CHAPTER XXII.

How the Lady Hildiridur spoke kindly with the Enchantress Gerda.

“Now,” said Hildiridur, as the knights spurred their horses, “can you not remember my warning admonition?--Death and separation are barriers already thrown in your way, yet you ride onwards with the same wild resolution and impatience as before.”--Hereupon the knights checked their horses, and for a space were lost in silent reflection, till Sir Otto, blushing deeply, began,--“Mother, dearest mother,--if this lady that we have all seen to-day were indeed Bertha!--Surely I cannot have been deceived in that likeness,--only the strange damsel was in dress and demeanour so grand and so solemn!”--“Can’st thou believe then,” answered Hildiridur, “that my heart is not yet filled with ardent love for my dear adopted daughter?--Who can tell, however, if she, who has appeared here as a princess among us, be really Bertha?--Or, if it were so, whether, when raised thus to pomp and grandeur, she is yet willing to acknowledge thee as her cousin?”--“Her companion then is a sorcerer or a base seducer,” said Otto, with melancholy and repressed rage. “I shall in due time speak with him after such manner, that he shall find as little reason even as I have, to rejoice over what he has done.”--Hildiridur looked mournfully at her son, and said,--“Who has conferred on thee the right of judging thus the conduct of Bertha?--and wherefore should’st thou threaten so sternly that noble warrior whom the poor forsaken damsel has, in her distress, chosen for a protector?--Besides, young knight of Trautwangen, thou art now on thy journey homewards, to take under thy care and console thy father’s vassals, who are yet mourning the death of their beloved master. Till this purpose be fulfilled, thou can’st not undertake any new adventure.”

A blush of shame and self-reproach followed that of anger on Sir Otto’s features;--he bowed respectfully, and said,--“Let all be decided by your better judgment, dearest mother;--I resign myself obediently to your will. In truth it has become only too clear and certain, that if it were Bertha herself who was here present among us, and if she were willing to acknowledge our old friendship and affection, never would the band of horsemen have passed us by without greeting or salutation. Let it be so!--I bear the guilt and blame of my own folly, and perchance am no longer worthy to lift up mine eyes to her, who seems indeed like a messenger from Heaven!”

Hereupon Hildiridur tapped him kindly on the shoulder, and said,--“Alas! how truly may the heart of a young hero be compared to the stormy sea, with its waves now mounting up to the starry heaven, and again sinking into the dark and deep abyss of sadness and grief!--Dearest son, thou should’st not thus lay aside all that pride which belongs to thy rank and achievements; moreover, thou should’st remember, that on a form like thine, the noblest of high-born damsels might indeed look with pleasure.”

During these discourses, as they rode through a dense thicket of elder-trees, lo! they could not help watching a strange light that shone amid the green branches, and which they had at first thought to be an effect of the evening sky; but the light kept pace with them wherever they went, and at last an opening in the woods revealed the form of the enchantress Gerda, who, with long dishevelled hair, now appeared in her wonted beauty, and in female attire. She now walked hastily along a foot-path of the forest, which ere long joined with the high-road; and Sir Archimbald rode forward to meet her, calling aloud,--“Away! away with thee, thou temptress, or if thou wilt remain with our party, kneel now forthwith, and pray before the holy cross. This admonition I now give to thee in kindness of heart, and for the last time!”--Gerda stood motionless, and, parting the long locks that, in her swift march, had fallen over her forehead, she fixed her large dark eyes on Sir Archimbald, and answered, in the tone of a child that is half-angry, half inclined to weep,--“Surely I may be allowed to walk onwards, wherever I can find a retired foot-path? By what right can’st thou interrupt my journey, since even the high-roads are as free to Gerda as they are to thee and thy chosen friends? If, however, thy hatred against me is so great, that thou can’st not suffer me even to live, then, in God’s name, inflict at once the blow that consigns me to death. For, this I tell thee without disguise, so long as I continue to live, I shall not fail to appear thus, now and then, in thy presence.”--With these words she drew her long glossy ringlets again over her features, and began to weep bitterly.

“Heaven knows,” said the Count von Waldeck, with a deep sigh, “what will prove the end of all this!” He turned his horse round with a gesture of vehement impatience, and drew down his vizor with a sounding crash.

Meanwhile Hildiridur gently rode up on her palfrey towards the weeping damsel, and stretching out her hand, once more parted the golden locks from her forehead. At her gentle touch, the looks of the beautiful enchantress cleared up, even like a bed of flowers when the sun surprises them bathed in morning dew. “Weep not,” said the Druda, “weep not thus vehemently, dearest daughter; for there are other paths by which thou may’st arrive at the knowledge of the true God, besides that which was pointed out to thee by the stern Zelotes. It is not indeed required, that thou should’st pass through the sepulchral aisles by that gloomy monastery, over the wreck of all thy worldly joys. Behold, I am she who, on the Swedish frontiers, opposed thy power so suddenly in the name of our blessed Redeemer, and rendered vain all thy spells and enchantments. Rememberest thou, how, in thy concealed cavern of the mountains, thou so long contended’st against the veiled lady of the watch-tower?” The weeping damsel looked up confusedly, and yet with a gleam of hope stealing over her beautiful features. “Know then,” continued Hildiridur, “that though my faith as a Christian be sincere and deeply implanted in my heart, yet methinks a path to salvation and peace might be found for thee, far different from that of which the stern warrior, Zelotes, has spoken. Wilt thou ride with us, then, and submit to the instructions of Hildiridur?” “Oh Heaven!” cried the enchantress, “how gladly would I obey thee; but the knight there in the bright silver armour will not suffer me to be in his presence.” On the contrary, however, the Count von Waldeck had hastened to find out among the horses led by the squires a handsome palfrey, which he brought to the now glad and smiling damsel; and begged for permission to lift her into the saddle. This being done, he threw back his vizor, then turned to the Lady Hildiridur; and respectfully kissing her hand, “Thus indeed,” said he, “thou hast once more appeared like a peace-angel sent from heaven to console and reconcile poor mortals.” “Alas,” sighed Hildiridur, “without the help of another angel, who is indeed pure and exalted, our happiness will have but an uncertain foundation.”

At these words Otto thought once more of Bertha; for he believed that it was of her that his mother had spoken. Whenever they came to a town or village, therefore, he inquired whether any one had seen the procession of the grand priest, John, with his Moorish warriors. For some time he indeed obtained always the answers that he most wished to hear; but at length he discovered that the lady, with her warlike protector, had turned off from the road leading towards the fortress of Trautwangen, and had gone on a pilgrimage to the shrine of a famed saint, which lay at a far distance. After this news, he rode on his way more thoughtful and melancholy than ever.