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Heidelberg: A Romance. Volumes I, II & III

by G. P. R. James · English · Gutenberg #50858 · 977,942 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Heidelberg: A Romance. Volumes I, II & III

Author: G. P. R. James


        
Release date: January 6, 2016 [eBook #50858]
                Most recently updated: October 22, 2024

Language: English

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HEIDELBERG.

-----

Vol. I.






HEIDELBERG.

A Romance.



BY
G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF
"THE SMUGGLER;" "ARRAH NEIL;" "THE STEP-MOTHER,"
ETC. ETC.



IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.



LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL.
1846.






London:
Printed by Stewart and Murray,
Old Bailey.






HEIDELBERG.




CHAPTER I.


The realities of the world are few and small; the illusions many and
vast. Not a sense that we possess, and hardly a faculty of the mind,
but serves to deceive us; wholly in some cases, and partially in all.
Yet, strip nature and life of these deceits, and what would earth
become?--what our existence here? See a small fly stepping over the
irregularities of a looking-glass and thinking the polished surface
but a rough and rugged plain, and we have some idea of what the world
would be, if we saw it as perhaps it is.

Amongst the sweetest and most friendly delusions, of all the many, is
the landscape-painting of imagination. Love, himself, I believe, does
not cheat us more, or more pleasantly. Let any traveller ask himself,
when he sets eyes upon a scene which he pronounces, at once, most
beautiful, how much of the loveliness is added by fancy. It may be a
grand, an expansive view, over a wide and varied country; but what is
the mind doing while the eye is contemplating it? Peopling it with
villages--laying it out in corn-fields and vineyards--filling it with
busy life and gay enjoyment; not distinctly, not tangibly; but still
the associations rise up in a golden mist, and spread a lustre over
all. It may be, on the contrary, a narrower scene: a cottage in a deep
glen, with old oaks overshadowing, and the thin blue smoke rising up
amongst the green leaves. There too, is imagination busy, with the
thoughts of calm retirement from a troublous world, and still, quiet
contemplation--the labourer's repose after his labour--the sweet
domestic home--the tender joy of tongues and faces loving and beloved.

There is but one great magician left on earth, and that is
Imagination.

Reader, I very often draw from my own heart and its experience--more
often than the world knows; and even now, I can conceive the
sensations of those two horsemen as they come at a foot pace over the
edge of the hill, where the splendid valley of the Neckar, with its
castled town and ancient woods, and giant mountains, first breaks upon
the eye. See how the sunshine of the summer evening, softened by the
light smoke of the city, pours through the long tall streets and over
the high walls and towers of massive stone: see how it catches on each
rocky point or prominent crag, as rounding the granite mass of the
King's Seat, in its decline towards the west, it covers the brows of
all his mountain peers with coronets of gold; and lo! where high
raised above the town, upon its platform of stone, stands out the
lordly castle in bright light and shade. The green, green Neckar,
flowing along in the midst, winds on through the long waving valley,
showing ripples of gold wherever, in the sunshine, the winds stir it
or the rocks obstruct, and, at each calmer spot, serves as a mirror to
the loveliness around; giving back the bright tints of hills and
woods, and town and bridge, with a lustrous clearness no other stream
can match. Even that boat, with its many coloured crew of peasantry,
shines out upon the face of the river in red and blue, and white and
brown, as if the very hues acquired a finer dye from the water that
but reflects them; and the fishing eagle, swooping down upon his finny
prey, strikes at it the more fiercely when he sees the image of
himself rushing to seize it also from below.

On a fine summer evening then, in the year 1619, two horsemen, coming
along the Bergstrasse, or mountain road, suddenly drew in their horses
as they reached the top of that little spur of the mountain called the
Heiligenberg, on which stands the village of Neunheim, and there
paused, gazing, as if in wonder and admiration, at the scene presented
to their eyes. For a moment or two neither spoke, for the height of
every emotion is silent; and ere a word was uttered, a small party,
which had followed, came up and took place behind them.

In those days great men drew their importance from the number of their
attendants. 'Tis the same even now, but the display is made upon a
different stage.

The horsemen who came first, however, were but accompanied by two
ordinary servants, two grooms or horseboys, each leading a baggage
horse heavily laden, and a page; small equipage for a man of station
at that period. Nevertheless there was that about the appearance of
each, which made the peasantry who passed them in numerous bodies, and
in their holiday clothes, take off their broad-brimmed hats and give
the strangers two looks ere they walked on. The reason why they did
this was not very apparent; for the persons who thus attracted the
attention of the good boors had nothing to excite admiration in their
dress. It is true, indeed, gentlemen were not at that time, any more
than at present, to be distinguished by their galligaskins; but still
the apparel of the two was rather plain than otherwise, consisting of
a common riding suit of dark cloth, with a small line of gold, and
boots and breeches of untanned leather. Their horses, indeed, were
fine, powerful, spirited beasts as ever were mounted; and though the
dust, that dimmed their glossy coats, showed that they had journeyed
far on a hot day, yet not a sign of fatigue was visible, and the
outstretched leg, ready to start again, the high raised head, and
expanded nostril, as they snuffed the air of the river, proved that
they had no expectation of their day's journey being yet, near an end.

There might be, indeed, some reason assigned why the country girls
took a second look before they went on, for the two travellers were
both young and handsome men; the one very dark, and three or four
years older than the other, who might perhaps be one-and-twenty, or
thereabouts, and whose face, though bronzed by exposure to sun and
weather, appeared to have been originally fair, if one might judge by
the clear, deep-blue eye and the rich brown hair, and moustache of
that peculiar hue which shows a golden gleam when the sun shines upon
it. He was tall and well formed, long in the arms, broad in the chest,
and spare in the waist and flank. The head and face were small, and
the features delicate, though not effeminate; the chin somewhat
projecting, and the eyes large and full, with a thick and strongly
marked eyebrow. When at rest the whole countenance had an expression
of gravity and decision beyond his apparent years, and there was
something in his air as he sat his horse, a look of command and free
thoughtful power, which seemed to bespeak one who, notwithstanding his
youth, had been long accustomed to regulate his own conduct and act
upon his own views.

The other was very different, yet still a handsome man, much darker in
complexion, not quite so tall, with a keen sharp black eye, under a
wide and somewhat projecting brow, marked gracefully by a dark,
arching, and somewhat raised line of eyebrow. The lips were thin, and
the line from the wing of the nose to the corner of the mouth strongly
marked, so as to give the ordinary expression of the countenance a
slight, a very slight touch of sarcasm; and yet there was a sort of
sparkling joyousness about it whenever he spoke, which we may as well
notice once for all, as it was the predominant look and was
exceedingly winning, although the cast of the mere features was stern
and determined.

As they paused and gazed, the face of the younger and fairer of the
two was full of admiration, pure, simple, and high; too deeply felt to
admit even of a smile. The other gazed over the landscape too, but
then for a moment turned his eyes with a half laughing glance,
withdrawn as soon as given, to his companion's face, as if he and his
feelings afforded as much matter for thought and examination as the
beautiful scene which had just presented itself.

At length, after a pause, of about two minutes, the younger
exclaimed,--

"How beautiful! how enchanting! and bursting upon us thus, it seems
like magic."

"Very lovely, indeed," replied his companion, with a smile; "and I
doubt not we shall find still lovelier things within those old grey
walls--at least let us fancy it; for fancy is the goddess that
embellishes all things, and is, even now, doing wonders in your mind,
Algernon, for the fair city of Heidelberg."

"I know not what fancy has to do with it," replied the other, gravely;
"methinks never was there a congregation of more beautiful objects
presented to the eye of man. Nature does everything here, William, we
have no need of fancy. Look at that town, that castle, those lordly
mountains, those green waving woods, the river gliding----"

"Like a golden lizard, you would say, amongst the stones," rejoined
his companion, interrupting him. "In pity let us have some figure of
speech to show that your admiration has not at least benumbed
imagination. A simile, a trope, a metaphor, even a hyperbole will do.
Can you not call them godlike towers? or figure me the mountains as
giant Titans, with a bushy beard of oaks and beeches? What has become
of all your flowers of rhetoric? You will never be able to keep pace
with the doctors and poets of the university, if you go on in this
dull style. Or is it that you have expended all the riches of your
poesy upon the fair dames you left behind in Italy, and have not got a
beggarly tester of fine words for the fair town of Heidelberg? or,
again, are you afraid of the exchequer running low, and are hoarding
your smart speeches with miserly avarice, to let love, like the
miser's son, squander them by-and-by upon the lovely dames of the
Electoral court?"

"Good faith!" replied the other, "I doubt much, my friend, whether I
shall see anything in any court so lovely to my eyes as that fair
range of mountains, out there upon the right, looking like sapphires
on a sky of gold."

"Improved! improved!" cried his companion, dropping his rein and
clapping his hands; "those sapphires and that gold come out most
splendidly. The poor Haardt, with her stony rocks, would be grateful
to you, doubtless, for thus enriching her; but let us on, I am for
living loveliness. Of all the landscapes I ever saw, the most
beautiful has been a rosy cheek and alabaster throat; the brightest
waters in the world for me, lie in the deep well of a dark blue eye;
and in all the sun-rises or sunsets that ever covered the sky with
crimson, there is nothing like the warm blush upon a young face, or
the dawning smile upon a rosy lip. Let us on, let us on, I say;
pleasure is the pursuit of life; let grave thoughts follow us, they
will catch us soon enough if we do not make haste and get before
them."

"'Twere a good philosophy, could it but last," answered his companion,
with a smile, touching his horse gently with the spur, and in a moment
more they were winding on by the side of the Neckar towards the old
bridge, which, like many another building there, was not destined to
see the present day.

Perhaps the younger of the two travellers felt that his companion was
right in what he had said regarding the ornamental powers of fancy,
when they passed the gates of Heidelberg and entered the town itself.
The sunshiny splendour of the valley was lost in the narrow streets
and tall dark houses; but still the shade was pleasant, for the
evening was hot; and there was something in the long lines of the
quaint, many-storied buildings, with their ornamented gables to the
streets and every here and there a gleam of sunshine breaking across
through an aperture--something in the gay crowds of people, in the
ringing laugh and cheerful buzz, even in the baskets of fruits and
flowers that obstructed every turning, which did much with a young and
enthusiastic mind, to compensate for the picturesque beauty of the
valley which they no longer beheld; and still, at the end of many of
the streets, the towers and walls of the castle were seen looking down
from its proud rock, with the green branches and rugged crags of the
mountain, towering up beyond.

"In the name of all that's sweet and savoury, let us get to our inn as
fast as we can," said the elder of the young men. "My ears are cracked
with the hoarse merriment of these overjoyous German throats; and my
nose feels feverish with all the vapours of garlic and sauerkraut
which it has imbibed since we passed the gates.--What is the name of
the inn, Tony?" he continued, turning his head to one of the servants
behind, a merry-looking fellow, with a good deal of shrewd humour in
his countenance.

"The Golden something, Sir William," replied the man; "but, by my
faith, I forget what. We have passed through so many golden and silver
vessels within the last month, that I am quite confounded by them. We
rode upon a golden goose last night; the day before it was a silver
moon; then we have had the cock of gold, the golden pitcher, the
golden crown, the silver cross, the silver staff, and the silver star.
We have had all sorts of fishes that ever swam in the sea, and all the
beasts that ever went into the ark, besides a number of monsters."

"Hush, sir, hush; give me a reasonable answer, and a short one,"
replied the gentleman; "and remember what your master told you, about
forgetting our names till you are permitted to remember them.--What
was the name of the inn, I say?"

"It was the Golden something, sir," replied the man, undismayed; "and,
if I must give it a name when I don't recollect the right one, I'll
give it the name of the Stag, by way of a change. We have not been at
a Stag for a week at least."

The other gentleman smiled; for he recollected, as soon as it was
named, that the hostelry to which they had been directed was really
the Stag; and he somewhat doubted that his servant had ever forgotten
it. "Now, then, William, to find it," he said; "for this town seems
full of signs. But here comes a man on horseback,--by his dusty boots
a traveller like ourselves,--German too, by the cut of his cloak and
the feather on the left side of his hat. We will ask him;" and,
spurring his horse forward a little, he met, at the corner of the
street, a well-dressed man about thirty years of age, who was riding
fast at the moment, but who checked his horse, when the other saluted
him courteously and, in very tolerable German, asked the way to the
Golden Stag.

"Follow me," replied the stranger, "and I will show you; I am going
thither myself:" and riding on, without waiting to see whether the
strangers accompanied him or not, he took his way round the great
church, and sprang to the ground at the steps of a large wide rambling
house, which bore, in bas relief, upon a panel in the second story,
the grotesque figure of a gouty stag, gilt, and ornamented with a
collar and chain. In the centre of the house there was a large
archway, with steps on each side, which were also brought round the
angle and all along the front on either side of the arch, forming a
sort of base to the whole building. A small door--that at which the
traveller halted--entered from the top of the steps, and this was
thrown open as soon as his approach was perceived from one of the
windows on the ground floor. At least half a score of drawers and
horseboys rushed out from various holes and corners about the
building. His horse was taken with every sign of respect; and the
low-bowing landlord, with night-cap in hand, the officious readiness
of all the domestics of the establishment, and the reverend greeting
of two men, whose badges and ribbons showed them to be the liveried
attendants of some high family, convinced the travellers who followed
closely, that their guide to the Golden Stag was a personage of some
importance in the town of Heidelberg.

The one turned round to the other and smiled, somewhat superciliously
perhaps; for the haughty contempt of other people's customs, and the
national pride, which undervalues the distinctions and ranks of
foreign countries, to exalt those of his own, were as much
characteristic of the native of a certain island in those days as at
present. That supercilious smile spoke the Englishman at once. Though
it would be very difficult to analyze philosophically the sensations
from which it sprang, perhaps it simply arose out of contempt for the
deference shown to a man, who would venture to wear a feather in a
different part of his hat from that in which the English generally
placed it. I do not mean to aver that it was so; but, from what I know
of my fellow-countrymen, I think it very probable. Strange to say too,
the countenance, on which this smile appeared, was that of the elder,
and, to all appearance, the more experienced and worldly of the two.
The other smiled not, but, checking his horse to a walk, as soon as he
was sure of the position of the Golden Stag, rode slowly up to the
house and dismounted, with a calm and deliberate air.

By this time the stranger had disappeared, as well as the landlord and
most of the attendants; but, nevertheless, the bustle of a new arrival
soon recommenced; and, in five or ten minutes more, the two travellers
were lodged in large, comfortable, but somewhat gloomy rooms, and had
the most positive assurance of the landlord that an excellent repast
was ready to be set before them the moment they thought fit to descend
to the common room and partake of it.

The servants and the page busied themselves in opening portmantles and
saddlebags. Ruffs, collars, velvet cloaks and laced doublets were
spread out upon the large old comfortable beds. An abundance of cold
water, together with the assistance of Italian essences and perfumery
removed all traces of travel from their persons; and when, at the end
of about half an hour, the younger of the two, with the page to show
him the way, descended to the hall, it would have been difficult,
perhaps, to find a more distinguished looking man within the limits of
Europe. He was evidently very young--youth could be traced, in every
gently flowing line, in the soft and rounded cheek, in the even,
unfurrowed brow; but there was an air of stately dignity in his
carriage; a calm, almost cold, firmness in the expression of his face,
which showed that, from some cause--either an early initiation into
life and the sad experiences of the world, or from a precocious
appreciation of the realities of things--the mind was older than the
man. This happens not unfrequently, and is somewhat strange in its
effects; but still more strange is the result, when a triple
combination takes place, as was in some degree the case with him; and
when the heart, too, remains young, after the judgment has become
mature, so that its passions, aided by the energies of the corporeal
frame, are placed in frequent antagonism, with a powerful and
over-ruling intellect.

The page threw open the door of a large room below, which looked
somewhat dark and gloomy; for the windows were small, the panelling
was of black oak, and the sun was on the other side of the house. It
was not solitary, however; for there, seated in one stiff tall-backed
chair, and his feet, divested of all travelling incumbrances, on
another, was the gentleman whom they had met in the streets of the
town, and who had served as their guide thither. His hat was cast upon
a small table, his sword lay beside it, his riding-boots had been
drawn off, and some time had been bestowed upon his toilet, too; for
his doublet and cloak had been changed; but yet the difference of
appearance produced did not seem very remarkable to an eye accustomed
to the most splendid courts in Europe.

To say truth, the young Englishman had not been very much prepossessed
in the stranger's favour. The brief bluff answer he had given when
addressed, the manner in which he had ridden on, with hardly a look to
see that they followed, seemed to him to betoken a want of courtesy,
with which, indeed, he was not inclined to quarrel, but which he did
not greatly admire. The other did not move when he entered either,
though certainly not unconscious of his presence; for the large,
clear, grey eyes were raised and fixed upon the new-comer, with a
firm, inquiring, almost insolent stare. It was unpleasant to the young
Englishman; but he did not come there to seek disputes; and, turning
to the page who waited at the door, as if for orders, he bade him tell
the landlord to serve the supper as quickly as might be, and then he
walked to the window, and gazed out at the varied scene which the
streets presented.

In two minutes he was lost in a reverie, forgetting altogether that
there was any other being in the room but himself; and, though the
other guest rose, moved his hat and sword, and walked up and down with
a heavy step, the sound these evolutions produced fell upon an
unconscious ear which had no power to carry them to a mind far away,
busied with other things.

In about five minutes the door again opened, a quick step was heard,
and the other English traveller, entering, advanced to his friend,
laid his hand upon his shoulder and exclaimed, in a gay tone.--"What,
in the depth again, Algernon! On my life, nature must have intended
you for an oyster. Leave you but a moment and you sink down into an
ocean of meditation, fix yourself firmly to the bottom, and would
remain there, I believe, for ever, with your shell half open, waiting
for what Providence would send to fill your mouth withal. But, on my
faith, I have no such patience; I am like the patriarch Isaac, and
have a longing for savoury meats--likewise, for some amusement. This
seems a wild boar of the forest. We must force him from his lair; and
he will show sport, depend upon it."

Hitherto he had spoken in English; but now, turning to the stranger,
with a low and somewhat extravagant bow, and yet with an air of
courtly ease, he said, in French: "We have to thank you, Monsieur, for
guiding us to this inn. I trust that the host will speedily give us
farther occasion for gratitude, by setting before us an excellent
supper.--I see he has laid three covers, from which I argue, that the
enjoyment of the repast is to be heightened to us by your
participating in it."

"It is my intention to sup before I go," replied the stranger, in very
tolerable French, though with a haughty tone; but the other was not to
be rebuffed; and, proceeding with great apparent good humour, but that
sort of exaggeration of courtesy which is rarely without a touch of
sarcasm in it, he soon engaged his German companion in more familiar
conversation and broke through the husk of reserve, in which he had at
first encased himself. His replies, when they became more frank and
free, showed a mind not uncultivated, an intellect of some extent, and
views in general just and powerful, though there was an alloy of
haughty presumption and somewhat irritable self-esteem, which became
ever more apparent, if not more offensive, as his reserve wore away.

In the midst of their conversation, the landlord and his satellites
entered with the supper. Two of the travellers' servants came in to
wait upon their masters; one of the attendants in livery, who had met
their German companion at the door, took a place behind his chair,
fluttering with ribbons and tags; and the three gentlemen applied
themselves to the satisfying of an importunate appetite. After a few
minutes the younger of the two Englishmen seemed to cast off his
thoughtful mood, gave himself up to the gay leading of his friend, and
laughed and jested likewise. The wine that was placed upon the table
did not seem at all to his taste, and pushing it from him with a
shudder, after the first drops had passed his lips, he pronounced it
vinegar disguised.

"Come, come, mine host," he said, looking over his shoulder to the
master of the inn, who had remained in the room, perhaps with a due
calculation of the excellence of the beverage he had served, in its
relation to the quality of his guests--for innkeepers, even then, were
not unaccustomed to make their wine the measure, or aristometre, of
those they entertained; "come, come, mine host, this is doubtless good
wine in its way, for those whom it suits; but we have ridden far and
want some more generous juice to refresh us. Let us have something
super-excellent, the very _bride_ of your cellar, as I think you call
it here in Germany; and mind that it be at least a hundred and fifty
times better than this or else it will not do."

"You speak good German, too," said the stranger, "and seem to know our
customs well, even to the tricks of our landlords. Were you ever here
before?"

