Chapter 5

"His protracted absence begins to alarm me," replied Althea. "I trust no accident has happened to him on his long journey."

"Who would begin fearing the worst so soon?" admonished Schindel. "Recollect, niece, how much he had to do at Tirschkokrig, and Prague, and Vienna. Such a change of habitation for life brings with it a heap of business. The explanations with a beloved father, whom one would not pain, the quitting of the service of a powerful master, who unwillingly parts with the true servant--all these are things that are not easily got over. It is very possible that he may yet have to stay a day or two over."

"Well, God be thanked!" cried Netz--"He has been a year in Bohemia, and so has had time to manage his removal to Silesia."

"Only a year?" sighed Althea; "to me the time has seemed much longer."

"Not a complete year yet," interrupted Schindel. "It was in the September of the foregoing year that Francis Friend was released from his confinement, and it was the very day before that Tausdorf went to Bohemia."

"Don't mention a word to me about these Friends," growled Netz, dashing the goblet on the table. "You drive the gall into my stomach, and then the wine does not prosper with me. It will stick with me all my life long, that this villain, who alone was cause of the mischief, should have crept, with a whole skin, from under the sword of the executioner!"

"It must have been because they could prove nothing against him in respect to Bieler's death," objected Schindel, "or else the emperor had made a severe example of him also."

"I have ever heard," said Netz, "that in such investigations all depends upon the manner of questioning; and the judge, if he rightly understands it, can interrogate a rogue into an honest man, and an honest man into a rogue. With me Francis will always be Bieler's murderer, and if I had not given my knightly word and hand to the lord bishop to let the matter rest, I would yet call him to account for it."

"Still Tausdorf comes not!" interrupted Althea with affectionate anxiety.

"And in the mean time," said Schindel, "we have lost the guests who were invited for his reception. Rasselwitz and Seidlitz were to be gone for an hour only, and neither of them is returned yet."

"I wish Rasselwitz may not be dangling after the fair Netherlander," replied Netz, "and have forgotten Tausdorf and his welcome!"

"You must always be wagging your tongue at me," cried Rasselwitz, who just then entered, and had caught the last words.

"Well, and do I lie?" asked Netz: "Are you not led in a string by the fair stranger?"

"Would to Heaven she only thought it worth her while to lead me! but at present she cares little about me."

"And yet you are always dangling after her, and paying court to her when and how she pleases. What a great fool should I be if I were to suffer myself to be so trotted about, and all to no purpose! Love's pay must follow love's service, or else I care nothing for love, or all the women of the earth."

"Time brings roses. I don't yet give up all hope."

"Holloa, gentlemen!" cried Schindel; "this is a conversation for the tavern when you can no longer tell Hungary from Rhenish. How can you think of amusing the noble ladies here present with your courtesans?"

"You are in a gross error, Herr von Schindel," said Netz warmly. "The lady, of whom we speak, by no means belongs to that loose craft. Since she has lodged with the Dutch nurseryman at the Park, she has led so still and retired a life, that she may well be set up as a model for other women. Besides, the splendour of her clothes and furniture betokens great wealth, as her dignified manners are a sign of her high birth."

"And yet lodges at the Park?" retorted Schindel; "and allows the young men free access to her? That is strange! But who is she, and what would she here? It does not at all please me, when a handsome female wanders about the world in this way without protection."

"Thus much she has confessed to me," said Rasselwitz; "her abode here has a mighty object; but what that object is she does not as yet hold me fit to be entrusted with."

"If the girl should have some evil design towards you?" said Schindel thoughtfully. "We have many a warning-tale from the olden time of young libertines having been allured by some beautiful unknown, and, when at last they fancied themselves at the goal of their wishes, they grasped in their arms a hellish monster. At all events you will do well to be cautious with your new acquaintance."

He was interrupted by the slow approach of footsteps. Supported by Seidlitz, Tausdorf tottered into the room, and with a friendly smile upon his pale features, stretched out his arms towards Althea, who instantly hastened to the man of her affections, exclaiming, "Gracious Heavens! what has happened to you, Tausdorf?"

