priest extended his hands in benediction. The baron remained kneeling
for a moment in the attitude of prayer, though his lips did not move.
Then he rose, and began to pace up and down the little chamber with long
strides.
"Father," he said, "it is an awful thing to possess a soul. Had I
known--"
The priest seated himself and watched his visitor with concern and
curiosity. As Albrecht broke off and walked with eyes fixed upon the
floor and brows knit, Father Christopher said aloud, although he was
really speaking only to himself:
"How ill was it that that madman broke in upon us yesterday! I should
not be in this painful uncertainty but for that unhappy chance which
prevented thy confession."
"Father," the other replied, turning toward him, "it was not a chance.
The man did but act a part that Herr von Zimmern taught him. It was done
that I need not confess."
"What!" exclaimed the priest, springing to his feet. "Thou hast mocked
at the holy sacrament! Thou wentest to the altar with a lie on thy lips;
thou--"
"Wait!" Albrecht interrupted, with an air of noble authority which
arrested his companion's words and even somewhat reassured him. "I have
come to tell thee everything, and thou wilt see that I was innocent
because I knew not what I did."
"How can that be?" Father Christopher responded. "Surely, that it is
impiety to trifle with the sacraments is known to every man."
Albrecht paused in his agitated walk, and for a moment stood regarding
the priest with a strange look.
"To every man, yes," at length he responded, "but not to me. I am a
kobold."
The priest sprang to his feet with a cry of astonishment and horror.
Like a flash came the remembrance of all the strange circumstances which
attended the coming of the baron and his stay at Rittenberg. He grew
pale with anger and dread.
"A kobold!" he cried. "One of the accursed, soulless race!"
"Soulless no longer," Albrecht murmured, bending his head as if against
a storm.
"What hast thou done!" the priest continued. "How hast thou dared to wed
the countess with such a secret between you?"
"Father," the baron returned, laying his hand upon the other's arm, and
speaking with more coolness than could have been expected, "it is only
to-day when I awake with a soul, that I realize what I have done. How
could I know before? I was like the beasts in the forest, and I have
understood good and evil only as they. Now that the higher light has
burst upon me, it dazzles and blinds me. I see only that I have wronged
her whom now I would give my life to save from harm. She has given me a
soul, and by it I realize how unfit I am to be her mate. Help me,
Father, for with all the strength of my new soul I love her, love her,
love her!"
The most profound feeling thrilled in Albrecht's voice as he pronounced
these words. He sank down at the feet of his companion, and on his knees
he clasped the other's hand.
"I am confused, blinded," he went on. "The prospect that opens before me
is so vast that it overwhelms me. I have never feared anything in my
life, Father; but of this thing which thou callest a soul that has come
to me I am afraid, I am afraid, Father Christopher."
The priest was not unnaturally overcome by a situation so far aside from
any previous experience of his life. His first thought was that he had
to deal with a madman, but there was in the tones and manner of the
baron that which compelled his belief. He could not understand, but he
was too kindly not to be deeply moved by the emotion of his companion,
and he wisely determined to learn as quickly and as clearly as possible
the real facts of the strange situation, in order that he might
determine what was his own duty in the case. He raised Albrecht from the
floor, and motioned him to a seat.
"My son," he said gravely but not unkindly, "thou must be calm, and thou
must tell me everything, that I may know how to advise thee and how to
act myself. Relate all, from the very beginning."
Albrecht sank into the chair toward which the priest waved his hand, and
for a moment he sat with his chin in his hand, his full chestnut beard
pushed up so that it half covered his cheeks.
"I know not where to begin, Father," he said, "unless it be at my birth.
My father was king of the kobolds in the Neiderwasser valley, and a
brave and merry tribe they are. My mother died at my birth; and as this
is a thing which seldom happens with our race, I was always looked upon
as destined for some great or strange destiny. When I was four or five
years old, my father caught Herr von Zimmern in the forest where he was
hunting, and brought him home to the mountain caves where we dwelt, that
he might teach me all knightly skill, for we kobolds are always jealous
of the arts of knighthood."
