by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER III.
The cantor house was only a few steps from the Red Cock, and Wolf knewevery stone in the street, which was named for the tavern. Yet that verycircumstance delayed him, for even the smallest trifle which had changedduring his absence attracted his attention.
He had already noticed at the familiar inn that the gay image of theMadonna and Cluld, and the little lamp above, were no longer there. Thepictures of the saints had been removed from the public rooms, and eventhe painting which had been impressed upon his memory from boyhood--likea sign of the house--had vanished. A large red cock, crowing withwide-open beak at the Apostle Peter, had been there.
This venerable work of an old artist ought to have been retained, nomatter what doctrine the Leitgebs now professed. Its disappearanceaffected the knight unpleasantly.
It also induced him to see whether the Madonna with the swords in herheart, which, at the time of his departure, had adorned the Ark, thegreat house at the corner of the Haidplatz, had met with the same fate,and this sacred witness of former days had likewise been sacrificed tothe iconoclasm of the followers of the new Protestant faith. This alsogrieved him, and urged him to go from street to street, from church tochurch, from monastery to monastery, from one of the chapels whichno great mansion in his native land lacked to another, in order toascertain what else religious fanaticism had destroyed; but he wasobliged to hasten if he wished to be received by those in his home whomhe most desired to see.
The windows of the second story in the Golden Cross, opposite to theArk, were brilliantly lighted. The Emperor Charles lodged there, andprobably his royal sister also. Wolf had given his heart to her withthe devotion with which he had always clung to every one to whom he wasindebted for any kindness. He knew her imperial brother's convictions,too, and when he saw at one of the windows a man's figure leaning,motionless against the casement with his hand pressed upon his brow,he realized what deep indignation had doubtless seized upon him at thesight of the changes which had taken place here during the five years ofhis absence.
But Emperor Charles was not the man to allow matters which aroused hiswrath and strong disapproval to pass unpunished. Wolf suspected that thetime was not far distant when yonder monarch at the window, who had wonso many victories, would have a reckoning with the Smalcalds, the alliedProtestants of Germany, and his vivid imagination surrounded him with analmost mystical power.
He would surely succeed in becoming the master of the Protestantprinces; but was the steel sword the right weapon to destroy thisagitation of the soul which had sprung from the inmost depths ofthe German nature? He knew the firm, obstinate followers of the newdoctrine, for there had been a time when his own young mind had leanedtoward it.
Since those days, however, events had happened which had bound himby indestructible fetters to the old faith. He had vowed to his dyingmother to remain faithful to the Holy Church and loyally to keep hisoath. It was not difficult for one of his modest temperament to becontent with the position of spectator of the play of life which heoccupied. He was not born for conflict, and from the seat to which hehad retired he thought he had perceived that the burden of existence waseasier to bear, and the individual not only obtained external comfort,but peace of mind more speedily, if he left to the Church many thingswhich the Protestant was obliged to settle for himself. Besides, assuch, he would have missed many beautiful and noble things which the oldfaith daily bestowed upon him, the artist.
People in Ratisbon held a different opinion. Defection from the RomanCatholic Church, which seemed to him reprehensible, was considered herea sacred duty, worthy of every sacrifice. This threatened to involvehim in fresh spiritual conflicts, and, as he dreaded such things asnocturnal birds shun the sunlight, he stood still, thoughtfully askinghimself whether he ought not at once to give up the desire of strikingnew roots into this perilous soil.
Only one thing really bound him to Ratisbon, and that was by no meansthe house which he had inherited, but a very young girl, and, moreover,a very changeable one, of whose development and life he had heardnothing during his absence except that she had not become another'swife. Perhaps this girl, whose charm and musical talent, accordingto his opinion, were unequalled in Ratisbon, had remained free solelybecause she was keeping the promise made when, a child of sixteen, shebade him farewell. She had told him, though only in her lively childishfashion, that she would wait for him and become his wife when hereturned home a made man. Yet it now seemed that she had been assincerely in earnest in that youthful betrothal as he himself.
