Eva was standing at the open window. The violence of the storm seemed
exhausted. The clouds were rolling northward, and the thunder followed
the flashes of lightning at longer and longer intervals. Peace was
restored to the heavens, but the crowd and noise in the city and the
street constantly increased.
The iron tongues of the alarm bells had never swung so violently, the
warder's horn had never made the air quiver with such resonant appeals
for aid.
Nor did the metallic voices above call for help in vain, for while a
roseate glow tinged the linden in front of her window and the houses on
the opposite side of the street with the hues of dawn, the crowds
thronging from the Frauenthor to St. Klarengasse grew denser and denser.
The convent was not visible from her chamber, but the acrid odor of the
smoke and the loud voices which reached her ear from that direction
proved that the fire was no trivial one. While she was seeking out the
spot from which Heinz must have looked up to her window, the Ortlieb
menservants, with some of the Montfort retainers, came out of the house
with pails and ladders.
A female figure glided into the dark street after them. A black shawl
concealed her head and the upper part of her figure, and she held a
bundle in her hand.
It must be Katterle.
Where was she going at this hour? As she was carrying the package, she
could scarcely intend to help in putting out the fire. Was she stealing
away from fear of punishment? Poor thing! Even the maid was hurled into
misfortune through her guilt.
It pierced her very heart. But while she called to Katterle to stop her,
something else, which engrossed her still more, diverted her attention--
the loud voice of Countess Cordula reached her from the street door.
With whom was she talking? Did the girl, who ventured upon so many
things which ill-beseemed a modest maiden, intend to join the men? Eva
forgot that she, too, would have hurried to the nuns had not her father
prevented it. The countess was already standing in the courtyard.
After Eva had given her a hasty glance she again looked for the maid, but
Katterle had already vanished in the darkness. This grieved her; she had
neglected something which might have saved the girl, to whom she was
warmly attached, from some imprudent act. But while attracted by the
strange appearance of the countess she had forgotten the other.
Cordula had probably just left her couch, for she wore only a plain dress
tucked up very high, short boots, which she probably used in hunting, and
a shawl crossed over her bosom; another was wound round her head in the
fashion of the peasant women who brought their goods to market on cold
winter days. No farmer's wife could be more simply clad, and yet--Eva
was forced to admit it--there was something aristocratic in her firm
bearing.
Her companions were her father's chaplain and the equerry who had grown
grey in his service. Both were trying to dissuade her. The former
pointed to a troop of women who were following the chief of police and
some city constables, and said warningly: "Those are all wanton queans,
whom the law of this city compels to lend their aid in putting out fires.
How would it beseem your rank to join these who shame their sex----
No, no! It would be said to-morrow that the ornament of the house of
Montfort had----"
"That Countess Cordula had used her hands in extinguishing the fire," she
interrupted with gay self-confidence. "Is there any disgrace in that?
Must my noble birth debar me from being numbered among those who help
their neighbours so far as lies in their power? If any good is
accomplished here, those poor women yonder will make it no worse by
their aid. If people here believe that they do, it will give me double
pleasure to ennoble it by working with them. Putting out the flames will
not degrade me, and will make the women better. So, forward! See how
the fire is blazing yonder! Help is needed there and, thank Heaven, I am
no weakling. Besides, there are women who want assistance and, to women
in peril, the most welcome aid is woman's."
The old equerry, his eyes glittering with tears, nodded assent, and led
the way into the street; but the countess, instead of following
instantly, glanced back for the page who was to carry the bandages which
she had learned to use among her retainers at home. The agile boy did
not delay her long; but while his mistress was looking to see that he had
forgotten nothing of importance, he perceived at the window Eva, whose
beauty had long since fired his young heart, and cast a languishing
glance at her. Then Cordula also noticed her and called a pleasant
greeting. Eva was on the point of answering in the same tone, when she
remembered that Cordula had spoken of Heinz Schorlin in the presence of
others as if he were awaiting her in all submission. Anger surged hotly
in her breast, and she drew back into the room as if she had not heard
the salutation.
The countess perceived it, and shrugged her shoulders pityingly.
Eva, dissatisfied with herself, continued to gaze down into the street
long after the crowds of people flocking from the city had concealed
Cordula from her eyes. It seemed as though she would never again succeed
in anything that would bring contentment. Never had she felt so weak, so
ill-tempered, so devoid of self-reliance. Yet she could not, as usual,
seek consolation with her saint. There was so much here below to divert
her attention.
