It was after midnight when the servants closed the heavy door of the
Ortlieb mansion. The late guests had left it, mounted their horses, and
ridden away together through the Frauenthor into the city.
The moon no longer lighted their way. A sultry wind had swept from the
southwest masses of grey clouds, which constantly grew denser and darker.
Heinz Schorlin did not notice it, but his follower, Biberli, called his
attention to the rising storm and entreated him to choose the nearest
road to the city. To remain outside the gate in such darkness would be
uncomfortable, nay, perhaps not without peril, but the knight merely
flung him the peevish answer, "So much the better," and, to Biberli's
surprise, turned into St. Klarengasse, which brought him by no means
nearer to his distant lodgings in the Bindergasse.
It was unfortunate to be warmly devoted to a master who had no fear, whom
he was obliged to serve as a messenger of love, and who now probably
scarcely knew himself whither this love would lead him.
But true and steadfast Biberli would really have followed Sir Heinz, not
only in a dangerous nocturnal ramble, but through all the terrors of.
hell. So he only glanced down at his long, lean legs, which would be
exposed here to the bites of the dogs, with whom he stood on especially
bad terms, raised his long robe higher, as the paths over which they must
pass were of doubtful cleanliness, and deemed it a good omen when his
foot struck against a stout stick, which his patron saint had perhaps
thrown in his way as a weapon. Its possession was somewhat soothing, it
is true, yet he did not regain the pleasant consciousness of peace in
which his soul had rejoiced a few short hours before.
He knew what to expect from the irritable mood into which recent events
appeared to have thrown his master. Heinz usually soon forgot any such
trivial disappointment, but the difficulty threatening himself and
Katterle was far worse--nay, might even assume terrible proportions.
These alarming thoughts made him sigh so deeply that Heinz turned towards
him.
He would gladly have relieved his own troubled breast in the same way.
Never before had the soul of this light-hearted child of good fortune
served as the arena for so fierce a struggle of contending emotions.
He loved Eva, and the image of her white, supernaturally beautiful
figure, flooded by the moonlight, still stood before him as distinctly as
when, after her disappearance, he had resolved to plead his suit for her
to her sister; but the usually reckless fellow asked himself, shuddering,
what would have happened had he obeyed Eva's summons and been found with
her, as he had just been surprised with her sister. She was not wholly
free from guilt, for her note had really contained an invitation to a
meeting; yet she escaped. But his needless impetuosity and her sudden
appearance before the house had placed her modest, charming sister, the
betrothed bride of the gallant fellow who had fought with him in the
Marchfield, in danger of being misunderstood and despised. If the finger
of scorn were pointed at her, if a stain rested on her fair fame, the
austere Wolff Eysvogel would hardly desire to make her his wife, and then
this also would be his fault.
His kind, honest heart suffered keenly under these self-accusations, the
first which he had ever heeded.
Hitherto the volatile young fellow, who had often gaily risked his life
in battle and his last penny at the gaming table, had never thought of
seriously examining his own soul, battling by his own strength of will
against some secret longing and shunning its cause. On the contrary,
from childhood he had accustomed himself to rely on the protection and
aid of the Virgin and the saints; and when they passed the image with the
ever-burning lamp, where Katterle had just sought and found consolation,
he implored it not to let his bold intrusion into the home of the maiden
he loved bring evil upon her and her sister. He also vowed to the
convent and its saint--which, come what might, should also be his--a rich
gift whenever the Emperor or the gaming table again filled his purse.
The thought of being burdened his whole life long with the reproach of
having made two such charming, innocent creatures miserable seemed
unendurable. He would gladly have given gold and blood to remove it.
It was too late that day, but he resolved to go to the confessional on
the morrow, for absolution had always relieved and lightened his heart.
