Barbara Blomberg — Complete

by Georg Ebers

  CHAPTER XIII.

  Wolf Hartschwert had come to Brussels and sought Barbara.

  Her husband was attending to the duties of his office in the Rhinecountry when she received her former lover. Had Pyramus been present, hemight perhaps have considered the knight a less dangerous opponent thanseven years before, for a great change had taken place in his outer man.The boyish appearance which at that time still clung to him had vanishedand, by constant intercourse with the Castilian nobility, he hadacquired a manly, self-assured bearing perfectly in harmony with his ageand birth.

  As he sat opposite to Barbara for the first time, she could not averther eyes from him and, with both his hands clasped in hers, she let himtell her of his journey to Brussels and his efforts to find her in thegreat city. Meanwhile she scarcely heeded the purport of his words; itwas enough to feel the influence exerted by the tone of his voice, andto be reminded by his features and his every gesture of something oncedear to her.

  He appeared like the living embodiment of the first beautiful days ofher youth, and her whole soul was full of gratitude that he had soughther; while he, too, had the same experience, though his former passionhad long since changed into a totally different feeling. He thought herbeautiful, but her permitting their hands to remain clasped so long nowagitated him no more than if she had been a dear, long-absent sister.

  When Barbara was told who awaited her in the sitting roam and, withflushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, clad in a light morning gown whichwas very becoming to her, had hastened to greet him, his heart hadindeed throbbed faster, and it seemed as though an unexpected Eastermorning awaited the old buried love; but she had scarcely uttered hisname and exchanged a few words of greeting in a voice which, though nolonger hoarse, still lacked melody, than the flood of newly awakenedemotions swiftly ebbed again.

  She was still only half the Wawerl of former days, whose musical voicehad helped to make her the queen of his heart. So he had soon regainedthe calmness which, in Spain and on the journey here, he had expectedto test at their meeting. Even the last trace of a deeper emotion passedaway when she told him of her husband, her children, and her gray-hairedfather in Ratisbon, for the hasty, almost reluctant manner with whichthis was done perplexed and displeased him. True, he could not know thatfrom the first moment of their meeting her one desire had been to obtainnews of her stolen son. Everything else appeared trivial in comparison.And what constraint she was forced to impose upon herself when,not hearing her cautious introductory question, he told her aboutVillagarcia, his peerless mistress, Doha Magdalena de Ulloa, and hismusical success! Not until he said that during the winter he would beoccupied in training the boy choir at Valladolid did she approach hergoal by inquiring about the welfare of the violinist Massi.

  Both he and his family were in excellent health, Wolf replied. Rest inhis little house at Leganes seemed to have fairly rejuvenated him.

  Now Barbara herself mentioned the boy whom Massi had taken to Spain inthe train of the Infant Don Philip.

  How this affected Wolf!

  He started, not only in surprise, but in actual alarm, and eagerlydemanded to know who had spoken to her about this child in connectionwith the violinist.

  Barbara now said truthfully that she had seen Massi with her own eyes inthe Infant's train. So beautiful a boy is not easily forgotten, and shewould be glad to hear news of him.

  Wolf, however, seemed reluctant to talk of this child. True, he hastilyremarked, he sometimes visited him at the request of his graciousmistress, but he had no more knowledge of his real origin than she orDona Magdalena de Ulloa. The latter supposed the boy to be her husband'schild, and in her generosity therefore interested herself doubly in theforsaken boy, though only at a distance and through his mediation; forhis own part, he could never believe the fair-haired, pink-and-whiteGeronimo to be a son of the dark-skinned, black-eyed Don Luis. True,the stony silence which the major-domo maintained toward all questionsconcerning the lad would neither permit him to soothe his wife norconfirm her fear. At any rate, Geronimo must be the son of some greatnoble. This was perfectly apparent from his bearing, the symmetry ofhis limbs, his frank, imperious nature--nay, from every movement of thisremarkable child.

  At this assurance Barbara's soul glowed with proud maternal joy. Herblue eyes sparkled with a brighter light, and the sunny, radiant glancewith which she thanked Wolf for his information exerted an unexpectedinfluence upon him, for he shrank back as though the curtain whichconcealed a rare marvel had been lifted and, drawing a long breath,gazed into her beautiful, joyous face.

  It seemed as if the luminous reflection of the proud, noble, andpure delight which shone upon him from her eyes had beamed in littleGeronimo's a few weeks before when he rushed up to him to show hishunting spoils, a fitchet and several birds which he had killed with hispretty little cross-bow, a gift from Dona Magdalena. And Barbara's wavygolden hair, the little dimple in her cheek! Geronimo must be her child;this wonderful resemblance could not deceive.

