Barbara Blomberg, Volume 2.

G >> Georg Ebers >> Barbara Blomberg, Volume 2.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

This eBook was produced by David Widger

[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
entire meal of them. D.W.]

BARBARA BLOMBERG

By Georg Ebers

Volume 2.

CHAPTER VI.

The old captain blew the dust from the wine flagon and carefully removed
the seal. His presence prevented Wolf from renewing the interrupted
conversation.

Reflection doubtless warned him that it would be a dangerous venture to
enter the same life-boat with this woman, yet how bewitchingly beautiful
she had seemed to him in her proud superiority, in the agitation of soul
aroused by the yearning for a fairer fate! Have her he must, even though
he was permitted to call her his own but for a year, a month, an hour.

Many of her words had been harsh and apparently unfeeling, yet how noble
must be the soul of this young creature who, for the sake of being loyal
to truth, the pure source of everything grand and lofty, paid no heed to
much that is usually sacred to human beings!

But Barbara's conduct during the next hour appeared to belie this opinion
of the man who loved her, for scarcely had her father sat down with the
knight before the venerable wine flagon than she flung down the smoothing
iron, hastily piled the finished articles one above another, and then,
without heeding the parchment on which Wolf's verses were written, rolled
up the ruby velvet. Directly after, with the package under her arm, she
wished the men a merry drinking bout, and added that poor Ursel might
need her. Besides, she wanted to show her the beautiful material, which
would please the faithful soul.

Then, without even pausing at the rooms in the second story, she hurried
swiftly down the stairs into the street.

She was carrying Wolf's gift to Frau Lerch, her dressmaker.

The Grieb, where the latter lived as wife of the keeper of the house, was
only a few steps distant. If the skilful woman, who was indebted to her
for many a customer, began the work of cutting at once, her cousins, the
Wollers, could help her the next day with the sewing. True, these were
the very girls who would "turn yellow with rage" at the sight of the
velvet, but precisely because these rich girls had so many things of
which she was deprived she felt that, in asking their aid, she was
compelling Fate to atone for an injustice.

Haste was necessary for, at the first glance at the velvet, she had
determined to wear it at the next dance in the New Scales, and she also
saw distinctly in imagination the person whose attention she desired to
attract.

True, the recruiting officer sent to Ratisbon, of whom she was thinking,
was by no means a more acceptable suitor, but a handsome fellow, a scion
of a noble family, and, above all, an excellent dancer.

She did not love him--nay, she was not even captivated by him like so
many others. But, if his heart throbbed faster for any one, it was
Barbara. Yet perhaps his glances strayed almost as frequently to one
other maiden. The velvet gown should now decide whether he gave the
preference to her or to pretty Elspet Zohrer--of course, only in the
dance--for she would never have accepted him as a serious suitor.

Besides, the young noble, Pyramus Kogel, himself probably thought of no
such folly.

It was very different with Wolf Hartschwert. She had been told the small
amount of his inheritance long before, and on that account she would have
been obliged to refuse him positively at once, yet the affectionate
relations existing between them must not be clouded. He might still
become very useful to her and, besides, the modest companion of her
childhood was dear to her. She would have sincerely regretted an
irreparable breach with him.

Her father indulged her in every respect, only he strictly forbade his
beautiful child to leave the house alone after sunset. Therefore Barbara
had not told him the real object of her visit. She now had no occasion
to fear his following her.

Yet she made all possible haste, and, as she found Frau Lerch at home,
and the skilful little woman was instantly at her service, she crowded
into the space of an hour the many points about the cutting which were to
be discussed.

Then she set out on her way home, expecting to traverse the short
distance swiftly and without delay; but, when she had gone only a few
paces from the Grieb, a tall man came toward her.

To avoid him she crossed nimbly to the other side of the dark little
street, but just where it turned into Red Cock Street he suddenly barred
her way. She was startled, but the oft-proved courage of the Blomberg
race, to which she had just alluded, really did animate her, and, with
stern decision, she ordered her persecutor to stand aside.

He, however, was not to be intimidated, but exclaimed as joyously as
though some great piece of good fortune had befallen him:

"Thanks for accosting me, Jungfrau Barbara, for, though the words are
harsh, they prove that, in spite of the darkness here, my eyes did not
deceive me. Heaven be praised!"

