"Again nothing!" grumbled Christopher to himself; "the Netherlandress, too, won't have me now. Had I known that it would have been the same here, I hardly think that I should have helped to play this trick. But a woman would, at any time, talk over G.o.d himself, and make him sin against his own commandments. How have I burthened my conscience, and at least one-half to no purpose!--The Devil take all women! If it were not for the housekeeping, and the tricks of servants, I would not ask after them, but remain a widower all my life long. In the unmarried state one can lay out so much upon one's self, and save into the bargain; and when at last I have buried my father--who can't hold out much longer with his constant pa.s.sions--I shall be a substantial man, and laugh at every one.--Good Heavens!"

With this cry he broke off his n.o.ble soliloquy; for before him, on a sudden, stood the town-executioner, in his red cloak of office, and, from his thin yellow face, the dark eyes gleamed on Christopher with a savage joy appropriate to this day of horror. All this was in itself quite natural, but Christopher's conscience smote him hardly at the sight, and he felt as if the hideous being had taken the trouble to come there only on his account.

"Is the worshipful burgomaster above?" asked the executioner, with infinite courteousness and his hat off to the son of his superior. From sheer fright, Christopher was unable to reply; he simply pointed to the steps, stammered out, "Above!" and, creeping out of the street-door by him with as much speed as if he felt the sword at his neck, he hurried off.

In the city-marshal's room, below the custom-house, the n.o.ble Tausdorf was still kneeling before the chaplain, who administered the sacrament to him, and blessed him for death. The priest then retired, but his clerk, instead of following, barred the door behind him again, advanced to Tausdorf, who just then was rising from the ground, and asked, in a familiar voice, "Do you know me?"

"Ra.s.selwitz!" cried Tausdorf, surprised. "You have crept in, thus disguised, to bid me farewell for this world. That is bravely done of you, and I thank you heartily for your love."

"I have something more important in my thoughts," replied Ra.s.selwitz quickly and softly. "I would save you. Wrap my black cloak about you, take the cap in your hand, follow the chaplain as his clerk through the gens-d'armes; he is still talking without to the city-marshal. The holy man is in the secret, and goes from here to the farthest end of the Striegauer suburb to a sick person, and thence you may easily escape."

"And _you_?" asked Tausdorf, in deep emotion.

"I!" replied Ra.s.selwitz; "why I remain here in the mean time, and laugh at the serjeants, when they come and find the nest empty."

"That laugh would cost you dear," said Tausdorf; "Heaven be praised that I have more forethought than yourself. The council and the provosts thirst after my blood like hungry tigers. They would be mad on finding me s.n.a.t.c.hed from them, and your head would fall instead of mine."

"Not so," insisted Ra.s.selwitz. "They would fling me into the Hildebrand, which I already know full well, and there I will abide patiently till the bishop frees me."

"It might this time easily turn out otherwise, and I dare not set the life of my preserver on such possibilities, not to speak of the abuse of the holy sacrament which you would persuade me to. I thank you for your n.o.ble offer, but I remain."

"Pray take it, Herr von Tausdorf," cried Ra.s.selwitz, urgently. "I should delight in hazarding something for you, more especially as it seems to me as if I were half the cause of your misfortune, although with no evil intention. I have unconsciously drawn you into the snare which, in the end, has closed destructively about you, and therefore I owe you an atonement. Pray you now accept it."

"I do not understand your words, my young friend, but only the good heart that speaks in them. You may, however, spare them in my case; for by my knightly word I stir not from this room till my hour strikes. If you have done me any wrong, knowingly or unknowingly, I forgive you with all my heart, even without atonement; for, _that_ our Saviour has offered for us all by his death upon the cross."

"I cannot let you die," cried Ra.s.selwitz, wildly; "if you will not save yourself as I propose, I will call together as many brave n.o.bles, and their people, as may be collected in the town. Unfortunately Netz is wanting, with his adherents; and, as the gates are closed, I can send no message to him; but still I will undertake to muster fifty heads. We set fire to the nest in twenty places, and in the confusion we break through to you, and s.n.a.t.c.h you, by force, from the teeth of the dragon."

"Heaven defend me from such a saving! It would cost much n.o.ble and innocent blood, which, in truth, would be too high a price for this head. Were I to accept it, I should deserve the fate which awaits me.

Leave me at least the conviction that I die innocently: it is my best consolation in this hour,--and now depart, my friend, for my moments are numbered."