"But did Herr von Zimmern desire to stay in such strange company?"
asked Father Christopher, whose countenance expressed the greatest
astonishment at this tale.
"He had no choice," rejoined Albrecht. "Once he tried to escape, and my
father houghed him, that he should never again be able to travel through
the forests fast enough to give trouble in bringing him back."
The priest shuddered, and the other for the first time in his life
seemed to perceive the cruelty of this deed.
"My father," he said humbly, "had no soul."
Father Christopher's expression of horror changed to one of pity; and
with a sigh Albrecht went on with his narrative.
"I was bred up at home," he said, "but now and then Herr von Zimmern has
taken me to the cities, and to the fairs of the country, and now and
then to a tourney that I might prove my knightly prowess. My father was
killed in an avalanche some ten years since. He had offended the
mountain sprites, and they lay in wait for him. I have lived with Herr
von Zimmern since, and he has been my servant because I am ruler as my
father was. It was he who told me of the delights of possessing a soul,
and that a kobold might win one if a mortal maiden should love him with
her whole heart and wed him. It was for this that he brought me to
Rittenberg, and it was for this that I wooed its mistress."
There was a deep silence in the chamber as Albrecht ceased speaking.
Strongly moved as he was by the confession, Father Christopher felt his
heart so strongly yearn toward the baron, and so touched was he by the
other's evident contrition, that he could not find it in his heart to
speak the condemnation which the knight's course might merit. It was now
too late, moreover, to prevent the mischief, and there seemed more
wisdom in considering whether it were not possible to comply with
Albrecht's agonized request, and to aid him to become worthy of his wife
rather than to make any endeavor to separate them. If this might be
done, it would be the saving of a soul; and however it had been come by,
if Albrecht had indeed gained a spirit, it demanded the priest's best
efforts to bring it to salvation.
"My son," the priest said after some moments' reflection, "what thou
hast done would indeed be a grievous sin if thou hadst been a mortal,
and I know not whether it is to be called a sin as it is or no. But now
at least thou hast a soul, and it is mortal sin to live unbaptized."
"I was afraid," Albrecht said with simple candor and with an air of
relief, "that thou wouldst command me to leave my wife; and that I
could not do."
"No," the priest answered, "whom God through the Church hath joined are
not lightly to be put asunder; but the rite of baptism is not to be
neglected for a single hour."
"I know so little of these things," Albrecht murmured doubtfully.
"The priests of the Great Emperor," answered the old man, "administer
baptism to the barbarians in token that they desire Christian light, and
I can do no less for thee, who art in a devout mind."
Albrecht leaned forward in his chair and put out his hand half timidly
to touch that of the other.
"I feel that I am ignorant of everything," he said. "Father, it is like
suddenly coming into a strange land where I know not even the tongue
that I should speak. I am afraid to go forward, lest I stumble into
pitfalls I do not see."
Father Christopher laid his wrinkled hand kindly upon that of his
penitent.
"But the way will become clear," he said, smiling. "Only follow the
light that is given thee, and pray to God and his saints."
"But I know not how to pray."
"My son," the priest responded with a smile which comforted Albrecht
more than words could have done, "our Great Emperor has said in his
Capitularies: 'Let none suppose that prayer cannot be made to God save
in three tongues, for God is adored in all tongues, and man is heard if
he do but ask for the things that be right.' Be of good cheer, my son;
God would not give a soul and not add enough knowledge for its
salvation."
There was in the mien of Albrecht, as he knelt to receive the rite of
baptism, the showing forth of great feeling. He had the air of one who
comes into the fruit of a quest with joy, yet who regards that which he
has won with something of doubt and secret awe; while withal it was
evident that to his mind did this christening seem a thing which should
serve in a sort as a talisman to defend him from this strange and awful
guest that had come to dwell within him, but which even yet scarce
seemed a part of himself. He was as one who knew not himself, but who
was rather confused than enlightened by the new vision which had been
imparted by the miracle that had been wrought.