"Not in this good town of Heidelberg," replied the young gentleman;
"but some three years ago, I passed through other parts of Germany on
my way to the south. The reason why I speak French to you is, that my
friend here does not understand the tongue of the country."

"'Tis a pity," replied the other, "the language is a fine one, and so,
methinks, strangers must find the country. I have travelled too,
myself, but never saw aught finer than this our valley of the Neckar."

"Most beautiful, indeed," rejoined the young Englishman; "so much so,
that I judge one might while away a day or two here very well."

"Methinks one may, or pass a life here either," rejoined their
companion, with a somewhat haughty and offended air. "The court of the
Elector Palatine is, I believe, second to few in Europe."

"What is that, Algernon, what is that?" cried the other Englishman,
who seemed to have comprehended part of what was said; "it is treason
to friendship to talk a language in my presence which is
unintelligible to my poor ears."

The other gentleman explained in French; and with a smile, slightly
sarcastic, his friend turned to their companion, exclaiming: "Is this
court so magnificent, then, indeed? We are ignorant of this part of
Europe, sir, having been long in the far south, sporting amongst
princes and lazaroni at Naples, jesting with priests, cardinals, and
popes at Rome, discussing pictures, statues, and points of religion
with painters, philosophers, and atheists at Florence, and masking and
making music with fair dames and reverend seniors in the City of the
waves. We have brought over a stock of vices and small-talk, I trust,
that would decorate any court in Christendom; and, faith, if yours is
such as you describe it, and fond of magnificence and merriment,
velvet and volubility, we must go up and visit it; and, doubtless,
shall be made much of, as our merits deserve."

"The access is not so easy as you may suppose, sir," answered the
other sternly; "it requires something else than a man's own account of
himself to gain entrance and esteem there."

"Ha! here comes our host with a very sagacious looking bottle," cried
the younger travellers, who thought, perhaps, his friend was pushing
his jests somewhat too far. "If those cobwebs have been spun round the
neck by thinner legs than your fingers, landlord, the wine would be as
sour as cider, or of an immortal quality."

"I will warrant you, sir," answered the host, putting down
long-stalked glasses, "if ever you tasted better in your days, say my
name is not Rheinhardt;" and he filled up to the brim for the younger
traveller and his companion.

Before the former tasted it, however, he pressed their fellow-guest to
join them and give his opinion of the wine; and, on his showing some
reluctance, added: "Nay, nay, if you refuse, I shall think that you
are offended with the light talk of my jesting friend there. You must
bear with him, you must bear with him, sir, for it is an inveterate
habit he has; and he could sooner go without his dinner than his joke,
at whosoever's expense it is indulged. It is the custom of the country
we come from last; for there it is so dangerous to speak seriously on
any subject, that men take refuge in a jest as in a redoubt."

The stranger seemed satisfied with this explanation, joined in their
wine, pronounced it excellent, forgot his haughty air; and, returning
to the subject which they had left, began to expatiate once more upon
the beauty, splendour, gallantry, and wit of the court of the Elector,
Frederic V., when suddenly a loud explosion, which seemed to shake the
solid walls of the old building, and was echoed for several seconds by
the rocks and mountains round, interrupted his declamation, and made
the two Englishmen gaze in each other's face.

Ere they could inquire farther, another roar, and then another, was
heard; and, turning to their German companion, the elder exclaimed:
"In the name of our fair lady Fortune! what is the meaning of this? Is
the castle besieging the town, or the town the castle? Or have you
imported Mount Vesuvius to warm you here from time to time with an
eruption, and preserve the antiquities of the place in ashes,
pumice-stone, and sulphur?"

"Neither, my good sir," answered their fellow-traveller, who had
remained totally unmoved; "it is but the guns of the castle firing in
honour of the Elector's birth-day, the nineteenth of August; for on
this day and hour, now three-and-twenty years ago, our noble prince
was born in the good town of Amberg. There is a grand banquet at the
castle to-day; but, ride hard as I would, I was too late for it, and
so must content myself with going to the reception in the evening,
which, they say, will be one of unusual magnificence."

"Faith, then, I think we will go there too," said the elder of the two
Englishmen; "doubtless we shall see collected all the beauty of the
Court Palatine."

"If you get admission," rejoined the other drily.

"Oh, that is beyond all doubt," was the bantering reply: "your prince
can never be such a barbarian as to refuse the pleasures of his court
to two such proper young men as ourselves, especially as we have the
honour and advantage of your acquaintance."

"I fancy you will find him sufficiently, civilized to do so," said the
other sharply; "and my acquaintance, sir, can only be beneficial to
those of whose name and station I am informed. I may as well at once
give you to understand, knowing this court, and being connected with
it, that you will not be admitted unless you be properly introduced."

There was a degree of arrogance in his tone, more than in his words,
that at once amused and offended the younger of the two gentlemen;
and, after his companion had exclaimed, "Then must we die without
benefit of clergy," he turned towards the other gentleman, saying,
with a grave smile,--

"We have a bad habit, sir, in England, of proving the strength of our
own convictions by laying wagers on any subject of dispute. If such
were the custom here, I would ask you what you will bet that I and my
friend here will not go up to the castle this very night, and, without
any introduction whatsoever, without naming our names, stating our
rank, or disclosing our pursuits, receive kind hospitality from the
elector, and pass the evening with his court."

The personage whom he addressed replied first with a laugh, and then
said: "Perhaps you may find your way in, for the attendants are not
likely to drive back a well dressed man; but if the elector's eye
falls upon you, that of his chamberlain, or any of his high officers,
you will soon be expelled, depend upon it, unless you divulge your
names."

"Not so," replied the other; "I will go straight to the elector; I
will refuse to divulge my name, and yet I will pass the evening there;
on all which I will stake a hundred crowns. You yourself shall be the
witness, as you say you are going; but, of course, it is understood
that you do and say nothing to impede my proceedings."

"Done!" cried the other, striking his hand on the table; "I take your
wager. Methinks I should know this court better than you can."

"I have known many courts," answered the young man, with a
good-humoured laugh, "and never yet found one in which impudence and a
cool face could not make its way. So now let us be friends and shake
hands upon our wagers, which shall be decided as soon as you are
ready."

The stranger took his hand, not very cordially, and replied: "We must
wait a little; the banquet will be scarcely over yet. I would fain
know, too," he added, "who are to be my companions in entering the
elector's court."

"Oh! make yourself perfectly easy," replied the elder of the two young
men; "you shall seem to know nothing of us from the moment you pass
the gate; nay, with this sweet world's simple versatility, shall turn
the shoulder coldly to those with whom you have climbed the hill the
moment you have reached the top. The truth is, honourable sir, my
friend and myself have resolved not to reveal our real names while
travelling in these foreign lands. As a matter of course, we have each
packed up with our saddle-bags and portmantles, a fresh and
well-conditioned name for the nonce. He is called Algernon Grey: I
have been known for some months past as William Lovet. We do not ask
you to believe that our godfathers and our godmothers, at our
baptisms, were at all familiar with these appellations, either nomen
or prenomen; nevertheless, it is a whim we have, and we request our
excellent friends to humour us therein. Those who would do us
reverence, tack esquire to the end of each name, to designate the
lowest rank of gentlemen in England qualified to bear arms; but we are
not particular, and even when that title is omitted, the bare name
does very well without."

"So be it then," said their companion, gravely. "You will have to
ride, Master Lovet, as perhaps you know, for it is somewhat difficult
to find carriages here that would drag you up that hill! But you make
your boots large," he continued, playing upon an expression commonly
used in Germany at that time, to express a man who stood upon little
ceremony--"But you make your boots large, and therefore your hose will
escape soiling. I go to get mine on;" and rising, he left the room.

The younger traveller, whom we shall henceforth call by the name he
thought fit to assume, was inclined to fall into a fit of musing
again; but the other leaned over the table, saying: "Ask the fellow's
name, Algernon. He seems a sullen and discourteous dog, unwilling, or
unable, to understand a jest."

"Good faith! you began like a young haggard, William," replied his
companion, "dashing straight at your game, without waiting to see its
flight. All men are not ready to jest with every stranger. He may have
good qualities, though he seems haughty enough;" and turning to one of
the attendants of the inn, he asked, in German, the name of the
gentleman who had just left the room.

"That, sir, is the Baron Oberntraut," replied the man, with a low
reverence; "he is the only son of the master of the horse to the
elector, and a captain of cuirassiers."

"What! the same who distinguished himself so much in the campaign of
Juliers?" cried the young gentleman.

"The same, sir," answered the man. "He was very young then; but he did
great things, I have heard."

"By my honour! he has some reason to be proud," observed Algernon
Grey; "but come, William, let us get ready too. Order the horses
round, Tony.--I suppose they are not tired with our short march."

"Tired, sir!" replied the man. "Lord bless you! with the oats they
have got into them since they came, they'd take the castle up there as
if it were a five-barred gate. I heard Hob say that Barbary had eaten
a peck and a half, while you were changing your cloak!"

"If that were the first lie he ever told, it might be worth
repeating," said William Lovet; "but let us go, Algernon. I am all on
fire for the beauties of the fair Elizabeth's court; and if I can find
out which is this Oberntraut's mistress, on my soul I will plague
him."




CHAPTER II.


"Who is that, who is that?" cried the small shrill voice of a little
deformed boy, who stood as near to the gate of the castle as the
soldiers would let him--and, to say the truth, they had suffered him
to approach somewhat nearer than their orders warranted, in respect
for a tall, beautiful, well formed girl, his sister, who held him by
the hand.

"Which do you mean, Hans?" asked his fair companion. "That one, in the
black and gold doublet, and the cloak lined with crimson? That is the
young Baron of Oberntraut, the Great Captain, who defeated the
Austrians on the other side of the Rhine."

"He does not look to me like a great captain," said the small sharp
voice proceeding from the narrow and protuberant chest. "I thought he
would have been all in armour, as the soldiers were once, when I saw
them ride through the streets."

"Is that a Frenchman?" asked one of the lower order of students, who
was leaning in studied, not to say affected negligence, with his arm
round the neck of one of his fellows. "Do you see how he wears his
hat? and in what a jaunty way he has thrown his cloak all upon his
left shoulder, as if he wished to keep the hilt of his sword warm?"

"Oh, he may keep it warm enough in Heidelberg, if he like," rejoined
the other student to whom he spoke; "we'll give it work, if it want
it; but which do you mean, Frederic? for there are two of them--the
black cock or the white one?"

"The fair one," replied the former speaker; "the one in the philimot
and gold; he is a proper man, Carl, and, I should think, ready enough
to use his rapier, if one may judge by his look."

"Oh, looks are nothing," replied the other; "but I should think he is
no Frenchman. More likely an Englishman, come, like the rest of them,
to flutter at our court."

"Come away, wife, come away," said a jolly, fat citizen, with an
ace-of-clubs nose and a beard tolerably sprinkled with grey, to a
pretty woman, some twenty years younger, who stood beside him, holding
the hand of a little boy about four or five years old--"It is full
time for us to be getting home; don't you see the sun is nearly
down--one half behind the hills there? and it will be dark before we
reach the door. There, come along; you are a great admirer of fair
men, I know: but, methinks, you should have had enough of them
to-night; so let us homeward, if you would not have yon gallant kiss
his hand to you, as a reward for your staring."

While this conversation and much of a similar kind had been going on
amongst the numerous groups, which had assembled round the outward
Burgthor, or castle-gate, of the fine old palace of the Electors
Palatine, the party of three gentlemen and seven servants, which had
slowly wound up the long and steep ascent from the town to the castle,
had reached the flat at the top, and were passing over the drawbridge,
which then existed at the Burgthor, into that wide extent of ground,
which was inclosed by the great wall of the fortress. Whether it was
that the presence of Oberntraut, who was well known to the soldiery,
procured them free admission, or that the guards had only orders to
keep out the ordinary citizens of the place, the whole party were
suffered to proceed, without opposition, and rode on to the
bridge-house, while fine strains of martial music, wafted by the wind
from the great court of the castle, and the sound of many a gay and
musical voice from the gardens round, told that the revelry of the
Elector's birth-night was still going on with undiminished spirit.

Under the arch of the bridge-house, two of the guards crossed their
partizans before the horses, and Oberntraut, anxious to show that he
kept his word, in not throwing any impediment in the way of the two
Englishmen, turned his head, saying in German, "You must dismount
here, being visitors; I ride into the court, as one of the Elector's
household."

The soldiers instantly raised their halberts to let him pass with the
two servants, who had accompanied him from the inn. At the same
moment, one of Algernon Grey's attendants sprang to his stirrup, to
aid him in dismounting; and, giving his sword to his page to carry,
the young gentleman and his friend disencumbered themselves of the
large riding boots of the day--which, be it remarked, easily covered
shoes and all--and passing between the guards, with a confident air,
as if there could be no earthly doubt of their admission, walked on,
under the archway of the great square tower, into the wide court-yard.

The scene was a very brilliant one, which was now presented to
their eyes. Crowds of attendants, belonging either to the household
of the Elector Palatine himself, or to those of the great nobles
of his court, were scattered thickly over the wide space
before them--sometimes standing in groups of eight or nine
together--sometimes moving hither and thither, with quick or
sauntering pace; and every colour of the rainbow, in its very
brightest tints, was to be seen displayed in the gorgeous costume of
the day. Neither was there any lack of lace and embroidery, plumes,
sword-knots, and fluttering scarfs; and, around this gay flower-bed,
rose up, in the faint evening light, innumerable and irregular masses
of building, of every period and of every style, the remains of which
can still be traced, slowly mouldering away under the hand of time,
and presenting to the thoughtful eye a sad picture of the end of all
great designs; a bitter lesson to man's presumptuous hopes, a dark but
chastening admonition to joy, prosperity, and power.

On the right hand, under a wide arcade supported by graceful columns,
was a large and skilful band of musicians, making the air ring with
the sounds of their instruments. Upon the left, in darkness, such as
time casts upon all man's doings, was a pile of architecture, the
light and graceful lines of which betokened a very early period of
construction. Nearly in the centre of the court rose up a fountain;
the sparkling jets of which caught and reflected the rosy light which
had spread over the sky above. Farther on, to the right, appeared a
vast mass in the Italian taste, covered with rich and splendid
ornaments--statues, arabesques, and pilasters--and pierced with
innumerable windows, from which bright lights were shining, showing
that the sun's decline was felt within. In more than one other place,
too, on both sides and in front, a taper, or a lamp might be seen
passing slowly on from room to room across the various casements,
affording a sort of mysterious interest to a fanciful mind, as the eye
of the young Englishman rested on the dark piles to the west, from
which the sunshine had for several hours departed.

Grouped together near the fountain, and held by grooms and stable
boys, were a number of horses, richly caparisoned; and near them was
seen the form of the Baron of Oberntraut, slowly dismounting and
speaking to his two servants, as if waiting to give time for his late
companions to come up.

"That is civil and honourable of him," said Algernon Grey, as they
advanced towards him.

"A good deal of self-confidence in it," answered the other; "he feels
so sure of winning his bet, that he wishes to prove to us that it is
done by no unfair advantage."

"Still the worst side of everything!" rejoined his friend, with a
grave smile, and moved on. But as soon as Oberntraut perceived them
within a few yards, he himself advanced towards a flight of steps
before one of the principal buildings, where an open door and a blaze
of light, displayed a low arched hall, crowded with attendants. His
step was slow and stately, but though, before he had reached the top
of the steps, the two Englishmen were close to him, he took not the
slightest notice of them, and passed on.

Several other persons were, at the moment, advancing in the same
direction; and Lovet whispered to his companion; "Follow the stream,
follow the stream." Algernon Grey did so, and found himself guided by
the rest to what seemed the great staircase of the castle. It was not
indeed so magnificent, either in its proportions or its decorations,
as the splendour of the exterior might have led a traveller to expect;
but what it wanted in architectural beauty was supplied by extrinsic
decoration of great taste, consisting of flowers and shrubs and
branches disposed in such manner as to mingle the harsh lines of the
grey stone pleasantly and symmetrically with the graceful bends of the
green foliage. An object had been sought and attained very much
neglected in those times, namely, the perfect lighting of the
staircase; for, although the day had hardly closed, the lamps were
already gleaming along the balustrades, not with a harsh and
overpowering glare, but with a tempered brightness, which showed all
that could please and captivate the eve and yet left a dim
indistinctness, not disagreeable, over the rest. Five or six persons
preceded the young Englishmen in their ascent, some speaking together,
some silent and lonely; but all turned to the left on reaching the
top, and passed through a guarded door, round which a number of
attendants were standing, into a small ante-chamber, where a single
officer appeared leaning his hand upon a table.

No questions were asked of any of those who went before Algernon Grey
and his friend; and he with calm and grave deliberation followed,
neither looking to the right nor the left, nor taking the slightest
notice of a whispered inquiry, which he heard running amongst the
servants, as to who and what he was. William Lovet, in his ignorance
of the language, was also ignorant of all such perils to their
enterprise; and, with a gay and well-assured look, followed close upon
his companion's steps, adjusting the glittering tie of his sword-knot
and thrusting his rapier a little further back.

The moment they entered the ante-room, Algernon Grey marked that the
Baron of Oberntraut paused for an instant at the opposite door, as if
to see whether the officer on duty would stop them, or require their
names. The latter immediately advanced a step or two; but then, to the
surprise of all present, he gave the two gentlemen a lowly salutation,
and drew back to the table again.

A slight smile curled Algernon's handsome lip; and, with a tone of
dignity, he said aloud, addressing the officer: "Will you be pleased,
sir, to inform the Elector Palatine personally, if you can have his
ear for a moment, that two English gentlemen of befitting rank, who
for reasons of their own decline to give their names, crave his
gracious permission to witness the splendours of his court this night,
and to tread a measure in his hall with the fair dames of our own fair
princess. We ask it with loyal hearts and true, well aware of what we
do, and not venturing to request aught unbecoming of him to grant, or
us to receive."

The officer bowed, and, turning towards those without, said: "Keep the
door!" and then, advancing towards the inner chamber, seemed to answer
quickly a question of Oberntraut, who had lingered near the entrance,
and then passed on.

"Now are your hundred crowns in peril, Algernon," said William Lovet;
"a fair new saddle-cloth embroidered in gold, a silver bit and gilt
stirrups, together with an ear-ring of nineteen carats and a ruby, to
say nothing of a new kerchief to Madge, Marianne, or Margery, all hang
upon the chance of the fair delivery of a simple message by an
ante-chamber officer of an Elector Palatine. Heaven save the mark! if
the pretty maid with the brown eyes, who was likely in the course of
time and by the concatenation of circumstances, to have that kerchief
at your hands, now knew upon what a rash cast you have risked it,
would she not fret and scold at the probable result of the bet at the
Golden Stag?"

"She would be silly so to do," replied Algernon Grey. "I have no fears
of money going out of my purse to-night; the good man will deliver his
message aptly enough, I am sure; and the message, of which you
understood not a word, was just the bait to catch the young Elector
with his notions of chivalrous gallantry. Hark, what a buzz comes
through the doorway. Methinks half the palatinate must be here; and
see how the figures glide about across and across--now in blue and
silver--now in green and gold--now in black and pearls, like painted
shadows in a showman's box. But here comes our messenger, and with him
a very grave and reverend personage with a beard of an ell long. Let
us advance to meet him, as if we knew his inward dignity at once by
his outward shape."

With the same stately carriage which he had lately assumed, Algernon
Grey took a few slow steps forward, to meet a somewhat corpulent
gentleman, whose hair and colouring seemed to bespeak a hasty and
choleric temperament, and then made him a low bow. The officer, who
had been in waiting in the ante-chamber, pointed with his hand to the
two Englishmen, saying: "These are the two gentlemen;" and the other,
who followed, returned their salutation, scanning them for a moment
with his eye ere he spoke.

"It is the Elector's pleasure, sirs," he said at length, "that I
introduce you to his presence;" and once more he gazed at them from
head to foot, in a somewhat haughty and supercilious manner.

But Algernon Grey was not to be provoked out of his caution; and, with
a very slight inclination of the head, he replied: "The Elector is
gracious; we are at your command."

