The Indifference of the Miller of Hofbau.
There is a swift little river running by the village of Hofbau, and on
the river is a mill, kept in the days of King Rudolf III. by a sturdy
fellow who lived there all alone; the King knew him, having alighted at
his house for a draught of beer as he rode hunting, and it was of him
the King spoke when he said to the Queen, "There is, I believe, but one
man in the country whom Osra could not move, and he is the Miller of
Hofbau." But although he addressed the Queen, it was his sister at whom
he aimed his speech. The Princess herself was sitting by, and when she
heard the King she said:
"In truth I do not desire to move any man. What but trouble comes of it?
Yet who is this miller?"
The King told her where the miller might be found, and he added: "If you
convert him to the love of women you shall have the finest bracelet in
Strelsau."
"There is nothing, sire, so remote from my thoughts or desires as to
convert your miller," said Osra scornfully.
In this, at the moment, she spoke truthfully; but being left alone for
some days at the Castle of Zenda, which is but a few miles from Hofbau,
she found the time hang very heavy on her hands; indeed she did not know
what to do with herself for weariness; and for this reason, and none
other at all, one day she ordered her horse and rode off with a single
groom into the forest. Coming, as the morning went on, to a wide road,
she asked the groom where it led. "To Hofbau, madame," he answered. "It
is not more than a mile further on." Osra waited a few moments, then she
said: "I will ride on and see the village, for I have been told that it
is pretty. Wait here till I return," and she rode on, smiling a little,
and with a delicate tint of colour in her cheeks.
Before long she saw the river and the mill on the river; and, coming to
the mill, she saw the miller sitting before his door, smoking a long
pipe. She called out to him, asking him to sell her a glass of milk.
"You can have it for the asking," said the miller. He was a good-looking
fair fellow, and wore a scarlet cap. "There is a pail of it just inside
the door behind me." Yet he did not rise, but lay there, lolling
luxuriously in the sun. For he did not know Osra, never having been to
Strelsau in his life, and to Zenda three or four times only, and that
when the Princess was not there. Moreover--though this, as must be
allowed, is not to the purpose--he had sworn never again to go so far
afield.
Being answered in this manner, and at the same time desiring the milk,
the Princess had no choice but to dismount.
This she did, and passed by the miller, pausing a moment to look at him
with bright curious eyes, that flashed from under the brim of her
wide-rimmed feathered hat; but the miller blinked lazily up at the sun
and took no heed of her.
Osra passed on, found the pail, poured out a cup of milk, and drank it.
Then, refilling the cup, she carried it to the miller.
"Will you not have some?" said she with a smile.
"I was too lazy to get it," said the miller; and he held out his hand,
but did not otherwise change his position.
Osra's brow puckered and her cheek flushed as she bent down, holding the
cup of milk so that the miller could reach it. He took and drained it,
gave it back to her, and put his pipe in his mouth again. Osra sat down
by him and watched him. He puffed and blinked away, never so much as
looking at her.
[Illustration: "HE TOOK IT AND DRAINED IT."--_Page 204._]
"What have you for dinner?" asked she presently.
"A piece of cold pie," said he. "There's enough for two, if you're
hungry."
"Would you not like it better hot?"
"Oh, aye; but I cannot weary myself with heating it."
"I'll heat it," said the Princess; and, rising, she went into the house,
and made up the fire, which was almost burnt out; then she heated the
pie, and set the room in order, and laid the table, and drew a large jug
of beer from the cask. Next she placed an arm-chair ready for the
miller, and put the jug by it; then she filled the pipe from the bowl of
tobacco and set a cushion in the chair. All this while she hummed a
tune, and from time to time smiled gayly. Lastly, she arranged a chair
by the elbow of the miller's chair; then she went out and told him that
his dinner was ready; and he stumbled to his feet with a sigh of
laziness, and walked before her into the house.
"May I come?" cried she.
"Aye, there is enough for two," said the Miller of Hofbau without
looking round.