"A slight accident, not worth talking of. As I was entering the town-gate my horse shied and would not go forward, and, when I attempted to force him on, he reared so high that he fell over with me."

"And you have been wounded by the dreadful fall?"

"Oh, no. I did, indeed, strike my head against the pavement in falling, but my hat broke the force of the blow."

"Has your horse ever shown such vice before?" asked Schindel.

"No," replied Tausdorf. "You know my old gray: he was the most docile beast that I ever rode."

"Then this accident strikes me as something singular," rejoined Schindel, "as if it were an omen intended by Providence to warn you of some great evil at hand."

"Don't say that with so much earnestness, my good uncle," exclaimed Tausdorf, laughing, "or you will terrify my Althea unnecessarily; and if she should fall sick upon it, the mischief which my bay's restiveness is supposed to prophesy would then have really come to pass."

"I should like you as well again if you had a little more faith," replied Schindel angrily. "Animals have often a sharper insight into the realm of spirits than your overwise men. Think on Balaam's awful history. It would not be the first time that a horse shied when he was bearing his master to his ruin. Who knows whether it is well that you have just now rode into the town?"

"Herr von Schindel is the faithful Eckart, and warns every one," cried Rasselwitz with forced laughter, and seized the goblet to wash down his anxiety, while Netz exclaimed--"Are we not at last, then, to sit down regularly, and fetch up our lost dinner-time?"

"Do so, good cousin, and take my place," replied Tausdorf, who since Schindel's last words had grown unusually grave and gloomy: "My honoured guests will easily excuse me if I leave them for my bed: I should make a sorry host to-day, for my head is somewhat stunned and dizzy from the fall, and repose will be the best thing for me."

He bowed, and left the company. The faithful Althea anxiously followed him.

"A tedious melancholy feast for a welcome," muttered Netz.

The guests looked at each other with disturbed countenance. A painful silence spread over the whole party, and the old Schindel put his finger to his nose, and said, "I keep to it still; this adventure is a very doubtful omen: God turn all to the best!"

* * * * *

The two brothers, Christopher and Francis, had come to see the splendid aloe, which was at the Dutch nurseryman's in the park, and was then unfolding all the glory of its blossoms. Both were not a little astonished at meeting here, for at other times the way of the one was regularly not that of the other. Bareheaded, and with all the respect due to the rich Patricians, the gardener opened to them the door of the particular green-house, in which stood the giant plant. From the midst of enormous prickly leaves the stem rose up like a tree, to almost three times a man's height; from that again a multitude of branches had sprouted perpendicularly, each of which bore a multitude of colossal flower-tufts, so that many thousand flowers showed themselves together, offering to the astonished eye the appearance of an immense nosegay.

"This splendid aloe, called also _Agave Americana_," said the gardener, haranguing in a monotonous tone, and repeating the same thing for the hundredth time,--"this splendid aloe has come to Germany from the new world through Spain; it reaches a very great age, sometimes a hundred years, flowers only once in its long vegetable life, but that once, as we see here, with such an extravagant prodigality of its best strength and noblest juices, that it thereby draws on its own death, perishing entirely after it has completed its time of blooming: on this account it is a great rarity, whenever we can get to this wonderful sight in our climate, which in fact is not over favourable to this miraculous and beautiful plant."

The brothers had soon satiated themselves with looking at this wonder-work of nature, and had scarcely paid any attention to the gardener's set speech. At last Christopher said,

"This aloe must have brought you many a fair half-crown, master gardener?"

But Francis had long been peeping between the leaves after a handsome female, who sate at the end of the green-house under a blooming oleander, and seemed to be reading diligently in an old manuscript. Her brows were shadowed by white ostrich feathers that rose from a bonnet of the same colour; her auburn locks rolled down in luxuriant abundance upon a closely-fitting dress of purple velvet, girdled by a rich gold band; while a chain of gold-chased emeralds heaved up and down upon the laced kerchief which veiled her fair voluptuous bosom.