There was nothing more to be said; and therefore the Electoral officer
wheeled his large person round, and, with a somewhat more civil
gesture than he had hitherto used, led the way into the chamber
beyond. It was filled with numerous persons of both sexes, dressed in
the gorgeous costume of the day; and certainly the court of the
mightiest monarch in Europe could not have displayed greater splendour
of apparel, or greater beauty of person, than appeared at that of the
Count Palatine. People of all nations and all languages were there;
and amongst the busy crowds which moved hither and thither, every hue
of hair, every shade of complexion was to be seen; from the
fair-haired, blue-eyed children of the north, to the dark
Transylvanian, and the swarthy Moor. Through all the throng the
chamberlain of the Elector cleared a way for himself and the two who
followed: the rotundity of his person acting as a sort of human wedge,
which left a vacancy behind it; and many a head was turned to gaze
upon the young strangers; it being remarked that they looked neither
to the right nor the left, as if they did not wish to recognise or be
recognised by any one, should there, by chance, be found an
acquaintance amongst the varied multitude.

Although the immense masses of the castle, as they had seen it from
the outside, had impressed them with a strong idea of its vastness,
yet, from some cause or another, Algernon Grey had expected to find
the Elector and his fair wife in the room beyond the ante-chamber.
Indeed its extent was so great, its decorations so sumptuous, and the
groups it contained so numerous, that it might well have been supposed
the audience-hall of a great prince. But everything in the castle of
Heidelberg, at that period was upon so magnificent a scale, that no
acquaintance with other palaces enabled a visitor to judge of what was
to be his reception here. It contained, in those days, a suite of ten
splendid saloons, one opening into the other and each covered with
lavish ornament. Through the whole of these, till at length they
reached what was called the silver chamber, the two young Englishmen
were led, before they found the object of their search.

Two pages, one stationed on each side of the wide door way, held up
the curtains of white velvet and silver, which hung from huge rings
above; and as Algernon entered, a more quiet scene than those he had
just passed, but still a very striking one, presented itself to his
eyes. At the farther side of the room, perhaps at a distance of forty
or fifty feet, standing a little in advance of two chairs of state,
were seen Frederic and the Electress, both in the pride of youth and
beauty. The features of neither were perfectly regular, but the face
of each had its own peculiar charm of expression, the one beaming with
graceful kindness and dignified good humour, the other sparkling with
wit, imagination, and soul. Strikingly, though not regularly handsome,
certainly they were; and seeing them standing there, clothed in
similar colours, of the same age, slightly contrasted complexion, with
only that difference in height which might well exist between the
husband and the wife, one might have been tempted to think that no two
people had ever been more fitly matched, had but the countenance of
Frederic possessed more energy and determination of character.
Elizabeth stood on her husband's right hand; and on his left were seen
first a page, holding his sword, and then a group of the glittering
nobles of his court; but on the right of the Electress, were assembled
twelve or thirteen of the fairest flowers of Christendom, all robed
nearly alike in white and silver; their marble brows and glossy hair
bound with garlands, as it were, of diamonds and pearls. In other
parts of the room--near the windows--near the doors--under the arches
on either side, were several other groups conversing in a low tone;
but the middle was vacant, at least when Algernon Grey entered; and he
was advancing after his guide, towards the young sovereign before him,
when suddenly, from a group on his right, a glittering courtier of
about his own age started forward, and held out his hand.

The visitor, however, placed his finger on his lip, saying in a low
tone, "Not a word, Craven,[1] we are to be as strangers here."

The other instantly drew back again, with a smile; but William Lovet
nodded to him gaily, and then followed his friend.

This little interlude had not caught the Elector's eye, for at that
moment the Baron of Oberntraut passed before him, and bowing low, took
his place amongst the gentlemen on the left.

Elizabeth, however, saw it, and smiled, and then whispered a word in
her husband's ear. Frederic's eyes were immediately turned upon the
young Englishmen, who were now within a few paces; and a look of
pleasure came over his countenance, while he replied in a low tone to
what his wife had said.

The next moment the chamberlain interposed with a low and formal bow,
saying, "These are the gentlemen, your Highness; I know not how else
to introduce them to you, as they do not think fit to grace me with
their names; but your pleasure being that they should have admittance,
I have obeyed you in bringing them to your presence." This said in a
grave and formal tone, he drew back upon the prince's left.

"You are welcome, gentlemen," said Frederic. "Though you deny your
name--and we will let that pass unquestioned--we must, as sovereign of
this land, inquire what brings you hither: having due regard for the
safety of our subjects, to the fairer part of whom, methinks, you
might prove dangerous."

While he spoke, a playful and good-humoured smile curled his lip; and
Algernon Grey answered in a respectful but yet gay tone; "I must reply
to your Highness with one of our English players,--


   'A roving disposition, good my lord.'


Such was the evil cause that brought us to the fair Palatinate. Being
there, we heard that this day your Highness held a high revel, and,
longing to see the wonders of this court, we ventured hither, craving
leave to tread a measure with any fair dame who will so honour us."

"I fear me much," said Frederic, in the same tone of courteous
jesting, "that you are two perilous young men."

"He, my lord, is perilous young," replied Lovet, pointing to his
companion; "God send that I may have a good title to the same
character for the next twenty years; but, I doubt me much, it is
passing away from me."

"We are all upon a road where there are no inns," answered the
Elector, somewhat more gravely; "but what I fear is, that you bring
danger with you, and I doubt much that I must order you into
confinement, unless you can find bail and surety."

"Nay, my good lord, I will be their bail," cried Elizabeth of England
gaily; "and to make all sure, I will put them in gentle ward, so that
they commit no offence while in your dominions.--Here, Agnes," she
continued, "and you, my fair Countess of Laussitz, you shall be their
warders, and remember, that, throughout this whole night, whether in
the dance or at the table, in the halls or in the gardens, you lose
not sight of your several prisoners for a moment. Stay," she
continued, "although my good lord is inclined to treat them thus
severely, I will be more gentle, as becomes a lady, and let each
choose into whose captivity he will fall. What say you, sir?"

"By your Highness's gracious permission," replied Algernon Grey, to
whom her words were addressed, "as there can be no want of gallantry
in a choice where I know neither, I will surrender myself to the lady
you first mentioned."

"That is you, Agnes," said the Electress; "come forward and take
possession of your prisoner."

As the princess spoke, a young lady, who stood a little behind,
advanced with a light step, but with some slight timidity of manner,
and a cheek more flushed than it was the moment before. The timidity,
however, appeared but to add new grace to that which, even before,
seemed perfect; and Algernon Grey gazed upon her in evident surprise
and admiration, feeling himself right happy in his choice.

It is very difficult to convey in language any just idea of those
various distinctions and shades of beauty, which the eye seizes in a
moment, but which escape from words; and it would be almost doing
injustice to the fair girl, who now approached the princess's side, to
attempt a detailed description. To give some idea, however, of her
person, as the portraits, still existing, represent her, it may be
enough to say, that she was certainly not above the middle height, but
with every limb so exquisitely formed, that she looked taller than she
really was. Her rich brown hair, with chestnut gleams upon it, fell in
profuse abundance down her neck, in the fashion of the day. Her
eyes were neither blue, nor brown, nor grey, but of that soft and
soul-speaking hazel, so rarely seen and yet so exquisitely beautiful;
while the long dark eyelash and arched brow lent themselves to every
shade of expression, from deep and pensive thought to light and
sparkling gaiety. The features were all small and delicate, the skin
pure as alabaster, with a sunset glow upon the cheek. And the slightly
parted lips, showing the pearly teeth beneath, seemed tempting love
and promising return. The small, fine hand, the beautifully formed
foot and ankle, the graceful neck and swelling bosom, the very turn of
the head, all seemed like the dream of a sculptor in some moment of
inspiration. And to crown all, was that breathing of the soul through
every feature and through every part, which invests each movement with
some new charm.

Algernon Grey gazed upon her, I have said, with a look of admiration
and surprise; and the keener and shrewder eye of William Lovet, too,
ran over her face and figure, but with a very different expression. It
lasted but for a moment, and then he turned his gaze upon his friend,
marking well the gleam of surprise that sparkled on his countenance. A
slight smile curled his lips; but, when Algernon Grey advanced and
took her hand, at the Princess's command, those lips moved; and, had
any one been near, he might have heard him say, in a low tone, "This
will do, methinks."

Another eye, too, marked the whole proceeding; but, in this instance,
the brow became clouded, the moment the young Englishman's hand
touched that of his fair companion; and, setting his teeth hard in his
lower lip, the Baron of Oberntraut turned away his head, as if not to
expose the discontent which was too plainly written on his face.

"I am ready, may it please your Highness," said William Lovet,
advancing as soon as Algernon and his partner had drawn back, "to
submit myself entirely to your high commands; but I do beseech you to
lighten my chains by making them of roses, and bidding my fair gaoler
issue her orders in French, English, or Italian, as I fear my purse is
very empty of German coin; and if she have none other, the exchange
would be much against me."

"Fear not," replied the Princess; "we all speak French here. Come,
fair Countess, take your prisoner, treat him well, but watch him
carefully; and, to amuse his sad hours of captivity, show him all that
is worth seeing in our humble court."

The lady, to whom she spoke, was in the first rank of those on her
right; and William Lovet had no cause for dissatisfaction with his
fate for the evening. The lady was tall and fair, but sparkling with
beauty and youth; and a merry mouth, a sleepy and love-languid eye
presented to his imagination all those qualities best suited to his
taste. He was speedily in full career of jest and gallantry with his
fair companion, and seemed at first to make more progress with her
than Algernon Grey could boast with his partner for the night.

After a pause of a few moments, the Elector turned to the Marshall of
his household, and asked if any more guests were arriving or expected.
The reply was "None;" and waving his hand, the Prince said in a gay
tone; "Then, let us break off our state, and, for an hour or two,
enjoy ourselves with the rest. Lords and ladies, to your several
pastimes; and, according to a proverb, which I learned in England, let
us all be merry and wise."

Thus saying, he drew the arm of the Electress through his own, and
moved towards the doors of the hall. His departure was a signal for
the dispersion of the court; the ceremonial part of the evening's
occupations was at an end; and--ranging through the long suite of
rooms which had been thrown open, going forth into the gardens and
terraces--in general brightly illuminated by painted lanterns--some
seeking the dance, some conversation--each endeavoured to amuse
himself as best he might upon that night of festivity and rejoicing.




CHAPTER III.


The fate that hangs over the death-doomed race of man appalls us not.
We wander where generations have grown up and bloomed, borne fruit,
and passed away, without a homily in our hearts; we tread upon the
very graves of a thousand races, we walk over the huge burial place of
the world, and give not a thought to the fellow dust that sleeps
below. Strange and marvellous insensibility! whence does it spring? Is
it from mere levity that we thus rise above the deep thoughts of our
inevitable doom? Or is it from a high sense of loftier destinies, an
intimate conviction of the imperishable elevation of one part of our
mixed nature? Or is it indeed--more likely than either--that while we
see the spring of life still gushing forth and pouring out stream
after stream as each river is dried up, a consciousness steals over us
that we are but the parts of one beautiful whole undergoing
everlasting change to the glory of Him who made it all? We behold
creation full of life: the herb, the flower, the beating heart, the
pliant fin, the soaring wing, the thought-stored brain, all speak of
that strange mysterious fire which warms the universe, bursting out
wherever eye can reach or fancy penetrate, unextinguished,
unextinguishable but by the will that called it into being. We see,
and know it; and, instinct with the divine essence, rejoice in the
light that is granted, for the time that it can be enjoyed, while the
promise of its permanence and the hope of its increase shade over _the
one dark moment_ with a veil of gold.

Amidst buildings, that are now ruins, through scenes that are in a
great part desolate, over terraces and amongst parterres, now no
longer to be seen, was kept up, throughout that night, revel and
merriment and joy, without a thought given to the ages passed away, or
to those who had been denizens of earth and partakers of all earth's
pleasures, upon that same spot for unnumbered centuries before. The
present hour, the present hour! the joy of the existing short-lived
moment! the taste of the ripe fruit, without the cloud of the past or
the sun of the future! were then, are still, and may be for ever
hereafter, the sole occupation of the gay and happy spirits, such as
the guests there assembled.

It was too much so indeed; for, in those young days of bright domestic
happiness, Elizabeth of England and her joyous, lighthearted husband
drained to the dregs the joy-cup of prosperity and power; and,
educated in the ideas of, though differing in views from the queen of
James the First, the Electress was strongly tinged with those notions
of freedom bordering upon levity, which were entertained by Ann of
Denmark. Not that I mean for one moment to cast a stain upon a name,
with which history has dealt justly, I believe, in dealing tenderly;
but it is undoubted, that the Electress, if sufficiently reserved in
her own manners, and perfectly pure in her own conduct, gave great
encouragement, in the court of her husband, to that abandonment of
ordinary and conventional restraints, which can only be safe amongst
the high-minded and the chivalrous, and not always even then. She held
with Ann of Denmark, that women had as much right, and might be as
safely trusted with the entire and unwatched direction of their own
actions, as men; that those harsh restrictions and suspicious
guardianships, which have grown up out of a complicated and artificial
state of society, might well and wisely be dispensed with; and that
the sole cause of there being any danger to woman herself, or to the
world in general, from allowing her the same freedom, which man
monopolizes, was the early restraint, which denied experience, as the
guide of reason and the demonstration of principle.

Thus a degree of freedom--I will not call it license, for that is a
harsh term, and implies according to modern acceptation, much more
than I mean--reigned in the electoral court; and, although more than
seven hundred guests were there assembled on the night I speak of, in
addition to the noble part of a household numbering constantly more
than a thousand members, no one, unless from some private and peculiar
reason, thought it in the least necessary to watch the proceedings of
others, whether male or female. Doubtless the Electress was right in
many of the views she maintained, abstractedly speaking; but
unfortunately it happens, that to every theory, however just in
itself, certain small practical circumstances oppose themselves,
affecting its application most momentously. I will illustrate, in some
degree, what I mean. Formerly, in the silver mines of Spain, as at
present in the soil of Illyria, I believe, a certain mineral was to be
found very much resembling silver in colour--weighty, bright and
fluid. Taken in its native state, it is innocuous and very
inefficient; but add a few drops of a certain nearly colourless acid
to it, and it becomes a valuable medicine; add a few drops of another
acid, and it becomes the most virulent of poisons. Now the small
circumstances, for which no allowance is ever made, are the few drops
of acid, which in the furnace of the world render the most innocent
theory possible, either highly beneficial, or terribly pernicious. I
speak not, of course, of principles, for they are fixed; but merely of
theories at first sight indifferent.

However, such as I have stated, was the Court of the Elector Palatine
in the year one thousand six hundred and nineteen, and in the month of
August in that year: a period pregnant with great events, when the
fate of the Palatinate--nay, the fate of Europe--nay, immeasurably
more, the progress of society and the march of the human mind
throughout the whole world, hung trembling in the balance; and yet
there they were, the gay, the lighthearted, the enthusiastic, the
moveable, all, apparently, creatures of impulse alike, enjoying with
less restraint, than the world had often seen before, the happiness of
the present hour. Music and the dance, gay conversation, light jest
and playful wit had excited heads and hearts alike. The heat of the
saloons had become oppressive; the glare of the lamps and tapers had
dazzled and fatigued the eyes; the moving objects, the brilliant
dresses, the beaming jewels, the straining race after pleasure, had
become fatiguing to many; and some forty or fifty pairs, hand in hand,
or arm in arm, had wandered out to seek the refreshing coolness of the
gardens, to repose the mind, and invigorate the body in the fresh
night air of August, or else to tell the tale of love and seek its
return, under the broad green foliage of the trees, or the twinkling
eyes of the deep blue sky of night.

Algernon Grey and his fair companion stood side by side in one of the
deep windows of the hall where they had trod one dance, and he marked
the disappearance of many, who had been for some time in the same
chamber, by doors which led he knew not whither. Had the lady remained
as timidly distant as when first they met, perhaps he might have asked
no questions in regard to a subject which only excited a slight and
passing curiosity; but a change had come over them both.

It was seldom that Algernon Grey felt embarrassment or hesitation in
addressing the brightest or the fairest in the world. From a period,
generally reckoned within the round of boyhood, he had acted for
himself, except in some matters of deep moment; and, in regard to
those, the arrangements which had been made for him by his friends,
had, by fixing his fate, in several of its most important features,
irrevocably placed him beyond the circle of many events most fraught
with emotion for the heart of youth. But yet, there is something very
impressive in great beauty, especially in its first early dawn. With
the mature woman, there are a thousand avenues opened by her own
experience, to approach her fearlessly, if honestly. But the mind of a
very young girl, like the first bud of a rose, is hedged in by thorns,
through which we must force our way. In one of the German editions of
a fairy tale, called the "Sleeping Beauty in the wood," the knight,
who is destined to deliver the lady, has first to cut his path through
the forest before he can even approach the castle in which she lies
slumbering; and he never would have succeeded, had it not been for an
enchanted sword given him by a kind friend. I cannot help thinking,
that in the allegory, the Sleeping Beauty meant the confidence of a
young and inexperienced heart; and the sword which none of the trees
could resist, a high and noble spirit, possessed by one who sought to
approach it. With such a sword Algernon Grey was armed; and, although
he found some difficulty in choosing his path, fortune befriended him
at length. After two vain efforts which produced nothing in reply, but
those common-places, which showed that the lady was accustomed, more
than her years would have induced him to expect, to courts and the
world, he hit upon a happier theme, which obtained a longer answer and
touched deeper feelings. He had spoken of the Electoral court, he had
spoken of the fair Palatinate, he had spoken of the Elector and
Electress. Her replies were courtly, but from the surface. He then
spoke of England, of his own land, of the qualities of the people,
their truthfulness, their energy of character; and she warmed in an
instant. She often longed to see it, she said. She told him that it
was the cherished vision of her lonely moments, the hope of her heart,
the only eager and anxious desire she had; and when he expressed his
surprise that the distant island from which he came, could have
awakened such interest, she asked with a smile:--

"Do you not know that I am an Englishwoman? I have never seen England,
I have never known it; but yet I am an Englishwoman."

"Indeed," he said, instantly changing the language in which they had
been speaking to his own; "of English parents, you mean? I can well
conceive the land of our ancestors possesses a deep interest for any
one born afar, but yet, fair lady, you must be somewhat of an
enthusiast, also, to say that it is the only hope of your heart?"

"Perhaps I am," she answered with a smile, "but yet there is something
more in the thought of England, than the mere clinging of the heart to
the place of a long ancestry. Her very insulated situation seems to
impose upon her children, as a duty, to limit, in a degree, their
wishes and their feelings to the bounds of her sea-washed shores.
There is an interest in her solitary grandeur amongst the waves. Then
too, she has ever been the island-throne from which a long race of
mighty kings has shaken the destinies of all other lands, and ruled or
changed a world. History is full of England. It seems, to my eyes, as
if hers were the pervading spirit of all past chronicles--as if, like
an awful spectre, her image was always present amidst the festivals
and feuds of other states. Calm, grand, and sublime, she treads the
waters of earthly strife; and, while others are contending for petty
trifles amongst themselves, losing one day, winning another, the power
and glory of England marches on, if not unchecked, only the greater
for each temporary reverse. Freedom is her birth-right, home joys and
rural peace her ornaments; arts, arms, and poetry, the coronet on her
brow. Oh! it is a glorious land, indeed, and let them call us proud,
if they will! Thank God! we have something to be proud of."

Her eyes sparkled, her colour rose, her whole face beamed with
animation as she spoke; and Algernon Grey gazed at her with an
admiring smile. Perhaps he might fear that under the monarch then on
the English throne, their country might lose, for a time, that high
position in which her fancy placed it; but, at all events, the few
words then spoken broke down at once all cold barriers of reserve
between them; and from that moment they went on pouring forth the
thoughts of their hearts to each other, as if long years of intimacy
had linked their minds together.

"Whither are all these people wending, that I see depart?" asked
Algernon Grey, at length, as he marked the gradual thinning of the
rooms. "I trust this bright evening is not coming to a close?"

"Oh, no," she answered, "not for hours. They are going to the gardens,
I suppose, or anywhere they like. This is a free and liberal place,
fair sir, where each one does as he thinks fit, and others mind him
not."

"I would fain see these same gardens," said her companion, "if they be
within the bounds of my imprisonment."

"Come, then," she said, "why should we not? These rooms are very warm,
too; and we shall find fresher air without. Through that door, and
then down the stairs, will lead us out by the library-tower, amongst
the flowers and the green trees."

As she spoke, they moved towards the door, to which she pointed; and
they had nearly reached it, when the Baron of Oberntraut crossed their
path, and suddenly paused before them.

"I have lost my bet, sir," he said, in a somewhat sharp tone, "and
will send you the amount to your inn to-morrow."