This fair hope crowded every scruple far into the shade. If Barbara hadkept her troth to him, he would reward her. Wherever he might build hisnest with her, he would be sure of the richest happiness. Thereforehe persisted in making his decision for the future depend upon herreception.
The only question was whether it had not already grown too late for himto visit her and her father, who went to bed with the chickens. But thenew clock in Jacobsplatz pealed only nine bell-like strokes through thestillness of the evening, and, as he had sent his gifts in advance, hewas obliged to follow them.
He might now regard the cantor house, which was quickly gained, as hisown. Though it was now in the deepest darkness, he gazed up at the high,narrow building, with the pointed arches of the windows and the bracketwhich supported the image of St. Cecilia carved from sandstone, asintently as if he could distinguish every defect in the windows, everyornament carved in the ends of the beams.
The second story, which projected above the ground floor into thestreet, was completely dark; but a faint glimmer of light streamed fromthe little window over the spurge laurel tree, and--this was the mainthing--the bow window in the third story was still lighted.
She whom he sought was waiting there with her father, while beneath itwas the former abode of the precentor and organist and his wife, who hadreared Wolf, and whose heir, after the old man's death, he had become.
He would take up his quarters in the room which he had occupied as ascholar, where he had studied, practised music, trained himself in theart of composition, and in leisure hours had even drawn and painted alittle.
Old Ursula, as he had learned from the legal document which informed himof his inheritance, was taking care of the property bequeathed to him.With what pleasure the old maid-servant, faithful soul, who had comewith him--then a little four-year-old boy--and his mother to Ratisbontwenty-two years ago, would make a bed for him and again cook thepancakes, which she knew to be his favourite dish!
The thought of the greeting awaiting him from her dispelled the timiditywith which he had set his foot on the first of the three steps that ledup to the threshold of the house. He had no occasion to use the knocker;a narrow, long streak of light showed that, notwithstanding the latehour, the outer door was ajar.
Now he heard an inner door open, and this again aroused the anxiety hehad just conquered. Suppose that he should find Wawerl below? Ardentlyas he yearned for her to whom all the love of his heart belonged, thismeeting would have come too quickly. Yet she might very easily happen tobe in the lower story, for the lighted window beside the door belongedto the little house chapel, and since her confirmation she hadundertaken to sweep it, clean the candlesticks and lamps, and keep themin order, fill the vases on the little altar with blossoms, and adornthe image of the Madonna with flowers on Lady day and other festivals.
How often he had helped the child and heard her father call her "hislittle sacrist"!
The chapel here had gained greater importance to him when the Blombergsplaced above the altar the Madonna and Child which he, who tried all thearts, had copied with his own hand from an ancient painting. Thishad been in July; but when, on the Virgin's Assumption day in August,Barbara was twining a beautiful garland of summer flowers around it, andhe, with an overflowing heart, was helping her, his head accidentallystruck against hers, and to comfort her he compassionately kissed thebruised spot. Only a short time ago she had frankly thrown her armsaround his neck if she wanted him t
o gratify a wish or forgive anoffence without ever receiving a response to her affection. This time hehad been the aggressor, and received an angry rebuff; during the littlescuffle which now followed, Wolf's heart suddenly grew hot, and his kissfell upon her scarlet lips. The first was followed by several others,until steps on the stairs parted the young lover from the girl, whooffered but a feeble resistance.
Now he remembered the incident, and his cheeks flushed again. Oh, ifto-day he should possess the right to have those refractory lips at hisdisposal!
During the five months spent in Ratisbon after that attack in the chapelhe had more than once been bold enough to strive for more kisses, butalways in vain, and rarely without bearing away a sharp reprimand, forBarbara had felt her slight resistance in the chapel as a grave offence.She had permitted something forbidden under the eyes of the Virgin'simage, and this had seemed to her so wicked that she had confessed it,and not only been sternly censured, but had a penance imposed.
Barbara had not forgotten this, and had understood how to keep him aloofwith maidenly austerity until, on the evening before his departure, hehad hung around her neck the big gold thaler his godfather had givenhim.