"Master, who is that handsome woman?" said Francis to the gardener, in a low eager tone.

"Bona van der Noot," whispered the man in reply; "the widow of a rich Netherlander, who for four weeks has lodged in the upper floor of my house."

"The widow of a _rich_ Netherlander?" asked Christopher, who now began to look after her, and in whom, to the natural delight in a beautiful figure, awoke also the calculating spirit of the man of wealth, desirous of heaping up still more to his collected money-bags--"Have the kindness, master, to help us to a nearer intimacy."

"She has once for all forbidden such things," replied the gardener; "but what would I not do to please you, Mr. Christopher?"

And going up to the fair stranger, he said respectfully, "Permit me, noble lady, to give way to the wishes of these gentlemen, and present to you the sons of our worshipful burgomaster."

"You are acting contrary to our agreement, master," replied Bona, with gentle reproach. "My society has so little worth, and I feel so little desire to form new acquaintances, that neither party will thank you much for your mediation."

In the meantime Francis and Christopher had approached with profound inclinations; in doing this the former had got a full view of her, when he suddenly stood still with open mouth and staring eyes, and no sooner had he heard her voice, than he cried out at once, "That is Agatha, or the Devil!"

"What ails you now, brother?" cried Christopher in alarm; and Bona anxiously asked the gardener whether the young man had not sometimes paroxysms of madness.

"No; it cannot be she, however;" stammered Francis, retreating in confusion. "The rich clothes, the cheerful countenance--no, that cannot be the pale, haggard spectre that tormented me so cruelly in the Hildebrand--and now, too, the beautiful long auburn locks with the auburn eye-brows!--Agatha had dark brown hair. Pardon me, noble lady, my mistake and rudeness; your great likeness to a girl, whom I knew only too well, had deceived me."

"Sir," replied Bona proudly, "you must yourself allow that this assimilation to some old flame of yours cannot be particularly flattering to me. To spare myself any farther such unpleasantnesses, nothing remains for me but to withdraw, and leave it to your own reflection whether it became you to insult an unblemished female, who sought the hospitality of your father's town."

She walked away with great dignity.

"God confound you!" cried Christopher to his brother. "This is now the second time that your madness has come between me and my object, when I was trying to weave a love affair. Had it not been for your senseless fray with Rasselwitz, I should have had leisure and opportunity to win the widow. It was your fault alone that the banquet was put off, from which I had promised myself so much. The refusal too, which the silly woman gave me in the end, I owe to the fear of your relationship. No one would willingly have any thing to do with you, for wherever you come you make mischief, and that not merely from natural awkwardness, but from evil intentions. If, therefore, you frighten away my bird this time, I shall believe you do it on purpose, and have good reasons of your own for preventing my second marriage; in which case I shall speak a word in earnest with our father, and you will gain nothing by your tricks."

Thus scolding and grumbling, he went off, and the gardener went with him. Francis, however, had not listened to his lecture, but remained there gloomily, and with the sheath of his sword beheaded the valuable foreign plants that stood in their clay vases, in rows, upon a range of steps. At last he cried, "I was mistaken; but the likeness was surprising and really terrible. A horrid shuddering came over me as the well-known features menaced me from out the strange form; I felt as if some evil spirit stretched out his claws after me from the beautiful face. The devil take conscience! It has often embittered my life, and now, since the affair in the Hildebrand, it will no longer let me have any real satisfaction."

There was a sudden rustling behind the glass door, through which Bona had disappeared, and to which Francis had turned his back. Glancing round fearfully to the place whence the noise came, he saw the magic image of the fair stranger, and he shook and shuddered as if in the frosts of fever.--"Heaven be merciful to me!" he cried,--clapped his hands before his eyes, and rushed out through another door into the garden.

