escape being thanked. The father himself forbade his

feverish child to talk, and appeared to be quite contented with the

short account given by Klytia. It was sufficient for him that the cure

proceeded satisfactorily, and the old Barbara scolded about the open

turnip-pit in which more than one person had twisted his foot. When

Erastus however asked later on for a more detailed account, he was

surprised at his daughter's request to be allowed not to mention the

cause of her accident. He shook his head, without however pressing his

inquiries. "She must have come to grief through the fault of another,"

he thought, and was at last glad that she spared him any fresh

troubles, as his own business began to demand more attention.

Nothing was heard of Magister Laurenzano in Heidelberg, except that he

asked for leave of absence till the re-opening of the College, and

wished especially to be relieved from his office of preacher at the

Stift.

In the bright town of Speyer with its own independent Bishopric, the

throng composing the parliament was so numerous that any individual man

was soon lost to sight. Any person who however might have entered

Speyer cathedral at the hour of Vespers on the day on which Lydia was

rescued, might have seen a young man clothed in black kneeling in the

most abject manner before one of the confessional boxes most concealed

in the gloom. His confession was at an end and the priest was earnestly

addressing him. A woman kneeling close by heard the words: "Only a long

discipline, my Son, can restore the equilibrium and order of thy

disturbed conscience." From that time onwards for several weeks the

same stranger might be noticed entering the cathedral daily at daybreak

and at sundown and going down to the dark crypt under the chancel.

Thence he disappeared in a side chapel set aside for the use of the

clergy of the chapter. "Where can Laurenzano be spending his holiday?"

asked the philosopher Pithopoeus at the round table in the Hirsch, who

loved a rational audience.

"His brother says," replied Erastus, "that he is in Speyer, but I have

not been able to hear a word about him from gentlemen who are there in

the Kurfuerst's suite, although I made all due inquiries."

"Very probably," answered Pithopoeus, who liked Laurenzano for the

interest he felt in scholastic discussions. "In the bustle which now

goes on in that town, an individual is easily lost."