by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER V.
Everything in Barbara's residence had remained as it was when shearrived, only the second story, since the departure of the marquise,had stood empty. Two horses had been left in the stable, the stewardperformed his duties as before, the cook presided in the kitchen, andFrau Lamperi attended to Barbara's rooms.
Nevertheless, at Wolf's first visit he was obliged to exert all hispowers of persuasion to induce his miserable friend to give upher resolution of moving into her former home. Besides, after theconversation with Charles's messenger, she had felt so ill that novisitor except himself had been received.
When, a few days later, she learned that the Emperor had set out forLandshut, she entreated Wolf to seek out Pyramus Kogel, for she had justlearned that during her illness her father's travelling companionhad asked to see her, but, like every one else, had been refused.She grieved because they had forgotten to tell her this; but when shediscovered that the same stately officer had called again soon after therelapse, she angrily upbraided, for the first time, Frau Lamperi, whowas to blame for the neglect, and her grief increased when, on thesame day, a messenger brought from the man who had twice been deniedadmittance a letter which inclosed one from her father, and brieflyinformed her that he should set out at once for Landshut. As she wouldnot receive him, he must send her the captain's messages in this way.
It appeared from the old man's letter that, while leaving the shipat Antwerp, he had met with an accident, and perhaps might long beprevented from undertaking the toilsome journey home. But he was wellcared for, and if she was still his clear daughter, she must treat HerrPyramus Kogel kindly this time, for he had proved a faithful son andgood Samaritan to him.
A stranger's hand had written this letter, which contained nothing moreabout the old soldier's health, but reminded her of a tin tankard whichhe had forgotten to deliver, and urged her to care for the ever-burninglamp in the chapel. It closed with the request to offer his profoundreverence at the feet of his Majesty, the most gracious, most glorious,and most powerful Emperor, and the remark that there was much to sayabout the country of Spain, but the best was certainly when one thoughtof it after turning the back upon it.
As a postscript, he had written with his own hand, as the crookedletters showed: "Mind what I told you about Sir Pyramus, without whomyou would now be a deserted orphan. Can you believe that in all Spainthere is no fresh butter to be had, either for bread or in the kitchenfor roast meat, but instead rancid oil, which we should think just fitfor burning?"
With deep shame Barbara realized through this letter how rarely sheremembered her father. Only since she knew positively what joy and whatanxiety awaited her had she again thought frequently of him, butalways with great fear of the old man whose head had grown gray in anhonourable life. Now the hour was approaching when she would be obligedto confess to him what she still strove to deem a peerless favour ofFate, for which future generations would envy her. Perhaps he who lookedup to the Emperor Charles with such enthusiastic devotion wouldagree with her; perhaps what she must disclose to him would spoil theremainder of his life. The image of the aged sufferer, lying in painand sorrow far from her old his home, in a stranger's house, constantlyforced itself upon her, and she often dwelt upon it, imagining it withingenious self-torture.
Love for another had estranged her from him who possessed the firstclaim to every feeling of tenderness and gratitude in her heart. Thethought that she could do nothing for him and give him no token of herlove pierced deep into her soul. Every impulse of her being urged herto learn further details of him and his condition. As Pyramus Kogel wasstaying in Landshut, she wrote a note entreating him, if possible, tocome to Ratisbon to tell her about her father, or, if this could not be,to inform her by letter how he fared.
There was no lack of messengers going to Landshut, and the answer wasnot delayed. During these war times, Pyramus answered, he was not hisown master even for a moment; therefore he must deny himself a visitto her, and he also lacked time for a detailed account by letter. If,however, she could resolve to do him the honour of a visit, he wouldpromise her a more cordial reception than he had experienced on herside. For the rest, her father was being carefully nursed, and his lifewas no longer in danger.
At first Barbara took this letter for an ungenerous attempt of theinsulted man to repay the humiliation which he had received from her;but the news from the throngs of troops pouring into the city made theofficer's request appear in a milder light, and the longing to ascertainher father's condition daily increased.