So she followed him in. He sank into the arm-chair and sat there, for a
moment surveying the room which was so neat, and the table so daintily
laid, and the pie so steaming hot. And he sighed, saying:
"It was like this before poor mother died." And he fell to on a great
portion of pie with which Osra piled his plate.
When he had finished eating--which thing did not happen for some
time--she held the jug while he took a long draught; then she brought a
coal in the tongs and held it while he lit his pipe from it; then she
sat down by him. For several moments he puffed, and then at last he
turned his head and looked at Princess Osra; she drooped her long lashes
and cast down her eyes; next she lifted her eyes and glanced for an
instant at the miller; and, finally, she dropped her eyes again and
murmured shyly: "What is it, sir? Why do you look at me?"
"You seem to be a handy wench," observed the miller. "The pie was
steaming hot and yet not burnt, the beer was well frothed but not shaken
nor thickened, and the pipe draws well. Where does your father dwell?"
"He is dead, sir," said Princess Osra very demurely.
"And your mother?" pursued the miller.
"She also is dead."
"There is small harm in that," said the miller thoughtfully; and Osra
turned away her head to hide her smile.
"Are you not very lonely, living here all by yourself?" she asked a
moment later.
"Indeed I have to do everything for myself," said the miller sadly.
"And there is nobody to--to care for you?"
"No, nor to look after my comfort," said the miller. "Have you any
kindred?"
"I have two brothers, sir; but they are married now, and have no need of
me."
The miller laid down his pipe and, setting his elbow on the table, faced
Princess Osra.
"H'm!" said he. "And is it likely you will ride this way again?"
"I may chance to do so," said Osra, and now there was a glance of
malicious triumph in her eyes; she was thinking already how the bracelet
would look on her arm.
"Ah!" said the miller. And after a pause he added: "If you do, come half
an hour before dinner, and you can lend a hand in making it ready. Where
did you get those fine clothes?"
"My mistress gave them to me," answered Osra. "She has cast them off."
"And that horse you rode?"
"It is my master's; I have it to ride when I do my mistress's errands."
"Will your master and mistress do anything for you if you leave your
service?"
"I have been promised a present if----" said Osra, and she paused in
apparent confusion.
"Aye," said the miller, nodding sagaciously, as he rose slowly from the
arm-chair. "Will you be this way again in a week or so?" he asked.
"I think it is very likely," answered the Princess Osra.
"Then look in," said the miller. "About half an hour before dinner." He
nodded his head again very significantly at Osra, and, turning away,
went to his work, as a man goes who would far rather sit still in the
sun. But just as he reached the door he turned his head and asked: "Are
you sturdy?"
"I am strong enough, I think," said she.
"A sack of flour is a heavy thing for a man to lift by himself,"
remarked the miller, and with that he passed through the door and left
her alone.
Then she cleared the table, put the pie--or what was left--in the
larder, set the room in order, refilled the pipe, stood the jug handy by
the cask, and, with a look of great satisfaction on her face, tripped
out to where her horse was, mounted, and rode away.
The next week--and the interval had seemed long to her, and no less long
to the Miller of Hofbau--she came again, and so the week after; and in
the week following that she came twice; and on the second of these two
days, after dinner, the miller did not go off to his sacks, but he
followed her out of the house, pipe in hand, when she went to mount her
horse, and as she was about to mount, he said:
"Indeed you're a handy wench."
"You say much of my hands, but nothing of my face," remarked Princess
Osra.
"Of your face?" repeated the miller in some surprise. "What should I say
of your face?"
"Well, is it not a comely face?" said Osra, turning towards him that he
might be better able to answer her question.
The miller regarded her for some minutes, then a slow smile spread on
his lips.
"Oh, aye, it is well enough," said he. Then he laid a floury finger on
her arm as he continued: "If you come next week--why, it is but half a
mile to church! I'll have the cart ready and bid the priest be there.
