"It is certainly no useless work which the old poets have left behind,"

he said. "How difficult it would be to learn a language, if it were bequeathed to us, merely through a dictionary, like corn in a sack, which we should first have to grind into flour, and then to make into bread. Now the poet puts everything in its right place, and the whole is clothed in harmonious forms; so that what otherwise would prove a hard and tough matter for our teeth, we can now drink in like honey-dew."

To mitigate the bitterness of the grammar, Ekkehard could find no means. Every day he wrote a task for the d.u.c.h.ess on parchment, and she proved a very eager and industrious pupil; for each morning when the sun rose over the Bodensee, and cast its early rays on the Hohentwiel, she stood already at her window, learning her task; silently or loud as might be. Once her montonous reciting of _amo_, _amas_, _amat_, _amamus_ _etc_. reached even Ekkehard's ear in his chamber.

Poor Praxedis was heavily afflicted, as the d.u.c.h.ess to heighten her own zeal, ordered her to learn always the same task with her, which she considered a great nuisance. Dame Hadwig, only a beginner herself, delighted in correcting her handmaiden, and was never so pleased, as when Praxedis took a substantive for an adjective, or conjugated an irregular verb as a regular one.

In the evening the d.u.c.h.ess came over to Ekkehard's room, where everything had to be ready for the reading of Virgil. Praxedis accompanied her, and as no dictionary was found amongst the books which Master Vincentius had left behind, Praxedis who was well-versed in the art of writing, was ordered to begin to make one, as Dame Hadwig did not know so much of that. "What would be the use of priests and monks,"

said she, "if everybody knew the art belonging to their profession? Let the blacksmiths wield the hammer, the soldiers the sword, and the scriveners the pen, and everyone stick to his own business." She had however well practised writing her name, in capital letters, artistically entwined; so that she could affix it, to all doc.u.ments to which she put her seal, as sovereign of the land.

Praxedis cut up a big roll of parchment, into small leaves; drawing two lines on each, to make three divisions. After each lesson she wrote down the Latin words they had learned in one, the German in the next, and the Greek equivalent in the third column. This last was done by the d.u.c.h.ess's desire, in order to prove to Ekkehard, that they had acquired some knowledge, already before he came. Thus the lessons had fairly begun.

The door of Ekkehard's room, leading into the pa.s.sage, was left wide open by Praxedis. He rose and was about to shut it, when the d.u.c.h.ess prevented him, by saying: "Do you not yet know the world?"

Ekkehard could not understand the meaning of this. He now began to read and translate the first book of Virgil's great epic poem. aeneas the Trojan rose before their eyes; how he had wandered about for seven years on the Tyrian sea, and what unspeakable pains it had cost him to become the founder of the Roman people. Then came the recital of Juno's anger, when she went to entreat Aeolus to do her bidding; promising the fairest of her nymphs to the G.o.d of the winds, if he would destroy the Trojan ships.--Thunder-storms, tempests, and dire ship-wrecks;--the turbulent waves scattering weapons and armour, beams and rafters, of what had once been the stately fleet of the Trojans. And the roar of the excited waves, reach the ears of Neptune himself, who rising from his watery depths, beholds the dire confusion. The winds of Aeolus are ignominiously sent home; the rebellious waves settle down; and the remaining ships, anchor on the Lybian sh.o.r.es ...

So far Ekkehard had read and translated. His voice was full and sonorous, and vibrating with emotion; for he perfectly understood what he had read. It was getting late; the lamp was flickering in its socket, and Dame Hadwig rose from her seat to go.

"How does my gracious mistress like the tale of the heathen poet?"

asked Ekkehard.

"I will tell you to-morrow," was the reply.

To be sure, she might have said it there and then; for the impression of what she had heard, was already fixed in her mind; but she refrained from doing so, not liking to hurt his feelings.

"May you have pleasant dreams," she called out as he was departing.

Ekkehard went up to Vincentius's room in the tower, which had been restored to perfect order; all traces of the doves having been removed. He wanted to pray and meditate, as he was wont to do in the monastery, but his head began to burn and before his soul stood the lofty figure of the d.u.c.h.ess; and when he looked straight at her, then Praxedis's black eyes, also peeped at him from over her mistress's shoulders.--What was to become of all this?--He went to the window where the fresh autumn air cooled his forehead, and looked out at the dark vast sky, stretching out over the silent earth. The stars twinkled brightly, some nearer, some farther off, more or less brilliant. He had never before enjoyed such an extensive view of the starry firmament; for on the top of the mountains, the appearance and size of things change much. For a long time he stood thus, until he began to shiver; and he felt as if the stars were attracting him upwards, and that he must rise towards them as on wings ... He closed the window, crossed himself, and went to seek his resting place.

On the next day, Dame Hadwig came with Praxedis to take her grammar lesson. She had learnt many words and declensions, and knew her task well; but she was absent withal.

"Did you dream anything?" she asked her teacher when the lesson was over.

"No."

"Nor yesterday?"

"Neither."

"Tis a pity, for it is said, that, what we dream the first night in a new domicile comes true. Now confess, are you not a very awkward young man?" she continued after a short pause.

