Part 9

"Thou askest what I want?" shouted Gabriel with flashing glance, and his voice sounded like the growling of a thunderstorm: "what I want? _thee!_ thou wert mine, Blume! from thy birth up thou wert destined for me, the covenant which our parents had concluded for us, we confirmed by the bond of love--_thou_ hast loosened the beautiful bond of love, and now Hate binds me to thee! If it is no longer the heaving of thy voluptuous bosom, if it is no longer the waving of thy dark luxurious tresses, if it is no more the flashing of those beautiful love-kindling eyes, or those rosy budding lips which rapturously attract me to thee.... Why then it is the sweet stupifying poison of revenge! you rejected me, you trampled upon me, ... for a sin that I never committed--if the curse of that sin bears heavily upon my wretched tainted existence--I will at least taste the sweetness of the sin.... I will...."

Blume was for a moment motionless from horror, then seized her child impetuously, opened the window and leaned far out of it, as though to call for help--Gabriel seized her by the arm.

"Be still, Blume," he said, "be not afraid, I shall do nothing by brute force. Thou wilt have time for consideration, and thou wilt throw thyself supplicatingly into my arms.... I give you a week for consideration.... but I believe your resolution will be taken sooner.... Eight days hence, Sunday the eighth of November--it is exactly the anniversary of our betrothal--I shall be with you by midnight.... Wilt thou be mine?"

God-forsaken! screamed Blume beside herself with fury, with flaming face and sparkling eyes: "dost thou desire _that_ of me, of me, the wife of another, the devout Jewess, the faithful wife, the tender mother? Yes my resolve is quickly made...."

"It is because you are the wife of another man," interrupted Gabriel, "that I do desire it.--_Wert thou free_, and lying at my feet in all the infinite beauty that neither sorrow nor wretchedness can rob you of, wert thou imploring one glance of love--I should spurn thee from me, as thou didst spurn me,--but the bond of wedlock enchains thee! thou shalt sin, thy hard marble heart shall learn to know the bitter torments of remorse,--and it is because thou art a faithful wife, because thou lovest thy husband, because thou wouldest preserve a father for his child that I expect the fulfilment of my wish."--He drew a packet from his breast-pocket, it contained some small manuscript parchment rolls and a sheet of paper; he handed them in silence to the woman who trembled with rage and grief.

"That is my husband's writing!" shrieked Blume, "those are the texts that he has copied.... God! there is one of my letters. How did you come into possession of these writings? Where is my husband? speak!"

"Read," answered Gabriel, and held out to her Mannsfield's letter which he had received the day before from the ensign. Blume devoured the writing eagerly, but when she came to the last lines, she tottered and was obliged to steady herself by the arm of the chair. The characters danced before her eyes.... "I cannot read it," she said, "do thou read!"

Gabriel read:

"With regard to the above mentioned Jew, whom my outposts arrested, I think that he is innocent. I was obliged to exercise all my authority to prevent his being torn in pieces by the exasperated soldiery, or hanged on the nearest tree; even some of the officers voted for his death. Seeing that the suspicious writings found upon him are according to his own account Hebrew bible-texts and letters from his wife I have sent them to you to be tested, and your report as to the contents of the writings will give him death or freedom.--The whole affair however is so insignificant that you will have no need to detain Michalowitz respecting it. Only in the event of the Jew being a spy, and the contents of the writings therefore of importance to us, will it be necessary for you to send me advice by a trooper: otherwise on account of the insecurity of the roads to Pilsen do not send me any messenger...."

"Now," cried Blume, hastily, "you see, it is not a cipher, it is only texts and my letters. Have you despatched the messenger who will solve the inauspicious misunderstanding?"

"No! My answer will depend on thine.... Will you eight days hence submit yourself to my will?"

"And if I answer no, what will you do?" asked Blume with the utmost eagerness.

