CHAPTER XXVII.

How Theobaldo departed on a Pilgrimage into the Holy Land.

Now it came to pass, that amid the banquet-hall, where all were cheerful and joyous, there entered an unbidden guest, with looks dark and discontented; and this was Theobaldo. Humbly he drew near to the pious and beautiful Lady Bertha, and said, “For me, in sooth, all the pleasures and hopes of this world are now at an end. My powers of enchantment, to which I had devoted my whole life, are by thee destroyed; and, as to that happiness which others may possess in the arms of parents, brothers, and sisters, it is to me for ever lost, and I have indeed wrought my own destruction. What then should I now seek here? Truly I know not; but, at least, I would take leave, and then, as is fitting, seek out some cavern in the earth wherein I may hide myself from the eyes of all mankind. Should this not be found, some friendly abyss of the mountains will doubtless lie in my way, where I can at once make an end of all my regrets and sorrows.” “Methinks this were not needful,” answered Bertha, with friendly earnestness of tone; “and I can moreover assure thee, it is not the will of Heaven that thou should’st thus despair. Penance, no doubt, is required of thee; and if this duty be fulfilled, thou shalt yet be saved and comforted. It would be well, methinks, wert thou to undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and on thy solitary way contend stoutly with the evil thoughts that beset thee,--confess thy sins at the holy sepulchre, and return home consoled and absolved into our friendly circle. Courage then, sir pilgrim; the great Shepherd yet calls with kind consoling voice for his lost sheep.” At the same moment, all who were there present stretched out their loving arms towards him, as if he were already returned absolved and pure into his paternal castle. “Verily damsel,” said Theobaldo, “thou hast not ceased to be the beneficent ambassadress of Heaven, although thou art even now become a happy smiling bride. To Jerusalem then! to Jerusalem! Long indeed have I felt within my heart the impulse to journey thither, as if I had known by anticipation the guilt that would one day cleave to my conscience. Yet, ere I go, could’st thou but request for me the forgiveness of the venerable old man, whom I am no longer worthy to name father? Obtain for me too the mild grace of Hildiridur; and it were well if Otto, Christophorus, and Blanchefleur, even the stern Zelotes himself, could look on me as a brother, instead of only granting me forgiveness after the manner that one in pity bestows golden fruit on a wretched convict as he is led to the place of execution.” Smiling in her calm confidence and serenity, Bertha replied, “There will be no need of assistance such as mine; for Heaven has here already prepared your reconciliation.” With these words, she gently drew the repentant youth towards his father, who clasped him in his arms, while Hildiridur, and all the rest, drew near to embrace and console him; and Otto, with melancholy regret in his heart, exclaimed, “Alas! Theobaldo, no wonder then that, even at our first meeting, thy presence was so unspeakably dear to my heart!”

Theobaldo at length, with gentle resolution, disengaged himself from their embraces: “You have now,” said he, “afforded me refreshment and strength; not only for the journey that lies before me, but for my whole life to come. Farewell! I shall now depart in tranquillity, gladness, and hope. Your love, like a guiding star, will still gleam before me; and when, after an absence of a year or more, the pilgrim comes hither with his scallop-shell hat and longstaff, you will not refuse him admission, but rather there will be a feast of welcome and rejoicing in the hall of his ancestors.” Thereafter he made his parting salutations, and slowly retired. All remained for a space in deep silence, and with their eyes glistening in tears; such are the bitter drops which Joy almost ever mingles in the cup, in order to remind us how short is her date, and how frail the tenure of our life in this world.

At last the old Sir Hugh said, “My son will come again, and Heaven will grant to me the blessing that I may once more embrace him ere I die. It seemed as if a winged messenger now brought me from Heaven these tidings; and if Lisberta has become a glorified angel, it may indeed be she herself who thus hovers near me.” Hereupon the brothers and sisters, husbands and brides, held each other’s hands, and embraced with more cordial joy and affection when they heard these words from their dignified ancestor; and in a deep full tone, as if his heart had then for the first time been lightened from his perplexing emotions, he added, “Bertha, thou art in the right; the spirit of peace and mutual affection is among us. Come then, dear friends and children, let us go together down to the blooming level banks of the Danube; for in your presence, with Hildiridur by my side, methinks I can once more, as in the happy days of youth, enjoy the sunlight and beauty of nature which the beneficent Creator has here spread around us.”

So it came to pass, that, as if the Magic Ring had been converted into a living circlet of blooming swains and damsels, the venerable Sir Hugh, who had before been so lonely and desolate, now came forth with wife, children, and friends, all smiling and joyous. Amid the sweet evening-landscape, behold! there was stretched over the woods a magnificent rainbow; and all that happy assemblage, clasping their hands, greeted in silent prayer that far-gleaming token of Heaven’s grace and forgiveness.