by Eugène Sue
“I thought I would never be able to join thee. Thy horse had such a long lead of my palfrey—”
“My horse carried me away—”
“Oh, I noticed it — my sister Hildrude also,” Thetralde added frowning with her pretty eyebrows. “Both of us thereupon rushed in thy pursuit — we feared that in thy unacquaintance with the paths of our forest thou mightest lose thy way.”
“It did seem to me that I heard the gallop of two horses—”
“My sister wished to run ahead of me; but I struck her horse on the head with my whip. The frightened animal bolted to one side, carrying Hildrude along. She was angry and uttered a cry of rage.”
“Perhaps she runs some danger!”
“No, my sister will be able to master her horse. But as the mist is very thick, she will not be able to meet us again. I am so happy about that!”
Vortigern felt on the rack. Nevertheless, an ineffable sense of joy mingled with his agony. Anew the two children remained silent, and again the daughter of the Emperor of the Franks was the one to break the silence:
“Thou dost not speak — art thou annoyed that I have joined thee?”
“Oh, no, lovely princess—”
“Perhaps thou thinkest me wicked because I struck my sister’s horse? When I saw her striving to pass me, I no longer could control myself.”
“I hope that no ill may have befallen your sister.”
“I hope so too.”
For a moment Thetralde and Vortigern again relapsed into silence. With a slight touch of vexation the young girl once more resumed the conversation:
“Thou art very quiet—”
“I know not what to say—”
“Nor I either; and yet I was dying with the wish to speak to thee — what is thy name?”
“Vortigern.”
“I am called Thetralde — pronounce my name.”
“Thetralde—”
“I love to hear thee pronounce my name.”
“Where do you think the hunt is now?” asked the young Breton with increasing uneasiness. “It will be difficult to find the hunters. The mist grows ever denser.”
“Should we lose ourselves,” Thetralde replied laughing, “I do not know the paths of the forest.”
“Why did you not, then, remain near the people of the court and the seigneurs of the escort?”
“I saw thee running off rapidly, and I followed thee.”
“That throws both you and me into a great perplexity.”
“Art thou sorry to find thyself alone here with me?”
“Not at all!” cried Vortigern, “only I fear that this dense mist may change into rain towards evening, and that you may get wet. We should try and join the chase. Do you not think so?”
“In what direction shall we go?”
“It seemed to me a moment ago I heard the feeble sound of horns at a great distance.”
“Let us listen again,” said Thetralde, bending her charming head to one side, while Vortigern sought to listen from the opposite side.
“Dost thou hear anything?” queried the Emperor’s daughter raising her sweet voice and addressing Vortigern, who stood at a little distance. “I can hear nothing.”
“Nor I either,” rejoined the young Breton.
“Here we are lost!” cried the young girl laughing merrily. “And if night overtakes us, what a terrible thing!”
“And you laugh at such a plight?”
“Is it that thou art afraid, and thou a soldier?” But immediately the handsome face of Thetralde assumed an uneasy look and she observed: “Does thy wound hurt thee, my brave companion?”
“I am not thinking of my wound. I am only uneasy at perceiving that the mist grows still thicker. How can we regain our route? Whither could we go?”
“But I do wish to speak of thy wound,” replied Charles’ daughter with infantine impatience. “Why is not thy arm any longer protected by a scarf, as it was yesterday?”
“It would have incommoded me in the chase.”
Thetralde quickly detached her long belt of Tyrean silk and held it out to Vortigern. “Take this, my belt will take the place of thy scarf, and sustain thy arm.”
“It is unnecessary, I assure you.”
“Bad boy!” cried Thetralde, holding out her belt to Vortigern; and fixing upon him her beautiful blue eyes, almost imploringly said: “I beg of thee; do not refuse me!”
Vanquished by the timid and loving look, the young Breton accepted the scarf; but as he held the reins of his horse with one hand he found it difficult to fasten the belt into a scarf-band around his neck.
“Wait,” and Thetralde approached her palfrey close to Vortigern’s horse, leaned over in her saddle, took the two ends of the belt and tied them behind the lad’s neck. The touch of the young girl’s hand sent so wild a thrill through his frame that Thetralde, noticing the circumstance, said, as she finished the knot: “Thou tremblest — is it out of fear, or out of cold?”
“The mist is becoming so thick, so wet,” answered Vortigern, with increasing uneasiness. “Are not you yourself cold? I very much fear for you in this icy mist—”
“Fear not for me. But seeing thou art cold, we can walk our horses. It would be useless to move any faster. Perhaps the chase that we are in search of will come our way.”
“So much the better!”
“I am delighted to learn that thy grandfather and thyself will remain a long time with us.”
“May we be fortunate enough to do so!”