  "Barbara," he cried, pressing his hand to his brow with deep emotion,"Geronimo is--gracious Virgin!--the handsome, proud, deserted boy maybe----"

  But an imperious gesture from the young wife closed his lips; FrauLamperi had just led her two boys, beautifully dressed as they alwayswere when any distinguished visitor called upon their mother, into theroom. The expression of radiant happiness which had just illumined herfeatures vanished at the sight of the little ones, and she commanded thechildren to be taken away at once.

  She looked so stern and resolute that her faithful maid lacked courageto make any sign of recognising the knight, whom she had known while shewas in the regent's service.

  When the door had closed behind the group, Barbara again turned to herfriend, and in a low tone asked, "And suppose that you saw aright, andGeronimo were really my child?"

  "Then--then," Wolf faltered in bewilderment, "then Don Luis would--Butsurely it can not be! Then, after all, Quijada would be--"

  Here a low laugh from Barbara broke the silence, and with dilated eyeshe learned who Geronimo's parents were.

  Then the knight listened breathlessly to the young mother's account ofthe robbery of her child, and how, in spite of her own boys and the vowwhich she had made the Dubois couple not to follow the Emperor's son,she lived only in and through him.

  "The Emperor Charles!" cried Wolf, as if he now understood for the firsttime what he might so easily have guessed if the fair-haired boy hadnot grown up amid such extremely plain surroundings. The belief thatGeronimo owed his life to Quijada had been inspired by Massi himself.

  But while the knight was striving to accustom himself to this whollynovel circle of ideas, Barbara, with passionate impetuosity, clasped hisright hand and placed it on the crucifix which hung on her rosary.

  Then she commanded her astonished friend to swear to guard this secret,which was not hers alone, from every living being.

  Wolf yielded without resistance to her passionate entreaties, butscarcely had he lowered the hand uplifted to take the oath than he urgedher at least to grant him permission to restore Dona Magdalena's peaceof mind; but Barbara waved her hand with resolute denial, hastilyexclaiming: "No, no, no! Don Luis was the tool in every blow whichCharles, his master, dealt at my happiness and peace. Let the womanwho is dear to him, and who is already winning by her gifts the child'slove, which belongs to me, and to me alone, now feel how the heart ofone who is deceived can ache."

  Here, deeply wounded, Wolf burst into a complaint of the harshness andinjustice of such vengeance; but Barbara insisted so defiantly upon herwill that he urged her no further, and seized his hat to retire.

  Deep resentment had taken possession of him. This misguided woman,embittered by misfortune, possessed the power of rendering the greatestbenefit to one infinitely her superior in nobility of soul, and withcruel defiance she refused it.

  His whole heart was full of gratitude and love for Dona Magdalena, whoby her unvarying kindness and elevating example had healed his woundedsoul, an
d no ignoble wish had sullied this great and deep affection.Although for years he had devoted to her all the ability and good willwhich he possessed, he still felt deeply in her debt and, now that thefirst opportunity of rendering her a great service presented itself, hewas deprived of the possibility of doing it by the woman who had alreadydestroyed the happiness of his youth.

  So bitter was the resentment which filled his soul that he could notbring himself to seek her on the following day; but she awaited himwith the sorrowful fear that she had saddened the return of her bestand truest friend. Besides, she was now beginning to be tortured by theconsciousness of having broken or badly fulfilled the vow by which shehad won from the Holy Virgin the life of her sick Conrad. Why had shesent her boys away the day before, instead of showing them to the friendof her youth with maternal joy? because her heart had been full of theimage of the other, whose rare beauty and patrician bearing Wolf had soenthusiastically described. True, her pair of little boys would nothave borne comparison with the Emperor's son, yet they were both good,well-formed children, and clung to her with filial affection. Why couldshe not even now, when Heaven itself forced her to be content, freeherself from the fatal imperial "More, farther," which, both for themonarch and for her, had lost its power to command and to promise?

  When, on the evening after Wolf's visit, she bent over the childrensleeping in their little bed, she felt as a nurse may who comes froma patient who has succumbed to a contagious disease and now fearscommunicating it to her new charge. Suppose that the graciousintercessor should punish her broken vow by raising her hand againstthe children sleeping there? This dread seized the guilty mother withirresistible power, and she wondered that the cheeks of the littlesleepers were not already glowing with fever.