But how trivial his errors had been! True, the wrong he had now
committed was not a mortal sin, and would hardly impose a severe penance
upon him, yet it burdened him like the most infamous crime. He did not
understand himself, and often wondered why he, reckless Heinz, thus made
a mountain out of a molehill. Yet when, after this reflection, he
uttered a sigh of relief, it seemed as if a voice within commanded him
not to think lightly of what had passed, for on that evening he had
ceased to bestow pleasure on every one, and instead of, as usual, being
helpful and agreeable, he had plunged others who had done him no wrong--
nay, perhaps a whole household, whose daughter had given him the first
love of her young heart-into misery and disgrace. Had he considered the
consequences of his act, he would still be merry Heinz. Then he
remembered how, when a boy, playing with other lads high up among the
mountains just as it was beginning to thaw, he had hurled the work they
had finished with so much toil, a snow man, down the slope, rejoicing
with his playfellows over its swift descent towards the valley, until
they noticed with what frightful speed its bulk increased as it sped over
its snowy road, till at last, like a terrible avalanche, it swept away a
herdsman's hut--fortunately an empty one. Now, also, his heedlessness
had set in motion a mass which constantly rolled onward, and how terrible
might be the harm it would do!
If Hartmann, the Emperor's son, were only there! He confided everything
to him, for he was sure of his silence. Both his duty as a knight and
his conscience forbade him to relate his experiences and ask counsel from
any one else.
He was still absorbed in these gloomy thoughts when, just before reaching
the Walch, he heard Biberli's deep sigh. Here, behind and beside the
frames of the cloth weavers, stood the tents before which the followers
and soldiers of the princes and dignitaries who had come to the Reichstag
were still sitting around the camp fire, carousing and laughing.
Any interruption was welcome to him, and to Biberli it seemed like a
deliverance to be permitted to use his poor endangered tongue, for his
master had asked what grief oppressed him.
"If you desired to know what trouble did not burden my soul I could find
a speedier answer," replied Biberli piteously. "Oh, this night, my lord!
What has it not brought upon us and others! Look at the black clouds
rising in the south. They are like the dark days impending over us poor
mortals."
Then he confided to Heinz his fears for himself and Katterle. The
knight's assurance that he would intercede for him and, if necessary,
even appeal to the Emperor's favour, somewhat cheered his servitor's
drooping spirits, it is true, but by no means restored his composure,
and his tone was lugubrious enough as he went on:
"And the poor innocent girl in the Ortlieb house! Your little lady,
my lord, broke the bread she must now eat herself, but the other, the
older E."
"I know," interrupted the knight sorrowfully. "But if the gracious
Virgin aids us, they will continue to believe in the wager Cordula von
Montfort----"
"She! she!" Biberli exclaimed, enthusiastically waving his stick aloft.
"The Lord created her in a good hour. Such a heart! Such friendly
kindness! And to think that she interposed so graciously for you--you,
Sir Heinz, to whom she showed the favour of combing your locks, as if
you were already her promised husband, and who afterwards, for another's
sake, left her at the ball as if she wore a fern cap and had become
invisible. I saw the whole from the musician's gallery. True, the
somnambulist is marvellously beautiful."
But the knight interrupted him by exclaiming so vehemently: "Silence!"
that he paused.
Both walked on without speaking for some distance ere Heinz began again:
"Even though I live to grow old and grey, never shall I behold aught more
beautiful than the vision of that white-robed girlish figure on the
stairs."
True and steadfast Biberli sighed faintly. Love for Eva Ortlieb held his
master as if in a vise; but a Schorlin seemed to him far too good a match
for a Nuremberg maiden who had grown up among sacks of pepper and chests
of goods and, moreover, was a somnambulist. He looked higher for his
Heinz, and had already found the right match for him. So, turning to him
again, he said earnestly:
"Drive the bewitching vision from your mind, Sir Heinz. You don't know
--but I could tell you some tales about women who walk in their sleep by
moonlight."
"Well?" asked Heinz eagerly.
"As a maiden," Biberli continued impressively, with the pious intention
of guarding his master from injury, "the somnambulist merely runs the
risk of falling from the roof, or whatever accident may happen to a
sleepwalker; but if she enters the estate of holy matrimony, the evil
power which has dominion over her sooner or later transforms her at
midnight into a troll, which seizes her husband's throat in his sleep and
strangles him."