"I?" asked Ekkehard greatly surprised.

"As you hold constant intercourse with the poets, why did you not invent some graceful dream, and tell it me? Poetry and dreams,--'tis all the same, and it would have given me pleasure."

"If such is your command," said Ekkehard, "I will do so the next time you ask me; even if I have dreamt nothing."

Such conversations were entirely new and mystical for Ekkehard. "You still owe me your opinion of Virgil," said he.

"Well," returned Dame Hadwig, "if I had been a queen in Roman lands, I do not know whether I should not have burnt the poem, and imposed eternal silence on the man ..."

Ekkehard stared at her, full of amazement.

"I am perfectly serious about it," continued she, "and do you wish to know why?--because he reviles the G.o.ds of his country. I paid great attention, when you recited the speeches of Juno yesterday. That she, the wife of the chief of all the G.o.ds, feels a rankling in her mind, because a Trojan shepherd boy, does not declare her to be the most beautiful,--and being powerless to call up a tempest at her will, to destroy a few miserable ships, must first bribe Aeolus by the offer of a nymph! And then Neptune, who calls himself the king of the seas, and allows strange winds to cause a tempest in his realms; and only notices this transgression, when it is well nigh over!--What is the upshot of all that?--I can tell you, that in a country whose G.o.ds are thus abased and defamed, I should not like to wield the sceptre!"

Ekkehard could not very readily find an answer. All the ma.n.u.scripts of the ancients, were for him stable and immovable as the mountains; and he was content to read and admire, what lay before him and now such doubts!

"Pardon me, gracious lady," he said, "we have not read very far as yet, and it is to be hoped, that the human beings of the aeneid will find greater favour in your eyes. Please to remember, that at the time when the Emperor Augustus, had his subjects counted, the light of the world began to dawn at Bethlehem. The legend says, that a ray of that light had also fallen on Virgil, which explains why the old G.o.ds could not appear so great in his eyes."

Dame Hadwig had spoken according to her first impression, but she did not intend to argue with her teacher.

"Praxedis," said she in a jesting tone, "what may thy opinion be?"

"My powers of thought are not so great," said the Greek maid.

"Everything appeared to me to be so very natural; and that made me like it. And what has pleased me most, was that Mistress Juno gave Aeolus to one of her nymphs for a husband; for though he was somewhat elderly, he was after all, king of the winds, and she must certainly have been well provided for."

"Certainly,"--said Dame Hadwig, making a sign to her to be silent.

"'Tis well that we have learnt in what way waiting-women can appreciate Virgil."

Ekkehard was only provoked into 'greater zeal, by the d.u.c.h.ess's contradiction. With enthusiasm he read, on the following evening, how the pious aeneas goes out to seek the Lybian land; and how he meets his mother Venus, dressed in the habit and armour of a Spartan maid; the light bow hanging over her shoulder, and her fair heaving bosom, scarcely hidden by the looped-up garment; and how she directs her son's steps, towards the Lybian princess. Further he read, how aeneas recognized his Divine mother but too late,--calling after her in vain; but how she wrapped him up in a mist, so that he could reach the new town unseen, where the Tyrian queen is building a splendid temple in honour of Juno. There he stands transfixed with admiration, gazing at the representation of the battles before Troy; painted by the hand of the artist; and his soul is refreshed by the recollections of past battles.

And now Dido, the mistress of the land, herself approaches, urging on the workmen, and performing her sovereign's duties.

"And at the gate of the temple, in Juno's honour erected, There on her throne sat the queen, surrounded by arms-bearing warriors, Dealing out justice to all, and dividing the labours amongst them, With an impartial hand, allotting his share to each one ..."

"Read that over again," said the d.u.c.h.ess. Ekkehard complied with her wish.

"Is it written thus in the book?" asked she. "I should not have objected if you had put in these lines yourself; for I almost fancied I heard a description of my own government. Yes, with the human beings of your poet, I am well satisfied."

"It was no doubt easier to describe them, than the G.o.ds," said Ekkehard. "There are so many men in this world ..."

She made him a sign to continue. So he read on, how the companions of aeneas came, to implore her protection, and how they sung their leader's praise; who, hidden by a cloud, stood close by. And Dido opens her town to the helpless ones; and the wish arises in her, that aeneas their king, might also be thrown by the raging waves on her sh.o.r.es; so that the hero feels a great longing to break through the cloud that is veiling him.

But when Ekkehard began with:

"Scarce had she uttered this wish, when the veiling cloud, floated backwards ..."

a heavy tread was heard, and the next moment, in came Master Spazzo the chamberlain; wanting to have a look at the d.u.c.h.ess, taking her lesson.

Most likely he had been sitting with the wine-jug before him, for his eyes were staring vacantly, and the salutation-speech died on his lips.

It was not his fault though; for quite early in the morning, he had felt his nose burn and itch dreadfully, and that is an unmistakeable sign, of a tipsy evening to come.

"Stop there," cried the d.u.c.h.ess, "and you Ekkehard continue!"

He read on with his clear expressive voice.