  She threw herself penitently on her knees before the priedieu, and thefirst atonement to be made for the broken vow was apparent. She mustallow Wolf to restore peace to Dona Magdalena's troubled mind. Thiswas not easy, for she had cherished her resentment against this woman'shusband, through whom she had experienced bitter suffering, for manyyears. His much-lauded wife herself was a stranger to her, yet she couldnot think of her except with secret dislike; it seemed as if a woman whobore the separation from the man she loved so patiently, and yet won allhearts, must go through life--unless she was a hypocrite--with cold fishblood.

  Besides----

  What right had this lady to the boy to whom Barbara gave birth, whoselove would now be hers had it not been wrested from her? What was deniedto her would be lavished upon this favoured woman, and when she bestowedgifts upon the glorious child for whom every pulse of her being longed,and repaid his love with love, it was regarded as a fresh proof of hernoble kindness of heart. To withhold from this woman something whichwould give her fresh happiness and relieve her of sorrow might haveafforded her a certain satisfaction. To bless those who curse anddespitefully use us was certainly the hardest command; but on thepriedieu she vowed to the Virgin to fulfil it, and in a calmer mood thanbefore she bent over the boys to kiss them.

  The next day glided by in painful anxiety, for Wolf did not return. Thefollowing morning and afternoon also passed without bringing him. Notuntil the rays of the setting sun were forcing their way throughthe pinks and rose bushes with which Pyramus kept her window adornedthroughout the year, because she loved flowers, and the vesper bellswere chiming, did her friend return.

  This time she had dressed her boys with her own hands, and when, throughthe door which separated her from the entry, she heard Wolf greet themwith merry words, her heart grew lighter, and the swift thanksgivingwhich she uttered blended with the dying notes of the bells.

  Leading Conrad by the hand, and carrying the three-year-old youngest boyin his arms, Wolf entered the room.

  The child of a former love easily wins its way to the heart of theman who has been obliged to resign her. Wolf's eyes showed that he waspleased with Barbara's merry lads, and she thanked him for it by thewarmest reception.

  Not until after he had said many a pleasant word to her about the littleboys, and jested with them in the manner of one who loves children, didhe resume his grave manner and confess that he could not make up hismind to leave Barbara without a farewell. He was glad to find her inthe possession of such treasures, but his time was limited, and he must,unfortunately, content himself with this last brief meeting.

  While speaking, he rose to leave her; but she stopped him, saying in alow tone: "Surely you know me, Wolf, and are aware that I do not alwayspersist in the resolves to which my hasty temper urges me. It shall notbe my fault if the peace of your Dona Magdalena's soul remains cloudedlonger, and so I release you from your vow so far as she is concerned."

  Then, for the first time since their meeting, the familiar, pleasant"Wawerl" greeted her, and with tearful eyes she clasped his outstretchedhands.

  Wolf had just told her that his time was short; but now he willinglyallowed himself to be persuaded to put down his sword and hat, and whenFrau Lamperi brought in some refreshments, he recognised her, and askedher several pleasant questions.

  It seemed as though Barbara's change of mood had overthrown the barrierwhich her stern refusal had raised between them. Calm and cheerful asin former days he sat before her, listening while, in obedience to hisinvitation, she told him, with many a palliation and evasion, about hermarried life and the children. She made her story short, in order atlast to hear some further particulars concerning the welfare of herdistant son.

  What Wolf related of the outward appearance of her John, to whose newname, Geronimo, she gradually became accustomed, Barbara could completefrom her vivid recollection of this rare child. He had remained strongand healthy, and the violinist Massi, his good wife, and their daughterloved the little fellow and cared for him as if he were their own sonand brother.

  The musician, it is true, lived plainly enough, but there was no want ofanything in the modest country house with the gay little flower garden.Nor did the boy lack playmates, though they were only the children ofthe farmers and townspeople of Leganes. Clad but little better thanthey, he shared their merry, often rough games. Geronimo called theviolinist and his wife father and mother.

  Then Barbara desired a more minute description of his dress, and whenWolf, laughing, confessed that he wore a cap only when he went tochurch, and on hot summer days he had even met him barefoot, she claspedher hands in astonishment and dismay. Not until her friend assured herthat among the thin, dark-haired Spaniards, with their close-croppedheads and flashing black eyes, he, with his fluttering golden curls andfree, graceful movements, looked like a white swan among dark-plumagedducks, did she raise her head with a contented expression, and the sunnyglance peculiar to her again reminded her friend of the Emperor's son.