Then, obeying an impulse of gratitude, she had thrown her arms aroundhis neck; but even then she would not allow him to kiss her lips again.Instead, she hastily drew back to examine the gold thaler closely,praised its weight and beauty, and then promised Wolf that when she wasrich and he had become a great lord she would have a new goblet made forhim out of just such coins, like one which she had seen at the Wollersin the Ark, the richest of her wealthy relatives.
As Wolf now recalled this promise it vexed him again.
What had he expected from that parting hour--the vow of eternalfidelity, a firm betrothal, ardent kisses, and a tender embrace? But,instead of obtaining even one of these beautiful things, he had becomeinvolved in a dispute with Barbara because he desired to receive nothingfrom her, and only claimed the right of showering gifts upon her later.
This had pleased her, and, when he urged her to promise to wait for himand become his wife when he returned home a made man, she laughed gaily,and declared that she liked him, and, if it should be he who obtainedfor her what she now had in mind, she would be glad.
Then his loving heart overflowed, and with her hands clasped in his heentreated her to give up these arrogant thoughts, be faithful to him,and not make him wretched.
The words had poured so ardently, so passionately from the quiet, sedateyoung man's lips that the girl was thoroughly frightened, and wrenchedher hands from his grasp. But when she saw how deeply her strugglinghurt him, she voluntarily held out her right hand, exclaiming:
"Only succeed while you are absent sufficiently to build a house likeour old one in the Kramgasse, and when the roof is on and your knightlyescutcheon above the door we will move in together, and life will benothing but music and happiness."
This was all that gave him the right to consider her as his betrothedbride, for after a brief farewell and a few kisses of the hand flung tohim from the threshold, she had escaped to the little bow-windowedroom and thereby also evaded from the departing lover an impressive,well-prepared speech concerning the duties of a betrothed couple.
Yet in Rome and Brussels Wolf had held fast to the conviction that abeloved betrothed bride was awaiting him in Ratisbon.
So long as his foster-parents lived he had had news from them of theBlombergs. After the death of the old couple, Barbara's father hadanswered in a very awkward manner the questions which he had addressedto him in a letter, and his daughter wrote a friendly message under theold captain's signature. True, it was extremely brief, but few fierylove letters ever made the recipient happier or were more tenderlypressed to the lips.
The girl he loved still bore the name of Barbara Blomberg.
This outweighed a whole archive of long letters. The captain, who, forthe sake of fighting the infidels, had so sadly neglected his propertythat his own house in the Kramgasse fell into the hands of hiscreditors, had rented the second story in the cantor house. Barbara atthat time was very small, but now she had ceased to be a child, and,after she devoted herself earnestly to acquiring the art of singing, theold warrior had undertaken to keep the little chapel in order.
The task certainly seemed strangely ill-suited to the tall,broad-shouldered man with the bushy eyebrows, long beard, and mustachetwisted stiffly up at the ends, who had obtained in Tunis and during theTurkish war the reputation of being one of the most fearless heroes, andcarried away severe wounds; but he knew how to make scoffers keep theirdistance, and did not trouble himself at all about other people.
Regularly every evening he went down the stairs and performed the dutyhe had undertaken with the punctilious care of a neat housewife.
He was a devout man, and did his work there in the hope of pleasing theHoly Virgin, because the reckless old warrior was indebted to her formore than one deliverance from impending death, and because he trustedthat she would repay it to him in his child.
Besides, his income was not large enough for him to keep a maid-servantof his own, and he could not expect old Ursel, who had worked for theprecentor and his wife, and performed the roughest labour in the thirdstory for a mere "thank you," to take care of the chapel also. She hadplenty to do, and besides she had been a Protestant three years, andtook the Lord's Supper in a different form.
This would have induced him to break off every connection with his oldfriend's maid-servant had not his kind, grateful heart forbidden him tohurt her feelings. Besides, she was almost indispensable to his daughterand himself; it was difficult enough, in any case, for the nobly borncaptain to meet the obligations imposed by his position.