The roseate glow on the linden had become a crimson glare, the flickering
light on the opposite walls a dazzling illumination. The wind, now
blowing from the west, bore from St. Klarengasse burning objects which
scattered sparks around them--bundles of hay caught by the flames--from
the convent barn to the Marienthurm opposite, and into the street.
Besides, the noise above and behind, before and below her, grew louder
and louder. The ringing of the bells and the blare of trumpets from the
steeples continued, and with this constant ringing, pealing, and crashing
from above, mingled the high, clear voices of the choir of nuns in the
convent, beseeching in fervent litanies the help of their patron saint.
True, the singing was often drowned by the noise from the street, for the
fire marshals and quartermasters had been informed in time, and watchmen,
soldiers in the pay of the city, men from the hospital, and the abandoned
women (required by law to help put out the fires) came in little groups,
while bailiffs and servants of the Council, barbers (who were obliged to
lend their aid, but whose surgical skill could find little employment
here), members of the Council, priests and monks arrived singly. The
street also echoed with the trampling of many steeds, for mounted
troopers in coats of mail first dashed by to aid the bailiffs in
maintaining order, then the inspector of water works, with his chief
subordinate, trotted along to St. Klarengasse on the clumsy horses placed
at their disposal by the Council in case of fire. He was followed by the
millers, with brass fire engines. While their well-fed nags drew on
sledges, with little noise, through the mire of the streets now softened
by the rain, the heavy wooden water barrels needed in the work of
extinguishing the flames, there was a loud rattling and clanking as the
carts appeared on which the men from the Public Works building were
bringing large and small ladders, hooks and levers, pails and torches,
to the scene of the conflagration.
Besides those who were constrained by the law, many others desired to aid
the popular Sisters of St. Clare and thereby earn a reward from God. A
brewer had furnished his powerful stallions to convey to the scene of
action, with their tools, the eight masons whose duty it was to use their
skill in extinguishing the flames. All sorts of people--men and women--
followed, yelling and shrieking, to seek their own profit during the work
of rescue. But the bailiffs kept a sharp eye on them, and made way when
the commander of the German knights, with several companions on whose
black mantles the white cross gleamed, appeared on horseback, and at last
old Herr Berthold Vorchtel trotted up on his noble grey, which was known
to the whole city. He still had a firm seat in the saddle, but his head
was bowed, and whoever knew that only one hour before the corpse of his
oldest son, slain in a duel, had been brought home, admired the aged
magistrate's strength of will. As First Losunger and commander in chief
he was the head of the Council, and therefore of the city also. Duty had
commanded him to mount his steed, but how pale and haggard was his shrewd
face, usually so animated!
Just in front of the Ortlieb mansion the commander of the German knights
rode to his side, and Eva saw how warmly he shook him by the hand, as if
he desired to show the old man very cordially his deep sympathy in some
sore trouble which had assailed him.
Ever since Wolff's betrothal to Els had been announced the Vorchtels had
ceased to be on terms of intimacy with the Ortliebs; but old Herr
Berthold, though he himself had probably regarded young Eysvogel as his
"Ursel's" future husband, had always treated Eva kindly, and she was not
mistaken--tears were glittering on his cheeks in the torchlight. The
sight touched the young girl's inmost heart. How eagerly she desired to
know what had befallen the Vorchtels, and to give the old man some token
of sympathy! What could have caused him so much sorrow? Only a few
hours before her father had returned from a gay entertainment at his
house. It could scarcely concern Herr Berthold's wife, his daughter
Ursula, or either of his two vigorous sons. Perhaps death had only
bereft him of some more distant, though beloved relative, yet surely she
would have known that, for the Ortliebs were connected by marriage both
with the old gentleman and his wife.
Tortured by a presentiment of evil, Eva gazed after him, and also watched
for Heinz Schorlin among the people in the street. Must not anxiety for
her bring him hither, if he learned how near her house the fire was
burning?
Whenever a helmet or knight's baret appeared above the crowd she thought
that he was coming. Once she believed that she had certainly recognised
him, for a tall young man of knightly bearing appeared, not mounted, but
on foot, and stopped opposite to the Ortlieb house. That must be he!