What's your name?" For he had not hitherto asked Osra's name.
"Rosa Schwartz," said she, and her face was all alight with triumph and
amusement.
"Yes, I shall be very comfortable with you," said the miller. "We will
be at the church an hour before noon, so that there may be time
afterwards for the preparation of dinner."
"That will be on Thursday in next week?" asked Osra.
"Aye, on Thursday," said the miller, and he turned on his heel. But in a
minute he turned again, saying: "Give me a kiss, then, since we are to
be man and wife," and he came slowly towards her, holding his arms open.
"Nay, the kiss will wait till Thursday. Maybe there will be less flour
on your face then." And with a laugh she dived under his outstretched
arms and made her escape. The day being warm, the miller did not put
himself out by pursuing her, but stood where he was, with a broad
comfortable smile on his lips; and so he watched her ride away.
Now, as she rode, the Princess was much occupied in thinking of the
Miller of Hofbau. Elated and triumphant as she was at having won from
him a promise of marriage, she was yet somewhat vexed that he had not
shown a more passionate affection, and this thought clouded her brow for
full half an hour. But then her face cleared. "Still waters run deep,"
she said to herself. "He is not like these Court gallants, who have
learnt to make love as soon as they learn to walk, and cannot talk to a
woman without bowing and grimacing and sighing at every word. The miller
has a deep nature, and surely I have won his heart, or he would not take
me for his wife. Poor miller! I pray that he may not grieve very
bitterly when I make the truth known to him!" And then, at the thought
of the grief of the miller, her face was again clouded; but it again
cleared when she considered of the great triumph that she had won, and
how she would enjoy a victory over the King, and would have the finest
bracelet in all Strelsau as a gift from him. Thus she arrived at the
Castle in the height of merriment and exultation.
It chanced that the King came to Zenda that night, to spend a week
hunting the boar in the forest; and when Osra, all blushing and
laughing, told him of her success with the Miller of Hofbau he was
greatly amused, and swore that no such girl ever lived, and applauded
her, renewing his promise of the bracelet; and he declared that he would
himself ride with her to Hofbau on the wedding-day, and see how the poor
miller bore his disappointment.
"Indeed I do not see how you are going to excuse yourself to him," he
laughed.
"A purse of five hundred crowns must do that office for me," said she.
"What, will crowns patch a broken heart?"
"His broken heart must heal itself, as men's broken hearts do, brother!"
"In truth, sister, I have known them cure themselves. Let us hope it may
be so with the Miller of Hofbau."
"At the worst I have revenged the wrongs of women on him. It is
unendurable that any man should scorn us, be he king or miller."
"It is indeed very proper that he should suffer great pangs," said the
King, "in spite of his plaster of crowns. I shall love to see the stolid
fellow sighing and moaning like a lovesick courtier."
So they agreed to ride together to the miller's at Hofbau on the day
appointed for the wedding, and both of them waited with impatience for
it. But, with the bad luck that pursues mortals (even though they be
princes) in this poor world, it happened that early in the morning of
the Thursday a great officer came riding post-haste from Strelsau to
take the King's commands on high matters of State; and, although Rudolf
was sorely put out of temper by this untoward interruption, yet he had
no alternative but to transact the business before he rode to the
miller's at Hofbau. So he sat fretting and fuming, while long papers
were read to him, and the Princess walked up and down the length of the
drawbridge, fretting also; for before the King could escape from his
affairs, the hour of the wedding was already come, and doubtless the
Miller of Hofbau was waiting with the priest in the church. Indeed it
was one o'clock or more before Osra and the King set out from Zenda, and
they had then a ride of an hour and a half; and all this when Osra
should have been at the miller's at eleven o'clock.
"Poor man, he will be half mad with waiting and with anxiety for me!"
cried Osra. "I must give him another hundred crowns on account of it."
And she added, after a pause, "I pray he may not take it too much to
heart, Rudolf."
