THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON.
Old Conrad stood in his doorway, shading his old eyes from the sunbeams,
while he looked anxiously down the road that led to the village. It was
noonday, and yet the hearth of the kitchen was empty and cold. No kettle
was on the hob, no platter upon the table. And yet his daughters had
started early for the woods, and surely they must have gathered their
mushrooms hours ago.
The old peasant began to be anxious. If it had been Kathi alone, it
would have been easy enough to guess at the delay. She was gossiping
with Valentine, and forgetting that she had father or sister, home or
dinner. But Marianne was along, and she never flirted or loitered. What
could be the matter? But--what was that coming up the road? Marianne!
Yes, truly, Marianne with a fine lord at her side, who seemed closer to
her than propriety seemed to allow.
"Gracious Heaven!" thought the old man, "what has come over my bashful
Marianne? What would the villagers say if they should see her now? And
what comes behind? Kathi, with a horse. Are the maidens bewitched?"
They came nearer; and now Kathi, from the top of her voice, bade him
good-day.
"Are we not fine, father?" cried she, with a loud laugh. But Marianne,
coming forward with the emperor, bent gracefully before her old father.
"See, dear father," said she in her soft, musical tones, "we bring you a
guest who to-day will share our humble dinner with us."
"A guest whose life has been saved by your daughters," added Joseph,
extending his hand.
"And a very rich somebody he must be, father," cried Kathi, "for see how
he has paid us for our help. Look at this brave ring, how it glistens!
It is mine; and Marianne might have had as much if she had chosen. But
what do you think she asked him?--to come home and get a glass of milk!"
"That was well done of my Marianne," said the father, proudly. "It would
have been a pity not to let me see the brave gentleman, if indeed you
have been so happy as to save his life. Come in, my lord, come in. You
are welcome. What we have we give cordially."
"And therefore what you give will be gratefully received," replied the
emperor, entering and seating himself.
"Now, sir," said Marianne, "I will go and prepare the dinner." So
saying, she passed into the cottage kitchen.
"That is a beautiful maiden," said Joseph, looking wistfully after the
graceful figure as it disappeared.
"They are my heart's joy, both of them," replied Conrad. "They are brisk
as fawns, and industrious as bees. And yet I am often sad as I look at
them."
"Why so?"
"Because I am old and poor. I have nothing to leave them, and when I
die, they will have to go to service. That frets me. It is because I
love the maidens so dearly that I am troubled about them."
"Let their poverty trouble you no longer, my friend. I will provide for
them. I have it in my power to make them both comfortable, and that they
shall be, I promise you."
The old man spoke his thanks, and presently came Marianne to announce
the dinner. It was served in an arbor covered with honeysuckles and red
beans, and the emperor thought that he had never had a better dinner in
his imperial palace. The shackles of his greatness had fallen from him,
and he drank deeply of the present hour, without a thought for the
morrow. Marianne was at his side, and as he looked into the lustrous
depths of her dark eyes, he wished himself a peasant that he might look
into them forever.
Meanwhile Kathi and her father walked together in the garden. They were
both examining the diamond ring, and the hearts of both were filled with
ambitious thoughts and hopes.
"He must be very rich," said Kathi, in a low voice. "He has fallen in
love with Marianne, 'tis plain, and she has only to ask and have any
thing she likes. Look, father, he is kissing her! But don't let them see
you. The more he loves her, the more he will give us. But you must speak
to Marianne, father. She is as silly as a sheep, and doesn't care
whether we are poor or rich. Call her here, and tell her that she MUST
ask for a great sum of money--enough for us to buy a fine farm. Then
Valentine will marry me at once, and I shall be able to give a
wedding-dress to all the other maidens in the village."
"But suppose that the lord should want Marianne?" asked Conrad, turning
pale.
Kathi still held up her ring, and she turned toward the sun until it
seemed to be in a blaze. "Look, father," said she, in a low tone,
"look."
The eyes of the old man were fixed upon the jewel; and strange hopes,
with which, until now, he had been unacquainted, stirred his heart. The
serpent had found its way into Eden, and it spoke to both in the glitter
of this unhappy ring.
"Father," said Kathi, at length, "if Marianne had such a ring as this on
her finger she would find many hundred wooers who would forgive her for
having had ONE before them."
"Silence!" cried the old man. "If your mother were alive to hear these
guilty words, she would think that you were no longer innocent yourself.
How I wish she were here in this trying hour! But since you have no
parent but me, I must protect you from shame."
