"We belong to the d.u.c.h.ess, but we live yonder on the Hohenhowen; where you can see the smoke rise from the charcoal-pile."

"Good," said Ekkehard. "You are to cut down this oak for me."

The men looked at him. Embarra.s.sment was visible in their faces.

"Begin at once, and make haste, for before nightfall, the tree must be felled to the ground."

Then the two men walked up to the oak. With gaping mouths they stood before the magnificent tree. One of them let his axe fall.

"Don't you know the spot, Chomuli?" quoth he to his companion.

"How should I know it, Woveli?"

The former pointed towards the east, and lifting one of his hands to his mouth, imitated the act of drinking. "On account of that, Chomuli."

Then the other looked downhill where Ekkehard was standing, and winking cunningly with one eye, said: "We know nothing, Woveli."

"But he will know, Chomuli."

"That remains to be seen," was the reply.

"It is really a sin and a shame," continued the other. "That oak is at least two hundred years old, and has lived to witness many a bright May- and Autumn-fire. I really can't do it."

"Don't be a fool," said his companion making the first stroke. "The more readily we hew away at the tree, the less yonder monk will believe, that we have sat under its branches in nightly worship.

Remember the shilling fine! A man must be cautious, Woveli!"

This last remark did not fail to have its effect. "Yes, a man must be cautious," he repeated aiming a blow at the tree of his devotion. But ten days ago, he had hung up a wax effigy himself, in order to cure his brown cow of fever.

The chips flew about, and keeping regular time, their blows quickly followed each other.

The deacon of Singen had also arrived with stole and ma.s.s-book.

Ekkehard beckoned to him to go with him into the hut of the woman of the wood. She was still sitting motionless as before, beside her hearth. A sharp gust of wind, entering as the door opened, extinguished her fire.

"Woman of the wood," called out Ekkehard imperiously, "put your house in order and pack up your things, for you must go!"

The old woman seized her staff and cut a third notch. "Who is it, that is insulting me for the third time," growled she, "and who wishes to cast me out of my mother's house, like a stray dog?"

"In the name of the d.u.c.h.ess of Suabia," continued Ekkehard solemnly, "and on account of your practising heathenish superst.i.tions, and nightly idolatries, I banish you herewith from house and home; and bid you leave the land. Your chair shall be placed before the door of your hut, and you shall wander restlessly about, as far as the sky is blue, and christians visit the church; as far as the falcon flies on a day of Spring when the wind is carrying him along, faster than his wings. No hospitable door shall be opened to you; no fire be lighted to give you warmth; and may the wells deny you water, until you have renounced the powers of darkness, and made your peace with the almighty G.o.d; the judge of the living and dead."

The woman of the wood had listened to him, without showing great emotion.

"An anointed man, will insult thee three times under thy own roof,"

muttered she, "and thou shalt make a sign on thy staff, in witness of this; and with that same staff, thou shalt go out towards the setting sun, for they will not give thee sufficient ground, to rest thy head upon. Oh mother! My mother!"

She then sc.r.a.ped her scanty belongings together, making a bundle of them; and taking her staff, prepared herself to go. The heart of the deacon of Singen was touched. "Pray G.o.d through his servants to have mercy on you, and perform some christian penance," he said, "so that you may find forgiveness."

"For that, the woman of the wood is too old," she replied. Then she called her wood-p.e.c.k.e.r, which flew about her head; the raven followed, with a scared frightened look, and she had already opened the door and cast back one last look on the walls and fire-place, the herbs and horses' skulls, when she struck her stick violently on the threshold; so as to make the stone flags resound. "Be cursed ye dogs!" cried she; then followed by her birds, took the path leading into the woods, and disappeared.

"And silent we go, a defeated tribe, Whose stars are all dying and sinking, Oh Iceland, thou icy rock in the sea, With thee, our fates we'll be linking!"

was her low chaunt; slowly dying out, among the leafless trees.