Then the girl recognised the recruiting officer and excellent dancer of
whom she had just been thinking in connection with the velvet upper robe,
and answered sharply:

"Certainly it is I; but if you are really a nobleman, Sir Pyramus, take
care that I am not exposed by your fault to evil gossip, and can not
continue to hold my head erect as I now do."

"Who will see us in this little dark street?" he asked in low,
persuasive tones. "May all the saints guard me from assailing the honour
of a modest maiden, fairest Barbara; yet, if you fear that I might
prevent your remaining in the future what the favour of the Most High
permits you to be, I shall rather accuse you of having inflicted upon me
what you fear may befall you; for, since the last dance, I am really no
longer myself, and can never become so until I have received from your
beautiful lips the modest consolation for which this poor, tortured,
loyal soul is yearning. May I not linger at your side long enough to ask
you one question, you severe yet ardently beloved maiden?"

"Certainly not," replied Barbara with repellent harshness. "I never gave
you a right to speak to me of love; but, above all, I shall not seek the
sharer of a game of question and answer in the street."

"Then name a place," he whispered with passionate ardour, trying
meanwhile to clasp her hand, "where I may be permitted, in broad sunlight
and before the eyes of the whole world, to say to you what robs me of
rest by day and sleep by night. Drop the cruel harshness which so
strangely and painfully contradicts the language of your glances the
evening of the last dance. Your eyes have kindled these flames, and this
poor heart will consume in their glow if I am not suffered to confess to
you that I love you with more ardour than was ever bestowed on any
maiden. This place--I will admit that it is ill-chosen--but what other
was open to me? After all, here, too, a bit of the sky with its many
stars is looking down upon us. But, if you still unkindly refuse me, or
the dread of crossing the barrier of strict decorum forbids you to listen
to me here, you can mercifully name another spot. Allow me to go to your
father and beg him for the clear hand which, in a happier hour, by not
resisting the pressure of mine, awakened the fairest hopes in my heart."

"This is too much," Barbara indignantly broke in. "Make way for me at
once, and, if you are well advised, you will spare yourself the visit to
my father; for, even if you were in earnest with your love and came as an
honest suitor to our modest house, it might easily happen that you would
descend the staircase, which is very steep and narrow, in as sorrowful a
mood as you climbed it secure of victory."

Then Pyramus Kogel changed his tone, and said bitterly:

"So your victorious eyes were only carrying on an idle game with my
unsuspecting heart? You laugh! But I expected to find in my German
native land only girls whose chaste reserve and simple honesty could be
trusted. It would be a great sorrow if I should learn through you,
Jungfrau Barbara, that here, too, it would have been advisable to arm
myself against wanton deception. True, the French chansons you sing
sound unlike our sincere German songs. And then you, the fairest of the
fair, can choose at will among men; but the Emperor's service carries me
from one country to another. I am only a poor nobleman--"

"I care not," she interrupted him here with icy coldness; "you might be
just good enough for the daughter of another nobleman, who has little
more to call his own than you, Sir Knight, but nevertheless far too
little for me to grant you permission to load me with unjust reproaches.
Besides, you wholly lack the one advantage which the man to whom I am
willing to betroth myself must possess."

"And what is that?" he asked eagerly.

"Neither gold nor lands, rank nor splendour," she answered proudly, "but
changeless fidelity of the heart. Remember your fluttering from lovely
Elspet Zohrer to me, and from me to Elspet, Sir Pyramus, and ask yourself
what reason you would give me to expect the fulfilment of such a demand.
Your fine figure and gay manner please us girls very well at a dance,
but, though you should possess the wealth of the Fuggers and the power of
the Sultan, it would be useless trouble to seek my consent. Stand out of
my path at once! There come the Emperor's body guards, and, if you do
not obey me, as surely as I hope for salvation I will call them!"

The last words had escaped her lips in a raised voice, and vibrated with
such honest indignation that the recruiting officer yielded; but a
triumphant smile flitted over her beautiful face.

Had she known before how complete a victory he had already won over
pretty Elspet Zohrer, her most dangerous rival, this late errand would
have been unnecessary.