"Nursery tales!" cried Heinz angrily, but Biberli answered calmly:
"It can make no difference to you what occurs in the case of such
possessed women, for henceforward the Ortlieb house will be closed
against you. And--begging your pardon--it is fortunate. For, my lord,
the horse mounted by the first Schorlin--the chaplain showed it to you in
the picture--came from the ark in which Noah saved it with the other
animals from the deluge, and the first Lady Schorlin whom the family
chronicles mention was a countess. Your ancestresses came from citadels
and castles; no Schorlin ever yet brought his bride from a tradesman's
house. You, the proudest of them all, will scarcely think of making such
an error, though it is true--"
"Ernst Ortlieb, spite of his trade, is a man of knightly lineage, to whom
the king of arms opens the lists at every tournament!" exclaimed Heinz
indignantly.
"In the combat with blunt weapons," replied Biberli contemptuously.
"Nay, for the jousts and single combat," cried Heinz excitedly.
"The Emperor Frederick himself dubbed Herr Ernst a knight."
"You know best," replied Biberli modestly. But his coat of arms, like
his entry, smells of cloves and pepper. Here is another, however, who,
like your first ancestress, has a countess's title, and who has a right--
My name isn't Biberli if your lady mother at home would not be more than
happy were I to inform her that the Countess von Montfort and the darling
of her heart, which you are:
"The name of Montfort and what goes with it," Heinz interrupted, "would
surely please those at home. But the rest! Where could a girl be found
who, setting aside Cordula's kind heart, would be so great a contrast to
my mother in every respect?"
"Stormy mornings merge into quiet days," said the servant. "Everything
depends, my lord, upon the heart of which you speak so slightingly--the
heart and, even above that, upon the blood. 'Help is needed there,'
cried the kind heart just now, and then the blood did its 'devoir'. The
act followed the desire as the sound follows the blow of the hammer, the
thunder the flash of lightning. Well for the castle that is ruled by
such a mistress! I am only the servant, and respect commands me to curb
my tongue; but to-day I had news from home through the Provost Werner, of
Lucerne, whom I knew at Stansstadt. I meant to tell you of it over the
wine at the Thirsty Troopers, but that accursed note and the misfortune
which followed prevented. It will not make either of us more cheerful,
but whoever is ordered by the leech to drink gall and wormwood does
wisely to swallow the dose at one gulp. Do you wish to empty the cup
now?"
The knight nodded assent, and Biberli went on. "Home affairs are not
going as they ought. Though your uncle's hair is already grey, the
knightly blood in his veins makes him grasp the sword too quickly. The
quarrel about the bridge-toll has broken out again more violently than
ever. The townsfolk drove off our cattle as security and, by way of
punishment, your uncle seized the goods of their merchants, and they came
to blows. True, the Schorlin retainers forced back the men from town
with bloody heads, but if the feud lasts much longer we cannot hold out,
for the others have the money, and since the war cry has sounded less
frequently there has been no lack of men at arms who will serve any one
who pays. Besides, the townsfolk can appeal to the treaty of peace, and
if your uncle continues to seize the merchant's wares they will apply to
the imperial magistrate, and then:
"Then," cried Heinz eagerly, "then the time will have come for me to
leave the court and return home to look after my rights."
"A single arm, no matter how strong it may be, can avail nothing there,
my lord," Biberli protested earnestly. "Your Uncle Ramsweg has scarcely
his peer as a leader, but even were it not so you could not bring
yourself to send the old man home and put yourself in his place.
Besides, it would be as unwise as it is unjust. What is lacking at home
is money to pay the town what it demands for the use of the bridge, or to
increase the number of your men, and therefore:
"Well?" asked Heinz eagerly.
"Therefore seek the Countess von Montfort, who favours you above every
one else," was the reply; "for with her all you need will be yours
without effort. Her dowry will suffice to settle twenty such bridge
dues, and if it should come to a fray, the brave huntress will ride to
the field at your side with helmet and spear. Which of the four Fs did
Countess Cordula von Montfort ever lack?"
"The four Fs?" asked Heinz, listening intently. "The Fs," explained the
ex-pedagogue, "are the four letters which marriageable knights should
consider. They are: Family, figure, favour, and fortune. But hold your
cap on! What a hot blast this is, as if the storm were coming straight
from the jaws of hell. And the dust! Where did all these withered
leaves come from in the month of June? They are whirling about as if the
foliage had already fallen. There are big raindrops driving into my face
too B-r-r! You need all four Fs. No rain will wash a single one of
them away, and I hope it won't efface the least word of my speech either.