But when he looked up to her window, the reflection of the fire showed
that the man who had made her heart beat so quickly was indeed a young
and handsome knight, but by no means the person for whom she had mistaken
him. It was Boemund Altrosen, famed as victor in many a tournament, who
when a boy had often been at the house of her uncle, Herr Pfinzing.
There was no mistaking his coal-black, waving locks. It was said that
the dark-blue sleeve of a woman's robe which he wore on his helmet in the
jousts belonged to the Countess von Montfort. She was his lady, for whom
he had won so many victories.
Heinz Schorlin had mentioned him at the ball as his friend, and told her
that the gallant knight would vainly strive to win the reckless countess.
Perhaps he was now looking at the house so intently on Cordula's account.
Or had Heinz, his friend, sent him to watch over her while he was
possibly detained by the Emperor?
But, no; he had just gone nearer to the house to question a man in the
von Montfort livery, and the reply now led him to move on towards the
convent.
Were the tears which filled Eva's eyes caused by the smoke that poured
from the fire more and more densely into the street, or to disappointment
and bitter anguish?
The danger which threatened her aunt and her beloved nuns also increased
her excitement. True, the sisters themselves seemed to feel safe, for
snatches of their singing were still audible amid the ringing of the
bells and the blare of the trumpets, but the fire must have been very
hard to extinguish. This was proved by the bright glow on the linden
tree and the shouts of command which, though unintelligible, rose above
every other sound.
The street below was becoming less crowded. Most of those who had left
their beds to render aid had already reached the scene of the
conflagration. Only a few stragglers still passed through the open gate
towards the Marienthurm. Among them were horsemen, and Eva's heart again
throbbed more quickly, but only for a short time. Heinz Schorlin was far
taller than the man who had again deceived her, and his way would hardly
have been lighted by two mounted torch bearers. Soon her rosy lips even
parted in a smile, for the sturdy little man on the big, strong-boned
Vinzgau steed, whom she now saw distinctly, was her dearest relative, her
godfather, the kind, shrewd, imperial magistrate, Berthold Pfinzing, the
husband of her father's sister, good Aunt Christine.
If he looked up he would tell her about old Herr Vorchtel. Nor did he
ride past his darling's house without a glance at her window, and when he
saw Eva beckon he ordered the servants to keep back, and stopped behind
the chains.
After he had briefly greeted his niece and she had enquired what had
befallen the Vorchtels, he asked anxiously: "Then you know nothing yet?
And Els--has it been kept from her, too?"
"What, in the name of all the saints?" asked Eva, with increasing alarm.
Then Herr Pfinzing, who saw that the door of the house was open, asked
her to come down. Eva was soon standing beside her godfather's big bay,
and while patting the smooth neck of the splendid animal he said
hurriedly, in a low tone: "It's fortunate that it happened so. You can
break it gradually to your sister, child. To-night Summon up your
courage, for there are things which even a man--To make the story short,
then: Tonight Wolff Eysvogel and young Vorchtel quarreled, or rather
Ulrich irritated your Wolff so cruelly that he drew his sword--"
"Wolff!" shrieked Eva, whose hand had already dropped from the horse.
"Wolff! He is so terribly strong, and if he drew his sword in anger----"
"He dealt his foe one powerful thrust," replied the imperial magistrate
with an expressive gesture. "The sword pierced him through. But I must
go on Only this one thing more: Ulrich was borne back to his parents as
a corpse. And Wolff Where is he hiding? May the saints long be the
only ones who know! A quarrel with such a result under the Emperor's
eyes, now when peace has just been declared throughout the land! Who
knows what sentence will be pronounced if the bailiffs show themselves
shrewder this time than usual! My office compelled me to set the pack
upon him. That is the reason I am so late. Tell Els as cautiously as
possible."
He bowed gallantly and trotted on, but Eva, as if hunted by enemies,
rushed up the staircase, threw herself on her knees before the prie dieu,
and sobbed aloud.
Young Vorchtel had undoubtedly heard of the events in the entry, taunted
Wolff with his betrothed bride's nocturnal interview with a knight, and
thus roused the strong man to fury. How terrible it all was! How could
she bear it! Her thoughtlessness had cost a human life, robbed parents
of their son! Through her fault her sister's betrothed husband, whom she
also loved, was in danger of being placed under ban, perhaps even of
being led to the executioner's block!