"We must try to prevent him doing himself any mischief in his despair,"
smiled the King.
"Indeed it is a serious matter," pouted the Princess, who thought the
King's smile out of place.
"It was not so when you began it," said her brother; and Osra was
silent.
Then about half-past two they came in sight of the mill. Now the King
dismounted, while they were still several hundred yards away, and tied
his horse to a tree in a clump by the wayside; and when they came near
to the mill he made a circuit and approached from the side, and,
creeping along to the house, hid himself behind a large water-butt,
which stood just under the window; from that point he could hear what
passed inside the house, and could see if he stood erect. But Osra rode
up to the front of the mill, as she had been accustomed, and, getting
down from her horse, walked up to the door. The miller's cart stood in
the yard of the mill, but the horse was not in the shafts, and neither
the miller nor anybody else was to be seen about; and the door of the
house was shut.
"He must be waiting at the church," said she. "But I will look in and
make sure. Indeed I feel half afraid to meet him." And her heart was
beating rapidly and her face was rather pale as she walked up to the
door; for she feared what the miller might do in the passion of his
disappointment at learning who she was and that she could not be his
wife. "I hope the six hundred crowns will comfort him," she said, as she
laid her hand on the latch of the door; and she sighed, her heart being
heavy for the miller, and, maybe a little heavy also for the guilt that
lay on her conscience for having deceived him.
Now when she lifted the latch and opened the door, the sight that met
her eyes was this: The table was strewn with the remains of a brave
dinner; two burnt-out pipes lay beside the plates. A smaller table was
in front of the fire; on it stood a very large jug, entirely empty, but
bearing signs of having been full not so long ago; and on either side of
it, each in an arm-chair, sat the priest of the village and the Miller
of Hofbau; both of them were sleeping very contentedly, and snoring
somewhat as they slept. The Princess, smitten by remorse at the
spectacle, said softly:
[Illustration: "ON EITHER SIDE OF IT SAT THE PRIEST OF THE VILLAGE AND
THE MILLER OF HOFBAU."--_Page 215._]
"Poor fellow, he grew weary of waiting, and hungry, and was compelled to
take his dinner; and, like the kind man he is, he has entertained the
priest, and kept him here, so that no time should be lost when I
arrived. Indeed I am afraid the poor man loves me very much. Well,
miller, or lord, or prince--they are all the same. Heigh-ho! Why did I
deceive him?" And she walked up to the miller's chair, leant over the
back of it, and lightly touched his red cap with her fingers. He put up
his hand and brushed with it, as though he brushed away a fly, but gave
no other sign of awakening.
The King called softly from behind the water-butt under the window:
"Is he there, Osra? Is he there?"
"The poor man has fallen asleep in weariness," she answered. "But the
priest is here, ready to marry us. Oh, Rudolf, I am so sorry for what I
have done!"
"Girls are always mighty sorry, after it is done," remarked the King.
"Wake him up, Osra."
At this moment the Miller of Hofbau sat up in his chair and gave a great
sneeze; and by this sound the priest also was awakened. Osra came
forward and stood between them. The miller looked at her, and tilted his
red cap forward in order that he might scratch his head. Then he looked
across to the priest, and said:
"It is she, Father. She has come."
The priest rubbed his hands together, and smiled uncomfortably.
"We waited two hours," said he, glancing at the clock. "See, it is three
o'clock now."
"I am sorry you waited so long," said Osra, "but I could not come
before. And--and now that I am come, I cannot----" But here she paused
in great distress and confusion, not knowing how to break her sad
tidings to the Miller of Hofbau.
The miller drew his legs up under his chair, and regarded Osra with a
grave air.
"You should have been here at eleven," said he. "I went to the church at
eleven, and the priest was there, and my cousin Hans to act as my groom,
and my cousin Gertrude to be your maid. There we waited hard on two
hours. But you did not come."
"I am very sorry," pleaded Princess Osra. The King laughed low to
himself behind the water-butt, being much amused at her distress and her
humility.