"Oh, it matters not," answered Algernon Grey; "it was a foolish wager
of mine, and I can hardly call it fairly won; for I suspect, by a
smile I saw on your Prince's lip, that he remembers having seen me in
my own land, though I was but a mere boy then."

"I always pay my debts of all kinds, sir," replied the other; and
then, turning to the lady, he asked her to tread a measure with him,
when the dance began again.

"I cannot, noble sir," she replied coldly; "I have a task assigned me,
which I must perform. You heard the commands I received."

"Commands right willingly obeyed," answered Oberntraut; and, turning
sharply away, he left them.

"He is in an ill humour," said Algernon Grey, as, passing through two
or three rooms nearly deserted, they reached the top of a small
staircase, that led down towards the gardens. "He reasonably enough
made me a bet, that I would not obtain admission here, without
announcing my name or rank. I unreasonably preferred it, and, against
probability, have won."

"He is more wounded," answered Alice, "at his judgment having been
found in fault, than at the loss of the wager, be the amount what it
will. He is a liberal, free-hearted gentleman, whom success, high
birth, and flattery have rendered somewhat vain; but yet, from all I
hear and all I have ever seen, I should judge that at heart there are
few nobler or better men now living."

Algernon Grey mused for a moment; he knew not why, but her words gave
him pain; and they passed out, in silence, into the gardens, then
newly laid out by the famous Salomon de Caux. Nothing that profuse
expense and the taste and science of the day could effect, had been
left undone to render those gardens a miracle of art. Mountains had
been thrown down; valleys had been filled up; streams had been turned
from their course; and terrace above terrace, parterre beyond
parterre, fountains, grottos, statues, arcades, presented a scene
somewhat stiff and formal, indeed, but of a gorgeous and splendid
character; whilst, sweeping round, as if covering them with a green
mantle, came the mountains and forests of the Neckarthal. There were
lamps in many places, but such artificial light was little needed; for
the moon, within a few days of her full, was pouring a flood of
splendour over the scene, which showed even minute objects around. So
bright and beautiful was it, so white was the reflection from leaves
and gravel walks, and the fresh stonework of the garden, that, had not
the warm air told the presence of summer, Algernon Grey might have
fancied that snow had fallen since he entered the castle gates.

Numerous groups of persons were wandering hither and thither; and the
very colours of their clothing could be seen under the beams of the
bright moon. Among the very first of the gay parties, which passed the
young Englishman and his companion, as they walked along the upper
terrace, towards the broad flight of steps that led down into the
lower garden, was his gay friend, William Lovet, walking with the lady
who had been assigned as his guide through the night. Right merry they
both seemed to be; and we may as well follow them for a moment or two,
to show the contrast between Lovet and his fellow-traveller.

"Love and constancy," cried Lovet, with a laugh, just as they passed
Algernon Grey, "two things, dear lady, perfectly incompatible. The
very essence of love is in change; and you know, in your heart, that
you feel it. It is but that you wish to bind all your slaves to you by
chains of iron, while you yourself roam free."

"Chains of brass would suit such an impudent man as you better,"
answered the lady, in the same gay tone; "but I can tell you, I will
have no lovers who will not vow eternal constancy."

"Oh! I will vow," answered Lovet, "as much as you like; I have got a
stock of vows, which, like the fountain of the Nile, is inexhaustible;
and ever goes on swelling in the summer; I'll overflow with vows, if
that be all; I'll adjure, protest, swear, kneel, sigh, weep, and vow
again, as much as any true knight in Christendom. You shall believe me
as constant as the moon, the sea, or the wind, or any other fixed and
steadfast thing--nay, the moon is the best image, after all; for she,
like me, is constant in inconstancy. Still hovering round the planet
of her love, though she changes every hour; and so will I. I will love
you ever dearly, though I vary with each varying day."

"And love a dozen others every day," answered the lady, laughing.

"To be sure," he cried; "mine is a large and capacious heart; no
narrow peasant's crib, which can contain but one. Fie on such penury!
I would not be such a poor pitiful creature, as to have room but for
one fair friend in my bosom, for all the riches of Solomon, that great
king of innumerable wives and wisdom super-excellent. For me, I make
it an open profession; I love the whole sex, especially while they are
young and pretty."

"You are laughing at me and trying to tease me," exclaimed the lady,
piqued and yet pleased; "but you cannot do it, and never shall. You
may think yourself a very conquering person; but I set no value on
love that, like a beggar's garment, has fitted thousands in its day,
and must be patched and ragged."

"Good as new, good as new!" cried Lovet, "without break or flaw. The
trials it has undergone but prove its excellence. Love is of adamant,
polished but not broken by use. But you dare me, dear lady--you defy
me, methinks. Now that is a bold and courageous act; and we will see
the result. No fortress so strong but it has some weak point, and the
castle that fires off its ordnance at the first sight of an enemy, is
generally very much afraid of being taken by surprise. The little
traitor is busy at your heart, even now, whispering that there is
danger; for he knows right well that the best means of reducing a
place, is to spread a panic in the garrison."

In the mean while, the very name of love had only been mentioned once,
between Agnes and Algernon. Their minds were busied, especially at
first, with aught else on earth. He certainly thought her very
beautiful; more beautiful, perhaps, than any one he had ever seen; but
it was rather as an impression than a matter of reflection. He felt
it, he could not but feel it; yet he did not pause upon the idea. For
her part, neither did she think of his personal appearance. His
countenance was one that pleased her; it seemed expressive of a noble
heart and a fine intellect; she would have known him out of all the
world, if she had met him years afterwards and had only seen him then
but once. Yet, had she been asked to describe his person, she could
not have told one feature of his face. When they reached the bottom of
the flight of steps, they paused and looked up to the castle, as it
stood upon its rock above, with the enormous masses and towers
standing out dark and irregular in the moonlight sky; while the hills
swept in grand variety around, and the valley opened out beyond,
showing the plain of the Rhine flooded with moonlight.

"This is, indeed, magnificent and beautiful," said Algernon Grey. "I
have seen many lands, and, certainly, never did I think to behold in
this remote and untravelled part, a scene which eclipses all that I
ever beheld before."

"It is very beautiful," answered Agnes; "and although I have been a
tenant of that castle now many a year, I find that the fair land in
which it lies, like the society of the good and bright, only gains by
long acquaintance. To me, however, it has charms it cannot have to
you. There dwell those I have loved best through life, there all who
have been kind to me in childhood: the protectors of my infancy, the
friends of my youth. It has more to me than the scene and its
beauties; and when I gaze at the castle, or let my eye run along the
valley, I see through the whole the happy home, the pleasant place of
repose. Faces of friends look out at me from every window and every
glade, and loved voices sound on every breeze. They are not many; but
they are sweet to my heart."

"And I, too," answered Algernon Grey, "though I can see none of these
things that you can see, behold much more than the mere lines and
tints. As I entered the court but an hour or two ago, and looked up at
the various piles that crowded round, some in the freshness of a
holiday youth in his best clothes sent home from school, some in the
russet livery of age, and some almost crumbling to their earth again,
I could not but picture to myself the many scenes which those walls
have beheld; the loves, the hopes, the pleasures, the griefs, the
disappointment, the despair, the troublous passions, the calm
domestic joys--even the pleasant moments of dreamy idleness, and the
phantasm-forming hours of twilight--all that the past has seen upon
this spot seemed to rise before me in tangible forms, and sweep across
in long procession with smiles and tears alternate on their cheeks;
and all the while the musicians under the stone canopy, appeared in
their gay and spirit stirring tones to read a curious comment on the
whole."

"What might their comment be?" asked the lady, gazing up in his face
with a look of interest.

"They seemed to say," he answered, "Joy thou too, young heart! All is
transient, all are shadows. Taste thy morning in its prime. Be thy
noontide firm and strong, strew thine evening path with flowers,
embrace the right, eschew the wrong, and fear not when the coming
hours shall gather thee to join that train which sweeps along."

"Why, it is verse!" cried Agnes, smiling.

"Not quite," he answered, "but so fancy made their sounds, words; and
the cadence of the music added a sort of measure."

"'Twas sweet counsel and good of that kind dame, Imagination,"
rejoined the fair girl, "and yet, though the command was to be gay,
your words, fair sir, are somewhat sad."

"Let us be gay then," he replied.

"With all my heart," she cried: "but what shall we be gay about?"

"Nay, if we have to search for a theme, better be as we are," answered
the young Englishman, "nature is ever best; the mood of the moment is
the only one that is worth having, because it is the only one that is
true. It will change when it is time. But you are by nature gay, is it
not so?"

"Oh, yes!" she answered, "I am gay as a free bird. Nay, good Dr.
Scultetus, the court chaplain, would persuade me often I am light--but
methinks not that; for I have felt many things long and deeply."

"And amongst them, love?" asked her companion.

"Oh, yes!" replied she, in a frank yet playful tone, "I have loved
deeply and truly."

Algernon Grey was silent for a moment. He would have given much to
have asked, "Whom?" but he did not venture, and the next instant the
beautiful girl went on in a tone that reproved him for the question he
had put.

"I have loved my parents," she said, "deeply and well--though one of
them I cannot remember--I have loved my friends--I do love my
princess."

"It was not of such love I spoke," he answered, gazing down at her
earnestly.

"Then, I know no other," she replied, "do you?"

"Oh, yes, many," he said, laughing; "there is a warmer, a more
sparkling, I might almost call it, a fiercer kind of love, which every
man, who has mingled a good deal in the world, must have seen in its
effects, if he have not experienced it in his person.--But I am not in
a confessional," continued he; "and so I shall say no more."

"And yet you would put me in one," she answered gaily; "but certainly
when I go there, I will have a more reverend father-confessor; for
methinks, you are given to asking questions, which I may not be
inclined to answer."

Her companion paused in meditation during a moment or two; for her
words raised a certain degree of doubt in his mind, as to whether she
belonged to the Protestant or to the Catholic party, who, at the time
I write of, lived together in the various towns of Germany, rather
enduring than tolerating each other. It seemed a night of frankness,
however, when questions might be easily asked, which would be
impertinent at a graver and more reserved moment; and he demanded, at
length, in a light tone: "Pray, tell me, before I say more, are you
one of those who condemn all Protestants to fire and faggot here and
in the other world, or of those who think the power of the Pope an
intolerable burden and the doctrines of that church heretical?"

"Oh, I understand you," she said, after a moment's thought; "you would
ask of what religion I am, and laugh a little at both, to put your
question in a form not uncivil to either. But if you needs must know,
I will tell you thus much--I was born a Protestant."

"_Born_ a protestant!" Algernon Grey exclaimed; "that seems to me a
new way of becoming one."

"Nay, I don't know," she answered; "I believe it is the way one-half
the world receive their religion, whatever it may be."

"Right," he said, "right! You are right, and I was wrong--not only
their religion, but half their views. You were born a Protestant, and
so was I; but I must say, happy are those whose reason, when it
becomes mature, confirms the principles they have received in their
youth. So it has been with me; and, I trust, with you also."

"Nay, I do not know that my reason is mature," replied the lady, with
a smile: "but everything I have thought and read leads me to think
that I cannot be wrong. It seems to me that the religion, which was
taught to fishermen by its Divine author, to be preached to all the
world, may be well read, and studied unadorned, by the descendants of
the world that then existed: it seems, to me, that if priests married
they were as likely to be as good priests, and better men; it seems to
me, that when our religion teaches to confess our faults one to
another, there was no thought of setting apart a particular order of
men to be the registrars of all our wickedness, but rather to correct
that stubborn pride which hardens us in evil, by inducing us to deny
our guilt. Moreover, I think that the habit of bowing down before
pieces of stone and wood, of praying to sinners like ourselves when
they are dead, and of kissing solemnly a piece of ivory on a cross, is
something very like idolatry.--But I know little of all these things.
I read the Bible, and am convinced myself; and yet I cannot make up my
mind to think that good men, with faith in a Saviour, will perish
eternally because they judge differently. Now you have won from me an
account of my faith; but pray do not tell any one; for half our clergy
would think I was part papist, and the other half part fool."

"You have thought of these things deeply, at all events," replied
Algernon Grey, "and that is something, where so few think at all."

"Oh, one cannot help thinking of these things here, where one hears
little else from morning till night; but I have thought of them, too,
for other reasons," she said more gravely. "One has need of
consolations in this world, at times. There is but one true source
from which they flow; and before we drink at that source, it is
needful to ascertain if the stream be pure. Still we are very grave,"
she continued: "Heaven help us! if they did but know in yon gay
saloons of what we two here are talking in the gardens, they would
open their eyes with wonder, and perhaps their lips with laughter."

"Well, then, we will change our tone," continued Algernon Grey; "come,
let us range along those higher terraces, where I see a long line of
arches, tall, and slim, and one beyond another, like the fragment of a
Roman aqueduct striding across the valley."

"Gladly," she answered; "the air will be cooler there, for it is
higher; and we shall have it all to ourselves; for the gay world of
the court will linger down here till the trumpets sound to supper. I
love the high free air and solitude. One draws a finer breath upon the
mountains, and I often wish I were an eagle to soar above their jagged
tops and drink the breath of heaven itself. But here comes your gay
companion, and the fair lady of Laussitz."

"Who may she be?" inquired the young Englishman.

"A very pretty lady, somewhat gay," replied his companion; "but you
must forgive me, my good captive, if I tell you nought of the ladies
of this court. In truth, I know very little; for I hear much that I do
not believe, much that I cannot be sure of; and, though I see
sometimes what I would not see, yet I would fain judge all charitably,
and put no harsh construction on other people's acts."

As she spoke Lovet and the fair countess passed at some little
distance; and certainly, to all appearance, he had made some progress
to intimacy in a marvellous short space of time. She might be
fatigued, it is true--it might be but an idle habit she had gained;
but still, the arm that was passed through his let the fair hand drop
till it met her left hand, which she had raised, and the round but
taper fingers of either were intertwined together. The head, slightly
inclined over the left shoulder, drooped somewhat forward, as if the
eyes were cast upon the ground, while the ear was raised to catch
his words. There was a languor in her figure and in her air, an
ill-assured step, a certain feebleness, as if some powers of mind or
body were failing. It was his voice spoke as they passed. "Nay,
nonsense," he said; "these are all idle nothings, bugbears set up to
make the grown children of the world good boys. Come, fair one, come;
do not assume a pettish anger that you do not feel. Love was made for
such a heart as yours, and such an hour for love," and, bending down
his head, he added somewhat more.

"How dare you," said the lady in a low voice, "on my life, you are too
bold; I will leave you, I will, indeed."

But she did not leave him; and, for more than an hour afterwards, they
might be seen wandering about those gardens, arm in arm, affecting
solitary places.

It is strange how often good and evil take nearly the same forms--how
that which is bright and pure seeks the same scenes with all that is
most opposite, but finds a different treasure there; as the bee will
draw honey from the aconite, whence others will extract the deadly
poison. In the bland innocence of her heart, the bright being by
Algernon Grey's side led him on to the most lonely parts of the
garden, wandered with him where there was no eye to watch them; and,
mounting one high flight of steps after another, passed along the
whole extent of that grand terrace, raised upon its stupendous arches,
the encumbered remains of which may still be seen overhanging the
valley of the Neckar. But there, at the verge, they paused, gazing
forth on the moonlight scene around; marking the manifold gradations
of the shadow and the light, as mass after mass of wood and castle,
mountain and rock, city and plain, faded off into one gentle hue of
grey mingled with gold. A thousand were the images called up in the
minds of each, by the objects that their eyes beheld; a thousand were
the associations and the allusions to which they gave birth. Wide and
erratic as is ever the course of fancy, soaring into the heights of
the highest heaven, and plunging into the deepest depths below, never,
perhaps, had her wing seemed more untiring, more wild and eccentric,
than with those two young hearts on that eventful night--eventful in
every way to themselves, to those around them, to Europe, to the
world, to the march of society, to the enlightenment of the human
mind, to the eternal destinies of all man's race.

To what fundamental changes, in everything that affects man's best
interests, did not that nineteenth of August give rise!

The destiny that hung above them, without their knowing it, seemed to
have some mysterious influence upon the minds and characters of both.
The barrier of cold formality was broken down between them; each
poured forth the thoughts of the bosom as to an old familiar friend.
Agnes felt herself irresistibly impelled--carried away, she knew not
how or why--to speak to her companion as she had never spoken to man
before. She fancied it was, that she had, for the first time, found a
spirit congenial to her own; and certain it is, that there is a magic
in the first touch of sympathy, which awakens Bleeping powers in the
heart, develops undiscovered stores of thought and feeling, and brings
to light the bright things of the soul. But surely there was something
more in it than this. Upon that hour, upon that moment hung the
destinies of each; though neither had one thought that such could be
the case, though of all things it seemed the most improbable, though
he was a wandering stranger, purposing but to stop a few days in the
place; and she seemed fixed down to it and its associations for life.
Yet so it was; and had aught been different between them; had she
remained in the mere timidity of the young girl, or in the cold
courtesy of new acquaintance; had he maintained the usual proud and
lofty air which he assumed in general with women, how different would
have been their late through life! The varied scenes through which
they were to pass, the distant lands which they were destined to
visit, would never have beheld them together; and that night would
have been but a pleasant dream, to be recollected amidst the dull
realities of life.

It was otherwise, however. She was so young, so gentle, so bright, so
beautiful, that her society acted as a charm, waking him from a sort
of dull and heavy torpor which had been cast over his heart by an
event that had taken place in his boyhood--a counter-spell, which
dissipated one that had chained up the current of his youthful blood
in cold and icy bonds. He gave way to all he felt, to all the pleasure
of the moment. Their conversation freed itself from all ceremonious
shackles; both seemed to feel that they could trust fully in each
other, and spoke, as feeling dictated, with no reserve and no
misunderstanding. The flight of thought became gayer, too, naturally
and easily; and as Agnes gave way to the high and buoyant spirit of
youth, her young fancies soared and twinkled, like the wings of a lark
in the sunshine; while Algernon Grey, with a firmer and more steady
flight, seemed like a spirit beside her spirit, guiding her on, higher
and higher, into the world of space open to the human mind.

Suddenly, as they thus rambled on together, through the remote parts
of the gardens, they heard the sounds of distant trumpets, blowing
clear and loud; and Agnes, with a start, turned to her companion,
saying: "That is the call to supper. Our evening is coming to an end;
do not think me too strange and free, if I say that I am sorry for
it."

"Nay," answered he, "why should I think you so, when I, with far more
cause, feel the same most deeply. We may, perhaps, never meet again,
fair lady; but I shall always remember this night as one undimmed in
its brightness, without a spot to chequer it, without a shade, or a
regret. I do think you free and at ease; more so, perhaps, than I
expected: more so than many would have been, older in the world's ways
than yourself--but not too free; and I can well conceive that the long
sojourn in a court like this has removed all cold restraint from your
manner."

"Oh, no," she said, "it is not that! I never mingle with the court
when I can help it. The ease I have shown to-night has depended,
partly on myself, partly on you."

"Let me hear more," he answered; "I do not clearly understand you."

"Well, then," she said, "I am habitually free and at ease; because I
am sure of myself--because I feel that I never mean wrong; and do not
know that I have any thoughts I could wish to conceal. Let those who
doubt themselves fear to show their heart as it is; thanks to wise
friends and careful guidance, mine has no part that may not be open.
Then, as to your share: you have treated me in a manner different from
that which most men would assume to most women. I could scarcely lay
my finger upon one of all that court, who, sent with me, like you,
throughout this night, would not have tried to please my ear with
tales of love and praises of my beauty, long, stupid, and
insignificant as a cricket on the hearth. Had you done so, my manner
might have been very different."

Her companion did not reply for a moment or two; but then said, with a
smile: "It seems to me that there must be something both vain and
insulting in supposing that a woman will willingly listen to tales of
love from a man who has known her but a few hours--he must think her
very light and himself very captivating."

"We poor women," she answered, "are bound to gratitude towards your
sex, even for forbearance; and therefore, it is, I thank you for not
having held me so lightly."

"I am far more than repaid," he rejoined, as she guided him down the
steps into the lower garden, saying that they must hasten on, and that
was the shortest way.