Yet she did not regret it; true, she cared no more for Pyramus Kogel than
for any one else--the certainty that he, too, had succumbed to the spell
of her beauty was associated with a feeling of pleasure whose charm she
knew and valued.

CHAPTER VII.

Every one in Ratisbon or at the court who spoke of Sir Wolf Hartschwert
called him an excellent fellow. In fact, he had so few defects and
faults that perhaps it might have been better for his advancement in life
and his estimation in the circle of society to which he belonged if more
of them had clung to him.

Hitherto the vice of avarice was the last with which he could have been
reproached. But, when his old friend filled his glass with wine, the
desire that the property left to him might prove larger than he had
expected overpowered every other feeling.

Formerly it had been welcome mainly as a testimonial of his old friend's
affection. He did not need it for his own wants; his position at court
yielded him a far larger income than he required for the modest life to
which he was accustomed. For Barbara's sake alone he eagerly hoped that
he had greatly underestimated his foster parents' possessions.

Ought he to blame her because she desired to change the life of poverty
with her father for one which better harmonized with her worth and
tastes? He himself, who had lived years in a Roman palace, surrounded by
exquisite works of the gloriously developed Italian art, and then in the
one at Brussels, furnished with imperial splendour, did not feel
perfectly content in the more than simple room which Blomberg called his
"artist workshop."

A few rude wooden chairs, a square table with clumsy feet, and an open
cupboard in which stood a few tin cups, were, the sole furniture of the
narrow, disproportionately long room, whose walls were washed with gray.
The ceiling, with its exposed beams, was blackened by the pine torches
which were often used for lights. Pieces of board were nailed over the
defective spots in the floor, and the lines where the walls met rarely
showed a right angle.

The window disappeared in the darkness. It was in the back of the niche
formed by the unusually thick walls. During the day its small, round
panes gave the old gentleman light while he guided his graving tool. A
wooden tripod supported the board on which his tools lay. The stool,
which usually stood on a wooden trestle opposite to it, now occupied a
place before the table bearing the flagon of wine, and was intended for
Barbara.

After the torches had ceased to burn, a single tallow candle in a
wrought-iron candlestick afforded the two men light, and threatened to go
out when, in the eagerness of their conversation, they forgot to use the
snuffers.

Neither curtain, carpet, nor noteworthy work of art pleased the eye in
this bare, strangely narrow room. The weapons and pieces of armour of
the aged champion of the faith, which hung high above the window, made no
pretension to beauty. Besides, the rays of the dim candle did not extend
to them any more than to the valueless pictures of saints and virgins on
the wall.

The door of Barbara's little bow-window room stood open. Nothing but a
small oil lamp was burning there. But the articles it contained, though
dainty in themselves, were standing and lying about in such confusion
that it also presented an unpleasant aspect.

Yet Barbara's beauty had shed such radiance upon this hideous environment
that the scene of her industry had seemed to Wolf like an Eden.

Now he could scarcely understand this; but he found it so much the easier
to comprehend that these wretched surroundings no longer suited such a
pearl, and that it behooved him to procure it a worthier setting.

Still, it was by no means easy to ask the captain what he desired to
know, for during the young knight's absence a great many important things
had happened which Blomberg was longing to tell.

He was in such haste to do this that he detained Wolf, who wanted to
speak to old Ursel before he began to drink the wine, by the statement
that she suffered from wakefulness, and he would disturb her just as she
was falling asleep.

The account of the property bequeathed to the young knight was only too
quickly completed, for, though the precentor's will made his foster son
the sole heir, the legacy consisted only of the house, some portable
property, and scarcely more than a thousand florins.

Yet perhaps something else was coming to Wolf; early yesterday
Dr. Hiltner, the syndic of the city, had asked his place of residence,
and added that he had some news for him which promised good fortune.

After these communications Blomberg hoped to be able to mention the
important events which had occurred in Ratisbon during his young friend's
absence; but Wolf desired with such eager curiosity to hear the syndic's
news first that it vexed the captain, and he angrily told him that he
would bite off his tongue before he would even say "How are you?" to that
man, and to play eavesdropper to any one was not at all in his line.

Here his companion interrupted with the query, What had caused the
learned scholar, whom every one, as well as the precentor, had highly
esteemed, to forfeit his friend's good opinion?

Blomberg had waited for such a question.