"You are a saint," cried Ra.s.selwitz, in tears, and kissing Tausdorf's hand before he could prevent it. "You do well to leave this world, for it is much too bad for you. I obey your will, but I must find out the spider which lurked in the centre of this h.e.l.lish web that has wound about you to your ruin, and, when I have found it, I will crush it under my feet, though your spirit should call down from Heaven, 'have mercy!'"

He rushed out, and Tausdorf again fell upon his knees, while his looks flew through the iron bars with burning enthusiasm to the seat of everlasting freedom. "You have highly favoured me in life, eternal Father!" he exclaimed. "Unspotted honour, pure love, and true friendship, have adorned, with their n.o.blest garlands, this head, which I must now lay down in the long sleep of the grave. Now, then, crown thy work of mercy through a good death. Grant that I may depart with courage, and without bitterness against my enemies, so that I may appear before thy throne, not unworthy of thy immortal son."

The gens-d'armes had drawn a triple circle of spears about the stone columns before the sessions-house cellars. Within, by a heap of strewed sand, waited the executioner with his sword beneath his red cloak. On the other side of the circle the people thronged in a dense ma.s.s. All the windows of the marketplace swarmed with spectators, while the roofs and the chimney-tops were covered with men, all expecting, with anxious curiosity and a strange painful pleasure, the victim which they yet lamented.

The bells of the parish church began to toll, and the death-procession approached slowly from the custom-house. By the side of the city-marshal, surrounded by spearmen, walked the n.o.ble Tausdorf, free from fetters, and with his accustomed n.o.bleness. The tight red suit of velvet sate handsomely upon his well-formed limbs, and in his raven locks was woven a coronet of flowers. The features of the pale face were calm and cheerful, and in the glance of his large black eye beamed a light that no longer seemed to be of this world. With friendly greetings to the by-standers, he entered the circle.

"I die innocent," he exclaimed in a loud clear voice, that sounded far beyond the market-place. "But what earthly son shall dare to boast himself free from all earthly failings? I therefore humbly pray to Heaven for pardon for any acknowledged and unacknowledged sins, and hope also, from your Christian charity, that you will forgive me such, and put up your prayers in my behalf, that I may have a blessed end!"

A general sobbing answered this address, and amidst it, from the distance, sounded the lamenting voice of the poor Althea.--

"If I could but see you once again!"

"This is more bitter than death," sighed Tausdorf half to himself, and, turning to the quarter whence her voice had come, he cried, "My dear Althea, that can no more be in this world, but we shall meet again in life everlasting!"

The sobbing of the people grew louder, and here and there were heard single words of discontent. But the marshal gave a sign to two of the gens-d'armes, who went with their spears to that part whence the voice of Althea had come. Then advancing to Tausdorf, he said earnestly, "It is time!"

Tausdorf immediately undid his doublet with his own hands, and flung it amongst the people; then, loosening his ruff, he did the same with that.--And now he knelt upon the sand-heap, with unbound eyes, looked up to Heaven, and exclaimed joyfully, "To thee, my Saviour, I commend myself--Amen!"

With the _amen_, the sword glittered behind him, and his head fell.

The council was still a.s.sembled in their sessions-chamber. Erasmus sate again at the green-covered table, with deep sorrow in his iron features, for now that the spirit of vengeance was satisfied, pain had found more room in his hard heart. The city-marshal entered.

"All is done as you ordered, worshipful Mr. Burgomaster. Your son and von Tausdorf have been solemnly interred, with the attendance of the whole college, the preachers, and a considerable train of mourners, and I caused the bodies to be laid in ONE grave, according to your order, and in the family burial-place. I have also had the town gates re-opened."

"You have done well," replied the burgomaster, with a hollow voice, and made him a sign with his hand to depart.

"Moreover," continued the marshal, "all the n.o.ble inquilines[4] of the city wait without, and request admittance to the honourable council."

"Be it granted, then," said the burgomaster with a heavy heart, and the city-marshal left the room.

In a short time he returned, conducting a train of sable figures. First came the gouty old Schindel, leaning on Ra.s.selwitz and Netz; Althea, holding her child by the hand, followed next. Many old n.o.bles, male and female, who had settled at Schweidnitz, brought up the procession. All were in deep mourning, the women veiled in long black veils. When they had reached the council-table, Netz fetched a chair from the wall, and respectfully placed it before von Schindel. The latter, with difficulty, seated himself, and then, looking up to Netz and Ra.s.selwitz, said, "You remember your promise, knights? You leave me alone to speak, is it not so?"

"Have no fear, uncle," replied Netz, grinding his teeth. "The affair, besides, cannot be ended with words. We will be silent as the grave, that swallowed up our Tausdorf."