With these words the old man walked resolutely to the arbor, followed by
Kathi, who implored him not to ruin their fortunes.
"My lord," said Conrad, "the day wanes. If you intend to reach Vienna
tonight, you have no time to lose."
"Alas!" thought Joseph, "my dream is over. You are right," said he to
the peasant, "unless you will shelter me to-night."
"I have but one bed in my house, sir," replied Conrad, "and that is in
the little room of my daughters."
"Then let me sleep there," said Joseph, with the arrogance of one
accustomed to command.
"Oh!" faltered Marianne, springing to her father's side, as though she
would seek protection from these ensnaring words.
But Kathi shook her sister's arm, and surveying her blushing face,
exclaimed with a loud laugh, "You are a fool. What harm can it do us, if
the gentleman sleeps in our room? We can make ourselves a bed of hay on
the floor, and give him the bedstead. No one will ever think any the
less of us."
"I think so, too," said Joseph, who was now resolved to see of what
stuff the peasant was made. "Do not hesitate so. Let me sleep in your
daughters' room, and I will give you a handful of gold for my lodging."
Kathi gave a cry of delight, and going close to her father, she
whispered, "Father, you will not refuse! Think--a handful of gold! We
will be the richest farmers in the village! There are two of us--there
can be no danger."
"Well!" asked Joseph, impatiently, "have you decided? Did you not tell
me that you were poor? and is this not an opportunity I offer you to
enrich your daughters!"
"Sir," replied the old man, solemnly, "I do not know whether this
opportunity may not be for evil, instead of good. I am a poor and simple
farmer, and cannot decide for myself whether the mere fact of your
sleeping in the same room with my daughters is right or not. Our curate
is a very holy man; I will apply to him for advice."
"Very well," said Joseph, "go and fetch him, he shall decide."
Old Conrad left the garden, followed again by Kathi, who was resolved to
leave the great lord alone with her sister. Marianne, who before had
been so happy and unembarrassed, now started forward with the intention
of going with her father. But the emperor would not allow it. He caught
her by both hands and held her fast.
"Stay, frightened doe," said he softly. "You are right, dear child, to
tremble before men, for they are full of deceit; but do not be afraid of
me; I will not harm you."
Marianne raised her dark, tearful eyes to his face, and gradually a
smile lit up her lovely features.
"I believe you, my lord," said she. "You have, perhaps, already seen
that I would do any thing on earth for you, were it even to give up my
life; but for no one would I do that which my mother would blame if she
were living--on no account would I do that which I might not tell in
prayer to my heavenly Father."
The emperor looked once more at her lovely face.
"Oh, Marianne! why are you a peasant!" exclaimed he. Then raising his
eyes to heaven. "Almighty God," continued he, "shield her from harm. In
Thy presence I swear to protect her honor--even from myself. "
At that moment old Conrad appeared in the road. At his side was a little
old man in a faded cassock, whose spare white hair scarcely covered his
bald head.
Joseph came forward, holding Marianne by the hand. Kathi darted from the
house, laughing vociferously. The priest advanced, his eyes fixed upon
the face of the stranger. All at once, pointing with his finger to
Joseph, he cried out:
"Conrad, a great honor has befallen your house. Your guest is the
emperor!"
"The emperor!" exclaimed three voices--two in joyous notes, the third
with the cry of despair.
Conrad and Kathi were on their knees; Marianne leaned deathly pale
against the arbor.
"Yes, father," replied Joseph, mastering his annoyance at the
revelation; "yes, I am the emperor. But, my friends, do not offer me
such homage as belongs to God alone. Rise, Conrad. Old men should not
kneel before young ones. Rise, Kathi. Men should kneel before pretty
maidens, no matter whether they be princesses or peasants. And now,
father, hear my petition. I am tired and suffering. I have had a fall
from my horse, and I do not wish to go to-night to Vienna. I have
offered this old man a handful of gold to give me his only bed--the one
in his daughters' room. But he will not give his consent without your
approval. Decide between us, and remember who it is that asks for
lodging here."
The head of the old priest sank upon his breast.
"Oh," thought Kathi, "I hope he will say yes."
Marianne made not a movement, while her father looked anxiously toward
the priest.
"Well, father, well," cried Joseph. "You say nothing--and yet I have
told you that the emperor craves a night's lodging in the room of these
young girls. You see that I ask where I might command. I should think
that the lord of the whole land is also lord of the little room of two
peasant-girls."
