TEKLA REPLENISHES HER WARDROBE.
The Countess Tekla leaned long over the parapet of Castle Thuron, gazing
sadly into the night. The brilliant moonlight seemed a mockery of former
happiness, now that she stood bathed in it alone. Into the darkness of
the forest, into the uncertainty of the future, her lover had gone,
confident that his single arm would bring rescue to the besieged; and
the girl, melancholy as she was at the parting, felt as assured of his
success as if it were already accomplished. He had been compelled to
steal away in the shadow of the trees, as cautiously and secretly as if
he were on a mission of death, but she was sure he would return openly
and triumphantly as a champion of life. Her dreamy eyes lost sight of
the dark wood, and she saw in imagination her hero at the head of his
men break through the iron cordon which had so long encompassed the
castle, bringing, with ringing cheers, succour to the oppressed. At
last, with dimmed eyes and a deep sigh, the girl turned and beheld the
ghost-like vision of Hilda standing there, silently weeping.
"Oh, Hilda, how you startled me. Why are you sorrowing?"
"So many terrible things have happened to-night, my Lady, that I am
filled with fear. I weep because I have lost my lover," said Hilda,
simply.
"Yes, Hilda, the cruel wood has hidden him, but he will soon return, so
have no fears. And, Hilda, listen. We are two women alone together, and
I think women are alike whatever their station; lady or serf, what can
they do but weep when their lovers leave them? My own eyes are wet,
Hilda, because my lover went with yours!"
"The Lord Rodolph, my Lady?" exclaimed Hilda, her curiosity and
match-making instinct mastering her emotion.
"The Lord Rodolph, Hilda."
"Oh, my Lady, I am glad."
"Are you, Hilda?" cried the girl, embracing her. "So am I. Now let us
forget our mutual grief in our mutual joy. Walk with me along this
promenade, here in the moonlight, and tell me about it. Where did you
meet, and what did he say to you? Do lovers talk the same language all
the world over? I believe they do; a language understood only by
themselves, and untranslatable to others. What did he tell you, Hilda?"
"I do not remember, my Lady," said Hilda, as they walked together up and
down; Hilda with drooping head. "We met, and were with each other, and
seemed to want nothing more, and the words did not matter. Sometimes he
said the moon shone brightly, or, in the darkness, that the stars
twinkled, and yet I knew he was speaking of me and not of the moon or
the stars, and that I was thinking of him!"
"Yes," said Tekla, with a sigh, "the moon shines and the stars twinkle
and we think how beautiful they are, but that is because he is here, for
now the moon shines as brightly for others, perhaps, but not for us,
because he is absent, and we see none of the former beauty in the
shining, but only the brilliant loneliness; the empty night."
Hilda glanced timorously about her when her lady spoke of the night, for
the events of the evening had so unnerved her that even the thought of
her rescued lover could not turn her mind from the dangers which
surrounded them. Everything seemed peaceful, but everything had seemed
peaceful when Conrad was suddenly pounced upon, and all but hanged. She
shuddered and said tremblingly:
"Is it safe for us to walk thus conspicuously on the battlements? Is it
not dangerous?"
"Dangerous?" cried the Countess, clasping her hands, and gazing with
rapture along the promenade. "It is the most dangerous spot on earth,
Hilda, and the most delicious."
"Then let us leave it, my Lady. An archer might mark us out, for the
enemy are doubtless lingering near, although unseen by us."
"It is too late, Hilda. An archer has already marked me out and has shot
me through the heart, all on these battlements, yet I cared little, for
I had been mortally wounded before."
Hilda looked with dismay at the Countess standing there oblivious to her
surroundings, forgetting even that she had a companion, the moonlight
enfolding her in its gentle radiance. From this wild talk of archers and
wounding, Hilda feared that reason had fled from her beloved mistress,
but the Countess, guessing her thought, turned suddenly toward her and
laughed.
"Yes, Hilda, reason has deserted me, and I have before now on this spot
acted directly contrary to its teachings, and yet am I without regret.
But we must talk no more of lovers and the moonlight, nor even of the
subdued twinkling of the stars, and to show you how practical I am, I
will tell you what we are to do these coming few days, so that we may
think of nothing but that we have in hand. I have not yet told you,
Hilda, how glad I am that you are with me again, and how much I missed
you all these long months. I am so helpless without you, and these hands
are as useless--as useless----"
"They are most beautiful, my Lady."