"And now that you are come," pursued the miller, scratching his head
again, "I do not know what we are to do." He looked again at the priest,
seeking counsel.
At this the Princess Osra, thinking that an opportunity had come, took
the purse of six hundred crowns from under her cloak, and laid it on the
table.
"What is this?" said the miller, for the first time showing some
eagerness.
"They are for you," said Osra as she watched him while he unfastened the
purse. Then he poured the crowns out on the table, and counted them one
by one, till he had told all the six hundred. Then he raised his hands
above his head, let them fall again, sighed slightly, and looked across
at the priest.
"I warned you not to be in such a hurry, friend miller," remarked the
priest.
"I waited two hours," said the miller plaintively, "and you know that
she is a handy wench, and very fond of me."
He began to gather up the crowns and return them to the purse.
"I trust I am a handy wench," said Osra, smiling, yet still very
nervous, "and, indeed, I have a great regard for the miller, but----"
"Nay, he does not mean you," interrupted the priest.
"Six hundred," sighed the miller, "and Gertrude has but two hundred!
Still she is a handy wench and very sturdy. I doubt if you could lift a
sack by yourself, as she can." And he looked doubtfully at Osra's
slender figure.
"I do not know why you talk of Gertrude," said the Princess petulantly.
"What is Gertrude to me?"
"Why, I take it that she is nothing at all to you," answered the priest,
folding his hands on his lap and smiling placidly. "Still, for my part,
I bade him wait a little longer."
"I waited two hours," said the miller. "And Gertrude urged me, saying
that you would not come, and that she would look after me better than
you, being one of the family. And she said it was hard that she should
have no husband, while her own cousin married a stranger. And since it
was all the same to me, provided I got a handy and sturdy wench----"
"What?" cried the Princess Osra; and the King was so interested that he
rose up from behind the water-butt, and, leaning his elbows on the
window-sill, looked in and saw all that happened.
"It being," pursued the Miller of Hofbau, "all the same to me, so that I
got what I wanted, why, when you did not come----"
"He married his cousin," said the priest.
A sudden roar of laughter came from the window. All three turned round,
but the King ducked his head and crouched again behind the water-butt
before they saw him.
"Who was that?" cried the priest.
"A lad that came to hold my horse," answered Osra hastily, and then she
turned fiercely on the miller.
"And that," she said, "was all you wanted! I thought you loved me."
"Aye, I liked you very well," said the miller. "You are a handy----" A
stamp of her foot drowned the rest. "But you should have come in time,"
he went on.
"And this Gertrude--is she pretty?" demanded Osra.
"Gertrude is well enough," said the miller. "But she has only two
hundred crowns." And he put the purse, now full again, on the table with
a resigned sigh.
"And you shall have no more," cried Osra, snatching up her purse in
great rage. "And you and Gertrude may----"
"What of Gertrude?" came at this moment from the door of the room where
the sacks were. The Princess turned round swift as the wind, and she saw
in the doorway a short and very broad girl, with a very wide face and
straggling hair; the girl's nose was very flat, and her eyes were small;
but her great mouth smiled good-humouredly and, as the Princess looked,
she let slip to the ground a sack of flour that she had been carrying on
her sturdy back.
"Aye, Gertrude is well enough," said the miller, looking at her
contentedly. "She is very strong and willing."
Then, while Gertrude stood wondering and staring with wide eyes in the
doorway, the Princess swept up to the miller, and leant over him, and
cried:
"Look at my face, look at my face! What manner of face is it?"
"It is well enough," said the miller. "But Gertrude is----"
There was a crash on the floor, and the six hundred crowns rolled out of
the purse, and scattered, spinning and rolling hither and thither all
over the floor and into every corner of the room. And Princess Osra
cried: "Have you no eyes?" and then she turned away; for her lip was
quivering, and she would not have the miller see it. But she turned from
the miller only to face Gertrude his wife; Gertrude's small eyes
brightened with sudden intelligence.
