by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER X.
The night, on which sorrow and sickness had entered the Hoogstratenmansion, was followed by a beautiful morning. Holland again becamepleasant to the storks, that with a loud, joyous clatter flew clown intothe meadows on which the sun was shining. It was one of those days theend of April often bestows on men, as if to show them that they renderher too little, her successor too much honor. April can boast thatin her house is born the spring, whose vigor is only strengthened andbeauty developed by her blooming heir.
It was Sunday, and whoever on such a day, while the bells are ringing,wanders in Holland over sunny paths, through flowery meadows wherecountless cattle, woolly cheep, and idle horses are grazing, meetingpeasants in neat garments, peasant women with shining gold ornamentsunder snow-white lace caps, citizens in gay attire and children releasedfrom school, can easily fancy that even nature wears a holiday garband glitters in brighter green, more brilliant blue, and more variedornaments of flowers than on work-days.
A joyous Sunday mood doubtless filled the minds of the burghers, whoto-day were out of doors on foot, in large over-crowded wooden wagons,or gaily-painted boats on the Rhine, to enjoy the leisure hours of theday of rest, eat country bread, yellow butter, and fresh cheese, ordrink milk and cool beer, with their wives and children.
The organist, Wilhelm, had long since finished playing in the church,but did not wander out into the fields with companions of his own age,for he liked to use such days for longer excursions, in which walkingwas out of the question.
They bore him on the wings of the wind over his native plains, throughthe mountains and valleys of Germany, across the Alps to Italy. Aspot propitious for such forgetfulness of the present and his dailysurroundings, in favor of the past and a distant land, was ready.His brothers, Ulrich and Johannes, also musicians, but who recognizedWilhelm's superior talent without envy and helped him develop it, hadarranged for him, during his stay in Italy, a prettily-furnished roomin the narrow side of the pointed roof of the house, from which a broaddoor led to a little balcony. Here stood a wooden bench on which Wilhelmliked to sit, watching the flight of his doves, gazing dreamily intothe distance or, when inclined to artistic creation, listening to themelodies that echoed in his soul.
This highest part of the house afforded a beautiful prospect; the viewwas almost as extensive as the one from the top of the citadel, the oldRoman tower situated in the midst of Leyden. Like a spider in its web,Wilhelm's native city lay in the midst of countless streams and canalsthat intersected the meadows. The red brick masonry of the city wall,with its towers and bastions, washed by a dark strip of water, encircledthe pretty place as a diadem surrounds a young girl's head; and like achaplet of loosely-bound thorns, forts and redoubts extended in wider,frequently broken circles around the walls. The citizens' herds ofcattle grazed between the defensive fortifications and the city wall,while beside and beyond them appeared villages and hamlets.
On this clear April day, looking towards the north, Haarlem lake wasvisible, and on the west, beyond the leafy coronals of the Hague woods,must be the downs which nature had reared for the protection of thecountry against the assaults of the waves. Their long chain of hillocksoffered a firmer and more unconquerable resistance to the pressureof the sea, than the earthworks and redoubts of Alfen, Leyderdorp andValkenburg, the three forts situated close to the banks of the Rhine,presented to hostile armies. The Rhine! Wilhelm gazed down at theshallow, sluggish river, and compared it to a king deposed from histhrone, who has lost power and splendor and now kindly endeavors todispense benefits in little circles with the property that remains. Themusician was familiar with the noble, undivided German Rhine; and oftenfollowed it in imagination towards the south but more often still hisdreams conveyed him with a mighty leap to Lake Lugano, the pearl of theWestern Alps, and when he thought of it and the Mediterranean, beheldrising before his mental vision emerald green, azure blue, and goldenlight; and in such hours all his thoughts were transformed within hisbreast into harmonies and exquisite music.
And his journey from Lugano to Milan! The conveyance that bore himto Leonardo's city was plain and overcrowded, but in it he had foundIsabella. And Rome, Rome, eternal, never-to-be-forgotten Rome, where solong as we dwell there, we grow out of ourselves, increase in strengthand intellectual power, and which makes us wretched with longing when itlies behind us.
By the Tiber Wilhelm had first thoroughly learned what art, his gloriousart was; here, near Isabella, a new world had opened to him, but a sharpfrost had passed over the blossoms of his heart that had unfolded inRome, and he knew they were blighted and could bear no fruit--yet to-dayhe succeeded in recalling her in her youthful beauty, and instead of thelost love, thinking of the kind friend Isabella and dreaming of a skyblue as turquoise, of slender columns and bubbling fountains, olivegroves and marble statues, cool churches and gleaming villas, sparklingeyes and fiery wine, magnificent choirs and Isabella's singing.
