CHAPTER XIV.

How the Lady Bertha was left alone in the Druda’s castle.

Henceforward Bertha’s life in the castle was spent as if in the threshold between two worlds, one while occupied with childish plays, and at another with gleams of higher wisdom, derived from sources mysterious and far remote. As her brother rode up now and then to the gates, she spoke with him from the ramparts, told him of all the wonders that she had beheld, and how happily she now lived. He, on the other hand, rejoiced, that her cheeks wore the rose of health, contrasting with the white flowers by which she was there surrounded; and so they always parted from each other in hope and confidence.

Among other amusements, Bertha was especially delighted with a certain mirror, which, surrounded by strange talismanic characters, was placed against the wall of a retired chamber. When the Druda, for the first time, withdrew the dark red curtain by which it was covered, she said to the damsel,--“There, child, divert yourself for a space with the varied imagery which you will behold in that glass. For the present I have serious duties to perform.” Bertha then stood alone before the mirror, trembling and doubtful what she was to expect to see there; but in a few minutes a new world seemed starting into life within its sphere; landscapes, men and women, towns and castles. At one time the scene presented a wide sea, on which ships were sailing for purposes of merchandise or warfare, now under a bright smiling sky, now amid storms and dark thunder-clouds. Then she beheld long church aisles full of people assembled in prayer, or great squares of a city, with enclosed lists, and knights engaged in desperate encounters. These last Bertha was unwilling to look upon; for they forced her to reflect on the combat between the Chevalier de Montfaucon and Count Archimbald von Waldeck, whence arose all her sufferings. Again, however, the mirror changed the scene to the interior of a magnificent castle, where a great king was seated on a throne, and around him were many knights and ladies. Then there were visible Moorish towns, with their strangely-attired inhabitants, in long dresses, on the streets. Of all the pictures, however, that by which Bertha was most interested was a wild rocky country, answering to the descriptions which she had oftentimes heard of Norway and Sweden. On one of the highest cliffs, there was an old moss-grown watch-tower, from which, through a single window, there gleamed a steady light, pale indeed, like departing moonshine; and on this object the damsel could have gazed for hours together, believing, that in that lonely abode she might yet find consolation for all her misfortunes. These thoughts she often described to the Lady Minnatrost, who answered her,--“That solitary watch-tower, by which your attention has been thus attracted, lies far remote in the cold climate of the north. I must very soon make a journey thither; but, alas! you cannot go with me!” Such discourse only made those northern realms to the damsel more and more interesting; and never was she so calm and contented in spirit, as when the rocky landscape with the pale beacon-light came before her in the mirror.

Late one evening the friendly Druda came out with Bertha on one of the lofty watch-towers of the castle, where over their heads was only the clear azure of heaven, and the night air was filled with fragrance from the snow-white flowers. The Druda then fixed her eyes on the starry sky; and, by her looks and gestures, it seemed to the damsel as if her mysterious companion not only saw the stars, but listened to exquisite melody. At last Bertha broke the long pause, and said,--“Dearest lady, you listen watchfully, as if you heard the circling gold rings in your great hall, and yet all is silent!” “Do I not hear them?” said the Druda, with a smile of rapture. “To you, indeed, my dear child, all is silent. But even as the golden circles sometimes revolve in the hall beneath, so in the beaming boundless chambers of heaven are ever moving those blessed spheres which we call the stars, and sound so beauteously, that all other music compared with them is discord, even were it the loveliest that has ever been heard on earth. Only the chosen votary whose heart and feelings are in unison with those sounds may hear them; others must be content to believe and wonder; or sometimes, for a transient space, they are visited by such melody in their dreams.”

The damsel now looked at her aunt with a fixed and anxious gaze; for she had of late felt more desire to learn the mysterious arts of which she had heard so much, than of that awe with which they had before inspired her. She was therefore now ready to beg that the Lady Minnatrost would initiate her in the true science of those wonders by which she was surrounded. Perceiving her design, however, the lady cast on her a look, at which she recoiled and trembled. “Foolish child,” said she, in a severe tone; “of what art thou now dreaming? Think’st thou that, because these mysteries have contributed to thy entertainment, they are in truth no more than a game which the young and unexperienced may play at? The chosen votary, on whom such gifts are conferred by Providence, must bear with her lot as she best can, for such knowledge is often a cause of fearful sufferings. Think’st thou, that I have always lived in this castle? that I have always been thus lonely, and never borne my share in the pleasures of the world? Alas! it is far otherwise. I once led a happy life among my fellow-mortals; but the science conferred on me disturbed my peace, though that was indeed no fault of mine. Now I am called Minnatrost, and truly, as the name imports, I have consolation for the grief of others; but, alas! none for my own sorrows.” Thereupon the lady began to weep, and, as if wearied, leaned her head on the damsel’s bosom, whose heart was deeply moved; for she had before only seen her wonderful aunt in the mood of cheerfulness and serenity. Now she discovered that the Druda had experienced, like others, her share of joy and suffering in this world; she embraced her fervently, and weeping also, said,--“Dearest aunt, how unspeakably I love you!” The Lady Minnatrost, however, soon resumed her composure. “If thou indeed lovest me so dearly,” said she, in a kind though solemn tone, “this must be proved by thy care, that for the future we may live together. I must now make a long journey, even as far as to that old watch-tower in Sweden, which has afforded you so much pleasure when it appeared in the mirror. It is true, that I travel more quickly than other mortals, yet the journey is long, the business important, and long must be our separation. In the meanwhile, then, live retired and peaceably, look not often through the windows, and, if thou wilt be guided by my counsels, walk seldom or never on the ramparts. During this time thy brother will not appear at the castle, for I have already informed him by a messenger that he must not come hither; yet thou shalt not want for pastime: the mirror will unfold its rarest and most varied scenery; the golden rings, the harps and cymbals, will delight you with their music; the lake reflect the pleasant moonshine, and the flowers give out their fragrance, even as if I were here present. But, dearest child, remember that thou should’st not with thine own hand withdraw the curtain from the mirror, attempt not to move the golden rings when they are still, and never touch the flowers. When thou hast need of aught, or hast formed any wish, then sing a ballad to thy lute, or play on it a few notes, and thy desires will be fulfilled. Have patience, dear child, be obedient and humble in spirit; then we shall live together, and all will turn out well.”

With these words she kissed the astonished damsel, and in silence returned to her chamber. On the following morning Bertha sought all through the castle for the Lady Minnatrost, but in vain, for she was no where to be found.