Chapter II.

The new-comer was a young man of perhaps twenty-eight years, pale, delicate, and slightly stooped. His large blue eyes, candid and intelligent, gave a charm to his young though thoughtful face, whence light emotions seemed to be banished to give place to the workings of a vigorous mind. Johann, at first sight, did not seem handsome, but he became more and more interesting on acquaintance. The simplicity of this look and costume-- a dark gray doublet, leathern belt, and cap without either clasp or plume-- certainly neither attracted nor retained the gaze. Johann saluted the beautiful Mina, who returned his greeting with a look of playful anger, and then hastened to greet his master.

"Well, Johann, what news?" asked Sebald, advancing with outstretched hand.

"That I have not come alone, master. Your business is done; the prior of the monastery of Fremersberg is here. I have spoken in your name, and he binds you neither by designs nor advice. You will be at full liberty to execute according to your own will the sculpture of the chapel. You need only confer with him as to the time and conditions of the work. The prior wished much to visit your atelier and see your beautiful bas-relief, of which the fame has spread far and wide, but you know that he is old and infirm. The stair was too steep for him to mount, and I left him in the hall below, where he awaits you."

{486}

"Very good; I go, my brave boy and thanks to thee. Hast been in the city, Johann?"

"Yes, master, I was carried away by the crowd and could not avoid the tournament."

"Very well, then, amuse Mina with the story of all the fine things that thou hast seen. An old father and his statues are not very joyous company for a girl of seventeen."

With these words Koerner left the room, and Mina, who until now had remained silent and pouting, came forward with animated looks and flashing eyes:

"Then you saw the tournament, Johann?" she began.

"Yes, Demoiselle Mina."

"Who were the victors?"

"There were three, as there were three encounters. The Gaugrave Siegfried of Ehrenfels; the old Count of Arenheim; and our acquaintance, our fellow of the studio, Otho of Arneck, who triumphed on foot and on horse, and received the finest of all the crowns."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mina, with a joyous sigh, while a sudden blush overspread her countenance.

"And," continued Johann, "it was the richest and most beautiful of the ladies of the Margravate who gave it him--the Countess Gertrude of Horsheim, whose father possesses the entire valley of the Murg."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mina again, but this time her sigh was one of anguish, and she grew pale.

Johann Muller gazed on her a moment in silence, then turned away and walked a few paces with the air of one who meditates some resolution or prepares a discourse; then he returned, and stood with downcast eyes before the young girl.

"Demoiselle Mina," said he, "we have known each other since infancy. Would you, for the sake of our old friendship, allow me to ask you one question, and then to offer you a single counsel?"

"I will reply to your question, if it be suitable for me to do so, and I will list your counsel if it be good," replied the girl with a slight haughtiness in her manner.

"You shall judge," said Johann. "Demoiselle, you take much interest in all that passes in the city."

"I seek not to conceal it. I am young and full of life, and I love to gaze upon brilliant cavalcades, shining breast-plates, floating plumes and broidered doublets; I like to hear of the nuptials of such a baron, or the mourning of such a castellan. My father forbids it not, nor think I that you will blame it. Such tastes are far from marvellous at my age."

"Nor marvel I at them; but if they are imprudent, demoiselle?" asked Johann with a look of affliction.

"Imprudent! Why?" returned Mina quickly, a flash gleaming from beneath her long lashes.

"Because--because," stammered Johann, "to me it seemeth that the happiness of a young maiden like thee, beautiful, good, and virtuous as thou art, is better assured when it flourishes beneath the shadow of her home. Baronesses and countesses may display their great names and fine apparel at courts and tourneys; but for thee, demoiselle, _thy_ pride, _thy_ rich apparel, and _thy_ true dignity are thy sweet virtue in the first place, and, after, the renown of thy father, and such gifts are but little prized by the great ones of the world. Thou wilt better enjoy them and better preserve them by not exposing them without thy dwelling."

"And have I not remained there?" cried Mina, almost in tears. "Go I ever to rejoicings unless my father bears me company? Was I ever seen, while he works here, to babble or even to smile without?"