The doves that cooed and clucked, flew away and returned to the cotebeside him, could now do as they chose, their guardian neither saw norheard them.
Allertssohn, the fencing-master, ascended the ladder to his watch-tower,but he did not notice him until he stood on the balcony by his side,greeting him with his deep voice.
"Where have we been, Herr Wilhelm?" asked the old man. "In thiscloth-weaving Leyden? No! Probably with the goddess of music on Olympus,if she has her abode there."
"Rightly guessed," replied Wilhelm, pushing the hair back from hisforehead with both hands. "I have been visiting her, and she sends you afriendly greeting."
"Then offer one from me in return," replied the other, "but she usuallybelongs to the least familiar of my acquaintances. My throat is bettersuited to drinking than singing. Will you allow me?"
The fencing-master raised the jug of beer which Wilhelm's mother filledfreshly every day and placed in her darling's room, and took a longpull. Then wiping his moustache, he said:
"That did me good, and I needed it. The men wanted to go out pleasuringand omit their drill, but we forced them to go through it, Junker vonWarmond, Duivenvoorde and I. Who knows how soon it may be necessaryto show what we can do. Roland, my fore man, such imprudence is like acudgel, against which one can do nothing with Florentine rapiers, clevertierce and quarto. My wheat is destroyed by the hail."
"Then let it be, and see if the barley and clover don't do better,"replied Wilhelm gaily, tossing vetches and grains of wheat to a largedove that had alighted on the parapet of his tower.
"It eats, and what use is it?" cried Allertssohn, looking at the dove."Herr von Warmond, a young man after God's own heart, has just broughtme two falcons; do you want to see how I tame them?"
"No, Captain, I have enough to do with my music and my doves."
"That is your affair. The long-necked one yonder is a queer-lookingfellow."
"And of what country is he probably a native? There he goes to join theothers. Watch him a little while and then answer me."
"Ask King Soloman that; he was on intimate terms with birds."
"Only watch him, you'll find out presently."
"The fellow has a stiff neck, and holds his head unusually high."
"And his beak?"
"Curved, almost like a hawk's! Zounds, why does the creature strut aboutwith its toes so far apart? Stop, bandit! He'll peck that little dove todeath. As true as I live, the saucy rascal must be a Spaniard!"
"Right, it is a Spanish dove. It flew to me, but I can't endure it anddrive it away; for I keep only a few pairs of the same breed and try toget the best birds possible. Whoever raises many different kinds in thesame cote, will accomplish nothing."
"That gives food for thought. But I believe you haven't chosen thehandsomest species."
"No, sir. What you see are a cross between the carrier and tumblers,the Antwerp breed of carrier pigeons. Bluish, reddish, spotted birds.I don't care for the colors, but they must have small bodies and largewings, with broad quills on their flag-feathers, and above
all amplemuscular strength. The one yonder stop, I'll catch him--is one of mybest flyers. Try to lift his pinions."
"Heaven knows the little thing has marrow in its bones! How the tinywing pinches; the falcons are not much stronger."
"It's a carrier-dove too, that finds its way alone."
"Why do you keep no white tumblers? I should think they could be watchedfarthest in their flight."
"Because doves fare like men. Whoever shines very brightly and is seenfrom a distance, is set upon by opponents and envious people, and birdsof prey pounce upon the white doves first. I tell you, Captain, whoeverhas eyes in his head, can learn in a dove-cote how things come to passamong Adam and Eve's posterity on earth."
"There is quarrelling and kissing up here just as there is in Leyden."
"Yes, exactly the same, Captain. If I mate an old dove with one muchyounger, it rarely turns out well. When the male dove is in love, heunderstands how to pay his fair one as many attentions, as the mostelegant gallant shows the mistress of his heart. And do you know whatthe kissing means? The suitor feeds his darling, that is, seeks to winher affection by beautiful gifts. Then the wedding comes, and they builda nest. If there are young birds, they feed them together in perfectharmony. The aristocratic doves brood badly, and we put their eggs underbirds of more ordinary breed."
"Those are the noble ladies, who have nurses for their infants."
"Unmated doves often make mischief among the mated ones."
"Take warning, young man, and beware of being a bachelor. I'll saynothing against the girls who remain unmarried, for I have found amongthem many sweet, helpful souls."
"So have I, but unfortunately some bad ones too, as well as here in thedove-cote. On the whole my wards lead happy married lives, but if itcomes to a separation--"
"Which of the two is to blame?"
"Nine times out of ten the little wife."
"Roland, my fore man, exactly as it is among human beings," cried thefencing-master, clapping his hands.