He had been like a loaded culverin, and Wolf had now touched the burning
match to the powder. To understand why he, Blomberg, who wished only the
best fortune to every good Christian, would fain have this thorough
scoundrel suffer all the torments of hell, the young knight must first
learn what had happened in Ratisbon since the last Reichstag.

Until then the good city had resisted the accursed new religious
doctrines which had gained a victory in Nuremberg and the other cities
of the empire.

Here also, as Wolf himself had probably experienced, there had been no
lack of inclination toward the Lutheran doctrine. It was certainly
natural, since it suited the stomach better to fill itself, even during
Lent, than to renounce meat; since there were shameless priests who would
rather embrace a woman than to remain unmarried; since the Church
property bestowed by pious souls was a welcome morsel to princes and
to cities, and, finally, because licentiousness was more relished than
wholesome discipline. The wicked desires inspired by all the evil
spirits and their tool, the Antichrist Luther, had gained the upper hand
here also, and Dr. Hiltner, above all others, had prepared the way for
them in Ratisbon. Even at the last Reichstag his Majesty the Emperor had
earnestly, but with almost too much gracious forbearance, endeavoured to
effect a union between the contending parties, but directly after his
departure from the city rebellion raised its head with boundless
insolence. The very next year the Council formally introduced the evil
which they called ecclesiastical reformation. The blinded people flocked
to the new parish church to attend the first service, which they called
"Protestant." Then the mischief hastened forward with gigantic strides.

"Last year," cried the old gentleman, hoarse with indignation, striking
the table with his clenched fist as if he were in camp, "I saw them with
my own eyes throw down and drag away, I know not where, the pillar with
the beautiful image of Mary, the masterpiece of Erhard Heydenreich, the
architect of the cathedral, which stood in front of the new parish
church. Songs had been composed in her honour, and she was dear and
precious to you from early childhood, as well as to every native of
Ratisbon; the precentor--God rest his soul!--read to me from your letter
from Rome what exquisite works of art you saw there every day, but that
you still remembered with pleasure the beautiful Virgin at home.

"But what do these impious wretches care about beautiful and sacred
things? The temple desecrators removed and destroyed one venerable, holy
image after another. True, they did not venture into the cathedral,
probably from fear of his Majesty the Emperor, and whoever had undertaken
to lay hands upon the altar painting and the Madonna in our chapel would
have paid for it--I am not boasting--with his life. Though 'the
beautiful Mary,' in her superabundant mercy, quietly endured the affront
offered, our Lord himself punished it, for he inspired the illustrious
Duke of Bavaria to issue an edict which forbids his subjects to trade
with Ratisbon. Whoever even enters the city must pay a heavy fine. This
set many people thinking. Ursel will tell you what sinful prices we have
paid since for butter and meat. Even the innocent are obliged to buckle
their belts tighter. Those who wished to escape fasting are now
compelled by poverty to practise abstinence. It is said the Roman King
Ferdinand is urging the revocation of the order. If I were in his place,
I would advise making it more stringent till the rebels sweat blood and
crept to the cross."

Then Blomberg bewailed the untimely leniency of the Emperor, for there
was not even any rumour of a serious assault upon the Turks. And yet,
if only he, Blomberg, was commissioned to raise an army of the cross,
Christianity would soon have rest from its mortal foe! But if it should
come to fighting--no matter whether against the infidels or the heretics
--in spite of Wawerl and his lame leg, he would take the field again.
No death could be more glorious than in battle against the destrover of
souls. The scoundrels were flourishing like tares among the wheat. At
the last Reichstag the Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony, as well as the
Landgrave Philip of Hesse, brought their own preachers, whose sermons
turned many heads, even the pastor of St. Emmeran's, Zollern, who was a
child of Ratisbon. At Staufferhof Baron von Stauff, formerly a man
worthy of all honour, had opened his chapel of St. Ann to all the
citizens to permit them to participate in the Lutheran idolatry. Two
Protestant ministers, one of whom, Dr. Forster, Luther himself had
brought to Ratisbon, were liberally paid by the Council. Whether Wolf
believed it or not, Father Hamberger, whom he surely remembered as Prior
of the Minorites, and who at that time enjoyed universal esteem, had
taken a wife, and the rest of the monks had followed the iniquitous
example. Many other priests had married if it suited them, and, instead
of the cowl, wore secular garments. The instruction given in the school
of poets was perfectly abominable, as he heard from Councillor Steuerer,
who was faithful to the Catholic Church, and strove to induce the Duke of
Bavaria to adopt still sterner measures against all this disorder.