"That answer thou wilt never make," replied Gabriel violently, "thou wilt not compel me to an extreme, to the greatest extremity of all.... So, and so only will I be revenged, Blume, force me to no other, to no bloody vengeance.--I will only repay like by like.... you suffered my heart to break.--Come then, I will be the ever living sting of conscience in thy existence--you let me humiliated, deeply, oh infinitely deeply humiliated.--Come now, I will humiliate thee too. But as for me, I had loved thee, had idolized thee, you repaid my love with hate. I am juster than you--I give you hate for hate!... My resolve is unshakeable!"

Blume stood before Gabriel wringing her hands despairingly.--"No, I cannot believe that you will perpetrate the horrible iniquity of writing to Mannsfield a hellish lie that will cause my husband's death. Consider, Gabriel," she continued almost inaudibly, clasping her hands--"indeed I never injured you, never humiliated, never degraded you. It could not be, I could not be your wife, a higher power placed itself between us, could I, could any one help it? I was innocent, thou wert innocent! Oh Gabriel, thou wouldst only terrify me, thou wilt not write the lie to Mannsfield, is it not so."

"Blume, I am armed against thy entreaty.... for long years have I sought thee, for ten years have I been hatching a thought of vengeance, and now that a wonderful chance throws the reins of your destiny into my hands, shall I let the moment pass by unavailed? Shall thy tears befool me? No, Blume, no, every human life must have some attainable aim.--I had no other than revenge!--My resolve remains unalterable."

"You leave me then but the choice between sin and unutterable woe? You are silent? Gabriel," said Blume after a pause suddenly lifting her lovely head.... "You once loved me, now every spark of that feeling, all sympathy is extinguished in your heart, but I, I pity thee in spite of it!... How low art thou fallen, poor Gabriel!--the proud, high-souled Gabriel, who should have been a guiding light to his people, a giant in intellect, contends with a weak woman, one stricken-down with misery, that with her baby in her arms, makes her trembling supplication before him.... and what kind of victory, what a triumph would he win? He would destroy a poor, wornout woman, by means of an abominable shameless lie, than which humanity can conceive nothing more mean.--Gabriel, at this moment I am more wretched and unhappy than any woman upon earth, but--by God Almighty!--I would not for worlds stand before thee, as thou now standest before me!"--

Gabriel stood with folded arms before Blume. The desperate reckless opposition of the helpless woman, especially the last sorrowful cry of her tortured heart had caused him for a moment, but only for a moment to waver; thoughts like lightning flashed through his soul, feelings that he had long believed dead were stirred up in him, for a moment he entertained a thought of foregoing his vengeance, of forgetting the past, of being re-converted--but he had already gone too far, he had broken with all tradition, the future as he had dreamed of it in his youth, seemed to _him lost for ever_--he could never drawback.--His better genius succumbed, the iniquitous passion conquered.

"My resolution is firm and unshakeable," he said, rapidly preparing to go, as if he himself feared lest he should waver again. "Eight days hence I shall be with you by midnight.--Your husband's fate is in your own hands, ponder upon it till then. My resolve is inflexible!"

He folded himself in his mantle and departed--Blume gave way and sobbed aloud.

V.

The Imperial army advanced without interruption, almost without striking a blow, while Anhalt drew back with his troops to the White-mountain close by Prague. He had barely entrenched his camp, when news arrived that the Duke Maximilian was approaching with his division, and that Boucquoi was following with the remainder of the Imperialists, Anhalt summoned a council of war. Mathias Thurn advised that they should attack the Duke immediately on his approach, before the wearied troops should have time to refresh themselves, and before he could unite himself with Boucquoi. John Bubna, Schlick, Styrum and others supported his proposal, and the Commander-in-chief Prince Anhalt seemed already won over to this view, when Hohenlohe pronounced himself violently against any offensive operation. "We must," he opined, "try and avoid any open battle with a superior force under the command of illustrious generals: the result of battles is uncertain, and a crown is not to be lightly hazarded. We have a strong impregnable position on the heights and the enemy will not venture to assault us." Hohenlohe's plan was adopted, and Mathias Thurn left the council in a state of the highest indignation.--So dawned the morning of the 8th of November, a day destined to have a decisive influence for centuries to come.

