Specimens of German Romance Volume I Part 15

Francis uttered a cry of terror, and would have started up, but the gipsy grasped his hand firmly, and he sank back upon his seat as if paralysed.

"Properly speaking," continued the gipsy, "you have two souls to answer for above. An honest old man was sacrificed for your safety. You deceived him by an oath to marry his daughter, whom you had seduced: justice gave way before the son of the all-powerful patrician, and, to save vice, innocence went out to die."

Francis sate pale and motionless. The fumes of the wine were for a short time dissipated by strong horror; and, though he saw that nothing would do here save bold denial either in wrath or ridicule, yet he was not sufficiently master of his tongue; and the moment in which impudence would have been in place pa.s.sed by unemployed. The music from the next room sounded merrily, as if in mockery of his anguish. At length he stammered out with difficulty, "Avenging Nemesis, who are you?"

"You may, perhaps, learn to-day," replied the gipsy, "as I have already given you to hope. But that you may not send me to the stake for a witch," she added, pa.s.sing over to a tone of jest, "I must confess that I had my information from a sure hand. The stately knight yonder, who is conversing so familiarly at the window with that handsome lady, told the strange tale a little time ago to a n.o.ble Hungarian. I listened to him unseen, and heard him calling you a pitiful boy, who did not know when death became a man more than life."

With the pa.s.sion thus excited, returned intoxication also in the wild brain of Francis. His face became a dark red. He started from his seat, and s.n.a.t.c.hing up his sword from the corner, girded it on with trembling hands, as he exclaimed, "For the first time I have trusted a n.o.ble, but never again.--And the scoundrel caught me so with his knightly bearing and open manners, was so frank and friendly with me, and yet attacked my honour behind my back like a hired murderer!--Perhaps at the very moment he drank to our brotherhood, he was plotting to rake up old forgotten stories from their oblivion, that he might capitally denounce me to the furious emperor, with whom he has so much weight. Now it is clear why the goblets broke in pledging. But, by the infernal hosts, I will do myself right upon this hypocrite!"

"You will do well," said the gipsy, still firmly grasping his hand; "but if it imports you to accomplish your revenge, don't begin the feud here. All would take part against you, and he would be warned. Entice him out, and then let your swords decide in the battle-ordeal."

"That is hard," exclaimed Francis; "hard that I am to speak the scoundrel fair, when I should like to fall upon him at once, tooth and nail. But you are right. I am called the wild Frank, and, as I should not dare to tell the real cause, I should be thought by every one in the wrong. I'll look out, therefore, for a quiet spot where I may right myself without any interruption or disturbance. But where shall I find you afterwards to thank you for your information?"

"When all is done, you will see me again, unmasked," replied the gipsy with peculiar emphasis. "My word upon it! I shall keep that word better than many a man his oath!"

"You are a strange being," cried Francis, struck by the word as if by a secret blow from a dagger. For several moments he stared at her fixedly and thoughtfully with large and drunken eyes, and then stammered, "I don't altogether know what to make of you. Sometimes you appear so familiar to me that my hair stands on end; at others, you sit by me like my evil conscience, and torture me at your own good-will. Again, you seem to be a sort of fiend, who would tempt me to some sin, and then laugh me to scorn when I had done your pleasure. If I had not so much Tokay in my brain, I should be able to unravel all this, and find out upon what footing we were. But that won't do now, and so let my first resolution abide, in the devil's name! Chalk your soles well, Tausdorf; I fetch you to a merry dance of death."

He hurried back into the ball-room.

"I am almost sorry that I must hound on this beast against the n.o.ble Tausdorf; but no choice was left me. He may defend himself. On one side blind wrath and drunkenness; on the other, sober courage. It cannot fail. Good night, Francis!"

In the meanwhile Althea and Tausdorf were gliding round in the graceful[2] German dance, and about them stood the guests, looking with delight on the pair that seemed to be made for each other. Christopher, indeed, eyed them maliciously, and at times cast a troubled glance at the side-chamber. At last Francis came out, death in his looks: his worthy brother immediately beckoned to him, and proffered a full goblet, which he seized and hastily swallowed.

"I have drunk this gla.s.s to the devil's brotherhood!" he whispered to Christopher, and then mixed amongst the spectators.

Schindel, who had overheard him, exclaimed to Christopher, "What means the libertine by those impious words?"

"The heathen G.o.d, Bacchus, can best tell that," replied Christopher, while with a quiet laugh he filled the goblet again. "To explain what a drunkard means one must be drunk one's self, and I, thank G.o.d, have kept myself sober, to be able to see that all goes on right."

"That last gla.s.s was one too much," said Schindel reproachfully. "You should not have given him any thing more to drink. If now he should do any mischief in his drunkenness?"

"I know my brother better. When he is half drunk, he is always ready to quarrel; but with a full lading he soon grows sleepy, and one gets a respite from him. I gave him the gla.s.s purposely as a sleeping draught."

"I have no faith in your expedient," said Schindel, looking for his cap; "and, as the sun is setting, you must allow me to take my leave."

"Not yet, not yet, cousin," entreated Christopher, trying to persuade the old knight to sit down again. "I'll not let you go till we have emptied this flask of Tokay to the bottom."