Very recently men hitherto blameless, like Andreas Weinzierl and Georg
Seidl, had sent their eighteen-year-old sons to the University of
Wittenberg, where the Lutheran heresies were flourishing most
luxuriantly.

But the worst of all was that even faithful sons and daughters of Holy
Church could not keep themselves wholly untouched by such mischief.
Among these, alas! were he and his Wawerl, for he had been obliged to
allow the girl to join the choristers who sang in the Convivium Musicum,
which the Council had established in the summer three years before. Two
councillors were assigned to each Convivium, and thus these arrangements
were in Protestant hands.

"Of course," he added dejectedly, "I wished to forbid her taking part in
them, but, though with me it is usually bend or break, what can a man do
when a woman is pestering him day and night, sometimes begging with
tears, sometimes with caresses?

"Besides, many a good Catholic entreated me to give up my opposition.
They, do not grudge the girl her progress, and how much she already owes
to the music teacher who now directs the Collegium Musicuin! Singing is
everything to her, and what else can I give the poor child? At any rate,
the Netherlander whom the Council brought here three years ago--so
connoisseurs say--scarcely has his equal anywhere in knowledge and
ability. The man came to me and frankly said that he needed the girl's
voice for the Convivium, and, if I refused to let Wawerl take part, he
would stop teaching her. As he is a just man of quiet temperament and
advanced in years."

"Where is he from, and what is his name?" Wolf eagerly interrupted.

"Damian Feys," replied the captain, "and he is a native of Ghent in the
Netherlands. Although he is in the pay of the city, he has remained--he
told me so himself--a good Catholic. There was nothing to be feared for
the child on the score of religion. The anxieties which are troubling me
on her account come from another source."

Then, with a mischievous mirthfulness usually foreign to his nature, Wolf
raised his goblet, exclaiming:

"Cast them upon me, Father Blomberg! I will gladly help you bear them as
your loyal son-in-law."

"So that's the way of it," was the captain's answer, his honest eyes
betraying more surprise than pleasure.

Yet he pledged Wolf, and, touching his glass to his, said:

"I've often thought that this might happen if you should see how she has
grown up. If she consents, nothing could please me better; but how many
lovers she has already encouraged, and then, before matters became
serious, dismissed! I have experienced it. If you succeed in putting an
end to such trifling, may this hour be blessed! But do you know the huge
maggots she keeps under her golden hair?"

"Both large and small ones," cried Wolf, with glowing cheeks. "Truthful
as she is, she did not conceal from the playmate of her youth a single
impulse of her ambitious soul."

"And did she give you hope?" asked the captain, thrusting his head
eagerly forward.

"Yes," replied the youth firmly; but he quickly corrected himself, and,
in a less confident tone, added, "That is, if I could offer her a care-
free life."

"There it is," sighed the old man. "She knows what she wants, and holds
firmly to it. You are the son of a knight, and on account of the music
which you can pursue together--With her everything is possible and
little is impossible. In any case, you will have no easy life with her,
and, ere you order the wedding ring----" Here he suddenly stopped, for a
bird-song, high, clear, and yet as insinuatingly sweet as though, on this
evening in late April, the merriest and most skilful feathered songsters
which had recently found their way home to the fresh green leafage on the
shore of the Danube had made an appointment on the steps of the gloomy
house in Red Cock Street, rose nearer and nearer to the two men who were
sitting over their wine.

It was difficult to believe that this whistling and chirping, trilling
and cuckoo calling, came from the same throat; but when the bird notes
ceased just outside the door, and Barbara, with bright mirthfulness and
the airiest grace, sang the refrain of the Chant des Oiseaux, 'Car la
saison est bonne', bowing gracefully meanwhile, the old enemy of the
Turks fairly beamed with delight.

His eyes, wet with tears of grateful joy, sought the young man's, and,
though he had just warned him plainly enough against courting his
daughter, his sparkling gaze now asked whether he had ever met an equally
bewitching marvel.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5