"Father," he asked hesitatingly, "my wife, must I tell her?"
The priest considered a moment.
"Dost thou wish to tell her?" he inquired.
"Would to God that she had known!" was Albrecht's answer, "but how can I
tell her now? What if she should turn against me?"
The strength of his newly found soul seemed to go out in his love for
Erna, and he was white and trembling at the thought of losing her
affection. Father Christopher regarded him keenly, with sympathy and
complexity struggling in his mind.
"Now thou needst not tell her," he said. "The time may come; but now
strive to become worthy of her whiteness, her innocence, her piety. If
thou wouldst be sure of her love, my son, look upon this as a respite
that thou mayest be one soul with hers when the day comes that she must
be told. And of this be sure," the priest continued, his eye kindling as
if some higher power were speaking through him, "since thou hast won thy
soul through her, it is with hers that thine must stand or fall. If thou
shalt drag hers down, there can be no salvation for thine."
XII
HOW THE MORGENGABE WAS BESTOWED.
Albrecht walked slowly back to his chamber after he had left the priest,
all his mind in a confused whirl of strange and new emotions. He could
not find the old self in this man whom he had become. He was still
within the shadow of the awe which had fallen upon him when he awakened
in the early dawn a human being, and he still thrilled with the
reverential dread which had pierced him as the waters of baptism were
laid upon his head.
Erna had not yet risen, but had fallen into a light sleep; and as he
came to the bedside she softly murmured his name, as if she were even in
her morning dream conscious that he had returned. Her white throat was
bare, and from her lovely bosom the draperies were half displaced, so
that its rounded swell melted into a foam of lace as if she were
Aphrodite just emerging from the waves. All his newly found earnestness
fell from Albrecht like a garment, and he was only conscious of his wife
and his passion for her; albeit his love was not to-day the selfish
desire of the kobold alone, as it had been last night. Fired by her
beauty, he bent over and kissed her. She awoke with a smile that melted
into a blush as she saw the ardent eyes of Albrecht bent upon her and
felt his embrace steal about her. She let him lift her to kiss her
again, and then she hid her shining face in his breast.
"Now thou must go," she said, as she returned his embrace. "They will
stay for us in the hall. Send me my damsel, and I will be ready very
quickly."
"Yes," he cried, springing up with all his old joyousness; "be thou as
swift as may be, that we may bestow upon thee the _Morgengabe_."
The Lady Adelaide, after the manner of her kind, had been most curious
in regard to the _Morgengabe_. Her maid Elsa had plied the retainers of
Baron von Waldstein with questions, and the Lady Adelaide herself had
not been above some cunning attempts to extract from Herr von Zimmern
somewhat touching the nature and extent of the bridegroom's ability and
probable liberality in this direction, but neither had obtained any
definite information. Herr Frederich had replied that his master
certainly had the means and the disposition to do things upon a grand
scale, but he professed complete ignorance as to Baron Albrecht's
actual intentions, a statement which Lady Adelaide took the liberty of
doubting, as it seemed probable that the orders which her newly made
nephew had sent home had been executed through Herr von Zimmern. As
nothing further was to be got out of this functionary, however, and as
Elsa found the men of the baron equally uncommunicative, there was no
help for it, but curiosity must wait unsatisfied until the bridegroom's
gift should be bestowed.
The Lady Adelaide, her black eyes shining with excitement, was already
in the great hall when Albrecht and his bride entered, and Father
Christopher was not far behind. All the household gathered, for the
bestowing of the _Morgengabe_ was an important ceremony which hardly
ranked below that of the bridal. The damsel Elsa, who could no more help
coquetting than she could help breathing, took advantage of a chance
which for a moment brought her face to face with Baron Albrecht to cast
upon him one of her most languishing glances, but to her surprise and
mayhap vexation he only smiled good-humoredly like one who comprehended
thoroughly her wiles, and passed on to the side of Erna, who had already
taken her place in readiness for the entrance of the bearers of her
husband's gift.