  His lofty brow, Wolf said, he had inherited from his father, andhis mind was certainly bright; but what could be predicted with anycertainty concerning the intellectual powers of a boy scarcely sevenyears old? The pastor Bautista Bela was training him to piety. Thesacristan Francisco Fernandez ought to have begun to teach him to read ayear ago; but until now Geronimo had always run away, and when he, Wolf,asked the worthy old man, at Dona Magdalena's request, whether he wouldundertake to instruct him in the rudiments of Latin, as well as inreading and writing, he shook his head doubtfully.

  Here a smile hovered around the speaker's lips, and, as if some amusingrecollection rose in his mind, he went on gaily: "He's a queer oldfellow, and when I repeated my question, he put his finger against hisnose, saying: 'Whoever supposes I could teach a young romper like thatanything but keeping quiet, is mistaken. Why? Because I know nothingmyself.' Then the old man reflected, and added, 'But--I shall not evensucceed in keeping this one quiet, because he is so much swifter thanI."

  "And is the Emperor Charles satisfied with such a teacher for his son?"asked Barbara indignantly.

  "Massi had described the sacristan to Don Luis as a learned man,"replied Wolf. "But I have now told his Majesty of a better one."

  "Then you have
talked to the Emperor?" asked Barbara, blushing.

  Her friend nodded assent, and said mournfully: "My heart still acheswhen I recall the meeting. O Wawerl! what a man he was when, like afool, I persuaded him in Ratisbon to hear you sing, and how he lookedyesterday!"

  "Tell me," she here interrupted earnestly, raising her handsbeseechingly.

  "It can scarcely be described," Wolf answered, as if under the spellof a painful memory. "He could hardly hold himself up, even in thearm-chair in which he sat. The lower part of his face seems withered,and the upper-even the beautiful lofty brow--is furrowed by deepwrinkles. At every third word his breath fails. One of his diseases, Dr.Mathys says, would be enough to kill any other man, and he has morethan there are fingers on the hand. Besides, even now he will not takeadvice, but eats and drinks whatever suits his taste."

  Barbara shook her head angrily; but Wolf, noticing it, said: "He is thesovereign, and who would venture to withhold anything on which his willis set? But his desires are shrivelling like his face and his body."

  "Is the man of the 'More, farther,' also learning to be content?" askedBarbara anxiously. Wolf rose, answering firmly: "No, certainly not! Hiseyes still sparkle as brightly in his haggard face as if he had by nomeans given up the old motto. True, Don Luis declares that rest is theone thing for which he longs, and you will see that he knows how toobtain it; but what he means by it only contains fresh conflicts andstruggles. His 'Plus ultra' had rendered him the greatest of livingmen; now he desires to become the least of the least, because the Lordpromises to make the last the first. I was received by the regent likea friend. She confided to me that he often repeats the Saviour's words,'Go, sell all that thou halt, and follow me.' He is determined to castaside throne, sceptre, and purple, power and splendour, and Don Luisbelieves that he will know how to gratify this desire, like every other.What a resolution! But there are special motives concealed beneath it.Nothing but death can bring repose to this restless spirit, and if hefinds the quiet for which he longs, what tasks he will set himself! DonPhilip promises, as an obedient son, to continue to wield the sceptreaccording to the policy of the father who intrusts it to him."

  "And then?" asked Barbara eagerly.

  "Then will begin the life in the imitation of Christ, which hoversbefore him."

  "Here in the Brabant palace?" interposed Barbara incredulously."Here, where his neighbours, the brilliant nobles, enjoy life in noisymagnificence; here, among the ambassadors, the thousand rumours fromthe Netherlands, Italy, and Spain; here, where the battle against theheretical and liberty-loving yearnings of the citizens never ceases--howcan he hope to find peace and composure here?"

  "He is far from it," Wolf eagerly interrupted. "'Farewell till we meetagain at no distant day upon Spanish soil!' were the parting words of mygracious mistress. Will you promise secrecy?"

  Barbara held out her hand with a significant glance; but Wolf, in alower tone, continued: "He expects to find in Spain the peaceful spotfor which he longs. There he will commend himself to the mercy of God,and prepare for the true life which death is to him. There he expects tobe free from time-killing business, and to grant his mind that which hehas long desired and a thousand duties forced him to withhold. There, inquiet leisure, he hopes to strive for knowledge and to penetrate deeplyinto all the new things which were discovered, invented, created, andimproved during his reign, and of which he was permitted to learn fartoo little thoroughly. He will endeavour to gain a better understandingof what stirs, fires, angers, and divides the theologians. He desires topursue in detail the vast new discoveries of the astronomers, which evenamid the pressure of duties he had explained to him. His inquisitivemind seeks to know the new discoveries of navigation, the distantcountries which it brought to view. He hopes to search into the plansand works of the architects of fortifications and makers of maps and,by no means least, he is anxious to become thoroughly familiar with theinventions of mechanicians, which have so long aroused his interest."