Encouraged by Frederick's example who did not allow himself to be the least disturbed in his wonted pleasures and amusements, the people in Prague did not give way to fear, and even in camp on the White-mountain they believed themselves so secure and so little expected an attack, that on that very day--it happed to be Sunday--many of the officers and common soldiers had gone into Prague to see their families.

Gabriel had passed the eight days since his nocturnal visit to Blume in a state of feverish excitement. He greeted the morning of this day, the anniversary of his betrothal, with singular feelings. But one short space of time divided him from the long looked for moment of revenge!

It was forenoon, he was sitting in his room in Reb Schlome Sachs' house sunk in deep thought, and gazing earnestly before him. Feelings most various and violent were preying upon him. He permitted, as he was often wont to do for his own torment, his gaze to hover over his past life. He saw himself a boy, full of peace and faith in the house of his grandfather, in the house of his mother. He saw himself a youth by the side of his grandfather in the presence of his exquisitely lovely bride all glowing with becoming modesty he called to remembrance the golden dreams of his youth, how in blissful hope he purposed to obtain a rapturous world to come by a life dedicated to virtue and faith.... And then how that was all suddenly, oh how suddenly, changed--his dying mother--that feast of atonement when he stood in despair before Blume. And now, now, he was about to take vengeance, fearful vengeance!... He knew that it would be impossible to inflict a more painful wound on Blume, that chaste pure woman, that he could not more deeply degrade her--and yet he did not doubt that the noble faithful woman would make a sacrifice of her honour, her soul's peace to her husband. Sometimes it seemed to him as if the minutes that separated him from midnight were rolling on too quickly, too hurriedly, as if he would enjoy the expectation of the near approaching moment of revenge, more than the moment itself? Generally, however, each second seemed infinitely long, and he could not control his impatience. The thought of his father too, as it always did when he was violently excited, had associated itself with all these recollections, with all these unwonted emotions. Swiftly succeeding feelings of alternate love and hate towards him, the natural desire to learn to know him, perhaps that too which we call the voice of nature, all this together had constantly aroused in his heart an indescribable strange desire. At this instant he doubted whether he would ever find him. One thing that he had striven after for years, he believed that he had attained: but it was impossible that Blume should escape him, he had always been sure, though perhaps years might be consumed in the search, that he must sooner or later discover her. But his father? Of him he knew absolutely nothing, he had not the smallest ground to go upon, not the faintest shadow of a conjecture dawned on him.--Where could he seek him; where could he find _him_?

The hurried opening of the door roused Gabriel suddenly out of the confused chaos of his thoughts, he turned round. Before him stood the boy, the ordinary messenger of the armourer in the Platnergasse.--

"Gracious Sir!" cried the boy, "Captain Schlemmersdorf, is waiting for you at home, he is urgently desirous to speak with you speedily"--Gabriel hesitated.

"Say, you could not find me, young one," he replied after a short reflection: "I wish to remain undisturbed till to-morrow."

"Gracious Sir! It must be about some most weighty matters. The captain was beside himself at not finding you at home, he wished to follow me. I was to tell you, that life, honour, everything was at stake."

Gabriel now rose hastily but with a dissatisfied air and obvious reluctance. Shortly afterwards he had arrived in the manner now well-known to us, at his house in the Marienplatz, where Schlemmersdorf was waiting for him with terrible impatience.

"Where have you been staying so long General?" he cried out to him as he entered, "quick, make haste, take your arms, to horse, to horse.--I pray you haste!"

"What has happened?" enquired Gabriel.