At the end of the first week in August her strength would have sufficedfor the short drive to Landshut. True, she was as hoarse as when shegave the physician a disinclination to return, but she had regained herphysical vigour, and had taken walks, without special fatigue, sometimeswith Wolf, sometimes with Gombert. The latter, as well as Appenzelder,still frequently called upon her, and tried to diminish her grief overthe injury to her voice by telling her of hundreds of similar caseswhich had resulted favourably.
The musicians were to return to Brussels the next day. Appenzelder wouldnot leave his boy choir, but Gombert had accepted an invitation fromthe Duke of Bavaria, at whose court in Munich the best music was eagerlyfostered. His road would lead him through Landshut, and how more thangladly Barbara would have accompanied him there!
She must now bid farewell to Appenzelder and Massi, and it was evidentthat the parting was hard for them also. The eyes of the former evengrew dim with tears as he pressed a farewell kiss upon Barbara's brow.The little Maltese, Hannibal Melas, would have preferred to stay withher--nay, he did not cease entreating her to keep him, though only as apage; but how could he have been useful to her?
Finally, she was obliged to bid Wolf, too, farewell, perhaps for manyyears.
During the last few days he had again proved his old friendship inthe most loyal manner. Through Quijada he had learned everything whichconcerned her and the Emperor Charles, and this had transformed hisformer love for Barbara, which was by no means dead, into tendercompassion.
Not to serve the monarch or the husband of his new mistress inVillagarcia, but merely to lighten her own hard fate, he had not ceasedto represent what consequences it might entail upon her if she shouldcontinue to defy the Emperor's command so obstinately.
He, too, saw in the convent the fitting place for her future life, nowbereft of its best possessions; but although she succeeded in retainingher composure during his entreaties and warnings, she still mostpositively refused to obey the Emperor's order.
Her strong desire to visit Landshut was by no means solely from thenecessity of hearing the particulars about her father, and the wishto see so brilliant an assemblage of troops from all countries, butespecially the consuming longing to gaze once more into the face ofthe lover who was now making her so miserable, yet to whom she owed thegreatest joy of her life.
And more!
She thought it would restore her peace of mind forever if she couldsucceed in speaking to him for even one brief moment and telling himwhat a transformation his guilt had wrought in her ardent love and herwhole nature.
Wolf's representations and imploring entreaties remained as futile asthose of Sister Hyacinthe and the abbesses of the Clare Sisters and theConvent of the Holy Cross, who had sought her by the confessor'swish. None of these pious women, except her nurse, knew the hope shecherished. They saw in her only the Emperor's discarded love; yet assuch it seemed to them that Barbara was bidden to turn her back uponthe world, which had nothing similar to offer her, in order, as theSaviour's bride, to seek a new and loftier happiness.
But Barbara's vivacious temperament shrank from their summons as fromthe tomb or the dungeon and, with all due reverence, she said so to thekindly nuns.
She desired no new happiness, nay, she could not imagine that shewould ever again find joy in anything save the heavenly gift which sheexpected with increasing fear, and yet glad hope. Yet they wished todeprive her of this exquisite treasure, this peerless comfort fo
r thesoul! But she had learned how to defend herself, and they should neversucceed in accomplishing this shameful purpose. She would keep herchild, though it increased the Emperor's resentment to the highestpitch, and deprived her of every expectation of his care.
Eagerly as Wolf praised Quijada's noble nature, she commanded him toassure the Castilian, whose messenger he honestly confessed himself tobe, that she would die rather than yield to the Emperor's demands.
When the time at last came to part from Wolf also, and he pressed hislips to her hand, she felt that she could rely upon him, no matter howsad her future life might be. He added many another kind and friendlyword; then, in an outburst of painful emotion, cried: "If only you hadbeen contented with my faithful love, Wawerl, how very different, howmuch better everything would have been, how happy I might be! and, ifloyal love possesses the power of bestowing happiness, you, too----"
Here Barbara pointed mournfully to her poor aching throat and, while heearnestly protested that, deeply as he lamented the injury to her voice,this cruel misfortune would by no means have lessened his love, her eyessuddenly flashed, and there was a strange quiver around the corners ofher mouth as she thought: "Keep that opinion. But I would not exchangefor a long life, overflowing with the happiness which you, dear, goodfellow, could offer me, the brief May weeks that placed me among the fewwho are permitted to taste the highest measure of happiness."
