And the letter read as follows:

"Does my comrade still remember His old Hans von Wildenstein?

Down the Rhine and Danube many Drops of water have been flowing, Since we in that war together Lay before the bivouac-fire; And I see it by my son's growth, Who is now a strapping fellow-- Four-and-twenty years he reckons.

First a page unto his highness The Grand Duke of Wurtemberg; Then to Tubingen I sent him.

If I by his debts can judge well, Which I had to pay for him there, He must have vast stores of knowledge.

Now he stays with me at home, at Wildenstein; is hunting stags here, Hunting foxes, hares and rabbits; But sometimes the rascal even Hunts the peasants' pretty daughters.

So 'tis time to think of taming Him beneath the yoke of marriage.

If I err not, you, my friend, have Just a daughter suited for him.

With old comrades 'tis the custom Not to beat around the bush, but Go straight forward to the business.

So I ask you, shall my Damian Start upon a tour of courtship To your castle on the Rhine?

Answer soon. Receive the greetings Of thy Hans von Wildenstein!

"Postscript: Do you still remember That great brawl we had at Augsburg, And the rage of wealthy Fugger, The ill-humour of his ladies, Two-and-thirty years ago?"

With great effort tried the Baron His friend's writing to decipher.

Spent a good half-hour upon it Ere he came to its conclusion.

Smiling said he then: "A Suabian Is a devil of a fellow.

One and all they are unpolished.

And coa.r.s.e-grained is their whole nature; But within their square-built noddles Lie rich stores of clever cunning.

Many stupid brainless fellows Might from them obtain supplies.

Truly my old Hans now even In old age is calculating Like the best diplomatist.

For, his much enc.u.mbered, rotten Owl's-nest out there on the Danube, Would be well propped up and rescued By a good rich marriage-portion.

Still his plan is worth considering; For, the name of Wildenstein is Well known all throughout the Empire, Since they followed as crusaders In the train of Barbarossa.

Let the younker try his chance then!"

Werner with most solemn aspect, Dressed in black, the room now entered; Sadness lay on his pale features.

In good humour spoke the Baron: "I was wishing just to see you, For I want you to be ready With your pen, and as my faithful Secretary write a letter, And a letter of importance.

There's a knight who lives in Suabia Questioning me about my daughter; Asks her hand from me in marriage For his son, the younker Damian.

Write him then, how Margaretta Daily grows in grace and beauty; How she--but I need not tell you.

Think you are an artist--sketch then With your pen a life-like, faithful Portrait, not a jot forgetting.

Also write, to his proposal I do offer no objection, And the younker, if he pleases, May come here and try his fortune."

"May come here and try his fortune,"

Said young Werner, as if dreaming, Mumbling to himself--when grimly Said the Baron: "What's the matter?

You have now as long a visage As a protestant old preacher On Good Friday. Is the fever Coming once again to plague you?"

Gravely answered him young Werner: "I, my lord, can't write that letter, You must find another penman; For, I come myself as suitor, Come to ask you for your daughter."

"Come--to ask you--for your daughter!"

In his turn now said the Baron To himself--he made a wry mouth As one playing on the Jew's-harp, And he felt a sudden twitching In his foot from his old enemy Podagra, and gravely said: "My young friend, your brain is truly Still affected with the fever.

Hurry quickly to the garden; There stands in the shade a fountain, There is flowing clear cool water; If you dip your head thrice in it Then your fever soon will cool."

"n.o.ble lord," now answered Werner, "Spare your jokes, for you may better Use them, when the n.o.ble younker Comes here from the land of Suabia.

Calm and free from any fever Have I on this step decided, And to Margaretta's father I repeat the same pet.i.tion."

Darkly frowning said the Baron: "Do you want to hear from me then What your own good sense should tell you?

Most unwillingly I hurt you With harsh words; I've not forgotten That the wound upon your forehead, Hardly healed yet, you received here By your ardour in my service.

He who ventures as a suitor For my daughter first must show me That he comes of n.o.ble lineage.

Nature has set up strict barriers Round us all with prescient wisdom, To us all our sphere a.s.signing, Wherein we the best may prosper.

In the Holy Roman Empire Is each rank defined most clearly-- n.o.bles, commoners, and peasants.

If they keep within their circle, From themselves their race renewing, They'll remain then strong and healthy.

Each is then just like a column, Which supports the whole; but never Should these cla.s.ses mix together.

Do you know the consequences?

Our descendants would have something Of each cla.s.s, and yet be nothing-- Shallow, good-for-nothing mongrels, Tossed about, because uprooted From the soil of old tradition.

Firm, exclusive must a man be; And his course of life already Must be inborn, an inheritance Coming down through generations.

Hence our custom does require Equal rank when people marry; And I hold as law this custom; I shall not allow a stranger To o'erleap this solid barrier, And no trumpeter shall therefore Ever woo a n.o.ble lady."

Thus the Baron. With great labour Had he put the words together Of this solemn and unusual Theoretical discourse.

Meanwhile Hiddigeigei lying There, behind the stove, was listening.

At the end a.s.sent he nodded, But in thoughtful meditation Raised his paw up to his forehead, Reasoning to himself as follows: "Why do people kiss each other?

Never shall I solve this question!

I did think at last I'd solved it, Thought that kisses might be useful As a means to stop one's talking, And prevent one from declaiming Bitter stinging words of truth.

But, alas, now this solution Seems, I must confess, erroneous; Else young Werner long before this Would have kissed my good old master."

To the Baron said young Werner, And his voice was growing hollow: "Much I thank you for this lesson.

'Midst the fir-trees of the mountains, By the green waves of the river, In the sunlight of the May-time, Has my eye been overlooking All these barriers of custom.

Thanks, that you have thus recalled them.

Also, thanks for all your kindness, Shown to me while on the Rhine.

Now my time is up, the meaning Of your words I thus interpret: 'Right about face!' I go gladly.

As a suitor fully equal I shall here return, or never.

Be not angry then--farewell!"

Spoke, and from the room departed, And he knew what must be done now.

At the door with troubled glances Still a long while gazed the Baron: "I am really sad," he muttered, "Wherefore is this brave youth's name not Damian von Wildenstein?"

Parting, parting, dismal moment!

Who first ever did invent it?

Surely 'twas a wicked man, far In the Polar Sea, and freezing Round his nose the polar wind blew; And his s.h.a.ggy, jealous consort, Plagued him, so he no more relished The sweet comfort of the train-oil.

O'er his head he drew a yellow, Furry sealskin, and then waving With his fur-protected right hand, To his Ylaleyka spoke he First this harsh and mournful sentence: "Fare-thee-well, from thee I'm parting!"

Parting, parting, dismal moment!

In his turret-chamber Werner, Was now tying bag and baggage.

Fastening up his travelling knapsack: Greets the walls of his snug chamber For the last time, for they seemed then Just like good old friends and comrades.

Only these he took farewell of; Margaretta's eyes he could not For the world then have encountered.

To the court-yard he descended, Quickly his good horse he saddled.

Hoofs then clatter; a sad rider Rode forth from the castle's precincts.

In the low ground by the river Stood a walnut-tree; once more there Now he halted with his horse, And once more took up his trumpet; From his overburdened soul then His farewell rang to the castle-- Rang out; don't you know the swan's song, When with death's foreboding o'er him Out into the lake he's swimming?