Passing round under the high banks formed by the casting down of a
great part of the hill, called the Friesenberg, they had crossed one
half of the gardens and were walking on at a spot where the shadow of
one of the great towers fell deep upon the green turf, when suddenly a
tall figure seemed to rise out of the earth close beside them, passed
them, and disappeared. For an instant the lady clung to her
companion's arm as if in terror; but then, the moment after, she
laughed gaily, saying: "This place has so many superstitious legends
attached to it that they cling to one's fancy whether one will or not.
If I ever see you again, I will tell you one about this very spot; but
we have not time now; for in ten minutes after that trumpet-sound, the
Elector will be at table."

We will not go on to visit the banquet that followed, to contemplate
its splendour, or criticise the ceremonies there observed. It were an
easy matter to describe it, for we have many a dull relation of many a
gay feast of the time; but, in this work, I have not in view to paint
the mere customs and manners of the age, except incidentally, but
rather to show man's heart and feelings undisguised, and exhibit their
true proportions, stripped of a gaudy but disfiguring robe of
ceremony.




CHAPTER IV.


How often an aching head or an aching heart is the follower of a gay
night like that of the nineteenth of August, those who have much
mingled with, or much watched, the world well know. In the commerce of
life we are too apt to reverse the usual course of all reasonable
traffic, and purchase with short present pleasure a vast amount of
future grief and care. The bargain is a bad one, but made every day;
and even at the table, in the ball-room, and in many another scene,
this same losing trade is going on, with the bitter day of reckoning
on the morrow.

How is it with Algernon Grey, as he sits there in the large gloomy
chamber, with his head leaning on his hand, his eyes gazing vacantly
forth through the narrow window? The servants come and go; and he
notices them not. The table is laid for breakfast, but the meal
remains untasted. Busy sounds rise up from without and float through
the half open casement; the gay and cheering laugh, the light song,
the chattered conversation, the cry of the vender of early grapes, the
grating noise of wheels, or that of horses' feet, and through the
whole a lively hum, indistinct but merry to the ear. Nevertheless, he
hears not a sound, buried in the deep thoughts of his own heart.

Is it that the brow is aching? or that languor and feverish heat reign
in those strong and graceful limbs? Oh, no. The whole frame is free
from pain; fresh, vigorous, and fit for instant action. Is there any
word, spoken the night before, any deed done, that he would recall,
yet cannot? Not so. He has nought to reproach himself with; conscience
has no accusing voice.

What is it then? He communes with his own heart; and a dark
overshadowing cloud comes between him and the sun of happiness. It is
a shadow from the past; but it extends over all the present, and far
and vague into the future.

The first thing that roused him, was the entrance of his gay friend,
William Lovet, who came to share the meal with him. Nevertheless,
Algernon did not perceive his approach, till he was close to him, and
laid his hand upon his shoulder, saying:--

"Heaven and earth, Algernon! what has made thee so moody, man? There
must be something in the air of this foul city, that--with such a
bright vision as that of last night to gladden your way--one stain of
care should be found upon your brow."

His friend roused himself instantly, and answered gaily, though not
without an effort: "I must think sometimes, William; it is a part of
my nature. One little drop of thought fell into my clay when it was
kneading. Thank your stars that none such entered into your
composition.--But let us to breakfast, my appetite tells me that the
hour has somewhat passed."

"Appetite," cried Lovet, taking his seat; "tell not the bright-eyed
Agnes of your having so coarse and vulgar a thing. She will think your
love forsworn and all your fidelity false and fickle, if you do more
than eat one slice out of that partridge breast, or drink aught but
sour Rhenish throughout the day. But seriously, and upon my life, with
solemn earnestness, I do declare, never was such a glorious chance as
has fallen to the lot of each of us. Had we culled the whole court, I
fancy, we could have found nought more charming; and we must stay here
at least a month, to profit by Dame Fortune's favours."

"A very sweet companion I had," answered Algernon Grey, coldly; "but
no vows did I make, no fidelity did I swear, my good friend."

"Heaven and earth!" cried Lovet, "did one ever hear of such a thing as
a man travelling with another upon equal terms, and yet leaving him
all the hard work to do? Swear! why I swore till my joints ached and
my teeth were sadly damaged; and as to vows, two Dutch barks, broad in
the bow, broad in the stern, and deep enough in the hold to hide ten
Dutchmen upon an elephant, would not hold one-half of the cargo that I
landed safely at yon lady's feet last night. Let me see, what is her
name? I have it somewhere, written from her own sweet lips--Countess
of Laussitz!--Matilda, too, by the mark! A good name, a marvellous
good name, is it not, Algernon? Musical, pretty, soft, soothing,
loveable. But never go anywhere without tablets! See what service mine
have been to me! Many a fair prospect is spoiled by a mistake in the
name. Call Matilda Joan, or Louisa Deborah, and you are ruined for
ever;--Matilda, Countess of Laussitz! Charming! Sweet! Bless her soft
eyes and her sweet lips; they are worth the best diamond in the
Mogul's turban. And so you positively did not swear fidelity, nor vow
vows? The lady must have thought you marvellously stupid."

While he had been speaking he had not failed to do justice to the good
things on the table. Nor had Algernon Grey shown any lack of appetite,
applying himself more stoutly to eat his breakfast than to answer his
companion's light raillery. At length, however, he replied: "She did
not seem to think so; or, perhaps, she was too courteous to express
it; but, at all events, my evening spent with her was a very pleasant
one, though neither love, nor vows, nor sighing, had any share
therein."

"And yet, methinks, you went into very sighing places," answered
Lovet, laughing; "you affected the groves and solitary terraces, as
well as others, whom you wot of; and then linked arm in arm, with eyes
cast down and sweet low voices, if something warmer than a prologue to
a mystery, or a descant on the moon, did not enter into your gentle
communion, methinks you must have been worse than Hecla; for, though
it be all ice, they say, yet there is fire at the heart; and that
girl's eyes and lips were enough to set any one's blood in a flame,
even if it were naturally cold as a toad's. Come, come, Algernon, no
such reserve between us; let us speak freely of our loves, and we may
help each other."

"On my life! William, I have none to speak of," answered his
companion, warmly. "You may make love to whom you like, for you are
free; but with me it is very different."

"Nonsense," exclaimed the other; "the circumstances are the same in
both cases, only the position is reversed. If I am free, she is
married; did you not see her husband there?--a fat, white-faced man,
not so high as a musquetoon. But what is that to me? The love of a
month does not trouble itself about matrimony; and my great
grandmother's starched ruff is, of all things, the emblem that I hate;
for she dared not even kiss her daughter for fear of its crumpling.
Why should you heed, either? A little pardonable polygamy is an
excellent good receipt for keeping the taste fresh by constant
variety. Heaven help me! if all my wives were counted throughout the
cities of civilized Europe, I fear I should have to transfer me to
Turkey, and lodge next door to the Sublime Porte."

Algernon Grey smiled, whether he would or not, at his friend's account
of himself, but still he answered seriously: "The case is this,
William; whatever I may judge I have a right to do myself; there is
one thing, I am sure, I have no right to do, which is, to make a
young, gay, happy heart, unhappy, sad, and old,--ay, I say _old_; for
the touch of disappointed love is as withering as the hand of Time.
No, no, I have no right to do that!"

"Good faith! you are most scrupulously wrong, my noble cousin,"
answered Lovet, "and do injustice both to yourself and others. Man,
and woman too, were born for pleasure; changing, varying, at each step
we take. It is a sort of duty in my eyes to give every human being
brought in contact with me whatever joy I can afford them; and I
should as much think of refusing a poor fellow a good dinner, for fear
he should not have one to-morrow, as fail to make love to a pretty
lady who expects it; because I cannot go on loving her all my life.
Every woman has a pleasure in being made love to, and I say, Out upon
the niggard who will not give her a share of it when he has the
opportunity. Every man to his own whim, however; for, after all, these
are nought but whims, or the effects of a most pragmatical education.
But follow your own course, follow your own course, and go on picking
the bare bone of a very musty morality, fancying it all the while
venison and capon. Perhaps, after all, you are nought but a true and
devoted knight and lover; and the thought of the rare beauty you left
four or five years ago in England, like a certain composition of salt
and nitre in a pickling-pan, may be preserving you, uncorrupted as a
neat's tongue, sound and safe, but somewhat hard and shrivelled
withal. Well, she is a glorious creature, it must be confessed; and I,
being your cousin and hers too, may venture to confess, without
suspicion of flattery, that rarely have I seen beauty equal to hers.
The bud has burst into the rose since you left it, and though there
may be a thorn or two, the flower is well worth gathering."

Algernon Grey mused and answered in a thoughtful tone, as if arguing
with himself. "Taste is a strange thing," he said, "marvellously
strange! Who can give reason for his likings and dislikings?--and yet
there must be some course of reasoning below them all. Or is it
instinct, William, that teaches us instantly to appreciate and seek
that which is suitable to ourselves? There are several kinds of
beauty--"

"True, noble cousin," answered Lovet, in a bantering tone.

"Ay, but two very distinct classes into which all minor differences
perhaps may be arranged," his friend continued.

"Perhaps so," rejoined the other; "let us hear more of the two ranks."

"Why there is first," replied Algernon Grey, "that sort of beauty
which dazzles and surprises--brilliant and commanding, I think men
call it--the bold firm eye, the Juno frown, the look of fiery passion,
sparkling as a diamond but as hard, bright as a sword but oftentimes
as ready to wound. With me it alarms rather than attracts, rouses to
resistance instead of subduing."

"Go on," said Lovet, in a quiet but meaning tone, "I understand."

"Then there is the other sort," his friend continued, "that which wins
rather than triumphs; the gentle, the gay, more than the keen and
bright; yielding to, rather than demanding love; the trusting, the
confiding look, instead of the ruling and commanding; the lip where
smiles seem to find their native home; the soft half-shaded eye full
of veiled light, speaking at times the sportiveness of innocent
thought, under which may lie, concealed against the time of need,
higher and stronger powers of heart and mind."

Lovet had become graver as his companion went on; and when he ended,
replied with some warmth, "Ay, indeed, such beauty as that might well
win love for life, and he would be a fool who found it and let any
idle obstacle prevent his purchase of so rare a jewel; but it is a
dream of your fancy, Algernon. Imagination has laid on those delicate
colours, and you will never see the original of the portrait. Each man
has in his own heart his own image of perfection, always sought for
but rarely found. If once he meets it, let him beware how it escapes
him. He will never see its like again. I am no enthusiast, as you well
know--I have seen too much of life; but here--all levity as you think
me--did I find once the creature that fancy early drew as the
companion of my days, and had hope of winning her love, I tell you,
Algernon, there is not that consideration on the earth I would not
cast behind me for the great joy of making her mine for ever: no, not
one--rank, station, wealth, the world's esteem, all cold and formal
dogmas, devised by knaves and listened to by fools. I would bend all
to that. My own habitual lightness, the sneer and jest of gay
companions, the censure of the grave and reverend, the fear of outcry
and invective, and all the idle babble of the world, would weigh but
as a feather in the balance against the lifelong dream of happiness
which such an union would call up."

When he had spoken--and he did so with fire and eagerness altogether
unlike himself--he leaned his head upon his hand, and fell apparently
into profound thought for several minutes. Algernon Grey, too, mused,
and his meditation lasted longer than his companion's, for he was
still in a deep reverie when Lovet started up, exclaiming, "But it is
all in vain!--Come, Algernon, let us not think--it is the most
irrational waste of time that can be devised. We are but Fate's
monkeys. She keeps us here in this cage of earth and throws us what
crumbs she will. Happy is he who catches them quickest. What are you
for today? I am for the castle to worship at my little shrine, unless
I hear from my saint to the contrary before the clock strikes eleven."

"Some time in the day I must go up, too," replied his friend; "in
courtesy, we must both do so to show our thankfulness for our kind
reception; but before I go, I must away into the town to seek out
worthy Dr. Henry Alting, this renowned professor, to whom my uncle,
his old friend, sent me a letter by your hands."

"Then, you may as well publish your name at the market-cross if there
be one," answered Lovet; "it will be given out from the chair of
philosophy this morning, and over the whole town ere noon."

"No, no," replied the other, with a smile, "my uncle humours my
whim--he is Astrea struck and loves all wild exploits. In his letter,
I am but called his young kinsman, Master Algernon Grey, and the good
doctor will be ignorant of all the rest."

"Well, well, I care not," answered Lovet; "it is no affair of mine. I
transformed myself into William Lovet to please you, and though,
certainly, the plan has its conveniences for every one but the staid
and most line-and-rule gentleman who devised it, yet I am ready to
appear in my own feathers to-morrow should need be."

"Perhaps, thinking you will appear to more advantage, Will," replied
Algernon Grey, with an effort to be gay; "however, there is no fear.
Our borrowed plumage will last as long as we may want it, if we take
care not to soil our own feathers underneath."

"Now, corpo di Baccho!" cried Lovet, "I admire you again. That last
morality in metaphor was worthy of a saint in orange tawny velvet, or
my fair cousin, Algernon. I have hopes of you, whenever you begin to
deal in tropes and figures. At least, you are not dull then, which is
something. That glorious trio, wit, wisdom, and wantonness can then
claim some share in you, and there is a chance of the man who has
thrown away his youth and his youth's powers in cold asceticism,
trying to warm his age with the fire of profligacy. It is a common
case and will be yours, Algernon, for the man who commits not youthful
follies, is sure in the end to take up with reverend vices.--But do
you agree to my plan; a month here,--but one poor month; and if I win
not my fair lady in that time, I shall be right ready to slink away
like a cur that has been kicked out for attempting to steal a
marrow-bone. You can attend lectures in the mean time, and learn from
the skull-cap of old bald-headed Scultetus, to carry yourself evenly
on slippery places."

"Well, stay what time you like," replied Algernon Grey. "If I find
cause, I can go on a stage or two and wait for you. At present, I will
forth to find out this renowned professor. Should you be gone ere my
return, leave tidings of your doings for my guidance."

Thus saying, he left him, and as he went, William Lovet gazed after
him till the door was shut. Then a somewhat bitter smile curled his
lip, and after a moment's thought, he muttered, "Limed! limed! or I am
much mistaken.--Ay, ay, I know the sort of beauty that you have so
tenderly described.--A month! Stay but a month, and if I judge her
right, and know man's heart, you are plunged in beyond recall."




CHAPTER V.


Preceded by a Knecht, as he was called, of the inn, in a close-fitting
jacket, wide brown breeches, and blue stockings, Algernon Grey walked
through the narrow and tortuous streets of Heidelberg towards the
residence of a man then renowned for his wit and wisdom, though we
know not at the present day upon what this fame was founded. Although
it was the custom in those times for gay gallants to ruffle through
the streets with a long train of servants, badged, liveried, and
armed, no one accompanied the young Englishman, except the man to show
him the way. At that hour of the morning--it was now near eleven--few
persons were to be seen abroad; for the student was busy at his book,
the shopkeeper labouring in his vocation. Those who did appear, were
all in their particular costume, distinctive of class and station. You
could have laid your finger upon any man in the whole town and named
at once his occupation from his dress. Nor was this custom, which
assigned peculiar garments to each peculiar class, without many great
advantages, besides the mere picturesque effect. But it is in vain to
regret that these things have passed away; they were parts of the
spirit of that age, an age fond of distinctions; and now in the fusion
of all classes, which has taken place, where no distinctions are
suffered to remain but that of wealth, the keeping up of peculiar
costumes would be an idle shadow of a thing no longer existing.

Amidst close rows of tall houses--the narrow windows of which
displayed no costly wares--and, here and there, through the rows of
booths erected before the doors, in which the tradesmen were then
accustomed to display their goods for sale, Algernon Grey walked on
for about five minutes, from time to time asking a question of his
guide, who never replied without humbly doffing his little cap, and
adding, "Honourable sir," or "Noble gentleman," to every sentence. It
was another trait of the times and the country.

At length the man stopped at the open door of a tall dull looking
house, and informed his companion, that he would find Dr. Alting on
the second floor; and mounting the long, cold, broad steps of stone,
Algernon Grey found his way up to the rooms of him he sought. A fresh,
sturdy, starched servant wench, who instantly caught his foreign
accent, and thereupon made up her mind not to understand a word he
said, was at length brought to introduce him to the presence of her
master; and following her along a narrow passage, the young Englishman
was ushered into a room, such as the general appearance of the house
had given little reason to expect. It was wide, handsome, overhung by
a fine carved oak ceiling, and furnished all round with large
bookcases, richly carved, containing the treasured collection of a
long life in every shape and form, from the enormous folio to the most
minute duodecimo.

At a heavy oaken table, near one of the windows, sat two gentlemen, of
different age and appearance. One was a man with white hair and beard,
whose sixtieth summer would never come again. He was dressed in a long
loose gown of some black stuff; and, on his head, which probably was
bald, he wore a small crushed velvet cap. His face was fine and
intelligent; and, from beneath the thick, overhanging eyebrow shone
out a clear and sparkling eye.

The other was habited in a coat of buff leather, not very new, but
laced with gold. His cloak was a plain, brown broad-cloth, a good deal
fresher than his coat; and on his legs he wore a pair of those large
funnel-shaped boots, which seemed intended to catch all the rain or
dust that might fall or fly. His heavy rapier lay along his thigh; but
beyond this he was unarmed; and his hat with its single feather rested
beside him. In age he might be about fifty. His strong black hair and
pointed beard were somewhat grizzled; but there was no sign of decay
in form or feature. His teeth were fine and beautifully white; his
face rough with exposure, but not wrinkled; his frame was strong,
tall, and powerful; and the bold contour of the swelling muscles could
be seen through the tight sleeve of his coat. His face was a very
pleasant one, grave but not stern, thoughtful but not sad; and, as he
turned sharply round in his chair at the opening of the door, a faint
recollection of his features, as if he had seen them before, or some
very like them, came across the young Englishman's mind.

With his usual calm self-possession, Algernon Grey advanced straight
towards the seat of the gentleman in black, and, with a few words of
introduction, presented a letter. Dr. Alting rose to receive him, and,
for a single instant, fixed his keen grey eyes upon his visitor's face
with a look the most intent and searching. The glance was withdrawn
almost as soon as given; and then, courteously putting forward a seat
he opened the letter and read. The moment after he took Algernon's
hand and shook it heartily, exclaiming, "So, sir, you are a kinsman of
this good lord, my old and much respected friend. Ever to see him
again is beyond my hopes; but it is something to have before me one of
his race. What, if I may ask, brings you to Heidelberg? If you come in
search of learning, here you can find it amongst my reverend brethren
of the University. If in search of gaiety and pleasure, surely, above
there, in the castle, you will have your heart's content; for a more
merry body of light young hearts were seldom ever collected--good
faith," he continued, turning to the gentleman who had been sitting
with him when Algernon entered, "they kept their revel up full long
last night. As I sat here at my studies--it must have been past
midnight--the music came down upon me in gusts, almost making even my
old sober limbs tingle to go and join the merry dance, as I did in
boyhood. It must have been a splendid scene."

"This gentleman was there," replied the other; "I saw him for an
instant; but I stayed not long; for that music has another effect on
me, my good old friend; and I betook me to my tower again, more in the
spirit of the gloomy anchorite than yourself, it seems."

"I passed the night there and part of the morning, too, I fear," said
Algernon Grey; "for it was two before we reached our inn."

"I trust you had a happy night of it, then," answered Dr. Alting;
"such scenes are the property of youth; and it would be hard to deny
to the young heart all the brief pleasures of which life has so few."

"A far happier night," answered Algernon Grey, "than many of those
have been which I have spent in more powerful courts and scenes as
gay. There happened to me that which, in the chances of the world,
rarely occurs, to have a companion for the night whose thoughts and
feelings were wholly congenial to my own, a lady whose beauty,
dazzling as it is, would have fallen upon my cold heart only like a
ray of wintry sunshine on a frozen world, had it not been that, unlike
every one I ever saw, a high pure spirit and a rich bright fancy left
her beauty itself forgotten in their own transcendent lustre."

"You are an enthusiast, my young friend," said Dr. Alting, while the
stranger fixed his eves on Algernon Grey, with a gay smile; "what
might be the name of this paragon?"

"The princess called her Agnes," answered the young Englishman; "and
more I did not enquire."

A merry glance passed between the good professor and his companion;
and the latter exclaimed, "You did not enquire! That seems strange,
when you were so captivated."

"There is the mistake," said Algernon Grey, laughing; "I was not
captivated; I admired, esteemed, approved, but that is all. Most
likely she and I will never meet again; for I shall wander for a year,
and then return to duties in my own land; and the name of Agnes is all
I want, by which to remember a happy night of the very few I have ever
known, and a being full of grace and goodness, whom I shall see no
more."