Ekkehard now put on the stole; and the deacon of Singen carrying the ma.s.s-book before him, they proceeded through chamber and closet. The walls were sanctified by the sign of the cross, so as to banish the evil spirits for ever; and finally, with prayers, he p.r.o.nounced the mighty exorcism over the place.

The pious work had lasted long; and when the deacon took off Ekkehard's stole, the cold sweat-drops stood on his brow; as he had never before heard such impressive words. Just when all was over, the tramping of horses' feet was heard.

It was the d.u.c.h.ess, accompanied by one servant only. Ekkehard went out to meet her; and the deacon directed his steps homewards.

"You were so long away, that I had to come hither myself, to see how you had settled everything," graciously called out the d.u.c.h.ess.

The two wood-cutters had in the meanwhile finished their job, and made their retreat by the back of the hill. They stood in awe of the d.u.c.h.ess. Ekkehard then told her about the life and doings of the woman of the wood, and how he had driven her away.

"You are very severe," said Dame Hadwig.

"I thought I was very mild," replied Ekkehard.

"Well, we approve of that which you have done. What do you intend to do with the deserted hut," casting a hasty look at the stone walls.

"The power of the evil spirits has been banished and exorcised," said Ekkehard. "I mean to consecrate it as a chapel to St. Hadwig."

The d.u.c.h.ess looked at him with a well pleased expression.

"How did you hit upon that idea?"

"The thought struck me just now, ... the oak I have had cut down."

"We will examine that spot; and I think that we shall approve also, of the felling of the oak."

She climbed the steep path, leading up to the top of the Hohenkrahen, accompanied by Ekkehard.

There lay the oak on the ground; its mighty branches almost preventing their further ascent. A flat stone, but a few paces in circ.u.mference, crowned the top of the strangely shaped hill. They were standing on the rocks, which formed a declivitous wall beneath their feet. It was a giddy height, on which was neither stone nor tree for support, and the two figures stood out picturesquely, against the blue sky; the monk in his dark garment and the d.u.c.h.ess, wrapped up in her bright coloured mantle. Silently they stood thus; looking at the splendid view before them. In the depth below, the plain lay stretched out before them, through the green meadows of which, the river Aach ran in serpentine lines. The roofs and gables of the houses in the valley, looked like tiny dots on a map. Opposite rose darkly, the proud, well-known peak of the Hohentwiel; blue, flat mountain-ridges rising like walls, behind the mighty one; hiding the Rhine after its escape from the Bodensee.

The Untersee with the island of Reichenau lay bathed in light; and in the far off distance, the faint outlines of gigantic mountains were visible, through transparent clouds. They became clearer and clearer as the sun sank down, a golden glow surrounding them like a halo of glory ... the landscape becoming softer, shadows and glittering lights melting into each other ...

Dame Hadwig was touched, for her n.o.ble heart could feel and appreciate nature's beauty and grandeur. But the feelings lie very close to each other, and at that moment, a certain tenderness, pervaded her whole being. Her looks from the snowy Alpine peaks fell on Ekkehard. "He is going to consecrate a chapel to St. Hadwig," something whispered within her, over and over again.

She advanced a step, as if she were afraid of becoming giddy, and putting her right arm on Ekkehard's shoulder, leaned heavily on him; her sparkling eyes looking intently into his. "What is my friend thinking about?" said she in soft accents.

Ekkehard who had been lost in thought started.

"I have never before stood on such a height," said he, "and I was reminded of the pa.s.sage in Scripture: 'Afterwards the devil, taking him up into a high mountain, shewed unto him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. And the devil said unto him: All this will I give Thee, and the glory of them, if thou wilt worship me. But Jesus answered and said unto him: Get thee behind me Satan, for it is written, thou shalt worship the Lord thy G.o.d, and Him only shalt thou serve.'"

With a strange look the d.u.c.h.ess stepped backwards; the light in her eyes changing, as if she would have liked to push the monk down into the abyss.

"Ekkehard!" cried she, "you are either a child--or a fool!"

Then she turned round, and hastily and displeased descended the path.