"Ah, you're the other girl!" said Gertrude with much amusement. "And was
that your dowry? It is large! I am glad you did not come in time. But
see, I'll pick it up for you. Nay, don't take on. I dare say you'll find
another husband."
She passed by Osra, patting her on the shoulder kindly as she went, and
then fell on her knees and began to pick up the crowns, crawling after
them all over the floor, and holding up her apron to receive the
recovered treasure. And Princess Osra stood looking at her.
"Aye, you'll find another husband," nodded the priest encouragingly.
"Aye, you'll find another husband," assented the miller placidly. "And
just as one girl is pretty nearly as good as another--if she is handy
and sturdy--so one husband is as good as another, if he can keep a house
over you."
Princess Osra said nothing. But Gertrude, having picked up the crowns,
came to her with a full apron, saying:
"Hold your lap, and I'll pour them in. They'll get you a good husband."
Princess Osra suddenly bent and kissed Gertrude's cheek, and she said
gently:
"I hope you have got a good husband, my dear; but let him do some work
for himself. And keep the six hundred crowns as a present from me, for
he will value you more with eight hundred than with two."
The eyes of all three were fixed on her in wonder and almost in fear,
for her tone and manner were now different. Then she turned to the
miller, and she bit her lip and dashed her hand across her eyes, and she
said:
"And you, miller, are the only sensible man I have found in all the
kingdom. Therefore good luck and a good wife to you." And she gave a
little short laugh, and turned and walked out of the cottage, leaving
them all spellbound in wonder. But the miller rose from his chair and
ran to the door, and when he reached it the King was just lifting Osra
on to her horse; the miller knew the King, and stood there with eyes
wide and cheeks bulged in wonder; but he could gasp out no more than
"The King, the King!" before Rudolf and Osra were far away. And they
could, none of them, neither the miller, nor Gertrude, nor the priest,
tell what the matter meant, until one day King Rudolf rode again to the
mill at Hofbau, and, having sent for the priest, told the three enough
of the truth, saying that the affair was the outcome of a jest at Court;
and he made each of them a handsome present, and vowed them to secrecy
by their fealty and attachment to his person and his honour.
"So she would not have married me, anyhow?" asked the miller.
"I think not, friend," answered Rudolf with a laugh.
"Then we are but quits and all is well. Gertrude, the jug, my lass!"
And so, indeed, it seemed to the King that they were but quits, and so
he said to the Princess Osra. But he declared that she had so far
prevailed with the miller as to make him desire marriage as an excellent
and useful thing in itself, although she had not persuaded him that it
was of great moment whom a man married. Therefore he was very anxious to
give her the bracelet which he had promised, and more than once prayed
her to accept it. But Osra saw the laugh that lurked in the King's eye,
and would not consent to have the bracelet, and for a long while she did
not love to speak of the Miller of Hofbau. Yet once, when the King on
some occasion cried out very impatiently that all men were fools, she
said:
"Sire, you forget the Miller of Hofbau." And she blushed, and laughed,
and turned her eyes away.
One other thing she did which very greatly puzzled Queen Margaret, and
all the ladies of the Court, and all the waiting-women, and all the
serving-maids, and, in fine, every person high or low who saw or heard
of it, except the King only. For in winter evenings she took her
scissors and her needle, and she cut strips of ribbon, each a foot long
and a couple of inches broad; on each of them she embroidered a motto or
legend; and she affixed the ribbons bearing the legend to each and every
one of the mirrors in each of her chambers at Strelsau, at Zenda, and at
the other royal residences. And her waiting-women noticed that, whenever
she had looked in the mirror and smiled at her own image or shewn other
signs of pleasure in it, she would then cast her eyes up to the legend,
and seem to read it, and blush a little, and laugh a little, and sigh a
little; the reason for which things they could by no means understand.
For the legend was but this:
"_Remember the Miller of Hofbau._"