The two children continued their way, walking their horses side by side in the long avenue, where one could see not twenty paces ahead, so thick had the mist become. Night presently began to draw near. After a short interval of mutual silence, Thetralde resumed:
“We Franks are the enemies of the people of thy country; and yet I feel no enmity whatever towards thee; and thou, dost thou entertain any hatred for me?”
“I could not feel hatred for a young girl.”
“Thou must feel very sorry for being far away from thy own country. Wouldst thou wish me to ask the Emperor, my father, to render grace to thy grandfather and thyself?”
“A Breton never asks for grace!” proudly cried Vortigern. “My grandfather and I are hostages, prisoners on parole; we shall submit to the law of war.”
A fresh interval of silence followed upon this exchange of words. But soon, as Vortigern had foreseen, the dense mist changed into a fine and penetrating rain.
“The rain is upon us!” exclaimed the young Breton. “Not a sound is heard. This route seems to be endless. No! here is a side path to the left. Shall we take it?”
“As it may please thee,” answered Thetralde with indifference.
The girl was about to turn her horse’s head, agreeable to the suggestion of Vortigern, when the latter suddenly leaped down from his mount, detached the belt of his sword, took off his blouse, remaining in his thick jacket of the material of his breeches, and said to Thetralde:
“I consented to accept your scarf. It is now your turn. You must now consent to cover yourself with my blouse. It will serve you for a mantle.”
“Place it on my shoulders,” answered Thetralde blushing; “I dare not drop the reins of my palfrey.”
No less agitated than his girl companion, Vortigern drew near her and laid his garment on the shoulders of Thetralde. But when it came to tying the sleeves of the blouse around her neck and almost upon the palpitating bosom of the young girl, who, with her eyes lowered and her cheeks burning, raised her little pink chin in order to afford Vortigern full ease in the accomplishment of his kindly office, the hands of the lad shook so violently, that his mission was not accomplished until after repeated trials.
“Thou art cold; thou art shivering worse than thou didst before.”
“It is not the cold that makes me shiver—”
“What ails thee then?”
“I know not — the uneasiness that I feel on your behalf, seeing that night approaches. We have lost our way in
the forest. The rain is coming down heavier. And we know not what road to take—”
Interrupting her companion with a cry of joy, Thetralde pointed with her finger to one side of the avenue of trees that they were on, and exclaimed: “There is a hut down yonder!”
So there was. Vortigern perceived in the center of a cluster of centenarian chestnut trees a hut constructed of thick layers of peat heaped upon one another. A narrow opening gave entrance to the bower, before which the remnants of some dry wood recently lighted were still seen smouldering. “It is one of the huts in which the woodcutter slaves take refuge during the day when it rains,” explained Thetralde. “We shall be then under cover. Tie thy horse to a tree and help me alight.”
At the bare thought of sharing the solitary retreat with the young girl, Vortigern felt his heart thump under his ribs. A flush of burning fever rose to his face while, nevertheless, he shivered. After a moment’s hesitation, the lad complied with the orders of his companion. He tied his horse to a tree, and, in order to assist the young girl to alight from her mount, he extended to her his arms and received within them the supple and nimble body of Thetralde. So profound was the emotion experienced by Vortigern at the touch of the maid, that he was almost overcome. But the daughter of Charles, running towards the hut with pretty curiosity, cried out merrily:
“I see a moss-bank in the hut and a supply of dry wood. Let’s light a fire. There are still some embers burning. Hurry. Hurry.”
The lad hastened to join his companion and stumbled over a large log of wood that rolled at his feet. Stooping, he saw strewn about it a large number of burrs that had dropped down from the tall chestnut trees overhead. At once forgetting his embarrassment, he exclaimed with delight:
“A discovery! Chestnuts! Chestnuts!”
“What a find,” responded Thetralde, no less delighted. “We shall roast the chestnuts. I shall pick them up while thou startest the fire.”
The young Breton did as suggested by his girl companion, all the more readily seeing that he hoped to find in the sport a refuge from the vague, tumultuous and ardent thoughts, big at once with delight and anxiety, that he had been a prey to from the moment of his meeting with Thetralde. He entered the hut, took up several bunches of dry wood and rekindled the brasier into flame, while the daughter of Charles, running hither and thither, gathered a large supply of chestnuts which she brought into the hut in a fold of her dress. Letting herself down upon the moss-bank that lay at the further end of the hut, the interior of which was now brightly lighted by the glare of the fire which burned near the entrance, she said to Vortigern, motioning him to a seat near her:
“Sit down here, and help me shell these chestnuts.”
The lad sat down near Thetralde and entered with her into a contest of swiftness in the shelling of chestnuts, during which, like herself, he more than once pricked his fingers in the effort to extract the ripe kernels from their burrs. Presently, looking into her face, he said archly:
“And here you have the daughter of the Emperor of the Franks; seated inside of a peat hut and shelling chestnuts like any woodchopper and slave’s daughter.”