No sooner had Francis left the green-house than Bona entered it through the side-door. For some time she looked after him as he ran along the principal alley of the garden, while her beautiful eyes sparkled with silent wrath, her right hand pressed itself violently on her throbbing bosom, as if she wished to keep down its heavings by force, and thoughts of evil seemed to furrow her lovely forehead. At this instant came tripping along from a side walk the knight, Rasselwitz, in all his bravery, as with hope and desire on his face he bent his way towards the green-house. The moment Bona perceived him, the furrows smoothed themselves upon her brow, her eyes lost their fierceness, a gentle longing spread over her features, and she flung herself in a picturesque attitude on the garden-seat beneath the oleander. Rasselwitz entering, said in the softest tone, "I owe it to my good fortune, noble lady, that I find you here in this confidential loneliness, and can paint the feelings which glow towards you in my heart, without being interrupted by troublesome witnesses."

With angelic kindness Bona presented her hand to him, and drew him down beside her, gently murmuring, "You have often before protested your love to me, Herr von Rasselwitz, and I would willingly believe in it, but mens' hearts are more treacherous than the treacherous waves of the sea: Who would trust to them? who would answer to me for the continuance of the inclination which you fancy you feel for me--perhaps really feel at the present moment?"

Rasselwitz felt himself transported into the third heaven by this accost, for she had never addressed him so before; and kissing her hand with fervour, he cried, "O that you would honour me so far, beautiful Bona, as to demand of me some proof of my sincerity!"

"Take care that I don't keep you to your word," replied Bona with a lovely smile. "I might ask something of serious difficulty, and you would then come off with disgrace."

"No, fair lady; you don't escape me so this time," protested Rasselwitz with great animation. "You must rather allow me to keep _you_ to your word. Demand any proof of my love, as hard and earnest as you can devise, and, if I deny it to you, banish me from your presence for ever."

"Do you know the man who just now left the garden?" asked Bona with apparent calmness.

"Why should I not?" replied Rasselwitz. "It was Francis Friend, the wild son of the old burgomaster."

"Challenge him for life or death," said Bona, "and I am yours."

Rasselwitz stared at the blood-thirsty beauty, and at length said with a confused smile, "You must be jesting, noble lady? What good could you get by egging us on to murder each other?"

"There are many gates through which hatred may enter the human breast," replied Bona with piercing looks; "and, if that be true which has been told me, you also cannot possibly be a friend to this Francis."

"By heavens! I detest him as my worst sins, but I cannot challenge him."

Upon this Bona started up and demanded with a look of scorn and contempt, "Do you want the courage for it?"

"Only _you_ dare ask me that," replied Rasselwitz, starting up in his turn; "and to you only could I give a cool answer. I have never shunned the game of swords; but my knightly word binds me; I pledged it to the prince palatine on the settling of that awkward business the other day, and, if the monster does not begin again himself, he will have quiet for me as long as he lives."

"Does not then the wish of your beloved weigh more with you than this promise?" asked Bona in soul-melting tones; and, laying her hand upon his shoulder, she gazed on him with a look that glowed through his pulses and gave wings to them.

"You have not understood me, noble lady," replied Rasselwitz earnestly. "We are talking here of my knightly word, on which depends my honour, and consequently my earthly being. If this adamantine chain were to hold no longer, what tie in the world could be relied on?"

"A clever brain would know how to manage a quarrel, and yet throw the appearance of the first aggression upon his adversary. Rough and violent as this Friend appears to me, it must be easy to irritate him to unseemly language and vulgar action, and then you fight only in self-defence, which the bishop cannot take amiss."

"That would be bad work, lady, with which I cannot meddle. To evade a promise is to break a promise, and I am an honourable Silesian."

"Well answered," cried Bona with loud laughter, and reseated herself. "Take your place again by my side, Herr von Rasselwitz; it was not so evilly intended. I excuse you from the combat for life and death, to which you seem to have so little inclination, and do you, on the other hand, excuse me for the future from your love-protests which you cannot prove. You have stood the first trial badly; I spare you the others."

"How! Your strange instigation was no more than a trial?"

