PART V.--THE REDEMPTION.
“Bertram, thou must come with me. See, here is the cathedral; wilt thou not enter? The sanctuary is sacred, and none will dare try to move me from it. Come.”
“So, thou brokest the mystic branch; thy heart failed thee.”
“Oh, it should not fail me again.”
“There is yet a means!”
“Yet a means? Name it; I care not what--I will obey.”
“Thou shalt sign a solemn pledge.”
“Surely, Bertram, surely.”
The white knight took a quivering paper, from his very bosom, as it seemed; dipped a reed in an ink horn at his side, and offered both to the young knight.
As he was about to take them his hand trembled--not from fear, but because of a soft hymn which welled forth from the cathedral--a hymn of praise, sung by reverend old monks and faithful nuns.
“What! dost thou again tremble?”
“‘Tis the hymn my mother often sang to me in the days of my innocent childhood. Hark, again!”
Yet once more the sacred sounds swept through the air, “Holy, holy, holy.”
The white knight turned away and frowned; but as the sound died out he said, “Come, let us go. What, again thou tremblest?”
“How gentle does this music make me. As I hear it I have no fear--feel no hate. Again, dear sounds, again.”
Yet once more the hymn arose, “Holy, holy, holy!”
“He would be free! What, shall all my hope be destroyed? Never!”
“I am happy, I am happy!”
“Wherefore? That thy rival is blest; that they offer up prayers for him?”
“Again; again.”
“Go also; kneel humbly--_humbly_; and pray for his welfare too! Go, coward.”
The knight looked quickly at Bertram; gazed earnestly into his face; and, as the religious sounds again spread through the air, he cried out:--
“BERTRAM, THOU ART MY GREAT ENEMY!”
(“Is there no mercy for me? I his enemy!) I thy enemy, Robert? Do I not love thee? Who supported thee in battle, whose arm hath been thine, who would lay all the riches of the world at thy feet? I, who am--”
“Thou who art-“
“Dost thou remember the whisperings in thy home? Thy living father, who was changed, and thy mother’s woes? canst thou not guess my name?”
The youth looked on the white knight for a moment; then, with a flood of tears, he was on his knees before this strange being; his arms around the white knight’s waist, and Bertram’s small white hands resting on his head.
“Fear not; I will never leave thee!”
Then Robert saw the face above him change. He turned quickly, and found Alice standing there.
“Robert!”
The white knight stood before her toweringly; but, as she stepped forward, he, with all his power, was forced to give way.
“Robert, I bring thee a happy message. The duke of Grenada cannot pass the holy threshold of the cathedral.”
“Come, my son, leave this woman.”
“And the princess awaits thee.”
“Come, let us depart, Robert.”
“Thou darest not forget thy oath to her.”
“Hasten, Robert, the clock is near the hour, the last hour of my stay. We may not part, my son--my only son--we may not part.”
“My heart turns to thee--yet my vow!”
“But thy duty--thy duty!”
“Our duty,” cried Alice. “Our duty is to him whom thou fearest.” And without fear she stepped up to the white knight.
“My son--my only joy--thou wilt not hear her!”
“Let him hear me--I speak as I am bidden.”
“See, Robert; here is the parchment. Turn from her, fix thine eyes upon me, and let us go, to be for ever near each other.”
“And thy mother’s will--O Robert.” Quickly he turned from the tempter to the holy maiden, who held in her hand his mother’s will.
“My son, turn thy face from her, and look on me.”
“My mother’s writing--my own mother!”
As he perused the paper Bertram stretched forth his hands towards the youth, placed them pleadingly together, and even wept.
The knight read the paper, and then, looking up from it, the white knight knew that his power was gone, for Robert drew away from him, and taking the hand of Alice, placed it on his own head.
As he did so, the clanging of the church-bell told them that midnight was come.
Then despair, horrible despair, crept over the face of the white knight. He came one step forward, placed his trembling claw-like hands above the head of the saved knight and vanished. Vanished in the black night, as a wailing cry filled all the air.
Saved! the good spirit had saved him--the good spirit working through a poor country girl!
See him creeping to the church he spurned till now. Saved--saved!
“Holy, holy, holy!” Behold the sanctuary, and the sacred priests, ready with open arms to receive the sinning, but now repentant Robert!
And so was the spell his father’s wicked vow entwined about his life, for ever broken and destroyed. So was Robert the Devil transformed to Robert the Man, loving and beloved.
IL TROVATORE. (VERDI.)
THE MINSTREL.