Eva Ortlieb had been borne home from the ball in her sedan chair with a
happy smile hovering round her fresh young lips.
It still lingered there when she found her sister in their chamber,
sitting at the spinning wheel. She had not left her suffering mother
until her eyes closed in slumber, and was now waiting for Eva, to hear
whether the entertainment had proved less disagreeable than she feared,
and--as she had sent her maid to bed--to help her undress.
One glance at Eva told her that she had perhaps left the ballroom even
more reluctantly than she entered it; but when Els questioned her so
affectionately, and with maternal care began to unfasten the ribbon which
tied her cap, the young girl, who in the sedan chair had determined to
confess to no one on earth what so deeply moved her heart, could not
resist the impulse to clasp her in her arms and kiss her with impetuous
warmth.
Els received the caress with surprise for, though both girls loved each
other tenderly, they, like most sisters, rarely expressed it by tangible
proofs of tenderness. Not until Eva released her did Els exclaim in
merry amazement: "So it was delightful, my darling?"
"Oh, so delightful!" Eva protested with hands uplifted, and at the same
time met her sister's eyes with a radiant glance.
Yet the thought entered her mind that it ill beseemed her to express so
much pleasure in a worldly amusement. Her glance fell in shame, and she
gently continued in that tone of self-compassion which was by no means
unfamiliar to the members of her family. "True, though the Emperor is so
noble, and both he and the Burgravine were so gracious to me, at first--
and not only for a brief quarter of an hour, but a very long time I could
feel no real pleasure. What am I saying? Pleasure! I was indescribably
desolate and alone among all those vain, bedizened strangers. I was like
a shipwrecked sailor washed ashore by the waves and surrounded by people
whose language is unfamiliar."
"But half Nuremberg was at the ball," her sister interrupted. "Now you
see the trouble, darling. Whoever, like you, remains in seclusion and
mounts a tall tree to be entirely alone, will be deserted; for who would
be kind-hearted enough to learn to climb for your sake? But it seems
that afterwards one and another----"
"Oh!" Eva interrupted, "if you think that any of your friends gave me
more than a passing greeting, you are mistaken. Not even Barbel, Ann,
or Metz took any special notice of your sister. They kept near Ursel
Vorchtel, and she and her brother Ulrich, of course, behaved as if I wore
a fern cap and had become invisible. I cannot tell you how uncomfortable
I felt, and then--yes, Els, then I first realised distinctly what you are
to me. Obstinate as I often am, in spite of all your kindness and care,
ungraciously as I often treat you, to-night I clearly perceived that we
belong together, like a pair of eyes, and that without you I am only half
myself--or, at any rate--not complete. And--as we are speaking in
images--I felt like a sapling whose prop has been removed; even your
Wolff can never have longed for you more ardently. My father found
little time to give me. As soon as he saw me take my place in the Polish
dance he went with Uncle Pfinzing to the drinking room, and I did not see
him again till he came to bring me home. He had asked Fran Nutzel to
look after me, but her Kathrin was taken ill, as I heard when we were
leaving, and she disappeared with her during the first dance. So I moved
forlornly here and there until he--Heinz Schorlin--came and took charge
of me."
"He? Sir Heinz Schorlin?" asked Els in surprise, a look of anxious
suspense clouding her pretty, frank face. "The reckless Swiss, whom
Countess Cordula said yesterday was the pike in the dull carp pond of
the court, and the only person for whom it was worth while to bear the
penance imposed in the confessional?"
"Cordula von Montfort!" cried Eva scornfully. "If she speaks to me I
shall not answer her, I can tell you. My cheeks crimson when I think of
the liberty----"
"Never mind her," said her sister soothingly. "She is a motherless
child, and therefore unlike us. As for Heinz Schorlin, he is certainly a
gallant knight; but, my innocent lambkin, he is a wolf nevertheless."
"A wolf?" asked Eva, opening her large eyes as wide as if they beheld
some terrible object. But she soon laughed softly, and added quietly:
"But a very harmless wolf, who humbly changes his nature when the right
hand strokes him. How you stare at me! I am not thinking of your
beloved Wolff, whom you have tamed tolerably well, but the wolf of
Gubbio, which did so much mischief, and to which St. Francis went forth,
accosted him as Brother Wolf, and reminded him that they both owed their
lives to the goodness of the same divine Father. The animal seemed to
understand this, for it nodded to him. The saint now made a bargain with
the wolf, which gave him its paw in pledge of the oath; and it kept the
promise, for it followed St. Francis into the city, and never again
harmed anyone. The citizens of Gubbio fed the good beast, and when it
died sincerely mourned it. If you wish to know from whom I heard this
edifying story--which is true, and can be confirmed by some one now in
Nuremberg who witnessed it--let me tell you that it was the wicked wolf
himself; not the Gubbio one, but he from Switzerland. An old Minorite
monk, to whom he compassionately gave his horse, is the witness I
mentioned. At the tavern the priest told him what he had beheld with his
own eyes. Do you still inveigh against the dangerous beast, which acts
like the good Samaritan, and finds nothing more delightful than hearing
or speaking of our dear saint?"