"'Tis not that I would charge," replied Johann, "All see thee ever here, tranquil, smiling, and pure, like yon bright marble cherubim, which hovers over thy house, and, even if he were not there, still might thy dwelling be called the House of the Angel. {487} But if thy thoughts wander abroad whilst thou remainest here; if thou dost always desire ardently to see those rejoicings of which thou knowest naught, or that world which thou scarcely knowest, thou wilt become unhappy, demoiselle, and it is that evil I wished--that thou must escape."

"But why, my good Johann, disquiet thyself about my happiness?" asked Mina in a kinder tone.

"Why, Mina, why? Because from childhood I have grown by thy side; because for long years it seemed thou wert my sister; because later I thought thee my friend; because I would gladly bear the burden of thy sorrows, and count thy hopes as mine own."

"I thank thee, Johann; thy heart is good and true," replied the girl, while her eye sought the distant mountain behind which the setting sun was soon to sink.

"Sayest thou so, Mina? I know nothing of that; I but feel that I have a heart that loves thee that would regard no effort, recoil from no sacrifice that would bring to thee joy, glory, or happiness."

"Truly art thou generous, Johann," replied the girl, nodding her fair head. "But I need naught; I am tranquil and happy, and will probably never find occasion for the exercise of thy devotion."

"Ah! if some day thou mayst find aught of consolation in my tenderness!" cried Johann, clasping his hands and fixing a timid glance full of emotion upon her. "Mina--I sometimes dreamt--pardon me--but thy father was always so affectionate to me, and thou hast often been so kind--I sometimes dreamt that some day Sebald Koerner might call me son--that thou, Mina--thou mightest give me a name dearer, tenderer, holier yet. But your looks tell me I have hoped in vain before your mouth has spoken--and yet, to thee would I have consecrated so much of devotion and love, if thou hadst become my wife!"

The maiden motioned with her hand and turned away with a sigh.

"We would be neither rich nor powerful," continued Johann, "but nevertheless I thought we might be happy. If thou shouldst desire fine apparel, Mina, I would have given thee them from the rewards of my toil; if thou shouldst desire glory, I would have worked until thou wouldst bear my name with pride. For thee would I have strained my uttermost strength, what talent I may own, my youth--and of thee I would have asked only that thou shouldst remain joyous and beautiful, and shouldst love me a little. And how peacefully would thy old father live--how happily die, seeing thee happy and beloved, ay, adored! Yes--adored, Mina; I have said the word and will not unsay it."

Uttering these last words, Johann lowered his eyes and bent his head before her, as if to express by his mien the deep tenderness of his heart. She stretched forth her hand, moved by these simple declarations of a love almost hopeless, but yet so full of life.

"Dear Johann--faithful Johann," said she at length, "thou art good and kind, but--speak no more thus. Thou hast said that in our childhood thou lovedst me as a sister. Let me still be thy sister. I will never be thy wife. I will neither lie nor forswear myself. I would shelter myself behind the grating of the cloister of Lichtenthal or sleep in yonder cemetery rather than give thee my hand, because with it I should not give my heart, and thou wouldst not see remorse and regret in the heart of thy wife. Johann! let us be friends, and, if thou lovest me, try to forget thy dream."

"I may never forget it," murmured the young sculptor. "My love is as old as I, Mina; it forms part of my life. But if God, some day allows its flame to be quenched, it will be because he will light in its place a purer and loftier one, and God alone may console me, Mina, when I shall have lost--"

At this instant the joyous notes of far off-trumpets broke the calm silence of the air.

"What sounds are those?" asked Mina, turning to the window.

{488}

"Probably the departure of the vanquishers of the tourney. After the distribution of the crowns, they were invited to the _burg_, and are now separating, doubtless to change their costume for the ball of the evening. Perhaps, too, some of the barons may be returning to their castles, and, if so, their banners will soon appear at the end of the street."

"I am very curious to see them pass," said Mina, and, leaving Johann alone in the atelier, she pushed a stool upon the balcony, and there, leaning upon the railing, her little head with its golden hair supported by her white hand, she awaited the coming of the brilliant _cortege_.