"A strange philosophy," cried Dr. Alting; "especially for so young a
man."

"And so you wander for a year," said the stranger; "if it be not a
rash question, as it seems you are not seeking adventures in love, is
it high deeds of arms you are in search of, like the ancient knights?"

"Not so, either," answered Algernon Grey; "although I am willing
enough, should the occasion present itself, to serve under any
honourable flag, where my religion is not an obstacle, as I have done
more than once before."

"Ah!" said Dr. Alting, "then you are one of those--those very few, who
will suffer their religion to be an obstacle to any of their plans."

"Assuredly," answered Algernon Grey. "The strife at present throughout
the whole of Europe is, and must be ever more or less for the
maintenance of the pure and unperverted religion of the Gospel against
the barbarous superstitions and corruptions of the Romish church; and,
whatever may be the pretext of war, whoever draws the sword in a
papist army----"

"Is fighting for the Woman of Babylon," cried Dr. Alting, eagerly; "is
setting himself up against the Cross of Christ, is advancing the
banner of the Dragon, destined sooner or later to be thrown into the
pit of the nethermost hell;" and, taking the young Englishman's hand,
he shook it heartily, exclaiming: "I am glad to hear such sentiments
from the kinsman of my noble friend."

"He entertains them as firmly as yourself, you well know," answered
Algernon Grey; "they are common to all his family; and, for my part,
humble as I am, I shall always be ready to draw the sword in the
defence of right, whenever the opportunity is afforded me."

"It is coming, my dear sir, the time is coming," cried the old man.
"Great events are before us; and I see for the first time the prospect
of the true faith becoming predominant in this land of Germany;
thence, I trust, to spread its holy and beneficial influence
throughout the world. You have heard, doubtless you have heard, that
in the very heart of this great empire, the people of Bohemia have
raised the standard of freedom of conscience. Even now they are in
deliberation to choose them a new king, in place of the papist tyrant,
who has violated all the solemn pledges, by virtue of which alone he
held the crown. If their choice be a wise and good one, if it be such
as I believe it will be, if the head of the Protestant Union,--in a
word--if the Elector Palatine be chosen King of Bohemia, doubtless the
spirit of the true faith will, from that moment, go forth with
irresistible might, and shake the idolatrous church of the seven hills
to its foundation. I look to it with confidence and trust: I look to
every gallant spirit and faithful heart to come forward and take his
share in the good work; and, with the name of the Lord on our side,
there is no fear of the result."

The conversation proceeded for some time in the same strain. With
eager fire, and with sometimes a not very reverend application of the
words of Scripture, Dr. Alting went on to advance his own opinions,
becoming more eager every moment, especially when the probability of
the Elector Palatine being chosen as their king by the states of
Bohemia was referred to.

The gentleman who was with him when Algernon Grey entered, took little
part in the discussion, remaining grave and somewhat stern in look;
though, from the few words he uttered, it was evident that his
religious views were the same as those of his two companions. He
smiled, indeed, in turn at the different sorts of enthusiasm of the
old man and the young one; and once Dr. Alting shook his finger at him
good-humouredly, saying: "Ah! Herbert, you would have men believe you
cold and stoical, and, for that purpose, in every affair of life you
act like no other man; but I know the fire that is under it all."

"Fire enough, when it is needed," answered Herbert; "but only when it
is needed, my good friend. If troops spend all their powder in firing
salutes, they will have none to charge their cannon with in the day of
battle; but as you are not expected to put on the cuirass, it is just
as well that you should keep up men's spirits, and fix their
determinations by your oratory. Only let me be quiet. You won't find
me wanting when the time comes."

"I trust none will be wanting," said Algernon Grey; "but yet I cannot
help feeling, that in this light-minded world, many whom we count upon
rashly, may fall from us readily."

"Too true, too true," said Herbert, shaking his head.

"I will not believe it," cried Dr. Alting; "with such a prince, and
such a cause, and such an object, every man, who has a particle of
truth in his nature, will do his duty, I am sure; and let the false
go--we can do without them."

"You must add the weak, too, my reverend friend," said Algernon Grey,
rising to depart; "but still, I do think, and I do trust, that there
are enough both firm and true in Europe, to accomplish this great
task, unless some sad accident occur, or some great mistake be
committed. We shall see, however; and in the mean time, farewell."

Dr. Alting shook hands with him warmly, asked where he could find him,
how long would be his stay in Heidelberg, and all those other
questions which courtesy dictated: but perhaps the reverend doctor
felt, in a degree not altogether pleasant, that his young friend, if
not so learned a man as himself in books and parchments, had another
sort of learning--that of the world--which he himself did not possess.

The gentleman who had been called Herbert seemed to feel differently;
and, when the young gentleman was about to depart, he rose, saying: "I
will go with you, and perhaps may show you some things of interest."
Then bidding adieu to Dr. Alting, he followed Algernon Grey out of the
room, and descended the stairs with him in silence. Under the shadow
of the doorway they found waiting the Knecht, who had guided the young
gentleman thither; but Herbert dismissed him, saying to his companion:
"I will be your guide back. Shall we stroll along to the church, or
visit some of the fortifications? Both are somewhat in your way it
would seem."

"Nay," answered Algernon, "with the church I have little to do, except
when my opinions are drawn forth by such a man as our learned friend;
but I will go whithersoever you choose to lead me."

"Well, then, we will stroll along and take things as they come,"
answered Herbert; "we can scarcely go amiss in this town and
neighbourhood, for each step has its own particular interest, or its
own beauty. It is a place I never weary of."

As he spoke they turned into one of the narrow streets that led up
towards the hills, and were crossing the castle-road, in order to take
a path through the woods, when Algernon Grey's quick ear caught the
sound of a voice calling to him. Looking round, he saw a gentleman
coming down with a hasty step, followed by two or three servants, and
instantly recognised the Baron of Oberntraut. A feeling--I might
almost call it a presentiment: one of those strange, inexplicable
foresights of a coming event, which sometimes put us on our guard
against approaching evil, made him say to his companion: "Oh! this is
the gentleman with whom I had a bet last night, I will rejoin you in a
moment;" and he advanced a step or two up the hill.

The next instant Oberntraut was by his side.

"I wish to speak a moment with you, sir," he said.

Algernon Grey bowed his head and was silent.

"We had a bet last night," continued the baron, with a flushed cheek
but somewhat embarrassed air; "my servants are carrying down the
amount to your inn."

"Thanks," answered Algernon Grey; "they will find some of my people
there, to whom they can deliver it."

"I always pay my debts, sir," said Oberntraut; "but I rather think
there is another account to be settled between us."

"Indeed!" replied Algernon Grey, calmly; "I am not aware of it. What
may it be?"

"Oh! sir, you assume ignorance!" rejoined the other in an insulting
tone: "in a word, then, we do not suffer foreign gentlemen to come
hither, win our money, and court our ladies, without making them pass
through some ordeal. Do you understand me now?"

"Perfectly," answered the young Englishman, with a slight smile; "such
words are not to be mistaken; and let me assure you, as I wish to see
everybody pleased, I will not disappoint you; but, at the same time,
we may conduct a matter of this sort without warmth, and with all
courtesy. I know not how I have aggrieved you; but that I ask not: it
is quite sufficient that you think yourself aggrieved, and I will give
you such opportunity of redressing yourself as you may wish for."

"I thank you, sir," replied the other in a more moderate tone; "when
and where shall it be?"

"Nay, that I must leave to you," answered the young Englishman; "I
will make but two conditions--that it be speedily, and that we embroil
no others in our quarrel. I have but one friend here, and as he has
been somewhat too famous in our own country for rencontres of this
kind, I would fain spare him any share in an affair of mine."

"Be that as you like," replied the baron; "on all accounts we shall be
better alone: the place must be one where we shall have no
interruption.--Let me think?--Yes, that will do.--Will you meet me
to-morrow on the bridge, each with a single page whom we can leave
behind at our convenience? I will lead you to a spot secure and shaded
from all eyes, where we shall have good turf and space enough."

"Agreed," answered Algernon Grey, "but why not this very day? I am
quite prepared."

"But I have a few hours' journey to take first," replied the baron;
"no, in your courtesy let it be to-morrow; and the safest hour will be
just before nightfall. Come a little earlier to the bridge, for we
have some small distance to go,--with our swords alone--is it not so?"

"As you will," said his companion. "Be it so then--in the grey I will
not fail you--good-morning, sir;" and, turning round, he rejoined his
new acquaintance Herbert, with an easy and unembarrassed air.

Herbert was not entirely deceived, however. He had been standing where
the young Englishman left him at about five paces' distance, where the
greater part of their conversation was inaudible; but he knew one of
the parties and his character well, and divined the other rightly. The
last words of Algernon Grey too, which, detached from the rest, had
seemed to the speaker insignificant, had been uttered in a louder
tone, and Herbert had heard him say distinctly,--"In the grey I will
not fail you--good-morning, sir." The expressions were nothing in
themselves; they might refer to any trifling and accidental
arrangement; but Herbert's eyes had been fixed upon the face of
Oberntraut, who stood fronting him, and he read the look that it wore,
if not with certainty, assuredly not wrongly.

As the two separated the baron doffed his hat and plume to Herbert
with every sign of high respect; and the other returned the
salutation, though but coldly. For a moment or two, as Algernon and
his companion walked up the hill, nothing was said; and then the
younger gentleman began to speak lightly of indifferent subjects,
thinking that longer silence might lead to suspicions. Herbert
answered not, but went on musing, till at length--as if he had paid
not the slightest attention to the words which had been falling on his
ear for the last two or three minutes--he broke forth at once with a
dry laugh, saying: "So, you have contrived to manufacture a quarrel
already."

"Nay, not so!" answered Algernon Grey; "if you mean with the Baron of
Oberntraut, let me assure you there is no quarrel of any kind between
us. I know of no offence that I have given him, and for my own part I
may safely say that I have received none. There was a bet between us
which I won, and he seems perhaps a little nettled; but what is that
to me?"

Herbert looked down thoughtfully, still walking on, and after a while
he paused, asking as abruptly as before,--"Have you many friends in
this place?"

"Nay, I have been here but eighteen hours," answered the other: "happy
is the man who can boast of many friends, take the whole world over
and pick them from the four quarters of the globe. I have none who
deserves the name within these walls, but the one who came with me."

"Well," replied the other, "should you require one, on occasion of
import, you know where to find one who has seen some hard blows given
in his day."

"I thank you much, and understand you rightly," said Algernon Grey;
"should I have need of such help, depend upon it, I will apply to you
and none other. But at present, believe me, I have none."

"What! not '_in the grey?_" asked Herbert, with a laugh; and then,
whistling two or three bars of an English air, he added, "Will you
spend an hour or two with an old soldier to-night, my young friend?"

"Willingly," replied Algernon Grey, smiling at the suspicions in which
he clearly saw the invitation was given. "When shall I come? My time
is quite free."

"Oh! come an hour before twilight," answered Herbert, "and stay till
the castle clock strikes ten--Will that suit you?"

"Right well," said the young Englishman, "I will not fail by a moment,
though I see you doubt me. But where am I to find you, and who am I to
ask for?"

"I have deceived myself, or you are cheating me," answered Herbert
bluntly, and speaking in English; "but come at all events. You will
find me at the castle--ask for Colonel Herbert, or the English Ritter.
They will show you where I lodge."

"Be sure I will be there," rejoined Algernon; "I did not know you were
a countryman; but that will make the evening pass only the more
pleasantly, for we shall have thoughts in common, as well as a common
language; and, to say sooth, though this German is a fine tongue, yet,
while speaking it badly, as I do, I feel like one of the mountebanks
we see in fairs dancing a saraband in fetters."

"You speak it well enough," answered his companion, "and it is a fine
rich tongue; but at the court, with the usual levity of such light
places, they do not value their own wholesome dialect. They must have
a dish of French, forsooth; and use a language which they do not half
know, and which, if they did, is not half as good a one as their
own--a poor pitiful whistling tongue, like the wind blowing through a
key hole without the melody of the Italian, the grandeur of the
Spanish, the richness of the German, or the strength of the English."

"Yet it is a good language for conversation," replied Algernon Grey,
willing to follow upon any track that led from the subject of his
rencontre with Oberntraut.

"To say things in a double sense, to tickle the ears of light women,
and make bad jests upon good subjects," rejoined Herbert, whose John
Bull prejudices seemed somewhat strong; "that is all that it is good
for.--Now look here," he continued, as they reached a commanding point
of the hill, "did you ever see a place so badly fortified as this?
There is not much to be done with it that is true; for it is commanded
by so many accessible points, that it would cost the price of an
empire to make it a fortress. Yet if the Elector would spend upon
strengthening his residence against his enemies, one-half of what he
is throwing away upon laying out that stupid garden, I would undertake
to hold it out for a year and a day against any force that king or
emperor could bring against it."

"Something might be done, it is true," answered the young Englishman;
"but it could never be made a strong place, domineered as it is by all
these mountains. If you fortified them up to the top, it would require
an army to garrison them."

"Ay, that is the mistake that will be committed by engineers to the
last day, I believe," answered Herbert, who had his peculiar notions
on all subjects. "They think they must fortify every commanding point.
But there is another and better method of guarding them. Render them
inaccessible to artillery, that is all that requires to be done, and
then they need no further defence. On the contrary, they become
ramparts that will crumble to no balls. There is no escarpment like
the face of a rock. Now this same mad gardener fellow, this Saloman de
Caus, who is working away there: he has filled up half a valley,
thrown down half a mountain, and the same labour and money, spent in
another way, would have rendered every point inaccessible from which a
fire could be opened on the castle.--But, look there! Horses are
gathering at the gates, and men in gilded jackets. The prince and his
fair dame, and all the wild boys and girls of the court are going out
upon some progress or expedition--I must hasten down as fast as I can,
for I want to speak with one of them before they go.--Remember the
hour, and fail not. Can you find your way back?"

"Oh, yes! no fear," answered Algernon Grey, "I will be with you
to-night;" and waving his hand, Herbert hurried down towards the
castle.




CHAPTER VI.


"Tony," cried the page, standing in the gateway of the Golden Stag,
and turning half-round towards a sort of covered half-enclosed shed or
booth in the court yard, where the English servant, who had
accompanied the two travellers on their journey to Heidelberg, was
cleaning a pair of his master's silver stirrups, "here's a man
inquiring for my lord, and I cannot make out a word that he says."

"What does he want?" cried Tony from the shed, rubbing away as hard as
if his life depended upon making the stirrups look brighter than the
groom had been able to render them.

"I can't tell," replied the boy; "but he seems to want to give me a
hundred crowns."

"Take them, take them," rejoined the man, sagaciously, "and ask no
questions. I'll tell you what, Frill, always take gold when you can
get it. It comes slow, goes fast, and calls no man master long: a very
changeable servant; but a very useful one, while we have him; and
there is no fear of his growing old in our service. Don't let the man
know you can speak French, or he might put you to disagreeable
interrogatories. Pocket and be silent; it is the way many a man
becomes great in this world."

The advice was given in that sort of bantering tone, which showed
evidently that it was not intended to be strictly followed; and the
page, taking the crowns, held them up before the eyes of the man who
brought them, saying: "For Algernon Grey?"

"Ja, Ja!" said the German servant; "for Algernon Grey;" and, adding a
word or two more, which might have been Syriac for aught the page
knew, he withdrew, leaving the money in the boy's hands.

As soon as he was gone, Freville or Frill, as he was familiarly termed
by the household, walked back to where his companion was at work, and
quietly counted over the money upon the loose board which formed the
only table of the shed.

"I must give this to some one to keep, till my lord's return," he
said; "will you take care of it, Tony?"

"Not I," replied the servant; "I repeat the Lord's Prayer every
morning and evening; the first time, to keep me out of temptation by
day; the second, to defend me against it by night--I'll have none of
it, Master Frill; it is a good sum, and too much for any poor man's
pocket, especially where the plaket-hole is wide and the bottom
somewhat leaky."

"I will take it up to Sir William, then," said the boy; "for I won't
keep it myself. It would be risking my lord's money sadly. Even now my
fingers begin to feel somewhat sticky, as if I had been handling the
noses of horse-chestnut buds."

"Get you gone, for a graceless young villain," answered Tony; "what
have you to do with the noses of other men's children; you will have
enough to do with your own, if I guess right; but, as to the money,
methinks it is quite as safe in your pocket, as Sir William's."

"Why, you don't think he would keep it, Tony?" said the page in an
inquiring tone.

"As to keeping it," answered Tony, "that's as it may be. He never
could keep his own, therefore why should he keep other people's; but
between you and I, Frill--" and he dropped his voice as if he did not
wish to be overheard--"our young lord is not likely to gain much by
Sir William's company. We did very well without him; and though he may
not choose to pick my lord's pocket of hard gold, he may take from him
what gold will not buy. I have a strange notion, somehow, that it was
not altogether for love he came. If it were, why did not he come long
before? But I remember him well, when he was a boy; and he was a
cunning devil then; as full of mischief as a pistachio-nut. Why he
hung the buttery hatch with a wire like a bird-trap; and the moment
old Jonas put his hand out, it fell and nearly chopped off his
fingers."

This was a jest just fitted to the meridian of a boy's understanding;
and he burst into a fit of laughter at the anecdote.

"Ay, ay," continued Tony, "it would have passed as a wild lad's fun,
if we had not known that he had a spite at Jonas, who, one day, when
he was thirsty, refused him a cup of hypocras that he wanted, and
would only give him a jug of ale.--But who in the name of silks and
satins, is this peeping about the court on the tips of his toes, with
rosettes and sword-knots enough to swallow him up? It is a page of the
court, I do believe. To him, Frill, to him! Speak French to this one,
for he looks as if he had been dieted on comfits and spiced wine; and
nothing will go down with him, depend upon it, unless it be garnished
with French tongue."

Following the suggestion of his companion, Frill advanced, and the two
pages met in the midst of the court-yard, where they stood bowing and
complimenting each other, with an extravagance of courtesy which had
nearly overpowered good Tony with laughter.

"My heavens! what a pair of monkeys," he exclaimed. "Take away their
cloaks, and stick a tail through their satin breeches, and you have
got the beast as perfect as at a puppet-show. Look at that little
monster Frill, if he has not wriggled himself into an attitude in
which he cannot stand while I count four. There, 'tis all over; and
now he twists to the other side.--What does he want, Frill?" he
continued, raising his voice; "talk to him, boy, and don't stand there
grinning like a cat-ape."

"He comes down from the castle," answered Frill, turning round, very
well satisfied with the graces he had been displaying, "to ask my lord
and Sir William to join the court in a progress to Schönau."

"Tell him Master Algernon Grey is out, and Heaven knows when he will
be back again," exclaimed Tony, who was wearied with the courtly air
of the pages. "What does the devil's foal say now?" he continued, when
Frill had rendered the reply he dictated, and received a speech and a
low bow in return.

"He says I must tell Master William Lovet then," replied the page; and
conducting the other youth ceremoniously back to the threshold of the
gateway, he took leave of him after some farther civil speeches on the
one part, and directions on the other.

"There, go and tell Sir William," said Tony, when the boy rejoined
him, "and lay the money on the table in our lord's room.--And hark
you, Frill, you may as well keep an eye on Sir William's doings; I've
doubts, Frill, I have doubts; and I should like to know what he is
seeking; for I can't help thinking there's more under his jerkin than
God's will and a good conscience."

"If I thought he meant my lord any harm," answered the boy, boldly,
"I'd drive my dagger into him."

"Pooh! nonsense; prick him with a needle or a cobbler's awl," answered
Tony, "you'd only let him blood and make him more feverish towards
spring time. No, no, my boy, he'll give no cause for offence; but a
man may do more harm sometimes with a simple word than a drawn
sword--I'll watch him well, however; do you so, too; and if you find
out anything, let me know.--Now, away with you, away with you, and
tell the good man above; for if he do not make haste, he will not be
in time, and then your young bones are likely to suffer."

The page turned to obey, but he had scarcely reached the archway, when
William Lovet issued forth, descending from above, and called loudly
for his horse.

The page's communication, however, seemed to make an alteration in his
purpose; and after pausing for a moment or two to think, he re-entered
the house, ordering everything to be prepared for him to join the
train of Frederic and Elizabeth, as soon as he heard them coming down
the hill.