"What do you mean by your Roland, Herr Allerts? You promised me a shorttime ago--but who is coming up the ladder?"
"I hear your mother."
"She is bringing me a visitor. I know that voice and yet. Wait. It's oldFraulein Van Hoogstraten's steward."
"From Nobelstrasse? Let me go, Wilhelm, for this Glipper crew--"
"Wait a little while, there is only room for one on the ladder," saidthe musician, holding out his hand to Belotti to guide him from the lastrung into his room.
"Spaniards and the allies of Spain," muttered the fencing-master, openedthe door, and called while descending the ladder: "I'll wait down belowtill the air is pure again."
The steward's handsome face, usually smoothly shaven with the mostextreme care, was to-day covered with a stubbly beard, and the old manlooked sad and worn, as he began to tell Wilhelm what had occurred inhis mistress's house since the evening of the day before.
"Years may make a hot-tempered person weaker, but not calmer," said theItalian, continuing his story. "I can't look on and see the poor angel,for she isn't far from the Virgin's throne, treated like a sick dog thatis flung out into the court-yard, so I got my discharge."
"That does you honor, but was rather out of place just now. And has theyoung lady really been carried to the damp room?"
"No, sir. Father Damianus came and made the old excellenza understandwhat the holy Virgin expected of a Christian, and when the padrona stilltried to carry out her will, the holy man spoke to her in words soharsh and stern that she yielded. The signorina is now lying in bed withburning cheeks, raving in delirium."
"And who is attending the patient?"
"I came to you about the physician, my dear sir, for Doctor de Bout, whoinstantly obeyed my summons, was treated so badly by the old excellenza,that he turned his back upon her and told me, at the door of the house,he wouldn't come again."
Wilhelm shook his head, and the Italian continued, "There are otherdoctors in Leyden, but Father Damianus says de Bont or Bontius, as theycall him, is the most skilful and learned of them all, and as the oldexcellenza herself had an attack of illness about noon, and certainlywon't leave her bed very speedily, the way is open, and Father Damianussays he'll go to Doctor Bontius himself if necessary. But as you are anative of the city and acquainted with the signorina, I wanted to sparehim the rebuff he would probably meet from the foe of our holy Church.The poor man has enough to suffer from good-for-nothing boys andscoffers, when he goes through the city with the sacrament."
"You know people are strictly forbidden to disturb him in the exerciseof his calling."
"Yet he can't show himself in the street without being jeered. We twocannot change the world, sir. So long as the Church had the upper hand,she burned and quartered you, now you have the power here, our priestsare persecuted and scorned."
"Against the law and the orders of the magistrates."
"You can't control the people, and Father Damianus is a lamb, who bearseverything patiently, as good a Christian as many saints before whom weburn candles. Do you know the doctor?"
"A little, by sight."
"Oh, then go to him, sir, for the young lady's sake," cried the old manearnestly. "It is in your power to save a human life, a beautiful younglife."
The steward's eyes glittered with tears. As Wilhelm laid his hand onhis arm, saying kindly: "I will try," the fencing-master called: "Yourcouncil is lasting too long for me. I'll come another time."
"No, Meister, come up a minute, This gentleman is here on account ofa poor sick girl. The poor, helpless creature is now lying without anycare, for her aunt, old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten, has driven Doctor deBont from her bed because he is a Calvinist."
"From the sick girl's bed?"
"It's abominable enough, but the old lady is now ill herself."
"Bravo, bravo!" cried the fencing-master, clapping his hands. "If thedevil himself isn't afraid of her and wants to fetch her, I'll pay forhis post-horses. But the girl, the sick girl?"
"Herr Belotti begs me to persuade de Bont to visit her again. Are you onfriendly terms with the doctor?"
"I was, Wilhelm, I was; but--last Friday we had some sharp words aboutthe new morions, and now the learned demi-god demands an apology fromme, but to sound a retreat isn't written here--"
"Oh, my dear sir," cried Belotti, with touching earnestness. "The poorchild is lying helpless in a raging fever. If Heaven has blessed youwith children--"
"Be calm, old man, be calm," replied the fencing master, strokingBelotti's grey hair kindly. "My children are nothing to you, butwe'll do what we can for the young girl. Farewell till we meet again,gentlemen. Roland, my fore man, what shall we live to see! Hemp is stillcheap in Holland, and yet such a monster has lived amongst us to be asold as a raven."
With these words he went down the ladder. On reaching the street, hepondered over the words in which he should apologize to Doctor Bontius,with a face as sour as if he had wormwood in his mouth; but his eyes andbearded lips smiled.
His learned friend made the apology easy for him, and when Belotti camehome, he found the doctor by the sick girl's bed.