“Vortigern,” answered Thetralde, returning the look of her companion with a radiant face, “never was the daughter of the Emperor of the Franks more happy than at this moment.”
“And I, Thetralde, I swear to you that since the day I left my mother, my sister and Brittany, I have never been more pleased than to-day, than now, near you.”
“And if to-morrow should resemble to-day? and if it should be thus for a long time, a very long time — wouldst thou always be pleased?”
“And you, Thetralde?”
“Say ‘thou’ to me. We address one another with ‘thou’ in Germany. Say to me: ‘And thou, Thetralde?’”
“But the respect—”
“I say ‘thou’ to you, and do not respect you the less for it,” rejoined the maid laughing. “Say to me: ‘And thou, Thetralde?’”
“And thou, Thetralde?”
“So thou wishest to know whether I would be happy at the thought of all our days resembling this one, and our living together?”
“Yes, my charming Princess!”
The young maid remained pensive, holding in her delicate fingers a half opened chestnut husk. Presently she raised her head and broke the silence with the question: “Vortigern, is it far from here to thy country?”
“It took us more than a month to come here from Brittany.”
“Vortigern, what a beautiful journey that would make!”
“What sayest thou?”
Thetralde made a charming gesture commanding silence: “Hast thou any money about thee?”
And proceeding to detach from her belt a little embroidered purse, she emptied its contents into her lap. There were several heavy pieces of gold and a large number of smaller pieces of silver and copper. Two of the latter, one of silver and one of copper, and both of about the size of a denier, were pierced and tied together by a thread of gold. “This is all my treasure,” the girl observed.
“Why are these two pieces tied together?” inquired Vortigern, with a look of curiosity.
“Oh, these two must never be spent. We must preserve them carefully. One of them, the copper one, was struck the year of my birth; the other, the silver one, was struck this year, when I shall be fifteen. Fabius, my father’s astronomer, has engraved upon these pieces certain magical signs corresponding to planets of happy influence. The Bishop of Aix-la-Chapelle blessed them. They are a talisman.”
“If it were not that they are a talisman, Thetralde, I would have requested these two little pieces from thee as a souvenir of this day.”
“To what purpose wouldst thou keep a souvenir of this day rather than of the next days to follow? Dost thou not desire that all should resemble one another? If thou desirest these two little pieces, here, take them; I give them to thee. A talisman is a useful thing on a journey. Place them in the pocket of thy jacket.”
Vortigern obeyed almost mechanically, while the young girl, after ingenuously counting up her little hoard, resumed, saying: “We here have five gold sous, eight silver deniers, and twelve copper deniers; besides my bracelets, my necklace and my earrings. With that we shall have money enough to journey as far as Brittany. Night is upon us; we shall spend it under the shelter of this hut. To-morrow we shall have the woodcutter slave lead us to Werstern, a little burg situated on the skirt of the forest, about two leagues from Aix-la-Chapelle. We shall buy some simple clothing for myself, a traveling cloak of cloth. To-morrow at daybreak we shall start on our route. Do not fear that I shall recoil before fatigue. I am neither as tall nor as strong as my sister Hildrude, and yet, if thou shouldst be tired or wounded, I am sure I could carry thee on my back, just as my sister Imma once carried her lover Eginhard on hers. But our chestnuts are now all shelled. Come and help me to put them under the hot ashes. We shall eat them when roasted.”
Raising with one hand the fold of her robe in which lay the nuts, Thetralde ran to the brasier. Vortigern followed her. He felt as in a dream. At times his reason gave way under the spell of an ardent and intoxicating vertigo. He knelt down silently, disturbed in mind, beside Thetralde before the brasier, into which the girl, steeped in thought, was slowly throwing the chestnuts one by one. Without, the rain had stopped; but the mist, now thickened to a fog with the approach of night, rendered the darkness complete. The reflection of the brasier only lighted up the charming faces of the two children on their knees beside each other. When the last chestnut had followed the others under the cinders, Thetralde rose, and leaning with familiar candor on Vortigern’s shoulders said to him, taking his hand:
“And now, while thy supper is cooking, let us go back and sit down upon the bench of moss for me to finish telling thee my prospects. I have thought over what we are to do.”
The night became profound. The flickering, vacillating flame in the expiring brasier seemed to cry for fresh fuel. The chestnuts, that had been consigned to
its warmth, snapped noisily from their hulls into the air, announcing that their toothsome pulp was ready to be partaken of. Without, the horse and the palfrey of Vortigern and Thetralde pawed the ground and neighed impatiently, as if calling for their provender. The fire finally went out. The chestnuts changed to charcoal. The neighings of the horses resounded ever louder in the midst of the nocturnal silence of the forest. Thetralde and Vortigern did not issue from the hut.
