"What could I invent?" replied Ekkehard. "Is it not enough happiness to be the echo of a master, like Virgil?" He looked with a veiled eye at the d.u.c.h.ess. "I should only be able to chant elegies very sad ones too."

"Nothing else?" said Dame Hadwig reproachfully. "Have our ancestors not gone out to war, and let their bugles sound the alarum through the world, and have they not fought battles as grand as those of aeneas? Do you believe that the great Emperor Charles would have had all the old national songs collected and sung, if they had been nothing but chaff?

Must you then, take everything out of your Latin books?"

"I know nothing," repeated Ekkehard.

"But you _must_ know something," persisted the d.u.c.h.ess. "If we, who live here in this castle, were to sit together of an evening and talk of old tales and legends, I shouldn't wonder, if we should produce something more than the whole of the aened contains? 'Tis true that the pious son of the Emperor Charles, did not care any more for the old heroic songs, and preferred listening to whining psalms; until he died, diseased in body and mind; but we still cling to those old tales. Do tell us such a story, Master Ekkehard, and we will gladly spare you your Virgil with his love-sick queen."

But Ekkehard's thoughts were quite differently occupied. He shook his head like one who is dreaming.

"I see that you want some stimulant," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "Above all, a good example will inspire you. Praxedis, prepare thyself, and likewise tell our chamberlain, that we are going to entertain ourselves to-morrow, with the telling of old legends. Let everybody be well prepared."

She took up Virgil and threw it under the table, as a sign that a new aera was to begin forthwith.

Her idea was certainly good, and well conceived. Only the cloister-pupil who had rested his head on Praxedis's lap, whilst the d.u.c.h.ess spoke, had not quite taken in her meaning.

"When may I learn some more Greek, gracious mistress?" asked he.

[Greek: "Thala.s.si kai potami." ...]

"When the grey hairs are grown again," said she gaily, giving him another kiss.

Ekkehard left the hall with hasty steps.

CHAPTER XX.

The old German Legends.

On the top of the Hohentwiel and within the castle-walls, a very pretty, though small garden had been laid out on a steep projecting rock, encircled by a wall. It was a lovely place; well-fitted for observation. The hill was so steep there, that by leaning over the parapet, one could throw a stone down into the valley below, and he, who delighted in an extensive view, could there enjoy it to his heart's content; his eye taking in, mountain and plain, lake and distant Alps; no obstacle barring the view.

In a corner of this little garden, an old maple-tree spread out its branches undisturbed. Its winged seeds were already ripe and brown, fluttering down on the black garden earth below. A ladder had been placed against its greyish green trunk, at the foot of which, Praxedis was standing, holding the corner of a long and heavy piece of tent-cloth; whilst Burkhard, the cloister-pupil, was sitting high up in the branches, trying to fasten the other ends with the help of a hammer and some nails.

"Attention," called out Praxedis. "I verily believe that thou art watching yonder stork, flying over to Radolfszell. Take care, thou paragon of all Latin scholars, and do not drive the nail into the air!"

Praxedis had lifted the cloth with her left hand, and when the cloister-pupil now let go the other end, it fell down heavily, tearing out the badly fixed nails, and entirely burying the Greek maid under its ma.s.sy folds.

"There now,--thou awkward boy!" scolded Praxedis, as soon as she had disentangled herself from the coa.r.s.e wrapper. "I suppose I must look out whether there are not anymore grey hairs to be cut off!"

Scarcely had she p.r.o.nounced the last word, when the cloister-pupil became visible on the ladder, and jumping down from the middle, he now stood on the cloth, before Praxedis.

"Sit down," said he, "I do not mind in the least, being punished again.

I have dreamt this very night, that you cut off all my curls, and that I had returned to school with an entirely bald head,--and yet I was not sorry for it."

Praxedis lightly clapped his head. "Don't grow too impudent during the holidays, my little man; or thy back will prove a nice floor for the rod to dance upon, when thou gettest back to thy cloister-school."

But the cloister-pupil was not thinking of the cool auditories of his monastery. He remained standing motionless before Praxedis.

"Well?" said she, "what is the matter?" "what dost thou want?"

"A kiss," replied the pupil of the liberal arts.

"Heigho! nothing else?" laughed Praxedis. "What reasons has thy wisdom for such a demand?"