He now received only a very small portion of the profits of the lumbertrade which had supported his ancestors, his father, and himself veryhandsomely, for he had been compelled to mortgage his share in thebusiness.
Notwithstanding the title of "Captain" with which his imperial commanderhad honoured him when he received his discharge, the pension he had wasscarcely worth mentioning, and, besides, it was very irregularly paid.Therefore the father and daughter had tried to obtain some means ofearning money which could be kept secret from their fellow-citizens.The "Captain" busied himself with tracing coats-of-arms, ornaments, andinscriptions upon tin goblets, mugs, tankards, and dishes. Barbara, whenshe had finished her exercises in singing, washed fine laces. Thiswas done entirely in secret. A certain Frau Lerch, who when a girlhad served Barbara's dead mother as waiting maid, and now worked asa dressmaker for the most aristocratic women in Ratisbon, privatelyobtained this employment. It was partly from affection for the younglady whom she had tended when a child; but the largest portion ofBarbara's earnings returned to her, for she cut for the former all thegarments she needed to appear among her wealthy relatives and youngcompanions at dances, musical entertainments, banquets, and excursionsto the country. True, Frau Lerch, who was a childless woman, worked verycheaply for her, and, when she heard that Barbara had again been thegreatest beauty, it pleased her, and she saw her seed ripening.
What a customer the vain darling, who was very ambitious, promisedto become in the future as the wife of a rich aristocrat! She wouldundoubtedly be that. There was absolute guarantee of it in hermarvellously beautiful head, with its abundant golden hair, hermagnificent figure, which--she could not help knowing it--was unequalledin Ratisbon, and her nightingale voice.
Even old Blomberg, who kept aloof from the meetings of his distinguishedfellow-citizens, but, on the other hand, when his supply of money wouldpermit, enjoyed a drinking bout at the tavern with men of the sword allthe more, rejoiced to hear his daughter's rare gifts lauded. The use ofthe graver was thoroughly distasteful and unsuited to his rank; but eventhe most laborious work gained a certain charm for his paternal heartwhen, while wiping the perspiration from his brow, he thought of whathis diligence would allow him to devote to the adornment and instructionof his daughter.
He preferred to be alo
ne at home, and his reserved, eccentric nature hadcaused his relatives to shun his house, which doubtless seemed to themcontemptibly small.
Barbara endured this cheerfully, for, though she had many relativesand acquaintances among the companions of her own age, she possessed nointimate friend.
As a child, Wolf had been her favourite playmate, but now visits fromher aunts and cousins would only have interrupted her secret work, anddisturbed her practice of singing.
When Wolf entered the house, the captain had just left the chapel. Hedid not notice the returning owner, for people must have made their wayinto the quiet dwelling. At least he had heard talking in the entry ofthe second story, where usually it was even more noiseless than in hislodgings in the third, since it was tenanted only by old Ursel, who wasnow confined to her bed.
Wolf saw Barbara's father, whose height surpassed the stature ofordinary men by a head, hurrying up the stairs. It was a strange, and,for children, certainly an alarming, sight--his left leg, which hadbeen broken by a bullet from a howitzer, had remained stiff, and, ashe leaped up three stairs at a time, he stretched his lean body so farforward that it seemed as though he could not help losing his balanceat the next step. He was in haste, for he thought that at last he couldagain acquit himself manfully and cope with one or rather with two orthree of the burglars who, since the Duke of Bavaria had prohibited theconveyance of provisions into Ratisbon as a punishment for its desertionof the Catholic Church, had pursued their evil way in the city.
He first discovered with what very small ill-doers he had to deal whenhe held the little lamp toward them, and, to his sincere vexation, foundthat they were only little boys, who, moreover, were the children ofhonest folk, and therefore could scarcely be genuine scoundrels.
Yet it could hardly be any laudable purpose which brought them at solate an hour to the cantor house, and therefore, with the intention ofturning the serious attack into a mirthful one; he shouted in a harshvoice the gibberish which he had compounded of scraps of all sorts oflanguages, and whose effect upon unruly youngsters he had tested to hisown amusement.