What, according to human foresight, could be lacking to secure the
fairest happiness, if you and the countess--"
"Love," replied Heinz Schorlin curtly.
"That will come of itself," cried Biberli, as if sure of what he was
saying, "if the bride is Countess Cordula."
"Possibly," answered the knight, "but the heart must not be filled by
another's image."
Here he paused, for in the darkness he had stumbled into the ditch by the
road.
The whirlwind which preceded the bursting of the storm blew such clouds
of dust and everything it contained into their faces that it was
difficult to advance. But Biberli was glad, for he had not yet found a
fitting answer. He struggled silently on beside his master against the
wind, until it suddenly subsided, and a violent storm of rain streamed in
big warm drops on the thirsty earth and the belated pedestrians. Then,
spite of Heinz's protestations, Biberli hurriedly snatched the long robe
embroidered with the St from his shoulders and threw it over his master,
declaring that his shirt was as safe from injury as his skin, but the
rain would ruin the knight's delicate embroidered doublet.
Then he drew over his head the hood which hung from his coat, and
meanwhile must have decided upon an answer, for as soon as they moved on
he began again: "You must drive your love for the beautiful sleepwalker
out of your mind. Try to do so, my dear, dear master, for the sake of
your lady mother, your young sister who will soon be old enough to marry,
our light-hearted Maria, and the good old castle. For your own
happiness, your lofty career, which began so gloriously, you must hear
me! O master, my dear master, tear from your heart the image of the
little Nuremberg witch, tempting though it is, I admit. The wound will
bleed for a brief time, but after so much mirthful pleasure a fleeting
disappointment in love, I should think, would not be too hard to bear if
it will be speedily followed by the fairest and most enduring happiness."
Here a flash of lightning, which illumined the hospital door close before
them, and made every surrounding object as bright as day, interrupted the
affectionate entreaty of the faithful fellow, and at the same time a
tremendous peal of thunder crashed and rattled through the air.
Master and servant crossed themselves, but Heinz exclaimed:
"That struck the tower yonder. A little farther to the left, and all
doubts and misgivings would have been ended."
"You can say that!" exclaimed Biberli reproachfully while passing with
his master through the gate which had just been opened for an imperial
messenger. "And you dare to make such a speech in the midst of this
heavenly wrath! For the sake of a pair of lovely eyes you are ready to
execrate a life which the saints have so blessed with every gift that
thousands and tens of thousands would not give it up from sheer gratitude
and joy, even if it were not a blasphemous crime!"
Again the lightning and thunder drowned his words. Biberli's heart
trembled, and muttering prayers beseeching protection from the avenging
hand above, he walked swiftly onward till they reached the Corn Market.
Here they were again stopped, for, notwithstanding the late hour, a
throng of people, shouting and wailing, was just pouring from the
Ledergasse into the square, headed by a night watchman provided with
spear, horn, and lantern, a bailiff, torchbearers, and some police
officers, who were vainly trying to silence the loudest outcries.
Again a brilliant flash of lightning pierced the black mass of clouds,
and Heinz, shuddering, pointed to the crowd and asked, "Do you suppose
the lightning killed the man whom they are carrying yonder?"
"Let me see," replied Biberli, among whose small vices curiosity was by
no means the least. He must have understood news gathering thoroughly,
for he soon returned and informed Heinz, who had sought shelter from the
rain under the broad bow window of a lofty house, that the bearers were
just carrying to his parents' home a young man whose thread of life had
been suddenly severed by a stab through the breast in a duel. After the
witnesses had taken the corpse to the leech Otto, in the Ledergasse, and
the latter said that the youth was dead, they had quickly dispersed,
fearing a severe punishment on account of the breach of the peace. The
murdered man was Ulrich Vorchtel, the oldest son of the wealthy Berthold
Vorchel, who collected the imperial taxes.
Again Heinz shuddered. He had seen the unfortunate young man the
day before yesterday at the fencing school, and yesterday, full of
overflowing mirth, at the dance, and knew that he, too, had fought in
the battle of Marchfield. His foe must have been master of the art of
wielding the sword, for the dead man had been a skilful fencer, and was
tall and stalwart in figure.