Yet she listened with sincere sympathy to what he had heard ofVillagarcia and Magdalena de Ulloa, Quijada's wife, and what he expectedto find there and in Valladolid.
It pleased her most to know that he would be permitted to returnsometimes to the Netherlands. When once there, he must seek her outwherever her uncertain destiny had cast her.
When, in saying this, her hoarse voice failed and tears of pain andsorrow filled her eyes, emotion overpowered him also and, after he hadagain urged her to submit to the will of their imperial master, he torehimself away with a last farewell.
The ardent, long-cherished passion which had brought the young knightfull of hope to Ratisbon had changed to compassion. With drooping head,disappointed, and heavily burdened with anxiety for the future of thewoman who had exerted so powerful an influence upon his fate, he leftthe home of his childhood; but Barbara saw him go with the sorrowfulfear that, in the rural solitude which awaited him in Spain, hertalented friend would lose his art and every loftier aspiration; yetboth felt sure that, whatever might be the course of their lives, eachwould hold a firm place in the other's memory.
A few hours after this farewell Barbara received a letter from theCouncil, in which Wolf Hartschwert secured to her and her father duringtheir lives the free use of the house which he had inherited in RedCock Street, with the sole condition of allowing his faithful Ursula tooccupy the second story until her death.
The astonished girl at once went to express her thanks for so muchkindness; but Wolf had left Ratisbon a short time before, and whenBarbara entered the house she found old Ursula at the window with hertear-stained face resting on her clasped hands. When she heard her namecalled, she raised her little head framed in the big cap, and as soon asshe recognised the unexpected visitor she cast so malevolent a glance ather that a shiver ran through the girl's frame.
After a few brief words of greeting, Barbara left the old woman,resolving not to enter the house soon again.
In passing the chapel she could and would not resist its strong powerof attraction. With bowed head she entered the quiet little sanctuary,repeated a paternoster, and prayed fervently to the Mother of Godto restore the clearness of her voice once more. While doing so, sheimagined that the gracious intercessor gazed down upon her sometimescompassionately, sometimes reproachfully, and, in the consciousness ofher guilt, she raised her hands, imploring forgiveness, to the friendly,familiar figure.
How tenderly the Christ-child nestled to the pure, exalted mother!Heaven intended to bestow a similar exquisite gift upon her also, andalready insolent hands were outstretched to tear it from her. True, shewas determined to defend herself bravely, yet her best friend advisedher to yield without resistance to this unprecedented demand.
What should she do?
With her brow pressed against the priedieu, she strove to attain calmreflection in the presence of the powerful and gracious Queen ofHeaven. If she yielded the child to its cruel father, she would therebysurrender to him the only happiness to which she still possessed aclaim; if she succeeded in keeping it for herself, she would deprive itof the favour of the mighty sovereign, who possessed the power to bestowupon it everything which the human heart craves. Should she persist inresistance or yield to the person to whom she had already sacrificed somuch the great blessing which had the ability to console her for everyother loss, even the most cruel?
Then her refractory heart again rebelled. This was too much; Heavenitself could not require it of her, the divine Mother who, before hereyes, was pressing her child so tenderly to her bosom, least of all.Hers, too, would be a gift of God, and, while repeating this to herself,it seemed as though a voice cried out: "It is the Lord himself whointends to confide this child to you, and if you give it up you depriveit of its mother and rob it--you have learned that yourself--of itsbest possession. What was given to you to cherish tenderly, you can notconfide to another without angering him who bestowed the guerdon uponyou."
Just at that moment she thought of the star, her lover's first memento,with which she had parted from weakness, though with a good intention.
The misfortune which she was now enduring had grown out of thislamentable yielding. No! She would not, ought not to allow herself to berobbed of her precious hope. One glance at the Mother and Child put anend to any further consideration.
Comforted and strengthened, she went her way homeward, scarcely noticingthat Peter Schlumperger and his sister, whom she met, looked away fromher with evident purpose.