"Nothing pleasant, at least not for the present.... Early this morning the advanced guard of the Bavarian column was seen at the further end of the street. The Prince once again summons the few officers present in camp, to advise whether now at any rate it would not be prudent to receive the advancing troops with an attack: but Hohenlohe absolutely refuses to quit the secure position upon the heights, and whilst he is saying all he can in favour of his view, it is announced that Tilly with his Bavarians has crossed the river by a small bridge without hindrance.--The propitious moment for an attack is lost to us. Duke Maximilian is deploying in the centre his whole well-formed array; Boucquoi, who must have followed close upon the Duke, is taking up a position on the right wing, and we have the entire main-body of the enemy opposed to us.--The Prince, who is expecting every moment to be attacked by the Imperialists, is endeavouring in the greatest haste to range his troops in order of battle. He has despatched Habernfield to the king with a request that he will adjourn the ill-timed banquet that he gives to the English ambassadors, and come to the camp, in order to cheer the low spirits of the troops. Styrum is looking for Mathias Thurn and I have hastened to you--but General! don your armour at once. Why tarry you?"

The General had listened to Schlemmersdorf in silence and in spite of his urgency without the least movement.

"What should I do in camp?" he now enquired.

"A strange question, Sir General," replied Schlemmersdorf excitedly, "as far as one could hastily gather in the camp," he added hurriedly resuming, "you were to take charge of the Hungarian cavalry on the left, instead of Bornemissa, who is lying sick."

"Never, never, Sir Captain," cried the General indignantly, "I will never undertake the command of a detachment unaccustomed to discipline, whose language I do not even know, to whom I could not make my orders intelligible. I am obliged to the Prince for the honour and glory, which might have been obtained with the command.--However, Sir Captain, I cannot be of much use in the camp. I am unacquainted with the state of the army that is drawn up here, I am informed neither as to the strength of the divisions, nor the capacity of their officers; I am entirely ignorant of the plan of proceedings.... Sir Captain, you must yourself allow, it would be an unparalleled event in the history of military operations, if I resolved to accept a command under such circumstances."

Schlemmersdorf could not contest the justice of these observations, he was silent.

"I can therefore render no service outside there," continued Gabriel, "except with my sword, like any other common trooper.... but as the Prince did not choose to invite me to the council, though all the other superior officers here present took part in it, I think he will do very well without an individual officer of Mannsfield's in the battle-field.... Make then my excuses to the Prince, if I stay here, where, precisely to-day urgent business, that admits of no postponement, detains me."

"There is no more urgent duty than honour," burst forth Schlemmersdorf. "I know, General, that you have been badly treated," he added, in a conciliatory tone, "badly treated in many ways, it was wrong of the Prince.... but now you are needed, the Prince summons you, after a victory you shall have full satisfaction...."

Gabriel paced the chamber unquietly in deep emotion; a strange horror that he had never before had a presentiment of, thrilled through him.... that he should that very day be summoned to the battlefield! that very day on the anniversary of his betrothal to Blume, that very day, when he desired to take vengeance, to accomplish his long matured plan!...

Schlemmersdorf was in despair, he was willing to make any concession to gain his object. "General," he said at length stepping close up to Gabriel, "time presses, resolve quickly whilst we are here idly babbling away the time, the Imperialists are perhaps assaulting our lines. This day may decide the fate of Frederick's crown, of Bohemia. Consider; it would be an eternal ineffaceable blot upon your name, if you withdrew at the commencement of a battle.--What would your own age, what would even your friend Mannsfield say?"

Schlemmersdorf had touched Gabriel's weak point. His honour as a soldier and Mannsfield's esteem were his highest possessions. Regard for his honour, and a wild thirst for battle drew him into the field, and yet he on the other hand felt himself chained fast to Prague by brazen bonds.--He had looked death in the face unmoved a thousand times, but to-day, just to-day, so near the goal.... to perish to-day on the battle-field, perhaps to die unavenged, perhaps to die without having retaliated the unspeakable woe that had stricken him, perhaps to die without having achieved one single aim.... that was a thought that filled him with fearful unutterable dismay. It seemed to him as if he must strain every nerve to preserve his life for his revenge, for this night--a discord full of torment rent his heart. For a moment he remained undecided, but when Schlemmersdorf wrapped his cloak about him and without a word of farewell turned his back contemptuously upon him and stepped towards the door, he made a sudden resolution, "I go with you, Schlemmersdorf!" he exclaimed, "go with you ... but I will not fall to-day!"--Schlemmersdorf looked in Gabriel's face with surprise. He knew that it was no expression of mere cowardice that escaped him; but time was too precious for further enquiries, he urged him to make all haste, and shortly afterwards the two were spurring at full speed through the Strahower gate towards the camp. Outside the town they encountered Styrum who had gone in vain quest for Mathias Thurn. _Mathias Thurn was not to be found that day_.