"Yes, he said that, and it therefore must be true," murmured the
Countess, looking down at her fair hands as impartially as if they
belonged to someone else, as indeed they did. "What could he see in me,
Hilda, to wish for me? I am obstinate and unruly. I left my guardian in
a most unmaidenly manner; I am often defiant to all rightful authority,
and have rebelled when my uncle has commanded. He knows all this, for
he aided me in my flight, and he has seen me face my uncle in anger, and
yet--and yet--Why is it, Hilda?"
"You are the most lovely lady on this earth, Countess Tekla."
"That cannot be, for I have heard there are the fairest ladies in
Frankfort, at the Court, that man has ever looked upon, yet he came from
Frankfort, and from the Emperor's Court, and must have seen them. Even
were it true what you say, I would not have him love me for that alone.
I care for him, not because he is the noblest and best in all the land,
but because he is Rodolph, and he--perhaps he cares for me because I am
Tekla. It is all a mystery which I cannot fathom. I left my guardian
knowing nothing of Rodolph, and now it seems as if I must always have
known him, and that he was waiting for me, as in truth he was. But here
am I talking of him again, after saying I would think no more until he
returned. Oh yes, I remember now what I wished to tell you, when your
flattery about my hands set me off on the familiar path. Hilda, in this
castle I have made a wonderful discovery. Ah, I have made more than one
unlooked-for discovery since I inhabited Thuron, for nothing is more
wonderful or more entrancing than that I should have discovered his--Oh,
Hilda, shall I ever talk sanely again? I doubt it."
"What discovery in the castle, my Lady?"
"Oh, that there is here a veritable robber's cave, such as the minstrels
sing about."
"Indeed, such is what they call the castle itself down in Alken."
"Do they? I wonder why. Hilda, there is in Thuron an enchanted room; I
know it is enchanted, for the light is dim, and the ghosts of bygone
ladies haunt it continually."
"Oh, my Lady," cried Hilda, horror-stricken. "You have not been near it,
I hope."
"How could I keep out of it, or how blame the poor ghosts for wandering
through it? The room is filled with the most wonderful webs of cloth, of
every dye, some filmy as spider's weaving, some thick as armour. Had one
the art to fashion it into women's garments, there is enough within that
room to clothe most richly all the ladies of the Court at Frankfort. How
came my uncle by this cloth, or what use can he have for it, I cannot
imagine, but I am sure the ghosts of all the ladies for whom the webs
were intended must haunt the place, sorrowful that they had never an
opportunity of wearing the unmade apparel. When I enter the room I wave
my hand and bid the ghosts begone, and then, being sorry for my cruelty,
I spread out the cloth so that they may see how beautiful it is and of
what rare texture, for the poor ghosts cannot do this by themselves.
Come with me, Hilda, and I will show you the room."
"Oh no, no, my Lady. I dare not venture in it. I would rather face all
the Archbishop's troops than those dead ghosts."
"Nonsense, child. There is really nothing there to fright you, and if I
can enter the room often and often alone, surely you will not hang back
when I am with you. You shall devise most lovely costumes for us both,
so that when our lovers return we shall enslave them anew, and in the
making of our robes we shall have something more practical to think of
than the glamour of the moonlight. Why did you not teach me to sew,
Hilda? I never knew what a useless creature I was until I stood among
all that rare assortment, enough to delight any woman's eye, and had no
skill in the fashioning of the smallest piece of it. Then did I sit down
and selfishly weep because you were not with me. And I have selected one
web of quiet hue, but rich in texture, finely spun, which you shall make
for my aunt, poor lady, who has never had anything to wear that she
might be proud of. Come, Hilda, bring a lamp to ward off the darkness,
and I shall keep the ghosts away from you."
Hilda, encouraged by the presence of the Countess, ventured into the
silken store-room, containing the unwilling tribute of many a merchant
to the potentate of Thuron, and once within the haunted chamber, was
soon so much absorbed in the cutting of the material selected, and the
fitting of it on the lovely model who posed before her, that all fear of
spiritual onlookers fled, and so deft was the fair seamstress in the
passion of her occupation that she would have measured and fitted even a
ghost if the apparition had presented itself before her with a
sepulchral request for a garment. When the attire of the Countess was
completed, the lady then began to wonder, not without an admixture of
apprehension, what her turbulent uncle would say when this mutilation of
his goods came to his knowledge, and so resolved to settle the question
once for all before Rodolph returned. Tekla entered the great dining
hall, arrayed in all her splendour, her heart fluttering with anxiety
regarding her reception, yet she was in a measure sustained by that
feeling of confidence which comes to those who know they are handsomely
attired. Heinrich's wife was so startled that she gasped in terror and
cast an apprehensive glance at her husband, as his niece glided with
apparent composure into the room. The Black Count himself looked up, but
noticing no difference, merely grumbled that Tekla was late and went on
with his scanty meal.