"And a very badly contrived one too. How could I expect that you would believe me, in this deadly hatred against a man whom I saw to-day for the first time in my life, and who could not have ever injured me?--me, a Netherlandress, who have lived but a few weeks at Schweidnitz? You would have caught me finely, and put me into an awkward plight, had you made as if you were willing to comply with my desire. I must then have prayed you, for God's sake, to let poor Friend live, and you would have had the pleasure of laughing at me soundly for my unsuccessful project."

"Fool that I am!--and yet I rejoice from my heart that it was only a joke. I could not, however, suspect you of such a trick."

"Did you have a long merry-making on Monday at the widow's?" asked Bona, with a careless transition of the subject.

"Unfortunately, no; the bridegroom, whom we expected, had an accident with his horse, and arrived late only to go to bed directly. This untuned us all, and we separated at an early hour."

"I have already heard much of this bridegroom; but tell me more about him; he is said to be a handsome man."

"A perfect model of manly beauty!"

"That is saying much; yet since a man of your appearance allows it, why it must needs be so.--Brave?--that is understood of itself;--but I suppose just as hot and violent, just as easy to be irritated, which you gentlemen often wish to pass upon us for courage?"

"Nothing less. He is coolness and reflection personified, and on that account seems as if born to be a general. If he had not been the leader of the nobles on that decisive day which freed me from arrest, it had unavoidably come to a battle in the city; the upshot was uncertain, and in any case Bieler's murderers had escaped punishment."

A flash of anger quivered through Bona's beautiful features, and the little pearl-teeth within her rosy lips were ground together firmly. But the external calm was soon regained, and she asked with her former indifference,--"Is this mirror of virtue and honour quite faithful to his Althea?"

"It is perilous to answer for any thing of this sort; but in his case I would almost venture it. He dwells on his bride with infinite affection."

"That proves nothing; you men may love warmly, and yet be false withal. Will you do me a favour, Herr von Rasselwitz?"

"Command me; I fly."

"Always supposing it is not for life and death," interposed Bona with light mockery. "But I have a desire to become personally acquainted with this Tausdorf, who is so much talked of. Besides I want to inquire of him after a relation, who lives at Prague. Bring him hither with the first opportunity."

"It is asking much," said Rasselwitz jestingly, "to expect that I should myself introduce to you so dangerous a rival; but I build upon his fore-praised fidelity."

"If, however, you cannot, or like not, it is of no consequence. It was only a passing whim, which I can just as lightly give up again."

"By no means; and it is precisely to-morrow morning that your wish can be most easily accomplished, for the lady Althea then goes to Bogendorf, whence she does not return till the day afterwards, and she leaves Tausdorf behind that he may have leisure to recover from his fall. The singular plant, which is shown in this garden, shall be the bait to bring him. He will come to admire a blooming aloe, and will be agreeably surprised when the floweret of beauty unfolds to him the splendour of its colours."

He imprinted a fiery kiss upon Bona's hand and departed. The maiden looked after him with a bitter smile, then rose up, and walked slowly into the green-house, where stood the aloe, which she considered for a long time, and at length said, "Yes, proud aloe, you are the image of my revenge. Your blossom requires years to break from the bud, but it does at last break forth in vigour that will not be restrained; and though you perish in the very moment of perfection, you have yet gained your object; he who has done that has lived long enough."

* * * * *

Beamless, yet with splendid glow, hung the evening sun, like a bright burning ruby in the horizon over the violet-coloured mountains. Purple clouds, edged with gold, shot a glory about it, while the whole western heavens shone in a sea of flame, and the blaze melted away farther on into a lovely sea-green, which again in the east was lost in the dark blue of night. Before the aloe, whose flowers seemed to burn in the evening red, stood Tausdorf, sunk in its contemplation.--"The plant is to be envied," he said to Rasselwitz; "he dies well, who, like it, dies at the moment of reaching the pinnacle of strength and beauty; and I could almost wish that such a death might one day be to myself."