"I must put it off till another time: your brother's face does not please me again to-day, and _better prevented than lamented_. Do you see and get him to bed."

During this, the betrothed pair had finished their dance, and, observing Schindel's farewell, took it for a signal to follow, and bade adieu to their host accordingly. Francis came up to them: "What means this breaking-up, old man? It is bad enough that you leave us so early, but it would be a downright wrong to rob us of such sprightly dancers."

"We must, indeed, go," anxiously insisted Althea, perceiving the state of Francis. "I have a messenger to send to-day to our steward at Bogendorf, and it is on business that admits of no delay."

"Well, if you go, the best of the pleasure goes," said Francis gallantly. "I had rather not stay either, and will pay an hour's visit to the bowling-green: they bowl there to-day for a bacon-hog. Come with me, brother Tausdorf; it is still far from evening, and _you_ have not got a messenger to send to Bogendorf."

"I am no player," said the knight, excusing himself.

"Nor I, brother," replied Francis, and took Tausdorf's arm familiarly in his; "at least I don't love this push-pin work. It is another thing when one can stake life and limb upon the hazard; then, indeed, I am for you. But we'll not bowl, only look on and see how the poor devils f.a.g themselves for a paltry stake. Come along."

"Do as he wishes, to avoid strife," whispered Althea; "but get away from him as soon as you can."

"So be it then," said Tausdorf to Francis, and shook hands with Althea.

In the mean time, Schindel had taken his leave of the other guests, and now first perceived what was going on. Alarmed, he drew Tausdorf to the window:--"You are not going to walk with Francis?"

"Why not?" replied the knight calmly: "He has asked me in a friendly manner, and Althea, too, wishes it."

"For G.o.d's sake don't get too familiar with the drunkard; above all, go not with him alone. He has no good intentions to-day."

"You carry your foresight too far, dear uncle," returned Tausdorf, girding on his sword; "Francis is an honest soldier, and, I can plainly see, well inclined to me. It is impossible he should have any design against me. Besides, I have already promised him my company, and therefore it must be so at all events."

"I have spoken and discharged my conscience," cried Schindel. "G.o.d avert all accidents!"

"Come then, brother, come," urged Francis, pulling the knight's arm.

"Adieu, dear Althea," said Tausdorf, and again shook the hand of his intended bride, who looked at him with a loving farewell. On a sudden the tears burst from her eyes, and, forgetful of those about them, she fell upon his neck.

"Farewell!" she cried, with stifled voice:--"G.o.d grant that I may see you again!"

"Without doubt before evening," said Francis laughing, and hurried out his companion.

"I don't like his going," observed Schindel, as he took his niece's arm and led her away.

"They are gone then!" said Christopher to himself: "As for the rest, that will come in time too."

Tausdorf and Francis went out together towards the Peter's-thor, the city gate, followed at a distance by Martin Heubert, Tausdorf's boy, and his page, Schmidt, who had waited for their master at the door of the banqueting-house. In the heart of Francis fermented the poison which the gipsy had poured into it, but he still restrained his wrath, and walked in silence by the side of Tausdorf. In this way they came to the Park, between the two gates--the Peter's-thor and Nieder-thor,--in the way to the bowling-green, when Tausdorf, tired of the silent walk, and with the view of showing a friendly sympathy with Francis, said to him, "You are a soldier like myself, Frank; you too, therefore, must have found that the pains and dangers of a campaign are often less than the evils with which life threatens us in the profoundest peace. As I hear, you have gone through much misfortune, and at last come off triumphantly!"

These well intended, but unlucky, words made the crater overflow. The drunken Francis, prepared as he was by an evil hand, could see nothing in them but the bitterest scorn, and became mad with wrath. For a while he was silent, because he did not know with what language to hurl his contempt and rage in the face of his adversary. At last he thundered out, "Yes, indeed! And, as they tell me, you have so acted that an honest man cannot drink out of the same cup with you."

Surprised by this insult, which came upon him like a lightning flash from a clear sky, Tausdorf started back. With an awful sternness he asked, "How could you drink to our eternal friendship but a few hours since, if you knew this of me? In truth, you must be worse than I am in your opinion. But now you will say who it is that has spread this slander against me?"

"I had it from a good friend," retorted Francis defyingly.

"You will name him to me this very hour, and on this very spot!" cried Tausdorf, with flashing eyes.

The drunkard gazed on the knight, who stood before him like an angry Mars; and it seemed to him for a moment in his intoxication as if he had gone too far.

"I will tell you at a fitter time," he stammered out: "I have it from a woman."

The contradiction between this and the earlier statement enraged Tausdorf still more.

"Do not stir!" he called out to his people, and led Francis impetuously a few steps farther.

"Now, name the slanderer!"

Instead of reply Francis grasped at him, but with gigantic strength the latter caught his opponent by the breast and flung him to the ground, where he held him fast.

"If you are an honourable n.o.bleman," groaned Francis under him, "let me betake myself to my sword."

Tausdorf hastily let him loose, and went back a few paces. The latter sprang up, frantic with rage, and tore his sword from the scabbard; and, looking after the knight's people furiously, cried out, "Don't let your servants help!"