"And this in the Town Hall during the dance?" asked Els, clasping her
hands as if she had heard something unprecedented.
Eva, fairly radiant with joy, nodded assent; and Els heard the ring of
pleasure in her clear voice, too, as she exclaimed: "That was just what
made the ball so delightful. The dancing! Oh, yes, it is easy enough to
walk and turn in time to the music when one has such a knight for a
partner; but that was by no means the pleasantest part of it. During the
interval--it seemed but an instant, yet it really lasted a considerable
time--we first entered into conversation."
"In one of the side rooms?" asked Els, the bright colour fading from her
cheeks.
"What are you thinking of?" replied Eva in a tone of offence. "I believe
I know what is seemly as well as anybody else. True, your Countess
Cordula did not set the most praiseworthy example. She allowed the whole
throng of knights to surround her in the ante-room, and your future
brother-in-law, Siebenburg, outdid them all. We--Heinz Schorlin and I--
sat near the Emperor's table in the great hall, where everybody could see
us. There the conversation naturally passed from the old Minorite to the
holy founder of his order, and remained there. And if ever valiant
knight possessed a devout mind, it is Heinz Schorlin. Whoever goes into
battle without relying upon God and his saints,' he said, 'will find his
courage lack wings, and his armour the surest defensive 'weapon.'"
"In the ballroom!" again fell from her sister's lips in the same tone of
amazement.
"Where else?" asked Eva angrily. "I never met him except there. What do
you other girls talk about at such entertainments, if it surprises you?
Besides, St. Francis was by no means our only subject; we spoke of the
future crusade, too. And oh!--you may believe me--we would have been
glad to talk of such things for hours. He knew many things about our
saint; but the precise one which makes him especially great and lovable,
and withal so powerful that he attracted all whom he deemed worthy to
follow him, he had not understood, and I was permitted to be the first
person to bring it clearly before his mind. Ah! and his wit is as keen
as his sword, and his heart is as open to all that is noble and sacred as
it is loyal to his lord and Emperor. If we meet again I shall win him
for the white cross on the black mantle and the battle against the
enemies of the faith."
"But, Eva," interrupted her sister, still under the spell of
astonishment, "such conversation amid the merry music of the pipers!"
"'Wherever three Christians meet, even though they are only laymen, there
is a church,' says Tertullian," Eva answered impressively. "One need not
go to the house of God to talk about the things which ought to be the
highest and dearest to every one; and Heinz Schorlin--I know it from his
own lips--is of the same opinion, for he told me voluntarily that he
would never forget the few hours which we had enjoyed together."
"Indeed!" said her sister thoughtfully. "But whether he does not owe
this pleasure more to the dancing than to the edifying conversation----"
"Certainly not!" replied Eva, very positively. "I can prove it, too;
for later, after he had heard many things about St. Clare, the female
counterpart of Francis, he vowed to make her his patron saint. Or do you
suppose that a knight changes his saints, as he does his doublet and coat
of mail, without having any great and powerful motive? Do you think it
possible that the idle pleasure of the dance led him to so important a
decision?"
"Certainly not. Nothing led him to it except the irresistible zeal of my
devout sister," answered Els, smiling, as she continued to comb her fair
hair. "She spoke with tongues in the ballroom, as the apostles did at
Pentecost, and thus our 'little saint' performed her first miracle: the
conversion of a godless knight during the dancing."
"Call it so, if you choose," replied Eva, her red lips pouting
scornfully, as if she felt raised above such pitiful derision. "How you
hurt, Els! You are pulling all the hair out of my head!"
The object of this rebuke had used the comb with the utmost care, but
the great luxuriance of the long, fair, waving locks had presented many
an impediment, and Eva seemed unusually sensitive that night. Els
thought she knew why, and made no answer to the unjust charge. She knew
her sister; and as she wound the braids about her head, and then, in the
maid's place, hung part of her finery on hooks, and laid part carefully
in the chest, she asked her numerous questions about the dance, but was
vouchsafed only monosyllabic replies.