* * *

The two hosts were drawn up opposite one another. The Imperial-Bavarian army, over 30,000 strong, was in good order and eager for battle. The Bohemian, scarcely numbering 20,000, was surprised, and in spite of the favourable ground which it occupied was drawn up in a great hurry by Anhalt without any fixed principle. The Prince had brought up all the artillery that he had on to the heights that covered his right wing.--This therefore, commanded by the young Prince Anhalt, was ranged in the line of its own fire, the trajectory of which would pass over its head. Hohenlohe commanded the centre under Anhalt, Bornemissa who had had himself carried to the field in spite of his illness, the left.--The Duke himself commanded the Imperial army in chief, under him Lichtenstein the centre, Tilly the left, Boucquoi, who in spite of the wound that he had received at Rakonitz was again on horse, the right wing.

It was a beautiful fresh winter's day. The Imperialists seemed for some time to be in doubt whether they should advance. At length, between twelve and one o'clock in the afternoon, the two lines of which the extreme wings were made up, set themselves in motion, and pushed forward with drums rolling and loud shouting. Anhalt at once commenced a cannonade from all his guns, but they were pointed too high, and the balls passed far over the heads of the Imperialists without killing even a single man. The right wing of the Bohemians was now impetuously attacked and thrown back: but young Anhalt, supported by Bubna and young Thurn, broke suddenly (according to the enemies' own account) like thunder and lightning in amongst the Imperial cavalry, and his extraordinarily fierce onset in spite of the most obstinate, heroic resistance forced it slowly to give ground. The Imperialists lost three standards, and Captain Preuner was taken prisoner. Victory seemed inclining towards Frederick's side. But at this decisive moment reinforcements arrived for the hard pressed Imperialists. Godfrey of Pappenheim came up with his cuirassiers just in time to prevent young Anhalt's further advance. At sight of the youthful sparkling hero the Imperialists again stood firm, and a terrible hand to hand contest ensued. For a quarter of an hour the fate of the battle in this portion of the field was in suspense.--At that moment the three young men, Gabriel, Schlemmersdorf and Styrum reached the White-mountain. Gabriel had only one personal friend, John Bubna, upon the field. He was on the right wing and thither Gabriel turned his fiery steed. His discontent vanished at sight of the battle-field. The hot fight, the blast of the trumpets, the rattle of musketry, the thunder of cannon, all this made him for a moment forgetful of his resolution. Thus had he often stood at Mannsfield's side. On the battle-plain he had won for himself a new name, respected and terrible. His lust of combat was kindled to a wild heat, he drew his sword, spurred his horse to a mad gallop, and flew swift as an arrow over the level ground that separated him from the field of battle.

"Ah, thou here, young friend!" cried the elder Bubna who had withdrawn for a moment from the thickest pressure, to staunch the blood that was flowing from a flesh-wound.--"That's right of you to come, the sight of you has a wonderfully strengthening effect upon me. How fares it with the other wing?"

"I do not know, Bubna," replied Bitter.... "I am but just arrived.--You hold out bravely against a superior force...."

"We had just got the upper hand, when this Pappenheim came up with his cuirassiers, and made the issue of the fight again doubtful.... Do you see him there with raised visor on a grey horse how he is animating his troopers? he seems to stamp on the ground and call up ever fresh masses of death-defying cuirassiers--but forward, friend!"