When the servant ended his story Heinz stood still in the darkness for a
time, silently listening. The bells had begun to ring, the blast of the
watchman's horn blended with the wailing notes summoning aid, and in two
places--near the Thiergartenthor and the Frauenthor--the sky was
crimsoned by the reflection of a conflagration, probably kindled by some
flash of lightning, which flickered over the clouds, alternately rising
and falling, sometimes deeper and anon paler in hue. Throngs of people,
shouting "Fire!" pressed from the cross streets into the square. The
stillness of the night was over.
When Heinz again turned to Biberli he said in a hollow tone:
"If the earth should swallow up Nuremberg tonight it would not surprise
me. But over yonder--look, Biber, the Duke of Pomerania's quarters in
the Green Shield are still lighted. I'll wager that they are yet at the
gaming table. A plague upon it! I would be there, too, if my purse
allowed. I feel as if yonder dead man and his coffin were burdening my
soul. If it was really good fortune in love that snatched the zecchins
from my purse yesterday:
"Then," cried Biberli eagerly, "to-night is the very time, ere Countess
Cordula teaches you to forget what troubles you, to win them back. The
gold for the first stake is at your disposal."
"From the Duke of Pomerania, you think?" asked Heinz; then, in a quick,
resolute tone, added: "No! Often as the duke has offered me his purse,
I never borrow from my peers when the prospect of repayment looks so
uncertain."
"Gently, my lord," returned Biberli, slapping his belt importantly.
"Here is what you need for the stake as your own property. No miracles
have been wrought for us, only I forgot But look! There are the black
clouds rolling northward over the castle. That was a frightful storm!
But a spendthrift doesn't keep house long-and the thunder has not yet
followed that last flash of lightning. There is plenty of uproar without
it. It's hard work to hear one's self speak amid all the ringing,
trumpeting, yelling, and shrieking. It seems as if they expected to
put out the fire with noise. The fathers of the city can attend to that.
It doesn't appear to disturb the duke and his guests at their dice; and
here, my lord, are fifty florins which, I think, will do for the
beginning."
Biberli handed the knight a little bag containing this sum, and when
Heinz asked in perplexity where he obtained it, the ex-schoolmaster
answered gaily: "They came just in the nick of time. I received them
from Suss, the jockey, while you were out riding this afternoon."
"For the black?" Heinz enquired.
"Certainly, my lord. It's a pity about the splendid stallion. But,
as you know, he has the staggers, and when I struck him on the coronet
he stood as if rooted to the earth, and the equerry, who was there, said
that the disease was proved. So the Jew silently submitted, let the
horse be led away, and paid back what we gave him. Fifty heavy florins!
More than enough for a beginning. If I may advise you, count on the two
and the five when fixed numbers are to be thrown or hit. Why? Because
you must turn your ill luck in love to advantage: and those from whom it
comes are the two beautiful Ortlieb Es, as Nuremberg folk call the ladies
Els and Eva. That makes the two. But E is the fifth letter in the
alphabet, so I should choose the five. If Biberli did not put things
together shrewdly--"
"He would be as oversharp as he has often been already," Heinz
interrupted, but he patted Biberli's wet arm as he spoke, and added
kindly "Yet every day proves that my Biberli is a true and steadfast
fellow; but where in the wide world did you, a schoolmaster, gain
instruction in the art of throwing the dice?"
"While we were studying in Paris, with my dead foster brother," replied
the servant with evident emotion. "But now go up, my lord, before the
fire alarm, and I know not what else, makes the people upstairs separate.
The iron must be forged during this wild night. Only a few drops of rain
are falling. You can cross the street dry even without my long garment."
While speaking he divested the knight of his robe, and continued eagerly:
"Now, my lord, from the coffin, or let us say rather the leaden weight,
which oppresses your soul, let a bolt be melted that will strike
misfortune to the heart. Glittering gold has a cheering colour."
"Stop! stop!" Heinz interrupted positively. "No good wishes on the
eve of hunting or gaming.
"But if I come bounding down the stairs of the Green Shield with a purse
as heavy as my heart is just now--why, Biberli, success puts a new face
on many things, and yours shall again look at me without anxiety."