At last Els knelt before the prie-dieu. Eva did the same, resting her
head so long upon her clasped hands that the patient older sister could
not wait for the "Amen," but, in order not to disturb Eva's devotion,
only pressed a light kiss upon her head and then carefully drew the
curtains closely over the windows which, instead of glass, contained
oiled parchment.
Eva's excitement filled her with anxiety. She knew, too, what a powerful
influence the bright moonlight sometimes exerted upon her while she
slept, and cast another glance at the closely curtained window before she
went to her own bed. There she lay a long time, with eyes wide open,
pondering over her sister's words, and in doing so perceived more and
more clearly that love was now knocking at the heart of the child
kneeling before the prie-dieu. Sir Heinz Schorlin, the wild butterfly,
desired to sip the honey from this sweet, untouched flower, and then
probably abandon her like so many before her. Love and anxiety made the
girl, whose opinion was usually milder than her sister's, a stern and
unwise judge, for she assumed that the Swiss--whose character in reality
was far removed from base hypocrisy--the man whom she had just termed a
wolf, had donned sheep's clothing to make her poor lambkin an easier
prey. But she was on guard and ready to spoil his game.
Did Eva really fail to understand the new feeling which had seized her
so swiftly and powerfully? Did she lull herself in the delusion that
she cared only for the welfare of the soul of the pious young knight?
Yes, it might be so, and prudent Els, who had watched her own little
world intently enough, said to herself that it would be pouring oil upon
the flames to tease Eva about the defeat which she, the "little saint,"
had sustained in the battle against the demands of the world and of the
feminine heart. Besides, her sister was too dear for her to rejoice in
her humiliation. Els resolved not to utter a word about the Swiss unless
compelled to do so.
Eva's prayers before retiring were often very long, but to-night it
seemed as if they would never end.
"She is not appealing to St. Clare for herself alone, but for another,"
thought Els. "I spend less time in doing it. True, a Heinz Schorlin
needs longer intercession than my Eva, my Wolff, and my poor pious
mother. But I won't disturb her yet."
Sighing faintly, she changed her position, but remained sitting propped
against the white pillows in order not to allow herself to be overcome by
sleep. But it was a hard struggle, and her lids often fell, her head
drooped upon her breast.
Dawn was already glimmering without when the supplicant at last rose and
sought her couch. Her sister let her lie quietly for a while, then she
rose and put out the lamp which Eva had forgotten to extinguish. The
latter noticed it, turned her face towards her and called her gently.
"To think that you should have to get up again, my poor Els! Give me
a good-night kiss."
"Gladly, dearest," replied the other. "But it is really quite time to
say 'good-morning."'
"And you have kept awake so long!" replied Eva compassionately, as she
threw her arms gratefully around her sister's neck, kissed her tenderly,
and then pressed her hot cheek to hers.
"What is this?" cried Els, with sincere anxiety. "Are you hurt, child?
Surely you are weeping?"
"No, no," was the reply. "I am only--I only thought that I had adorned
myself, decked myself out with idle finery, although I know how many poor
people are starving in want and misery, and how much more pleasing in the
sight of the Lord is the grey robe of the cloistered nun. I could
scarcely leave the hall in my overweening pleasure, and yet it would have
beseemed me far better to share the sufferings of the crucified Saviour."
"But, child," replied Els, striving to soothe her sister, "how often I
have heard from you and our aunt, the abbess, that no one was so cheerful
and so glad to witness the enjoyment of human beings and animals as your
St. Francis!"
"He--he!" groaned Eva, "he who attained the highest goal, who heard the
voice of the Lord wherever he listened; he who chose poverty as his
beloved bride, who scorned show and parade and the trappings of wealth,
as he disdained earthly love; he who celebrated in song the love of the
soul glowing for the highest things, as no troubadour could do--oh, how
ardently he knew how to love, but to love the things which do not belong
to this world!"
Els longed to ask what Eva knew about the ardent fire of love; but she
restrained herself, darkened the bed as well as she could with the
movable curtain which hung from the ceiling on both sides above the
double couch, and said: "Be sensible, child, and put aside such thoughts.
How loudly the birds are twittering outside! If our father is obliged to
breakfast alone there may be a storm, and I should be glad to have an
hour's nap. You need slumber, too. Dancing is tiresome. Shut your eyes
and sleep as long as you can. I'll be as quiet as a mouse while I am
dressing."
As she spoke she turned away from her sister and no longer resisted the
sleep which soon closed her weary eyes.
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Shipwrecked on the cliffs of 'better' and 'best'