  "He liked to talk to me about these things, and the power of the humanintellect, which now shows the true course of the sun and stars,"Barbara interrupted with eager assent. "He often showed me the ingeniouswheelwork of his Nuremberg clocks. Once--I still hear the words--hecompared the most delicate with the thousandfold more sublime works ofGod, the vast, ceaseless machinery of the universe, where there is nomisplaced spring, no inaccurately adjusted cog in the wheels. Oh, thatglorious intellect! What hours were those when he condescended to pointout to a poor girl like me the eternal chronometers above our heads,repeat their names, and show the connection between the planets and thecourse of earthly events and human lives! O Wolf! how glorious itwas! How my modest mind increased in strength! And when I listenedbreathlessly, and he saw how I bowed in mute admiration before hisgreatness and called me his dear child, his attentive pupil, and pressedhis lips to my burning brow, can I ever forget that?"

  She sobbed aloud as she spoke and, overwhelmed by the grief whichmastered her, covered her face with her hands.

  Wolf said nothing. Another had robbed him of the woman he loved, and thegreatest anguish of his life was not yet wholly conquered; but in thishour he felt that he had no right to be angry with Barbara, for it wasto the greatest of great men that he had been forced to yield. He neednot feel it a disgrace to have succumbed to him.

  "Wawerl!" he again exclaimed, "in spite of the pleasant peace which Ihave found, I could envy you; for once, at least, the sun of love shonewith full radiance into your soul. Your experience proves how brightand long is the afterglow if it is only real. This light, I believe, cannever be extinguished, no matter how dense is the gloom which shadowslife's pathway."

  "Yes, indeed, Wolf," she replied dully, with a sorrowful shake of thehead. "The gloomy night of which you speak has come, and it will laston and on with unvarying darkness, from year to year, perhaps until theend. What you call light is the remembrance of a single brief monthof May. Does it possess the power to render me happy? No, my friend,a thousand times no! It only saves me from despair. But, in spite ofeverything"--and here her eyes sparkled radiantly--"in spite of allthis, I would not change places with any one on earth; for, however darkclouds may conceal the sun, when in quiet hours it once breaks throughthem, Wolf, how brilliant everything grows around me!"

  While speaking, she passed her hand across her brow and, as thoughseized with shame for her frank confession, exclaimed: "But we will letthis subject drop. Only you must know one thing more. I shall never bewholly impoverished. What the past gave me was too rich and great; whatI expect from the future is too precious for that. It is growing up indistant Spain and, if Heaven accepted the great sacrifice which I oncemade for the boy whom you call Geronimo, if he receives what I besoughtfor him at that time and on every returning day, then, Wolf, I shallbear the burden of my woe like a light garland of rose leaves. Nay,more. Charles will regain his youth sooner than--be it in love orhate--he will ever forget me. This child guarantees that. It is and willalways remain a bridge between us. He, too, can not forget the son, andif he does----"

  "No, Barbara, no," interrupted Wolf, carried away by her passionatewarmth. "The Emperor Charles is constantly thinking of his fair-hairedboy. No one has told me so; but if he seeks in Spain the rest for whichhe longs, the thought of Geronimo--I am sure of that--is not the leastpowerful cause which draws him thither."

  "Do you really think so?" asked Barbara with feverish anxiety.

  "Yes," he answered firmly. "This very morning he commanded Don Luis totake the child from Leganes to Villagarcia and commit the education ofGeronimo to his wife, that he may find him what he expects and desires."

  Here he paused, and Barbara inquired uneasily, "And did he say nothingof Geronimo's mother--of me?"

  Wolf shook his head with silent compassion, and then reluctantlyadmitted: "I ventured to mention you, but, with one of those looks whichno one can resist--you know them--he ordered me to be silent."

  Barbara's cheeks flamed with resentment and shame, but she only
said,smiling bitterly: "Grief is grief, and this new sorrow does not changethe old one. He knows best that I am something more than the poorofficer's wife in the Saint-Gory quarter; but I look down, with justpride, on all the others who believe me to be nothing else. Nowand always, even long after I am dead, the world will be obliged torecognise the claim which elevates me far above the throng: I am themother of an Emperor's son!"

  She had uttered these words with uplifted head; but Wolf gazed inwondering admiration into the beautiful face, radiant with proudself-satisfaction.

  He wished to leave her with this image before his soul, and thereforehurriedly extended his hand and said farewell, after promising to fulfilher entreaty never to come to Brussels without showing by a visit thathe remembered her.