"The Lady d.u.c.h.ess has kissed me also," said Burkhard, "and you have often asked me to tell you all about that day, when I fled with my brave, old friend Romeias before the Huns, and how he fought like a hero, as he was. All this I shall not tell you, unless you will give me a kiss."

"Listen," said the Greek maid with a mock serious face, "I have something very wonderful to tell you."

"What?" asked the boy eagerly.

"That thou art the naughtiest little rogue, that has ever set his foot on the threshold of a cloister-school," continued she, and suddenly throwing her white arms around him, she gave him a hearty kiss on the nose.

"Well done, I declare!" called out a deep ba.s.s voice from the garden-door, at the very moment when she playfully pushed the boy away from her. It was Master Spazzo.

"Ah, is it you?" said Praxedis, perfectly unabashed. "You are just in time, Sir Chamberlain, to a.s.sist us in fixing this canva.s.s. I shall never get it done, with that silly boy!"

"So it appears," said Master Spazzo, with a cutting look at the cloister-pupil, who, standing rather in awe of the chamberlain's fierce-looking moustache, slipped away between some rose-bushes.

Astronomy and the metrics, Aristotle in the original language, and red girlish lips, formed a strange medley in the youthful mind.

"Are there no fitter objects for kisses in this castle, gentle maiden?"

asked Master Spazzo.

"If one should ever feel so inclined," was Praxedis' answer, "the fitter objects ride away and stray about in night and darkness; and when they return at daytime, they look as if they had been chasing the will-o'-the-wisps all night."

Herewith, Master Spazzo was answered. He had made a vow not to betray a single word of his nightly adventures; cuckoo, and _vince luna_ included.

"In what way can I help you?" said he humbly.

"In making a bower," said Praxedis. "In the cool hours of the evening, the d.u.c.h.ess will hold court here, and then stories are to be told; old stories, Sir chamberlain, the more wonderful, the better! Our Mistress has grown tired of Latin, and wishes for something else. Something original, that has not yet been written down,--you are also expected to contribute your mite!"

"The Lord protect my soul!" exclaimed Master Spazzo. "If under the reign of a woman everything was not wondrously strange, I really should begin to wonder at this. Are there no wandering minstrels and lute-players left, who, for a helmet full of wine, and a leg of deer, will sing themselves hoa.r.s.e with such tales? We are rising in estimation! 'Vagabonds, jugglers, bards and the like strolling idlers, are to be flogged, and if they complain, they are to receive a man's shadow on a wall, as an indemnification.'[2] I thank you for that honour!"

"You will do what you are commanded, like a faithful va.s.sal, who, moreover has still to render a report about a certain business, transacted over the monastic wine-jug," said Praxedis. "It will be merrier at any rate, than to spell out Latin! Have you no desire to out-rival the learned Master Ekkehard?"

This hint made some impression on the chamberlain's mind. "Give me the corners of the cloth," said he, "so that I may fix them." He then mounted the ladder, and fastened the ends to the branches. Opposite, were some tall poles, entwined with the blue blossomed bean-plant. To these, Praxedis tied the other two corners, and very soon the greyish white canva.s.s formed a nice roof, contrasting pleasantly with the green foliage.

"It would be a very cozy place for drinking the vesper wine," said Master Spazzo half sadly at the idea of that which was to come.

Praxedis, meanwhile arranged the table and seats. The d.u.c.h.ess's stuffed arm-chair, with the finely carved back, touched the stem of the maple-tree, whilst some low stools were placed round for the others.

Fetching down her lute, Praxedis put it on the table beside a huge nosegay which she had ordered Burkhard to make. Finally, she tied a strong thread of red silk, first to the trunk, then, round the bean-plantation and from there, to the wall, so as to leave free only a narrow entrance.

"There," said she gaily, "now our fairy-hall is hedged in, like King Laurins' rose-garden. The walls were not very difficult to make."

The d.u.c.h.ess, taking much pleasure in her idea, adorned herself with particular care on that day. It was still somewhat early to be called evening, when she went down to the bower. She was really a dazzling apparition, as she proudly sailed along, in her flowing robes. The sleeves and seams were richly embroidered with gold, and a steel-gray tunic, held by jewelled clasps, fell down to the ground like a mantle.

On her head she wore a soft transparent tissue, a sort of veil; fastened to a golden head-band. Pulling out a rose from Burkhard's nosegay, she stuck it in, between the head-band and the veil.