William Lovet was a very different man in the solitude of his own
chamber and in the company of his cousin. He now waited some twenty
minutes, expecting almost every moment to hear the approach of the
cavalcade, which was to pass before the windows; but he showed no
impatience, no lover-like haste to join the lady at whose suggestion
he doubted not the invitation had been given. Sitting at the table,
with his hat cast down and his sword taken out of the belt, he leaned
his head upon his hand, and seemed buried in meditation. His brow was
contracted, and heavy with apparently gloomy thought; and his hand
played with the curls of his long dark hair unconsciously. Like many
men of strong passions, who set a careful guard upon their tongue when
any other human being is near to hear and comment on their words, but
feel painfully the restraint then put upon themselves, he was apt, as
if for relief, to suffer the secret counsels of his heart to break
forth at times, when he felt perfectly certain they would reach no
other ear but his own. And this was one of those moments when the
workings of strong purposes within him, forced him to give way to the
dangerous habit. It was no long continued monologue that he spoke, no
loud and vehement outburst of passion; but broken fragments of
sentences--as if a portion of his thoughts would clothe themselves in
words, and were suddenly checked before they were complete--came forth
muttered and disjointed from his lips.

"It must do this time," he said; and then he fell into thought again,
continuing, in about a minute after, "If it do not, means must be
found to make it--the time is very short--In another year he goes
back--To think of his having wasted full four years amongst all that
could tempt a man!--He must be a stone--but he is touched now, or I am
mistaken--I must get this woman to help me--make her a tool when she
thinks herself a conqueror! Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed aloud. "I will
never leave it till it is finished.--It may cost a good deal yet; for
he is not easily led, that's clear.--Example, example! That has been
always wanting. We will accustom his mind to it--break him like a
young colt that first flies from the hand, but soon suffers every
child to pat him.--Ay, he is in the high road, if he do not take
flight and dart off; but surely, in the wide world of accidents, we
shall find something, which, improved by skilful management, will keep
him here till that same glittering web of golden threads, called
love's net, is round him--then let the poor stag struggle, and pant,
and toss about, he will not easily break through, and the prize is
mine."

His farther thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come
in," he said; and then exclaimed, in surprise, as the very object of
his contemplation stood before him, "Why, Algernon, you have become
mighty ceremonious."

"Nay," answered Algernon Grey, laughing, "I thought you were not
alone; for I heard one voice speaking, at least; and with a gentleman
of your pursuits, one can never tell how inopportune a visit may be."

"Pshaw!" cried Lovet; "'tis a bad habit I have from my mother. We rash
and thoughtless folks, unlike you calm and cautious ones, cannot keep
the secrets of our bosom in the safe casket of the heart. We must
speak out our thoughts, whatever they may be; and, if we can find no
other man to tell them to, we tell them to ourselves."

"The safest confidant by far," answered Algernon Grey. "What now,
boy?" he continued, turning to the page, who had followed him into the
room, and was waiting at hand for an opportunity to speak.

"May it please you, noble sir," replied the page, "a man, with a badge
upon his arm, brought hither a hundred crowns, whence or why I could
not make out, for he had neither French nor English; but he said
Algernon Grey well enough; and so I laid them in your chamber."

"I understand," replied his master; "what more?"

"A page from the court, sir," answered the boy; "a very gallant youth,
full of fine essences and rich conceits, with satin in abundance, and
no lack of ribands----"

"On my life! he must have been your counterpart, Frill," exclaimed his
master, laughing; and, turning to his companion, he added: "This boy
has been studying Sydney or Lilly, or some high-flown writer. Well,
most delicate Frill, what said your delicate friend?"

"He brought a message, noble sir," replied the page, "inviting
Messieurs Algernon Grey and William Lovet to join the cavalcade of the
court, going joyously to Schönau. They were to pass by the inn in half
an hour."

"And, pray, how did this ingenuous youth deliver himself?" asked
Algernon Grey.

"Oh! with marvellous fineness, my lord," replied the page, "with every
courteous invention that his genius could suggest."

"But the tongue, Master Frill, the tongue?" cried Algernon; "if you
could not understand one man, how could you understand the other?"

"He spoke French, my lord, with the utmost perfection," replied the
boy.

"Come, Algernon, you are wasting time," exclaimed Lovet; "order your
horses and your people, or you will be too late."

Algernon Grey mused for a single instant, and then replied: "I do not
go, William."

"Nay, not go!" exclaimed his friend. "Why, you cannot help yourself,
unless you would be called the Great Bear of England. In every country
of the world such an invitation from the prince is considered a
command."

"What reply did you make, Frill?" asked the boy's master.

"I said what Tony told me," replied the page, namely, "'Master Algernon
Grey is out, and Heaven knows when he will return.'"

"I shall not go, William," repeated the young gentleman, in a
thoughtful tone; "I have my own reasons, and assuredly I do not ride
to-day."

"Then you are either going to fight a duel, make love, or, in the
silent and tender solitude of your chamber in an inn, give yourself up
to sweet meditation of your lady's ankles," replied William Lovet,
resuming his usual bantering tone. "Methinks, I see you, sitting with
the indicator digit of your dexter hand pressed softly on the delicate
cheek of youth, the eyebrow raised, one eye to heaven, the other to
earth, with a slight poetical squint upon your countenance, and your
bosom heaving sighs like a pot of hot broth.--Come, come, Algernon,
cast off these humours, or turn anchorite at once. Live like other
men, and don't go about the world as if your grandmother's brocade
petticoat were hanging for ever over your head, like an extinguisher,
putting out the flame of youth, and health, and strength, and love,
and life. Look about you; see if you can find one single man, of your
own age, bearing willingly about upon his shoulders scruples enough to
cram a pedlar's pack full of wares, as flimsy and worthless as any it
ever contained. Be a man, be a man! Surely, your boyhood is past; and
you have no longer to fear the pedagogue's rod, if you stray a little
beyond the tether of your mother's apron-string."

Algernon Grey smiled calmly, but merely nodded his head, saying: "I
shall not go, Lovet, and all the less for a laugh. If I could be
turned from my purposes by a jest, I should think myself a boy,
indeed. You will find that out at last, good friend. But, hark, there
are the trumpets; get you gone, and good fortune attend you. Call out
his horse, Frill, that he may not imitate my sullen boorishness, and
keep the princely party waiting."

"Well," cried Lovet, shrugging his shoulders, "most reverend cousin, I
will wish you a good morning. In your solemn prayers and devout
outpourings of the heart, remember your poor sinful cousin, and
especially petition that he may never see the evil of his ways, nor
let one pleasure slip from him that fortune offers to his lip. It is a
devout prayer; for if I did not enjoy myself I should do something
much worse; and the devil would not only have me in the end, but in
the beginning. Adieu, adieu! Here they come; I hear the clatter;" and
running to the door he closed it sharply behind him, while Algernon
Grey, without approaching too near, turned to the window and gazed out
into the market-place.

The next instant a gay and splendid train swept up, preceded by two
trumpeters in gorgeous liveries. Magnificent horses, many-coloured
apparel, gold and embroidery, graceful forms, and joyous bearing,
rendered the party one which any young heart might have been glad to
join; but the eye of Algernon Grey ran over the various groups of
which it was composed, seemingly seeking some particular object, with
a curious and inquiring glance. It rested principally on the various
female figures of the princess's train; but almost all the ladies wore
the small black mask, or loup, then common at the court of France, and
sometimes, though not so frequently, seen in England. The heat of the
day and the power of the sun gave them a fair excuse, in the care of
their complexions, for adopting a mode most favourable to intrigue;
and, whoever it might be that the young gentleman's eye sought for in
the cavalcade, he could not ascertain, with any certainty, which she
was.

The etiquette of the court prevented the train from stopping for any
of the expected party; but, before it had defiled towards the bridge,
the horse of William Lovet dashed forward from the gateway; and, after
a low reverence to the Elector, he fell back and attached himself to
the side of one of the ladies in the train, who greeted him with a
playful nod.

Algernon Grey seated himself at the table, leaned his head
thoughtfully upon his hand, and remained in that position for nearly a
quarter of an hour.

"No," he said, at length, "no, I will not risk her happiness or my
own--I will not do it again--it has been once too often."

He rose as he spoke, and after giving some orders to his servants,
strolled down to the river's side, and there, hiring a rude bark, many
of which were moored to the bank, he directed the boatman to let it
drop slowly down the stream. The hours passed dully, though he was not
one of those to whom the silent commune of the heart with itself is
wearisome. But there was a cause why that calm meditation, in which he
had often found true pleasure, was not now a resource. He tried to
cast it off, to fix his mind upon subjects foreign to that upon which
his heart was resolved to dwell; and the struggle to escape from an
ever recurring object of thought is always heavy labour. Still the
hours flew, though with a flagging wing; and when he calculated that
the time of his promised visit to Colonel Herbert at the castle was
approaching he returned to the town, and making some change in his
apparel, walked slowly up the hill.

The sun was indeed declining, but when he reached the gates of the
castle, which stood open, the clock in the bridge tower struck seven,
and showed him that he was earlier on the way than he had proposed to
be. "Well," he thought, "it matters not. The great and the gay are all
absent, and I can stroll about the gardens and courts till the hour
comes. Doubtless they will give me admission."

He found no difficulty in gaining entrance, and a servant, of whom he
inquired for the lodging of Colonel Herbert, courteously accompanied
him across the court-yard, saying he would point it out. Entering the
building at the further angle of the court, they passed under the
arcade of three stages near the Knights' hall, and then through a long
stone passage, to the foot of a flight of steps in the open air, above
the highest of which, on a level with his own breast, Algernon Grey
saw a wide stone platform, like that of an enormous rampart,
surrounded by a balustrade flanked by two small octagon turrets. The
tops of the mountains on the other side of the Neckar appeared above
the balustrade, the clear blue sky was seen over head, and the evening
song of one of the autumn-singing birds made itself heard from the
castle gardens, rising clear and melodious over the dull hum which
came up from the city below.

"I am half an hour before my time," said the young gentleman to the
servant, "and if you will just point out to me which is Colonel
Herbert's lodging, I will wait here till the hour appointed. I may as
well pass the minutes in this pleasant place as any where else."

"This is the Altan, sir," replied the man; "the view from it is
greatly admired; and if you turn to the right at the end, it will lead
you by the only passage there to a door in the first tower--you see it
there. The English knight's lodging is above, and you cannot miss your
way. You might, indeed, go round by the arsenal; but the sentinel will
not let you pass, unless I am with you."

"Oh, I shall find it easily, I doubt not," answered the young
Englishman; and adding thanks, and a substantial token thereof, he
mounted the steps and walked slowly forward to the parapet, while a
crowd of the beautiful objects which only nature's treasury can
display, rushed upon his eyes in dream-like splendour. Hardly had the
first feeling of admiration been felt, however, when a slight
exclamation of surprise uttered close to him made him turn his head
towards one of the two small octagon turrets which stood at either
extreme end of the Altan.

The door was open, and he beheld coming forward a female figure which
it required but one look to recognise. There was a well-pleased smile
upon her countenance, bland, frank, and simple. She saw her agreeable
companion of the night before; she remembered with satisfaction, and
without one agitating thought, the pleasant hours she had spent with
him, and advanced gaily and gladly to meet him, only conscious of
friendship and esteem.

Algernon Grey was better read in the world than his companion Lovet
believed--aye, even in its most difficult page, the heart of woman.

Nevertheless, though he marked the lady's manner, and instantly drew
conclusions from it, those conclusions were not altogether just. He
saw that straightforward well-pleased look--the free and unembarrassed
air, and he said within his heart,--"She at least is in no danger. It
is for myself I must beware."

The courtesies of life, however, were not to be omitted; and, though
with a grave look, he met his fair companion with the usual
salutations of the morning, proposing to himself to speak a few words,
and then withdraw. But there are as strong attractions as those of the
magnet for the needle; and, once by her side, resolution failed.

"I am very glad to see you," she said, with the same beaming look; "I
had come out hither for a solitary walk upon the Altan while the court
is absent, and little thought of having a companion who can enjoy this
scene as I do."

"How comes it you are not with the gay party?" asked Algernon Grey; "I
thought all the world had gone."

"But you and I," answered the lady, "and one whom you have not seen,
but whom you should know before you leave this place; for a wiser or a
kinder being does not live than the Electress Dowager, Louisa Juliana.
No, I stayed to read to and amuse her; for she has been ill
lately--what with some anxiety and some sorrow. She would not let me
remain longer, or I would gladly have done so; for she has been as a
mother to me when I most needed a mother's care--and what can I ever
do to repay her?"

"Love her," answered the young Englishman; "that is the repayment from
noble heart to noble heart. But this is indeed a splendid view! What a
confusion of magnificent objects present themselves at once to the
eye, with the sun setting over yon wide plain and those golden hills
beyond."

"Ay," answered Agnes, following with her eyes the direction in which
he pointed, "and those golden hills hide in their bosom, as in a rich
casket, a thousand jewels. There is not a valley amongst them that is
not rich in loveliness, not a hill or craggy steep that does not bear
up some castle or abbey, some legend of old times, or some deep
history. Can you not mark, too, the current of the glorious Rhine, the
King of Europe's streams, as he flows onward there?--No? Beside those
towers, you catch a glistening of the waters as they pour forward to
revel in the magnificence beyond."

"I see," answered Algernon Grey, "I always love the Rhine, with its
vine-covered hills and castled rocks and its storied memories. Its
course seems to me like that of some fine old poem, where, in even
flow, and amidst images of beauty, the mind is led on with ever
varying delight till in the end it falls into calm, solemn,
contemplative repose."

"I know little of poetry or poets," replied Agnes. "Some, indeed, I
have read, especially some of the Italian poets, and they are very
beautiful, it is true; but I fancy it is better to know the poem than
the poet, the work rather than the writer--at least so it has been
with all those I have seen."

"It is true, I believe," said Algernon Grey, "our thoughts are
generally more poetic than our actions, almost always than our
demeanour; invariably, I may say, than our persons; and when we
remember, that the highest quality of the human mind places before us
in a poem only that which mature and deliberate judgment pronounces to
be the best of its fruits, it is not wonderful that the man should
seem less, when we can see him near, than the poem gave us cause to
expect."

In such conversation as this, of an elaborate and somewhat didactic
turn, the young Englishman thought himself perfectly safe. He fancied
he could discuss poetry and poems, beautiful scenery, the grand works
of nature or of art, with the loveliest being ever eye beheld, without
the slightest danger to himself or others. Unwarned by the fate of
Beatrice and her lover, or of Abelard and his pupil, he fancied that
on such cold and general themes, he could discourse in safety, even
with the fair creature beside him; but he forgot, that through the
whole world of the beautiful and the excellent, in nature and in art,
there is a grand tie which links with the rest the heart of man: that
sympathy is love, in a shallower, or a deeper degree: and he forgot,
moreover, that the transition is so easy, by the ever open doors of
association, from the most cold and indifferent things to the warmest
and the dearest, that the heart must be well guarded, the mind well
assured, before it ventures to deal with aught that excites the fancy
in companionship with one who has already some hold upon the
imagination.

Insensibly, they knew not well how, their conversation deviated from
the mere objects tangible to the senses, to the effects produced by
those objects on the mind. From the mind they went to the heart; and
Agnes, for a time, went on to talk with glowing eloquence, of all
those feelings and emotions, of which it was evident enough to her
companion, she spoke by hearsay rather than by experience. Her words
were careless, brilliant, even, perhaps, we may say light, in its
better sense, for some time after their discourse took that turn. She
jested with the subject, she sported with it--like a child who, having
found a shining piece of steel, makes a plaything of it, unknowing
that it is a dagger which, with a light blow, may cut the knot of
life. Suddenly, however, from some feeling, undefined even to herself,
she stopped in full career, became thoughtful, serious, more
avaricious of her words. A deeper tone pervaded them when they were
spoken; and she seemed to have found unexpectedly, that she was
dealing with things which at some time might have a more powerful and
heartfelt interest for herself, and that she had better escape from
such topics, treating them gravely, whilst she was obliged to treat of
them at all. Her conversation, in short, was like a gay pleasure-boat,
which quits the shore in sunshine and merriment, but, finding itself
far from land, makes its way back with earnest speed with the first
cloud that gathers on the sky.

Her altered manner called Algernon Grey to himself; and, as they
turned back again along the Altan, he said, anxious to fly from a
danger which he felt had its fascination too, but yet mingling with
the adieu he was about to speak such a portion of feeling as might
pass for ordinary gallantry; "I must now leave you, I believe, for the
sun is so low, that it warns me of my engagement to spend this evening
with a countryman of ours, named Colonel Herbert, whom I have made
acquaintance with this morning--indeed, it is past the hour."

"Oh, I will show you the way," answered Alice, with a smile; "I am
going thither, too; but do stay for an instant to look at that star
rising over the Odenwald. How clear and calm it shines! How round, and
full, and unvarying! It must be a planet; and I cannot help thinking
often, that woman's true sphere is like that of yonder star. There may
be brighter things in the heavens, twinkling and sparkling with
transcendent light; but her fate is like that of the planet, to wander
round one sole object, from which she receives all her brightness, in
constant, tranquil, peaceful watchfulness, calm but not dull, and
bright but not alone--now come."




CHAPTER VII.


In a large circular room, with a massive column in the midst, from
which sprang the groins of the numerous arches which formed the vault,
sat the stout soldier Herbert, with his two companions, Algernon Grey
and the fair Agnes. The chamber itself, notwithstanding its unusual
form, was comfortable and highly decorated. The floor, somewhat
unusual in those times, and in that country, was of wood; the stone
column in the centre was surrounded by a richly-carved oak seat,
furnished with cushions of crimson velvet; and the heavy mass of the
pillar, which rose above, was broken and relieved by four groups of
armour gathered into the shape of trophies. Seats and bookcases, and
those articles of furniture which are now called _etagères_, all
likewise of oak, ornamented with velvet and fringes of a crimson
colour, occupied the spaces between the windows; and on the one side,
midway from the pillar to the wall, was a table covered with clean
white linen, supporting various baskets of rich and early fruit, with
wine and bread, but no other viands.

On the other side was also a table, on which were cast negligently
some books, a pair of gauntlets, two or three daggers from different
lands, and a number of objects, valuable either for their rarity or
for the beauty of their workmanship. A fine picture stood on the
ground, leaning against a chair, at one point; an antique marble vase,
richly sculptured, was seen at another; a lance appeared resting on
the shoulder of a statue; and the mask of a satyr, from some Roman
building, was placed in the gaping vizor of a helmet which stood at
the foot of a bookcase. The whole was lighted by crescets hung against
the column, which shed a soft and pleasant lustre through the wide
room.

The host and his guests were seated at the table where the fruit was
spread, and they seemed to be enjoying highly their simple and
innocent meal. Herbert himself was gayer in manner than he had been in
the morning; Agnes gave way to the flow of her young bright fancies
with as little restraint, or even--less, perhaps, than when she had
been with Algernon Grey alone; and the young Englishman feeling that,
for that evening at least, it was useless to struggle against the fate
that had brought them together, yielded his spirit to the pleasure of
the moment, and resolved to enjoy the cup which he had not sought to
taste.

It must not indeed be supposed that the conversation was all of a
bright or cheerful character; for it went on, in its natural course,
from subject to subject, resembling in its aspect a rich autumn day,
where glowing sunshine and sombre masses of cloud alternately sweep
over the prospect, giving a varied interest to the scene.

The conversation of Herbert himself was not in general of a very
cheerful tone; it was occasionally pungent, shrewd, and keen in
the remarks, but that of a man who, having mingled much with the
world--partaken of its pleasures, shared in its strife, and known its
sorrows--had withdrawn for several years from any very active
participation in the pursuits of other men, still watching eagerly as
a spectator the scenes in which he had once been an actor.

The connexion between him and Agnes had somewhat puzzled Algernon Grey
at his first entrance. Their evident familiarity, their affection one
for the other, had perhaps pained him for an instant--it was but for
an instant; for, though she gave the old soldier both her hands, and
kissed with her glowing lips his weather-beaten cheek, it was all done
so frankly, so candidly, that the young Englishman felt there must be
something to warrant it--that there was nothing to be concealed. He
then asked himself more than once, what the relationship could be? but
it was not till he had been there nearly an hour, that the fair girl,
in addressing Herbert, called him "My dear uncle."

Algernon Grey asked himself why he should have felt pained at her
familiarity with any man, whether her near relative or not?--but it
was a question which he could not or would not answer, and he hurried
away from it to other things. "I knew not," he said, "that this fair
lady was your kinswoman, Colonel Herbert, though we spoke of her at
good Dr. Alting's this morning."