"Gentlemen," began the old man, with a trembling voice, "you have done that which is not right before G.o.d. The innocent blood has flowed; to save and repair is no longer possible. I will, therefore, spare you and myself the sorrow of explaining how much you have erred, and on what grounds. I do not come to find fault or dispute with you; I come only to take leave of you for this life, and, at the same time, to bid you farewell in the name of all those n.o.bles who have hitherto lived in peace under the shelter of your walls. You must yourselves find it natural, that none of them deem their life safe in a town that could let so n.o.ble a head fall under the sword of the executioner! Fear, indeed, has no longer any influence with me; I am too old for that, although I openly avow that I myself should not like to die here now, as I would not have my grave amongst you. A higher purpose compels me hence. My poor niece, whom you have made a widow, intends going, with her orphaned child, to Bohemia, to the old father of her betrothed, that she may console him for the loss of his only son, and wait there in patience till death shall free her from her sufferings, and re-unite her with the beloved of her heart. I go with her, and remain with her, for she needs a paternal friend in that foreign land. There will we sit alone together in our sorrow, and weep and comfort each other; and on my knightly word, we will never curse you. Heaven bless you! Heaven bring you to the consciousness of that which you have done, and awake in you a forgiving heart through holy penitence, that henceforth no more innocent victims may be sacrificed to the discord that is between you and us. If this wish should be fulfilled, if the blood shed in yonder grave should ripen into the fruit of peace, hail! thrice hail to the dust of the martyr!"

The speaker was silent; his companions wept aloud, and those of the council turned away to dry their eyes unmarked. Only the old Erasmus stared before him, tearless, gloomy, and full of thought.

"I am ready," said Schindel, looking up to his two guides, who took him by the arms, and helped him to rise. Supported by them, he bowed to the council, and was led away.

The mourning procession followed him; the door closed behind them, while the council looked in silence at each other, and then gloomily at the old burgomaster, who, surprised by this measure, was not master of his speech.

"The young Lord Hochberg of Furstentein," announced the city-servant.

"He, too, must have little that is consolatory to say to us," exclaimed Alderman Trentler; and Erasmus, almost lost in insensibility, signed to the servant to admit him.

The youth entered in complete armour, lifted up his visor before the council-table, and, leaning on his sword, cast fierce and burning glances amongst the troubled faces about the table.

"You have caused Tausdorf to be seized by your people within the Furstentein jurisdiction," he began with bitterness; "you have murdered him by a mockery under the name of a trial, and thus have invaded the jurisdiction of his imperial majesty as lord paramount, and of my mother as holder of the fief. The rascally peasants at Saltzbrunn who abetted your people in this crime are already in prison, and shall be severely punished in body and goods. We have sent a messenger to the emperor with the relation of the business. What he may determine upon your conduct, as far as concerns himself, is for you to look to; we, however, are resolved to defend our own rights in particular, and not to lay down our heads in peace till this monstrous crime is punished and atoned for. But since his imperial majesty has strictly forbidden private feud, we shall, in our just anger, better observe the will of our sovereign than you the aggressors have done; and you shall answer us before the court of fiefs: and to that I cite you herewith, for the first,--second,--and third time."

"The emperor's town is not bound to appear before the feudal court,"

replied Erasmus sullenly. "Rather have we a right to summon the n.o.bles, who, from the time of Bieler's murder up to the present day, have tormented us without stint or measure."

"You will not, then, appear?" said the n.o.bleman warmly.

"Never, my young squire," cried the stout old man, striking his breast--"Never, while I govern in Schweidnitz!"

"Well then," retorted the n.o.ble indignantly, "you have forfeited all right and all honour, and I herewith p.r.o.nounce you outlawed and infamous; and disclaim you in the name of the n.o.bles of this princ.i.p.ality. We will not make war upon you without the emperor's order, but your Schweidnitz shall henceforth be like a town, in which the pest rages. Woe to our serfs if they dare to bring you provisions; woe to your citizens if they dare to go beyond their walls; woe to yourselves if you are caught upon our land and soil. You shall see with terror that we know how to administer justice in our way: as a pledge of it I leave you my gauntlet. Whichever of you has courage enough may bring it after me. I will wait an hour for the messenger on the borders of your territory."

And he hurled the iron gauntlet upon the table with a violence that upset the inkstands and sandboxes, and then rushed out.

Erasmus foamed in silent indignation. On a sudden he thrice pulled the bell-handle which hung over the table, and at the summons three city-servants immediately hastened into the room.