"Yes, your majesty. You are lord of the room, but not of the honor of
these peasant-girls," replied the curate, raising his eyes, and steadily
meeting those of Joseph. [Footnote: "Life of Joseph II., Emperor of
Austria," vol iii., p. 89.]
"Nobly answered, father," replied the emperor, taking the old priest's
hand, and pressing it between his own. "Had you decided otherwise, I
would not have forgiven you. Before the servant of the Lord, the claims
of the sovereign are on an equality with those of his subject. Pardon
me, Conrad, for testing your honor as I did, and accept my horse as a
token of my respect. If you should ever wish to sell him, bring him to
the imperial stables, and he will be ransomed by me for a thousand
florins."
"Oh, your majesty," said the happy old man, "I shall die content for my
children are provided for."
"Now we are rich," cried Kathi, "the best match in the village will be
proud to marry either one of us."
The emperor, meanwhile, took out his pocket-book, and, tearing out a
leaf, wrote some words upon it.
Folding the paper, he advanced to Marianne, and handing it to her, said:
"My dear child, when your father presents this paper to the marshal of
my household, Count Rosenberg, he will give him in return for you five
hundred florins."
"Five hundred florins!" exclaimed Kathi, with envious looks.
"Take the paper, Marianne," pleaded the emperor. "It is your dowry."
Marianne raised her tearful eyes, but her hands did not move to take the
gift. She reflected for a moment, and then spoke.
"Five hundred florins," said she, "is not that a large sum?"
"It is, my child," replied Joseph.
"More than the value of the ring you gave my sister, is it not?" asked
she.
The emperor looked disappointed. "Yes, Marianne," replied he, with a
sigh. "You have no reason to envy your sister. Kathi's ring is not worth
more than a hundred florins."
He still held the paper in his hands. Suddenly Marianne took it from
him, and crossed over to her sister.
"You hear, Kathi," said she, "you hear what the emperor says. This paper
is worth five times as much as your ring. Let us exchange."
So saying, she held out the paper, while Kathi with a scream of delight,
snatched it from her hand, and as quick as thought, drew the ring from
her own finger.
"If you repent your bargain, Marianne," said she, "so much the worse for
you. The dowry is mine--and mine it shall remain."
Marianne did not listen. She placed the ring upon her own hand, and
contemplated it with a smile of satisfaction. Then going up to the
priest, she addressed him with a grace that would have been winning in a
countess.
"Father," said she, "you have heard the exchange that Kathi and I have
made. The dowry is hers--the ring is mine. As long as I live, I shall
wear this token of my emperor's condescending goodness. And when I die,
father, promise me that my ring shall go with me to the grave."
The emperor, all etiquette forgetting, made a step forward, with his
arms extended. But recovering himself, he stopped; his arms dropped
heavily to his side, and he heaved a deep, deep sigh.
Instead of approaching Marianne, he drew near to the priest.
"Father," said he, "my mother will perhaps feel some anxiety on my
account. Will you be so kind as to accompany me to the post-house, where
I may perhaps be able to procure some vehicle for Vienna."
"I am ready, your majesty," replied the curate; "and if it pleases you,
we will set out at once."
"So be it," sighed Joseph. "Farewell, Conrad," continued he; "hearken to
the counsels of your excellent pastor, for he is a faithful servant of
God. Farewell, Kathi; now that you have a dowery, you will speedily find
a husband. Let me be godfather to the first baby."
Kathi blushed and laughed, while the emperor turned to the pale
Marianne. He took her hand, and, pressing it to his lips, he said to the
priest, who was looking on with anxious eyes--
"A man has the right to kiss the hand of a lovely and innocent girl like
this, even though he have the misfortune to be born an emperor. Has he
not, father?"
Without waiting for an answer, Joseph dropped the poor little cold hand,
and turned away.
The old priest followed, while Conrad and his daughters looked on,
scarcely crediting the evidence of their senses.
The emperor had reached the cottage-gate, when suddenly he turned, and
spoke again.
"Marianne, one last request. Will you give me the kerchief with which
you were bathing my head to-day? The evening air is pool about my
throat. I am subject to hoarseness."
Marianne was trembling so that she could not answer. But Kathi came
forward, and taking the kerchief from a rosebush where It had been hung
to dry, she ran forward, and gave it into the emperor's hands.
He bowed, and continued his way.
Marianne gazed wistfully down the road at the tall and noble form that
was disappearing from her sight--perhaps forever.