"You gave me no reason to know that it was of her you spoke," answered
Herbert, with a smile.

"Yes, methinks I did," said the other gaily: "I told you I had been at
the court revel last night, and had passed the hours with a lady whom
I described right well."

"Oh, let me hear, dear uncle! let me hear!" exclaimed Agnes; "I should
so much like to hear a stranger's description of myself,--you must
tell me all he said."

"That is because you are vain, my child," answered the old soldier;
"you would not like to hear it, if you thought he had blamed
you:--Nay, I will not tell you a word."

"Then I will divine for myself," cried Agnes; "and you shall see
whether I am vain or not. He said he had met a wild romantic girl, not
very courtly in her manners, who had talked to him all night on themes
which might have suited a painter or a chaplain better than a court
lady; that she danced better than she talked,--dressed better than she
danced,--and had a sovereign objection to love-speeches."

Algernon Grey smiled, and Herbert replied, tapping her cheek with his
fingers, but looking round to their young companion: "You see, sir, in
what these women's vanity consists--dancing and dressing! But you are
wrong, Agnes, altogether. He said not a word of your dress,--he took
no notice of your dancing,--he did not object to your prattle,--and he
told me nothing of his having made you love-speeches."

"Neither did he," cried Agnes, with her cheek glowing at the
conclusion which her relation had drawn; "we heard many a one passing
around us, but he made none. That was the reason I liked his
conversation, and I told him so."

"You tell too readily what is in your heart, my child," said Herbert;
"and yet, good faith, I would not have it otherwise. But of one thing
you may be sure, that the man I would ask here was too much a
gentleman to say ought of a lady which was not pleasing to my ear.
What he said came to this: that you were a good girl, and unlike most
others he had met. Was it not so, Master Grey?"

"Somewhat differently expressed and coloured," answered Algernon Grey;
"but, at all events, the substance was no worse;" and, willing to
change the theme, he went on to say, "That good Dr. Alting seems a
zealous and enthusiastic man. It is strange that in the commerce with
the world of a long life he has not lost more of the fire which
generally burns brightly only in youth."

"He has seen little of life," answered Herbert, "knows little of the
world, or he would not entertain such high hopes from such doubtful
prognostications."

"Then you think his expectations regarding the result of this election
will be disappointed?" asked the young Englishman.

Herbert mused gravely, and then replied: "I know not what portion of
his expectations you allude to, or whether you mean all. If the
latter, I say some of them will certainly be verified: Frederick will
be elected, of that I entertain no doubt. These stern Bohemians will
never choose a drunkard and a knave, and with that exception there is
no other competitor of name. Then, again, that there will be the
grand--perhaps the only opportunity that ever will be seen of
rendering the pure Protestant faith predominant in Germany,--nay,
more, of breaking the Austrian chain from the neck of the captive
empire. I do not at all deny, that the opportunity will be there, but
will there be men to seize it? That is what I doubt. Will there be men
who, having stretched forth the hand to take the golden occasion, will
not, when they have clutched it, suffer it to slip from their grasp?
That is the great question; for to fail is worse than not to
undertake. The head on which the crown of Bohemia now falls should be
one full of those rare energies which lose no chance, and which
command success; there should be experience or genius, and, above
all, indomitable firmness of character and activity of mind. He
should be a man of one grand purpose,--cautious as resolute, watchful
as enterprising, leading not led, obstinate in preference to
wavering,--with the whole powers of heart and mind bent to the
attainment of a single object;--with neither eyes, nor ears, nor
thoughts for aught but that. The path is upon a glacier, with a
precipice below: one slip is destruction. Now, good as he is,--brave,
intelligent, noble, sincere, devoted,--is the Elector endowed with
powers that will bear him up through dangers and difficulties such as
the world has seldom seen?"

"Often, where princes themselves would fail," answered Algernon Grey,
"wise counsellors and great generals render them successful."

"He must be a wise prince, to choose wise counsellors," said Herbert.
"Have we any here?--Besides, if you would calculate the results of the
strife about to spring up, look at the materials of the two parties.
This is, in truth, a struggle betwixt the Protestants and Papists of
Germany. Now, there is something in the very nature of the two
religions which gives disunion to the one, consolidation to the other.
The Papists are all agreed on every essential point; they are all
tutored in the same school, look to the same objects, have in the most
important matters the same interests. The least attack upon their
religion is a rallying cry for them all; their wills bend to its
dictates, their banners unfurl at its call, their swords spring forth
in its defence. They are one nation, one tribe, by a stronger tie than
common country or common origin. They are one in religion and the
religion is one. But what is the case with the Protestants? Split into
sects, divided into parties, recognising no authority but their own
individual judgments, they hate each other, with a hatred perhaps
stronger than that which they feel towards the Romanists; or are cold
to each other, which is worse. There is no bond between them but the
worst of bonds--a common enmity to another faith. No, no, the whole
tendencies of one party are to division, the whole tendencies of the
other to union, and union is strength."

"Nay, my dear uncle," cried Agnes, "to hear your arguments, one would
think you a Papist."

"Hold your wild tongue, you unreasoning child," answered Herbert,
good-humouredly; "my arguments go to quite a contrary end. Were there
not innate truth unimpeachable in the doctrines of the Protestants,
there would not be one sect of them left by this time, so potent are
the means arrayed against them, so feeble are the earthly bonds that
hold them together. Were it not for the power of truth upon their
side, the first blast of wind would blow them from the earth; but
great is truth, and it will prevail, however weak be the hands that
support it, however strong the arms raised to crush it."

"Yours is a gloomy view, nevertheless," rejoined Algernon Grey; "but
we must still trust to the vigour of truth for the support of a just
cause. Many will doubtless fall away in the hour of need. Of that I am
aware; but if they carry with them only their own weakness and the
divisions of the party, their absence will but give strength."

"Well, let us talk of it no more," answered Herbert, "the book of fate
has so many pages unopened that who can tell what may be written on
the next? That casque which you see there, crowning the arms on this
side of the pillar, was worn by the good and great Coligni. Did he
think when he last carried it, that the day of St. Bartholomew, then
so nigh, would see his massacre and that of his companions? Did he
think that the king, who then leaned upon his shoulder, promising to
act by his counsel in all things, would command his assassination? or
that the gallant young prince, whom he appreciated in most things so
justly, would abandon the faith for which they had both shed their
blood, and be murdered by one of the base instruments of the religion
he adopted? He must be a madman or inspired who ventures to prophesy
even the deeds or events of to-morrow."

"And this, then, was the casque of Coligni?" said Algernon Grey,
rising and approaching the pillar; "one of the greatest men,
undoubtedly, that ever lived, whose spirit seemed to revel in
misfortunes, and whose genius appeared, even to his enemies, but the
more bright for defeat."

"Ay, fortune was only constant against him," answered Herbert,
following with Agnes, "he went on with still increasing renown and
disaster, till his glory and his reverses were closed by his
assassination."

"The body perished," said Agnes in a sweet low tone, "and with it all
that was perishable. The immortal remained, the fame that calumny
could never sully, to this earth; the spirit that triumphed over every
reverse, to heaven, from whence it came."

Herbert laid his hand upon her shoulder, gazing at her with a
well-pleased smile. "You may well speak proudly of him, my child," he
said, "for your noble kinsman has left a name which the world cannot
match. There are some strange things here," he continued abruptly,
turning to Algernon Grey. "Do you see this ancient cuirass shaped
almost like a globe?"

"Ay, and that ghastly hole in the left breast," cried Agnes, "what a
tale that tells! Without a word one reads there that by the wound then
given when the lance pierced through the strong iron, a gallant spirit
was sent from earth on the long dark journey. What tears were then
shed! How the bride or the young widow wept in inconsolable grief! How
brethren or parents mourned! What ties were broken, what long
cherished hopes all blasted, what bright schemes and glad purposes
then all passed away like a dream!"

Algernon Grey fixed his eyes upon her, while she spoke with a look of
sad and solemn earnestness. It was intense and thoughtful, yet full of
admiration, and lasted till she ceased; but Agnes saw it not, for her
eyes were raised to her uncle's face, and her whole spirit was in the
words she uttered.

"It is the pleasant part of life, I fear," he said at length, "which
thus passes like a dream. The painful things remain--ay, and grow too.
With the bright days pass the bright thoughts; with the light season
flies the light heart. Man has but one summer; if it be clouded, let
him not look for sunshine. Winter will surely come."

"Ay, on this earth," answered Herbert, "there is another climate
hereafter, where winter is not. Still you are in some sense wrong.
Each season has its sunny hours for those who seek them. Youth looks
forward to age with apprehension, age to the state beyond. Neither
know rightly what is in store. All they are sure of is, that there are
deprivations coming of things which they fancy treasures; but still
each step of life shows that the most prized jewels of the former were
but tinsel and false stones. What will the last stage show of all the
rest? That cuirass was young Talbot's, slain in the wars in France;
that gap let in his death-wound. A noble spirit passed away to a
nobler world; a kind young heart mourned, and went to join him. These
are brief tales, soon told. Why should we think more of man's life and
death than of the opening and the fading of a flower? His immortality
itself makes his life the less worth thought, but as he uses it."

"These gauntlets, too," said Algernon Grey, "they seem less ancient
than the cuirass, but yet are not of our own times."

"They are those of a king," answered Herbert; "one whom men
esteem great; but like most of the world's great men, with many
littlenesses--Francis the First of France."

"All that was great in him," replied Algernon Grey, "belonged to the
spirit of a former time. He had a touch of the old chivalrous honour,
and compared with others of his day, with our own Harry, and even with
his more famous rival, the Emperor Charles, he stands out bright as
knight and gentleman, if not as monarch."

"Compare him not with Harry," said Herbert, "that king was a brutal
tyrant. He might have been better, indeed, had not men stupidly
abolished polygamy, for I dare say he would have been contented to let
his wives live, if the laws of society had not made them a burden to
him; and so, like most men, he committed great crimes with a pretext,
to escape from smaller faults less easily excused." He spoke
laughingly, and then added, "But still he was a base, bloody tyrant,
an ungrateful friend, an ungenerous master. No, no, Francis was too
good to be likened to him. No, compare him with the man whose sword
hangs yonder--with Bayard, and then how small the king becomes, how
great the simple gentleman!"

"He was noble, indeed!" exclaimed Agnes; "and it is a consolation,
too, to see that men admire him more for his gentler than his sterner
qualities. Would that they took his lesson more to heart; for of the
great men, as they are called, of this world, how few are there whose
renown does not rise on deeds of blood and rapine, how few whose
monument is not raised on violations of all justice and equity; the
marble their fellow-creatures' corpses, and the mortar ruin,
devastation, wrong, watered with blood and tears."

Algernon Grey gazed upon her again with the same sad and thoughtful
look; and Herbert replied, "Too true, my child; but yet"--and he
smiled somewhat sarcastically--"I have rarely known the lady who did
not love these sanguinary gentlemen more than the humble man of peace.
It is you, and such as you, who spur us on to war."

"War must be, I fear," answered Agnes; "and Heaven forbid that any
gentleman should be a coward, trembling for so light a thing as life;
but if, when driven unwillingly to strife, men would, like that great
hero you have mentioned, soften the rugged trade by the virtues of the
Christian and the knight, protect, defend, support, rather than
oppress, injure, and trample down, the warrior would be worthy of all
love, and great men would become great indeed. As it is, one turns
with horror from the blood-stained page of history, where grasping
ambition rides in the tinsel chariot of a false renown, over the
crunching bones of whole generations slain. The world's greatness is
not for me; and, all woman as I am, dear uncle, I would rather be a
nun, mewed in a cloister, than the wife of one of these great men."

She spoke with a fire and energy which Algernon Grey had never seen in
her before; but some of her words seemed to affect Herbert more than
might have been expected. He walked suddenly back to the table, and
seated himself, leaning his head upon his hand, with a sad and gloomy
look. Agnes paused a moment, and then drew gently near, laid her hand
upon his, kissed his furrowed brow, and murmured, "Forgive me! I did
not mean to pain you; I thought not of what I said."

"It is nothing, it is nothing," answered Herbert; "it will pass, dear
child;" and almost as he spoke, a servant, dressed in a different
livery from that of the court, entered, saying: "The Dowager
Electress, madam, has sent to tell you she is ready when you like to
come."

"I will be with her directly," answered the fair girl; and turning to
Herbert again, she added in a sad tone: "I have given pain enough
here, for one night at least.--Farewell, countryman," she continued
frankly, holding out her soft white hand to Algernon Grey, "I do not
know whether we shall ever meet again; but, methinks, you will
remember this night, so unlike any you have probably ever passed."

Her words were free and unembarrassed; but Algernon Grey had deeper
feelings in his heart, and he merely replied, "I will," at the same
time, however, he bent his head and pressed his lips upon the hand she
gave him. It was a common act of courtesy in those days, marking
nothing but a feeling of friendship or respect; and Agnes, receiving
it as such, drew the light veil, which had fallen upon her shoulders,
over her head, and left the room.

For a single instant Herbert remained seated in the same desponding
attitude. Then rousing himself, he turned to his guest, saying: "Come,
taste the wine again. It is but sour stuff this Rhenish wine at the
best, but this is as good as any."

"It is better than any that I have ever tasted here," answered
Algernon; "and I do not dislike these wines. One does not feel as if
one were drinking molten fire, as with the heady grape of Burgundy,
after which the blood seems to go tingling in fever to the fingers'
ends. One more glass, then, to the health of the fair lady who has
left us."

"Yes, she is fair," answered Herbert, thoughtfully, after drinking his
wine,--"Beautiful as her mother, and as good--more gay, but not less
thoughtful.--Now, my young friend," he continued, "there is one thing
puzzles me in you. That you should think the child lovely does not
surprise me, for she is so: I know it, and am accustomed to hear
others say so; but she sets so little store by her beauty, that it
gives me no pain. There is a difference between admiration and love.
It is evident enough that the blind god has nought to do in the case
between you and her; but yet you have more than once gazed at her
long, and with a sad and serious countenance, as if there were deep
thoughts regarding her silently busy at your heart. If you mind not
telling them, I would fain hear what those thoughts were."

"I caught myself so gazing," said Algernon, with a smile, "not long
before she left the room. It was when she spoke of the horrors and
evils of war; and that theme connected itself in my mind with what had
passed before. I asked myself, if these bright scenes are destined to
be visited by strife and pillage and desolation, what will be the fate
of that young fair being, and many others like her. Hardships and rude
alarms and the daily peril of life is what men are habituated to from
boyhood; but what can woman do at such a season? She can but sit still
and weep, awaiting her destiny, whatever it may be. The clang of the
trumpet, or the roll of the drum, gives her no inspiring occupation to
while away the hours of suspense; and, the rude captor's prey in a
town taken by assault, death, and worse than death, may be her
portion.--Such were the thoughts which moved me on this last occasion.
If I stared at her so rudely at any other time, I have forgotten the
cause."

"It will be long, I trust," answered Herbert, "very long, before the
storm rolls hither, even at the worst; and till it comes, here she is
safe enough. But yet, methinks, good friend, your thoughts take a
gloomy turn, and somewhat strange for the youth of the present day.
With nine men out of ten in every court of Europe--France, England,
Germany--we should have nought but gallant speeches, courtly
discourses of small hands and beautiful feet, and eyebrows
marvellously turned, or lectures upon bravery, what colours suit with
what complexions, what ribands and what laces best harmonize, what
dress becomes the gay and young, the tall, the short--with an
intermixture of sighs and smiles, and some slight touch of roses and
other flowers, to give an Arcadian glow to the whole. But here you
have been as grave as a judge over a long cause which makes his dinner
wait; speaking with all calm solemnity, as if you had never been
taught to laugh.--Why so sad, my friend? Time enough for sadness, when
real sorrow comes."

Algernon Grey's brow became graver than before; not that he looked
hurt, or pained, but there was a sort of stern and serious earnestness
upon his face, as he replied with brief, slow, pointed words: "Most
men have some sad secret in their bosom."

"So young!" said Herbert, musing. "Nay, I think not most men; though
some few may."

"Have not you, yourself?" asked Algernon Grey, fixing his eyes upon
him steadfastly, "and none can say what will be the hour for the
poisoning of all life's streams;" and he paused and fell into thought.

"I knew not that the lady was your niece," he continued after a time;
"nor certainly did I expect to meet her here. I seek not dangerous
companionships; and, methinks, her society might well be so to any one
whose heart is not a stone. However, she is too free and happy, too
tranquil in her thoughts and her soul, to be easily won; and I do
trust, when she is won, that she may meet a person well worthy of
her."

"Oh, she will do well enough," answered Herbert. "Women always choose
ill; but, perhaps, she may not choose at all; and I believe the gross
amount of happiness would be on that side, from all I know of men.--We
are strange beings, Master Grey--boys unto the last, we covet eagerly
each glittering toy we see; and then misuse it, when we have it safe."

These last words gave a different turn to the conversation; and it
wandered wide, and lasted long. Before it came to an end, the trumpets
of the Elector's party were heard in the courtyard; and Herbert smiled
somewhat cynically, but made no observation. Shortly after, the castle
clock struck ten; and Algernon Grey took his leave and returned
towards his inn on foot, pondering upon the character of the man he
had just left, and striving, as we all do when we meet with one unlike
the generality of our acquaintance, to plunge beneath the surface and
discover the hidden things of mind and heart. These reveries were not
so profound, however, as to prevent him from remarking that thick
clouds were driving over the sky, while the stars shone out and
disappeared at intervals, as the grey vapoury veil was cast over them,
or withdrawn. The wind, too, had risen high; and the night was very
different from that which had preceded. When he, at length, reached
the inn, some drops of rain were falling; and his heart felt sadder,
certainly, rather than lighter, from the visit he had paid.




CHAPTER VIII.


It was a night of storms and tempests. As is not unusual in hilly
districts, thunder, as well as rain, was brought up by the gusty wind.
The house, though in the midst of the town, seemed to rock with the
violence of the blast. The pannelling cracked; the arras waved over
the door; the rain poured down in incessant torrents; and when
Algernon Grey looked forth from his window, as he did more than once
during the long night, he beheld the livid lightning flaming along the
streets, reflected as by a mirror from the wet and shining pavement of
the causeway. Quick upon the flash came the pealing thunder, as if one
of the granite mountains had been riven by the bolt of heaven, and
rolled in crashing fragments into the valley below.

It was late ere he retired to rest; and for more than one hour he
continued pacing up and down his chamber in deep thought, reproaching
himself for weakness in having given himself up to fascinations, which
he now found might soon become too strong for all his resolution to
resist. It is a painful moment when a firm and determined mind first
discovers in itself that weakness which is in all human nature, when
it has to accuse itself of having yielded, even in a degree, to
temptations which it had resolved to oppose; when it learns to doubt
its own stability and vigour, and is forced, from experience of the
past, to attach a condition, dependent upon its own strength or
feebleness, to every resolution for the future. It is a painful
moment, a moment of apprehension and dread, of doubt and sorrow; and
Algernon Grey, more than once, said to himself, "No, I will not go
thither again--whether William stays here or not, I will go forward."

He was weary, however, and when he did retire to rest, sleep soon
visited his eyelids; but the form which had troubled his waking
thoughts, visited him with more calming and pleasing influence in his
dreams. Agnes wandered with him, Heaven knows where; no longer
bringing with her hesitation and doubt as to his own course; but
smiling with all her youthful grace unclouded, and spreading sunshine
around her, even to the very depths of his own heart. As so rarely
happens, he remembered his dream, too, when he awoke; and it seemed as
if imagination was but an agent of Fate, to bind him in those bonds
against which he struggled fruitlessly.

It was late ere he unclosed his eyes. The sun was far up in the sky,
but still not showing his face unto the earth; for the storm had sunk
away into dull heavy rain; and the pattering torrents, which fell from
the gutters into the streets, told how heavy was the descending
deluge. Large undefined wreaths of white vapour were wound round the
brows of the hills; and the eye could not penetrate either up or down
the valley beyond a few hundred yards from the spot where the observer
stood.

William Lovet was in an ill humour; for he had engaged himself to ride
again with the court that morning, if the day were fine. But still his
spleen took a merry form; and though his jests were somewhat more
bitter than usual, he jested still. Often did he look at the sky, and
still the same grave blank presented itself till the hour of noon.
Then the expanse grew mottled with slight feathery flakes; the flakes
separated themselves wider and wider from ea

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