As his rough "Larum gardum quantitere runze punze ke hi voi la" nowreached the little ones, the impression was far deeper than he hadintended, for the cellar man's youngest son, a little fellow six yearsold, first shrieked aloud, and, when the terrible old man's long armsbarred his way, he began to cry piteously.
This troubled the kind-hearted giant, who was really fond of children,and, ere the little lad was aware of it, the captain's free left handgrasped the waistband of his little leather breeches and lifted him intothe air.
The swift act doubled the terror and anguish of the struggling littlewight.
As the strong man held him on his arm he fought bravely with his fatlittle fists and his sturdy little legs. But though in the unequalconflict the boy pitilessly pulled the powerful monster's grayishyyellow imperial and bushy mustache, and the captain recognised the childfrom the Red Cock as one of the rascals who often shouted their nicknameof "Turkey gobbler" after his tall figure, conspicuous from its heightand costume, he strove with honest zeal to soothe the little one.
His deep voice, meanwhile, sounded so gentle and friendly, and hispromise to give him a piece of spice cake which he was bringing hometo Ursel to sweeten the disagreeable taste of her medicine producedso soothing an influence, that little Hans at last looked up at himtrustingly and hopefully.
The cellar man's oldest son, who had violently assaulted the oldgentleman to release his little brother, now stood penitently beforehim, and the landlord's boy related, in somewhat confused but perfectlyintelligible words, the object of their coming, and in whose name theywere bringing the roll and yonder little package to old Ursel.
The story sounded humble enough, but as soon as the captain had setlittle Hans on his feet and bent curiously over the forerunners of thedear friend, which had been placed on the little bench by the door,the three boys dashed down the stairs, and the shrill voice of thelandlord's son shrieked from the lowest step one "Turkey gobbler" and"Pope's slave" after another.
"Satan's imps!" shouted the old man; but the outer door, which bangedbelow him, showed that pursuit of the naughty mockers would result tohis disadvantage. Then as, with an angry shake of the head, he drew backfrom the banisters, he saw his daughter's playmate.
How dear the latter was to him, and how fully his aged heart hadretained its capacity of feeling, were proved by the reception which hegave the returning knight. The injury just inflicted seemed to have beenentirely forgotten. With tears in his eyes and a voice tremulous withdeep emotion, he drew Wolf toward him, kissing first his head, whichreached only to his lips, then his cheeks and brow. Then, with youthfulvivacity, he expressed his pleasure in seeing him again, and, withoutpermitting Wolf to speak, he repeatedly exclaimed:
"And my Wawerl, and Ursel in there! There'll be a jubilee!"
When Wolf had at last succeeded in returning his old friend's greetingand then expressed a wish, first of all, to clasp the faithful oldmaid-servant's hand, the old gentleman's beaming face clouded, and hesaid, sighing:
"What has not befallen us here since you went away, my dear Wolf! Mypath has been bordered with tombstones as poplars line the highway.But we will let the dead rest. Nothing can now disturb their peace. OldUrsel, too, is longing for the end of life, and we ought not to grudgeit to her. Only I dread the last hour, and still more the long eternitywhich will follow it, for the good, patient woman entered the snare ofthe Satanic Protestant doctrine, and will not hear of taking the holysacrament."
Wolf begged him to admit him at once, but Blomberg declared that, afterthe attack of apoplexy which she had recently had, one thing and anothermight happen if she should so unexpectedly see the man to whom her wholeheart clung. Wolf would do better first to surprise the girl upstairs,who had no suspicion of his presence. He, Blomberg, must look after theold woman now. He would carry those things--he pointed to the parcelswhich the boys had left--into the young nobleman's old room. Ursel hadalways kept it ready for his return, as though she expected him daily.This suited Wolf, only he insisted upon having his own way about thearticles he had brought, and took them upstairs with him.
He would gladly have greeted the faithful nurse of his childhood atonce, yet it seemed like a fortunate dispensation that, through the oldman's delay below, his wish to have his first meeting with the woman heloved without witnesses should be fulfilled.