"Body of Saint Fridolin!" muttered Elsa to herself, unconsciously using
her mistress's favorite expletive, "but the wind has changed, methinks,
since he touched me under the chin last night. Marriage has tamed you
quickly, my Lord Baron! But we may see wonders yet."
And now with a peal of music, a wild strain which the retainers of the
baron had learned from no human master, the great doors were thrown open
and the little train of Von Waldstein's followers entered. Behind the
musicians walked Herr von Zimmern, and after him followed six servitors,
each pair bearing between them a casket of goodly size and apparently of
some weight.
"The baron's _Morgengabe_ does not take up too much room," murmured Elsa
in the ear of Lady Adelaide, behind whom she stood, with the familiarity
of long and close service.
"Hush, simpleton!" her mistress responded. "If those caskets hold
jewels, he is giving her a king's ransom."
The bringers of the _Morgengabe_ marched up the long hall, and saluting
the company, the musicians fell back and ended their weird refrain. Herr
von Zimmern stopped before Erna, and made a sign to the first pair of
his followers to set down their burden at her feet.
"Gracious lady," Albrecht said, indicating it with his hand, "deign to
accept this casket as a part of the unworthy _Morgengabe_ that I offer."
At a sign from Herr von Zimmern, the thralls threw back the lid and
lifted out the trays of the casket, while a murmur of astonishment and
delight ran through the hall. Within, in a glowing heap, in strings and
clusters and singly, lay the most glorious carbuncles and topazes and
sapphires that had ever been seen at Rittenberg, where, too, there had
been some notable jewels in times gone by.
"Body of Saint Fridolin!" cried the old great-aunt. "Oh, that I were
young and had married thee, Baron!"
A sunbeam shone through a high window and fell upon the gems, making
them glow with all the hues of the rainbow. Erna knelt down beside the
glittering heap, an exclamation of surprise and pleasure on her lips.
She took up in her hands now one and then another of the splendid
bawbles, her woman's love of finery and her sense of beauty alike
appealed to by the wonderful stones. From the treasures she selected a
string of magnificent sapphires, blue as the sky in springtime, and
clasped it about her throat. She said not a word, but her look satisfied
her husband. At a sign from him, Herr von Zimmern moved the casket
aside, and had the second set in its place. This in its turn was opened,
and within were gems more splendid and more precious than in the first;
emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. The wealth of the coffer was confusing,
so great was it.
"God's blood!" cried out the Lady Adelaide, falling back upon the oath
which she kept for the very last extremity; "it is the ransom of a
kingdom rather than of a king. Should the Huns hear of this _Morgengabe_
they might well come from the North for no other purpose than to capture
it. By my soul! Herr Baron, one would think that thou wert in league
with the gnomes to be possessed of jewels like these."
"I am on friendly terms with them," he answered, his truthfulness
passing as a jest.
Father Christopher said not a word, but he observed how a sudden look of
malice darted through the eyes of Herr von Zimmern at the words of Lady
Adelaide, and how he smiled at the reply of his master. The good priest
was troubled in his mind at the sight of all this wealth of gems. He saw
how Erna's eyes shone, and with what fondness she gazed upon the
gleaming, glancing stones; and he saw, too, how the expression of the
face of Albrecht, as he regarded the treasures and the delight of his
bride, lost the look of reverence and earnestness which it had worn when
he left the priest's chamber, and took on an expression of greed and
passion. The old man sighed, and looked away as still another casket,
the third and last, was brought forward and opened at the feet of Erna.
If the third casket when it was opened did not shine with so great a
splendor as did the others, its contents were none the less wonderful
and beautiful. It was filled with pearls of the most clear and exquisite
sheen, and with opals of fires as varied as the changing hues of the
sunset, or of the foam-bubbles on a mountain-stream rocking in the
sunlight with the swiftness of the current.