She had no thought of any other motive which might have induced the hot-
blooded young men to cross swords and, firmly convinced that her luckless
letter had drawn Heinz Schorlin to the house and thus led to all these
terrible things, she vainly struggled for composure.
Sometimes she beheld in imagination the despairing Els; sometimes the
aged Vorchtels, grieving themselves to death; sometimes Wolff, outlawed,
hiding like a hunted deer in the recesses of the forest; sometimes the
maid, fleeing with her little bundle into the darkness of the night;
sometimes the burning convent; and at intervals also Heinz Schorlin, as
he knelt before her and raised his clasped hands with passionate
entreaty.
But she repelled every thought of him as a sin, and even repressed the
impulse to look out into the street to seek him. Her sole duty now was
to pray to her patron saint and the Mother of God in behalf of her
sister, whom she had hurled into misfortune, and her poor heart bleeding
from such deep wounds; but the consolation which usually followed the
mere uplifting of her soul in prayer did not come, and it could not be
otherwise, for amid her continual looking into her own heart and
listening to what went on around her no real devotion was possible.
Although she constantly made fresh efforts to collect her thoughts, and
continued to kneel with clasped hands before the prie dieu, not a hoof-
beat, not a single loud voice, escaped her ear. Even the alternate
deepening and paling of the reflection of the fire, which streamed
through the window, attracted her attention, and the ringing of bells and
braying of trumpets, which still continued, maintained the agitation in
her soul.
Yet prayer was the sole atonement she could make for the wrong she had
done her sister; so she did not cease her endeavours to plead for her to
the Great Helper above, but her efforts were futile. Yet even when she
heard voices close by the house, among which she distinguished Countess
Cordula's and--if she was not mistaken--her father's, she resisted the
impulse to rise from her knees.
At last the vain struggle was ended by an interruption from without.
After unusually loud voices exclaiming and questioning had reached her
from the entry, the door of her chamber suddenly opened and old Martsche
looked in. The housekeeper was seeking something; but when she found the
devout child on her knees she did not wish to disturb her, and contented
herself with the evidence of her eyes. But Eva stopped her, and learned
that she was searching for Katterle, who could neither be found in her
room, or anywhere else. Herr Ortlieb had brought Countess von Montfort
home severely burned, and there were all sorts of things for the maid to
do.
Eva clung shuddering to the back of the prie dieu, for the certainty that
the unfortunate girl had really fled was like strewing salt on her
wounds.
When Martsche left her and Els entered, her excitement had risen to such
a pitch that she flung herself before her, as if frantic and, clinging to
her knees, heaping self-accusations upon herself with passionate
impetuosity, she pleaded, amid her sobs, for pardon and mercy.
Meanwhile Els had been informed by her father of her lover's fatal deed,
and as soon as she perceived what tortured her sister she relieved her,
with loving words of explanation, from the reproach of being the cause of
this misfortune also, for the quarrel had taken place so early that no
tidings of the meeting in the entry could have reached young Vorchtel
when he became involved in the fray with Wolff.
Nor was it solely to soothe Eva that she assured her that, deeply as she
mourned the death of the hapless Ulrich and his parents' grief, Wolff's
deed could not diminish either her love or her hope of becoming his.
Eva listened to this statement with sparkling eyes. The love in her
sister's heart was as immovably firm as the ancient stones of her native
stronghold, which defied every storm, and on which even the destroying,
kindling lightning could inflict no injury. This made her doubly dear,
and from the depths of dull despair her soul, ever prone to soar upwards,
rose swiftly to the heights of hopeful exaltation.
When Els at last entreated her to go to rest without her, she willingly
consented, for her mother was comfortable, and Sister Renata was watching
at her bedside.
Eva kept her promise, after Els, who wanted to see the Countess von
Montfort, had satisfied her concerning the welfare of the nuns and
promised to go to rest herself as soon as possible.
The stopping of the alarm bells proved that the fire was under control.
Even its reflection had disappeared, but the eastern sky was beginning to
be suffused with a faint tinge of rose colour.
When her sister left her Eva herself drew the curtains before the window,
and sleep soon ended her thoughts and yearnings, her grief and her hope.