Words failed them all as they looked at the three caskets, and even Lady
Adelaide was reduced to inarticulate ejaculations of amazement and
admiration. Erna still said nothing, save now and then to cry out in
wonder at the glory of some jewel more magnificent than its fellows, but
she paused now and then in her gloating over the treasure to take her
husband's hand and press it in a sort of ecstasy of fond delight.
"That is all the _Morgengabe_ I have to offer thee," Albrecht said with
a smile, as the last casket was opened. "I cannot pretend that it is
worthy of thy beauty, but it will make me happy that thou shouldst
accept it."
"That is, forsooth, but false modesty," Father Christopher broke in with
a brusqueness quite unusual in him. "The gift is one which Charlemagne
himself need not be ashamed of; and indeed it is of too great splendor
for simple folk like those who are not sovereigns but subjects."
Albrecht turned toward him with a fleeting expression of disquiet which
was instantly chased away by a jovial smile.
"But the countess is a sovereign, at least of me and mine," he retorted.
"Doubtless the baron thinks the price small to pay for the joys of his
wedding night," broke in Herr Frederich with a laugh.
Erna flushed and bent lower over the pearls she was examining, while
Albrecht turned haughtily upon Herr von Zimmern with a look of rebuke
under which the other dropped his head. Bowing profoundly to the
company, Herr Frederich made a sign to the musicians, and as they again
took up their wild strain and led the way down the hall, he followed
with the bearers who had accompanied him to bring in the caskets.
For the first time in his life Albrecht found himself penetrated with a
sense of disgust and of distrust of his teacher as he looked after him.
He felt for the first time that the relations of himself and his wife
were too sacred to be jested upon, and it seemed, moreover, as if his
new powers gave him an insight into the true nature of Herr von Zimmern
which he had never possessed before; so that one of the earliest results
of his winning the quest to which he had been incited by his instructor
was the springing of an instinctive repulsion from the latter as from an
evil thing.
All this, however, was but the feeling of an instant as he stood in the
hall and watched the delight of Erna over the jewels. He laughed at her
childlike surprise and delight, and jested with the Lady Adelaide in his
accustomed fashion. He even had a smile for Elsa when that forward
maiden, behind the backs of the ladies, held a great carbuncle, as large
as a pigeon's egg, up to her ear, and pretended to find the weight
unbearable. But at last a chance word of Erna's changed again his mood.
"Look!" she said, holding up a rope of pearls, "they are as large again
as those the emperor gave to the Madonna at Mayence."
And at the name of the Madonna Albrecht remembered his baptism, and the
burden of his soul once more fell upon him.
XIII
HOW THE DAYS SPED AT RITTENBERG.
In the life of the late Count von Rittenberg it had fallen to the lot of
Father Christopher to see not a few strange things. He had accompanied
that warrior in several of his campaigns, and he had seen the fierce
Huns and the gigantic Saxons, with their barbaric ornaments of beaten
gold, their dress of skins, and their strange weapons. He had more than
once pondered in his mind whether these hordes of the dark North had
human souls, at least before the Church had set upon them the seal of
baptism and thus forever marked them as separated from the beasts of the
field or the forest which to the eye of the priest they so much
resembled.
All that he had hitherto seen, however, faded into insignificance in his
mind when compared with that which was now daily before his eyes. He
seemed to himself sometimes involved in some strange dream from which he
might at any moment awake with only a more or less confused remembrance
of what it had been. His old vague questionings concerning the souls of
the Huns recurred to his mind; but the perplexing thing was that they
who really had souls should have so completely seemed to lack them,
while Baron Albrecht, with his magnificent beauty, his manly bearing,
his knightly skill and courtesy, should have in truth been without an
immortal spirit. The secret of which the priest had been made the
repository so absorbed his attention that he could scarcely give either
thought or interest to anything else, and not infrequently did Erna
laughingly assure him that his one occupation in life seemed to have
become watching her husband.